#but i ended up feeling like high pigtails / low pigtails / high ponytail / low ponytail was a good contrast between everyone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dysaniadisorder · 2 years

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talk then lovely! ill listen! i want to hear !

TYSM... im putting it all under a cut because it got reeeally long. <3

[ID: A sketchbook drawing of redesigns of each girl from Danganronpa 2, minus Mahiru. Theyre all standing next to each other and shown from the waist up. end ID]

Mikan Tsumiki -

I've spent an... amount of time in hospitals mostly interacting (or trying not to interact) with nurses and im confident saying Mikans presence is. Not comforting.

Nothing can really fix this, but nurses with long hair often wear their hair up while working (even guy nurses) and while she would, I imagine a high up hairstyle would be uncomfortable for her or feel like it draws attention.. so she has a low ponytail & some bobby pins and various hair clips to help keep it settled (have you seen her fuckin hair it does NOT cooperate.)

Fuck whatevers going on with her canon outfit I'm giving her some normal nurse scrubs (they're blank this is just what nurses wear ive noticed. kid & teen dentists and stuff will wear cute designs and shit but I have never seen a nurse do so, i'm sure it'd feel kind of insensitive in situations) but the apron adds any element of character design. It's looser & a bit blanker, & has pockets & places to hold things on the lower part and belt. Nurses gotta hold a lot of shit, why I am also giving her a medical bag she keeps on her (mostly for herself lets be honest). She keeps her various bandages, and I gave her some bracelets. One is a beaded bracelet with a needle charm on it WHY does she love needles so much its weird. She's definitely the type of person who tells you you have nice veins while you're just going about your day. To be honest i'm not sure why but I gave her a medical alert bracelet... maybe it's for herself which could be reasonable if she goes into crisis mode or has a panic attack or passes out, or maybe its a blank one to have on hand. That doesn't make sense. Ignore me

Also! It's down in the drawing but she has a surgical mask. This is a nurse thing, an i'm-being-bullied-and-someone-told-me-my-face-was-ugly thing, and a social anxiety thing. But her wearing a mask all the time makes sense.

[ID: A notebook doodle of Mikan Tsumiki, drawn as described above. She looks tired and a bit distressed. /end]

Hiyoko Saionji -

Oh the curse of being short that she makes up for in being an asshole. "This is your badness level. It's unusually high for someone your size."

Anyways, this was a doodle, and I didn't do as much research into kimonos & traditional dance hairstyles as I would've liked. But, she has a bun because that's what I've seen most often, along with the sticks in her hair & the flower hairpiece. The bangs & bun are a bit of a mess but she'd clean up her hair if she was actually performing. And if she was really casual, she enjoys putting her hair into pigtails.

Her kimono has a thicker ribbon on the waist piece just because, and she carries a fan tucked into it. She has a pair of shorts on underneath because come on, this is what she's fucking wearing around school. I hate this game

On top of all this she's probably wearing socks and sandals like a weirdo.

I relate to her in being dogshit at tying things though... she probably gets annoyed at the angle and keeping track of all the cloth. That said she probably has a modified one to wear around that's elastic or slip on or easier to tie maybe.

Stares at her backstory. Also probably has some scars around that are from her... murder attempts or harassments, but keeps hidden with makeup.

She has candy stored somewhere in that kimono sash (hey lookit me finally remembering what its called!) but she pulls it out of nowhere you never have any idea where she got it from. For a more casual outfit she probably wears shorts or pants (shes ecstatic about having so much free movement) and big shirts or sweaters, they're comfy. That and pigtails. They're not as big as they are in canon though because what the fuck. And post growth spurt I've always hated that she supposedly got taller but like she wasn't even as tall as Mahiru. Shut up. She has a height that rivals Nekomaru

[ID: a notebook doodle of Hiyoko Saionji as described above. She's baring her teeth, annoyed, and flipping off the camera while looking away. /end]

Ibuki Mioda - (she/he/ze)

THIS DRAWING IS A MESS LOWKEY IGNORE IT. But I do have plenty of ideas for zim.

I made the weird hair things be a bit more obvious of a headband, though I didn't make them look like devil horns on purpose. She probably has several with different types of horns. Zir hair is shorter & just as messy and weirdly dyed, plus he has pink & blue (or maybe pink and green) raccoon tails. Obsessed w his ear & lip piercings so they're staying, but I also gave zim a nose piercing (realistically she'd probably have a septum but I didn't think that out). Sharp teeth and refuses to tell anyone if they're fake or not. Drippy emo makeup that I didn't really like, and the dark demon eyes are not intentional I just don't know how to draw.

I love the weird barbed wire necklace but he needs a bigger weirder choker with all those annoying danglies. It jingles when he walks or moves at all. It's hard to see because she's behind everyone and a mess, but here I drew zim with a dark tanktop with a large bow over a huge sweater. She has shit fashion taste that only appeals to a small audience (emo & scene kids aka her aka me) and it's so bad it's good. Definitely the type to wear a bunch of bracelets and weird pins everywhere, and stick safety pins wherever he can. I like the one worn up arm warmer & spiky bracelet on the other hand, though ze has far more bracelets and annoying jewelry than just that. Far too many belts, too. The drawing was partially supposed to be a height lineup, Mikan & Peko are the tallest, but often Ibuki is up there with them too because she usually wears platforms. I reaaaally love the skeleton socks he has in dr3, and i can't decide between bit pants like tripp pants or a weird skirt, so either is good, I don't think ze could decide either.

I'll definitely redraw this, over and over. Until i am fucking satisfied but I think it'd be better if he had like a fishnet undershirt with a different kinda sweater or tanktop or something... or maybe just a t shirt with an annoying design on it. Either way, I love Ibuki a whole fucking lot. Nothing about zir outfit is practical or normal looking and she loves it that way. He's sick of wearing pop-star type outfits in a girl band he's going all out babey he's full scenemo now

[ID: A notebook doodle of Ibuki Mioda, drawn as described above. He's winking and sticking his tongue out, while giving Chiaki next to her bunny ears. /end]

Chiaki Nanami - (she/he/they)

One of the designs I actually did a bit beforehand... that said she is very cluttered but I don't really regret that. As I, too, am chronically sleepy half her energy in the morning is put into putting on all her bullshit because it makes them happy, and then regretting it because like why the fuck am i wearing all this bullshit.

Look. They're a teenage gamer. He bathes and take care of himself she's not a heathen though it is skipped more than it should be because exhaustion (I can relate). Her hair is shorter & always messy because she simply likes the way it looks, and hates the feeling of comb teeth & brush bristles (autism).

Acne, because she is a teenager and I gave them some more moles than just the singular one on their boob. I'm in love with the hair clip I could never devoid her of that, and then she has pixelated heart and item bag earrings, along with ear piercings up her right ear (they just wanted to do something new for a moment.) Constant eyebags, constantly sleepy, but they dislike the taste of coffee. Unfortunately this often means energy drinks & soda. Not sure of popular japanese energy drinks but I like to think he has one of those entire half walls of monster energy cans on his bedroom wall.

Now to my atrocious outfit. Let's see here there's a spaghetti strap type romper over a hoodie with bunny ears (im obsessed with the bunny motif) and on top of that is a chunky cardigan and an animal backpack. Im also obsessed with the animal backpack). Why so many layers? I don't know I'm gonna make up excuses. They are often cold. They're allergic to sunlight. Comfy & easy to sleep in anywhere. Have you ever worn that many layers its fucking magic its like you're a walking pillow and you can never get punched or hurt. Look if all these designs were based on the fact that they're on a tropical island they'd all be VERY different.

The romper is semi short & comfy because having ur legs out is healing (also body hair. she's a teenager). fuzzy socks, and they are not immune to cutesy impractical shoes. (Socks are one white and one pink with red stitching, u know, monomi foreshadowing and all that.)

I don't know enough english & american video games for this, let alone japanese ones. Forgive me for being basic with them. (though its a bit easy when alot of popular games are just translated from japanese...) So. The earrings are 3/4 undertale reference and like 1/4 animal crossing reference. Pacman pin (classic) triforce pin (less classic but still) & a pokemon necklace with a ribbon choker. They are not immune to cutesy things. There's patches on the cardigan elbows, & they have an ace ring. It's subtle. I drew him with pride pins but realistically I doubt she'd have them, partially of just not having figured things out yet. He'd maybe have a trans or progress flag pin though for at least a sign of allyship. They absolutely know firsthand how online gaming spaces are & they are a very sweet person.

Anyways um. The moral here is im in love with chiaki and wish to give him a big hug & a kiss.

[ID: Two notebook doodles of Chiaki Nanami, drawn as described above. In both they're tiredly staring into the camera with a neutral expression. /end]

Peko Pekoyama -

What the fuck is she wearing. No.

I decided to give her a proper kendo outfit because I mean like, come the fuck on. I kept her weird little symbol because her outfit was looking bland without it, and a necklace just because. She likes it, okay?

She has a tight black shirt underneath that reach her hands and have thumb holes. It's about the subtle gothness. The sash on her outfit has a kuzuruyu clan logo, but by request she ties it so it isn't visible. She has thoguh shoes though & still black tights because I love those.

Her hair is slightly shorter and braided against her head so they don't get in the way. (She could cut it, and some other people in the clan probably recommended she did, but when she asked fuyuhiko he just told her 'do whatever you want' and, welll. She likes longer hair.) The ribbons are just for show they come out easily & she has regular hair ties in.

[ID: Several notebook doodles of Peko Pekoyama, drawn as described above. In the first and last she is shown staring blankly into the camera. The middle one is a doodle redraw of one of her sprites, showing off her full outfit, and talking skepitcally. /end]

Sonia Nevermind -

I like Sonias design but it's a little bland & exactly what you'd expect. She's (at least implied to be) slavic, so I wanted to give her a bit less super western type fancy clothes and closer to. you know. Slavic designs, moreso east Slavic designs (I found lots of photography and art by russian & belarusian peopl). She's not full ancient royalty and I couldn't resist giving her a suit vest with decorative pins that match her brooch pin. Her shirt has a fancy lacy collar & I literally couldn't resist all the clothing patterns & designs. I'm aware that a lot of her outfit is faaar more fancy and special-occasion than usual, but she's pretty fancy and anything but casual.

I gave her a sheen golden little decorative scarf thing with a star design, just because it looks pretty & adds to the fanciness. Doing this again i'd probably want to give her more slavic type jewelry, and maybe some sort of scarf or better headpiece. But I love her bow, so I added some crown-adjacent gems & designs on top of it plus some flowers attached to it. I put her hair completely down her but I imagine she's stupid good & fast at tying braids and would do so if she needed it out of her way or to look more professional or fancy. She has a stud earring and one dangling eye earring, and to be honest I don't know why. I thought it looked cool on her and she'd probably wear something just a little weird like that.

[ID: A notebook doodle of Sonia Nevermind, drawn as described above. She's smiling and standing up perfectly straight. /end]

Akane Owari -

Good gosh. Someone help her

I'm definitely not against her having big boobs, some people just yaknow. have that & gotta work around it. But she desperately needs some support for them.

She has a vest thing that works as support & cover, because under that is a black gymnastics leotard. Plus I wanted to throw a medal on there for emphasis. I love Akane so much... I tried making her both more muscular but still a little thin, looks at her backstory. I wanted to keep the button up but it'd feel like too much if she was wearing it regular so it's around her waist, along with shorts because have you seen what leotards look like. She needs shorts. Also those like, sweat wristbands on her arms as well.

She has running shoes but inside she has loose beam shoes on that she can tighten when she needs to. Because beam shoes are horrible for like, regular walking around let alone fighting & exercise but she'd probably keep them on her somewhere.

Her hair is shorter but I love the wild look, it matches her. Having it shorter makes it a bit harder when she has to tie it back for competitions/performances but she hated doing that anyway, to the point she considered shaving it all off at some point. She still might.

Bandaids, both on herself and stored in her pockets. Let alone how much she needs them she also has a bunch of rowdy little siblings and she definitely keeps at LEAST bandaids on hand in case they ever get hurt. She probably does this so messily it'd make Mikan faint (cut back to the scene where Akane says she can just rub a little spit into a head wound and she'll be fine) but hey it works, who cares.

Still staring at her backstory. She's not fucking dumb i stg. She IS in a vastly different social situation than she's accustomed to though she probably doesn't feel quite as out of place as she would around other professional gymnasts.

[ID: A notebook doodle of Akane Owari, drawn as described above. She has a bandaid on her cheek and one hand on her hip, looking to the side with a confused expression. /end]

Mahiru Koizumi -

She's simple and theres nothing wrong with that. My problem is that she is not butch enough

Her proper redesign is the one with the ponytail (the rest is me messing around w how she'd dress comfortably & how she really wants to). The thing is she's butch but she is also a teenager and has parents. Though she gave herself an undercut in secret and wears a ponytail to show it off at school & the island. Stud earrings because she got her ears pierced when she was little & doesn't want them to close up. She has more freckles just cause that makes sense.

I like this design but i do admit it's pretty basic, just turning her cute overall skirt thing into a romper. But it fits her nicely. A tie & button being kept obviously, & she has shorter black socks & docs.

She still always has her camera on her though it's in a small bag that easily flips open to let her take photos (I have one of those for my polaroid & my aunt has one for her digital camera) but she can still take it out and hold in her hand to take photos. Has a carabiner & some keyrings to keep ahold of her shit, and probably has a useless but fun keychain or two on it as well. Shoves it in her pocket if the situation requires being quiet to take a photo (like taking a photo of an animal) but usually she likes how it jingles when she walks. I drew her with I think like one pride pin, and maybe it'd be the lesbian flag or maybe just a rainbow but either way I think she'd just want people to subtly know know if she didn't make it obvious enough.

There's a scar on her leg from... something. I can just imagine that being an ultimate photographer can be dangerous at times (being in the wild, capturing political or historical events, ect.) and that I'm sure she's been called upon plenty of times for journalist jobs and the like.

[ID: Several notebook doodles of Mahir Koizumi, drawn as described above. The first two show her design, one is a full body doodle of her with her hands on her hips, looking a bit annoyed. The second is a bust doodle, showing her looking disgruntled and tired. She has a wire choker on. The other three are her in alternate outfits, all with shorter hair. In the first she has a baggy shirt, baggy shorts and dog tags, and stands with on hand holding her camera at her side and the other in her pocket. She's smiling. The second shows her sitting in pants and a loose black tanktop with very messy hair. The last is a bust doodle of her holding a camera and wearing a blazer. end ID]

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deathsmallcaps · 1 year

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Honestly pretty mundane story of what I think was the spirit of Halloween calling my bluff to cut my hair under the readmore.

The night before Halloween (so technically the morning) I was up, and my Bad Decisions At Night ability was doubled due to hormones. But in any case, I was awake and thinking, “God, I really want to cut my hair.”

At that point it was 12 inches from the base of my neck on average. I had been growing it for 8.5 years, kind of wanted to wait until 10 years, but it hadn’t really grown past that point in over a year and I was getting tired of taking care of it. Some part of me also wanted to donate it, but I was so sick of it that I just wanted it gone at that point.

So I jokingly grabbed a d20 and rolled it, and got a poor number. I ended up rolling it 5 more times, total of 6, and got results that I liked. But then I chickened out and said “Ok ok, I’m going to roll it 20 times, with these rules, and if I get more rolls that point to cutting it, I’ll do it. I’ll cut my hair!” Cue half-mad giggles.

The rules: a Roll of the numbers 1,2,3 were negative points towards cutting my hair.

Numbers 4 through 17 didn’t matter.

Rolling numbers 18,19,20 were positive points towards cutting my hair.

So however the negatives and the positives added up, I’d stay the same for a negative answer and cut my hair for a positive answer.

So I rolled 20 times, keeping track of the points on my phone, and I ended up with 3 positive points. Only one negative had occurred.

Statistically, that was unlikely, and my heart was starting to beat a little too fast because part of me knew making decisions this late was a bad idea, but the numbers were surprisingly on my side. “Ok ok ok, let’s do 50”

I rolled 30 more times. Numbers were even more on my side. Wtf. “Let’s do a hundred.” I said to the spirits who were definitely watching me at this point.

We did 100. And while the negatives started rolling in a bit at the end, I had 14 points towards cutting my hair. FOURTEEN. Statistically very unlikely that the negatives hadn’t canceled out, or had gotten close to canceling out, the positives. “Holy shit,” I chuckled.

Heart beating out of my chest, I knew that it was meant to be. So for a couple minutes I tried to convince myself that it’s be ok to wait until morning and go to a professional, but the feeling of disgust towards my long hair (it was genuinely nice hair. I just Didn’t Want It) had heightened to the point where I needed it gone, Now.

I was kind of hesitant to cut my hair, because when I was little I used to cut and ruin my hair out of stress, to the point that my mom had to hide all the scissors, and even as an adult I cut snippets off to relieve stress. But at this point the hair itself was a stressor, so it needed to be gone, yesterday.

So I put my hair into two low pigtails, parted it slightly to the side for once, gathered it below my ears, and grabbed my craft scissors.

Some hair got stuck between the blades (my hair is very thick) but I kept hacking away. Enough hair to choke a hippo lay on my sink, but still I kept going. I had chosen to cut an inch below the ponytail holders, and I was mostly sticking with it.

At last, it was done. I pulled my hair out of the holders, and was pleased to find that it looked cute! Not perfect for sure, and the back was a little wonky, but it was fine enough for me to go to work and then class before I had time to go to the hairdresser! Happily, I trashed the monster hair clump and thanked the spirits for their support of the change.

And now it’s styled and fixed in the back and I’m very very happy. I was able to wear my hair down all day for the first time in years because it didn’t feel oily and unnerving! (Autism + an overly oily face in early high school = hating the feeling of hair touching my face.)

So if you feel the need to cut your hair next Halloween, it just might be the spirits helping you.

(Before and after pictures. My hair isn’t naturally quite that wavy, I often braid it and then take it out when dry. So it was actually a little longer than that, but this was from a selfie the Saturday before the actual Halloween. So they were very close chronologically lol)

#yeah my hormones are still fucking me Over rn lmao #hair #Halloween #halloween spirit #d20 #honestly I’m putting these tags here so #I can find this again #I’m thinking I could rework this into a submission to my school’s lit magazine!

