#do not be fooled by their appearance they are a menace with anger issues and violent tendacies

[justshapesandshitposting]

with my new color headcanons in mind, here's the tweaked p1 design for it.

they're no longer completely blind, they can tell the difference between light and dark, but that's it, they're still essentially blind, so they rely on their other senses much more. at least they aren't giving ppl the thousand-yard-stare constantly when looking in their general direction.

also yes they are still a resting bitch faced, short-fused menace of a bastard. piss them off and you've fucked around and will find out only 'finding out' involves bodily harm being done to you. most likely mauling.

do NOT let their babyfaced/cute appearance fool you.

[riewritten]

12 WAITING FOR YOU TO COME

DUSK IN THE BRIGHTEST | chapter directory

erwin smith/fem!reader, erwin smith/you, no y/n | slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, mutual pining, canon AU, college/univ AU, professor erwin smith, commander erwin smith, non-linear narrative, manga spoilers

Trigger warning: canon-typical violence, graphic description, explicit sexual content, suicidal thoughts, mental health issues, trauma, implied/referenced sexual harassment, implied/referenced abuse, attempted murder, overdosing

Plot: It was always the nightmares, really. Entrapped with walls, human-eating giants, fighting through metal strings and swords – utterly violent, dreary, recurrent. But behind the blurry faces was a man with menacing blue eyes and vivid features; eventually appearing before you as your new reputable professor, Erwin Smith. Since then, the disaster had slipped beyond your subconscious. AO3

It was as if you were just waiting for the next expedition to die.

It went like that for several months; training and doing errands during the day then lurking around the city at night. You got berated for not following the curfew but since they had noticed you were too listless to care (and it doesn't affect your day job, anyway), people let you be.

You thought of your brother then. What would he say? Would he get alarmed because this was your exact expression back to your childhood days, when Murdoch's household kicked both of you out?

But then again, that's the thing. He's not here to see you anymore.

You had spent the remaining days before the expedition at the cemetery. First was Isabel's grave that looks like it hasn't been taken care of for months. Levi's too busy to do so after all, and you have all the time for your brother when the sun sets. After cleaning her, you sat down to watch the candle you had lit, it went on until you heard footsteps towards you; it was a glowering Levi, heavily annoyed at you lurking around his precious friend's grave. It didn't help that he seemed to be already in a foul mood before seeing yoy.

"What's this?" he scowled, "Got nothing to do so you just decided to lurk around the graves of people you were barely acquainted with?"

You curled your eyebrows in disdain, but more than that, you thought he might be misunderstanding something.

"I just thought of cleaning her up since it looked dirty."

"What for?" annoyance still laced strongly in his voice, "No one in this silly regiment genuinely regarded their presence here so I don't get where you're coming from."

"You're misunderstanding something here, Levi."

"Am I misunderstanding the fact that you're doing this for fun and thought it's a noble thing to do?"

Perhaps it was just due to Levi's upbringing, unaccustomed to favors and sincerity unless it comes from his two dear friends, and so you didn't reciprocate the anger yet. Furthermore, it was true, no one in the regiment acknowledged whatever his two friends had done, let alone their presence. In fact, they were disliked by almost everybody. It brought you immense disappointment, too. Isabel wasn't able to get the endearment she very much deserved just because she died that easily.

"What we had for a short time might be trivial but I really liked her company the most. I'm sorry if it looked like I was messing around–"

"Lies," he quickly cut you off, "step away from that. Now."

You stepped aside but this time, albeit composure on the tip of an iceberg due to his misdirected behavior, "Stop cutting me off."

"I knew it," he crouched on Isabel's stone to brush off the rest of the dust on it, "I knew why you made Isabel stick with you like a fucking gum while she's here. You can't fool me. I'm a sly thug myself."

You stood frozen; that's something you cannot counter, and it's not like you could just assert your narrative to prove that you regarded Isabel with genuine endearment. It's not about you; it's about Levi's misconception about everyone viewing their death as a trivial matter.

His glare towards you tightened, "I just know I should hold you with disdain for this because you fooled this brat into thinking that she finally had a genuine company aside from us when all you did was be a cunning rat. You thought she'd be the most convenient person to approach, no? She's too gullible to begin with, after all. I'm sure you were able to do a good job as Erwin's doll. You don't have any ascendancy to fake your sincerity here. Not in front of me."

You flinched at the nickname, "That's not true! I didn't do it for Erwin's benefit. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You're trying to save face now, I can see."

"I did it because I want you to be successful in killing Erwin off during that time!" Your remark signalled Levi's turn to be surprised.  "You're right, I really garnered her favor because she's the most convenient person to approach, but I stood close so I could watch and offer needed support, even if I'm not in any way sympathizing with the likes of Lobov."

And you regret that, you regret being insincere to guts, too.

"But I failed to embody that half-heartedness, miserably so, because I came to love her quickly. After all, she's just so overly sincere with everything. She wouldn't fail to garner anyone's favor if she tried. What you said isn't true at all! You’re not the only one devastated with their deaths. She will always be stuck on me and her decapitated body will haunt me in my sleep for the rest of my life."

A pause came as you tried to gulp down the heavy emotions teetering to spill out.

"I'm sure that's what others feel as well. No sane person would stick to this mission and deem their comrades irrelevant just because they died so quickly. It doesn't work that way. I know it won't be easy to learn that, but it will never work that way."

Silence enveloped the cemetery for a while. It was as if the rustling wind was Isabel trying to ease the tension between the two of you. Levi averted his gaze somewhere and furrowed his brows. "Stop spurring such bullshit on me," but then his voice wasn't as firm as before, "I don't believe you wanted to kill that man; not when you mindlessly follow him like a doll."

"Don't even call me his doll." Funny enough, that was the thing that completely dissipated your patience, not his accusatory remarks about your friendship with Isabel. You don't have much energy to deal with bad-mouthed bastards anymore. "The reason I tend to follow his errands with no talk is because I don't want to prolong the conversation. What you see on the surface doesn't give you the right to conclude stuff. Same goes with my affection for Isabel."

Just when you were about to throw the rug you used to clean Isabel's tomb and stomp out of the place, you noticed Levi's gaze somewhere. Following through made you understand what was up.

Erwin was standing there with candles in his hand as he stared at the tomb nearby. He heeded both of you no mind, and yet it was crystal clear that he had heard everything.

"Fuck," you rolled your eyes, not in the mood to spend time with your brother anymore.

As you walked away, however, you noticed a lit candle beside the grave of your brother. Knowing that it was Erwin to put that there churned your stomach in further disdain.

With that, the awaited expedition came again. The plan was clearer, to say the least, because Shadis finally let Erwin take the lead beside him. Your squad stood in the front lines of the formation, with Levi and you placed on both sides of the command unit to stand in defense, 

Despite all the preparation, you knew better than to think that clear plans guarantee tolerable results. The only positive thing in the expedition was scouting longer than usual. Shadis didn't look better the past few months—that you noticed—but you were completely appalled that he brought that here in the battleground. You're not the one to talk on emotional threshold, but squads were  just getting wiped out by the titans left and right.

"Commander!" you shouted at him, "Get back to your senses, please! We're about to lose everyone if you don't!"

Just after that, an abnormal titan started running right in front of you. It was too fast; you were left with no choice but to confront it.

"Ready!" Levi shouted and you synchronously fled towards immobilizing the titan. The command unit fired a flare. 

"Three meter titan from the right!" Moses, the squad letter behind the command unit, fired the flare and flew towards it. "Special ops, stay back and protect the Commander! Our squad is enough for this!" And thus he signalled his subordinates to formation. "Get ready! Let's teach this thing the power of the human race!" 

Erwin and some from the command unit followed suit.

You glanced at the commander and while his mind still seemed to be working, he looked like losing his sanity already. You tried to comply with the order—you really did—but when you saw Moses breaking his stance and the titan catching him, you stood on your horse to attack.

He was able to slash it away, albeit faltering already due to what seemed to be cracked bones. You figured you could still protect him if you fled. Moses is a capable soldier and he'd be able to work around it with needed help.

"Don't leave the commander!" he yelled at you and the other soldier. After all, even Erwin would take a couple of seconds before reaching him, too. "I'll just—hah—s-serve as a distraction!"

The rest of his squadmates were thrown badly to the ground and unable to move due to the impact, which was an utterly bad sight because only Erwin was left to immobilize it.

"Moses, no!" you shrieked in horror as his speed turned even slower, completely ready to leave the commander.

"I know! I'm facing my death without—hng—without fear! The soldiers… we'll be leaving behind will… continue the fight!"

With that, he was finally grabbed by the titan. On Erwin's end, it became an easy feat now that the monster was distracted.

"T-that's why protect the commander! Continue protecting the commander! He'll get us out of here someho—" Just before he could finish his words, however, the titan already chugged his body down.

Erwin was able to cut the nape, but you reached them too late. All you could do is to grab as many bodies as you can towards the wagon, whether it was still full in shape or already cut to pieces.

When you reached a relatively safer zone, you grabbed Moses' hand from the wagon, wrapped it up with a thick cloth, and stormed in front of the commander angrily, "Hold this!" You made sure to register your anger; he looked immensely taken aback. "Hold the arm of the soldier who swore to protect you until his last breath. Grip on that tightly until we enter the walls again." Alas, that was more than enough to bring Shadis back to his senses, albeit a little too late.

More than half of you died upon reaching the walls, marking the expedition as a failure again—abundant losses and smaller gains. You were a bloody mess as well, unsure if it was your own blood or from the bodies you picked up. Although succumbing to your injuries would be way easier, you still tried to keep yourself on your horse until the walls opened.

The people of Shiganshina were quick to notice the losses you had garnered. The coins clanked and chortles were heard as those who bet for fewer survivors won. 

"Braun, Braun!" An old woman exclaimed, something you quickly noticed because out of all the whispers, she was the only one utterly worried. Shadis approached her as she continued, "Excuse me, my son, I—I'm sorry… I can't see my son. What happened to him?"

"She's Moses' mother," a female soldier clarified from behind.

"Bring him here," Shadis replied.

The poor woman was beaming for a while until the female soldier walked back only with a wrapped up cloth. Shadis gently handed it to her, "Here it is. That's what we're able to recover from him."

When horrendous arm was uncovered, the mother reached her tipping point and wailed. The coins stopped clanking, the chortles tipped into silence, and Shadis couldn't do anything but console her.

"Really, it doesn't have to be something outstanding!" she cried, "my strong son offered himself for humanity's freedom, didn't he?"

You were barely conscious, certainly shutting down anytime soon, but then Shadis cried loudly, "No! It was all for naught! We weren't able to make any progress at all! I've been nothing but incompetent, toying around with the lives of our soldiers. We couldn't find out where they came from, not at all!" 

"God… shut the fuck up…" your balance finally faltered, "you should've just…" and this time, other soldiers noticed your unsteady movements, "you should've just died, you arrogant bastard… You should've just…"

Erwin quickly caught you as he shouted for back up, his voice being the last thing you heard before physically admitting defeat.

You thought Shadis breaking down in pathetic admittance was already the worst thing you could ever lay your eyes upon. However, when you shot your eyes open, everything was way darker than usual. The air reeked of sorrow, the wind was darker, and what can only be heard were cries. Your comrades at the infirmary seemed as though they've been wailing for hours already. You panicky stood up, grabbed a cane for support, and stormed outside the hall. There were no people to be seen, an awful reminder of the wipe out. You shot the window a look, and the rest of the soldiers were lying on the ground as they shook and cried in horror.

It was an utter nightmare, the scenery of doomsday.

"What's happening…?" 

When a door creaked open, you almost lost your already faltering balance. Erwin looked at you in surprise, "You're supposed to be resting right now. Go back to the infirmary."

You forgot all your disdain towards the man; you ran all the way in panic until he caught you, "Erwin, what's happening?"

"I knew the number of titans we had encountered was odd. They were thrice the usual. Not even the strictest preparations can ever save us from that." he muttered grimly, still holding onto you tight. The Erwin Smith beside you looked utterly horrified and he wasn't even able to hide it—eyes extremely dark and shot wide, while the color on his face flushed in white. It was more than enough for you to cower in fear.

"What's happening?" you shrieked, "Tell me properly, Erwin!"

"Wall Maria fell. Citizens are helplessly evacuating as we speak. The titans finally did it."

You completely dropped down to the ground and Erwin wasn't able to save you from it anymore. Your stomach churned way more immensely than it did during your first expedition. You threw up—or attempted so—as nothing was coming out. You tried again, and again, and again, until Erwin stopped you.

"Please, just go back to the infirmary and rest. We don't have many people as it is. The last thing I'd let is you dying like this."

"Shadis, where is he? Where's the commander?"

Erwin froze on the spot which churned you to further horror. He massaged his temples frustratingly to keep himself calm, "He just relieved himself from his post."

"Then, what about the Scout? Who's replacing him?" you already knew the answer but you were still hoping for everything to turn out as a big bad joke. All hope left you when he struggled to answer.

"Me," he paused for a while, then regained his composure slowly, "I'm the Survey Corps Commander now."

You shut your eyes tight in sheer frustration but when you opened it again, you were not in the barracks anymore. 

You thought that the scariest nightmare you could ever have was Isabel and Furlan dying on you, but man oh man, it just keeps on getting darker.

And thus the only goal ringing in your head was to not sleep ever again.

On the first day, you were completely incapacitated to move and did nothing but shake back and forth at the corner of your bed. No food, no water even, until the phone alarm rang which marked the second day of your cries. 

You had to drink two bottles of energy drink just so you could go to your classes, and took your make-up seriously to cover the eyebags and dread.

You figured that you might need a serotonin boost before going to Historia, so before entering the building, you laid down in the university field first to bond with the stray cats with the food you bought from a nearby pet shop.

"Hello there," you mumbled as another cat went towards you, which made them five in total. As the little ones went on eating, you remembered your counterpart who had this similar hobby of liking cats. You can't fool yourself anymore; that world is dead real and you have nothing to anticipate from hereon but worsening dread.

You averted your eyes around the field to ground yourself back until you saw Erwin sitting down on a bench nearby, indulged with a book. There was a cat eating soundly on a paper cup beside him, and when it rubbed on his hand, he swiftly poured another serving and went back to reading. 

It brought you to another realization: your feelings will never be linear about this man, too. From fear that transitioned into awkwardness and recently became lightheartedness, you dropped down into something negative again. You might not be immensely afraid of Erwin Smith of this world anymore, but you don't think you'll be dropping the feelings your counterpart had towards her now commander, not anytime soon.

Erwin closed the book; you noticed how tired his eyes were when he massaged his temples and looked up at the sky.

Despite its subtlety, you saw his facade slip away. He doesn't look ahead of everything anymore, and doesn't seem like he completely knows how to deal with things; he's just weary and dreary—just like you.

Oh, yes, just exactly like you.

Your realizations finally came on a positive note; you have someone completely the same as you and if you push the button, you won't be alone dealing with this anymore. Erwin is not on a higher footing, not even in authority to control you the way the commander does. You don't have to drop the feelings your counterpart has; you can still hold the commander in prejudice, but this one in front of you can never make you feel that way. For the first time in a while since you woke up, you were filled with solace again.

When Historia shouted your name from afar and Erwin turned immediately upon hearing it, you quickly stood up and ran to her without staring back.

"Woah," Historia blurted out, "you're completely fixed today."

"Do I look better?"

She curled her eyebrows in ponder and eventually shook her head in disappointment. "Knew it. I thought you just didn't feel like going to school yesterday. When was the last time you slept?"

You gulped, completely taken aback. Despite that, you still came up with an answer, "That's rude. Are you telling me I only fix my face up when I'm not in the right mind?"

"You can't fool me. You know better than that." She turned her back on you and started walking.

"You're overreacting. Maybe I'll do this every day from now on so you won't be too appalled."

Upon entering the hallways, you saw her shoulders shaking. "You're getting worse recently and I hate the way you keep on brushing that off from me. I know I can't completely help you with this but at least spare me from your lies. It's getting on my nerves now." Even before you can hold her shoulders to assure it wasn't a big deal, she spat, "Don't try to comfort me on this now. I don't need it."

"Hisu," you lamented, "I'm sorry. I made you very worried, hadn't I?"

"I said don't make this about me." Historia turned to you with furrowed eyebrows and eyes getting moist, "I don't know whether you have something in mind to outlive your state and I'm just not capable of helping you hence you don't bother to tell me—which is fine, of course—I just… Please, don't try so hard to hide the fact that you're not okay, not with me."

You looked down at the ground upon realizing that every time Historia checks up on you, you either ignore or lie. There's no in between. "You're right. It's really getting worse now but I don't know how to move forward from it just yet."

"I'm sure that man has an idea at least. I may not be able to help you this time but he can. Don't talk to me until you finally confront him about that," Historia turned her back on you to walk away and signalled you to not dare follow her, "you just need a really hard push so betting our friendship on this. I'm sure he's still on the field. Go to him now, okay?"

With that, you’re all alone in the hallway. You knew how adamant she could be hence your guilt reverberated; she must've been enduring this a lot lately. If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for her, Isabel, Furlan, Levi, and everyone who cares deeply for your welfare. Erwin is the only way you can move forward. You started running towards the field again in hopes that he was still there. You stopped in your tracks in gratitude, he was on the exact spot you were sitting in earlier, the only difference is that the cats doubled in number. 

He looked at you while crouching down the ground and you heaved a chuckled at him.

Despite the subtle similarities you have with our counterparts, you were still able to construe how different this one is. There's a difference with you as there's with him. Like the person you are in that world, you’re still tormented by your lack of direction in life, but you have people to care for you here, people you can sincerely dedicate your heart to without a doubt. Erwin Smith is still ten steps ahead and can do everything flawlessly to make things go his way, but he’s as tranquil as he could ever be in this world. He's not covered in grim darkness, can easily smile here, and he can even treat the cats with the same endearment as you do.

It doesn't matter if the nightmares aren't just nightmares.

You walked towards him and he stood up to greet you. As his eyes fixed on your figure, you felt the anxiousness but finally gulped it down—steps not faltering and fear not ruling you back.

"Look at you. When's the last time you slept?" Erwin remarked when you finally reached him.

"Eh?" He noticed it too? "Well, same goes with you."

"You noticed it too?" Erwin mused, "Levi scorned when he saw me this morning."

Oh, the glaring similarities. "Fair. Hisu just berated me."

"Just as you deserves. She looks so worried recently."

"I'm sorry if I'm too late but… uh… if I ever got ready to tell you everything about my nightmares, can I come to you anytime I want? Can I…" you gulped down, but then Erwin's surprise gave you a boost of encouragement, "can I come to you from now on?"

"You don't even need to ask. I’m just waiting for you every day to come."

Your chest tugged in ways unknown. If this was said by another person, you wouldn't care too much, but this is Erwin Smith and no one can surpass the connection you had with him—the disdain, the gloom, the pain, the sympathy, and all the tragic things you had experienced together.

Erwin is your way out, both from your nightmares and your reality from hereon.

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thank you for this, @temariskadi!

[bnhasimpgirltm]

Stop Being A Brat (Dabi x Reader)

Pairings: Dabi x Reader

Warnings: swearing 

Genre: Fluff (a little angst)

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 2217

A/N: I basically just said Dabi is a Todoroki, so I hope that’s okay anon. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to this sooner! I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: I don’t condone vandalism

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

To say you were angry would be an understatement. 

To say you were infuriated would still be an understatement. There were no words to describe the red hot anger that was flowing freely through your veins.

“DABI!” You scream, waiting a second for your boyfriend to appear. When he doesn’t you scream again. “DABI, IF YOU DON’T GET OVER HERE I’LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!” 

You hear a shuffling, and then cursing. “What?” Dabi asks, rolling his eyes. He was clearly annoyed, but you weren’t having any of it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Your fists were clenched at your sides, and you were trying not to cry and make a fool of yourself.

“Tell you what?” Dabi asks, kicking his feet up on the counter of the bar and pouring himself a drink.

“You know what, Dabi. Or should I say Touya?” There, you said it. 

He sets his drink down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies smoothly. You knew better though.

“Stop trying to lie to me!” You cry out. “You think you can get away with lying to me? Just stop it!” 

“How did you know?” He asks you, smirk adorning his scarred face.

“I put the clues together,” you answer him simply and vaguely, not wanting to give yourself away.

“You were never supposed to know,” he grabs your hand and rubs the back of your thumb. “But it doesn’t matter now.”

“I hate when you do things like this,” you quietly whisper. “I hate when you try to flirt your way out of things, and you think it’ll work just because I’m in love with you.”

“So you do love me,” he says, smirk returning.

“I’m so done with you right now,” you scoff and shake his hand off. 

“Aw come on, wait-” he starts, but before Dabi can say what he wants to say, you’ve left. 

Walking down the hall, you go to the only place you can think of going to that isn’t you and Dabi’s shared room.

“Toga, are you in here?” You knock on the door and crack it open a little.

“OO (Y/N)! Come in!” Toga swings the door open and you walk in then sit on the floor. “I thought you were with Dabi?” 

“Yeah I was, until he pissed me off and I left,” you explain.

“Yes! You go and be a badass!” Toga laughs and shakes you by the shoulders. “Now we can have more girl time without stupid Dabi always getting in the way!” 

“Toga we didn’t break up we just had a fight!” 

“About what?” She asks, curious.

You hesitate to tell her what you fought about. It seemed so personal to Dabi, but Toga is your best friend. So you tell her. 

“Remember how that Todoroki kid died in a car crash or something?” You lower your voice, making sure no one else can hear.

“What was his name again? Tuyo or something like that,” Toga thinks.

“Yeah, that kid. That’s Dabi. He’s Touya Todoroki!” You whisper yell.

Toga sits in shock for a second, then her eyes widen, processing what you said. 

“WOAH!” Toga yells, then she screams.

“Toga! Keep it down!” You clamp your hand over her mouth and she giggles. Loud footsteps come running down the hall, and Shigaraki and Magne push the door open, looking for the threat.

“Why are you two always doing strange things?” Magne asks, shaking her head. You release your grip on Toga and she puts her arm around your shoulder.

“We’re best friends, that’s why,” Toga pulls you closer to her and you grin at Magne.

“Best friends or not, you need to buy more groceries tomorrow. Bright and early, remember? Wouldn’t want anyone recognizing you,” Magne says.

“I can transform into other people remember Magne?” Toga says in a “duh” voice. 

“I’d like to avoid leaving bodies behind for the heroes to track back to us,” Magne walks out of Toga’s room and into the hall. “But I guess you can have your fun.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Toga jumps up and climbs into her bed. “I’ll go to sleep now so I can get up early tomorrow.” 

“What about me?” You ask. “Can I sleep in here?” 

“I love you (y/n) and you’re a great friend, but I need my sleep and I can’t get that if you’re complaining about Dabi all night,” she smiles at you. 

“Ugh, fine. Good night Toga,” you groan and get off the floor. 

“Night (y/n)!” She says back, turning off her light and leaving you in darkness. 

Leaving Toga’s room, you quietly make your way to the room you shared with Dabi. Standing in front of the door, you contemplate whether or not to go in or not. You could sleep on top of the bar or on the floor. It might be uncomfortable, but you it would spare you from having to see Dabi.

“Screw it,” you say out loud, knowing that having to see Dabi isn’t as bad as sleeping on top of a bar counter where countless villains have thrown up and put their hands on. 

When you open the door, it’s dark, and Dabi is asleep.

Or so you thought,

“So you did come back,” Dabi snarkily notes. 

You ignore him and get on your side of the bed.

“Talk to me,” he tries again. You don’t want him trying to talk to you, so instead of ignoring him, you stare at him, and them push him off the bed. He lands on the floor with a thump.

“Stay down there,” you growl, covering yourself in a blanket, then turning your back to him.

“Fine,” he retorts, then tries to grab his pillow and an extra blanket on the bed.

You see this, and grab his pillow and wrap the extra blanket around you.

“Give me my damn pillow,” he grabs for the pillow, and you hug it tighter.

“No,” you roll over so you’re on top of his pillow.

“Stop being bratty and just give me the pillow,” he sighs and tries to roll you over. You activate your quirk, the ability to make things bigger, smaller, lighter, or heavier at your will by rearraging the molecules and slightly altering the chemical composition, and use it on yourself.

“Stop making yourself heavier,” Dabi grunts trying to lift you up. “You’re such a nuisance, did you know that?” 

“How do you know I used my quirk? I could just be a heavy person,” you argue.

“Earlier this week I was able to throw you over my shoulder and carry you around like a feather.”

“Well, I ate a lot of protein and carb-loaded,” you smirk and continue to crush his pillow. 

“Protein and carbs aren’t going to make you one hundred times heavier,” Dabi scoffs and gives up. “Fine, I’ll just make myself comfortable on the floor.”

“Great, and I get this huge, soft, nice, warm bed all to myself,” you sink into the bed and starfish out over the mattress. The only response you get from Dabi is an annoyed grunt as he lays back down on the floor.

~

When morning comes, you yawn and smile because you got such a good sleep. You look down at the floor and see that Dabi isn’t there. Either he already got up, never went to sleep, or is sleeping in someone else’s room. 

When you push the door to the bar open, Dabi is sitting next to Twice, both of them on bar stools. Twice is waving his arms around and animatedly talking about something, while Dabi nods and probably pretends to listen and care about what Twice is saying. 

“Wow Dabi, you look exhausted,” you joke. “I wonder why.”

“Shut the hell up, you know exactly why,” Dabi snaps back. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Twice looks back and forth between the two of you, watching your glaring match.

“No Twice, I was just leaving,” you give Twice a strained smile and throw another glare at Dabi. Then, you storm out of the room, a menacing aura floating around you.

After you leave, Twice looks at Dabi.

“What?” Dabi asks, scratching at the counter with his nail.

“Whatever you did, you should probably fix it,” he glances at the door, making sure you aren’t listening. 

Dabi scoffs and rollshis eyes. “I didn’t do anything wrong. (Y/n) is just being a brat.”

“It needs to be fixed immediately,” Magne cuts in. “If you and (y/n) can’t resolve your issue, you can’t go on missions. It messes up the team dynamic.”

“Yeah right, you need me on these mission,” Dabi looks at Magne and Magne keeps a poker face.

“We don’t need you unless we’re burning something or someone,” Magne says. “It doesn’t even have to be you. Fire quirks are common, we can replace you.”

“Fine, I’ll go talk to her,” he sighs and gets off the barstool. “If she won’t apologize it’s not my fault.”

“If she doesn’t apologize you two are going to be here until she does,” Magne announces. 

By the time Magne is finished talking, Dabi is leaving the bar and trying to find you.

“I hope she isn’t permanently mad at him. I like them together, they’re good for each other,” Twice sighs and dramatically throws his head against the counter.

“More importantly, if they’re mad at each other it could mess up our missions,” Magne trys to explan to Twice.

“They’re my OTP,” Twice ignores Magne, and goes on and on about his OTP.

~

“(Y/n), get off the bed and talk to me,” Dabi stands in front of you, and you take his scarred hand in yours.

“Maybe, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry about you being a Todoroki,” you say thoughtfully.

“Are you trying to apologize?” Dabi laughs loudly and puts his arms around you. “That was the most pathetic apology that I’ve ever heard.” Dabi climbs into the bed next to you.

“Whatever, it’s all you’re going to get,” you roll your eyes and snuggle closer to him.

“I’m glad you’re not angry at me anymore,” Dabi nuzzles his face into your hair. “Magne threatened to make us stay out of missions until we made up.”

“You're talking to me because you didn’t want to stay out of missions?” You gawk at Dabi and swat at him with the back of your hand. 

“Well yeah-” Dabi starts.

“I knew this had ulterior motives,” you frown and start to get up.

“No wait, I’ll make it up to you,” Dabi grabs your wrist and you look at him.

“How?” You question, wondering what your boyfriend would offer.

“What about we egg Endeavor’s house?” He suggests.

You think for a moment. Vandalizing the property of the asshole hero who turned out to be your boyfriend’s father? Hell yeah.

Voicing your thoughts to Dabi, you smile and say, “Well what are you waiting for?”

~

BONUS:

You and Dabi snuck four brand new cartons of eggs out of the hideout at eleven at night  (Toga had gotten back from grocery shopping earlier that day) and went to Endeavor’s house. It was extremely large and could probably be better described as a mansion than a house.

It was the perfect canvas for your little “project”.

“Why don’t you throw the first egg? He was the biggest ass to you,” you hand Dabi the egg, and he smirks.

“Gladly.”

The egg hit the front wall of the house, and  cracked open, the wet yolk sliding down the wall.

You and Dabi repeatedly threw eggs and spelled out a quite nice looking ‘Fuck you’ on the front of the house.

“Wait look at this,” you grabbed a couple of eggs and threw them against the garage door, creating an exclamation point to really send the message across. 

“It’s great,” Dabi steps back to admire the art you two had created. 

“I know, I can’t wait until the news finds it!” You clapped your hands and gushed excitedly. 

Getting back into the car that the League hyjacked from a civilian, you flip off Endeavor’s house and scream one last “Screw you!”

It didn’t take long for the media to find out. By the time everyone was awake, Toga had turned on the little television shared by the League, and the first thing that you saw was the headline “Pro Hero Endeavor’s House Egged By Unknown Perpetrators”. 

“Ha! Dabi look we made the news!” You yell.

“Wait that was you?” Twice screeches, “That’s how you made up? By egging Endeavor’s house?”

