nay

she / her , 23 , libra , finest procrastinator to ever live 💜

[nuelles]

You are now tuned in To the one and the only Nuelles

✧.* You killin' it girl: nay, 20+3, she/her, mejican, finest procrastinator alive.

It should be a crime just to look that fine

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creds to @cafekitsune for the many dividers I use on my works

[songsofadelaide]

noblesse oblige (lit. nobility obliges) — arthur boyle x (f) fire soldier reader ୨୧ Some things truly never change, no matter how much time erodes memories. A blade, blooming brightly against a blade only as sharp as daybreak, hair like gold and sunshine, eyes as clear as the blue sky, fire that burns the ordinary to ash — and hope that burns as bright as the sun… Some things never truly change, no matter how much time has passed.

Glimpses into the many years of your relationship with Arthur Boyle, from the spark of your friendship, your wild time as Fire Soldiers, saving the world, to your solemn promise of forever as you face the New World together.

tags and warnings: anime & manga spoilers, story ending spoilers, no use of yn, use of petnames, reader is from an old-money family, pre-canon flashbacks, academy life, slice of life, cute teenage fluff + romantic ballroom waltz, original characters, canon-typical mentions of violence & post-canon ending [future fic]. Dialogue-heavy.

୨୧ Something to note (character + reader ages):

Academy days: 13-17 Fire Soldiers: 17~ Present time: 20~

wc: 16.9k

୨୧ images used are from pinterest unless stated otherwise.

— Now…

Some things truly never change, no matter how much time erodes memories. A blade, blooming brightly against a blade only as sharp as daybreak, hair like gold and sunshine, eyes as clear as the blue sky, fire that burns the ordinary to ash — and hope that burns as bright as the sun… Some things never truly change, no matter how much time has passed. 

And now, as the New World springs forth from the twice-shattered earth, you're once again reminded of the violence it cost to be standing right here, right now, and the gentleness it will take for things to remain this way. 

The world has changed, yet some things remain the same. 

Arthur fiddled with the bowtie that rested against his throat, his sunny blonde hair neatly swept back in a way his friends from Company 8 had never seen before. Though Company 8 is no more, the tender and enduring friendship forged in fire remained, their ties as tangible as the love being celebrated on this very day.

And though the Holy Church of Sol is no more, it would be a waste not to hold this ceremony in the beautiful cathedral that the Knight King once called his castle.

"Can you calm down? The more you mess with your tie, the sloppier you'll look," Shinra elbowed Arthur while Ogun moved to carefully dust off the stage fright on his friend's rigid shoulders. Though dressed similarly in debonair suits, the other two did their best not to upstage the man of the hour. 

"It's normal to be nervous on your wedding day, so I think he's fine," Ogun remarked with a wide smile. "But don't forget to breathe, my friend." 

Forgetting how to breathe was the least of Arthur's worries at that moment. The three of them stood at the foot of the sanctuary, light spilling through the stained glass windows, illuminating the place just enough for him to focus on one thing alone. 

The wooden doors opened with a long creak, followed by a sweet yet simple melody reminiscent of the night he played a prince of a fallen kingdom dancing with a princess so near yet so far. And when you walked in, holding your father by his arm, everything around him seemed to stop.

On your head was a crown of stars glittering under the sunlight, and on your face was a smile he once thought was lost to him forever. It took a gentle push from Shinra to remind him that he had to shake your father's hand before leading you to the altar, where former Company 1 Lieutenant Karim Flam stood as the officiant.

"Hello, Arthur," you greeted him warmly as he took your gloved hand in his. "Sweetheart, pick up that jaw from the floor. What on earth are you so surprised about?"

"You— You look —" He stammered before eventually faking a cough with his free hand. "I'm sorry. It seems you have stolen my breath once more with how ethereal you look."

You'd recognize that look from anywhere — Arthur and the stars in his eyes. It was a face you've long been acquainted with. A face you adored beyond anything and everything else. That look in his eyes reminded you of a time of romance and a time of heartache, with every single moment, all tied together by a luminous silver thread, leading to this very day. 

And to think it all started with a single spark to a flame…

— Spark to a flame.

It was no secret that your family was old money, a traditional age-old household whose wealth and roots ran deep and long into the ancient Tokyo Empire. As such, your family was an ally to the elite of society, including the upper echelons of the Special Fire Force, the Holy Sol Temple, and Haijima Heavy Industries. 

The Special Fire Force Training Academy was home to trainees from diverse backgrounds and walks of life. At least here, you were defined not by your status in life but by your skills — especially as a third-generation pyrokinetic. Yet despite the promise and firepower you showed in classes and training, it didn't help the rumors that surrounded your entrance to the academy — that your parents bought your ticket into the place. And neither did it stop the persistence of others who wanted to befriend you for all the wrong reasons, who saw you as a passageway to the incredibly narrow gates of high society. They all whispered your family name in hushed voices, speaking of connections that could move mountains — that meant favor, promotions, and kickstarting careers they never thought possible in their current posts.

Thus, your introduction to the academy garnered a lot of attention, both unwanted and unwarranted. So you decided to play the role of the sharp yet serene ice princess and run with it, especially if it meant protecting yourself from ill-intentioned classmates and instructors, even. There was no use explaining to them that befriending you would mean nothing, that you were there against your parents' orders, and that you would effectively be cut off from their support until your graduation in four years. They wouldn't go so far as to disinherit you, though. You wanted the academy to be a lesson to you, so they simply made it so.

And when whispers of a "princess" walking the academy halls reached a certain chivalrous boy's ears, a need was unknowingly sparked — and where there's a spark, there's a flame. 

But you weren't exactly the image of a princess that Arthur had in mind when he finally met you. 

The training yard was packed with heat and steam despite the open field, but that was expected from a place that nurtured youth with pyrokinesis. Both classmates and trainees from other classes, all clad in their familiar tangerine orange jumpsuits, gathered around the grounds in anticipation of the exercise set between you and another classmate. You stood in the middle of the grounds, and in your hands was a gleaming sword infused with your flames. Across stood your opponent, their battle stance assumed as you charged at them by the whistle's blare, swift as a bullet shot from a gun. 

Arthur noticed your fire — even before noticing you. The fire that coated your blade heavily clung to it like a second skin, yet the plumes danced around you as light as silk ribbons. Your opponent lunged forward, ready to take you head-on, not even realizing your charge was a feint. You pivoted instead, your heel sliding against the ground as your blade rose in a narrow arc. Sparks scattered as your blade met their weapon of choice, and they recoiled unflatteringly as your flames licked along the edges, clearly unprepared to be burned. 

You moved with a certain sharpness and elegance that spoke of your background without even saying a word, your bladework almost far too graceful for actual combat. Yet, it was clearly effective from the way your opponent struggled to gain ground against you. 

When your other male classmates caught Arthur watching your match rather intently, they playfully elbowed him. "Careful, Arthur. She'll never give the time of day to us commoners."

The blonde didn't seem fazed by the revelation. True enough, you've made yourself scarce to the point that he's only seen you in action now. Yet, he pondered on the weight of their words, blue eyes solemn as he watched your darting figure from across the training grounds. Every swing you made against your opponent came with crescents of flames, plumes as light as ribbons dancing around you like butterflies fluttering around a flower in bloom. Elegant, yes, but detached, too. 

Something stirred in his chest as he watched. It wasn't infatuation — not yet — but something far heavier and profound. It bloomed across his chest, demanding to be recognized, demanding to be known.

Acknowledgement.

And yet, this wasn't exactly the image of a princess that Arthur had in mind. When the instructor called your point, you did not smile at all, not even when you shook your opponent's hand in camaraderie. You were polite, but guarded, and even when others crowded around you in admiration, you didn't show a hint of interest, only excusing yourself from the crowd to take your seat amongst them once more. Others considered you standoffish, and they weren't wrong for that, but none of them thought to understand why you were like that in the first place. 

"A princess set apart from the people… What a tragedy."

The boys standing next to him shrugged at his remark, chalking it up to his usual antics. However, they were unable to stop him from making his way to you, his stride so sure and confident, before he stopped a few paces before you. 

"My lady," he declared, a hand on his chest as he bowed his head. "My name is Arthur Boyle."

You blinked at the boy, not at all knowing what to make of his approach. "???"

He lifted his head, blue eyes bright and earnest. "Word has spread throughout the academy that you are a princess. It would be my honor as a knight to serve you."

Oh, he said it without missing a beat. Don't tell me this guy's… serious? A small, tender laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it, and suddenly, the whole world just seemed suspended in time. The silence was thick, but the murmurs that arose were even denser. 

"She… She —"

"Did she just… laugh?"

You caught yourself this time, concealing your giggle in your fist and feigning a cough. "I'm… I'm sorry, but what gave you the impression that I…"

Yet not even once did he shift his gaze from you. You sensed no mockery in his words, no pretenses, no lies.

…He must be an idiot, then.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, was it? As you can clearly see, I'm not exactly a real princess. I know I certainly don't look the part."

"You might not wear the garb, but your air and aura say otherwise. You are a princess most ethereal… But your skill with a blade is like that of a seasoned warrior."

Arthur didn't speak in riddles. This here was who he really was. In his eyes was this deep and utter sincerity you tried so hard to find in others here at the academy.

Either that, or he must really be an idiot of massive proportions.

"Look, you must be really nice and all, but if you're here for introductions, I don't —"

"I've already introduced myself to you. My name is —"

"No, I mean, like, introductions to… higher places," you stated, lowering your lashes, unable to hold his profound gaze any longer. "Everyone here wants something from me, all because of my name and my… status. You'll want something eventually, too."

"You think I seek favor, then?"

"Yeah, that's usually how things go," you replied, the edge in your voice softening. 

"If I wanted status, I would earn it through valor. Only fools seek favor through deception," he stated loud enough for the people around you to hear. "A knight does not deceive, especially one as honorable as I."

The bluntness of his words made you flinch internally. Something in the way he looked at you made you feel terrible for thinking he'd be just like everyone else… But it was clear to you that he was not. Everyone shifted from whispering about you to murmuring and snorting at Arthur's bold declaration.  

"When I said I wished to serve you, it wasn't because I thought you were helpless. It's clear to me and everyone else around you that you're incredibly capable," he remarked, a hand now resting on the pale hilt of his sword. "And it's clear to me now as well that you've no need of a servant, so how about a rival worth your time instead?"

"What? You want to fight me?"

"Nothing so crude, my princess. I merely wish to test my skills against yours," he said with a grin this time, smug yet cool, as if he wanted to piss you off on purpose this time. "That is, if you aren't above duelling against commoners like me."

Oh, my gosh. He's a total idiot. He's cute, but he's a total idiot! 

You laughed again, unbridled delight laced in every breath that escaped your lips. Here was someone who saw beyond your name, who didn't even think your name was all that important in the first place. 

"You're a knight, aren't you? Then you surely must put up a better challenge than the common rabble," you asserted, dominant palm curling around the hilt of your blade once more. A knowing smile graced your face this time, cheeks warmed by a sense of excitement. "But you ought to be careful, sir knight. This princess knows how to fight, after all."

"As a knight, I'd be honored to cross blades with you!" 

It came as no surprise that other trainees, both from your class and the upperclassmen, started throwing the most stupid, brain-dead jokes in your direction in hopes of making you laugh again, as though it was the key to earning your friendship. Still, it was as evident as the sun in the sky that they were all doing it for the chance to have a proper conversation with you. It didn't matter anymore if you weren't involved in the conversation from the start — you could be coming from a completely different direction, but the jokes were all uttered out loud, followed by annoying, fake laughter intended to draw out a reaction from you. 

What they didn't seem to understand is that you laughed at Arthur because he was serious, not because he was joking. That, and he was actually pretty cute. It was surprising at first to know that he was actually popular at the academy, but if anything, you understood his appeal to the other girls. For others, it was about his good looks, but for you, it was his charming guilelessness. That, and he was also a formidable training partner. 

And he was also incredibly easy to spot in a crowd. 

The academy cafeteria was a battlefield in its own right, and you can't count how many times you've been invited to sit at a table full of trainees eager to talk your ears off, all for a promise of an introduction of sorts. Today was no different, with everyone else putting on airs of jesters after seeing you laugh at Arthur the other day. 

And then you caught it — a flash of blonde hair in a table with only three occupants, though the arguments arising from them were as loud as a whole class. With your lunch tray in hand and your eyes set forward, you knew exactly where to sit without ever being bothered by strangers. 

Arthur noticed you first, his back straightening on instinct even as the crimson-eyed boy seated across from him berated him. "Princess."

"Princess?" Came the other two boys' puzzled reactions. 

"Hello," you greeted them, meeting their gazes equally. "Can I sit here with you?"

Arthur's friends are just as popular, you thought, though one of them was notorious for all the wrong reasons. The crimson-eyed boy, Shinra Kusakabe, though skilled in his own right, had a reputation tainted by unconfirmed rumors that stank of conspiracy, and not once did he even try to defend himself. Meanwhile, Ogun Montgomery was the top scorer in both the practical and technical entrance exams and a scion of the Immigrant Hero, whose ship carried terrified passengers across the stormy seas during the Great Cataclysm.

Silence enveloped the table, mostly due to surprise, but Ogun recovered first, smile wide as he gestured for Arthur to move his lunch tray a little. "Of course, we've got plenty of room."

Shinra shrugged. "Yeah, sure, I guess, if you can handle this guy talking about a knight's honor for another thirty minutes."

Arthur's brows furrowed in annoyance. "Honor is a principle you clearly don't have, you devil."

"Say that again?!"

"I've heard worse conversations, so do carry on," you said as you set your tray on the table calmly and carefully, taking your seat next to the blonde boy with a rather pleased smile on your face. "Upperclassmen arguing about lineage and family connections, strangers trying to one-up me with discussions I have no idea about, the whole 'my family is better than your family' thing, not to mention my big brother and his obsession with noblesse oblige…" 

"That crowd, huh?" Ogun nodded knowingly. "I guess the other trainees weren't kidding about what a simple whisper from you can do."

"Dishonorable," Arthur remarked from your side. "To reach the apex of the world because of a commendation… Does growth not stem from the journey taken? Just how strong is a person if they're at the top just because of recommendations? What is their measure of strength if they did not even test it?"

"Huh. For once, I agree with him," Shinra snorted. "But didn't all that thinking turn your brain to mush, Arthur?"

"Silence, devil, or I'll turn you to mush!"

"Bring it on, you idiot knight!"

You smiled into your bowl of rice, not at all bothered by the nonsense banter between the two boys. "And you… mediate everyday, Ogun?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Can you imagine the minefield the cafeteria would be if these two were left together unattended?" Ogun replied with a cheerful shrug. "Speaking of which, you don't really sit with anyone here, do you?"

"Oh, people want to sit with me, believe me," you shook your head. You knew his question was one of curiosity and not of mockery. "But that'd be less of a lunch break and more of a show-and-tell sesh, since they tend to want something. What Arthur said earlier. About the commendations and stuff."

Ogun's expression softened into something of understanding, while Arthur and Shinra's comical squabbling slowly ground to a halt. There was never a lack of people who wanted to be your friend, but they weren't exactly there for your friendship.  

"Don't worry. I'm not the kind to ask for handouts, and neither are these guys," Ogun reaffirmed with a smile. 

Shinra nodded in agreement. "Yeah, same here. If anything, I'm more interested in training with you! Everyone's been talking about how fast you are, but you've only been seen training with this smart guy here!" 

"You'll have to wait in line, devil, for I am the princess's chosen sparring partner," Arthur quipped before swatting away the crimson-eyed boy's jerked thumb. 

"Well, you heard that. Hope you're open to more training partners, myself included," Ogun proposed. "You'll go dull if you train with just one person, after all."

For some reason, Arthur and Shinra were bickering again, with Ogun desperately (?) trying to diffuse the exchange. And when you laughed at that table, the world only seemed to carry on rather than stop for you. 

When they finally settled down, Shinra turned to you with a grin. "So you'll be sitting with us again tomorrow, yeah?"

"A sound decision, if I do say so myself, princess," Arthur nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And strategically beneficial, if you ask me."

"Yeah, don't think too much about it and just come over tomorrow, okay?" Ogun added as he threw you a thumbs-up. "And if anyone ever gives you a hard time because of us, just let us know, and we'd be happy to deal with them for you."

"Thanks, guys. But I'll have you know that if anyone ever gives me a hard time because of you, I'll give them an even harder one. They ought to mind their own business, after all," you grinned at them before sliding your arm behind Arthur to give him a hearty pat on the back. "Plus, I have Arthur watching my back! He's my knight in shini—"

"Don't — Don't say it, please —" Shinra cringed as he shook his head in defeat, already aware of what that praise meant for his dearly exasperating friend. 

"But of course! Ill-intended strangers beware, for I, the Knight King, shall defend my princess from all your foul designs!" The blonde proudly declared, loud enough for a hushed silence to befall the cafeteria. Something in his declaration made your heart do flips, and you were completely aware that you were really no better than the other girls in this academy who fawned over him like he was the most adorable puppy in the room.

You tried to cover your mouth, but the laughter that followed your snort couldn't be held back. How uncharacteristic of the fabled ice princess to laugh so barbarically. 

"Oh, she's just as bad as Arthur," Ogun chuckled while Shinra groaned in annoyance at how loud you two were, with everyone else's attention now clearly on your inconspicuous table. 

Ever since you've been aware of it, you've always been someone who stood on the outside looking in. It gave you a sense of security seeing things occur from a distance. For the first time, however, you thought that it didn't seem so bad being part of something, especially when it's this warm. 