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

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kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | lila salt, so much salt

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

w.c | 8.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

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

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

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

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

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

Sharp enough to kill?

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

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

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

Good, Lila was already present.

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

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

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

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

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

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it...?

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

Perhaps it was possible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

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

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alya frowned. “Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

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

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

A collective choir of groans rounded the class.

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

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

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

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

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

“... No.”

“...”

“... Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This elicited another round of groans.

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

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam!

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

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

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

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

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

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

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

Alya was silent.

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

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

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered.

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

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

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

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

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

The class agreed, nodding along.

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

This is your problem now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Determination was always one of your good traits.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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this was both satisfying and tiring to write...

#ml salt #ml saltfic #saltfic #lila salt #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien salt #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #[ris writes]—✧

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abbynx · 3 years

Text

La Squadra Esecuzione during prom Headcanons

So like.... A normal AU of sorts combined with High School AU so yes Genre: Romantic, headcanons, crack-ish, AU Warning: Alcohol consumption, teen drinking

Formaggio: - Goes to prom sporting a white dress shirt, orange bowtie, tanned suspenders, tanned pants and dark brown dress shoes. Also wears a gold watch and a brown fedora with a green lining - He picks you up rather late, but he knows the vibes with people during prom and usually, the time of meeting plan will usually be delayed due to unexpected disasters occuring. - Has a bouquet of cliché ass roses to give to you when you meet. As soon as he lay eyes on you, his mouth would be a crack open, eyes wide. Once you point his out, he tried to recover from this with a clear of his throat, and checks you out. "Damn bro, you look beautiful." His voice would crack if he were to continue to speak. Will forget to give you the flowers, so point this out and he will practically almost shove on your chest and will profusely apologize if he were too rough. - Will hog the buffet. If there's no buffet, he'll be intensely disappointed and the whole prom night will be ruined. But you're by his side, he's happy... Bust still he will be a little hangry >:( - He will photobomb in every picture his gang will take. So if you want a picture perfect picture to be posted on Instagram, there will be a blurry figure of this dude making kissy faces or sticking his tongue out. Join him if you want, it'll make him happy while the others will pissed at you for not getting your date a leash to stop him from messing around. - He'll egg you on to spike the punch with alcohol. If you're not willing to risk your school record, he'll do it himself and will succeed at it. Now watch the chaos unfold as students get unknowingly drunk. - This boy will be busting down the moves on the dance floor. So get your dancing shoes on, and DANCE— - When the slow dance music comes on, he'll smoothly ask you for your hand for (marriage—) a dance. So if he is extremely hyper whilst dancing to pop, hip hop or whatever lovely music the DJ was playing, he is very distinctively different. Very slow, very gentle, very soothing. Just swaying by the music as the night ends. Often times he'll let you take the lead of the dance and hes okay with that. "You know Y/N..." He breathes out, as he lets you take the lead to the waltz. "I could get use to this... Us dancing like this... Inourweddingday—" "What?" "Nothing." He smirks, before letting himself be dipped down and twirled up again. Illuso - Goes to prom wearing a white dress shirt, light grey pinstripe waist coat with a matching light grey pinstripe pants, white gloves, black dress shoes and a purple necktie with a silver tie clip. He ditched the six pigtails in favour for a high ponytail secured with a purple hair tie. - Pretty boy here will be looking extra pretty tonight! No surprise that he brought a mirror with him to touch on his appearance multiple times. You will see him spray his face with those mist sprays to touch up his appearance. - He is fashionably late due to him tending on his appearance, but he makes it up to you by bringing flowers and sweets! Once he lays eyes on you, he plays cool by smirking but omg he is squealing inside. "Good evening, Caro/a. You look ravishing." He kisses the back of your hand, whilst keeping an intense eye contact. Bro, idk how you will stay calm and composed by this— - Will photobomb pictures with Formaggio, except he poses like a model instead of making funny faces. - Will get unknowingly tipsy from the punch and flirt with you and will be extra touchy, slinging his arm around your shoulders when sitting down, and will wrap his arms around your waist. "Caro/a~ you look so damn hot in your dress/suit~" - Refuses to stand up and dance to lively music. Let Formaggio and the others egg him on and with the influence of his tipsy-ness, before he takes offense and dance like there's no tomorrow. So if you're not dancing with him, get your camera's out, Melone has his one out. - Will not stop giving you compliments, so enjoy getting bombarded with it every single time. This behaviour is being influenced by a little drop of alcohol and encouraged by

what he truly feels about you. So enjoy while it lasts. He is extra clingy, and will accompany you everywhere you go. If you manage to slip away from him, he might just cry searching for you. "Caroooo/aaaa where are youuu?" - And amidst the slow dance part, he will indulge and lead. So prepare, bro, he has prepared himself just for this moment. He gives me pompous theatre kid vibes, so expect the dance to be so grand and fairytale like that students would be staring at you two. Prosciutto - Whoooooo bro, if he looks glamorous like he normally does, it will be multiplied tonight in Prom. Like bruh chill, you're attending a high school prom, not your own wedding— So for prom he is dressed to his best, sporting a black dress shirt, navy blue waist coat, a dark navy blue double breasted coat with small, gold vine designs around the cuffs of the sleeves, navy blue pants, yellow necktie with navy blue curly vine detailing and a pair of black dress shoes. His hair is styled the same, because he looks hot with it. - He is very quick at preparation, and so he expects you to be the same. If not, he'll take the time to assist you in preparation whilst sternly lecturing you about the importance of time management. Once finished, he'll press a kiss to your cheeks and compliment how you look. "You're glowing, my love," he whispers to your ear, before standing straight and offering you an elbow. "Shall we?" - Refuses to get up and dance to lively music, because he thinks it's too peasant-like 💅✨ No amount of egging will convince him because he thinks he's too sophisticated for something like that - He snuck his own bottle of alcohol because he doesn't want to drink the punch spiked with cheap alcohol. This boy I swear. - Prosci is extremely classy, a huge gentleman, the type that will take his coat off and lend it to you if you're cold or offer you his handkerchief when you cry or whatever, will pull you a seat, etc etc. - Will only get up to dance when the music has gone slow and the lights are dimmed. He will step out of his seat, serve you a bow and offer you a hand. And with low, velvety baritone voice, he ask, "May I have the honour to dance with you?" - He leads the dance with grace and elegance enough to match with your capable pace. If you don't know how to dance, he'll take it slow and teach you the basic, let get the hang of it. He doesn't really care if you know or not, he just want you in his arms. - This is where most likely where you'd share your first kiss. Dancing the night away, chest to chest and clinging to each other whilst everything around you slowed and faded away, gazing into each others eyes until your sight suddenly darts down to his lips when he got the same feeling you wanted to share something amidst this evening to solidify your relationship with each other and take it to the next level. And so he'll gently lean, press his kiss against yours, and pulling away, only to go for it again. Pesci - Goes to prom wearing a black dress shirt, green bow tie, white coat that he left open, and some regular black shoes. He opted to dress simple unlike his overly grand older brother because of his insecurities getting to him first. - Very nervous. Like, shit bro, his hands were extremely clammy causing Pesci to be scolded by Prosciutto yet again for being nervous for no reason. - He was too damn chicken to ask you out to prom, and is now wallowing in his own misery by drowning himself drinking the funny tasting liquid Prosciutto brought with him, just watching you from afar laughing with your friends. Formaggio and Prosciutto are his biggest wingmen and are actively encouraging him to go get it, but Pesci was too damn shy. "Pesci, Pesci, Pesci," Prosciutto lectures, caressing his brother's face. "You and I both know you're good enough for Y/N. Look at them, they just stand still and miserable whilst their friends left to dance with their own partners. Are you going to allow that?" "Come on, Pesci! You can do it!" Formaggio chimes in. - And so with the egging done, Pesci sucks a

breathe and walks to your table when your friends have gone to dance the night away with their partners. He was a sweaty mess, opting to run away the last minute, when Prosciutto and Formaggio pushed him forward, which automatically got your attention. "Oh hi, Pesci!" He felt his would left his body when your attractive face turned to him with a smile. His chest hammered heavily, drowning his ears out with heavy cacophonous beats of his own heart. - So there you were, just smiling at him, confused to why he approached your table and just stared at you. You noticed the way he trembled, connected two and two together and stood from your seat and offered him your hand. "Would you like to dance with me?" "Y-yes— I would love too!" The two wingmen were disappointed Pesci didn't initiated the suave introduction, but it is what it is. - Be patient with him, he is a nervous wreck and will profusely apologize when he accidentally stepped on your toes, and his palms were constantly sweating and will stop the dance just so he can wipe your hands with his handkerchief, apologizing. - So what you're gonna do is to put your hand atop his shoulders and look him in the eyes. "Pesci, calm down. It's just me. Breathe." And with that, his nerves are a little settled, took a breathe and regained a small bit sense of being calm and let you lead the dance. - After the dance ended, bows were exchanged, you gave him a peck on the cheek. "Let's go out tomorrow, yeah? Let's meet up by the park at five thirty. I'll see you there." You smirked up at him, before escorting him back to his seat. The boy was left speechless, but the red on his face says it all. Once you're out of ear-shot, Prosciutto and Formaggio would cheer for Pesci. Melone - Wear a violet dress shirt, a dark lavender waist coat, an extremely dark shade of purple coat, a magenta cravat, black shoes, and black gloves. I headcanonned him to be wearing a violet rectangular rimmed glasses due to his bad eye sight on his right eye during his younger days, so he's going to prom with his glasses off and with contact lenses on. His hair would be up to a half ponytail fastened by a crystal rose hairpin. - He came to you your house to pick you up, straightening the cravat on his chest, ready to fluster you to no end when he came face to face with you. You're too attractive that he lost his voice for a moment. He was too nervous too check you out and be a perve about it, holy shit why are you so damn beautiful djfnfkdjcjndcjmd - He looks suave, but honestly, he is a wreck. There will be moments wherein the charming veneer he has will collapse with the form of a voice crack or a stammer, but will immediately clear his throat and rephrase what he has to say. "H-hello Y/N uUHm—" his voice cracked, forcing his hand to fly up to his mouth to clear his throat and recover his charming veneer. "Good evening, Y/N. You look divine as always, tesoro~" - Honestly, just the best fucking person to be prom date and boyfriend because he will never bore you at all! Not with his four hundred choice of topic, you are not going to get bored! And besides, who does not want to hear this nerd talk passionately about his interest, interesting facts and whatnot? Don't you dare shut him up, look at that glimmer in his eyes when he's talking, you wouldn't want to ruin that right? - He. Will. Take. Pictures. A lot of it. Not just of the two of you together, but with his friends as well because he holds them dear to his chest. He will manage to get a shot of the two of you together without Formaggio photobombing in the background. So get him to take your picture for your new profile picture in Instagram or something because his photography skills are heavenly! And he doesn't really kind taking pictures of you, in fact, he loves that he gets to have more of your photos! - Will get easily jealous. And by that, enjoy Melone practically clinging to you, tightening his grip around your hand and giving an overly sweet smile towards the person making him jealous. Good luck with that

sweetie 😘 - Yo, due to his extremely overwhelmed reaction of your beauty, he won't stay silent for a minute to compliment you. Like, at all. But he's not charming about it, no, it just subconsciously slips out whenever he's deeply staring at you with sunset eyes and just the most adorable grin ever, whilst his heart within his chest can't stay still. And within this moment, he couldn't help but to press a gentle kiss on your lips because of how deep his desire and trance was. Will apologize frantically once realization struck him that he shouldn't be doing that without your consent and will sputter apologies. So kindly shut him up and return his kiss and that will leave him into a smiling wreck. - As soon as the music changed into a slow pace, the lights dimmed and the mood changed, he nervously looks over you and holds his hand out. "Would you like to dance, tesoro?" He graciously asked with an edge of anxiety in his voice. You simply smiled and put your hand atop his and let him lead you into the dancefloor and let him lead the dance. There's nothing more heavenly than being with you, to be honest. He's in peace but at the same time, panicked because a divine deity such as yourself decided to look more into his perverted character and saw a passionate nerd residing in him. You didn't look at him with revulsion, you laughed with him, and you love him. There's nothing more he could want than feeling your warmth and love. Ghiaccio - He doesn't really like the prom at all, and will bitch just about everything, to the food, the venue, etc like chillax Elsa— so his main complaints is that he sees this as a waste of time and money, as apparently this is just any other time in school, just in the middle of the night, dressed in formal attires. And for that thing in mind, he thought that getting a date was useless. Pfft, as if he can resist you—He wasn't going to attend this dumb event when he heard some boys wanting to ask a certain h/c friend of his into a date as a prank. So Ghiaccio squared the fuck up, and asked you out in a date, rather straightforward and blunt about it, so go and accept! - Sis be unrecognisable omg, you'd have to hear him scream about etymology before recognising this nerd lmao So he's out to go to prom wearing a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, white and blue gingham patterned waist coat, red bow tie and black shoes. His hair is out of its curls, slicked back and he's wearing contact lenses and ditched his glasses. - Very confused as to why he attended for your sake, but went through with it because he can't stand seeing his friend experience that kind of pain. I mean, he can just tell you not to accept their offer, but he insists! "I'm not asking you out on a prom date because I wants to! I just doesn't want to those cazzos to take advantage of you!" He persists to insist with his furiously red, discoloured face. - Boi, stop teasing him before he turns completely red, voice at the its highest peak, and mad at you, because with your attractive looks alone he already can't control the colour of his face. If you stop, however, that doesn't mean La Squadra won't stop teasing him about it. So do him a favour, scold the others and give Ghia a break. - Warms up at the idea of prom because he realised how his friends and classmates enjoyed this... Especially you. The way you would just sit, listen to the music whilst eating, watching other students just vibe? Well admittedly he isn't warming up to it because his peers are enjoying it... But it's because the way you smile watching others enjoy this event. He is a massive tsundere but a romantic sap at heart, please help this boy— - So dancing... What you expected him to know how to dance? PFFT— NO, OVER HIS DEAD BODY— anddddddd somehow he found himself in the middle of the dancefloor, aggressively flailing his limbs around after Formaggio and Illuso called him incapable of doing so. - At the end of the night, once slow dancing was in session, he is a bit of hesitant to dance with you, as you saw him

dance earlier. He just does not know how to and other than that, he freezes up when he is within close proximity with you. But dang it Y/N, why do you look so damn envious watching your classmates dance? So Ghiaccio sucks it up, sighs and stood from his seat. "Wanna dance?" He grumbled. Oh bich, you better accept because he's only doing this once! - So he tried his best to ease up, lead the dance and just tries not to make a mistake. He's generally having a good time despite being so stiff and with his brows knitted together, I assure you he is enjoying! It's just his default appearance and he is really intensely focused on not stepping on your toes. Like the prom, he warms up to dancing because seeing you smile just makes him smile too. This would be the moment wherein he'd find beauty within your eyes in which he never looked upon before. He was always so drawn to your eyes just staring off into space, but never has he seen them up close... And they were certainly more prettier now that he is up close. Risotto - Like Ghiaccio, he doesn't see the point in going to these events. I mean, there's socializing but don't students do that every day already? He wasn't going to attend prom, seeing that he really doesn't know what to do in these events... Until you asked him out to go, so wyoom— fuck that, he's going! - Having the lack of knowledge about prom and being so indecisive regarding what he can wear, mix that with his desperation to impress you— he asks the only fashion Diva he knows of, Prosciutto over for advice or better yet, pick at the clothes in his closet for Risotto to wear. - He ended up going to prom wearing a black double waist coat and pants with silver pinstripes, red dress shirt, black and white stripped necktie, silver chains connected to his coat and pocket watch, and also black shoes. He let his hair down, combed down and parted to the side. - Mostly silent during prom, just watching other people vibe whilst drinking from the alcohol Prosciutto snuck in. He's not really comfortable participating into the party, he's more into watching them just vibe but he would appreciate it if you'd stay by his side not because he looks lonely, but you just genuinely want to stay with him and/or you're uncomfortable mingling with the crowd as well. - Will have his finger entwined with you the whole evening, complimenting you and your choice of clothing for the night. He just appreciates your company and secretly hopes to himself that you wouldn't ditch him for being so boring since he doesn't really what to do in these sorts of situations other than being a wallflower. It was selfish of him, but he knows you love him~ "Promise you wouldn't leave me?" Risotto whispers, his thumb stroking your hand for reassurance. "What? No!" - Will get easily jealous because he feels so damn self-conscious that he really doesn't know what to do in events like this! And by that, enjoy Risotto practically clinging to you, tightening his grip around your hand and giving a look towards the person making him jealous. Good luck with that sweetie 😘 - The only moment wherein he'd be getting near the crowd to mingle would be with you... He wanted you to experience something from him this night and so he decided to dance with you at the end of the night. And so when the mood was set in for a slow dance, he timidly hold his hand out for you to take, with his intense gaze boring to yours, he asks of you, "May I have the honour to dance with you?" - He'd have the biggest, most fucking loving smile when you accept as he gently takes your hand and lead you to the dance floor. There is, admittedly, a problem with the height difference but fuck that, you just wanted to dance. He just wants you to know that he's very appreciative of his nature to be unsociable and despite that, you stuck around with him instead of abandoning him to bond with your other sociable peers, and that he's the luckiest boy alive to be having such an understanding, such kind and thoughtful s/o. "Thank you... Very much, Y/N." Gelato and

Sorbet - Gelato would be dressed with a black turtle neck, dark grey coat, dark grey pants and shoes, with a silver chain hanging around his neck. His hair at its usual style. - Whilst Sorbet attended prom dressed in a white dress shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows, brown waist coat with light brown pinstripes, with matching brown pants with the same pinstripe pattern, dark brown necktie and brown shoes. - Will lounge around like Risotto, and just vibe with the music, ya know? If you're up for some dancing with the three of them, hell ye sure, because there's nothing more enjoyable than spending with each others side! - If ever you decided not to drink, watch over Gelato with Sorbet because that boy will drink and his tolerance is whack. So not only are you on guarding duty with Gelato, but as well as the rest of La Squadra. So please, don't drink, Sorbet would very much appreciate for someone to be as sober as he is to deal with your drunken friends. "Gelato, please put the bottle down and get off the table—" Sorbet tries to lecture, whilst the aforementioned person tips over at rhe slightest with a bottle of alcohol at hand. "Y/N could tou help me over here?!" - Both of them are very chatty, surprisingly knows a lot of juicy gossips about teachers and classmates alike but they clarify that you should not repeat what you hear. So either you're out there dancing, or gossiping about everyone in school as you sat by your table. "Did you know Regina is cheating on Aaron?" Gelato whispers lowly meant for only your and Sorbet's ear. "Omg, really?" You whispered back. "I knew there was something up." Sorbet adds. - Three person waltz anyone? Hell yes. So all you need is precise movements and grace, but that's already taken care of since you three practiced in advance for this! It doesn't really matter if it were to be performed well, y'all just wanted a good time at each others company and that's that. - At the end of the night, Gelato's passed out from alcohol like the rest of La Squadra except of Pesci, you and Sorbet. So good luck loading your drunken friends into the vehicle. ~ Bonus ~ Prom King: Illuso Best dressed: Prosciutto Best dancer: Formaggio

#la squadra x reader #la squadra #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #gelato x reader #sorbet x reader #jjba golden wind #jjba vento auero #jojos part 5 #headcanons

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ererokii · 3 years

Text

— broken strings and beautiful melodies

diluc r. x f!reader

Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: major character death, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, gore, this does not follow the og plot and lore/ some spoilers for “We Will be Reunited” Archon Quest Note: this is for Attack On Academia’s Mythology Summer Collab! Please be sure to check out the masterlist for everyone else’s works. They all worked super hard and it turned out amazing! And big thanks to @reddriot and @axther for betaing <3

Synopsis: A simple love story between the Pyro Archon, and a mortal.

taglist || masterlist || server link || collab masterlist

Another four days pass and it’s finally Friday. Fridays at Angel’s Share were no different from the ones prior. Exhausted adventurers and townspeople venture inside the tavern to drink their woes away, to forget, or to have a great time. It was annoying, to say the least—hearing the laughter and cheers bouncing off the walls.