“I can’t blame them, Endeavor is a jerk,” Toga flops down on the couch. 

“You guys wrote ‘Fuck you’ on his house with eggs?” Magne questions. “That’s very childish.”

“Good thing we’re pretty much children,” you twirl around and kiss Dabi on the cheek. “You’re forgiven, that was so fun!” 

“Thank God, I was beginning to think that Dabi would just be mopey and sad forever,” Twice says.

“Be quiet Twice,” Dabi shoots back. 

“I’m just saying,” Twice puts his hands up defensively.

“You’re the best!” You move kiss Dabi again, this time on the nose, but he moves up and you end up locking lips.

When you both pull away, he looks back at you with that signature smirk, then says, “I know.”

[sserpente]

Ablaze

A/N: I just couldn’t help myself. 🔥

Words: 3010 Warnings: excessive excitement over two seconds of new Loki footage

“Where is he?”

“In the interrogation room, chained up.”

“Good.” Taking a deep breath, you finished your coffee and stood, gathering your documents in the process. This could now be the most important moment in your career—there was no time for failure.

Two days ago, when the TVA received reports of an unknown entity wreaking havoc within the multiverse lineages of the universe, their complaints had fallen on deaf ears. There had not been an incident for years—not until the sudden turmoil of an unrecorded timeline disaffiliating from 2012.

You were still unsure of the origins but it was clear that someone had meddled with the alternate timelines the Avengers had had to create to destroy Thanos. But the stones had all been returned to their receptive points in time, Steve Rogers had made sure of that.

They must have made a mistake somehow—and that mistake was, as of right now, waiting for you in the interrogation room.

It was still unclear how many timelines and universes Loki had travelled to and thrown into turmoil—what knowledge he had acquired and which was not his to possess. He was a dangerous force that needed to be taken care of.

-

Loki arrogantly lifted his chin when the metal door swished open and allowed you to enter. He was sat at the table in the middle of the dimly lit and otherwise empty room, wrists bound together with a pair of handcuffs equalling the technological progress of realms like, in this main timeline destroyed, Asgard—in your world, time was a relative thing, after all. Whatever tricks he could concoct, even he would be powerless against the shiny metal wrapped around his wrists.

His hair was shorter than you remembered it, his usual, intimidating Asgardian attire like you had seen it in various footage of the alien invasion of New York City, replaced with the prison clothes he had been given, leaving his arms bare.

“And what now?” He mused when he spotted you. “Are you here to question me, my dear? To bewitch me? No amount of sweet-talking will get me to comply with your pathetic schemes—whatever they might be.”

You eyed him mutely as you walked towards him, giving him time for his first words directed at your person to sink in. When you sat down, putting your documents on the empty table calmly, you cleared your throat seemingly unaffected.

“No schemes. What we would like to know is how you could escape our main timeline and create an alternate universe messing with the matrix of time and space, Loki.” You began straight away, relinquishing formalities and unnecessary introductions. The God of Mischief looked down, the hint of a mischievous smirk playing on the corners of his thin lips. He hummed before he spoke.

“It appears to be in human nature to thrive for knowledge and elucidation.” His expression hardened, smooth voice growing sharp. His blue eyes locked with yours.  “Even if it is neither your affairs nor place to intervene.”

You had studied psychology in Edinburgh, back in the day. As far as Loki was concerned, you were an impenetrable, strong and fearless woman. Any weakness you revealed to him could be your downfall—and his triumph.

“Whatever the Avengers might or might not have done in order to restore the universe to its right order, they must have missed something, or someone.” You said matter-of-factly, forcing yourself to remain unfazed by the dangerous Trickster in front of you. “Given that at the time of their interference with both the mind and time stone back in 2012, it has come to our attention that another Infinity stone had been removed, opening up an alternate timeline the Avengers were—for some reason—unable to patch up and close.”

Loki raised his eyebrows innocently, responding nothing, however, his scrutinising blue eyes still held you captive in a highly concerning way… almost as if you were the one being questioned.

“The space stone. The Tesseract?” You probed, a hint of impatience in your voice. You had to keep your composure. Loki hummed once more.

“It must be truly devastating to know the Tesseract within your reach, unable to grasp it.” He remarked scornfully.

“We have no interest in the Tesseract.”

“No?”

“No. What we want is to undo the damage you have done—beginning with returning the Tesseract to its receptive timeline. As far as we are concerned, you should not even exist.”

The space stone was indeed a real problem. As long as your colleagues aimed to locate its whereabouts, Loki would keep the upper hand. You had a feeling they would be wasting both their energy and resources. He had it. You knew he had it. You just needed to prevent him from using it again.

“And yet here I am.” He mocked with a breathy voice, yet again lifting his chin; this time leaning back in his chair.

“And yet here you are,” you repeated. “You endanger the multiverse. Your existence threatens the very fragile fabric of our reality. We cannot let you wander about, regardless of your intentions… which is why we have to keep you prisoner until further notice.”

Loki’s face fell instantly, the sudden anger sparkling in his stunning blue eyes sending the startling sting of an adrenaline rush through your body. Stop. You were not Harleen Quinzel and he was not the Joker. Keep calm.

“I am done being imprisoned. I will not let a group of meagre mortals lock me away because they fear what I am capable of.”

“By the looks of it, you already have.” You retorted.

“You do not wish to incur my wrath.”

“I am willing to take that risk.”

He growled darkly, a menacing smile spreading on his lips as he paused. “I’m gonna burn this place to the ground.”

You scoffed. “If I took every prisoner’s threats at their word, I would not be sitting here right now.”

With a start, Loki shot forward, his fists colliding with the table surface and sending an ear-piercing bang through the empty room, making you flinch and back off.

“You should do well not to underestimate me, you mewling quim.” He spat through gritted teeth. “I am a God. You are all fools if you think you can keep me in custody. Consider this my final warning. Release me or you will face the consequences.”

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid.” You replied, fighting hard to hide the growing shaking in your voice. “I’m not a friend, Loki. But I am no police either. You have not been arrested for any of your crimes here on Earth but solely for attempting to… and succeeding in altering the past and the future. We can’t let that happen again.”

His growl was downright animalistic this time, paired with a menacing harrumph—he refrained from having the last word when you stood, collecting your documents to leave the interrogation room for good. As soon as the door fell shut behind you, you breathed out, tension and fear melting away from you with a start. One of your colleagues was already waiting for you outside.

“How did it go?”

“Terrible, as expected.” You stated, straightening your skirt with trembling fingers. The officer hummed in response.

“I say we give him to the authorities. SHIELD has yet to—“

“SHIELD?” You interrupted. “And what will you tell him, officer? As far as we are concerned, Loki was, as of 2012, taken back to Asgard to face the consequences of his actions. He is not their responsibility anymore. This Loki—wherever he came from—is our issue to deal with.”

-

A full week had gone by since your first encounter with the God of Mischief and you were still no closer to bringing the Tesseract in your possession. Loki was quiet—conspicuously so. Reports from the officers standing guard day in and out spoke of nothing but immobility on his part, for most of the time, he would simply sit on his bed and stare into nothingness, other times he would walk around in his cell like a tiger ready to pounce on his prey… always as if he was planning something.

You had no doubt that he was—which meant that you would have to return to the interrogation room before it was too late, have him brought there one more time and manipulate him into telling you everything you wished to know.

You had studied him, read countless reports on him in a desperate attempt to riddle him out. Loki was a master of magic. SHIELD agents had watched him catch an arrow mid-air, they had witnessed bullets bouncing off of him like rubber balls. Mind control as well as telekinesis and even transformation counted to his powers, he cast frighteningly real illusions, possessed the ability of teleportation and invisibility—not even to mention his supernatural strength, speed, and healing capabilities.

SHIELD might have been, with the Avengers’ help, a match for him but if he ever found a way to free himself from these shackles, you would certainly be no match for him. What was it he had said? It must be truly devastating to know the Tesseract within your reach, unable to grasp it.

A spell must have been concealing the Tesseract from you. Just how would you convince him to cave in? How much time did you have left? Who, after all, could guarantee the guards weren’t just seeing illusions every day?

Perhaps you should try a new strategy and meet him with honesty—even ask for his help, if necessary. If you told Loki what was at stake if you did not protect the very fabric of this complex net of universes tying into one another and life as both he and you knew it could be torn apart, would he relent?

Loki could become a valuable asset in your organisation, use his abilities, for once, for heroism instead of mischief. But would he truly be up for this proposal after your initial conversation?

You had too many questions you did not know the answer to. This ought to change. Tomorrow. For now, you would shut the world out and relax in your own for walls—it was the only way to stay sane working for TVA.

Already wearing your pyjamas, consisting of nothing more than a pair of way too revealing knickers and a black tank top tonight, you made yourself comfortable on the carpeted floor of the bedroom in your flat, grabbing the huge pillow as well as a mug of hot chocolate already waiting for you.

You reached for the remote control to switch on your TV, lazily zapping through the various channels in search for a good film to watch before going to bed when suddenly, a news channel caught your attention.

A brunette reporter, standing in front of a green screen showing footage of a collection of grey concrete buildings on fire, hurried to rattle off the words written on the monitor behind the camera. These… these were the TVA headquarters.

“The fire department assumes the fire was caused by a leaking gas pipe or oil tank, they preclude the possibility of a wilful action towards occupants of the building complex. Until now, the firefighters recovered twenty-two dead bodies, with a final number of deaths not yet confirmed. More than thirty-four people are still missing.”

“No… oh my God, please, no…” Squeezing your eyes shut, you took a few deep and controlled breaths to fend off a panic attack. This wasn’t real. Your headquarters were not on fire. You were dreaming, having a nightmare messing with your mind.

While the greater public had no idea this building was the base of TVA, that this place had become your second home… all of the research, all of the unique technical equipment, all of the documents harbouring records of the complex composition of the multiverse, all of the prisoners you kept from tearing apart your understanding of time… gone, turned to ash.

“Beautiful, is it not? Everything is ablaze.” You screeched, flinching away from the dark figure appearing right next to your cowering form at the foot of your bed and knocking over your mug in the process.

The pale light of the TV threw eerie shadows on his flawless face, supporting his mischievous and downright threatening gaze. You stumbled back on your hands and knees when Loki took a step forward, briefly eyeing the dark stain spreading on the carpet.

“Hmm, what was that, cocoa? I rather enjoy this Midgardian beverage.”

“You… how did you…” You stuttered, unable to form a functioning sentence. Fear replaced the blood pumping through your veins, your heart pounding at light speed. He was here. How had he even found you?

“Free myself?” He finished nonchalantly. “I warned you not to underestimate me, pet. And what would happen if you caged me like a curiosity.” He added with a dangerous growl.

“W-what… what do you want from me?”

Would he kill you? Take revenge on you for making him a prisoner? To think that only minutes ago, you had considered offering him your alliance… You could not deny the effect he had on your body, your mind, your entire being. It had all started in the interrogation room, when he had seemed to look directly into your soul with those stunning blue eyes of his… his attractiveness and sex appeal only made this worse. You did not want to fear him and yet, you were terrified. Could you possibly explain to him you had meant to return to him tomorrow, proposing him an alternative to a dull cell?

“First and foremost, I will need a place to stay.” Your eyes widened when he produced the handcuffs he had been shackled with seemingly out of thin air and fingered them thoughtfully. Your heart skipped a beat when his scrutinising gaze met yours, a mischievous smirk growing on his lips. “And you, my pet, have, during our little talk, proven to be quite the reliable source of information. I shall use that to my advantage.”

Unable to combat his unnatural speed, you gasped when he stroke and grabbed your wrists firmly, cuffing them together fast and effortlessly. The cold metal on your naked skin made you shiver.

“This is to ensure you don’t rush into mischiefs.” He explained mockingly. “It would be unwise to consider me a role model in your current position.”

“Loki…” You started, willing your voice to sound strong and determined. “You don’t have to do this. Please…”

The God of Mischief chuckled darkly. “Do I not? Now, I have important matters to attend to, my dear, and I can’t have you foiling my plans.” You gasped once more when he cupped your chin, albeit surprisingly tenderly, and forcing you to look him in the eye again. “It appears you are my prisoner now. If I were you, I would not hope for your pathetic little friends to come to your rescue. They are, as of right now, occupied with not burning alive.”

He released you then, moving away from you slowly and reaching for one of the pillows on your bed to shake it out to his liking. Only now did you notice how tired and worn-out he looked, like escaping and wreaking havoc in TVA’s headquarters had demanded all of his strength.

He must have known you were not in the building. How long, you wondered, had he been watching you? While you studied him… had he been studying you, too? What would become of you now? Harley Quinn? Panic rose in your body, making your stomach churn. If Loki truly planned to implant himself in your flat, using it as a hideout, you were all but lost.

Your life as a TVA agent was but a secret one. You had no friends outside of this organisation and barely still kept in touch with your family, if anything to protect them from potential threats. No one would ever find you. Your life was in Loki’s hands.

“Please… please, just don’t hurt me.” You pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. Loki paused, his blue eyes locking with yours once more. He almost seemed… taken aback by your silent confession.

“I have no intention of hurting you.” He said. Oddly, they felt like the most honest words he had spoken to you yet.

He threw the covers back, quite obviously feeling at home already.

You had forgotten you were still cowering on the floor, your arms immobilised by the magic handcuffs. Eyeing the bed longingly, Loki smirked when he noticed your inner struggle, if anything to point out how much he enjoyed having you shudder for fear and reverence before him.

“You are more than welcome to share the bed with me, pet. I will not relinquish the presence of warm female body next to mine as I rest and recover.”

Mutely, you shook your head. But what other choice did you have? To sleep on the hard floor with nothing but a pillow? Trembling, you rose to your feet as gracefully as you could muster with your hands cuffed together, slowly approaching the other side of the bed.

It took you a moment to nestle down, feeling Loki’s eyes on you with every move you made. You did not dare look at him again, fearing your heart would not be able to take it.

With a wave of his hand, Loki switched off the TV, drowning the bedroom in utter darkness, then, you felt the mattress sinking in directly next to you. Breathing heavily, you turned your back to him, curling up like a fetus.

“Good night, (Y/N).” Your heart jumped when he spoke your name with his smooth voice—you could practically hear his scornful smirk behind you. “Sweet dreams.”

There was something about his presence… something alluring. You bit your lower lip, forcing your eyes shut. I have no intention of hurting you. You believed him. Perhaps this was what scared you the most.

-

A/N: I am strongly tempted to write a Part II. I will need some time though.

EDIT: Well, here’s Part II then. xD

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 75

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. | Tag lists are closed | INBOX OPEN

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 75: Exegol

You regained consciousness once more. Kylo’s masked face was in front of yours, blocking most of your vision. The red jagged lines a harsh contrast to your surroundings.

He was stern. “You will do as I say, I must protect you, but I can not hold you like this any longer. You will feel me release your mind and your body, but you must do as I say. It is the only way you leave here alive. Do you understand?” Something about this place was worrying him. Why was it so dangerous?

You watched as the knights shifted nervously around you. But he allowed you to speak. “Yes.” And your body and mind were released. You could still feel a protective Force bubble around you as you analyzed where you were at.

It was dark, you could see lighting strike all around you, as you followed Kylo into this weird monument. The knights surrounding you as Kylo took the lead, his saber ignited. He was on the hunt.

Even though there was no hold on your mind you could feel his presence there. ‘This place is filled with the dark side of the Force. Remember, you will do as I say and only as I say.’

You all stepped on to this hexagonal shape on the floor, it jolted as it lowered you down into some sort of dark abyss. You could see large menacing statues, hundreds of feet tall surrounding the chamber you were entering. The constant bombardment of lighting is the only true source of light other than a weird dull blue glow of mist. If he hadn’t already told you, you would have thought this place was haunted or something. The aura of the room making you on edge.

You could hear chanting in the distance as a loud chilling voice spoke. “Ah, I see you have heeded my instructions.” Something was off but you couldn’t explain it.

Kylo responded to the seemingly disembodied voice. “I have brought her as you requested.” He was talking about you. But why did he request you? Why were you important to all this?

“Good, good my boy. There is hope for you yet. Much more potential than your grandfather.” The voice had a body, or you at least assumed it did as you approached a figure attached to some sort of mechanical arm. “The First Order was just the beginning I will give you so much more.”

Kylo aimed his saber at the crippled looking man. “What could you give me?” You watched the knights take defensive stances around you, following their boss’s lead. You put your hand on your blaster, hoping that whatever will happen, that Phasma’s training would be enough.

His voice almost had a mocking tone to it as he spoke. “Everything. A new Empire. The might of the Final Order will soon be ready. It will be yours since you did as I asked. You killed the girl, ended the Jedi, and became what your grandfather Vader could not. You will rule all the galaxy as the new Emperor.”

“But beware she is not who you think she is.” one of his wrinkly deformed hands pointed to you. “She is your weakness. Break her and this will all be yours.” Who was this man?

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive. Disobey me and he will kill you.’ Kylo’s voice spoke in your mind. You didn’t know if he was supposed to be reassuring you or scaring you more.

“Yes, master,” is what Kylo responded. He turned around to face you, the world around both of you dissipated into black mist. Master? Who was this man? What was Kylo going to do? And then you felt it, you felt the black tendrils squeezing at the last bit of life you had in you, the last bit of you. You didn’t understand.

Tears streaming down your face as you fell to your knees, not being able to bear the pain. “Why are you doing this? You were nice once, what happened?” You couldn’t see anything but him, a loud roaring sound in your ears.

Kylo’s distorted voice ripped through you “Nice? Nice was Ben Solo, who was weak. I am better than him.” You heard the old man laugh at your struggles through the deafening roar.

You were pleading with him. “What about right after our wedding? You were so sweet then.” You wanted to trust him, but this wasn’t the man you knew.  

You heard a chuckle through his mask, something that would haunt even the bravest of warriors. “Ah yes, that was the leftover residue of Ben Solo leaving my body, the accumulation of my mother’s and the scavenger’s powers. Something I couldn’t exactly control at the time. But now it’s just you and me Kitten. The beast, the monster is all you have now.” He brought his hand to his heart, showing you he was the beast.

“You said you wanted me to fix you, to mend your broken soul. I can’t do that like this.” The grip of the Force around you was too much, you watched as his hand turned next to your head. And pain shot through your mind.

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive.’ The voice inside your head was his, but it was different than the one speaking out loud to you. “You already have Kitten. You gave me the motivation to end Ben Solo, to break the part of me that was weak. And now I am breaking the part of you that is weak too. We will be together as one fulfilling my grandfather’s legacy, ruling the galaxy together. Two souls that have mended each other, that have mended together.” He stepped closer to you, taking your jaw in his large gloved hand.

You wanted all of this to end. You said the words you never wanted to really say. The words you wished wouldn’t be true. “You’re a monster.”

His head snapped at the declaration. “I’ve always been a monster, it’s only taken you this long to see it.” If he didn’t have the mask on you could have sworn he would be foaming at the mouth with anger. This is not the man you once knew. He was different. He was terrifying.

“Let me go. I want myself back.” You wanted to go back to Earth, you wanted to wake up and for all of this to be a dream. A small, small part of you wished you had never met him, but something inside of you was fighting for him, something much bigger than you had initially thought.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t know if I want to let you have yourself back. Because you could still run away from me. And guess what? A new name has appeared on my wrist.” He showed the piece of bare skin to you. “Empress Ren. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?  Maybe if we keep this act up, she will be the one that lives, kitten. And she won’t leave me.” A new name replaced yours, he had already started the process of breaking you.

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive.’ His voice in your head was full of emotion, he was crying.

“You’re breaking my heart,” you were screaming now, your voice breaking, your body hurting as you struggled against his grip on your life and body.

“It needs to be broken so I can mend it. Fix it, make it whole, make it mine.” For some reason, it felt as if he was saying this without the mask,  but he wasn’t. You could hear him break with you.

But that didn’t stop what little fight you had left in you. “You’re killing me.”

It felt as if he was whispering to you, “No, I am letting you live. I am giving you life, a new life with me.” It was all too much.

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive.’

 But it wouldn’t be you. It would be someone else entirely. But you gave in. You felt the glass shatter, the black ink spilling in. The embers washed away. You were gone. Your body crumpled to the ground. As your head made impact with the ground, you saw it. You saw the throne from your dreams. You weren’t fully conscious but you could hear what was happening around you.

The old man, “The ritual begins.”

Weird demonic chanting erupted from the room in some sort of agreement.

“He will strike me down and pledge himself as a Sith. He will draw his weapon. He will come to me. He will take his revenge. And with the stroke of his saber, the Sith are reborn. The Jedi are dead.” Why would this man want to be killed? What purpose would this serve if Kylo killed him? Something was off but you couldn’t do anything about it.  

But Kylo was apparently hesitating as the old man became angry, “Do it. Make the sacrifice.”

“I don’t want to be Emperor.” He didn’t he wanted you to have control, or at least that’s what he said in the beginning but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

You felt yourself regain vision and mobility; you were awake now. Or at least whoever you were now.

The old man was furious now. “Don’t be a fool my boy. Of course, you do. It is your destiny.” There was definitely a reason behind him needing Kylo to kill him.

“No, being the Emperor is not my destiny, nor was it my grandfather’s. We both have the same weakness. We love one woman too much, she is the galaxy to me. I will give it to her.”

You watched as lighting erupted from the old man’s hands. Kylo using his strength and ability to fight him, using his saber to deflect it, drawing the old man away from you. The red guards who had been surrounding the edge of where you were now engaged in a battle against the knights.

‘I know you are awake. Shoot him. It is the only way this all ends.’

You saw what was happening now; you looked like you were still unconscious, and Kylo and his knights were a distraction. You watched as Kylo lured the old man away from you, so the old man’s back was to you. This was your one chance.

You struggled to get the blaster, your entire body feeling as if it was hit by a train, sore and muscles almost frozen. You eventually took hold of it and aimed. If you missed you would surely hit Kylo who as struggling against the old man’s powers. All you could do was hope that your shot rang true as you pulled the trigger. There was a blast of energy that shot out as your blaster bolt hit, causing you to black out. You were weak.

When you awoke this time you were laying awkwardly on something hard, your face was being cradled by a hand. When you opened your eyes you were met with a familiar face. Kylo’s. His eyes scanned your face, looking for something but eventually, he just held your gaze. Something was different now.

Your voice was groggy, “What happened?” You saw bodies littering the floor around the large chamber, all of them the red-robed guards of the old man.

“I’ve changed you. I’m sorry but it needed to happen.” His voice was sincere as he caressed your face, some of the gentleness that was stored in your memory returning.

“So, she’s gone?” The old you was gone. Or at least you suspected it.

He shifted a bit, seeming to be a bit uncomfortable at the outcome. “She is, but I am here for you. I will protect you, my Empress.”

“Empress.” The name rolled off your tongue as if it always belonged. As if it was always a part of you.

“Yes, Empress Ren, leader of the First Order and now, the Sith Eternal and the Final Order. We’ve won. You have control over everything, you have control over me.” He seemed genuine in his statements. You won against that old man. You now had control over everything, everyone.

None of this answered the important question. “Who was he? The one who wanted to make you Emperor?” You sat up, on the throne from your dreams, you were seated in your rightful position, Kylo kneeling at your feet.

Kylo shook his head. “He was the old Emperor. The one my grandfather worked for, his master. Palpatine.” Something about him kneeling before you did something to you, something familiar inside of you awoke. You stroked his beautiful soft raven hair.

You nodded, “Why did he want you to be Emperor? What did he have to gain by you slaying him? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Kylo shook his head, his face scrunched up in confusion, “I do not know why exactly, but I suspect it may have to do with some old Sith rituals. My grandfather encountered one that could take over someone’s body, but not like what I did to you, like a true host. The transferring of complete consciousness. His body was old, and decaying, I was, the perfect host for him to take over. Strong in the Force, strong in the body, but more importantly I am young. Well, much younger than him. I believe he wanted to use me to live on, to still rule as the Emperor, but we foiled his plans.” He leaned into your hand as you stroked his hair, reveling in the touch.

Your brain was working differently, more calculated, more exact, more resourceful. “And what of the Resistance? I am assuming they are still alive.”

“They are, but I am still your guard dog, Kitten. Send me after them, let me destroy them for us, for you. So all the galaxy is finally under your rule as Empress.” He placed his hands on your thighs eager to be sent as a weapon of destruction for you, his lust for violence showing through. Along with what appeared to be lust for you as he couldn’t help his hands stroking up your legs.

“I will, but I would like one night with my husband first. Last night wasn’t something I enjoyed. My guard dog needs to remember that I am supposed to be treated like an Empress. And he needs to show me that before I will let him be my weapon to destroy my enemies.” His pupils dilated, and he swallowed back need. You could see that you were hitting all the right buttons with your new authority. He wanted you as you did him. You were going to show him, just how an Empress should be treated.

A/N: Insert the Poe Dameron meme here: "And somehow Palpatine has returned." But my question is: did I do it better? Let me know!

[saintheartwing]

So Why Should A Hero Be Moral?

The idea of a guy with super powers doing incredible things wasn’t invented by either Japanese anime, western comics, or some obscure 1920′s writer somewhere. No, no, it goes as far back, at least in terms of written record, to Plato’s work known as “Republic”. We find it beginning with the description of an “ancestor of Gyges”. And if you know that name...you know about Gyges’s Ring.

See, this ring makes you invisible if you slip it on. Using the ring, this man got into the king’s palace, seduced the king’s wife, killed the king with her help, and became the new ruler. This story is told to pose a question to us. “Do people actually love justice and goodness for its own sake, or do they do it because they realize if they’re unjust, there’ll be consequences for their actions?

Glaucon, the narrator, takes an “Immoralist” viewpoint. If ANY such person had that kinda magic ring, they’d behave in the same way. NOBODY would “refrain his hands from the possession of others and not touch them”. Well, this is quite the question. Would you do that? Should you do that? But it goes further. Glaucon also claims that if there were any people with special powers so committed to doing good that they’d still seek to be just, the rest of us would despise them and regard them with contempt. Why? Because if anyone who had a license to do whatever the hell they thought refused to do wrong or lay their hands on others things, the reaction would be “What the hell are you, stupid? You moron! You can do f--king anything and you’re not doing it?”

So Glaucon challenges Socrates in “Republic”. If you want to make a really convincing argument for why people should seek to BE good and not just APPEAR good, well, then show that the life of a person who is truly just but thought by others not to be so is superior to the life of someone who is ACTUALLY unjust, but has a good reputation. We have to compare the lives of people who are genuinely good vs the people who pretend to be so, but are thought of, outwardly, as good.

This is quite the challenge. So then...why SHOULD someone with superpowers or powers of any kind be good at all? Why should people, in general, be good? Not just appear good...BE good? Well, Plato presented a person, in Republic, as being someone who was thought of as unjust and suffered accordingly despite being good...and that person maaaaay have come from personal experience. After all, his beloved teacher was Socrates, a wise, brilliant and formerly well-known and cherished philosopher...who people turned on thanks to trumped up legal charges by claiming he was “corrupting the youth” and other BS claims. So a real, genuine, actual good person DID get thought of as being a stupid ignorant fool and let’s all boo and hiss him and then execute him via the state.

But we’re not in Ancient Greece, so let’s try to call on someone a LITTLE more modern. Kierkegaard the German Philosopher! He said that humans are called upon in life to, well, live a live of universal love. We are called by God to love our neighbors as ourselves, and nobody really falls outside that category of “neighbor”. It’s kinda like the idea of “We’re all brothers in Christ”.

OBVIOUSLY this isn’t even close to being an easy task, Kierkegaard says we need to overcome natural selfishness, and the inertia that pushes us toward the satisfaction of our own desires when those desires conflict with the good of others. This is the “first danger”. The first obstacle to goodness, justice and love. If you CAN overcome this, you can then face the external issue...a “double danger”. What is that?

Kierkegaard says that the big struggle involves first the person’s inner being struggling with themselves, then with the world outside. Because we don’t live in a world where it’s easy to love one another and to be just, after all.

So a moral person has to engage in a certain amount of self-denial. Only THEN can you overcome the firm pull of selfish desire. But  then we have to contend with the world because the world isn’t gonna be so nice to us. We may admire sainthood from a distance but facing real, actual virtue can be...disturbing to folks. Think of, say, figures like Gandhi or Dr. King or Harvey Milk or Nelson Mandela. Oh sure, people may ADORE them now but at the time they were alive, folks severely hated them in a lot of places. They were controversial figures who incurred a lot of criticism and in many cases for many beloved figures today...they got murdered for their efforts.

And the temptation of double danger and the like isn’t necessarily the temptation to be a supervillain. Take Spider-Man. Peter’s on his way to see MJ perform. He promised he’d see her. But...uh oh. Some guys are robbing an unfortunate in an alleyway. And...well, he’s Spider-Man! He’s got to help them! So he ends up missing her performance because he had to save people. This wasn’t a temptation to use his powers for financial gain or anything. It was a choice between using your powers for good or...well, just having a normal, private kinda life. He’s tempted to be ORDINARY, not evil. A lot of us kind of experience this. Most of us aren’t tempted to be villains. We wanna be free to pursue our own individual happiness is all.

However Peter also experiences the second danger because J Jonah Jameson, head of the biggest paper in the city, is ALWAYS shouting how Spidey is a menace. Menace! MENACE! Despite Spider-Man saving his life multiple times, AND his son, AND NYC, AND the World over and over...