— An asymmetrical world.

As your final year at the academy gradually approached, so too did your parents' communication become more frequent. The letters they usually sent once a year now came monthly, then weekly, then a daily reminder, all to inform you of your return home in time for your father's grand birthday celebration. It was a conditional return, for not even the academy would let you leave without graduating, after all the promise you had shown. 

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt uniform with your free hand while your dominant hand held the receiver of the telephone in the academy's administrative office, your ear burning as you listened to your mother from the other end of the line. 

"The academy already agreed you'd return home for a few days. Don't forget when, my dear. Even your brother's thrilled you're coming home!"

"Yes, mother," you droned out, trying not to sound too uninterested. 

"Darling, be a dear and humor your mother, will you? Your letters to us have been nothing but updates about what you've been doing there, but not enough about how you've been feeling or if you've made any friends," she remarked, and you could hear the faint sound of cutlery and porcelain from her end. "You're our daughter, but you sound more like a grateful scholar telling us all about your marks and scores, and expect us to be impressed. Well, for the record, your father and I are impressed, but all of it says so little about your state of mind! And it's been like that for the last four years!"

"Well, mother, you and father and my big brother made it perfectly clear to me when I left that you were uninterested in my endeavors here at the academy, so I only ever told you the most important things in my letters," you refuted, rolling your eyes yet catching yourself before anyone else could see you. "After all, it's not like you wanted me to come here in the first place."

Your mother sighed, and somehow you could sense her pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration at this aimless conversation. "It's been four years, darling. Your father's rather proud of what you've accomplished there and even reinstated your allowance last year…"

"The academy's been holding onto it. My allowance, I mean," you admitted, bringing the phone a little further from your ear since you half-expected her to explode from your revelation. "Mother, I don't really… do much around here except study and train, so that's all there is to write about. And if you're going to ask about friends, I don't… have that many."

"Anyone of note? Perhaps someone you'd like to invite to your father's birthday? We can talk to the academy on their behalf so they can come with you. Are you familiar with the Miyagusuku Family's daughter? Or perhaps the daughter of your father's friend, Prospero Metherlence? Or maybe the son of —"

"No, mother, I don't know any of them," you grumbled at her. "Besides, I doubt those kids would be here at the academy anyway if their parents are anything like mine. All my friends here are just… normal people."

"So you do have friends! Regardless, if they're your friends, then they're our friends, darling. Go on and invite them, I'm sure your father wouldn't mind," your mother chirped. "By the by, that boy from the Sasoriza Family — Oh, his name escapes me, but he's asked about you and if you'd like for him to escort you —"

"I-I already have a date in mind!" You sputtered all of a sudden, surprising the sisters behind the office's reception desk. "P-Please don't tell father, or he might combust on the spot…"

"Mmhm, all right, dearest. Your secret is safe with Mama. Don't forget to tell those friends of yours that your father's party is strictly formal! I know the academy has nice uniforms, but you don't want people whispering about your dear old man now, do you?"

"Wait, but that's —!" You gasped, knowing for a fact that your friends do not have a lick of formal clothes on them. I suppose now's the perfect time to use that allowance of mine, you thought to yourself. With how much you saved up at present, you could easily rent formal suits for all three of them. "…All right, mother. We'll figure something out."

"All right, darling," she replied, her voice soft, just like how she always spoke to you when you were a child in your bed, her warm fingers weaving through your hair. "It might not seem like it for you, but I've missed you, and so has your father. He wouldn't be so insistent if he didn't, you know."

"I… I know, mother. I've missed you, too."

When you stepped out of the office after your phone call, Arthur, Shinra, and Ogun were all waiting for you in the hallway, quickly crowding around you in worry.

"Is everything all right, princess?" Arthur started, his usual placid expression replaced with furrowed brows.

"Yeah, you were excused from the class pretty abruptly, so we thought something might be wrong," Ogun said, ever the concerned older brother in your ragtag group of stellar misfits.

"If there's anything you need help with, y'know you can count on us," Shinra doubled down, his anxiety evident in his curious, wide smile. 

"Yeah, no biggie. I just got a call from my mother is all…" You started with no other idea at all how to tell them about your father's birthday party except for saying it straightforwardly. "Are you guys busy on the 31st?"

Home was still home, despite not having come home in the last three and a half years. After leaving instructions with the academy and Ogun, the only one who had the mental capacity to understand what and where exactly they were going and what they were going to do, you returned home to prepare for your father's ostentatious birthday celebration. 

The polished marble floors gleamed, busy heels clicking and resounding against the ornately decorated hallways you once considered your normal. A small number of your household staff greeted you upon your arrival, while the rest were busy with tasks concerning tonight's party of all parties. 

Your mother wasn't lying when she said your father missed you. He dropped whatever it was he was busy with when the butler announced your arrival, beaming with pride as he happily declared to your bustling household staff that his dearest princess was home.

"Only in the meantime, Papa," you reminded him, though eventually allowing yourself to return his eager embrace. His hug was tight but measured, and despite his initial apprehension about the entire thing, he was careful not to wrinkle your academy uniform. "Happy birthday!"

"Oh, look who's finally home," your older brother remarked, leaning casually against the grand staircase railing in his loose dress shirt and pants. "You look well. Maybe a little on the beefier side now…"

"And you're still as insufferable as ever, big brother," you drolled, rolling your eyes at the young man who ruffled your hair. 

"Now what's this I heard from your mother about a date?" He queried, jumping right into the heart of what concerned him the most. "Am I familiar with this boy of yours?"

"Ah, yes! The mystery man. Seems I'm not on escort duty tonight. For the first time, even," your brother perked up immediately, slowing his steps so he was walking behind you and your father. "It's not Yorihisa, right?"

"Definitely not. Definitely not," you asserted, taking your father by the hand while glaring at your brother. "Please, Papa, can I at least have some tea before you start castigating me? And also, where is Mama?! She promised me she wouldn't tell!"

You could hear the household staff's low laughter in the background, evidently amused at the arrival of their young mistress and your father's clear distress at your interest in a boy. In your family's ornate baroque drawing room sat your mother, floral porcelain tea cup in hand, as she gestured for you to sit next to her.

"Mother, I can't believe you told Father!" You complained, though it was swiftly drowned out by the scent of your favorite tea and cookies wafting in the air. 

"Mama apologizes, dearest. It turns out that persistent Sasoriza boy, Yorihisa, went straight to your father to ask for permission…" She lamented, a hand on her cheek. "It wasn't like your papa was going to say yes to him, anyway, but I thought I'd let him know about your little date, too, just so he's aware."

"So I can control my face when I see him," your father remarked as he sat down and received a cup of tea from your mother. "What is his name, beauty? You can at least tell us that."

You tilted your head in contemplation, hesitating only slightly before eventually relenting. "Arthur Boyle."

"Yeah, that's the one. The blondie, right? Uses swords, too?" Your brother snapped his fingers at his epiphany as he sat down next to you.  

You shot him a confused look. "Wait, big brother, how did you —?" 

"Boyle…" Your father's gaze narrowed in thought. "I've not heard of this family."

"That's because he doesn't come from one," you replied, then helped yourself to the tea your mother had poured for you. You expected this kind of silence from them after that revelation.

"I see. And what is it about this boy that earned him an invitation to my birthday party?" Your father challenged as he reached for a cookie from the floral platter. "Aside from the fact that he is your friend."

"Yeah, what's his deal, little sister of mine? Is he charming? Some secret heir to a fallen family, maybe?" Your brother mused as he chomped on a cookie. "Or a knight, perhaps?"

"Brother, where on earth did you get your info about Arthur? Have you been gossiping about my life at the academy?" You accused, brows furrowed in aggravation. 

"I have my sources. After all, I'm your big brother. It's my duty to look into the people you associate with, let alone the guy you chose as your date for Pop's birthday," he declared with a dramatic hand on his chest. "Now go on, answer the old man. We're the ones asking questions here, not you."

You expected these kinds of questions, too; the feeling of them policing your choice of company is all too familiar. 

"Arthur has been nothing but kind to me for the last four years. He is incredibly capable. Not to mention honest and articulate. You'll find him a very interesting person," you stated without missing a beat as you reached for a cookie as well. "Most importantly, he doesn't ask me for anything."

"Kind, capable, and honest, is that it?" Your father remarked, taking note of the qualities in this boy that drew you to him. "Well, he sounds like a proper lad. Then I assume he'll know how to conduct himself tonight. That includes your other friends as well."

You tried to maintain your facade of eerie calmness without even letting on that you were, in fact, at your wits' end worrying about your friends' behavior tonight. You feared Shinra and his quick feet and how he might collide with a server, how Ogun might be too formal and overcorrecting, and how Arthur… Oh, Arthur… How he might declare something so inane or knightly at the worst possible moment. How he might even lose himself to more delusions of grandeur when he sees your opalescent home. 

"Of course, Papa. I'll be sure they don't cause a scene."

The older man smiled and nodded at you, carefully wiping the crumbs on the corner of your mouth like when you were a little girl. "See that you do, brains." 

It was times like these you couldn't help but wonder if your parents paid your household staff appropriately. Your mansion home glittered like a castle made of moonlight and stardust, the crystal chandeliers gleaming and sparkling as they hung from the painted ceilings. A string quartet played beneath your wide, sweeping staircase, the railings decorated with sheer lace and taffeta, while the polished marble floor reflected guests' silk gowns and pressed suits. Outside the foyer, lotus-shaped lanterns adorned the grand fountain, and the hedges and bushes along the dimmed lampposts were immaculately trimmed. 

Guests were already wining and dining even before your father's arrival, and he did so rather unceremoniously, with your mother in his arm and a glass of liquor already in hand. He donned an impeccably pressed navy blue three-piece suit, while your mother wore a matching navy and silver gown. 

The training academy had given you sharper shoulders and an even sharper gaze, as well as a faint scar on your shoulder that you had no trouble showing off. Your gown for tonight was your favorite color, accentuating your best features while still showcasing the gritty resolve you developed during your time away from high society. 

Your world, as your friends once said. You're the daughter of a family whose name carried weight across the Tokyo Empire, and your wealth and influence weren't something to sneeze at. 

Still, you had to admit that the whole ordeal made you incredibly nervous, even though this was your world, and even more so now that your father wanted to present you to his guests after not having been home for quite some time. Your older brother was another story…

Surprisingly, Ogun and Shinra were dressed impeccably, incredibly polished in their sleek, pressed rented suits. Black truly was something that never failed, no matter what the occasion. If not for their age, they'd blend in perfectly with most of your father's other guests. 

"Will you two be all right here? I promise once we're done with all the grandstanding, Arthur and I will be back," you vowed to them, calling a server's attention. The older man leaned forward and listened to you without question, nodding in assent at your quiet request to assist your friends with whatever they might need while you were away for a bit.

You had yet to see Arthur, who had a special role to play tonight. Ogun mentioned that one of your butlers led him upstairs since he was the young mistress's chosen escort, and this was according to her wishes. 

The brown-haired boy managed a warm and easygoing smile, a hand clamped on Shinra's stiff shoulder. In contrast to the former's relaxed temperament, the latter had one of the most severe smiles on his face. "Don't worry about us. We'll blend in. Aaand we'll try not to cause any trouble, of course!" 

"Good. That's good! Help yourselves to some food, all right? We'll be back before you know it."

Your chat with your two friends was cut short when another of the younger butlers came to bring you upstairs once more in time for your introduction, which also meant the formal start of the celebration. You stood at the top of the stairs, awaiting your chosen escort for the night, and you were just as speechless as the hush that fell over the hall the moment Arthur took his place next to you. 

"Hello, princess," he greeted you, ever formal. His suit was simple, the same black and sharply tailored outfit the rest of your friends wore, but he donned it like knightly armor. His blond hair was neatly combed back, and the sure confidence in his posture didn't falter even under the scrutiny of aristocrats, whose whispers and murmurs about him carried from across the ballroom.

"Who is this young man?"

"I've not seen him before?"

"Is he perhaps a classmate of…?"

"The young lady chose him as her companion for the night?"

Surprisingly, he wasn't as hyped for the occasion as you expected him to be. You were prepared to nudge and elbow him all night if he had kept up his chivalrous medieval knight persona, but instead, he was quiet and contemplative. 

"Shall we?" He turned to you, offering his elbow for you to hold. 

"Um, y-yes. I-I mean, of course. Let's go," you sputtered, barely managing to hold yourself together as your heart skipped a beat despite yourself. A small exhale escaped your glossy lips as you hooked your gloved hand on his steady forearm. "You clean up well, sir knight."

"A knight must always be prepared for court," he replied calmly. You shared a nod that signified you would descend the gilded staircase in unison, the whispers of the crowd fading in the background as he gave you a grounding smile. 

From across the hall, Ogun and Shinra watched the scene unfold in complete wonder at how Arthur hadn't acted like an imbecile — yet.  

"Are we allowed to take more than one?" Shinra suddenly asked, his hand hovering over a third fruit macaron on the glittering dessert table. Their server-guardian placed the dessert on the boy's half-full plate, wordlessly answering his question. "Thanks, man."

"Shinra, at least act like you've seen fancy food before," Ogun gently nudged the other boy. "Let's not cause a scene for our friends, yeah?"

When you arrived at the foot of the staircase, you had nearly forgotten all about the party, but you were swiftly brought back to reality when your parents approached with warm smiles. Your mother placed a gentle kiss on your cheek while your father bestowed one on your forehead. For Arthur, however, the older man held out a sharp yet composed hand. 

"Arthur Boyle," he stated, gaze unwavering. "I've heard good things about you from my little beauty."

"Many happy returns of the day, sir," the boy replied, returning your father's solid handshake in earnest. No strange gestures, but nothing but respect. "It is an honor to be invited."

You pursed your lips in sheer agitation, wondering why the heck they haven't cut you two loose yet when the party's already started (?). 

"Birthdays are important family affairs. You don't introduce just someone to occasions like this. You being here means you're special to her, Arthur," your father remarked. "And you don't accept invitations to occasions like this from just someone, either."

"Your daughter and I are good friends, sir," Arthur stated. "I intend to stand by her when she calls… And to ensure her safety above all else."

From across the hall, Shinra and Ogun were a bundle of nerves watching everything unfold.

"He's actually serious," the crimson-eyed boy murmured around a half-bitten cream puff. "Like… real serious and not stupid serious."

"Looks like it," the brown-haired boy replied with a relieved sigh. "Let's hope he keeps it up 'til the end of the party."

Your father gave Arthur a short nod before allowing you two to finally join your friends at the banquet. With your hand still in his, you gracefully led him to where you left the other two boys, no longer paying any attention to the many eyes that followed your every move. But the music the string quartet played caught your ear, clearly a signal for you to take the first dance, which your mother also reminded you of earlier that day.

"Arthur," you said, holding his pensive, blue gaze. "As the young mistress of this house, I am expected to take the first dance. Have you ever done this before?"

His calm expression shifted into something of amusement. "A knight must know the rhythms of court just as well as he knows those of the battlefield."

The music swelled, and a tender waltz filled the air. He turned to you, his posture immaculate, and lifted your left hand onto his shoulder, while his right hand respectfully settled on the small of your back. His steps were surprisingly steady and measured, as you would expect from a practiced dancer, and he smiled once more when he realized you were already following his lead. 

"You've done this before, then…" You whispered to him, but he gently shook his head. 

"I merely studied, my princess, for it would be embarrassing to stumble. I've watched my parents dance the same way, too."

From the rest of the crowd, Shinra was silently shaking Ogun in complete disbelief at what was transpiring, yet the latter could only nod in approval at how Arthur hadn't made a fool of himself — yet. The blonde led you to a turn, your skirt flowing against your footwork, and he caught you by the waist in perfect timing with the song. 

Oh, for some reason, you felt like you were floating, no longer there in your own home, but rather, somewhere else. You've attended numerous balls and soirees all your life, but tonight was like a fairytale come to life. You knew Arthur would be insulted at the mere idea of being called a prince rather than a knight, but that was how he looked to you at this very moment. 

Calm, charming, and when he smiles, it's like the sun shining on my face. 

"You're staring," he said, to which you replied by lowering your lashes. 

"Sorry… I… I just didn't expect…" You trailed off.

"That a boy like me could act appropriately?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I know, my princess. I know," he replied gently, and somehow it felt like he drew you closer to him. "This is your world, and I am merely partaking in it just for tonight."

"That's not true," you murmured, finally raising your eyes to meet his gaze once more. "You belong here."

"I am a Fire Soldier. I belong where my blade is needed… To cleanse our world of infernals and purify their souls."

Like I needed to be reminded, you thought to yourself. Despite the direction of your conversation, you still followed his lead and gave him your full trust as he carefully dipped you in time with the music's crescendo, his hand warm on your back as he lowered you just enough to momentarily steal your breath. The chandeliers glimmering overhead were like a thousand stars twinkling, and for a fleeting moment, your world tapered into his azure gaze. 

When he brought you upright, the air in the hall was filled with impressed applause, and in the corner of your eye, you saw Shinra clapping far too enthusiastically that Ogun had to reel him in. Arthur held your hand up, and you nodded in agreement as you bowed and curtsied before your audience. 

"You're so beautiful," he said, no proud declaration or ostentatious display of admiration — but just him and his sincerity. He was quick to catch the shift in your expression when you peered over his shoulder and saw a figure weaving through the crowd with deadly confidence. 