However, Diluc had to say nothing was worse than a certain pigtail braided bard strutting in with his lyre. The redhead had no choice but to serve the bard his choice of drinks after figuring out his true identity (although he still makes him pay the whole total—even if the singer can’t find a way to pay).

Like before, the bartender lifts his head up, crimson eyes boring into the crowd gathering beside the bard at the nearby table.

The bard’s soft voice matches with the melody of his lyre, fingers pulling and gracefully sliding past the strings. His eyes closed, telling a story to the nearby peers and the quiet man standing behind the counter. A tale Diluc heard once, yet it weighed on him all the same.

“The story of this archon is no better than the rest, yet, the most tragic comes from the debris of war. The god of War was like no other. Loads of strength, yet grief and sorrows weigh him down like an anchor in the vast ocean. Love is a mere factor, yet love is one of the many things the god brought ruin to.”

With heavy footsteps, a red-haired male walks along the dirt path in no shoes, wearing the silkiest of robes one could ever obtain. He hums to himself, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his face, letting out a huff of annoyance when it falls right back into the same position as before.

He breathes in the crisp air of the summer night, relishing the winds that brush across his skin. Summers in Natlan were one of a kind. While it was scorching in the morning, when the night came around, all was calm. The harsh rays turned into blissful winds that cleansed the land of heat.

During the other seasons, it was never too cold, nor was it ever too hot. The temperature was just right for all men, women and children.

Located in the southwestern region of Teyvat, Natlan was home to the Pyro Archon, known as The God of War. The god, Murata, is unlike any other god. Ruthless and fierce, he does not handle any threat lightly. Anything thrown his way, he does not hesitate. With kindness and love, Murata will no doubt protect his nation.

His statues are scattered across the land. Standing with his formal rags and cloak that shields his face, Murata holds his claymore in his right hand, the tip pointing down to symbolize his foes beneath him as he celebrates in victory.

In the night sky, his statues act like lights to guide those on safe journeys home or to neighboring nations. Along with being guides, the structures are used for a place of reverence. Often many would journey far and wide to pay thanks for everything he has done.

In the center lies the biggest of them all, flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. Like the other Archons, Murata was grateful for his people. When roaming the land, he spots commoners on their knees by the base of the statue during the late of night or the crack of dawn. Not wanting to disturb, the archon watches from afar.

Today is different. Murata continues to walk along the path, listening to the noises coming from the forest animals and the creeks as the waters begin to rush at this hour of the night. He can’t help but let out the faintest of hums at the sounds of nature.

He reaches for the side of his face, tucking a red strand behind his ear. Often the god will put his hair up into a low or high ponytail, but for outings in the cool atmosphere, he prefers to wear it down. His powers were compared to his hair many times. When describing his appearance, he listens to the children exaggerate saying his hair is literal flames that he can produce from the palm of his hands. Of course, this is nowhere near true, but a child’s imagination is quite amusing.

In the distance, his crimson hues bore straight ahead at the small flickering light.

“Someone must be up now,” he whispers to himself, debating on leaving them alone but instead, chooses to go up ahead and observe from a closer proximity. Muratans knew what their god looked like. He comes out during the day to pay visits but never for long periods of time.

As quick as they see him, it's as quick as they’ll see him leave. No one can ever hold his attention for too long.

The sound of strings being played can be heard from his spot-- and he halts. A lyre, one of his favorite pastimes and favorite instruments.

Over the hill is a figure sitting beside the statue, back turned to him but he can see the movement of their arm. Curious, Murata continues to stalk forward quietly, not wanting to disturb the worshipper.

The melody played is show-stopping in his eyes. He wonders if Celestia had sent down someone he was unaware of to play this just for him, and only him. If anything, he could settle on the grass and listen to them play for ages on end, wearying his immortal days out. Music was the only thing that could settle him, but not forever.

Now, he's a mere few steps away from the cloaked figure. His face is lit up by the candles by his feet. His tongue peeks out of his lips as an unknown feeling bursts through his body. His palms felt sweaty and his heart rate increased.

He winces when the wrong note is played, gritting his teeth together. The redhead doesn’t think much until a force pushes him backward.

“W-Why are you standing there watching me?! Don’t you know this place is meant for us to come together, not to be creepy like you just were right now?!”

“W-What?” he whispers in surprise, bringing a hand to cover his nose that suddenly feels wet. He pulls away, noticing the red drops on his skin. Blood.

“Don’t question me that way! You know exactly what you were doing… A pig is what you are. Oh, just you wait until Murata finds out about this.”

“Murata huh?” he questions, wiping his hand on the grass, watching the blood dissolve into nothing-- the red trails of blood trickling down his nose come to an unsuspecting halt.

He clears his throat and comes to stand, staring down at the figure behind him. With the candlelight, a glimpse of crimson eyes and matching hair can be seen. In a matter of seconds, it's silent. Until there is a subtle gasp.

It amuses the Archon greatly to see a change in behavior and the fear present in the civilian's eyes. He wouldn’t dare try anything to her, but maybe it would lighten the mood if he did.

With desperate breaths of air, you reach forward and grab ahold of the man's hands, squeezing as hard as you could. “M-My Lord, I deeply apologize for my behavior! Please forgive me! I was foolish!”

“No need to be formal all of a sudden…mistakes are made and all can be forgiven. I must say, you are quite gifted with that instrument in your hand.”

Your face heats up, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting than him as you gaze down. Your god had just complimented you and yet here you are losing the composure you had seconds ago.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hand clutching the lyre close to your chest. “It’s an honor to hear such wonderful words, especially coming from you.”

Murata stares down, an unexplainable look upon his face. Then, he smiles.

“Your name?”

“Pardon?”

“What is your name? As someone as gifted as you, I think you deserve to have your name remembered.”

“My name is Y/N. For some reason, your kind words seem to boost my confidence. I normally don’t play in front of people, I’m too shy and afraid of their judgement. I only like to play in front of the statue… or in this case, you.”

“How about you play for me again?”

The angelic sounds of your lyre had been played more often since you’ve met the god. The night was when you shined, when no one was around to listen or stare at you. The dark sky made you feel alone, yet you were at peace. You found pleasure in playing for the Pyro Archon statue, yet having him sitting beside you and listening made your heart beat just a bit more than before.

During the day, you find yourself sitting under the big oak trees, the sunlight peeking through the leaves and shining upon you two. Murata lays close to you, eyes shut and lashes resting against his upper cheeks as the song lulls him to a quick nap or a state of serenity.

He’ll comment on a subtle note, saying how he loves the pitch, or give recommendations. Many times Murata has taken your instrument and played a tune or two for you. He says every gentleman should at least know how to serenade a lady.

As a child, your family spoke highly of him. They even used him as a threat against you when you’ve done something wrong. Now that you look back, it was a mere hoax and it possibly scarred you just a bit. When you first told Murata this, he stared with his lower lip quivering before his shoulders started to shake and then, he let out a laugh.

“Surely you didn’t believe that, right?”

“I did! I was a child, what else was I supposed to do?! I nearly wet my sheets when my mother told me that you would come and scare me!”

“Well come on now, are you still scared?”

He enjoys seeing you worked up—then again, he loves seeing you play the lyre. He stays quiet and watches your fingers move as if they had a mind of their own. You move with grace, without hesitation. There is no wrong note, no wrong string when you play. Sometimes being here with you in this moment made him feel like he was mortal. Like he was able to live freely.

Being bound to divinity in Celestia, Murata had wandered Teyvat for ages, alone. Each person he had gotten close to, he had to watch them disappear from this world in the shadows. At some point, he even had to pretend to be lost so others could forget about him. If they forgot about Murata, would the load be easier on the Pyro Archon’s shoulder?

But now, you’re aware of his status and who he truly is. If you were to stay by his side, would he be the last thing you see before you pass into the next life? He’s not sure, but he’s hoping that won’t be true. He couldn’t bear with the guilt that will get him worked once more at the thought of another mortal dying in front of his eyes.

“Murata?” you ask one afternoon, sitting by the same statue you met him for the first time. “What’s it like?”

He steers his gaze away from the clouds and onto you, an eyebrow raised in question. “What is what like?”

“You know—” you start, messing with the material of your dress, head lowered. “Being a god?”

And then he freezes. Out of all the questions you could have possibly asked, this one had to be the most unexpected.

“Why do you wish to know something like that?”

“I want to know what it’s like. Immortality and eternal beauty sound pretty amazing, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he immediately states, sitting upright. His body looks tense, posture perfect and hands in his lap. However, you notice the small twitch in his fingers, as if he’s thinking. You can hear the heaviness in his breathing—lips parted as the air slips in and out of his mouth.

How can living on this earth for years on end, watching people die in front of you like they are meaningless, be perfect? Is that what people thought about immortality? The faces of past friends from ages ago are nothing but a blob of color in his mind. He can’t remember their faces, nor their voices—only the memories they have shared, and even that is starting to fade away.

Murata cleared his throat, eyes fluttering shut. His chest heaved up slowly, before falling at the same rate. Soon, he opens his eyes and faces you. He reaches up and tightens his high ponytail, running his fingers through the red tresses. “The life of an immortal is not...ideal.”

“There comes a time where living forever is not as good as it seems. A human like yourself might think differently since there is an end to everyone’s journey. Death is inevitable for a human, and almost all are afraid of the end itself. Even… I am afraid there will be a time I will be cursed with that end. But for now, that’s something that rarely crosses my mind..”

And he continues. Murata proceeds to tell you about the drawbacks of being a God. When he speaks, you can see pain flash across his eyes as he recalls a memory of a loving friend who passed before him. He tells you there’s no avoiding this never ending nightmare. If there was a way he could overcome this spell of immortality, he would choose mortal life in an instant.

He believes nothing good comes with this. In his eyes, everything gets destroyed by his hands. If he hadn’t created this nation, he wouldn’t be here with you, nor would he have people at his feet who love and worship him for everything—for giving them a home. He would be a traveler with no home, or loved ones.

The Archon doesn’t realize how much of his thoughts he spilled until he feels the warmth of another—your hand resting upon his cheek. This alerts him as he jolts, eyes wide as he stares at you. You wear a small smile, head cocked to the side. Your thumb moves on its own, wiping the tear away that dribbles down the swell of his face.

His body relaxes, shoulders slouching as he relishes your touch, not having been caressed by another, let alone a human. If he’s being honest, it's been at least a century since he has gotten close to another mortal. It’s a foreign feeling, but he loves it nonetheless.

Your soft spoken words are enough for him to be at ease.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to continue through the suffering.”

In a vulnerable state, the tears continue to flow down his face, arms slithering around your body as he pulls you in close. At first the motion shocks you, but soon you return the action, hand resting on the small of his back and by his head, stroking the soft locks. You can hear the faint sobs that escape his lips and it’s strange. From stories, they state Murata was fierce, barely any emotion in him.

But he looks nothing more than a broken man in need of comfort.

You press your lips against his head, humming softly to him. His arms tighten around you, a shaky breath slipping past. As much as Murata hates this feeling, but after being alone for as long as Teyvat had been founded, he thinks he deserves to be this close to someone again.

After moments of silence, the god is positioned beside you, hand resting on your thigh and head on your shoulder. His eyes feel heavy, the area feeling irritated and scratchy from his crying. As much as the thoughts still swirl in his head, they seem to be drowned out by the melody you play for him.

He lazily draws organic shapes with the pad of his finger on your skin, eyes beginning to close.

Your lyre is one of the few beautiful things he has come across in his lifetime. You currently hold the number one spot for the most beauty he has seen but when you sit with your instrument, he swears he can see the wings of an angel behind you.

He steers his gaze from the lyre to your face, eyes taking in the small details of your visage. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he notices the slip of your tongue peek from your lips, eyebrows creasing in concentration. Along with the melodies, he listens to your small hums as you play a song just for him-- one of worship and love.

His hand runs up your arm, halting your movements at once. Eyes opening, you stare forward for a second before looking down upon him. He recognises your confusion and lets out a laugh, hand trailing up before his thumb rests on your chin, making you keep your gaze on him.

Your face heats up at this interaction, mouth parted. Your breathing becomes uneven when you notice the close proximity. Your stomach flutters, the back of your throat suddenly going dry—no words able to slip through. His chest rises and falls just as quick as your own.

His tongue peeks through, licking his lower lip. His crimson hues stare at your lips before averting his gaze to your eyes. As much as it’s tempting, now is not the right time.

“Beautiful,” he whispers quietly, for your ears only. “So beautiful… like an angel sent down from the divine...”

- The lyre, made of nature’s resources and carved into the most adoring shapes—the ends curving in different directions and a piece of excess wood piercing straight through the middle with a pointed tip and a rounded end. Made for the best, the lyre contains seven strings that seem to glow throughout the day and the night.

In the middle, an emerald gem shines embedded on the wood, reflecting the rays of the sun, sparkling for all to see. Around lies the detail of the sun, the soft yellows encircling it. And just beneath that is gold details that resemble the wings of those who are free. Two flowers that are foreign to the land of Natlan are delicately engraved—their colors showing pure innocence.

The Cecilia flowers stay in bloom, never once dying out. Nor has any other grown in their place.

A perfect instrument, one of elegance and purity. Perfect for you.

The origins of said lyre are unknown, yet when it was given to you as a young child, you didn’t dare question it. Instead, you took it with the biggest grin and thanked your father as many times as you could. You were intelligent and extremely talented. At first, your mother was skeptical of such an object being in the possession of an nine year old, but your father assured it was in safe hands.

Since then, it’s been by your side to this day. It’s never been out of your grasp and you only let certain trusted people play it. For some reason, seeing others hold the instrument made you feel weird.

Playing your gift made you feel like you were above the world, like you could ascend to Celestia and play for the gods. It felt as if some sort of divine power surged through your veins and riled you up. And now at the ripe age of 24, having the Pyro Archon by your side as you play for him daily, it feels as if your purpose of living has been complete.

Seeing his soft smile and slight nods he gives when he's impressed (which is all the time) or when he places his hand on yours to play along with you. Having him close to you makes you feel warm, excited and giddy; almost like a young girl in love.

Which... You won’t lie to yourself about that.

There have been times during the day where you catch yourself thinking about the red head. Thoughts of him swirl your head as you drift off to sleep and he’s the first thing you think about in the morning. Sometimes you notice that you make motions in the air, like you are stroking something, when in reality, you wish to have his head in your lap again as you play with the loose ends of red tresses.

The god was just so breathtaking. Staring into his eyes was mesmerizing. The color of flames held in his eyes drew you in so far, it felt as if you were walking through a pit of flames. Yet, these flames never extinguished or brought harm to you.

“You’re lost in thought again,” Murata comments, poking your shoulder with his pointer finger. “You alright there? I don’t need you tripping over a rock or something.”

“Huh?” you ask, glancing over at him. “O-Oh it was nothing. I’m okay.” You offer a not so convincing smile, scratching the nape of your neck in embarrassment. Knowing you for a while, the god offers a nod and looks forward, his hands behind his back, steps in sync with yours.

You let your hand drop, clearing your throat as you hum, filling the silence with some noise. Your eyes wander around the area before gazing up at the tall man beside you. You take notice how the ends of his ponytail sway side to side with every step he takes.

The apple of your cheeks heat up when you can see his back muscles flex as he straightens his posture. The shirt he wore let your imagination run wild; there was no doubt that Murta was built.

“It’s quite rude to stare,” Murata says out of nowhere, barely glancing over at you. “If you want, I can just stand in front of you so you can actually look at me face to face.”

“Oh be quiet,” you mutter, stepping forward and grabbing hold of his hand—his much larger, covering yours entirely. Upon contact, his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing softly.

“You know I love messing with you,” he hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, which you respond back to him with a quiet “I know.”

The rest of the walk is filled with comfortable silence. It’s a bit chilly in the land of Natlan. One of the many summer days that turn out to be filled with crisp air and cloudy skies. Storytellers always said if it were cloudy during the season of summer, karma and misfortune was on the way—yet no one believed such lies like that.

His hand is so warm, you think, glancing down at your conjoined hands. Ever since that day by the giant stone statue of the god where you almost kissed him, his behavior towards you changed drastically. He’s been a bit more touchy (not that it bothered you; in fact, you loved it), holding your hand and somewhat more affectionate. At the end of your day when you would say goodbye, he would pull you close and plant a gentle kiss to your cheek or sometimes even close to your lips.

