#I was going low under my opponents shield at the same time he was trying to go over mine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cupofteaguk · 3 years

Text

let the games begin

PART OF THE REPUTATION SERIES

summary: in hindsight, acting out against prankster Jung Hoseok wasn’t entirely good for your sanity. after all, it’s not very fun to have hiccough sweet mixed in with your morning breakfast—a feat that goes about as well as one would think.

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: hogwarts au, pranskter!hoseok, enemies to lovers | fluff

warnings: there’s mention of Nayeon in this fic and yes it’s the same Nayeon from new romantics because i love crossovers lol, talks about Hogwarts curriculum (definitely not technically accurate but I tried my best), slow burn, ~banter~

word count: 19.5k

a/n: a birthday fic for jung hoseok <3

As soon as his name is called, a silence falls across the dungeon as students stand a little straighter and become a little more alert to the situation about to unfold. Murmurs rise up amongst the crowd as people look around, stand on tippy-toes, poke their head up, all trying to seek out the owner of the name—the brash individual who has piqued interest and has guaranteed an excellent show of skill for today’s lesson.

There’s a moment of silence, before a hand raises briefly into the air. “Present, professor.” It’s a voice from the back, a low tone but full of confidence. All the eyes flicker towards the source, a boy stepping away from his group of friends in order to walk towards the center of the room. At the center sits a long table, stretching across the expanse of the class. The surface is colored blue with decorations of wands and colliding spells, explosions of rainbow patterns. The perfect backdrop for a dueling lesson.

“Ah, wonderful Mr. Jung!” The professor announces, curling her fingers into each other. Professor Wong is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who has recently employed a dueling class once a week as part of her curriculum to interweave real life practices with academic intentions.

For every single duel that has been conducted, it’s always the same: pair two students against each other who have one assignment: disarm the other. There’s always a comment on the form, always a comment on the reflexes of the participants, and never a repeat of students who are volunteered for the activity.

With the exception of this one.

Jung Hoseok steps onto the table with practiced ease, his arm sweeping his cape back so he can step towards the center of the table. A light flurry of giggles pass through the air, of students already in awe of a move as simple as moving his cape. Hoseok doesn’t react outwardly to the shower of affection, he merely looks down to fiddle with the rings that decorate his longer fingers.

“And the student who will go against Mr. Jung today is…” Professor Wong refers down to her parchment. “Kim Mingyu. Mr. Kim?”

For a brief second, silence envelops the room until a distant voice is heard. “Oh fuck, Professor Wong is trying to get me killed.”

Professor Wong lowers her parchment. “Language, Mr. Kim. And facing off against Mr. Jung shouldn’t be a problem—his form is good but you’ve had weeks to study the art of dueling from previous students who have come up before you.” She pauses for a moment as Mingyu makes his way towards the center of the room. “And I have every confidence that you’ve been preparing.” She lowers her neck to fix him with beady eyes. “Did I presume correctly, Mr. Kim?”

Mingyu hoists himself up onto the table, managing an uneasy smile. “Of course, professor.”

“Filling me with confidence as always, Mr. Kim.” Professor Wong sighs. But she steps off the table and whirls around to address the two now situated atop the dueling table. “Now, the purpose of this duel is to provide real world context to this aspect of wizard combat. You two are not to injure each other but simply disarm your opponent. Nonverbal spells or verbal spells are allowed. Now, you know the rules. You may begin.”

Hoseok turns to Mingyu as the pair approach each other, the air weighing down in tension and anticipation. Once in the middle, the two bow before turning around and making their way to their respected ends of the table. Mingyu shuffles around nervously, while Hoseok whirls with the spin of his robe.

Mingyu launches first, stepping forward as a bright burst of light flickers out from the end of his wand and zaps straight towards Hoseok. A nonverbal attempt at expelliarmus—one that is immediately thwarted by Hoseok’s deflection. The light of the spell reflects off, creating a sound of hollow space, before the pair are once again back to where they started.

Hoseok attacks next, his own silent spell flying towards Mingyu, who mirrors a shield charm. But Hoseok steps forward and another attack flies at Mingyu, who has to step back hastily to reflect the spell. The latter boy looks exhausted, as nonverbal spells are still a challenging subject to master. Most seventh year students have the concept of casting spells nonverbally down, but require more practice beyond what a single year can provide. A lot of it comes down to practice, discipline, and mental fortitude—all things that Mingyu is losing hold of right now.

His opponent, however, doesn’t seem to be losing steam. Hoseok merely narrows his eyes and continues stepping forward. With every step he takes, he attacks with yet another expelliarmus spell aimed at Mingyu. After the second spell, Mingyu has reached the end of the table before the wand flies out of his hand. In the midst of the confusion, his foot slips off the edge and everyone gasps as Mingyu teeters, about to fall.

Bringing his wand towards him, Hoseok brings an end table from the other side of the room, lining it up to the edge of the long table so Mingyu has an additional surface to step on. The latter boy stumbles but maintains his footing at the higher ground.

Hoseok smiles slightly. “I can’t have you breaking your back during a disarming duel.”

There is a moment of stunned silence from Hoseok’s save, but as soon as the silence passes, the crowd erupts into claps and cheers.

“A wonderful benchmark for fair dueling practices once again, Mr. Jung,” Professor Wong starts up again as she steps onto the table. She waits for Mingyu to step back onto the main long table, waits for Mingyu and Hoseok to bow to each other again, before she’s turning back to the class. “Alright class, what did we learn from today’s duel?”

As the class engages in conversation about what has just occurred, several gazes flint over to Jung Hoseok. The boy appears calm and composed as always, making sure to pocket his wand before he’s running fingers through his hair and creating a curtain in his hair that exposes his forehead. Several more giggles arise from the movement. No doubt the conversations would carry on after the class time about Jung Hoseok is confident, posed, and absolutely—!

“Dreamy…” Nayeon sighs as she finishes recounting the events of the duel to you, ending it on the kind of note that makes you want to stab yourself with a fork. “You should have seen him—it’s like he gave Mingyu a chance to go on the offensive before Hoseok just tore into him. How do you think he did it? I’ve never seen anyone our year be able to conjure up so many nonverbal spells in a row.”

“Seems like Jung Hoseok never has anything better to do than learn that shit,” You grumble under your breath as the pair of you step into the next lesson of the day: potions. Your statement is dripping in sarcasm because it’s entirely false. Jung Hoseok can conjure up many nonverbal spells in a row for a variety of reasons, and most of those reasons have nothing to do with burying his head into a book.

Nayeon doesn’t seem to hear you as she slides into the seat next to yours to continue gushing about how attractive Hoseok had looked sweeping his robe back or pushing the hair out of his face. Although talking about Hoseok makes your eyes roll all the way back into your skull, you indulge her infatuation because she’s a friend. A new friend, but still a friend regardless.

Nayeon is the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Despite the six previous years spent in the same castle, Nayeon is not someone you were very familiar with as you were growing up. The pair of you just ran in different social circles throughout the previous years, and her popularity as a player for the house team has always made her seem like some faceless figure in your conversations with other people. That is, until a few weeks ago when you ran into Nayeon leaving a party in the Room of Requirements. It was after the first Quidditch game of the season—Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, and Gryffindor had lost out on the opportunity to advance to the next round.

To be fair, Jeon Jungkook is a monster on the Quidditch field.

Regardless, Nayeon had gone to the party and had been seconds away from being caught by Head Boy Min Yoongi had she not run into you heading back from the library. You saved her from detention that night, had played along with her claim that the pair of you were partners for some upcoming project. As the pair of you were walking back to your respected houses, you both made good conversation and decided to start hanging out in between classes. Nayeon is unlike some of the other friends you have within the castle walls—she’s much more outspoken and extroverted, but she is really sweet which is why you’re indulging her the way you are right now.

Because despite Nayeon’s parading of how cool and amazing Jung Hoseok is, he definitely is not.

“Yeah, wasn’t I so cool? Mingyu tried his best, but he just couldn’t handle me coming after him with my spells.”

You sigh through your teeth, and don’t even bother watching as Jung Hoseok himself appears in the potions classroom. His Slytherin friend Park Jimin is at his side, and they both slide into the seat behind you as Hoseok continues to brag about his victory during the dueling match.

This carries on for a little before the potion lessons start. In preparation for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, there are less students and higher expectations than ever before—all lessons expertly crafted to help students prepare for their examinations.

And it all starts here: with an assignment from the professor to construct a potion for dreamless sleep. “Some of you might need this in the coming months, depending on how many N.E.W.T.s you have to take,” He had remarked humorlessly, before sending the class off on their own. As with many classes during a seventh year at Hogwarts, students are usually left to their own devices to finish up whatever assignment may be in store for them.

In the case of the potions class, it’s typical to get an ingredient or a potion to either write a paper on or recreate the mixture where a grade would be received on the spot. For today’s potion, ingredients are situated in the back and the textbook on Advanced Potion Making in the reference tool. With everything set up, you go off to gather your ingredients before returning back to your desk. After setting up your cauldron, you get to work setting up your station.

As you’re turning around to gather your textbook from your bag, an unwelcome figure approaches his own desk in order to set his own materials down atop the table. He notices you immediately, and flashes you a smile. “Hey Y/N, you should have seen me today in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I kicked ass at our dueling lesson.”

“Unfortunately for you Jung Hoseok, I’m not taking that class,” You sneer, whirling back around to focus on your current assignment, trying to focus. You can do this. Every grade distributed in your classes is important and you cannot afford to be distracted.

“You mean Dark Arts isn’t in your wheelhouse,” Hoseok says as soon as you’ve tried to settle yourself into a comfortable silence. Nayeon watches from next to you, eyes flickering in confusion between the two of you.

You turn back around to give him a sweet smile. “Herbologists aren’t required to have a Dark Arts N.E.W.T. Not that matters much, since it doesn’t affect you in any way.”

You turn around, staring down your first ingredient of the day: a sopophorous bean that needs to be cut in order for the juices to help with the construction of the potion.

As you start your chopping (or attempting your chopping), Park Jimin’s voice resumes from behind you. “So how exactly were you able to go like three nonstop nonverbal spells against Mingyu? Doesn’t that require a lot of concentration? At least, according to the textbooks.”

“It does,” Hoseok answers. “But I like to think I’ve had a lot of practice in casting spells. It requires a lot of mental commitment and you really have to think about what spell you’re trying to use as you’re using it. Luckily, I think my skills are pretty solid so Professor Wong is pretty smart in having me be a good reference point—!”

Unable to take it anymore, you place your knife down on the table and turn around once more to face the two boys behind you. Hoseok and Jimin look up, but you only focus your attention on Hoseok. “Jung Hoseok,” You seethe. “Some people are actually trying to do well on these assignments and pass this class so we can set ourselves up for success. Not everyone here is protected by a family name.”

At your final sentence, the people within hearing range react immediately. Jimin’s eyes widen as he lowers his own knife to study you. Even Nayeon looks over her shoulder to stare at you.

Hoseok, however, just raises an eyebrow at your attack. He takes in a breath of thinly veiled frustration before giving you a nod. “Fair enough. Focusing is really important in class, I get it. Here.” He picks up his wand from his desk and gives it a wave. “Consider this water under the bridge.”

Your eyes follow the movement of his wand with narrowed eyes, before you turn back around without saying a word. You turn back to your ingredients, not thinking anything of it as you manage a clean cut through the sopophorous bean. You pick it up, sprinkle it into the cauldron—!

And the contents inside immediately implode. You jump, Nayeon screams, and the ends of Hoseok’s lips tug up into a grin.

Professor Slughorn is at your table. “What seems to be the problem, Miss. Y/N? Put the wrong ingredient into the potion so soon?”

“N-No professor, I promise!” You stammer, frantically sorting through your materials before settling on the pages of the textbook you’ve been referring to. “It says to put the juices of the sopophorous bean into the cauldron first. I did and it just—I don’t know…” You continue, borderline helpless as your eyes shift.

Professor Slughorn is quiet for a moment before he leans forward to pick up one of the ingredients you have on the table. He observes it before placing it back down. “No worries, Miss. Y/N. It seems like your ingredients have been tampered with—with an aging charm no less. If ingredients like these are past a certain threshold, they lose their magical properties and end up damaging the potion. I know you wouldn’t do such a thing, so go ahead and grab the correct ingredients once more—Mr. Jung?”

Hoseok falters slightly with his own mixing as Professor Slughorn turns to face him this time.

“Now, Mr. Jung, just a quick word.” He lowers his chin to give Hoseok a more beady look. “Considering the wastefulness you’ve treated my ingredients, I am partial to just removing you from class for today. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Next time I’d be a little more mindful about picking up my wand before threatening another student. Just detention for you this time, Mr. Jung.”

Hoseok hardly seems fazed by the punishment, like he has been expecting it. He lowers his head slightly. “I’ll be more careful, professor.”

Professor Slughorn walks away, unable to see the wink Hoseok throws at you, unable to see the way your lips part in realization and the way your teeth clench together. Because Jung Hoseok has done it again.

“Argh!” You scream, bringing your curled fists up to your hair, ignoring the curious glances you receive from your classmates. The fingers land into the strands as you make an extra note not to pull too hard. “I’m gonna kill Jung Hoseok one day, mark my words.” You catch Nayeon’s wide-eyed stare. “He’s not that pretty to look at, come on.”

Nayeon blinks for a moment, before her lips curl into a smile. “You seem to know Hoseok pretty well.”

You groan. “I’d rather not go into it right now, I think I’ll burst a vein in my forehead.”

Nayeon keeps quiet at that, giving you the few seconds you think you mentally recover from the day. You did manage to get your potion done for the day, no thanks to Hoseok, and now you and Nayeon are walking through the outdoor pathway that drops off into the courtyard. The greenery is fresh underneath your shoes as you and Nayeon continue until you see another familiar figure laying atop a picnic blanket with a book in her hand.

But this time, rather than irritation, the sight of this person brings a smile to your face. You exhale the last bit of your frustration. “Sana!” You sing, quickening your pace with Nayeon following closely behind you.

Sana looks up from her reading material and waves wildly at the two of you. “Hey guys, how was class?”

“Pretty calm,” Nayeon starts as she carefully slips off her shoes and steps onto the blanket Sana had laid out. “Until someone got into a fight with Jung Hoseok.”

Sana gives you a side glance. “What did he do this time?”

Nayeon blinks, having not expected that. “Wait, you know about that?”

Sana laughs, gesturing to you with the point of her book. “They’ve had bad blood since year one. Jung Hoseok has done a few hair-pulling pranks throughout his Hogwarts career. Sometimes they’ve affected just one person or sometimes they’ve affected a whole dormitory. But Y/N is usually caught in the middle of it all and thinks that Hoseok is full of shit.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, what stuff? I’ve heard of a few pranks going off in the Hufflepuff Common Room and an incident with house arrangements but I didn’t think—!” Nayeon starts.

“Yep, all Hoseok’s fault,” You cut in, digging into your bag and pulling out a bag of food.

Nayeon’s eyes light up. “Sounds like there’s a lot of tea to unpackage then—I honestly figured something was up. Hoseok seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons and your insult about his family name seemed very specific. What was that all about by the way?”

You give her a look as you rip apart your bread. “Oh that’s right, I forgot that a lot of people outside of Hufflepuff don’t really know Hoseok’s history. But I’m sure you know about the Jung family line in the Auror department.”

Aurors were highly trained law enforcement officials who dealt with crimes relating to the Dark Arts and the dark witches and wizards who engaged in that dangerous magic. The training to obtain an auror position was known for being vigorous and intense and the reputation of the job was even more so. Despite that, wizards and witches who worked as an Auror were highly respected. It’s usually rare for even one wizard from a family to become an auror, but to have an entire family with the skills, talent, and grades to become an auror is a rarity in of itself.

Knowing that, Nayeon nods. “Of course. The Jungs are legends. Not only did they have generations of family members both heads and regular aurors in the department, but they have such an impressive streak of finding dark witches and wizards. But wait—are you saying—?”

“That Hoseok is from that Jung family? Yes, one hundred percent.”

Nayeon’s lips part as her eyes widen. “Wow, that’s pretty crazy. I’m guessing Hoseok is expected to become an auror too.”

“At this point, just being a Jung is enough to probably get him in. He just needs to get the right number of N.E.W.T.s and he’ll be smooth sailing. I don’t even think he’ll need the grades to get in.” You move around in your blanket so you’re resting on your stomach. “That’s why I think Hoseok is full of shit. He doesn’t take school seriously because of his family. His job and way of living has already been predetermined, so he just spends his time creating havoc everywhere he goes and literally dampening everyone else’s day with his horrible pranks. Seriously, now that I think about it, he pulled some crazy shit once a year.”

“Oh, like remember that time during first year when he set off a dung bomb in the Hufflepuff common room?” Sana asks, shuttering at the thought. “Sometimes when I close my eyes I can still smell the bomb in my nose. It was awful. The smell was in the room for days.”

Intrigued, Nayeon listens in as you and Sana briefly recount the annual party of pranks Hoseok created for everyone around him, or for you more specifically.

In second year, while trying to impress a student, Hoseok tried levitating a bottle of ink into the air during a lesson but lost control of the bottle. The actions caused the ink to spill all over your white blouse, colored with an ink so poignant that it required help from the Headmistress. You doubt Hoseok even knew you existed before then.

In third year, Hoseok spread quick dry glue all over one of the moving staircases—a product that, like the name implies, dries quickly when activated by the movement of a person, place, or thing. Unfortunately, you and Sana had been the person, place, or thing, to arrive atop the moving staircases. It was following a post-dinner bliss, seeing you and Sana trying to head back to the Hufflepuff common room before the plan was promptly thwarted by glue.

“Oh hello there, I remember you,” Hoseok had said, teary eyed and grinning from his previous laughter—just appearing from the shadows. “I spilled ink on you last year, nice to meet you!”

It had been your first conversation with Jung Hoseok, and the first time you wanted the ground to swallow him whole. But sadly, it doesn’t end there.

In fourth year, Hoseok made everyone’s quill disappear throughout the whole duration of the lesson only to have them reappear moments before class ended just to chase the poor professor out of the classroom. And of course, the final cherry on top had been a firework of feathers, the byproduct of the quills colliding and exploding over the whole class. The feathers had stuck to you for weeks, and Jung Hoseok had been laughing the whole goddamn time.

He had even cornered you after class with his classic shit-eating grin. “You look like a bird,” He commented.

In fifth year, he did something that surprised you: he walked to your desk and gave you a present.

“I hear you’re into plants or whatever,” Hoseok said, placing a small pot onto your desk. “So I found this and thought of you!”

He had seemed polite enough for you to indulge him. “It’s herbology,” You corrected him, but you wave it off. “But it’s fine. Uh…” You take the pot, curling your fingers around the edges. “This is very nice of you, Hoseok. Thank you.”

But turns out it was not a very nice gesture for you because the plant had been jinxed—a bewitched thing that became dangerously overgrown through the night and latched onto you in its path. You had woken up the next morning with branches and leaves curled over every part of your body, your entire bedpost covered with greenery and you right at the heart of it. You, lifted several feet above the bed, trapped in the plant Hoseok had given you. The Headmistress was called to help you out, and you refused to stand next to Hoseok in the greenhouse for the rest of the year.

And finally, the cherry on top of pranks was during sixth year. In an attempt to fix an admirer’s robes, Hoseok ended up bewitching the entirety of the housing system. The crests people wore on their robes were mixed around and swapped out. The gesture ended up fucking up who was allowed or denied access into the different houses—a crazy day that you remember extremely well. The paintings that guarded the common rooms couldn’t let in certain students, especially the first years because new students are still trying to be adjusted into the school. The day had been an overall frenzy where the attention of the Headmaster was needed to undo the mess. Hoseok had gotten a week of detention following that incident.

“Wow,” Nayeon says, back in the present, with her chin in her hand and her eyes wide. “I didn’t even know most of those pranks were done by Hoseok.” She looks at you. “I didn’t know you were the one who got attacked by the plant overnight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You cut in, looking embarrassed. “It was all very terrible and horrible and Jung Hoseok is a gigantic piece of trash—!”

“Piece of trash? You don’t mean yourself, do you?”

The familiar, shit-eating grin in his voice causes the three of you to jump as you pivot your waist to find Jung Hoseok and his stupid equally-as-naturally-talented friend Jeon Jungkook by his side. They’re both staring down at you.

You glare at him. “Are you stupid? If you’re selectively eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for you, it’s clear that you know I was talking about you.”

Hoseok slides his hands into his pockets. “Tactful as always. Anyways, this is my friend Jeon Jungkook. You may know him.”

“What’s up,” Jungkook introduces himself, eyes flickering to Nayeon as he grins. “Hey Nayeon.”

Nayeon gives him a weak smile in return. You wonder if she’s still upset about her loss against Jungkook in the Quidditch match. Or, deeper than that, you wonder if she’s more upset that he invited her to that party in the Room of Requirements and never showed up.

“Pleasant,” Hoseok comments in regards to the atmosphere that has been crafted before he’s turning back to you. “I’m hearing about a potions exam coming up.”

You nod. “You’re correct. Why, you’re gonna try and study this time?”

Hoseok laughs at that. “Nah,” He brushes off. “It doesn’t seem that important. I’ll look over a guide or something, but that’s it.”

Your stare hardens slightly. “I think it’s a little more important than you’re making it seem. You do realize that if you fail your exams, you won’t even make it to the N.E.W.T.s, and it seems like that’ll definitely fuck up your chances of doing anything significant with your life.” You pause. “Don’t you need to continue that family legacy or something?”

Hoseok laugh melts into a frown. The group you’re surrounded with becomes significantly quiet, as everyone seems in shock about the direction you’re taking the conversation. “Why don’t you just mind your business? My ‘family legacy’ or whatever dumb shit you want to call it isn’t of your concern. More than that, how I decide to go about my business is up to me.” He smiles, all teeth but no humor. “Your concern for my grades is cute. But I’m a Jung. I don’t need help and certainly not from you.” He readjusts the page on his shoulder. “Have a good rest of your day.”

As he and Jungkook take their leave, you roll your eyes and turn back to Sana and Nayeon. You smile. “He’s a dick. So, Sana, What kind of food did you bring out for us?”

When Jung Hoseok said he didn’t think the upcoming potions exam struck much importance to him, he didn’t think the universe would actually take him seriously. That is all that can run through his mind as he stares at the POOR classification written across his test.

His mind whirls a little as he starts to flip through the parchment, to figure out what had happened. Sure, he didn’t study specific ingredients closely, but he’s always known the gist of what different potions were meant for. That is, after all, how he passed his O.W.L. in potions.

“Yeah… I guess the more advanced courses look into what certain ingredients can do,” Jimin says, where his OUTSTANDING classification is over his own exam—of course. “When you get out in the real world and need to make something specific, it’s better to have the foundation of materials. Anyways I thought you knew that. I gave you a copy of a study guide for you to reference.” He narrows his eyes. “Unless you were out with Namjoon again.”

Hoseok sighs. “Whatever. It’s just one exam, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He’s about to collect his belongings when Professor Slughorn’s voice calls him from the front of the room. “Have a bit of trouble studying for the test, Mr. Jung?” He asks as Hoseok steps towards the desk.

Hoseok looks down at his test and plasters a smile. “Just wasn’t sure what to focus on, Professor. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope that it won’t, Mr. Jung.” Professor Slughorn puts down his quill before folding his fingers atop one another. “Because if you fail another one of my exams, it’ll be clear to me that you aren’t fit to take the N.E.W.T. for potions. And I understand you’re interested in the auror program after graduation. That is something I can’t guarantee right now. Unfortunately, just being a Jung won’t be enough if you can’t even make it to the examination period at the end of the year.”

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows, pressing his lips together. “So what do I need to do?”

Professor Slughorn ponders for a second. “An Outstanding classification would do you well, Mr. Jung. Good luck.”

With that, Hoseok leaves the confines of the dungeon with a head full and a panic brimming at the corners of his consciousness. An Outstanding was a Park Jimin level of smart and a 24/7 level of commitment—something Hoseok himself has only accomplished once. What the fuck was he going to do?

He ponders this question as he leaves the dungeons of the potions classroom, where Park Jimin is waiting near the entrance.

Jimin grins, detaching himself from the wall to approach his friend. “Are you still my potions partner?” He asks jokingly, matching Hoseok’s pace as the pair of them make their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast. The tall glass windows bring in that morning light, the haziness of morning stretching out past the horizon of the mountains outside.

Hoseok huffs. “Maybe not for long. Professor Slughorn says I need an Outstanding classification for his next exam or he’s gonna kick me out of class.”

Jimin whistles. “That’s the highest grade in the school from one of the hardest classes you’ll take at Hogwarts. Potions exams are no joke.”

“I know that,” Hoseok snaps. “I took the exam. I’m aware they’re hard. Otherwise I wouldn’t be in this fucking position right now.”

“Spicy,” Jimin rebuffs, nudging Hoseok with his shoulder. Hard. “But hey, don’t be a dick to me. You failed on your own merits. You’re lucky Professor Slughorn is actually nice and is letting you off with a warning. If this was first year and he didn’t know jack shit about you, you’d be gone.”

Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t apologize, however, but it’s implied with his momentary lingering glare. “So, uh,” He starts. “You got time to help me out during study periods? Outstandings require like… near perfect scores. I only got that score on the O.W.L. for Defense.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a long look. “I would help you Hobi, but I recently got roped into some Ministry of Magic project with that transfer student from Ilvermorny. Professor McGonagall’s orders. It’s a pretty heavy assignment, so I could still try to arrange some time for you…”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Hoseok cuts in, waving him off. “I’ll figure something out.”

Jimin ponders this for a moment as he and Hoseok linger outside the Great Hall, waiting for their other friends to show up as per usual. “You sure? I could make time. No worries dude, seriously.”

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Hoseok brushes off once more, eyes roaming around the hallway. Several unfamiliar students pass the pair of them before you show up and catch his eye. “Uh,” He starts with Jimin, looking at you but directing his voice to Jimin. “If the guys show up, go ahead without me. I’ll catch up in a second.”

Jimin looks over Hoseok’s shoulder, looking vaguely curious about where Hoseok’s interest in engaging conversation with you has come from, but shrugs it off when Kim Taehyung appears.

“Hey!” Hoseok calls, saying your name and making you look up from your conversation. “Hi,” He repeats, smiling from you to Sana and back to you. “I need to talk to you.”

You roll your eyes. “No, Jung Hoseok, I didn’t rat you out to Professor Slughorn and no, I didn’t imply that you were the one to mess with my ingredients.”

Hoseok snorts. “Okay first of all, I know Professor Slughorn figured that out on his own. I know you weren’t smart enough to piece anything together—!” He cuts himself off when your glare narrows into something that implies you’ll murder him in his sleep. “Right.” He readies himself. “I need to talk to you.”

You look at Sana and sigh before looking back at Hoseok. “What is it?”

He’s quiet for a second. “You’re good at potions, right? Like, you’re actually good at knowing ingredients and shit?”

“Where exactly is this going?” You snap back, looking slightly hurt that your expertise in potions was being put under question. Not that it was ever Jung Hoseok’s responsibility to know your grades. Not that he cares, anyways.

“She’s good,” Sana interjects politely. “She got an Outstanding classification on the recent test.”

Hoseok brightens. “Thank you Sana.”

“Hey,” You protest. “Who’s side are you on?”

Sana gives you a look. “Are you saying that you were just going to ignore him? While he’s standing right in front of you?”

Your glare deepens. “Why don’t you go and save me a seat for breakfast? I’ll catch up.”

Sana laughs. “Alright then.” She turns to Hoseok. “See you around, Hoseok.”

Hoseok tilts his head up. “Later, Sana.” He waits until Sana has entered the Great Hall before he’s turning back to you. “So, an Outstanding classification. You’re pretty smart then.”

Your glare doesn’t go away. Instead, your eyes narrow in suspicion. “What do you want?”

He seems to ponder this. “I’m giving you an opportunity. I’m in need of a tutor for potions and you seem…” He waves towards all of you. “Vaguely qualifiable. What do you say?”

You look like he’s grown a third head. “Are you serious? If you’re actually trying to get me to help you out, you’re not doing a very good job of selling yourself. In fact, you’re coming off as more of a dick than usual.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Why don’t you ask your actual smart friend over there?” You gesture towards the entrance of the Great Hall, where Park Jimin is only now sliding into one of the tables. Around him are the company of Jungkook and Taehyung—all three of them laughing mid-conversation.

Hoseok turns back to you. “Jimin is busy.”

You give him a tight smile. “And so am I. Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.”

“Hey, wait, come on,” Hoseok cuts in, not entirely used to rejection of this degree. He’s more accustomed to friends rearranging schedules for him, to students watching his movements with awe. Not disgust, which is the look you’re giving him right now. “Don’t be like that. I need help.”

“Wow, you’ve really built up a case this time. I’m jumping out of my seat with glee and anticipation,” You remark sarcastically.

Hoseok bites his tongue. He speaks without thinking. “You should be honored I’m asking you for help. I’m a Jung—people part for my family because they know how important we are. What’s up your ass anyways?”

Your gaze on him turns from annoyed to appalled. “What’s up my ass?” You echo. “You think I give a shit about how you’re connected to your family? Based on your work ethic alone, you’re unrelated to them for all I care. The fact that you’re using them to justify your dick behavior is blowing my mind right now,” You sneer, taking a step back away from him. “Tutoring you isn’t an ‘opportunity’, Hoseok. It’s an anchor.” With that, you turn around and Hoseok alone in the hallway.

To say he’s frustrated would be an understatement. He lingers, watching you make your way into the Great Hall to join your friends. For some reason, your rejection just makes him even more attuned to your actions and gestures—the way you join your friends at the table, the way you reach for the food lined up along the center of the long table, the way you smile as if you hadn’t been snapping Hoseok out just seconds ago.

With a huff, he too steps into the Great Hall and slides into the corner seat along with his friends.

Jimin laughs, sticking his fork into some bacon and eggs. “What happened?”

Hoseok scoffs. “What makes you say something happened?”

“Dude, it’s written all over your face,” Jimin retorts, gesturing to Hoseok with his fork. “She pissed you off. What happened?”

“Does it even matter?” Hoseok returns, reaching over to grab the cup laid out for him. It immediately fills up with the morning drink of his choice—coffee. “Just being frustrating and yelling at me, as per usual.”

Jungkook laughs. “That is true.”

“Anyways…” Hoseok starts up, craning his neck just slightly to see you further down the table, still smiling and joking around with your own friends. “She said something that really bothered me. So I think I’ll send her a little present of thanks.”

Very slowly, he takes his wand out of his robe and rummages through his bag for a box. With the mutter of a spell underneath his breath, the box turns invisible with only the vague shimmering blurriness of its space to give an indication of its location. Hoseok raises his wand up, and the box follows, as it floats soundlessly down the table and past the other small clusters of students partaking in their own morning eating. Most don’t notice, too involved in their personal conversations or trying to shake off the morning exhaustion in time for lessons.

The box lingers when it reaches you, and Hoseok drops his wrist so the contents inside the box sprinkle all over your breakfast food.

“Accio box,” Hoseok hisses, watching as the box flies towards him before catching it with one hand. At his friends momentarily bewildered look, he flashes the now visible product towards them. “Hiccough sweet,” He explains, tossing it to Jungkook when the latter opens up his arms with a silent question.

Jungkook catches the box and turns it over to read the product description on the back. “A Zonko’s Joke Shop Product,” He reads. “Induces a hiccoughing fit when consumed.” He looks up. “So you just need to eat this and…?”

An utter of your name is heard from across the table. “Are you okay?”

You cough, hitting your chest with the palm of your hand. A round of hiccups escape you as your whole body jerks with each spasm of your diaphragm. “Maybe I—hic—ate too fast—hic—!” You try for a glass of water, but your hiccoughing makes you choke just before you can down the liquid, causing only further coughing and discomfort.

Hoseok watches the whole thing with a grin on his face.

In the midst of your coughing fit, you catch Hoseok’s eye and don’t have too much trouble deceiving his grin this time. It also helps that he’s waving the box of Hiccough Sweet at you.

Your lips part in shock. “Jung—hic—HOSEOK—!” The noise of your hiccups grow louder to echo through the breakfast hall. The increasing silence doesn’t help as your struggles only become more and more apparent.

Your lips part in shock as the noises of your hiccups grow loud enough to echo through the breakfast hall. The increasing silence doesn’t help as your struggles only become more and more apparent.

Sana seems to catch wind of this and places a hand on your back as you gasp in between your fit of hiccups. “Maybe we should go to Madam Pomfrey and see if she can fix this,” She says, helping you out of the seat as you cough in between your hiccups.

You point to Hoseok as you and Sana make your way out of the Great Hall. “I’m—hic—going to kill you—hic—so you better make sure I don’t—hic—see you in the hallway—hic—you dick!”

Hoseok is still mid-laughter as you and Sana leave the hall, bringing the curiosity of whispers and rumors along with you.

You don’t return to the house dorms that night, something about how Madam Pomfrey couldn’t figure out how to combat the hiccough sweet and had to take some time to figure out how to settle your diaphragm down. Hoseok had giggled about it then, and continues to smirk about it hours later as he exits the castle and makes his way down to the Gamekeeper’s hut along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Today is Saturday, and the breeze is calm but the clouds are collecting along the edges of the sky with the telltale signs that a storm is coming up soon.

Regardless of the weather, Hoseok is still making the trek out as he crosses down dirt pathways and rocky inclines—finally reaching the hut and the gates of magical creatures that are housed within the area. Today, Kim Namjoon is out there begrudgingly combing through the cages of the Blast-Ended Skrewts.

Hoseok lingers outside the cage for a moment, watching his friend partake in the very activities he had talked about and laughed about months prior.

He speaks finally. “If I decided to hit this cage, would the skrewts start shooting fire at me?”

If Namjoon is surprised by the visit of his friend, he doesn’t show it. “No, they’d start shooting fire at me so for the sake of our sanity, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

Hoseok grins. “I’m sure that the zookeeper who is supposed to be mentoring you would appreciate the sentiment.”

Namjoon flicks him off instead, and the pair wallow in silence as Namjoon continues cleaning up the cage until the area is spotless. Quickly, he opens the cage and shuts it behind him to signal his completion of the task. The silence stretches on as Hoseok reaches into his bag and pulls out a roll, referring to a common activity between the two of them, as the air quickly fills with purple smoke that smells of berries.

“What about your problem?” Namjoon asks after a few minutes. He shakes his roll. “The potions girl had a bit of trouble recovering from your hiccough sweet prank, so I’ve heard. Is that supposed to help convince her that she should tutor you?”

Hoseok blows smoke. “Probably not. But she called me an anchor!”

Namjoon snorts. “Because you’re asking someone to help you study when you can be pretty shitty at studying because of your even shitter attitude? Especially regarding potions, AKA your hardest subject?” He looks out. “I’m surprised she didn’t say anything worse.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at his friend. “You dick. You’re not exactly a model citizen either. What the fuck do you think got you into this position in the first place?”

The pair of them bicker for a little longer—conversations indulging through the activities of different classes and the different affairs going on amongst their friend group, before the aforementioned heavy clouds groan from above. It’s an angry sound, a crackle of noise that splits through the sky and gives a warning of what’s to come.

It’s a warning that only lasts a few seconds before rain starts pouring down from the sky, loudly pittering and pattering against the ground. Taken aback by the sudden nature of the weather, as well as the heavy weight of the rain drops themselves, Hoseok and Namjoon scramble to collect their belongings. Namjoon turns his attention back to the magical creatures around him, the rain starts to soak through his hair.