But no. MENACE!

The good news is the average NYC person doesn’t seem to fear Spider-Man. Unless Joe f--kin’ Quesada is writing the story or the episode because yeah, THAT isn’t tired and played out. But such a thing is a good example of the double danger. Either they cynically refuse to believe in his goodness...or they call him a chump behind his back. Just as Glaucon said they would.

But what does Plato say in response? Well, Plato says that in the long run we’ll be happier both in life and in death, if we live in accordance with justice by turning our attention to the good. Morality reflects the true, deep character of the universe. Those who are committed to the good are committed to what is profoundly and eternally true. It’s no accident this viewpoint’s seen as religious, writers from St. Augustine to C.S Lewis have viewed his metaphysical version of the world as very much congruent to their own faith.

It’s also a matter of mutual responsibilities. Tobe a parent or a son or daughter or husband or wife or a citizen of a state means you have duties to the other. Certain obligations are just part of those kinds of relationships. It doesn’t just merely become grounds to love doing good but to enforce morality across wider stretches and turn it into duty.

For example, driving at a moderate speed is a good thing to do, but we also further enforce this as a legal obligation with speed limits. We don’t just have a moral duty to do the right thing, but a legal one at that. And that’s before we get into any kind of open religious reason for being good. Ultimately, Kierkegaard makes the argument, much like Plato, that humans have a simple reason to behave good. Because our own deepest and ultimate happiness is found by following the path of neighbor love.

But of course, now we get to an opposing viewpoint that has sprung up a lot. The concern of UTILITARIANISM. Let me paint a picture for you of a comic featuring Batman. The Joker is on trial for poisoning stamps. People lick them and they die. This time...the Joker’s found guilty and is going to death row. He is, in fact, going to DIE. And nobody could really argue that he doesn’t deserve it. Even though I’m almost completely against the death penalty...

It’s the goddamn JOKER. There are SOME exceptions to the rule. Some people who, absolutely, one hundred percent, would be too, TOO dangerous to let live and whom everyone else in the world would be better off if they were dead, who’ve proven, even if they were unarmed and had nothing but a glass of water...would smash that glass of water, cut the throats of everyone around them and then grab your gun and shoot you.

But...here’s the thing. THIS time...the Joker’s innocent. Batman knows he didn’t do it.

So...what should he do? A lot of us, and I’m tempted myself, would say, well, “Let the motherf--ker fry in the chair”.

Let’s think up another possibility. The Green Goblin has lasso’d an irritated dishwasher. He’s soaring on his Goblin Glider, the poor guy being dragged behind him, screaming all the way, he gets broken ribs and everything. Luckily, Spider-Man saves him. Now, what nobody knows is the guy was a disgrunted employee who had a gun in his pocket. He was gonna unload it into the first asshole in the diner he worked at because he was sick and tired of being underpaid by a cruel boss, picked on at work, and he just one day has decided he’s had enough. With what he WENT through now though, he gives up on his plan, destroys his gun, and signs up for an anger management course. 

So was what the Green Goblin did the right thing? Well, a UTILITARIAN would argue yes, it was. But surely that’s not correct, dragging a rando around Fifth and Main with the intention of traumatizing the guy and maybe even killing him just to use him as bait for his nemesis is CLEARLY an evil act, even if it UNINTENTIONALLY produces a greater good. 

So who do we turn to now? Let’s try Immanuel Kant. Kant maintained our fundamental duty is to act in a way that satisfies what’s called the “categorical imperative”. A formulation that states we should ALWAYS treat people as an ends in themselves, not MERELY as means. This comes down to treating people as always having intrinsic value, and never just using them for our own purposes as if they just had INSTRUMENTAL value. But remember, performing an action in accordance with the categorical imperative alone isn’t enough to make it good. You have to do it because it is your duty to do it! If an action treats an individual as an ends in and of themselves and the person performs the action regarding such individuals in way that indicates they’re following their duty of treating people appropriately, then their action is good. So treat others first as people, not as means to an end, and do it for the right reasons, not for selfish ones. It’s your duty to yourself, to others in Kant’s eyes. 

So what are these “duties” though? Now we get into the weeds. There’s positive and negative duties. Positive is stuff like tending to  the sick. Feeding and clothing the poor. Negative duties are obligations to REFRAIN from doing things that harm people, like assaulting an innocent person or maliciously lying to them. By doing our positive duties, we treat people as ends in and of themselves by showing them respect, and we’re fulfilling our negative duties by avoid treating them as merely a means. 

Spider-Man dives into this sort of thinking a lot. It’s classic line “with great power comes great responsibility” is an admonishment for people to be careful with the powers they have. Those who have power have a duty and an obligation to help those in need. Boiled down simply, its answering the question of “But why be moral at all?” For one, if you fail to do your duty, there will be negative consequences that affect you, directly or indirectly. But then again, this can be questionable. Sometimes reason one isn’t convincing in a world where evil can easily bring profit and virtue none at all. So what’s the second reason?

Because it’s right. 

People like Kant and FH. Bradley, another philosopher, have brought this up. Appealing to someone’s self-interest in the name of getting them to do a moral duty is basically missing the point. Them doing it for pragmatic or selfish reasons means they’re not behaving morally at all. You have to do the right thing BECAUSE it’s right. Not for some self-interested reward. But what if we’re given very strong reasons to do the wrong thing? Then doing the right thing would be irrational. So we have to make sure we’re not being irrational in doing the right thing.

So if reason one and reason two don’t work...is there a third reason? Well, yes. Let’s go back to Plato. Plato says “It’s the only way you’ll really have piece of mind”. According to Plato, a person’s soul consists of reason, of appetites, and the “spirited element”. Reason includes the conscience, and reason MUST govern the soul or the soul is discordant, lacking in harmony. But there’s plenty of people who don’t approach life from a dominantly moral perspective, so does this idea work? After all, even many morally upright people face temptation at some point, or give in occasionally. 

Artistole had another answer. Virtue is its own reward. Being moral is a greater benefit to you than any benefit you might obtain at the expense of your good moral character. Unfortunately that doesn’t seem necessarily true,, the rewards of perfect virtue do not always compensate compared to the rewards for wrongdoing. So then what’s next? 

Reason five! Doing good pays off in the long run. Now, if you’re a religious person, you may already know about this answer. It’s very similar to reason one. But we don’t have to accept it. It calls for some strong metaphysical positions about the nature of reality. 

But then again, maybe it’s not a singular answer that IS the answer. Maybe the multitude of reasons given here are good enough. Maybe it’s a little of them all that explains WHY heroes should behave in a moral way. Why people should be moral and good. Ultimately, how you choose to answer the question”Why be moral”...that’s up to you, and hopefully, you can be proud of the answer you give. 

[deadanddeactivated]

Press Conference

Fandom: Spider-Man: Far from Home Pairing: Peter Parker & Pepper Potts Characters: Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, JJJ is there at the end Summary: Pepper's reaction to the end of Far From Home is to do what she does best, handle PR.

AO3

--

Barely an hour after the release of Mysterio's final moments, screens around the city once more light up with news.  A newscaster looks frazzled, like he's just been pulled back into the seat.  His partner is much more composed, and it's her that speaks.

"Moments ago Pepper Potts-Stark, current CEO of Stark Industries and widow to the late hero Iron Man aka Tony Potts-Stark, called a press conference in defense of suspected supervillain Spiderman.  We go now to the live coverage of the event."

--

"Thank you all for coming here so quickly.  I apologize for the short notice, but we thought it best to clear up the confusion as quickly as possible.  The victims of the London attack deserve the truth."  Pepper begins, tone calm and perfect.  Behind her stands Spiderman, shoulders squared against the glaring crowd of reporters.

"Does that mean you are confirming Spiderman's involvement in Mysterio's death?"  One of them calls.  

"Please hold all questions until the end of the conference."  Pepper says calmly, glaring at the man.  "Or at the very least, raise your hand."  The reporter shrinks back at the scolding.

"As I said, we are here to clear up the confusion caused by the video released earlier today.  I would like to state clearly that this information was always going to publized, we were simply taking the time to present it right.  Without that liberty, I can't promise my presentation will be flawless."  A screen to her right bursts to life, showing a still of the video released earlier.

"This video was sent to several press companies approximately an hour ago.  It was not sent to any police personal.  Likely it was recorded by one of the many drones and then later altered, explaining why so much time had passed between its supposed creation and its release."

"How can you be so sure the film was altered?"  Someone shouts.

"A little more respect, if you will."  Pepper scolds.  "Every SpiderMan suit, either the exception of the hoodie, is built with an AI system known as KAREN.  One of KAREN's primary duties is to record every moment Spiderman is active.  This was implemented both for slander such as this.  KAREN has been uploaded onto this secondary screen to show you the truth.  KAREN, if you will."

"Of course."  A robotic voice said as the screen to Pepper's right flared to life.  The crowd was silent as they watched the true retelling of London from the perspective of Spiderman's eyes.  And his chest, when he removed his mask, not that they needed to know that.

"As you can see, Mysterio had the technology to create illusions and was intent in fooling the public.  He pulled a similar stunt to create the false video blaming Spiderman."  Pepper says.  "In fact, every thing to do with Mysterio was illusion.  Along with KAREN's video, we have several that EDITH took.  Mysterio, or Quentin Beck as he is legally called, attempted to delete this."  One screen began to play a video if Quentin rephrasing the London attack.  On the other screen, Quentin's real documentation appeared.

"Desperate his claims of other Earths, Mr Beck was simply a disgruntled employee with a history of anger issues and a grudge against superheroes."  Pepper waits a moment for the crowd to take that in before continuing.  "Now, we'll take questions."

"How can we be sure that it was Mysterio's video that was altered and not yours?"  Someone asks when Pepper points to her.

"We are happy to let professionals look over our files."  Pepper says.  "Much like we had professionals look over Beck's.

"Experts were able to confirm that these sections of Beck talking were taken at the same time, and all of them earlier than this moment where Spiderman supposedly calls a strike.  More importantly, we confirmed that that call was made at this moment during the London attack.  Now tell me, why is a command that will supposedly cause mass casualties immediately followed by the drones retreating?"

"But how can we be sure that Spiderman won't do something like this is the future?  That he isn't obsessed with being the next Ironman?"  

"Because I don't want to be the next Ironman."  Spiderman speaks up this time.  "Those are big shoes to fill and I don't have anywhere near the experience needed to try."  

"If everything that Mysterio said was a lie, does that mean that Peter Parker isn't Spiderman?"  

"As you tell in the video, Spiderman's face is never actually revealed.  The photo of Mr Parker at the end was added by most newscasters.  And beyond that there's simply no evidence to support that Mr Parker is Spiderman."  Pepper says.  "We believe that Beck said that to make his video seem more legitimate, believing no one would actually look into it."

"Why would claiming Spiderman is some random teenager legitimize Peter's claim?"  The report didn't raise their hand but Pepper allows it.  She seems to think for a moment before sighing.

"This is something I intend to have an entirely different press conference about, one with Peter actually here."  She sighs.  "Peter Parker was not some random teenager.  Prior to the Blip, Peter became Tony's personal intern.  We used to joke that Peter was Tony's test run for Morgan."  She smiles a small but honest smile at the memory.  "In his will, Tony made Peter his heir.  Few knew about this, but it appears Beck discovered this fact.  It's entirely possible he did believe Peter to be Spiderman, given their similar relationships with Tony.  However, I can assure you, Peter wasn't even in London.  He was in Berlin, waiting for me."

"If Peter isn't Spiderman why isn't he here?" 

"Due to the short notice, he wasn't able to get here in time."  Pepper explains.

--

As soon as they’re in the car, alone and out of sight, Peter wraps his arms tight around Pepper.  “Thank you.”  He mumbles into her shoulder, feeling letting his shoulders start to shake but still trying not to cry.  Pepper smiles softly, hugging him back.  

“I should be thanking you.”  She says.  “That a breeze compared to handling PR for Tony, you actually showed up!”  They both manage a laugh.  It still hurts to talk about Tony.  People say grief takes time but it’s been a year and Peter still chokes up at his name.  On his bad days, he still flinches at the name of the third father-figure he had to bury.  

Today’s not a good day.  But Peter has so much more to be stressed about then feeling guilt over Tony’s death and his continued grief.

“You do know this means we’ll have to do a second conference for Peter Parker, official Stark Heir.”  Pepper said before the silence could last too long.

“I think I can handle it.”  Peter says.  “At least I won’t be going on stage an assumed murder.”  Pepper gives him a tight squeeze before letting go of him and turning to the steering wheel.  

“Come on.”  She hums, starting the car.  “Let’s go get something to eat, Morgan’s missed you.”

“We’ll have to get hamburgers.”  Peter grins.  Peper smiles back and starts driving.  Plans are already whirring in her head for the next conference.  She’ll have to give Hayley a call before hand, he’s about Peter’s height and he’ll be happy to play Spiderman for a day.

--

“So Pepper Potts-Stark wants to call Spiderman an angel?”  J. Jonah Jameson huffs on the screen.  “Ridiculous!”

“I’ve had people calling in practically every minute since the press conference for my opinion, and I’m here to give it!”  He went on.  “Do I think Mysterio lied in that video?  Of course I do, what do I look like?  A fool?  The evidence is overwhelming.

“However, do I think that makes Spiderman a hero?  Absolutely not!  One good deed does not a hero make!  The man’s not a murderer, am I meant to applaud him for that?  I won’t!  He’s still a menace, making our streets more dangerous and acting like a hooligan!”  There’s a sound of screen and Jameson grows distracted a moment, mumbling ‘What?  Fine!’ before turning back to the screen.

“Now before I continue to reveal the truth about Spiderman, there is one other thing people keep bugging me with.  Peter Parker.  No, I don’t think this kid is Spiderman.  Mysterio was an idiot.  Spiderman is obviously not a twelve year old.”  Jameson immediately returns to ranting about Spiderman and Pepper turns the tv off.  She’s heard all she needs to know and, as much as she hates it, Peter will just have to get used to some people night liking him.

Or she could sue Jameson for slander, Pepper thinks, running her hands through the sleeping boys hair.

No, Peter wouldn’t want that.  Still, she’ll definitely keep it in mind.

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Zero to Quicksilver: Pt. 3

Summary: Pietro x Reader. Reader is a driver/chauffeur… during the day at least. The Avengers are visiting the area she calls home and reader is hired as their escort. What could happen when they find themselves in the back seat of her car?

Word Count: 2064

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of a bad relationship, mentions of past injury

A/N: So I’ve been off the radar for a while, I am really sorry about that. I would like to promise that it won’t happen again, but I can’t actually do that…

   The string of curse words that ran through your mind would have put a drunken sailor to shame; nothing but an angry growl left your lips though. Pietro, who had been standing close to you, was suddenly right behind you, his body stiff. He didn’t speak, but you could feel his body heat seeping into your back, it was an unexpected comfort.

   You met Jackson’s gaze, but you didn’t respond, you could feel your stomach turning over. For a moment, no one spoke.

   “Don’t be like that Y/N. I just asked a simple question,” Jackson said. If you hadn’t known better, his tone of voice and posture would probably have fooled you into believing he was the uncomfortable, embarrassed maybe, but you knew. You knew just how good of an actor Jackson had become.

   “A question that you have no right to ask, and one I choose not to answer,” you replied, tone icly calm, despite the tremor you could feel in your body. Mostly, your reaction was anger, but there was a little part of you, one that you denied for the most part, that was afraid.

   “Aw, sugar-”

   “Not your ‘sugar’,” you cut Jackson off before he could continue. There was nothing he could possibly have to say that you would want or need to hear. “Now, I’m not sure why the fuck you’re here, and I don’t really give a shit. Get. Lost.”

   When he opened his mouth to speak again, you said, “I thought I made myself clear. I do not want to see, hear, or speak to you. Go. Away.” You crossed your arms and planted you feet shoulder width apart.

   “Y/N-” Jackson started, but this time Pietro cut him off.

   “She told you to leave. I suggest you do so.” He didn’t raise his voice, but there was menace in his tone.

   Jackson put his hands up in what should have been a placating gesture, but from him, it looked mocking.

   “I just came to talk, but I can see I’m not welcome. I’ll come back and see ya later when you’re not… involved.”

   “Don’t bother,” you growled, “you won’t ever be welcome here.”

   Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and a worrying grin spread across his lips. “Whatever you say, Y/N.” He left after saying that, but you didn’t feel any better.

   You could feel your body tremble slightly as the supply of adrenaline started to wane, and you jumped when you felt Pietro put his hands on your upper arms.

   “Hey,” he said in a calming tone. When had he moved in front of you? Why did it seem like he’d been calling you for a while?

   Taking a deep breath, you met his eyes. Where there was usually a spark of mischief and humor in the grey-blue, there was only a steel edge. His grip was gentle on your biceps, but he didn’t seem likely to release you anytime soon. You uncrossed your arms, slowly, and shifted them so you could rest your hands on Pietro’s forearms.

   Speaking lightly, you answered him. “I’m okay.”

   “Really?” he said, disbelievingly.

   A humorless chuckle passed your lips. “Yeah, this is nothing new.”

   “Is that supposed to make me worry less?” Pietro asked, eyebrows raised. After a pause he added, “He is why you had your door closed.” He hadn’t phrased it like a question, but you nodded anyway.

   “I’d hoped not to have to deal with him like this, but he’s been hanging around a lot lately.”

   “Who is he?” Pietro asked.

   You let out a deep sigh, resting a bit of your weight on Pietro’s arms. “Ex-boyfriend.”

   “I’m guessing the relationship didn’t end well.”

   “That would be an understatement. You remember me telling you my brother got into bad shit? The shit that got me beat up?” At Pietro’s nod, you continued, “The asshole you just saw leave was the leader of the gang of said bad shit. I didn’t know ‘til later. Fucker had the gall to visit me in the hospital, as if he hadn’t been involved.” That still stung. When you had found out about a month after leaving the hospital, it had all but punched your chest in. You had trusted Jackson, had feelings for him, and he had participated in, had orchestrated your beating.

   Pietro’s grip tightened. “How dangerous is he to you?”

   PIetro was a lot calmer than you’d expected, or at least, he seemed calm. Of course, you couldn’t hear him practically grinding his teeth, and you couldn’t see the thoughts running through his head; the least violent of which involved calling the rest of the Avengers.

   “I’m not sure. Usually, I would say, ‘not very’; I carry a gun, and have no issue using it, but he’s been more persistent lately, and I’m not really sure why.”

   “And you live alone, with no close neighbors, and work in a shady part of town,” Pietro completed.

   “Hey, watch what you’re calling ‘shady’. I grew up here,” you joked.

   “Y/N, have you looked around yourself lately?”

   “Yeah, I know how it looks, but I’m safe here.”

   “He walked right in, Y/N.”

   Pietro’s mind was spinning. All he could think was that he was too far away. If something happened to you, he wasn’t going to be able to protect you.

   “Look, he’s an angry bastard, and I don’t like dealing with him, but I’ve got this.”

   “Yes, but-”

   “No ‘but’s,” you said, shrugging out of his hold, “I was hoping you wouldn’t even find out about him, cause I figured you’d get all weird about it. I don’t need your help.” You wrapped out arms around yourself as you backed away slightly.

   You had a feeling this would happen. Pietro was gonna start taking over, assuming you couldn’t handle your own shit. Fuck that. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, you knew that. You had dealt with plenty of worse things in your life, but for some reason, even though you’d expected it to happen, Pietro starting to act all domineering hurt.

   “Hey,” Pietro said sternly. He’d moved so that he had you cornered; you wouldn’t be able to get around him easily. He held his hands up and spoke again. “I’m not saying you need my help. For fuck’s sake, within an hour of meeting you, you’d already saved not only my ass, but Stark’s, Rhodes’, and Romanoff’’s as well. I just want you to know that you have backup, if you want it.”

   It took a moment for what Pietro said to sink in. Even then, you struggled to respond.

   “I- uh. Thanks,” you stuttered.

   Pietro chucked a little and dropped his hands, “You’re welcome, înger.”

…

   You cleaned up your workshop pretty quickly, not particularly wanting to stay in the garage anymore. Locking up behind you, you and Pietro decided to head to your house. Once you got there, you reheated some leftover lasagna you’d made the night before, and offered some to Pietro, along with a beer.

   The conversation was almost as comfortable as usual, as if Jackson hadn’t shown his ugly face, but as the night drew on, as Pietro was preparing to leave, you saw him tense.

   He cleared his throat, “So, I don’t want to make you feel like I’m interfering, but are you sure you’re safe? I don’t want to leave you alone if you’re not comfortable.”

   You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m fine, Piet. There’s a race coming up out of town, so I’m leaving soon anyway.”

   “Where’s the race?” he asked.

   You cocked an eyebrow, ready to nag Pietro for getting too involved, but he laughed. “The rest of the team still wants to see you drive. If it’s close enough, we can probably even get the Captain out to see.” Pietro’s smile was bright, and at least 50% honest. You narrowed your eyes.

   “I was actually hoping you’d visit before I left; the race is in New York.”

   Pietro’s smile grew, and he was practically vibrating on the spot, though knowing him, he may actually have been moving fast enough to appear that way.

   “That’s wonderful,” he cheered, “now everyone will be able to see you drive!”

   You laughed lightly and shook your head. “Ya know, I can’t imagine Captain America being all that interested in the illegal street racing scene.” The image of him standing amongst the crowds of people that usually populated the races was enough to make you laugh.

   “He’s surprisingly laid back when it comes to the law. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, he probably won’t have a problem with it. Actually,” Pietro added on a laugh, “I think Barnes and Wilson will especially like you, so the Captain won’t really have a choice.”

   You snorted inelegantly, leaning back against your kitchen counter.

   “When are you going to be leaving for New York? Where are you staying?”

   “I was gonna leave in three days, and I was getting an airBnB.”

   Pietro did start vibrating then. You could see him blurring just a little bit as if he couldn’t contain himself. “You can come stay with me. I mean with the team. There’s plenty of room and I’m sure Stark would be happy to have you.”

   “But, I-”

   “He’s been trying to think of a way to repay you since the incident. He hasn’t come up with the right gift yet.”

   “He knows he doesn’t have to, right? I told him about a million times,” anxiety creeped into your voice as you asked. You didn’t want anyone to feel like they owed you anything.

   Pietro chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think he listened. He’s Tony Stark; he’s gonna do what he wants.”

   “You’re right,” you nodded. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about that. He doesn’t hear ‘no’ a lot does he?”

   “Only from Ms. Potts really. The team tries, but I think Ms. Potts is the only one he listens to.” Pietro shot you a smile. “He’s a little tough to get used to.”

   “Says the human blur,” you snarked, nudging his shoulder. He made a face in response. “Did you just stick out your tongue at me?” you asked in disbelief, hands on your hips.

   “So what if I did, înger?” Pietro responded, mirroring your stance, but closing the distance between you so that he was only a few inches away. With your butt still against your counter, there wasn’t much space for you to move.

   “I’d say you shouldn’t stick it out unless you wanna share it,” you joked without thinking. What a time for inappropriate things to come out of your mouth.

   Your face was already pink and cringing when Pietro spoke. “Oh? And how do you know I don’t want to share, prețios?”

   Well that wasn’t the response you were expecting, You’d expected him to be uncomfortable, not play into it. You could feel your cheeks reddening, but you didn’t back down, though you did move your arms to cross your chest.

   Clearing your suddenly dry throat, you said, “You seem to like trapping me, Pietro.”

   Pietro’s voice was low when he responded. ‘You’re not trapped, bibic. I know you can get away. I’m just slowing you down, so that I can catch you.” He came even closer then, smiling mischievously, as he practically pressed his lips to your ear before saying, “We’ll have to test my ‘trap’ later. Maybe then I can show you how much I like to share.” A barely-there kiss was pressed to your neck, just below your ear, and before you could draw breath, he was gone.

   Your heart was racing again, but for a very different reason. You were going to have to look up those words he was using. You couldn’t understand them, but had a feeling they were important. Your phone buzzing startled you, but a goofy smile spread across your lips when you read the message.

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[jimlingss]

A Serpent’s Flower [1/2]

CO-WRITTEN WITH @dovechim

Read Part Two Here

Read the Sequel - Sowing a Sapling: Part 1

Words: 16.2k Genre: Fluff, Smut, Smidgen of Angst, Hogwarts!AU, ??!AU Summary: The wizarding community has learned from its past mistakes, sure, but that doesn’t mean that house rivalries aren’t still an issue. What transpires between you and a certain Park Jimin seems to go far beyond just house enmity though - it’s downright personal, and one might even say you go out of your way to torment him. But when a love potion gone awry, it may just force you to walk in his shoes. 

Warnings: Male masturbation, unprotected sex, mentions of sex toys.

“That’s twenty points docked from Hufflepuff.”

The first year student begins to sob. His tears dribble down his cheeks to soak the yellow scarf around his neck. You grimace in distaste. Weaklings, the entire house is a disgrace.

But she’s not alone, however, since her housemates - third years, by the looks of their acne blemished skin and awkward, half broken voices - start to voice their protest. “H-how is that fair?!”

“Do not question my authority.” You snap back, gathering your emerald cloak about your figure in slow, deliberate movements to remind them just who they’re talking to. From your superior height, you make sure to stare down at the youngest of them with such intense disgust that even Salazar Slytherin would be proud. “Ten more points docked. Keep talking and I’ll keep going.”

The Hufflepuff children seal their lips, the younger ones diverting their eyes to the ground and the older ones glaring at you with sharpened pupils. You whip around, letting your robes slice through the air in a sharp motion as the green shade burns into the back of their vision.

“That is so not fair…”

“She h-hates us,” the other traumatised little first year is sobbing incoherently.

“You’re not wrong there,” a second year mutters back, patting the crying boy and attempting to soothe him. A Gryffindor walking past snickers under his breath and a Ravenclaw continues to bury her head in her Muggle Studies textbook.

“It’s not us she hates...” A fifth year shudders out and he looks towards the blue sky. “It’s our Head of House….”

“Professor Park.”

*//*

Contrary to popular belief, you love to teach. Potions has always been your speciality, and in some aspects, it suits your personality to a tee. The amount of precision needed, attention to detail, and most of all, patience, are all attributes that make you one of the best Potions Masters of your time.

You sigh and lean in your hard backed chair, massaging your temples. Your office is the only place where you can get a little respite from all those rowdy little children, and all the better since you’d long ago placed a Jelly-Legs Jinx upon the threshold to whoever dared trespass.

With the curtains drawn and the portraits asleep, it lulls you into a sense of contentment. You briefly watch your pencils sharpen themselves on your desk, the rhythmic sounds of metal against the oak coloured wood serving as white noise as you flip through a stack of completed assignments.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.” You mumble underneath your breath, halfway through marking the written portions of the most recent experiment. The door hinges swing open gently and for a moment, it seems as if the sun itself has graced you with its presence.

It’s a blindingly bright shade, one that sears to the back of your own irises. It reminds you of amber flickering flames on a cold winter’s night, marigold and daffodil flowers that filled verdant fields of your childhood home. It’s the sand at the beaches, the lemons of your grandmother’s muggle farm and the gold jewelry she carefully stowed away in boxes for future generations. It’s the icing on the cupcake, the hue that reminds you of happiness...of kindness…

And of Park Jimin.

Hence, you despise the colour yellow.

“Good evening, Professor ___.” Jimin is nothing short of respectful as he greets you. His silver hair and sharp jawline is a striking mismatch to the house that he belongs to. He almost looks like a Slytherin, if you did say so yourself, but the thought of it immediately makes you want to hurl in disgust at yourself for tarnishing the great name of Salazar Slytherin. But the gentle aura, rounded cheeks and crinkled eyes, the colour of his robes tells you that there’s no better place where he belongs.

But then your eyes drift to the two students flanking him. You recognize Min Yoongi, a third year student and Lee Kihoon, a second year student, both from your house. You’d dealt with their mischief more than a couple of times already, which explains your familiarity with them. But with the pile of scripts sitting in front of you still waiting to be assessed, you can’t help but feel your fingers twitch in irritation at the silver haired man who’s currently puffing out his chest, arms folded and appearing indignant.

Hufflepuffs and their sense of justice. They’re no different than those god forsaken Gryffindors, really, just with a tad more self preservation.

The two students are held by the back of their shirt collars and forced to plop down into the two seats in front of you. “I caught these two in the corridor just now, engaging in a… well, why don’t you tell your Head of House exactly what you were doing.”

You cock an eyebrow up at the undercurrent of anger that accompanies his usually mild, easygoing tone. Yoongi scratches the back of his neck and inhales sharply, embarrassment written in every single line of his body, but the stubborn snake refuses to show even a hint of weakness. Just as a Slytherin should. You can barely stop yourself from smirking in satisfaction. Yoongi was always one of your favourite students, after all. “Well, go on, boy.”

“It’s not my fault.” The blonde shrugs nonchalantly, having absolutely no qualms about throwing his friend under the bus. “Kihoon was the one who suggested it.”

“Hey!” Kihoon protests but at your hardened glare, they stop bickering, quieting down immediately. “I-..we...both spilled water in the hallway and..uh...used the freezing charm.”

“And how many slipped on the ice and got injured?” Jimin interrupts and then looks straight at you. “Ten kids! Ten of them! They’re all in the infirmary and one person almost broke their neck!”