Just thinking about those actions makes you flustered, looking away from him and out to the open.

“What do you think it means to be in love?”

Hearing those words from the man beside you causes you to choke on your saliva, hitting your chest to calm your ongoing coughs. When you’re finally composed, you gasp for air and stare at him in shock. “W-What do I think about that?”

“Mhm.” He nods, inhaling deeply, his other hand reaching up into the air as if he was stretching before lowering it. “What do you think it means to be in love? I’m curious as to what you humans think it might be.”

“I-” You gulp, eyes semi wide as you try to wrack your brain for anything. That was not a question you were expecting, especially right now. “W-Why do you want to know? Isn’t love, love?”

“Well, aren't there different ones? Can’t people be in love with parts of someone? Lets say, only being in love with someone for their status in the nation. Or just their looks but not for them.

“Well… I think being in love with someone means you don’t care about their status or who they look or who they are.”

“Even if they’re a god?”

“Even if they’re a god.” you say confidently, before realizing what he said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Even if they’re a god,” he repeats, stopping in his tracks as he turns to face you. His cheeks are painted with soft pink, red eyes averting from you.

Murata’s heart is racing, far faster than it ever has in his life. HIs lips are dry, his mouth is parched. His shoulders heave with every deep breath he takes. Does the sweat of his hands bother you? God, he feels like a young boy about to confess his love to a girl he’s been pining over—although he's not completely wrong.

“Murata, what’s wrong?” you ask quietly, tilting yourself a bit to look up into his eyes as his head is lowered. “Are you okay?”

“Why are you so intoxicating?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y-You’re all I can think of,” he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t get you out of my mind, even though I shouldn’t get close to those I love and care for. In the end, I’ll be here and be forced to live with this overweighting guilt that rests upon my shoulders as time continues to flow knowing that you’ll be dead.”

A hiccup gets caught in the back of his throat, his thoughts becoming foggy all of a sudden. “I don’t like this feeling. I absolutely despise it. Many times after we hung out, I thought about disappearing again like I have before I got too close to anyone again. But I can’t let you go, nor will these memories ever go away.”

“Don’t you understand?” he whispers, hand shaking as his grip becomes tighter. “I can’t lose you… you’re too special to me already. I know there will be a day where we part ways forever but I want to be a part of your journey until then.”

His confession throws you for a loop. His words continue playing over and over in your head like a song you learned the night prior. You have this unexplainable feeling in your chest, yet it warms up as the seconds pass. Your whole body feels tingly, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.

Your quietness is too much for him to handle right now—a bit silly if you were to ask the Archon himself. “Say something,” he mutters, shaking your hand lightly. The redhead can already feel the rejection pooling in the depths of his stomach, eating away at him.

“You... Do you love me?” you whisper, looking up at him with doe like eyes. Murata can’t seem to answer for himself, one hand cupping your cheek. He moves closer, his breath fanning your face. The flames in his eyes gaze into yours, losing himself in the color before he averts down to your lips. A quiet way of asking for consent.

You lean forward, lips barely brushing against his. It’s shy between the two of you. After having such strong feelings for each other, neither of you know how to proceed. No one moves, it feels time has stopped.

You feel him pull away slightly before going back in, his lips fully pressed against yours. His other hand drops yours, instead wrapping his arm around your lower back. Your chest pressed up against his, your finger runs up his side, to the top of his shoulder and around, cradling the back of his neck.

His finger tightens around the material of your coat you wore for the day, using it as leverage to keep you standing. His kisses are soft yet fierce. The softness of his lips and his scent up close are enough to drive you insane, enough to make your knees buckle and make you want more. You want more of him, Murata.

A small grunts leaves his mouth when you tug on his hair. In return, he nibbles on your lower lip, chuckling at the small noise you produce from his motion. It’s becoming harder to breathe as you stay in this position with him. If air wasn’t a necessity, you wouldn’t go for it.

You pull away from him, panting softly as you gaze up into his eyes. His eyes hold nothing but love and adoration as he peers down at you. The corners of his lips curve upward as he leans in, barely presses against yours again before pulling away. He sneaks in a few quick pecks, listening to your quiet laughter.

“Of course I love you.” He makes you look up at him, your face cradled in his hands as if he was holding something delicate, something that could be wrecked and destroyed any second. “That’s why I asked you what you thought about it.”

“And I love you too,” you reply softly. “I thought.. After everything you wouldn’t want to have feelings like this, let alone a human.”

“Sometimes boundaries are meant to be broken if it means true happiness.”

“Tensions have arisen in the land of Natlan. Nearby gods have caused quite the stir, causing Murata to put it to a halt at once. Upon ascending to his seat in Celestia, there have been prophecies saying a great misfortune is underway and can arrive in an instant. Since then, he’s been worked up. He cares much about his nation and will let no harm come its way.”

The bard strums the string before growing silent, letting his head hang forward, his pigtails falling in his face. “It’s a true shame that such a horrid thing came to be… If only he was strong enough as he said he was.”

Murmurs arise from the drunken peers, hiccups joining the air as they beg him to continue the song. Even if some wouldn’t remember this night in the morning, this was still enough entertainment.

“W-What happened next, bard?! Finish it!” an adventurer gasps, holding his cup of alcohol close to his chest, his cheeks heated and a light pink.

“You wish to know?” the bard asks, peeking through his lashes, his two toned eyes staring into the soul of the bartender. “Why of course!” he laughs cheerfully then clears his throat, batting his eyelashes as he brings his hand to his chest.

“Although, I’m quite parched and would love to have another cup of Dandelion Wine! What do you say, Master Diluc?”

“My answer is no. Do not ask me for something when you will not pay in the end.”

“Agh what a shame,” the bard sighs, letting his head hang back but never breaking eye contact with the redhead. “Don’t you wish to know about the ending?”

“I could care less.” Diluc speaks through gritted teeth, arms crossed over his chest, the infamous pose he does every hour of the day. “I just want you out of here.”

“I’ll pay for him!” one of the nearby men yell, fumbling with his wallet to grab the gold circles of currency to give to the bartender—and all the bard can do is smile cheekily, opening his hand.

“Well, looks like the drink is paid for. Can I have it now, Master Diluc?”

The red head, already annoyed with the behavior of the young man in front of him, reluctantly takes the coins from the drunk. Without speaking, he serves the singer his desired drink, noticing the small smirk he wears. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asks, eyeing him up and down.

“Because I’m getting to my favorite part.” He takes a sip of his drink and places the cup back down. After a pleasant sigh is heard from him as he takes hold on his lyre, stroking the white petals of the Cecilia flowers. “And you’re gonna love it.”

- Melodies of the lyre were played even during the darkest of times. The soft notes were enough to make anyone who felt down happy again, or at least content, even yourself. The colors of the strings being played was enough to put you at ease. Sometimes when you’re out in the town, many children would ask you to play their favorite song or at least a simplified version if you weren’t familiar with it.

But as of now, all of Teyvat was in ruin. Murata had told you the truth; he hated keeping you in the dark when you deserved to know. As much as he disliked saying this, your life indeed was on the line, more than his. In fact, the whole nation was at risk, along with the other six neighboring ones.

From other Archons, Murata heard that a water monster, Osial, had arisen and was ready to ruin and kill innocents for the sake of a seat in Celestia. Morax, who was the overseer of Liyue at the time, was trying his best to seal the beast with his spears.

In this case, Murata hopes a threat like this doesn't happen to Natlan. Especially when he’s not there to protect his people, to protect you.

Murata hears a gush of wind from behind him and the earth beneath him starts shaking. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, small puffs of air slipping out of his mouth. He reaches above and tugs on the black hood of his cape.

His archon outfit consists of silk white pants and black sleeveless shirt that resembled a vest with a slit down the middle of his torso. And to top it, a black cape flows behind, the hood covering his face from all to see. In his right hand, his fingers curl around the handle of his claymore.

A heavy burden rests upon his shoulders as he stares forward, seeing the world erupt into flames and utmost chaos. In the distance, he can hear the screams and cries of the families asking for mercy. He wonders what you would think about him if you were to see him right now.

“Murata,” you whine, trailing the last syllable of his name as his lips peck against the bare skin of your shoulder. “Come on, you know that tickles.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll continue to do it,” he muses, nipping at your skin before blowing warm air onto your neck which causes you to squirm from him, pressing your hands against his chest. He listens to your soft laughs, loving the way your body moves under his touch. Your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close as you hum, inhaling the scent you’ve grown to love.

“Mmm… I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Murata whispers to no one, blinking rapidly when he realizes he was lost in thought and was not in fact with you, but only remembering a moment from a few days ago. In reality, here he stands in the middle of a deserted land that must be destroyed. Blood is on his hands, splattered on his face.

“I didn’t even want to do this,” he mutters, grinding his teeth together as he proceeds to walk forward, watching red explosions burst from the ground, red blocks protruding from either ends of the nation. In the sky, the color purple takes over as lightning strikes down from the heavens and is brought forth onto the land.

From his position, the ground had been cracked and was on the edge of being split apart if another Archon had used their powers against the nation.

He lifts his claymore in the air, staring up at the red sky with anguish. His lips part as he whispers something to himself, reassuring that what he is about to do is alright and isn’t his fault. A sudden strike of his weapon pierces the land, flames bursting into the air and cracking the earth.

Murata breathes heavily, leaning on the rounded edge of his weapon. Sweat trickles down his face, the hood falling off of his head. Two strands of hair fall forward, framing his face, the rest of it tied back into a low ponytail.

The flames continue to run down the cracks which branch to smaller ones that cause the piece of rock beneath the surface to crumble and fall, leaving the terrain to become uneven.

“Wow! Even from afar I can spot you,” a semi high pitched says from behind him. The Pyro Archon stiffens, internally groaning as he stares over his shoulder, meeting two green eyes. “Someone doesn’t look happy as he used to be.”

“Barbatos,” Murata grumbles, looking forward as he straightens his posture. With one hand, he picks his hood over his head once more and the other pulls his claymore from the ground, resting it on his shoulder. “What do you want from me now?”

“Just letting you know Morax has finished in the south region of Khaenri'ah,” Barabtos states, a frown growing on his lips as he looks away, the tips of his toes barely touching the ground as his wings keep him afloat. “You're not the only one who didn’t want this. We had no choice.”

“No choice huh…” He trails off, his claymore suddenly evaporating into thin air and gold dust left in its wake. “How are we loving, protecting gods if we just obliterated this nation with no god? What does that make us? We’re no better than those who do us wrong against our own homeland. We’re just like Decarabian. Nothing but tyrants.”

“Don’t bring up that name again.”

“Why? Because deep down you know it's true.”

“Because that was his own choice to keep us entrapped. We had no choice but to bring ruin. They felt-” Barbatos hesitates, licking his lower lip before continuing, “-they felt threatened. A nation with no god is a false one to Celestia. Everything must be in order. Khaenri’ah was not the case. We had to, or we’re next. The divine is not ready for a land with no god.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Murata. If you hadn’t, who knows what would have happened to Natlan.” A deeper voice from behind him is heard, the sound of footsteps becoming louder before they stop beside him. “You and your people would have been in grave danger.”

“Unlike you, I don’t need to keep making contracts.”

Morax chuckles lightly, shaking his head, his ponytail swaying with the movement. “And how does that look on you, God of War?”

Murata shakes his head, refusing to look at the Anemo Archon and the Geo Archon. “War or not, this is not just. The victors burn bright and the losers turn to ash. This-” he motions to the now deserted land of dust and blood. The sky is a deep red, the sun or moon nowhere to be seen. The earth is uneven, mountains caving into the ground as streaks of dark colors emit from the ground.

The spot the three archons stand upon is nothing but cracked ground, an empty space separating them and the rest of the debris.

“This is not war.”

Even when he’s not in his right mind, the only thing that can put him to ease comes up, suddenly soothing his woes away. He closes his eyes, envisioning he’s somewhere else

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper in the god’s ear, twirling a strand of hair around your finger with a smile. “No wonder you’re a god. How could they not take you?”

“Please. You flatter me too much.” He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it to his face, planting a kiss to it. “On the contrary, it should be you in my position. No, an angel is what you are.”

“An angel? Please, enlighten me.”

Murata shifts on his side to stare down at you, brushing the baby hairs from your face. A blanket covers your bodies from your previous intimate sessions, yet he remembers every curve, every flaw that’s perfection to his mind. “I mean, look at you. You’re too beautiful for this world.”

“Am I now?”

He nods, dipping his head slightly. The tip of his nose brushing against yours. “You are. You’re amazing. You’re everything in this world. You’re desirable but most importantly... you’re divine.”

“Wow, now I’m flattered.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing as he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It lasts for a few seconds but it feels as if it goes on for years. When he pulls away, you cup his cheek. “And you are ethereal.”

The god shakes his head lightly with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. You’re all he can think about. Even when he is busy taking away innocent lives and watching them get turned into monsters, the sweet image of your face continues to pop into his mind. You’re the light in the dark.

He hates the feeling of being away from you, especially when he’s on close watch from Celestia. There’s something unsettling in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite put his finger on it. Murata watches Morax and Barbatos exchange a few words before he gasps, lifting his head up fast. “Natlan. It’s in danger.”

- The nation of Natlan, located in the southwestern region of Teyvat and home to the Pyro Archon, was under attack. There was no point in trying to save them, they were already too far gone. No god in sight yet the trails of monsters were left behind. Did the Archon truly love them like they said he did? Or was it all a lie to get people’s love?

The once beautiful land is ruined—looking like the one he destroyed not long ago. His statues that aided his people on their journeys far and wide were now broken and cracked. Chunks of stone litter the ground and crush nearby civilians. Whoever was standing beside those statues had been brought down along with them, no way to return.

The god feels weak in the knees as he staggers over the dirt path that has noticeable traces of dried blood. No doubt from his people. Where are the bodies? He has no clue.

Houses have been torn apart, the roofs blown off and thrown into the field of flowers on the other side. He feels torn at heart. He wants to give up walking, already knowing the outcome but refuses to stop. He hopes that a few people, even just twenty people, can still be alive and he can move them somewhere else.

The night is cold and fresh as it was years ago. Only this time, the sounds of the animals in the creek aren’t heard and the wildlife is quiet. He looks towards the forest, hoping a deer or a boar will rush through the trees. But his hopes die when he notices that's not happening, and the habitat is burnt to ashes.

“Somebody,” he croaks out, averting his eyes upward and freezes. Up ahead, in the center lies the biggest statue of them all, where flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come.

The most beautiful statue in all of Natlan has been crushed. The head of the statue is gone from the area (he can only assume it had been tossed across the nation or into the river). The candles are no longer intact, the pieces scattered and buried into the burnt grass.

“No,” he whispers lowly before crying out, running towards it. His heart races as he steps closer and closer. All his worries and fears; he doesn’t want them to be real. He doesn’t want any of this to be real. He wants to be at home.

You.

Where are you?

He gasps for air and drops to his knees. Red eyes frantically search along the stone pieces. He plants his hands on the ground and hisses upon contact, retracting back. A rock share pierced his skin. Murata bites his lower lip as he shakes his hand, watching the piece fly off before he can continue looking.

Are you safe at home? You were, right? Surely you wouldn't come out when everything is being attacked, right? Yeah, that’s it. You’re safe at home waiting for him to return. Waiting for him to be in your arms so you can cry about your fears of losing your life and him.

And by the end he’ll calm you down, say soothing words into your ear as he holds you close, saying he’ll never leave like that again and stay with you forever. God or not, immortal or not, he plans to stay by your side.

And then your lyre will be played for you and only you. He knows your favorite melodies. Oh so beautiful, he loves hearing you play them but this time, he’ll play for you until the end of time.

Your lyre-

He freezes.

His hand hits something underneath the stone. Something smooth like wood and the prick of an object with a pointed tip—an all too familiar feeling.

With a grunt, he grabs ahold and heaves back, pulling it out from under the rubble. A surge of fear flows through his veins when he falls back, holding an object in his hands.

It’s a cracked lyre, with pieces broken off where an emerald stone originally would have laid. The gold trinkets are ripped right off, the empty space now feeling dull. He notices the seven strings have now turned to three and aren’t holding their original color that glows.

The only thing that’s untouched, however, are the Cecilia flowers. Not a hint of blood stains the white petals.

His eyes grow wide when he gazes somewhere else, spotting a hand peeking out from the same spot he pulled the lyre from. A choked cry gets stuck in the back of his throat when it all clicks together.

You weren’t home like he thought you would have been. You weren’t waiting for him to return from his wages of war, to be in his arms. Instead, you did what you always did.

Worshipped Murata, under the ceremonial statue.

The one that caused your death.

Tears well up in his eyes as he hugs the lyre close to his chest, mouth parting as a sob slips out. He rocks himself back and forth, shaking his head at this false reality but he knows this is all real.

Murata babbles to himself, muttering things underneath his breath as he hyperventilates. He can’t catch his breath. His throat is closing in on him, the air too thick to even breathe right now.

The tears blur his vision. He can’t see nor think straight anymore. The god of War was unable to save his people from the hardships of an incoming war. What kind of god was he? Was he even one? Or was he now a false one?

What seems to be years later, though it only is an hour or so, Murata finds himself standing on the edge of a cliff, dried up tears evident on his face. The whites of his eyes are red, the tip of his nose matching the same color.

He sniffles, nose stuffed from the moments earlier. His breathing hasn’t changed a bit. His shoulders still shake with every inhale. The atmosphere around him is tense, maybe even too quiet for his liking.

Behind him, he refuses to look back on the destruction he let happen. Even from a far enough distance, he can still clearly hear the crackling of fire and the sounds of a nation dying.

He lowers his hand from his chest, spreading his fingers open. In a matter of seconds, the handle of his weapon appears slowly, the rest of the claymore following suit in gold dust.

He peers down slightly, watching the red and black glow before dimming out. The slant from the edge of the weapon, one he has used to kill off his enemies without a thought. In the current state, he can see the traces of blood left behind.

In his other hand is the damaged lyre. His fingers keep it close to his chest, his heart. One of the last things he had of you. The tip of his pointer fingers strums a string and he winces from the uneasy sound it produces. This instrument no longer plays the melodies he adored, and worse yet, the person he adores can no longer hear it.

