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eveningstar1516 · 3 years

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Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 7

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

As he walked through the halls towards his next class, he made a vow to himself to try and feel that unfamiliar emotion until he could name it, then keep feeling it, because, for Satan, it felt like Y/N was right next to them, with their signature smile on their face, proud of him for focusing on a feeling opposite of his wrath. Should he start to feel his wrath taking over, he would picture Y/N, holding his hand, encouraging him to feel that unfamiliar emotion. One he soon learned was called ‘Philia Love’.

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CHAPTER 7 - Virtue of Loyalty (4265 words)

Our trip to the palace was a quiet one. Michael didn’t seem to want anything to do with me since he flew quite fast and left me behind multiple times as I'd never flown before and flying was extremely difficult. No one offered any assistance so I tucked my wings away, which I managed to figure out how to do after I accidentally did so mid flight, and ran under him. Looking straight ahead after confirming that I was keeping pace with Michael, I spotted the Celestial Palace. My jaw dropped in awe as I ran. The thing was massive! At least 2.5 times the size of Diavolo’s castle and even more decorative. The white walls were adorned with varying shades of golden accents making the palace seem larger than it really was. As I got closer, I learned that it was sitting in the middle of a massive garden that was overflowing with different kinds of celestial plants and trees. Although both the palace and garden seemed to be overflowing with decorations, everything still fit perfectly and was quite pleasing to the eyes.

Approaching the marble steps of the palace as Michael landed in front of me, greeting some gardeners as they stopped and bowed their heads to him. Signalling for them to resume their work, he continued up the steps motioning for me to follow. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I followed him looking as unfazed as possible. Upon entering I found that the outside of the palace does no justice to the massive interior. Abandoning plan to remain as neutral and unfazed as possible, I gazed in absolute awe at the decor, my mouth opening slightly. There were no lighting fixtures as massive windows lined the wall letting in more than enough sunlight through. A massive chandelier was located in the center of the room with golden and silver chains decorating it. The marbled floor also had silver and gold accents as a beautiful floral pattern was outlined. Hearing a chuckle behind me, I turned to see Michael looking at me with a smug smile on his face.

“Well how can you not expect me to be amazed by all this?!” I countered while spinning and gesturing around the room.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your smug smile said it all Mike” I flashed him a wicked smirk of my own as I called him by the nickname. His face darkened significantly as his tone dropped to what would have been a dangerous level had I not have spent my life with demons. It just didn’t have the same undertones as Devilish.

“Watch yourself child”

Giving him an exaggerated mock bow I responded.

“My humble apologies Sir Michael. I will be sure not to repeat the same error in the future.”

“Very funny.” He scoffed and walked off. I got up and followed him through the palace until we stopped between two massive golden doors to what I assumed to be the throne room. Michael addressed himself and stated that he brought me with him. 2 angels donning Celestial armour opened the doors. Michael walked in with his head slightly bowed and his gaze lowered. I walked looking straight ahead as I subtly took the room in. It wasn’t as big as I expected it to be. A golden carpet leading from the door to the throne was the most extravagant thing in the room. In contrast to the rest of the palace, the throne room was quite modest. Even the throne wasn’t extravagant, built for comfort instead of elegance. God himself looked to be a 6’8 man in his late fifties with chestnut coloured hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a simple white robe with gold accents. His eyes, a light blue colour, were emitting a slight white glow as we approached. Michael stopped a short distance from the throne and kneeled.

“Father, I have brought Y/N on your orders.”

“Thank you my son.” He turned to look at me.

“Y/N, you have caused quite the commotion in the 3 realms.”

I kept my tone playful as a polite smile made itself home on my face as I spoke with God.

“What can I say Father, trouble likes to follow me, wherever I may be.”

“That may be my child, although I am quite confused as to how you ended up here especially as a seraph. In case you didn’t know, that position must be earned here in heaven, so please explain to me, why I shouldn’t forsake you and have you fall to the Devildom?” He raised his right eyebrow and relaxed into his throne as he asked his question.

“Oh make no mistake, I didn’t want to come here in the first place, had I actually had a choice, I would have gone to the Devildom where I belong. Unfortunately, circumstances never seem to be on my side.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you came to be here, in that attire nonetheless.”

“Does it upset you that I come donning Lucifer's clothing and wings? I assure you, I didn’t have a say in my appearance. I am only staying here as long as necessary after all. I still wish to fall and return to my family.”

“Tell me child, how is it that a human finds comfort in the likes of demons rather than angels?”

“Whoever said I didn’t find comfort in angels? I find Simeon and Luke to be quite comforting whenever I get stressed with this whole 3 realms stuff. I just find the darkness of the Devildom more appealing as you and I both know what lurks underneath this “bright” soul of mine.”

“And yet you came here to me, why?”

“I presume you know the details regarding my untimely end?”

“Yes I am, although you weren’t due to perish yet, I do not dictate the souls within the Devildom realm. What of it?”

“I sacrificed myself for the brothers whom I have grown to call family so that they may continue to live despite being ruled by a tyrant whom you rivel for the title of “Devil””

“Watch what you say child! You are still addressing Father and not some random person off the street!” Ignoring Michael, I continued.

“I do not wish to return to the Devildom while it is ruled by King Abandon.”

“Child, I am aware of your relationship to the brothers as well as your loyalty to those you call family. I am also aware of the feelings you have for my eldest son. I ask you, has anyone told you about his duties while he was serving me?”

“Yes, Simeon and his brothers would speak about his time here as the leader of the council. Lucifer himself preferred not to talk about it but he answered my questions whenever I asked. I have also learned his work habits and often aided him whenever an overflow of work had come in due on a short notice.” God seemed to contemplate something. With a thoughtful look on his face, he addressed me.

“I have a proposition for you. You wish to fall and reunite with your family in the Devildom. I do not wish to have you up here, although you do not want to serve King Abandon.”

“That is correct.”

“I will grant your wish on one condition. I will allow you to return to the Devildom after Abandon’s reign is over, on the condition that you take Samael’s position on the council. You are to take over his responsibilities without attempting to sabotage the realm or abuse your power. Should you not be able to meet my expectations, or should you abuse your position, I will cast you out regardless of who is currently ruling the Devildom.”

Michael, who had stayed silent while his Father was speaking, was shocked by God's proposition.

“Father, are you sure this is the right way to go? Y/N doesn’t even belong here. Are you sure trusting them with Samael’s old position is a good idea?”

“Do you disagree with my judgment Michael? Do you believe me incapable of determining Y/N’s fate in my realm?”

Michaels face visibly paled as he realized the implications of his words. Bowing his head in mortification he answered his Father.

“‘O-of course not Father! I just don’t think that Y/N is qualified or ready to lead the council. They are unaware of how the Celestial realm operates and doesn’t have the experience that Samael possessed.”

Scratching his chin, God thought about Michael's words.

“You’re right Michael, you and the rest of the council as well as Simeon and Luke shall serve as their guide during their time here. You are to teach them how we operate and train them as to how to properly fulfill Samael’s role. You are to step down as the leader of the council once they have learned how to fill in the role themselves.”

Not being able to object to his Father's words, Michael agreed, although he tried to hide it, you could see how he clenched his teeth, obviously disapproving the entire idea and his new role as your babysitter.

“How about it Y/N, will you accept my proposal?”

“I have a few conditions of my own I’d like to add. I will accept on the condition that I return as soon as Diavolo is crowned king, no later and that other than the obvious changes that come with falling, no other changes will be made to me. I will follow your rules while I am up here and will serve you as long as it doesn’t result in any harm coming to the Devildom or Earth and their inhabitants. I will fulfill my role as Lucifer’s replacement during my time here, no more, no less.”

“Of course, that goes without saying. I will also add that you are to have no contact with any being outside my realm during your time here. We wouldn’t want anyone coming up here to retrieve you before our deal has ended now would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t. I accept your proposal to be Lucifer’s replacement until the time comes for Diavolo's crowning. Until then, I shall serve you and the council to the best of my abilities.” I stepped closer and kneeled before him as he sealed the deal.

“Alright then, as you are no doubt aware, each angel on my council represents a virtue. You shall as well. While Humility does not suit you quite right, I shall grant you a new virtue. One that could be considered a sin should it be applied incorrectly. I think you’d like that. Rise Y/N, Virtue of Loyalty.”

I rose to my feet as an invisible force caused my wings and halo to appear. They glowed a light blue as whatever magic God was using to tie me to the Celestial realm ran its course. Once the glowing dimmed down, I tucked my wings back in and bowed my head once more towards the being I now served for the time being and exited the throne room, making my way back to the House of Honors with Michael close behind. As we reached the front door, Michael turned me around. A hard and unforgiving expression on his face. A look of outright hatred in his eyes.

“Listen Y/N, just because Father has accepted you into the Celestial realm, doesn’t mean the rest of us have. You are still an outsider and I frankly do not trust anyone who has spent so much time around demons. I will follow Father’s orders in training you, but know this, Y/N, if I so much as suspect you of doing anything to upset the balance in the Celestial realm, if you hurt any of the angels here, I will take matters into my own hands. I will not allow a being as tainted as you to wreak havoc among the angels. Am I understood?”

Meeting his gaze, a smile made its way to my face as I responded.

“I will hold you to that.”

He took one last hard look at me and walked through the door. Left alone on the steps, I thought to myself, ‘Soon my demons, I’ll be back, soon’. I walked to the gardens and spent the next few hours tending to it until dinner.

In the Devildom. After they lost Y/N

As soon as they got home, Mammon went straight to Y/N’s room. How could he let this happen? He was their first damn it! He should have protected them, he should have stopped Lucifer, he should have done something! He entered Y/N’s room and immediately sat on their bed, made messily in their excitement to meet the king. He held their pillow, hugging to his chest as he started crying. Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear Asmo following him. Upon entering the room and seeing the state his older brother was in, Asmo put aside his own grievances and sat next to Mammon and embraced him, letting him cry on his shoulder. This reminded Asmo of a time in the Celestial realm. They were playing with Levi in the gardens when Levi tried to show off his tree climbing skills. As he was nearing the top, Mammon noticed the branch Levi was climbing looked ready to snap. He tried to warn Levi but was too late as the branch snapped and Levi fell. Mammon wasn’t fast enough to catch him. Levi ended up dislocating a wing and spraining his right shoulder. Asmo remembered walking by Mammon's room that night and heard quiet sobs, he knocked and opened the door revealing Mammon sitting on his bed, hugging his pillow crying. He sat next to his older brother and hugged him, assuring him that it wasn’t his fault and that Levi would be just fine. Coming out of the memory, Asmo did the same now, hugging Mammon and reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have stopped Y/N from giving that order and that everything will be ok.

“Will it be though? It just won’t be the same without them.”

“I know. It will be hard, Y/N was our family, but we’ll be there for each other.”

They slept together, holding each other in Y/N’s bed comforting each other until they fell asleep.

Present

It was an ordinary day for Mammon. He had just gotten back from a modelling gig at Majolish and was thinking up ways to spend the money he just earned. He was thinking of treating himself to a night out as he’d also gotten a math test back that day and passed with a 90%! Just as he was thinking about where to go, he felt the pull of a summoning. Mammon opened his eyes to find himself in an old cold basement. He scanned the room noting that the only lighting provided was a small bulb with a pull down string in the middle of the room and 3 small candles near the summoning circle. He found that the room was practically empty save for a thin mattress in a corner and some stairs leading to a door. He then spotted the one who summoned him, a little girl. She looked to be no older than 5. She was wearing stained and ripped overalls, one of the straps was missing. A light pink t-shirt underneath. Her brown hair was relatively short, only reaching her shoulders and was a tangled mess. Upon looking closer, Mammon noticed that she was covered head to toe in bruises and there were deep scratch marks on her arms and legs. He looked at the hastily drawn circle under him and found out that she drew it with some chalked rocks. She held an old summoning book close to her chest. Her big brown eyes looked so scared, yet if he looked closer, he could see what looked to be hope sparkling in the background. He could tell by looking at her that she held vast magical potential. Whoever put her here obviously knew the same.

“A-are you Mammon?” By Diavolo, she sounded so broken, like if he spoke too loud, she would shatter. Kneeling down to her level, Mammon put a soft smile on his face.

“Yes I am. What’s your name?”

“Cynthia”

“Ok Cynthia, what can I help you with.” Mammon doesn’t know what it was about the little girl, but he found himself genuinely wanting to help her. Maybe it was the way they looked at him with hope. Maybe it was because they were just a kid, or maybe, it was because her eyes reminded him of Y/N’s.

“I want to leave. My parents locked me in here. They don’t care about me. They only use me for their spells. Please Mammon, help me. I’ll give you my soul if you want, just please!” Tears came to her eyes as she pleaded with him to help her. Mammon upon hearing what these sorcerers were doing with their daughter, became enraged. He held his hand out to Cynthia with a smile on his face. He took the book from her hands and put it on the ground next to him.

“No, no, no. I won’t take your soul. It’s alright Cynthia, I’ll help ya. Why did you think I’d need your soul to help you?” “That’s what my parents said. They’ve been using me to try and summon you. I heard them arguing about who’s soul they would give to form a pact. Then they decided that they would give you mine.” Mammon didn’t think he could get madder, but by now, he was seeing red. Not only did her parents lock her up, they used her to try and summon him thinking he’d just accept a child’s soul to form a pact with them! Mammon was beyond angry.

“Don’t worry Cynthia, the Great Mammon will take care of your parents! You’ll be out of here in no time.” Sensing his rage Cynthia grabbed onto his legs before he made it to the stairs.

“No, don’t hurt them!” Mammon looked down at the girl in shock.

“Please don’t hurt them. They may have done all these awful things to me but they’re still my mom and dad! I don’t want you to hurt them, just get me out of here!” Mammon looked at the girl like she’d gone crazy. Her parents, who have locked her up in a basement, used her for spells, hell even tried summoning him in exchange for her own soul, she wanted them alive?! He saw how genuine she was being and he couldn’t find the heart to say no to her. Instead, Mammon knelt down to her level and took her hand. Cynthia looked at him with tears threatening to overflow. Mammon brought his other hand to cup her face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“Ok Cynthia, I won’t hurt them. I am mad at your parents for doing this to you, but if you don’t want me to hurt them, I won’t.” Mammon then brought Cynthia’s right hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it gently. A yellow seal formed on the back of her right hand and a matching pink one on the palm of Mammon's right.

“Now we have a pact Cynthia. I didn’t take your soul, I took your sadness. Did you know that demons could also take emotions to form a pact?”

“N-no. Does this mean you’ll take me far away from here?”

“Yes, and it also means that you won’t ever feel sad again. I know a nice witch who can take care of you. She will teach you how to use and call me with the pact. This way, whenever you’re in trouble, you will be able to summon me without drawing the circle again and I can come protect ya.”

“O-ok.” Mammon then picked Cynthia up and walked up the stairs, kicking the basement door down he walked through the house towards the front door. Before he reached it though, he heard a scream behind him. He noticed that Cynthia tensed considerably in his arms as he set her down, hiding her behind his legs. He turned around coming face to face with a middle aged couple who he preserved to be Cynthia’s parents. Her mom then yelled at Cynthia.

“Cynthia Maxwell Daemon! You come here right this instant!”

“Shut your mouth lady. She doesn't belong to you anymore.”

“Nonsense! She’s my daughter. She is mine to do with what I want!” Mammon's patience was running out. A scowl appeared on his face as he growled out.

“Listen here lady, I’ve got some choice words for you two that I wouldn’t care to say in front of the girl, but the fact that you thought you could summon me and exchange her soul for a pact with you? You're crazy to think I’d ever accept that kind of pact. Now Cynthia and I are leaving and you ain’t ever using her again!”

Cynthia’s parents then realized who they were talking to and their attitudes immediately changed.

“Please forgive us, Lord Mammon. We hadn’t planned for the girl to summon you. We apologize for the inconvenience the child caused you. If you would stay, we could reimburse you for your troubles.” Cynthia’s father bowed his head as he addressed Mammon. Mammon on the other hand outright laughed at that statement. Turning into his demon form he barked out

“You think her summoning me was an inconvenience?! You two are crazier than I thought! Now listen here and listen closely, neither of you are to come near or look for her. None of you are going to use her again. We are leaving and don’t ever bother trying to summon me again. Ya know, you should thank Cynthia. If she didn’t plead with me not to hurt either of you, you’d both be dead. Make no mistake, if either of you try to summon me or if I find you anywhere near her again, I will rip your hearts out and feed you to Cerberus. Kapeesh?” The dark undertones of Mammon’s voice got through to Cynthia’s parents as their faces paled in fear and they quickly agreed. They begged for his forgiveness and promised not to harm Cynthia again if he could just stay awhile. Not bothering with them anymore, Mammon picked Cynthia up and walked out, flying towards the one witch he’d ever trusted. When he landed, he realized that Cynthia was crying.

“Sorry Cyn, I didn’t scare ya, did I?”

“A-a little, but these aren’t scared tears. I’m happy. Thank you for getting me away from them and for letting them live.”

“Of course. The Great Mammon keeps his promises.” Mammon walked up to the door of the small cottage. He knocked and a young witch with long blond hair, green eyes, and freckles answered the door.

“Mammon what a surprise! What brings you here?” She opened the door gesturing for him to come in.

“Sorry, not today Kelly. I’m actually here for her.” Mammon stepped aside, revealing a scared Cynthia behind him.

“Oh my Diavolo! What happened to you, you poor girl?!” Kelly rushed forward cupping Cynthia’s chin as she inspected her body, taking in all the bruises and cuts.

“Kelly, this is Cynthia. She summoned me to save her from her parents. I was wondering if ya could take care of her. I know ya've always wanted a kid, so…”

“Of course! I could never turn someone in need away, especially a girl as cute as her.” She said while pinching Cynthia’s cheeks. Cynthia giggled in response.

“Ok then, Cynthia, Kelly here’s gonna take care of you. I promise that she won’t act like your mom and she will help you learn how to use both your magic and your pact.” Reaching into his pocket, Mammon pulled out the Grimm he’d earned that day. He then put them into Cynthia’s palm.

“Here ya go kid. Now if you ever visit me, you’ll have some money to spend.” Mammon turned to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Cynthia pulling him down to the ground. He crouched down. Cynthia then kissed his cheek, giving him one of the Grimm he’d given her.

“Thank you Mammon.” She then ran behind Kelly’s legs and waved goodbye with a massive smile on her face.

It’s been a couple years since Mammon saved Cynthia. She’d grown to be a strong and skilful sorcerer. He’d visit her often over the years with something in tow for her. Mammon never spent the Grimm that Cynthia gave back to him on that day. Whenever Mammon had a tough time with the numerous witches he’d find himself in debt with, he’d always find his way to her, and she comforted him, never asking for more than his company, something he was more than happy to give. His brothers would always know whenever he went to see her as he’d always come back with a content smile on his face. Deep down, he wished that Y/N could’ve met Cynthia. They would have made great friends as they were the only 2 people who could make him smile like this. Mammon may not have been able to save Y/N, but he swore that he would protect Cynthia, no matter the cost.

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lady-charinette · 4 years

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For whenever you have time: Marichat choosing each other over each other (Ladrien) could be hurt/comfort or fluffy/funny but like I just really love it when that happens. Thanks in advance 🥰😉

A/N: Alright, I wrote this at the speed of light because a scenario immediately formed in my mind. I hope you like it anon! If this isn't what you had in mind feel free to specify what you want me to write in another ask and I'll write it better! :3 Get ready for a world of HURT! and fluff

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"Adrien, I'm...sorry." the spotted heroine returned the gift box but Adrien didn't take it immediately.

The teen model's eyes were burning, but he tried not to let the sorrow swallow his heart until he let her speak. "W-What for, Ladybug?"

He knew from the look in her eyes how sad she felt, knew the look well from all the times his lady would despair over whether or not she was a good enough hero to protect Paris.

He wished he could protect her heart too.

"I'm sorry, I...can't. It's not right. I'm sorry." those were the only words her mind was capable of forming on their own and her hands clasped together tightly after Adrien took his gift from her hands.

He gazed at the half opened box, at the letter in it, his letter, and at the red rose tucked safely into its side.

His lips formed into a thin line. "Its okay Ladybug, I understand." the smile was the smile he reserved for his photo sessions, for the cameras who only activated when he seemed happy.

There were no cameras around them now, but Adrien felt like he needed her to know he'll be okay.

Even if that was a lie.

Ladybug's own lips trembled and her eyes shone with unsched tears.

He wished he had his mask to hug her in comfort. Protect her from himself and the pain he caused.

"I understand, really. You're a...hero after all and I'm...just a civilian." the smile was firmly in place, years of careful practicing in front of the mirror ensured that, but he felt his resolve wavering in the face of her despair. "I, um, I better get going. I still have Chinese lessons! Bye, take care Ladybug!"

If she hadn't been preoccupied with having rejected her secret crush, Ladybug would've remembered that Adrien didn't have any Chinese lessons today as he ran back to the mansion.

"Plagg, claws out!" The words brought a wave of freedom to him as he leaped onto the side of the mansion, away from prying eyes, especially hers.

Once he reached the highest point on the roof, he held his gift in his hand. "Cataclysm," the command was a soft whispered order, and the destructive power rushed over the gift box in sickening tendrils of black.

It crumbled to dust and fell from his fingers like sand, the wind carrying the remains of his confession as if it never existed in the first place.

He didn't know when his transformation had dropped, he only felt a familiar warm ball of fur nestle into the crook of his neck, purring loudly to soothe his holder.

Adrien held onto Plagg as the world around him turned dark.

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Marinette had never expected to feel the crushing sensation in her ribs and her entire body. There was no akuma to punch the air out of her lungs, no Lila who tripped her and she fell down.

Tikki was gently stroking her friend's head, trying with all her tiny might to comfort her chosen as best as she could.

She was so old, so ancient, but the pain of witnessing love breaking before her eyes was always so painful for her. Especially love as pure as Marinette's was.

Tikki could only hug the girl as she sobbed her heart out for rejecting her crush for her duty and all the little kwami could whisper was "I'm sorry, Marinette," over and over again.

Kwami and chosen held each-other close, drawing comfort and strength from one another as the girl's heart lay in pieces.

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Pots too old and cracked to use were organized into a corner to discard later, new pots were moved into another space on her balcony to relocate her plants.

If Marinette's mind was kept busy, her heart would be too focused to mourn.

Marinette had thought tending to her plants on the balcony would soothe the ache in her chest, but all it did was add aches in her arms as she moved around heavy plants and pots.

When she lifted the large weeping fig into her arms, her legs shook from the weight of it as she tried moving it to the other side of her balcony.

Leg giving out under the weight, Marinette yelped as her hand slipped and she threatened to fall along with her plant.

Closing her eyes to brace for the impact, Marinette froze when the plant in her arms crashed into something else than the floor.