You sigh internally, rolling your eyes heavenwards as you eye Park Jimin with a sort of disinterest. What could he possibly want you to do? Bringing a matter as trivial as this to your attention, when it could have easily been handled on the spot like that. This is why Hufflepuff is a disgrace - their Head of House is such a bumbling, incompetent fool.

Taking your time to glare at the two students in emerald robes, a small jolt of satisfaction soothes your vexation just a smidgen when you see them cower before you. They visibly gulp at your menacing aura and you lean back in your chair. Jimin taps his foot and waits for you to utter anything at all. Silence weighs heavily in the air, as both your students and Park Jimin are hanging onto your every single breath. “Alright...I think they’ve learned their lesson.”

“Excuse me?” Park Jimin’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he looks as if he’s about to protest.

“I’ll just dock off three points from Slytherin house. And don’t do that again, boys. Do you understand me? This is my final warning to you both.”

“We understand.” Kihoon dips his head, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. This is not the first time he’s been issued a final warning. “I’m sincerely sorry, madam.”

Jimin’s mouth is wide open, “that’s it?”

Yoongi shoots you a lazy little smirk in appreciation as well, reaching to adjust the knot of his silver and emerald striped tie. “I believe we should be going now, Professor Park. Kihoon and I have to get to class.”

The two children quickly leave the room and as you’re packing your belongings to prepare for the next period, Jimin lingers. You lift your eyes. “Yes?”

“Do you know what you’ve just done?” He crosses his arms and despite looking stern, the Hufflepuff only looks irritably cute with his pout. Even a house elf would be more aggressive and frightening than him. You wonder how he manages to stay on top of discipline in his own house at all, being the pushover that he is.

“You’ve undermined my authority, Professor ___. As two professors of equal status, I expected the punishment to be harsher. I hope you’re not favouring those students because they belong to your house.”

“They’re my students.” You bite back, ignoring the way his eyes are glittering with indignance, and how they resemble two orbs burning bright. “I get to discipline them however I see fit. Don’t undermine my authority.”

The pair of you stare at each other. Despite your best intimidating glare that would have sent even the strongest Death Eater themselves cowering, Park Jimin is unaffected, and it leaves you a little uneasy. He doesn’t even appear angry or remotely annoyed at you. Instead, he looks at you with a sort of defeated resignation, such a far cry from his usual bright and cheerful self that you feel a little disconcerted.

You clear your throat hastily. “Are you going to move? I need to leave.”

“Oh…” He shuffles back. “Sorry.”

You brush past him in a rustle of emerald robes, leaving him to scamper after you as the door to your office slams shut. Professor Park is left in the dust as you strut down the hallway, not looking back once.

Once you turn the corner, you let out a sigh you didn’t even know you’d been holding. Park Jimin is an incompetent fool, too kind-hearted and generous for the rigorous job of Head of House. You shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind, but it’s no use. The burnished gold of his robes has been imprinted into your mind, and you spite the foolish kindness that he displayed to you.

He’s spineless. Unfit for the job. Weak.

*//*

“Afternoon, ___, hope your classes went well?”

You settle into your seat at the oval shaped meeting table beside Kim Namjoon, Arithmancy Professor and also Ravenclaw’s Head of House. The brunette man in his rounded spectacles has always been rather pleasant for you to chat with. His high intelligence doesn’t make it a headache to converse with, unlike some fools you know.

The room is already mostly filled with teaching staff for the monthly progress meeting, and you smile back at him in response. Just as you’re about to answer, a boisterous voice cuts in.

“Oohhh! The Ice Empress smiled! Won’t that melt your unfailingly cold heart or something?” Kim Taehyung grins from ear to ear as he waits for your scathing response, and you have half a mind not to humour him.

Being Gryffindor’s Head of House, he always has a way of getting right under your skin, and not in a good way. You’d tried to look past the typical house rivalry, you really did, but something about him just rubs you the wrong way. You’d rather not interact with him at all.

If you had an extermination list, which you may or may not legitimately have, Kim Taehyung would be on the top of the list.

“I don’t know about you, but some of us don’t have the emotional range of a teaspoon, you know?” You shoot back, but as always, your barbed comments do nothing to dim the enthusiasm in his eyes. If anything, it only serves to encourage him further.

“You’re so sexy like this, madam ___.” Taehyung wiggles his brows up and down. You muse that the scarlet colour of his clothes is rather convenient. If you were to kill him, it wouldn’t stain too badly. “You should yell at me more. I love the sass.”

You drop down across from him, the tip of your want being pulled out from your sleeve. You’re about to mutter a silencing charm but-

“Ladies and gentlemen, please! I beg of you!”

A frazzled looking raven haired man cuts in from his position at the head of the table, and he appears as stressed as he sounds. “What did I say about House Unity? We can’t have the Heads fighting amongst ourselves if we want to set a good example for the students.” Jeon Jeongguk pushes his full moon spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose as his eyes scan over each and every face. His hair is absolutely wild, pixie dust and strings of cotton attached to the strands. Past the glasses and doe orbs, you find anxiety and panic.

The room quiets down in response, waiting for him to go on.

“Now, I believe we should start this meeting before the next Wizarding War breaks out,” he chuckles hysterically a little at his own joke, although no one else in the room seems to find it funny. You wonder if he’s losing his mind. Jeongguk clears his throat and continues. “Hoseok, why don’t you start us off? How have your Charms classes been going lately? Any problem with the OWLs?”

It’s mostly the same thing every month. There’s nothing new and you find yourself peering around the room in slight boredom as you wait for your turn to come. As your eyes survey the other end of the table, they lock upon another pair of caramel glazed ones, and you freeze in your seat.

Park Jimin doesn’t flinch under your stone cold gaze, and for the second time that day you find yourself a little unnerved at how unintimidated he is. Hufflepuffs are pushovers, right?

Then why isn’t he backing down?

“...Professor ___?” You blink, and the spell is broken. You immediately snap back into reality, only to realise that the entire room is waiting for your report.

“O-oh, right,” you clear your throat in an attempt to mask the slight tremor in your voice, even as you avoid Park Jimin’s gaze from across the room. It’s unlike you or any Slytherin to become flustered.

You regain your natural composed state in less than half a second. “My students are on track to taking their OWLs, and there are a few promising individuals who show interest in doing Potions at a higher level. Although…”

Your voice trails off as your gaze is reluctantly drawn back to the silver haired man across from you. “There was an incident earlier this term. A few of my students got injured while making the Draught of Living Death. The cause, as it turns out, was due to a few faulty ingredients, namely from the Herbology gardens…”

The effect is almost like a whiplash, every head at the table turns toward Park Jimin as he receives the brunt of your glare, but still, he doesn’t back down.

“U-um, well, Professor Park, d-do you have anything to say about this?” Jeongguk can almost feel the tension in the air, even as he withers under your gaze that isn’t directed at him. He knows all too well how things will go, because it’s like this every meeting. First, Park Jimin will respond with an acerbic bite-

“Well, last I checked, the Potions Masters are the ones responsible for harvesting their own ingredients for their students.”

-then you’ll match him blow for blow-

“And last I checked, Professor Park, it was the Herbology Professor’s responsibility to cultivate only the finest specimens for our students.”

-and it goes on until someone steps in. Jeongguk glances around the room in mounting desperation, most of his staff look bored or have already begun chatting with one another, leaving him to be the only one privy to the full out bickering in front of him.

Jeongguk sighs, massaging his temples as he gathers every single ounce of courage that he possesses. “This won’t do.”

Thanks to his position of authority, the two of you become silenced, and Jeongguk thanks his lucky stars because were he not Headmaster, he doesn’t think he could withstand that piercing, intimidating gaze of yours. “I won’t stand this any longer. Every single meeting we have, the two of you take as an opportunity to go at each other’s throats. You’re going to have to find a way to resolve this, or I will.”

His threat hangs in the air, and you swallow hard, raising your voice to protest. “Headmaster, it clearly isn’t my fault…!”

Jimin rolls his eyes from across the table, having heard this line way too many times. “Yeah, it never is, is it?”

“What exactly are you insinuating, Professor Park?” Your hackles are raised again, and you tighten your hands into fists. “The safety of our students is not on my shoulders alone. If you do not accept at least partial responsibility for what has happened, then I think you’re unfit for this job.”

“If you are that concerned with the safety of the children within this castle, then you would discipline your own kids first. Being biased towards students depending on the house they belong to is unjust discrimination. Your favoritism is harmful-”

“Excuse me?!” You scoff out. “If you have the audacity to accuse me of such things, then I think your time is better spent working on your own disciplining skills. I have an important subject to teach, Professor Park. I cannot sit around all day to help you reprimand delinquents. You may have the time but I do not.”

Taehyung raises his brow at your remark and he takes a long sip of his drink that you swear is secretly butterbeer. Namjoon is reading over his written report but seems impressed with your biting response. Jimin frowns, a flash of hurt appearing over his face and for a moment, you feel guilty for what you’ve said.

It only lasts a single second, however.

“If you are indicating that herbology is not as important as potions, then I fear we have another discussion, ___.”

Jimin doesn’t address you under the respectful title of professor or madam and you laugh mirthlessly. As you begin to stand up, the Headmaster lets out another long suffering sigh.

Children. He’s working with a bunch of children. Sooner or later he’s going to have to make the two of you have a time out in the naughty corner or a time out chair, or else-

“PROFESSORS!” He bellows, and the two of you glance at him. “Now, since you can’t get along like the mature adults that you are…” He clasps his hands together to hide the slight tremor in anticipation of your reaction. “I’ve decided that the two of you should combine classes. Not only would it foster a better working relationship between the two of you, I feel like it would go a long way in promoting some much needed House Unity as well.”

House Unity - It’s been Jeongguk’s motto ever since he’s been working as Headmaster for three months. He may be lost and an utter mess but in every conversation, he’s been advocating for his one and only message. House Unity. It haunts you at every single meeting and encounter you have with him, and sometimes, you have to admit that you voluntarily pick a fight with the other Houses just to piss him off.

Inwardly, Jeongguk is cringing, ready for your striking blow that should come any minute now, when in actual fact, all of this is ridiculous, he’s the fucking Headmaster for Merlin’s sake, he shouldn’t be this afraid of a measly little Potions Master-

“I. Will. Not. Have. It.” You punctuate each word with your fist on the table, and Jeongguk has to stop himself from flinching on reflex. Taehyung curls inwards and Namjoon finally looks up. You’ve somehow managed to regain the attention of all the sleepy professors around.

“If I am able to speak, I don’t believe this is the right course of action.” Jimin responds kindly and eloquently with a smile, coaxing the Headmaster. You roll your eyes at his idiotic gesture. “It would be more fitting if Professor ___ and I would discuss our own matters privately.”

Jeongguk is almost at his wits end as you glare at him and Jimin merely smiles back. The kindness pisses you off even further, darkening your expression into a murderous look. If you wouldn’t get fired for it, Jeongguk is sure you’d leap over the table and claw the Hufflepuff’s eyes out. But the Headmaster is pleasantly surprised. He never thought Jimin could hold his own against you. Even Taehyung wouldn’t be able to challenge you to this extent.

To be quite frank, Jeongguk feels that he, himself, can’t argue more than a sentence against you without it making him feel like he’s about to burst into tears.

“I’m the Headmaster, so my word is final,” Jeongguk clenches his jaw, and for the first time since the Dark Lord was defeated, he actually fears for his life when you turn that murderous gaze upon him. He thinks you’d make a pretty good Death Eater, actually. “A-and that’s all for today, meeting dismissed, see you all next month!”

He runs for the door with his tail between his legs.

*//*

It may be quite irrational for you as a Slytherin to be hostile towards a Hufflepuff.

Jimin has never particularly committed any crime against you that has been audacious or cruel. You even went to school with him for seven years, granted, only sharing a few classes and never an exchange of words. Kim Taehyung, the head of Gryffindor, is the one who you should despise with every bone in your body. But there’s something about Park Jimin that gets under your skin.

It’s the unrestrained kindness that you cannot understand or begin to wrap your mind around. No matter what venomous words you may spit out to the man adorning the colour of yellow, he always treats you with benevolence and courtesy. There’s not an ounce of hatred in his eyes and his smile drips with tender sweetness and tolerance. It’s something you can never do.

Sometimes you wonder if Professor Park is just plain stupid.

“Alright children, take your seats.” You join him at the front of the room, the sweltering greenhouse causing sweat beads to accumulate at your hairline. “Today and for the next few weeks, we’ll be combining herbology and potions classes.”

There are a few puzzled and incredulous looks exchanged amongst the students, mostly the Slytherins, but the other half of the room seems genuinely excited to have Professor Park around. It’s not classified information that he’s the better-liked teacher. You prefer to rule with an iron fist while he likes to hand out flowers to everyone and shower them in compliments.

“There a lot of similarities between the two subjects.” Jimin speaks up with a grin, “most of the potion ingredients used are part of magical plants and we’re going to teach you how the entire process from just a mere seed-” Within his palm, a seed appears and all the first year students lean over with glistening eyes and a ‘woah’. “-to a potion.”

A purple cloud and a ‘poof’ later, he’s sloshing electric blue liquid in a phial. As you discreetly roll your eyes, Jimin basks in the applause he receives. “Listen up, this assignment for the next weeks is going to count for forty percent of your grade, so take it seriously or you’ll fail my class.”

Immediately all the children sit back down in their chairs, smiles vanishing without a trace, posture straight and hands folded on top of the wooden table like you’ve trained them to do. Jimin, obviously a little perturbed by the sudden dip in the previously charged atmosphere, glances at you from the corner of his eye, biting his plush bottom lip.

You ignore him, keeping your gaze trained on the row of Hufflepuffs before you as they tremble slightly under your scrutiny. “We are going to be making a Pompion Potion. Does anyone know what that is?”

A girl instantly jolts her entire arm up. You call upon her name and she answers in a heartbeat, “it’s a potion that temporarily turns the drinker’s head into a pumpkin.”

“Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw.” You twist on your feet and a Gryffindor swallows nervously. “Can anyone tell me what are the ingredients to make the potion?” You stop in front of a Hufflepuff who has his head down, eyes boring into the sheet of blank parchment before him in order to avoid meeting your incendious gaze. “What’s your name?”

“K-Kim….S-Seokjin.”

Upon hearing the boy’s name, Jimin immediately recognizes the student, recalling him to be one of the more playful and outspoken ones of his year. Typically he’s a boisterous, rambunctious mess, sporting dark fluffy hair that refuses to be tamed, but under your intimidation, he’s reduced to nothing more than a meek, shell of his former self.

“Tell me, Seokjin. What are the ingredients?”

“D-dittany-”

“Wrong.” You immediately cut in, like a vulture swooping down for its prey. “Ten points taken away from Hufflepuff.”

Seokjin can only bite his lip in consternation, and even from across the room, Jimin can see that he’s bravely trying to hold his tears back. He quirks his eyebrow at your unusually harsh punishment.

You spare Seokjin one more scathing glance before turning away, internally regretting asking the class this at all. Clearly none of them did their prescribed reading, but you’ll be damned if you have to give in and answer your own question like a bumbling fool.

“Can anyone else answer?” The same girl from earlier raises her hand but you turn towards the Slytherin side of the class, hoping that at least your house won’t let you down too badly. “Tell me.”

“Flitterby Moth, Bouncing Bulb and….Foxglove. In that order...” A boy with round glasses sitting in the back pipes up.

“Correct. Fifteen points to Slytherin.” A hint of a smile tugs at your lips at his answer, and the boy grins smugly in response. “You must crush the flitterby moth, stir it clockwise until it turns green, not blue. Then, the plant is grounded and poured into the cauldron until it’s red and we add the foxglove. The result is an orange colour.”

There's a flurry of action that bursts within the classroom as the students reach for their quills and parchment, scribbling down your instructions. Returning back to the front of the classroom, you glance over at Jimin before giving him a taciturn nod. Your part of the lecture is over, at least for now.

He patiently waits for them to finish writing, when you would have proceeded on with the next part nevertheless. Irritation bubbles up in your chest as you watch the way he beams at the class, and you swear you can even see some students slow their hurried scribbling when they realise you’re not actively interrogating them any more.

Jimin gestures to the rows of neatly lined up red brick pots at the front of the classroom. “This is a Bouncing Bulb seed. When it’s mature, it bounces around but it’s easier to handle when it’s young so each of you don’t have to worry. Professor Jung will teach you the Fire-making spell which is used to wither the plant.”

His golden robes glisten in the sunlight piercing through the glass ceiling and his smile is blazing, even as his eyes travel the span of the room, taking in the worried expressions on some of the student’s faces. “I don’t want any of you to become anxious over this assignment. Professor ___ and I will be here every single step of the way. You will tend to your plant until it’s mature enough to be made into a potion.”

The children nod and upon his instructions, move to take their pots and seeds. You and Jimin had debated beforehand and after two hours of bickering, the plan had been set. Today, the kids would be planting their seeds before decorating their own pots.

At first, you told him the idea of paints and art was ridiculous, adding no value to the actual subject of Potions or even Herbology whatsoever, but he insisted, arguing that it would help instill in them “a sense of individuality”, or whatever he called it. Park Jimin may be a Hufflepuff, but he doesn’t back down from an argument, and you find that his persistence has worn you down considerably.

Pick your battles, ___. A Hufflepuff somehow manages to spill an entire bottle of red paint all over herself and the floor, so you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself that you love your job, you love your job, you love your job-

A knock on the door interrupts you, and you frown when a familiar blonde head appears in the doorway.

“Min Yoongi. What are you doing here? Do you not have class to attend to?”

“He doesn’t.” Jimin grins and throws his arm over the Slytherin third year student who is visibly sulking. “Yoongi, here, has become my assistant for this class. I found out that he has a free period and he’s willing to help me every single day until it’s over. Isn’t that right, Min Yoongi?”

He makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat, making eye contact with you as he desperately pleads for you to somehow get him out of this situation. You glance over at the rows of children behind you, giggling and shouting as they play fight over the paints, sighing internally.

You and me both, buddy.

You wonder if this is Jimin’s new disciplining technique, but you can’t dismiss Yoongi without it being a blatant undermining of Jimin’s authority. So you have no choice but to shrug wordlessly.

“Well go on,” Jimin pats the Slytherin’s shoulder. “Go forth and help your fellow first years.”

Yoongi begrudgingly plops down next to the student you recognize as Seokjin.

“Lovely day to teach, isn’t it, Professor ___.” Jimin turns to a batch of potted Asphodel, running his fingers gently over the alabaster lily petals as they shudder under his touch. He seems completely at home in the tiny little greenhouse, the humidity not even bothering him a tiny bit, only resulting the translucent glow of his dewy skin. “I do find your teaching very…”

“You have an issue with it?” You’re quick to jump down his throat, immediately taking the offensive as a reflex action.

“It’s peculiar.” He says with a soft smile, leaving you behind as he turns to the rose bushes right next to him. The Hufflepuff Head of House produces a small pair of gardening shears from his pocket, snipping a rose from one of the growing vines, cutting off all the thorns. “Flower?”

The man hands it to you without allowing you to reject his offer.

The thin, delicate stem is a rich shade of green, perhaps beryl or jade. An enticing, temptingly sweet yet delicate and light scent wafts from its deep ruby stained petals. But the moment your fingers grip around the stem, the scarlet hue morphs into a bisque and bright yellow.

You gaze at it before flickering your orbs upwards. “How?”

He grows sheepish and shrugs casually, going back to tending to his garden. “I cross bred it with some other things and tested a few spells. The flower alters based on the person’s favourite colour.”

Your heart hammers against your chest.

You laugh. “That’s impossible.”

Jimin gives you a knowing look, and it feels as if he’s crawled right under your skin with just a single glance, gained access to some intimate part of you that you keep heavily guarded; it feels as if he’s unraveled you just like that. He gives you a small little smile, harmless and innocent on the surface, but then again, nothing about Park Jimin is as you thought.

But then he shrugs nonchalantly. “Is it?”

Before you can snap back a harsh retort about how inaccurate his silly little plant is, a Gryffindor comes bouncing up to the pair of you. “I have a question, sir and madam. If we must focus on one particular part with this project, shall it be the potions aspect or the plant? I want to train for my Quidditch match and-”

“Of course, the end result is the most important.” You tell her immediately. “If the potion works then that’s all that matters.”

“I’d like to disagree with that with all due respect, Professor ___. The potion can be spoiled but a plant is a life and needs to be taken seriously. A potion can be remade or fixed and it does not require as much time as the plant.”

You chortle in disbelief and the Gryffindor student is left in the middle of the argument. All the children in the room stop their art project to turn around and stare. Yoongi listens in amusement while Seokjin widens his eyes. A Ravenclaw kid facepalms at why a Gryffindor would ask such an idiotic question.

“Are you saying that they should start a potion with the intention to ruin it completely, Professor Park?” You cross your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes into slits, and usually this is when most people would relent and let you have your way.

But Park Jimin doesn’t recognise the signs of danger at all, doesn’t seem to realize that you’re a coiled snake, ready to strike. “No, what I’m saying is, we should value the life of a plant over something as inanimate as a potion.”

“Is that so? Well, then I shall have you know, that the art of Potions Making is in itself a life form, and…”

Neither of you seem to be backing down from this, and the argument only grows more and more intense, till it threatens to engulf the entire room with the heat of your rivalry with each other. The first years shift in their seats, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, and even Yoongi starts to fidget a little as well.

Never have they seen the loving Professor Park in such a heated quarrel, and they’re secretly afraid for their beloved Head of House as they watch him go head to head with you. Even witnessing your venomous glare from the sidelines makes them dread to ever be on the receiving end, and it’s in that frozen state they remain till the bell chimes to signal the end of class.

“We need to do something.” Yoongi mutters and Seokjin slowly nods.

The innocent first year Hufflepuff student tips his head to the side, “like what?”

The thought of having to assist Professor Park in this class every single week for the rest of the semester has Yoongi incredibly annoyed, he’s supposed to be taking a nice long nap right about now. If only there was a way to somehow end this collaboration between the two of you...

A smirk grows on his face and Jin quietly begins to scoot away, only to have the older one throw his arm over his shoulder casually, stopping him from any further movement. A slow, malicious little smirk spreads across the older’s lips, one that makes sends shivers down the younger boy’s spine. “I’ve got just the plan.”

*//*

“Do you not understand the meaning of crush, kid?” Yoongi exhales through his nostrils in an attempt to keep a hold of the last remaining shreds of his rapidly vanishing patience. “When you crush something, you do it like this-”

Yoongi slams the handle of his knife into the chopping board, smashing the root of the poor plant so that its juices seep out copiously. Seokjin flinches at the older boy’s violent aggressiveness, but tries his best to remain put as he watches Yoongi drip the plant’s essence into the cauldron.

Once the peppermint is in the cauldron, it morphs into a green shade. The Slytherin takes a look at the pages of the ancient textbook he stole from the back of the library and he mutters underneath his breath.

“What are you adding now?” Jin blinks innocently, watching as Yoongi throws a handful of pearl dust and a cup of moonstone. “What’s that? What are you putting in? Why is it turning orange? When are you putting in the rose thorns?”

“Shut it.”

There are numerous variations of the potion and it’s an advanced one for that matter. It also doesn’t help that Yoongi’s doing something someone twice his age would be learning and that there is no one true recipe out of the millions of variations. The concoction was banned from an incident years prior and he had to scour the dusty bookshelves in order to find the ingredient list.

The Slytherin is a rather courageous fellow but he was still sweating, hidden in the Room of Requirements, on edge from every single noise outside. He had stolen the materials and the equipment. Yoongi isn’t scared of many things, his mom and maybe a zombie apocalypse. You were certainly on the top of his list, however.

“Is it done?” Jin shoves his nose close to the cauldron and coughs from the intense floral scent. It’s glittering in a shade of bright pink, foaming and nearly oozing off the sides. “It looks…”

The third year student unwraps the food he’s stolen from breakfast and he drops it into the shining liquid. The bread soaks up the pink and in the next second, appears completely untouched, bobbing above the cauldron.

“Listen, kid, so you’ll take this,” Yoongi shoves the two pumpkin pastries into the younger boy’s hands. “And deliver it to both Professors. Alright? You know where their quarters are?”

“N-no,” Seokjin glances down at the two items in his hands, eyes widening as he realises the severity of the crime he’s about to commit. He only thought he was going to be a bystander, maybe a sidekick. Jin begins to sweat profusely.

Yoongi sighs. He should have just done this entire thing on his own, except it wouldn’t be wise because then he wouldn’t have a scapegoat should things go wrong. “Their sleeping quarters are connected to their offices. Professor ___’s office is in the Dungeon Corridor and Professor Park’s is before the kitchen, near the basement. It’s relatively close, only one staircase away.”

“I-I…”

He cocks his eyebrow up and stares at the quivering eleven-year-old. “You don’t think you can do it?”

“I…” Jin begins to cry, tears marking his cheeks. “I don’t want to kill them.”

His voice increases significantly in pitch as he considers the various consequences that could befall the two Professors, and while he doesn’t particularly like you, he doesn’t want to see you die either. “I can’t kill them!”

“No, you idiot!” Yoongi laughs, unable to believe that the Hufflepuff truly thought he was evil enough to murder his two professors. “Were you not paying attention?! This is a love potion, Amortentia, specifically. Look, stop asking questions. I know this might be too much for your tiny brain to handle, but you just have to do your part and make sure they get this. Alright?”

If someone else was here, they’d tell Yoongi off for bullying the boy into doing it.

But no one’s here and a smirk begins to grow on the Slytherin’s face when he sees every detail of the Hufflepuff and how he’s breaking down. “O-okay.”

“Great! Now go! And remember, if you fail, we’re gonna get expelled.”

Jin’s face blanches but he’s pushed out of the room before he can make even the slightest squeak.

*//*

The first part of the task doesn’t prove to be of much difficulty.

After standing outside his Head of House’s door for what seems like an eternity, Seokjin finally gathers the courage to rap his knuckles on the sturdy oakwood. Immediately, it swings open, revealing the kind, bright smile of his Professor, still dressed in his golden robes even though it was outside of class hours.

Upon seeing the tiny little boy on his doorstep with messy black hair and a slight frown decorating the space between his eyebrows, Jimin grows a little concerned. “Seokjin, is there anything I can do for you? Are things going okay? Have you been keeping up with your subjects? Do you need any help? I can try my hardest to assist you in anything you need. I’m not the best at Astronomy but I think I could help you in that too.”

Professor Park’s deluge of concern only weakens his resolve and makes the lump in his throat grow larger. Merlin, he was really going to hell for this, were there even eleven year olds in hell? Seokjin didn’t know. “Ac-actually, Professor, I made this for you…”

It’s only then that Jimin notices the glazed, golden brown pastry that rests upon a paper plate in Seokjin’s grasp, still hot and steaming. Jimin gasps lightly and he grins as the pastry on the paper plate slides onto his desk. “You made this? How did you know my favourite flavour is pumpkin?”

“I made it in my transfiguration class.” Jin rubs his sweaty palms together and he swallows hard, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. “I-It was originally an apple.”

“Very impressive.” Professor Park smiles and picks up the plate, bringing the pastry closer to in order to sample it’s enticing, savoury scent. Seokjin’s eyes widen as he suddenly wonders if Professor Park’s keen sense of smell, honed from years of working with plants and herbs, might detect ingredients that are definitely not supposed to be in a pumpkin pastry.

But the older man replies with nothing but a distant hum. “It smells quite delicious. I’m even more happy that you wanted to share with me. Five points for Hufflepuff.”

“T-thank you, sir.” Jin holds his bottom lip in between his teeth, taking even breaths in order to keep his tears at bay. “I-I….”

“If there isn’t anything else, it’s getting quite late. You should return to your common room now before you get in trouble with one of the Prefects.” Jimin smiles, eyes crinkling into crescent moons as he beams at his student. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to enjoy this with some tea before heading to bed tonight.”

Jin’s about to crack. He feels the wails rip through his throat and his eyes are watering up. The guilt is too much and it feels like a monster, eating at his flesh, screaming out in pain. But then, the boy remembers the older student.

“And remember, if you fail, we’re gonna get expelled.”

The word ‘expelled’ echoes and reverberates in the hollows of his mind. Expelled. The cackles of the Slytherin rings in his ears. Expelled. It haunts him and he finds apparitions of his parents faces, crying and shaking their heads in disappointment as he hauls his luggage home. Expelled.

He braces himself with the courage of a Gryffindor. “O-okay.”

As Kim Seokjin leaves the room and the door shuts behind him...he runs.

This time, it’s not from the usual fear or terror. The adrenaline courses through his veins and he laughs to himself at what he’s done. He runs down the hallway, darting through the other students. Jin is on top of the world, completely invincible. He doesn’t care that Yoongi might be polluting his innocent mind. Seokjin feels powerful. Nothing could stop him now-

“Come in.”

-except for you.

The scarlet rose is in a thin vase on your dark oak desk. You’ve been transfixed by it for the entire evening, unable to finish grading any assignments. Every time you touch the flower, laid a single finger or even grazed your skin against the stem, the petals ripple back into a shade of golden yellow.

But for now, you’ve managed to shatter the reverie. “Is there something you need?”

Seokjin would pee his pants on any other day. He would probably soil himself, standing alone in your office plunged in darkness, in front of your pointed gaze. The Hufflepuff, however, is still riding on his adrenaline and he clenches his fist before he can back down. There’s no choice.