Murata was the Pyro Archon. Amongst the other gods, he was ruthless yet kind and merciful. When a threat was sent his way, he did not hesitate to take care of it. He took care of Natlan.

Or, that’s what should have happened.

He closes his eyes, goosebumps forming on his arms from the gust of wind that breezes by him, knocking his hood off. His hair that was let down swayed in the breeze, the loose ends flowing behind him. His bangs move slightly and then stop, falling in their original place.

The rest of his cape follows in the wind, the ends flowing behind him like the draft was made just for him right now.

“I let you down,” he says, clearing his throat. He stares at the colors of oranges, pinks and blues, meshed together to create the sunrise that he grew to love but now, he suddenly resents it.

A single tear cascades down his face and lands on his bare chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. A rare whimper slips past his lips. With a shake of his head, Murata brings the lyre to his face, pressing his lips against the cracked wood.

A goodbye kiss should always be special, shouldn’t it?

He pulls away, stroking the place where the gem would have been at. “I’m so sorry my love.” He averts his gaze and lowers himself, dropping the lyre on the ground underneath his feet.

“Even I could not save you from the end of your journey. And as your god, I failed to protect you.”

When he stands up straight, his fingers tighten around his claymore. He stares down at the instrument, longing for time to change and to go back. To go back to how things were before.

He can still hear the sound of your life and your smile popping into his mind. At the thought, his lips curl upward faintly in a small smile.

Oh how he misses you already. He still remembers when he first saw you on that day under the statue as you played for him. You were aggressive, that was for sure. No doubt about it when you swung at him with your lyre and accused him of being a disgusting pig.

He can only blame himself. Deep down, he knew a day like this would come, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon.

But maybe now, as he called you his angel or an angel of Celestia, you can now ascend to where you truly belong.

This isn’t goodbye, but a farewell, he thinks, clearing his throat as he gets closer to the edge. He peers downward at the ground miles beneath him.

As he failed here, he still has a job to do, no matter what.

So then he jumps. He brings his claymore around and over his shoulder and swings it down. Flames engulf him in whole on his way down until he hits the ground with a thud, his weapon taking up all the impact.

“And thus, the Pyro Archon aided in other nations against the treacherous demons that corrupted their land. After such heroic deeds, he was never to be seen. Many questioned: where did the god of War go? Who will remain victorious?”

“Many say he disappeared to join his love in the next life. Others say he stepped down as god to live amongst the mortals as he always wanted.” The bard hums and lays his lyre across his lap.

“It’s a shame really, how beauty can go to waste.” His fingers run over an emerald gem that lies in the middle of the wood. His lyre was beautiful.

The edges curved in different directions with a piece of wood piercing the top with a rounded end and pointed tip. Seven strings glowed recently as he placed the object to rest.

“But it’s not as if it was her fault.” His slender fingers run over the white petals with a faux sigh of despair. “She would have been popular amongst the folks here, if she was immortal, of course. If only he kept his word to her saying he would protect her no matter what.”

The bartender drowns out the rest of Venti’s words, his eyes trained on the wood beneath his feet.

Diluc Ragnvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery and Angel’s Share. Information is at his fingertips wherever he goes. In Mondstadt, he is a nobleman of high status. Everyone knows about him.

His crimson eyes hold tears as he lets out a shaky breath, bringing a gloved hand to wipe away at the water that threatens to spill.

He tries to keep his mind off of it but he can’t suppress it.

In front of him was Lord Barbatos himself—one he knew too well from millennia ago. Having fought with him in the Archon War, and the Destruction of Khaenri’ah, Diluc knew there was no way to get rid of him.

It shocked him the most that the bard even remembers the story from back then. Even if other storytellers told this tale, Venti was the one that pierced his heart the most.

“Master Diluc!” At the sound of his name, the red head hesitantly lifts up his head. Venti’s annoying smile greets him, pressing his finger against his cheek in a thinking motion.

“Did you like it? I hope you did! I try to incorporate any stories of the divine. It seems that today was a hit. Don’t you think so?”

“Why are you bringing it up?” he whispers, not caring that tears trail down his face. “Why do you need to remind me of my failure?”

The other peers don’t seem to notice the usual calm and collective man in tears. They’re all too far gone in the hole of alcohol.

Venti’s eyebrows crease, cocking his head to the side. “Failures? What do you mean? I’m just doing my job and singing like I always do. You’re doing great things in the Wine Industry. What failure could you possibly mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean!” Diluc snaps, slamming his hands on the counter in front of him, causing the bard to jump in his seat. “You know exactly what you’re doing!”

“Oh dear oh dear,” Venti sighs, shaking his head. He picks up his lyre, placing his lips against the wood.

“So pretty huh?” he asks once he pulls away, a small smirk on his lips as he shows Diluc. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got to play this?”

The strings continue to shine, dimming and going bright again. An instrument perfect for anyone and in this case, for Barbatos.

It pains Diluc to see him with your lyre. As much as you told him you despised other people holding it, he feels much more stronger about it. He wants nothing more than to snatch it from Venti’s hands and tell him to get out.

“Others say that he wanders in the world right about now. No one knows what he looks like though. It’s a shame if anyone were to find him and blame him.”

Venti’s fingers run over the strings. A melody is heard in the air, louder than any of the drunk men in the room.

Diluc feels a sob beginning to form in the back of his throat. He wants nothing of this. He wants to truly go back home to Natlan with you. He could have made you a god and you could have been here with him today.

As much as Diluc wants to look away, he’s mesmerized by the way the singer’s fingers move gracefully against the strings. For a split second, he could have swore he saw you sitting in his place, singing softly for his ears only.

Like the angel you were.

“But it seems that the god is afraid of confrontation. And yet, he seems to be mourning over his lover even after her death. If anyone were to be at fault, it would be his—”

Venti stops, peering up at Diluc through his lashes. A sinister look was evident in his eyes. He paused for dramatic effect, a smirk growing on his lips. He hums and strums the last note.

“Isn’t that right, Murata?” Venti muses, asking a question in the form of a song. But in reality, he aimed it towards the redhead god standing in front of him.

Diluc stares dumbfounded, mouth parted and eyes red from his silent crying. His hands are balled beside him. The peers cheer for the bard and offer drinks to compensate for his amazing singing—to which he laughs it off but takes the offers regardless.

And all Murata can do is live with his own guilt, for the rest of his immortal life. Forever.

taglist: @reddriot @thicmitten @katsuhera @novvabeam @patt-writes-stuff @axther @tspice283 @bonitoge @mysticalchocolate @yanfeisrose @mowestruc @tokyosrevenge @jaegerverse @hu-tao-main @midnightangelfox (add yourself to the taglist up above!)

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin diluc ragnvindr #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #diluc imagines #diluc ragnvindr imagines #attack on academia #attack on academia server collab

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angstyaches · 2 years

Note

could you please give me a physical description of your StW characters for fanart porouses (i would use the picrews but i would end up just copying it)

Certainly!! I wasn't sure what should be included, so if I forgot about anything or you have any follow-up questions, please let me know.

___

Shayne has a round-ish shaped face and nose, though his cheekbones are often a bit too pronounced. His eyes are very dark brown, almost black, and he always looks tired and pale. His hair is black and somewhat curly, usually cut to just above his ears and the nape of his neck, except for some longer bits at the front that he uses to cover some of his forehead. His typical outfit is a black or white t-shirt under his leather jacket, skinny dark jeans, and his black Docs.

Charlie has a slightly wider set face and a very nice, sharp jawline. His nose is a little more angular, too. He keeps one side of his hair shaved pretty closely, and lets it grow long on one side, so that it sort of flops, but he usually uses gel to keep it up from his face. His eyes are deep blue, and his hair is a slightly dirty blonde. He usually wears some combination of a graphic tee, a brightly-coloured hoodie (usually one of the primary colours), and a denim jacket with his pride pin attached. He wears straight-cut jeans or tracksuit pants, and usually his blue or white Converse.

Rin has a heart-shaped face and pale, freckled skin. Her hair is deep red (off the top of my head, kind of like Lindsay Lohan's in Mean Girls) and a bit longer than shoulder-length when loose, but she usually ties it in pigtails or space buns, and has side bangs that just reach her eyebrows. Her eyes are blue, but paler than Charlie's, and she wears wide-rimmed burgundy glasses. She likes to mix-and-match hyper feminine clothes with fishnets.

Elliott also has a Very Nice strong jawline, and usually grows a very short beard (barely-overgrown stubble length, if that makes sense). His hair is deep brown, thick, and silky, with a slight wave to it; in my headcanons, it's anywhere from shoulder-length to the small of his back, so you can imagine it to your own preference! He usually wears it in a ponytail, with curtain bangs on either side of his forehead. He has dark skin and his eyes are amber yellow. He has dimples in his cheeks that become more pronounced with he smiles. He usually wears shirts (dark tones of purple or green or navy), suspenders, and corduroy pants with brogue style shoes.

Felix has a narrower face, and a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose. His hair is kind of thin and stringy, and it's cut to just above his shoulders. His natural hair colour is strawberry blonde, but he dyes it a mint/teal colour and typically ties it in two low ponytails, leaving some long bangs on one side. His eyes are so yellow, but are paler in colour than Elliott's. His style of clothing varies a lot, but he likes to wear layers, especially his khaki jacket with the furry hood.

Kazuhito has a round-ish face and a bowl-cut hairstyle, with a thin streak of white hair cutting through the black. His eyes are chocolate brown and his skin is a little tanned from spending time in the sun. His typical fashion choices include vintage pieces and fuzzy textures, though he's also partial to oversized hoodies while he's skateboarding.

Ryan has pronounced cheekbones and pointed features. Her eyes are amber yellow too, but veer closer to orange when she's well-fed. Her hair is starkly white, cut to a wavy shoulder-length bob and a blunt fringe, while her eyebrows are black by contrast. She has heavy eyelids. Her outfits usually consist of a white button-up shirt or blouse with ruffles or a bow tie, along with white or beige slacks. Maybe a white blazer too, if she's feeling particularly formal.

Nancy has an olive skin tone and tumbling brown hair that reaches the small of her back. She usually wears a high ponytail, with a white bow either holding the hair in place or just on a hairband or hair clip. She has soft cheeks and rounded features in general, including particularly round-shaped eyes. She has creases around and beneath her eyes. Her irises are a shimmering shade of purple. She likes to wear soft textures and lace, usually in subdued tones of pink and beige.

#StW Shayne #StW Charlie #StW Rin #StW Elliott #StW Felix #StW Ryan #StW Nancy #OC stuff #ask #my OCs

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umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

Just a Sunny Day for You

Summary: On the final day of Summer Break, Hikari and Tairitsu spend a completely normal day together.

Fandom: Arcaea Characters: Hikari, Tairitsu Relationships: Hikari/Tairitsu, Hikari & Tairitsu Rating: T Word Count: 5218 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 15/03/2021

Notes+Warnings: Brief mentions of blood. Spoiler warning for the main story up until Black Fate. May deviate from any story packs released after Black Fate.

AU fic that has fluffy moments and... other stuff. Title from Yorushika's song.

~~~

The heat caused the air to shimmer before Tairitsu’s eyes, the cawing of crows echoing in her ears. She sighed from where she was kneeling on the sidewalk and pulled out yet another corner of the slice of bread she had gripped in her hand, throwing the crumb down at the feet of the crows that gathered around her. If someone walked by now, they’d surely give her weird looks. A girl dressed to the nines feeding crows alone was a strange sight. But the air was devoid of the slap of shoes against pavement or the rumbling of wheels against asphalt.

Sweat ran down her face as the heat pressed oppressively down on her. Not even the parasol that she had propped open above her head did much to shield her from the angry afternoon sun, hanging high up in the sky.

How long more was Hikari going to take? Tairitsu felt like she would melt if she remained in the open any longer. Not to mention how icky her hair felt now, matted with sweat and clinging to her scalp, a few stray strands sticking to her brow that she had to keep tucking away. The hair she had neatly combed and tied her black ribbons through, adorned with light blue roses, was surely ruined now.

The thought itself made her scowl. She’d put in so much effort, and the weather was ruining everything.

“Tai!”

The familiar peppy voice and sound of footsteps from behind her caused the murder of crows to take off, blotting out the sun for a split second with a cloud of black feathers. Staring up into the sky with a sense of loss she couldn’t explain, Tairitsu stood up, brushing any remaining crumbs off the ruffles of her dress.

“You’re late,” she muttered, picking up the parasol and twirling the wooden handle as she turned to face Hikari. Inexplicably, the crows had all disappeared. She couldn’t spot a single one anymore - not on the rooftops of the shops that lined the street, not on the curb, not on the street lamps. They were just all gone.

Hikari looked quite different from the last time she’d seen her. The white sleeveless T-shirt with a bear print on the front, blue denim shorts, flip-flops and low pigtails presented quite a different picture from the pure white school blouse and skirt, pink jacket, covered shoes and ponytail. It was a complete transformation from formal student to casual teenager.

Tairitsu found both… What was the right word to describe it? Adorable, in the same way a silly hamster would be.

“I know you’re late for every committee meeting, but I thought you’d make it on time today,” Tairitsu continued, hoping her immense disappointment was being expressed. Honestly, if she wasn’t meeting up with Hikari, she would have left long ago for having wasted her time.

“I’m so sorry, Tai. I didn’t forget! I just underestimated the amount of time the bus would take on the expressway…” Hikari apologised, bowing her head.

“You forgot to account for the traffic jams, didn’t you?” Typical Hikari.

“Yeah. Sorry. But I only made you wait for fifteen minutes! That’s not bad.” Hikari retorted, pumping her arms in the air.

“Any extra time spent in the sun is enough to kill me,” she replied drily. Gah, the fabric of her multi-layered dress was sticking to her skin. It felt disgusting.

“Don’t you think that’s your fault?” Hikari joked, moving closer and touching the pleated capelet covering Tairitsu’s shoulders, which was on the same level as Hikari’s nose. “I know you like dolls, but wearing a dress with this many ruffles and wearing tights for a summer’s day out is suicide, even if I will admit you look very pretty. Though you’re always pretty. But the umbrella is just overkill.”

“F - funny that you would say that when you’re still wearing that same stupid hat,” Tairitsu bit back. “And it’s a parasol, not an umbrella. Learn the difference.” She willed herself not to blush as she fixated on the word “pretty”. Did Hikari truly think that? She’d dressed up in this outfit she’d hand-made to get rid of the drab school uniform, but did Hikari think she was pretty in that too…?

How did Hikari say something like that so absent-mindedly? She looked like she’d already forgotten the words had ever left her mouth, smiling in a carefree manner, pink eyes sparkling with merriment.

“Hey!” Hikari put her hands on the top of her red beret protectively, shooting Tairitsu a glare with no heat behind it at all. “I will let you know I like this hat.”

“Hard to tell when you wear it every second of every day.”

“Let’s get going. Alright?” Hikari grabbed her hand, tugging her along and causing her to stumble a few steps forward. Had she not picked up on the sarcasm at all? “We’re never going to get to the beach at this rate.”

“I hate sand,” Tairitsu sniffed, resisting the urge to grip Hikari’s hand tighter. Her palm was so soft, and her fingers so agile. “It gets everywhere, and it’s going to ruin this dress.”

“But you still agreed to come.” Hikari grinned mischievously, shielding her eyes with her free hand. “The sun really is glaring today, huh?”

Wordlessly, Tairitsu adjusted her grip on the parasol so it cast its shadow mostly over Hikari. All she was doing was preventing the complaints that would surely leave Hikari’s mouth. Yes, that was all.

“Let’s end summer break with a bang!” Hikari yelled, waving her arm in the air with that undying enthusiasm she always held.

Today promised to be… interesting.

~~~

The soft, elegant tap of Tairitsu’s boots against the concrete as she walked with slow, deliberate strides of the same length clashed with the loud, erratic slap of Hikari’s flip-flops. Hikari didn’t have the same qualms about keeping a regular step, skipping down the pavement and humming under her breath. Occasionally, she’d return to the shade of Tairitsu’ parasol before jumping out into the open again, twirling with careless abandon.

Tairitsu would normally have been annoyed. The sun had only gotten more intense, and she hated unnecessarily loud people. They broke her bubble of concentration, shattered the peace she valued.

But she was too occupied noting the way the stray strands of Hikari’s hair fluttered through the air as she danced down the street. Their numbers were increasing by the second as her pigtails fell apart from the sheer force of her movement.

The joyful smile on Hikari’s face was too distracting. Tairitsu couldn’t get angry right now, too busy soaking in the warmth Hikari exuded. She was like a tiny starburst of energy, but the light she emitted wasn’t overpowering or destructive like a supernova. It was uplifting, for Tairitsu could never feel tired when Hikari was nearby, but it was also soothing, like any wound could be healed in her presence…

“Ooh! Look at it, Tai! It’s so pretty!”

Hikari paused in the middle of posing like a crane, arms raised to form a straight line level with her shoulder and right leg lifted for balance. Her face lit up as she caught sight of something in a nearby display case, and she ran down the sidewalk to press her face up against it.

Taking advantage of Hikari’s momentary pause to finally catch up to her, Tairitsu did a cursory once-over of the contents of the display case. Standing inside were various mannequins displaying the shop’s wares, which consisted of every style of outfit imaginable. There was a cute dress adorned with ribbons and a bow tie, accompanied by an asymmetrical jacket that flowed out behind it. There was a crop top not unlike the designer shirt Hikari wore now, paired with a pink skirt and belt. There was also a simple but elegant pink dress, patterned with flowers at the bottom.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tairitsu spotted a white, tiered dress with light pink carnations attached with a jacket thrown over it. Swallowing in her suddenly dry mouth, she turned to see the outfit that Hikari was busy ogling.

It was one of the shop’s summer wear - a white shirt with short, frilled sleeves with a ribbon attached to it, a blue, pleated skirt and a white overskirt.

“I think it’d look cute on you,” Tairitsu commented, closing her eyes and imagining the outfit on Hikari. She would look like a short princess. “All outfits would, with your lack of dedication to proper posture.”

Hikari giggled, spinning in another circle. How she wasn’t dizzy by now, Tairitsu would never know. “It’d be so fun to twirl in! Could you imagine the skirts just spinning around you? It’d be such a pretty sight!”

“Would it? I feel like you’d just become an indistinguishable blur of blue and white.”