A slight huff was heard from behind the big plant, and Marinette wondered if the weeping fig had come to life to weep with her over her failed love life.

Instead, she saw a shock of blonde messy hair peek over the green leaves. "Careful princess, that was a close call." her eyes widened at finally recognizing the bright green eyes framed by the familiar black mask.

"C-Chat Noir?"

The hero took the heavy plant from her slack arms and effortlessly held it. "Where does this belong to?" almost robotically, Marinette pointed to the place she wanted to put the plant and Chat Noir carefully lowered the plant down onto its designated area. "Phew, that's a big plant, must have taken a while to grow right?"

The lack of puns didn't shock her as much as it should've, his presence on her balcony was enough of a shock to her system. "Chat Noir, what- what are you doing here?"

The bright green eyes, now that she had time to look at them better, seemed a little red and puffy, but he turned his head too quickly for her to be sure. "Patrol. Just strolling by in this Parisian night." he glanced at the scattered bits of earth on the concrete and empty pots near Marinette's feet. "Gardening work at this hour?"

She finally fell out of her stupor, shoulders sagging as her gaze fell to the floor. "Y-Yeah, I uh, I noticed a lot of my plants were um, everywhere so I tried to remove them- no I mean, move them around. But also remove some because some of them were, um, wilted and..."

Chat Noir observed the way her hand clutched at her other arm tightly, the way her shoulders were hunched and her head bowed. She looked like he had felt on the rooftop of his home, destroying the remains of his heart.

"Marinette," the use of her name made her head snap up, "Everything alright?"

That question seemed to be the only thing that had kept her tears at bay, until they finally flowed freely down her cheeks.

-A few moments later-

"I'm sorry for keeping you Chat Noir." Marinette wiped at her tears, her eyes red and puffy as his looked when he first landed on her balcony.

The hero shook his head, hand comfortingly placed on Marinette's shoulder, squeezing now and then to offer the comfort he could provide with his own heart in shambles.

"You're not, trust me princess," He offered her a sad smile. "Actually, I felt the same today."

Marinette's head shot up to him, eyes searching for his amidst the messy blond locks. "The same? What do you mean? Did...did you have your heart broken too, Chat Noir?"

The imperceptible nod of his head made the burn in Marinette's heart worse. How could someone hurt his feelings like this? Despite all the bravado and smugness he displayed whenever they faced akumas, she knew he was a kind boy deep down.

Marinette's own hand found Chat Noir's shoulder, normally held high and proud but now low and hunched. He looked as miserable as she felt. "I'm so sorry Chat Noir." she felt the tears beginning to return and threaten to spill from her eyes again.

Chat Noir smiled, his hand lifting to clasp over her own on his shoulder, squeezing in appreciation. "Its not your fault." Marinette wished it was, so she could take the blame for breaking his heart, that way the resentment growing in her would be aimed at her, not the girl who broke Chat Noir's heart.

She might have had her reasons, but Marinette still felt sad for her partner.

"I'm sorry for getting your heart broken, kitty. If anyone didn't deserve that, its you." Her words were softly spoken but sincere, it made his lips pull up into a genuine smile.

Chat Noir nudged her shoulder with his gently, "On the contrary princess, I know one other person who didn't deserve getting her heart broken."

The meaningful look in his eyes made her heart feel just a bit lighter and Marinette laughed, "I did deserve it, I wished I didn't have to do what I did."

"Then...why did you?"

Marinette bit her lip. "Because...its complicated but...I just had to. There's something else keeping me from being honest with him and...I can't afford to hurt him like that."

Chat Noir wrapped one arm around his knee, keeping the other on top of Marinette's hand on his shoulder, "You know, if I had heard this a few hours ago, I would disagree but...having listened to you, I think I can understand a little bit where my l-I mean, the friend who rejected me came from."

His friend lifted her head curiously, tears dried. "What do you mean?"

"Well...I think you're right, but I also think, if you did tell him the truth, he would've understood. He sounds like an understanding guy to me, at least." Somehow Chat Noir felt like he resonated with the boy whom Marinette had rejected, he hoped the guy understood and didn't resent Marinette for her actions. "Keeping secrets from each-other may be neccesarily at times, and you feel like the only way to keep from hurting people you love is by keeping secrets, but sometimes telling the truth might hurt worse in the end. But it will get better later on, trust me. Even if the truth hurts worse than a lie, I think the truth can be forgiven easier."

He spoke from the heart it seemed, Marinette had to blink rapidly to keep the fresh tears at bay, but for some reason her heart did feel lighter as she listened to Chat Noir.

He was right, hurting Adrien with a lie is far worse than the truth. But she hadn't thought of it like that, she only wanted to keep him away from danger.

Marinette bit her lip, fingers squeezing Chat Noir's shoulder. The hero turned his head to look at her curiously. "Thank you, Chat Noir," Marinette spoke softly, those words alone seemed to heal some of the wounds in Chat Noir's heart.

He nodded, squeezing her hand back.

Marinette had more to say though, "I think... with you too, I think I can understand the girl who...who rejected you a bit better. Maybe she had her own reasons for doing what she did, but thinking that she didn't want to hurt you with the truth, she lied."

Chat's ears sperked up at this, "...You think so?"

She shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe she saw no other way but to lie to keep you safe."

He hummed thoughtfully and stared up at the sky. Yeah, that did sound like something Ladybug would do. Especially since she didn't know he was Adrien and a miraculous holder himself, she would hurt him at the cost of her own feelings to protect him.

He shook his head, who was he kidding? His lady didn't feel that way for him, but he knew it was true that she tried to protect him from danger. His lady was just like that.

Chat Noir gazed back at his friend and classmate, who didn't seem as dejected as when he first saw her on her balcony. "I hope the boy who rejected you knows what he missed."

Marinette laughed out loud and Chat Noir couldn't help but grin, "I doubt that Chat Noir."

He rolled his shoulders, "Well, maybe this tom will have to pay him a visit and teach him a lesson then."

Marinette shook her head, her hand falling away from his shoulder. Chat Noir reluctantly let her hand go, even if he did miss the comforting warmth it gave him.

But the smile she bestowed him with seemed to give his heart all the warmth it needed to melt. "Thank you, Chat Noir. You really are my hero." she grinned playfully, but he took her words to heart, even if they were exaggerated. Chat Noir he couldn't save her from a broken heart, just like she couldn't save him, but at least they could help pick up each-other's pieces.

"Heh, always happy to rescue you, princess." The playful glint in his own eyes was something he hoped conveyed just how deep his appreciation for Marinette's words rang.

She nudged his shoulder playfully and that seemed to spur his next words into action. "Even if you don't have the mouse miraculous anymore, you're still a hero in my eyes."

Marinette seemed to blush at his words, and he marveled at the way she always grew shy at compliments from her friends. He hoped with these compliments that Marinette could grow to see what an amazing person she really was.

"I'm happy to help and, even if I'm just a civilian, you can come to me if you ever need to talk, Chat Noir." his heart felt as light as a feather at her kind offer.

Marinette tried to concentrate on cooling off the sudden inferno in her face.

'No, I'm just comforting him. This doesn't mean anything. He's my friend.' Even as Marinette's thoughts circled around those words stubbornly, her heart couldn't help but pick up speed when Chat Noir's gaze softened while looking at her.

"Thank you, Marinette. I appreciate it." his words sounded so sincere, so soft spoken. This soft side of Chat Noir came out in brief instances, short glimpses between akuma battles and their de-transformation period that allowed for calm and peace.

Even those instances were rare, but here, transformed but not in battle, mask up but a different mask down, he felt so raw to her. Like she caught glimpses of himself he didn't often show to others, not even Ladybug.

Marinette shook her head, trying to will those thoughts away. How could she be thinking that? He was her friend and partner. And she'd just had to turn down Adrien today as Ladybug, had to turn down the dream she'd always had.

Chat Noir noticed her dampening mood and his lips pulled up into a small smile with the idea forming in his head.

He jumped down from the balcony railing, like a cat off a high shelf, soundless and effortless.

"Hey, why don't we watch that movie you mentioned a while ago? The one with the witch and her familiar?"

Marinette blinked, but before her brain could process at what instance she specifically told Chat Noir of her movie preferences, she was already heading towards the hatch to her room.

"Oh! Thats right, I did want to watch that. Wait here Chat Noir, I'll get everything ready." With that, her head disappeared beneath the wooden door, sounds of rummaging through her room audible from the half opened window.

Chat Noir sighed deeply, letting the cool night air fill his lungs and soothe the burn in his heart.

He hadn't planned for his night to go like this, especially since Ladybug had turned him down today. Certainly hadn't expected Marinette to have more than a willing ear to listen and send him on his way.

She listened, and comforted him and offered solace at a place he least expected.

He always thought Adrien Agreste was a boy Marinette Dupain-Cheng could grow to like as a friend at least. He was grateful for their friendship, as distanced as it seemed sometimes. He was grateful she didn't dislike him after some of his social blunders.

Chat Noir gazed up towards the sky, twinkling dots greeting him back. He wished every day would feel as peaceful as he did in that moment.

And it was thanks to his amazing friend.

The hatch opened and his head whipped towards the pile of blankets, projector and white sheet hiding one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

With a chuckle, he helped her set up everything for their movie, pulling the white sheet taut and connecting the string attached to its ends to either side of the roof and chimney down to the edges of the balcony. It covered up nearly the entire front view of the balcony, but he felt like this was their own cocoon of privacy. Of something that felt like comfort and home.

Even the cookies, croissants and other pastries she brought smelled like the home he remembered being in before his mother disappeared and Chat Noir tried not to let the glistening in his eyes show too much.

Tucked tightly into the blankets and nestled next to each-other, Marinette pressed a few buttons on the yellow beamer and the white sheet came to life with moving pictures and sounds.

Chat Noir had thought his heart would burst simply from this, it certainly felt full enough to, but when Marinette had slowly moved closer to him during the movie, subconsciously on her part, his beating heart felt ready to explode.

Shoulders touching and head nestled against the side of his, Marinette felt safe in a way her suit didn't make her feel and she partly blamed the atmosphere, partly the purring cat next to her.

Chat Noir knew they were friends, but as he allowed some of his weight to settle against his classmate and his chest vibrating with purrs, he couldn't help but feel like this would've felt different if Nino or Chloe had taken Marinette's place.

Marinette's own thoughts swam with much of the same sentiments as the boy nestled against her side was experiencing, her heart warm and alive as it hadn't felt in a while.

She felt like despite all her duties and problems, she could take on the whole world.

Marinette hadn't remembered the fact that she only mentioned that movie to her friends during lunch, to Alya and Nino...

...and Adrien.

As the city of Paris darkened with the passing of time, the little balcony above the bakery was alive with quiet laughter and flickering lights.

Thanks for reading! :)

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupaincheng #marichat #ladrien #ml fic #miraculous #ask #anon #ml ask #ml request #i wrote this but damn i had tears in my eyes #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #my fics

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margarethelstone-2 · 3 years

Text

if I loved you less (i might talk about it more)

requested by one and only @nerdypanda3126. thanks so much!

Read on AO3!

"Taichi... You still like me, don't you?"

The young man in question raised his eyes from the book he'd been trying to read for the past quarter, and fixed them on Chihaya, confused. It wasn't just the question that surprised him, even though its content sure would have been enough to puzzle a better prepared soul.

The fact that Chihaya had barely spoken at all for most of their time together today was the main reason why he felt startled by her words now.

She really had been quiet for most of the day, even though they were spending it at his place, determined, as she herself had claimed, not to get in the way of his studies. Taichi had tried to make her realise that it wasn't what he wanted at all, that the very reason he'd invited her over was to get a break from all the reading and just relax a little. He'd explained over and over again that he needed her to be a distraction; tried – unsuccessfully – to get it into her head that she was actually doing him a favour. He knew how much of a workaholic he could be and so he specifically planned the visit as a means to enforce the necessary break he might not have taken otherwise.

He had told her all of that. And yet, she'd remained quiet.

All the way until now, that is.

And just what on earth was she going on about?

"What's with that question? You know the answer to that," he replied casually, almost dismissively, before going back to the textbook in his hand. He really had no idea what had gotten into her all of the sudden, but then again, he didn't care to delve on the subject. He knew she'd tell him anyway.

"I was just wondering," she answered, a trace of hurt ringing in her voice; Taichi needed to hold back the smile that sprang on his lips at the sight of her pout. "Is it so bad if I do?"

Taichi hummed in thought.

"Is that why you've been so quiet all day?" he asked right after. "You've been just busy considering my possible affection for you?"

"Stop with the mockery. I'm thinking of it seriously."

"Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd come to any."

He had no choice but to close the book and put it away after a statement he'd just heard. Not that he minded. Throwing it on the floor rather carelessly, he sat up straight in his corner of the couch and, resting his chin on his palm, he fixed his gaze on the girl seated by his desk on the other side of the room.

She really was being impossible today.

Well, he supposed that wasn't anything new. He'd known Chihaya long and well enough to not be fazed by the swings in her mood or the inane schemes she so often came up with. He had learnt to expect the unexpected, every day, every hour of his otherwise boring life, because that was obviously the only way to keep up with her. The one thing he had to keep doing if he still wanted to be a part of her life.

Because that was how Ayase Chihaya was.

Chihaya. His best friend. His fiercest karuta rival. The girl he'd been in love with since fourth grade of primary school and the girl who'd rejected him straightforwardly at the very beginning of their third year in Mizusawa High. The girl whom he'd thought he could never win over, on whom he'd given up again and again, fooling himself he could move on and blight the love he'd had for her since he'd been a ten year old squirt.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering her question from a moment before.

She knew damn well he was still head over heels for her.

She was his girlfriend, for sanity's sake.

"I can't believe you actually have asked, you know," he picked up with the same fake weariness he'd shown before, if only to cover his growing amusement. Seeing her very real anxiety made him assume a more solemn expression, as he asked, "Seriously, what brought this on? Are you mad about something?"

"I'm not mad," she disagreed instantly, and with good emphasis.

"Are you unhappy then? Did I do something to make you feel like that?"

Again, she denied. Now she just looked sad. "That's not it."

Wrong. She was flustered.

"Then what is it?" Taichi asked, as gently and warmly as he could. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for all the hard training his patience had received. It was obvious that Chihaya needed that from him now. "It's not like I could get over you like this, you of all people should be aware of that. You're the most important person in my life. The best companion I could think of. You know I get lonely and grumpy when I can't see you, and you know I still get absurdly jealous, even though I hate being so. And so I can't help but think there's something else I'm not doing right."

Taichi stopped there, waiting for her to, if not answer his question, then to contradict him in one way or another, at least. After all, he really was at a loss.

He thought he'd been doing a fairly good job as a boyfriend, when all was said and done. He'd already shared Chihaya's most important interest and it wasn't difficult to at least understand the new ones she'd found. He made sure to be there for her when she needed him, and tried his best to give her space when she needed that more. True, he'd had some trouble coming for help on his part, but even that was a thing of a past rather than present – certainly not something that could shock Chihaya into thinking like this.

He would think that the all-day-long date he'd come up with and seen through in celebration of their first anniversary as a couple last week was a good show of how much he still cared.

He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. But never in his life would he have thought that he'd failed to get his feelings across.

"Chihaya," he prompted once more, his voice audibly quieter. "Please tell me what it is. I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

She looked up from the floor she'd been glaring at for a while and met his gaze, a shadow of unease still clouding her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; she closed it instantly and looked away again, abashed. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks, and it only grew darker as the time passed, though whether it was because of embarrassment or something more alarming, Taichi couldn't tell yet.

"Chihaya–"

"It's because you never say it."

He supposed his eyes opened wider than ever, what's with the utter astonishment he felt growing inside him immediately. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, the craziness of the situation overwhelming enough to successfully prevent him from forming a sensible thought, and much less coming up with any kind of solution. One look at Chihaya was enough to sober him up, however.

She was distressed. She was insecure.

No matter how stupid he thought the reason to be, he could hardly allow the situation to last.

With a groan that was bound to startle her, he bent over and buried his face in his hands.

Only one thing he could do now.

"Come here," he said, his face still hidden behind one hand as he tore the other one away and beckoned her towards him. "No excuses. You'll talk later. Now just come here, please."

She did, albeit tentatively, as if afraid of the reaction he might show her. With his patience starting to run thin at last, Taichi didn't wait for her to cover the whole distance, instead reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, only to pull her down on the couch right next to him.

And then he pulled her even closer, locking her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna do something to you," he mumbled into her hair, his voice a mixture of laughter and complaint. "You cruel, cruel, woman. Have you no heart? Here I am, mind reeling as I try to figure out what the hell I did wrong again and you say it's because I don't say I like you enough. As if you didn't already know you've got a firmer hold of my heart than I ever did. Tell me, am I really this bad at showing you that I care that you doubt it?"

It was Chihaya's turn to growl at him, though it surely – and fortunately – didn't stop her from burying her face even deeper into his chest and digging her fingers into the shirt on his back. Again, Taichi laughed at the display, but didn't loosen his grip one bit.

That silly, unbelievable, most beloved girl.

"This and that are different things," she muttered finally in response against his buttons, her stubborn indignation probably being the only reason why he could discern the words at all. "There are different kinds of love languages. We even talked about it, you know."

"Yes. And as far as I remember, we've already established that neither of us cared for this one. So your argument doesn't work."

Well, this was a lie, or at least, it wasn’t fully true. After all, he could never get tired of hearing her say those words, to him and him only. But he didn't need it that much, not when he already knew of so many other ways in which Chihaya expressed her love towards him. He'd always assumed it was the same for her, too.

Funnily enough, he still didn't think he was mistaken.

"I've had feelings for you for the past fourteen years, you dummy, I wouldn't change my mind just because you decided to return them," he threw in only half-jokingly, as if to make sure he got his point across before moving onto the next part. "So? Care to tell me what's the source of it all?"

He felt her tense against him for a split second, only to relax in the next moment with a long, weary sigh. He waited for her to make herself comfortable in his arms, shifting ever so slightly to make it easier for them both. And then he heard her speak.

"I met up with Kana-chan the other day," she admitted weakly. "Her and Desktomu. And I guess... They're always so sweet with one another, now more than ever. I suppose... It made me feel a little jealous. But most of all, it just made me think."

"And you decided that I'd fallen out of love with you, because I don't talk like Komano does?"

"I didn't decide anything, I told you already. I just wondered if maybe I was doing something wrong to deserve that treatment. Sorry for being so terribly scared of losing you again because of my own foolishness."

Words caught in his throat as Taichi tried to protest against this new development. That last addition Chihaya had made – and more importantly, the wounded, truly uncertain voice with which she'd spoken – would have been enough to melt his heart even if he had actually been angry with her. Right now, he had to hold back from grabbing her by the chin and kissing her senseless until all the idiotic ideas evaporated from her overworked mind.

The things she did to him without as much as trying.

You evil little imp.

"They're newly-weds. You can't use them for reference," he managed to stutter out at least, conveniently ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and the emotion that hovered behind it. "Not to mention, those two are the opposite of us when it comes to talking about feelings openly. There's a reason they got together six years before we did. Just because something works for them doesn't mean it's the best course for us to take as well."

He smiled again and planted a kiss at the top of her hair, before adding, "I still can't believe you really doubted me, though."

She huffed and pulled away, although she still didn't move from her place on the couch. They were still close; close enough for Taichi to see the light reflecting in her eyes and the blush that hadn't left her cheeks, and to reach out and comb her tangled hair with his fingers. Another gesture so full of love, even though it was but a fraction of all that she made him feel.

"Well, since I never understood what had made you fall in love with me in the first place, it's only natural that I'd have this kind of doubts."

He chuckled and she smiled on her part, her obstinacy giving it to the desire to just be with him. It was another thing Taichi was able to read in her eyes – and, knowing the feeling well enough from his own experience, he had no trouble deciphering it.

Delayed, the first part of her sentence entered his brain.

What made me fall for you, I wonder?

He didn't know. It had been so long since he’d realised his feelings after all, and longer still since those feelings had been born. Even all those years earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to point out the reasons clearly, never mind finding the one spark that had started it – trying to do so now seemed downright impossible.

There were so many reasons, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never considered herself a possible love interest for anyone, first when she was too engrossed in karuta and later, when she thought she didn't deserve to be one. Maybe it was her hot-headedness and her drive, and how different she'd always been from him, and yet never failed to tell him how much she'd admired and envied those qualities of his that she lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd always been with him, so close and so dear and yet so impossible to grasp.

Maybe it was because she'd loved him long before either of them dared believe that was the case.

Maybe...

"Maybe," he said out loud, though in fact not loud at all, his lips moving against her forehead as he leaned in to put a kiss there, too. "Maybe, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Edging away, Taichi saw tears gathering in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumb, his hand cupping the side of her jaw fittingly.

And then he kissed her properly.

Just like he had wanted to ever since he'd first seen her that day.

#one-shot request #chihayafuru #taichihaya #mashima taichi #ayase chihaya #margaretwrites

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azucanela · 4 years

Text

DAY 9. DAYDREAMS

PAIRING: OIKAWA TOORU X GENDER NEUTRAL!READER

WARNINGS: CURSING.

A/N:

FLUFFVEMBER MASTERLIST

Oikawa spent most of his childhood daydreaming of his adulthood. Of the possibilities that were to come. Primarily of volleyball. It’s funny, being so passionate about a sport to the point that it consumes most of your life. It’d been a problem, often. Unless you were somehow involved in volleyball, there wasn’t really a way for someone to be involved in Oikawa’s life.

It had resulted in the end of plenty of relationships. Romantic and platonic alike. Though he’d remained one of the most likable people around due to his charismatic attitude, entering a relationship with Oikawa Tooru was viewed as a death sentence.

Few things were constant in his life, and those things just happened to be the very things he loved. His closest friend, Iwaizumi Hajime— whom he’d met through Volleyball, was probably the best example.

Y/N L/N was not an example of one of those things, up until now. Oikawa hadn’t even known much about Y/N other than the fact that they was clearly one of the more high-achieving students. But they certainly weren’t a constant in his life, at least not until he was forced to use his weekends— one of the only times he had to do things other than volleyball; as much as he loved the sport, sadly, his education was still a factor. A fact that happened to be threatening his future.

Yes, Oikawa Tooru, the perfect boy, was failing one of his classes. And now required a tutor, said tutor happened to be Y/N L/N.

Except meeting with Y/N weekly became meeting with them daily, and suddenly Oikawa found himself with another constant in his life. And his daydreams began to consist of things other than volleyball, like dates, with Y/N.

Basically, Oikawa had a problem. Or at least, that’s how he viewed it.

“Are you kidding me?”

Iwaizumi on the other hand...

“Y/N deserves so much better than you, but this is the opposite of a problem, Shittykawa.”

Didn’t seem to understand what he meant by problem.

Oikawa groaned in annoyance, watching as Iwaizumi rolled his eyes in response, shoving his rather aggressively towards the library door. “Iwa-Chan,” he drawled, “you don’t seem to get it. I can’t like—”

“Clearly you can.” Comes his reply, “you should confess. They’re nice, and clearly you’re going to need a tutor for a while.” Oikawa crinkles his nose at his words, though his Co-Captain was definitely right, seeing as he’d allowed his grades to fall quite a bit in light of their most recent championship and all the training they’d need to finally best Shirtatorizawa. Not that he’d be able to play if he was failing math and science by the end of the term. “Also, you’re lonely, it’s sad.”

Oikawa frowns in response, “I’m not lonely.”

“Not everything is about volleyball Oikawa.” Iwaizumi sighs, eyes shifting between the doors of the library and his friend. “You deserve to be happy, even if you are an idiot. Besides, this is the first time you’ve liked someone in a while, so you should try— I don’t know,” he pauses, searching for the right words, “taking the plunge.” He offers.

Oikawa looks at him incredulously, throwing his hands outwards in exasperation, “are you kidding me?” Oikawa asks as Iwaizumi turns to leave, “also since when did you become so wise, Iwa-Chan?”

“Just make the right choice Shittykawa!” He calls back in response, and without looking, Iwaizumi raises his arm to wave away his friend as he turns the corner.

It isn’t often that Oikawa finds himself daydreaming. Thoughts consumed by ideal realities. He’s never really had the time, always busying himself with schoolwork and volleyball. There weren’t many moments left between for him to relax. And yet, as he sat at the table of the library, awaiting Y/N’s arrival, he found himself doing just that. Mind drifting towards the possibilities that awaited him in the future.

Maybe the fact that his daydreams now included Y/N is the thing that clues him into the fact that he didn’t just like them. And maybe that’s why he gets so caught up in his own thoughts that he barely notices the textbook flying towards him and hitting him square in the face.

“Oh my god! Oikawa— I’m so sorry!” Y/N cries out, watching as he falls back in his chair and onto the ground with a groan. “Do you have a concussion?”

He’s dazed for a moment, lifting his head up to see Y/N; a worried expression on their face as they make their way towards him, falling to their knees beside him.

“What the hell, Y/N?”

Y/N’s brows furrow at his words, “I kept calling your name and you weren’t responding.”

“So you decided the best course of action was to throw a textbook at me?” He exclaimed, exasperated. “I thought you were nice!”

Y/N scoffs at his words, “I thought you were an athlete!” Comes their response, a crease between their brows as they bring a hand to his head to examine the bump growing on his forehead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He grumbles out, wincing at the pain that the comes when Y/N brushes their hand over the forming bruise on his head. Oikawa inhales deeply through his nose.

“I don’t know— I thought you’d catch it.” Y/N exclaims, hand gesturing vividly as they spoke.

Oikawa looks up at them dully before saying, “I play volleyball, Y/N.”

“And?”

Giving them a look, Oikawa continues, “you don’t catch the ball?!” When Y/N doesn’t reply, instead opting to roll their eyes, Oikawa simply smiles. Something that seems to alarm Y/N as they return their attention to him, watching as he allows a small laugh to escape him before letting his head fall against the floor. “You’re lucky I love you.”

A moment of silence. Oikawa can see the gears turning in their mind before they speak, “I— Excuse me? Are you concussed?”

He laughs once more, “not at all.”

“Then you’re just plain stupid.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you this time.” He picks his head up and offers Y/N a smile, “I happen to think falling for you was one of my better decisions.”

Y/N can’t stop the way their cheeks warm, looking away as they exhale deeply. “We have a study session to get to.”

“A study date?”

A pause, one that leaves Oikawa holding his breath. “Sure.”

DAY 8 <— —> DAY 10

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru fluff #toru oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #tooru oikawa fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu!! x reader fluffhq x you #oiakwa tooru x reader fluff #azucanela fluffvember #fluffvember #oikawa tooru

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shoichee · 4 years

Text

Red Rose

Part 3 of the Pun Fest collection!

Akashi x Reader

Word Count: 4,355

Synopsis: You made it a challenge for yourself as the esteemed 1st year class clown to get a reaction out of Akashi. Not just any Akashi, however. Boku-Akashi. Things quickly get too out of hand.

Note: I will be trying to avoid describing the “color” of Akashi’s eyes because they are actually a non-diegetic effect, where the animation/visuals are flashy/emphasized for the audience to see, but in the canon universe, they don’t actually look like that and no one will actually see said animations, and such.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“...and after that, his ass fell flat on the floor right in front of everybody! Can you believe that?”

As your voice chimed throughout the halls, your fellow classmates were stifling their laughter but chortles still escaped from their suppressed lips. Hayama smacked your head in utter embarrassment.

“You’ve already told that story to everyone, c-cut it out already!”

“Kotarooooo,” you pouted. “Not my fault that they kept asking for me to retell it again.” You stuck your tongue at him.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue, figurative irk marks popping up on his temple. “You needa show some more respect to your senpais!” With that, he started grabbing your head to mess with your hair.

“H-Hey! It’s not my fault that you tried to impress a passerby 3rd year girl by doing a failed dribbling trickshot,” you vehemently protested, trying to rip his strong grip off your poor hairline.

Your classmates were either watching with complete entertainment or with concern for your safety as both you and the Uncrowned King were duking it out and sidestepping each other.

… That is, until they grew increasingly uncomfortable after spotting a particular redhead walking in their direction.

You and Hayama were too invested in the playfight to notice the unforeseen deathly silence and chilled air that accompanied it.

“Kotarō.”

With a simple call from his airy tone that still somehow glaciated the sunniest of atmospheres, he halted both of you (with his hand still fisted in your hair and you still pulling his cheek) to turn your attention to the person to whom the voice belonged.

Akashi Seijuro.

“C-captain!” Hayama separated from you at an inhumane speed that rivaled his lightning dribbling. You stiffened yourself straight like a plank.

You’ve heard the rumors. From whispering gossipers to personal testimony from your blonde best friend, you knew his presence meant anything but pleasant.

“Did you forget that we had practice today?”

Holy shit. You glanced in the corner of your eye to see Hayama paled before he gulped. Was he gonna be okay?

You dared not move a muscle from where you stood, hoping not to attract the basketball captain’s attention, but you knew you stuck out like a sore thumb after seeing how all the students huddled closer to the walls while you were stuck in the middle along with Hayama and Akashi.

“I knew that you forgot, so I came by for your sake so we can all start practice together as an absolute team.”

Ah… there was his infamous favorite word.

Akashi flickered his catlike gaze to you. He didn’t miss the way your body was paralyzed by fear, but he slightly narrowed his pupils at the fact that you almost looked curious about him.

“We’re going.” He gracefully pivoted around to walk the opposite direction in where he came from.

“I-I’ll see you later, dummy,” he whispered, giving you a playful wink before he strode up to Akashi’s pace, but you knew from his tense back that he was scared shitless of whatever inevitable punishment drill he was going to be tortured by.

You recovered from your stupor and tried to ease Hayama with a joke. “Don’t act all tough, Kota! I know you’re gonna akashit your pants!—” You snorted trying to finish your one-liner but finding your own joke funny. “P-pf-pfft, don’t slip on the floor again, okay?”

And just like that, with your words, the students around you eased up and let out soft chuckles.

Hayama turned back around even as he continued walking. “Oi! Watch it, kid!” He made the motions of pointing his eyes to you, but you knew that he was grateful for you in trying to unravel his bundle of nerves.

Akashi, still walking, merely glanced back at your figure, unamused at your “joke” but nonetheless almost impressed that you actually had some type of leadership charisma to be able to uplift a crowd’s mood in an instant.

. . .

Everyone released a huge sigh of collective relief once the basketball-player duo was out of sight.

“Are you insane, (l/n)?” Another good friend of yours went up to your side. “You had the balls to literally say such a thing in front of him? Of all people?”

“Well, it’s not like, I’d get sent to the faculty office because of him…” you muttered. On second thought, you probably would. This was Akashi Seijuro you were talking about.

Everyone started clamoring as they all started seeing you in a much higher regard; some of them even looked at you with starry eyes and others swore to be your new admirers. The rest, though, thought you had just sealed your fate by getting under Akashi’s radar.

“You’ll be missed and honored,” a classmate said, giving a solid pat to your right shoulder. “What type of flowers would you like for your funeral?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, pointing to your chin and staring at the grand ceiling. You turned to them. “Roses as red as Akashi’s hair and the blood of his victims.”

“(l/n), you did not—”

“Oh my god.”

“Is it too late to become religious just to pray for your wellbeing?”

You just summoned chaos in the hallway for the next hour.

---------

The next morning was just another indication of a mild, warm day in Kyoto as you walked past Rakuzan’s school gates. Or at least, you thought the morning would be fine. Even with your thick uniform blazer, you swore that you felt cold chills running down your spine every now and then when you were strolling your normal route to your class.

There’s the cold chills again.

You stopped and looked around your shoulders and behind your back. No one shady was near; they were all too busy chatting with their friends or changing their shoes in their lockers to care much for your presence. Those who noticed you nearby had already given you a friendly greeting.

You hesitantly walked again, being your usual carefree self but now being hyper aware in tracking the students around you. Your eyes widened.

There.

Had you blinked in that moment, you would have surely missed it, but a flash of red flitted around a corner of a hallway. You sighed and groaned inwardly.

Your classmates were right: you were going to die by the hands of a certain redhead.

This was the price you had to pay for not passing up the perfect opportunity for an iconic line.

---------

“Say,” you said turning to your friend once you entered your classroom. “Has Akashi ever shown a side other than being a calm freak?”

“I don’t know if you ever wanna see anything different than that,” she replied, looking up from her homework.

“Imagine him laughing, though. That’d be news of the century.”

“Dear god, I can’t imagine him laughing other than the kind of scheming cackle you’d get from the TV show villains.” You bursted into a fit of snorts while other students, who were secretly eavesdropping out of curiosity after hearing Akashi’s name, snickered.

Another student wedged himself into your conversation. “No one’s ever seen him show any side of him though. Honestly, he’s like a demon.”

“He’s a 1st year student just like the rest of us,” you chided. “Come on, he’s human too. He wasn’t born to be a calculating machine.”

Everyone in the vicinity gave you incredulous looks (for valid reasons, to be fair).

“Hmph!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll prove it to you guys! He’s not as stone-cold as you think!”

“(y-y/n)-san…” Your friend from earlier tugged onto your sleeve. “You’re really fun to hang around with and all, but…”

“Yeah, um… We know you’re competitive and don’t like to back down, but I think you shouldn’t tread into this type of… dangerous territory.”

“Did you already forget what happened with Hayama-senpai yesterday?”

Pretty soon, a large chorus of agreements and mumbles spread throughout your class. Irked, you pouted as you continued to cross your arms.

“I’m gonna make him laugh, and I’ll do it.”

“Uh..”

“Um…”

No one had the heart to disagree with you when you looked like you sparked a fiery aura around yourself as you raised your fists, ready to take it as a challenge for yourself.

Your classmate sighed. Welp, there’s a reason why you got along with Hayama so well in the first place.

You were both so overly enthusiastic and reckless.

---------

You’ve been thrumming your fingers on your desk throughout your classes, staring blankly as you start stringing up ideas on how to accomplish your “challenge.”

Succeeding in making Akashi laugh is like Hayama agreeing to let the dentist extract his snaggletooth. You’re basically asking for the impossible.

Maybe you should’ve settled for a more realistic goal, but then again, this entire ordeal was an entire miracle on its own.

Ah ha. You stopped your finger taps, hitting a fist to your palm in realization. Maybe you just need to get a reaction out of him, and the rest will eventually fall into place.

At the same time, your friend looked at you in worry; you were making odd hand gestures and mumbling to yourself as you went too deep within your thoughts to regard your surroundings.

Oh dear.

---------

Once lunch began, you immediately left class after incoherent chants of “seeyah” and “gotta go” to go look for Hayama’s corpse and pay your respects for the poor 2nd year after yesterday.

You bought sweet bread from the student store for his offering before you went to look for him.

At the sight of the completely lethargic Hayama, you ran up to him in mock grief.

“Ah, spirit-sama!” you cried out, bowing with your hands clasped together (the bread secured in between). “Please at least tell me that Kota died peacefully—” He interrupted you with a chop to the head.

“Ow! Please don’t curse me, spirit! I didn’t treat him that poorly when he was alive…” You winced, rubbing your head in an attempt to soothe the impact.

“I’m not dead, idiot!” he retorted, but his banter lacked bite, and both of you knew why.

You sighed before you flashed him a genuine worried expression. “Are you okay, though?” You promptly handed him the bread, and he immediately did a 180, hooting and having starry eyes at the package.

“Of course I am,” he said, munching on the bread. “Not! He made me do so many extra drills and exercises that I seriously thought I was gonna die!”

“Okay, before you totally freak out, but please don’t freak out,” you started. You told him about your plan about Akashi.

“You’re gonna WHAT—”

“SHHHhhhHHH—” You clamped over his mouth despite him still chewing. “What did I just say?”

“Reo-nee! Ei-chan!” he called out while you still attempted to close his yapper. “Save meeeee!”

The said Uncrowned Kings nearby eyed you two before looking at each other and shrugged; they strolled up to you.

“Oh? (y/n)-chan?” Reo tucked his strands behind his ear. “Has he been causing a ruckus?”

“I have not—”

“Actually, since you’re here anyways, I wanna ask you all something,” you said. “What do you know about Akashi personally?”

“Huh?” was all you heard from the Uncrowned Kings.

“Well…” Reo hummed. “I might know a thing or two about Sei-chan…”

“I’ll just go get lunch,” Nebuya called out.

---------

Day 1 of the Challenge.

Thanks to Reo, you knew most of Akashi’s schedules so you can find the perfect opportunities to “safely” encounter him.

You waited behind a corner of the hall that you knew Akashi would walk through to get to the student council room during lunch. Peeking out, you looked for scarlet hair, ignoring the judgmental (and curious) glances thrown your way here and there.

The moment you saw that everyone instantly collectively vanished, you knew Akashi was extremely nearby. You took a huge breath, expanding your chest to the point of exaggeration, and turned around the corner to finally meet the infamous emperor.

You casually strolled, putting up an impeccable act that you were naturally there rather than staking out the same spot for 20 minutes.

There he is.

You purposely got closer, hoping the closeness between you two would catch his attention. He walked without a change in expression, however, impassively eyeing you before turning his gaze back to the front. That’s when you saw your opportunity.

You almost bumped into him, but you jumped away at the last second while putting your hands up in surrender.

“W-whoa! Wahh, sorry, Akashi-san!” you quickly apologized in a bow. “Luckily, I had my emperor’s eye to foresee the future and prevented any mishap on my part.” You peeked up from your position to see him standing with his back to you, head turned to the side.

A few beats of silence passed before he said, “Your head is too high.”

“Huh?” You were thrown off. That was the last thing you expected him to say. “Wouldn’t my head not be high because I’m bowing?”

He was still assessing you from the corner of his eye, and you willed yourself to return his stare.

“Stay out of my way.”

“Then you should take your own advice,” you huffed, getting up from your bow. “Yesterday morning, I knew you were watching me at some point before you disappeared.”

But he just turned his head back to the front and continued his intended course for the student council room.

Day 1 Results: he scared the daylights out of you instead of you trying to unnerve him.

---------

Day 2 of the Challenge.

What the hell did he mean by “your head is too high?” You still couldn’t decipher his cryptic line. Maybe he just said it to everyone, but that would be really corny of him; he wasn’t that type of person.

Did he think you were too much of a peasant to even talk to him?

You gritted your teeth. You weren’t gonna give up any time soon.

When everyone was dismissed after school, Hayama let you accompany him to Rakuzan’s spacious gym, under the belief that you were going to go home right after.

As soon as you were both in front of the bulky front doors, you marched right in, catching the blonde off guard so much at the fact that you waltzed in there (full knowing Akashi was in there). He couldn’t yank you out in time even with his lightning reflexes, and you skipped around, being careful to stay near the gym walls to not disrupt anyone. You plopped yourself on one of the further benches where you knew none of the players would ever sit, and as soon as you knew Akashi was in earshot (who was ignoring your existence), you smirked.

“Hey Kota!”

“Huh?” He looked up from rummaging through his duffel bag.

“I’ve heard shogi is being played a lot more by people our age for once, but don’t you think it’s such a dread to play such a dull hobby?”

“Yeah, righ—oh.” He swallowed back his answer in seeing Akashi behind you a few meters away, being as still as a statue.

You gleefully looked behind you, hoping for any entertaining response.

Without moving, he slinked his pupils to you before grabbing a water bottle and leaving.

“C-c-can you just drop this entire thing already?” Hayama runs to your side to give your shoulders a firm shake. “I swear to god, you’re not gonna live at this point!”

“You’re right,” you said. “Just for today, I’ll have to retreat before I’ll die.”

“Not just today!” He shook you harder. “I mean stop this for good!”

“Kota, I already signed a death certificate the moment I bumped into him yesterday. Might as well go all out.”

“Oh god, you started this yesterday?”

“Well, I gotta go! See you tomorrow!”

“... More like see you never.”

Day 2 Results: his reaction was inconclusive, but it was more of a failure than success.

---------

Day 3 of the Challenge.

You were pondering about how to annoy Akashi next, both excited and terrified about where this was going to end up.

“(l/n).”

“Y-yes?” You stood straight up from your seat the moment your homeroom teacher called you.

“During lunch, please make your way to the student council room. You’re needed.”

What in the world was going on?

You fidgeted in your seat for the next few hours, shooting anxious glances at the clock every so often. All your classmates’ words of encouragement went through one ear and out the other.

“You’ll be fine!”

“I’m sure a teacher just wants you to help out with some workload…”

“We’re rooting for you!”

As the lunch bell rang, you braced yourself before you promptly made your way to the room that reeked of that particular chilled atmosphere that repelled most students away.

You prodded the door open, slipped in, and softly clicked the door shut before turning around to face the poker-faced terror sitting on his desk, watching your every move.

“Right on time.”

“You called me here?”

Akashi paid no heed to your outburst and continued. “I’ll admit. I’m quite interested in you. You have the innate sense of magnetism that draws others in.”

D-did he just compliment you?

“I would like to put your leadership to the test. You’re now vice.”

“What? You can’t just make a decision like that!”

“I ordered him to quit. There shouldn’t be a problem.”

What the hell?

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell—

Akashi looked at you like he was peering into the depths of your conscience and simply gave a civil smile.

“I hope you will contribute greatly to this school.”

Day 3 Result: a miserable failure.

---------

Day 4 of the Challenge.

You’re stressed, and it’s all Akashi’s fault.

Which made you even more determined to ruffle his feathers and rile him up.

When news broke out of your new “promotion” as vice president, your classmates celebrated for you and your already high popularity skyrocketed. Your teachers didn’t want to hear you talking about quitting when you “haven’t tried anything yet to know if this job was for you.”

The Rakuzan’s basketball starters (minus Mayazumi) were initially ecstatic for you as well… until you told them about Akashi’s string-pullings.

“I’ll make sure Sei-chan won’t do anything, okay (y/n)-chan?”

“Thanks a bunch, Reo-kun… or should I say… Reokunma (Rilakkuma bear)?” You snapped your fingers at him. He just stared at you and patted your head, totally disregarding the fact that you made a pun.

“Just pack in the muscles and you’ll have nothing to worry about!” Nebuya flexed his biceps before getting a scolding from Reo.

“Shortie! Call me whenever you need help!” Hayama dropped his elbow on top of your shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Argh, Kotarō! You’re not that much taller than me at all!” You rolled your eyes. “If anyone, why don’t you say that to Akashi?”

“Say what.”

Oh fuck.

“S-Sei-chan!...” Reo walked over to Akashi. “If you’re here for us, I thought practice didn’t start until much later!”

“I am here for (y/n).”

His irises contracted, highlighting his feline pupils. “I am depending on you as vice president to make this school an absolute powerhouse.”

He still somehow made that sound extremely condescending, like a king encouraging a mere peasant.

You were scared out of your wits, but you weren’t going to crumble so easily. Not until Akashi did first.

“Buh-bye, everyone! Good luck in practice later!”

. . .

The walk back to the office was painfully silent. You decided to break it.

“I’m not taking back what I said, prez, you’re a shortie.”

He paused in his steps. “You run your mouth while knowing no bounds.”

“You’re just a spoilsport, y’know.”

“My orders are absolute.”

“You know, you’re scary as shit, but the whole ‘absolute’ line kinda grows old when I hear it every time I talk to you.”

Palpable silence blanketed between the two of you once again at your words.

This guy can’t even crack no matter what you do.

You stepped into the office and followed him to his desk. He walked to grab a pen from a drawer before he approached you.

He stepped forward, thrusted the sleek, black fountain pen to your face, and jerked back the writing instrument at the last millisecond.

You froze, forgetting to breathe as you felt the pen nib harshly prodding the tip of your nose.

“Do not make me repeat myself. My orders are absolute.”

He then gave you some paperwork and assignments to complete like nothing ever transpired.

Day 4 Results: you thought being relentless in your attacks would prove beneficial, but you’re starting to regret everything.

---------

Day 5 of the Challenge.

Maybe you needed to avoid direct confrontation, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get a reaction from him in other ways.

One small perk of being vice was the fact that you no longer needed to tail around Akashi in order to bump into him “coincidentally,” but you’re not sure if this sole advantage could outweigh the disadvantages, particularly one that might result in your early death.

You’re frankly not as scared as you should be, even though you definitely were at those times you were with Akashi. If anything, it pissed you off that he’s always able to get you to jump out of your skin.

He’s just a 1st year. He’s just a 1st year.

You went to the student council room early to tape on a note to his desk, so there wouldn’t be a chance that it would “fall off his desk” and that “he didn’t see it.”

Roses are red,

I suppose you’re “absolute.”

You’ll still be knocked dead,

And there’ll be no dispute.

You snickered. It was too funny to pass up.

Before you left, you took the time to survey around and get a solid look at the office interiors for the first time (since Akashi’s presence made it impossible for anyone to not pay attention to him).

It was ridiculously tidy, all the wooden furniture polished to the point where their mahogany varnishes shined. Books were meticulously ordered by alphabetical order and genres, and they looked like they were all dusted at every free chance. The rugs showcased simple circles, but the minimalism of them added to the office’s air of crisp cleanliness. The gray curtains gently framed the wide window behind Akashi’s desk. But what really caught your eye was a board of shogi and its pieces tucked away in a corner on a high shelf.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try knocking on Death’s door again.

. . .

Akashi’s shoe clicked on the floor as he opened the door. His steps continued to echo throughout the small room as he walked to his desk to start his work, that is, until he saw your note.

“Oh?” A grin snaked its way onto his face by the time he read the last line.

He severely underestimated you. You unexpectedly had tenacity.

No one has ever defied him repeatedly so openly before.

His expression put the notorious Cheshire cat to shame, his ulterior smile occupying half his face as his eyes widened in excitement equivalent to a predator.

Feeling pumped for the first time in a while, he decided to expend his energy on shogi. He carefully brought down the board and placed it onto his desk, going through the familiar motions of unpacking and setting up a game, before he froze.

There were various pencil doodles on each shogi piece. All of them were variants of :/ and :).

You were taking a jab at his personality as well as his mannerisms.

He barked an amused harsh laugh.

. . .

Day 5 Results: truth be told, you were too scared to see him face to face right after your double stunts; since you knew his schedules, you only came into the student council office when you knew he wasn’t inside.

---------

Day 6 of the Challenge.

Continuing to avoid him would already confirm to Akashi that you were actually shaken up by the high possibility of him retaliating, and you definitely weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

You went to class as always, and by break, you feigned innocence as you strolled into the council room, seeing Akashi leaning against the table.

“Good morning, Akashi.”

He nodded in acknowledgment before he gave a full, predatory smile, his pupils focused on you.

“To continue to fuel diligent work, it’s beneficial to recognize one’s efforts by giving gifts.”

What? Was he not going to bring up what you did yesterday?

He pulled out a single red rose and gracefully tilted it for you to take. You warily plucked it out of his hand.

In a different context, it would’ve been sweet or even romantic, but you knew Akashi ticked a different tune.

“I do hope that you will continue to stay and become even more efficient with your work.”

You gazed at the rose at your hand, confused, as Akashi started walking back out, heading for the door.

You gasped.

“... Did you overhear our conversations the other day in the hallway?”

He chuckled.

“I know the future, because I am absolute.”

“Bastard.” You clicked your tongue, turning to Akashi. “You knew the entire time?”

“Shogi is easily applied to every aspect of life. Move the correct pieces and you will always win.”

You turned back around to avoid letting Akashi see you in an embarrassed state. He played you like an absolute fiddle.

You scowled, and you were about to cross your arms in defiance until the sunlight from the window cascaded on something where your “note” used to be.

“Akashi, what’s that on your desk?” You tentatively walked up to the table to see a stainless glass vase with a single dark burgundy dahlia resting daintily against the inner rim.

His hand was on the doorknob before he turned back to face you.

“Dahliang,” his tone of voice light, almost mockingly saccharine. “Do be careful from now on.”

He left.

Day 6 Results: he completely destroyed you at your own game and sealed the final nail to your coffin with a pun.

---------

End Note: Black dahlias (which are actually dark burgundy in color) symbolize signs of warning, betrayal, and other negative emotions.

#knb #knb x reader #akashi x reader #akashi seijuro x reader #akashi seijuro #akashi scenarios #kuroko no basket #kotaro hayama #hayama kotarou #reo mibuchi #nebuya eikichi #rakuzan #knb scenarios #punfest series #bokushi #boku-akashi #ore-akashi

148 notes · View notes

provide-milk · 3 years

Text

Dazai x Chuuya: Pride and Prejudice Au

Word count: 2,347 Rating: General

A graveled road led to an somewhat unassuming estate residing in the countryside of Longbourn. The estate, known to be the home of the Nakaharas, had its windows uncovered by the drapes, even though it was already nearing dawn.

Through these windows, the flickering lights from candles could be seen, along with constant passing of figures, most notably that of Mrs. Nakahara.

“Kouyou! Please tell me that you are wearing the dress that your father brought home from the seamstress yesterday!” said the currently frantic Mrs. Nakahara.

“Yes, mother!” Responded a voice from up the stairway.

“Good, good… Gin, would you be ever so kind as to ask if Kouyou needs any assistance?”

Gin sighed, disgruntled. “Yes, mother..” she muttered before heading up the stairs.

Mrs. Nakahara then caught sight of her youngest daughter Kyouka who was lounging at the dining table, reading a book.

“Oh, my dear Kyouka!” She exclaimed. “Why is there no ribbon in your hair?”

“The ribbon is an unnecessary addition, it takes the attention away from my braids.” Kyouka stated.

“We have no time to spare for your stubborn attitude! Come, bring the ribbon, I suppose I’ll have to tie it on for you.”

Kyouka turned to her father who was sitting beside her. He nodded towards her mother, a nod that told her to obey her mother’s wishes. She sighed and closed her book, rising from the chair towards her mother, a displeased look on her face.

Chuuya, the first son of the family beside his younger brother Akutagawa who was currently studying law at a university, walked down from the staircases, adjusting the cuffs of his waistcoat.

“Chuuya, adjust your collar, for goodness sake didn’t your father ever teach you how to properly dress?”

“Ah, I apologize...” He responded, giving a look to his father who also seemed to be taken aback by the aggression of her words.

He headed towards the dining table, and leaned close to his father.

“What has her so vexed?” Asked Chuuya quietly.

“Mr. Sakunosuke, is said to be at the ball, along with his good companion Mr. Osamu.”

Chuuya paused, “Not only Mr. Sakunosuke, but also the nephew of Lady Watanabe are to be expected at the same ball as us! That is unprecedented!”

“Unprecedented indeed!” Interrupted his mother who was pulling at poor Kyouka’s locks of hair. “I have only heard rumors of them! To think that your dear sister is to be introduced to the two of them! My! That’s a dream come true! That is why you must act in grave propriety this evening!”

She eyed Kyouka and Chuuya, “Because if any of you were to cause our family to be looked in ill regard, you should expect no forgiveness waiting for you in the future! Is that understood?”

“Yes, mother…”

Mrs. Nakahara huffed as she finished tying Kyouka's ribbons. “Good, now we must make haste before any of the other ladies catch their eyes! Kouyou, my dear! You must come down at once! Oh, and Chuuya, it is said that the sister of Mr. Sakunosuke is to be there! You must offer her to join you for a dance! You must!”

Chuuya felt a shadow of dread hanging over him, for when would his mother finally realize that he had no interest in taking any woman’s hand in matrimony. His wish was to be a lifelong bachelor and focus on his personal studies and perhaps one day get a well-paid job in journaling. Yes, that was the dream.

Yet, being a man in the household, his mother would never approve of this, it was his duty to carry on the family name. Yet perhaps, he could join in matrimony with a woman for convenience..

Chuuya conversed with a young lady who had approached him first. Her looks were nothing to write home about, neither was her attire. But none of those things mattered in the end, even if she caught the eye of every gentleman in the room Chuuya would still have no interest in her. It also didn’t help that their conversation consisted only of Mr. Sakunosuke.

“How generous of the Sakunosukes to open up their home to us! Truly is one of the most magnificent estates I’ve ever stepped foot in! Have you had the honor of speaking to Mr. Sakunosuke yet? Ah, he is such an agreeable man! We conversed much more than he did with the woman before me! I believe that I can expect to join him in a dance! Oh, Mr. Nakahara, you will find him to be-”

Chuuya watched Mr. Sakunosuke from afar as the maiden continued to babble in his regard. He was undoubtedly a handsome young man, his features complemented his good manners, putting him on everyone’s list to speak to.

He watched as he spoke to none other than his oldest sister, Kouyou. He was unaware of how long they had been conversing, but it seemed to be going more than good.

Kouyou hid her blush with her fan, a smile on her face that nobody could take away. Meanwhile Mr. Sakunosuke didn’t seem to plan on retrieving from the conversation as he continued on.

He was delighted to see his sister so pleased by the company of Mr. Sakunosuke. Yet there was a man beside him that brought his attention away from them.

A tall, fine gentlemen with dark hair whose looks exceeded the ever so dashing Sakunosuke. Chuuya knew the man had to be Mr. Dazai. He was surrounded by three ladies who competed with each other to grab his full undivided attention.

He caused each woman to blush by his words, yet as soon as another lady approached, he completely ignored the women speaking to him. The women glanced at each other before disappointedly walking away.

“How ill mannered!” Thought Chuuya. “To entertain three women and shun them off entirely once another woman comes along!”

The woman that was speaking to Chuuya excused herself from the conversation to speak to another lady.

Gin waltzed over to him from the window seat.

“What has gotten your attention?”

“Mr. Dazai.” He muttered. “Did you witness how he completely disregarded those three women as soon as another woman spoke to him?”

“I did indeed. I have heard that he is quite well-known for that. Entertaining women, yet never speaks a word to them after. Quite a contrast to his friend Mr. Sakunosuke.”

Chuuya looked at her puzzled. “How did you come across that information?”

“You’d be surprised at what you can hear from others' conversations.”

“Perhaps you could have your own conversations sometime.”

“I have no interest in such trivial things.” Huffed Gin.

The orchestra’s slow paced music became much more lively. He watched as Mr. Sakunosuke offered his hand to Kouyou. She accepted it shyly and joined him on the dance floor. Many soon followed, yet Mr. Dazai avoided any potential suitors that he could dance with.

“Seems he appreciated his own company instead.” Chuuya scoffed.

He then saw Mr.Sakunosuke's sister was without company. He decided for the good of his mother to invite her for a dance. She watched him head towards a dissatisfied expression on her face. Yet nonetheless he extended his hand to her.

“Would you allow me to join you in a dance?” He asked.

She hesitated, glancing towards Mr. Dazai who did not acknowledge her in the slightest.

She sighed, “I suppose so…”

During the dance they conversed, yet the conversation’s topic was of another man, Mr. Dazai to be precise.

“I cannot conceive why Mr. Dazai has not invited me to dance! We were both without a partner and we even met eyes! Well… Perhaps I’m being too presumptuous. Perchance his legs are not in the best of shape. Oh dear! If that’s so I will feel awful about my assumptions. You do know… please pardon me but what is your family name?”

“Nakahara.” He replied, wishing that he could change partners soon.

“Well, Mr. Nakahara, you are aware that Mr. Dazai is such a magnificent man. He-”

Chuuya began to drown her voice in with the music, the conversation being of no appeal to him.

Chuuya had danced with a few women before they were all preoccupied by another man. He sat down at his seat, observing his sisters who were still dancing. Mr. Sakunosuke had removed himself from the dance floor and followed Mr. Dazai who was passing by Chuuya.

“Dazai, do you not want to join in for a dance?”

“I do not fancy dancing.”

“I have seen you standing alone the whole night. Is there not at least one girl in whom you’d like to dance with?”

“There is not one girl in whom I’d have the pleasure of dancing with.” Mr. Dazai responded. “Perhaps if your mother had better taste in the women she had invited, I might find some enjoyment in dancing with them.”

“Ah, but you seemed to be in great spirits when conversing with the women here. Do they not give you some urge to dance?”

“I did find speaking to them to be entertaining in the very least. But dancing with them might give them the sense that I find interest in them. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He spoke smugly, a smirk gracing his face. Chuuya had never encountered someone so disagreeable.

Mr. Sakunosuke took a deep breath.

“I am unable to even conceive the way your mind works at times. If you don’t want to cause misunderstanding among the women, why don’t you dance with Mr. Nakahara?”

Chuuya straightened up, surprised by the mention of his name.

Dazai shot him a disgusted look.

“I have no such taste in men.”

“That is not what I am trying to imply. But for God’s sake, it would give me much enjoyment to see you participate in at least one dance.”

Dazai scoffed, “Why should I? To show pity to the fact that not a woman here has shown even the slightest bit interested in him?”

“Dazai-”

They both turned to look back at Chuuya at the sound of a chair being pushed to the side. He stood silent for a moment, before meeting the eyes of Mr. Dazai.

“Would you care to enlighten me in what you mean by tha-”

Kouyou, seeing this, excused herself from the dance floor and rushed to Chuuya’s side.

“Chuuya!” She exclaimed, pulling him back by his arm. “Have you seen the pastries that Mrs. Sakunosuke has set out! We must indulge in some to pay gratitude to her hard work!”

She pulled Chuuya away from the situation. He watched as Mr. Dazai grinned at the sight. He scowled, wanting Kouyou to release her grasp on him, but she did not.

She turned him to face the assortment of desserts.

“Oh, Chuuya! What a delightful arrangement! The raspberry tart looks magnificent! Oh, grab a plate, will you?”

She then leaned close to Chuuya and spoke quietly.

“What ever has gotten into you? You almost made a complete mockery of yourself. What would happen if word were to spread that Mr. Nakahara couldn’t control his emotions and spoke degradingly towards Mr. Dazai. Why, you would be looked down upon with contempt and perhaps our whole family along with you!”

“It is Mr. Dazai that should be looked down upon.” Grumbled Chuuya.

“Do not attempt to redeem yourself! And you better pray to God that mother did not catch sight of the situation!”

“Yes…”

“I hope that I can trust that you will control yourself for the rest of the night. I’d rather not have to watch over you for you are a grown man, not a child!”

She then released Chuuya’s arm and headed to compliment Mrs. Sakunosuke on her desserts. Chuuya stood aimlessly, anger still running through his veins. It was final. Mr. Dazai was the most disagreeable man he had ever met.

“Now wasn’t that the most remarkable ball that we have ever had the honor to be invited to?” Exclaimed Mrs. Nakaraha in the carriage. “Perhaps we may expect more invitations as Mr. Sakunosuke seemed to take notice of our dear Kouyou!”

Kouyou smiled shyly, “Mother, you shouldn’t assume such things!”

“Ah, but did he not speak and dance with you the most out of any other young lady there? I knew my Kouyou would easily entertain Mr.Sakunosuke, I just knew it! As for Chuuya, I saw that you danced a few times with his sister. My goodness! Do tell! What was she like? Did she pay you any interest?”

“She… most definitely did not allow the conversation to come to a halt..”

“Chuuya! Why do you speak with such reserve? Did you not find her to be handsome?”

“She is… handsome, I assume.. Yet her attention was fully taken by Mr. Dazai.”

“Ah well at least I have one child who may become a resident at Netherfield. Perhaps you will come into contact with Mr. Dazai’s sister. I hear she is quite lively which would fit you well!”

Chuuya grimaced at the idea of it.

“Perhaps I would take that into consideration if her brother wasn’t so taxing to be around.”

“Beg my pardon, but what do you mean by that?”

“Did you not see him reject dancing with every woman there?”

“I assumed it was because he had a bad knee.”

“No, it was because no women there stroked his fancy.”

“My goodness… Is this true?”

Gin joined the conversation.

“To add to that he also entertained many women in conversation, yet still offered no one his hand to dance.”

“To think that Mr. Dazai, who is a companion of Mr. Sakunosuke, could act in such a way!”

“Indeed!” Chuuya cried. “And that’s not even the worst of it, he- Ow!”

Kouyou pinched him, giving him a look that told him to retrieve from the conversation.

“Perhaps Mr. Sakunosuke will give him a stern talking to. I can’t imagine that he would allow such behavior.”

“I hope that he does… But it would take effort to change such behavior.” muttered Chuuya.

#dachuu #bungou stray dogs #fanfiction #fanfic #soukoku #dazai x chuuya #soukoku fanfiction

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crossdressingdeath · 4 years

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I know you'll probably disagree with me, but i rlly hate the Cloud recessess ending. It's just....

Those elders killed wwx. The Lans were 100% ready to murder both at Qiongqi path but also at the siege. They see him as the guy who corrupted their precious jade. They all preach righteousness, but the whole madam Lan thing is iffy at best and i do not believe that everyone there fully believes the rules. Hell, i have a special bone to pick with the " do not gossip" rule, seeing as gossip had been the main info route for women in patriarchal societies.

I just don't think that after wwx killed Lans in the siege they'd be all that willing to forgive him and take him in w open arms. The juniors and kids love him, yes, but people who saw the war....

Not to mention the whole " do not speak to WWX " rule. I've seen ppl say it's a joke but it's On The Wall. It's supposed to be followed. Even if it was intended as a joke - which i don't believe - it's very cruel for someone w rejection and trust issues.

I also hate it from a very personal perspective. I see Wwx as ND, and, as an ND myself, all those rules terrify me. From the no running and the proper posture ones, i can pretty well imagine they forbid stimming. The Lan curfew would fuck anyone with insomnia and there's smth deeply ucked up abt the " do not grieve in excess". I get that they're supossed to be a paragon of the best things at all time, and that LJY is very UnLan like, but for someone w anxiety who CAN'T follow those rules, it would be a nightmare.

...Some points:

First, the Lan elders did not kill WWX, nor did they attack him unfairly. They weren’t looking at him as the man who corrupted LWJ, either, or at least that wasn’t their primary concern (I will never forgive CQL for suggesting they were or it was); they were looking at him as a traitor to the sects who was raising an army to destroy them. Remember, that is the information the Lans had. Every source they had except for LWJ (who the people he would have gone to would have known was biased and who presumably everyone knew had recently been in close contact with WWX where he could have been manipulated or enchanted in some way), sources which included multiple sect leaders (one of whom was WWX’s brother) and LXC’s dear friend, swore up and down that WWX was a major threat, and let’s face it, WWX didn’t do much to dissuade people from thinking that! Acting like the Lans were maliciously targeting WWX is doing them something of a disservice, I’d say. They acted based on the knowledge they had available; note how the Lans are the first to offer WWX their help once they’re given reason to believe he may not be a villain! And even aside from that, saying they killed WWX (and not JGS and JGY’s manipulation or JC’s army) feels a bit like scapegoating, honestly. Of the four sects, the Lans are quite possibly the least responsible for WWX’s death. If it would hurt him to live with or around anyone who held any responsibility for his death his only option would be to live as a hermit, which would be far worse for him. And yeah, the Lans aren’t perfectly righteous all the time and some morally dubious things have been done by Lan sect members; they’re human, after all! Some of them will only be as moral as their sect leader demands they be! That doesn’t mean the sect as a whole is bad, especially with LXC, LQR and LWJ in charge. Certainly I’d say they’re still better than the other sects, all things considered. One ambiguous situation that may or may not have involved some members of the previous generation doing some fucked up shit doesn’t mean WWX would for sure be mistreated!

As for gossip... there’s a difference between sharing information and gossiping. There’s no evidence that the Lan women are blocked from... y’know, freely communicating and sharing information between themselves. We have no reason to believe they are reliant on gossip. Also they presumably go out night hunting just like the men? Men and women are kept separate in the Cloud Recesses, but I get the sense that that’s more like... school stuff than anything else. The women aren’t exactly locked up, they can be cultivators! The society is still sexist, but that doesn’t mean they’re kept from going out and doing things. And I need to make this clear: there is a fair chance that the rule against gossip saved LWJ’s life, because it kept word of him defending WWX from the sects from spreading to people who would not be willing to let bygones be bygones. Gossip sucks! It hurts people! A lot of this story (and more to the point the suffering of the characters within the story) happens because of gossip! The Lans banning gossip is pretty clearly supposed to be a good thing, I’d say.

And yeah, maybe after WWX killed a bunch of their sect the Lans wouldn’t accept him with open arms as if nothing ever happened! And that’s fair! I can’t imagine where WWX could go where that wouldn’t be the case, unless he and LWJ chose to abandon the cultivation world forever. But you know what else the Lans won’t do? Try to execute him. Or from what we see in the extras even dwell on the past that much. No, the Lans aren’t going to immediately forgive WWX and bring him into the fold without a moment’s hesitation, but you know what? They accept his marriage to LWJ! They let him supervise the juniors on night hunts! They consider him part of their sect! Honestly, that is all WWX can really ask and far more than he’d get from any other sect. There are consequences for what WWX did, even though he wasn’t the villain or necessarily trying to hurt anyone, and frankly people not being entirely comfortable with his presence is very much reasonable.

The “do not speak to WWX” rule may not be a joke, but it’s also pretty clearly not a serious rule. No one takes it seriously. The juniors (the only people WWX really talks to anyway aside from LXC and LWJ) only pay it the minimum lip service of talking to him off the path. WWX himself sure as hell doesn’t care! He clearly finds it pretty damn funny. And I don’t think a guy who has never liked him once again proving he does not like him (in a way that is clearly temporary given how later LQR invites WWX to the Lan family banquet with... reasonable amounts of grace, thereby implicitly accepting him as LWJ’s husband and therefore his own family by marriage) counts as a rejection or a breach of WWX’s trust? Like, LQR has literally always hated WWX. He isn’t preventing WWX and LWJ from spending time together or shutting WWX out of the Cloud Recesses or even making a concentrated effort to keep people from talking to him; he’s venting his frustrations, but if he really intended to block WWX from taking part in life in the Cloud Recesses he would’ve done a hell of a lot more than just make a rule who no one WWX likes follows anyway. It’s a temper tantrum, that’s all, and clearly that’s what WWX takes it as. I mean, if nothing else you can’t ban people from talking to the sect heir’s spouse indefinitely. That’s just not sustainable.

As for the rules... banning people from running in the Cloud Recesses and demanding proper posture during lessons doesn’t suggest to me that they wouldn’t allow stimming? ‘No running’ at least is a common rule... most places. It’s distracting, and can be dangerous. And the rule about sitting properly doesn’t mean “Don’t move at all ever”; it means... well, “sit properly”. Don’t slouch or sprawl across the floor. I see no reason why that wouldn’t preclude means of stimming that wouldn’t be disruptive (and given this is in a classroom environment “not disruptive” is kind of important). I mean, those rules certainly don’t suggest that they’re any worse than other sects, and given this is the sect that has magic music for calming people’s minds if any sect would give allowances for neurodivergence it would be this one. Also I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a song to put people to sleep, or medication that can help; this is a world with magic, after all, and if there’s a song that can put spirits to rest there are probably songs for human medicine and care. And of course there’s an element of conflicting needs; maybe the rules would screw you over, but frankly firmly enforced rules keeping people from running around or sprawling out of their seats would’ve been a godsend for me in school, given how much trouble I had focusing with people making noise around me. At the end of the day, is it guaranteed that the Lans would make allowances for people with needs that conflict with the Lan rules? No. But I’d argue it’s more likely that they would than any other sect. This is ahistorical fantasy ancient China, too; you can only expect so much in the mental health department. Still, a sect that literally invented magic music for calming the mind actually seems like the best choice for people with anxiety and such. There’s a reason why there are multiple fics that essentially set the Lans up as mental health experts in the setting!

Basically, a lot of your arguments seem to be issues that WWX would have in any sect. Unless he wanted to give up on the support of a sect altogether, they’re all things that he would have to work through or come to terms with. And of course... the most important point is that WWX is happy in the Lan sect. The extras make that clear. He has a home, duties that he enjoys performing, the love of his family and the support of his sect. He’s happy. I just... I do not understand why people keep feeling the need to try to make it angsty when the novel makes it clear that he genuinely enjoys his life in Gusu, and more than that that if he ever decided he didn’t enjoy it he could leave at any time. You have to remember that: if WWX wanted to leave... he would. He and LWJ would just go, and only come back occasionally so that LWJ could visit his home. Hell, LWJ would insist on leaving for WWX’s sake. So like... the Lan sect wouldn’t suit everyone, but WWX is quite content there and doesn’t want to leave. He’s happy and free to come and go as he wishes; there really isn’t anything to be concerned about there.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #anon #asks

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besanii · 4 years

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shattered mirrors 49

WangXian ; 1729 words

The low table by the window catches his eye the moment he walks into the room. It stands a little over knee height and a metre in length, with flowing clouds engraved along the edges of the paulownia wood; the slip of light blue silk draped across the top is embroidered with silver characters he recognises as musical notations for the guqin. The instrument itself is missing, but he knows instinctively the owner of the instrument without confirmation.

He allows himself a small smile as he traces the notations on the silk until he hears footsteps in the corridor and retracts his hand quickly; moments later, Lan Wangji walks into the room. A young man follows a step behind, carrying the guqin in its white wrappings on his back. Wei Wuxian dips his knee in welcome.

“Wangye,” he says, lowering his gaze. “Welcome back.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji greets him in that stubborn way of his, refusing to call him anything but with the name he had long discarded. “Have you been well?”

Hands slide beneath his elbows to help him to a standing position; he raises his eyes to meet Lan Wangji’s through his lashes and offers a sweet little smile.

“Xian-er is very well today, thank you very much for asking, Wangye,” he replies demurely. “Please, have a seat. I’ll pour the tea.”

One of the large hands at his elbow shifts to his back, its gentle pressure guiding him over to the larger table in the centre of the sitting room. He shies away as Lan Wangji moves closer to help into the seat, masking the way his breath hitches with a soft laugh when his fingers trail over the sensitive skin of his palm, instead reaching for the tray at the centre of the table. Lan Wangji holds himself still as Wei Wuxian moves away, his fingers curling into fists and lowering back to his side; he sinks into the seat quietly and keeps his eyes fixed on the cup that is placed before him.

The sharp fragrance of the tea is immediately familiar, as is the light hue of the tea itself in the fine ceramic cup.

“Wangye seemed to enjoy the Longjing we served on your last visit, so I took the liberty of serving it again,” Wei Wuxian explains when he notices the focus of Lan Wangji’s attention. “I hope I have not been too presumptuous.”

“No,” Lan Wangji says. “Not at all.”

Wei Wuxian smiles as he takes his seat beside him, the folds of his pearl-grey robes settling around him with a sigh. It is not a colour he usually wears, but the material was a gift from one of his wealthier clients and he had been insistent on seeing him wear it—afterwards, well…it would have been a shame to waste a beautiful set of robes. He turns his attention instead to the young man hovering just inside the doorway, turned away from them politely, the guqin resting on the floor in front of him, held up between his hands.

“What have you brought with you today, Wangye?” he asks.

“I thought we might have some music,” Lan Wangji says, raising a hand. “Jingyi.”

The young man jumps at being addressed out of the blue and turns to Lan Wangji with a quick bow before carrying the guqin over to the small table. The care with which he unwraps the instrument is offset by the way his eyes dart back and forth between his task and Wei Wuxian with interest; Wei Wuxian inclines his head politely in his direction when their eyes meet and he flushes, fingers fumbling over the tassels as he sets the guqin on the table. The thud it makes is loud enough to make the poor boy wince and Lan Wangji’s eyes narrow, but the task is otherwise completed without further issue and he backs away quickly.

“Wangye,” he says with a low bow. Lan Wangji inclines his head.

“Thank you, Jingyi, please leave us.” He turns back to Wei Wuxian as the boy leaves the room quietly. “Please excuse him, he is…excitable.”

Wei Wuxian laughs softly. “He is still very young, Wangye.”

“He is old enough to learn the values of restraint,” Lan Wangji replies with a frown. “And he carries the name of the Imperial family. He would do well to learn the lesson early.”

A twinge of sadness passes through Wei Wuxian at those words and for a moment he looks at Lan Wangji and sees the seventeen-year-old boy behind the man, tall and proud and so very lonely. Once upon a time he had hoped to chase away the loneliness in those eyes, had promised to never leave his side—but the promises of children have always been foolish, and they are so very different from who they once were. But regret is an emotion he prefers not to dwell upon, so he laughs again and rises from his seat to inspect the guqin.

“This is a very fine instrument,” he says admiringly. “Is it yours, Wangye?”

The instrument is carved from the finest paulownia wood in the simple, elegant Zhong Ni style, with blue clouds curling across the smooth, dark lacquer on either side of the strings. There is the tiniest of dents in the lacquer just above the bridge, no bigger than the tip of a hairpin, that catches his eye—a pang of recognition makes his heart clench, and he passes over the spot quickly in favour of plucking the first string. A clear, mellow note rings out from the guqin.

“Yes,” Lan Wangji replies, watching him carefully. “It has been passed down in my family for generations.”

But you already know this, goes unsaid.

“I have long heard the qin of the Gusu Imperial Family are unmatched in all the kingdoms,” Wei Wuxian says, feigning ignorance with the lightness of his tone. “Er-wangye especially. I confess my own skills are sub-par in comparison.”

“You play?” Lan Wangji asks, surprised. Wei Wuxian looks at him with a playful little smile.

“Only very little,” he says with a hint of embarrassment. “I would not dare to compare myself to someone as talented as yourself, Wangye.”

“I would love to hear you play,” Lan Wangji tells him. The sincerity in his voice makes his heart ache. “If you are willing, of course.”

Wei Wuxian inclines his head. “If that is your wish, Wangye, then Xian-er will display my inadequacy and play a piece for you.”

He shakes out his sleeves and takes a seat in front of the guqin. He adjusts the tuning quickly for his chosen piece, his fingers darting over the strings and the hui with practised ease, each harmonic ringing loud and clear. When it is properly tuned to his liking, Wei Wuxian takes a deep breath and places his hands in position.

The piece he chooses is slow and sorrowful, a song of parting, and he plays each note with careful deliberation: lingering with each downward slide, ending each phrase with a trembling note. It is a piece he knows well and plays often, pouring a little of himself with each new interpretation of the score, coaxing the yearning of the original poem from silk strings against fine wood. When the last note fades into silence, he releases the breath he had been holding, the ache in his chest petering with the music. Only then does he dare to look up at Lan Wangji.

“Yangguan Sandie,” Lan Wangji murmurs. There is an odd light in his eyes Wei Wuxian cannot place. “Why did you select this piece?”

“It is one of my favourites, Wangye,” Wei Wuxian says, resting his fingers lightly on the strings. “I will admit it is one of the simpler pieces, but the merit of a song should lie in the feelings it evokes in the listener rather than the complexity of the technique—wouldn’t you agree, Wangye?

“‘The fragrant wine is limited, but this regret is boundless’,” he continues, when Lan Wangji does not answer. “‘Boundless grief, grief, and grief again.”

He lowers his eyes and draws his hands back into his lap. His chest feels hollowed out, empty, and he is grateful for the table’s edge that hides the way his hands tremble. Perhaps it had been the wrong piece to play, he thinks in the wake of Lan Wangji’s silence, he should have picked something livelier instead of a song of the yearning, heartbreak and sorrow of farewell—

“‘After today’s parting, in both places our mutual yearning will grow’.” His heart stops at the sound of Lan Wangji’s voice, deep and warm and gentle as he murmurs the words. “‘But to whom can we speak them?’”

The words hang in the space between them, weighted with meaning. Wei Wuxian stands up, heat rising to his cheeks as his heart thrums in his chest; he moves over to the open window in a bid to hide his face, careful to keep his movements casual despite their swiftness. Lan Wangji remains by the guqin table, watching him silently, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“The song is one of your favourites,” he says thoughtfully. Wei Wuxian curses himself internally for giving even that little fragment of information away. After a pause, Lan Wangji exhales. “It has also brought me great comfort over the years.”

Wei Wuxian forces himself to laugh, turning around to face Lan Wangji again.

“Now that I have demonstrated my mediocre abilities on the qinin front of a great master such as yourself,” he says, pitching his voice higher as he smiles. “I believe it is your turn, Wangye.”

Lan Wangji hums.

“I am no master at the craft,” he disagrees, taking the seat Wei Wuxian has vacated. “Merely one who is dedicated in its practice.”

“Begging your pardon, Wangye, but I have heard very differently,” Wei Wuxian tells him with a teasing smile. The flirtations come easier now that his heart has settled again, and he is able to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes with his usual humour. “I am very honoured to be able to have Hanguang-wangye play for me personally.”

Lan Wangji smiles, his eyes already turned to the guqin.

“If it pleases you to hear it,” he says quietly, “I will play for you every day.”

Notes:

hui - the note scales on the guqin (similar to frets on a guitar), marking places of positive integer dividends of the string length

Zhong Ni style - one possible shape of a guqin. It is the one I’ve found most similar to Wangji as it is drawn in the donghua

Yangguan Sandie (阳关三叠) - Three Refrains on Yang Pass, a song inspired by a poem by Wang Wei that laments the parting of friends [ WATCH ON YT: / watch?v=nHNdgfoxvvo ]

Master Post is here: /shattered-mirrors-master-post

// buy me a ko-fi : besanii //

#wangxian #mdzs #shattered mirrors au #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #shattered mirrors fic #my writing #wei wuxian #lan wangji #Xian-er arc #featuring Wangji the guqin #阳关三叠 is one of the first pieces i learned on the guqin #and i have a special love for it #so yeah #sorry for the long delay between updates #my brain has not been working lately

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

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Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 22 - Year 2: June

(ao3 link)

Qui-Gon Jinn’s funeral had been a somber affair populated by an extraordinary assortment of people that hastily filled the simple wooden seats that decorated the field just beside Hogwarts. Most of whom, Obi-Wan Kenobi found he did not know, but each seemed set on honoring the man who lay peacefully at the hearth of the pyre that had yet to burn. It had been his wish to be buried at Hogwarts, where he dedicated himself entirely and touched so many lives in the process. Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised to realize this, but it made it harder to forgive himself as his other professors insisted he must. He couldn’t help but feel that he had failed all of these strangers, who did nothing to warrant losing such a renowned wizard before his time.

Of course, he was also surrounded by those he knew. His parents weren’t in attendance, but most affluent families of the pureblood community weren’t. He hadn’t even bothered to tell them he was going, though surely they’d learn soon enough since mortality was not enough to ward off the influence of the press. He found he did not care either way.

Anakin sat to his left and Satine to his right with Cody and his whole line of brothers on her other side. Her hand had never left his, serving the necessary purpose of grounding him during the ceremony. Otherwise, he wasn’t positive he’d stay lucid during the various speeches commemorating Qui-Gon and that only would have been another stab of guilt for him to resurrect later.

There was not a dry eye in sight for each professor’s traditional tribute to their fallen colleague and friend, save for Obi-Wan and the daze he found himself trapped in. Professor Ti went on about his caring and inquisitive nature through his rants about muggle objects, while Professor Sifo Dyas rambled about a time Qui-Gon had saved him from the Whomping Willow. Professor Plo reminisced about their shared love of tea and Professor Palpatine on his determination and wit to finish crossword puzzles. Professor Windu’s had been surprisingly warm and heartfelt despite his typical tendency to disagree with Qui-Gon on a daily basis. It seemed, in the end, that's why they got along so well. They accepted their misgivings and their differences.

It was a tranquil first day of June- neither too hot nor chilly with its wide display of clear sky that met somewhere in the middle with the black lake to create one expanse of blue in the center of the horizon. The emerald grass that stretched over the hills like a snug blanket coupled with the soft chirping of birds in the distance made for it to all be picturesque at face value. It all felt balanced.

Headmaster Yoda, who was welcomed back almost immediately by demand of the entire staff and student body, stood with a lit torch at hand that even from his row, Obi-Wan could see the deep sadness that reflected in his eyes as he stared at the flickering flames.

“Student, colleague, friend of mine… Qui-Gon Jinn was.” Yoda’s deep brogue seemed to rumble in his little green chest more than usual as his words seemed caught in his throat. His long ears dipped down as he cast his eyes across the sea of people who sat with bated breath over what the Headmaster would say in tribute of the man that still lay untouched by anything except the sun. “Miss him, I will.”

Everyone could resonate with that.

“But gone, he is not.” He said finally, “Lives, his spirit and message do. In all of us, we must find him. In class, at home, in our hearts. Never far do the dead go, not when they leave so many of us behind. Sad, we will be, for a space there is left.”

Everyone’s attention was directed to the ceremonial empty golden chair that was positioned at the front of the field next to Mace Windu, Shaak Ti, and Sheev Palpatine.

“Fight til the end, he did, and do the same we must, every day. In class, at home, in our hearts. Fight to maintain and sustain the light he cast, we must.” He raised the tip of the torch to the wood at the edge of the pyre and quickly, it was engulfed in flames, “Burn, the fire and spirit of his life will for all of eternity. Keep us warm, it will, as well as guide us in times of darkness that lie ahead.”

Without any choreography indicating otherwise, Mace Windu stood to his feet and raised his wand, casting a small white glow at the tip. As if sensing the need to highlight such a gesture, a singular cloud hovered over the bright sun that would otherwise drown out any other light. The other two Heads of House followed suit as well as Yoda in tow. The audience, with a domino effect, each individually raised their wands triumphantly.

Obi-Wan felt a tug on the sleeve of his other arm and looked down to meet the glassy eyes of Anakin Skywalker.

“What happens to me now?” He asked quietly, hardly above the wisp of wind that fluttered across the grassland.

“You will still become a wizard, I swear.” Obi-Wan said with more sincerity than he likely had any right giving, “I’ll look out for you.”

While it wasn’t an answer on where he would be at the official close of the school year, it seemed to placate him enough to silence any further questions for the time being. This was just as well to Obi-Wan, who was content with the agonizing silence that had come over the crowd and allowed him not to face anymore people that he’d failed.

He did his best to beat the crowd back to the castle, even slipping from Satine and Cody, who were talking to Cody’s older brothers. While he liked the presence of the Fett’s, Obi-Wan was not in the mood to entertain.

In his aimless grief, he’d wound up at Qui-Gon’s office, which was poignant to say the least. As he ran a hand across his desk and glanced up at the array of books that filled the shelf across from him, he absently wondered how often he’d come here when he felt he was drowning too deeply in his own thoughts. How often had the man, who now had his own commemorative portrait near the Great Hall, saved him from himself? And what would he say now?

No answer from Obi-Wan would be sufficient, so he left the internal thought untouched and opted to sift through the book that still sat open on his desk. He promised himself he’d leave it just as he found it in some convoluted attempt at preserving his final quiet moments, but was curious what he’d been reading.

It was a yearbook from while Qui-Gon was at school. The page had been opened to a bunch of class pictures, which true to form with anything in their community, the pictures were moving. Most concerning, was that Maul was on this page, bearing all of his teeth during his photograph in a way that a canine might exert dominance. It probably should have been jarring to see a picture of the man he’d murdered in defense of Obi-Wan’s de facto father figure, but all Obi-Wan could feel was an unsteady sadness.

Qui-Gon would not want him to feel hate or hold a grudge. Maul was gone and wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again and that was the point Qui-Gon would fixate on.

If everything was supposed to be balanced, why did Obi-Wan feel so unsteady?

“I should have known I’d find you here.” Satine’s voice instantly interrupted his thoughts.

He tried to manage a shrug, “Just catching up on some light reading.”

As she practically glided across the floor towards him, Obi-Wan admired her, even in his dismal state, and how put together she always managed to look. She, like him and most others, wore all black. In her case, a long sleeve black skater-dress with matching floral stockings and shiny flat shoes. Her hair was half-up and half-down in long blonde tresses that curled in sweet waves down the length of her back. He wasn’t sure if it was the contrast from the darkness of her outfit or the fact that she’d been crying earlier, but her eyes had never looked so piercingly blue before this moment.

She rested a hand on the back of the chair at which he sat and peered over his shoulder. He could feel her tense beside him, but could do nothing to offer any real condolence other than a shared look of sympathy.

“It was sitting open on his desk.” He answered her silent question, “Do you think they knew each other? Beyond what he’s said in the past, that is.”

“If he was searching for answers in a yearbook, I find it doubtful that it was a close bond.” She said and lifted the book to catch the year, “Qui-Gon was only a second year when Maul was in sixth.”

That was the same age gap between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Unsure why that thought floored him so, Obi-Wan forced himself to remain focused on the facts at hand.

“This is the year Maul killed that girl.”

“The only minor to ever be convicted of first-degree murder in the history of the Wizengamot.” She said quietly and while he first thought he was just hearing things, he couldn’t help but notice how her voice caught on convicted as if there were others gone untouched by the trenches of history. Maybe there had been, but the sullen look on her face as she stared down at the young picture of Qui-Gon distracted him once again. He certainly didn’t see it fit to remind her that Maul hadn’t actually been caught and tossed away until years after he was convicted.

“We always used to come here for answers.” She said and she leaned on the edge of the desk, taking in the entirety of the classroom as though for the last time, “And often left with more questions. I suppose it’s only right this mystery not be completely put to bed.”

“And you’re alright with that?” He asked, unsure if he was asking for himself or for her.

She breathed out a sigh, “What choice do we have on the matter?”

She had a point. It wouldn’t change anything. The heaviness in Obi-Wan’s chest felt nearly unbearable for that moment, but he sucked in a breath and walked around the desk to join her. They sat so close they were nearly touching, but not quite. In a way, he never felt farther from her.

“Qui-Gon always said that a curious mind was a happy one.” He pointed out.

“But we must be careful which avenue we point our questions,” She countered without a trace of bite to her tone, “And decide when it’s wisest to ask them. Or if it’s wise at all.”

“If we do everything with the intent of being wise, then that negates all wisdom.” He debated and similar to her, lacked any momentum.

“But at some point,” Satine turned to look at him, “You need to ask yourself if you’re searching or deflecting.”

“That’s not something Qui-Gon ever said.” He whispered, simultaneously afraid to continue staring at her and to look away.

“No, but perhaps he needed to.” She said just as quietly and considered him under a scrutiny that instinctively made him shift, “You haven’t even cried since it happened.”

“I’m not much for crying.” And even as he said it, he knew he sounded like a cardboard cutout of a person rather than his true self.

“Well nobody likes crying, Ben.” She shook her head, “But mourning loss is a necessary part of life. It’s not healthy to bottle everything up inside.”

Obi-Wan could think of a floor-length list of emotions that have been welled up inside him for quite some time- some good and some bad, but all gone unexplored beyond what crept into his dreams at night.

“I know.” He said stiffly and diverted his attention to the floor, “But I’ve got bigger things to worry about than my feelings right now, Satine. Anakin is essentially homeless now since they’ve still yet to find his mother.”

“I heard the promise you made him.” She said.

“And I intend to keep it!” He asserted harshly, standing to his feet and putting some distance between them, “I promised Qui-Gon.”

“What?” She asked, sliding off the desk, but staying in place.

“After the Maul fight,” He breathed in, trying to ground himself from trembling at the thought of the memory, “His dying words were that I promise to look after Anakin. That he will save us all!”

Though his vision was becoming slightly blurry as he regarded Satine, the overwhelming sadness in her eyes as she stared at him openly without barring any of her feelings was what made him feel suddenly as though he’d been shoved underwater.

“I’m not sure who that puts more pressure on.” She said hoarsely, “You or Anakin.”

“You can’t tell Anakin this.” He said, “He’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, he’s not the only one.” She admonished and stepped across the room to stand before him. Even if he wanted to back away from her, he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m fine.” He said softly, if only to appease the worry that worked its way between her brow.

“No you’re not.” She insisted as she drew closer, “And nobody expects you to be.”

“I have to.” He croaked, “Anakin-”

“-Needs you, I know.” She said, but although she admitted what he had previously insisted, he knew it never came without a caveat, “But you need people too, because you lost someone very dear to you.”

He opened his mouth and closed it, but found he didn’t really want to reject what she was saying, not when her tentative hands reached up and pulled him into a hug that felt like coming home. Or at least, what he imagined that was supposed to feel like.

He rested his chin on her shoulder as the embrace continued and released a sigh as he finally put to words what troubled him most, “I feel like I failed him.”

“I know.” It wasn’t dismissive in the slightest either, but as though she truly had known all along that this was what raked his mind at the late hours of the night since the moment his former mentor fell before him. It was because of how resolute she sounded that he started to believe her when she said, “You didn’t.”

After a long beat of just floating like that, he finally pulled back to look at her. Her arms were still hung over his shoulders and the gaze she fixed him with was still of concern, but it no longer felt like an intrusion. It just felt natural.

“Thank you.” He said a bit awkwardly, because what else did one say in this instance?

She smoothed out his suit whether he needed it or not and loosened his tie a bit, “That’s what friends are for.”

For a brief second, he remembered what he wanted to tell her before and the slight escape of emotional vulnerability was almost enough to send it soaring out of him. However, the remorse that still clung to them in this room felt like the wrong place and the wrong time for such a confession. Nothing like that should be tinged with sadness.

One way or another, they silently ended up sitting next to each other on Qui-Gon’s desk again, this time with legs touching. His remained still while hers swung forwards and backwards.

He took her hand gently, stirring her from her own heavy thoughts, “Headmaster Yoda asked that I help sort through some of Qui-Gon’s stuff. Closure and all that.”

She sniffed, but didn’t quite give way to any tears, “That’s a lot just for one person.”

“I’d be open to a little help.” He said, hoping she would take the bait.

She did, “Someone has to keep you from breaking everything.”

He scoffed, “That was one time.”

“And he never knew.” She said.

“Oh, he definitely knew.” He snorted, “Knowing him, he always knew.”

Qui-Gon Jinn knew a lot about many things and had passed on as much knowledge as time allotted to the very fortunate Obi-Wan Kenobi. Every silly and simple trinket seemed to evoke some piece of wisdom from the deceased wizard, but one that seemed louder than the rest came when Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted to a sprig of mistletoe that was held under a glass display- enchanted to never wither.

“You need to live your life.”

Satine leaned her head on his shoulder, “I’m going to miss quarreling with you in this office.”

He chuckled, “Something tells me the next professor in here won’t be quite as accepting of our constant intrusions.”

“We’ll have to find another space to rip each other apart,” She sighed wistfully, “The next professor has big shoes to fill.”

“Yeah,” He snorted, “Literally and metaphorically.”

“I’ll miss him.”

He nodded against her head, “Me too.”

“There you lot are!” Cody’s voice echoed abruptly through the corridor, startling both Obi-Wan and Satine away from each other in earnest. Off of this reaction, their friend grinned wryly. “I just came to tell you the food is out! I’ve never seen such a spread before in my life.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Obi-Wan chuckled and it actually felt legitimate for the first time in days, “What ever would we do without you?”

“Get into more trouble, I’m guessing.” He said, but his features softened a bit as he looked at the two of them, “Everything alright?”

Satine smiled lightly and tugged Obi-Wan by the hand out the door, which was for the best, seeing as he would never leave without her gentle prodding, and linked her other hand with Cody’s. “We will be.”

And that was an answer Obi-Wan could deal with. He only looked back once at Qui-Gon’s now vacant office, but settled his stare straight ahead and allowed himself to sink into the idle and comforting chatter that his friends naturally engaged in. He felt Satine squeeze his hand as they approached the Great Hall, as though silently asking if he was ready to face the masses and he returned the gesture in kind.

The rest of his life started today.

***

Anakin was told on numerous occasions by countless individuals that it would do him some good- being outside and enjoying the fresh air. Objectively, it was a gorgeous and quiet day, but any of its beauty was lost on Anakin as he pondered the growing uncertainty of his future. First, it had been his mom and his entire world had been shaken. The only pieces that had been slid into place was that he was to continue attending school at Hogwarts thanks to Qui-Gon. However, with no one to care for him and a strict policy against allowing students to stay for the summer, even that was laid to dust as well as someone who became important to Anakin in a short period of time.

He kicked a stray pebble as he walked the courtyard. It felt strange to linger around the grounds of the school without fear or risk. In a sense, it felt like the entire year was lost to Maul. And worst of all, he never did get the closure he desired on the whereabouts of his mother.

He tightened a fist and stared at the horizon. Repairs for the exterior to Hogwarts were still ongoing after Qui-Gon’s funeral. The bridge at which Maul fell was still sectioned off as it was deemed unstable and still being used for the purpose of investigations. No one tried to walk it anyway. The canyon beneath was already developing rumors of being haunted since a body had yet to be recovered.

Anakin was beginning to understand that no scary story could be worse than what he was living. Obi-Wan was, of course, hovering like he feared Anakin would go throw himself off the tip of the castle and dance around the topic that lingered above them. He’d made a promise to ensure Anakin would be a wizard and continue going to Hogwarts- a promise that Anakin knew he had no business making, but still held onto. What other hope did he have, after?

The kids who he believed were once his friends and then turned on him- Ferus Olin and Jax Pavan to name a couple- now looked at him with such pity that they didn’t even warrant him safe for teasing. Even Sebulba was laying off of him!

And it was more infuriating than anything else. He just wanted something to be mad at, to lash this growing fury that was rising in his throat like bile. He wanted someone to blame and he didn’t even have a clear answer to that. He’d seen Maul enter his house, but his mother had already been gone. Whatever disaster he caused had been after she left.

He shivered.

No, that wasn’t right. Taken. She would never leave Anakin willingly, even if someone wanted him to believe that. Maul had no reason to lie about taking his mother, not when he so freely killed two of Anakin’s professors and wanted to do the same to him. That left Dooku, essentially, as people who wanted Anakin to suffer. The slimy former professor operated almost purely in deceit and would surely love for Maul to take a fall for his crimes. He’d been training Ventress on how to sneak attack Anakin all year and thankfully, she was terrible at her job or else it might have worked.

He’d let it get into his head that as the Chosen One, he was unstoppable and maybe that was true to a degree, but all it seemed to do was mow down the people he loved. But then, when he tried to go at it alone, people still suffered. Was this not escapable?

He toyed with the necklace still in the pockets of his robes. Did anything he did make a difference? Or was Qui-Gon right about being at will of the fates? It was an awful lot for a 12 year old to take, though he realized with disarming clarity that he was to be 13 in only two weeks’ time. It would be the first year he’d have no one to celebrate with.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” A pacifying voice disturbed his increasingly dark line of thoughts and he was relieved to turn and see Professor Palpatine’s kind eyes looking down at him.

“No, I was just thinking,” He shrugged, “I don’t mind a break.”

He knew under more pleasant circumstances, one of his friends would make a joke about how he usually was on vacation from thinking, but the unspoken jest fell flat. Palpatine gathered the front of his robes as he took a seat on the nearby ledge and patted the spot next to him for Anakin to follow suit.

“I wanted to apologize if it’s felt like I’ve distanced myself from you during such a difficult time. I wanted to offer you the time to properly mourn,” He said and then fixed him with a look that Anakin had grown familiar with over the past semester, “I understand you and Qui-Gon were quite close.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said.

“And it is to my understanding that you haven’t been very vocal with the mind healers that Headmaster Yoda has set you up with.”

No, he hadn’t been. He didn’t even know those people! How was he supposed to bear his heart and soul over losing two very important people in his life? How was he supposed to reconcile that with strangers? Moreover, they would surely judge him for the creeping eeriness that lingered at the perimeter of his heart.

“They wouldn’t understand.” He said, not caring for a moment how helpless that made him sound, “Obi-Wan can talk to them. He’s the one who got to do something about Qui-Gon’s death while I was locked inside the Room of Requirement.”

Palpatine’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, “I did hear that you managed to discover it…”

“Everyone’s been asking me where, but I don’t even know! It just popped up in front of me one moment.”

“You have every right to be quite angry,” Palpatine said, “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy around here for you. Losing not one, but two people in the span of a year would cause anyone, let alone someone as young as yourself, immeasurable grief.”

That wasn’t even factoring in Professor Fisto’s death, which felt a little callous to Anakin.

“And I could understand why you might be upset with everyone, including Qui-Gon Jinn, himself.”

Anakin’s head snapped to Palpatine at his words, mostly because of the gnawing clarity at which they resonated with Anakin’s deepest and darkest thoughts, “Why would I be mad at him?”

“Search your feelings, Anakin,” Palpatine said gently, “You know what I say is true. It’s not something many, even the healers, would understand, because while Qui-Gon did die fighting to protect this school and you, he still left a vacancy at his own misstep.”

Being mad at someone for dying also felt incredibly callous, but Anakin didn’t grow rash or angry at this explanation but somehow… Validated. He loved and cared for Qui-Gon and appreciated everything he did, but in the end, a promise was still broken and Anakin was alone.

“I’m not here to sugarcoat anything,” Palpatine continued, “I don’t believe friends should do that.”

Anakin didn’t think so either, which was part of what was so infuriating about these past couple of weeks. Everyone was trying to be nice, but he was only feeling the lack of authenticity at their smiles that didn’t reach their eyes and their empty promises of support. He’d heard it all before at this point. Now, honesty, regardless of if it hurt, sounded appealing.

“Obi-Wan hasn’t told me exactly how it happened.” Anakin revealed with a heavy sigh.

His professor quirked a white eyebrow, “Understandably, he might never tell anyone, but we can draw the conclusion that Maul got the best of Qui-Gon somehow.”

“I just don’t get it.” Anakin sighed heavily, “Qui-Gon was so invested in the future and the knowledge around it. It seemed like he knew everything.”

“Sometimes adults allow students to perceive their strengths in an amplified matter to give them hope,” He said, “I’ve never believed in doing such a thing.”

Anakin nodded, “It’s felt like everyone’s been doing that all year. At the end of it all, it was a kid who took out Maul.”

“Yes, but not on accident, Anakin,” Palpatine shrugged, “You of all people should understand that a person’s age and stature should have no bearing on how they’re estimated. In the end, young Obi-Wan had something that Qui-Gon did not.”

“What’s that?”

“Obi-Wan was willing to do it.” Palpatine said, “To take that step across the line of light and dark. It’s a careful one to walk, but he acted out of revenge and surely channeled some of his hate and anguish to do so.”

“And that makes you more powerful?”

“When properly used, yes.” Palpatine said, “Qui-Gon never believed in utilizing emotion in magic. He felt it deluded oneself. Dooku taught him that though…”

“And you taught Maul, who was only emotion, so which is right?” Anakin ran a hand through his hair. It was impossible to deny that the anger that Obi-Wan felt and the heartbreak of watching Qui-Gon die surely gave him a boost in power. What was described sounded like something he could never picture regular old Obi-Wan doing on his own.

“Maybe we can discover that together?” Palpatine asked tentatively, “You lost a guardian and I lost a student, regardless of the polarized intentions they had.”

Anakin nodded, “Just as long as I don’t turn out like Maul.”

“No, I don’t think you will, my boy,” Palpatine chuckled, “I don’t think you will be anything remotely like Maul.”

Anakin smiled as he looked up and over at Palpatine. It was a beautiful day and maybe, just maybe, he’d make something of it.

***

Although Obi-Wan couldn’t discount the somber atmosphere that still hovered over the school, it felt a little whiplashing how quickly everyone was to move past the attack on the school and the death of Qui-Gon Jinn. He supposed no one else had, had a front row seat to watch their favorite professor be stabbed right in front of them. Today however, it was almost like the whole thing hadn’t happened at all. It was the final Quidditch match of the year, the previous game, while incomplete, had been handed over to Slytherin per Hufflepuff’s surrender. The Great Hall was filled with excited chattering and enthusiastic yelling. The attention was off of him at least, many hadn’t stopped bothering him for all the gruesome details since the attack, but the excitement in the room made him feel like he was suffocating.

“Perhaps, I’ve ought to go get ready,” He bounced his fork between his fingers as he spared a glance at the doors, “It’s almost time to leave anyways.”

“Ben...” Satine frowned at him. He knew she was concerned, but she was polite enough not to bring it up.

“Right on, mate,” Cody came up behind them, a hand landing on each of their shoulders, “Early bird catches the worm and all that,” The Gryffindor captain wasn’t as eager as he normally would be. Between the attack and how far Gryffindor was down for the Quidditch cup, it was only his love of the sport that kept him optimistic at all.

“I’m not playing today,” Obi-Wan said as he straightened his silverware. Satine seemed to relax at the news while Cody's eyes widened.

“What? You sure?” He asked and Satine shot him a warning look, “Nothing gets my mind off things like being up in the air,” He shrugged, defending his point.

“I’m sure,” Obi-Wan just nodded, “I’d prefer my feet on the ground at the moment,” The last time they hadn’t been was when he’d been dangling off the side of the bridge.

“Well, alright,” Cody relented easily and offered instead, “Wanna walk down with us?”

His eyes caught sight of Anakin lingering in the doorway waiting for Cody, or maybe himself. So he rose from his spot at the table easily.

“You could always sit with me if you want too,” Satine let him know as she blew softly on her tea to cool it down.

“I’ll be expected to be on the benches,” Even if the thought was tempting, “I’ll see you afterwards? Studying?”

Satine nodded at the same time Cody mumbled, “When on earth are you doing anything else?”

He felt Satine’s eyes followed him all the way out the door.

Cody filled the silence with Quidditch tips as the three of them trailed after the Gryffindor team down to the pitches. Anakin had been a little quiet lately, so Obi-Wan was grateful that he had plenty of people surrounding him from his own house. He was sure that the Fett’s and even Padmé likely didn’t let Anakin wallow.

“I’ll try not to knock you out Obi-Wan,” Anakin announced after Cody had finished a rather long spiel of Quidditch related injuries from the past 10 years, “I’ve been told I hit pretty hard.”

He certainly wasn’t lying and as he continued to grow, Obi-Wan was quite sure he would only be stronger, “I think hitting a benched player is considered a foul.”

“It is,” Cody confirmed, but Anakin stopped walking just as they got to the edge of the pitch.

“They benched you?”

“I asked not to play,” Obi-Wan only paused in his stride when Cody did. Anakin’s gaze flicked between the two of them rapidly. Although Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, he was clearly thinking through a few things.

“Should I- Maybe I shouldn’t play either,” Anakin said slowly, “I mean...” He trailed off, clearly thinking. Cody crossed his arms tightly, clearly not liking the idea of his star player being benched, but not willing to deny the request if he was asked.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed grandly. It was so obvious to him that Anakin would enjoy the distraction. Much like Cody, Anakin clearly revered flying as it would likely allow him to clear his head and to work towards a simple goal, “You should play.”

“But I-” Anakin turned, just enough to look off towards where Qui-Gon’s funeral had been held and Obi-Wan tried not to flinch at the thought.

“I’ve never liked Quidditch,” He reminded his mentee, “And although I take pride in my position on the team, they do not need me today,” Nahdar Vebb would do fine just as he always did, “Your team, however, does need you if they have a chance of winning,” Anakin stood a little taller at the thought, looking towards Cody for confirmation.

“Well, it’s always going to be easier with you-” Obi-Wan cut his friend off before he could continue.

“If you really don’t feel like playing I’m sure Cody will find a substitute for you...”

Anakin hesitated, “It’s not that I don’t want to play-”

“If you want to then you should,” He stepped forward, putting his hands on Anakin’s shoulders. Qui-Gon’s final request seemed to echo around in his head, but he ignored it as best as he could, “You’re a fantastic Beater, Anakin. One of the best Hogwarts has seen in my time here,” Anakin’s eyes were watching him, wide, impressionable. Obi-Wan was reminded once again just how young he was, “Ravenclaw will be playing a clean game today. I’m not going to let you in on our strategy, obviously,” He shot a short, pointed look to Cody, “But Gryffindor is going to need all the help they can get.”

“Oh yeah? You’re going down! A lion would eat your bloody bird for breakfast!” Cody caught on to the energy and Anakin shook off Obi-Wan’s hands to go join him.

“Yeah your team has no chance against us!” He had perked up significantly.

“I’d think a raven could outsmart a lion,” Obi-Wan shrugged playfully, “Guess you’ll just have to prove it.”

“Oh we will!” Anakin called as he resumed a swift walk towards Gryffindor’s locker room, “You’ll see.”

“See ya after the game mate,” Cody threw one last wave at Obi-Wan before heading swiftly after the second year.

Obi-Wan shook his head. For now, Anakin was easy to motivate. He could only hope the boy would keep some of that enthusiasm in his later years. He moved to walk towards his team’s locker room when a shadow fell over him.

“How interesting,” Obi-Wan turned slowly to meet the narrowed eyes of his parents, “Lying to your friends in Gryffindor house,” She smiled down at him, but it never reached her eyes, “Unless you were planning on breaking your promises to us.”

“No, of course not,” He answered automatically, “I only thought...”

“You think too much,” His father took a step forward, blocking even more of the light from streaming into the space, “I don’t believe we came all the way down here just to watch you sit pathetically on the sidelines.”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan swallowed the spark of frustration, “Had I known you were coming I-”

“-You should have anticipated it,” His mother told him.

‘You’ve never come before,’ Obi-Wan held his tongue and instead just dipped his head in apology, “I’ll play.”

His mother scoffed as if he’d said something so obvious. She turned to leave and his father gave him one more steely look.

“You’d do well to remember your place,” As if he could see straight through him he added, “Kenobi’s don’t show any weakness.”

He finally turned and followed her out, making their way to the stands. The Ravenclaw team who had arrived just at the tail end of the dispute moved out of their way.

“Alright Kenobi?” Eeth clapped a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, spinning him towards the direction of the locker room.

“Of course,” He responded easily enough, “Say Eeth, could I ask a favor of you?”

He would play, it was the simplest solution. His father was wrong about his reasonings though. Obi-Wan wouldn’t view having loved and lost as a weakness.

***

The atmosphere in the stands was charged with anticipation. Quidditch was always popular with the student body, but now it seemed they were latching onto the sense of normality with an iron fist. Many Ravenclaws had done up face paint and enchanted signs that flashed silver and blue letters cheering on the team. Gryffindor was leading chants from their end of the field and Hufflepuff and Slytherin houses split as the students picked a side. There still weren’t as many students as there should be, practically all those sent home had determined it would be a waste to come back to school for only a few weeks. Ravenclaw was down a few players because of it, and Gryffindor truly should count themselves lucky that their entire starting team was willing to play.

Even so, it seemed as if the stands were full just from the energy pouring out of them. Satine’s eyes were on Ben the moment he had been visible on the field. As if that was particularly out of the ordinary. She would deny such accusations if there were anyone brave enough to suggest anything. The familiarity of the whole thing was enough for her to not notice something was amiss until she realized that Ben was standing alongside his fellow starting players on the field rather than standing at the sidelines with the backups.

She sat up straighter, eyes darting around the field, looking to see if there was anything else out of place or perhaps for the reasoning behind the action. Satine had sat through her fair share of Quidditch matches in the past, but she knew she still didn’t know everything about the sport. Cody and Eeth Koth were sharing a word in the middle of the field. That was the only thing she could say was unusual, but not unheard of.

It wasn’t enough to make her suspicious of anything until Cody turned looking up at the Ravenclaw stands. She frowned, moving to turn around and get a clue as to what he could be so interested in.

“Nothing like the World Cup, is it,” A chilly voice that was unfortunately enough for Satine to recognize caused her to freeze in place and certainly not turn around any further. Obi-Wan’s parents were sitting only a few seats behind her.

“Box seating would be preferable,” Mr. Kenobi mused, “Hogwarts doesn’t show parents the respect they deserve.”

“Do you remember Beauxbaton?” Mrs. Kenobi asked, “They certainly had class.”

“We were there on ministry business,” He scoffed, “They hardly would have shown as much effort otherwise.”

“A pity.”

Satine hadn’t spent much time around the Kenobi’s when they weren’t berating her and her lack of status. Sitting nearly frozen and unnoticed just a few feet away, she could say for sure that they weren’t any more pleasant when left to their own devices. Blessedly, the players took to the air and both of the Kenobi’s lapsed into silence as the game began.

Of course that silence couldn’t have lasted longer than Satine’s patience. Ben hadn’t even done anything and they were quick to open their mouths and spew endless criticism from everything from his form to his choice of broom.

“None of your precision rubbed off on him,” Mrs. Kenobi muttered to her husband as Ben nearly dropped the Quaffle before chucking it hard and fast at the first free chaser, “He should be practicing more.”

Satine grit her teeth, sitting on her hands as they went on and on. Their voices were so abrasive to her own internal thoughts about Ben while he was playing. Where they saw a clumsy hit, she saw the way he considered each move carefully. Where they saw awkward form, she saw the way he was careful to stay on the damned broom. However, even with her own opinions about Ben’s performance, he certainly wasn’t at his best today. He’d let several quaffles through, enough that Eeth was hovering around the hoops nervously. Gryffindor wasn’t easy to beat on a good day and little slip ups weren’t helping.

“It’s like the boy’s never played a day in his life. How embarrassing,” His father scoffed and Satine bit back a stream of choice words and grimaced as Ben missed catching the Quaffle practically right in front of him and instead caught a bludger to the chest. He rolled a few times on his broom. It was enough for Eeth to finally call a timeout and Ravenclaw rushed towards their bench.

Satine, while grateful he was safe and firmly planted on the ground, didn’t like the way his parents made a disapproving noise.

“Ravenclaw’s a soft house,” Mrs. Kenobi spat, “I suppose it always has been.”

“6 years in the sport and he can’t take a hit,” Mr. Kenobi added, “Slytherin would have taught him better.”

“Oh look there,” His mother growled, “He’s got himself benched.”

Mr. Kenobi made an odd sound that Satine had to assume was some sort of laugh, “I can’t blame the captain. What a pitiful performance.”

Satine stewed quietly, unable to take her eyes off Ben or her ears off the Kenobi’s. She tried to reason with herself. Making such a fuss about it wouldn’t do anything to help Ben or her. No matter what she said they wouldn’t listen anyways. Still she found herself slowly turning around eyebrows twitching, mouth opening to give them a piece of her mind.

She only caught the tail end of Mrs. Kenobi’s long robe as she disappeared down the rickety stairs.

So they didn’t even deem the game worth watching if they didn’t have the opportunity to bad mouth their own son at every twist and turn. Satine growled, startling a few first years behind her before she turned back toward the match. Very well. She wouldn’t be able to prove anything to them in words so she would instead prove to them in her continued support.

***

Cody easily dodged a bludger as it rocketed its way back to Anakin. Despite Anakin’s earlier enthusiasm, he was fading ever faster. Cody was tempted to bench him just as Ravenclaw had done with Obi-Wan. Unfortunately Gryffindor needed the edge that Anakin could give them. Not to mention, Cody knew Anakin needed the distraction. He was only 12 and had faced death this year, not to mention he wasn’t yet sure what was going to happen to him when the year ended. It was an awful lot to put on a young boy’s shoulders.

Anakin managed to hit the bludger, but Eeth was able to dodge it just in time. Rush Clovis ended up being at the receiving end of the blow and he looked around wildly for where the thing had come from in the first place.

“Shake it off Rush,” Cody called with a wince. It was bad enough dealing with the other team’s beaters, without also worrying about your own.

“Sorry!” Anakin called, but Cody just waved him off as he moved to intercept the Quaffle. Taking it down the field and sinking it easily past Kenobi’s replacement. Vebb was a good Keeper, but he knew a lot less about Cody than Obi-Wan did.

Cody was nearly knocked off his broom as a flash of blue and silver streaked past him followed nearly immediately by his own team’s seeker, Moteé. They were both moving with speed and precision, trying to knock each other off their brooms in order to claim victory. He saw the glint in Moteé’s eye as she moved to put even more pressure on her broom when he also saw Skywalker raise his bat. Before he could call for Anakin to stop, the bludger was hit, rocketing towards them just as Moteé had pulled ahead.

There was a sickening smack as Moteé spun out, crashing towards the field below. The bludger still managed to clip Ropal sending him pitching forwards into the snitch. He flipped over, but managed to stay in the air with one hand. The other went to his snout where he coughed out the snitch.

“Damn it,” Cody cursed as he dropped to the ground while cheers and blue and silver sparks flooded the air.

“Moteé!” Anakin too had hit the ground, heels practically tearing up the grass as he screeched to a halt, “I’m so sorry! I-” Whether it was from Moteé’s glare or Cody’s warning look, he quickly cut himself off.

“Nasty hit,” Cody knelt down next to her, “I saw what you were doing, definitely a smart move.”

“Would have won us the game-” He hastily cut her off.

“I know,” She was swept away quickly by Madam Nema and a few other professors as Anakin approached Cody nervously.

“Is she okay? I didn’t mean to hit her...”

“She’ll be fine, probably just a concussion,” He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulders, “We’re going to have to work on your intuition some, but everyone makes mistakes,” And when Anakin looked upset he sighed and added, “There’s always next year, kid.”

***

Satine didn’t waste any time rushing down to the field upon Ravenclaw’s win. She wanted to find Ben as soon as possible. He hadn’t wanted to play in the first place and having such a rough game, despite their overall win, wouldn’t do much to improve his mood. She was nearly to the field when she nearly got run over by Cody and the other Gryffindor’s filing noisily back to their locker room.

“Satine?” Cody moved aside, letting his team continue to file past. They were a little more subdued considering their loss, but the game had still been a much needed break, “If you’re looking for Kenobi, he’s not on the field.”

“How do you know I’m looking for him? Maybe I was looking for you,” She crossed her arms, but she glanced out towards the field giving herself away if she hadn’t already been so obvious.

“Oh please,” He grimaced, “I saw them in the stand you know. You aren’t here to sympathize with Gryffindor’s defeat.”

Satine frowned, “I am sorry you didn’t get your win this year-” But Cody waved her off.