“I need to clean up,” Namjoon says, slightly begrudgingly, but firm nonetheless.

So Hoseok nods. “I’m gonna try and head back.” The pair of them exchange one last final parting before going their separate ways.

Despite Hoseok claiming a trip straight back to the castle, he doesn’t follow through immediately. He takes a bit of a detour, towards another place he knows he can remain alone and unbothered—a place that usually allows him to wallow in his thoughts given how it’s always unoccupied during certain days.

He heads towards the greenhouse.

But the time he’s reached the outskirts of the house, he’s soaked through his robe and his hair is promptly sticking to his forehead. The cool temperature invokes a slight shiver as Hoseok still pushes open the door of the greenhouse and closes it behind him.

He basks in his alone time for a grand total of five seconds before—!

“Jung Hoseok?” It’s your voice, and Hoseok groans. You’re not exactly the first person on the list of people he wants to see right now, especially after the whole hiccough sweet thing the other day. Not that he’s actively trying to avoid you, but seeing you is like salt in the wound. It’s definitely vice versa for him to.

He whirls around to see you having stepped out from an enclosed area of the greenhouse, a separate place of the building separated by more glass for advanced herbology students. It’s closed off from the main portion of the greenhouse to ensure that curious first-years don’t accidentally mess with plants that could alter one’s memory or other forms of dangerous enchantments. You, however, are prepared for this—with your dragon-hide gloves and rolled up sleeves of your white polo shirt.

When he doesn’t say anything immediately, you only further narrow your eyes at him. “What are you doing here? Last time I checked, idiots don’t need to drop by the greenhouse.” You jerk your chin towards the outside. “In the rain of all times.”

He ignores your insult to approach you instead. “I was just escaping the rain, thank you very much. Very cozy in here. And I’m totally fine, thanks for asking.” When you don’t say anything, he clears his throat. “So, what are you doing here?”

You gesture towards the area of the greenhouse you’ve just emerged from. “Do you have eyes? I’m here for an assignment.”

“Ah.” Hoseok nods. “That’s right, I forgot you like the play with plants.”

You frown. “It’s not playing with plants, I’m observing them—!” You cut yourself off, seeming to decide it wasn’t worth fighting this battle. You raise your hand and make a noise of self-protest in the back of your throat. “You know what? Whatever. I’m done for today anyways so I’ll let you roam free in here. Touch a plant and lose your memory for all I care.” You disappear back behind the advanced herbology section of the greenhouse once more to put your equipment back in the proper place, leaving Hoseok back at the entrance.

A few seconds pass before you’re emerging once more with your school blazer over your shoulder, brushing past Hoseok and turning the knob to exit the greenhouse—leaving Hoseok behind.

Watching you leave, somehow, is even more frustrating than enduring a conversation with you, which is why Hoseok dashes towards the door you’ve just closed to pull it open again. You’re up ahead, blazer over your head and your shoes splashing into the puddles on the ground.

“Y/N, wait!” Hoseok calls, closing the door and jogging over to catch up to you.

Your pace doesn’t let up. Neither does your disdain for him as you look over your shoulder to continue barking at him. “What do you want, Hoseok? Doesn’t putting hiccoughing sweet into my breakfast fulfill your quota of torturing someone for the week?”

“What?” Hoseok shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not about that. It’s about the thing, the—the other thing!”

“The other thing…?” You trail off, before stopping dead in your path. Hoseok would have crashed into you had he been running behind you rather than next to you. But alas, he slows down into a standstill. The rain continues to pour down on the two of you, further soaking Hoseok past his already wet clothes. You yourself lower the blazer off your head, allowing the rain to touch the strands of your hair. “Are you seriously bringing that up with me again?”

Hoseok swallows. Every little micro aggression you direct towards him only eats at his confidence more and more. Not used to being rejected as many times as he currently has, he finds that he has a harder time trying to formulate the right words into the right sentence, he actually stammers. “I just thought…”

“Thought what?” You interrupt. “That avoiding me would make me forget how much of a dick you are? That’s right, you don’t think I noticed what’s been going on for the past few days. You’re filled with guilt and you think ignoring the problem will just make me forget it long enough to be your stupid tutor. But let me tell you something, Jung Hoseok.” You take a step closer to him, close enough where he can see the rain drops clinging to your lashes. “Nothing can make me tutor you.”

You step back, turn around and start your walk towards the castle once more before Hoseok sighs loudly into the air. He says something that he hasn’t said since he was ten. “I’m sorry!” He calls out, yelling it through the space between you.

That makes you falter slightly, having never heard those two words spoken to you before. You stop walking, looking over your shoulder to stare at him—give him a chance to further explain himself.

Hoseok sighs again, trying to quickly formulate his thoughts into words before you lose interest and continue to think he’s full of shit. “Professor Slughorn called me in the other day and said that if I don’t get an Outstanding classification on the next exam, I’m basically out of the potions N.E.W.T.s. If that happens then I won’t get into the auror program after graduation—and yeah, I’ll be a disappointment to my family. So I, uh… need your help. Please.” He says the last word more as an afterthought, more of a grumble.

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of rain pattering against the grassy pathway. A part of Hoseok really thinks that you’re going to curse him out again, tell him to piss off now and forever. But you speak. “What was that?” You say. “The last part.”

There’s a slight smile in your voice, as if you know what he said but just want to hear him repeat nonetheless.

“Please,” Hoseok tries again, a little stiffer but a lot louder.

“One more time?”

Hoseok glares harder, but he’s not sure you can see it through the rain.

Finally, you take a step towards him. Your shoes squish against the mud, stopping when you’re arms length away from him. “You must be desperate,” You say at last, running a hand across your forehead to rid of some of the water that has collected there. At last, you yourself emit a sigh as you rummage through your bag for your wand. You pull it out, pointing it up to the sky as a clear veil comes out from the tip—an invisible umbrella. The rain hits the surface of your spell-produced umbrella, but it’s a protection that only covers you up. Hoseok continues to feel the rain soak through every part of him. “Fine,” You acknowledge after a moment. Hoseok feels his heart lurch in his chest. “I’ll tutor you—but, if you fuck with me even once… if you show up late or don’t take this seriously, then I’m out. I won’t even give you a warning. This is my warning.”

Your strong-hold and straightforward attitude about your conditions to tutor him leaves Hoseok vaguely starry-eyed. Not that you aren’t normally no-nonsense, but to see you take so much control over something he is a part of makes him stunned.

So he utters the only thing he is capable of uttering with a full head. “S-Sure,” He manages.

That seems to be enough for you, because you give him a curt nod. “Tomorrow afternoon, 2pm,�� You throw out. “That’s when I’m done with lunch. Meet me in front of the library.”

“Y-Yeah…” Hoseok says, trailing off as he watches you leave, taking your energy and the pitter-patter of your umbrella with you down the pathway and back toward the castle.

He doesn’t even want to try and entertain the possibility of fucking around the following day—doesn’t even want to see if you were perhaps joking around when you threated to back out of the tutoring arrangement if he so much as breathed wrong in your direction. He shows up five minutes before the agreed time.

You show up a minute before, readjusting the strap of your bag, but you stop at the sight of him lingering outside the library. You wear an unreadable expression as you approach him.

Hoseok stares right back. “What?” He says, trying to keep the bite out of his voice.

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Nice to see you passing the first test of showing up early..” Without another word, you make your way into the library with Hoseok hot at your tail.

The two of you eventually settle into a tiny corner booth encompassed by shelves of books. The library is quiet considering it’s a Sunday afternoon when most normal students are probably fighting the food coma of lunch. Normally, Hoseok would be one of those people—would prefer to just relax outside in the courtyard with his body laid out amongst the grass and the conversations of his friends putting him to sleep. The momentary visual of that is contradicted to his current predicament: inside the library and the uncertain nature of the current situation leaving him apprehensive. It’s an emotion he isn’t accustomed to.

“So,” You start just as Hoseok is settling into his chair. You lean forward, fingers lacing together as you regard him with a curious look. “We need to figure out how much you know. Can you tell me what bezoars are and what it’s good for?”

He stares at you.

You kiss your teeth as you twist in your chair to collect parchment from your bag. “Alright. This’ll be a good next few weeks.” The dryness in your tone is hard to ignore.

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows. “Why, what’s wrong? What’s a bezoar?”

You sigh. “What’s wrong is that bezoars were the first things we studied this year in class. Honestly, Jung Hoseok, how did you even make it to this level of potions?”

“Hey,” He exclaims, actually pouting at you. Just a little, but the defeat in his tone is present—still guilty for not knowing what bezoars are. “The O.W.L.s were easier. And Park Jimin is one of my best friends, he usually tutored me right before the exams. And exams from last year were made for more memorizing rather than actually giving me a foundation for this shit.”

You waver in the collection of your materials to give him a look.

He looks right back at you. “What?” He asks again, a little sharper this time.

You lift your hands up as if to deflect his self-conscious attitude. “Nothing, it’s just—you’re pretty observant about that kind of stuff. And I would even go so far as to agree with you. Those tests were pretty brutal.”

“Yeah, exactly…” The notion of you actually agreeing with him feels like a few weights off his shoulders. Hoseok settles himself deeper into his seat. “So I honestly just forgot the information as soon as I finished the test.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… that’s fine. It’s a problem, however, because you really need to know all this information if you’re gonna need to pass the upcoming potions exam and even further for the N.E.W.T. exam. Just memorizing and forgetting for each test isn’t going to work this year. But, for this upcoming potions test, this is what you’ll be tested on.” You produce another parchment that contains a small list of ingredients and actual potion brews. “Professor Slughorn said that the next exam will be a combination of concepts learned from the first test as well as the lessons after that.”

Hoseok takes the parchment from you and feels his eyes almost bug out of his head. The list itself isn’t too long—just a handful of ingredients and potions—but the subheaders are filled with different points that would need to be covered in the exam. Like where specific ingredients could be found, what season would be the best time to grow them, if they could be grown, what potions from class one would find this ingredient, and the general purpose of the ingredient. For potions, pointers you’ve written cover the intention of the potions and the ingredients required.

The new knowledge that he would need to know all this information fills Hoseok with a sense of dread, before the doubt settles in. “There’s no way it has to be this detailed.”

You glare at him. “Hey, why would I take the time to write out all these different subheaders otherwise? Last time I checked, I was the one who passed and you were the one who failed.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Hoseok snaps. “Why else do you think I’m here?”

You slam the textbooks and parchment you’ve brought over onto the table. “Are you seriously trying to pick a fight with me over this shit right now?” You run both your hands through your hair. “Look, you don’t like studying and memorizing and applying yourself—I don’t get it, but who the fuck am I to spare brain cells in trying to make sense about you. But this is the reality of the situation. You get out what you put in. If you would prefer Park Jimin to tutor you and whisper the answers to you when the professors aren’t looking, then be my guest.”

“No! No, okay, fine, I’ll stop,” Hoseok interjects tensely. “I guess you just make me a reactionary person.”

You make a side-eye at that comment, but don’t say anything to further drive the wedge already in place between the two of you. “How good are you with retaining information?”

“Depends how mean you are to me,” Hoseok mutters.

You ignore his jab to open up your copy of Advanced Potion Making. “Alright, well, I guess we can start with going over bezoars…”

You can not fathom why you decide to tutor Jung Hoseok. Thinking clearly about it, there isn’t a gain or a loss to come out of helping someone who has done nothing but make your many years at Hogwarts challenging and terrifying at the same time. You know that he doesn’t purposely single you out, and more often than not it’s just the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time—Hoseok doesn’t have the bad blood in him to target one person (unlike his friends), but his carelessness doesn’t excuse years of frustration and annoyance.

Given those feelings, you almost said no. In the beginning, you had been fully prepared to reject his ass over and over again until he gave up. It wasn’t difficult at first, with his arrogance shining through and doing well to push all the right buttons that drove you to a rejection in the first place.

But that day in the greenhouse had changed some things. Hoseok had been the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, showed the most humility, and actually seemed human. And you’ve always had a soft spot for vulnerability—makes you feel guilty if someone poured their heart out only to get rejected once more. So you accepted.

Besides, even though you aren’t sure how to tutor, you painted yourself as a good student and assumed that teaching someone concepts that have already been reviewed before would be simple.

But you were very, very, very wrong.

“For the last time, Jung Hoseok,” You seeth, fingers pressing deep into your temples as you rub. “A fluxweed is part of the mustard family, grows purple flowers, and is known for its healing properties. Knotgrass doesn’t sprout flowers—it’s used for polyjuice potions and is brewed to make knotgrass mead. How do you keep fucking this up?”

“They both have a grass differential in their name!” Hoseok whines, throwing himself back into his seat. “Weed and grass is very confusing! How does a grass ingredient not sprout a flower but a weed ingredient does? That’s too weird!”

“It’s not weird, it’s just the way things are!” You snap back.

“The fact that you say that only makes it more weird!”

You have to zero in and read an excerpt on fluxweed to calm the nasty flare of anger that lights up in your stomach. Not only is tutoring Hoseok not simple, but it turns out he has difficulty memorizing very basic ideas of things he has zero interest in. How on earth did he pass his O.W.L. for this fucking subject in the first place?

The pair of you were in your third week of tutoring, still reviewing concepts from the beginning term. With the next upcoming potions exam rapidly approaching, the seeds of doubt start to grow in your mind, an unsure feeling that the pair of you could catch up to the rest of the material. Your growing frustration over Hoseok’s inability to retain the information is also starting to get in the way of proper tutoring sessions.

Basically, you’re at your ropes end. The hour-per-three-days you have spent tutoring Hoseok could have been spent studying for your own assignments and own weaknesses. Or perhaps seeing a therapist on how to stop letting people like Hoseok take advantage of you.

“You’re being so impossible right now!” You shriek, ignoring the wandering eyes of other students who glance over at your outburst. “How are you not retaining this information? It’s almost like the only time you’re studying for this class is during our tutoring sessions…” You glance over at him, seeing the vaguely guilty expression in his eyes, and you feel your heart race pick up—the feeling of fight or flight coming over. “Please do not tell me that’s what you’ve been doing for the past three weeks.”

“Hey…” Hoseok protests. “That’s just how I studied with Jimin. Maybe if we met everyday I’d retain the information better.”

You turn to face him completely this time, eyes wide and body shaking with only thinly veiled irritation. “Do you think…” You start, voice already rising. “Do you think I have the time or the patience to go that far when I’m already sticking my neck out for you? Why can’t you just work around what I’m giving you—?” You begin to feel it, the anger settling in your throat and the heat of your face bringing tears to your eyes, the absolute frustration of the situation and the fact that you have only yourself to blame for the outcome.

But, someone new swoops in to interrupt your raging.

“Hey, there you are Jung Hoseok.” You manage a quick glance in the direction of the voice before turning away to collect your thoughts. It’s Kim Namjoon—one of Hoseok’s good friends and lead writer for the Hogwarts Daily. The thought of being seen and reported on by Namjoon brings you enough nerves that you choose not to make eye contact. You merely look away to blink away your anger and swallow your frustrations.

It’s hard though, especially when Hoseok and Namjoon start to have a conversation as if you aren’t even here.

“What’s up?” Hoseok asks, after the two of them engage in their handshake. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, same as usual.” Namjoon stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to ask if you were free. Jungkook wants to go down to the Three Broomsticks.” You’re in the middle of flipping through your copy of Advanced Potion-Making when Namjoon adds on one more line: “It doesn’t seem like you’re doing anything important anyways.”

Then, Hoseok laughs.

That final sound makes you feel like something has snapped inside of you, with that white hot anger coursing through you once more with no force inside you willing to stop it. Without a warning, you slam the textbook shut. The sound of it crashes through the library.

For the first time since Namjoon’s arrival, Hoseok looks over at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, okay, now you want to ask me what’s wrong,” You snap, standing up so fast that the bottom of your chair scraps against the floor. You start to collect your parchments and textbook into your hands. “This was a mistake. I should never have agreed to this.”

Hoseok frowns, standing up as well. “Wait, hold on—are you mad at me?”

You slam your bag onto your seat. “WOW, okay, for someone who was all signed up to take five fucking N.E.W.Ts, you do know how to lack critical thinking skills in all shapes and forms! Of course I’m mad at you! You lack respect, initiative, and any self-sufficient skills that could make you a fraction of a good student! It’s like you seriously expect me to solve all your problems and tell you exactly how to handle your situation and be honored that you chose me to do this, when in reality I just felt bad and I thought you reaching out to me would mean a change in your attitude. But clearly, I was wrong. You—you’re impossible to deal with! I can’t believe that I wanted to help you in the first place!” You spit out. your chest heaves up and down, the tears pricking in your eyes. The wetness makes your vision glossy, so you miss Hoseok’s expression drop. “I’m sure you can figure out your own way of passing the class.”

With a final huff, you turn on your heel, ignoring the gaze of other students who watch you leave. You even brush past Madam Pince who looks seconds away from a scolding. The action leaves Hoseok alone in the library to mull over what has just happened.

But would he even process what you’ve just said and actually take it seriously? Debatable. But you don’t even care. Your main focus is just to get out of the library as quickly as possible and find somewhere to scream.

You just heard towards the first place that comes to mind—the Hufflepuff common room. You brush past the painting, storming past the group of students conversing near the fireplace and up into the girls dormitory. After going through a maze of different hallways and doorframes leading into different bedrooms, you stop at your own—the door leading to your own bedroom. Inside, Sana is sitting atop her bed, flipping through the pages of a History of Magic textbook. She looks up from the book as soon as she sees you. “Hey, how was the tutoring session?”

You don’t respond immediately. You brush past her, beeline straight for your own bed and throw yourself atop the covers. Landing face-first onto your pillow, you yell right into the cushion.

Sana jumps at the sound, immediately sliding off her bed to make her way towards you. “What’s wrong?” She asks, sitting on the edge of your bed.

You pout to yourself for a moment, before you huff and proceed to flail your body atop your bed. Your arms and legs wiggle around, hitting the mattress before you stop and perform a 180 so that your back is resting on the mattress. The tears have disappeared from your eyes, but the angry weight still sits in your chest. “Hoseok is an ass, and I effectively quit from being his tutor today.”

Sana tilts her head. “But I thought you guys were getting along okay.”

You snort. “Understatement of the fucking year.” You push yourself up into a sitting position. “That bitch was only using our tutoring sessions to study for potions. The fact that he can’t even fit in supplemental lessons just to make sure he remembers what we’ve gone over. And when I brought it up he was so disrespectful about it! As if I don’t have other things to think about, and like he just expects me to worry about him on a daily basis!” You give Sana a look, before sighing and throwing yourself back onto your bed. “Whatever, it’s done. I can just go back to focusing on my own studying. Hoseok can drown for all I care.”

Sana smiles as she reaches over to brush the hair that has fallen across your face. “How about we go down to Hogsmeade. I’ll buy you some candy, that should help you get over that jerk.”

You lift your head to focus on your friend, the corner of your lips quirking up at her offer.

“Okay, but I’ll just let you know that I won’t hold back,” You say, sliding off the bed and digging through your trunk to get your coat.

“Since when do you ever?” Sana retorts, as the pair of you break off into giggles, making your way down the stairs into the common room and out into the castle halls.

The crush of footsteps against the grass underneath gives away the arrival of new company. You’re laying in the courtyard outside of the castle, blanket under you and your own copy of Advanced Potion-Making at the edge of your fingertips. All it takes is one glance up to know who has decided to visit you.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “Didn’t I say you should figure out your own way to pass potions?”

Above you, Jung Hoseok shifts nearly on his stance, switching from one foot to another before he settles on standing straight. He’s doing something you haven’t seen him do in the many years you’ve been in his company: he’s staying quiet.

His silence leaves you with little choice but to follow along. You push yourself up into a sitting position and lean back enough for your arms to aid in the upcoming of your posture. “How was the Three Broomsticks?” You ask. “You seemed excited to go off with your friend.”

Hoseok winces at that.

You catch it. “Yeah, I heard you laugh when Namjoon said it looked like you weren’t doing anything. How do you think something like that makes me feel? Invisible? Like shit, perhaps? Well then, you would be right.”

Hoseok sighs. His eyes flicker down to an open spot on your picnic blanket. “C-Can I… Can I sit?”

You only continue to glare at him. “No.”

He ignores you, electing to just sit down anyways.

You sigh. “First you can’t even respect my wishes, then you just go off and do whatever you want to anyways.”

Hoseok glares right back at you. “Because I know you won’t listen to me otherwise. Just hear me out, alright?”

You engage in a staring match with him, before scoffing and returning the attention back to your book. “Don’t you have another date at the Three Broomsticks to attend to?”

Hoseok blinks once, twice, before looking down to fix his attention on the edge between the picnic blanket and the grass. “I didn’t go,” He admits quietly, under his breath.

You tilt your head back, eyes rolling back momentarily before you train your gaze back onto him. “I can’t hear you—why even show up if you can’t even have an honest discussion with me—?”

“I said, I didn’t go,” Hoseok cuts in, louder this time with a tinge of frustration in his tone. “Just because I laugh with someone doesn’t mean I agree with them. That’s why you were so mad, am I right?”

Instead of denying or confirming his answer, you keep your mouth shut.

That seems to be enough for Hoseok, who sighs as he runs a hand through his hair—the frustration over whatever miscommunication he thinks occurred between the two of you clearly affecting him. “Anyways,” He continues. If he’s baffled by your silence, he chooses not to comment on that. A good choice, honestly. “I didn’t go, so can we just continue our tutoring sessions?”

You keep your gaze on him for a moment, before you look back down at your book. You pucker your lips together. “Nope,” You answer, emphasizing the ‘p’ sound.

Hoseok recoils, taken aback by your response. “What? Why not?”

You shut your book, a silence acceptance that you weren’t going to get any reading done at this rate. “If you think I’m just mad about you laughing at some stupid comment your friend made, then you’re a lot dumber than I thought and you would drive the auror department right into the ground. I don’t need that energy around me right now, so good day to you.” You open your textbook right back up and look down. However, it feels as if you’re staring straight through the page, not really absorbing the material and rather just waiting for Hoseok to make his next move.

He does react with a scoff, looking away for a moment before training his gaze back on you. He’s quiet, and you think that he really is going to walk away, but he goes for his bag. Rummaging around, he produces a stack of ripped parchment papers. He stares down at his collection, before he hands the stack to you. “Here.”

Your eyes flicker from the papers to his face. To your surprise, Hoseok actually looks embarrassed by what he’s showing you. His meekness gives the encouragement you need to reach out and take the stack. “What is this?” You ask, looking down anyways to find your answer.

Your heart beats a little quicker at the sight—but it’s not an acceleration due to frustration or irritation. It’s something softer and quieter—touching.

In your hands is a stack of flashcards ripped from a roll of parchment: potion ingredients on one side and all the requirements you had mentioned previously scribbled on the other side.

Hoseok watches you carefully. “I, uh,” He starts. “I turned down going to the Three Broomsticks yesterday to work on these. Uh… I’m sorry. For being a dick. I shouldn’t have laughed at what Namjoon said. What I should have been doing was studying on my own though, especially since I know that I have my own shortcomings as a student. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you going out of your way to help me. I should have been a better student, so… yeah. I understand if you don’t want to tutor me anymore. But I didn’t want us to end on terrible terms.” He reaches his arm back out to you, silently asking for the return of his flashcards.

It’s a request you don’t follow through on immediately. You stare between Hoseok and the cards he has just handed you and feel a soft flutter in your stomach—a notion of fondness? Or perhaps is it pride? Either way, it feels like you are seeing Jung Hoseok in a somewhat different light. His meekness and shy nature is coming out in more ways than you had ever expected it too and you are taken aback, and yet it heightens the curiosity you have for him. What other layers does Hoseok have? And are you willing to take the risk and find out?

Hoseok raises an eyebrow at your unmoving stance. He jerks his hand up and down a few times to get your attention. “Hello? You good in there?”

You snap out your trance, staring at Hoseok for a moment before looking back down at the flashcards. You skim through a few of them, thumbing through the parchment and flipping over a handful just to see what he’s written. He’s… surprisingly thorough.

You close your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. You better not regret this.

You extend your arm to return the stack of parchment back to Hoseok. “If you want, we can go over the details to make sure you can be as thorough as possible.”

Hoseok takes his flashcards back, looking up to meet your gaze at the statement. He seems to be analyzing your expressions, waiting for you to tell him to piss off all over again. But when you don’t say anything, he speaks up. “What are you saying…?”

“Look,” You cut in softly, looking down and refusing to make eye contact this time around. “You have already put in all this effort to apologize to me and I can see that you’re working hard. At this point, it seems like a waste if you aren’t able to pass your exam.”

Hoseok looks stunned at your answer.

You look away again. “Besides,” You continue. “I don’t want you to come bitching me if you happen to fail your exam and tell me that I held your fate in my hands—I don’t want you to make me feel guilty about this. That’s all.”

Hoseok processes what you’re saying quickly, because he nods and flashes you a grin. But you can see the weight of tension and stress melt off his shoulders, because he holds himself up a little higher as nods a few more times. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll, uh, let you get back to your own studying.” He straightens up, but keeps his gaze on you. “At the library after lunch tomorrow, right?”

You kiss your teeth, pointing an index finger at him. “Sounds good, Jung Hoseok.”

Rather than look back down at your notes, you find your gaze trailing after Hoseok’s retreating form. You watch the way he walks over to Jimin—the way the pair of them talk briefly before Hoseok is gesturing to you with the wave of his arm. Jimin looks at you, makes brief eye contact with you, before you’re turning away to gaze back down at your textbook.

You cannot pretend you don’t feel the weight of Jimin’s stare as you wait for the two of them to disappear from your line of sight.

Hoseok is waiting by the entrance of the library by the time you show up, and the nervous shift in his weight tells you all you need to know about his apprehension.

“Hi,” You greet, approaching him as Hoseok looks up to regard you almost cautiously. “Are you ready for today?” At his nod, you lean back in your body weight. “Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you, okay Jung?”

He just nods again.

“I just have one little quiz to give you before we can get started,” You continue. “If you can’t answer this, then you really are hopeless. But if you can answer it, I’ll tutor you and we can forget all this other shit happened. Tell what bezoars are and their purpose.” You ignore the face Hoseok gives you when you bring up the potential hopelessness of the situation.

Bezoars—a reference to the very first question you asked him when you started this whole tutoring session.

The vague allusion makes Hoseok laugh. Just a little though, because the smile disappears when he notices that you aren’t fucking around with that question. So he settles down and opens his mouth to answer the question. “Bezoars is an antidote for most poisons with the exception of basilisk venom, and it’s taken from the stomach of a goat. It’s formed from the collection of hair or plant fibre that settles in the gut of the animal. Most effective when you swallow it whole.” He wavers slightly. “That’s pretty much the basics.”

You nod. “Impressive.”

He shrugs half-heartedly. “I uh, pretty much stayed up all night working on those flashcards, which is where I learned all about bezoars.”

You nod again. “Alright, that answer satisfies me.” You gesture towards the entrance of the library. “We are free to continue on with the lessons.”

As you walk into the library, Hoseok is right behind you. “Are you saying you would have just walked away if I didn’t know the answer?”

You snort. “Of course. It’s been a month since we started the tutoring session—if you didn’t know what bezoars were I would have run for the hills. Hence, me calling you hopeless.”

“But naturally you aren’t going to do that,” He says, sliding into the seat at the table booth you’ve selected for the pair of you. “Because I’m awesome.”

You glare at him, letting his self-praise settle for the matter of four seconds. “Okay,” You say, standing up and collecting your books in your arms once more. “It was really nice knowing you, Jung Hoseok, but I’m about to go run for the hills now—!”

“Wait, wait, okay, I’m kidding, nevermind—!”

Things get better after the conversation in the courtyard. Two weeks and two tutoring sessions later, Jung Hoseok is already in the library at your usual sitting spot by the time you arrive. You’re still in the haze of your lunch coma, but you become more alert at the sight of him hunched over his textbook.

You pull your seat back, causing Hoseok to jump in surprise at your arrival. There is, however, a bag in your seat, one that Hoseok quickly tugs back onto his own lap. “S-Sorry,” He manages, flashing you a small smile. “I was just saving the seat for you.”

You press your lips together to hide the momentary gap in your expression. “Thanks,” You return, sliding into the now vacant chair and placing your bag on the desk. “What are you working on today?”

“I’m reading about garrotting gas,” Hoseok answers almost proudly, straightening up enough to flash you his textbook and the parchment he has set aside to take notes. After flashing a quick peek, you are clearly able to see the long line of bullet points he has made.

“Wow,” You say, impressed by how far he’s gone. “You’ve covered a lot. When did you even get to the library?”

Hoseok smiles sheepishly. He touches the back of his neck, a habit you’ve noticed recently that takes form in the presence of nerves. “About thirty minutes ago actually. I know garrotting gas is pretty advanced stuff so I wanted to get a head start. Plus… since Professor Slughorn taught it about a month ago I know I’m still behind.”

“Nah, you’re catching up rather quickly, actually,” You interject with a smile of your own. “The fact that we’ve been able to cover all the first exam’s topics within the week is awesome. Your flashcards have really helped out.” You turn your attention to your own bag, missing the soft look Hoseok sends your way. It vanishes as soon as you look at him again. “Plus garrotting gas will be on the N.E.W.T. Nice to see that you’re planning ahead.”

Hoseok actually rolls his eyes at that. Playful, but unbelieving. “I need to pass this potions exam first before I can think about the N.E.W.T.s. “

You laugh, reaching across the way to rest your hand on his shoulder. “At this point, if you don’t pass that potions exam, I will literally throw you off the Astronomy tower.”

The next tutoring session comes on a Sunday, per Hoseok’s request.

“I just want you to test me on the two potions we went over right after the first exam,” He explains. He’s selected a different spot in the library today: a table in the main area with enough space for the pair of you to sit opposite of each other. Something about you sitting directly across from him feeling more official, or something like that. You don’t understand it, but Hoseok seems eager to try.

So you nod, folding your fingers atop one another as you give Hoseok a look. “Alright. So garrotting gas and the garnish pink blended poison, correct? Just to make sure you didn’t skip ahead.”

Hoseok feigns a gasp, pressing his hand to his chest. “I would never.”

You snort at that, closing your eyes and shaking your head. Clearly, it’s a rejection of an attitude Hoseok once held for the potions curriculum. The fact that you are able to joke about it and earn an equally sarcastic reply back shifts something in your heart—he’s now smiles with teeth.

The pair of you go at it for a little bit—“garrotting gases are colorless that causes choking or even suffocation because the gas catches people by the neck if someone were to walk through it, and garnish pink blended poison are pink in color that have ten different components for ingredients. According to Golpalott’s Third Law, the effects of the poison could be countered with the adequate antidote or a bezoar.”

You nod, corner of your lips turning up. “Good job. And you brought Golpalott in as well, which is always a plus. I would say that you pass the review then.”

Hoseok grins and makes a little noise of satisfaction, a quiet little burst of excitement that makes your stare linger for an extra moment. Having never heard a sound like that from him, it makes you wonder what more he’s hiding from you. It’s also such a happy sound that you cannot help but smile back at his own happiness.

Hoseok drums his fingers on the table, the smile still plastered to his face. “Hey, uh, want to cut this session early and enjoy some sunlight for once? Jungkook is in the middle of Quidditch practice and sometimes I like to go watch what he’s up to. Want to join me?”

You blink at his offer, surprised that he would ask you something so forward. Not that Hoseok is a stranger by any means, shapes, or forms, yet you would never consider the pair of you friends or even people that hung out outside the barriers of your normal interactions. Which is why you are shocked by his offer. “You want me to join you?” You ask instead.

Hoseok flushes at your question. He may have softened around the edges but it’s hard to let go of old expectations and it shows. “I-I mean,” He starts. “Obviously you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to. I just figured that you’d still be here studying when you could go get out and get some sun. Not that you couldn’t have gotten sunlight on your own, I just thought—!”

“Hey, Jung Hoseok,” You interrupt, unable to hide the smile of pure amusement that takes over at the sight of him being so flustered. You’ve never seen him stammer through anything before. “What are you so nervous for? I’ll go to the Quidditch practice with you.”

He blinks. “Really?” At your expression, he springs right into action. “Oh yeah, of course. His practice just started so let’s get going!”

The pair of you start packing up you belongings, albeit not much was taken out to begin with given that Hoseok had only asked to meet up for a single purpose, so it doesn’t take long until you’re exiting the library and making your way through the hallways that will lead to the entrance of the castle. You and Hoseok talk briefly about Jungkook and some old memories, but most conversations fade out into a comfortable silence.

You don’t mind the lack of talking. Hoseok’s presence has never made you uncomfortable per say. Irritated, annoyed, or frustrated would definitely be a better word to describe the nature of the dynamic you’ve always shared with Hoseok. Yet lately with all of your previous interactions, it seems to have softened the frustration into something else. What that something is, you aren’t entirely sure yet but you aren’t opposed to finding out.

“You’re right, the sunlight is pretty soothing,” You speak up as the pair of you continue through the grassy fields and the flags and hoops of the Quidditch field grow larger with every step.

Hoseok hums. “Was I right in that you were just going to continue studying on your own as soon as I left?”

You cough. “W-Well, you weren’t wrong.” At his laugh, you immediately whirl to glare at the boy. “What’s wrong with studying huh!”

“Nothing, nothing!” He protests, waving his hands back and forth. “Actually, I guess it’s good you’re a nerd who likes to study so much. Otherwise we wouldn’t have become friends.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is an anchor,” You grumble, ignoring the fact that he’s just called you a friend—and further ignoring the fact that you aren’t completely grossed out by that label.

Hoseok scoffs. “You dare use that word of insult against me? After everything we’ve been through!”

“It’s not an insult,” You protest wildly despite the fact that it is, indeed, an insult. “It’s… well…”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Go on,” He beckons. “I’m listening.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Oh! Hey, look, it’s the Quidditch field!” You exclaim loudly, gesturing to the now extremely tall structure of stands and hoops above. “Shall we head up?” You ask, pointing upwards to indicate the higher elevation the pair of you will have to take in the hopes of seeing the Quidditch practice in its full glory.

Hoseok points at you. “This conversation isn’t over.” He does, however, drop it long enough to lead the both of you into the tent and up the wooden stairs. It’s a long trek up to the top of the stands where the seats are located, but you make it eventually. Several other students are scattered across the area, some are grouped together with friends and others are watching the practice with bright eyes and wide smiles.

Hoseok seems to notice you staring curiously at the solo watchers because he leans over to whisper something in your ear.

“Those are some of Jungkook’s fangirls,” Hoseok explains, subtly gesturing to a few. “I recognize that one. And that one. And the one over there too.”

You snort. “Seems like you’re also one of Jungkook’s fangirls if you can point some of them out so easily.”

Hoseok chokes, taken aback by your analysis. He recovers quickly however. “Hell yeah I’m one of Jungkook’s fangirls. And I actually get to sit with him at lunch.” He winks.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Cocky as ever, I see.”

The pair of you continue walking until you reach a more secluded area of the stands, less occupied by other students, so you and Hoseok can continue to converse amongst each other.