“Oh.” Hikari stopped mid-spin, pondering. “I guess I would. But still, I’d like to try it at least once.”

“Well, would you like to go in and buy it?”

“Ah, no, it’s fine. I’m not going to make you go in. I know you hate mirrors, and they’re all over clothes shops.”

Focussing on her reflection in the display case, all Tairitsu could see was her pale face, scrunched brow and blue eyes holding just a hint of fear.

The surface of the display case shimmered, and she looked away.

“I doubt there’s an attendant in there anyway,” Hikari muttered. “There’s no one around.”

Tairitsu blinked, scanning the street to verify Hikari’s words. She was right. All the shopfronts appeared to be shuttered - even the display case they were currently in front of was dark. Behind the row of roofs she could see, there was nothing but a cloudless blue sky, a single shade of blue that spanned her entire view. There were no high-rise buildings to be seen looming impressively over the shops, nor was there any sign of life apart from two crows perched on a street lamp. Not a single soul, apart from them, populated the streets.

There was an almost unnerving silence. Not even cicadas could be heard chirping.

How had she not noticed this before?

“It’s the last day of summer break. All the students must be preparing for school, so the shops decided not to open.” That was a reasonable explanation, right?

“That makes sense! Whatever Tai says is always right!”

“I’m not an omniscient God, Hikari,” Tairitsu scoffed, happy that Hikari had affirmed her guess. “And how did you know I don’t like mirrors?” It’s not like she declared that fact to the world or made it super obvious. She didn’t run screaming from every reflective surface, that wasn’t practical and was far too dramatic for her tastes. She just actively avoided looking into them for longer than necessary.

“You tell me.”

“Huh?” Tairitsu turned to look at Hikari, confused as to whether she had heard correctly. That had seemed almost hostile.

But Hikari only smiled sheepishly, knocking herself on the head with her fist. “Sorry, messed up the words there. I meant to say that you were the one who told me! How else would I know?”

“Right,” Tairitsu muttered, the knot that had formed in her chest loosening just a little. It was simply a silly mistake Hikari had made. But she had no memory of ever telling her this. Searching back yielded nothing.

“I wonder why. Maybe you’re a vampire, Tai!” Hikari said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Vampires don’t exist, stupid. It would be nice if I was one. Then I could just sit around every night in elegant outfits,” Tairitsu replied, taking another step forward and hoping Hikari would follow. She didn’t want to spend another second in front of the display case. She couldn’t explain why apart from the growing sense of unease in her heart.

“That would be very much like you!” Hikari laughed, falling into step next to Tairitsu, thankfully. Instead of rushing ahead as she had before, Hikari instead hung by Tairitsu’s side, staring up at her with wide eyes.

“Is there something you want? If it’s the dress, I can make one that’s as close as possible for you. But it won’t be ready by the end of today.”

“No, that’s not it, though it would be nice if you did that for me.” Hikari grinned, a sight that warmed her heart every time she saw it. “I was going to ask you what homework we have.”

Tairitsu sighed. “You haven’t done it, right? Even though today’s the last day of summer break. When were you planning on doing it? On your way to school tomorrow?”

Hikari grimaced, shrugging. “Maybe? So, uh, would you mind telling me what we owe the teachers? I didn’t note it down.”

Tairitsu searched through her mind, clinging on to the notion of “homework”. But instead of alighting upon the memories, she reached only a plain of blankness. “I… I don’t remember.”

“But you’ve always had the homework perfectly memorised!”

“I finished it in the first week, so it probably slipped my mind since I didn’t need to remember it anymore.”

“Aw, you’re too model of a student! Ah, but it means I can’t rely on you now! That’s terrible, Tai! Why would you do this to me?”

Tairitsu let out a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding. Things still made sense. But the words “why would you do this to me” echoed in her head, refusing to disappear. What was this vice gripped around her heart? “It’s your fault for being so absent-minded in the first place, Hikari. Don’t blame me.”

It wasn’t her fault.

As they continued their trek towards the beach, Tairitsu sneaked a glance back at the shopfront. The two crows she had spotted earlier had landed before the display case, staring back at her with beady black eyes. Somehow, the dress that had been tucked away into a corner was now front and centre, illuminated by a red spotlight. It turned the white of the dress to a bloody red, giving the illusion of a garish wound and dripping blood.

Dread settled in the pit of Tairitsu’s stomach and she deflected her gaze back to Hikari’s bright face. She was aimlessly chattering on about the most mundane of topics, a much-needed bout of normalcy after the strangeness of the last few minutes.

She needed to stop imagining things and get her head back in the game. Today was a day to be enjoyed, not soured by the dreadful terrors her mind was conjuring up.

It wouldn’t be fair to Hikari.

It wouldn’t…

~~~

“Here’s yours, Tai!” Hikari handed over one of the two popsicles she had bought from the nearby vending machine. It was wrapped in pastel pink packaging with the word “cherry” emblazoned across it in capital letters and the company’s font.

The two of them had finally made it past the shopping street and emerged onto the bridge that overlooked the ocean. It was low tide right now, the azure waves lazily lapping onto the cheerful yellow sand and leaving behind trails of playful foam. The gentle breeze brushed through Tairitsu’s hair, tickling her neck and refreshing her spirits. She was perfectly content to just lean against the railing and watch the diamonds of light that the sun’s rays left on the ocean, licking the blood-red cherry popsicle in her hand and relishing the strong aftertaste on her tongue. She’d seen this very sight countless times, but she would never get tired of the ocean’s beauty.

Hikari would drag her down to the beach at some point. That’s just something her fun-loving friend would do. Maybe they’d even get down to building sandcastles or something inane like that.

Sand would get everywhere. She’d never manage to get it out of her clothes.

If it was Hikari, she’d be willing to do it.

For now, though, she could just relax and avoid dripping melted ice-cream on her clothes.

“Cherry’s boring, don’t you think?” Hikari spoke up, waving her yet unopened popsicle in the air. Hers had forest green packaging, and Tairitsu could barely make out the words “bamboo” as the letters blurred in the air.

“I’m not going to listen to someone who bought bamboo-flavoured ice cream. Why do the vending machines even stock them? It’s a disgusting flavour!”

“Don’t mock bamboo! It’s amazing!” Hikari scowled, ripping open her package at the top and giving the popsicle a good lick. “As you can see from the contents of the dustbin, people clearly agree with me!”

The dustbin Hikari was pointing at was overflowing with empty popsicle packages. All of them were either forest green or pastel pink, matching the crumpled packages in their hands.

Did everyone here only eat cherry and bamboo flavour? How… how odd.

The frown on Tairitsu’s face only deepened as she noticed the bamboo packages were ripped open at the top, while the cherry packages were ripped open at the sides. It was the exact same way Hikari and Tairitsu had opened theirs.

There was a niggling thought at the back of her mind that Tairitsu couldn’t quite pin down. She didn't know if she wanted to.

Wrestling the packages from Tairitsu’s clenched fist, Hikari threw the empty packages into the endless pile in the dustbin. Tairitsu stood motionless, melted ice-cream dripping onto the floor, stuck in a trance until Hikari grabbed her hand.

“Come on! Let’s go down to the beach.”

“Ah, yes, let’s.” Tairitsu let herself be led, telling herself to stop worrying so much. There was nothing wrong. Maybe the vending machine only sold two flavours. Yes, that had to be it. There were only two ways to open popsicle packages anyway. It wasn’t that strange.

Everything was fine.

Hikari kicked off her flip-flops, both flying through the air and one landing nearly a metre from her original position, before running across the sand barefoot, screaming in joy.

Tairitsu slowly sat down on the sand, crossing her legs and watching Hikari with a tired smile as she finished her popsicle. That childish, carefree energy was being radiated in full force now. Hopefully, it would be enough to make her forget about everything else.

There were faint footprints in the sand, going round and round in wild circles, much like Hikari was doing right now. Tairitsu wondered who else had been here.

It didn’t take long for Hikari to lose steam, stumbling over to Tairitsu with a grin on her face. She plopped down next to Tairitsu, panting slightly, a light sheen of sweat shimmering on her forehead. With no warning, Hikari leaned her head on Tairitsu’s shoulder, sighing.

Tairitsu went ramrod-straight, heart skipping a beat at their proximity. The closest she had ever been to Hikari was… when Hikari held her hand. No other part of them had touched for more than a second, and there was always at least a hand’s width between them.

Tairitsu had never been one for physical contact. She wasn’t one to hand out hugs or accept them easily. Being in the embrace of another made her feel vulnerable. Hikari knew that, which was why she limited herself around Tairitsu. She didn’t jump on Tairitsu from behind and wrap her arms around her, or touch her face, or lean on her.

Tairitsu had gotten curious. How would Hikari’s warmth feel, if she could touch it? She had begun to yearn but didn’t know how to tell Hikari such an embarrassing request. She had simply let the desire simmer within her, never to be brought up.

Now… Hikari must be really tired to forget. She was always conscious of Tairitsu’s boundaries.

But it was better than Tairitsu could have ever imagined. Hikari’s ponytails were brushing against her arm, and Hikari’s hair was softer than she’d thought. Hikari’s weight, pressed against her side, was comforting. Tairitsu wouldn’t mind if this continued. Or if it happened more.

An image flashed across her mind, of cradling Hikari in her arms. But that had never happened.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hikari shifted away, yawning with a wide mouth. “With the extra centimetres you have on me, you’re the perfect height for leaning on. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Why are you so tired? You stayed up all night watching dramas again, didn’t you?” Tairitsu teased. How could she tell Hikari that… she, um… wanted her to do that again?

How did people do this?

“Yeah.”

“I… Um, I don’t mind,” Tairitsu muttered, looking down at her lap. “You can sleep… here. I mean. On me.”

“Oh. Oh, really?” Hikari brightened. “It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“It really is fine. If - um, if you want to sleep, then you can… you can use my lap?” Her cheeks were warm by now, and she’d turned into a stuttering mess. It was more comfortable, right? She just wanted Hikari to feel comfortable.

“Like this?” Hikari slowly lowered her head onto Tairitsu’s lap, shifting until she had found the best position - cheek pillowed against Tairitsu’s dress and facing Tairitsu. “You’re sure you’re OK with this? I don’t mind just going to sit on a bench or something.”

“Perfectly fine!” Damn it, even her ears felt warm now.

“Thanks.” Hikari’s voice was already turning softer, eyes fluttering closed. Within seconds, her breathing had evened out and a dreamy smile had appeared on her face.

Her heart was beating so fast that Tairitsu felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She was holding herself absolutely still, terrified that if she moved, Hikari was going to be shaken awake. She looked so peaceful like this. Tairitsu couldn’t bear to disrupt her rest.

Gingerly, Tairitsu reached out a hand, only to pause a centimetre away from Hikari’s hair. She really, really wanted to run her hands through it.

Why not? Hikari was asleep. It’s not like she ever needed to know.

Gently, she pulled Hikari’s hair out of its pigtails and pulled her beret off, pushing it into the crook of her arm before beginning to stroke her hair. Delighted at its lack of knots, she continued her arm’s motions, making sure to keep it slow to avoid startling Hikari.

Tairitsu contemplated pressing a kiss onto those curly ringlets, but decided that was a bit too much.

The rhythmic motion, Hikari’s steady breaths, and the wind against her skin made Tairitsu feel like closing her eyes as well. The day and all its strange oddities had stressed her out and drained her energy.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, and when she opened them again, the sun was barely above the horizon. The sky was no longer blue, but a mixture of orange, pinks and purples. Hikari was still sleeping peacefully in her lap, but the wind had gotten stronger. The waves were larger now, having crept up the shore, and were slapping down against the sand with a much more audible crash.

The two crows, who Tairitsu somehow knew were the same ones from before, were now standing on the sand. They were still watching her, almost as if they were waiting. But waiting for what?

How has this much time passed? She didn’t feel like she’d fallen asleep. She didn’t feel anymore well-rested than before. So how…

Under the sunset, Hikari’s hair looked almost red. Just like the dress in the display case, it gave the illusion of blood. Pulling her hand back, Tairitsu stared down at it.

It was drenched in red as well, every finger dripping blood onto the sand below.

No, no, no! It had to be a stupid illusion. She shook her hand, closing her eyes. It would be gone once she opened them again.

But the blood was still there. Her fingers curled as she tried to comprehend what was going on.

“You stopped.” Hikari’s flat, disappointed voice reached Tairitsu’s ears, and she looked down to find that Hikari had shifted so the back of her head rested in Tairitsu’s lap. Her expression was unreadable, a stark contrast from the usually open and cheery face.

“You’re awake?” Tairitsu tried her best to hide the tremor in her voice. Hikari didn’t need to know.

She didn’t need to know anything. It was safe as long as everything remained under control.

Hikari didn’t answer her question, only pushed herself upright and turned to look at the sunset, not facing Tairitsu. “The sun’s setting. That means the day’s over.”

“You know I have to go, right?” Hikari’s voice echoed in her mind despite her having never said those words aloud. But Tairitsu knew. She knew.

“You don’t need to go just yet! Or even if you do, I’ll see you again tomorrow! Summer break will be over, but we’ll still see each other in school again!” Tairitsu’s voice cracked, her desperation spilling through as she did her very best to grasp at the unravelling threads before her. The wind had picked up even more, howling around her ears as day turned to night. She had to scream to be heard, breath quickening as panic infused her heart.

Hikari still wouldn’t face her.

“What do you even know of school, Tairitsu? You’ve never been.”

Not Tai. Tairitsu.

Don’t say it. Don’t say my name. Don’t tell me!

��What are you talking about? Silly little Hikari. We’ve been friends forever! We attend the same school. Are you only half-awake?”

“...”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because I’m not really here, Tairitsu.”

It was at this moment that Hikari finally turned around. Tairitsu stumbled back at the sight of her, struggling to get her breathing under control at the horror that faced her.

Hikari’s image shimmered like the display case had, warping with every second - the familiar property that every piece of Arcaea had. There were what appeared to be fault lines along her front where her features didn’t quite match up, like a broken mirror. The two sides of her face weren’t aligned. The clothes she was wearing and her hairstyle flickered and changed with every second until they became an indistinguishable kaleidoscope of colour. The only thing that stayed constant was Hikari’s face, misaligned as it was, and her lack of a beret, which Tairitsu had dropped onto the sand.

“Don’t you remember? This world you created that’s so fake, you can’t even convince yourself it’s real? Don’t you remember what you did with your very own hand?” With each word, Hikari’s sneer only deepened, as she took step after step towards Tairitsu, who was frozen in place. Her pink eyes seemed to darken until they resembled red - the red of that one shard, the red staining Hikari’s beret on the sand, the red dripping from her hand endlessly.

Images flashed through her mind, quick as flashes of lightning. The Arcaea she had rained down on Hikari without mercy. Hikari pleading for them to stop and come to a peaceful resolution.

The final shard that had pierced through Hikari’s defences, silencing her for good.

“No…” Tairitsu whispered, covering her face with her hands and screwing her eyes shut as she sunk onto her knees. The red smeared onto her face, going everywhere. It was everywhere. She could never escape it. “It’s not… I… I didn’t want to…”

“How many times have you done this, Tairitsu? Hmm? How many times have you gone through this hopeless cycle, hoping to get a different ending?” Hikari was standing in front of her now, continuing to mock her. She pried Tairitsu’s hands away from her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Except it didn’t feel like a kiss to Tairitsu. It felt like sharp glass cutting her forehead as pain radiated from the spot Hikari had touched.

How many times had she done this? How many times had she desperately tried to improve on this world, drawing from the memories she saw in the Arcaea while stripping the misery out of them, in the hopes that it would finally be perfect, that she could finally lose herself in this fabricated world and never have to know the truth? How many different outfits had Hikari gone through, how many popsicles had they gone through, how many times had they ended up at this beach?

Only for it to always end in the same way. Why?

It still wasn’t good enough. That had to be why.

“Don’t you think it’s time to wake up?” Hikari whispered in her ear, cradling her face for just a moment before letting go. Even with the stinging pain, Tairitsu could do nothing but yearn for more. More contact. More. More, more, more.

Tairitsu snapped her eyes open, frantically raising her head and reaching out. “Don’t go -”

But there was no one in front of her. There was no beach, no ocean, no sky. Only a vortex of Arcaea surrounded her, the individual pieces counting into the millions.

There was only silence.

She was alone, all alone, again.

There was nothing more terrifying than being alone in this world with nothing but countless memories to keep you company and show you everything you could never have.

Picking up and cradling the blood-stained beret to her chest, Tairitsu sobbed, mourning the latest vibrant mirage that had slipped out of her hands and faded into a monotone grey. As if responding to her grief, the vortex swirled faster, still completely silent. Only the red shard floating before Tairitsu remained motionless.

Except it wasn’t fully red anymore. It had shattered amid their heated battle. She had done her best to put it together, but the pieces just wouldn’t fit. It was like the individual pieces had lost their connection to each other.

She had no choice but to fill in the gaps with her own memories, with pieces of Arcaea that glittered a deep blue. The shard before her now was a hodgepodge of red and blue, stitched together with willpower alone. But it was the best she could do, now that Hikari was gone.

She hadn’t meant to. At that moment, with grief overwhelming her and wavering at the edge of a precipice, her hand had been forced. By the time she came to her senses, it was already too late.

She couldn’t live without the pillar of light that was Hikari. Hikari had been the only thing leading her in this dark world without hope. That was what she had come to realise in the months of aimless wandering that had arisen after Hikari’s death.

She loved Hikari, right? This was what love was? To think about the other, to need them, their soul, their light, their guidance, like a vampire needed blood?

She would bring Hikari back. In any way she could.

Reaching out to touch the shard, Tairitsu smiled. She’d just have to try again. She’d do it, over and over and over, until it was perfect. Then Hikari would stay, right? Hikari would have nothing to complain about.

Hikari would never know anything was wrong. So would she. She’d forget, let go of all of the pain, and live happily ever after. Like all of the people in the Arcaea Hikari had once held dominion over.

This time, she’d add the chirp of cicadas…

~~~

The Arcaea twisted and flitted to-and-fro over the girl in black, observing in amusement.