“You know what they say, Satine, third time’s the charm. We’ll get you next year!”

“So,” Satine shifted on her feet, “If he’s not on the field...”

“I’m not sure where he went. One minute I’m giving my team a once over the next he’s nowhere to be seen.”

“Ravenclaw Locker room?” Satine suggested and Cody just turned easily in that direction, leading the two of them there.

“I figured he’d run towards the school, library maybe?”

“Well, his parents are hardly willing to enter Ravenclaw spaces, but I wouldn’t put it past them to enter the library if they’re looking for him,” Satine reasoned and Cody hummed in thought.

When they reached their destination, they peeked inside and her suspicions were found to be correct.

The room was empty besides Ben, sitting alone on a bench polishing his broom handle meticulously. Satine figured it was already well done enough to see your reflection in it, but he was always particular.

“Hey,” Cody called, entering first, before Satine could find the best way to break the silence herself, “Congrats on the win.”

“Oh, Cody,” He looked startled by the intrusion, looking past Cody to catch her eye, “Satine,” He smiled at her and she mirrored it with one of her own. He looked back towards Cody, “Thanks, I think I may have hindered us more than helped us. Sorry about the loss,” He offered his sympathy and Cody sat down across from him leaving Satine to drop down right next to Ben.

“Next year for sure,” Cody repeated with conviction.

“I don’t think you did bad at all,” Satine leaned towards Ben, the heat of anger that had been stoked by his parents nearly the whole game resurfaced. He leaned away surprised, “You did really well, you’re a great Keeper!”

“Thank you?” He answered. She was glad he had no idea what she was really getting at, that meant his parents hadn’t found him to complain yet, “I messed up quite a bit today, I definitely wasn’t on my game.”

“Well, you didn’t want to play in the first place,” Cody shrugged and the air between them grew cold as each member struggled to find a foothold in the conversation.

“We still won,” Satine reminded him firmly and he blinked at her before parroting.

“We still won.”

***

Anakin kicked a stone as hard as he could into the lake. He didn’t really want to go back to the common room and face a whole bunch of people he’d just let down. His team didn’t even seem that disappointed, but Anakin felt that maybe they should be. If it wasn’t for him, they may have won the game! Plus if it wasn’t for him a mass murderer wouldn’t have been disrupted the entire school year. He kicked another rock.

“Careful mate,” Rex appeared at the corner of his vision, picking up a smooth stone and flicking it so it skipped across the lake, leaving ripples in its wake, “There’s said to be creatures living in there. I don’t think they’d like to land a rock to the head.”

Anakin sighed deeply, dropping down to the ground, his shoes just brushing the edge of the water, “I can’t believe I lost us the game!”

“Yeah if you were going to take out our seeker, you should have done it earlier. Could’ve given me a chance to play,” Rex joked sitting next to him.

“I could have killed Moteé!” Anakin looked at Rex, guilt swirling around at the thought.

“You didn’t though,” Rex shrugged, “Moteé knew what she signed up for, so did Ropal, so did Cody, so do I. It’s Quidditch mate! It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, but I never expected to be the one causing the danger,” Anakin grumbled and Rex laughed.

“Sorry to say, but I think danger might be in your bones,” When Anakin didn’t respond, Rex punched him in the arm, “Come on, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless it was a fly actively trying to hurt your friends. Sure, Moteé’s a little mad, but you would be too if you’d been knocked around twice in one year. She’ll get over it.”

“I should make her an apology card,” Anakin decided as he flicked a rock into the water, “I’ll leave it on her bedside table while she’s sleeping so she doesn’t try to strangle me.”

“That’s the spirit!”

***

Obi-Wan had been under the misguided impression that once the drama with Maul settled down that he and his fellow prefects would finally earn themselves a decent night’s sleep. Of course, once he’d drawn up those conclusions in his head, he hadn’t factored in the possibility of losing his favorite professor in the process. He never would have thought, even when things were at their worst, that the earth would allow itself to turn without the brilliance that was Qui-Gon Jinn. Even weeks later and for likely longer than he could imagine, he still struggled to sleep at the horrible visions that filled his eyes when he closed them. He wondered how long such a reaction would last and hoped it wouldn’t be for as long as he missed the man, because he would always miss Qui-Gon Jinn.

Satine tried to insist that it was okay to mourn and grieve and he knew she was right. He’d never judge someone else for feeling depressed over losing someone important, but it was harder for Obi-Wan to reconcile this about himself.

If there was one thing that helped take his mind off of the persistent ache that gnawed at his chest, it was the influx of schoolwork. If they were going to be remotely ready for finals, they needed to play a massive game of catch-up. Satine, in particular, still had work to catch up on from the month she’d been frozen in carbonite.

It’s what brought them to tirelessly working on outlines, notecards, study guides, and mock quizzes just about every night in the common room.

He nearly scowled just thinking about how easily Ventress had gotten off for her involvement in that fiasco. She could have permanently disfigured students or worse! She could have killed them and according to Satine, she didn’t seem to care all that much about if she did or not.

She should have been arrested or at the very least expelled, but no, it was simply a year of detention and her losing her prefect status to atone for her crimes. She hadn’t even lost any house points for Slytherin, though that might have been in fairness to the other students of Slytherin house. He had no doubts that her affluent family, or adopted family to be more correct now, had a say in striking up the plea deal.

Since his only source to any real information was gone, he didn’t know what she told them about Dooku. All he knew was that it was apparently enough to be useful.

“I think Yoda believes her more dangerous out there with a vendetta than in school,” Satine’s tired voice interrupted his thoughts and startled as he was, he really shouldn’t have been. He was practically staring a hole in the newly added section about countering carbonite curses. It was taught by Yoda himself and learned during his time away.

“Or he’s afraid what Dooku will do to her if he expels her,” He grumbled and held his quill a little tighter. If he was being honest, the words were starting to blur from the way his eyes glazed over in exhaustion. Maybe, he’d actually get to sleep tonight.

“I mean it’s reasonable,” Satine shrugged, “I don’t want Dooku to hurt anyone, even her.”

That was the admirable thing about Satine. Her consistency with her noble values was something to be revered. Ventress could truly benefit from taking notes. For instance, having morals at all would be a vast improvement.

“I don’t either,” He sighed, “That doesn’t mean I have to like what she did to you… And the others.”

He might have added that a bit too late. He’d been horrified when discovering Rabé in Hogsmeade, but he did guiltily admit that Satine’s freezing was different. So much so, that he wondered if he’d look at the place the same next time he ventured there. So much had been taken away from them this year. Experiences, laughs, people. He was sure this would be a year too heavy to bear had he lost Satine too.

She sighed, “It was truly abhorrent, but it was a bit like waking up when I came out of it. I’d expect the worst part was for all of you who had to sit around and stare at my stony face.”

His tongue grew a bit fat when he thought to comment that looking at her face had never been a problem for him and at his own reluctance to admit: anyone else. Still, all he could think to do was peer over to her forearm, which lay turned facing up on the couch. He could still see the faint little scars of nails that had dug into her arm.

Catching his eyes, she carefully unraveled her sleeve to cover them and he looked at her sheepishly, to which she only shrugged. She might have said it was like waking up, but he had a feeling that getting frozen hadn’t been like falling asleep.

“She still deserved far more than detention.” He said.

“Of course,” She scoffed, “Seems like she’s got quite the chip on her shoulder now, though. She’s been laying pretty low.”

“Even during the match.” He admitted and rubbed his eyes, “I can’t help but wonder if she’s planning anything.”

“Considering how she was dumped by Dooku and left to burn, I’d say it involves turning some of those witchy powers onto him if she can get within arm’s reach.”

“I’ve had enough talk on Sith lords this year,” He yawned, “Maybe next year.”

She snorted dryly, “Yes, I’m sure Dooku will take that into deep consideration.”

“We’ve only got a couple weeks left,” He reminded her and even as awful as this year had turned out being, he couldn’t help but be surprised that it was nearly over. “One more year left.”

“Don’t start,” She warned, “I’d like to at least pass my finals first.”

Now, it was his turn to snort, “Satine, I know we’re tired, but we’re not completely delusional.”

She closed her book and faced him. Her bright blue eyes were bloodshot and struggling with effort to stay awake, “That implies we’re delusional at all.”

“Maybe we are,” He said, “I know you aren’t ever one to hold back when you disagree with one of my less conventional plans. Not to mention your obvious opinions on my possible color blindness.”

“To be color blind, you’ve actually got to mix up or not see certain colors, Ben.” She groaned, leaning her head back at the armrest. “You’ve just got batty taste.”

“I don’t know about that.” He said, pulse quickening. Nothing about this moment quite seemed right, but he’d been delaying in telling her how he felt for far too long. Recently, he’d been shown numerous signs of realizing how short life was. And yes, Cody had been right, delivering the sentiment of telling her how he cared in the form of a card was cowardly and short-sighted.

Telling her at the funeral would have just been plain depressing and any time before that had been consumed with the very real fear that their lives were about to be taken away. He still kicked himself for how he’d parted with her before seeking out Anakin. A kiss on the hand? What was this? A Victorian period piece?

In his defense, that was where he’d gotten most of his exposure to the romance genre.

In between the deftly heady spaces of remorse that clouded his thoughts, he regretted not spewing exactly how he felt or at least properly kissing her to make it clear. Though the prospect of being so forward like that now reddened him to a palpable flame. Now, it felt like a moment had passed between them and though he suspected she had some level of understanding, it seemed she wouldn’t be bringing it up either.

Unless she’d gotten over it- nope! He was not talking himself out of it. They were alone, which was a triumph in and of itself. He’d never want something of this nature to be spoken in front of an audience. They were also considerably peaceful, so much so that he felt like he might actually fall asleep by the comfort of warmth that radiated off her profile. He looked at their hands and how they were only a quick movement from touching. What would she do if he just held her hand?

Maybe, just maybe, this year didn’t have to be so dreadful after all. Qui-Gon’s words about learning to live flowed through him and seemed to finally make sense as he looked over at Satine through lowered eyes. The very least he could do was honor his mentor’s wishes.

“Hear me when I say that you need to live your life.”

“I don’t think I have batty taste at all,” He reiterated after a long pause.

“Is that so?” Satine responded slowly, “I beg to differ.”

“If I had batty taste I wouldn’t be friends with Cody.” He reasoned, “Nor would I have chosen Anakin as my protege.”

“Mmm, perhaps,” She said quietly.

“I wouldn’t have such a preference in dessert or soft animals if my taste was foul and I wouldn’t like all the books you recommend.”

“Unless your tendency to appreciate ugliness is contagious,” She chuckled.

He kept his eyes fixated on the fire ahead, really struggling to look at her as he figured out his way around the sentence that swirled around his brain. It shouldn’t be hard and he knew the stress was him overthinking it. He didn’t dare to dream of the consequences, because he wasn’t sure dreaming was in the cards for him now. Really, all that mattered to him was that it was said and that she knew.

His first step in attempting to truly live was gently taking Satine’s hand in his, interweaving their fingers and admiring at how perfect of a fit it seemed and how soft her hands were. He took the way they immediately curled around his as a good sign as any to continue with what plagued his broken heart.

“Well, I should hope you don’t feel that way,” He winced, “Because… the truly defining reason that I couldn’t possibly have that much of a predilection towards the unseemly is you.”

She didn’t answer right away, but his nerves prevented her from really doing so, “That is to say, I think you’re quite lovely, or more accurately, I think you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever seen or met. Inside and out.”

Because he really didn’t need her thinking he was sitting around drooling over her looks all day, no matter how impressive he found them.

“Because you’re everything I or anyone could ever want. You’re beautiful, brilliant, compassionate, witty, creative… Really, I could go on for so long that I’d need a dictionary of proper words to articulate how in awe I am of you, even without romantic connotation.”

Ugh.

“But there are plenty of romantic connotations, of course,” He coughed, “I wanted to tell you sooner. And the reason that it’s been so hard for me to say that is not because I don’t feel strongly in this regard, but the opposite. It’s intimidating for someone like me, who’d been taught otherwise about passion, but my feelings for you go beyond and within logic, forming what I can only assume is… Love.”

Silence.

Oh, no, had he said something wrong?

He turned his head to brave the consequences of his words, hoping that she would at least be the good sort of speechless. She had kissed him at Christmas. It wasn’t like these conclusions weren’t coming from somewhere. That didn’t stop his head from racing at a mile a minute with other possibilities.

They stilled when he received the sight of Satine Kryze, passed out against over the side of the couch, leaning on the armrest with her full body weight, her hair tumbling over the edge in a blonde waterfall. She was captivating, even in slumber, of course, so he was left in the debilitating and confusing predicament of his heart inflating and deflating.

She hadn’t heard any of it?

He blew out a breath like a balloon releasing air and leaned back. It wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted this moment to go at all. His head was pounding with a headache and he massaged his temples. Okay, he was officially and regretfully scratching out “firelit study session” as a possible setting to express his romantic intentions towards her. He was beginning to feel like some higher power might genuinely have it out for him.

He looked back down at their still joined hands. Any residual disappointment fell away at the sight and he gently and tenderly raised her hand to his lips for a careful kiss. It was nothing like the firm and desperate one he’d parted her with before, but a true promise of hope.

“Another time.” He whispered and without releasing her hand, nestled into the comfortable couch, finding a blanket out of the parchments and books across their laps, and for the first time all month, Obi-Wan slept a fearless sleep.

***

With Quidditch having ended for the year and nothing else to look forward to beyond finals (a truly bleak thought for Anakin), he realized with sharp clarity that this might be the last week he spends at Hogwarts should he never be able to return. While he had previously been depressed, he was filled with a new sense of purpose. He wanted to make it count.

Starting with how he was finally going to get a few things off his chest.

He didn’t walk lightly or quietly past those who pitied him, instead pushing past them with a heavy force of nature propelled by his inner desires finally coming to fruition. Regardless of consequence, he was a Gryffindor fearless and true, and he would be owning up to that title one way or another this year.

He found her sitting surprisingly alone on the front lawn and nearly toppled over a loose root on his way. It was a beautiful day, because apparently Anakin was allowed some small favors by the universe, and would be a lovely setting to deliver the impression he’d truly wanted to.

“Oh, hi, Anakin!” Padmé was one of the few people in this school whose empathy and kindness seemed genuine. It was a tenderness he was unsure he deserved to be on the receiving end of, but welcomed it nonetheless.

“I know you’re studying, so I won’t keep you long,” He sat down on the picnic blanket without waiting for an invitation to join her. If he stopped or paused, he might lose his nerve and if there was anything this fleeting year taught him, it was that there was no glory without guts.

“Okay, what’s up?” She asked him warily, setting aside her History of Magic textbook and crossing her hands on her lap to give him her full attention.

With her staring so openly at him, he nearly got lost in the way the sun made her eyes look golden in their warmth depth. However, the very last thing he wanted was for her to think he was a creep, so he continued onwards with the last remaining gumption he had left.

“I made something for you,” He blurted out, hating that it didn’t sound as impressive out loud as it had in his head when he internally rehearsed this speech. Even without decorum, he dug in the pocket of his robe and pulled out the trinket he’d made from the mockups that Hondo sold as merchandise. It had a completely different paint job. It was tan and carved with a little square and squiggly lines at the center.

“Oh!” She clearly didn’t know what it was meant to signify, so Anakin had no problem filling her in.

“I saw it in a book when studying ancient runes with Obi-Wan, from a japor snippet,” Off her curious look, he shrugged, “It’s meant to give good fortune to the beloved of the maker.”

“To the beloved of- oh.” Her eyes bugged when she hastily met his gaze and dropped the little necklace in her lap. “You mean you… Like me?”

“Well… Yeah.” He said awkwardly, realizing this was not as romantic as he’d drawn it up to be in his head. Embarrassment was quickly coloring his features and he hoped it would play as sunburn.

Anakin felt like his breath stopped somewhere in his chest. She definitely didn’t look like she was about to go running into his arms and dance with him in the sunlight. He shied his gaze away, trying to figure out a way to play this off as a joke when she suddenly took his hand.

“Anakin, this is very sweet,” She said, “I just- I don’t, I’m not really in that kind of place right now.”

His blond fringe hung in his eyes, which was fortunate for him as he didn’t want to appear too depressed or forlorn. It was another blow to take, but a risk he understood. At least he knew.

“And honestly, I don’t feel like I really know you,” She admitted.

He looked up at her and frowned, “What do you mean? I feel like I know you.”

“I think…” She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip to find the words she wanted to say, “I think you might have conjured an idea of me in your head.”

“And that’s different?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, we don’t really talk that often.”

“That’s because I’m always too nervous to talk to you.” He answered.

“Why do I find it hard to believe that you get nervous?” She tilted her head to the side, flashing a smile that still warmed him up from the inside, “In any case, you’ve nothing to be nervous of.”

“Yeah, I guess the worst case scenario already just happened,” He leaned back on his legs, kneeling now in front of her with remnants of disappointment still tainting this day. He didn’t know why he would believe that someone as magnificent as Padmé Amidala would ever be interested in a scrub like him. The crushing weight of this rejection felt a bit like a wound being reopened before she squeezed his hand.

“I’d really like it if we could be friends.” She offered lightly, “I’m always in the market for more true friends.”

“If you’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me…” He trailed off, because he really didn’t want to be anyone’s charity case.

“Why would I lie?” She asked, “Anakin, you seem like an incredibly caring person and like a lot of fun, frankly. It would be my pleasure to get to know you and to be your friend… Just as long as you understand that that’s all I want to be.”

He thought about that and considered, not for the first time, that having more good people in his life to some capacity was better than less. He could trust Padmé and while she believed he didn’t really know her, he intended on getting to know the real her.

Then, he briefly thought back to something said to them earlier this year. “I just hope Miraj wasn’t right when she said misfortune will follow you for befriending me.”

She squeezed his hand again and his heart felt a little lighter, “I don’t let anyone tell me who I can and can’t be friends with. Friendship doesn’t come with terms and conditions.”

Anakin smiled at her, “Well, in that case, I ask that you still keep the necklace. We’ll call it… a friendship necklace.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, “There might be another lucky girl out there that you could give it to.”

“Nah,” He waved her off, “There isn’t. I’d rather it go… To a friend.”

***

“Poisonous plant that kills animal cells?” Satine was blocking her notes quite strategically from both Obi-Wan and Cody even if Cody was not participating in their little game. In his opinion, studying should not be done at the dinner table or really at any sort of event outside of maybe an hour or two in the library.

“Bloodroot,” Obi-Wan answered quickly, not even a moment's hesitation. He then looked down to his own notes without even waiting for confirmation, “What do the four golden statues in the MACUSA represent?”

“The victims of the Salem witch trials,” Satine frowned, “And may I just add how absolutely horrific that was,” She turned back to her notes, “How would one go about resisting the imperius curse-” She looked unsettled as she looked up at Obi-Wan, “What have you all been doing in DADA?”

“Utilizing strong mental fortitude,” He answered the first question before shrugging, “I may need it someday. Professor Fisto said those that can make the best aurors.”

The expression on Satine’s face was enough for Cody to cut in before they could start arguing, “Do you really need to be studying right now? It pays to take breaks you know,” The two looked at each other.

“I’m not tired, are you?” Obi-Wan asked and Satine shook her head, “Alright, how many known wand core components are there?”

“Three,” Cody answered dully, poking at his mashed potatoes.

“Nineteen!” Satine answered.

“Really?” Cody grimaced, “Glad I’m not in that class.”

“We could switch to something else if you’d like,” Satine offered and Obi-Wan nodded, “Charms?”

“Please no!” Cody shook his head quickly, “You might not be tired, but I’m tired just watching you go back and forth.”

“Suit yourself,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “We’re almost out for the summer anyways, you won’t have to think about classes for a whole two months.”

“Yeah, except every time I get an owl from you lot,” He rolled his eyes, “Last year, you sent me more book summaries than you did events from your real life, Kenobi.”

“The books were the interesting part!”

“Anyways,” Satine finally took a bite of her, surely cold, chips, “We’ve had a rather chaotic year. It serves to be prepared.”

“They should just cancel the lot of them if you ask me,” Cody said with a shrug, “We hardly had any real classes for half the year.”

“Oh stop! It hasn’t been that bad-”

Headmaster Yoda tapped the side of his glass, and a hush rolled across the Great Hall. He was slow to rise, but stood on his chair as to best see across the room at all the students.

“An announcement, I have to make,” He nodded, “Uncertain, our year has been. Unprecedented. The remaining professors and I, come to a conclusion, we have. NEWT exams and OWLs will be pushed back until the end of July.”

There was an audible sigh of relief from those students who had certainly been stressing it. Cody had to admit, had he been taking his NEWTs this year, he was almost sure he’d be in a full-fledged panic over it. Chatter rose in the Great Hall again and Yoda tapped on his glass once more. He wasn’t done yet.

“For the rest of you,” Anticipation hung in the air like electricity as they all turned as one to face the Headmaster, “Decided we have, to cancel your finals.” He barely got the words out before the whole hall broke into loud cheering.

Cogs in his brain turned quickly as he realized the universe had heard his pleas for once. He quickly shouted, “And I want onto a professional Quidditch team!” He turned to express his delight to his two best friends before glancing over to looks of utter horror and despair.

“But- I-” Satine was at a loss for words and Obi-Wan looked like he was still processing the information.

“Oh, cheer up!” Cody grinned, “This is a good thing.”

“I hardly think so,” Obi-Wan sounded quite like he’d been informed of his own expulsion, “How will we test our knowledge now?”

“You were doing pretty well on your own,” Cody rolled his eyes.

“Yes… We could just make our own tests,” Satine turned to him excitedly. Obi-Wan perked up at the thought.

“It’s certainly not against the rules,” He immediately scrambled for a quill, “We’d have to grade them together though-”

“Of course, I don’t want you doing it wrong!” Satine pulled out her own quill, pulling his parchment closer to her.

“You two are absolutely insufferable, you know that?” Cody crossed his arms, stewing, “Something good finally comes our way and you want to make it harder for yourselves.”

“Cody, would you like us to make you one too?” Obi-Wan asked, clearly not having heard him.

Cody stared at him long and hard, “Hell no! Leave me out of your insanity!”

***

Much to Ventress’ disdain, Headmaster Yoda’s list of announcements didn’t stop at the cancellation of finals, no matter how welcome that was. Once the outburst of mass celebration simmered down, the smiling little green Headmaster patiently began yet again.

“Finished, I am not. Announce the winner of the house cup, I will.” He said and Ventress felt her stomach turn inside out. All eyes at Slytherin’s table turned to her in immediate appraisal. They’d already won the Quidditch cup, but it was obvious they were concerned that her transgressions this year could result in slating them. She didn’t care about the competition, as there was no true value to winning. However, some under Slytherin’s banner took beating Gryffindor very seriously.