“Not cocky enough, apparently,” Hoseok notes quietly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and looking out to watch the Quidditch practice. Up ahead, Jungkook performs some sort of twirl—a movement you aren’t super familiar with given that you aren’t the biggest observer of Quidditch technicalities. But it seems impressive, if the little shrieks and screams coming from the fangirls’ Hoseok pointed out to you are anything to go by. “You agreed to still tutor me even after calling me out on my bullshit.”

You laugh. “Well, I would argue that me calling you out made you less of a cocky person.” You turn to him, nudging his arm with your own. “I never got to bring this up, but you’re actually a good student and you’re actually really good at studying. I didn’t know you were holding back on me, Jung.”

Hoseok hums. “Not even.” He goes quiet for a moment, lacing his fingers together at his lap. “Well, I’m sure you know my family.”

You snort. “As if. I probably expose that fact to people at least three times a day—!”

Hoseok’s eyes glint. “Wait, you’re the reason I get auror-hopefuls coming up to me at random intervals of the day?”

“Uh…” You trail off. “You know what, never mind about that. Keep going, you know, you and your family and stuff. Sounds like you were going in an interesting direction.”

His glare softens the more he looks at you. “Well, coming from such an impressive family, honestly I never saw myself as someone who needed to apply himself. Things were always just sort of… handed to me, I guess? I grew up with Jungkook—I took him to his first Quidditch match actually. And then we just took more people into our group. Anyways, since things were handed to me, it just feels like I never have to try so hard because rewards were always the expectation.”

You nod slowly. “That’s why you poured hiccough sweet over my breakfast food when I refused to tutor you.”

He nods back, surprisingly acknowledging his past prank on you. “Yeah but since you’ve been cool about helping me out, it feels different. No one in my family has ever praised me or told me that I did a good job on something. So having you around fills me with pride. It’s getting to my head honestly, so you might need to stop otherwise I’ll revert back to my old ways.”

Realizing that he’s slowly transcending back into his arrogant mode, you scoff and roll your eyes as you look away from him. “How about you just use your common sense and stop yourself before that happens.”

Hoseok blinks. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

You make a face at him. “I’m always being serious.” With that, you turn your attention back to the practice session in front of you, missing the way Hoseok stares at you before smiling to himself and fixing his own attention back on the flying broomsticks ahead.

One week before the next potions exam, you tell Hoseok to meet you along the edge of the Forbidden Forest where you are waiting with a textbook and a task in your mind. Hoseok shows up moments after you’ve gotten settled. The boy is all bundled up in a scarf and a long coat—all prepared to fight the winter weather that is threatening to overtake the school.

You smile at his arrival. “Hello, Jung Hoseok.”

Despite the layers that Hoseok is sporting, he still finds himself shivering slightly from the cold that seems to pass through him like nothing. “Aren’t you cold? What the fuck are we doing out here?”

You shrug half-heartedly, a smirk dancing across your lips. “Oh I’m fine. See, I like to come prepared.” And prepared you are, with your thick fluffy scarf, fur-lined coat, and beanie that covers your ears. “This is a metaphor for our lives.”

“No it’s not.” Hoseok deadpans across from you.

You ignore him. “But alas!” You continue, opening your arms out wide for him. “The potions exam is one week away. Are you ready?”

Hoseok presses his lips together, giving you a shrug. “I don’t know, probably, I guess—!”

“Wrong answer!” You interject. “You should be ready. Do you realize how much time we’ve both put aside for this moment? Have more confidence!”

“Is that why we’re out here?” He grumbles.

You sigh after a moment, lowering your arms and leveling Hoseok with a glance. “No, that confidence should have been second nature to you by now. We’re here because I want to give you one final test.”

“Oh.” Hoseok seems to straighten up at the mention of a final measurement to see how much he’s learned thus far. “Okay…” He ponders this for a moment before settling back down—probably just to acknowledge to himself that this was actually happening. “What kind of test?”

You untuck your copy of Advanced Potions Making from under your arm and wave the book at him. “A finding test. This is really important, not just for Professor Slughorn’s exams but for the N.E.W.T.s as well. I like to kill two birds with one stone. I want you to find the ingredients for a potion of my choice. The one I’ve picked should make it easy for you to access the ingredients around this area—that is, if you know where to look.”

“Okay… okay….” Hoseok replies, shifting the gears of focus in his mind, mentally preparing for the challenge. “What potion am I working for?”

You smile at his question. “Elixir to Induce Euphoria, if you please.”

Hoseok ponders that potion deeply for a second before he looks over at you. “When can I start?”

Your grin widens. “Now.”

So Hoseok runs off to gather the materials, to search high and low if necessary to find what he is looking for. You imagine that the ingredients necessary must be engraved in his mind, since this particular elixir is something the pair of you have just recently gone over in your tutoring sessions. Based on the reading you were both doing on the elixir, you know that all the ingredients could be found within the forest—albeit, the difficulties could be found from not knowing the specific flower to pick or which trees produce which kind of leaves. In the wintertime, with everything as bare as it is, it adds a level of challenge in identification.

Yet, you are still confident in Hoseok’s abilities. The book knowledge he’s gained from the readings and the random quizzes you’ve had together definitely leave you with the sense that a practical test is fully possible considering how much progress he’s made.

Hoseok comes back within twenty minutes, fingers clasped around the various goods and materials he has collected from the forest.

You hold out your hands to inspect the ingredients, but Hoseok doesn’t hand them over right away. He holds them back, bringing the materials closer to his body. “Hold on,” He says. “I should tell you how to use the ingredients right? I’m sure that would be part of a test.”

You think about this. “Fair point,” You agree, but you still hold your hand out. “Here, you can just give things to me in the right order.”

Hoseok nods, looking down to sort through the various ingredients before he’s lifting up the first. “First, you add shrivelfig.” He holds up a purple fruit, roughly the size of his palm. “Originally from Abyssinia, but it’s an aggressive root allowing it to grow anywhere. I’m guessing that’s why Hagrid and Professor Sprout made a magically controlled garden for them near his hut.” He puts the fruit down into one of your open palms. “Next, add some porcupine quills—from porcupine, naturally.” He puts the few spines he has collected carefully into your hand. “Then you…” He searches his mind, finally snapping his fingers when he finds his answer. “Right, you stir four times in an anti-clockwise motion.”

You watch him carefully, the corner of your lips turning up as you feel that rush of excitement and pride starting to take over you. He’s getting it all right so far.

Seeing your smile, he continues. “The possible side effects of the elixir of induced euphoria include excessive singing and nose-tweaking so to combat that you should add a spring of peppermint right here…” He places the spring of peppermint in your open palm. “Add sopophorous beans… and finally some wormwood.” He, to your surprise, produces a tiny flask.

Your eyes widen at the sight. “I-Is that where you put the wormwood?”

The wormwood part of the ingredient is actually derived from the wormwood plant, meaning that there was a certain level of extraction required to gather this particular material. Knowledge that Hoseok had to put an extra level of thought into acquiring the wormwood makes your smile only grow wider. You don’t even have half the mind to ask where he got the flask.

Hoseok gives you a tentative look. “D-Did I get it?”

“You did!” You exclaim, throwing the ingredients up into the air and out of your hands. You start bouncing in place, unable to contain your excitement. “Y-You exceeded my expectations, and the fact that you wanted to tell me the process and you had a storage container for the wormwood plant? That just blows my mind right now!” The fact that Hoseok has gone from someone who once refused to pick up his own textbook to someone who voluntarily wanted to relay information from you, to someone who has become so prideful and confident about the straight facts he’s ripped for you—it gets to you.

So much so that without warning, you find yourself cupping his cheeks and kissing him right at the corner of his mouth.

The reality hits you as the icy cold realization washes through your veins. You back up immediately, holding your hands out as your heart takes to pounding as loud as it can in your chest. What the fuck did you just do? It was a spur of the moment reaction, sure, but again, what the fuck?

Hoseok looks just as shocked as you, looking across with equally wide eyes at what has just transpired.

Quickly, the humiliation floods through you. “O-Oh my god Hoseok I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” You brush off, taking a few necessary steps backwards and trying to wave off the previous action with your hand—as if something like that is even possible.

Hoseok snaps out his trance quickly, leveling you with an unreadable gaze. “Hey, no, it’s okay—!”

“No, no, it’s not okay,” You interject, feeling yourself start to spiral slightly as you run a hand through your hair. “That was such an unwanted advancement on you. I just… I don’t know what happened.”

Hoseok becomes a little bolder at that, stepping towards you. “Y/N, I said it’s fine, I—!”

“You don’t need to say anything,” You cut in again, giving him a tight smile. “I’m already embarrassed enough as it is—no need to chew me out for doing something stupid.” Without looking to see his next reaction, you kneel down to gather the ingredients (and the flask of wormwood) into your hands. You don’t make eye contact with Hoseok as you practically shove the materials into his chest. “Y-You did really well, I’m confident you’ll pass the upcoming test for sure.” You continue to stare at the ground. “I’ll, uh, see you around then.”

Without waiting for him to say anything—for him to reject you—you run off, knowing that this time, you yelling into a pillow or crying will be for something entirely different from frustration.

Hoseok doesn’t see you until the potions exam, and even then you are a blur of robes and colors as you shuffle past him and into your seat right in front of him. Before he even has half the mind to reach over and talk to you, Professor Slughorn passes out the exams and the class is reduced to complete silence.

You hand your test in before Hoseok even reaches the last page.

But when Hoseok turns in his exam, he is confident—which is an emotion that doesn’t usually accompany him in these types of situations. The fact that he knows all of this confidence came from you only widens the gap of loneliness he feels when he knows he won’t be able to celebrate the completion of the exam with you.

Professor Slughorn eyes Hoseok carefully as he takes the exam from him. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow to see your grade, Mr. Jung, so you can act accordingly.”

Hoseok nods, ignoring the way his heartbeat is pounding through his ears. “Of course, professor.”

That night, he sits in the Three Broomsticks, surrounded by friends but feeling alone. Not even Park Jimin, who lifts up a glass of his butterbeer in congratulatory graces, can shift Hoseok into Party Mode. So much so that Hoseok excuses himself from the restaurant to linger outside and dig his feet into the snow.

He’s wandered off for so long that he isn’t surprised by Jungkook exiting the restaurant to check up on him. The latter boy shivers slightly, hands digging themselves into his coat pocket as he runs up to his friend. “Hey, everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head, big doe eyes watching his friend curiously.

Hoseok regards Jungkook momentarily before he’s looking back out at nothing. “Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.”

Jungkook hums. “I thought you’d be happy. You’ve dedicated so much time to studying for that potions exam, after all. I really imagined that you would be through the roof. Maybe you’d celebrate with that girl who’s been tutoring you. I saw you guys show up to my Quidditch practice game that one time, it seemed like you were pretty close.”

Hoseok huffs. “Well, I thought we were. I don’t know.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “You want to talk about it?”

So Hoseok talks. Only for a little, as to not bore Jungkook with useless details like the color of your eyes or the prettiness of your smile. He sticks to a storyline, discussing the nature of your relationship—starting from the arguments, going through his apology, and ending on your kiss. “She started apologizing like crazy,” He continues. “And going off on how uncalled for it was for her to do that. I was surprised, sure, but I wasn’t opposed to kissing her! Or her kissing me for that matter. But I tried to tell her and I guess she thought I was gonna reject her? Anyways that’s when she left and I saw her for a bit during our potions exam, but she seems hell bent on ignoring me.” He looks over at Jungkook, gauging for a reaction or even just a piece of advice.

Jungkook remains silent, lips pressed together.

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Nevermind. I forgot you’re a womanizer and don’t need to worry about this kind of stuff.”

Jungkook pouts. “When you put it like that…”

Hoseok ignores him, choosing instead to straighten up into a standing position. “Anyways, let’s go back inside.”

The following day, as Hoseok is heading towards the dungeons to get his exam score from Professor Slughorn, he spots you sitting at one of the open window sills with Sana. Blame his sixth sense for being able to detect your position, but his feet move before his brain can. One second, he’s standing at the edge of the hallway, and the next second he’s standing in front of you and Sana.

Sana parts her lips in greeting, the smile ever-present across her lips. “Hey Hoseok—!”

“I need to talk to you,” He interrupts, reaching for you until he’s grabbing your wrist. Without warning, he hauls you up and drags you up onto your feet. Ignoring your flabbergasted expression, he pulls you down the hallway into a secluded corner. Most of the general area lacks people and footsteps, but he prefers the privacy.

He doesn’t even realize you’re trying to yank out of his grasp until he drags you forward to stand in front of him. Noticing your struggle, he lets go of you immediately. He manages a quiet apologize, one that you don’t notice because you are already opening your mouth to argue. “Are you crazy?” You shout. “Do you just always go around interrupting people’s conversations and being rude to my friends? Did you take some crazy pills this morning?”

“Yah!” Hoseok cuts in. “I wouldn’t have had to do that if the person I’m trying to talk to wasn’t actually a child who thinks avoiding me can retroactively erase a month’s worth of interactions!”

“I’m not trying to erase anything!” You argue back. Hoseok gives you a look, and you retreat slightly. Only slightly. “Intentionally, anyways,” You mutter. “But okay fine! What does it matter to you anyways? I’m embarrassed alright! I did something uncalled for and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole but I couldn’t do that so just being away from you seemed like the next best thing.”

Hoseok maintains his glare on you. “Why would you be embarrassed?”

You look like you want to snap his neck. “Because!” You start, voice initially loud and projecting clearly through the halls. You lower your voice into a hiss. “Because I kissed you,” You grit out between your teeth. “And just exposed the fact that I kind of like you now—!”

“Okay but,” Hoseok interrupts. “I really like you too. And I didn’t mind that you kissed me.”

You stop short, craning away from him. “Wait, what?”

Hoseok gives you a small smile, but he diverts his gaze as to not embarrass himself fully. “I think you’re cool. And you would have heard me say that yesterday if you hadn’t run away like a dumbass!”

Your face feels hot suddenly. “Hey, you were just staring at me! How else was I supposed to react!”

“You had kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it! Sorry for trying to process things like a normal person!” He snaps back.

You pout. “You should have run after me then. I felt like shit all day yesterday!”

Hoseok makes a face back at you. “I’m not a mind-reader, how was I supposed to know that?”

You sigh at that, bringing your fingers up to press against the bridge of your nose. “Okay, okay. At this rate, this argument will go back and forth for years.”

“Sure,” Hoseok relents, backing away for a moment. “But I’m not a mind-reader.”

You clench your hands at your side. “Fine, fine, I got it. I shouldn’t have run away, but—!” You raise a hand up to point a finger at him. “You should have been more transparent about your feelings!” With a huff, you lower your arm back down and cross them over your chest. “Anyways, uh…” You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow as you try really hard to keep the smirk from taking over your lips. “You like me too, huh?”

Hoseok purses his lips out, also trying to hide his smile. “Maybe.”

You start laughing, twirling your hair around your finger. “What was that, Jung Hoseok?”

He glares. “Actually, what I need to tell you isn’t that important.”

“No, no, c’mon,” You say, reaching out to latch around his arm. “Tell me.”

Whether it’s the pout in your voice or the glint in your eyes daring him to refuse you, he relents. “I’m going down to the dungeons right now—Professor Slughorn offered to grade my test early so I could, uh, prepare any next steps. I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Your gaze softens. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Let me just let Sana know what’s up.”

You make a quick detour back to Sana, still sitting at the windowsill, but she nods when you update her on the situation. Together, you and Hoseok make your way down the hallways and towards the dungeon. Hoseok doesn’t even realize how nervous he is until he reaches the steps leading downwards and his heart is thrumming to its own beat.

You notice, because of course you do. “Hey,” You call softly, reaching over to take his hand. You squeeze it in your own. “You’ve prepared so hard for this. If you don’t get an Outstanding, I will go up to Professor Slughorn myself and tell him to stick his grading up his ass.”

Knowing that you’re just trying to reassure him, he gives out an airy laugh of appreciation. “Thanks.” He squeezes your hand back before letting go. “I’m going in now,” He says, taking the stairs down towards his destiny.

Professor Slughorn is in the dungeons when Hoseok pushes open the room—the older man is at his desk at the front of the classroom, papers folding from one pile to another on its own. With every sheet of paper that settles in front of Professor Slughorn, there’s a few movements of his quill, before the paper moves on to its next pile. Overall, a very efficient system.

Professor Slughorn looks up at the sound of the door. “Ah, Mr. Jung. I was wondering when you were going to come in.” For a greeting, the statement is much too passive and neutral for Hoseok’s liking. Any indication of Hoseok passing or failing the test doesn’t shine through at all. “Well come in, come in. I have your exam ready.”

Gulping, Hoseok steps deeper into the classroom, the heels from his shoes clacking against the stone floor. As soon as he approaches the desk, Professor Slughorn draws his wand and a single wave is required to have an envelope move from one corner of the table into Hoseok’s awaiting hands.

“Best if you review your score outside, if you please,” The professor interjects, doing absolutely nothing to raise Hoseok’s confidence. The man hardly even spares him a glance as Hoseok turns around and exits the classroom—strangely filling like a dog with a tail tucked between his legs.

You’re waiting near the stairs when Hoseok exits, and you’re all ears and attentive stares as Hoseok reaches the top. “So? What happened?” At Hoseok’s solemn expression, your gaze hardens. “Alright, I’m talking to the professor.”

He stops you by tugging harshly at the sleeve of your robes. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

You stop in your trail, eying the envelope. “Well then, take a glance!”

With one final sigh, Hoseok looks down and tears open the parchment. He pulls out the script from inside—the paper with his exam grade. The red letters dance across the paper, the words PASS written next to Potions Examination. His eyes trail further down to see the ranking of his grade, to see if his hard work has paid off…

On the bottom, written in Professor Slughorn’s fancy cursive:

Classification: Outstanding

Hoseok jolts, his whole body moving backwards momentarily as if the words from the paper have slipped out to slap him across the face. He reads the single word once more, twice more, before he’s looking up at you with the widest grin. “Outstanding,” He relays.

And you’re moving towards him at once, jumping up and down until you’re wrapping your arms around his neck. Hoseok doesn’t even care for the suddenness of the gesture, instead wrapping his arms around your midsection and lifting you up into the air. “Jung Hoseok!” You’re gasping out, pulling away from him to place your hands on his shoulders. “You did it!”

“Hhhhholy shit,” Hoseok replies back, placing you back onto the ground but moving his hands to your waist instead. He sees you in front of him, bright eyed and full smiles with all teeth. “Thank you so much, I wouldn’t have done this without you.” One of his hands moves up to cup your cheek. “I could kiss you right now!”

Your grin widens. “Should have done that yesterday too, Jung.”

The smile slips off Hoseok’s face. “You’re really gonna bring that up against you son of a bitch—!”

You lean forward and kiss him. It’s just a peck, a press of your lips against his own, but your lips are so soft that he cannot help but lean forward himself as you pull away as quickly as you had come in. That grin is back on your lips. “I did say too,” You say with a twinkle in your eyes.

Hoseok almost rolls his eyes, before the door to the dungeons opens and you both hear a voice sound from the bottom.

“I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, Mr. Jung,” Professor Slughorn calls, waving towards the pair of you—that smile finally pasted across his face. “Hopefully with a much better attitude from now on.”

You and Hoseok step away from each other, but Hoseok doesn’t let you go too far as he draps an arm around your shoulder. “Oh don’t worry professor,” He replies, looking down at you for a moment. “My girlfriend will make sure of that.”

#btswritingcafe #bangtan-bookclub #hoseok scenario #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes #hp reputation series

370 notes · View notes

dantesunbreaker · 3 years

Text

Doesn’t Change a Thing

Din Djarin x Transmale Reader

*contains mild spoilers*

As much as the Mandalorian wanted to get to Tython as soon as possible, supplies were desperately needed for the three members aboard the Razor Crest. Y/N had joined the odd pair early on in their adventures, the Mandalorian having saved him from a life of boredom from some easily forgotten planet. In return, Y/N took care of the child and kept the Razor Crest as tidy as he was able. Though Y/N knows that the Mandalorian would never admit it, he knew that the detour for supplies was also a happy excuse for the beskar clad man to prolong the time he had left with his adopted green space child.

“Are you hungry?” the Mandalorian walks with Grogu tucked safely into a bag over his hip, one hand resting against Y/N’s lower back as they walk through a town. “There is a cantina up ahead if you and the chi.. Grogu would like to grab something while I pick up the rest of our supplies.”

Even though Y/N misses the sensation of the Mando’s hand against his back before it has even left, he knows it would be easier feeding the kid now rather than making him wait until they had a chance to get back to the Crest.

“Sure, I don’t mind some more quality time with my little cutie,” they pause in the middle of the street as the Mandalorian transfers Grogu from his satchel into Y/N’s arms. A squeal of delight escapes the child as his grubby fingers immediately start playing with the stubble growing along Y/N’s chin. In turn, Y/N chuckles and kisses his wrinkly forehead.

“You’ll be good for Y/N while I’m gone won’t you, Grogu?” a gloved hand gently fondles one of the child’s long ears. Those big dark eyes light up and a happy gurgle escapes his mouth as he looks up into the visor of the shiny beskar helmet. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

A silence falls over the men as the Mandalorian continues to stand there, the visor of his helmet locked on Y/N’s face. One of his hands reaches halfway up as if to stroke Y/N’s cheek, but it stops before reaching it and instead ends up awkwardly patting Y/N’s shoulder.

“I’ll uh.. Come find you at the cantina when I’m done,” the hand lingers on Y/N’s shoulder for a tad longer. The Mandalorian stiffens for a fraction of a second when Y/N places his free hand over top the one resting on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Din,” his name is barely audible, whispered so softly that only the Mandalorian could hear it. “We’ll be right there waiting for you when you’re done. Take as much time as you need.”

Again there is a pause before the Mandalorian gives a nod of his helmet, giving a barely there squeeze of Y/N’s shoulder before turning and disappearing into a crowd of people.

Turning back to the little one in his arms, Y/N smiles and shifts to hold Grogu a little higher. Green little fingers continue to poke and prod at Y/N as he walks to the cantina. Stepping inside, Y/N instinctively makes a quick scan of the room. Much to Y/N’s content, the cantina is fairly vacant having only a couple other patrons sitting amongst the tables. After placing an order with the barkeep Y/N tucks himself and Grogu into a corner booth at the back of the room.

“Manners, Grogu,” Y/N chides the small green child with a chuckle as he immediately tries shoving his hands into his food the moment their plates reach the table. Though Grogu’s ears slope with sadness for being scolded, he lets out a sigh and picks up a spoon to eat instead of using his hands. “Thank you. See, you understand more than your daddy thinks you do,” with a smile Y/N strokes the top of the kid’s head before digging into his own food.

Everything seems to be going fine. Grogu happily consumes his food, even stealing some from Y/N’s plate every once and a while when he thinks Y/N isn’t looking. Y/N of course sees it, but lets the child continue to think he is being sneaky. But things seem to take a turn for the worse as Y/N spots a seedy looking group of men walk in through the main entrance. Their eyes linger on the pair sitting in the corner and whisper something amongst themselves before approaching the barkeep.

Keeping his head down, Y/N feels the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he hopes to avoid the newcomers’ further attention. Fingers hover over the vibroblade strapped to Y/N’s thigh. Grogu seems to sense the new tension in his companion and makes a collection of disgruntled noises as he stops eating.

“It’s okay, Grogu, you can keep eating,” Y/N tries to reassure the child that everything is okay as he turns to look at him, all the while making sure to keep the men in his peripheral vision.

But of course things never turn out how Y/N would like. The three men walk up to the table Y/N and Grogu occupy, spreading out in a way that blocks all means of easy escape.

“Aren’t you the one that came into town with that Mandalorian in the shiny beskar armor?” one of the men spoke with a tone that seemed he already knew the answer to his question as he leaned forward into Y/N’s face. The barrel of a blaster presses into Y/N’s side before he can even utter a word.

“I take it you already know the answer to your question,” Y/N deadpans, trying to hold back his rage as one of the other men aims a blaster at Grogu. “Let me guess, you want me to tell you where he is right?”

The blaster digs harder into Y/N’s side. “Don’t get cocky with me,” the man growls. “But you’re correct. We know the price of a set of beskar like that. We want it. So you’re going to tell us where to find the Mandalorian or else you and your little womp rat aren’t going to ever step foot out of this cantina again.”

In the flash of an eye, Y/N unsheathes his vibroblade and shoves back against his side and out of line of fire at the same time. Jabbing with his elbow Y/N pushes the blaster out of his side just in time for a shot to burn through the cushion of the booth seat.

“Stay out of sight, Grogu!” Y/N shouts as he swipes at one of the men with the vibroblade, seizing the moment to stand up when the man stumbles back to avoid being cut. Just as he is told, Grogu ducks underneath the table and watches his guardian defend them.

Another swing of his blade pulls Y/N even closer to the three men, but it rips through his target’s forearm as they raise it to shield their face. One of the other men fires his blaster. Y/N feels the heat burn through his flesh as the blast grazes his hip. Kicking the feet out from under one of the men, Y/N follows him to the ground and digs his blade into their shoulder. Ditching the vibroblade, Y/N picks up the wounded man’s blaster and rolls off of him. While getting back to his knees Y/N fires two blasts in the direction of the other two men.

“Take him out!” one of the men shouts as he continues to fire his blaster, narrowly missing Y/N with each shot.

A lucky shot drops one body to the floor as Y/N dodges another shot by ducking behind a table that was overturned amongst their scuffle. One man is left standing. Heat blossoms through Y/N’s shoulder as another blaster shot grazes him. Peaking out around his cover, Y/N tries to line up another shot but pulls back with a hiss as the blaster is shot right out of his hand. Where is that tin can when you need him?

When the man’s blaster seems to jam Y/N seizes the moment and lunges for him, sending them both to the ground. Y/N grabs for the blaster in the other man’s hand. Both wrestle each other for what seems like eternity before Y/N manages to land a solid punch to their jaw. Straddling the man, Y/N snatches the blaster from his hands and shoots the man below him point blank.

Yet in all that struggle, Y/N completely had forgotten the man he had first wounded.

“Dank farrik!” Y/N hisses as he feels his very own vibroblade tear through the back of his shoulder. Blindly he throws back an elbow and luckily meets a wall of flesh, shoving it back and thankfully dislodging the blade from his back. “When will people like you finally learn?”

Just as Y/N stands, whirling around to face his final opponent, he hears the sound of another blaster shot. When he doesn’t feel the burning pain Y/N is faced with confusion. That is until the man in front of him falls forward, a steaming burn in the center of his back. Standing directly behind where the man once was stood none other than Y/N’s favorite Mandalorian.

“Is the chi...?”

“Yes, he hid just like I told him,” Y/N cuts his companion off before he can even finish the question. With a sigh, Y/N sags forward with fatigue. “Come out, Grogu, it’s safe now.”

The child makes a soft noise as he shuffles out from his spot beneath the table, ears hanging low as he sees Y/N in pain. Quickly the Mandalorian closes the gap between them and scoops the child into his arms.

“Can you make it back to the Razor Crest?” Y/N feels the Mandalorian’s gaze examing his wounds. He notes a hint of something in his companions voice but can’t quite place what it is.

“Yeah, I should be fine,” Y/N groans as he straightens up, dusting himself off with a few stiff pained movements. “Thanks for helping out there at the end.”

A nod is the only response that Y/N gets, but as Y/N falls into step with the Mandalorian a hand once again goes to rest at his lower back. Although this time the Mandalorian slightly pulls so that both men are walking nearly hip to hip.

The entire walk back to the Razor Crest is spent in silence aside Y/N’s hisses of discomfort when one of his wounds pulls too much with his movements. Whenever he does, Y/N feels the fingers at his back slightly press into his flesh. Y/N wishes he was getting this extra physical touch, however small it may be, under any other circumstance. All he could ever dream about was the Mandalorian’s hands on him, touching him in ways that made him gasp his true name. But of course, it takes Y/N being injured to get anything from his shy companion.

Once inside the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian places Grogu in his hammock, pleased to find he had succumbed to slumber somewhere along their walk back. Y/N shuffles inside and digs out the medpac as the Mandalorian sets down the duffel bag of supplies he acquired from today’s adventure.

“Let me help,” the soft modulated voice calls just as Y/N makes a move towards the refresher. Gentle hands ghost over Y/N’s shoulders before plucking the medpac from his hands. The shiver that rolls down Y/N’s spine is thankfully ignored. “Take off your shirt.”

Those words give Y/N a panicked moment of pause. Self conscious by nature, Y/N has never allowed the man he has been pining over for so many months to see him shirtless. As soon as the Mandalorian catches a glimpse at the scarred flesh of his chest he’ll know there is something different about Y/N, that all this time he has been keeping his own secret. Just as the Mandalorian hid his face, Y/N also hid a part of himself.

“Is something wrong?” the evident concern in the Mandalorian’s voice pulls Y/N out of his thoughts. Y/N is a bit thankful to be facing away from the tin clad man of his dreams so he can’t see the emotions crossing Y/N’s face.

“Uh no.. no, everything is fine,” Y/N doesn’t sound too convinced, but he turns his head slightly to glance at the other man and gives a nod.

Stepping back, the Mandalorian gives his smaller companion some space. Even without anyone else around to see, the Mandalorian is glad to have his helmet so it isn’t so evident the way he admires as Y/N lifts his shirt overhead to expose the expanse of his back. Blood trails from the long jagged wound that goes from the top to the bottom of Y/N’s left shoulder blade. Shame filters in as the Mandalorian takes in the steadily forming bruises along Y/N’s back. Any impure thoughts he had about having the man half undressed get snuffed out as the Mandalorian mentally beats himself up for not being there to protect the man.

“What’s the damage, Din,” Y/N breaks the silence after a while, back still facing the Mandalorian, arms somewhat crossed protectively over his chest. “Think I’ll live?” the last bit is added just as a poor attempt to lighten the mood in the room.

“This will need to be cauterized,” comes his soft response, a gloved hand gently brushing the tender flesh around the wound. “I’m sorry.. This will hurt.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N reassures after a few seconds, realizing the Mandalorian is waiting for his signal to start. “Just get it over with.”

Even though Y/N braces for the pain, it still is so sudden and painful that the first gasp of pain slips from his mouth before he can hold it back. At the small outburst, the Mandalorian comfortingly cups Y/N’s shoulder with his other hand. Y/N can’t help the few tears that trickle down his cheeks from the pain, but he does manage to hold in the rest of his groans of discomfort. When the wound is finally sealed the Mandalorian quickly sets the cauterizer aside, rubbing Y/N’s back in a soothing pattern as he clears the blood away. It feels so relaxing that Y/N is sure he could fall asleep that way.

“The blaster burns,” the Mandalorian once again breaks Y/N out of his thoughts, “I need to check those.”

With great reluctance, Y/N drops his arms from his chest and slowly turns to face the taller man. Y/N’s eyes are staring straight at the floor as he bares his naked chest to the Mandalorian for the first time. A sharp intake of air is the only noise that comes from beneath the helmet, but it’s enough to have Y/N’s heart hammering against his chest. One gloved hand reaches up, but stops just short of tracing one of the long scars under Y/N’s pectorals. Again Y/N lifts his arms awkwardly halfway as if to cover his chest. But just as quickly the Mandalorian’s hand pass over the scars and move to examine the burns at Y/N’s shoulder and hip.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” the modulated voice is soft, trying to clean the two burns gently enough to avoid Y/N’s soft hisses of pain. His touch almost seems extra affectionate.

Bacta patches are placed over both burns, despite the small protests from Y/N to save them until one of them suffers a more severe injury. But the Mandalorian pays Y/N’s protests no mind. At least he settles for using a regular bandage to cover the still tender cauterized wound on Y/N’s back. When everything is finished,Y/N expects the Mandalorian to clean up and walk away without a word. But instead Y/N feels hands on his shoulders. Ungloved hands Y/N quickly realizes. Warm, calloused fingers gently press and massage at the tense muscles of Y/N’s neck and shoulders.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you,” Y/N feels the cold helmet lean against the back of his own head. Y/N stays completely still, afraid that if he moves at all that suddenly the moment will go away. For so long Y/N dreamed of a moment like this between him and his favorite Mandalorian.

“It’s okay, Din,” finally Y/N whispers softly, relaxing into the other man’s touch and allowing his guard to drop. The fear of instant rejection upon discovering that Y/N has been hiding the fact he is transgender ebbs away under the Mandalorian’s soothing hands. Those hands slowly work further down Y/N’s back.

“It doesn’t change anything..” the Mandalorian interrupts the silence that had fallen over the pair. He gives a gentle nudge and pull, clearly asking Y/N to turn back to face him without using words. “I don’t think of you any differently, I mean. You’re still... the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” Even though his face is covered, the tone of the Mandalorian’s voice leads Y/N to believe there is a blush across his cheeks.

The Mandalorian’s arms stay around Y/N as turns slowly around to face him. Y/N stares up into the visor of the helmeted man he has been steadily falling in love with. A soft smile works its way across Y/N’s face.

“Sorry I kept this from you... I was just scared of rejection but.. Din...” Y/N slowly reaches a hand up to caress the concave cheek of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “Hopefully I’m not reading too much into this but... I really like you. As more than just an employer or friend... and I am hoping that perhaps you do as well?”

Though the Mandalorian doesn’t speak, he gives a clear nod before he leans in to rest his helmet against Y/N’s forehead. Arms slide around Y/N’s waist and pull him a bit closer until both men stand chest to chest.

“Please, never feel like you need to hide yourself from me,” the Mandalorian hums, squeezing Y/N tight in his arms. “You and Grogu mean everything to me.”

#din djarin x reader #trans male reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x male reader #male reader

199 notes · View notes

foxghost · 3 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 108

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 3, Chapter 24 (Part 3)

It is nighttime, and they’re surrounded by darkness save for a single lamp hanging on the pier swaying gently in the breeze above the river.

One wave after another lands upon the river shore. Lang Junxia and Zheng Yan each hide behind a reef, staring at the wooden pier from afar.

At the very end of the pier lies a small cloth wrapped bundle.

Zheng Yan’s face abruptly breaks out in a smile. “I suddenly get this feeling that Wang Shan’s way of speaking reminds me of a certain someone.”

Lang Junxia doesn’t make a sound and continues to stare silently at the pier with his arms crossed. It’s been more than half an hour, but no one has come to pick up the bundle.

Once this has been said, the two of them each fall into silence again like a couple of wooden statues.

Suddenly, out of the river comes a drenched man. He presses one hand against the ground, and with the other pulls the bundle towards himself underwater.

Zheng Yan and Lang Junxia both seem startled before they fly towards it, but by then it’s already too late. That figure has once more dived into the river. With a slide of his feet Zheng Yan slips into the water, while Lang Junxia runs along the shore after him.

Inside the Bouquet Pavilion.

Scene after scene of the past flash past before Cai Yan and Duan Ling’s eyes.

Both of them seem to have returned to that spring where the peach blossoms were blooming; returned to the days of passing each other by in the Illustrious Hall, crossing their arms in front of them, nodding and greeting the other; returned to the night when they learned martial arts from Li Jianhong together, going through the motions of the Sword of the Realm; returned to the days where there was wailing everywhere as the city fell, blood running through the streets.

Cai Yan has returned to the moment he ripped away the white cloth covering his brother’s body, when his eyes were filled with fear and helplessness.

Fear pours out of Cai Yan’s body, making him so nervous that his stomach convulses, so nervous that he knocks over the empty cup in front of him.

All Duan Ling is doing is looking back at him, calm and quiet as the fear in Cai Yan grows with every passing moment as though the person sitting in front of him is a retaliatory ghost come to take his life, carrying with it the late Li Jianhong’s staggering fury and the condemnation of all of Great Chen.

He’s scared. Duan Ling has realised that as well — what’s he so scared of?

Duan Ling finds it all quite hilarious suddenly, as he realises where Cai Yan’s fear is coming from. It can’t be Duan Ling that he’s afraid of, but his dad. To think someone would be afraid of a dead man; his father’s power to intimidate seems not to have dissipated just because he’d fallen in battle, but instead had gone to lie low somewhere they couldn’t see — like a sharp knife that’s stabbed into Cai Yan’s soul, nailing him onto a memorial stele.

“Your Highness, please,” Duan Ling says smilingly, giving Wu Du a nudge with his elbow.

The literati trailing at Cai Yan’s side says frostily, “How gracious.”

Wu Du picks up his jug, and the literati picks up a jug as well. They each pour a cup of wine for the young man next to them.

Wu Du collects himself and says to Cai Yan, “Your Highness, this is my adoptive son, Wang Shan.”

“Wang … Wang Shan.” Cai Yan says in a trembling voice, “So it’s you.”

“I will drink this on His Highness’s behalf,” the literati says.

Since Duan Ling is the one who offered the wine, the literati thus knock back the drink for Cai Yan.

They’re both into a state of prolonged silence lasting so long that even the literati is starting to notice something is amiss. He asks Cai Yan, “Is Your Highness not feeling well?”

All Cai Yan wants to do is leave this place as quickly as he can. He forces himself to say, “It was too windy, and it’s given me a bit of a … stomachache.”

Oh how difficult must it be for you to have to come up with an excuse at a time like this, Duan Ling thinks. The anger he felt since the moment he laid eyes on Cai Yan has overpowered his reasoning, and all he wants to do is say more to provoke him, but as he’s about to start talking again, there’s suddenly a loud commotion outside.

“Don’t let him get away!” It’s Zheng Yan’s voice.

Duan Ling’s mind goes blank for a moment before the first thought comes to him, Amga is back! Without giving his mind time to pause, there’s another loud crash as Amga crashes right through the railing and drops right down to their floor. Wu Du and that literati are each busy protecting the one they’re trying to protect, and pull away from each other in two groups. Wu Du decisively draws his sword.

In the next instant, another person is turning over in the air, sending the screen flying with a kick. The screen flies right at Amga, shattering with a loud impact into dust.

Duan Ling retreats again and again, shielded behind Wu Du, and moves farther from Cai Yan. Then Amga grabs Cai Yan and kicks the literati away, putting his blade across Cai Yan’s neck.

The one who’d kicked the screen away would be Lang Junxia, with the drenched-through Zheng Yan following him closely behind. When they notice that Cai Yan has been captured, there is terror on both their faces.

“Tell us what you want,” Lang Junxia says. “Don’t waste any more time.”

Amga could never have expected to find himself a big fish such as this one after falling down the stairs. Only once his opponent started speaking did he notice that the hostage he grabbed is the crown prince of Great Chen, and he breaks into a smile.

“Interesting,” Amga says, “So it’s you, huh.”

Amga does a trick with his sabre, its edge dazzling in the lamplight, and Cai Yan stops breathing. Everyone is staring at Amga’s sabre-wielding hand, while Cai Yan is staring right at Duan Ling’s eyes.

“You tell me what the terms are,” Amga says, “We’re all smart people.”

Silence takes over the room and no one dares say anything; to their surprise it’s Duan Ling who eventually speaks first.

“Everyone stay back. Zheng Yan, go get him three horses. Is Khatanbaatar still here? Bring him down here and put him on a horse.”

Lang Junxia and Zheng Yan share a look. Zheng Yan nods at him, and he heads outside to get the horses ready.

Meanwhile, Lang Junxia has realised that Duan Ling and Cai Yan have already met face to face. He seems startled at first, then apprehensively he turns to Cai Yan to signal that he shouldn’t worry; he can take care of it.

“You,” Amga says to Wu Du, “move over there. Keep your distance.”

Wu Du and Duan Ling decide to simply move aside and enjoy the show.

Duan Ling turns over many ideas in his head, and there are a lot of things he’d like to say, but he ends up saying none of them.

Within a short while, footsteps are approaching again as another man runs into the room. “Your High— What’s going on?!”

That man is Chang Liujun, and he comprehends the situation as soon as he sees what’s going on inside the Bouquet Pavilion. Amga shouts an order, “All of you, get out!”

And so everyone backs out of the room. Lang Junxia looks between Cai Yan and Duan Ling, as though hesitating. Amga though just hurries him, “Move it!”

Everyone slowly backs out of the room.

They’re all staying quiet, and Duan Ling can basically guess what happened — Zheng Yan and Lang Junxia were waiting at the pier, and they ran into Amga when he went there to get the stuff. Once he got the bundle he must have come back into the city at top speed, running across the roofs to get into the Bouquet Pavilion, and when Lang Junxia and Zheng Yan were about to apprehend him, Amga finally got desperate.

“The horses are ready.” Zheng Yan comes in. “Let him go.”

All of the four great assassins are present, with Amga and the Cai Yan he captured on one side, and Duan Ling on the other side with Wu Du, Lang Junxia, Chang Liujun and Zheng Yan behind him.

Duan Ling thinks to himself, how lucky of you, Cai Yan. If you’re killed right now this will be a terrible mess to have to clean up.

“Is Khatanbaatar here?” Duan Ling says.

“Escort him out of the city,” Duan Ling says under his breath. “General Xie is on guard at the city gates, so he can’t get out on his own. We’ll take the lead, come on.”

The Bouquet Pavilion isn’t far from the city gate. They walk for a short while with Duan Ling and the four assassins leading the way, while Amga rides on the same horse as Cai Yan, trailing the group from far behind.

“We’re staking all of our lives on you,” Zheng Yan says, “if we can’t get His Highness back, we’ll just have to make a run for it and become fugitives.”

Duan Ling though would be rather glad for Amga to kidnap Cai Yan to the north; at any rate Batu would take care of him well enough. If the crown prince of their country is so simply kidnapped just like that, however, he has no idea how they’re going to explain it to Li Yanqiu. Getting rid of his opponent may only make his life more difficult.

Duan Ling turns back to glance at them as Chang Liujun asks the other three, “What happened?”

“I have no idea,” Duan Ling replies. “I was drinking at the Bouquet Pavilion.”

“I have no idea either,” Wu Du replies. “I was also drinking at the Bouquet Pavilion.”

“Amga came to pick up the bundle in person.” Zheng Yan is still all wet, his robe plastered onto his body. “He ran so fast we lost sight of him in an instant.”

Lang Junxia doesn’t make a peep, but this does verify Duan Ling’s theory.

“And what did you come here for?” Duan Ling asks Chang Liujun.

“The young master asked me to come apologise to His Highness,” Chang Liujun replies. “He couldn’t come tonight.”

“Are you alright?” Duan Ling has noticed that there’s blood seeping out of Zheng Yan’s arm, but Zheng Yan waves off his concern.

The five of them have already made it to the city gates. Lang Junxia produces the plaque hanging by his waist and shows it to the Black Armours guarding the city. “We need to leave the city on Eastern Palace business.”

Duan Ling borrows a set of bow and quiver from the soldiers.

Zheng Yan and Lang Junxia had just left the city earlier, so the soldiers are not going to bother with checking them. Then they ask, “What about those people behind you?”

“They’re with us,” Lang Junxia replies.

Amga escorts Cai Yan and keeps a distance of several dozen paces between them and the assassins, unwilling to get any closer.

Duan Ling says, “Wuluohou Mu, go get a boat ready for him.”

Lang Junxia leaves to get a boat, and so everyone waits for him to come back.

“I need to go relieve myself.” Duan Ling retreats into the darkness, winding his way to the shore. Wu Du follows him.

Duan Ling rips a small strip of cloth off his robe, and writes the words “May this letter find you well” onto it with a charcoal stick. He ties the cloth onto an arrow, and sliding the arrow under his sleeve, he returns to the harbour.

“Place Khatanbaatar on the boat,” Duan Ling adds.

The literati has also followed them out of the city, standing at a distance; he looks at one group and the other, wondering who Duan Ling could be that all four great assassins are perfectly willing to take his orders without question.

Amga sneers, “Sure enough, you’re the only smart person here.”

Duan Ling thinks to himself, if you really want him, the crown prince’s all yours, keep the change, but he says, “Go on, board the boat.”

“Wait a second!” Zheng Yan says, sounding panicked, “What do you mean? Get him back!”

Amga takes Cai Yan onto the boat with him; Lang Junxia and Zheng Yan run several steps after them. Chang Liujun says, “No way, Wang Shan. Don’t you mess with me.”

Heh, scared you, thinks Duan Ling, and as soon as Amga’s pole hits the water and the boat’s about to leave, Duan Ling shouts, “After him!”

Amga immediately kicks Cai Yan into the water. At the same time, Lang Junxia, who has chased them to the edge of the dock, stops in his tracks, but Zheng Yan is throwing himself into the water again.

Duan Ling knew Amga would kick Cai Yan into the water to buy himself time; he was never worried that Amga would actually take Cai Yan with him.

Yet after the great splash as Zheng Yan dived into the water to save Cai Yan, Amga is yelling this at them from the already distant boat, “Your crown prince is a fake —! You’ve all been fooled!”

Duan Ling stares at him speechlessly. Wu Du, Lang Junxia, Chang Liujun, as well as the literati who’s run up to them all look horrified. Even Duan Ling never expected for Amga to yell it out just like that!

Momentarily distracted, Duan Ling only remembers the arrow now. He immediately fires the arrow, and it flies like a shooting star into the dark, but he has no idea whether it’s buried itself into the boat or if it’s fallen into the river.

Another moment passes before Zheng Yan crawls out of the river with the soaked Cai Yan in his arms. Lang Junxia and Chang Liujun both rush up to check on Cai Yan. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”

Duan Ling gives Wu Du a nudge to tell him he should go and at least put on a show of caring. Wu Du can but go to them and check Cai Yan’s pulse.

“Your Highness,” Duan Ling replies, “apologies if I’ve offended you. It’s all my fault, truly.”

Cai Yan doesn’t even have the strength left to speak anymore, and waves the apology off, looking quite wretched.

The literati leads a horse over to them and says, “Your Highness, I’ll take you back to the palace.”

Cai Yan says weakly, “All of you … all of you …”

“Your Highness?” The literati says.

“Feng Duo,” Zheng Yan says, “do take His Highness back at once. Don’t let him catch a cold now.”

“I’ll be returning as well,” says Lang Junxia.

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

43 notes · View notes

kaitoujokerscans · 3 years

Text

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH3

<3> Noir Strikes!

The violent tremor made Hachi and Hosshi shriek.

"Eeek!"

"Hosshi!"

"W-Whawazzat!? Is Spade back!?" Joker looked up. The middle of the Sky Joker was a giant gas-filled sac called an envelope, and it was sandwiched top and bottom by the airframe. Joker and the rest were in the lower part, whereas the tremor had come from the upper part. The two people and one pet ran through the hallway up into the upper gondola. The collection room for less recent treasures was up there. All their spoils of victory were organized compactly in it.

"Joker-san, over there!" Hachi pointed to a gaping hole in the ceiling. The obvious assumption was that someone had blasted it open.

"..." Joker put himself on guard. He slowly surveyed the room, and just then, he caught a glimpse of a fluttering cape.

"Who's there!"

He could see the silhouette illuminated by the light of the moon. A long cape draped behind his lanky body, and a large silk hat covered his head. He looked familiar — seeing him, Joker shouted out abruptly. "Master!"

Yes, he looked exactly like Joker's master, Silver Heart. But then the moon's light shone over the man's face.

"Wha...!" Joker's expression froze up. That wasn't Silver Heart...!

The man's round spectacles glinted. Behind them, callous eyes quietly regarded Joker. As the moon's light gradually shifted, the man could be discerned better. He wore the same hat and double-breasted suit as Silver Heart, but their colors were the exact opposite. Gold buttons shimmered on his jet-black suit, and his black hat was emblazoned with a golden letter "N".

"Greetings, Phantom Thief Joker..." came a low, monotone voice. The wind should have been roaring from outside, yet the man's words reached the pair's ears calmly and clearly.

"My name is Noir. I'm certain my advance notice found its way to you..." It was evident from the man's voice that he was much older. The voice that streamed out of his seasoned throat flowed forth with gravitas.

His voice had a strange ring to it. It left no impression, as if you would forget about it if he weren't standing right there.

"..." Joker noticed that his usual lackadaisical attitude had gone. What is this feeling...? Joker's instincts were telling him that the man in front of him was dangerous. Regardless, he plucked himself up and spoke like normal.

"I've been waiting, Phantom Thief Noir. Looks like you're after my treasure." The corners of Joker's mouth were raised, but his smile was stiff.

"That is correct. My intel tells me that those terming themselves 'phantom thieves' must send out advance notice..." said Noir deliberately.

Joker responded loudly, as if he were trying to shake off his nerves. "Obviously that's what phantom thieves do! That's what my master taught me!"

"Your master... is that so, heh heh heh..." Noir chuckled. His strange laughter was unsettling to Joker. "And your master's name is...?" asked Noir. He sounded as if he were asking a question to which he already knew the answer.

"My master... is the Silver Magician, Silver Heart!"

"Heh heh heh... As I thought..." Noir leered, his eyes glimmering eerily. "Then as announced, I will take your treasure...!" Noir lifted a hand high and snapped his fingers. Then immediately, BOOM! BOOM! — a series of explosions roared, blasting off the Sky Joker's entire roof.

"Wha-!?"

"What just happened!?"

"Hosshi!?"

Above them was the expanse of night sky. A fierce wind buffeted Joker. Then Noir stuck up one index finger and said to Joker:

"One minute."

"Huh?"

"Shield the treasure from me for one minute. If you can protect it for a full minute, I will accept defeat and leave here."

"You what..." Joker glared at Noir.

"Joker-san!"

"Don't worry, Hachi. A minute'll be over in no time." Joker may have been acting flippant, but he expected this to be a tough match. As someone who lived in a world where every second mattered — and even shorter intervals too — Joker knew best how long a minute could drag out for. And there was one other thing...

Joker heard a voice inside his head. Shield the treasure from me for one minute. Joker had heard this phrase before. It was probably back when...

"The count's already begun!"

Noir's shout cut off Joker's train of thought. He threw up his cards to block Noir's attack. Noir, tall in stature, had swung a knife. Masterfully wielding the short blade, he beat down upon Joker.

Joker blocked the knife blade frantically. The strikes were hardly swift. Nonetheless, he would quite plainly be injured if he didn't guard against them. Noir's blade was honed in on Joker that precisely.

"Rrgh! Rrghhh...!"

"What's the matter, Joker? Your pocket's unguarded! I can pilfer the crystal from it at any time!"

"!?" Joker took a giant leap back, flipping in midair before landing. He had found out that the gem was in his breast pocket. Joker softly patted over the pocket. He could feel the crystal. It hadn't been taken yet...

He's toying with me...!

Joker's competitive spirit was ignited. He fanned his cards out and yelled. "Straight Flash!"

The cards shone with blinding light, and Noir raised a hand to his eyes. While he was still immobile, Joker jumped back towards Noir.

You can't win just by defending! No matter how far back you're pushed, going on the offensive will open a path to victory!

Remembering what Silver Heart had told him long ago, Joker charged towards Noir. If he could just make him drop his knife by using his cards, he wouldn't be able to attack any more.

"Hiiyah!"

It was just as his cards had caught the knife. Joker saw a suspicious glint in his field of view. Oh shoot...!

Joker scrambled to twist his body while off the ground. As he did, he felt a sharp knife whizz right past his nose. Had he noticed the glint any later, the blade would most likely have cut into his face.

But how... He shouldn't be able to see right now!

It was then that a heavy impact rocked through Joker's body.

Noir's knee had caught Joker in the stomach. Massive pain pervaded his body, and Joker could no longer breathe. Then he felt his lapel being grabbed at. As soon as he processed this, Joker's body was tossed into the air. Noir had sent Joker flying with a model shoulder throw. Joker's scrawny body hit the floor like a rag doll.

"GWHAAAAAH!" Joker let out an incoherent howl. His whole body was in agony.

"Joker-san!"

"Ghh... I'm... okay, Hachi..." The falling position he had taken just before hitting the floor had done its job. He didn't have any bone damage, at least. Joker got up wobblily and scowled at Noir. When he did, he saw that the spectacles Noir had over his eyes had been replaced with sunglasses.

"When did you...!?"

The sunglasses had blocked the light and rendered Straight Flash ineffective. Noir then touched the end piece of his sunglasses and turned a tiny knob. The tinted sunglasses instantaneously changed back into the same transparent spectacles they had been before.

"W-What are those!?" Hachi exclaimed in surprise.

"...Polarized lenses, eh."

"That's correct, Joker-kun."

Polarized lenses have a special coating that prevent light from coming in from anywhere but one specific direction. If two polarized lenses were aligned in the same direction, they would appear at first glance to be normal lenses, but by changing their orientation, light wouldn't pass through and the lenses would turn dark like sunglasses. They are much like the light shade plates used when looking at the sun.

"You predicted my attack...?"

"Hardly a remarkable feat. I only imagined how my opponent would attack two or three steps ahead. Then I changed danger into an opportunity. According to my intel, this is the basics of being a phantom thief. I'm sure you're aware of this...?"

"Ghh..." Joker bit his lip in frustration. Master said this too. How does he know Master's teachings...? His attacks were being read like a book. This was the first time he had faced such a formidable opponent.

But...

Joker's spirit hadn't been broken yet. He could still feel the crystal against his chest. The pocket that Joker had the crystal in was bifold. Just sticking your hand in wasn't enough to pry out anything. You had to put your hand in all the way and under another layer of cloth to get at whatever what was inside. Noir probably hadn't been able to get his hand all the way in there.

"But it looks like I still won. I protected the treasure for a full minute...!"

"..." Noir stared at Joker silently.

"What's wrong? Aren't you the one who said the match would only last a minute, gramps?"

Then Noir laughed derisively — at himself. "Hmph, it seems I'm slower than I once was... It took more time than anticipated to snatch the crystal from that second inner pocket of yours," Noir said, and waved his hand. Almost like magic, a bright red crystal ball shone in Noir's fingers.

"T-That's...!" Bewildered, Joker put a hand to his lapel. There was a hard sensation.

How...!? In a panic, he probed inside the pocket and removed the crystal — but the thing he pulled out was no gem. It was a rock about the same size as the crystal. The rock was hefty and sank in Joker's palm.

"When did you...!?"

"Just after I mentioned your pocket to you. I deliberately set you on edge, only for you to be relieved moments later. That relief was the key. You could say you dropped your guard. When you let down your guard, used the shining cards, and approached me, that was when I took it. Slowly, with these deteriorating hands..."

"......" Wordlessly, Joker sank to his knees. I didn't notice at all...

Noir had gotten his hand into Joker's pocket, removed the crystal, and to top it all off, he had even planted a dummy. Joker had utterly lost...

"Now then, I will leave with the treasure. You're fairly clever. Your aptitude is wasted as a phantom thief." Noir's words pierced right through Joker. "According to my intel, you were least skilled at 'protecting treasure for one minute' drills."

"What...?"

The one who had told him to "shield the treasure from me for one minute" during his training had been none other than Joker's master, Silver Heart. What Noir had proposed was exactly the same as his master's training.

"...Do you know Master?"

"Yes, far better than you do. He was quite a talented man. Yet a talented master will not necessarily have talented disciples..."

"'Scuse me!?"

"Farewell, Phantom Thief Joker!" Noir twirled his black cape. It was such a dark, obscure black that it was as if the stars around him had vanished. The cape wrapped around him with a fwoosh, and an instant later, Noir was gone.

In the darkness of the blustery night, Joker, Hachi, and Hosshi stood idle, staring stupefied at the empty void.

#kaitou joker #light novel

13 notes · View notes

first-and-last-neocount · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 4

This is it. The big one.

This is the all-devouring AU that has now eaten nearly half of my Whumptober fill ideas. It’s a scenario I’ve carried in my brain for years, and when I initially looked through the prompt list this year and decided to write for it, my brain said ‘Hey, look at that Escape prompt. You could write something for that one AU that would fit that. And this one could work as a follow-up!’ and I said yeah, sure, why not. And I listed those ideas as ‘Escape!AU’, because that was the one that sparked the idea and I figured there’d only be one or two others.

By now, the AU has absorbed close to a dozen other prompts. They’re wildly out of order, of course, because I’m writing them in order of the prompts and not how those moments happen in the story. With every additional prompt I write out, there is the chance that it will mutate before my eyes and become part of the Escape!AU with little to no input or control from myself. I feel like I invited the muse for this story into my head without realizing that it’s not a fluffy hamster, IT’S A BLOODY TRIBBLE.

That being said, I should probably have at least kinda seen it coming, because it’s a fix-it for the ending of CoS. That’s a topic that I... feel passionately about, to put it mildly. This is that other AU I mentioned yesterday, where Gerald still has extra-special Hunter powers and the Patriarch did not manage to take the fae away from everyone; please just go with it, and I’ll actually address how that happened at some point. Although the Gerald-not-actually-being-mortal isn’t really relevant in this bit, because he’s so drained from everything that’s happened that it doesn’t do anything to resolve the situation.

That’s what we have Damien for.

Opening two lines, in italics, are quoted directly from Crown of Shadows to help set where the scene splits from canon.

Day 4 - Theme Chosen: “Do you trust me?”

Damien hesitated, then looked at Gerald. The Hunter nodded ever so slightly. “He's right, Damien.” His voice was quiet but strained. “There's nothing more you can do here.”

“Gerald-”

The Hunter was already shaking his head. Damien felt his throat constrict, as if the force of his own panic and despair was physically crushing it. He knew what the next word from Gerald's mouth was going to be, knew that the adept was going to send him away, that this was how it was all going to end; blood and bitterness and revenge, all that potential for redemption wrenched away at the last second, wasted...

Do you trust me?

He'd never initiated contact through the link before – the few times they'd spoken through it, Gerald had been the one to open the connection, Damien only responding to the Hunter's questing reach. It wasn't as hard as he might have thought, though; only a matter of reaching for that ever-present sense of connection that throbbed quietly between them, touching that indefinable thread that bound them and spilling his thoughts into it, the question carried forward in a rush by the tide of fear and desperation that was sweeping through him. Damien saw the Hunter twitch slightly, grey eyes widening in surprise at the message, or at the strength of the emotions that accompanied it – but the response came immediately nonetheless, no hesitation on the other man's part.

Yes.

Damien looked back at Andrys, the young man's green eyes blazing with restless fury as he waited for the Knight to step aside, and let his whole demeanour shift. He dropped his hands from where they'd been held, conciliatory, in front of him; he let his shoulders shift up and back, his stance transforming from defensive to confident, even cocky, as he hardened his expression into a look of stern determination. He saw shock and uncertainty ripple through Andrys at just the change in his body language, and he went for the opening with ruthless speed, forcing even his voice to come out steady and unaffected.

“Fine. Since you're not buying the concerned ally angle... let me put this a little more plainly. You're ruining my plan, boy.”

“What?”

The shocked exclamation had come, in the same tone, from both Gerald and Andrys in nearly the same breath. Damien forced the tiny urge to laugh hysterically into the furthest recesses of his mind, glaring at Andrys with all the disdain he could muster.

“You know what he is, and in case it escaped your notice, I'm a priest,” he bit out, gesturing dismissively at Gerald where the adept stood half-shielded behind him, lean frame now rigid with disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of him. “You think I actually wanted to have to work with a monster to save the world? That I seriously planned to just let him walk away when all this was said and done?”

Already, there was a flash of dawning understanding in Andrys's eyes; the young man looked from Damien to Gerald and back, the blind aggression on his face giving way to realization as he put the pieces together.

“You set him up...”

“I swore, back on the day I first found out that he was the Hunter, that I'd kill him with my own two hands,” Damien growled, and felt the fae around him shimmer with the force of the truth behind those words, so obvious that surely even Andrys could see it. With his adept's Sight, Gerald certainly could – and had, judging by the sudden alarm that flickered over his face. “I've been biding my time for vulking years, fighting this damn war, putting up with his power slithering through my head – I've endured nightmares and murders and horrors beyond your comprehension, and now you're just going to waltz in and finish him off, just when I've finally got the upper hand? No. No, I don't think so.”

He could feel real trepidation bleeding through the link now, knew that he had forced just enough true resentment into his words to off-balance Gerald – and Andrys must have been able to see it in the adept's face as well, because the young man suddenly laughed, a malicious little chuckle half choked by his own heightened emotions.

“Well, that's certainly a twist,” he said, eyes gleaming as he lowered the springbolt in his hands ever so slightly, the angle of the bolt canting down just enough that it was no longer aimed at Damien's chest but more at hip height. “And, from the looks of it, one that you weren't expecting.” Those words, dripping with spite, were aimed at Gerald, who actually flinched again in response. Andrys's gaze swung back to Damien, a dark, sick hunger that reminded the former Knight all too much of Calesta stirring behind his eyes. “So, you're the priest... Jaxom told me about you. Said you'd lost your way, fallen further than even he expected.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “This makes more sense, though. You needed this bastard too much to kill him then, but of course you're angry. What was the plan? Bring him back here and walk right into the heart of the crusade, so you'd have backup?”

“Of course.” Damien forced a mirroring smirk onto his own features, and though it felt heinously wrong on his face, Andrys didn't seem to notice anything amiss with it. “I'm not an idiot – I want payback, but I know he's still powerful. I wasn't going to provoke that showdown unless I knew I had some kind of safety net.”

Andrys nodded, his eyes glittering; Damien could all but see the pieces aligning in his mind, the world finally taking a shape that meshed sensibly with the young man's own personal mania.

“I see,” he said finally, the springbolt lowering a little more – the weapon was heavy, his arms had to be tiring by now. “It was my family that he slaughtered, you know... but I understand what you're saying, as well. You had to travel with him, endure him, for the entire fight against Calesta – that can't have been easy. I won't deny you have a claim on his head, but I think you must see my point of view as well...”

Damien barely heard his words. His eyes were on the springbolt, watching the nose dip further and further – until, as Andrys rambled on about the weight of their differing claims and his own suffering in having to work with Calesta to put an end to the Hunter, the trajectory of the bolt fell so far that it was aimed at the very ground.

Now!

Damien shoved the word through the link at the same time that he moved, lunging forward with every ounce of speed his tense muscles could offer. He left his reservations behind him, the conflict that had raged through him for so long suddenly silenced, irrelevant; as it had that night in Morgot when Hesseth's tidal Working had hit them, his innate drive to defend those he cared for subsumed everything else, every other voice in his head drowning under the overwhelming instinct to protect.

Andrys was wearing too much armour to try any more delicate method of incapacitating him, so Damien fell back on the basics; closing the distance between them with that desperate lunge, he brought his arm back and punched Andrys in the jaw with all the force he could muster. Even in his exhausted state, his speed and strength were forces to be reckoned with. Andrys had tried to react to Damien's sudden attack, jerking the springbolt back up and getting off a single shot, but Gerald had taken Damien's cue to throw himself to the side out of Andrys's line of attack; the bolt fired at a useless angle, flying low across the room to bury itself in the far wall near the floor. Then, Damien's blow connected.

Damien wasn't just well-trained in combat; as a Healer, he knew exactly how to do the most damage to the human body when he needed to. The gorget of the armour was protecting Andrys's throat too well for a jab to connect, but the sideways force of a blow could be an effective method of knocking an opponent out as well, if the attacker had aimed correctly. Damien had thrown the punch from as much of a sideways angle as he could manage, his fist coming in from the side with terrifying force; as it connected, Andrys's head snapped hard to the side, and the young man crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings, knocked instantly unconscious by the force of his own brain being slammed against the inside of his skull.

The crash of his armoured form hitting the floor was followed by utter silence, broken only by Damien's own heavy breathing. He stared down at the young man, heart pounding with delayed adrenaline, feeling a wave of numbness slowly wash through him and replace the panic that had driven him to action.

God, forgive me... is this what I've become? Is this what You wanted when you brought us together, or have I truly lost myself so badly?

“Damien?”

The soft utterance of his name snapped Damien out of his trance, and he turned, shaking off the fog. Gerald had closed the distance between them in his moment of distraction and was now standing only a couple feet away, staring at Damien as if he'd never seen the Knight before, grey eyes wide. He didn't say anything else aloud, but he didn't need to; the link between them was saturated with emotion. Shock, wonder, gratitude, a fading echo of wariness...

And something else. Something so strong, so deeply felt, that it took Damien's breath away all over again. A sense of devotion, almost akin to his own fierce faith in God yet so much more personal, flooding through the link between their souls. A dizzying awareness that a line had been crossed, and a promise made: not with words, but with actions, unable to be taken back or misinterpreted. Gerald was wholly aware of what Damien had just declared, by stepping between himself and his descendant, by striking out at Andrys in defence of the Hunter – and he was returning the sentiment tenfold.

There would be time to put it all into words later. Damien took a deep breath, finally feeling the ground firm beneath his feet once more, his world steadying from where it had tilted on its axis in the moment he thought that Gerald was going to die.

“Time to grab what we came for and get the Hell out of here,” he said, mouth dry. “I'd say we're pretty definitively out of time.”

As Gerald nodded and turned to find the books they'd risked so much for, Damien moved to help, marveling at the way the link remained open and resonating between them, emotions flowing freely back and forth – and wondering what it meant for the state of his immortal soul that none of those emotions, from either end of the link, was anything like regret.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #Do You Trust Me?#coldfire trilogy #fic #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

6 notes · View notes

anotherhawk · 3 years

Text

Second Chance Ghost - Star Wars prequel trilogy fic

Warning: this contains major character death, though if I continue it the dead character in question will still be hanging around so to speak.

Summary: Obi-Wan is sent back in time allowing him a chance to fix everything. Unfortunately he and the Force have a fundamental disagreement about precisely WHERE everything went wrong. In a reactor plant under Naboo Qui-Gon watches his padawan change - and then watches his padawan dies.

Story on AO3 here or below the cut

Inspired by @feybarn story Averting Galactic Destruction

Qui-Gon didn't understand what was happening. The Sith from Tattooine had been waiting for them, and he and Obi-Wan had managed to drive him away from the Queen, back towards the palace reactor, but then the Force had seemed to swell around them, building, and building until it sang a crescendo and then in an instant his padawan had changed. He had been fighting beside him as always, dependable, supportive, and then he had taken a step back, bringing his 'saber up in an unfamiliar block and Qui-Gon was fighting alongside a stranger. Their training bond was gone – not broken, he would have felt that, but withered - and Obi-Wan's shields were like nothing he'd felt before. Smooth. Deep. Impenetrable.

He didn't understand, but there wasn't any time to question. There was only the moment, and this moment was among the most difficult fights in his life. The Sith was a dangerous opponent, constantly drawing on the dark side until the very air was choked with fear and anger, and to make matters worse Obi-Wan was fighting in a very different way than he ever had before – different from everything Qui-Gon had ever tried to teach him. For some unfathomable reason he seemed to be utilising Soresu, or at least some variation on it. He'd always taught his apprentice that the third form was among the weakest, particularly when it came to lightsaber combat, and Obi-Wan had always agreed in the past. And even if that wasn't the case this was hardly the moment to be experimenting with something new...although this couldn't be new, could it? Obi-Wan moved like a seasoned master, and despite his newly defensive style it was him and not Qui-Gon who was giving the Sith most trouble. Obi-Wan effortlessly blocked every attack from that staff, and again and again he found holes in the zabrak's defences, leaving him stumbling back, hissing with anger.

Qui-Gon was proud. Qui-Gon was afraid. Was this really his padawan?

The fight took them deeper into the reactor levels, into a long corridor split by a series of cycling force fields. The Sith moved quickly, scuttling backwards trying to cut them off and Qui-Gon pulled the Force through his muscles, moving faster still, determined not to let the creature escape. He was stopped as the forcefield cycled on again, rippling up from the ground and he stopped in front of it, taking a deep breath, releasing his fear and uncertainty from the battle and from his padawan's odd behaviour into the Force. In that same instant Obi-Wan went sailing over his head, narrowly missing being bisected by the Force field. That was rash. Impetuous. And it hadn't even worked – although Obi-Wan was ahead of him he was still separated from the Sith.

He knelt down and let the Force buoy him up. It seemed...excited, perhaps even joyous. Perhaps the battle for Naboo was won already and he was feeling the people's jubilation, but there was a sense of anticipation that seemed to belay that.

He knelt, the Sith paced, and Obi-Wan....Obi-Wan spoke.

“Maul,” he said. “It doesn't have to go this way.”

The Sith stopped moving, eyes fixed now on Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon felt a muscle in his cheek twitching. “What are you doing?” he demanded through a bond that was too closed off for him to be sure of being heard. “What are you talking about?”

“You could walk away right now. You could leave and never go back to him. He doesn't make you strong. He can't make you strong; he needs you to be weak.”

The Sith – Maul? - spoke, voice low and raspy. “You know nothing, little Jedi.”

“Perhaps. But I know how you die. I know how much you suffer before you do. ” He spoke with” certainty and, alarmed, Qui-Gon recognised the signs of a vision.

“Obi-Wan!” he sent desperately. “Keep your mind in the here and now. The future is always changing. Be in the moment, my padawan.”

This time he did get a response of sorts; a pulse of amusement wrapped in a grief so deep and vast it could snuff out the stars. Force, what had happened? What had his padawan endured, and how could he have missed it?

“And I know you have family out there. Two brothers who love you dearly. They are not safe from his grasp either.”

For a moment uncertainty rippled through the Force and he wondered if Maul would run, wondered if Obi-Wan truly expected them to let him go if he did. But then with a buzz the forcefields started to fall again, and the Sith raised his light staff once more. “None of us are safe from his grasp,” he snarled, and the fight was on again. Blue clashed against red, and the two, moving faster than any fighters he had ever seen, vanished from his sight.

He got to his feet before the shields had finished cycling, anxiety raising through him. He couldn't leave Obi-Wan to fight alone, not knowing his padawan's mind wasn't fully on this battle.

When he caught up they were fighting around some large pit and he quickly made his way to Obi-Wan's side, launching a new attack from the side, trying to push the Sith back still further.

He couldn't say exactly what caused it. Perhaps he was too distracted by his padawan. Perhaps he was too worried for him. Perhaps he was getting older, or perhaps it was simply that the Sith was better than him. No matter the reason he was too slow to draw back after his attack, too slow to see the feint in the counter attack and in an instant his arm was gone, severed in a millisecond of fire and agony. He fell to his knees and watched in slow motion as the red saber swung back, heading unerringly for his neck. Closing his eyes, he awaited death.

It didn't come. And all around him the Force screamed.

When he looked again Obi-Wan was there, standing directly in front of the Sith – standing too close, far too close. He turned his head towards Qui-Gon, meeting his gaze, smiling ever so slightly, before he raised his 'saber in an approximation of a simple salute and cut the Sith in two.

Deactivated, the red saber fell out of the dying Sith's hands....and out of Obi-Wan's chest. The only sound in the chamber was it clattering to the floor, and the Sith's ragged breathing.

Obi-Wan dropped to his knees beside Maul. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, and the Sith said something too low for Qui-Gon to catch. A second later Obi-Wan reached up and with a bloody hand he closed Maul's eyes.

Qui-Gon was numb. He didn't understand. But the Force was howling, deep and vast and unendurable, and he forced himself to get to his feet, to stumble through this nightmare. He reached Obi-Wan's side just as his padawan crumpled to the floor. “It's going to be alright,” he lied as he checked the wound.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan smiled, his face serene, his eyes impossibly clear. “Yes, I believe it is. You must train Anakin, Master.”

“Don't think about that now.” There was no need to put pressure on the wound; lightsaber wounds didn't bleed, but he fumbled for his comm unit, trying to call for help one-handed. It was too deep, too much for anyone to heal, but he had to try. He couldn't just...he couldn't.... The comm unit was gently plucked out of his hands and carried away by the Force.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan said patiently. “You must train Anakin. He needs you.” His face twisted with pain and something else...regret? “Please don't let him down. He deserves a better Master this time.”

He grabbed Obi-Wan's hand. “Padawan...I know I wasn't always there for you when you needed me. I'm sorry. I never meant to let you down. I -”

Obi-Wan squeezed his hand. “Hush, Qui-Gon. I don't have much time – don't make this about me.”

“You're dying,” he choked out. “Obi-Wan, why? You should have blocked it, or if you couldn't you should have let me die. Not this. I never wanted this, padawan.” I love you.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, like that was all that mattered. “Please. Take care of him. And remember; it doesn't matter whether or not he's the chosen one. It matters that he's Anakin. That's all.” His eyes slipped closed and his Force presence flickered.

“Hang on,” Qui-Gon told him, desperately, uselessly. “Please, Obi-Wan. Stay with me.”

“Thank you for your teachings, Master,” he murmured, a smile on his face. “And if I could be selfish a moment longer...if you ever meet Cody please tell him I love him and I'm sorry.” He opened his eyes for a moment but couldn't seem to focus on Qui-Gon. “There is no death...” he whispered and then he gave a shudder and he was gone.

The Force howled again and for a moment Qui-Gon was looking down at Obi-Wan's face, slack and empty, and then his body simply faded from view and Qui-Gon was left holding empty air where his child should be.

Obi-Wan was gone.

He pulled the torn and bloodied robe to his heart and wept.

#star wars #Obi-Wan Kenobi #qui-gon jinn #My writing #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #time travel fic #tw - death

73 notes · View notes

friendship-ended-with-pokespe · 3 years

Text

Kirby: Meta Knight and the Strongest Warrior in the Galaxy Chapter 5

Meta Knight spread his black wings and rushed at Kirby. “Fight me, Kirby!” “No, I don’t wanna!” “You can’t deal damage to me in a Normal state. Use a Copy Ability!” “I said I don’t wanna~!” Kirby held his head and ran about, trying to flee.

It isn’t like he hasn’t fought Meta Knight. He has fought him several times up to this point, whether it be that they had some minor misunderstandings or opposing viewpoints. But those were because both Kirby and Meta Knight had a reason to fight. It would be that both of them had a motive they couldn’t back down from and were unable to avoid conflicts. But it’s different right now. Kirby can’t stand the idea of fighting because of Meta Knight’s desire to become stronger. “Hold it, Meta Knight!” All of a sudden the floor of the palace shook strongly enough to ripple. Having been chasing after Kirby, Meta Knight flipped his cape and looked at King Dedede. “Your stupid training is over. Knock if off and cool that head of yours.” “-My wish is to fight a strong opponent.” Meta Knight stood ready with his Galaxia. “You be my opponent, King Dedede!” “Hmph, I’m not gonna take off halfway like Galacta Knight. I ain’t going easy either, have at you!” “Just what I wanted!” Meta Knight swung Galaxia up and slashed at King Dedede. The king swung his hammer and met the attack. Galaxia and his hammer clashed and sparks flew up fiercely. The two jumped back at the same time and glared at each other. “Fine power you have, King Dedede. Just what I expected.” “I’m just warming up, you know!” “But power alone doesn’t work on me!” Meta Knight quickly swung his Galaxia. A blue-white beam surged out from the tip of the sword.

“Ahhhh!” King Dedede bent back and dodged the beam. “How low to do have to be to use projectiles!?” “It isn’t. A true warrior is capable of using every attack at his disposal!” Meta Knight fired his beams in succession. King Dedede dodges with feverish haste. The beams that missed bounced back and hit the remains of the ceiling. The beams broke the solid stones and made cracks. Kirby, having been watching the two battle, was alerted suddenly. The ceiling crumbles and a large debris drops. Waddle Dee was right under it. Restless from his worry that someone might get injured, Waddle Dee was separated from Captain Vul and the others before he knew it. If he is hit by that large rock, he’s going to get seriously injured! “Waddle Dee......!” Kirby ran with ferocious speed to rescue Waddle Dee. But King Dedede was quicker than Kirby. Discarding his hammer, the king held Waddle Dee up and jumped out of the way. Waddle Dee was frozen stiff and unable to say anything. King Dedede yelled at Waddle Dee with a frightening look. “Quit wandering around! You’re in the way of the match!” “I-I’m sorry, sire......” “Hmph!” The king took a deep breath and flung him away violently. Kirby rushed over to Waddle Dee who rolled on the floor. “Waddle Dee, are you alright!?” “Yeah, I’m okay. I was saved by His Majesty.” “Thank goodness!” Kirby sighed in relief King Dedede picked up his hammer and glowered at Meta Knight. “You dare harm even my lackey without discrimination!? You’re going too far, Meta Knight!” “I’m not trying to get anyone caught up in it. Anyone that doesn't wish to get hurt should back off.” “You son of a gun......!” Dedede is so furious that steam comes out from his head. He swings his hammer and throws himself into Meta Knight. Meta Knight dodges quickly and responds with Galaxia. It turned into an intense clash yet again. Kirby was thinking as he protected Waddle Dee and took cover alongside the wall. King Dedede is right. Meta Knight is going off the deep end. Having felt it for quite a while, his discontentment against Meta Knight swelled up in Kirby’s heart. Of course, it isn't a bad thing to desire to be strong. But it’s unacceptable to go on a destroying spree without taking his surroundings into consideration just for that. How could he be so composed when Waddle Dee who has neither weapons nor strength was nearly wounded......! It ignited Kirby with anger. “Something’s off with Meta Knight. I’ve got to stop him......!” Whispered Kirby, bracing himself. Waddle Dee said with worry. “Huh? Kirby, don’t tell me......!” “I’ll fight!” Kirby kicked the wall and began running over to Blade Knight. Blade Knight is holding the “Copy Essence Assortment” that they bought at the curio shop with care. “I want a Copy Essence, Blade Knight!” “Huh? Uhh......su......sure......” Blade Knight was overwhelmed by Kirby’s vigor and opened the sack. Kirby stuffed his hand into the sack and took out the first thing he grabbed. “Wing!” As soon as he touched the orb, Kirby transformed. Beautiful yellow plumes are fitted on his head. Extending on both sides are flight feathers even larger than that ornament. “Wing,” the Copy Ability allowing him to fly freely, is set into motion. “Let’s go, Meta Knight!”

Shouts Kirby, lowers his head, and glides at a low altitude. Meta Knight was just about to knock Dedede’s hammer attack back. He saw Kirby charging at him and yelled. “Now you’re talking, Kirby!” “It’s only ‘cause you’re such a dummy!” Kirby charged toward Meta Knight as he shouted. He uses “Condor Head” which boasts tremendous power! Even Meta Knight can’t afford to be struck by this. He was dealt a direct hit and was blown away. He however rose up quickly and stood ready with Galaxia once more. “Impressive, Kirby!” “Cool that head of yours! You’re acting really strange right now!” “What you think of me doesn’t matter. I wish to become much more powerful!” Meta Knight jumped up high and tried to slash at Kirby. Flapping his wings, Kirby changes his direction and goes around to Meta Knight’s blind spot. Meta Knight lost sight of Kirby for a moment and recoiled. Kirby quickly fluttered his flight feathers. Countless feathers fly toward Meta Knight like arrows. Meta Knight knocked it all down with his Galaxia. Captain Vul and the rest were watching the battle with sweaty palms. “Incredible......” “Both Kirby and Meta Knight are really strong!” “Will they be alright? If one of them were to get severely wounded......” Then, at that moment. A bloodlust-filled presence arose from behind them. It was a ghastly and cold presence. Captain Vul, the Meta Knights, and Sword Knight and Blade Knight all turned around at the same time. A beautiful warrior shining in brilliant white was standing. A white mask with large wings. To his right is a massive lance lance and to his left is a cross-crested shield. It was Galacta Knight whom they thought had run away. Seeing his overwhelming appearance, the Meta Knights were scared out of their wits. “Ga-Ga-Ga......!” “Galacta Knight!?” “Didn’t he run away!?” Galacta Knight was following Meta Knight with eyes devoid of emotions. And then, someone unexpected appeared from behind. It is a boy of lanky build with a round face and curly hair. Seeing his face, Captain Vul shouts. “Mo......Moa!? Y-You were alright......!?” One by one, the Meta Knights too shouted for joy. “Moa! Moa!” “Oh my gosh! We were worried sick about you!” “You were alive~! Thank heavens~!” But Moa’s gaze toward the Meta Knights was cold. He sneered at them. “It’s not Moa. You are to call me Master Moa.” “......Eh?” “Show some respect! Or else the strongest warrior in the galaxy will burn you all into ashes!” Moa began laughing in a loud voice. Captain Vul was dumbfounded and said. “What are you saying? Did you eat something bad while you were missing?” “You better watch your mouth. If you don’t want to be burnt to ashes, that is!” Moa looked at Captain Vul and the others in an arrogant attitude. Sword Knight said in a stern voice. “Don’t tell me......right from the start, you were......” “Yeah, that’s right. Becoming Meta Knight’s man, hiring pirates and having them attack the Halberd, and going missing in the midst of the battle was all part of my genius plan!” “What did you just say......!” Hearing his shocking revelation, the Meta Knights all grabbed their weapons. “You scum......for what did you do all this for......!” “Ahaha! Isn't it obvious? It’s all to get my hands on Galacta Knight, the strongest warrior in the galaxy!” Moa pointed at Galacta Knight. “Meta Knight seems to have unsealed him in the past. Hearing that rumor, I wondered how I could make him break the seal again.” Moa laughed brashly. “I would need to drive Meta Knight to the wall for that. Were he to make an irreversible mistake, he'd surely mourn over it and try to summon the strongest warrior to train himself. What would be the greatest mistake for him? The answer is simple. Despite his looks, Meta Knight is said to care deeply for his men. I was certain that the disappearance of his man would overwhelm him with remorse.” “Y-You rascal......” Captain Vul’s fists trembled in anger. “Right from the start, you became his subordinate only to use him......!” “Correct. My prediction was right on the nail. I pretended to go missing and followed you guys’ movement in secret. And once the timing was right, I hid Galacta Knight with this high-performance camouflage cape!” Displaying his camouflage cape in triumph, Moa then took out a small controller from underneath it.

“And finally, just as I planned, I turned him into my servant with this “Anything Controller!”” ““Anything Controller”......?” “It’s a miraculous machine made by the ancient civilizations in Halcandra. Everything in this world can be controlled by this. This is all I need for Galacta Knight to exalt me as master......” Suddenly, Galacta Knight jumped up in the middle of his lines. He flutters his white wings and flies toward Meta Knight. Moa watched him in a daze and fidgeted with his controller. “Huh? But I didn’t order it to fight yet. That’s weird......” “Moa......” The Meta Knights surrounded Moa and drew closer to him. They all look bloodthirsty. They seem ready to draw their weapons even when they don’t have it in their hands yet. Panicking, Moa fumbled with his “Anything Controller.” “C-Come back here, Galacta Knight! It’s an order from your master......!” “Master my foot!” Captain Vul lunged at him and knocked the controller down from his hands. Dropping on the floor, the controller bounced and broke. Coming out from inside were cheap-looking gears and screws. “Ahh! My dad bought this Halcandra-made “Anything Controller” for me......!” Moa kneeled and gathered up the scattered parts. Captain Vul hollered at him. “That thing ain’t made in Halcandra or whatever! You can see for yourself, can’t you!? That’s just a stupid toy!” “You’re joking......I was tricked......that lying shopkeeper......” Said Moa resentfully, but noticed everyone surrounding him and forced a laugh. “H-Huh......well......? Aren’t you my seniors? I’m sorry for everything that happened. If you could make me your trainee from now on......” Of course, there’s no way they would let him off now. The Meta Knights exploded with anger. “Seniors my butt!” “As if we’ll ever forgive you!” It was when everyone was about to gang up on him. Something came tumbling with a violent noise. The Meta Knight avoided it quickly, but Moa was crushed beneath it and let out a moan in agony. Sitting on Moa was King Dedede covered with injuries. Waddle Dee came running and shook the king. “Y-Your Highness!!! Get a hold of yourself, please!” “Don’t touch me, you idiot! It hurts!” King Dedede pulled his face rose up. “Even Galacta Knight came back, as if Meta Knight going ape wasn’t enough......I have no idea anymore.” King Dedede turned his eyes to the battle unfolding on the center of the hall. It’s a three-way battlefield. Being able to cross swords once again with Galacta Knight who returned, Meta Knight is burning with more and more will to fight. Spreading his black wings, he flies freely and swings his Galaxia. While fending off all of Meta Knight’s attacks with his shield, Galacta Knight readies his lance and is aiming at Kirby. Flying through the air at a speed overwhelming the two, Kirby is releasing a volley of “Feather Gun” which shoots feathers like arrows.

As the three’s strength clashed, a wave of heat enough to spurt flames swirled. “Oh my......” Said Captain Vul in blank amazement. “This can no longer pass off as training. I don’t believe either of the three can come out unharmed......!” King Dedede said. “It’d be fine if Kirby and Meta Knight were to join hands. It would take the two of them to defeat Galacta Knight.” “No, my lord honors fairness. He wouldn’t fight two on one.” “Is this the time to think about that!? He’s such a knucklehead! That means there’s no other choice but for me and Kirby to team up......” King Dedede re-gripped his hammer to return to the battle yet again. Just then: A purple creature came floating in. “Ah, Sphere Doomer......” Waddle Dee noticed and called out to it. King Dedede said with a long face. “What. You’re still here?” Having been preoccupied with the intensity of the battle, the group completely forgot about the creature from Another Dimension. Sphere Doomer let out a shrill noise and flapped its wings. Waddle Dee pondered. “It looks like it's saying something, but......I can’t understand languages from Another Dimension......” “Talk in a language that we can understand!” Ordered Dedede, but there’s no way it would understand. Sphere Doomer responded with a few words, but seems to have realized that they didn’t understand it at all and floated away. “Ah, you shouldn’t go there......!” Waddle Dee tried to stop him. Sphere Doomer began floating over to Kirby. “I’m sure that Kirby would understand! But it’s not safe there!” Waddle Dee tried to go after him, but King Dedede stopped him. “You moron. You wanna get swept in it again!?” “But Sphere Doomer is......” Sphere Doomer approaches him with no sign of fear, as if it doesn’t understand the intensity of the battle. Meta Knight and Galacta Knight paid no attention to it, or course. But Kirby noticed and yelled out. “It’s dangerous, you shouldn’t come here!” At that moment, Galacta Knight fired a shockwave at Kirby. With Kirby’s agility, he should be able to dodge it easily-but Kirby didn’t dodge it. It’s because Sphere Doomer was right behind him. Assuming a Guard stance in desperation, Kirby shielded Sphere Doomer with himself as the shield. The shockwave’s direct hit was terrifying. His Guard was perfect, but Kirby was nevertheless blown away with his colorful feathers scattered. His Wing ability was removed simultaneously and Kirby reverted back to his Normal state. Galacta Knight attacked the defenseless Kirby without mercy. His massive lance swings down at him in full might. Meta Knight jumped in and stopped the lance with Galaxia. Meanwhile, Kirby stood up and got away to the shade of the wreckage. “Kirby!” Waddle Dee and the others rushed over to him. “A......Are you okay!?” Even as he calls out to him, Kirby is so weakened that he can’t respond. It goes without saying for Waddle Dee, where Captain Vul and the rest, and even King Dedede surrounded Kirby with concern. It was rare for Kirby to receive harsh injuries thus far. “Oh dear. We need to treat him quickly......!” Said Waddle Dee as he was all shook up. King Dedede snorted and took out something red from within the gown he was wearing. “This should be better for Kirby than something like medicine. It’s a Maximum Tomato that I saved as a snack, but......there’s no other choice. Let’s do it.” King Dedede tossed the Maximum Tomato at Kirby.

Kirby opened his mouth weakly and caught the Maximum Tomato. The moment he swallowed it with a gulp: Kirby sprang to his feet. He is brimming with energy, as though the injuries he received were all a lie. He spun once in midair with his eyes sparkling. “Yummy~! I would like another Maximum Tomato~!” “Don’t get carried away! I gave you my precious Maximum Tomato.” “Thanks, King Dedede!” Maximum Tomato is a strange tomato with an infinite power. Kirby likes any food, but is especially fond of Maximum Tomatoes. Having completely recovered, Kirby noticed Sphere Doomer floating behind everyone. “Ah, that’s right. It has something that it wants to say.” Sphere Doomer let out a high-pitched voice and flapped its wing. Kirby tilted his head to the side. “Uhh......what’s wrong? You want some Maximum Tomatoes?” “I don’t have any!” “Does it want more Energy Spheres? But we had only one of those too......” Sphere Doomer shook its body in annoyance and floated to the gateway of the palace. “What is it? Let’s follow it.” Kirby began walking, where Captain Vul held him back “Wait, Kirby. Our Lord is more important than Sphere Doomer. Unless you join in the battle, all of Galacta Knight’s attacks will be focused on our lord!” “He’ll be fine alone. After all, he summoned Galacta Knight ‘cause he wanted to fight him one-on-one.” Kirby trotted after Sphere Doomer. “Ugh......now that you mention it, you’re right......” Axe Knight said to Captain Vul folding his arms. “Captain, maybe it remembered how to open the extradimensional road.” “......What?” “It looks like it’s asking for help. Just as Kirby said, wouldn't it be better for us to leave the battle with Galacta Knight to our lord and help Sphere Doomer?” “......I see. That could be it.” Captain Vul unfolded his arms. “Then we shall assist it. All members, follow me!” Captain Vul began running with heavy footsteps. The Meta Knights and Sword Knight and Meta Knights also follow behind him. “Hmph......I’d rather not, but we’re gonna be in hot waters without the road opening. How ‘bout I lend them a hand?” Said King Dedede in a haughty tone and went after Kirby and the others. Needless to say, Waddle Dee too follows him with small, quick steps.

After every one of them had gone outside the palace: Having been left collapsed on the floor, Moa, the liar of a boy whose existence has been forgotten, sluggishly got up. Turning his eyes to the fierce battle between Meta Knight and Galacta Knight, he shuddered with fear. Then, nodding as though having resolved himself to something, he quickly got up and headed for the gateway.

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Table of contents

#kirby novels #kirby of the stars #light novel #translation #kirby #meta knight #king dedede #waddle dee #galacta knight #captain vul #meta knights #sword knight #blade knight #sphere doomer #so this boy had enough money to hire a whole gang of pirates...

86 notes · View notes

2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

Text

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Aaaaand here we are with the final chapter of this story! A very cracky finale, with a surprising amount of fashion judgement and a lack of serious damage. I’ve made them suffer enough on their wedding day.

Thank you so, so much to everyone who’s read so far! It was a genuine pleasure to write this story, and the positive response has warmed my heart. Lots of love for everyone 💕 Hope you’ll enjoy this!!

---

Chapter 9

Max has conveniently chosen the room they’d all met up in earlier for their lift back, Ladybug notices as she steps out of the portal. Rena Rouge and Queen Bee are standing at the door, discreetly peeking at the reception on the other side. They turn around when they hear the portal’s low hum.

“How’s it going?” Ladybug asks, joining them in their stakeout.

“I think they’re starting to feel a little uncomfortable.” Alya nods towards the next room, and Marinette steals a look, not knowing if her friend is referring to their primary suspects, or Nino and Kagami.

A look inside answers her question. The four of them are standing in the middle of the room, and it’s quite clear from their body language that her friends are doing their best to look at ease, while their interlocutors are clearly desperate to go. They show it differently, though: whereas Gabriel is standing straighter than ever, eyes darting towards the nearest exit as Nino enthusiastically speaks to him about something involving large hand gestures and a lot of shoulder pats, Nathalie seems exhausted, shrunk on herself while Kagami talks about something technical, if Ladybug can trust her frowns as she explains.

“Well, as long as it’s them and not the guests, it should be alright. Wouldn’t want a mass akumatisation on our hands.” Ladybug straightens up and sighs.

“So, it’s really them?” Alya asks.

“I think saying ‘most probably’ would be an understatement.” She shakes her head.

“Poor Adrien,” Queen Bee mutters next to them. “This is honestly the last thing he needs.”

Marinette looks at Alya worriedly, and her friend squeezes her hand. “He’s up to speed, I think he’s hanging in there.”

“I’ll have a talk with him later.” Ladybug promises herself.

“Anyway, what’s the plan now?” Queen Bee turns towards her expectantly.

“Well, see, that’s my problem, I’m not entirely sure how to go about it-”

“I am.” Chat Noir walks straight past them, stormy eyes fixed on the two suspects, his tail slipping through Ladybug’s fingers, and he's out in the open before she can retain him. She hadn't heard the portal close behind him, nor his approaching footsteps.

She starts to run after him, we don’t have a plan, what is he doing, but Rena Rouge grips her arm before she can, yanking her back inside their honorary headquarters. Ladybug’s offended look melts as her friend delicately takes her veil out of her hair. She’d completely forgotten about it.

“Might not want to out yourself to them right now, since they probably don’t know who you are,” her friend says softly.

“Now go make sure your partner doesn’t get into too much trouble. Don’t worry, we’ve got your back. We’ll figure something out if anything happens, but you generally do pretty well without the B team.” Queen Bee pushes her out of the room with a wink.

Ladybug glances back one last time before she heads in; Max has come closer, and her three friends smile at her reassuringly as she does. She smiles back, hoping it expresses just how much she’s thankful for them being there, and not how worried she is about what might unfold.

---

Chat Noir barely hears the guests’ gasps as they make way for him. He strides purposefully into the room, his eyes trained on his father. Gabriel Agreste. Hawkmoth.

When he catches sight of the dark figure approaching him, the man tenses even more than he’d already been, which Chat hadn’t thought was possible. Yes, you can be worried, he thinks, nodding at Nino and Kagami to relieve them of their duties. Both stand aside, and start ushering people away from the newly formed trio.

“Chat Noir,” Gabriel greets coldly, eyes flickering to his right hand’s ring finger.

Even now, that’s all he can think about, Chat shakes his head, protectively balling his hand into a fist. He’s ready to seize the opportunity, even if it means disrupting his only son’s wedding. He hopes his scorn is visible as he looks at him.

“What a… pleasant surprise,” his father lets out without conviction, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

It takes all of Chat Noir’s willpower to not spit at his feet, and even more to not spit in his face.

“Mr. Agreste,” he says through gritted teeth. “I believe we need to talk.”

“Do we? Whatever about?” His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks around the room with fake amusement, as if trying to find an allied face in the crowd. Most people look away uneasily. He’s a powerful man, but his challenger is one of Paris’ most trusted protectors. Something must be up, and although it isn't clear what side it's best to be on, something tells them it's not Gabriel Agreste's.

To the untrained eye, Gabriel looks perplexed, almost hurt by the request. To Adrien Agreste, though, who has spent years scrutinising his father’s facial expressions, searching for any hint of pride, love, anything positive, there’s no mistake; he can read the fear in his eyes.

He takes a step forward.

“That’s a nice scarf you have today.” He nods towards his father’s neck, sporting his classic candy-cane Ascot. “A little… ten, fifteen-years ago, though, don’t you think? If it ever was in fashion.”

“It’s a signature look,” Gabriel scoffs, offended by the superhero’s words. “As Chanel once said, la mode se démode, le style, jamais.”

“Yet that implies that you actually have style, which is a statement I’m sure I’m not the only one to disagree with.” He takes a look around the room, pouting pensively. “Actually, you know what? I think the scarf should come off. It clashes with the wedding’s colour scheme. Unless it holds a higher meaning to you?” He asks innocently, but there’s no mistaking the threat in his eyes as he holds a hand out.

Gabriel shares a look with Nathalie, who nods uneasily. He takes off the tie, revealing a single, gleaming, amethyst underneath (bingpot, Chat thinks), and hands it over to Chat Noir. “Of course not. In fact, if this is a way of getting something of mine, you know, I would’ve given it to you for a lot less hostility. Would you like it signed?” He smirks again.

Chat is about to lunge at him when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Chat Noir, don’t you think we should take this some other place? Somewhere less public, perhaps?” Ladybug asks soothingly.

Chat’s eyes flicker to her for the briefest of instants. It’s enough for Gabriel to seize the opportunity.

“Nooroo, dark wings rise!” Gabriel makes the most of his opponent’s distraction, yanking Ladybug by the arm to hold her against him.

She yelps as she feels the cold metal of his cane against her neck, almost choking her. Her eyes dart wildly around, taking in the panic that washes over the room, and she tries to free herself, but Hawkmoth tightens his grip. People scream and push each other as they run for shelter. This is exactly what she’d wanted to avoid.

“There, you have what you want, don’t you?” Hawkmoth lets out a dry laugh. “A public reveal. Maybe you should’ve consulted with your girlfriend first, though.” Ladybug feels the cane start digging in her neck, and she gasps.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Chat Noir snarls, taking another step forward. He knows he can't go straight for his opponent with Ladybug trapped like she is. He'd run the risk of her getting severely injured.

Ladybug is thankful for his diversion; her captor’s attention is fully on him, rather than on the hundreds of agitated guests. Her mind whirrs as she tries to think of something to do that wouldn’t end in total carnage, but the lack of oxygen is making her mind fuzzy.

“Oh? What a shame. You know, I could help you get revenge for her breaking your heart. I’ll take her earrings as down payment, and you can give me your ring when you’re done.” His smile makes him look deranged. Chat Noir can feel the panic rising in his chest, but represses it.

“Who says she broke my heart?” He shoots him a look of disgust and opens his hand, ready to invoke his Cataclysm.

He doesn’t get that far - a portal opens behind Hawkmoth and out flies Carapace’s shield in a flash of green, hitting the villain straight in the head before falling at his side.

He grunts and loses his grip on Ladybug, who seizes the opportunity to take a deep breath and scramble to Chat’s side. Her partner steps in front of her, his arm extended protectively in front of her body, as Hawkmoth pushes himself up to reach for his cane.

He stumbles back down before it can fly back in his hand, yellow flashing out from the same portal and hitting him in the lower back. His knees buckle under him. Queen Bee and Carapace step out of the portal, the former rewinding her spinning top.

Chat Noir yanks Hawkmoth’s brooch off of his immobilised body, releasing his transformation. Kagami comes forwards, holding Nathalie with her arms pinned behind her back. The assistant had apparently tried to make a break for it when her accomplice had transformed. They are soon joined by the police special forces, advancing cautiously behind their shields to secure the perimeter.

As Gabriel and Nathalie are cufflinked and brought out of the room, Ladybug catches Adrien and an illusion of herself out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t think she’d look as panicked and distraught as Alya is making her, were she a mere bystander, but then again, her expression matches Adrien’s. It probably isn’t as over the top as she thinks it is.

Carapace picks up his shield once the floor is cleared, dusting it a little before fastening it to his back.

“I know it’s not the first time I knocked Hawkmoth in the head, but man, it feels even better now that I know who he is.”

“He deserves all the worst.” Chloé looks at Nathalie and Gabriel’s backs the same way she’d looked at socks in sandals the previous summer - with complete and utter disdain. Ladybug is almost surprised that she doesn’t sprint after them to kick them or something.

Chat nods along, before his attention snaps to Ladybug. Worry wrinkles his forehead as he holds her at arms’ length, looking for any sign of injury. “Are you alright, my Lady?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” She waves his concern away, even if her voice is hoarser than usual. She pushes him back slightly and cups his cheek.

He’s the one she’s worried about. An anger she’d never seen so potent on him had seemed to emanate from him as he talked to Gabriel Agreste. She needed to talk to him about it.

“Marinette?” Alya’s voice sounds in their ear, interrupting their fussing over each other. They wince a little at the volume.

“Yes?” She replies, keeping a hand on him.

“People are starting to fuss over you and Adrien, I think you should come and detransform. I’m not sure I can handle hugs.”

She glances at Chat Noir.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” He squeezes her shoulder. “I’m going to make sure they don’t escape their lift to jail. I promise no punching will be involved, even if I feel like I missed out earlier.” His smile is a little tense.

“Okay.” She lets go of him cautiously. “Come and find me after?”

“I purr-omise.” He kisses her forehead and watches her walk out of the room, barely sparing a glance at their doubles who start following her. She therefore misses fake-Adrien retaining fake-Marinette and whispering something in her ear. The latter nods, and he kisses her knuckles before leaving through another door. Fake Marinette blushes and gives him a small wave with a lovestruck smile. Alya really has us nailed down, hasn’t she, he shakes his head as he watches the scene unfold.

“Hey dude, how are you holding up?” Carapace drapes an arm around his shoulders. Queen Bee and Kagami move closer to them as well. From the concerned look on Chloé’s face, Adrien deduces that the others must have brought her up to speed on the situation. She’d never been a big fan of Chat Noir.

“It’s a lot.” He admits, raking a hand through his hair. “But I’m so thankful for you guys. I lost it earlier, and that almost lost us Hawkmoth and Ladybug.” He looks up at his three friends with a small smile.

“We’ll always have your back.” Chloé pats his arm. “Especially when it’s this satisfying.”

“Now, go and watch your progenitor get driven away. I hope you’ll find it enjoyable.” Kagami nudges him towards the exit.

He nods and takes his leave. He has one last card to play to make it truly fulfilling, and he’s definitely putting it down.

---

Chat Noir walks towards the van, feeling his anger boil again at the sight of his father’s profile through the back doors’ windows. He takes a moment to breathe in deeply and think happy thoughts. Now that Hawkmoth has been arrested, he’ll finally be able to reveal his identity to Marinette. He’ll do it before the end of the day, so they can make the most of their honeymoon. Maybe there is a silver lining to this, after all.

Having regained his cool, he strides up to the van, his step unusually heavy. Gabriel Agreste looks up at the sound of his footsteps on the gravel, and frowns.

“What do you want?” He asks dryly.

“See, I just thought our conversation earlier was cut a little short. What with you attacking Ladybug and everything.” His eyes shoot daggers.

“Why would you care, if you’re not together anymore?” His father scoots a little away from the van’s back doors as Chat Noir approaches.

“I never said we weren’t together anymore. And even if that were the case, I’ll remind you that we’ve been fighting evil, you, for over a decade. Nothing could break our bond at this point. But what I actually meant was that ‘girlfriend’ is no longer a suitable title for her. She’s now my wife.” He tells him, an almost manic glint in his eye. This is going to hurt you so much, and I'm going to enjoy every last minute of it. This is for hiding Maman from me.

“Are you expecting congratulations from me?” Gabriel all but rolls his eyes, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Well, even if you didn’t exactly say it, I feel like you covered that part earlier.” Gabriel’s eyes are on the verge of reckoning. He would probably figure it out with a little mulling over during the drive, but Chat needs the satisfaction of seeing his expression at the exact moment he realises what he means. “She’s a bit busy at the moment, but I’m sure she’d join me in thanking you for coming to our wedding today… Father.”

Gabriel’s jaw drops and Chat enjoys watching the thousands of emotions that flicker through his eyes, distorting his face as the van starts to drive away. It’s perfect timing. He can see his father shouting, banging on the doors, but he’s out of earshot. He stands on the porch until the vehicle is out of sight, then heads back inside.

He’s almost tackled by Marinette as he does.

“Chaton, something just… doesn’t seem right,” she whispers as she hugs him. She’d thought about it while she reassured her parents and some other guests that she and Adrien were fine, although the latter's absence made her question his well being. Not wanting to worry too much about it, she’d dissected the events in her head, instead. “Everything seems to be sorted now, we uncovered Hawkmoth’s identity, but then who was blackmailing me? Who was blackmailing him? And why?”

Chat Noir notices people are looking at them a little pointedly, whispering. He untangles himself from her arms and reluctantly steps away. “We’ve got all the time in the world to discover that, Princess.” He nods towards their audience and she nods in understanding, although she looks a little disappointed. “It was an honour saving your wedding.”

“Yes, thank you for that.” She clears her throat.

“We can discuss it with Ladybug after your honeymoon.” He says, and she notices he’s a little tense, almost brooding as he stands before her.

“Speaking of which, I… I should go and find Adrien.” She looks around, hoping she’ll finally spot the familiar mop of blond hair in the crowds that have returned, slightly shaken. Alya told her that he’d gone to freshen up after the arrest, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s okay. It’s been a little while. “Want to come with?”

“I don’t think my presence is necessary. I’ll catch up with you later.” He feels a giddy smile spread on his lips, his thoughts clinging to his reveal. Marinette shoots him a quizzical look before heading off towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

He manages to beat her to his. He detransforms, and opens the door right as she’s about to knock.

“Oh, hey, Marinette.” He jumps back a little, pretending to be caught off-guard by her presence. “I was just about to join you downstairs. Is everything alright?”

“That’s my line.” She tries to joke, but his jumpiness concerns her a little. “Can we talk, just for a second?”

“Yeah, of course.” He opens the door wider for her and leads her inside the room, fidgeting with his ring. He invites her to sit at the foot of his bed.

Marinette opens her mouth, then closes it. She frowns as she tries to find a good opening question, comment, anything. She hasn’t been this tongue-tied since collège, and this has got to be the worst moment for it to strike again. She utters a couple of words, but backtracks again and again. None feel really right in these circumstances.

Adrien patiently listens as she tries to find the words. She doesn’t dare touch him, if her distance on the bed tells him anything. He wished she would though; he could do with a hug, their previous one having been interrupted. He knows hugging Adrien could make her feel uncomfortable, though, on account of the fact that she thinks he might have feelings for her, and that she doesn’t want to lead him on. Always so thoughtful, his Lady.

“How are you feeling, Adrien?” Marinette finally says, carefully taking his hands in hers and squeezing them. “You say the word, and everybody goes home. I’m really so sorry things turned out this way, had I known, I wouldn’t have done anything today…”

“Marinette,” Adrien squeezes her hands back and looks at her earnestly. “Trust me, you did the right thing. It would never have been a good time to learn about my father’s… activities anyway. At least you had everybody who matters with you, ready to help. It might have been more complicated to have that any day.” He smiles sadly. “Besides…” He starts, but hesitates.

“Adrien, I’m here for you. You can count on me to be there, to listen. Don’t hold back.” She leans forwards, encouraging him when his silence stretches.

Adrien’s smile strengthens, becoming almost hopeful as he shifts closer to her on the bed. This is it, he thinks. Now or… well, not never, but this is as good a time as any.

“Besides,” he clears his throat, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now, and I guess this is just a sign that we should have this conversation now. You said that we should wait, but-”

“Ah, there you two are!” Alix barges into the room without knocking, and Marinette would have flung herself at her to thank her for the interruption, had she not been afraid of hurting Adrien’s feelings. She carefully lets go of his hands and stands up, crossing her arms over her chest.

She hadn’t liked Adrien’s tender eyes just now. Like they were hoping for something she knew he knew she couldn’t give him. She didn’t feel like turning him down today, not after everything that had happened, after he’d basically lost his family. But she wouldn’t really have a choice if he tried again later.

Where are you, Chat Noir? she thinks. Having him around would probably keep Adrien at bay. She wonders what better things he could have to do at this moment, but nothing comes to mind.

She turns towards her friend. She’d have to do, for now.

“Alix?” The young woman had started slow clapping about halfway through her inner monologue, looking excessively smug.

“I’ve been looking for you two everywhere, I wanted to congratulate you in person.” She grins.

Marinette and Adrien look at her, slightly puzzled. Marinette wonders if she’s off somewhere, and just wanted to say goodbye. Clapping seems a little over the top, though.

“You solved my mystery!” She clarifies, prompting Adrien and Marinette to look at each other.

“Care to elaborate?” Adrien raises an eyebrow.

“She got us a sort of escape game as a wedding present,” Marinette starts explaining, although she’s failing to see how everything ties up together.

“Yeah, and you did really well! Not gonna lie, I was expecting more drama from today, but hey, it was probably for the best.” She sighs when she sees her dumbfounded friends’ faces. “See, both of you were just so cute together, it was honestly getting a little nauseating back in the burrow.” Alix sarcastically joins her hands near her cheek. “Everything was in order, no end of the world in sight” she shoots a pointed look at Marinette, “but that made you slow down on the Hawkmoth hunt, so I had to do something. I know I’m not supposed to meddle, but hey. Hawkmoth and Mayura were getting on my nerves, and I’d kept my mouth shut long enough. ” She shrugs. “And I thought the detective play was pretty fitting, remember Mylène’s Akumatisation, when we were trying to film that movie for a competition in collège? You guys played some agents or something, and I think it was the moment pretty much everyone started shipping you two together, if they hadn’t already been.”

“But, we're not..." Marinette starts before another thought goes through her mind, the first of many that prevent her from finishing her sentences. "And the envelopes…” She shakes her head, trying to organise her thoughts. Things don’t add up in what Alix is saying, but she’s too stunned to figure it out.

“Planted by me, for you and Hawkmoth. I thought it would speed things along, whoever made the first move. Sorry for freaking you out so much. I actually wasn’t expecting you guys to go through the fake wedding route, but it ended up making things a lot easier for me. Everybody was in the same place at the same time, so really, great job on that.” She nods to herself before looking up at them again. “It was even super easy to get Max to bring his equipment, just had to make a post on one of his usual forums saying a life-size hide and seek was a great wedding activity, especially if you had earpieces for the seekers, and voilà. You have a convinced man.” She gives them a satisfied smile. “I’ll get him to launch a game before the end of the day. He might be disappointed otherwise.” She adds pensively.

Her friends still look at her like she’s grown a second head. She rolls her eyes at the lack of response, but kind of understands.

“Anyway, I know there’s a lot to unpack, but just know that everything’s fixed now. I’ll leave you two to enjoy the honeymoon you so deserve. Ladynoir for the win!” She winks.

Turning around, she takes a couple of steps, hands digged in her suit pockets, mentally counting down for Marinette to connect the dots.

3, 2, 1…

“Wait, Alix?” Marinette calls out to her friend.

“Yes, boss?” Alix smirks as she turns around.

“What do you mean, Ladynoir?” She’s frowning, eyes darting between her and Adrien.

“It's a ship name, for Ladybug and Chat Noir?" Alix asks, angelically batting her eyelids. "Oh, no, don't tell me; you guys hadn’t reached that part of your discussion yet.” She snaps her fingers and shakes her head, her grin giving away how unrepentant she is. “Well, spoiler alert, then, I guess.”

Marinette turns towards Adrien, who’s smiling sheepishly at her.

“I was just about to tell you, Bugaboo,” he says and her eyes widen in response.

"I'll leave you two to it!" Alix smiles as she walks out of the room, whistling the wedding march tune. She doesn’t need to turn around to know Adrien has probably taken his bride’s hand in his and is probably kissing her knuckles, while Marinette is on the cusp of having a meltdown.

Her job here is done.

She slides the ‘do not disturb’ panel on the door handle; something tells her they might need it. So what if the first dance is even more delayed. She’s not in charge of the day’s schedule.

But she definitely won the best present award.

24 notes · View notes

watarigarasu · 4 years

Text

October 28th – Spell Book

13 Days of Spooky Writing Event

Pairing: Thorin x Reader

Word count: 2,080

Warnings: Slight violence

Author’s note: None

Deadly silence fell upon the Company of Dwarves sitting around the campfire. In that moment, even the forest around them seemed to suddenly grow mute as the unexpected confession was made, the one nobody could predict. Every pair of curious eyes was now glued to the woman sitting with her legs crossed on the ground and nervously playing with her fingers, the intense nervousness hanging heavy in the air.

It was not the first time when the Company was interested in the newest member, one of the race of Men, so young comparing to their long lifespans yet no less motivated to help them with their mission. The task to reclaim the homeland of Erebor was of a great importance, after all, and you were taking it seriously from the very first day your roads met. The leader, Thorin Oakenshield, was apparently the only one suspicious about your so-called good will and clear intentions, never allowing himself to sleep peacefully whenever you were keeping a guard at night. During the days of the journey, he kept watching you discreetly, looking for any signs of betrayal—something which could finally give him a valuable answer for the same questions flowing through his head over and over again.

Why? Why were you trying so hard to help them? Why were you risking your life, when they promised you nothing but danger and creatures of the night creeping behind every corner? Why did you leave your home to join a band of infamous Dwarves? And how, for Mahal’s sake, were you supposed to be any way useful in that case?

For the first few weeks, you were fun to be around, you knew stories they were not familiar with and your sense of humour seemed to fit the one of Thorin’s nephews. You showed interest in Dwalin’s ways of fighting and your eyes grew huge whenever Balin was sharing one of his wisdoms. Still, when it came to any dangerous encounters, you were no more useful than the hobbit, or maybe even lesser. You grew tired way too soon, your long legs not used to wandering for so long, you could barely hold a sword and your aim was poor when it came to using a bow and arrow. The only thing Thorin considered as odd after spending a month with you among the rest of the Company was that he had never caught a glimpse of what were you so fiercely hiding in your bag, the one you carried with yourself everywhere you go.

It was a serene evening at the edge of a meadow, full of now closed flowers. The moon did not peek from behind the heavy clouds but it was not raining at least and so, Thorin considered it as a good time and place to take a rest. Tonight it was supposed to be your turn to take the watch, that is why he quickly decided to take an advantage of the loudly snoring comrades and ask you few questions face to face.

You surprised him, though, when he approached you and sat heavily by your side.

“You rarely rest, sir,” you noticed and observed the spark of puzzlement in his eyes. In the dark of the night, they seemed almost completely black, so much unlike the bright blue whenever sunlight fell upon them.

“I will rest once we reach our destination.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

The way you looked at him expectantly, and with a hint of sadness beneath the mask of daily exhaustion caused him to lick his lips, the taste of ale still present between the thick hair of his beard and moustache. You seemed to be honest and Thorin lived for long enough to be able to point at those who were trying to wrong him.

“Does that surprise you?” he answered your question with another.

“No. When I think about it, not in the slightest.” You shrugged. “I just thought I managed to prove my loyalty.”

“How so?”

“By staying there with you and helping when needed.”

Thorin shushed you with a single raise of his hand. It was much bigger than yours, apparently capable of fitting yours in completely—a perfect solution for the upcoming cool, autumn days. You quickly dismissed the thought.

“Do not get me wrong but the mere fact that you are still here does not prove anything. On the contrary.”

“Do you believe I’m a spy then?”

“I said no such thing.”

“That’s what you insinuated, sir.”

“I simply do not understand you…” He paused for a while, listening to the crickets in the grass. “Your motives, your goals. You said you wanted to help but how do you intend to do it without an ability to protect yourself? If not for Dwalin’s reflexes, you would be long dead.”

You remained silent and involuntarily squeezed the fabric of your bag, which was now resting against your leg. Suddenly, it seemed to grow heavy, just like your head, full of worries and wonders. Thorin’s words hurt you, that was true, but you could also understand him and his point of view.

If only the reality was so easy to explain.

“How do you want to prove yourself worthy, human?” His tone was authoritative and you could no longer bear the intensity of his gaze upon you.

Loud snoring did not fog your mind, the chaos of thoughts making it almost impossible to think straight. You did not have an answer for that question and you were still afraid to reveal the truth, however, you knew that you could not hide it forever. Not from the clever sight of Thorin.

Hesitantly, you reached to your bag and grabbed the hard cover of the book you were carrying but in the exact same moment when you took it out and the dim light of the fireplace fell upon it, there was a loud, ominous blowing in the horns echoing from behind your back.

Thorin quickly stood up, just like the rest of the Company was immediately rushing to grab their weapons, as if they were never asleep in the first place. Whatever kind of enemy you were going to face now, they surely outnumbered you. The book was still resting in your hand when everyone prepared for the battle and when you opened it on the page marked with a bird’s feather, you knew that it was the end of the secrets.

The group of orcs which attacked you was not as countless as you were afraid of and apparently the brave Dwarves knew how to handle them, even after being abruptly awakened. The lack of daylight did not make it easier for you to avoid the arrows and blows from the axes, just like the high grasses and roots peeking from the ground did not create a very comfortable field for a fight. This time, however, you decided not to flee nor to hide your doings from the rest of the Company members who happened to be around you in the same time and so, you quickly recalled the spells from the book to shield yourself and them if necessary.

However, when you heard Ori’s desperate cry for Thorin from afar, your focus was lost and you almost lost the balance in your legs when the orc’s axe hit the magical shield you hid under. You managed to stand your ground and used all your force to push him away, enough to give you space to run to the direction where you believed Thorin must have been, most likely fighting one of the strongest opponents, as he always did.

When you ran to the edge of the forest, you noticed him clashing swords with an enormous and particularly horrifying looking orc. They were both moving fast and aiming to kill—certainly not a place for you to interrupt. Quickly, you looked into the book to find a perfect spell, something which could stop the creature before Thorin would get seriously injured, anything which could help you save him… Whatever it takes.

Thorin fell down on his back after a heavy blow was aimed at him and the groan of pain he let out was like a bucket of cold water thrown on your head. You could no longer wait and simply watch, you had to do something right now and so, you muttered the first spell which seemed to be the most suitable in this situation—the one you have never used before.

Dark smoke fell from your fingertips and glided right above the ground to the orc who lifted his weapon ready to attack, but before he managed to swing the sword, dense fog blinded him and bound his limbs until you could no longer recognize his shape from behind the thick mist. Then, you heard a bloodcurdling shriek, the one which almost made you cower in fear of what have you just done, if not the constantly repeating thought that you had to help Thorin, that you had to save him.

Eventually, it was Thorin who stood on his legs, grabbed the sword and blindly stabbed the orc, finishing his agonizing moans with a single cut. Only then, the smoke seemed to thin and withdrew, coming back to you in a blink of an eye and disappearing in our hand, the one still held above the open spell book.

Thorin looked at you with wide open eyes and unreadable expression, the corpse of an orc motionless by his feet and bloody sword in his hand.

Sitting around the campfire, members of the Company were tending their wounds and exchanging some of the most interesting moments of the battle they have just won. Naturally, the most excited were Fíli and Kíli, bragging about how many orcs did they slaughter tonight. Thorin was silent and although his gaze was directed at the fire, you were the only one who occupied his thoughts at that moment.

“What was that?” he asked suddenly and the heroic stories quieted down, the Company looking at him first before realizing that his question was directed toward you, sitting at the opposite side of the campfire.

You were speechless, not knowing where to start and the haughty tone of his voice not making it easier for you.

“What was that?” he hissed. “For how long were you able to make this tricks?”

This time you managed to take the book out of the bag, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes upon you. You showed it to Thorin in the light of the fire; the heavy cover and engraved symbols at the front.

“Since I bought this spell book,” you confessed. “At first I didn’t know what’s what. There was a wandering merchant in my town and he offered me a low price for that book. I thought it was interesting, it seemed antique and I believed it may contain some interesting stories but apparently…”

“Apparently it was a book full of black magic spells,” Thorin finished for you and you lowered your head in shame. “How could you be so reckless?” He spat. “How could you be so near-sighed and ignorant? Do you have any idea of all the calamities you could bring upon us with that foul thing?”

You felt like a scolded child now, tears picking at the corners of your eyes. Perhaps Thorin was right, you should have never bought it, just like you should have never jeopardize the Company during their journey.

“Nevertheless…” Thorin’s voice was much more calm now, causing you to look up at him and his stoic face. To your relief, there was no signs of disgust toward you, as you previously expected. “The truth is that you saved my life and therefore I owe you.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anybody, I swear,” you added. “I know it’s black magic but I thought that maybe (even though it sounds quite stupid right now) I could use it for good purposes. To help the others. Maybe black magic is only black when the heart of the user is such but under right circumstances it can be different.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Thorin nodded. “Yet you still have to learn a lot, little witch.”

“But we are willing to help!” Kíli interrupted suddenly.

“Not as a punching bags, of course, but still,” added Fíli.

You giggled at their excitement and thought that surprisingly, purchasing the spell book was not as bad decision as you worried about.

#13daysofspookywritingevent #13 days of spooky writing event #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit

74 notes · View notes

asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ among the stars ❞ l.mk

synopsis → “Would you be willing to give me the amulet, my prince? Or will I have to rip it off you?”

word count → 6.9k

a/n → when i say i cannot believe i did this i MEAN THAT like i started this in FEBRUARY and here we are, wow! ok on a real note i’m not proofreading because, like always, it is 4 in the morning and i want to get 3 hours of sleep at the very least D: anyway i’ll rest well knowing this is done so plz enjoy!

“Do you ever get tired of looking for a treasure that could be fake for all we know? ‘Cause I sure do.”

“Quiet.”

You slouch down in your seat. “So mean, captain.”

Taeyong turns to glare at you, hoping it’ll get rid of the smirk on your face. “This mission is hard enough on its own, your commentary doesn’t make it any easier.”

You roll your eyes. “Would you rather we just sit here in complete silence ‘til we find the… gem or jewel or whatever it is?”

“It’s an amulet,” Taeyong corrects. “And yes, definitely.”

“Would you two knock it off?” says Jaehyun from the passenger’s seat.

“I say let them go at it,” Yuta murmurs, staring out the window, into the vast galaxy.

Jaehyun raises a brow. “Is watching your teammates argue amusing to you?”

Yuta shrugs. ‘We’re in the middle of space, what else is going to entertain me?”

You see Taeyong's grip on the steering wheel tighten. He was serious about this mission. His team? Not so much. The only person who seemed to back him up on everything was Jaehyun but that was given seeing how he was his second in command.

“Yuta.” Jaehyun's tone could rival a disappointed mother’s. “Could you at least try and be a little professional?”

The redhead scoffs. “There's nothing professional about this team. We’re a bunch of criminals.”

That was true. You all had bounties over your heads, a consequence for having committed countless crimes all over the galaxy. Taeyong was probably the one that was most serious about what he did, always doing things with vigor and determination, no matter how illegal it was. Jaehyun was the same way although he was a little more detail-oriented, focusing on little things rather than the big picture. He always polished Taeyong’s plans to perfection. They made a great duo and, in fact, for a while it had just been the two of them. Then they realized they needed a team to be able to execute their ambitious plans.

That’s where the rest of you came in.

They had told you they found Johnny first. That was no surprise. He was tall and muscular, impossible to miss. If Taeyong and Jaehyun were the brains, he was definitely the brawn. When they had first met, Johnny was doing nothing but getting in fights. He was always the bigger man, he always won. It seemed to give him a rush, defeating his opponent with ease. Taeyong and Jaehyun stroked his ego to no end, telling him he would be a perfect addition to the team they were forming. The praise was enough to convince him to join.

They found Yuta second but you were never told the full story. From what you had gathered, he had attempted to pickpocket Taeyong. You had no idea how that would've led to him joining the team but you found it incredibly hilarious. You assumed your relentless teasing was the reason why Taeyong wouldn’t tell you about it but it didn’t matter to you; everytime Yuta references it, you still laugh.

Lastly, there was you.

Meeting the boys was probably the most memorable thing that had happened to you. You still remember how Taeyong had wordlessly walked into the gas station—where you were working at the time—and held you at gunpoint with his face shielded only by a black ski mask. Before he could even demand you give him all the cash in the register, a dark blue haired male had rushed in. You can still remember the sequence of events like it was yesterday.

“Taeyong, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I thought I told you to stay on the ship, Jaehyun! And where’s your mask?”

Jaehyun ignores the second question. “I thought we had agreed to always form a plan before we steal something!”

Their argument is cut short by the bell on the door ringing as a tall, brunette male and a shorter bleach-blonde enter. You catch the way Taeyong sighs, “you have got to be kidding me” under his breath.

“Hey, Taeyong? Yuta and I were wondering if you could buy us some snacks.”

“Johnny and I have been on our best behavior so you owe us.”

“Jesus Christ.” Taeyong pinches the bridge of his nose over the fabric of the mask. “This is you on your best behavior? Interrupting my robbery for some snacks? The plan was I come in here, get the money, and you all thank me for being a good leader!”

“No wonder you need my help making plans, they're so unrealistic,” Jaehyun mutters.

Taeyong shoots him a glare. “Look, we’re running low on fuel, we barely even made it here. I thought if I acted fast I could just get the money and we'd be on our way.”

“Let’s just try that corner store a couple galaxies over. The guy behind the cash register is young. You think that kid will really say no to us?”

“That’s low.”

“Hasn't stopped us before.”

“I’m with Johnny. It'll be hilarious to see him pissing his pants the second Taeyong aims a gun at his head. Easy money.”

“You guys need serious help.”

“And yet you still hired us.”

“I’ll give you the money.”

Your statement ends the bickering between the four males. They stare at you in bewilderment and they’re stunned into silence as if they’re certain you’re pulling their legs. To prove yourself, you spin around and grab a brown paper bag that you usually used to put the customer’s liquor in and begin stuffing it full with all that was in the register.

You hear them whispering and mumbling but you just continue bagging the money as calmly as you would groceries. It takes only a couple seconds before the brown bag is overflowing with the pink bills that were only valid currency on the planet you were on. You wordlessly hand it to Taeyong.

He grabs it, holding it close to his chest and peering down at it, his eyes seeming to widen the longer it was in his arms. Jaehyun’s eyes darted between you and the bag like he was waiting for some sort of catch. Yuta and Johnny both cracked a smile, as if the unforeseen chain of events was comical to them.

“Happy?” you ask.

They all turn to you, the look in their eyes still skeptical but Taeyong, ever the leader, speaks for the team and gives you a nod.

“Good. Now I get to come with you.”

Johnny is the first to react, erupting into long and hard laughter. “Is that seriously what you want in return? To join a group of outlaws and run from the police?”

You give him a firm nod.

His laughter dies down. “Whatever you say. It’s your life, babe.”

You all watch as he walks out of the gas station, putting his shades on (despite it being pitch dark outside) and you’re sure he must feel like a million bucks knowing that you actually wanted to stick around them.

You turn back to the three others. Yuta grabs a handful of snacks from the shelf behind him, cradling the assortment of sweets, chips, and more. “Can I take these?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He smiles and you can't help but notice it’s healing aura. “Good to have you on the team.” He also makes way for the door.

You’re almost positive that his willingness to have you join their group came solely from you granting him permission to take the food.

Taeyong is the next to leave and he does it silently, offering you nothing but a small smile as he held the bag of money as tightly as he could and used the side of his arm to push the door open.

“Why do you want to come with us?”

You turn to Jaehyun. It was just you and him. By staying back he had once again proved to be the only one who truly thought things through.

“Believe it or not, robbing gas stations seems better than picking up another late shift for a lazy coworker on this dull planet. The thrill is a bonus.”

You catch a pair of dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Yeah, well with that thrill comes three idiots, myself excluded.”

“I’ll manage.”

“In that case, welcome to the crew.”

“It doesn’t matter that we’re criminals!” Jaehyun shouts, bringing your attention back to reality. “That doesn't mean you get to be a pain in my—”

“Hey!” All of a sudden, the door that leads into the cockpit slides open and Johnny’s head pops in. “I need a new toothbrush. Can we stop by a gas station or something?”

“Just use hers.” Yuta jabs his thumb in your direction. “Work’s for me.”

“Wait, what?” you ask, mouth agape. “You better be joking.”

He just shoots you a smile, displaying his pearly whites, as if to tease you. You whine and make a face that expresses all your disgust.

“Relax, I rinse it off when I’m done like, almost every time.”

“Almost?”

Taeyong speaks up before you can go off on Yuta. “Alright! Next stop, gas station!”

Your ship lands on a nearby planet and when you land, you can’t help but gaze out the window in awe, the luxurious ships and opulent buildings catching you off guard. Even the people that cruise down the streets—that practically shone and didn’t have a trace of litter—are draped in flashy clothing.

”We’re gonna look so out of place,” you grumble to yourself but Yuta’s ears pick up on the comment.

“Cheer up.” He points to the civilians below you. “Just think about how easy they’re gonna be to pickpocket.”

“No pickpocketing.”

A chorus of displeased groans fill the ship. You notice that even Jaehyun seems a little bummed out by Taeyong’s reprimand.

“We’re only here to get what we need. The amulet is our top priority, remember?”

Yuta unbuckles his seatbelt. “The amulet is your top priority. Mine is stealing some filthy rich dude’s fancy watch.”

“Well, just think about how much the amulet is worth. You’ll be able to have all the stupid watches in the world.”

“Yeah, once we find it.”

Johnny’s comment reminds each and every one of you of your current struggle—actually locating the amulet. It was undeniable that finding the treasure’s whereabouts had been your biggest obstacle so far. In fact, the idea of it being nonexistent had been tossed around, much to your captain’s displeasure. In fact, the only reason any of you had heard about this item was because of Taeyong.

According to his grandfather’s tales, it was so valuable that it could turn someone from rags to riches but the mystery of where it was prevented him from finding it himself. It was clear the amulet was something special to Taeyong and his dedication to attaining it was probably sparked by his grandfather’s own desire to do so and only fueled by his death.

He was always on the hunt for it, resulting in the rest of you doing the same, even if you didn’t match his vigor. You scoured the galaxies in pursuit of it but Taeyong’s determination never once faltered.

“Just get in and get out,” Jaehyun commands, siding with Taeyong, as per usual. “We’ll stay here with the ship.”

“Are you afraid someone’s gonna steal it?” Johnny teases, standing from his seat. “Because I wouldn’t worry about it.”

You snicker. “What a polite way to say it’s a hunk of junk.”

“Might I remind you that someone begged to be on this,” Taeyong makes sure to make in-air quotes, “hunk of junk.”

“She was so innocent and naive back then,” sighs Jaehyun, hand placed dramatically over his chest. “What happened?”

“You guys did. Practically drove me into insanity.”

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten there yourself,” counters Johnny.

You can’t seem to argue with that so you simply shrug. “Probably.”

“Get a move on, you guys.” Taeyong stretches his limbs out as far as they can go and then comfortably places his hands behind his head with a yawn. You had never thought about how tiring piloting the ship was for him. “We’ll be waiting.”

With that, you, Johnny, and Yuta exit the ship, receiving some of the nastiest looks you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing as soon as you step foot on the planet.

“What’s with all the staring?” you mutter as you make eye contact with a seemingly disgusted woman dressed in gold from head to toe. “You would think that with all that money they could pay for some good manners.”

Johnny agrees only mumbling, “If looks could kill.”

Yuta lets out a frustrated sigh. “All I want is something expensive. I’ll even take a ring at this point, I don’t care. How am I even supposed to get my hands on anything when everyone is too scared to get within five feet of us?”

“Guess we don’t meet their standards.”

“Having that amulet would come in handy right about now,” you comment.

Johnny snorts. “Oh. Right. The prized amulet.”

“You mean the one that only exists in grandpa’s head?”

“Say that Taeyong’s face, Yuta, I dare you.”

“No thanks. I might be stupid but I’m not an idiot. I know he’d knock me out cold.”

Johnny shakes his head. “He’s so set on finding it. I still remember the day he finally brought it up to all of us. There was this fire in his eyes. He seemed so determined that I would’ve followed him across galaxies to get the stupid thing.”

Yuta chuckles. “We all did. But it’s been, what? A year now? Seems kind of impossible at this point.”

“I wish we’d just go back to doing all the fun crimes that he and Jae would come up with when we first met. Remember those?”

You can’t help but smile at the memories, remembering the feeling of adrenaline racing through your veins as you continue listening to Johnny and Yuta talk.

“Yeah. Those were the good days. Now our lives are just a huge wild goose chase.”

“We’re here,” you announce, steering the conversation away from your misfortunes.

The three of you peer at the building before you, its windows are shiny and from the glimpse you catch of the inside, everything is stocked up and organized. The sign above it reads ‘Purveyor’ in bold letters.

“This is the closest thing they have to a gas station?” Yuta asks, mouth agape.

You nod. “I think so.”

“I don't wanna go in. Nice things scare me.”

You ignore Johnny and take the first step forward. The cashier glances up from counting money when the bell on the door rings, alerting him of your presence. He almost drops the currency when he gets a good look at you. Although, he doesn’t seem judgy. In fact, he seems more in awe with you than anything else.

You stuff your hands into your cargo pants as you awkwardly walk past him and roam the store. You hear the door open and soon enough Yuta joins you as you skim the shelves, grabbing the necessary items.

“Pick your toothbrush,” you tell him as you grab one for yourself. You had immediately gotten rid of the one you two had shared. “And please stick to it this time.”

He cracks a smile as he eyes his options. “Do they have those ones that light up? And play the songs so you know how long to brush?”

“You mean the kid ones?” You’re ready to laugh at Yuta’s joke but he seems serious enough as he nods his head, vigorously.

“Uh, well, they’re probably around here somewhere. Keep looking.” You hold back a chuckle when he goes back to searching intensely. “Which one does Johnny want?”

“Not sure, he stayed outside.”

“Oh god, he was serious about being scared?”

“Probably just wants us to do all the shopping.”

“Well, go tell him that if he doesn’t come in here and pick a toothbrush, I’ll be taking the liberty of getting him this one.” You hold up a fuschia pink one with a cute princess character on it. You assumed it was from some cartoon that was popular with the children of the planet.

Yuta obeys and seconds later, Johnny magically appears to grab a solid blue toothbrush off the shelf and give you a glare. After grabbing a couple more items, you check out. Johnny fishes into his pocket for money, mumbling about how he knew it was in there somewhere. After much digging, he pulls out a crumpled wad of cash that you’re pretty sure isn’t even valid on the planet you’re on. He smiles proudly at you and Yuta then the cashier but the expression quickly falters.

“Wong Yukhei?”

You glance between him and the man behind the register—Yukhei, according to Johnny.

“Johnny Suh!” Yukhei’s voice is loud but filled with excitement. “I thought I recognized you! But I told myself there was no way!”

Johnny laughs, breathlessly. “I could say the same thing! What are you doing here, man?”

He casts his eyes downwards. “As soon as you left with those two guys, I realized I didn’t wanna street fight for the rest of my life either. I wanted to start over and I thought, what better place than here? So, I picked up a job at the palace—”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Johnny interrupts. “You? In a palace? Never would've seen that coming.”

Yukhei grins so wide it seems like second nature. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I just worked as a guard.”

“That’s still something!”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

Your question seems to bring his spirits down once again. “I quit. They kept telling me to ‘work harder’. But it was just about impossible, I was already running around like crazy for the royal family. They’re so demanding, I swear. Only person who didn’t drive me crazy was the prince.” He sighs. “I didn’t have what it took, I guess.”

“Sorry to hear that, Yukhei,” Johnny sympathizes. “You still made an effort, though.”

He nods. “Yeah. But it doesn’t always work out. So, here I am.” He forces a weak smile. “What about you?”

“I turned things around—not for the better, though.”

Yukhei raises a brow, offering you and Yuta a glance. “I’m guessing your new friends have something to do with that.”

Yuta chuckles. “Hey, he joined the team before me or her.”

“Team?” Yukhei echoes.

Johnny nods, half heartedly. “Yeah. Long story short I basically live on a ship with four fools, commit crimes, and look for imaginary treasure.”

Yukhei looks dumbfounded but his lips curve upwards in amusement. “Sounds… fun?”

This produces a laugh from Johnny. “Sometimes.”

He leans forward on the countertop, curiously. “And what’s this treasure we’re talking about?”

“Some amulet. Our guy in charge—you’ve seen him, he’s got pink hair—is wild about finding it. We’re just along for the ride.”

Yukhei nods in understanding. “I see… and this amulet, could you describe it for me?”

Johnny shares an uncertain look with you and Yuta, obviously expecting one of you to come forward. You both return his stare.

Yukhei chuckles. “Okay, lemme ask again. Could you bring me someone who can describe it?”

Not even a minute later, Taeyong has been forcibly dragged out of the ship joined by Jaehyun who insists on filling his duty of backing up the older male.

“Yukhei, this is Taeyong. Taeyong, Yukhei. Okay, now that you’re no longer strangers, can you give our friend here a quick description of your beloved amulet?”

Taeyong is taken aback by Johnny’s strange request but does so anyway. When it came to the amulet, you all knew he would do anything. “Well, it can fit inside the palm of your hand. I’ve heard it’s gorgeous, too. So gorgeous it could be mistaken for a piece of fine jewelry.”

The five of you stay silent as Taeyong continues reciting what he had heard from his grandfather so many times. Once he’s finished, you notice that there’s a satisfied expression on Yukhei’s face.

“I think I know what you’re talking about.”

Taeyong smiles at the declaration, teeth making a bright appearance. He had never met someone other than his relative that knew of this treasure. “Are you serious?”

Yukhei nods, positively sure. “Oh yeah.”

“Do you happen to know where it is?” You can hear the hope and fear in your captain’s voice. You could even feel it. The cruciality of this moment weighs in on you; this could be a turning point in your hunt or another dead end.

“It’s on this planet.”

Your entire crew stays silent, too stunned by this new piece of information to say a word so Yukhei decides to continue.

“In the palace. Around the prince’s neck.”

This is followed by another moment of silence. Each of you celebrate internally, happy to finally have found a location. All that was left was a plan. How were you going to get it in your hands? As if he’s reading your minds, Yukhei speaks up.

“I know how to get it for you, too.”

“How?” Taeyong nearly pleads.

“Johnny?” He directs his attention to the older male. “How do you feel about becoming a palace guard?”

Johnny’s face gives away his answer before his mouth has the chance—his nose scrunches up and his eyes widen ever so slightly. Taeyong stares up at him, filled with a newly found ambition. That seems to pressure Johnny into agreeing to whatever Yukhei was scheming and Taeyong must surely know it.

“I… guess I could.”

“Alright then, go to the palace immediately. They must be desperate to find a replacement for me but they’re always open to more defense. They believe in power in numbers over there, they don’t care where you’re from or who you are. They’ll settle for anyone as long as they look like they can take and give a good punch. And, you know what Johnny? You’re the strongest guy I’ve ever met. It’s impossible that they won’t hire you.”

Johnny smiles at the compliment before asking, “What do I do once I’m inside?”

“You wait. Complete the tasks they give you. Don’t make yourself stand out. Just… don’t be suspicious.” Yukhei seems pleased with the nod of understanding Johnny gives him. “Once night falls, Johnny will wait by one of the backdoors and let somebody in using the keys they’ll give him along with his armor and sword. This will make sneaking inside the palace way easier. Once that person is in, they’ll have to steer clear of any other guards and head to the prince’s room. The amulet will be wherever he is.”

Taeyong purses his lips as he thinks of a candidate to do the sneaking. “Can’t be Yuta—”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll end up stealing stuff instead of staying focused.”

Yuta can’t seem to argue with this statement so he simply nods and keeps quiet.

“Can’t be me, I’m the getaway driver. Jae?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I stay with you. If we get found out, you’ll need defense.”

Five pairs of eyes end up on you and you sigh. “You don’t even have to say it. I got it.”

Taeyong places a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You give him a genuine smile. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get this amulet… finally.”

You file into the ship and Yukhei joins you to serve as a guide. He tells you the ins and outs of the castle and informs you of important details as you take off. You can’t help but feel your heart thump as you listen to him. You certainly did not think you would be getting anywhere near the amulet today and yet here you were—about to break into a castle for it.

When you land nearby the palace, that anxious feeling only intensifies. You know you won’t have to do anything risky until later that night but seeing Johnny getting ready to leave makes you realize that it was really happening. You were finally going after what you had spent the last year of your lives seeking. You couldn’t afford to slip up despite all the things that could go wrong.

“Nervous?” you ask, approaching the brunette.

He runs a hand through his hair and gives you an honest shrug. “Kind of. But then I think about how good life’s gonna be once we get that amulet.”

You admire his positive outlook. You decide that you’ll match his mindset instead of bringing him down with your worries. “True. We’ve been waiting for this. It’s kind of exciting when you think about it.”

He nods. “We can do it.”

You’re sure his certainty is supposed to boost your confidence as well so you reply, “I know.”

With that, he leaves the ship, walking into the bustling streets, towards the palace Lucas has described to him. Although, he assured him it’d be impossible to miss. You watch his figure become increasingly harder to track before he disappears completely, becoming just another someone in the crowd. You back away from the window with a sigh.

All that was left to do was play the waiting game. But you had been playing it for the last year, right? What would another couple hours do?

It was true what they said about sunsets being more beautiful on certain planets. You decide that this specific planet is one of them. Everyone onboard the ship takes a pause from worrying to gaze at the sky, painted with warm oranges and yellows before setting into a cool purple and blue hue. Stars begin to appear and you see the outline of three moons in the distance. Night time was near and you would be needed on the field soon. You prayed that Johnny had successfully made it inside the palace or else your mission would be over before it even started.

“You ready to go?” asks Taeyong as you retie your laces.

You glance up at him and nod, tightening a knot. “I hope so.”

He doesn’t say another word but continues to stand above you, even when you begin to work on your other boot. You suspect he’s trying to find the proper words to tell you not to ruin this for him and simultaneously boost your morale so you stay silent. When you stand from your kneeling position, Taeyong still doesn’t say a thing. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Please be careful.”

This is a command you certainly didn’t expect but you’re not disappointed at all. You carefully wrap your arms around him. “I will.”

“I want you back in one piece, got it, young lady?”

You feel your heart tighten along with the knot in your stomach but you only chuckle. “Yes, captain.”

The three others who sit in the cockpit yell encouragement your way and wave you off before you slip out of the ship, engulfed by the darkness. You had never been afraid of it. It was always more of an ally to you than something to fear. You were grateful—it shielded you away from everyone and everything else whenever you found yourself doing unsavory things which, for the record, was often.

You follow the path Yukhei instructed you to take. You had been ordered to go around the castle, through the nearby woods that would hide you away from any guards patrolling the perimeter. As you tried your best to dodge prickly shrubs and low hanging branches you can’t help but envy Johnny who simply had to knock at the front gates to be let in.

The prospect of seeing your friend again motivates you to keep walking. You might have secretly cursed the castle for being so large as you trudged along, your legs already starting to feel slightly sore and a thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead but you didn’t let yourself feel too discouraged. You remind yourself that Johnny is waiting for you on the fourth door behind the castle, as Yukhei had ordered. You had to make it to him.

For Taeyong.

For your team.

For you.