~fin~

#fanfiction #arcaea #hikari #tairitsu #hikaritsu #one shot

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sexysilverstrider · 4 years

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Endless Love

I love her. Crimson eyes were fixed at the light that lit up his once darkened heart. Fingers perfectly intertwined together like perfect puzzle pieces. Sometimes his thumb would brush the smooth surface of her skin. Sometimes her hand would give his own a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He loved her smile. “Skitty, look!” Hazel eyes beamed at the beautiful lights of Wyndon’s famous Ferris wheel. A smile so wide that it could rival the sun, Kotone started tugging her husband towards the amusement ride. It was a Saturday night, and people and Pokémon were buzzing in various lively manners. Luckily for the couple, they were able to reach the Ferris wheel without any delay or trouble. He loved her enthusiasm. Bouncing up and down with arms now wrapped around his right arm, Kotone looked at him. “Oooh, this is gonna be so fun! It’s been a while since we’ve been so high up!” A snort couldn’t be stopped even if he tried. “You do know you have your Charizard to fly you up and that Mewtwo of yours to float you whenever you want, right?” He loved the colour of her eyes when they rolled in his gaze.

“That’s different.” Left hand casually slipped down until it was back to curling around his own. “Besides, I don’t think the authorities would appreciate seeing a wild unauthorized legendary casually hovering two humans out in public.” Arceus, she still remembered the immense pain she had to go through just to make sure her Mewtwo was able to go through customs. Never again did she want to see another document for the next 10 years. Thankfully, her darling legendary was tucked inside his Pokéball. As much as it irritated the Genetic Pokémon that he couldn’t walk freely around the city like any other Pokémon, both Mewtwo and Kotone were just glad that he could join her in their vacation. Smiles appeared so easily when it came to her. “It’d be funny to see Mewtwo fight some cops, though.” Laughter peeped through his smile to feel her playful slap on the shoulder. A silent apology was given in a form of another hand-squeeze. The two talked and joked while they waited in line for the Ferris wheel. The cold winds of Galar wasn’t unbearable, but that never stopped Silver from wrapping one arm around his petite wife. He absolutely needed no reason whatsoever to plant a kisses on the top her head too. He loved how happy she made him. --- The lights of Wyndon truly didn’t disappoint. Once safely entered inside the cargo, Kotone and Silver wasted no time to cuddle as they sat side by side. She would go on and talk about any random thing that catches her eye. He would respond and reply back with anything that either made her laugh or smile. It’s the best feeling ever. “It’s really nice, isn’t it…?” Her voice was a gentle lull inside the comfortable cargo. Left hand never letting go of his right, Kotone pressed her free hand against the thick glass. Lights of pink, blue, red, and purple livened the majestic city. There were some big balloons seen tied and hovered under the starry sky. From afar, she could see Wyndon stadium. It was then that her mind clicked about the famous Champion Cup that happens every year. It was a shame that the sport’s event was only applicable to Galarian trainers and that it only happened from February to May. And she wasn’t Galarian. And it was already June when she finally arrived in Galar. “You do know that even if you entered, you’ll just end up sweeping the whole challenge, right?” Surprise brought her back to realize at his statement. Lower lip jutted slightly—just the slightest—as she looked at him. A cheeky smirk curled those luscious lips. Blush peppered each cheek knowing that he read her mind so well without her uttering a single word. “Well…” A little pout formed her pretty pink lips. “You don’t know that. I heard their Champion is insanely unstoppable. I mean, I’ve battled some super strong trainers before.” Her mind brought her the images of the silent trainer she encountered at Mt Silver as well as the Hero of Truth that resides in Unova. “It would be fun to see what sort of Champion Galar has to offer, no?” Kotone had a point. As much as they came her for a little getaway, even Silver couldn’t deny the curiosity he had about the Galarian Champion. The Glorious Champion. The Hero of Galar. The Royal Hero Who Vanquished the Second Darkest Day. At least…that’s what Silver had heard about her. Arceus knows what kind of bullshit the Galarian Champion had went through to obtain such titles. Silver eyes gazed at the brilliant gleam of darling hazels. If it’s anything like what both Kotone and Silver had went through when they were teenagers… An unnerving shiver crept up his spine. “Silver, you okay?” A smile trembled the corners of his lips. “Yeah…just…” He released a small sigh. “Thinking about the things we went through.” She understood him. A small smile mirrored his own. “We’re here now.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “We’re alive. We’re together.” Scooting closer to him—as if they weren’t close enough already—Kotone brought his hand up and kissed the back of it. “I love you.” Arceus, he loved her so much. “I love you too…” He kissed her forehead, then slowly traced down to the cute tip of her nose. “So much…” Gaze filled with warmth that could melt her heart into puddle, Silver gently tipped her chin. “So very…” Chu… “Very much…” Kisses feathered her plump lips at every unrestrained emotion. Her smile became honest. Became shaky. “Geez…” Face now reflected the dazzling colour of his hair. Kotone cupped her face with both hands. How easily he laughed now because of her. “Are you really embarrassed right now to look at your handsome husband?” Smile back to that cocky grin of his, Silver lowered his head to meet her gaze. She didn’t lower her hands. But he did hear a cute, “Humph…” Fuck, he was so in love with her. Very thankful that they were so high up right now, Silver gave no hesitance in wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up. That definitely made her hands go down. “Waah—Silver!” Plop! Her butt rested comfortably on his lap. Shock and embarrassment giving a nice splash of colour on her cheeks and ears, Kotone tried her best to look angry as she looked at him. Tried. Chup! Shock once again took reign as she felt the lips she adored so much pressing so perfectly against hers. His arms were locked neatly around her waist. “I love you…” That sincere smile back in its place, Silver continued his kissing adventure by moving to her left cheek, her neck, her shoulder, then back to her pouting lips. Ah, he was insufferable. Forever giving in to his bold advances, Kotone returned his kisses with a long, sweet, sighing kiss to his smiling mouth. “I love you too, you naughty Skitty.” Hands cupping his warm cheeks, Kotone kissed the tip of his nose. She always loved his laugh. --- It shouldn’t be a wonder to see so many couples tonight. And yet, Gloria didn’t know why a certain couple caught her attention at the moment. They were a couple of adults. Around their late 20s or early 30s, Gloria assumed. The woman looked absolutely adorable in her low pigtails and white beret. The man beside her was a sight for sore eyes indeed. Never had she seen hair so devilishly red, and she once dyed her hair red herself. It was seen tied to a low ponytail, and his clear-cut face was an absolute picture if he were able to pull off such a simple look. Clearly the two weren’t from Galar. It wasn’t unusual for Galar to accept tourists at this time of year. But it was definitely something for Gloria to see such a couple that sparked such…an intimidatingly lovely radiance. That, and the fact that the woman’s arm was all too happily hugging the man’s left arm. That’s sweet… So sweet, she added. Oh to be in love no matter how old you are— “What are you staring at?” Thoughts crashed against a wall to hear his voice. Quickly she looked to her side, only to have her head tilted upwards slightly to see the tall man. Confusion and irritation masked such a beautiful face. “You’re spacing out.” One finger gently poked her forehead. “If I didn’t call out for you, I bet I could see your soul casually slip out and wander off.” Arceus, she was so cute when she puffed her cheeks. “I wasn’t spacing out.” Never one to say much, Gloria pushed a few strands of her hand behind her ear. Crimson eyes stared at the area around them, silently trying to spot the mysterious couple. But alas, they were gone in a sea of lively crowds. Unbeknownst to her, Bede never liked to be ignored. “Seriously, what caught your attention?” He leaned to where she was staring. Curiosity now sated his mind, the Gym Leader looked around but found nothing. She opened her mouth, the pure intention of wanting to explain what she saw remained in her mind. But all that was thrown out the window when he turned his head to face her as well—which in the end resulted with their noses brushing each other. “Ah—” was all she peeped. “I—!” was all he sputtered. Quickly both straightened and took a single step back. Pink puffed their cheeks at the simple physical contact. Luckily Gloria had her glasses to use as an excuse to hide her shame. Bede was just as lucky to have brought his red scarf tonight and already had it wrapped around his neck. Shit, it smelled like her since she just wore it 10 minutes ago. Ah, he was sure his face was growing pinker. “A-Anyways…” he flustered, then took a deep breath to keep himself together. “We should—we should go. We should be quick if we want to go to that dessert café you love so much.” Curse her face for getting warmer. “Okay…” Cheeks cupped by cold hands, Gloria managed a nod. Signalling the single action as approval, Bede spun his heel and began walking— “Wait.” The crunch of snow hit the sole of his boot at the meek sound of her voice. Without a word, Bede turned around, a single eyebrow raised in confusion at the woman still standing in one place. “Gloria?” Concern now dripped out of pink lips, he turned to face her again. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you hung…ry…?” The last question slurred to a gape when his gaze dropped to her outstretched hand. “Hand…” Violet eyes widened at her waiting palm, then at her. She was as red as her irises. “I want…” A deep breath was pushed out of suddenly heavy lungs. “I want…” The shine of her glasses hid such a sheepish expression. “Can we—h-hands…” Ah fuck her for failing a simple sentence right now— Shoulders actually flinched to feel her right hand being held. Immediately she looked up, glasses almost thrown off her face to see the tall Gym Leader. Oh how glad she was to know he was just as embarrassed as her. Violet eyes never met the pair of dazzling crimsons. “Come on…” Voice actually quieter than hers, Bede gently pulled her close. Fingers curled lovingly around hers. The grip felt shaky, then firm. Without another word, Bede patiently signalled her to walk. Side by side. With their hands intertwined together. Baffled was an emotion the Champion rarely felt in battles, but an emotion she definitely felt around him. She then remembered the happy couple. Gloria didn’t know why, but a smile shakily curled upwards, so bright and so ecstatic at the thought that maybe, just maybe, one day she and Bede would be just as happy as them. It was Bede’s turn to flinch when he felt his left arm being hugged. Luckily they kept moving, but he never tore his gaze away from her for a while. She still held his hand, but was now wrapping his arm with her other hand. Though her height prevented him from seeing her face clearly, Bede could see the hints of red on the tips of her ears. She was excruciatingly adorable. Blowing out a sigh—a sigh so shaky he feared it couldn’t hide the indescribable happiness he felt right now—Bede gave her hand a playful squeeze. I love her. END

#Soulsilvershipping #Bederia #Pokemon #Dressedinpinkshipping #Silver #god btyu your eng ship name is LONG #anyways too lazy to post in fic blog so tada #Kotone #Bede #Yuuri #fafar writes #this was so fun n personal for me #coz i basically grew up writing sss #n now btyu feels like a new journey ;w;

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dandelionflower · 4 years

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@mcheang I want a Felix episode AU, where Felix is taken with Marinette but doesn’t really try to go out of his way to see her. And then he meets her cousin

[Send me Felinette prompts!]

......

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, famous child designer.

Her mother was a famed model and her father a gentle baker. It was no surprise that with that encouraging environment surrounded by beautiful clothes that Marinette’s fashion sense bloomed. Her brand, Cheng, skyrocketed when she was barely ten years old.

When Marinette turned thirteen, her father, Tom Dupain, disappeared. Her mother became a recluse and Marinette took it upon herself to heal her broken family.

Her mother was taken to therapy and soon rejoined the modeling world, becoming the sole model for Marinette’s new line, Dupain.

Marinette was a legend, she was graceful, responsible and humble even in the face of success.

And she had been sitting in front of Felix in class for most of the school year.

Felix had to admit, he had had a little crush on Marinette ever since she offered him her umbrella after her first day of school, and the first day Felix became Crimson Spot.

He kept his distance, but there were still times where he found himself abandoning logic to hang out with her, but not to the extent that he could be.

But Marinette’s job as a famous designer did take a toll on her, as she put so much pressure on herself to learn languages, play piano and guitar and be a generally well-rounded human being. It caused her to have to skip some friendly outings.

Today was one of those days.

The whole class had met up to discuss ways to lighten Marinette’s mood on the anniversary of the day her father disappeared.

“What if we sent her videos?” Felix suggested. “Telling her how happy we are to be friends with her.”

“Great idea dude!” Nino elbowed him. “Why don’t you go first?”

A shock of fear ran through him as he snatched the tablet from Nino’s hand. “Why don’t I just record them for now?”

Nino gave him a look, but allowed it and moved on.

—

Gina Dupain stared down at her granddaughter, sitting next to her daughter-in-law, both of them looking at the statue of her son, singing the little kitten song he had taught them before they left.

She had so desperately wanted to tell them, console themselves with the information that he would return, just as soon as she got the miraculous from those pesky heroes.

She was the ‘villain’ Lady Violet and her darling son was resting under her families home, comatose, because of the peacock miraculous.

She wanted to tell them, to ask them to help her, but she just couldn’t.

Gina walked down the stairs and sat next to them, wrapping her arms around the only family she had left.

The doorbell rang and and they all jolted from their song and they walked to the door just as it opened, revealing a large shadow.

“Papa?” Marinette whispered, stepping forwards.

The figure walked forwards just a little more, revealing him to be Sabine’s brother, Wang.

He stepped aside to reveal a petite girl with deep blue hair tied in a high ponytail.

“Bridgette!” Marinette smiled and launched herself at her cousin. “It’s been so long.”

“It certainly has.” Sabine grabbed her brother by the arm and began chatting with him in Mandarin, a language the whole family was fluent in, thanks to Marinette. “Remember when those two would dress up like each other and you ended up taking Marinette home?”

He chuckled. “I was so easily fooled.”

After Bridgette had successfully detangled herself from her cousin, she glanced at Gina, more specifically, the necklace Gina was wearing.

Gina caught her glance and casually tucked the necklace into her shirt.

“So, sister, I don’t mean to pry, but would you consider giving me the family rings?”

“Of course, Tom’s is somewhere upstairs. Marinette, take Bridgette upstairs and help her get settled.” The four of them went upstairs and Gina was left alone, staring at the ring on her necklace.

That girl better be worth an akuma.

—

Bridgette scrolled on her phone absentmindedly, as Marinette chattered on about who knows what.

“I’m just so glad you’re here!”

“Yeah... so am I. Anyway, can I take a shower? I feel like I’ve been on that plane forever.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Bridgette stood up and began walking to the room she gestured to, before she got an idea. She turned slightly, wrapping her arms around Marinette and slipping her phone from her pocket into Bridgette’s.

“Thanks for being here for me, Mari.”

She heard a soft hum and Marinette hugged her back.

“Anytime.”

Once the shower was turned on, Bridgette slid to the floor and started going through Marinette’s phone.

“A superhero crush? Seriously?”

Just as she was about to go onto social media, the phone buzzed with a video message.

“Hey, girl.” A girl in a plaid shirt waved at the camera. “I know you’re probably having a bad time right now, but-“

“Boring.” She deleted it.

“Markov and I have done the research an jokes are statistically proven to improve your mood by ninety-seven percent. So, knock knock?”

“Lame.” She snorted.

“You’re so sweet and kind and considerate and-“

“Wow. Original.”

“Marinette. I know you’re likely going through something right now, and I want to let you know that I’m here for you, because... I adore you. I have for quite some time, ever since you gave me your umbrella that day at school.”

“Pathetic.”

After the last video had been deleted, she leaned her head back against the wall.

So the little princess has some good friends... not for long.

“Hey Bridgette?” Marinette spike through the door. “I’ve got some stuff in the oven downstairs, mind if I leave you here to go get it?”

“No problem, but do you have any extra clothes I could borrow?”

“Sure thing, I’ve got some in my closet. Take whatever you want.”

She heard the door close and turned off the shower.

First, a little more snooping.

She checked the drawers, computer, and a really smelly cabinet.

“Yuck.” She threw the awful thing on the bed and pushed a pillow on it.

Finally, she opened a drawer and found the biggest stash of hair ties in the world.

Good, now she could put her hair in those insufferable pigtails.

She opened the closet and chose a navy jacket and neatly cuffed jean shorts, along with a white t-shirt.

She pulled out the phone and pressed record, a smile on her face.

—

“I hope you’re happy, Tikki. Because I am never doing anything again.”

She giggled, floating over his head. “Don’t be so dramatic! I’m sure Marinette will appreciate the confession.”

“During the time she is most vulnerable, another thing to think about is the last thing she needs.”

“Well...” His phone buzzed before she could answer.

“Marinette answered.” He remarked, walking up to the rest of his friends.

“...It only served to make me feel worse! I hate all of you!”

“I can’t look at this.” Alya passed the tablet to Nino.

“How could she say that about us?” Rose whimpered. “I thought we were her friends.”

“Marinette said all of that? Impossible.”

“She did.” Juleka shook her head.

The girl who made sure she was at every rehearsal, every practice, everything she was asked to go to?

“Nino, I really think-“ he was cut off when a cloud of violet attacked his three classmates, transforming them into their former akumatized selves.

“He’s not ‘Nino’ anymore.” Reflecta spoke, transforming Alya into a carbon copy of her.

“I’m Bubbler now.” He swung the tablet-shaped wand in the air, deadly bubbles pouring out.

“One of the three Punishers!” Princess Fragrance remarked with glee, a familiar toxic cloud pouring from her gun.

Felix gulped in a breath of air, barely muttering “Spots on” as he dove into the water.

It can’t be an akuma, maybe a sentimonster?

He threw his yo-yo out, swinging after the three punishers, hoping to save the true Marinette and get some answers.

—

“I made cookies!” Marinette sang, opening her door with the tray. “It’s been so long, I can’t remember what your favorite is, so I went with an old classic; chocolate chip!”

She stopped dead in her tracks as she saw Bridgette rocket off of her office chair, hair in pigtails.

“Whatcha doing, Bridge?”

“Well...”

“Marinette!” Her mother barged in. “Akumas, get the both of you to the bunker!”

“Too late.” Reflekta walked in, accompanied by Bubbler and Princess Fragrance.

“Dude, which one’s the real Mari?” Bubbler whispered.

Marinette glanced at Bridgette. She needed to transform before anyone got hurt.

“It is I! The cruel Marinette!” She cackled, relishing in the concerned and confused look on Bridgette’s face. “You’ll never take me alive!” She dashed out of the door.

Once she had made it into a secure hallway, Plagg flew out of her pocket.

“So, I know you’re against using cataclysm on a person but...”

“No, Plagg.”

“She smushed my cheese!”

“I’ll get you more cheese, now come on, claws out.”