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, your grip on Arthur's hand tightening as you gently pulled him closer to you. A red-haired young man around your age approached you, his maroon silk waistcoat and his family mon pinned to his chest screaming "nobility".

Yorihisa Sasoriza was heir to his clan's leadership. Much like your own family, they were "old money" elites in the Tokyo Empire. You two had grown up attending the same formal balls and soirees and enduring the same etiquette tutors — that is, before you went to the academy against your parents' wishes. Your family's shared circles instilled a sense of entitlement in him, even though you had made it perfectly clear to him that you weren't interested in him. Time and again, he has asked for the chance to be your escort, and time and again, you've rejected his advances. But this was the first night you've ever chosen an escort for yourself. 

"May I have a word?" Yorihisa asked, his smile too sharp to even be considered sincere. "Just us two, if possible."

"Whatever it is you have to say to me, you can say it with Arthur here," you quipped. 

The red-headed boy's mouth tightened, even more so when Arthur placed a reassuring hand over yours in an attempt to soothe your shaking fist. "I have to admit that I am utterly surprised at your choice of an escort. 

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Arthur is my guest."

"Yes, yes, your fellow trainee from… Where, exactly?" Yorihisa said, sighing at the sight of your clear stubbornness. "I asked both your parents for permission. When they mentioned you already had a date for tonight, I was ready to let it go because I expected your older brother, as always, or someone from our cohort. Instead, you chose a boy with no family name. Do you even know what the people are saying tonight? That you're trying to make some kind of statement with this rebellious phase of yours."

"Our cohort, you say. You speak as though we're friends in the first place, Yorihisa."

His smile thinned at your statement. "And these… guests you brought with you… Are your friends? Is that what this is?"

"Choose the words that will come out of your mouth very carefully, Yorihisa," you warned, gaze narrowed at the boy who claimed to be your friend. "At this point, I thought you'd learn your place after being rejected again and again and again, but clearly, this isn't the case. You can't seem to take a hint. You asked, and I said no. That wasn't an invitation to insult my chosen escort and my choice of friends." 

Yorihisa's smile completely vanished, his attention diverted to the boy standing next to you this time. "And you were comfortable accepting her invitation?"

Arthur turned to you before eventually answering in the most painfully honest way. "She asked me, and I saw no reason not to accept."

A small huff escaped the red-headed boy's mouth, a look of complete disbelief on his face when he heard the fact that you had even asked a boy of no noble standing to be your companion on such a special occasion. "I am the logical choice. Admit it or not, we grew up together. Our families align, and so do our futures. You'd do well to remember that. You'd do well to know that this may be the only case for you."

Something inside you snapped, the heat swirling in your chest enough to make you conscious of what it was you were about to say. You squeezed Arthur's hand before eventually releasing him, taking a step forward into Yorihisa's space. 

"Oh, shut up, will you, Yorihisa? In case I haven't made it clear yet, for the last ten years of our lives, I don't like you. You're one of the reasons why I went to the academy in the first place. And going to the academy wasn't some petty rebellion as everyone thinks," you seethed at him, your voice low enough so as not to draw any more attention to you. "It's true that my status drew unwanted attention at the academy, but overall, it never really mattered. All that mattered was willpower and firepower, and firepower doesn't care about names, nobility, or inheritance. Fire will burn everyone and everything to the ground, regardless of how high you stand." 

Yorihisa slowly stepped away from you as he felt the tremor of heat underneath your skin and the eerie glow in your eyes, once more reminding him of what exactly you were capable of. You placed a gloved hand on your chest before boldly declaring, much to his embarrassment, "I am a Fire Soldier, one of the noblest occupations in the Tokyo Empire, and I care not about the prattling of high society! I belong where my blade is needed… To cleanse our world of infernals and purify their souls. And who knows? Maybe to save your sorry ass, too."

The redhead stiffened before eventually turning away to vanish into the crowd once more. Ogun and Shinra narrowly avoided his tempestuous exit from the conversation, the two of them intrigued at what had just transpired, so they had to approach you. 

"Was there any trouble?" Ogun asked first.

"Yeah, dude looked like he wanted to incinerate Arthur," Shinra remarked, eyeing Yorihisa's retreating figure. 

"He's unpowered, so there's no threat of that ever happening," you affirmed, throwing the boys a thumbs-up. "Nothing I can't handle, though."

"I thought I might have had to duel him," Arthur stated with a hand on his chin. 

"Here? In my father's house?" The soft 'pfft' that left your glossed lips evolved into a tender laugh, the kind that only came out because of whatever inane thing the blonde boy said. Still, you shook your head when you saw just how serious he looked, his blue eyes scanning your surroundings for the fuming Yorihisa. "You're not dueling anyone, Arthur."

"…Very well," he relented, allowing you to slip your hand into his sleeve once more. 

"For the record, I don't regret inviting you guys. I knew for a fact that you knew how to handle yourselves," you beamed at them, all three smiling back at you as you all headed to the buffet. "Wait, Shinra, is that a caramel bar in your pocket?"

"O-Oh, uh, h-how'd that get in there?" He spluttered, a sheepish hand on his nape. "S-Sorry, but these are really good!"

"Don't worry about it! I'll have one of the servers pack some for you before you head back to the academy," you said as you cheerfully patted his back. "Have you tried the cream puffs? They're my favorite!"

Arthur smiled to himself as he straightened his back ever so slightly, a refined, silent confidence returned to him as he took his place right next to you. But if he were being completely honest with you, he would've loved to mop the floor with your so-called friend Yorihisa. He was more than ready to speak up for himself, if not for you losing your temper. Only part of him was worried you'd suddenly spark flames out of irritation, but if you ever did, he'd take one look at you before deciding if he'd calm you down or join you instead. 

Guests and relatives approached you and your group of friends, some with vested interest in your shared endeavors, while others came with curiosity and scrutiny. While Ogun managed to charm them with how well-spoken he was, Shinra quietly took his place on the sidelines, nodding in assent at whatever it was the former was talking about — "Better than to make an utter fool of myself," he mentioned earlier. 

Arthur was the perfect image of devotion as he dutifully stood next to you while your aunts approached with their glossy, polite smiles laced with subtle inquisitiveness. He did his best to answer every question thrown at him, but it was clear to you that they were indeed criticizing your unconventional choice of a partner for this evening. You slipped your hand into his sleeve once more and gently pulled him away when another elderly aunt tried to corner you, a drink in her hand, and even more embarrassing questions in her mind, for sure. 

The two of you slipped through a side corridor, past the tall windows and draperies, as well as the solemn, painted portraits of your ancestors, until you reached the glass balcony doors at the end of the hall. A cool night breeze welcomed you the moment you stepped outside. From below, the lotus-shaped lanterns twinkled in the fountain, while you could still hear the string quartet playing from the inside. 

"I'm so sorry, Arthur. I didn't…" You started, only for you to trail off with an exhausted sigh. "I didn't expect everyone to be so… curious about you. I never really told you, but my big brother always escorts me during parties like these. So it must've been a really big deal to everyone."

"It's all right," he replied, gently squeezing your hand in his. "I was prepared to be interrogated."

You managed a small laugh. "You handled it well, sir knight. This princess is most pleased…"

He rested your clasped hands on the marble railing, his gaze drifting across the expanse of your estate. The moonlight caught the polished lines of his pressed suit, but he still carried himself like he always did, even at the academy — honestly and willfully.

"You once said before that you weren't a real princess, but this castle says otherwise."

"It's just a house, Arthur," you said, your eyes flickering from your hands to his face. A pensive expression painted his face, while the lights from below were reflected in his blue eyes. 

"It's not," he asserted. The sound of your guests' subdued laughter spilled outside, prompting him to straighten his shoulders slightly. "Your family is influential. You were the subject of discussion the entire evening, and not everyone had a kind word to say about… about our association —"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Arthur. Don't."

"It is not my wish to hurt your reputation."

"My family's reputation will be fine, I assure you. None of my choices matter in the long run, nor will they affect my family in any way," you assured him, grasping his hand in yours this time. "I spent the last four years of my life at the Special Fire Force Training Academy, when I should've been studying at a private school. Yeah, some people started talking weirdly about me, but when word got out that I actually had potential, they were all quick to change their tune."

His hand was warm even over your satin gloves, and you smiled to yourself as you laced your fingers into his own. "I don't see why people would think less of my family and me when I just chose someone I like to be my escort for tonight. It's not my fault you look at me like I…"

"Like you what?" 

"You never looked at me like I was someone to impress. You looked at me like I was both the beautiful princess and the insurmountable dragon. You looked at me like I was the most ethereal thing you've ever laid eyes on, while also wanting to best me, because I was a warrior like you," you said, lowering your lashes to the edge of the balcony. "And you… You never wanted anything from me. Not even once. Not even when I asked you outright. Because you said it before, that only fools seek favor through deception, and you weren't one for deception at all. You knights are the most honest people I know. Not that I know many knights, really… Not that I know any other knights, too."

Arthur chuckled at your rambling, gently breaking your reverie. "You still are."

"What?"

"The most ethereal thing I've ever laid eyes on."

He pinched the tip of the middle finger of your glove and unhurriedly slid it off your hand, his gaze clear and steady as he lifted it and pressed a tender kiss on your bare knuckles.

"…I really like you, Arthur. Ugh, don't look at me with those stupidly beautiful blue eyes of yours!"

He laughed at how sheepish you looked, a face no one else knew. A face only he was privileged to gaze upon.

"Since you like this knight so much, he'll stick around," he said, grasping your wrist so he could press your palm to his cheek. "Though he thinks you deserve someone who won't complicate your life in the future."

"Arthur Boyle, you are the least complicated part of my future," you declared, moving to pinch his cheek instead. "By the time you and I can get married, you've already saved the world — or maybe a part of it. You'll have earned all the merits to marry me. Not that you need any, really! And th-that is, i-if you want t-to or still want to, by that time!"

Oh, how presumptuous of me! You were quick to step away from him, hurriedly burying your burning face into your equally hot hands, your embarrassment already evident by the way you averted your eyes from the boy standing right in front of you. 

Arthur was no stranger to confessions. Of all the confessions he'd gotten over the years at the academy — weird ones, cute ones, and a girl once gave him a bouquet, too — yours was the only one that sparkled. It sparkled in a way that a prized treasure would in an 8-bit game, and he'd carry it with him everywhere if he could.

It was in his inventory now. No way he was letting it go. No way he was letting you go. So he held your hand once more before you could completely stumble away from him. 

"I swear I was ready to hear this, but I didn't expect it to be tonight," he admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "But regardless of the circumstances, a knight must always be prepared to respond to words of admiration."

"Wait, what do you mean you were ready t-to hear — You knew that I liked you?!"

"Of course, I knew. So did Shinra and Ogun," he hummed rather smugly. 

You narrowed your eyes at him before eventually deadpanning, "Let me guess. They pointed it out to you." 

"Yes, they did. But if it's any comfort to you, my princess, I liked you first. I've liked you ever since we first sparred." 

"What?!" Came your incredulous cry.

He was serious. Just as he believed himself to be a knight of legend. Not once did his gaze falter, his eyes as steadfast as ever. He held your hand as though he was holding his sword, his knuckles rigid but his grip as careful as ever. 

"You and I still have countless adventures to undertake. Bridges to cross. Obstacles to overcome. Challenges to win. The future you speak of… When that day comes, I'll surely be a knight worthy of you. The greatest treasures are never easily won, but for you, I would gladly spend a lifetime proving myself worthy."

But when you think about it after all this time, his vow meant everything and nothing at the same time. To you, Arthur was already worthy of you and your hand. Everything was only a matter of time. 

— Oath of the saber.

No amount of time or distance or danger could ever separate you and Arthur, even after graduation had passed, and you had gone your separate ways into different companies under the Special Fire Force. Happenstances tied your fates together; the adventures he mentioned now all came in the form of missions and emergency responses to calls about infernals.

Despite the support they've shown you after graduating from the academy, you weren't at all interested in playing the role your parents had in mind for you, and to further rub salt in their wound, you ignored your parents' special request to the Special Fire Force to be assigned to Company 3 and instead joined one where their reach would never find you. You were, at last, a full-fledged Fire Soldier under the vigilant orders of Company 2's seasoned commander, Captain Gustav Honda. 

…Though you sometimes questioned your own choice. Your captain was a family man who developed a soft spot for you, being one of the few girls in his company. Still, you were one of the two rookies he eagerly signed up for the many competitive outfits within the Special Fire Force, such as the Rookie Fire Soldier Games and the Rookie Training Reassignment Program.

You and Takeru Noto, who was more affectionately known across the company as "Juggernaut", were the captain's favorites, tempered by the fact that you both showed promise as Fire Soldiers, despite the latter's extreme cowardice. Takeru was always scared, but his fear carried him through every mission, pushing him to choose responsibility over convenience. And that made him surprisingly reliable. As Captain Honda's current cream of the crop, you two were always at the forefront of every investigation surrounding the Evangelist and the White Clad, the secret of human combustion, and the mysterious Adolla Burst that Shinra allegedly possessed. Not to mention the eeriness around the church, the Holy Sol Temple… Your tag team partner was always somehow involved with Company 8, from the expedition to the Chinese Peninsula to the deeper investigation of the spectral Nether, which cost your teammate nearly half of his body.

It was always a pleasure to be able to work with Arthur — and Shinra, to an extent, as Fire Soldiers now baptized in fire, but the dangers and uncertainty surrounding the investigations made everything hazy, even as the answers made themselves apparent. More importantly, Shinra was a friend you'd do anything for, so stepping away from all of this wasn't something you could do now. 

You can't count the number of times Arthur got in trouble with his company whenever he rushed to your side during your joint missions. Your interactions always raised eyebrows and questions from your respective companies because of how brief but precise and tender they were, and you recalled Shinra complaining that he was grilled by Company 8 regarding your history with Arthur. 

And it was history in the making to this very day. 

Special Fire Force Company 2 was under the careful jurisdiction of the Tokyo Imperial Army, so it came as no surprise to you that the drills there were far more intense than those of the other brigades. Even as the captain's favorites, you and Takeru weren't exempt from the gruelling discipline that hardened every member of your company into exceptional Fire Soldiers, ones that didn't flinch even in the face of adversity. You enjoyed the renown that came with being part of the elite company, but along with that came the exhaustion of expectations and having to keep up with appearances.

It was no surprise that everyone there took their days off very seriously. You weren't an exception, either. Your auspicious day off started quietly, which was exactly how you preferred it, but the stillness of the day was eventually cut short by the sight of your tag team partner returning to his quarters with a dented soda can in hand. Takeru perked up when he saw you halfway through your door in an outfit he hadn't seen you in before. 

"Oh? Where are you off to all dressy today?"

"I'm going to Shinjuku!" You beamed at him, your excitement bouncing off like light against a mirror. "I have a date!"

"A-A date? How nice!" He hummed at you, though you could tell from the way his shoulders drooped that he was exhausted. The company worked him hard, after all. Even harder than you. 

"You wanna come with? It's your day off too, isn't it?" You asked him without missing a beat. 

"M-Me? B-But you just said you had a date!" He stammered, brows furrowed in confusion. "I w-wouldn't want to intrude…"

"You wouldn't be intruding at all," you replied with a smile as you leaned against your door frame. "Besides, you look like you need a break more than I do. Also… call it a hunch, but I think you'll enjoy this day just as much as I will."

"Y-You think so?"

"Yeah, just don't make things weird and we'll call it even," you said with a small laugh. "Now go get dressed! The city awaits!"

No amount of careful planning could save Arthur from the inquisitive eyes of Company 8. He always spent most of his days off training or goofing around with Vulcan, so it was rare to see him up and about early and dressed coolly but casually. He planned on arriving early, since knights always arrived early, but how could he, when his departure was barred by his curious, curious crewmates?

Familiar footsteps jogged from behind him as he made his way down the hall. "Oi, Arthur! Where are you going?"

"Hello, Shinra," the blonde replied, not at all stopping his pace. "I'm going to the city."

"To the city? Why's that?"

"…personal matters."

Shinra grinned — not the nefarious kind, but something rather teasing. "Is that so?"

From behind them appeared Maki, still out of her jumpsuit when Shinra announced nonchalantly that, "Arthur's sneaking into the city!"

"I am not sneaking! A knight is entitled to a day of respite like everyone else is!"

"Are you meeting someone, Arthur?" Maki asked thoughtfully. 

"…Yes, I am. Now if you'll excuse me…" He admitted, adjusting his jacket before resuming his steps. 

"So it is a date!" Shinra followed him, almost impatiently. Two more heads peeked out from across the hall behind them, questions in their minds as they eyed the two brunettes tailing Arthur, not at all hiding the fact. 

"Where is everyone going?" Iris asked curiously, while Tamaki poked her entire head out to see what was happening. 

"Arthur's going on a secret date!" Shinra announced once more, to which the two girls replied with equally surprised gasps. 

"Wait a sec!" Tamaki piped up, taking Iris by the hand to follow the rest of the group on their way out of their headquarters. "Wait for us!"

Arthur walked and walked, convincing himself that he'd be left alone eventually, but his footsteps were echoed in multitude, prompting him to turn around.

All four of them — Shinra, Maki, Iris, and Tamaki — froze mid-follow. 

"Why are you following me?"

"F-Following you? We're not — pfft, come on! Are you the only one who can go to the city on your day off?!" Shinra tried to argue, while the three ladies all nodded their heads in agreement. "It's a c-coincidence! Yeah, a coincidence that we're also headed to Shinjuku, uh…"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at them. "You're following me."

"We're not!"

"You are."

"W-We're here to support you!" Maki cheered him on.

"This is a day off, not a mission. I require no support," he sighed. "I suppose this must be how squires treat a knight…"

He walked to the train station and alighted, and so too did his crewmates, though keeping a polite distance from him in insistence that they weren't following him to his not-secret date. 

In terms of proximity, you were much closer to Shinjuku than Arthur was, so you expected to arrive there ahead of him. Rarely did schedules between your companies align so perfectly, and rarer still did you get a quiet day away from drills, reports, and patrols. However, there was no helping your sense of responsibility when you saw how exhausted your friend Takeru was, let alone his lack of plans for any fun or recreation on the rarest of days. 

Still, part of you somewhat knew that everything would still go as planned. As you and Arthur planned.

Across from you at the French Fries stand, Takeru was holding the paper containers as if they were live artillery. "Thanks for inviting me… Y-You're sure I'm not interrupting or anything?"

"You're welcome, Takeru. You do know that you look like you haven't taken a break in weeks, right?" You replied with a small smile as you took the small carton of freshly cooked fries that he carefully handed to you. 

"That’s because I hadn't," he responded, staring down at his food rather nervously. "You —"

"You're not," you cut him off as you shoved a fry in your mouth. "I'll sock you if you ask me one more time."

He squinted suspiciously. "…You said that a bit too quickly. It's only making me more anxious."

You elbowed him with a huff. "Will you relax?! The whole point of a day off is to take a break, so stop worrying! Eat your fries before they go soggy and enjoy this strategic break!"

Meanwhile, across the street where you promised to meet, Arthur paused in his tracks. Shinra was already three steps ahead of him when he noticed the sudden shift in the blonde's gaze. "That's Juggernaut, you dumb banana of a knight. Why the heck are you looking at him like you want to skewer him?"

From behind them, the three girls were all obviously pretending they hadn't been following Arthur this entire morning, until Tamaki leaned forward and spotted you from across the street. "It's the girl from Company 2! A-And Juggernaut!"

Takeru was blissfully unaware of the ire directed at him while he enthusiastically explained something about the French Fries you were eating, a smile on your face as you listened in rapt interest.

Shinra elbowed Arthur into a reaction. "Juggernaut's no one to be jealous of, Arthur! Besides, they're basically partners with how often they're deployed together!"

Arthur turned to his friend sharply. "I am not jealous."

"Yeah, sure, tell yourself that," the dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. 

Meanwhile, Tamaki squinted at them questioningly, a pout gracing her face as she clung to Iris's arm. "Hmph. All of those promises to me just for him to date some other girl…"

Arthur looked mildly offended at her side comment. "They're not on a date." 

All four of his unwitting companions jumped in shock when he unceremoniously walked into a lamppost, colliding with it with a resounding clang, while Shinra wheezed in utter amusement at how whipped his friend was. 

You caught them in the corner of your eye the same moment Arthur recovered from the lamppost, waving your hand at him excitedly. "Arthur!"

Shinra nudged him, his cheek still red from his collision. Still, they managed to approach you and Takeru as casually as possible, and you would've done just the same if not for your tag team partner nearly dropping his fries the moment he noticed the pigtailed girl among the group from Company 8.

"T-T-Tamaki! Th-This is —!"

He almost keeled over when you elbowed him again. "Come on, Juggernaut! You promised you wouldn't make things weird for me! Now you're panicking because Tamaki is here."

Tamaki blinked at you before eventually turning to the blushing Takeru, who looked at you like you had just pulled a pin from a grenade and threw it at him. "I-I AM NOT P-PANICKING!"

The apprehension on the pigtailed girl's face slowly vanished, replaced by a mischievous smile. "You totally are, Juggernaut!"

"Besides, my date is right here," you happily declared as you took Arthur by the hand. "Hello, my good sir knight."

Maki and Iris gasped in unison, eyes sparkling at your revelation. This explained so much more than Shinra's vague account of your relationship with Arthur. "So you two are dating?!"

Arthur feigned a cough into his free fist. "For a while now, yes."

"What?! Why didn't you guys tell me?!" Shinra exclaimed, slapping a hand on his forehead. "I mean, congrats and all, but you could've told me, right? Right?!"

You laughed at your friend's sham outrage. "Sorry, Shinra. For the record, we were planning on telling you — and Ogun, of course! But you know how weird things have been lately… Also, you guys have been going back and forth to Asakusa, so time's really been against us all."

"Yeah, tell me about it… I feel like it's been forever since we've had a normal day," the crimson-eyed boy shrugged, his sight drawn to the cloudy blue sky. "And this looks pretty normal to me."

"Can't say I'm not happy to see you with Arthur, you know. Knowing how nosy your crew is, I figured it wouldn't hurt to invite Juggernaut, especially since I know for a fact that Tamaki wouldn't be able to resist the idea of you going on a super top secret date with someone," you chuckled as you squeezed Arthur's hand in yours. "Still, I am sorry about the confusion. But you do know Juggernaut's no one to be jealous of, right?"

"That's what I said!" Shinra blurted out, to which the blonde boy only responded with a low "hm". 

"Oh," you croaked, placing your free hand on your chest and dramatically clutching it as though you were in pain. "He really is sooo handsome when he broods. My heart feels like it could burn through my chest at any moment!"

Shinra cringed at your remark, taking it as his cue to join the rest of the group, who were crowding around the flustered Takeru. "I'm not listening to this…"

Arthur saw the contented nod you made when you saw your teammate relax into the group of girls and Shinra, though he was still his same shy self whenever Tamaki turned to him with a question. 

"You invited him for… her," he started. "A smart and practical maneuver."

"I learned from the best," you happily hummed at him. "Also, I think Juggernaut deserves the break just as much as I do."

While the rest of the group was preoccupied with interrogating your tag team partner and Tamaki, Iris gave you two a warm smile and a nod that seemed to say, "We'll be fine. Enjoy your day!" 

You and Arthur nodded in unison before eventually disappearing into the colorful crowd, entirely confident that you'll find them back there before they even notice that you're gone.

"Am I glad to see you?" You said cheerfully as he fell into step beside you. "After a good deed and all, now we have our date!"

The two of you wandered deeper into the shopping district with no real destination in mind. If anything, you were already more than happy just having him by your side. 

"How… How have you been, my princess?" He asked, carefully guiding you through the waves of people that came and went through the district. For some reason, every practiced conversation starter he had was forgotten, replaced by the contentment of the warmth of your hand in his. 

"I've been well. Juggernaut and I have been training extra, though. Ever since he lost his limbs during our little expedition to the Nether, he's been hell-bent on compensating… As for me, my sword arm remains as strong as ever," you replied thoughtfully. "Though I have to admit, I am rather unnerved about the forces moving in the shadows."

Part of you expected him to reassure you that things would be all right, but you knew him better than to spout half-baked optimism. You could tell from the way his brows furrowed that the investigations unsettled him, too. 

"I foresee many difficult battles ahead," he stated, and his words made your chest tighten even as your eyes drifted to the calm blue sky overhead. "But I believe we will win against those who slither in the dark. Nothing that heroes of light can't handle."

"Of course we will! We're Fire Soldiers, after all! Or more like, uh, the Warrior Princess and the Knight King?" 

"That we are," he chuckled. The sound of his laugh carried weight but was mirthless, and now that you've had a closer look at him, the lines on his face and the circles under his eyes only compounded your initial worry that he was being just as overworked as you were. 

No, that's not it, you thought to yourself as he pointed to a ramen joint, telling you about the delicious ramen Captain Obi often treated him to. "You wanna eat there? I'm kind of craving miso ramen now that you mentioned it…"

There was a twinkle in his blue eyes as he led you to the establishment, and he was now talking about his training of sorts with Captain Shinmon of Company 7 while you waited for your bowls to be served. For a while, your conversation drifted from ordinary to bizarre things — from life as rookie Fire Soldiers to the surprisingly perilous territory Company 8 had been traversing for the last few months. 

A server eventually set two bowls of piping hot ramen on your table, the warm aroma of salty and savory broth wafting into your nose. It tasted just as good as it smelled, and even Arthur didn't waste time digging in. Soon enough, your idle conversation drifted to your carefully planned date today.

"It must be nice having other girls in your company," you mused aloud. "I mean, we have sisters and all of that, but they aren't exactly soldiers, so there's still a fine line separating us… Not to mention they all seem to care a great deal about you."

"I suppose they do."

"I'm pretty glad to see Shinra, too. It's nice to see a familiar face every once in a while," you chuckled to yourself. "You know, with everything that happened at the Chinese Peninsula and the Nether… Not to mention that mayhem caused by that girl with the Adolla Burst… I figured since we've shared a bit of ground between us, you wouldn't look at Juggernaut so… unkindly." 

"I was merely startled to see him with you. After all, this day was supposed to be ours…" He revealed, frowning into his bowl like a sad puppy. 

"It still is," you beamed at him. "I quite like how this day is turning out so far. Ramen is such a welcome change of pace from our usual military food. Then again, your company's pretty detached when it comes to these things, so you're probably used to eating home-cooked meals."

He nodded eagerly. "Lieutenant Hinawa does a lot of the cooking for us."

"Wonders never cease," you remarked in surprise at how a man so seemingly callous would take the time of the day to ensure his crewmates ate balanced meals. "The lieutenant always struck me as straitlaced."

It was Arthur's turn to chuckle. "He is. To a fault, even. But you'll also catch him wearing the most ridiculous things at headquarters…"

When Arthur wasn't talking about his knightly endeavors, he looked just like a normal boy. It was heartening to hear him chatter about his life as a member of Company 8 who was so evidently loved by everyone, after all of that grief he went through in his childhood. He wasn't very keen on talking about it even when you were both at the academy, and he often insisted back then that he was all right — that he had always been all right. It's clear to you now that he has found a place to call home, with everything precious to him within his reach.

You chewed your noodles thoughtfully and carefully, glancing around the joint and taking in the sights, sounds, and smells. The place was warm, with other diners talking in low, polite voices, wooden chopsticks softly clattering against the lacquer bowls, and seated across from you was a boy with the brightest smile and even brighter eyes.

"What's on your mind, princess?" He inquired, following your sight as you observed the yellow incandescent lights hanging overhead. 

"Just thinking how I'd like to have many, many more meals with you in the future, Arthur," you said with a small smile before helping yourself to your noodles. "Hopefully, you aren't too busy or too popular for me."

"Never," he quietly declared. "I will always have time for you. And I, too, look forward to more of these meals in the future. I'd be a failure of a knight if I were unable to uphold my promises to you. I'd be a failure of a… a boyfriend, too."

Boyfriend. How cute. And hearing it come from his lips made it even sweeter. 

"The Empire's enemies will be sorely disappointed to know that I'm not about to surrender our future to them. Not when we still have so much to do together," you affirmed. "Not while we're here to protect this place."

The rest of your day passed in the blink of an eye, like the sands of time slipping through your fingers, even though you're grasping at them, and you parted ways with a promise of another date, another meal, and another conversation — like you had all the time in the world. Neither of you knew just how little was left, with the stage already set for the beginning of the end. 

Company 2 was unusually tense this afternoon. There wasn't a sight of Fire Soldiers training or joking around, but a cluster of orange-clad crew members was all crowding around the mounted broadcast screen in the cafeteria, even though meal time was still hours away. Everyone was listening to a report being looped again and again like a broken record, hammering it into their thoughts until everyone memorized the entire thing. 

"…Captain Akitaru Obi of Special Fire Force Company 8 has been arrested for false imprisonment of Shinra Kusakabe, a holder of the holy flame known as Adolla Burst…"

What?

"…It is believed that the other members of the Special Fire Force Company 8 have taken Kusakabe and are on the run. At present, the Imperial Army considers all members of Company 8 as suspects, and a manhunt is underway…"

The murmurs burned hotter than any fire, and you had half a mind to run amok and set the place ablaze. Everyone was calling Company 8 traitors to the Empire… But none of them knew of the dark shadow cast over the church and its leadership, and how the King's integrity may have been compromised. 

Ridiculous, you thought, fists clenched so tight you thought you'd draw blood from digging your fingernails too deep. Lost in your own hazy thoughts, you didn't notice Takeru standing right next to you, worry painted all over his face. "Are… Are you okay?"

"It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense," you murmured almost angrily. "Takeru, you and I both know that this can't be true. They must've found out about something…"

"Y-Yeah, something is going on, for sure…" He replied, still a bundle of nerves. "They aren't traitors. They can't be. B-But you need to calm down for a m—"

"Calm down? Calm down?! Th—mmmfph!" You nearly shouted, only for him to throw a hand over your mouth. 

"Look, before you're my teammate, you're my friend! A-And I know this news must come as a shock to you, b-but now's not the time to be impulsive! Think of what Arthur would do instead!"

You bit him, much to his shock, prompting him to release you as he shook his sore hand. "You know Arthur's a bona fide idiot, right, Takeru? Were I in his place, he'd —"

"H-He'd expect you to make smarter decisions than he ever could!" He exclaimed. "He… He may be an idiot, but surely he'd say something along the lines of, 'a knight doesn't break rules'! And, 'a Fire Soldier places their duty above all else'!" 

To cleanse our world of infernals and purify their souls. To place human lives above even my own. 

Takeru's logic was sound; you couldn't help but admit to yourself. "Arthur believes in honor and doing the right things. He… He's surely on his way to save Captain Obi…"

"Yeah, Company 8 must be… A-And if you got yourself arrested trying to do things on your own, he'd be pretty disappointed."

Your friend's words hung heavier on your shoulders than you expected, dousing the rage and flames that threatened to flicker if you heard another whisper about Company 8 — about Arthur — being a traitor. You shook your head and took a deep breath to psyche yourself up. "Okay. Thanks, Takeru."

Both of you looked up in surprise when you heard the doors to the mess hall open, followed by your name being called by one of the lieutenants. A hushed silence fell over the place as you and Takeru saluted after being approached by your superior. "Captain Honda would like to see you in his office." 

"Of course, sir."

He wanted to follow you, only held back when you reassured him that you'd be all right. "I'll be fine, Takeru. If anything, the Captain's probably going to ask if I know anything about Company 8's whereabouts, seeing as I have close ties to one of their members. This summons couldn't have come at a better time since I have some questions for the Captain, too."

Company 2 was at the forefront of the defense against the titanic infernal that followed the emergence of the first pillar in the Pacific Ocean. While the smell of the sea breeze reminded you of easygoing days, you and the rest of your company were there as the vanguard of the Empire. You and Takeru stood side by side behind Captain Honda, who personally commandeered the assembly of the artillery blockade along the harbor. Underneath your bunker gear was a new blade still in its sheath, and the sight of everyone in action stirred your heart aflame. 

To think that this wasn't supposed to be the case after that day you were called into the captain's office. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of your older brother already there, his usual relaxed appearance replaced by a rigid formality in the form of his pressed suit and tie and a manila envelope neatly tucked underneath his arm. "Big brother? What are you doing here?"

"Hello, littler sister. It most certainly has been a while. I am here to pick you up. Captain Honda is just about to hand over your documents for your honorable discharge," he stated, turning over the empty envelope to your elderly captain. "With all of this… shady business surrounding the Special Fire Force, our parents decided that it's about time you returned home. Uh, no offense, Captain Honda."

"None taken," the older man replied, his hand receiving the envelope, though his steady gaze was on your face. 

"Brother, this isn't funny. You spoke to the captain behind my back? If this is one of your schemes to get me home —"

"I can assure you that it isn't, and I think it's within my rights to use every possible avenue available to me to reach you. I heard about that huge fire in the city. You and your gigantic partner were sent to assist the Eighth there, right? And now that same company is branded as fugitives. Not to mention your dear Arthur being one of them," the young man straightened his suit jacket. "Our parents are worried sick about you. And I'm here to bring you home before you get any strange ideas in your head like following that boy-knight —"

"Don't," you warned, your eyes narrowed fiercely at your brother. "Don't start, brother."

"All this talk of heroism… You think you're immortal? Or invincible? You're just a girl! And I mean that in the most respectful way, my sweet sister… This isn't your fight. You shouldn't even have been here in the first place. And right now, Arthur's disappearance isn't your problem anymore."

"It is because I care about him!" You snapped at him, the words slipping out before you could even stop them. "You don't know what you're talking about, brother. I've no intention of breaking my oaths as a Fire Soldier, not even for Arthur. And I know mother and father are worried. I think about them every day! But Arthur is out there somewhere doing what he thinks is best for everyone, and I fight knowing he's out there doing his damn hardest. I warned you before that this wasn't just some petty rebellion. If it were, you wouldn't even be here convincing me to come home with you."

Though tears threatened to spring from your eyes, you held your ground. "You can't make me leave when there's so much at stake. When innocent lives could be at stake!"

Your brother didn't move, though he had an unreadable expression on his face. You were both surprised when Captain Honda finally stood up from his desk, eyeing your discharge documents before eventually picking them up and ripping them in half. He tore the pieces bit by bit before dropping them into the nearby trash bin like confetti over a party.

"She stays," the older man concluded. "She knows the risks. She understands what being a Fire Soldier means."

"You can't be serious," your brother retorted, but it was clear from the look you exchanged with your captain that you had come to an understanding. "You… You stubborn girl."

"I apologize for having wasted your time. My men will see you out to your vehicle," Captain Honda stated, pressing a button under his desk to call for subordinates to escort your brother back to the base parking grounds. 

The younger man sighed to himself, a hand on his temple, before waving his hand in dismissal. "It's quite all right, Captain Honda. I appreciate you making time for me despite your busy schedule. Might I just ask my sister to escort me instead? I assure you, I will not try to bring her home by force. You can have her partner come with us if you'd like."

"You mean Juggernaut? I'll have him called in, then."

True enough, your older brother did not pull any tricks on you when you arrived at the parking grounds, and Takeru had a brave face on when the older man tried to make small talk with him. With a snap of his fingers, one of the young butlers from your family home opened the sedan's compartment and brought out a long, well-worn leather case, carefully unclasping the metal latches that held it closed. When you and Takeru peered inside the case, you saw a blade you've only seen in paintings and old photographs. The sword's edges are coated in gold, while the hilt has a glowing blue crystal mounted on it.

"You've read about Thunderbrand, right? And how it's our family's heirloom sword," your brother stated as he slowly lifted the blade from its case. "Once upon a time, the Gouldings were exceptional swordmasters, and only the best and brightest warriors of the family could wield this. But since the age of wars has passed, our family had no use for sword fighting or this sword. That is, until you said you wanted to study how to wield one, and you even had an aptitude for it." 

He presented it to you as carefully as possible, and you received it in your hands as though you were holding a fragile treasure. "Papa handed it to me at the last minute before I came here, saying it's far better used protecting his daughter than just gathering dust in the attic."

"Part of you knew," you murmured, eyeing the fine blade before eventually returning it to its sheath and case. "That I wouldn't come home with you."

"Only because you are a stubborn girl," he sighed to himself, eyes softening as he watched you receive the leather case from your family butler. "You will return it to its rightful place once you've accomplished your mission, of course."

"You have my word, big brother. Also…"

You stepped forward and coiled your arms around him, causing him to freeze on the spot. "…What on earth are you doing?"

"Just… drawing strength for the days to come," you said, quietly laughing against his shoulder. "I'm taking what I can get. Thank you, big brother. Send mother and father all my love."

Your older brother huffed, cupping your head in his hand most affectionately. "What a stubborn, dramatic girl… Make sure you return home so you can tell them yourself."

"I will. Once the fighting's done, of course."

And now that the fight was brought to your homeland's shores, you weren't just about to take everything in your gilded cage. As Takeru was called to be on standby, so too did you prepare to be summoned to the field of battle.

"I see that look in your eyes, soldier. But I hope you remember you're not out here for blood," Captain Honda stated as he turned to you. "You're here to protect."

"A Fire Soldier is only as honorable as her captain, and you're one of the most honorable people I know, Captain," you attested with a sharp salute. "Thank you… for not telling me to go home. For letting me fight!"

"And lose one of my most skilled soldiers? Not a chance!" He declared with a hearty laugh. "More importantly, you know what's at stake here."

They say the Great Cataclysm is upon us. Even in combat against these fiends from the darkness, the whispers of your crewmates weighed heavily not just on you, but on everyone else, yet one thing anchored you amid the scenes of dread that seemed to surround Company 2 — and that was the sound of your captain's constant reminder of your duty, come hell or high water.

"We are the shield of the Empire! Stand your ground, defenders of humanity! We will not be beaten back!" 

It didn't take long before one of Haijima's bigwigs, Oguro, took notice of you. His subordinates confirmed with him that you were indeed the daughter of that family, and it amused him to no end that they'd "let a little bird loose as though she's a falcon", flitting to and fro between battling titans and putting infernals to rest. You didn't know why, but he saw you fit to be given a gift — a lightweight prototype jetpack to be powered with flames, seeing as you're "a little bird whose wings can only get you so far"… The new equipment gave you better reach, and you were like a flying beacon leading civilians to safety. 

The last three months have been a hellish shared effort between Company 2 and Haijima Industries to keep the emerging titans at bay. The ominous pillars arose from the sea one by one and simply stood there, completely still. Something about them gave you the chills, stirring an unnameable emotion in the depths of your chest. And as that emotion grew, so too did your flames burn brighter than ever, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a prelude to something incredibly darker. 

It was at Takeru's insistence that you stay on the ground for a while after he found you wheezing and breathless following morning drills the other day, coughing up a faint gray smoke that sent him into an immediate panic. Still, you made him promise not to report your symptoms to the captain, even though it was a telltale sign of overheating. He wasn't next to you as often as before because of his new role as a heavy sharpshooter, so he made you promise him to stay hydrated to stamp out your symptoms. 

You didn't want to admit that even just breathing already hurts — in fear of being sent back to base to recuperate, rendering you completely useless.

Well, that's no good, you thought as you paced yourself while assisting in the evacuation of civilians. With Company 8's reemergence, their captain only had one message to share, and it was to hope even against all odds. 

Hope was one thing you had far too much of. How could you not? Somewhere out there, you knew for certain that your knight was fighting as valiantly as he could. And so should you. 

The sky above the city had a distinct and strange color to it, and between the smoke and fire that tore through the streets, a figure appeared before you in a spectral beam of azure light. 

"!!"

It was Arthur, with the winds whipping against his bunker gear. You didn't even have the time to react appropriately, immediately jumping into his arms without a care in the world. He returned your embrace as tightly as he could, and you could sense his reluctance to let you go despite the dire look in his eyes. A series of explosions from the direction of Tama Bay caught your attention, but he urged you to keep your eyes on him at that moment. 

"Dragon awaits the arrival of the Knight King. It is a battle I've long steeled my mind and my heart for," he stated. "His despair has no place in the world."

The winds of chaos howled faintly through the broken buildings, yet all of your focus was on him alone. "Of course. Because there is hope!" 

"I wanted to see you before… Before I go," he said, studying your face thoughtfully before breaking into a small smile. "And now that I have, my heart is full."  

"Arthur —"

"I love you. From the moment I saw you in the training grounds and challenged you myself, I've loved you, even though everyone said it was a fool's errand and that a future with you was inconceivable because I had nothing to my name — I didn't listen to any of that because the only thing that mattered to me was seeing your beautiful smile."

"Wh-What are you… Why are you saying this to me now?" You breathed, your heart in hysterics because the way he looked at you now said something that words could never do justice. 

No. 

You brusquely grabbed his collar and dragged him to your level, pressing your lips to his before he could see the tears filling your eyes. 

"Hear me and obey, Knight King! Your princess commands this!" You fiercely declared. "Return to me!"

"A royal decree," he chuckled at how immovable you were. "And as your knight, I am duty-bound to fulfill your command."

"Yes, you are."

"Then I swear it. I swear it upon thine holy blade Excalibur," he affirmed, raising his newly forged sword over his head before eventually placing a hand over his chest like he always did whenever he promised something to you. "I will return to you."

Arthur left no other promises to you as he leaped away, carried into another beam of crystal-colored light, and part of you somewhat knew that he didn't do so because he felt he had no right to. And another selfish part of you thought — if his destiny was the price for giving hope to the world, you'd rather watch the world burn instead. 

But you knew deep down in your heart — that's not what he wants. 

What he'd want for you to do is hope against all odds, hope against hope, and that's what you so desperately clung to even as you were tormented by the eldritch Faerie of the White Clad following that despair-shattering slash that sliced the world in half. 

"O princess of misery, your holy knight is lost to you for eternity. Will you not wallow in despair?"

"Why would I? That is the very thing the Knight King vanquished! This hope is his gift to the world, and I will protect it with my life!" 

Hope — that burned as bright as the sun, even as the world was engulfed in what should have been an eternal darkness. 

Hope — It prevailed.

— …And forever.

Heartful applause echoed throughout the cathedral after the first kiss you shared with your husband. 

"I suppose this means I've become a knight worthy of you," he said as he broke into a small laugh. 

"You silly boy. You've always been worthy of me," you reaffirmed your statement from what seemed like an eon ago. "You kept your promises."

"A true knight always does."

You laughed right back, and for him, it was the most precious, melodious sound. 

Some things never truly change, no matter how much time has passed. 

Arthur gazed at you lovingly, his smile warm and his eyes twinkling in contentment. "I've always loved the way you look at me, you know. You look at me with those eyes of yours, and it's like you've known the answer to all of this long ago. To where we've been heading."

"Wanting something so desperately does that," you told him, squeezing his hands excitedly. "You do your best and hope as hard as you can… Until it finally happens."

"Allow me to make a new promise to you, since you believe I'm so good at keeping them," he said as he pinched the tip of the middle finger of your glove and tenderly slid it off your hand, taking his time pressing warm, gentle kisses on your knuckles. "I promise to make you the happiest woman in the world." 

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, sweetheart," you replied as you brought your hand to caress his cheek, gently pulling him down until his forehead rested on yours. "You don't have to try very hard because I already am." 

The fire may be gone from everyone, but in your heart was a flame that burns for this one, and you don't see it going out for a long, long time. 

🎀 author's note: I've always been an Obi girl, but there's no denying that Arthur is a rather charming guy, too. Too charming, perhaps, since this fic really took on a life of its own. Nevertheless, I had such a lovely time rereading the manga and browsing through the anime episodes so I could perfect my feel of this fic. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💗

I want to add that I wrote this in the midst of my Bridgerton S4 and Love Through a Prism binge, so some elements from those series are sprinkled throughout here and there. I particularly enjoyed writing reader's homecoming scene and how worried she was that her only three friends would make complete idiots of themselves. 😂

I've been reading around that fans are saying the anime butchered the manga and left out a significant amount of material that should've been included this season. I agree with them in a way, because ever since the start of S3's second cour, I've been thinking about how they'd have to squeeze in so much lore in a limited number of episodes. (Then again, for those who've been alive long enough like me, you've probably seen what they've done to the Soul Eater anime lol.)

Regardless, though, I am still very much looking forward to watching the anime's conclusion! And I hope you are, too! 💗

🎀 By SongsofAdelaide. Please don't copy, plagiarize, or use my work to train AI. Please do not repost them to any other social media platforms. / masterlist

[juliettrulyyours]

The Prongs Switch

The Prongs Switch

Masterlist

synopsis: you had always mentioned your love for and how much you missed your family dog to all your friends. it was just a miscommunication on your part when you forgot to mention that your dog’s name is Prongs.

warning: cursing, hufflepuff!reader, hufflepuff!OCs, possibly ooc, and not beta read (trust the author!!)

wanted to end the year with a prongs fanfic!! let me know what y’all think of this concept and if you guys like it 🙈 cause if not i’m gonna delete myself IM JOKING IM JOKINGGG 👾 enjoy!!

Running frantically to your first class because you woke up late has never been a ‘you’ thing. You were the type to be five minutes early for breakfast, earlier than all your friends, and even the first one there if you really felt like it. It had just never been you to be late to anything, especially now, in your last year at Hogwarts, where you only needed a slight push before you were finally out of this place.

Yeah, you were never letting your friends convince you to go to another house party again. 

Everything had been a blur as soon as you entered their dormitory. You couldn’t remember who you were talking to, what you had said, or how you even got back to your own dorm in the first place. Maybe your friends had taken you home with them? Well, thank Merlin, because you didn’t know how you would have reacted if you had done something incredibly stupid that caused your carefully curated low profile to fade.

As you finally entered Transfiguration, you opened the door slowly and sighed in relief when you saw that your professor wasn’t there yet. You carefully stepped inside, then walked to the front right row where your friend Monika, a fellow Hufflepuff, was sitting.

Huh... That’s odd.

It was usual for the class to be lively, especially when there was no professor around. So when your surroundings were quiet, it could only mean one thing: the professor was, in fact, at the front. 

You glanced forward again, and just like before, there was no one there. This only left you more confused, the giggling and whispering around you growing louder in your ears.

Wait… were they whispering about you? It’s not like you were the first student at Hogwarts to ever be late for class. So what was with this weird atmosphere?

Trying to move faster while hiding your awkward expression, you finally reached Monika. She was already looking at you and shifted her bag aside so you could sit beside her.

Monika leaned closer the moment you sat down, her eyes flicking over your face with something that looked far too amused for some unknown reason. You barely had time to settle your bag before you whispered, confused and a little breathless, “What’s up with everyone? Why are they being so weird?”

She raised a brow, lips twitching. “Well,” she said lightly, “it is your first time being late. Thought the world might be ending or something.”

You shot her a deadpanned look. “I’m being serious here.”

Monika glanced around briefly, then shrugged, her voice dropping. “Just ignore them. Maybe, they’re jealous of you.”

Instead of understanding what’s going on, that only confuses you more.

You frowned, turning toward her fully. “Jealous?” you repeated. “Of what exactly?”

“Well, I was kinda upset you didn’t tell me first,” she said casually, rolling her eyes slightly. “But I guess I wouldn’t tell anyone either if my boyfriend was James Potter.”

Monika finishes before finally taking out her textbook, and not continuing the bomb she just dropped in front of you. 

“Huh?!” you reacted without thinking, not noticing it was a little too loud.

The room then suddenly went still all at once. The whispering died down for a second, chairs stopped shifting, and you became painfully aware of how many people were suddenly paying attention to you. Heat rushed to your face as you immediately ducked your head closer to Monika, lowering your voice. “What did you just say?”

She then gives you an amused look before giggling softly, clearly enjoying herself now. “Girl, it’s fine,” she said. “I mean, there were already rumors about Potter being off the market. I just didn’t know it was with you.”

You were still staring at her, everything is still not processing in your head. Your brows were knitted together, lips slightly parted, your expression plainly confused. Monika noticed, finally turning to look at you properly. Before speaking again, she briefly glanced toward the door, checking if the professor was about to walk in. When she saw that it was still empty, she leaned in closer.

“At the party yesterday,” she started, her voice low, “you, me, Koby, and a few of the others were just sitting while drinking. There were some people from the other houses too.” Using her left hand to gesture like brushing it off to you, “you know, like a typical party.”

You listened carefully, trying to recall anything she was saying, but your mind was still blank.

“You were so about to fall asleep… but then,” Monika continued, clearly enjoying this far too much, “you started rambling.”

Your eyes widen slightly, stomach dropping. “Rambling? About what?”

She tilted her head, looking up and trying to suppress a smile from what she’s remembering. “Well… about Potter, obviously. About how much you missed him.”

You continued to stare at her. Praying that everything is just a nightmare and you’re about to wake up soon.

“You kept calling him your ‘baby boy,’” she added, making air quotes with her fingers. “Said you missed cuddling him, and that you missed feeding him because apparently he won’t eat unless you do it for him.”

Every word that left her mouth had you feeling a part of your dignity being taken from you.

“And I was like… TMI, much?? Yet you still didn’t stop there,” Monika continued on. “You started talking about how he gets pouty when you ignore him, how he pretends he doesn’t care but always looks for you in a room, and how you swear he acts all tough but turns soft when it’s just the two of you.”

At this point, she was obviously half amused now, shaking her head slightly as she continued to pile on the embarrassing things you said about the things your so-called “boyfriend” does with you. 

“Honestly, it was kinda cute. So embarrassing, but still cute.”

None of it sounded real to you. You didn’t know how to react so you sat there frozen, just listening while your brain screamed that this could not be you she was talking about!

You barely knew James Bloody Potter. 

All you knew was that he was loud, arrogant, always surrounded by his weird little flock of friends, and that he had a habit of picking on anyone he thought was beneath him. 

Since when did he become someone you cuddled? 

Fed??

Missed?!?!

While Monika kept talking, your thoughts had already started swirling. Why would you even say those things about him? Why would you talk about him like that, like he was someone important to you? Like someone you cared about? Ew.

None of it made any sense. And sure, you were drunk, but you couldn’t have been that drunk to invent a whole boyfriend who also just happened to be the most arrogant man in Hogwarts.

You swallowed hard, still staring ahead before opening your mouth. “That doesn’t sound like me at all,” you muttered, unsure if it was meant for her or for yourself.

Monika only shrugged, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “Maybe not sober you,” she said. “But drunk you?” She hummed thoughtfully. “I didn’t know Marauders’ Prongs were into those things.”

You were about to roll your eyes at her when you froze.

Wait… what did she just—

“What did you—”

The door at the front of the classroom suddenly opened. Your professor stepped in, looking mildly apologetic. “My apologies for being late,” she said, already walking toward the front. “Please take out your textbooks. We’ll be discussing where we left off last time.”

The sudden change pulled both your attention and Monika’s toward the front. Still unsettled, you leaned slightly toward her again, trying to finish your question.

“Wait, Monika, what did you just say ab—”

“Excuse me,” the professor interrupted sharply, eyes landing on you. “No talking during class. Another warning and I’ll be taking five points from Hufflepuff.”

That causes you to  immediately shut your mouth. Heat crept up your neck as you quickly looked down, fumbling for your textbook. You forced yourself to focus on the pages in front of you, trying not to think about what Monika had just said.

Hopefully, this day couldn’t get any worse.

—

The day did, in fact, get absolutely way worse.

As soon as you stepped out of class, the whispers and giggles didn’t stop. Sure, it was normal for students to chatter and laugh in the corridors, but this felt different than the normal amount. And obviously, when you hear the words “baby boy” whispered near you every single time you pass a group of students, for what felt like the umpteenth time, you’re pretty sure it was related to you.

Yeah… this wasn’t a coincidence anymore.

Your stomach sank as the realization settled in that they were in fact talking about you. You were the new gossip at Hogwarts. All because of something you apparently did while drunk, something you still didn’t even remember doing or understand why you did in the first place.

This was exactly why you didn’t want to go to that party!

Your quiet, carefully maintained life at Hogwarts was officially shattered, all because of some guy who lived in his own personal bubble instead of acting like a normal wizard. 

Of course it had to be someone like him.

By the time you reached the Great Hall for lunch, the noise only got worse. The hall was already loud with conversations echoing off the enchanted ceiling, yet the whispers and giggles still managed to cut through it all. 

Whatever you said at the house party had clearly spread fast.

Seriously?!

People you barely even knew were now glancing your way. You even caught a few Slytherins, Malfoy included, looking openly in your direction as you walked past. Hell, even some of the more popular Ravenclaws were staring.

Merlin.

Was what you did really that bad for everyone to start looking at you like this? you thought bitterly. Didn’t they have their own bloody lives to worry about?

You kept your head down and made your way to your usual spot at the Hufflepuff table, where Koby and a few others were already sitting. You didn’t even reach the bench before a familiar voice spoke up.

“You sure you wanna sit with us?” one of the Hufflepuffs said, someone you were certain had been at the party. He grinned before adding, “Wouldn’t want your baby boy starving himself, would you?”

He laughed, which were joined immediately by whistles and snickers from the others around him. Your hands clenched tightly at your sides, with your ears turning slightly red.

Before you could say anything, a voice cut in sharply. “Oh, shut up, Gilmore. You’re just mad because she rejected you multiple times, and now you’re pissed she’s off shagging someone else.”

Gilmore scoffed at him, rolling his eyes as he turned to Koby. “Mind your business, Palladio.”

“I will,” Koby shot back immediately, “after you stop looking like the giant squid from the Black Lake.”

A few people choked on their laughter from what Koby said. This causes Gilmore to scowl, before turning to his friends. You slid onto the bench beside Koby, heart still pounding, wishing more than anything that you could rewind time and never step foot into that party at all.

“You good?” Koby asked, handing you a glass of water.

Taking it, you replied almost immediately, your voice tight and disturbed. “No, Koby. I’m not! I woke up with a painful headache, almost broke my perfect record of no tardiness, and now I’m apparently being made fun of by everyone at Hogwarts! It’s like everything I worked hard for…”

You gestured with both hands as if something had popped in front of you. “Just went poof!”

Koby, who had been listening, leaned back with a teasing smirk. “At least you still have your baby boy—”

“He is not my baby boy! I barely know the guy!” you interrupted, your voice almost a whispering scream. Koby laughed outright at your reaction, which only made you clench your fists tighter.

“I’m being serious! I really don’t know why I said those things. I don’t even know what happened last night!” you insisted, exasperated.

Koby’s grin widened, and he leaned closer, his teasing tone sharper now. “Ohhh, don’t say that. Your Prongsie will get very sad if you keep denying him your love in public.”

You, who is still angry, now froze mid-breath. Wait…

“That… that’s what Monika said too.” You reply, the gears in your head turning.

“What?” Koby raised a brow, catching your sudden pause. “That you’re denying Mr. Golden Boy of your love?”

“No! Prongsie… Prongs!” you blurted, eyes widening. Then, you whispered something to yourself in realization, “My dog’s name is Prongs…”

Koby tilted his head, confused. “Huh?”

“I was talking about my dog!” you said quickly. “The one I kept telling you guys about. You know, the one I miss and can’t wait to meet until Christmas break?”

Koby tilted his head confused, still not understanding. “I’m… not following.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the pieces fell into place. “I can’t remember exactly what happened at the party, but… now it’s all making sense. Monika said I kept calling him ‘baby boy,’ feeding him myself because he wouldn’t eat on his own… It’s everything I do for my dog!”

Koby was silent, mouth slightly open from what he’s hearing.

“I just… don’t understand how everyone thought I was talking about a guy… much less Potter,” you muttered, trailing off, eyes down at your food, unsure what to say next.

Koby finally responded, a mix of sass and disbelief. “Uhhh… maybe because his nickname is literally Prongs?... Wait, back up,” he added, now genuinely even more confused. “Your dog’s name is Prongs? Why have we never heard of this??”

You stared in disbelief, shocked at his response, then muttered, “I guess… it just never came up… I didn’t even notice…”

Then suddenly it clicked, and you looked at him, eyes wide. “His nickname is… what now?”

You stared at Koby, disbelief written all over your face. Koby also stared back, he was also shocked by what just occurred. For a moment, neither of you said anything, both of you slowly realizing what was happening.

Then, a sharp familiar voice cut through the air.

“How dare you guys start eating without me?!”

Monika appeared out of nowhere, shooing the person in front of her friends with a wave of her hand before sliding into the bench in front of you. She turned her gaze toward you and Koby, raising an eyebrow.

You and Koby are still frozen, neither of you speaking. Monika didn’t say anything, just stared at you both, her expression calm but piercing, as if daring you to speak first.

Finally, Koby leaned slightly toward her, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re not going to believe what this dimwit just got herself into,” he whispered, nodding subtly toward you, a mischievous look in his eyes. You swallowed hard, eyes darting between Koby and Monika, now wishing the ground would just swallow you whole.

—

Monika’s laughter then exploded out of her so suddenly that for a second you were sure half the Great Hall had heard it. If it weren’t for the constant clatter of plates, the hum of conversations, and the loudness of everyone, you were certain someone would have told your friends to quiet down by now.

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed while mortified, your voice rising as you looked to glare at her. Which only made her reaction worse.

Monika doubled over slightly, one hand clutching her stomach as she laughed, the other gripping her spoon. “Oh, it is funny,” she managed between breaths. “It’s—” she laughed again, shaking her head, “it’s actually so hilarious.”

You crossed your arms defensively, cheeks burning. “I don’t see what’s so laughable about my situation right now.”

She looked up at you, eyes watery from laughing too hard. “Well, it’s funny and incredibly stupid,” she said, before breaking into laughter again.

You groaned, leaning back in your seat. “It’s not my fault!” you shot back. “Who in their right mind would hear all that and think I was talking about an actual human being?” You gestured wildly with your hands. “I was obviously talking about my dog!”

Monika was still laughing, now almost wheezing. Koby had fully joined in, chuckling openly at both of you, but mostly you.

“Well,” Koby said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, “Prongs doesn’t really sound like a dog name if you think about it.”

“And,” Monika added, still laughing as she leaned closer to the table, “everyone here only really knows one Prongs.” She looked at you pointedly. “So can you really blame us?”

“Yes!” you shot back immediately. “Yes, I absolutely can! Because I didn’t even know he had that nickname!” Your voice dropped incredulously. “What kind of grown man gives himself a nickname and just expects everyone to collectively use it?”

Koby opened his mouth, ready to antagonize you further. “Well… everyone at Hogwarts—”

“Well, I didn’t know!” you snapped, cutting him off.

“Well, that’s because you’re a loner who doesn’t talk to anyone,” Koby replied smoothly, emphasizing on the ‘well’ like you had done.

You slowly turned your head toward him, fixing him with a glare so sharp it could’ve hexed him on the spot. Monika let out a snort, and Koby  just laughed, raising his hands in surrender as he slung an arm around your shoulders. 

“Hey, hey, I’m just messing with you.”

You shrugged him off, annoyed, and turned back to your plate, stabbing at your food without any real intention of eating it. Your appetite had completely vanished, replaced by a gnawing pit of embarrassment that refused to go away.

A few seconds had passed.

The laughter around you faded into background noise again, leaving only your thoughts, which were spinning from everything that is happening around you.

Then you sighed, shoulders slumping. “So… what am I supposed to do?” you asked quietly. “I don’t want everyone thinking I’m in this weird… thing with Potter.” You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip before adding, “Do I just… start telling people it’s not real? That I was talking about my dog?”

With what you said, everyone’s reaction immediately changes. Monika had stopped laughing entirely. Her eyes widened as if you had just suggested something dumb. She pointed her spoon straight at you, expression horrified. 

“Oh no,” she said sharply. “Absolutely not.”

You stared at her, thrown off by how serious she suddenly looked. “What?”

“Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid you’d sound?” she exclaimed, spoon still aimed at you. “Running around Hogwarts telling people, ‘Actually, I wasn’t talking about James Potter, I was talking about my dog’? You’d never live that down. Ever.”

You sank lower into your seat, shoulders slumping as a quiet groan slipped past your lips. This was a nightmare! A prolonged, humiliating nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. “Well, it beats being Hogwarts’ next gossip,” you shot back weakly. “I mean, everyone keeps whispering ‘baby boy’ every time I walk past them.” You ran a hand through your hair, frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t something I can just sit around and wait to fade, Monika.” You gestured helplessly. “Not in my final year!”

Monika rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by your response, while Koby finally started eating, poking at his food that had already begun to go cold. Somehow, that only annoyed you more.

Monika rolled her eyes, leaning back slightly. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“How exactly am I doing that?”

“Hogwarts always has gossip,” she continued. “There’s always a new rumor, a new scandal, a new ‘did-you-hear-about-this’ circulating every few days. It’s practically a hobby for some people.”

She scooped up a spoonful of potatoes, chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. “Trust me. The best thing you can do is ignore it. Don’t react, don’t explain, don’t deny anything. Eventually, people will get bored and move on to the next shiny piece of drama.”

She paused, eyes lighting up mid-bite. “Oh my Merlin,” she added suddenly. “The gravy today is phenomenal.”

Your mind was still circling around, replaying every whisper you’d heard in the halls, every glance that lingered when you walked by. “But what if it doesn’t go away?” you asked quietly, the thought gnawing at you.

Monika laughed softly. “I’m telling you, don’t do anything. The moment you start explaining yourself, you give it more fuel.” She gestured lazily with her spoon. “The gossip, I mean.”

“And if Potter hears about it?” you cut in, panic creeping back into your voice despite yourself. “Then what happens?”

Monika shrugged, completely unbothered. “I doubt he’d even notice. He’s probably too busy being an asshole with his friends to care about some rumor involving him.” She hesitated for a second before adding, “No offense, but we’re not exactly in his league. That’s not me being mean, it’s just reality. Also, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even pay attention to us Hufflepuffs.”

Rolling her eyes, Monika then glanced over toward the Gryffindor table. Following her gaze, you and Koby looked as well.

And there he was.

James Potter sat near the front of the table, surrounded by his friends. He was mid-laugh, head tipped back slightly, clearly in the middle of telling some prank he did. Nearly everyone around him was paying attention, leaning in, laughing along like whatever he said was the most entertaining thing they’d heard all day.

Pfft, as if.

You watched him for a moment, your breathing slowly evened out. The tension in your chest loosen just a little, as you inhale and exhale more and more. From this distance, from this angle, he looked completely untouched by the world around him.

Maybe… Monika was right.

There was no way anyone in Gryffindor, especially someone like James Potter, would ever spare a thought toward you, let alone care about a rumor involving some random Hufflepuff.

Yeah, there was no way.

next part

[skribblegurl]

some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

[heywriters]

I couldn't remember the word "doorknob" ten minutes ago.

[bumblewyn]

ok but the onelook thesaurus will save your life, i literally could not live without this website

[breelandwalker]

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER'S LIFE

[myfairkatiecat]

LIFE SAVED

REBLOGGING TO SAVE ANOTHER WRITERS LIFE

[sirowsky]

I use this every time I sit down to write. It's the best tool in the world and I would be lost without it!

[nuelles]

Guess who's pc is out of commission and hasn't been able to write since.

I apologize for not being able to write my Smoshtober series, so im changing it from just Halloween to a Holiday Series. A week for October, a week for November, and a week for December once I can get my pc up and running 🫡

[nuelles]

Day 1: Haunted Studio (Smosh x Reader)

Warnings: No Romance, No Angst

Summary: The lights keep flickering. The props keep moving. Ian blames “old wiring.” Spencer blames a ghost named Janet (or Janice). You and the crew stage an after-hours investigation… and discover the culprit: a Halloween animatronic on a midnight auto-test. Cue screams, salad spinners, and an unplugged fog machine.

🎃 Smoshtober Day 1 — “The Studio’s Haunted (Probably)”

The Smosh office had seen its fair share of chaos — cursed props, haunted dolls, Trevor accidentally microwaving a spoon — but this felt different.

The lights flickered during filming. Not once. Not twice. Every time someone said “haunted.”

“Okay, we’re not saying that word anymore,” Ian declared, squinting up at a trembling panel of fluorescents. “We’re saying… ‘the H-word.’”

“Haunted?” Shayne asked, helpful.

The light above him blinked twice like it was in on the bit.

Courtney’s jaw dropped. “That’s a hostile light.”

“Hostile is also an H-word,” Damien said, dramatically adjusting the drape of his cardigan like it was a cape. “It knows the letter. That’s literacy. That’s terrifying.”

Across the set, Spencer was already halfway to conspiracy board energy. He crouched by the nearest C-stand and spoke into his phone like a detective dictating a field report. “Log time stamp 2:13 p.m. Flicker pattern: double tap, responsive to trigger word. Hypothesis: ghost named… Janice.”

“You said Janet earlier,” you reminded him.

He considered. “Janice is her stage name.”

“Guys,” Angela said, pillow in hand as if it were a weapon, “this is either the best cold open we’ve ever planned or we need an electrician.”

A rubber bat fluttered sadly from fishing line in the rafters — set dressing for next week’s sketch — and Courtney hissed at it like they could intimidate gravity. The bat ignored the hissing and spun in a slow, mocking circle.

“Let’s reset,” Ian called, clapping once. “From the top. No H-words. Say ‘quaint old building problem.’”

“Got it,” Trevor said from behind the prop table, where he was attempting to coax an ancient fog machine into working with the tenderness of a bomb tech. “Quaint old building problem.”

The light over Trevor stayed blissfully steady.

Ian pointed triumphantly at the ceiling. “See? Not haunted.”

“Say it slower,” Courtney whispered. “It can hear fear.”

You tried, for the sake of sanity and the schedule. “Camera rolling?”

Angela nodded. The scene started. Ian took three steps into frame and, with the confidence of a man who absolutely did not believe in curses, said, “Welcome back to—”

The light above him popped like bubble wrap.

Everyone screamed. It wasn’t a real scream—more like a choir of cartoon sound effects—but still. The rubber bat did another lazy spin.

“I’m calling the landlord,” Ian said, dignity fraying.

“Or,” Spencer said, bright with the worst idea in the room, “we do an after-hours investigation.”

You stared. “A ghost hunt.”

“A content opportunity,” Angela corrected, because of course she did.

Courtney gasped, delighted. “Ghost Files: Budget Edition!”

Damien flicked his cardigan like a cape again. “I will require a prop candle and a Latin phrase I can mispronounce.”

“Or,” you tried again, carefully, “we could not be in the building after hours if we think the wiring is going to explode.”

“Just for an hour,” Angela said. “Minimal risk, maximal chaos.”

“Maximum clicks,” Spencer added.

Shayne tilted his head at the trembling light. “Minimum life expectancy.”

Ian rubbed his temples. “Fine. But if anything is truly unsafe, we bail. We lock up. We come back tomorrow and blame PG&E.”

“PG&E,” Spencer repeated thoughtfully, like he was filing it under “suspects.”

The clock in the break room read 11:47 a few minutes past the time the group decided to meet. The office at night felt like a stage between shows — quiet, a little eerie, full of forgotten props that looked more cursed in the dark. The big studio lights were off; the cheaper bulbs hummed. Somewhere, a cooling duct moaned like a shipwreck.

You set a flashlight on the central worktable and immediately regretted it. The beam cut the room into angles. Shadows ballooned.

“Welcome to Paranormal Inquiries: We’re Definitely Not Trespassing,” Angela whispered to the camera. “Tonight, our highly trained team —”

“— absolutely untrained —” you corrected.

“— will seek answers to one question: what keeps messing with our production lights? Is it poltergeists? Drafts? Or the natural consequences of deferring maintenance in a historic building because the quote was too high?”

“Bold of you to call a 2007 warehouse historic,” Shayne said, hefting a backpack. He dumped its contents with swagger. “Behold: equipment.”

You beheld. Inside was a salad spinner, a bike bell, two glow sticks, a plunger, and—an orange? He held up the salad spinner with reverence. “This is our EMF detector. EMF stands for ‘Every Mechanical Failure.’ If it spins on its own, it’s ghosts.”

“That’s not what EMF stands for,” Spencer muttered, laying out his own gear: an actual portable recorder, a notebook, six pieces of chalk, and a salt shaker. You weren’t going to ask.

Courtney arrived with an iPad, a thrifted lace shawl, and three tealights. “I’m the medium,” they announced, draping the shawl like a vibe. “As in ‘contact with spirits.’ Not ‘shirt size.’ But also yes.”

Trevor slid in, a backpack slung over one shoulder. “I brought snacks.”

“Emergency rations,” Damien said approvingly, taking the bag of gummy worms. “Fuel for our crusade.”

Ian locked the door behind him and tried to assert authority. “Rules. One: No one wanders off alone.”

“Except for usable B-roll,” Angela said, already wandering off alone.

“Two: If any actual safety hazard appears, we leave. No bits.”

“Define ‘actual,’” Shayne said.

“If the building catches fire,” Ian said. “Or if the building turns and looks at us.”

“The building is sentient,” Spencer murmured, enthralled. “Adding to list.”

You took pity on your future self and did a quick sweep of the floor with a flashlight—no cables to trip on, no rogue dry-erase markers waiting to commit ankle crimes. You might not believe in ghosts, but you did believe in OSHA.

“All right,” you said. “We start in the main stage. That’s where the… quaint old building problem was worst.”

“H-word,” Courtney warned.

“Sorry. H-word.”

The main stage looked even more like a liminal space at night: backdrops like sleeping giants, a wall of costumes watching with a thousand soulless plastic eyes. The rubber bat dangled overhead, smug as a bat could be.

Spencer clicked on his recorder. “Is anyone here with us? We respect your space. We invite you to talk into this device. Preferably clearly. Preferably in English.”

“Or French,” Courtney said. “We accept bilingual phantoms.”

“Español is fine,” Damien added.

The air conditioner shuddered to life with the timing of a prank. Courtney clutched your sleeve; you pretended not to jump.

“EMF reading,” Shayne announced, and spun the salad spinner like he was summoning pasta. The spinner purred. The glow sticks did nothing. The bike bell chimed of its own accord when Trevor bumped the table.

Angela’s camera watched it all, unblinking.

“Guys?” Trevor said. “Did anyone else hear a… knock?”

You held your breath. Knock.

“That came from the prop closet,” Damien whispered, because of course it did.

Ian’s jaw tensed. “It’s probably the building… settling.”

“Settling what,” Spencer said, “its debt to the dead?”

Courtney lowered the iPad until their face glowed haunted-campfire blue. “I can open the veil.”

“You’re not opening anything,” Ian said, and then—because no one ever listens when the episode needs a plot—there was another knock, clearer this time. Followed by a faint scrape. The sound of something… repositioning.

Everyone looked at each other with the exact same expression: the one that says we know this is probably nothing but also what if it’s terrible.

“Okay,” you said, because you were a sucker for narrative, “we check the closet. Together.”

“Together together,” Ian said, shepherding everyone into one cautious clump.

The prop closet door stared back, painted the cheerful teal of “nothing bad has ever happened here.” You reached for the handle and paused. “Before I open this, does anyone who is braver want to open this?”

Silence. Courtney hummed the Jeopardy! theme.

You breathed once and pulled.

The closet exhaled dust. Racks of unloved props crowded the walls: plastic gravestones, a busted skeleton, a box labeled “MISC SPOOKY,” a life-size top half of a clown you sincerely did not remember ordering. It was the kind of place mice would rent as an artist loft.

Something bumped again, deeper in.

“Hello?” Spencer said, recorder outstretched like a talisman. “Janet? Janice? Are you… reorganizing?”

“Use salt,” Courtney whispered. “Salt is cleansing.”

“That’s snails,” Damien said.

You edged in sideways, leading with your flashlight beam. The light kissed a metal shelf, a tangle of wires, a heap of fake cobwebs—then landed on the source of the bumping: a box on the floor, half-open, labeled in Sharpie: ANIMATRONIC — DO NOT PLUG IN (TIMED).

You blinked. “That seems like a clue.”

“Like in a horror movie,” Shayne said, delighted. “The box that says Don’t.”

Inside: a foam-latex head, glossy eyes closed; two jointed arms folded like a corpse at rest; a tangle of tubing and servos attached to a black control brick with a sticker: AUTO-TEST ENABLED. MIDNIGHT CYCLE.

Angela leaned in. “Are we sure the H-word is a ghost and not… this?”

“Counter-hypothesis,” Spencer said, which is what he said when he didn’t like your very reasonable explanation, “the ghost is using the animatronic.”

“Occam’s Razor,” you said.

“Janice’s Razor,” he said back.

There was a small switch on the control brick. A little LED next to it glowed a patient red. A digital display ticked over to 12:00 AM. The animatronic’s eyes snapped open.

Every single person in the room made a noise you wouldn’t be proud of in a courtroom.

The animatronic’s head lifted with a smoothness that looked expensive. Its eyes—too shiny, too wet—tracked vaguely as though trying to find center. The arms unfolded with a hydraulic whine. Somewhere inside the mechanism, a speaker crackled to life.

“WELCOME… TO… THE… SPOOOOKY ZONE!” it bellowed, in a voice that could only have been recorded by someone who had never met a child and yet had been tasked with entertaining twenty children at once.

Courtney screamed and clutched you, then screamed again when your flashlight re-lit the clown half. Trevor made an entire soundboard of surprised syllables. Damien yelled, “SHOW YOURSELF,” because he is like this. Ian flinched so hard he ran into Shayne, who, due to the bump, dropped his salad spinner.

The animatronic raised one arm, hand jerking in a wave. The speaker popped again and, with a cheerful menace that didn’t know its own strength, it said, “HELLO, FRIENDS.”

“Turn it off, turn it off,” Ian said, lunging for the control brick. He hit a switch that did not care about him. The animatronic announced, “COUNTDOWN TO SPOOK: THREE… TWO…”

You found the right switch — because you had the unique superpower of reading labels — and flipped AUTO to OFF. The LED winked out. The creature sagged, eyes closing in a weirdly peaceful way.

Silence crashed into the room. Someone’s breathing — yours? — was loud enough to be a bit.

“Okay,” you managed. “So the H-word is… an animatronic on a midnight test cycle.”

Ian pressed his palms to his eyes. “We forgot to disable the timer after last year.”

“Ah,” Angela said to the camera, whispering like she was on a nature show. “Observe the wild content creators in their natural habitat: negligent.”

Courtney released your arm by degrees. “I feel… alive.”

“I feel nothing,” Damien said, then added, “Except hunger,” and bit a gummy worm in half like it owed him money.

Spencer stared, recorder still held up like he was expecting the animatronic to confess. “So you’re telling me… Janice is a robot.”

You looked at him. “I’m telling you Janice is a box with elbows.”

He considered this, then — earnest as ever — pointed at the metal shelf. The top shelf was scuffed like something big had rattled against it. Dust had been disturbed in arcs consistent with… You didn’t know, some Big Rattle. He flipped his notebook to a fresh page. “Counter-counter hypothesis: Janice is real, and she outsourced.”

Shayne had found his dignity and scooped up the salad spinner. He spun it once, and it whirred obediently, like a dog trying to be helpful after knocking over the Christmas tree. “EMF agrees.”

“That’s centrifugal force,” you said.

“It’s friendship.”

Trevor, who had recovered enough to be useful, crouched by the control brick and held up the user manual, brittle and stained. “Guys. The fog machine is also on a timer.” He pointed. “It’s set for 12:05.”

The entire group turned as one toward the ancient fog machine in the far corner, the one Trevor had been coaxing earlier. It sat there innocently, a beast at rest.

“Do not let that go off in the enclosed closet,” you said, already shepherding people backward. “Ventilation. Lungs. Remember those?”

Ian scrabbled for the plug, yanked it, and the machine gave a mournful huff, like a dragon denied.

Angela zoomed in on the animatronic’s peaceful corpse. “All right, Smoshtober investigators. We solved it. Was it ghosts? No. Was it drama? Yes. Was it the chaos we craved? Always.”

Spencer lowered his recorder slowly. “For the record, I’m disappointed. And also relieved. Disapporelieved.”

“New word unlocked,” you said. “I’m proud and I hate it.”

Courtney brushed dust off their shawl and composed themselves. “I still think we do a seance.”

“We are not doing a seance,” Ian said.

A beat. Courtney lifted their hand. “What about a vibe session? Like, we all sit in a circle and respectfully ask the building how it’s feeling.”

“We already know how it’s feeling,” Shayne said, tapping the animatronic’s box. “It’s feeling ‘midnight marketing activation.’”

Cleanup looked like the end of a block party: wrappers, glow-stick corpses, the shame of a salad spinner with delusions of grandeur. You and Trevor coiled the animatronic’s cables and taped a bright neon note to the box: TIMER OFF. DO NOT TURN ON. EVER. Under it, someone added, (Unless supervised) (And filmed) and someone else (probably Courtney) drew a smiley face with vampire fangs.

Angela did a quick to-camera button while Ian emailed both the landlord and a lighting company with the subject line “urgent but not haunted.” She signed off in a whisper: “And that concludes Day One of Smoshtober: The Studio’s Haunted (Probably). Final verdict: animatronic on a timer. Secondary verdict: we are easily startled but highly entertaining.”

You flicked your flashlight off and let your eyes adjust. The office looked normal again, the way a stage looks normal once the audience is gone. The rubber bat dangled, bored. The lights stayed solid.

“Thanks for coming to my TED Talk,” the building did not say.

Damien slung an arm across Shayne’s shoulders. “I propose we commemorate our triumph with pancakes at the 24-hour place.”

Shayne brightened instantly. “We have earned butter.”

“I second the motion,” Courtney said, solemn as a judge.

“I third the motion,” Trevor said, already googling the menu.

Angela tilted her head at you. “Coming?”

“In a minute. I’ll lock up with Ian.”

Spencer hesitated by the prop closet door, gaze still on the animatronic like it might produce a confession if he stared hard enough. “I’m just saying… we didn’t ask any real questions.”

“You asked if it spoke English,” you said.

“Maybe it speaks Morse,” he said, and tapped the control brick gently. It did not respond. He sighed, added “Animatronic” to his suspect list with a frowny face, and finally shouldered his bag. “Fine. Pancakes.”

Ian flicked off the last row of work lights, and the room settled into a softer dark, one that felt less like “we’re being watched” and more like “props have bedtime too.” He jangled the keys. “Let’s go before we discover the printer also does a midnight test scream.”

“Don’t give it ideas,” you said, and followed everyone to the door.

Behind you, in the prop closet, the animatronic sat perfectly still. The fog machine, unplugged and thwarted, sulked in silence. The rubber bat took one last lazy spin.

From somewhere in the ducts, a soft knock echoed. You paused.

“I heard that,” you said to no one, because talking to buildings is free. “No more bits. We’re closed.”

A beat.

Nothing. The office stayed quiet.

“Good talk,” you said, and shut off the last light.

💀 Nuelles Ponders

Did I post this late? Maybe. Will I be pumping out fics like crazy, yes. A lot are pre-written, and others aren't finished, but hopefully I can finish this series by the first week of November...fingers crossed.

[nuelles]

i’m new to watching smosh and the fandom, and i saw you put noah on the warnings of a fic. is there a reason why?

I would research this topic before anything. Which I did when I first came across Noah on another writer's trigger warning, because like you, I was confused. But basically, some fans criticize Noah for liking or reposting pro-Israel / Zionist content, and for familial history or statements related to Israel/Palestine issues. 2

When I include a warning about him, it's not to push a certain narrative about him, but I know there are people out there who do not/will not read smosh fic with him included, so I put it.

[nuelles]

nuelles's smoshtober masterlist

back to navigation

hey! welcome to my first smoshtober! i've been offline for a bit, coming up with this idea, and i'm excited to post it for you all to enjoy! the plan is to have 31 fics and blurbs by the end of October/November smoshtober will not focus on just one cast member but multiple, so stick around to see who and what i'll write about :)

also couldn't choose between Smoshtober or Smosh-o-ween so you get both lol

Week 1: Smosh Office Shenanigans

Day 1: Haunted Studio (Smosh x Reader) Day 2: Costume Mishaps (Spencer x Reader) Day 3: Pumpkin Carving Contest (Damien x Reader) Day 4: Ian's Halloween Safety Meeting Gone Wrong (Smosh x Reader) Day 5: Candy Heist (Trevor, Arasha, Reader) Day 6: Midnight at the Editing Bay (Spencer x Reader) Day 7: Blooper Reel of Horror (Damien, Shayne, Courtney, Reader)

[nondelphic]

"who’s your target audience?"

me and the five people in my head who get it

[nuelles]

You talk a mile a minute; Spencer listens like it’s his favorite thing in the world. From chaotic banter to quiet comfort, he makes sure you know you’re never “too much”—just you.

You’d been talking less today.

Not that anyone else seemed to notice—not in the middle of shoot day chaos, with Ian misplacing his phone for the fifth time and Shayne turning a prop ladder into a visual bit mid-scene—but Spencer did.

He always did.

It wasn’t that you’d gone silent. Just… quieter. More careful. Like you were editing yourself in real time. Cutting down on the tangents. Swallowing the unfiltered commentary that usually spilled out of you like it was oxygen.

And Spencer hated it.

He figured it out halfway through lunch. You were scrolling through comments on the morning’s video, biting your lip in that way you did when you were trying not to react to something. He caught the brief flicker of a frown before you locked your phone and stuffed it into your pocket. He didn’t ask—not right away. Spencer wasn’t the “demand answers” kind of guy. He waited. Watched you retreat into the background for the rest of the shoot like you were just… part of the furniture.

When the cameras were finally off, and everyone else scattered to reset for the next bit segment, he found you leaning against the snack table, staring at a bag of pretzels like it had personally wronged you.

“You good?” he asked, leaning next to you.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “Just… tired.”

He hummed. “Mm. That’s funny. ‘Cause usually when you’re tired you talk more, not less.”

You hesitated, then sighed.

“Someone left a comment. Said I… talk too much. That I’m not even funny or essential to the team. Just… extra noise, I guess.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened.

You laughed weakly, like you could shrug it off. “It’s not a big deal, it’s just—maybe they’re right. Maybe I don’t have to fill every silence.”

His eyes softened, but you kept going.

“It’s dumb, because… this happened to Angela, remember? A couple of months ago, when people in the comments decided she ‘didn’t add anything’? I was furious. I sat with her in the break room and told her those people didn’t know what they were talking about—that they don’t get to decide who belongs here. I meant it, too.”

You rubbed your arm, gaze dropping. “So why can’t I just… take my own advice?”

Spencer turned fully toward you, voice steady but low.

“Because it’s harder when it’s about you,” he said. “It’s easy to defend someone else you care about. It’s harder to believe you deserve that same defense. But you do.”

His tone sharpened just enough to make you meet his eyes.

“You’re part of the team because you are essential. You’re funny. You’re smart. You make people feel comfortable just by being you. Including me. And just like you told Angela—those comments don’t matter. They didn’t change how much she brings to the table, and they sure as hell don’t change you.”

Something in your chest loosened, the same way it had the day Angela smiled at you through her tears back then.

📱 Smosh HQ Group Chat: “🎬 We’re Professionals (Allegedly)”

Courtney 👑: WHO SAID IT??? Drop the @, I just wanna talk.

Shayne 👖: No, I wanna talk. With my fists.

Damien 🔥: 👀 what’s happening?

Angela 🎤: Someone in the comments decided to be real brave today and called Y/N “extra noise.” Like?? Sorry, you’re allergic to joy???

Tommy 🧢: Absolutely feral take.

Arasha 🎬: Not them being wrong and loud about it 💀

Courtney 👑: I have a spreadsheet of insults for this exact scenario.

Ian 🧠: We don’t condone targeted harassment, Courtney.

Courtney 👑: Right, right. Public harassment, then.

Angela 🎤: No, seriously—Y/N, remember when people came for me a few months ago? Said I didn’t “add anything”? You sat with me in the break room for like two hours, telling me how much that crap doesn’t matter. You were right then, and you’re still right now. Don’t let one bored internet troll make you feel smaller.

Tommy 🧢: 👏 THIS 👏

Damien 🔥: Yeah, they clearly have no clue what it’s like here without you. (Spoiler: it’s worse.)

Shayne 👖: You’re the glue and the glitter, Y/N. Without you, we’d just… be some people standing in a warehouse.

Arasha 🎬: …and it would smell worse.

Spencer 🧃: …agree.

Courtney 👑: Wow, two words from Spencer? he’s practically yelling.

Shayne 👖: Seriously, though, he’s right. You’re the best part of the room.

Spencer 🧃: yep.

Ian 🧠: Can confirm. Essential personnel.

Damien 🔥: So it’s settled. We keep being loud and amazing.

Courtney 👑: And by loud, you mean—

Angela 🎤: Exactly what you’re thinking.

Arasha 🎬: Roll out!

[hollow-w00ds]

People who use AI to write just don't understand. AI could never compare to the deranged story ideas that my mentally ill brain cooks up at 3AM.

[nuelles]

No cause the way I will have a vivid dream that I just need to write down before it dissappears is a struggle that I thought only I went through 🥲

[creeksidekiller]

very fond of this trio

[hipsternumbertwo]

friendship always wins!

[nuelles]

Co-Hosting Chaos || Damien Haas

Summary: It's the 2025 Smosh Summer Games, and Vice Principal (you) is co-hosting alongside the chaotic Superintendent Damien. Their rivalry and playful banter reach new heights as they oversee the Get 7th IRL challenge, where players compete to take seventh place. From the Vertical Leap to the Football Throw, the tension between Damien and the Y/N only grows as they flirt, tease, and challenge each other.

Pairing: Damien Haas x Reader

Tropes: Smosh Summer Games, Flirty Banter, Power Couple, etc

Warnings: Not proofread, mentions of n*ah, flirting?, technically spoilers for episode one

WC: 3.8k

Author's Note: I played with this idea for a while, of course, I had to add scenes and extra dialogue with Damien, and tried not to really focus too much on the games since this really revolves around Damien and the Reader. Hopefully you'll enjoy this :) ALSO, like a dumbass, I didn't Google if a superintendent even has a vice principal, so let's pretend like they do.

The sun blazed overhead as the Smosh Summer Games kicked off with their first challenge: Get 7th IRL. The contestants were ready, the crew was buzzing, and the energy was palpable. But amidst the chaos, there was one constant—Damien, Superintendent of the event. He strutted around the field like he owned the place, his signature grin plastered on his face.

And then there was you, as his vice principal, standing by his side, clipboard in hand, ready to keep things in order—or at least try to.

Damien grinned, his usual stance at the ready, and his sunglasses catching the sun perfectly. "GOOD MORNING, STUDENTS!"