“Madam, I would like to apologize for my mishap earlier. I made this in Transfiguration class and thought you would like it.” He lays down the pastry on your desk and steps back. “Please enjoy it.”

You hum, not paying any mind as your quill circles mistakes on a Ravenclaw’s parchment. “If you have so much time as to attempt to appease me with home cooking, I believe your time is better spent studying to improve your mediocre grades.” Your eyes flicker upwards, “I do appreciate the gesture but you can’t bribe me too easily, Kim. If there’s nothing else you need, you should leave.”

He needs to see you take a bite of it.

“But-”

“See you in class tomorrow. I’ll be asking you a lot of questions considering how much free time you have.” The emerald shade of your robes eradicates any built up courage he has and the profuse sweating returns on the boy. Jin nods and he runs away from the office.

As the door closes behind him, you drop the quill in your hand, indulging in a well needed stretch. Silly little Hufflepuff. What was he thinking, trying to get into your good books with something as common as a pumpkin pastry? You shake your head with an amused smile, rolling your eyes and fully intending on going back to your marking. But hours of being cooped up in your tiny little office, staring at page after page of nonsensical essays have taken a toll on you, and you find your gaze wandering back to the flower resting in your vase and you sigh in exhaustion.

The scent that wafts on the otherwise still breeze in your office is enticing. You frown, glancing over at the innocent looking pastry that rests just beside the vase. Well, just a snack break wouldn’t be that bad, right? And it was from a Hufflepuff after all, so it’s not like he could have any other ulterior motives other than trying to butter you up.

You reach for the glazed bread, finding it still warm to the touch and bring it to your lips without a second thought. In hindsight, it is a terrible, terrible mistake.

Your mouth parts and you take one single bite.

*//*

Your chest feels tight and uncomfortable, and every breath requires a whole new labouring effort. The thudding in your ribcage quickens its pace and then quiets down, only to race again underneath your skin, to the extent that it might even bruise.

Your vision is encapsulated entirely by the single shade alone. It’s the bright, dancing leaps of flickering flames or sunspots, the creamy frothiness of freshly made Butterbeer, the plump sorbet lemons growing on trees, their citrus scent floating through the verdant fields. It’s daffodil and marigold flowers that sway in the crisp breeze, basking in the sunlight beams. The spaces between your toes are tickled by the tall grass and a gentle laugh drifts from your parted lips when an amber butterfly kisses the tip of your nose.

But amongst the meadow of flowers, there’s a distant figure. His silver hair and gentle aura calls to you, tugging your heartstrings closer and closer, causing your chest to shake beneath your hand. He turns around to you and smiles, rounded cheeks and crinkled eyes, whispering your name softly with his lips.

“___”

You reach out to touch him-

The entire universe slips away. He’s gone, your world has turned to black before a piercing light jolts your entire body. You let out a pained groan as you lift your arm, not quite remembering that it ever felt this heavy. Your eyelids peel back and you’re met with…

Yellow?

A gasp leaves your mouth as you lurch back into a state of wakefulness, after lingering in the limbo dreamland for what seems like an eternity. Blinking rapidly to clear the remnants of your hauntingly vivid dream from your consciousness, you groan as you sit up, every single muscle in your body protesting simultaneously.

What happened last night? You vaguely remember finishing the stack of Potions essays before collapsing into bed at nearly one in the morning. It’s nothing too unusual from your daily schedule but why are you so out of sorts this morning?

You swing your legs out of bed, wobbling to get ready for the day. The sluggish, heavy feeling is brushed off as you hope it will vanish once you’re well into your morning routine. But as you walk over to the adjacent bathroom, your steps are heavier than normal, and your body feels foreign, as if it had been rearranged somehow, the ligaments and joints not moving how they typically would.

You’re unusually limber this early in the morning.

Reaching up to stretch the kinks out of your body, you pause to gather your hair up into a bun and push it out of the way, freezing when your fingers encounter nothing but short, silky strands that don’t go past your ears.

Fuck.

It must be that fucking Hufflepuff, he put something into that damn pastry, you swear to Merlin you’ll skin him alive-

Your hasty retreat into the bathroom is met with more than a few bumps and knocks along the way, and you can only wince at your body’s uncoordinated attempts as you wrestle yourself in front of the mirror, and are met with…

Your worst nightmare.

Park Jimin’s sleepy, dishevelled bedhead stares back at you in the mirror, perhaps with the most disgruntled and pissed off expression you’ve ever seen on his face.

Glancing down at the rest of your body, you’re met with toned biceps that flex all too easily, partially revealed by the short sleeved shirt that you- he slept in. Your eyes continue to travel down the flat chest to land on thick, muscled thighs left bare by sleep shorts, thankfully clothing the thick bulge hanging in the air.

You scream.

*//*

“You want a what?”

It’s a little disconcerting to be faced with your own body and talking to your own face like this, and even more uncomfortable to see the way Park Jimin’s very essence still pours out of every single pore of yours even when he’s occupying your body.

You’ve never seen yourself sporting such a neutral expression in the face of a calamity this catastrophic before. This must be what they mean by an out-of-body experience, but you’re in no mood to joke about such things.

“I want an Unbreakable Vow. That you won’t touch what you’re not supposed to, and in return, I’ll leave your bits alone. As best as I can.”

Park Jimin stutters in response, and your first, knee jerk reaction is to recoil in disgust at the utter cluelessness, bordering upon idiocy, that presents itself on your face. Every single bit of you hates the fact that he’s now in control of your body, from everything to facial expression to speech and action.

“How is that fair? Your body is absolutely off limits and mine isn’t?” Park Jimin moves to fold his arms across his - your chest, but freezes in place when you shoot him a warning glare for daring to move his- your - arms that near your breasts.

“How is that not fair, Park? I can’t walk around the castle when your pants are blown up. You nasty boys always have to jerk off at least twice a day. If I don’t touch that tiny little carrot stick of yours, I won’t be able to function properly.”

Jimin raises his eyebrows, a slow smirk that looks eerily familiar spreading across your face, fully intent on making some kind of innuendo. “Oh, so you’re willing to touch my little carrot stick, then? How generous of you.”

You realise you set yourself up for that one, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that!” You hiss at him in annoyance, running your hands through your hair in exasperation only to stop short when your fingers glide through his silky platinum locks without resistance. “Oh, and you’ll have to get dressed with your eyes closed too.”

Jimin leans against the side of your wardrobe with a teasing smile, and it still disconcerts you to see his mannerisms upon your face. Perhaps it's a coping mechanism, but he finds it quite fun to tease and banter with you in the face of this predicament.

“Didn’t realise you were such a prude, ___.” He drops the title of professor in front of your name which causes you to raise a brow. “Never let a man see you naked before? Or has a man never touched that body of yours either?”

“That is,” you spit out, “None. Of. Your. Business.”

Jimin could get used to this, really, seeing his body move in such an unfamiliar manner, and being forced to rethink his every action in a similar way as well. He supposes it’s an inevitable part of an accidental body switch between opposite genders, since the basic differences in muscle and bone mass construction forces males and females to move differently. This morning when he woke up, he wasn’t accustomed to being so much lighter on his feet, and had even stumbled around his room due to the slight change in the centre of gravity that puzzled him to no end until he brought his hands to his suddenly much heavier chest and found out exactly why.

You would not be pleased to know that he’d already groped a handful of your breasts upon waking up this morning.

“How am I supposed to go to the bathroom?” Jimin continues to tease, “or do you want me to piss in your pants?”

A mumble of curses tumbles from your tongue and you squeeze the bridge of your nose, slightly startled to the coarse texture of your new hand. “Just close your damn eyes.”

“Alright, fine. We’ll do it your way, if you want,” Jimin acquiesces easily. “But we need to figure out what happened. Who did this to us or how we became this way.”

You already have an idea of what has occurred but you cannot erase the overwhelming emotion of helplessness. You are lost in a foreign exterior, in absolute distress. If it weren’t for the man standing in front of you, you’d be in complete hysterics. Despite Park Jimin being in your body, shorter in height, smaller than your own frame and your eyes are the one you see, he’s still the same person. He is warm, strangely reliable.

The fear is more bearable with him.

Jimin’s voice is stern and serious, a loss of the previous humourous tone. “If you also don’t trust me and you sincerely want to make an Unbreakable Vow as well, then we need a third party to be the binder. That would mean letting one more person know about this…slightly embarrassing situation. Someone who has less of an obligation than I do to keep this under wraps.”

Jimin doesn’t know when he’d become this eloquent, and cunning even, if he does say so himself. He’d like to attribute this to being in your body, and not that he’s actually thinking like a Slytherin would, Merlin forbid. He watches the realisation dawn on his own face with a slight fascination, wondering just how his facial features could look so familiar yet different at the same time.

“...Alright,” you agree reluctantly, running your hands through his hair again, and honestly, Jimin has never been more entranced. He doesn’t usually have the habit of playing with his hair like that. He supposes it’s your unique habit, but that simple action alone is enchanting when it’s you in his body. “We need to tell the Headmaster, at least.”

“That would be a good idea.” As he turns around, ready to strut out the door, a thought hits him like a freight train. “Oh no.”

You’re immediately on alert, halting on your toes before you can bump into your own body’s backside. “What?”

There’s nothing else that could possibly go wrong.

“Jeongguk is out of the castle.” The realization dawns on you as well and a groan leaves your parted mouth. He’s out at some meeting at the Ministry of Magic, remember? I-I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Jimin forces his voice to remain stable, the thought of switching bodies with you for an extended period of time causes him to become nervous. There’s a full minute of silence where you spend staring at each other, or rather, your own face. It contorts and you can quite literally see how Jimin is craning his brain. You forgot your face had such a wide range of emotions. Usually, you’d paint over a facade of calmness or appear blank, making it even more frightening to the students who try to speak to you.

“Are you suggesting that we-”

“There’s no other choice. We shouldn’t disclose this to anyone until we can talk to him.” Jimin doesn’t know how he’ll do it. “In the meantime, I’ll have to teach Potions….I’ll have to act as the Head of the Slytherin house.”

Jimin is a literal sheep in wolf’s clothing.

The thought of being with Hufflepuffs and dealing with plants all day is already beginning to give you a headache. “Do you even know how? I mean this is...I-..” You’re at a loss for words.

“We can do it.” He reassures you with a smile that’s meant more to ease you than for his own display of mirth. “I’ll try my best. And if it’s you, I know you can.”

“O-Okay.” You’re surprised at how confident he is in your abilities. It’s flattering and sends a disarray of emotions that you can’t organize into your stomach. Your temples are beginning to pound and you despise Jimin for making you this way while being thankful that he’s with you at the same time.

You curse the fate that has somehow made this possible. Fate or rather a student.

“U-uhm, can you tell me where all your stuff is? We should get down to breakfast, and we should get dressed if we don’t want to be late and arouse suspicion.” Jimin awkwardly skirts around your wardrobe, giving you plenty of space to maneuver around the room.

You realise that for this to work, despite how embarrassing this entire ordeal is, you’d have to really set your shoulder to the wheel and merely do it. Hence, you open all your drawers to show him where everything is, skimming over your underwear briefly as Jimin intently soaks in all the information.

To his credit, Park Jimin is the ultimate gentleman, even averting his eyes when you realize you’d accidentally left a stray pair of underwear in the corner of your room. When you’re done orientating him to the basic layout, he motions for you to follow him across the hallway and down the staircase to his own room.

You’re more relieved than you would ever admit when you realize that the morning routine for Jimin is infinitely simpler. Everything is straightforward, quicker to explain. He’s done in just a few short minutes, standing awkwardly at the door to his own room. He never thought that from your height and eyes, all the objects would look a lot larger.

Jimin has always been one of the shorter male professors around and within his group of friends as well but standing beside you, who’s in his body, it makes him realize that he’s quite tall and his frame isn’t small in comparison. He wonders what it would feel like if he was able to envelope you in a tight embrace, if you would be swallowed up his torso…if he would ever be able to return to his own flesh and have the opportunity to do so.

Jimin’s not sure he would be able to let you go.

“So, um… see you at breakfast?” He asks hesitantly, and scratches the back of his neck. The tension has risen, though not one of hostility. You simply nod in reply, feeling much too unfamiliar in your new body to throw out your usual sarcastic bite.

“See you at breakfast.”

The door closes, and you’re left all alone in Park Jimin’s room.

*//*

Park Jimin has never considered himself to be much of a womanizer - but perhaps he should have been, because then he wouldn’t have this much trouble getting a bra on. Then again, if he remembers correctly, bras are much easier to take off than to put on...so there’s also that.

With the additional rule that he has to keep his eyes closed, trying to clasp the back hooks of your bra is made infinitely more challenging than he ever thought it could be, and his sore arm muscles are begging him for a break. He muses that there should be a spell for this sort of thing, a charm of some sort. It would also be a lot easier for him to peel back his lids but the Hufflepuff Head of House would feel too guilty to do so. Without the Unbreakable Vow, he has promised you with the deepest part of his heart instead and feels the need to respect your wishes. Thus, the struggle ensues.

A knock on the door distracts him, and he realises that it’s your voice, throwing him into even more of a frenzy.

Finally, he decides that doing this with his eyes closed is just physically impossible, so he gingerly places his hands over the cups of the bra to make sure your flesh is covered, before opening his eyes and glancing behind him in the mirror to guide his fingers. Success.

Although he can’t help but notice the mustard yellow shade of your bra, and how they sit so nicely and perkily in their - lace - cups.

Huh, he never would have guessed. It actually looks quite nice-

More furious knocking interrupts his thoughts and feeling like a pervert, he hastily tugs on the rest of the clothes you picked out for him and opens the door to his own face.

You give him a once over to make sure everything is perfected before nodding in satisfaction.

“D-did you have any trouble?” You almost want to kick yourself in mortification when you stutter, forcing your expression to remain neutral as you speed up to walk a few paces ahead of him.

“Not really,” Jimin lies, you’re better off not knowing about the small mishap that happened while getting dressed - what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

“Great, and one more thing,” you turn to him briefly, just before entering the Great Hall. “We need to really convince people, alright? That means altering speech, gaits, expressions, all that. Act meaner, Park, I can’t be prancing around Slytherin house singing melodies and lullabies, grinning like an idiotic fool.”

“I do not-” Jimin gasps in indignation, but restrains himself when he sees the slight smirk on (your) his face. “Fine. But that means you have to act nicer, I can’t be stomping around Hufflepuff house looking like I’ve got a broomstick up my ass.”

“Fuck you, Park.” You growl back at him, and the two of you glare at each other for a few heated seconds, before another voice breaks in.

“What are you doing standing out here?” Taehyung seems to appear suddenly out of nowhere. “The longer you wait, the less pancakes there are!”

The two of you jerk away from each other, startled by his sudden presence. For a second you fear that Taehyung might pick up on the way you’re practically oozing with self-assured arrogance in Jimin’s body, and how Jimin looks more than a little awkward while walking in a long dress, but the Divinations Professor only ushers you in without another word.

“There’s something different about you today, Professor ___.”

You take your seat at the long table, unaware that you’ve taken your usual chair instead of Jimin’s. But there are more pressing matters. You internally groan at the way your eyes are widening, something that you would be caught doing and you watch as your mouth opens and closes several times, at a loss of what to say.

“Really?” - is all Jimin manages and you want to facepalm.

“You’re even more beautiful today, Madam.” Taehyung winks as he slowly and seductively peels his banana, taking an agonizingly slow bite of the very top of the fruit. “Is that a new dress robe? It compliments your figure perfectly, if I do say so myself. The sleek black gives a very funeral-sexy vibe.”

His lecherous eyes trail down the front of your sweetheart neckline, and you curse yourself for not choosing the bulkiest sweater in your collection. Your fist clenches in your lap as he continues to ogle your chest, and really, you would have been fine had it been you in your actual body. But watching yourself being drooled over like this is more than uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to smack the Gryffindor Head of House off his seat. It’s especially painful to swallow down your toast when you feel the urge to throw up and you try your best to motion to your body to shut the hell up but Jimin doesn’t see you.

The body that is no longer yours, tips its head to the side and your lashes flutter enticingly at the Divinations Professor in an expert display of the feminine wiles, something you’d never even think of wasting on a fool like Taehyung. “Thank you.”

Taehyung moans loudly in spite of the students sitting meters away. “I love it when you shout at- wait...what?!” It dawns on him and his mouth full of the banana begins to slobber out. He drools and quickly wipes it disgustingly on his robe. “Thank you?!”

You’re gaping at him too and you watch Jimin become bashful, causing your cheeks to become a shade of coral. It’s a sight that makes you want to scream and launch across the table.

“Are you sick or ill? D-do you need to go down to the infirmary, Professor ___?” Taehyung ventures cautiously.

Your grip tightens around your goblet even as you force a pleasant smile upon your face.

“I’m quite healthy, Taehyung, but I appreciate your concern.” Jimin’s eyes finally flicker over to you, finding his own face pale and twisted in complete anger. The kind smile on your face falls and your lips make an ‘o’ shape as Jimin realizes he might’ve fucked up. All you see is the colour of red, and it’s not because of Taehyung, and your fingers itch to snatch the wand in your pocket, to hex these two boys all the way round the world and back.

For a split of a second, as Jimin is gazing at you through your own eyes, you swear that a smirk pulls on the corner of his mouth. Your eye- Jimin’s twitches.

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for my behaviour as of late...” Your voice is suddenly low and smooth. Jimin uses your body and leans in closer to the Gryffindor who has stopped eating all together to stare. “I’ve been unnecessarily rude to you in the past and it’s because I’ve been...frustrated.”

“Oh.” Taehyung is at an absolute loss, unable to wrap his mind of what’s happening. If only he knew that it was Jimin and not you. “Have you now?”

Don’t do it.

You try to send a telepathic message to the Hufflepuff, your hands are shaking in your lap and a muscle in your cheek is having a spasm as you try to maintain control. Jimin’s eyes flicker to yours and he has the audacity to lay his hand up high on Taehyung’s thigh.

“I just wish there was a way for me to alleviate my stress...riding something…” Your voice drips with honey, “a broomstick just isn’t thick enough.”

Park Jimin, that little fucking bitch. That sleazy greaseball is becoming sneakier than a Slytherin, and you’re not too sure how you feel about that.

Taehyung gulps. You clear your throat obnoxiously loud, speaking in such a rumbling timbre that you didn’t know Jimin’s vocal chords were capable of. “I think that’s enough, Professor ___.”

The two of them completely ignore you.

“You know,” Taehyung whispers in your ear that’s really Jimin’s, “I’ve always wanted to call you mistress instead of madam.”

The Gryffindor Head of House wonders if he’s in a dream, maybe he passed out on his desk after drinking too much butterbeer. There’s no reason for you to be fulfilling every single one of his fantasies right now unless he’s dead and is in the afterlife.

Jimin whips his head, meeting Taehyung’s face and a millimeter away from his lips. “I would love that.”

This is unbelievable.

One minute, Jimin acts completely innocent and naive. He couldn’t hurt a fly or shout at a student. He radiates kind gentleness, too soft and pure for his own good. The next, he’s hiding his discreet smirk, mischievous and basking in your humiliation. It’s as if he’s trying to take his revenge, let you get a taste of your own poisonous venom.

“That’s enough!” You stand up from your chair and the strong reverberating voice captures the attention of the entire Great Hall. All the students and professors have turned to you in utter shock, unable to believe their eyes and ears that the infamously benevolent Hufflepuff would ever raise his voice or seethe in anger. You instantly realize your mistake. “I-”

“You’re absolutely right!” The vocal chords that boom are the ones you recognize as yourself. Jimin stands up in your body, “Herbology is as an important of a subject as Potions. I’m sorry for disregarding it and the Hufflepuff house.”

You can’t believe your own lips have uttered that aloud to every witch and wizard that Herbology is as valuable as your precious Potions. But everyone in the room seems to turn away when they understand it was a mere debate or another one of the banters that you usually share.

You’ll admit that Jimin saved you there.

Taehyung is confused. “What?”

You lower yourself down to meet his eyes. Typically, Taehyung thinks of Jimin as his best buddy, perfect if he wanted to sneak in a few butterbeers between classes here and there. But today there’s something slightly off about him, his dark grey eyes practically oozing with a dark aura that’s oddly familiar somehow. For the first time in his life Taehyung feels a shred of fear upon looking into the Hufflepuff’s eyes, and that’s when it strikes him, the look reminds him of-

“You will never speak of this conversation and you will never call ___ by the name of mistress again. If you do, I’ll turn you into a pigeon and roast you over a fire. Is. That. Clear.” You practically hiss at him, eyes narrowing into slits to make sure you get your point across.

Taehyung looks at Jimin’s face, then to you, then back at Jimin’s. He scratches the top of his head. “Did something happen to the two of yo-”

“Nope.” Any trace of aggression or malice immediately vanishes, and you grin cheerfully at him in a manner befitting of the Hufflepuff whose body you’re inhabiting. “I had a nice chat with you but I have to get ready for class now. Have a good day, Professor Kim!”

You have to quite literally drag Jimin out of there.

“What the fuck was that?!”

He smiles sheepishly but when you continue to glare daggers at him, he grows serious. It feels intimidating to have a shadow looming over him and he wonders if you’re merely so unpleasant all the time in order to protect yourself, a shield of some sort. “Did I go too far?”

A sigh leaves your mouth that’s really his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation and teased you. I just thought a little humour would lighten things up.”

“You practically sold my body to the greasiest, most revolting male in the castle.”

“Wait, Taehyung isn’t that bad now is he?”

“You have no fucking idea how many times I’ve caught him sucking face with the female professors, that one time he even-”

Jimin cuts off your tirade by taking a step closer to you, going on tiptoe and lifting your smaller hand to brush aside a few wayward strands of silver locks that you didn’t secure in place this morning. Your heart skips a beat at the proximity, and even though you’re in his body now, you’d never realised just how tall Jimin is, always brushing him off as one of the shorter professors in comparison to, say, Namjoon or even Headmaster Jeon himself. And from this angle you realise just how broad his chest is, such that you look positively tiny by comparison. You blink slowly at him, watching as a slow smile spreads across your own face occupied by Jimin, and you never thought you’d be capable of radiating such kindness.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You barely stutter out when he continues to run his fingers down over your cheek.

“Hmm?” Jimin flicks his gaze to you, and there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. “Oh, just checking if you shaved this morning. Looks like you didn’t. You didn’t think I was trying to flirt with you, by any chance?”

“N-no, of course not!! That’s absurd, Professor-”

Your pupils divert as you feel your cheeks begin to heat up but they land on a flash of yellow. There’s a figure hidden behind a pillar. Jimin turns around to see what has made your mouth drop and what you’re staring at-

It’s Seokjin?

“Get back here, brat!” His deep timbre that shakes the walls has returned and you unknowingly push Jimin out of the way, unable to measure your strength and causing your body to stumble back. You don’t pay any mind, marching down the hall and the Hufflepuff student takes off running.

You begin to chase him and Jimin tails you.

“Get back here this instant!”

The first year boy is rather nimble.

“It’s not my fault!” He screeches at the top of his lungs, darting between the other students who gasp at the sight of two professors chasing a child. Seokjin is crying hysterically, eyes filled with tears and unable to see where he’s going. It’s the type of hysterical sob that would lead one to believe a family member has died, his tears and saliva and running nose mixing to drip down his chin. “It wasn’t me!” He hiccups, “i-it wasn’t me!”

Jimin didn’t realize how much energy it takes to run with your legs. And just how fucking breezy skirts are, he has to slow down considerably in order to keep the fabric from flying up and flashing the entire castle, somehow he doesn’t think you’d be too appreciative of that.

In contrast, the superior agility in Jimin’s bones prove to be effective. It takes less than two minutes for you to snag the Hufflepuff’s collar, dragging him upwards by his robes. “Y-you…” You huff and puff, “are in big...big trouble, young man.”

Seokjin cries harder when it occurs that his Head of House is holding him up in the air. The once kind professor that showered him in compliments and constantly asked if he was adjusting well is now shaking him like he’s a rag doll, eyes blazing in animosity.

Jimin manages to catch up and he’s in much worse condition than you are. You’ve never been happier to switch bodies considering how unfit you are. “P-put him down, ___.”

The Hufflepuff continues to cry when his feet touches the ground. He shakes his head and for a second, you fear that he might pass out. “I-I can’t be expelled! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

The hallway has completely cleared out, no soul or even ghost wanting to stick around when it’s you that’s sprinting down with your emerald robes swishing the air. Little do they know that the current Hufflepuff Head of House is more to fear.

“Listen to him…” Jimin manages through steadying breaths.

It didn’t make sense for Seokjin to harm the two of you. There had to be something more. The older man knew the younger too well to know that he’s not capable of doing such things.

He crouches down to meet the eleven-year old’s height and your eyes are crinkled with unusual tenderness. Seokjin tenses up when he sees that it’s you, the Slytherin but he strangely feels calm. “You won’t get expelled. Take a deep breath and calm down.”

Jin nods and takes a full inhale through his mouth, exhaling through his nose. He nods and focuses his eyes onto your face rather than Jimin’s twitching eyes that are really your own.

“You won’t get expelled. I can make you that promise.”

You immediately protest, “But-”

Jimin sends you a sharpened glare that reminds you of the typical expression you wear. You seal his lips together and he continues speaking in a quiet voice. “You won’t be. I’ll do everything in my power to assure you that.” Seokjin nods along. “Now, what you gave us last night, I need to know what it was and I need to know who it was that did this. Can you help me with that? Me and Professor ___ really need your help right now, Seokjin. You’re the only one who can do this for us.”

Seokjin frowns in confusion when you seemingly refer to yourself twice in that conversation, but he’s in no position to be asking questions. “I….It was a love potion and a third year helped me...Min Yoongi.”

“Fuck.” A laugh leaves Jimin’s mouth and the student jumps, startled, and Jimin turns to glare at you for your use of profanity in front of a student. You tilt his head back, chuckling from the deepest part of his chest. “I knew it.”

Min Yoongi.

You are going to kill him.

*//*

The Headmaster’s office is a circular room with numerous paintings on the wall, each belonging to different Headmasters of the past. On the shelf, the Sorting Hat lays along with numerous other trinkets, records and ancient books, sealed boxes that rumble every so often. There’s a tiny train that rolls on its tracks around the room, puffs of smoke appearing with the sound of a tiny whistle.

But what is most evident is the stacks upon stacks of parchment, towering up to your chin that surrounds the wooden desk. They’re piled up so high that only Jeongguk’s head can be seen from above them, and said Headmaster is currently sporting a very worried frown between his eyebrows as he surveys the situation. When he said he wanted the two of you to exist in harmony, this is certainly not what he meant at all.

He only left for one goddamn meeting. How did things become so wrong?

Seokjin is shaking, though no longer crying and he stares down at his lap. Yoongi is seated next to him, and true to Slytherin fashion, refuses to show even an ounce of weakness, opting to keep his features perfectly neutral instead. But you’ve spent years dealing with wayward students like him, so you see past his facade in an instant, the way he keeps his smart mouth shut when he would usually be asking for permission to leave already.

“Don’t make me use Veritaserum, or I guarantee it will be much more painful than it needs to be,” you threaten while slamming the truth potion on the table. “Tell me. Now.”

Min Yoongi clears his throat, eyes darting from Jimin to your figure, obviously startled that the sweet Hufflepuff Head of House and Herbology professor could sound so sharp and glare at him like his limbs were going to be butchered off. But he reminds himself that this isn’t Professor Park that he’s seeing. It’s you.

“I already told you the truth.” He mumbles quietly, “I used all the ingredients that was listed for Amortentia. I even followed the recipe I found in the book without skipping a single step. It was supposed to be perfect...”

Jimin is leaning against the brick wall, observing the situation and it’s unusual to see your own face entirely unfazed. “Well, it isn’t perfect. Something went wrong!” A deep scream, bordering on hysterical emits from the throat you’re using and Seokjin jolts, almost beginning to sob again. You have to remind yourself to control your emotions and slip your mask of indifference back into place again, only this time it’s so much harder when it’s not your body.

Yoongi flinches from the mere booming volume and again when your fist pounds the surface of the desk. He’s never seen Professor Park’s face contort into such rage before, and it’s beginning to unnerve him.

“Professor Park and I are obviously not in love,” you eye Jimin and he doesn’t make any comments, “so clearly you did something wrong with the procedure or with the ingredients and I need to know what it is.”

“I-I really don’t know what it is, sir-” Yoongi quickly corrects himself, “madam. I swear it on everything I have and my own parent’s lives. I don’t know.”

A rage equivalent to that of a Fiendfyre erupts inside you, and you clench your fists to stop yourself from hexing these stupid little children till they’re unrecognisable. Consequences be damned, these little brats truly deserve this, and more. You might charm them to silence for the rest of their lives. But before you can legitimately lose it, Jimin steps in.

“It’s not your fault.” He says softly and your mouth drops open. What?!

Of course it’s their fault!

The Hufflepuff currently occupying your body continues, oblivious to your indignance. “We, as your professors, should have monitored you more closely. The ingredients were easy to steal and so was the equipment.” You scoff at that and he ignores you, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. We have to punish you for what you’ve done. You could’ve seriously harmed someone and you’ve used magic irresponsibly.”

Seokjin’s tears run down his face. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi shares the same sentiment, apologizing as well, and for once in his life, he looks ashamed.

“You won’t be expelled.” Jimin keeps his promise to the youngest student. “But I’m docking fifty points from each of your houses and for the next three months, after every one of our classes, you have to come help clean up. You will also serve five detentions and have an earlier curfew. There will be no excuses.”

A thankful smile spreads on Seokjin’s face as he nods. Yoongi registers the words and internally weighs them out before he decides that it’s quite lenient for the offence they’ve committed. “Thank you.”

When the students rush out of the room, nearly tripping on their feet, the two of you turn to the Headmaster. He’s in his chair, elbows propped on the desk, hands holding his skull. “What do we do?”

Jeongguk doesn’t respond.

The pair of you exchange a look before you go over, nudging the Headmaster. His head lifelessly falls to the surface and he bangs his forehead on the table. Jimin winces and Jeongguk immediately jolts upwards. “I was listening.”

“Good.” You raise an eyebrow in slight disbelief, but decide to go on anyway. “It would be a shame if our own Headmaster was sleeping and wasn’t paying attention to such an important matter… one that threatens the reputation of Hogwarts itself.”

Jeongguk clears his throat uncomfortably, taking a look at you and then Jimin.

“I can’t deal with this.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t do any of this.” Jeongguk sniffles and wipes his eyes. You cannot believe that the Headmaster might be weeping in front of you. His black hair is completely riled up, sticking in all different directions and his eyes are bloodshot. Jeongguk’s voice cracks in sobbing hysterics. He’s having an emotional breakdown, the stress eating him alive.

“I don’t know how I got this job! Do you know how?! I don’t! They just hired me and lo behold, now I’m sitting here in this office, running the entire castle.” Jeongguk tangles his fingers into his locks. “I don’t know how to do any of this! I don’t know how to fill out the paperwork or where to sign. No one taught me and I didn’t receive any formal training. I think there was a phoenix I was supposed to feed but it’s nowhere to be seen. And I think I need to hire someone to cut the grass outside but I don’t know anything about that either!”

Jimin puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder for comfort. The expression that he wears on your face is calm, collected and kind. On the other hand, you’re rolling your eyes, in disbelief that such a bumbling fool is in charge. Your attitude is a stark contrast for the colour of the robes that you’re wearing.

“I’ll try to figure out something...I’ll figure it out.” Jeongguk slowly nods as he regains composure. “For now, let’s keep it discreet. If it’s exposed, it would be a huge scandal and there’s too much paperwork to file an incident report for the Ministry. We would have to contact the parents of the children involved as well. It’s too much.”

“Okay.” Jimin exchange a mutual nod with you. “That sounds reasonable.”

Jeongguk nods again in agreement, though it seems more to reassure himself than anything else. The room is quiet for a moment, with the Headmaster himself deep in thought before he jolts upright in his seat, bright doe eyes coming to rest on Jimin’s body, before belatedly realising and glancing at the right figure instead.

“Hey wait, come to think of it… you’re the Potions Master here, ___. Aren’t you the most qualified candidate for this?” Jeongguk seems all too pleased with himself as his shoulders begin to relax. He supposes this is why the Ministry appointed him- for his sharp wit and intellect, if nothing else. “You should be able to handle this on your own just fine.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation, you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the Headmaster’s gross oversimplification of the situation. “I don’t know what was in there. I can’t do anything if I don’t know every single detail of that concoction. If I try to whip something up, I could kill the both of us.”

“Oh… I see,” Jeongguk seems to deflate again, but he stands from his seat and heads for the rows and rows of bookshelves aligning his office with what seems like a renewed vigour. For a second, you suppose he might pull a book from his shelf with some ancient remedy, or even suggest looking in the Restricted Section of the library.

But the Headmaster only grins at you. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually, Ms. ___. You’re the best Potions Master Hogwarts has ever had, after all.”

And then he claps his hands and disappears with a dark ‘poof’ before the two of you can even protest.

For a second, you’re left staring at the empty space that he occupied just seconds ago, with increasing disbelief that only serves to fuel your rage. At this point, your hit list of witches and wizards is growing so rapidly that you briefly consider becoming the next Dark Lord.

Jimin only shrugs at you with that incessant smile still on your face.

*//*

There’s nothing to do but to accept the situation. You literally have no other choice.

You still have to attend class, there are other professors and students to meet, and you can’t spend your entire day cooped up in the classroom to mess with potions. The love potion antidote failed and Polyjuice was only but a temporary fix that wasted too much time and ingredients. The second trial of potions you gave to Jimin made him hiccup for two hours. The next ones made caused you sit on the toilet the entire night, another antidote turned invisible and the most recent batch caused his- your voice to resemble a mouse’s.

You swear he’ll never let you live this one down, Jimin just about had a field day teasing you and calling you cute. Which you are most definitely not.

It takes more effort than you thought it would to act like Jimin all the time, it just isn’t natural, and it’s not you. You can’t help but go about your day feeling like an utter imposter, truly in someone else’s shoes, and constantly worrying if your actions are up to par or not.

“Merlin, I’m so fucking exhausted,” you collapse onto the desk after the last student has trickled out of yet another one of your combined classes with Jimin. “I think I’ve worn out my ‘nice’ quota for the rest of my life.”

Jimin is currently halfway across the room, tidying up a mess that one of the students made. “Looks like you’re gonna have to be naughty for the rest of your life then.”

His innuendo makes you chuckle, and you reach for a quill to toss at his head, not really intending on hitting him. You watch him make his rounds to make sure everything’s back in their rightful place, and it strikes you just how selfless he is. He must be as tired as you are, more so because he’s currently inhabiting your incredibly unfit body, but not one single complaint have you heard from him.

As if it doesn’t haunt you enough to be in Park Jimin’s body, you have to sleep in each other’s respective beds. Awake or asleep, you’re constantly surrounded by him and his belongings. His sheets and covers smell like him, freshly cut grass and the lingering scent of flowers. It reminds you of the pumpkin pastry that started all this and you scorn yourself for not detecting it beforehand.

A second flickers in your mind for a mere moment...that perhaps Min Yoongi’s love potion didn’t fail after all.

You shake your head with a strangled moan, rubbing your temples to dissipate the thumping headache. It seems like no matter what body you occupy, you’re always prone to anxiety and stress.

“We can make this work,” Jimin assures you in a sickeningly sweet voice that you can’t believe is your very own. “You’re doing fine, ___.”

It doesn’t bother you as much anymore when he doesn’t attach any titles to your name. It almost sounds nice to hear him call you in such a straightforward manner.

The Hufflepuff plops a steaming hot cup of tea in front of you, a tiny lotus flower floating at the surface and specks of glitter dancing above the mixture. When you stare at it suspiciously, he sheepishly smiles. “It’s to help with the strain.”

You nod, bringing it to Park Jimin’s pink lips and taking a sip. Instantly, the warm liquid quenches your thirst and elevates the pressure off of your chest. You blink, feeling lighter than before.

“You know, you need to stop frowning all the time. You’ll give me wrinkles.” Jimin giggles and moves his hand upwards. You start to pull away, but his finger finds the scrunch between your brows, poking at them and you relax. He pulls back and smiles again. “It’s kind of strange looking at me from your eyes.”

“I know what you mean.” You take another sip. “It feels like I’m talking to my reflection but I know it’s you inside.”

His little grin turns into a smirk. “I never knew I was this handsome. Is that why you’re always so on edge? Are you afraid of falling in love with me?”

“Please.” A scoff leaves your mouth but a tiny smile soon takes its place. “If anything, I’m surprised about how gorgeous I am. But I never knew my skin was so bad and my nose...” You’re allowing yourself to ramble on, spilling your deepest insecurities without a second thought and your hand raises to poke the nose on your face but Jimin catches your wrist. You realize your hands are much smaller than his despite having made fun of his fingers before, but it doesn’t sink in when you’re startled from the movement.

“Trust me, you look fine the way you are. More than fine, actually.”

His sincerity causes you to slowly pull away. Jimin snickers at your flustered reaction, the dim light of his desk lamp casts a warm glow onto your skin and he basks in the intimate moment. Never in his life would he dream of you sitting so close to him in his own office. Even if being in your body is rather peculiar, he enjoys the seconds as they pass.

You shift slightly under his scrutiny. Being in such close proximity with him has you a little nervous, and his intent gaze fixed on you isn’t helping either. You clear your throat to diffuse the tension.

“Anyway, we have another problem. We need to take over each other’s classes, and we both know you can’t go a single minute without smiling, and I can’t help but terrorize any living being wearing the colour yellow.”

“That’s easy. Act more Hufflepuff,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “And by that I don’t mean prancing around or singing Christmas carols,” he narrows his gaze into slits when you open your mouth to tease him, a gesture that looks eerily at home on your own face. “Just try and understand others more, put yourself in their shoes before you do anything.”

A pout appears and he wishes that he could see it on your own face. But if Jimin concentrates hard enough, he can look past the appearance and your own body manifests in front of him. The power of imagination has sometimes been more powerful than magic itself.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“For starters, when you speak with a student, you should be gentle with them and be tolerant. You should answer any questions they have and ask if they need help.” Jimin seems to be enjoying your obvious torment, the expressions of disgust that flicker on your features. When you ask him what happens if the children are simply incompetent, he shrugs. “You should help them anyways. Patience and kindness are Hufflepuff qualities.”

“Basically, before I do anything at all, I have to think ‘what would Park Jimin do’?”

“Exactly.”

You let out a short burst of laughter that for once, isn’t rooted in mockery or maliciousness. The very thought of constantly having Park Jimin on your mind is strangely not as revolting as you would have thought it to be, but you get where he’s coming from.

“Well I guess it’s a good strategy. I’m gonna need way more than just ambition if I’m supposed to be that dedicated, hardworking and compassionate all day.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you realise it, and they aren’t even uttered in a tone that could be considered ridiculing or condescending. You realise that you actually mean it, and the traits you’d just listed were ones that you’ve always associated Park Jimin with, be it subconsciously or not.

“And… what about me?” Jimin seems a little hesitant, and maybe it’s because you’re reading your own facial expressions, but he looks more than a little scared at the thought of having to handle a class full of Slytherins on his own.

“You obviously need to be a lot more strict, I don’t cut anyone any slack. It doesn’t matter to me if my students like me or not, I just want them to take their lessons seriously so that they can become better students.”

Jimin hums in thought as he takes in your advice, and a sudden thought occurs to him: you and him aren’t too different after all. Both of you just want the best for the children, and beneath that prickly, stone cold exterior lies something that is all too vulnerable.

“We don’t live on other people’s terror, you know,” your voice softens when you take in the pensive expression on his face. “Slytherins aren’t evil. We only like to test and challenge the boundaries to see how much we can get away with. As long as you’re firm with them, you’ll be fine.”

That’s as far as you’ll go before outrightly admitting that you think he’ll do well.

“Right. So, resourcefulness, ambition and a cunning personality.” He names the typical Slytherin characteristics but as he stares at you, his voice becomes softer. “Being clever, a leader, having determination….appearing immaculate without even trying.”

It doesn’t occur to you that he’s begun to list your own specific traits. You nod to reaffirm his beliefs. “Imagine what an authoritarian ruler would do.”

“You mean like Jeon Jeongguk?” A giggle escapes from your own lips as Jimin tilts his head back in laughter. “Word has it that he’s a Slytherin, you know.”

“Never,” you find a smile tugging at the corner of your lips in response. “He’d be kicked out within a day.”

Jimin’s laughter takes a while to subside, you find yourself admiring the way he makes you look so genuinely happy and carefree, a side of yourself you’ve scarcely seen recently.

“And anyway, who knows,” you nudge him lightly, “maybe you’ll find my style to be better.”

Without contemplating, he throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer. It feels strange to have your own limb wrap around your body that’s much larger and the illusion of speaking to Jimin like he’s in his own body shatters. Still, you feel oddly comfortable.

“Maybe, you’ll grow to be a better Hufflepuff than I am.”

“I highly doubt that.” You give him a wry laugh in response, “try your best not to pee your pants, Park.”

“Will do.”

Writers notes: This was a collab with the wonderful writer, @dovechim so make sure to send her an abundant of messages and love! Check out her masterlist and other works too!! The next and final part will be released over on her blog!

CO-WRITTEN WITH @dovechim

[romanticatheart-posts]

King Sized Revelations - 9

This chapter: Liam and his father finally have the talk about the scandal and what it meant for each of them. There is a lot of angst and feels, so for those of you who might be sensitive to those issues, I completely understand if you don’t read it. It’s just an intricate part of this series...

I really struggled with this chapter, trying to capture the deep seeded emotions from both Liam and his father while giving closure at the same time. I hope I did it justice...

Pixelberry owns all characters.

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Liam’s POV --

While riding horseback on a trail to the ruins, Constantine suddenly stops, and you notice tears in his eyes. “Father?” He doesn’t try to hide them, and then begins to speak. “Liam, I know I’ve been a fool…” 

He pauses, letting those words permeate before continuing. “…everything I did, it was for you, however misguided it was.” “Father now is not the time–” Constantine interrupts. “No. This is the perfect time. We have been at odds far too long and I’m not ready to die until you and I can clear the air…” 

“… there is so much that has gone unsaid and...” He trails off as he hangs his head and you notice a sorrowful expression on his face. He is right though, there are many words that need to be said, but is he ready to listen?

“Father, maybe you’re right. But before we go any further with this, I need to know that you are prepared to hear what I have to say. And know that once we’re finished, we will never speak of it again.” Constantine nods in understanding. “Yes, I am aware this might not be pleasant for either of us, but necessary all the same.” With that, you nod in agreement and then dismount your horse. “I’m guessing there’s no urgent need to visit the ruins today, so why don’t we rest the horses for a bit?” 

You both tie the horses to a tree, so they can graze and then find a seat on a couple of stumps nearby. After a few moments of taking in the scenery, Constantine takes a deep breath, breaking the silence. 

“Your mother always loved it out here.” You are taken back by his sudden mention of her. It had been so long, you thought he had forgotten about her. “Oh?” “When she and I were first married we would ride out here on occasion when I felt that she needed a break.” “I’m sure she appreciated that. Did you bring Leo too?” You hear a slight chuckle. “You know your brother. I think it was because of him that she needed the break to begin with.” You can’t help but laugh a little yourself. “Probably.”

Constantine’s expression changes taking on a more serious note. “She would have been so proud of the man you’ve become Liam.” “And why do you say that?” He smiles as though he remembered some heartfelt conversation they’d had about this very topic. “She always knew you were destined for greatness, but I don’t think even she envisioned it would involve you becoming the king.” You try to imagine her reaction, and you can’t help but smile. “Yes, I think it would have been quite a surprise.” 

Constantine’s countenance grows more thoughtful. “She loved you very much Liam… I hope you know that.” “Yes, I do.” There is a long moment of silence and then Constantine sighs. “You might not know this, but after she passed I began having dreams about her.”

How could you have known? He’d been so closed off any time you mentioned her. It’s not unusual that you had dreams, but your stoic, kingly father?  “Nothing in particular mind you, but she was always singing, laughing and carefree, much like she had been in life. Many times I would retire early, in hopes of seeing her, even if it was only in a dream.” You wonder if that was his way of coping too. It had certainly been comforting to you. “I had similar dreams as well. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you talk about mother before, especially not something so personal.” 

“I know I should have…” He pauses. “… though at the time, I feared reminiscing would only cause you to withdraw even more. Now I see that perhaps I neglected to grasp the importance of what sharing our thoughts would have provided in the healing sense.” “I won’t lie father, things would have been easier if I had known you missed her too. I understood being the king meant having to exhibit stability to the court and our people, but it was troubling to never witness a single emotion in private. Many times I thought I was wrong for having feelings at all.” Constantine sighs mournfully. “Liam, I know I didn’t handle things with you the way I should have. And as much as I would like to change that, I could never go back to that time in our life. Despite what you may think of me, I loved your mother very much and losing her was…” Constantine stops for a moment and takes a deep breath. “After her untimely demise, I blamed myself for many years. Had I not been the king, I’m certain her life would have been spared. It wasn’t supposed to…” 

He trails off again and you look at him as a tear slowly streams down his face. He has never appeared so vulnerable as he does in this moment and a surge of compassion and warmth washes over you. “No it wasn’t.” 

“We should have been more careful. I should have been more careful.” You reach over and place a comforting hand on his shoulder to which he turns and embraces you. After a few lingering moments in silence, Constantine breaks the embrace, composes himself and then speaks. “Before we learned she had been a target, I was consumed with grief, but it was soon replaced with anger when the truth came to light. At that point my primary concern was in bringing the perpetrators to justice by whatever means necessary. Looking back, that time would have been better served on seeing to your needs, rather than chasing ghosts.”  

You finally have some understanding as to why you had felt so alone after your mother’s death. Your father simply didn’t know how to handle the grief himself, much less help you with yours. You can’t fault him for that, he is only human after all. 

There is an awkward silence between you now and your body tenses slightly, knowing the discussion that follows may not end so peacefully. Your thoughts begin to race. What could he possibly have to add that will bring any cause for understanding the travesty he created? The memory of it still fresh in your mind, and the stench of your father’s unjustified deceit hangs heavily in the air. 

After several long minutes, Constantine stands and walks over to his horse. “I have something to give you.” You watch curiously as he carefully lifts something from a pouch that hangs on the saddle. When he returns, he places an object in the palm of your hand. “This should be in the hands of its rightful owner.” You immediately recognize it as one of his most prized medals. You look at it briefly and then turn to Constantine with a surprised expression. “But… this is your favorite medal.” “It’s true, it was presented to me many years ago as a reminder that gallantry and virtue is the seed to which our small kingdom will grow and thrive, but after everything I’ve done, it would be a disgrace to keep it. I want you to have it. Consider it a peace offering.” 

You stare at it for a few moments and then turn to him. 

“Father, I… I don’t know what to say.” “You don’t have to say anything, but I on the other hand…” Constantine hesitates for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as you carefully place the medal inside your breast pocket. “…I know my actions hurt you in many ways Liam and there hasn’t been a day since your coronation that I haven’t regretted it.” 

Maybe there is more to this than you had originally thought. “Father, I’ve tried to understand what was going through your mind when I realized you were the one behind the scheme, but I never found a single reason to justify your motives. You say it was for me, but how can you honestly believe that? I had given up so much to become the Crown Prince after Leo’s unexpected abdication, but not once did you ask if that is what I wanted. You just assumed I would be your successor when the time came, and in fact you were so hell bent on it that not only did you exploit your authority against the lives of innocent people, you did the same to your own son. I have to say, ‘hurt’ doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt.” 

“Liam, you have every reason to be bitter, and quite frankly I don’t blame you. I’m not proud of what I did, and I have many regrets in my life. But this? This is the one that shames me the most. I don’t expect you to understand my reasons, but with so much at stake and knowing how you felt about Catherine, I just couldn’t stand idly by and watch as everything I… we, had worked so hard for, be taken away.” 

You take a deep breath trying to stifle repressed emotions that threaten to erupt at any moment. Your father, the one you had thought to be an upstanding man and honorable king, used his power for something so unspeakable. If it had not been for Catherine’s determination, he would have carried that secret to his grave. “Father, the part most concerning to me is that you wouldn't have given it a second thought had we not discovered the truth.” 

“You have no reason to believe me son, but I had already resigned to acknowledge the truth to you on the engagement tour.” 

After hearing these words, a sudden rush of anger forces the veins in your neck to protrude slightly and your stare becomes menacing as you turn, square shouldered to face your father. “Just when did you plan to reveal this deception? After my marriage to a woman whom I could barely tolerate…? While the woman I love stood helplessly by to watch? All because she had been blatantly ridiculed and cast out due to the unwarranted accusations you brought against her…? After any hope of resolving the scandal was completely lost!? And for what? For the sake of preserving the monarchy’s integrity and alleviating your guilt!? What about me father? Did you ever consider the effect it would have on me? Your own son!?” 

Constantine is not surprised by your reaction nor does he try to dissuade it. He knows he is in no position to dispute the validity of your argument. He turns to you as you stare off into the distance with a less than pleasant expression. “I know you’re angry and I certainly don’t blame you. If I could change any part of it I would, in an instant. The burden I placed on you was far more than anyone should have had to bear, but if it’s any consolation, I’m thankful that it turned out the way it did.” You sit firmly, staring out at the landscape and Constantine sighs. “Liam, I had planned to reveal the truth to you as soon as possible. I was simply waiting for an opening in your schedule. And as it were, I wound up in a hospital in Shanghai before I could tell you, and by then you already knew.” 

When you think of how feeble he had looked that night and how he had almost seemed relieved to admit his guilt, your expression softens somewhat. “I’ll admit, you did seem eager to make your involvement known, but why was it so important?”  

Constantine drops his head for a moment and when he turns to you, there is a mist in his eyes. “Because seeing your misery reminded me of how things were after your mother passed…” He pauses as his shoulders slump and then he takes a ragged breath. “Liam, whether you believe it or not, I do love you. It was hard not to notice the emptiness and hopelessness you felt. In truth, I first saw it the night after the news broke, and those photographs went public. I… I never expected your reaction, or how it would affect me.” 

“Did you honestly not know how I felt about Catherine?” “Not really. I knew you cared for her of course, but it wasn’t until the night of your coronation that I realized the extent of that love. And it became even clearer after her arrival back to court. It was obvious there was more than just a simple admiration between you two. I knew you weren’t happy with the arrangement, but you managed to maintain credibility during the engagement tour. And while Catherine displayed poise and grace, there were a few instances when I would catch a glimpse of anguish in her expression as you and Madeleine interacted together. Call it instinct, but if things had continued that way, I feared you would abdicate like your brother.” 

“Don’t think I hadn’t considered it father. Catherine is the only reason I didn’t. Even in her own struggles, she encouraged me to keep fighting and that gave me strength to endure for however long was necessary. She was and is my rock and I would have done anything to be with her. She is everything to me.” “I’m fully aware of that son.” “Do you? Do you truly understand just what she means to me?” “Yes I do. And honestly, I couldn’t be happier. Seeing you happy is all the proof I need. Catherine certainly has been an inspiration and I’ve even told her as much, but her modesty precedes her. She reminds me of your mother to be quite frank. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, and I can’t say enough how sorry I am for… well, for everything.” 

Constantine catches a tear rolling down his cheek, wiping it to the side. “I realized a long time ago what a terrible mistake I made. When I first met Catherine, I had no idea just how much her presence would bring life to this court and to you as well. In all my years, I’ve never seen it quite so unified and peaceful.” You contemplate his words for a moment and then sigh. 

“Father, I won’t deny that my feelings toward you have been troubled, but I believe your attempt to make things right should be acknowledged. That’s not to say that I haven’t found comfort in knowing your actions failed, but what kind of man… what kind of son would I be if I gave in to ill will against my own father? It’s only for that reason that I can say, while I won't forget the breach of trust, I can't harbor animosity any longer. If Catherine can find it in her heart to forgive you, then so can I.” 

“Th-- Thank you Liam. I know I don’t deserve it, but I find peace in it nonetheless.” 

Once you and he have mounted your horses, you begin the journey back to the estate. You feel lighter somehow and most of the trip is spent in satisfied silence. After arriving back to the stables, you can see the press is already setting up for the conference that is being held soon. You both enter the estate and then head to your respective rooms.

 Catherine’s POV -- 

You are sitting at the vanity putting on the last of your makeup when Liam enters the room. He walks straight over to you, bends down placing a kiss on your cheek and then smiles at you in the mirror. “You look beautiful, my queen.” You smile back, then stand facing him and wrap your arms around his neck and his rest on your hips. “And you my king, are extra handsome today.” He kisses you tenderly and then looks toward the bed where you have meticulously laid out his clothing for the event. “I suppose I should get cleaned up, so we can get this conference behind us. I am in desperate need of some quality time with my lovely wife this evening.” You smile. “Sounds perfect.” 

Sometime later, after the press conference has concluded, one of the farmers walks up to you and Liam with questions about excavating a section of the orchard. Since this is a subject that doesn’t really require your input, you kindly excuse yourself and head inside. 

While waiting for Liam you undress and slip on your robe, climb into bed and grab a book on the bedside table. As you lay there reading the door opens suddenly and Liam enters. His expression is unreadable. “Liam, what is it?” He walks over and sits beside you. He takes your hand and stares intently into your eyes. “Regina told me what happened this afternoon. Is there something you forgot to mention?”

 Next chapter: With the relationship between Liam and his father on the mend, things couldn’t be better for the royal family. After the press conference, Regina tells Liam some disturbing news.

[enaasteria]

Nightmare // Sehun

Mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year.

// Halloween Prompt #1 // Slightly suggestive but not really

“You’re happier than usual,” Yumi shouts from behind her sheer ninja mask and over the fervent music playing in the club. A bloodthirsty vampire wearing a ragged, sleeveless dress shirt dances alongside her. He’s practically thirsting for something else as his plastic fangs glide against her neck with strong, veined arms curving around her waist. She welcomes his advances with her hand entwining into his bed of unruly hair. They’re in their own little world and my benevolence is in parallel to theirs. My body jumps and sways to the entrancing beats as I answer her with words conveying how happy I truly feel. “I am!” I exclaim. The cranberry vodka she shared with me earlier aids in fueling the adrenaline as the addictive drink trickles through my system. 

She raises her brows at me, “Does it have to do with Sehun?”

“This time---yes, yes it does.”

My elation widens and she catches on quickly. I shrug my shoulders and inwardly smile, almost manically laughing to myself. 

The reason being among the multitude of costumed individuals, many chose It as their outfit this year. Their faces are painted a cold white and their lips are stained red with crimson lines leading up through their eyes. Some pay tribute to the original 1990’s cult design with a frilled collar and puffed sleeves. Others chose a more seductive approach; they’re barely clothed and or wearing short dresses and ripped white stockings leaving little to the imagination.

But whereas the titular character defines the epitome of nightmares and bad dreams, the vindictive clowns surrounding me at present are my ultimate blessings. As Yumi stated, they’re why I can’t stop smiling and how I’m possibly the happiest person in the club. It’s because my outfit doesn’t mimic theirs---which also means my chosen attire won’t match Sehun’s.

He and I have an odd relationship. And it’s not because I like him or fawn after him. I won’t even lie about how I find him terribly easy on the eyes but my interactions with him have been less than pleasant (and that’s putting it mildly).

We’re not friends. At least from the way things have progressed between us, I don’t believe we’re friends. It seems more or less like his goal in life is being the single reason why my pathetic soul leaves my body once he appears in front of me at a Halloween party. 

We somehow always manage matching costumes. 

It’s never by my choice. It just happens as if the menacing man is imbued with nefarious black magic to turn up in an outfit accenting mine.

It’s a curse.

It’s a malediction of the acutest kind and I hate admitting how he consistently complements my costume for the better whether I like it or not.

If I showed up as the 10th Doctor from Doctor Who, he’ll come in as TARDIS. If I’m Watson, then he’s Sherlock. Mario, Yoshi. If I’m Pikachu, then he’s the damn poké ball. It doesn’t matter if I go with a female outfit, male outfit, or if I dress up as the obscurest thing in the world---he somehow, in some evil warlock kind of way, knows exactly what I’ll be and wears an accompanying costume.

It’s a peculiarity I don’t understand. Even now, I can picture Sehun’s smug grin every time he arrives wearing something similar to my own. His half-moon eyes, the curl of his mouth, and his tongue flushing against his upper lip are engrained into my brain like a permanent burning scar. 

I could never figure out how he copied me or why he did it in the first place. It seemed to bother me more so than it ever did for him---as if he liked or wanted it; as if my unraveled state was his ultimate pleasure and joy.

What I once thought was a rare coincidence now has me wondering if Sehun is doing this to purposely mess with me---or if in actuality it’s the universe and fate being the ones up to no good.

Either way, I made a change this year to defy all odds. I did something I never did before to change my circumstances for the better---

I asked him.

Channeling my true, intended Halloween theme as Kingsman: The Secret Service, I tried my hand at outsmarting the deviant boy at his own game. He was wary at the start but I told him if we were going to match regardless, we might as well tell each other what we’re going to be so we can have the best costume possible. 

I didn’t think he would agree. I thought he was going to argue with me and say what I’m doing would subtract the element of surprise for him (a part of me honestly believes he revels in my sad misery) but he told me what I wanted to hear. He relayed his plans and I remember his answer verbatim.

‘I’m going as It this year.’

And he smirked. 

He exhaled an amused short breath and that mischievous grin was the last thing I remember prancing along the sharp contours of his prim face. 

I didn’t think much of his reaction then and I don’t think much of it now as I’m dressed in a high collar black sleeveless shirt under a gray double-breasted wool suit jacket and pants. 

One word echoes throughout my mind as I move to the playing song and it’s the word It. Like the majority of the women and men in this club, Sehun will be just like them. He will match them and be dressed as the monstrous clown. The very thought causes my merriment to stretch further up to my pink cheeks. 

Yumi shakes her head at my ridiculous behavior, clearly aware of my predicament with the problematic, aforementioned male. Although, I half blame her for my present issues because she was the one who introduced me to him all those years ago. It began with his name and his picture as if she tried to set me up with him. Little did she know Sehun and I would end up as a match in an entirely different manner. 

She’s about to say something but it’s cut short as the nameless vampire nibbles on her neck. She falls into his trance and leans into his toned frame as they move in sync to the rhythm beating between their bodies.

I raise my brows at her before pulling on the high collar fabric around my neck, “Too hot.”

She laughs, completely under the vampire’s spell, “Isn’t he?” and he kisses down even harder on her flesh from hearing her reply. I don’t mull on whether she intentionally misconstrued my sentiments or not but motion to the upstairs balcony to let her know I’m going to drop off my suit jacket and get something to drink.

The cool air brushes over the cuff of my bare shoulders as I grab a water from the bartender. I lean over the balcony railing with cup in hand, surveying the eclectic number of inebriated individuals. I perch my chin on a bent wrist and my fingers tap along my cheek to the addictive beats of EDM while I scan over every person in the club.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

My ears barely make out his signature silvery tone and a smile stretches from one end of my face to the other. I straighten and turn to my left, “No, just a clo---” but I’m interrupted as I face Sehun and the happiness I once felt immediately dissipates as I take in Sehun’s presence. 

He’s dressed immaculately well and that is where the very problem stems from. My brows furrow into a kneaded knot. It’s full of horror and confusion over why he’s not the frightening clown he said he would be.

There’s no white paint on his face. There’s no red nose or furry orange wig. There’s nothing clownish about his costume because he’s the dapper, glasses wearing, tailored gray suit Eggsy to my Roxy costume and I instantly want to fall to my knees and cry from dejection.

I stutter, “H---How---” 

“How what?”

“How do you do it every year? How does this keep happening?”

“Does it matter how I do it?” There’s that vexing smirk again. He’s enjoying this. He’s lapping up this exchange as if I’m the light to his day.

My chest rises up and down with each breath but I’m noticing every time I breathe, Sehun inches closer and closer. He decreases our space but it’s different this year. He’s much more forward with his approaches and it’s causing a bewilderment I can’t quite grasp.

He finally stops in footing and cranes his neck, reading me far better than I can ever understand him. “Does it bother you that much when we’re in matching costumes?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Sehun’s grin is the work of demons as his gaze is transfixed on me with no chance of any spell breaking its connection. 

“Because you said It.”

“And?”

I’m internally dying at this point. Perhaps it’s from anger or maybe it’s from my hatred of how irritatingly attractive he still looks in the suit with dyed blond hair (but annoyed nevertheless by how he managed to fool me again). “You said It, Sehun. You told me---letter for letter and I will quote you on October 1 at 6:14 PM, you said you were going to dress up as It this year. This is not It.”

“Who says I’m not?” he slyly refutes and I want to wipe away how his smile is messing with my every patience.

“You’re clearly not It. There’s no way this is a Pennywise costume.”

“Did I say I was going to be Pennywise this year?” Sehun pushes up his gold rimmed glasses before drawing his index under my chin. I don’t shy away from his touch and he takes it as an affirmation to lean down, angling his grand frame to mine. His thumb grazes over my bottom lip as his irises are completely narrowed into me. His face is a breath from my own and I listen to his vindictive words full of deadly magic and lore. “I said I would be It and that is exactly who I am—

I’m your worst nightmare, babe.”

[chalabrun]

eden of the north -- ; chapter 1

Title: Eden of the North Word Count: 1647 Pairing: Ravnoct, Ravus/Noctis Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: After the invasion of Tenebrae, Regis was unsuccessful in saving Noctis. Instead, the young boy was taken to Niflheim and everyone thought him dead. As a proxy lives in his place, the boy in question was reared to become the world’s deadliest assassin. Except, not even Niflheim can keep its secrets for very long.

Read on Ao3

Twelve years. He kept count by the icicles that dribbled and accumulated from that sharp eves that bowed over a small window from which he saw the world, gray and clouded. It were as though they rode within a white-capped winter sea, Gralea. A steel and lifeless warship that still breathed and moaned and hissed and dreamed as though it were alive. Rank did not promise comfort in Zegnautus. Deputy High Commander, years spent clawing and suffering through abuse with a stiff upper lip, rarely allowed the tender company of his own sister while he worked tooth and bone to protect her. The last light of his life when their mother’s had been snuffed out.

Though, they could not see that. Else they’d tear into him, hook and nail, bleed him red and carve out that filial devotion and fill him with rage and salt instead.

So, he took that hate and rage and grief and made it his armor. So far, it had worked. (So far, it had rusted.)

A clattering vibrato of his phone drumming his nightstand awoke the man from his sleep, Ravus blinking back the film of sleep as he sat himself up, arm dangling over the side before he craned for the cell phone and tabbed it open, regarding the caller ID with a snarling curl of his lip.

“Commander Ulldor. Might I inquire as to the reason behind your call this morning?” Ravus greeted with a stiff edge in his voice, faint sleepiness evaporating before the steely jab of annoyance.

“Come now, Lord Ravus—it’s rather important. There’s someone here I’d like you to meet. Someone you’ve been assigned to work with for a time,” Ulldor responded, a slight mocking tinging his tone.

Ravus gave the phone a withering stare before responding, “Very well. I will be there shortly.” ‘There’ likely meant Ulldor’s division of the army, his oversight predominantly centered on the aerial forces. Zegnautus Keep, aside from functioning as both as labs and the seat of government, housed the powers that be. Even with MT’s, Niflheim still boasted an impressive standing army. One that could drive even Lucis to its knees.

A placating thought.

Hardly any time was wasted in preparing himself, though he certainly didn’t rush. For all he’d endured, all Ravus had suffered through to claw his way to the position he was in, it was in these subtle forms of defiance that vindicated him. Gave him a sense of mastery over a life that gored its regimented ways into him like teeth, visceral and alive.

A subtle spur to never forget why he wore his homeland���s regalia. Why he was Deputy High Commander. His power was for his sister, and none other.

It would not be unsuitable to call them wolves, the way they fought. The baying of clashing steel, the scuff of paws upon concrete, the virulence in eyes that betrayed all emotion otherwise kept stifled. Bristling hide that crackled with energy. Yet, it was the one swathed in black that prevailed. A swift hit of finality to the gut, a swipe of the leg to displace them���leaving little for the opponent to do little else than stagger to the ground and moan their defeated pain. Perhaps what was heard was the reedy whine of a popped and deflating ego.

Ravus watched on as mismatched eyes found home on the victor; a short man—shorter than himself, at least—stood with his back turned. Spiky hair upturned in unruly tufts, a blue sheen to otherwise black. The commander seemed to feel time itself slow as the victor turned, finding as wine-rose eyes met his own, something unshakably familiar.

LUNA!

The King of Lucis conducting a mad dash for some escape, son in his arm whilst Lunafreya bolted alongside him, clutching his hand as though it were an iron anchor. They ran through wood smoke and wood fire, his nostrils clogged with embers as Ravus hovered over the prone form of his dead mother. He still remembered her hair like spun gold spilling from its coif, dead eyes reflecting the flames while her blood stained his face and Ravus swore that his tongue was coated in copper and rust. He screamed for her, screamed for the Lucian king who fled like the devil was at his heels, snapping with the quickness of flame.

“Lord Ravus, how wonderful of you to have arrived.” A voice taller than its owner spoke through the cloud of his thoughts, breaking Ravus from that mournful reminiscence.

Frowning, Ravus glanced down to see Caligo standing near his flank, chest puffed with a pigeon’s pride. “Would it be that I knew why I was here at all, Commander,” Ravus replied tartly, impatience undisguised. Gaze now upon the shorter man, the other from before was temporarily forgotten.

Caligo raised his chin boastfully as he nodded his head towards the contender from before, Ravus following it; there was relief in being able to turn from such a grotesquely egotistical man. “Tell me, Lord Ravus, are you at all familiar with the one known as the Niflheim Reaper?” A moniker chosen as some exaggeration of reputation, no doubt.

“Yes. What of it?” He’d heard the tales of an assassin that was practically an urban legend. With dozens of assassinations in their name, they were often seen as the bringer of death itself. A mantle that was gladly adopted by this so-called assassin’s keepers. Ravus had heard the legends, but for them to be attributed to one person was preposterous. More like, it was the work of several people that only the inane would believe was one.

And he was no such fool.

Caligo’s smile seemed to grow wolfish and his rodent-wide eyes became beady with an egotistical strain, Ravus internally grimacing. “Come here, my boy. There’s someone you’ve yet to meet,” Caligo beckoned to the victor from before, having stood blank and statuesque during their brief exchange. Ravus found himself strangely mesmerized as he moved, the nameless one turning to stalk with an edged and bladed stride, brows furrowing in disbelief.

A face too pristine and boyish for those old ruby eyes met his own, angled yet soft. One might think this a benign face, one that gave way to trusting were it not for the severity that marred it; a deadly stoniness that bore a razor calm, almost daring defiance before he’d lash viciously out. Body muscular, it was the body of a warrior, not some malnourished child. One that bespoke of experience. Clad in black leather, one could almost picture it glisten with blood-gleam.

Except, Ravus’ reaction wasn’t quite as calm.

A changed color of eye couldn’t fool him. He knew them. He knew them so well it sparked a flame and burnt noxious in his chest, heat melting mournfulness and evaporating grief in place of an acute, exacting want for revenge. Eyes of the sire, sins of the father. Ravus glowered hotly at the boy, lips ready to raise in a snarl.

How could this be? After the invasion, all he’d ever heard was of Noctis living in the lap of luxury, living almost normally. Living as he pleased without a care in the world while he and his sister suffered from their captors. Yet...the blood of Caelum and Fleuret had always resonated with one another from time immemorial, and not being the Oracle didn’t exclude Ravus from such affinity, either.

This abomination was Noctis.

“Commander, a word.”

Behind his back, he could feel Caligo’s softly-bladed glare, like a dagger concealed in cloth. A cowardly indignation. When they were well from earshot of the assassin, who hadn’t yet riddled Ravus’ identity, the Tenebraen all but fumed. “What is the meaning of this? Do you mean to tell me that boy is this legendary Reaper?”

Caligo seemed taken aback, confused by Ravus’ apparent anger. His smile was nervous, placating. “Now why would that be so wrong, Lord Ravus? You detest the line of Lucis. This is simply putting their stock to better use.”

“Do not mistake my anger as concern over his welfare,” Ravus snapped hastily, voice a cutting blade. “If you honestly think—“

He never managed to finish that sentence before he felt a cold blade menace itself on the nape of his neck, Ravus swallowing back a chill as the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, as though standing behind a draft. Cautiously did Ravus crane his head back, finding it was Noctis who threatened him. ...How? There had been no sound of his approach, no telltale indicators of warping native to Caelum heirs.

“Remove your blade this instant,” Ravus hissed, anger more apparent now, “or else I will remove your hand!”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Noctis retorted coolly. “You appeared to be threatening the Commander. So I acted.” The blade lowered some, but barely.

“Ulldor, call off your pet!”

Caligo gestured once for Noctis to desist, the assassin doing so almost with reluctance. He stood by a wall of the training hall, watching them hawkishly. Ravus sniffed disdainfully. “My apologies, Lord Ravus. However, this is what I wished to speak to you about. You see, His Radiance has insisted the assassin serve as your guard before the treaty signing in Lucis.”

An order issued from Aldercapt himself? An assassin was no bodyguard, let alone a Caelum. Did Iedolas wish to cause a scandal by having him there? Ravus sighed harshly, knowing this was an order he couldn’t refuse. Though, his actions from before bothered him. Would he seek to do something similar should Ravus do what he perceived as stepping out of line? Regardless, it seemed as though Noctis would journey with him as a leash. Why now he sought to keep eyes on his person was beyond him.

“Very well, Commander Ulldor. I shall make the necessary arrangements. See to it that the...asset is similarly prepared.”

[orphanedshadow]

Revelation

Hell definitely had its surprises, but the one which confused Kara the most was that the supposed unending pain never came. Even as the heat rose to the point where the flesh of those humans she saw ignited unbidden it simply caused a comforting blossom of warmth to spread through her veins. Those ever-present pains from some of her hunts seemed so much lesser in this heat as well, soothed by the fires that surrounded her.

It all seemed far too comforting, as if she had not gone to Hell, but merely gone home.

Finding herself without any clear objective for the first time she could remember Kara easily fell back into the patterns she had in life. It was freeing not to have to worry about humanity as she hunted, moving through this literal hellscape like she belonged. It was with a strange sort of feral calm that she worked, stalking all manner of beast and occasionally bathing in the blood of one that she felt was weak enough to be hunted for food.

It could have been years or it could have been a mere hour after her arrival that a woman stepped forward from between the flames, the finger-bones hanging from the multitude of braids in her hair knocking together like wind-chimes as she moved. Even with a mostly human form there was nothing human to the other's movements, each step brimming predatory grace and potential violence.

A hauntingly familiar song reached Kara's ears as the being approached, an action which in that moment was far more terrifying than any sort of weaponry. Nothing announced it's presence in these lands not unless it wished to be made a meal.

Despite the stranger's horrendously scarred appearance and the dangers that Kara had nearly been destroyed by so many times it was clear that the other did not care, as if she could destroy any threat with a mere wave of a hand.

Everything about this situation told her to hide, nonetheless it took all Kara had not to emerge from her current hiding spot as a sort of serenity swept over her. There it was again, that feeling of being home, and even stronger than before.

It soon became clear that her hiding was for naught. The strange woman's eyes simply looked past the flaming stalks of grass Kara had done her best to conceal herself behind; before piercing through the layers of magics that had saved the girl's life many times before.

The singing trailed off, the last note hanging in the air for a moment as the woman stares at Kara, running a tongue over pointed teeth as if contemplating what to do with her. Only once something akin to silence fell did she finally speak.

Her voice brought with it fragments of something, half-forgotten images the origins of which she was unsure of. It felt like one she had heard in her dreams when she was just a little girl. “Nenni nidali hoxmarch”

The comforting statement did not have it's intended effect as the stranger's solemn expression quickly broke into a slightly sinister smile, though given how she carried herself and the deep chasms of scars that covered every inch of visible skin it was likely that any smile would seem sinister.

"Pardon?" For once Kara decided to play the fool, for though it was not as she expected this was most definitely Hell, and revealing a knowledge of even the most basic of Enochian phrases was likely the pinnacle of stupidity.

The smile dropped, an almost playful smirk taking it's place. This entire situation made Kara uneasy, especially as the being seemed to know far more than she did. “You try saying that with a straight face.” Perhaps the Enochian reply was merely a test or some sort of slip up, or perhaps the stranger knew, but either way Kara could not help but feel trapped.

“I am sorry, I do not understand you. Do you speak English?” Kara could only hope that flawless politeness would offer her some kind of advantage as she played the fool, and that the small knife in her hand that she had made from the bones of her last meal could do some damage if it came down to that.

With all the suddenness of a striking viper the stranger closed the gap between them, long strides eating up the distance until she was just barely outside of stabbing range. Eyes narrowed, as if keeping watch for even the smallest mistake. “Allegra has told me you speak in the tongues of your ancestors, do not play coy with me girl.”

“I do not know any Allegras. You must have me mistaken for someone else.” Her hand may have shifted slightly on the blade at the approach, but apart from that Kara remained practically motionless. She would stand her ground and keep to her lies, that was the only option in sight.

“I highly doubt that. You carry a blade made from the femur of a wanderer and no other true weapons. From the teeth around your neck and those claws tucked into your belt you have killed at least one harpy, and if I had to hazard a guess a decently sized wyrrm. Even if we ignore all that you also have Lore's eyes.” Without any other hint as to what she was doing the woman switched to Enochian, speech flowing as if she had never changed languages. “and Eva's flawed stance.”

It was only an almost imperceptible movement of Kara's feet to reassure herself that her stance was correct, but it was enough for the stranger. Once more a wide grin crossed those scarred features, and it became painfully apparent to Kara that she had made a mistake. “Enough games. It is time for you to come home.”

The remaining distance between them was quickly closed, this time by Kara. A foolhardy move, but her lies had been found out, and this was the closest to an advantage she would get.

Given how she had expected this attack to go she was almost surprised when her blade sunk into flesh and then struck bone. Though not in the heart as she had intended the girl did get some small satisfaction from hitting the stranger's bicep instead of having the attack completely avoided.

That satisfaction vanished soon enough, as one of the stranger's hands moved to wrap around Kara's throat, careful so as not to offer her a chance to bite.

Much like one would a misbehaving kitten the stranger lifted Kara off the ground, casually unhooking the hunter's fingers from around the knife with her free hand. There did not seem to be any trace of irritation in her attitude, even as she withdraws the knife from her own arm and wipes it off as best she could on Kara's already somewhat blood-soaked hair.

“None of that now Kara. There will be time for stabbing later.” Oddly enough the woman's voice seemed tinged with pride, as if she had just seen a young child do something impressive, not at all like she had just gotten stabbed by a girl with some serious emotional issues.

“You know my name?” Perhaps it was the tone used, or perhaps it was the shock of some random demon knowing her name, but for once struggling took a back seat. Kara wanted to know no, she needed to know, why was the woman before her so familiar, and what did she know?

Lowering the girl so that her feet just barely touched the ground the stranger chuckles, slipping on her glamour for a minute before letting go again, the pretty face she wore out in public vanishing once more under her scars. “I know a great deal more than that little one.”

The other's brief change as well as the term of endearment brought about another wave of familiarity from Kara. She blinked rapidly, her mind racing in order to attempt to put a slew of fragmented thoughts together in some kind of sensible way. Unbidden a single utterance made it's way out of her mouth. “Drilpi lvlo?”

“Obviously” Her smile widens, arm lowering even further so that Kara could stand properly, though she did not relax her grip. “Your memory needs work child.”

Hazy memories she had once considered to be nothing more than dreams fell into place at the other’s confirmation, the universe suddenly making a great deal more sense. A lifetime of denial could not stand against this sort of revelation, especially not when the evidence proving it was something she had been attempting to hide from herself for as long as she could remember. “Drilpi lvlo Phel”

Once named Phel released her grip on Kara’s throat, hand shifting to stroke her hair gently, heart breaking just a little when the girl flinches. Nothing but anger at an attack, yet fear at tenderness. The universe had most certainly not been kind...so much so that perhaps the child’s survival was based on instinct, not memory. “Yes little one, and who are you?”

“Kara, just Kara.“ Her voice almost broke, reality still crumbling around her as she falls back on what she had told herself over and over for so many years. Those English words were who she had to be, no matter how much easier Infernal came to her, and no matter how inhuman her actions were.

The switch to Infernal did not require any thought on Phel’s part, the heavy syllables seeming more real in that moment. “You have never been just anything, and you will always be more than just Kara.”

A single scarred finger moved to under the girl’s chin, a gentle guide encouraging her to look up. The moment that eye contact was made a whisper was heard, the whisper of a lost child who no longer knew where she belonged. Even the Infernal tongue could not lend her words any menace, as clearly Kara did not have any to spare. “What am I”

It was difficult for her to resist the urge to simply wrap her arms around the girl, to bring her close and do her best to erase every fragment of doubt Kara had. “Your true name is Kora, though I doubt that is the answer you seek. Nor would it satisfy you to hear that you are whatever you choose to be, or at least it would not have when you were small.”

For a moment it seemed as if there would be no further answer forthcoming, but soon enough Phel had her thoughts in order. Brushing back bloodied strands of hair with a thumb she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Centuries ago I met a woman who went by the name of Lorelei Mesaros. She was the most wondrous being I have ever laid eyes upon. Together we started the bloodline, of which you are one of the last. In some people’s eyes that would make you an abomination, but that is not what you are. You are a miracle, my little miracle.”

[v3-killing-harmony-imagines]

Escape button or s/o with the guys

 ‘Let's say Monokuma forces the guys to make a choice between the S/O and the escape button. Which would they choose? (If they choose their S/O Monokuma destroys the button. If they choose the button then the S/O is killed. If they take too long to decide Monokuma will "choose" for them and they lose both options.) (Also, the button is the genuine thing and will let them escape)’

Some parts of this may be confusing but if you have any questions feel free to ask !

Saihara Shuichi:

He gets a note by his bedside table after coming back to his room one night 

“ Dear Mr. (if that’s even your gender) detective!”

Saihara grimaces at the comment in brackets but continues;

“I, Monokuma! Have taken the liberty to give you control of this killing game!”

Saihara is baffled, it doesn’t sound like the type of thing Monokuma would do so that means there has to be...

“You have the option of choosing a genuine escape button! One that will let everyone out of this place- no strings attached! But....if you do that you have to sacrifice s/o! If you choose not to sacrifice them then I’ll destroy the button! And it’ll be all your fault that everyone is out here!”

....a catch

“If you take too long I’ll decide for you! Phuhuhu~ you have 4 hours~”

The words are written with a red crayon, the text choppy and letters uneven sizes

Saihara takes a deep breath, already feeling that tug of anxiety getting to him

He needs to think about this, for as long as he can

And that’s what he does, turning over every possibility in his hat, pacing the floors and wiping sweat off of his forehead occasionally 

The four hour mark ends, he’s about to have a panic attack when Monokuma appears 

The bear laughs and teases the younger boy a bit 

“Wow there! You reallllllyyyy are sweaty! I guess it’s just because of climate change!”

The pale detective is silent for a bit, still running the calculations in his mind

He questions Monokuma, asking whether or not the button is real or not

 In the end the boy can’t determine whether or not it’s real or fake, he declines the offer

 “awww....and I was so excited too....But you aren’t fooling anyone Saihara.”

“You wouldn’t accept it even if I could prove it to you. You would never let go of s/o...be careful, people will take advantage of that.”

The air grows thick as Saihara attempts to swallow his Adams apple 

“Well anyways, suit yourself!” And he’s gone 

Saihara lets out a sigh of relief, sleeping almost immediately after the non-stop stress 

He’s a bit wary of Monokuma whenever he gets close to you, making sure he’s as close to you as he can get just in case 

Ouma Kokichi:

“Is this a love letter?” are his exact words after reading the entire note 

As if he was waiting, Monokuma pops out 

“No no no! It’s a blackmail letter! B.L.A.C.K.M.A.I.L!”

“Huh, why is it written with a red crayon then?”

“Hot topic was closed.”

The two bounce back and forth, until they can finally get to the real issue at hand 

“You can burst that button by the way,” He turns his back to the bear as he folds the paper into an airplane, sending it soaring across the room “I’m going to save s/o naturally!”

“....are you sure about that Ouma Kokichi?” Ouma doesn’t like the tone of the bear’s voice, narrowing his eyes as he hisses a ‘yes’

“Well! That’s settled then~”

Once the bear is done with his fun he takes off, only to appear on the monitor a second later, calling everyone to the courtyard

Ouma makes his way there, ignoring that his insides feel like jello and that his legs feel like they’re going to give out when everyone arrives

He catches you eye from across the crowd, giving you a toothy grin and a thumbs up

It’s not long before Monokuma appears, telling jokes for a bit while everyone sighs (Maki just looks flat out pissed) as the bear(???) continues 

...Eventually the conversation draws towards escape 

And then Monokuma pulls out a button

Oh no 

“See this? This is an escape button.” Monokuma lowers his voice on the ‘escape’ part, in attempt to sound menacing 

No one seems to care though, rolling their eyes as Kaito and Kaede gwock at the red object 

“Hey...does it really work?”

Monokuma gives a laugh before pressing a paw to the polished surface, his hand emits a ‘squeak’ as it does  

Without warning, the dome in the distance begins to part, everyone gasps 

It’s short lived, as within another second Monokuma presses the button again, and the dome squeaks close 

Kaede is the one to break the silence; “Let me guess...we have to commit murder right?Well we won’t fall for it!”

Ouma knows it’s bad the second he sees Monokuma...crying 

The machine has it’s head down, shoulders shaking as slight sounds can be heard

And then he starts laughing 

Mocking everyone as the toothy grin spreads across the bears face as the fluorescent red light pluses with each cackle 

It’s a while before he stops laughing, leaving some confused, scared and angry

“ That, everyone, is what could have been your freedom. If Ouma hadn’t turned me down.”

Ouma can feel all eyes on him as he sweats, laughing it off 

“That’r right! Someone like me doesn’t need help from a build-a-bear-stuffie to escape!” 

Monokuma seems to only laugh harder as he disperses with a laugh

Now Ouma can feel Kaito’s hands on him as people scream and harass him

Traitor, Idiot, dumb, stupid,useless 

They all implant themselves into his head, slowly killing his energy as they leave him with a bloody nose a bruises

Even Saihara looks with disgust as he leaves, it hurts Ouma more than any one of Kaito’s punches   

At this point, he feels on the verge of tears, taking a few shallow breaths 

You startle him when you place your hand in his clammy one 

He seems a bit embarrassed (scratch that he is embarrassed) and mumbles a ‘thanks’

He can explain later, and if they don’t like him after that he’ll accept it 

The warmth and comfort from your hand he can still hold makes it all worth it in the end 

Amami Rantaro:

When he opened the door to his room the slip of paper fluttered in front of his face

Reacting out of instinct, he snatches it out of air just as it reaches his nose 

When he notices the red choppy writing he immedietly knows who it’s from

“Dear, ??? man. I, Monokuma have given you option of getting everyone out of here! It’s an escape button~ Shinny red and almost begging to be touched~”

He can almost imagine the bear panting as he writes it....he really wishes he hadn’t

“Of course, you’d have to sacrifice your s/o in the process but don’t you think the lives of 16 is more than the life  of one? If you don’t want to sacrifice them then the button will be crushed! Smash! Crunch! GARR! Oh and you have 4 hours to decide by the way, take longer than that and I’ll decide for you! Phuphuphu~ Have fun!”

It takes him 5 minutes to finally read the choppy writing, finishing with a tense face

He ultimately knows that no mater what, his outcome will be the same 

“No point in waiting....”

The lime-haired boy cups his mouth with his hands, calling for Monokuma

“Hmmm? Need something?” The bear seems to appear out of nowhere...but seeing as he does seem to teleport from place to place it wasn’t surprising 

“Take your stupid letter. I’m done with it.” The teen throws the sheet in Monokuma’s direction, it doesn’t soar as he would like, catching on the air and flowing from side to side until it catches on the carpet 

Monokuma grows angry, yelling at Amami for discarding such beauty

But he knows that his anger if no different that Ouma’s crocodile tears 

“So I’m guessing you don’t follow logic then? Am I right?” A shit-eating grin spreads on the stuffed bear’s (???) face “Guess you’re real stupid huh?”

Amami doesn’t humor him, it’s a weak attempt to stir him up. He shrugs “Guess so.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.” The bear seems saddened at the lack of attention, Amami can even see small fungi sprouting from his skull 

“Yup.” he stares apathetically at his ‘headmaster’ 

“.....fine. I’ll just go find someone else to play with...” The bear picks himself off, a few shrooms flying off as he waddles out the door 

“By the way....that button would have really let you out you know? You and the 15 could have been out if you had just-”

Amami shuts the door before he can finish, he’s gonna get his ears chewed about it later, and Monokuma could obviously enter the room if he wanted, but he doesn’t 

Amami sighs, another attempt for someone to take away someone he loves 

“...I won’t let s/o slip from my grasps like her...”

Amami doesn’t sleep much that night 

Kiibo:

0.78 seconds after he walks in his room he realizes something is different 

The lighting is the same, but his scanners and sensors in his eyes can tell him whether something is even a millimeter to the left or right 

 And he notices that the pad of paper in his room had been used, to the naked eye it seems like it might be nothing, and sure it appears that way

But Kiibo’s motherboard is telling him that there’s something there

He touches a metal hand to the paper, letting his hand sensors analyze it 

pulp wood, slight cotton and... CH3COOH + H2O...

...vinegar if you aren’t a chemist (Or robot)

His circuits process the information, forming solutions and pathways to take before deciding 

Heat it 

With a flick of a switch he turns on his hand fans, setting the temperature to heat 

He’s mildly aware that if he keeps it on for too long, his hard-drives are going to damage

Luckily the words appear before he needs to be worried about that, it doesn’t stop the robot to immediately crank all fans as cold as they can get, insides whirring slightly as he takes the next minute to read the written text

“If you’re reading this then you’re a robot. Or just smart enough to figure out vinegar reacts to heat! But in any case, Kiibo, this is for you! From your dear, family-friendly Monokuma ! I have a proposed idea you can’t turn down, a chance to get out of here! Let’s cut to the chase; I’ll give you an escape button, you and the others can escape but you’ve have to leave s/o! If you choose s/o over the button, I’ll destroy it. No hope to ever fix it. You have 4 hours to decide before I do! Hurry up!”

Well thank god he turned his fans up to the max

Everything he’s programmed to think now contradicts what he’s also programmed to feel

Save everyone! Save s/o! 15 is more than 1! But... I love them!

It doesn’t take him the entire time to decide, but he uses a good chunk of it up

When Monokuma pops in, the bot tells him that he chooses his s/o over the button

“whaaaaaat? You don’t wanna escape?” The bear tilts his head, a paw pressed to his mouth

“That’s not it please don’t misunderstand me!” A finger (pointer not middle) from Kiibo as his hair stirs and spikes out. “I simply cannot accept this result! I cannot sacrifice someone as special as s/o! There will be another way for all of us to get out!”

If Monokuma wants to argue back he doesn’t, he simply gives a long sigh 

“Well, that’s what you get from trying to have fun with a computer.” and then the bear waves before turning on his heal and leaving the room

....It hurts Kiibo, he won’t let Monokuma know though

At the end of the day, he begins to doubt whether or not he made the right choice.....

Then he feels horrible for even thinking about that......

Do robots have dicks? Well at least he can get saddened 

The next day when you great him with a smile it stirs him out of his slump, warming his processors and brightening his cheeks 

The next few days when he’s able to see you eat, read, sleep, talk, walk, smile...it makes him 100% certain that he made the right choice 

Momota Kaito:

Another day of being trapped in the prison school

Although it pisses him off, the situation is slightly made better by you being in here

He woke up late, getting to the dining room around....11

Much to your joy

After he lost his ear drums though, he spent the rest of his afternoon with you, he insisted on coming with you (No not in that way) wherever you went just to be safe 

Of course the bathrooms he couldn’t go but....anywhere else he was at your side ready to pounce at anyone who posed a threat 

The two of your explored the school a bit more; checking out the accessible floors and buildings

Some hours later,he’s nagging at you to get something to drink, you comply (Giving him monocoins mostly because he’s been doing all the heavy lifting) before he tells you that you’re the best and loads them into the machine 

He hits a few numbered buttons, and a bottle of fizzy soda pops out 

“I didn’t know that Momota-chan was into sweet things!”

oh fuck

The two of you are met with Ouma’s daunting stance, you know that shit’s about to happen 

Kaito let’s out this growl, taking an angry sip from the bottle “So what if I am?”

The shorter boy seems to size him up for a minute, before his lips press together and slide out “Hmmm, Well it’s bad if you keep drinking like that~ you’ll damage the few brain cells you barely can hold onto.”

“Don’t Fuck with me!” Kaito takes a step forward, fists clenched as you try and hold him back with a “Easy Kaito...”

“Oh oh, better listen to your lover Momota, wouldn’t want the SHSL Astronaut to get his anus kicked-”

And that’s the final straw, Kaito lashes out at Ouma with a roar of anger

Ouma’s prepared for it, pulling out something from his back and clicking it open before-

A rain of purple soda sprays on Kaito’s face 

He may have been delayed, but Kaito still keeps going 

Ouma backs up with a yelp, stumbling backwards- just barely out of Kaito’s palms before he turns and runs away, Kaito hot on his heals

You run as best as you can after the two, having to fix upturned objects and put chairs back in their places as the trail of destruction form the boys continues 

By the time you catch up to kaito he has a bloody nose, various cuts and wounds, and he’s panting like crazy

You take him to the nurses office, carefully warping bandages and applying hydrogen peroxide 

Even though he says he’s fine, you can tell Ouma took the life out of him

Apply that with the work he’s been doing before that and he’d dead on his feet 

So even though he’s been awake for only a couple of hours, he heads back to his dorm 

He grunts a ‘See you later’ before giving you a brief hug and locking the door to his room

He’s so exhausted that he simply flops down on his bed, before falling asleep

...

...

He wakes up to someone pounding on his door

He groans, flipping over and pulling the blankets over his head releasing another sighb

The pounding doesn’t stop (fuck no not that waY) and eventually Kaito is forced to get out of bed with a tired groan, unlocking it before it flies open

It’s Saihara, looking frazzled and disheveled

“Momota-kun,” His voice is frantic and breathy “You have to come to the gate, it’s s/o-san, t-they oh my god they

Kaito has to calm down the detective as he nearly reaches the point of hysterics 

He ignores the own pounding of his heart as he grips Saihara’s shoulders “What happened?”

“Monokuma, He’s....s/o isn’t....here.”

Kaito feels his heart stop beating for a good 2 seconds there, he Immediately is running to the safe-like door 

When he finally arrives, he feels his entire earth and space crash 

You’re dead

not breathing 

The gate is open, Monokuma announcing that everyone can leave

he asks why

Why why why? Why are they all allowed to leave?

Monokuma laughs, showing him the note 

“Dear Kaito Momota

I, Monokuma! Have given you a decision to make. An escape button or the life of s/o? Phuphuphu, the escape button is a genuine thing, I’ll let you alllll go, but in exchange you’ll have to trade the life of your s/o. If you choose the life of your s/o, the button gets destroyed. You have 4 hours to decide before I do, have fun~”

“But I never saw this-”

“You feel asleep!”

Oh god

Oh god no

He feels numb as his knees hit the ground

He saw it when he entered the room but then-

He fell asleep, and now he’s never going to be able to re-do anything 

Kaito yells in agony, voice rippling across the smoke-polluted sky as Monokuma laughs 

Korekiyo Shinguji:

He’s been tearing though book after book in the library, the day passing by slow 

Turning another page with a bandaged thumb, he continues to skim pages, not really caring about what he’s reading 

He hears the door open, his head pops up

The tiny green robot jaunts in, emitting a faint buzzing sound

He stares at Korekiyo, Korekiyo stares back

“...Monodam...was it?”

The small robot (if it even is one) says nothing, shuffles up to Korekiyo and handing him a slip of paper before turning 180 degrees and shuffling out 

Korekiyo waits until he shuts the door, before turning the slip of paper in his hands, un-folding it and reading the message 

“Kukuphuphuphu~ Greetings, Korekiyo!  I, Monokuma, have noticed your boredom and have decided to spice things up a bit!”

The anthropologist gives an intrigued (Or maybe it’s annoyed) hum as he continues to read 

“I have given you two options, the choice to get out of here, along with everyone else, or to stay in here with everyone else! Seems easy right? Wrong! If you decide you want to get out, you’ll get an escape button that will open up the metal gates! BUT, You’ll have to leave your darling s/o! If you decide to save your s/o no one can escape. You have 4 hours to decide, take too long and I’ll be the one making the decision for you... Phuphuphu, Have fun..”

....he does consider it

The well being of himself and 15 others is important...

but at the same time, your well-being is just as equally important as his

So after only 10 minutes, Korekiyo grabs the sheet of paper and heads to the gate 

he’s greeted by Monokuma sitting on a metal pipe, the bear swinging it’s legs to and fro as he smiles at the approaching Anthropologist 

 “Didja’ decide yet?” Monokuma giggles lightly as he stands eye level with Korekiyo  “I have, You can destroy that button. I won’t be needing it.”

He turns and begins to walk away, Monokuma arguing to his back as he continues to walk away 

“Hey hey hey! You don’t want it?” He can hear the bear tagging along behind him

“I don’t need help to escape by the likes of you.” Is all he says as he continues to walk away

“Awww, and I thought if it was you....you might have done the more interesting thing...”

Korekiyo doesn’t want to mingle with the bear but he cares enough to prove the other’s false ideals wrong 

“Things I find interesting don’t include putting the life of s/o in danger, thank you very much.”

he keeps walking, at some point Monokuma stops following him

when he reaches the library, you’ve arrived, greeting him with a smile 

He reads a book to you, you fall asleep next to him

He gives a sigh, stroking your hair as he continues to silently read

Reading as if the option to kill you was never brought up

He gives a sigh, life is a tad boring but he can manage until he gets out 

Gonta Gokuhara:

He’s been tending to his bugs in his research room, observing the metamorphosis cycle of some monarch caterpillars when he notices one of his adult butterflies has something attached to it’s wing 

“Bug lover Gonta! I have decided to give you the option of a life time! To change this killing game with one decision.”

Gonta can change something in this game? If he can do it he’ll gladly take the option !

“You can chose to take an escape button (Don’t worry it works!) Or the option to stay! If you take the escape button, everyone EXCEPT s/o can go out, If you choose to stay here and keep your s/o alive, the button gets destroyed... You have 4 hours to decide before I do...phuphuphu...Have fun!”

He totally doesn’t start panicking 

He wants to save you, he just wants to save you

But he can’t be the one to stop people form getting out 

It’t too much pressure on him, he curls up and cries 

All he can think about is how much he doesn’t want  you to die 

If he leaves you die, if he stays you can die 

He panics, not getting air in or out of his lungs as the minutes are spent and chewed 

When Monokuma pops in, he screams, yelling out how he doesn’t want it he doesn’twantithedoesn’twantit

He hears Monokuma cackle, telling him he has 30 more seconds 

And now his heart is in his throat 

What does he do what does he do what does he do

nonono he can’t do this he can’c choose he just can’t 

“Time’s up....”

All Gonta remembers is the shattering of glass as it falls around him as he continues to scream

He stays curled up in his ball for a while, whimpering and sniffling until someone finds him

He doesn’t know how long he’s been like that before you find him lying on the ground, instantly at his side as he blubbers out words 

As the people gather, Gonta only seems to grow more and more hysteric to the point where you’re thinking about getting some  alprazolam...

Tenko and Toujo help you carry Gonta back to his dorm, giving him time to relax

You ask him what happened after he’s calmed down, and he spills 

Saihara begins to investigate the broken shards of glass and metal; after he has a talk the two of you decide to keep the details of the situation a secret, out of safety 

When Gonta awakes, you’re there to great him

Saihara tells everyone a bug cage smashed on the ground, causing Gonta to be upset

Only the three of you know the full story, more than happy to keep it that way

Hoshi Ryoma:

He woke up to sadness,not that different from any other day

Using all of his willpower, he dragged himself out of bed, slipping his hat on before heading out the door

A note on his door mat greets him one morning 

He furrows his brow, picks it up and reads it 

“ Dear Mrkillertennisplayerguy! I, Monokuma have granted you the most important choice in this killing game! I’ll give you the escape button to get out of this place, you can everyone can leave with no strings attached! The only catch is that you have to leave behind your s/o~ If you choose to stay rather than escape to freedom them the button will be destroyed! So don’t bother trying to all get together and steal it...you have 4 hours to decide before I choose one of the two...phuphuh! This is almost like a real game!”

Yup, of all the days to not die in his sleep this had to be the one 

He sighs, not even wanting to stress over the last part of the note, if he stressed over every little thing he’d be dead by now 

He vaugly wonders if maybe that would be the better option for-

“Get it together man, it’s not even 9am and things are going to hell...”

He decides to go get something to eat.to If he’s going to have to go thought this crap, at least he can get something to eat

He thanks Toujo for the meal she’s gotten up to make, yet he only grabs a single, plain slice of toast 

He crunches on his toast, trying to avoid the thoughts and all the stress he’ll have to go through once the bread is finished

In the end, he eats for more than 20 minutes, getting called a hamster by Ouma to which he told the taller boy to royally fuck off

Once he does finish his toast, he manages to drag himself out of the dining hall back to the dorms before promptly flopping down on the bed, reading the note again and again

He doesn’t want to do this 

Why do the lives of others always have to be

Wait but what if-

He calls for Monokuma and to his surprise the bear shows up 

“I’m not sacrificing s/o just so someone like me can get out.”

“Hmmm...that’s boring...”

“I’m going to sacrifice myself.”

Now he’s got the bear’s attention, to which he seems shocked for a second before breaking out in laughter 

“You wanna what?”

The taller of the two (barely) tips his hat over his face “You heard me...Instead of my s/o dying It’ll be me, and everyone else can get out.”

Monokuma seems to be about to argue, he doesn’t like others call the shots 

But then he seems to think about the ideas, ‘the despair it would cause’ as he might put it

“Alrighty! If that’s what you want!”

And Hoshi is shaking, because he’s just welcomed death with open arms 

For the first time in his life, he’s afraid

He doesn’t want to die, he want’s to live and see the sun and be with you-

“You made your decision, time to follow it.”

And drv3 is ended 

[supernaturalimaginesforyou-blog]

Forever with the Devil (Chapter 6)

(Chapter 1 link here)

(Chapter 5 link here)

„So, what now? You're on vacation again?“ Chloe almost yelled when she entered his penthouse, partly because she wanted to be heard and partly because she was angry with him again. „You didn't show up for dinner yesterday, either. So, you have no excuse unless you're dead, which I doubt-“

She stopped talking as she realized nobody was listening to her. Lucifer didn't even notice her come in. He was talking on the phone. Chloe suspected that it wasn't Lucifer's will that made him not get to work again. Some serious matter was in hand, she could feel it in her guts.

„No!“ he roared, completely furious. „How did he know that she's here?“

There were a few moments of silence as Lucifer got his answer from the other end. Then, he hung up and threw his phone on the table. For a moment, his eyes flashed red and in a fit of pure rage, he punched the nearest wall. His fist went straight through it, leaving a gaping hole. Chloe shuddered, trying to remember if she'd ever seen him in this state before.

„This is all my fault.“, he muttered, taking his hand out of the wall.

„What's your fault?“ she asked carefully, taking a step towards him, but still leaving enough space between them, just in case. At least until he calms down.

It was at that moment that Lucifer saw Chloe and realized that she's here. He glanced at the wall and then at her, his look softening a bit, but still looking cold and murderous, even.

„That's none of your business.“, he snapped at her. „What are you doing here, detective?“

He was already moving towards the elevator.

„Lucifer...“, she took him by his arm, making him stop. „What happened?“

He sighed heavily. „I'll explain everything in the car.“

„What?“ she looked at him, confused, as he continued making his way to the exit. „Where are we going?“

Lucifer didn't reply anything. He was thinking, his mind already coming up with various plans. He had to find her and there's no doubt that he'll go to great lengths in order to do that. On the other hand, Chloe was absolutely baffled, but followed him nevertheless. They got into the car and he put his foot down, driving as fast as he could.

Chloe remained silent, waiting for Lucifer to speak.

„Belua was kidnapped.“, his jaw clenched.

„What?“ her eyes were wide. „Who took her?“

„My soon-to-be-tortured brother Nathaniel.“

„Your brother?“

He exhaled, trying to calm himself down. He made a sharp turn and Chloe had to hold onto her seat, because she was mildly concerned about falling out of the car.

„You have to understand something, before we get to the cause of this.“

„Okay.“, she nodded, urging him to continue.

„Belua... She is a strange being. Unlike anything else in this world, quite literally.“, he tensed up as he spoke.

The blonde was stunned. Was he truly opening up to her? Is it possible that he's taking a chance and trusting her? She remained silent and waited for further explanation.

„...She was created by my Father, of course. He gave her freedom to move from Heaven, Hell and Earth. Her task was ensuring that everything was in order. Her job was to prevent wars. And everyone respected her, because she was righteous in her decisions.“

He passed a red traffic light and Chloe had to prevent herself from scolding him. „...The time she spent in Heaven, we ... We grew closer. I was fascinated by her, by her freedom. She was one of the reasons I fell.“

Another red light passed. Chloe bit her lip. „...And after I was assigned my place in Hell, she stayed with me. Told me that her freedom was limited also and that now she will do as she pleases. She even told me I inspired her to do that.“

Chloe actually smiled at the story.

Lucifer kept his eyes on the road the whole time, moving between vehicles and passing streets as fast as he could. „It's funny, isn't it? We both helped each other in giving my dear Father a middle finger and yell 'Fuck you!' towards the sky.“

„What happened after that?“ she couldn't help but ask.

His anger was visibly growing. „Dad happened. He couldn't let us do what we wanted to do, of course. They killed her. ... My brothers and sisters killed her on my Father's command.“

She didn't know what to say in order to make him feel better. Finally, she started to wrap her head around the source of his daddy issues.

„But, as you know...“, Lucifer glanced at her. „Belua came back. Fooled them rather good, actually.“

He shook his head. „And now they went and bloody did it again.“

„Lucifer, I...“, she had a remorseful look on her face. „I'll help you find her.“

„Thank you, detective.“, Lucifer looked at her for a moment. „But, you have to work on my terms. That means, if I tell you to return home and leave me somewhere, you will have to do that.“

„Alright.“, she accepted, although she was fairly certain that she'll regret it later.

He then explained to her how Maze found out that Nathaniel took Belua and was holding her hostage, which was unusual because he could've just taken her back to Heaven and make her report to God. This meant that she will possibly serve as a pawn to control Lucifer, once again.

Lucifer parked behind an old building, which looked abandoned. The windows on it were either missing or cracked, the walls were filthy and some of them looked like they were burned, coloured in grimy black. The Devil hurried inside, but not before he instructed Chloe to stay back, so she wouldn't be in harm's way. His steps were determined, his face expression showed that he was concentrated on one thing only and that he won't rest until he gets Belua back.

Nathaniel, along with his other brothers, knew that Lucifer was powerful and intelligent. Even despite the lack of his wings, he could handle a fight with another angel. Lucifer found Nathaniel quickly, sitting on top of an old desk, near the chair that Belua was tied to. The rest of the room was empty, some of the walls spray painted and some of the windows missing, allowing the breeze to enter the room. Trash littered the filthy floors. Belua looked exhausted, her new clothes ruined with blood and even her mouth tied with a piece of fabric so she couldn't scream while Nathaniel tortured her. Her eyes were slowly closing, but she prevented herself from falling asleep.

„Nathaniel.“, Lucifer's voice was sharp, although his heart sunk at the sight.

„Ah, there you are brother.“, Nathaniel smiled, looking only slightly nervous. „I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. You work fast. But, I assure you, your lady friend was quite adamant in not telling me things I needed to know about you.“

„Release her and maybe I'll go easy on you.“, Lucifer gritted his teeth, coming closer to the other angel.

Belua wriggled in the chair, shaking her head vigorously at Lucifer while trying to escape. Nathaniel hopped from the table and stepped closer to Lucifer.

„I'm afraid that's not going to happen.“, he appeared calm. „Not until you clean up your mess and return where you belong. To Hell.“

„I'm never going back to Hell!“ Lucifer shouted angrily, pushing his brother away so he could get to Belua.

But, before he could take a step forward, the iron traps activated right beneath his feet and wrapped around his ankles, preventing him from moving. The traps were almost the same as the ones that seized Belua's wrists in the taxi.

Nathaniel's wings appeared and his voice became threatening.

„Did you really think it was going to be easy?“ Nathaniel smirked wickedly. „That you could just come here, my dear brother, take her and run off to the sunset together?“

„You will pay for this, Nathaniel.“, Lucifer growled, his eyes flashing red.

„What are you going to do? Are you going to kill me too?“ his face was completely serious now and there was something sinister in his voice.

Lucifer swallowed hard, remembering what happened with Uriel.

„You're going to wish I killed you, after I start with my punishment.“, the Devil whispered in the coldest and menacing manner he could muster at that point.

He was going absolutely mad. How did this happen? How could he break his promise and let Belua out of his sight? How could he hurt her like this? And ultimately, how could he possibly get himself into this trap? He stupidly fell for his brother's prank.

„How dare you?“ Lucifer practically spit out the words at him. „She's my wife!“

He yelled so loudly that the whole building shook. Nathaniel was frightened, but he hid it very well. He rolled his eyes theatrically.

„Your wife?“ he chuckled. „I wasn't aware of the fact that there's marriage in Hell.“

„See?“ a woman's voice spoke behind him and he turned around to see Belua, untied and completely free, now standing up in front of the chair.

For the first time today, Nathaniel looked genuinely petrified with horror.

Belua smiled. „Luce, I told you there's no marriage in Hell.“

[lanonima]

Reintroduction Pt 4

Anyway I’m starting this year on the same bullshit I left the last year on. More of me letting Lilina be very angry and stressed. 2,291 words.

First Part. Previous Part.

Durandal’s blade was thirty-nine inches of perfectly balance steel, as sharp as the day it was forged. The hilt, wrapped in leather and inset with designs of silver and gold wire, was comfortably sized to be used two-handed or one-handed. Roy left well enough alone until they returned to Ostia Castle at which point he could no longer contain his excitement. Ostia castle boasted a first class practice arena, and that was where Roy went as soon as the party arrived.

Lilina had never seen the weapon out of its sheathe and she too had her fair share of curiosity. She followed Roy to the arena and watched the blade glitter in the sunlight. She had no feeling for swords, but even she could tell this one was beautiful.

Roy was used to one-handed swords, but Durandal was a weapon of high caliber and he picked up its use with little trouble.

At one point he stopped and held the blade straight up, examining the polished steel with an admiring glance. “It’s lighter than I expected,” he said.

“It would have to be,” Lilina said. “If one is fighting dragons, I imagine speed is important.”

“Just that it’s such a big sword. A proper warblade,” Roy said. “Even a divine weapon like this, you think it would be heavier.”

A clatter of boots on stone drew both their attentions to the door. Merlinus burst into the arena, disheveled and out-of-breath. Merlinus had always been fussy and meticulous, but now he did not even pause to straighten out his tunic before speaking.

“Lady Lilina! Master Roy! A squadron of Bernese flying knights is outside the castle!”

“They’re here already?” Roy asked, and slid Durandal back into its sheathe.

“Blast!” Lilina said. “I had hoped they’d give us slightly more time to pick an appropriate battlefield.” In fact, she had not wanted to return to the castle at all. All of the same issues raised in the previous meeting still applied, but she had been overruled. The soldiers needed a place to rest, a place that would have enough provisions to feed all of them. They could not, and would not, tax the ordinary citizens of Ostia in such a manner. When Lilina brought up the fact that they had been planning to go into the countryside anyway, and they could hunt their food, Merlinus replied that there were still many supplies needed that could only be purchased in a large city. And so to the castle they had returned.

Neither Merlinus nor Roy responded to her comment. They were already headed for the front entrance. Lilina picked up her skirts in one hand and followed after them, making sure to snag a spell book from the chest near the door as she did so. If it came to a fight, she would be ready.

Roy and his soldiers had talked about the dragon knights. Merlinus had talked about dragons too, what he remembered for them childhood misadventures of their parents.

No amount of stories could have prepared Lilina for the truth.

The dragon knight at the head of this squadron was nothing at all like the wyvern riders behind him. Wyverns were intimidating in their own way, with sharp fangs and long claws, but they were common, domesticated, and no larger than an average horse. The wyverns facing them held patiently still, waiting for their master’s commands, but exhibiting little initiative of their own.

The dragon was massive, twice as large at least as the largest of the wyverns behind it, wyverns that looked like mere playthings. Each scale on the beast gleamed like a jewel in the sunlight, each claw glowed like polished ivory, and there was fire in the dragon’s eyes that was never seen in its lower kin. Each line of its body radiated wildness. This was not a tame creature, not by any means. It tolerated its rider, but this was a creature that knew its own mind.

The man mounted on the dragon flipped his golden hair with one hand and sneered down at the small force gathered by the gate.

“So you’re Roy, are you?” he asked. “I must thank you for getting rid of that idiot Leygance for me. But now be a smart little boy and hand Ostia over to me!”

Lilina clutched her spell book to her chest and put her free hand on her hip. “Ostia isn’t his to give. And I would never hand my country over to the likes of you!”

The dragon rider only laughed. “And what? You intend to oppose me with this pathetic little rabble?” He slid a sword out from its sheathe and pointed it at them. “Fine with me! I’ll crush you just like I did with that fool Hector!”

Lilina’s breath caught in her throat, and her fingers curled more tightly around the tome she was gripping. Before she could act, however, a new voice cut into the fray.

“That’s enough!”

Everyone turned to see who approached.

In front of them, a Bernese wyvern soldier wormed his way to the front of the pack. “General Narcian! Etrurian troops have appeared!”

“I can see that you idiot,” the dragon rider snarled. He raised his sword, as if to smite the hapless soldier, but he didn’t get a chance.

A legion of mounted knights approached from the west, armor and weapons glinting in the sunlight, banners marked with the Etrurian crest fluttering high above. The two riders at the front of the legion stopped, and their followers did likewise, all moving in perfect harmony with each other.

One of the riders was familiar to Lilina from her infrequent trips to Etruria, the other was much more familiar as the woman who had tutored both her and Roy in their younger years. Generals Percival and Cecilia, two of the highest-ranking people in all of Etruria.

Percival spoke first. “I am Knight General Percival of Etruria. We received a petition for aid and as of now, Ostia is an Etrurian protectorate.”

“What?” General Narcian didn’t seem to believe what he was hearing.

His reaction perfectly expressed what Lilina herself was feeling. Ostia as part of Etruria? This was the first she had heard of it. She stared at General Percival, but he seemed in earnest. General Cecilia looked likewise unperturbed. Lilina glanced at Roy. He seemed pleased, and not at all surprised. A sudden flower of anger and suspicion bloomed in her heart.

General Cecilia crossed her hands on her lap and stared up at the Bernese General, serene as ever. “You seem unsatisfied by this news. You can, of course, still fight us for control. But do your men stand a chance against our numbers?”

Narcian was nearly incoherent with rage. He levelled the sword at Cecilia and Percival. Magic crackled along its length, blindingly bright. “You! You-”

Cecilia paid no attention to the obvious threat. “I am Sorcery General Cecilia of Etruria. Ostia is now under our protection, and we will fight for it.”

In all this commotion the wyvern rider had not moved from his commander’s side. “General Narcian please control your temper!” he said now, urgency apparent in every syllable. “We might be able to fight one Etrurian general but Percival and Cecilia together? We’ll be slaughtered!”

Narcian snarled again, nearly as feral as his dragon. Then he slammed his sword back into its sheathe, its light extinguished as quickly as it had appeared. “I know! But this isn’t over. You better watch your backs from now on, generals.” With that he kicked the dragon solidly in the side and it launched itself into flight. The wyverns followed their brethren, leaving the ground empty except for the Etrurian army and the sad remnants of the Lycian Alliance.

Once they were gone, Lilina turned on her so-called-friend. “You gave Ostia away? It isn’t in your power to make such a decision, Roy!” She spat out his name, one syllable, a reminder that she was the power here, not him.

Roy raised his hands defensively. “You have to understand Lilina! The Lycian army was devastated! Lord Hector was killed, you were kidnapped, and Bern was menacing our borders! We didn’t feel like we had any other choice.” He caught her free hand in his own, and met her eyes with his own, bright blue, shining with sincerity and good will. In that moment, Lilina hated him more bitterly than she had ever hated anyone. “I would have done anything to rescue you, to keep Lycia safe. But we didn’t have the numbers to do it on our own.”

Lilina had been trying hard to keep her losses at arm’s length, to be strong and resolute like her father had been. She had seen him grieve, and keep moving forward. He had no other choice. She had no other choice either, but more than that, she wanted to be like him.

This was too much.

This was her home, the only thing she had left, that Roy had passed off so casually. Everything crashed back in on her all at once – all her losses, all the stress and danger, all of the small, subtle slights, intentional and otherwise.

One tear rolled down her cheeks, hot as dragon’s fire, then another and another. The tears did nothing to diminish her anger. “You could have told me! You could have said ‘hey, Lilina, I gave your home away to someone else, just wanted to let you know’!” She jerked her arm out of her grasp and raised it to her eyes, letting the soft wool of her bliaut soak up the tears and block her view of Roy’s face all at once. “Do I mean that little to you? Or you think so highly of yourself that you can do as you please?”

Footsteps sounded across the grass, and someone cleared their throat uncomfortably.

General Cecilia said, “I’m sure General Roy did not mean to cause you any distress, Lady Lilina.” She put a hand on Lilina’s shoulder. “We are only here to help, not to take control of Ostia away from you permanently. When this is over I will see to it that it is returned to Lycian control.”

Percival joined in. “General Cecilia is quite fierce when she needs to be. She argued with the king to be allowed to come here at all and won. I am certain that with her here Ostia will be in good hands during these trouble times.”

Lilina’s tears had slowed, if not stopped completely. She scrubbed at her face with her arm and looked up the Etrurian generals, determined to make the best of this horrible situation. She did not think that Etruria would be so eager to give up a foothold into Lycia, but she curtsied. “Thank you, General Percival. It would be rude of me to refuse your aid as you have travelled so far to help us. Would you like to come inside and rest?”

Percival shook his head. “I appreciate your offer of hospitality, Lady Lilina, but I must be going. Etruria needs her generals, you understand. I will leave you in Cecilia’s capable care.” He offered a bow both to her and to Roy. “I do hope that when we meet again, it is under better circumstances.” He returned to his horse and swung up into the saddle with practiced ease. At his signal, half of the soldiers fell out of rank and followed him back to the west, heading for Etruria once again.

General Cecilia gave a wan smile. “How about we take this conversation inside?”

Lilina dried her face again and nodded. Fortunately, her tears had subsided, but the outburst had only increased the sullen pit of anger simmering in her soul. “Yes, I think we have quite a bit to discuss.” She tried to sound calm and in control as she had so often seen both of her parents pretend to be, but her heart was not in. The words came with an undercurrent of malice.

Cecilia ignored the tone with practiced ease. “In truth,” she said as they walked through the wide double doors leading into Castle Ostia’s great hall, “Roy has done us a favor of sorts by asking for our aid. You shouldn’t be too angry at him.”

Lilina could not think of a polite way to respond to that, so she said nothing.

Roy was walking to Cecilia’s left. “I don’t understand, I thought this was a favor for us?”

“Bern’s actions have been something of a concern to us,” Cecilia said. “But they have made no moves against Etruria, and we have no active alliances with Lycia. When Roy asked us for aid, he gave us an excuse to show our displeasure.”

“You mean to declare war on Bern,” Lilina said flatly.

Cecilia inclined her head. “As you like. But I assure you, again, that we have no intention of claiming Ostia permanently at this time. Our goal is merely to remind Bern of her place in the world.”

“At this time,” Lilina echoed. Then she shook her head. There was nothing more to be done about this for the time being. She could hardly challenge Sorcery General Cecilia and all of her troops over what was essentially an inheritance dispute. She could not challenge Roy over actions undertaken, supposedly, in order to save her life. And, of course, there was still Bern to consider. “So,” she said, swallowing her vitriol, “what do we do now?”

Roy gave her a small, awkward smile. “Now, with your permission, I would like to call a council of war.”

“Very well,” said Lilina. “I believe the throne room is clean by now. It should be large enough to seat everyone.”

Part Five.