She felt the familiar magic leather clothe her and jumped out a window, eyes landing on the familiar red bug in the distance.

—

Felix swung into the room, grabbing Marinette and swinging her out and onto the roof of the nearest hotel.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Her eyes were wide and innocent; Felix felt his composure slipping.

“Well, if you don’t have any information, just stay here and hide; I’ll deal with the akuma.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait! Crimson Spot!” She grabbed his arm and Felix swallowed.

“Yes?”

She started walking and Felix stepped backwards in an attempt to preserve personal space.

“How ‘bout a little extra courage?” His back bumped against the wall and he stood, frozen, as he watched the girl he had adored from afar lean closer.

“That won’t be necessary.” He tried to gently push her away, but she persisted, her lips mere millimeters from his.

Something within him burned red and snapped. He crouched low and swept his right foot in a circle, knocking her to the ground.

“You’re either an imposter or a sentimonster, because Marinette certainly understands that no means no.”

“That’s Bridgette,” Catastropheline landed gently on her toes, not making eye contact with Crimson. “Marinette’s cousin. I ran into her and she told about the... situation.”

She glanced at Bridgette, who was backing away ever so slightly.

“It must be difficult keeping what few friends you have with you acting like that, huh?”

“If she’s not a sentimonster, then we need to stop wasting time and find the akuma.” He threw his yo-yo into the air and a small can of whipped cream fell into his hand.

“As always, Tikki.” He groaned.

“Cataclysm.” Darkness collected over Catastropheline’s palm just as three thumps sounded around them.

“I wouldn’t if I was you, kitty.” Refleckta had her brooch aimed at the dark clothed hero’s heart.

“I usually prefer my servants to wear pink,“Princess Fragrance twirled her gun around, “but I suppose red would do.”

“And if that’s not enough, I’ll send you both on a one way flight to the sun if you so much as move.”

“Crimson.” His partner spoke from beside him. “Do you have a plan?”

Before he could deliver the depressing answer, a shout turned them both to Bubbler, who was clutching his hand with Bridgette in front of them, holding the tablet.

“Good! Bridgette, break the wand now! Then this torture can be over.”

“Oh, I don’t want it to be over. I’m just switching the roles.” She smirked before she held up the rectangular wand. “Lady Violet! Are you listening? I can help you; all I need in return is a certain piece of jewelry.”

“Get the miraculous first, and I’ll consider it.” Bubbler growled, holding out his hand for the wand.

She grinned wider. “With pleasure.”

She tossed the wand to Bubbler and started running towards the superhero pair.

“Feline, batter up.” Was all he said as he launched his can into the air.

Even without the use of her ring-bearing hand, she swung her baton effortlessly, slamming it into the can.

It fell just ahead of Bridgette’s feet, and she stepped on it haphazardly, tripping and sending it into Bubbler’s face.

The wand flew through the air and started its decent to the pavement.

“Crimson! Go!”

“What about-“ He glanced at the imposter who had stood up and was moving towards him, only to see a metal baton slam into her abdomen.

He took in the two Punishers struggling in the pool and dashed to the side of the building, jumping off.

He landed directly on top of the bubble wand and heard the reassuring snap of broken plastic.

He purified the akuma swiftly and launched the battered can of whipped cream that had landed beside the wand, into the air with a shout of “Miraculous Ladybug.”

He swung back up as the cure swept the streets and landed beside Catastrophiline, who was helping Rose out the door.

“Pound it?”

She grinned and attempted to step over to him but ended up tripping over her own baton and, in a series of impressive acrobatics, landing on her face in front of Crimson Spot.

He chuckled and held out his hand. “I’d just begun to think you’d grown out of that.”

“Well, old habits hie dard, I mean, die hard.” She sprung to her feet with a sheepish grin, twirling the leather straps holding her pigtails in place.

They pressed their fists together and left, a screaming Bridgette still on the roof.

—

“... I just want you to know, Mari, that I am so sorry. I just... I was jealous that my father named his famed Celestial soup after you, and not me.” Bridgette, back in her own clothes looked down.

“What are you talking about?” Wang looked down at his daughter. “I’ve named so many of my dishes after you. My Angelic stew, to name one.”

“What?” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I thought...”

“If every dish I wanted to name after you was called ‘Bridgette,’ people would get confused.” He explained, pulling her into his arms. “If only I had noticed, I could have explained.”

“It’s okay, Papa. I overreacted.” She spared another glance at her father, then turned to her extended family.

“I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, after all the strife I caused.”

Marinette was the first to hug her, whispering a soft apology.

Sabine joined next, until it was just Gina standing beside the group hug with a hand on Bridgette’s shoulder.

She felt a slight tug and was pulled deep into the hug. The tension seemed to melt from her body and Gina allowed herself to feel content.

Bridgette was the first to pull out of the embrace.

“Thank you all, for forgiving me so quickly.��

“Of course.” Marinette grinned.

“You’re welcome back anytime.” Sabine added. “And, brother, I’ll call you if I ever find Tom’s ring.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

The two entered a black vehicle and drove off, Bridgette still waving through the window.

—

“Hey guys! I’m really sorry, but I wasn’t able to see your videos. It really warms my heart that you were thinking of me today, though. I want you to know that I love you. All of you.”

Marinette’s beaming face filled the screen as Felix watched the video again and again.

“She’s so considerate.” He sighed.

“Yeah, considering all that just happened with her cousin.” Tikki remarked. “It’s too bad she didn’t see your confession, though.”

“It’s probably all for the best. However, that Bridgette girl may prove to be an issue.”

“Yeah, working with Hawkmoth and his akumas all on her own, it’s kind of scary. I wonder what could be worth that?”

—

“It’s truly a pity that Sabine couldn’t find the second ring.” Wang sat down next to Bridgette, allowing her a window seat on the train.

“You mean this one?” Bridgette pulled a chain from her pocket and displayed the ring adorning it.

“Yes, Bridgette, that’s it!” He stared at the ring, transfixed for a moment, before hugging his daughter. “My little magician, always saving the day at the last minute.”

Bridgette smiled and, as her father turned to slip the ring in with its partner, turned to the window, her innocent features twisting into a cruel smirk.

It really was a shame their trip was cut so short. She could have had a lot of fun in Paris.

#felinette #ml felix #felix agreste #mlb #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #miraculous ladybug #bridgette cheng #ml bridgette #inverse au #wang cheng #gina dupain #felix rewrite #request

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gryffindorcls · 5 years

Text

Chat for a Day: Chapter 3

I’m In Love With You

Marinette walked out of the bathroom stall and looked into the mirror. She took the ponytail holders out of her pigtails and shook out her hair. This resulted in wavy tresses that elegantly framed her face. She smiled at her handiwork.

“What are you planning to do?” Tikki asked hesitantly.

“Look,” Marinette began, “I’m one hundred percent fine with Adrien being himself. However, it wouldn’t be any fun if I just told him that Ladybug knew he was Chat. I want to make him figure it out.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I’m going to play his game.”

“By doing what exactly?”

“I’m gonna flirt with him. Chat Noir himself told me to channel some of my inner Ladybug confidence and go talk to my crush, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“You’re going to flirt with Adrien? In front of people?”

“No,” Marinette shook her head, “I’m going to flirt with Chat Noir. A leather-clad, cat-boy superhero with a larger than life personality who just so happens to be Adrien Agreste.”

Tikki sighed, “Are you sure about this Marinette?”

“Chat Noir flirts with Ladybug all the time. I’m going to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he can dish it out, then he should be able to take it.”

“But you’re not transformed right now.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be all that much of a problem. Don’t you find it strange that he called me ‘purr-ty’ today? This was not the first time he’s flirted with me as Marinette. And what’s with the nickname? ‘Princess’? You can’t tell me there’s not something there. Besides, last night he seemed to get kind of flustered when I asked him if he liked the girl who stutters around him all the time. Well, NEWSFLASH...I’m that girl!”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Marinette?”

“Of course I don’t know what I’m doing. Does anyone ever know what they’re doing when they’re in love?”

Tikki beamed. “So you’re really in love with him?”

“Oh, yes, Tikki,” Marinette said with a lovesick smile, “I love him more than you could possibly imagine. You know, all those months ago when Chat asked me if I would have given him a chance if it wasn’t for the boy I liked, do you know how much I wanted to say yes? He’s so kind and sweet. Is he sometimes over the top and a little stubborn? Yes, but aren’t we all? At the end of the day, he’s a gentleman and he’s loyal. Everything that Chat Noir is...well, now that I know that it’s Adrien under the mask, it all makes sense...and it makes me love him that much more.”

“Marinette, I’m so happy for you! But...what are you actually hoping to accomplish today?”

“Well, if that boy is going to tease me for the rest of eternity about this, then I would like a little bit of leverage. However, at the end of the day, I just want him to be happy. He looks so miserable when he thinks no one is looking. I think this will make him happy...or at least it will be a hilarious story to tell our kids one day!”

Tikki laughed and shook her head. “And if he’s actually anything like Plagg tells me he is, then he will be extremely happy. BUT...it’s important that you are happy, as well, Marinette. Will this plan of yours help you find something that will make you happy?”

“Yeah,” Marinette responded flipping her hair over her shoulder, “a boyfriend.”

***

Adrien tapped his foot nervously under the desk. He was very worried about Marinette. This was exactly like the time she had gotten hurt at the ice rink. She had looked so upset then, and he hated seeing her doing anything other than smiling. Marinette was the kind of person who should never have a frown on her face.

He couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for making her run out of the classroom. He thought she at least liked Chat Noir, but maybe there were still some hard feelings that remained after the whole getting her dad akumatized debacle. It’s not like she knew he was actually Chat Noir, but maybe acting like his alter-ego had triggered something in her mind. He was used to her getting flustered, but seeing her like this had really upset him.

He didn’t know why, but he desperately wanted to make her feel better.

“Feeling like this is normal, right?” he thought to himself, “Yeah...definitely. Because part of being a good friend to someone is caring for their wellbeing. You got this, Agreste.”

Class had started shortly after Marinette rushed out of the classroom, so Adrien hadn’t yet spoken to Nino or Alya regarding the incident. After fifteen grueling minutes, Miss Bustier (finally) asked the class to work on an assignment in pairs.

“Dude,” Nino quietly exclaimed, “what the heck was that!”

“What are you talking about?” Adrien answered with a shoulder shrug.

“I’m talking about all that sweet talk with Marinette. Why would you do that?”

“I told you. I’m simply trying to be the most authentic version of myself.”

“So, does that mean the “authentic Adrien” has a thing for Marinette? Because if you don’t, that was a seriously low blow, man.”

Adrien paused. That was the second time in twenty-four hours that someone had confronted him about potential feelings for Marinette. Was it so wrong for one friend to think that another friend was pretty?

Besides, Adrien only had eyes for Ladybug. He knew that one day his lady would return his affections...well, he hoped she would. A cat could dream.

“Marinette’s just a friend. Sure, I think she’s beautiful, but she likes someone else,” Adrien remarked in his best “matter-of-factly” voice.

“Seriously? You mean you really haven’t figured it out?” Nino threw his head back and groaned.

“Look, I care about Marinette. I would never deliberately do anything to hurt her, but you have to admit, she is an incredibly pretty girl. She’s just as beautiful as any of the models I work with at photo shoots. That’s a fact. I’m not the first person to point that out.”

“Adrien. Do you even hear yourself right now?” Nino turned to his girlfriend in the row behind him, “Alya, help me out here...please!”

The young journalist shook her head and leaned over. “Adrien, as long as we are stating ‘facts’, all the people who have ever openly admitted that Marinette was a ‘pretty girl’ had crushes on her.”

“So, you’re telling me that you don’t think your own best friend is pretty?” Adrien said with a smirk.

“No, I think she’s pretty, but I don’t tell her when I see her first thing in the morning...like you did today. AND I especially don’t do it while calling her ‘Princess’.” Alya crossed her arms and returned the smirk.

Adrien’s heart thumped loudly in his chest.

“Oh,” he thought, “that’s new...or...is it? It has to be. Because I only have feelings for…”

Nino interrupted his thoughts. “Yeah, what was up with that nickname?”

“Well,” Adrien was unsure of where to start, “it suits her.”

“Do you have nicknames like that for any more of your ‘just a friend’ friends?” Alya questioned.

He retreated back into his mind. “Yeah, Ladybug, but I can’t go and tell them that. But there isn’t any other girl I talk to like that...oh…”

“Oh, no,” he mumbled fixing his eyes on the front of the classroom.

Alya chuckled quietly, “That’s what I thought, sunshine.”

Nino turned to look at her, “Babe, I think you broke him.”

The moment Nino completed his statement, Marinette burst into the classroom. Her eyes immediately fell on Adrien. The stunned boy looked up and took a shuddering breath when he saw who was walking in his direction. Marinette shook her hair out of her face and sauntered confidently across the classroom.

“And I think he’s about to become even more broken,” Alya whispered quickly before Marinette took her seat next to her best friend.

***

Marinette held her head high as she strutted to her seat. She could feel a flutter of nervousness bubbling in her gut, but she was able to suppress it quickly.

“It’s not just Adrien anymore,” she thought, “This is also your Chaton. Your silly, flirty, lovable goofball of a partner. You know he’s in love with you. You can do this. All you need to do is make it through the day. You can freak out later.”

As she sat down, Alya leaned over and asked, “Hey girl, are you feeling better?”

Before Marinette could answer, a concerned looking Adrien turned around in his seat. “Yeah, Marinette. I...WE...yes...we were all worried about you.”

She leaned over the desk and playfully bopped Adrien’s nose and smiled. “Thanks for the concern, hot stuff, but don’t worry. Nothing is bugging me anymore.”

Adrien’s face turned bright red and his eyes grew wide. Alya carefully placed a hand on Marinette’s arm to get her attention.

Alya’s eyes were filled with worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Marinette said turning her gaze back to Adrien, “I’m feline great, but Adrien isn’t looking too good. It seems like he’s starting to come down with the same thing I had.”

Marinette leaned over and felt Adrien’s forehead. “You’re a little warm.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head or something while you were in the bathroom?” Alya pulled Marinette over and checked her for injuries.

“I’m fine, Alya,” Marinette insisted. She then proceeded to wink at Adrien.

“Miss Bustier!” Alya called across the classroom, “I think there’s something wrong with Marinette. She might be having a stroke or something.”

Marinette leaned in close to Alya and whispered loud enough for Adrien to hear, “The only stroke anyone is having right now is a stroke of genius.”

“Oh my God.” The young journalist did her best to hide her shock.

“Marinette,” their teacher replied, “if you’re still not feeling well, you are welcome to go to the nurse.”

Adrien shook himself out of his dazed state and stood up from his seat. “I can take her there, Miss Bustier.”

The teacher nodded, and Adrien moved next to Marinette’s seat. He held out his arm, and she happily took it. Adrien took great care to safely guide Marinette down the stairs. She rested her head on his shoulder causing him to once again turn bright red.

“What the actual freak is happening right now?” Nino remarked.

“I have no idea,” Alya answered as the duo walked out of the classroom.

***

As Adrien walked Marinette down to the nurse’s office, he tried to calm himself down. However, he could feel her breath against his neck, and his brain forgot how to function properly.

“She’s just a friend,” he told himself, “She’s just a friend. She’s just a friend. She’s just a friend.”

Marinette looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“She’s going to kill me if she keeps this up,” he noted mentally, “At least it will be a happy death.”

“Thank you for walking me to the nurse,” she smiled, “I always know that I can count on my knight in shining armor. Or are you my Prince Charming? Oh, maybe you’re both. Yes. You’re definitely both.”

Adrien attempted to be suave. “Did something happen, Princess? You’re not usually like this.”

“Well,” she started, “I’m not usually like this around you, but I’m trying to be more like myself around my crush today. I promised a friend that I would. You’d like him. You probably even know him. Actually, one might even think that you two could practically be the same exact person.”

“Marinette, you’re not making any sense.”

“Oh yeah? Let me try to be clearer. Did I ever mention to you that I once told Chat Noir that I loved him?”

Adrien gulped. “You...you did?”

Marinette tightened her grip on Adrien’s arm and moved closer to his side. “Yup, he showed up on my balcony after an Akuma attack one day, and I professed my undying love to him. You should have seen his face! It was kind of like how yours is right now.”

Adrien felt warm. This was beginning to be too much for him to handle.

Marinette continued. “At the time I was actually trying to cover up an even bigger secret that I’m pretty sure he was about to figure out. Anyway, I wasn’t really in love with him...or at least that’s what I thought. I’m beginning to think that turning him away was a big mistake.”

“Wasn’t that the same time that he got your dad akumatized? Aren’t you angry at him for that?” Adrien asked tentatively.

“Why would I be angry at Chat Noir for something Hawkmoth did?” she replied shaking her head, “No, I’m actually grateful that Chat was there. He was so sweet and brave. He is a true hero.”

“Really?” Adrien’s voice was hoarse, “So does that mean you’re still in love with Chat Noir?”

They had reached the entrance to the nurse’s office. Marinette pulled away from Adrien and stood in front of him.

“Oh, you’re so silly! I don’t know if anyone has told you yet, but yeah...I’m in love with you. I always have been,” she smiled sweetly and placed her hand on his shoulder, “Anyway, I’ll see you a little later, kitty.”

Before Adrien could respond, Marinette turned on her heel and walked into the nurse's office. She quickly closed the door behind her leaving a stunned boy in her wake.

Adrien could feel his heart thumping loudly again.

Thump.

Marinette told him that she loved him.

Thump.

Hearing her say that made him happy.

Thump.

Maybe she wasn’t just a friend.

“Oh my God,” he whispered to himself.

Adrien walked quietly back to the classroom attempting to unpack his revelation. However, he was still rather confused. He felt like he was missing something. It was like being almost done with a puzzle, but a few of the pieces were gone.

He re-entered the classroom and took his seat.

“What happened?” Alya asked still visibly concerned, “Is she okay?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Adrien shrugged, “She told me that she loves me.”

“She did what?!”

“Yeah, she was saying all this stuff that didn’t make any sense. It was like she was talking in code, and then she called me…”

Thump.

She’d called him ‘kitty’.

Thump.

Only one person calls him ‘kitty’.

Thump.

There is was. One of the missing pieces of the puzzle.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed.