Sanders Sides Oneshots

Soulmates ~ Prinxiety Pt.2

A continuation from the last prinxiety soulmate oneshot. The character of Madame Shcarf is actually the French teacher I had last year and if she seems offensive to anyone, I am incredibly sorry, she just acted and spoke like that. Also, a lot of my readers know I go with horny Roman in my oneshots. Well, that's been swapped a little... *Insert lenny face here*. Hope you like it!

Roman woke up and looked up at his ceiling. He sat up rapidly and slammed his hands around his face and chest. "I'm back!" He called out happily, raising his hands to the heavens. "I'm not dead!"

Remus burst open the door. "Shut up- Oh, you're you."

Flinging himself out of bed, Roman hugged his brother. "Oh, Janus didn't kill me! He didn't kill me! Thank God! I'm alive!"

"Who's Janus?" Remus asked, bewildered.

Roman let go. "My soulmate," He started, "Is a rich, French bitch with a scary father and an even scarier older brother. And I lived!"

Remus blinked. "Wow, that's actually pretty good news." There was a moment of awkward silence. "Did you check out his dick-?" Remus began.

"No!" Roman answered back quickly.

~['0']~

Virgil opened his eyes slowly. Lavender walls, dark posters, light shining through the ceiling window. His room. "Je suis à la maison, Dieu merci," He mumbled, happy. He dragged the covers over him a bit and then his bedroom door burst open, his father and brother rushing in.

"Virgil, on doit parler de ton â me soeur!" His father barked at him, making him jump.

"Quel?" Responded Virgil, looking at the both of them. Janus nodded solemnly.

His father looked him in the eyes, putting his hands on his youngest shoulder. "Il ne sait absolument aucune Français du tout."

"Garçons!" Virgil's' mother bellowed from downstairs. "Laisse-le tranquille, il vient de rentrer!"

Virgil watched, slightly bewildered, as the two slouched over guilty. "Ok, qu'est-ce qui s'est passé hier?"

~['0']~

Madame Shcarf was shunned by students and even a little by staff. She grew up in France for most of her life and spoke awful English, and although she was quite fluent, her accent and her pronunciations was off. Her lessons were boring, when translating she'd speak too quickly, when it came to detentions, she gave them out too easily. Nobody liked her. And she ran a French club everyday, after-school, which no one went to.

It was a joke for everyone but her. No one went to it, she'd just sit in her class for an hour, hoping that, one day, someone would walk in and say they wanted to be taught and they were sorry they were so late. Not that it ever happened.

On Tuesday, she sat in her classroom, reading a small book, listening to a pair of pounding footsteps in the corridor outside. Just a student, she thought to herself, messing around.

That was when the door burst open and a slightly breathless Roman Prince stood there, panting.

"'Oman?" Madame Shcarf exclaimed, before narrowing her eyes. She didn't like Roman one bit. He never payed attention, didn't hand in his homework, and spent all French lessons throwing things around the classroom "What do you want?"