A pregnant pause filled the entire Great Hall as everyone held their breaths for the reveal. Ventress kept her eyes focused hard on Yoda and it seemed he caught her gaze. He remained tepid and relaxed, but never breaking contact as he spoke,

“Won, Slytherin house has,” He said and backed away as the entire Great Hall flew into even greater hysterics than before. The other three houses were understandably outraged while Slytherin was practically crawling on the table to celebrate their win. Ventress, a bit dumbfounded, did not join them in their hurrah.

“What, so they try to kill us all semester and they get rewarded for it?” Shouted one student that Ventress couldn’t see through the chaos.

“They’re monsters! Maul was one of them!” Yelled another.

“We lost how many points for Krell last year?” A Gryffindor, obviously, jumped in.

Her Slytherin counterparts didn’t resist chiming in, of course, since they were not the sort to be made victims of, “Hey! Maybe if you kept your head focused on your books instead of every little trollup’s arse, you might get somewhere!”

“That is enough! Take a seat, all of you!” Professor Windu boomed over the rest of the crowd. If he was good for something, it was projecting his voice even without an amplification charm. “First of all, Gryffindor House, you lost zero points for Krell’s actions last year, because as with this situation, it was agreed that his abhorrent actions were an anomaly and completely unfair to take the rest of you down.”

“Second,” Yoda continued for him, “Hard work, Slytherin has shown. The actions of one, they will not be crucified for.”

Once again, Ventress felt the burning stares of her peers. She was shunned by Dooku, who promised to reunite her with the Nightsisters of Dathomir, who would understand her, embrace her skills and her flaws as they were. They would be a true family, not the imposters that supposedly raised her under the affluent guise of success. Even these wannabes were rejecting her, save for those whose parents likely threatened them.

She clutched her fist. They didn’t deserve to win the house cup. None of them did. There should have been no rewards for any of their actions. Two professors were dead and a stack of aurors before them and here they were deliberating over a trivial contest. It was foolish and exactly why the Sith would easily be able to dominate them all. They could cast their disappointment at her all they wanted, but it was all just a distraction. It would be easy, in the end, and the commoners would clutch their pearls and act like it hadn’t been in front of their faces all along.

She’d told them what she knew not only to hopefully scorn Dooku, even if that would be an added bonus, but because it seemed they needed it spoon fed to them in order to begin tracking him down. She didn’t want to give Dooku or his master the satisfaction of seeing their future through. She never had any real loyalties to it, just what it could do for her.

Instead, she’d need to play the role of the dutiful pureblood witch and utilize whatever funds and resources to bring about real change: to bring back the sinister sisters of her bloodline, to take back everything and destroy the muggles that stood in their way. It would be better than the dogmatic Sith.

It would be revolution.

“So, if I hear any of you claiming that it was unjust, I’d like you to ask yourself, what more could you have done to better advance your house?” Windu said.

Quiet murmurs spread across the room and she still knew they were all indirectly about her. Someone pointed out that Obi-Wan Kenobi took out an entire Sith lord on his own, but another mentioned something about how he rejected any rewards for it.

Faro scowled from across the table at that, “Such a fool. Does he believe he’ll get anywhere in life with that sacrificing attitude?”

“I’d expect he doesn’t need to, with mommy and daddy’s money just waiting for him,” Miraj Scintel said coolly, “He’s not too bad on the eyes, too, which helps.”

She cast her eyes towards Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was chatting amongst some of his quidditch friends. She grimaced at his natural charisma that everyone seemed to fall for. It was sickening, really, that he could blend so well amongst everyone, even the muggle borns. That he wanted to. She didn’t get the appeal to his relentlessly charitable way of being. It was like he asked to be magnificently cursed.

It would be like swallowing a thick and heavy dose of the foulest medicines, but Ventress knew what she needed to do in order to accomplish her greatest desires. Next year was their final year at this putrid school, and she would do what she must to climb the ranks. He wouldn’t break easy from his band of misfits, but he would break. And really, Ventress would have very little to do with it. The way of the pureblood culture would be more than enough. Time was ticking and Ventress knew she had much to do.

She began scrawling in her notebook the terms of an unbreakable vow.

***

Now that finals had been cancelled the library was practically vacant, most students were spending their precious few hours left at school in the courtyard, on brooms or chatting by the lake. Obi-Wan could never think of anywhere else he’d rather be in his spare time than in the library and it was clear that Satine thought the same, taking up her usual spot beside him.

She was engrossed in her book, something on hidden secret wizarding communities across the globe. He hadn’t gotten around to reading that one yet, although he was sure he’d been to plenty of the places listed. He was sure she’d quite like Appleby if she ever got the chance to go. She turned a page and it seemed like enough to jar her from her focus and instead place her eyes on him.

“What?” Obi-Wan winced, he hadn’t realized he’d been staring, how rude.

“Oh nothing I was just-” He floundered for something to say, “Appreciating that we had time off.”

“It’s pretty nice,” She smiled, letting her book flutter closed and almost seemed to lean a little closer to him as she rested her arm on the table, “I do still have that evening patrol tonight.”

“You could trade for mine tomorrow morning,” He chuckled at the way her lips curled back into a snarl.

“Not on your life,” She huffed, “Perhaps, I’ll have fewer next year. Considering we’ll have the most seniority.”

“I’m sure as Head Girl you’ll have your pick of the litter,” Obi-Wan said without thinking and she looked at him a little surprised.

“I don’t think anything has been decided yet,” She answered coolly.

“They’d be a fool not to pick you,” Obi-Wan waved a hand at her, “Certainly there’s no competition, you’re the brightest witch of your age.”

“Well, I’d hardly say there’s no competition,” She smothered a smile, “But it would be a high honor to receive.”

“I was expected to get prefect,” Obi-Wan mused, “I didn’t realize how much I’d enjoy the position. I’m already honored just to have been considered for the role of Head Boy.”

Satine gazed at him for a beat, “Why do you talk like you’ve already lost out?”

“Well we don’t know-”

“-Don’t we?” Satine scoffed, drumming her fingers on the table in irritation, “If you think I have no competition, you’ve already won.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, “There’s always Bail-”

“-Ben please,” Satine rolled her eyes, “Bail’s incredibly smart and a good prefect, but even he, himself, knows that he’s not getting the position,” Satine continued before he could open his mouth, “Ben you’re the top student at the school-”

“Second,” He corrected automatically, “You beat me by half a point-”

“I haven’t forgotten!” She jabbed a finger at him, “I wasn’t counting me.”

“Well you should,” He grumbled, “You’re the brightest witch here.”

They looked at each other for a second, neither knowing how to break away, “That means I’m always right,” Satine pointed out, turning towards her book, face a little red. Obi-Wan looked away and found interest in reading the titles on the shelf across from him, “You’ll be Head Boy for sure.”

“Then you’ll be Head Girl,” He shot back without glancing over. They hung in an almost oppressive silence for another minute or two before Obi-Wan hesitantly glanced over. Unfortunately for him, she’d been looking his way and they were once again stuck, eyes locked together.

It was almost as if words were traveling unspoken, questions, maybe answers. It was enough for Obi-Wan to take a shaky breath and try to ask one of his own out loud. The one he’d been trying to get out for a while now.

“Satine-”

“There you are!” Anakin’s voice was quick to shatter whatever spell had come between them and Obi-Wan felt his face heat up and his heart race as he turned towards Anakin with a hint of irritation.

“What?” He groused and Anakin looked between him and Satine with a tilt to his head.

“I was just going to ask you to check over my essay...” Anakin faltered, “I can come back-”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Obi-Wan let out a long breath, “You only startled me. This is a library you know.”

“I know! You never spend any time outside of it...” Anakin complained under his breath, handing over his essay.

Obi-Wan took it and used it to hide his face as he glanced towards Satine. She’d gone back to her reading, but looked unfazed. She flipped a page and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Whatcha looking at?” Anakin whispered in his ear and he glared at Anakin.

“Your poorly written essay,” He answered, rolling up said parchment to bap him in the head with it.

“Aw come on I tried extra hard this time!” Anakin sighed, draping himself across the table.

“You really need to reel in your tangents,” Obi-Wan pulled the red pen Anakin had given to him the previous year and scratched through a whole paragraph before handing it back, “Professor Yaddle doesn’t want to know how this relates to your favorite shows.”

Anakin spent a moment looking over his essay before pulling out a blank sheet of parchment and began to revise. Obi-Wan looked between Anakin and Satine and frowned. So much for a quiet moment or any sort of real talk.

“Perhaps, I’ll see you back in the common room then?” Satine placed a bookmark in her book and he gave her a sheepish smile.

“I suppose so-”

“Padmé?” Satine was looking over his head and so he turned to indeed see Padmé Amidala edge her way out from behind a bookshelf.

“Ah hello,” She greeted, “I was hoping you could look over my potions essay, Satine? If it’s not too much trouble.”

Satine sat back down and gestured to the seat across from her, “Alright, hand it over,” She leaned closer to Ben and whispered quietly, “Never a dull moment.”

“Never,” He grinned over at her.

***

“You summoned me, Headmaster?” Obi-Wan creaked open the door to Yoda’s office and was immediately comforted by the reminder that it was Yoda’s office yet again, no matter what qualms certain sectors of the Ministry of Magic had. It had been a unanimous vote, one even cast by Palpatine, to reinstate him and he was glad he had. It was nothing personal to Professor Palpatine, but his parties catering towards his favorite students didn’t exactly speak for a strong lack of bias.

“Indeed, in you come!” Yoda gestured for Obi-Wan to take a seat and he followed suit. “Important things, we have to discuss.”

Obi-Wan winced. He really didn’t want to relay what happened on the viaduct with Maul yet again to another person. He really didn’t understand why Windu couldn’t have just passed on what he received first hand immediately afterwards. There had been a lot of heavy sobbing and sniffling to get around, but he knew he told him everything in a flush of emotions uncharacteristic to him. That moment was foggy, likely at his mind’s own choice to further spare him from sadness, but he remembered being grateful that no one else was around.

Alternatively, the debate over who was to be the next Head Boy and Head Girl was buzzing louder than ever with just a few days left in the term. Traditionally, this announcement was made over the summer in the form of a personal letter that students usually hung over their mantles in pride. However, maybe they wanted to deliver some more good news in light of recent events.

Then again, Satine would probably be here too if that’s what they were discussing. Or at least, he really hoped she would.

“What is it, Headmaster?” He felt compelled to ask, because they sat in silence for a long time, neither looking relaxed that this troubling year was coming to a close. With Dooku still running free, it was very likely that a precedent was starting.

“Worried, for young Skywalker, you are,” He said calmly. It was not a question, but Yoda was never known for dancing around his point for very long. No, the lengthy and often riddled speeches were a trait of a professor who would no longer be bursting into this office without announcement nor would they live to relay another prophetic theory ever again. The weight of that absence sat between Obi-Wan and Yoda, though neither acknowledged it formally.

“Very much so,” He confirmed and tapped his fingers aimlessly on his knees, “I- Well, I made a promise to look after him.”

“To whom?” Yoda raised a brow on his wrinkly face, “Skywalker or your former mentor, did you promise?”

Qui-Gon always said that Anakin was the top priority and though he’d always known it, that really sunk in now that the boy had no one left but Obi-Wan.

“Both.” He said after a deep breath, “So, if you’ve brought me here to tell me that you’re just going to throw Anakin in some orphanage when Dooku is surely out there waiting for him to be vulnerable, I cannot allow that.”

“Sound like Qui-Gon, you do,” Yoda said, amused, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he knew how much that meant to him just then, “Cast Skywalker aside, we cannot.”

Obi-Wan relaxed his shoulders immediately. He hadn’t been sure what his course of action was going to be to follow up his assertion, but he was glad he didn’t have to come up with anything just then. He was just glad that Anakin wasn’t going to be left with strangers. It was incredibly cruel considering everything he’d been through.

He didn’t breathe completely easily yet, “But you’re also not going to lock him up in the castle all summer either, right? He needs normalcy.”

And a break from this place. They all did, as much as he preferred his years at Hogwarts to his summers at home. Obi-Wan knew he would be eager to return back in the fall, yearning for the bright memories this special place held for him. However, as it was at the moment, he could only feel the lingering sense of loss.

“Agree, I do, but find new normal for him, we must.”

“Until his mother is found.” Obi-Wan agreed.

“That might-” Yoda caught himself off as he regarded Obi-Wan with sad eyes and without the desire to complete the thought he started. Obi-Wan knew what he’d been thinking. It had been on his mind too whenever Anakin brought it up, even since it first happened. He also never said what came to mind.

Yoda shook his head and started again, “Yes, and find an alternative, we have. Or more accurately, found us, the alternative has.”

“That’s great.” Obi-Wan said, “A family is taking him in then.”

“Appear so, it would.”

“Well, that’s fantastic! And Anakin is on board?” There was something still odd about this meeting, a wariness to Yoda’s gaze that wasn’t quite meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes anymore. His body language was turned away, like he knew he was delivering bad news.

He nodded, long pointed ears wiggling a bit as he did, “Inform you first, I thought I should. Object to the arrangement, you can, but very few options, we have.”

“Inform me?” Obi-Wan repeated, “Headmaster, I’m not sure I have the faintest idea what you could be talking about. Who are they?”

***

“Anakin, darling, there you are!” Mrs. Kenobi came shuffling over hurriedly, or as much as she could with the trail of midnight green satin slithering behind her in long tresses. Mr. Kenobi took long strides behind her, leading with his infamous walking stick that always captured Anakin’s attention.

Anakin was indeed surprised when he was given the information that the Kenobi’s wanted to take him in for the summers and holidays and relieved that he would at least get to stick with Obi-Wan, but he certainly hadn’t expected they’d show up at the castle’s doorsteps.

Obi-Wan, it appeared, was also absolutely flabbergasted as he dropped whatever bags he’d been helping Satine with clean on the cobblestone walkway, much to his friend’s initial chagrin and gradual understanding as she rounded the bend.

“What the hell, Be- Oh.” Satine snapped her mouth shut and just focused on picking up her scattered things with Padmé and Breha at either side of her. None of the three girls dared to lift their heads.

“Mother, Father, you’re here… At Hogwarts.” His voice was tight and clipped while his eyes didn’t blink.

“We do need to work on your hosting mannerisms.” His mother didn’t look once at him and kept her eyes on Anakin, “Ah well, I suppose there will be plenty of room for practice this summer with our brand new house guest.”

“Thank you for taking me in.” Anakin said earnestly, because even while belonging on another plane of elitist culture, they still volunteered to take Anakin in the moment they’d heard he was without a place to stay.

“It is no trouble at all, my boy,” Mr. Kenobi ruffled his hair, “The servants have already taken the liberty of clearing out Obi-Wan’s room for you.”

“My room?” Obi-Wan questioned.

“Oh, no I can’t do that. I can just sleep on the couch or something-” But Anakin was instantly cut off by Mrs. Kenobi’s thin, but noticeably strong arms crushing him into a hug against her bony sternum.

“Nonsense!” She hissed, “His room is much warmer than the spares and only the best for growing heroes.”

Anakin wanted to turn around and shrug at Obi-Wan. He hoped he didn’t mind giving up his room for him. He knew he would be pretty upset if some little kid came into his childhood room and took over all of his stuff and space.

“And since we have raised Obi-Wan correctly, he will do the just and honorable thing and give his room for you in your time of need,” Mr. Kenobi’s voice was lethal, but Anakin still only had a view of Mrs. Kenobi’s laced neckline, so he didn’t see the look that matched it over Mrs. Kenobi’s shoulder.

After a pause, Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “Yes, well, I have been eyeing up the west wing.”

“Mmm, I think not.” Mr. Kenobi waved a large hand at him dismissively, “I’m refurbishing it as a second office.”

“The east wing, then.” Obi-Wan tried.

“The basement will do, you’ll have much more space down there to practice Quidditch.”

After a long pause, Obi-Wan only nodded and was giving Anakin a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “Sounds good.”

“Clearly, it’s needed,” Mrs. Kenobi added and gently pet Anakin’s hair to the side. It would have reminded him of his own mother, if her fingers weren’t so long and cold, “Unlike you, my little star. Gryffindor’s team truly does not deserve your efforts.”

He didn’t have the heart to remind her that it was technically Anakin’s fault that they threw the game and Ravenclaw won. Neither team had their hearts in it that day, though, and it had definitely been a shock to all of them when the Kenobi’s showed up to watch. At least they’d been impressed enough with him to still give him a place to stay. That had to count for something.

“The new broom must have helped.” He smiled.

“You know, I think it did. That’s what happens when you have the best of what money can buy, Anakin.” Mr. Kenobi sighed at Obi-Wan, “Usually.”

“Now, now, I believe our new guest warrants a special welcoming feast of his favorite foods!” Mrs. Kenobi said, “Why don’t we get your things and you can just simply come straight home with us?”

“Is that allowed?” He looked around at Obi-Wan as well as Satine for approval. He was pretty hungry and was starting to feel a bit cautiously optimistic at the promise of any foods he wanted. After all, they were filthy rich and if they were willing to share that money with Anakin, well, he might as well make something good of this whole mess. He bet Obi-Wan’s head would explode if afforded the opportunity to try a hot pocket.

“As long as you’ve got approval from a professor or prefect-” Satine started, but was promptly cut off as though she never spoke.

“Which Obi-Wan most certainly is that.” Mrs. Kenobi tutted.

“As am I.” Satine reminded them, but once again, they simply did not hear her. Obi-Wan’s mother’s lips twitched a bit, but she retained her bright glow as she reached out for Anakin’s hand. He accepted it, deciding he would get used to how cold they were.

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you in September.” Obi-Wan began to say to Satine.

“Right,” Satine nodded a lot, like she was flustered and Anakin squinted as he looked between the two of them. He wondered for a second if they were going to hug or something, but their arms remained at their side. It was weird, he knew for a fact that Cody had wrapped Obi-Wan in a headlock earlier and called it a hug, but it was still a hug. Anakin hugged Rex earlier. He didn’t see what the big deal was.

She cleared her throat after a moment of words unsaid, “Be sure to write when you can.”

“Of course, especially if you get- well, you know.” Obi-Wan shrugged and Anakin didn’t know and the Kenobi’s both stuck their noses up in suspicion. Mr. Kenobi’s long nose was flared as he looked down at his son that began to follow them. Had Obi-Wan’s eyes not been glued to Satine’s he might have noticed when his father’s large hand stuck out to catch him in the chest, preventing him from going on.

“-Uh uh uh, you’re not dodging your responsibilities, young man!” Mr. Kenobi wagged a long white finger at him. “You can apparate now and will do so from the station when you are finished assisting with loading and unloading. We’ve recommended you for bag duty again.”

Obi-Wan was clearly trying to stop himself from groaning at the thought.

“Get some muscles on those bones.” He poked his son with his stick.

“And don’t let us hear you were caught frolicking or lollygagging in any way.” Mrs. Kenobi added coolly, flicking her blue-grey eyes to Satine for the first time, “You’re practically an adult now that you’re 17. It’s time you acted like it.”

“Yes ma’am.” Obi-Wan said and nodded at Anakin, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” Anakin said with a sympathetic shrug. He did wish he could come with them, but Anakin supposed it was important that Obi-Wan keep things in order on the train. He knew from someone who usually caused chaos that the prefects were necessary to have on hand and that Obi-Wan was one of the best.

Mrs. Kenobi patted his hand as they walked down the hill with Anakin’s trunk and bags floating aimlessly behind them, “Oh, Anakin, I believe this is going to be a splendid arrangement. Someone of your caliber deserves the finer things in life. It’s about time you got to experience them.”

“Do you have a pool?” He blurted out, knowing it could sound rude, but was pleased when they only laughed.

“Try several.” Mr. Kenobi grinned beneath his beard, but it looked foreign on his lips, even if Anakin didn’t know much about the man, “It will indeed be refreshing to have someone around who can appreciate our way of life.”

With several pools, Anakin would at least try.

Maybe it was selfish, when his mother was missing and lost somewhere. However, he still vowed to find her and to see that she was safe and to unite their family. He knew in his bones that she would want him to be happy. She would always be his real home.

No matter how far she was.

***

Sometimes, a plan needed to be executed to the number in order to come out successful. It all depended on who the puppeteer was, of course. A true strategist knew when to bend the wills and patterns of the fates to adhere to the plan, of course, because not every variable could be accounted for with a third eye. No, it required flexibility at its finest. Even towards the end, he truly believed he might have been over. His position as Headmaster had been one he was ready to give up… For now.

No, there was much more he could do as a teacher.

And now, he accomplished two birds with one stone in a beautiful array of damage that Sidious couldn’t have planned more perfectly himself. Maul did as he did best and caused a chaos that disbanded trust between the Ministry and the school board as well as its students. While they would always try to slap a bandage on a gutted wound, they would find their results required much more than that when Sidious was hiding in the corner, putting poison to the casualties.

Letting them fester and bleed until the only thing that remained was an infected and unrecognizable gash that spread through the body, consuming and ultimately defeating its host from the inside out. That was the only way to get to someone, after all, but Maul was a physical being and would never understand the true power of the dark side.

Sidious had to see to that for a reason.

And all he wanted to do was destroy Sidious and his hard work and the work that had yet to come. It was brilliant, he had to admit, to turn the dementors against them. It was something he’d taught him long ago, of course, with the help of the night witch. But it had been executed brilliantly.

Instead, he proved himself the worthy apprentice for one last time where Tyranus had not, in destroying the very person that Sidious had his eyes on all year. Many knew now that the battle between Qui-Gon Jinn and Maul was a battle for Anakin’s very soul, but few understood just how terribly it had been lost. It was tragic, really. If Obi-Wan had died, they all would know. So for once, Sidious was glad for the boy’s survival.

There was still the matter of the girl, who would likely be a problem for Tyranus down the line, but that was something his apprentice reaped that he would need to sow. They could only delay the inevitable for so long. As it were, the girl could still provide some use in accomplishing Palpatine’s next feat.

He honed his sights on Obi-Wan Kenobi, who stood not quite touching but very close next to that muggle-born Satine Kryze. Like a damn vision, the sunlight cast a specific ray just to glow around him, symbolically highlighting why Sidious needed to get rid of him. Next to the holocron, he ran his finger around the rim of a chalice, a cup if you will, divine and extravagant though muddled with dust and a disguising charm to hide its true origin of where it had been won.

As it were, there was a fairly believable way of elimination arriving in his lap. Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi would need to be removed from the story as he was in many ways, the final obstacle in his way.

“But first…” He drifted his yellow eyes across the room until he landed on the chest near the desk. He ran ghostly white fingers over the wooden finish.

He unlocked the latch and lifted the lid, drifting his eyes all the way down the hole that it hid until landing on its sole item: Shmi Skywalker, frozen in carbonite.

“What to do with you?”

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obitine #the clone wars #tcw #star wars #hpau #magical forces au

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