After what seems like an eternity, you reach the door. Just to be sure you scan it up and down. Wooden? Yes. Scratches on the bottom? Many. Rusty doorknob? Definitely. It seemed to match Yukhei’s description perfectly and if everything was going according to plan, Johnny should be right behind it as well. Without any further hesitation you knock as softly as possible. You don’t expect it to be audible but to your surprise, it opens almost immediately. His figure is poorly illuminated but you can still see the shine of Johnny’s metal armor and the reflection of a moon in his sword.

You give him a quick once over. “Looking good, John.”

He shushes you but you still manage to catch his smile. “Just get in here.”

You obey and he closes the door behind you as soon and quickly as possible. You barely get a chance to look around what you’re sure to be the nicest place you’ve ever been before Johnny’s ushering you towards a large set of stairs. You both rush up them and upon reaching the second floor he grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to stare directly at him.

“Go left, right, down the hall, and through the door. It’ll be the last door to your right.”

He’s referring to the location of the amulet and you nod, hoping he can’t see just how nervous you are. These directions are sacred. They were what you had been looking for.

“There’s no guards up there so just worry about getting the amulet and getting out. I’ll be here in case anyone decides to come by.”

Without further ado you dart up the stairs, the carpet on each step preventing you from making a noise. You glance down at Johnny who is posted at the bottom of the staircase. He smiles warmly over his shoulder and gives you a subtle thumbs up just as a pair of guards pass him by.

You move fast and without hesitation, your friend's words still clear in your mind. When you finally arrive in front of the door that holds the amulet you take a shaky deep breath. Your trembling hand twists the doorknob completely before pushing it open enough for you to take a peek inside.

A boy, around your age, sits cross legged on a king sized bed with satin sheets, acoustic guitar in hand. His fingers fiddle with the strings and he pushes a pair of specks farther up the bridge of his nose as he examines sheet music sprawled all over his mattress, attentively. You hear him hum to himself, tongue poking out of his lips as he concentrates on the melody. He sighs in frustration before leaning back on his headboard. He briskly runs a hand through his black locks before his fingers land on something on his neck. Your eyes widen as you catch a glint of green.

He was still wearing the amulet.

You refrain from groaning. You thought it would be on his dresser or bedside table and that finding it would only take a little rummaging. Then again, you also thought he was going to be asleep. It seemed like this guy just wanted to make things difficult for you.

You find yourself to be at a loss. You ask yourself what Taeyong would do before concluding that pondering it was useless. Obviously, Jaehyun would be right by his side as backup. You had no one but Johnny at the bottom of the stairs and you couldn’t call for him. What about Yuta? He would probably charge in, gun cocked and loaded. You couldn’t do that either.

You decide that all you can do is your best.

So, you knock. The humming ceases and you hear the bed creak. You press yourself against the wall, holding your breath as his footsteps near and the door flies further open.

“Donghyuck, I know you’re a servant but I already told you that you don’t have to knoc—”

The prince isn’t given a chance to finish before your hand is clamped firmly against his mouth. Your other hand grips his shoulder with such force that he wails in pain. You feel him struggle to escape your grip and his cries come out muffled. You push him against the door, eyes boring into his caramel brown orbs.

“Would you be willing to give me the amulet, my prince? Or will I have to rip it off you?”

Your every word is laced with venom and if anything, he should feel more threatened but you can’t help but notice that his screams have stopped. He mumbles something that you can’t understand so you part your fingers so he can get a couple words in.

“You’re a girl?”

You shut your hand over his mouth again, rolling your eyes. “Yes, I’m a girl. Problem?”

He shakes his head, furiously.

“Great. Amulet, please?”

He raises a hand to grip the string that binds the precious emerald green stone to his neck. He removes it and places it in your outstretched hand. You refuse to let the sheer excitement that blooms in you show. You needed to maintain the upper hand.

“Very good. You’re a smart thing, huh? Glad to see they taught someone around here some common sense.”

You inspect the amulet and allow yourself a smile. Just a small one. You tuck it into your pocket before turning your attention back to the prince.

“What’s your name?”

“Mark. Mark Lee.”

“Alright, Mark Lee. You’ve been very cooperative with me tonight, surprisingly so. I want you to keep it up, can you do that for me?”

He nods and you drag him towards his bed, forcing him to sit down on the edge. He gazes up at you, eyes slightly watery. You feel a pang of guilt at his fearful look but then you remember the gem in your pocket and suddenly a couple tears from Mark don’t seem like such a bad price to pay for it.

“Sit here. Don’t move until I’m gone. No screaming or calling for help either, got it?”

He nods once more. You back away from him, watching to make sure he stays still in his place. He does, eyes still following your every move.

“Okay, Mark, um. Have a good night?”

With that you all but fling yourself at the door. You run back the same way you came, containing any celebratory laughter or dances. You had the amulet. You were set for life. Your friends were, too. You’re convinced that nothing can bring you down.

“Hey! Burglar girl!”

Scratch that.

You spin on your heel and there stands Mark, charging towards you. You debate whether or not to keep running. You were so, so close. The stairs were right there. But then you catch sight of an object in his hand, one that shines even in the dark of the hallway. It’s green and hangs by a string. You pat your pocket, making sure if you really even had the amulet. You feel it, it’s with you. Then what was it that Mark had?

Against your better judgment, you wait right where you stand, allowing the boy to catch up to you. He wordlessly holds the second amulet up for you to take. You grab it, Mark having seemingly no problem with that.

“That’s… a decoy,” he pants, pointing to your pocket, doubled over as he inhales air.

You feel yourself become even more confused than before and this time you have no control over your facial expressions. Your eyebrows furrow and you hold the real amulet close to your face, staring at it carefully with uncertainty. All you can ask is, “why are you doing this?”

By this point Mark’s caught his breath and he stands up straight. “I wanted you to have the real one. I mean, you went through all this effort, right?”

“I don’t buy that. What are you gonna do? Turn me in? Is this a trap?”

Before you can speculate any further, Mark entraps your wrist with his hand. You kick yourself for even stopping in the first place. If you had made a run for it, at least you could go back to Johnny and Taeyong and the rest of your friends even if the amulet you held was fake. Now you were going to get consequences, for sure. You prepare for him to call out for someone but he never does.

“I want to go with you.”

You’re sure your ears are deceiving you so you don’t even bother responding and for a moment there’s just silence. He clears his throat.

“Did you hear me?”

“Oh, so you really did say that, huh?”

“Um, yes, I did.”

You shake your head. “Sorry, I’m just in a shock, I’m sure you can understand.”

He nods and releases his grip on you. “Yeah, this must be pretty confusing but I promise I’m being serious. Royal life is not something I’m cut out for and running away with a pretty stranger seems like my best bet right now.”

You blink a couple times. “Wow. So, this is how Jaehyun felt that one time.”

Mark tilts his head. “What?”

“Nothing. Let’s just go. But only if you’re sure about this.”

“I’m positive.”

“Alright then.” You begin to go down the stairs before you pause and look back at Mark and the amulet in his hand. “That is real, right?”

He can’t help but give you a lopsided smile. “Yes, it is.”

“Just making sure.”

BONUS:

Taeyong is a loss for words as his eyes dart between you and the dark haired boy besides you. Jaehyun matches his confusion, arms crossed over his chest. Yukhei seems equally amused and worried, glancing at Mark, tentatively. Yuta smiles wickedly, interested with how things have gone and surely excited to see you attempt to explain yourself.

“Um, Johnny?” Taeyong says, hoping the oldest one onboard will have some kind of explanation.

He shrugs, a tired expression on his face. “I have no idea. The kid was set on coming, I wasn’t gonna say no. I just wanted to get out of there.”

Taeyong nods, staring at Mark, intensely. “Uh-huh. And you’re here because?” He leaves the question open-ended and Mark rubs the back of his neck, giving you a lingering look.

“Well, she kind of just appeared in my room and started bossing me around and like, I freaked but it was also the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years so I didn’t want to lose her so I gave her the amulet—the real one, by the way—and told her I wanted to come along. Now I’m here in front of you all and I’m kind of uncomfortable, I won’t lie—”

“You got the amulet?”

You’re grateful for Taeyong’s interruption; you’re sure that without it, Mark would rant the entire night.

You shake your head. “He has it, actually.”

Mark steps forward and places it around Taeyong’s neck without a second thought. On the way back, you had briefly explained to him how long he had been looking for it and how much it meant to him. Mark found his dedication incredible and seemed even excited to give Taeyong his long-awaited prize.

Taeyong’s hands delicately trace the outline of the accessory and you swear he tears up.

“I’m glad it’s yours now,” Mark comments. “Even if you do sell it. It just sat around back at the palace, another ridiculously expensive thing nobody really cared about.”

Taeyong nods with a sniffle, overcome with emotion. Jaehyun reaches over to rub his back. Yuta begins to clap slowly but you nudge him and he knocks it off. You hear Johnny thank Yukhei for his help, to which he only shakes his head, humbly.

You lock eyes with Mark and he glances around the ship, looking suddenly nervous. You smile at his antics, motioning for him to come closer. He slowly obeys and you extend your hand towards him. He stares down at it, hesitantly.

“I don’t bite,” you promise. “I just want to start over. I don’t think I made the best first impression.”

He grips your hand back with a chuckle. “I beg to differ. I know you were trying to rob me and everything but you still seemed nice enough. That’s stupid to say about the person who had me pressed against a wall like, half an hour ago but to be honest, I was fine with it. It was kinda hot—”

A chorus of too loud to be real coughs fill the ship and the culprits are none other than your crewmates. They all eye Mark, as if to give him a warning. Even Yukhei gives him a nasty look.

“Um, so, anyway, thanks. For getting me out of there. Might not seem like it but it really sucked.”

You understand him completely, having been in a similar situation yourself. “No problem. Glad to have you around.”

The sudden sound of sirens prevent you from saying anything else. They’re incredibly loud and you press your hands over your ears to try and shield yourself from the horrendous noise. To add to the commotion, a couple cop ships speed by in the near distance.

“The sirens are from the palace!” Mark exclaims. “They’re probably looking for me!”

“So are the cops!” you respond.

You laugh at the way his face drops with worry. Being on the cops’ bad side was still foreign to him. You place a reassuring hand on his back.

“Don’t worry! You’ll get used to it!”

238 notes · View notes

sondepoch · 4 years

Text

Rebellion

All Hail (Diavolo x Reader)

The current ruling class is brutal. Draconian. Tyrannical. Every demon who has sat the throne for the past ninety thousand years has brought nothing but hardship to the Devildom—something Diavolo and his father intend to remedy by seizing power as leaders of the Resistance. When Diavolo happens to come across the princess of the Devildom, he’s overjoyed. He sees you as an opportunity, a sign from a higher power that his cause is just; and he plans to use you as a pawn in his Rebellion. But life rarely goes as planned, especially in Hell. And when Diavolo realizes that he’s falling in love with you, things suddenly feel a lot more complicated than they used to be.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | ✔

MASTERLIST

You don't know that your life is going to end.

But from the moment you wake up, you know that something is wrong.

Call it a hunch, call it a guess. But as your two maids pull you out of bed to bathe and dress you, you're positive that something is off. That something is strange. That today is different, and not in a good way.

"Do you hear that sound?" You ask the maid tying your hair, closing your eyes as she works. There's a low hum that envelopes your hearing, like a swarm of bees that won't stop buzzing right outside your room.

Your maid pauses, halting her shuffling to focus on the silence, searching for any sounds that block it out.

The brief quietness that wraps around your room is a final moment of peace.

Then your door has been kicked open, revealing your knight standing in full armor, his helm donned and his sword unsheathed, and you bid farewell to tranquility—not knowing that it will be the last moments of serenity you will ever have.

"Sire!" You exclaim, turning around in shock. You open your mouth to reprimand him, to remind him that even if he is your knight of honor, he cannot barge into your chambers at random like this.

Before you can say a word, though, he's begun speaking. And once the words begin to start pouring out of his mouth, it's like they won't stop.

"Escape—we have to escape! Rebels have seized the west and central wings—we must leave! Now! They've scattered our forces, but a few of us remain in this section of the palace! I've ordered all the men within my unit to set up a defense by all the secret exits, but we must leave now, otherwise—"

Your mind goes blank. His words carry such weight that you can hardly process them.

Rebels? Your eyes widen. And they're in the palace?

"Sire, what about my—"

"Your parents have barricaded in the central wing. Their status remains unconfirmed."

Beneath his helm, your knight's lips are set in a thin line, the demon already making swift strides to wrap his fingers around your arm and yank you out of your seat.

"What are you two waiting for?" He practically shouts at your maids when the two of you are nearly out of your room. "Hurry!"

The urgency in his voice stirs you to action, and within seconds, the four of you have begun sprinting down the empty hall, the only sounds around you being that incessant hum from somewhere outside and the clattering of boots and heels as you collectively begin to escape.

"Sire—" You blurt, using one hand to bunch your dress up. "How—how did this happen? Or—or when? The rebels—it should have been impossible for them to sneak inside. Why weren't the knights guarding the palace?"

"The knights were guarding the palace," The demon responds grimly, jerking your elbow closer to him as he makes a turn, glancing back to confirm that your maids are still hot on your heels. "The rebels managed to enter the palace from inside. They must have had assistance from someone within the palace."

"Who would…"

Who would betray your parents? They've done more than enough to ensure that every civilian, palace worker, and knight in the nine circles of hell is terrified to the core of them and their power. You're not surprised that a rebel faction rose up—but the fact that they were able to get help from within the palace is confusing in more ways than one.

"I don't know, princess." Your knight glances at your with sympathetic eyes, pity laced into the irises you've grown so familiar with. "I am sorry."

"Do not be," You respond curtly, bunching the fabric of your dress tighter in your fist as you run. "There is nothing you could have done."

"Perhaps," The knight muses. "But there are things I can still do now—and it is my mission to see you to safety, princess."

The demon grins at you, flashing you the same broad, charming grin that you've grown used to seeing in these past few months. And for a moment, everything seems like it will be alright. Yes, the palace is currently being infiltrated by rebels and yes, you have no clue whether the rest of your family is safe or not. But as you remember this knight's pledge of honor to you, you know that as long as he is by your side, you're safe.

The thought would make you smile, if not for the fact that seconds later, the four of you turn the corner and run straight into rebels.

Your knight reacts before you do, fingers tensing around your arm with bruising force as he yanks you backward, placing your body behind him. He stands in front of you like a shield, his longsword drawn in his hand within seconds.

Your maids aren't so lucky.

They stop themselves from their sprint only when it's too late, their bodies staggering forward clumsily as they spot the rebels a moment after you.

A moment too long.

You reach a hand out to grab for them, but the knight holds you back, and their names leave your lips in a strangled gasp.

The rebels kill them so quickly, your maids don't even have time to scream before their bodies are falling to the floor, limp and bloodied.

"What—wait—" Your eyes widen with horror, and the knight tries to pull you behind him once more in an attempt to shield you from the sight; but you can't take your eyes off the women who have been with you from childhood. "You monsters!" You seethe, hot tears forming in your eyes as you glare at one of the rebel demons. "I would have—I would have given myself up in exchange for their lives—but—but—"

"We do not need you to give yourself up to us," A voice rings out, interrupting you smoothly.

Your eyes widen.

You know that voice. You've heard that voice. You've spoken with that voice.

"Try to escape as much as you wish, but your life will be in our hands before the day's end." Footsteps click against the stone floors, and a figure emerges in front of the band of rebels. A figure you recognize. "After all," The demon laughs, his tone just as cruel as you remember it. "The last time we met, you told me you wished that vengeance would be delivered to my enemy."

Green eyes meet yours, staring coldly down at you.

"And you, my princess, are the enemy of the people."

The teal-haired demon walks closer, a hand raised to signify that the other rebels ought to not attack. The yet is implied.

"You—you—" You shudder as he approaches, a rage engulfing your senses. "You bastard," You seethe, ignoring the fact that your language is wholly inappropriate for a lady of your standing. "You lied to me! You told me you were a—a—a butler! How does it feel, Sir? To know that you had to lie your way to where you're standing right now?"

The demon chuckles, but the sound is devoid of mirth. No, the laughter that rings forth is nothing but cruel, abrasive to the ear. "I did not lie to you, princess." The demon grins. "I am a butler, after all. I merely...left some details out."

The butler takes two more steps forward, but just as he's about to draw even nearer, your knight raises his longsword, pointing it straight at the demon's chest.

"Not a step closer," He warns, the edge in his voice more threatening than the glint of steel between his fingers.

"Of course," The butler says courteously, nodding his head.

He drops the hand that had been raised, the hand which had been signaling for the other rebels to remain on standby.

They attack the second his hand falls.

Your knight is prepared for them when they come, battling off the six swords with his own as you and the butler merely watch.

"I can fight," You try to explain when the knight pushes you back, never loosening his grip on your arm as he forces you behind him while single-handedly clashing his steel against the rebels'.

"You have no weapon," The knight hisses in response, smoothly disarming one knight. He pierces the demon's heart with his sword, the sound of his flesh tearing open making you flinch. The man cries in response, giving a shuddering gasp which chills you to the core, but your knight has no time to waste with him while five others are still active on the assault, and within moments, his longsword is withdrawn from the demon's body and is back to clinging against his opponents'.

You grit your teeth, hating how the only thing you can do is keep your footsteps in line with the knight's so that you don't trip him, knowing that you'll do nothing but worry him if you try to fight. But still, you keep a fist raised, entirely prepared to jump into the battle if you see your knight being overpowered.

"Impressive," The butler calls out when your knight slices the head off one demon and knocks another unconscious, turning the match into a three-on-one. "Have you ever thought about joining forces with the Resistance, young knight? Your strength may have gone unappreciated under the past tyrant rulers, but the new king will reward you well for your loyalty."

"I am loyal to my princess," Your knight spits in response, punctuating the sentence by killing another rebel and making a swipe for the butler. The green-eyed demon merely steps out of its way. "Your rebel faction means nothing to me."

The knight darts back, and you scamper out of his way so that he doesn't bump into you when he evades a hit from a heavy battle-ax, but the momentum of the movement was too much for the demon who attacked, and in the brief seconds where he is struggling to lift the weapon back off the ground, your knight has already darted in and delivered the fatal wound.

When the battle turns into a one-on-one, there's no question of the winner anymore.

You feel your heart begin to steady when the knight slays the last of the attacking rebels, the adrenaline of fearing for your life wearing off the moment you're no longer in immediate danger.

Yet the butler remains.

Your knight raises his longsword, circling around the demon cautiously, holding you behind his back the whole time as if he's waiting for the man to attack.

But the butler does nothing, maintaining his eerily calm smile as you both cross him in the hall.

Your knight takes a step back, still holding his longsword up. Then another. And another. He takes one more, and then his grip around your arm is even stronger, and the two of you are sprinting down the hall once more, leaving the butler behind as you run.

"That vile man was standing in front of one of the only secret exits in the east wing," Your knight grunts in explanation, gritting his teeth. "We'll have to go around the palace if we want to—"

"Wait!" You interrupt, something more important crossing your mind. You tug the demon backward. "My maids! Their bodies—we have to take them with us so we can give them a proper—"

"No one will be getting any burials today, princess." Your knight's expression darkens as he turns the corner. "Your maids aren't the only ones who ran into those rebels."

For a moment, the two of you pause in your sprint to study the hall in front of you. It's nearly a replica of the scene in your dream: a perfect picture of death. Bodies line the floor, their blood layering out a carpet of red over the stone. Arms are bent at awkward angles, legs are missing, and the entrails of a certain demon have spilled out next to him. Every demon who has died here has died so brutally that there will be no peace for them in the afterlife, their bodies mutilated beyond the point of return.

But for a second, it feels like every pair of dead, open eyes is staring straight at you.

You don't have any time to contemplate the notion, because before you can blink, your knight is tugging you through the sea of bodies without a care in the world.

You try not to cringe as you hear the squelching sound that the corpses make when the two of you trample over them. It takes all your efforts to keep your eyes up and not look down, not stare at the thing that your heel is sinking into which makes such a pitiful sound.

"Princess…" You hear someone breathe from behind you, inches from death but still seeking you out, but your knight has pulled you forward before you can even look back, telling you to keep your eyes off the ground.

You feel sick.

The feeling never leaves you, not when you and the knight start up a sprint once more and not when the ground is finally its usual grey color, with only the occasional palace worker brutalized every couple hundred feet. The queasiness stays with you all the way until you're nearly out of the east wing, after your knight has fought off another handful of rebels and when the two of you are close to another secret exit.

But you make the mistake of glancing inside a familiar room.

And then it's another feeling that's overwhelming your senses, and the nausea at seeing so many mutilated bodies fades when another sight enters your vision.

"Wait," You mumble, instantly slowing down.

"Princess?" The knight in front of you calls, tugging your arm. "We have to go, we don't have time to—"

"No!" You blurt, tugging the knight backward, going back to the room you just saw. It had to be your imagination, right? Could it be true?

Your knight protests the whole time as you practically drag him back to the throne room, squinting to see whether it was just a trick of the light or whether you actually saw what you think you did.

And sure enough, you were right the first time.

Red hair.

Your eyes soften, a familiar warmth settling inside your heart.

Amber eyes.

A careless smile breaks out on your face: the smile of a fool in love.

"Diavolo!" You practically sing as you step forward into the throne room, the knight behind you flinching when he sees that you've willingly entered into the same room as someone who certainly isn't a palace worker.

The redhead makes no motion to respond to you, his expression unreadable as you draw close.

"You're here," You say with so much love that it hurts, every inch of your body overwhelmed with the fact that your lover somehow managed to make it here to protect you.

It doesn't strike you as odd that Diavolo is sitting on your throne.

"We're saved," You whisper to the knight next to you. You can feel him instinctively relax when he sees the utterly relieved expression on your face, but the arm that grips you remains tense. "This is the man I told you about. The man I want to marry."

You turn away from your knight, addressing your lover.

A beaming smile lights up your face.

"You're here to save us, aren't you?" You ask, ready to cry tears of joy. You were so scared, so terrified that you were actually going to die. But Diavolo pulled through. He came here for you. To help you. To protect you.

To save you.

Something flashes in Diavolo's eyes. An unfamiliar emotion. It looks like guilt, but surely you misread it? He should be proud. He made it here on time. You're going to be okay, now.

And it's all thanks to Diavolo.

"Princess…" Your knight mumbles into your ear after Diavolo has been silent for a moment too long. "This is the man you have been leaving the palace to see?"

You nod, smiling sweetly.

Your knight stares down at you, eyes softening. A strange emotion swirls in his eyes as he sees the utterly trusting expression you regard your lover with, but you don't bother commenting on it as you continue to attempt escaping his tight grip around your arm so you can go forward and embrace Diavolo.

When the demon next speaks, you're confused.

"Princess, get behind me."

Your knight raises his sword to Diavolo, his eyes narrowed in pure hatred as he looks upon the man who sits on your throne.

"What? Sire, what are you doing? Diavolo isn't the enemy, he's—"

"Get behind me," Your knight repeats with such venom in his voice that you turn to Diavolo, expecting the man to say something—but your lover doesn't look at you. He keeps his gaze focused solely on the knight, lifting his own sword when he sees the demon draw close.

"W-wait," You blurt the second you see your knight move forward, beginning to circle Diavolo. "S-Sire, what are you doing? D-Diavolo, don't fight him—I know I never told you about who I really am, but—but—but this knight is on our side, and—"

"Princess," Your knight cuts you off, his expression fixed on Diavolo.

You don't respond to his word, too preoccupied with the sight of the two demons you trust most being poised to fight, both stanced for a duel which looks like it will end in death.

"This man..." Your knight glares, closing one eye as he raises his longsword.

"...Has lied to you."

Steel crosses with steel.

Your eyebrows furrow the moment the demons move, the moment you see how precise their swings are—and you dart forward, trying to step between their weapons until the knight pushes you away, practically shoving you behind him.

"Sire—Sire, stop! I am commanding you to stop! This is a misunderstanding, this is—"

"No, princess," Your knight scowls, dodging swiftly before thrusting his sword at Diavolo's stomach, though the redhead evades easily. "You have misunderstood."

"What are you…"

You flinch when the sound of metal clanging fills your ears, stepping back.

"This man has lied to you, princess." Your knight begins advancing, and the fury in his words is emphasized by every movement of the blade between his hands. "Who do you think he is? A farmer? A commoner? A merchant?" Your knight glares. "He is among the rebels. No, he must be their leader."

"What…?" You turn your eyes upon Diavolo, waiting for him to deny it. Waiting for him to step back and furrow his eyebrows cutely like he does whenever he doesn't know what you're talking about. Waiting for him to say something to prove your knight wrong, and prove that this is all just a big misunderstanding.

But he says nothing, only continuing to retreat as your knight's attacks grow more frenzied.

"How did it feel?" Your knight hisses, no longer addressing you but now solely focused on Diavolo. "Leading the princess on, tricking her into loving you, toying with her heart so that you could sit on her throne?"

Your knight swings his longsword with such strength that if Diavolo hadn't ducked, his torso would have been cut clean off.

"Diavolo," You whisper, hesitantly turning to him. He ignores you, but you see the way the muscles twitch in his neck when you speak. "Diavolo, please. Tell me...tell me it isn't true."

But for the first time, the demon you've come to love ignores you.

"Close the door, Barbatos," He commands. You nearly flinch at the inflection of his voice, because never before have you ever seen him speak with such authority—but then another thought breaks into your mind, and you shudder because he isn't just asking to have the door closed. He's asking to make it so that no one can disturb you.

Diavolo wants to kill your knight without any interruptions.

"Wait!" You shout, spinning around, hoping that the rebel behind you will be someone you can plead with. But when you glance back, the eyes that greet you are cold. Callous. Cruel.

Green.

You shiver as the butler from before smiles eerily at you, closing the door with a bang which seems to echo through the room, momentarily overpowering even the sounds of swordfighting from behind you.

How did he get here so fast?

Another chill crawls down your spine as his empty, olive eyes peel back at your soul, and you turn around just to avoid the sight of him.

Of course, the two men fighting behind you are hardly easier to watch.

Your knight is completely unhinged, now. He throws insults left and right at Diavolo, using his sword to rain down attacks that come just as hard as his words, but your lover says nothing, solely preoccupied with pushing back.

"Vile." He seethes. "Wicked—you are pathetic. Your rebellion is unjust. The princess is a better ruler than you can ever hope to be." Your knight spits at Diavolo's feet. "You have no honor. A decent man would have at least charged the gates headfirst, rather than sneaking in from the inside like a coward—"

Your eyes widen in horror.

"Wait," You mumble, falling to your knees. "I—no—it can't—"

"Princess?" Your knight asks, pausing in his insults for the first time when he sees the way you practically crumple to the floor. His gaze shifts back and forth between you and Diavolo, desperately avoiding his opponent's attacks but unwilling to leave you be. "What is—" He grunts, ducking. "What is wrong?"

You take a shaky breath to steady yourself, tears filling your eyes.

But the guilt is overwhelming.

"I gave Diavolo entry to the Temple of the Grim Reaper, Sire." The knight's eyes widen at your words. "I let the rebels into the palace."

Your shoulders slump in shame as you realize the weight of your blunder. The fact that you single-handedly doomed every single person in this palace. That all those mutilated corpses outside are your doing, because if you had never given Diavolo free reign of the holy temple, he never found his way into the palace through the secret passage, and this rebel faction would have had no leverage.

It's your fault.

Your knight gazes at you in sympathy for a moment, his eyes taking on a softer shade as he doubtlessly tries to come up with something to say that will comfort you.

And then the weight of your burden abruptly increases, because that single second of hesitation is all Diavolo needs to deliver a deadly blow, and your knight drops to the ground.

"No!" You scream, scrambling forward. You don't care how pathetic you look, you don't care how unladylike you're being. You have enough death on your hands—you can't take any more. "No," You mumble, cradling your knight's head in your lap as Diavolo gazes down at you with unreadable eyes.

"I can…" Your knight trails off, glancing down at where Diavolo has sliced into his skin.

A single glance is all it takes to know that the wound is fatal.

"I can...fight…" He grunts, using the last of his strength to push you away, away from him and away from Diavolo, stabbing his sword into the ground to use it to crawl to his feet.

Diavolo makes no motion to stop him.

You glance around the room, desperately searching for a weapon—but your throne room has been stripped of its furnishings. There lies not even a rock you can throw to intervene with the fight, and you know better than to go against an opponent who has a sword without one of your own.

You cringe as the sound of metal meeting flesh fills your ears, already knowing that Diavolo isn't the one who was just injured.

"Cease this," You breathe shakily. "Diavolo, I will give myself to you, but please just spare—"

"I thought I told you we didn't need you to give yourself up?" A voice asks, sharp and irritated. The butler—Barbatos, as Diavolo called him—approaches you from behind, taking advantage of the fact that you're practically paralyzed in fear to stand right next to you. "Watch, princess. Diavolo is not the person who will kill this knight. It will be you."

You regard the demon's words with confusion. Confusion and horror, another shudder running up your spine when you feel how close Barbatos is to you; but then the weight of his words hits you, and you realize their meaning.

"I will not..." Your knight spits blood. It hardly does anything, given that he is now covered in red, but he does it all the same. "...stand down." He glances back at you, and his gaze is nearly as terrifying as Barbatos's, utterly horrifying to look at because of how his face is littered with cuts and he's drenched in blood—but you refuse to let yourself turn away. "I swore to you that as long as my blood runs warm," He trembles, taking a staggering step as he raises his sword. "Then...you shall be protected."

Diavolo strikes, clanging the sword out of his hand. It falls to the floor, too far for the knight to pick it back up.

"So, I must...I have to...survive...if not for my own sake...then for yours, princess…"

Your knight raises a fist, a final act of defiance that he knows is futile, but it's the only option he has left. You cringe internally, waiting for Diavolo to strike him down, to kill the final shield that guards your life—but the redhead is unmoving as your knight's gloved fist comes crashing down against his cheek, the punch falling upon his face without an ounce of resistance.

Isn't it sick that even now, you feel a twinge of sympathy for Diavolo?

You watch as your knight remains standing for a beat longer, raising a second fist to strike him again.

But one free punch is all Diavolo was willing to give him, and when your lover's sword cuts open your knight's neck, the demon doesn't even scream before he crumbles to the floor, dead as the bodies outside.

You don't look at Diavolo when he enters the room.

Your gaze is fixated on the floor, on a speck of dirt that you want to flick away but can't because of the way your wrists have been handcuffed to the ground.

"Leave us."

You raise your eyes, sneaking a peek at the two demons who stand behind Diavolo. One of them is Barbatos, but that's hardly surprising, given that out of all the rebels you'd crossed when you were dragged to this room in chains, Barbatos is the only one who never left Diavolo's side.

You squint in the darkness, lowering your head to get a better sight of the other demon, noting that something about him seems awfully familiar. Raising your head, you try to catch a glimpse of the demon's eyes and—

Oh.

It's the Victor.

Fighting for Diavolo's Rebellion, doubtlessly brought here by the redhead's victory last night.

The very thought fills you with anger.

"I trained you," You croak, the chains rattling from behind you when you and Diavolo are alone. "I trained you, and I fed you, and I healed you, and now you're turning that against me?"

Bitterness drips from your voice like blood off the sword hanging on Diavolo's side.

"I was good to you. I taught you, and I protected you, and I loved you—"

Your words are growing louder now, hysteria sinking into your voice as you fight back the tears.

"I loved you, and I kissed you, and I slept with you—" Your words break off, the tears now freely pouring down your face. You heave in a breath, but the cold air stings your lungs. "How could you, Diavolo? I thought—"

You choke back a sob.

"I thought you loved me."

You close your eyes, dropping your head to the ground so that Diavolo can't see the tears as they stream down your face.

The last thing you expect is for him to drop to his knees and wrap you in a hug.

"Don't touch me," You hiss, but you can't bring yourself to pull away from his arms.

"I'm sorry," He breathes into your ear, and it feels less like he's hugging you and more like he's clinging to you, desperate to hold on to your figure while he still can. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't forgive killing my people," You retort, memories of every person who has died today flashing through your mind. "You and your rebels slaughtered my men. My women. My palace workers. My knights."

"Everyone was given the opportunity to come to our cause," Diavolo responds. "The ones who had been brainwashed by your parents stayed, but over ninety percent of the palace forces have joined the Resistance, and—"

"Brainwashed?" The word falls from your lips like it's poison, and you glare at Diavolo. "My parents never brainwashed—"

"Can you truly say that?" Diavolo asks, his voice sharp. The amber eyes you've grown to love are impossibly clear as they stare you down, and the raw confidence of his voice makes you hesitate.

Can you truly say that your family hasn't brainwashed their most loyal supporters? It certainly wouldn't be unusual, given all their other transgressions against the people. But still…

"I wouldn't have brainwashed anyone," You whisper.

"It doesn't matter what you would have done," Diavolo responds, reaching a hand to card through your hair. The gesture is so familiar and loving that you can't help but relax, despite the situation. Diavolo's next words are a stark reminder of the truth. "What matters is your parents. What they have already done. Their crimes against the people, and what the people are now going to do in retaliation."

You lower your head.

"You can't deny that your parents have been awful to the masses. It's not an opinion. Their tyranny is a fact. A rebellion was inevitable—the only people who have neglected to join the Resistance did so out of fear, and even they have turned to our side now that the fated day has come."

"But I was going to free everyone," You whisper. "I was going to change everything when my parents handed over the throne. Everything, Diavolo. I was going to give the people what they wanted."

The demon remains silent.

"If you—" You swallow, a surge of hope washing through your senses. "If you want to be king, Diavolo, I can make it happen. I know you're noble—your rebellion proves that. But—but if you truly loved me, then…"

You let your voice fade to a whisper, not bothering to finish a sentence that Diavolo already knows the answer to.

"I already told you that I want nothing more than to marry you," Diavolo whispers. "It would make me happier than anything in the world. But your life...cannot be spared."

"And why not?" You retort, passion burning in your eyes as you look up. The chains clatter against your wrist as you struggle forward, but you force yourself to twist your body into a position that enables you to look your lover in the eye. "I will be a good ruler. I know that. You know that."

"You will be a good ruler," Diavolo agrees. "But the people will forever live in fear under you."

You open your mouth to argue, but the redhead is speaking before you can.

"You are the daughter of the emperor and empress who killed millions. It wasn't just your parents who sucked the Devildom dry—it's been every single ruler in your family. Not only do the people not trust you, they can't trust you. You represent everyone that they have suffered abuse under, everything that—"

"But I'm not!" You argue, jerking your body forward. "I'm good! I was—I was going to take the throne, and I was going to change things! I was—I was—" Another wave of tears springs to your eyes, but this time you don't bother holding them back. "I was going to marry you, Diavolo. I was going to marry a commoner and break every precedent my ancestors have set! I was going to make the Devildom happy, and—and—"

You choke off to get ahold of yourself, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

"I wanted to marry you. I want to marry you." You jerk your wrist from its chains, trying to reach up to caress Diavolo's face, but the shackles hold you back. "We could still get married," You whisper. "Just like you wanted to, yesterday—we could get married, and we could change the Devildom for eternity."

You lean your head forward, trying desperately to get him to see how genuine you are.

But the look in Diavolo's eyes is tinged with pity.

His mind is already made up.

"All you had to do was wait," You whisper. "Just a few more months, until the first snow came, and then you would have seen me rise to the throne. Everything would have changed. People would have been happy."

Diavolo remains quiet for a moment longer, but when he processes your words, a strange light settles in his eyes.

"The first...snow?" He mumbles, confused.

"Yes," You mumble, eyes downcast. "If you could have waited just a few more months, I was going to inherit the throne."

Diavolo studies you, amber eyes blurred in confusion. The look turns to skepticism, then confusion once more, until the oranges light up with understanding—before his expression darkens.

"Your parents were going to give you the throne."

You nod.

"On the first snow of this year."

Another nod.

Diavolo stares at you blankly, and then his expression twists into a grimace as he pulls away from you, abruptly leaning back.

"They knew," He mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. "They knew that Rebellion was coming."

"What?" You try to weasel your way forward and see the look on Diavolo's face, but the darkness of the room makes it impossible. "Why would they stay in the palace if they knew—"

"They didn't."

Diavolo glares at the floor, his hand tensing into a fist.

"When we infiltrated the central wing, your parents were already dead." Diavolo drops his head. "It was a double suicide. Poison. They knew we were coming."

"What?" You ask. "No. No way. They wouldn't—they wouldn't kill themselves. Or—or if they did, they—they would have told me, so that—"

"So that what?" Diavolo snaps. "There's nowhere in the Devildom that is safe for any of you. No matter where you go, the masses will follow. You'll be lucky if you can get a quick death, but the public has been oppressed for too long to give any of you an easy out. It would be hell for any of you if you tried to escape. Death was the only way."

"You don't mean…"

Diavolo nods his head, the pitying look in his eyes returning.

"Your parents never planned for you to become Empress." The demon stares at his hands. "They probably just...wanted you to be a bit happier in your final months in the Devildom."

You jerk back abruptly, practically kicking Diavolo away until your back is flush against the wall you're chained to, trying to distance yourself from the demon, yourself from his words, yourself from the truth that is spilling out of his mouth.

"You're wrong," You whisper, closing your eyes. "My parents love me. They wouldn't lie to me. They—I was going to be Empress. They were going to make me Empress."

"We are demons of hell," Diavolo mumbles. "Demons of flame, demons of fire. Summer is our season. We celebrate the heat, not the cold." His eyes raise. "Tell me, have you ever heard of royalty being sworn in during the winter?"

"No," You say. "But I was going to be the first—"

"No," Diavolo cuts you off. "You were never going to be Empress."

You lean back, numb as Diavolo continues to stare at the ground, neither of you willing to move. The moment is delicate. So infinitely precious, as if a single word will shatter the silence. The tears that have been streaming down your cheeks finally stop, their tracks feeling cold as they dry on your face.

Neither of you seems to breathe.

"I came…" Diavolo coughs, clearing his voice when he realizes how shaky his words sound. "I came to fetch you." He refuses to meet your eyes. "The Resistance has full control of the palace, and all the remaining workers and knights have turned over to our side."

A weak laugh escapes from your lips.

The rebels won control of the palace the moment your parents committed suicide. With no hailing Emperor or Empress to bow to, the illusion of fear that had chained all the royal subjects to the palace dissipated. It's hardly any wonder that this rebellion has finished as quickly as it began.

"You're going to kill me," You mumble, almost feeling delirious. "No, no wait—I bet you're going to get rid of my soul as well, aren't you?"

The way Diavolo doesn't respond is an answer in itself.

You try not to think about the excruciating pain that accompanies the death of one's soul, forcing yourself away from a visualization of the agony you're about to go through.

"Your death will mark the beginning of a new era," Diavolo whispers. "The people will be happy. They will be free. Magic will be practiced on the streets, and the Devildom will finally ring with the sound of laughter once more."

"Yeah," You respond, already beginning to imagine it. "But did it ever occur to you that I wanted to see that future?"

Diavolo doesn't have anything to say to that. He remains silent for a long time, probably sorting out his guilt upon everything he's done to you and everything he's about to do to you, but you don't bother comforting him when you see how his eyes shine with regret.

In the end, he never responds to you.

The demon leans forward, reaching over your shoulder in a way that almost makes you think he's going to kiss you, but then you hear the sound of a lock, and the iron pipe that had bound your chains to the wall is dislodged, and you're somewhat free.

You jerk your wrists forward, momentarily considering an attack. But you know you're overpowered, with your ankles shackled to each other and your wrists bound behind your back.

You regret having ever trained Diavolo.

You want to regret having ever loved the man.

"Let's go," He mumbles, standing to his feet while he waits for you to do the same. He doesn't offer a hand to help you up, and you're grateful. You're not sure that you'd be able to take his help right now, not when he's about to kill you.

Neither of you looks at each other.

The walk through the palace is quick. Quicker than you'd like. You know these halls well, but it feels like Diavolo has truly studied them, because the path he leads you through is rigid.

You almost wish you could have had more time to appreciate the walk.

"I do love you," Diavolo mumbles when the two of you are in the hall that leads straight into the main entrance. You peek over his shoulder and see an array of unfamiliar faces, but you already know who they are.

The Resistance.

"If you had said yes to me yesterday, I really would have run away with you." Diavolo steps forward, brushing away the tearstains from your cheeks.

You hate how soothing you find the gesture.

"But you would have regretted it," You mumble in response, too familiar with Diavolo's code of honor to delude yourself into thinking anything else.

"Yes," He whispers. "I would have."

The two of you remain standing like that for a long time, Diavolo's hand lingering on your cheek while he stares down at you. But you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. You stare at his chest, remembering the strong muscles there that you always thought would protect you from harm. The same muscles that are now pushing you into death's arms.

You think Diavolo is about to hug you one final time when he turns away, a hush settling over the entrance hall the moment the two of you trail inside.

Everyone looks at you.

You don't return any of their stares, though. The only eyes you are willing to meet are Diavolo's, and he never turns to face you again, avoiding your gaze entirely as he brings you to the palace door.

"It is time." He declares, his voice filled with an authority you're not used to hearing from him. "Begin."

Immediately, the gates creak open.

Your eyes widen as they do so, the low hum that you'd grown used to from this morning growing louder and nearly exploding when the doors open.

Your lips part as you see the obscene amount of barely restrained people, all shouting and jeering and screaming in a noise so deafening you're amazed that the stone castle walls were able to suppress them at all.

For a second, happiness returns to your heart when you see how they instinctively cheer when they see the palace door open—and you think that maybe Diavolo's words were a lie. That maybe, all the masses aren't against you. That maybe, you're not alone in this world, and all these people are here to protest Rebellion.

But then you hear some of the words that they shout and jeer.

And you realize the truth: it's Diavolo they are cheering for. It's cries of Rebellion that ring from their lips. It's hurrahs of the usurper king they scream, and it's the Resistance that they sing praises for.

Only a handful of people resort to throwing insults instead of shouting praise. But the ones who do are not opposing Diavolo.

No, every insult is thrown your way. It's you they loathe.

You, and no other.

The castle is lit aflame, the building burning before the fires conjured up by Diavolo's father.

It's purely symbolic. The burning of the palace is nothing more than another message to the masses: look, we have erased every memory of the tyrant rulers from our kingdom. But still, Diavolo can't help but think that it is one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen. The fire is so huge that it lights up the whole city, illuminating the Devildom which is so often shrouded in darkness.

Diavolo never knew stone could burn. Of course, his father's magic truly seems to know no bounds, so the demon was hardly surprised when all the Resistance members filed outside the palace before his father set it to flames, lifting his fist triumphantly while the masses roared in approval.

The prince glances at you from the corner of his eye, noting how you tremble when you see your home up in flames.

He wants to comfort you.

He wants to hold you.

He wants to love you.

Of course, the demon does nothing of the sort, having been reminded too many times by Barbatos and his father of his role here.

Bring her to the pyre, set it aflame, walk away.

And nothing else. Barbatos had been particularly adamant about that last part.

"Come," He whispers to you. There's no way that you were able to hear him—not with all the commoners pressed so close to the palace, screaming so loudly—but you move anyway, your chains jingling gently under the deafening jeers as Diavolo leads you to the pyre.

It has to be me, Diavolo remembers his father telling him as he gently lowers you to your knees, right before he begins to chain your shackles to the bolts of iron and metal that stick out of the ground. It's symbolic: the prince of the people setting fire to the princess of evil, the old being replaced by the new.

That doesn't stop Diavolo from hating every second.

The demon almost wishes that you would resist, that you would fight back and spit in his face, but you're nothing but compliant, your face already turned into an expression of mute acceptance. Worse yet is the fact that Diavolo remembers that your right wrist is stronger than your left, bolting it down with a touch of magic that you refuse to comment on, never meeting his eyes.

"You're going to die now," Diavolo mumbles, angling his head away from the public so that they can't see. He doesn't know why he says the words. He isn't even sure if you can hear him. But he refuses to move without telling you, as if it's the only mercy he can give. "I'm going to…"

"I know."

Diavolo will never understand how, but your voice hangs above the screams of the masses as they jeer at you, shouting insults. Your words are impossibly clear, maybe even clearer than the creative insults the crowd throws your way. He doesn't know if it's a blessing or a burden, because it forces him to listen to your next words.

Your final words.

"Take care of the Devildom for me, will you, Diavolo?"

You raise your eyes to look up at him, turning away from the mob watching and ignoring them altogether in favor of casting him one last look—and Diavolo hates that even now, you still have the interest of the people at heart. You may not forgive him for his methods, but you love the citizens of your nation.

Diavolo's nation.

"I will," Diavolo whispers in response. He's about to begin rambling, about to swear off another promise that will make you understand the truth of his words, the sincerity with which he speaks, but seconds later, his father is handing him a torch.

Your eyes flash with fear, the final sight Diavolo will ever see from you before you drop your gaze to your knees where they rest atop the pyre.

I'm sorry, he says, murmuring the words in his mind because he knows he doesn't deserve to apologize. He doesn't deserve to guilt you into accepting his apology. He doesn't deserve your forgiveness, and he doesn't deserve this kingdom which he has stolen from you.

But when the people see the stick in Diavolo's hand, the flame at the end burning with the telltale blackness of hellfire, they roar in support.

And Diavolo remembers why he is doing this.

For the people.

The demon steels himself, rising to his feet. He is not doing this for himself. He is not doing this for his father. He is not doing this for you. He is doing this for the people, and for the people, he will put on a show. For the people, he will give them the final taste of vengeance that they were deprived of the moment your parents committed suicide, give them what little sick satisfaction he can.

When he drops the stick of hellfire onto the pyre, he does it for the people.

But when Diavolo steps back, it's for his own sake.

Your screams begin instantly. The hellfire spreads faster than normal fire, faster than magic fire, faster than anything in the world as it rushes to every inch of the square pyre his father set up, and your body is burning instantly.

Diavolo tries to go further back, tries to put as much distance between you and that awful sound coming out of your mouth, but his father grabs his arm before he can withdraw any more.

"Watch," The demon hisses, fingernails digging into his skin. "You claimed to have loved her, so you will watch as you pay the price for our kingdom. It is the least we can do."

A shudder runs up Diavolo's spine when he sees the way your body writhes desperately atop to the flames, your skin slowly beginning to melt when faced with the scorching heat of hellfire.

Abruptly, Diavolo wishes that they could have used regular flames. Or simple magic. Because neither of those would hurt as much, neither of those would bring such horrifying sounds out of your mouth. But Diavolo knows that was never an option. Hellfire is the only way to truly end the life of anyone with royal blood flowing in their veins, the only way to not only burn their body but to set fire to their soul, scorching it so brilliantly that even the cycle of reincarnation is broken when the flames die out.

There will be nothing for you when this is over. The only escape is if the God in the Celestial Realm above takes pity on you, and Diavolo already knows that the ruler of heaven would rather see every demon in the Devildom burn in hellfire before he would ever take a demon into his land.

But that doesn't make the reality of the situation any less cruel.

Diavolo flinches when he realizes that your restraints are burning. That the chains which he bound to you are melting into your skin, an added burn that just exaggerates the pain.

The crowds scream with approval.

Their voices whoop with joy, all of them seeing you as an emblem of pure evil. When they watch you howl under the heat of the flames, it's your parents they imagine burning. Your parents, and your parents' parents, and every godforsaken ancestor in your family that has brought such misery to the Devildom—misery that you are paying back.

"Long live the king!" The crowd begins to shout, and Diavolo can't help but think that it's sick. Sick that they're paying tribute to his father, not even giving you the respect you deserve as you die for them.

A round of cheers raise up the moment your body has been reduced to nothing more than a pile of helplessly connected bones, but even then, you are still moving. There is still that awful screaming coming out of your mouth, a sound that sounds like it's Diavolo's name you are desperately trying to form the syllables to.

Please let her die soon, Diavolo prays. Please end this suffering.

He does not know who he is praying to, but his wishes are answered because in moments, even your bones have melted into the ground, prompting another wave of hurrahs to rise up from the crowd.

But your soul remains.

The ball of spirit fights viciously against the flame, your soul young and unready to give in to the merciless destruction of hellfire.

But Diavolo can see it flickering.

The commoners' chants begin rising, now starting to clash with each other as everyone is collectively shouting for some variation of a wish for your death, every single person urging your spirit onward in its agony, only Diavolo silently begging for your soul to miraculously remain whole, though he knows it's futile.

Diavolo can no longer hear your cries of pain.

The ball of light from within the black flames is flickering, fading.

"All hail the king!" The commoners shout, pressing forward as much as they can with Resistance members holding them back. "All hail the king, all hail the prince!"

Diavolo tunes them out, though. He's solely preoccupied with your soul, urging you onward in your desperate struggle against a force so much stronger than your own fragile spirit.

"All hail the king!"

Your soul disappears for a moment, but a beat later, it's back, still fighting.

"All hail the prince!"

A burst of light strengthens your spirit momentarily, but seconds later, you're back to flickering.

"All hail the Resistance!"

You're doing your best to hold your ground, Diavolo knows. Black flames overwhelm your spirit but you're fighting back, refusing to let go.

"All hail Rebellion!"

Please hold on, Diavolo wants to shout. Please hold on, and defeat the flames, and survive, and then maybe, just maybe, I can find your soul in your next life, and we—

Your soul flickers.

Once.

Twice.

And then never again.

A wave of cheers rise up from the public the moment they see that the flames of hellfire are pure black, not a single remnant of you to indicate that there was ever anything burning within, and Diavolo feels the breath catch in his throat, the air unwilling to go down as he waits for your soul to return. For your spirit to flicker once more, no matter how weak, to give him a final glimpse of hope.

But the flames remain black.

The masses go wild when they realize that you're gone. That not only is your life washed from this land but that your soul has been removed in the only way they know how, burned to ashes by hellfire. Their chants, cheers of hailing Diavolo and his father and Rebellion and the Resistance join into one, a seemingly never-ending cry of "All hail! All hail! All hail!"

The prince feels his father tense at the sight, instantly gripping Diavolo's hand and raising it high above his head for all to see the pose of victory between the father and son, the king and prince, the leader and defender.

"All hail! All hail!" They continue to shout, praising everything in those two lonely words of their chant: Diavolo, his father, the Resistance, Rebellion, and all of them for bearing the rule of tyrants for so many millennia.

Diavolo can hardly think over their screams because in his mind, the sound of your wails of agony continues to play out in his mind, and the look on his face is numb as he and his father step forward, and the crowd's chants grow impossibly louder.

The look on his father's face is filled with pride as their newly acquired kingdom screams for them, roaring in approval.

They continue to roar, their shouts getting louder and louder until each demon's voice has joined into a single chant that echoes through the land.

"All hail! All hail!

The sheer joy on their faces as they realize that they are finally free shakes Diavolo to the core, because he knows that it is an expression you always longed to see on the faces of your people. Pure happiness, relief, and elation at the realization that the oppression is over. That Rebellion has delivered its judgment, and they have emerged victorious.

"All hail! All hail!" They chant in unison, their voices and hearts beating as one, the whole nation at last brought together.

Diavolo wishes you could see it.

The crowd seems to sing with happiness as they continue to whoop and cheer, every word that spills from their mouth coated with joy so distinct that the demons seem to shine as they raise their fists in response to Diavolo's own.

It is a sight you would be proud of.

As the Devildom salutes its new leaders, unanimously approving of Diavolo and his father, the realm seems to shake as it breaks free from the reign of terror that had shackled it before, Diavolo swears that the sky brightens ever so slightly.

It is a sight you would have wanted to see, he knows.

And yet, it is a sight only possible because you are not here to see it.

MASTERLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | ✔

Word count: 9.2k

Comment & Like

Next Update: 1 minute

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

89 notes · View notes

thegoodgayshit · 3 years

Link

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twenty Seven: I Decide Now’s a Good Time to Call in Backup

“That’s my sword,” Luz whispered, turning to look at Amity with wide eyes. “That’s my sword and your shield! Why are my sword and your shield outside Belos’ cave?”

“This wasn’t always Belos’ cave,” said a low voice from behind them. Luz jumped, turning to face Nessos, who was watching the entrance with sad, wistful eyes.

“For centuries, this cave was the entrance to Mount Pelion, where the best and the bravest Greek heroes would come to seek out the centaurs for training. But long before that… it was sacred ground. The place that held the wedding of Peleus and his wife Thetis. This mountain is named after him because in a way he almost founded it. All the history of the centaurs and this land leads back to him.”

“And Belos kicked the centaurs out,” Luz said slowly, her eyebrows knitting together.

“It was a valiant fight, we didn’t roll over and cower,” Nessos retorted, and Luz put her hands up, her eyes widening in alarm.

“I didn’t say that!”

“Come now, Nessos,” Pholos murmured, his eyes set on Luz with the same wistfulness. “You know her intentions. Belos took advantage of us.”

“What do you mean?” Amity asked, her mouth set in a frown.

“Demigods have a strength on this mountain unmatched to any other land,” Nessos explained his tail swishing anxiously as he glanced over at Achilles and Theseus. “Centaurs are strong on their own, but compared to a demigod here, we are outmatched. Even on his own, Belos was able to drive us out.”

“So we’re doomed,” Willow mumbled, adjusting the glasses on her face. Luz shook her head, clenching her fists.

“No, we’re not. They might be demigods, but so are we. We’ll be able to push them out and the centaurs can return to the cave.”

“She is right,” Pholos said, nodding approvingly, “but you also have another advantage, one that they will not be expecting.”

He reached down and pointed at Luz’s ring and Amity’s bracelet. “These are the keys to Mount Pelion. They will guide you to complete your quest, and protect you from any enemies, demigod or not.”

Luz looked down, her hand hovering over the ring. “They will?”

Pholos watched Luz for a moment, and it felt like he was reading her whole soul. Eventually, he smiled.

“Even celestial bronze has memories embedded in their core. The blade you have is not cursed, Luz. Sometimes, when we don’t understand something, it is easy to look past a blessing.”

Luz thought on that for a moment, before Gus tapped her shoulder urgently.

“Uh, guys, if we want to get in that cave, we better move.”

He was right, Achilles and Theseus seemed to get over whatever conversation they were having, and instead turned and headed back into the cave, the hilt of their sheathed weapons glinting as the light hit them for the last time.

“Augustus is right,” Nessos said, pushing them forward. “You must go. There is no time left to spare.”

Luz’s friends nodded, beginning to walk out of the forest and towards the cave. Luz hesitated, looking back at Pholos. There was a silent question in her eyes, which the centaur replied too with a simple nod.

Taking a breath, Luz and her friends left the centaurs and headed up the path to the cave, doing their best to walk quietly and not alert the retreating figures of Achilles and Theseus that they were there.

They crept up behind the statues, and Gus leaned forward checking that nobody had seen them. Achilles and Theseus had headed down the cavern, their muffled voices bouncing off the cave walls. Luz wanted to pay attention to what they were saying… it was probably important. But her heart was pounding so loudly she could feel it rising up to her ears, and couldn’t focus on anything but that.

Eventually, Gus must have decided it was clear to move. He nodded, and together they began to sneak inside, careful to stick to the edges of the open door as it headed downhill towards the room.

The cavern was much longer and much darker than it had been in Luz’s dreams. It seemed to sink deeper and deeper, and without much light besides the flicker of torches hanging on the wall, she could barely see two feet in front of her face.

Suddenly, Gus stopped, and Luz had to catch herself so she didn’t slam into him. Amity grabbed her shoulders, and the four of them pressed against a nook on the wall, shielding their bodies. There was a wave of light that passed them, and Luz realized why they stopped.

They had reached some kind of armory. It was a separate tunnel that stretches away from the main cavern, and it was packed with revived demigods.

Theseus and Achilles were there, and though Achilles went without armor, Theseus had put on a bronze chest plate not dissimilar to the ones Luz used at camp. Behind Achilles, Luz recognized Orpheus, who was holding a bow and scowling as he talked to another demigod next to him. Thankfully, his lyre was nowhere to be seen. There was a handful of other demigods Luz had never seen, but considering most of them were wielding a weapon, Luz knew they were in trouble.

Gus was breathing so heavily near Luz’s leg that she was certain he was going to give them away.

“Gus, you need to relax,” Willow whispered, and the son of Athena shook his head.

“Do you know who some of those demigods are? That’s Hector and Actaeon, and… Holy Zeus… is that Meleager? How are we going to outmatch these guys?”

“The centaurs said we’ll have an advantage,” Amity insisted, keeping her voice low. Her body was right behind Luz’s, and her breath was so close to her ear it felt like she was shouting.

“We’re outnumbered twelve to four,” Willow said, and while she wasn’t nearly as panicked as Gus, Luz could tell she didn’t like the odds of the fight. “And these won’t be easy wins. These are demigods who have been around for thousands and thousands of years.”

Doubt swirled in Luz’s belly. She didn’t want to lead her friends into a death trap, but right now she didn’t know what other choices she had. If they went back, surely someone would see them. If they charged, they would be outnumbered in seconds.

Amity seemed decently confident that the centaurs had been right about their weapons. Luz didn’t know how exactly Aletheia would help in a three on one situation, but she didn’t want to rely on it. Luz didn’t know if that was just because she was still reeling from finding out Amity was keeping something from her, but even if that was the case, this was a situation she knew they wouldn’t be able to get out of alone.

They needed backup.

Backup… Luz’s face suddenly split into a grin. Around her neck, the bronze whistle seemed to burn against her skin.

“I have a plan,” she said, and though she couldn’t see them squished into the darkness of this nook, all three of her friends moved, their heads turning towards her. “Get your weapons ready.”

When she told them what her idea was, Willow and Gus didn’t seem too enthusiastic.

“Not that I don’t trust you Luz, but how do we even know this is going to work?” Willow asked, and Luz shrugged her shoulders.

“We don’t, but we’re stuck here either way. We have to try.”

“This is a suicide mission,” Gus mumbled, but nevertheless, his hand hovered over his spear. “Ok, I’m ready.”

“Me too,” Willow said, though she didn’t look happy about it.

Luz turned her head to Amity, who was watching the three of them quietly. “Amity? What do you think?”

Luz couldn’t see her, but she felt her shaky exhale against her face. “I think I’m owed a rematch with Achilles. I’m in, no matter what the plan is.”

That sinking feeling in Luz’s gut returned. Amity was never this reckless, she never liked charging in without a well thought out plan.

Luz decided that Pholos had been right. Amity was definitely keeping something from them.

Pushing away her doubt, Luz did her best to focus on the mission. “Alright, as long as we stick together, everything is going to be fine. Are you guys ready?”

There was the briefest movement, hopefully of a head nod, and Luz pushed herself off the wall and stepped out into the light. She drew her weapon, which shifted into her sword, and there was a startled yelp that came from the revived demigods as Luz and her friends stepped out together, weapons and shields drawn, staring them down.

“Hey everybody,” Luz said, doing her best to sound intimidating. “Do you mind pointing us in the direction of Hestia?”

Theseus and Achilles spared them a look of surprise, before Theseus’s expression turned murderous and Achilles grinned, rubbing his hands together like he had been waiting for a fight.

“Daughter of Hermes, you’ve finally arrived,” Achilles chuckled, drawing a wicked-looking spear from off his back. Around them, the other demigods drew their own blades, hovering behind them and waiting for their orders. “I’ve been waiting to see if you’re a worthy enough opponent to challenge me. I can only spar with Theseus here for so long.”

Amity clutched her sword, stepping forward. “Enough, Achilles. I want a rematch.”

“Very well, daughter of Aphrodite,” Achilles said with a shrug, his huge muscles rippling under the tank top as he did. “I will make sure you don’t get away from me this time. I hope you have a coin for the ferryman.”

Theseus scoffed, drawing his own xiphos. “Blunt as always, aren’t we Achilles?” His gaze flickered back to Luz. “I must admit I’m surprised you’re here. I knew you slew the Minotaur, but I thought my sow might be a more worthy challenge.”

“Enough, Theseus,” Orpheus interrupted, gripping a bow tightly between his fingers. “I want this one. She broke my lyre!”

Theseus sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’re all better off without it, Orpheus. I swear to the Emperor, you only know how to play three good riffs.”

“Take that back!”

Luz lowered her sword, looking to her friends in confusion. Were they just going to bicker this whole time?

“If you don’t mind?” One of the demigods shouted from the back, gesturing to Luz and her friends. “We should deal with them before the Emperor knows they’re here.”

“Gods, you know how to take the fun out of everything,” Achilles retorted, rolling his shoulders. “It’s no wonder I killed you back in Troy.”

“Hector makes a good point,” Theseus shrugged, gesturing to the Luz and her friends. The revived demigods sneered, stepping closer and closer to them. “So, Luz Noceda. Which one of us would you like to be killed by?”

“None of you are killing us today, Theo,” she insisted, and Luz reached under her shirt, pulling out the bronze whistle.

She prayed to every god she could think of. Please let this work. Please.

She pressed it against her lips and blew. It made a shrill keening sound, and around her, everybody winced. The whistle shattered between her hands, the pieces scattering to the mountain floor.

Of course, nothing happened.

All the revived demigods laughed, and Luz felt her heart sink. Next to her, her friends all clutched their weapons, ready for a charge.

“What was that supposed to do? Deafen us?” Theseus said through laughs. He cleared a tear away from his eye, and then lifted his sword to the air. “Enough of this. Kill them!”

There was a roar as the revived demigods charged, and Luz tensed, ready for the swords and spears to inevitably crash into her. She closed her eyes, ready for death, and next to her, her friends all pressed together, weapons pointed.

But she never felt the blades hit her.

There was a booming crash, and Luz and her friends were thrown backward, skidding across the floor. In front of them, the demigods shrieked, and there was another huge boom. The smell of ozone split through the armory, and Luz heard a familiar whoop of delight.

Luz shakily got to her feet and looked, not believing her eyes.

Eda, Lilith, and King were standing there, weapons drawn, and had blasted Theseus back with a bolt of lightning. Around them, the revived demigods watched nervously, gripping their weapons tightly.

Eda turned her head, her gold eyes meeting Luz’s with that signature toothy grin. “Hey, kid! About time you let us have some fun.”

“Eda!” Luz exclaimed, getting to her feet. Next to her, her friends stood up relief splitting over their faces.

“No time for pleasantries! We can talk after,” she said, spinning her spear in her hand. Luz watched as it shifted into a sword.

“I love shadow travel!” King squealed in delight, crouching at Eda’s side. “Luz, you’ve gotta try it with me sometime.”

“I have… so many questions,” Luz mumbled. She turned to her other friends and saw just how relieved they were to have backup. She nodded to them, gripping her own sword.

“You guys ready?”

“Always,” Willow said, as Gus and Amity nodded. Luz didn’t even need to give any kind of speech to get them ready. They were all grinning, looking ready for battle than Luz had ever seen them.

They could do this.

“What are you all waiting for?” Theseus screeched from where he’d been knocked down. He stood up on one knee, pointing to Luz and her friends. “They’re still outnumbered! Get them!”

The demigods seemed to remember that little fact and split into a roar, charging towards them. Luz jumped into action as one charged at her, deflecting their blade and shoving them hard with her shoulder, sending them spinning into Eda, who slashed against their helmet. There were sounds of metal clanging against metal as the armory split into a battlefield.

Luz watched as Willow and Gus deflected swipe after swipe. With one push of his spear, Gus sent a demigod sailing into a weapons rack, hitting the ground with a thud. Lilith and Eda were shoulder to shoulder, deflecting the swings of at least four different demigods, and managing just fine. King ran between their legs, taking huge bites out of whoever was stupid enough to forget he was there. Next to her Amity was charging at Achilles, and met the first blow of his spear with her new shield.

As Luz took on a demigod with her own sword, she kept a watchful eye whenever she got the chance. Amity had been doing fine, but then Achilles grew frustrated and swiped with the back of his hand. Amity yelped as she got smacked, stumbling backward and towards a group of demigods who had been waiting for her. Luz slammed the hilt of her sword down on the demigod she was dueling, leaping towards Amity and deflecting one of the stabs the first demigod made.

“Watch your back!” Luz exclaimed, and Amity spun around, quickly recovering.

“Thanks!” She replied as she swung, pushing one demigod so far back he stumbled into another one.

They were able to deflect a few more swipes, but it was becoming clear that despite their backup, Luz and her friends were clearly outnumbered. Their circle was closing in, and soon, they would be completely outmatched once again. She shared a quick look with Amity and saw that eyes had that same recognition in them. Amity bit her lip and nodded to her, and Luz felt a newfound strength enter her. She would not let Theseus and his bullies hurt her friends.

With a roar, she swung at the next demigod and managed to clip the top of his helmet. He went sailing backward, knocking into the demigod behind him and they both hit a weapons rack, collapsing to the ground. Luz blinked, that should have been near impossible. She hadn’t hit him that hard.

Next to her, Amity pushed against one with her shield, and his feet were actually knocked off the ground. Luz’s eyes widened as Amity turned to look at her, equally shocked.

“What was that?”

“Your sword!” Amity gasped, looking at it.

Luz looked down in awe. Aletheia was glowing a faint bronzy color, and as Luz held it out towards Dikē, the shield also started to hum, glinting in the torchlight of the cave. The longer Luz looked at it, the more strength she felt flow into her body. She… she felt unstoppable. Like the whole mountain could come crashing down and Luz could hold it up with her bare hands. When Luz looked back at Amity she gasped. Her eyes… they weren’t gold anymore. They were that same bronzy glow as the weapons.

“Peleus’ weapons!” Amity exclaimed, looking just as refreshed as Luz was feeling. “Pholos was right!”

But they didn’t have time to sit there and awe over what they’d just discovered. When Luz turned her head, Gus had been knocked into by a demigod, and he barely managed to avoid getting skewered as he rolled. Eda and Lilith were getting backed into a corner, and they would soon be overtaken if they didn’t get help.

Down the end of the mountain path, there was another roar. Footsteps were thundering down the mountain, and Luz knew that the demigod's reinforcements were on the way.

“We need more backup!” Amity yelled, knocking another demigod flat against the ground.

“Where are we going to get more backup!” Luz retorted as the one Achilles was arguing with earlier saw an opening and charged at her. She blocked his first swing, going for the untraditional route of punching him in the throat. “I don’t have any more bronze whistles!”

“I have an idea, but it’s actually crazy! There’s no guarantee it’s going to work!” Amity said, kicking Hector in the side and sending him reeling into the wall of the armory.

“Seems on-brand for us,” Luz said with a shrug, and Amity nodded, flipping her sword around and pointing it towards the ground.

“Cover for me! I only saw dad do this once, and if it works, it’s going to take a lot out of me!”

“On it!” Luz said, already blocking another demigod from getting any closer.

Amity took a deep breath, closing her eyes and raising the hilt of her sword. “Grandfather Ares, I offer you my sword and the blessing of Peleus. Arm me with soldiers made of mountain and stone!”

With a grunt of effort, she pushed down the blade right against the mountain floor. Luz’s jaw dropped. It should have just deflected right off the hard stone, but instead, the xiphos sunk a foot and a half into it, like it was cutting through layers of paper. Amity dropped to one knee, and the mountain began to tremble. Out of the floor began to rise about two dozen of these… creatures. They were dark grey, and about six feet tall.

There were shouts of alarm from Belos’ men as the creatures seemed to solidify and take shape, immediately rallying behind Amity and charging, swiping demigods left and right, and roaring this sound that would have sent any sane person running.

Gus, out of breath, stumbled next to me, followed by Willow as they took a protective stance behind them. Amity exhaled, removing her sword from the ground, and stood. Luz had to catch her on the way up and steady her. The bronzy glow in her eyes was still there, but it occasionally flickered in and out.

“Are you alright?” Luz asked, biting her lip. She had been right, whatever she had done clearly took a lot out of her.

“I’ll be okay,” Amity said, as Gus and Willow watched her in awe.

“Amity, how did you do that?” Gus exclaimed in awe. Now that the creatures were helping, the demigods had more to deal with than usual. Even Eda and Lilith had the pressure taken off, now swinging a lot more artistically, like they were enjoying themselves. “You just summoned Ares’ Abominations!”

“He’s my grandfather,” she said with a shrug. “I thought it might work, so I gave it a try. I guess he likes me.”

“Are you okay to keep fighting?” Luz asked, and Amity nodded, already clutching her sword.

“Definitely.”

There was a sudden deep rumbling from the mountain, and it was so strong it nearly knocked Luz and her friends off their feet. Luz tightened her grip on Amity, and when the tremors subsided, they looked to one another in terror.

“Let’s hope that was from the summoning,” Amity mumbled, and Luz couldn’t help but agree.

The four of them threw themselves back into the fight. Amity with her abominations at her side went straight for Achilles, charging into him with such a fury that Luz wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. Gus and Willow were battling around her, so she figured for the moment Amity was probably going to be fine.

Luz peered towards Eda and Lilith and saw Eda scrapping with three demigods, including Theseus. She was holding them off, but judging by the clench in her jaw Luz knew she could probably use some help.

She broke into her best battle cry, running towards Theseus and leaping, clinging to his back and making him stumble. He spun in a circle, knocking one of his own demigods over in the process.

“Augh! Get off me!” He roared, and Luz clutched tighter to his back as Eda stabbed. He cried out in pain and collapsed, and Luz rolled off him, hitting him in the head with the hilt of her blade so hard he was knocked unconscious.

“Nice kid!” Eda yelled, and Luz turned towards her and grinned.

“Thanks! It’s my signature move,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

“Luz, you have to go find Hestia!” Lilith said from next to her, while she stabbed her spear towards a demigod. “That tremor was proof enough, we’re running out of time!”

“We’ll hold the demigods here,” Eda added, smiling reassuringly. The second wave of Belos’ reinforcements had arrived, but they were clashing with abominations the second they got in. Luz realized that now was her chance. She could hurry and run down the rest of the cavern, and there was a decent chance nobody would notice.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“With little Blights abominations on our side? Absolutely,” Eda insisted, gesturing to the rest of the armory, which was currently being torn to bits by the abominations.

King took another bite out of the leg of a demigod. “We will be victorious! But not if this mountain falls on us first.”

Luz hesitated. She didn’t want to leave her friends, but she knew that they were right. If she left, she could find Hestia and end this right now.

Sparing one last glance around the battlefield, she watched as Amity roared, swinging at Achilles and knocking him flat on his back. Willow and Gus took out two more demigods in a synchronized double strike, and next to her, Eda and Lilith were clashing their weapons together, the level of ozone in the room slowly rising.

They would be fine. Luz had a job to do.

So she turned tail and fled, racing down the mountain caverns and towards the caged goddess of the hearth.

#the owl hous #lumity #luz x amity #Percy Jackson AU #shelby speaks

21 notes · View notes