The two teams next to you began to cheer, ready for the shoot—better yet, the games—to begin.

"Welcome to physical education class and the first competition of SMOSH SUMMER GAMES!" Damien boomed, his voice dripping with excitement and confidence. You couldn't help but admire his presence; he looked every bit the part of a dynamic host. You, however, were more than content to be standing next to him, clipboard in hand, ensuring that everything stayed on track.

"Unfortunately for you, it’s time for the annual fitness exam already. However, in order to win this competition, you will be aiming to get seventh place in three fierce competitions. Sound easy? Think again," he added.

You pretended to take role next to him, counting each team and making sure they were in frame for production, all while keeping one eye on the chaos that was about to unfold.

Getting into character, you shot him a side-eye, arching a brow as you adjusted your glasses. "Ah, yes, classic Damien. Make it sound easy, but we all know it's going to be a mess."

Damien smirked, stepping closer to you as if to make a point. "Well, vice principal, not everyone has your impeccable taste in making things sound complicated." His tone was teasing, playful, and just a little too close for comfort.

You met his gaze with a knowing smile. "If you can keep it together long enough to not embarrass the team, I might let you off the hook."

"Oh, trust me," he said, his voice dropping just low enough for only you to hear. "I’m perfectly capable of being... charming and competent."

You leaned in slightly, your smile never faltering. "We’ll see about that, Superintendent. But if you trip up, I’ll be there with a detention slip ready to take you down a notch."

Damien’s grin only grew wider, the heat between you two intensifying. "Oh, I’d like that. Maybe you can personally deliver it," he teased, leaning closer as if daring you to respond.

Before you could reply, Damien continued where he left off before you had quipped at him. "The 50-foot dash, the vertical leap, and the football throw."

Before the challenge began, however, there had been a slight wager between the two of you—one that you were still convinced you’d win.

"You know," Damien had said earlier, leaning against the table as you prepped the teams. "I’ve got a feeling about this one. The Hollywood Hotdogs are definitely taking the lead this year."

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "Oh? You’re on. I’m going with the Downtown Dairy Cows. You know, they’ve got that farm-strong energy."

Damien had looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Alright, if the Hotdogs win, I get a free coffee from you every day next week... plus, you’ll owe me one public shoutout about how amazing I am as the host."

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at his confidence. "And if the Cows win, I get to pick the nickname you’ll go by for the rest of the week, and you’ll be my assistant.”

Damien paused for a second before shrugging with a grin. "Deal. You’ll be regretting this when I’m sipping your coffee all week long, Vice Principal."

And now, standing next to him, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd made the right choice. After all, the Hot Dogs were tough competition.

You glanced at him now, raising an eyebrow. "You’re not getting too cocky, are you? We both know the Cows have it in the bag."

Damien’s grin widened. "We’ll see, Vice Principal. We’ll see."

The challenge kicked off with the 50-foot dash, and the energy was electric. The contestants raced down the field, the crowd (the production crew) roaring as they cheered on the teams.

But the banter didn’t stop. "Looks like Noah’s aiming for first place... or maybe he's just practicing for a dramatic fall," you quipped, eyes watching as Noah stumbled halfway through the dash.

Damien chuckled, his voice low and filled with amusement. "Nah, I think he's just trying to get seventh. Like the winner he is."

"Keep dreaming, Superintendent," you shot back, rolling your eyes but still keeping an amused grin on your face. "You’ve got a lot to learn about teamwork."

Damien, sensing your playful challenge, turned his full attention to you. "I’m starting to think you’re the one who needs to learn something, vice principal."

The race ended in chaos, just as you’d expected. As the contestants gathered around, Damien shot you a teasing look. "Well, looks like I was right. It’s way harder to get seventh than we thought."

You crossed your arms and smirked, leaning in closer to him. "Don’t get too comfortable, Superintendent. I’m just getting started."

Damien’s gaze softened, his grin turning into something more knowing. "Oh, trust me. I know. And I’m looking forward to every second of it." He leaned in just a little, his voice a playful whisper. "But maybe next time, you can keep up with me."

The chemistry between you both was electric, every glance, every word dripping with unspoken tension. You both knew there was something more lurking beneath the surface, but neither of you were ready to admit it—yet.

As the cast took a breather after the 50-foot dash, you and Damien stood off to the side, the energy still crackling between you. The next challenge was coming up, and though you both played it cool, the tension between you two was palpable.

"Well, well, well," Damien started, adjusting his sunglasses and flashing you a teasing grin. "Looks like I’m already one step ahead of you. First challenge down, and who’s leading the pack? Me."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed your playful attitude. "Oh, don’t get too cocky, Superintendent. You might have won the first round, but I’m about to make you regret that 'charming' attitude."

Damien chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "You really think you can take me down? I mean, I’m the one with the charm, the charisma... the moves," he said, stepping into a mock dance move, his hips swaying with exaggerated confidence.

You didn’t even miss a beat, leaning in slightly as you smirked. "If by ‘moves,’ you mean stumbling over your own feet, then sure. I’m quaking in my boots."

He stepped closer, now inches away from you. "You sure you’re not just intimidated by all this?" he teased, his voice low and flirtatious.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that was half skeptical, half amused. "Intimidated? Pfft. I think you're the one who's gonna be eating dust after this next round."

He leaned in even closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "If anyone’s eating dust here, it’s you, vice principal. You’ve got nothing on my skills."

You could feel the heat radiating between the two of you, the competition now just a backdrop to your shared connection. "Well, maybe after this, you’ll have to give me some private lessons," you said, your tone dripping with playfulness and a hint of challenge.

Damien’s smirk widened, but before he could respond, the next challenge began, and the contestants scrambled to their starting positions.

The set had shifted from the chaotic dash to something just as competitive: the Vertical Leap. The contestants lined up, eyeing the daunting platform ahead, and you could practically feel the tension crackling in the air. The rules were simple—whoever could jump the highest wins. Easy, right? Well, not exactly.

Damien stood center stage, as confident as ever, ready to oversee the next round of chaos. You, ever the professional vice principal, were by his side, clipboard in hand, with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Damien raised a hand to silence the crowd, his usual flair filling the space. "Alright, folks! Time for our next challenge, the Vertical Leap! The goal? Jump as high as you can, and I’ll be there to judge. Because who better to keep everyone in line than your favorite Superintendent?" He shot a playful look your way. "Don’t worry, vice principal. I’ll make sure to keep things under control."

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes in mock skepticism. "Under control, huh? How can I trust you not to make it all about you? You might get a little too excited over the jumps."

Damien leaned in, his tone dropping lower. "Well, I am known for making things exciting. Besides," he added, letting his gaze linger on you for just a moment too long, "maybe I need someone to keep me... grounded."

You tilted your head, eyes sparkling with challenge. "Oh, I’ll ground you, alright. But not the way you’re hoping." You flicked your gaze over to the contestants, ready to keep things professional. "Alright, let’s see who can actually clear the bar without embarrassing themselves."

The first few contestants went, Arasha getting just above the middle of the pole, while Spencer got the mediocre, so safe to say the Dairy Cows were doing well in trying to get 7th.

The audience laughed, some cheering, others groaning as they watched the failures unfold. Damien took every chance to make the moment more about himself than the actual contestants, leaning into the camera with a wink, making sure the audience knew who was in charge.

"Don’t worry, everyone!" he called out to the crowd, "I’m here to show you how it’s done!"

You smirked from behind him. "Oh, you? Are you sure about that, Superintendent? You’re not as tall as you think you are."

Damien turned to you with a sly grin. "Are you suggesting I won’t be able to jump higher than you?"

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just stating facts. You’ve got a lot of charm, but I’m not sure that’s going to help you clear the bar."

Damien chuckled, clearly not bothered. "Oh, vice principal, you just wait. I’m about to prove you wrong."

Before the next cast member could go up, Damien strode confidently up to the line, cracking his knuckles dramatically. "Time to show you all how it’s done," he called out, a cocky smile on his lips.

You folded your arms and leaned back, watching him closely. "I’ve got my money on him barely clearing it. Maybe he’ll jump just high enough to make a fool of himself."

Damien glanced over at you as he bounced a few times, readying himself. "Careful there, vice principal," he said with a smirk. "You might just be eating your words soon."

He leapt into the air with impressive height. He landed with a soft thud, spinning around to face you with a victorious grin. "Well, well, looks like someone owes me a round of applause."

You clapped slowly, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. "Impressive, Superintendent. I didn’t think you had it in you." Your tone was playful, but there was an edge to it. "But don’t get too cocky. You’ve still got plenty of challenges ahead."

Damien’s grin softened as he looked at you, his eyes glimmering with something deeper. "Oh, don’t worry. I’m just getting started." He took a step closer, his voice lowering. "You might be vice principal, but you’re not the only one who knows how to keep things interesting."

You matched his gaze, your smile lingering a little longer than usual. "Let’s see if you can keep up, Superintendent. I’m not going easy on you just because you cleared the bar."

The playful tension between you two was undeniable; each challenge only bringing the two of you closer, your teasing more flirtatious, your competition more intense.

Afterwards, the two of you decided to lean back a little and let the teams shine, as each contestant went, and you recorded their heights for later. The quiet between the two of you was nice. Being able to quip back and forth was great, kept things funny, but you also enjoyed that you two could still hang around each other in stillness and it wouldn’t be awkward.

Just then, Kieth, a member of Team Hotdog, made an impressive leap, soaring higher than anyone expected. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Arasha couldn't contain her excitement.

"That was hot!" she exclaimed, grinning and clapping at Kieth’s performance.

You shot a quick glance at Damien, your smirk never faltering. "Oh, hot, huh?" you teased, your voice dripping with flirtation. "Seems like Kieth must've taken notes from you, Superintendent. I mean, who else is so hot they’re setting the bar so high?"

Damien blinked, caught off guard for a moment by your directness, but the grin that spread across his face let you know he was thoroughly enjoying the attention. "Careful, Vice Principal," he replied with a playful glint in his eye. "You’re making me think you might need a little extra detention."

You raised an eyebrow, standing your ground. "Oh, I’ll be sure to report you... but you might get a different kind of detention for that, Superintendent."

The atmosphere on set was electric as the event continued, the vertical leap challenge in full swing. Damien and you stood side by side, the banter between you two not only keeping the energy up but fueling the competition even more.

Now and then, your attention would shift back to Damien. The way he teased the contestants, his dramatic flair, and how he always managed to keep the crowd on their toes—it was hard not to get caught up in it all.

"You know, you might actually be the real reason people are watching," you said, shaking your head as Tommy cleared the bar with ease. "I don’t know how you do it."

Damien shot you a grin, clearly pleased with the compliment. "Oh, I know," he said, adjusting his sunglasses and leaning slightly toward you. "I do tend to steal the show. Just ask Arasha, she’s clearly taken a liking to my energy."

You raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he meant. "Mmm, maybe. But don’t get too cocky, Superintendent. I think you’re forgetting about the Downtown Dairy Cows," you added, nodding toward the other team, who were just as competitive, though with less of the showmanship.

Damien laughed, his eyes never leaving the action. "Please. They’ve got nothing on us. This is our round. You’ll see." He paused, glancing over at you with a playful smirk. "And if you’re not careful, you might be adding ‘Hollywood Hotdog’ to your vocabulary sooner than you think."

You scoffed. "Not if I can help it. I’m still holding you to that nickname bet, remember?" You waved your clipboard, your eyes narrowing with competitive fire. "When the Cows win, you’ll be wishing you didn’t agree to be my assistant."

Damien’s smirk widened. "I’m not scared. I’m practically betting you’ll end up making me do something amazing."

Trevor approached, ready to take his jump. "Alright," Damien called out dramatically, raising his arms as if giving a speech to the crowd. "This is it! The jump that will change the course of history!"

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "And you say you’re not in it for the drama."

He shot you a sideways glance, his grin growing even wider. "Drama? No, I’m all about the performance, darling."

The crowd cheered as Trevor made his leap, and you both focused on the height he reached. "Okay, solid effort," you said, jotting down their performance. "But I think they might need a little more Cow energy."

He leaned in, lowering his voice so only you could hear. "But let’s not pretend like you’re not loving every minute of this. You just love the attention."

You were about to reply when a familiar voice shouted from behind you.

“Can you two stop flirting and get on to the next game!” Shayne yelled from the right of you, the rest of the cast ‘ooohing’ as you rolled your eyes and chuckled.

“Hey, that’s your future, Mrs. Superintendent!” Damien yelled back, playing into the bit with Shayne.

Damien straightened up, pulling himself together with his usual confident stance. "Alright, alright," he announced to the crowd, turning on the charm once again. "Next up, the football throw. Let’s see which team can truly make a goal of it!"

You stood next to him, clipboard still in hand, though now your attention was more focused on him than the game. "Let’s see if Hollywood Hotdogs can keep up," you quipped, your voice light but with an edge that told Damien you were ready for whatever came next.

He glanced at you with that familiar smirk. "Oh, I’m counting on it," he said, his voice quiet, just for you. "I’m always ready to win."

The crew was buzzing, ready for the last challenge of the episode: the Football Throw. The rules were simple: each contestant had to throw a football as far as they could, and whoever managed to get 7th place would win.

And while the teams were busy preparing, you and Damien had your own show to put on. As the official hosts of this chaos, you were tasked with keeping the crew (and viewers at home) entertained, and as usual, the two of you made it look effortless—at least, on the surface.

Damien grinned, stepping forward with a swagger that could only come from someone who knew he was the star of the show. "Alright, alright, folks!" he called out to the camera, his voice dripping with excitement. "It’s the Football Throw! The final challenge, and the one that’ll determine who claims that beautiful seventh spot in this year’s games. You guys ready?"

The crew cheered, and you shot Damien a look, arms crossed, one eyebrow quirked. "Oh, you’re the one getting everyone excited, huh?" you teased, a smirk on your lips. "Not sure how you do it. I’m over here just trying to make sure they don't hit each other."

Damien shot you a mock hurt look, putting his hand over his heart. "Ouch. Vice principal, I thought we were in this together. You’re telling me I don’t bring the energy?"

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. "Oh, you bring plenty of energy. Too much, actually. Someone should probably give you a timeout."

His lips curled into a smile, and there was that unmistakable spark in his eyes. "I’m starting to think you just can’t keep up with me," he teased, clearly enjoying the way the back-and-forth kept escalating.

"Keep dreaming," you said with a wink, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

As Noah stepped up to throw the football, you and Damien took your usual positions, ready to commentate. He threw the football with all his might, sending it soaring down the field. It landed with a thud just short of the fence that they were told not to throw over.

Damien clapped his hands, putting on a show of mock enthusiasm. "Nice try! But you’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to impress me!"

You crossed your arms, casting a glance at Damien. "You’re just loving this, aren’t you? Watching them struggle while you sit there like the king of the world."

He flashed you a grin. "You know it. It’s all about that spotlight, vice principal. Don’t worry, I’m saving my best energy for the real competition."

You shook your head in disbelief. "I’ll be sure to remind you when the real competition starts."

The throws continued, one team seeming to forget the goal of the game while the other was strategically throwing towards the middle. You kept the crowd engaged, adding your own commentary, though you couldn’t help but throw teasing remarks at Damien as you did.

Then it was Damien’s turn to take over the commentary, filling the gap with his usual charm. "Don’t worry, folks! I’m here to keep things exciting. I’m sure someone will impress us soon," he said with a wink toward you. "And if not, well... I’ll just have to make a dramatic entrance and throw it myself."

You smirked, leaning closer, voice low but teasing. "Oh, you? You think you can top them all? If you can’t even clear the bar in the Vertical Leap, I’m not sure we can trust you with a football."

Damien shot you a playful glance, his voice dropping an octave. "You keep talking, vice principal. We’ll see who’s the real star by the end of the day."

The throws continued, the crew’s laughter mixing with the sound of each attempt and joke thrown by the teams. Finally, it came down to the last throw: Ian launched the football with everything he had. The ball soared through the air, and just like a couple of the other contestants made it near the end zone. The crew and the Dairy Cows both cheered.

Damien's eyes lit up. "Now that was a throw!" He turned to you with a smug grin. "See? Told you I was right to expect something dramatic."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "That was good, I’ll give you that. But I’m still not convinced."

As the episode wrapped up, you and Damien turned back to the contestants, the energy palpable. The Hollywood Hotdogs had won the episode, securing a much-deserved victory. But the Downtown Dairy Cows claimed seventh place during the football throw, and that was no small feat.

Damien stepped forward, raising his arms triumphantly. "And there you have it, folks! The Hollywood Hotdogs are the winners of this round, but we can’t forget our seventh-place champions, the Downtown Dairy Cows!"

You shot him a glance, arms crossed again. "Don’t get too comfortable, Superintendent. You know I’m not letting you win everything. We still have plenty of challenges to go."

Damien turned to face you, the playful rivalry shifting into something more intense. "You keep saying that, but I think you’re just mad that I keep winning."

You took a step closer, leaning in with a mischievous grin. "Winning? You haven’t won anything yet, Superintendent. Not unless you can keep up with me."

Damien's expression softened, his usual cocky grin replaced by something a little more genuine, a little more knowing. "Oh, I plan to. Just keep watching."

As the cameras rolled and the crowd erupted in applause, the two of you stood side by side, your banter still thick in the air, the chemistry undeniable. The competition had only just begun, and neither of you was ready to admit that the real game was already happening—one challenge at a time.

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@cleverwhvre

[namchyoon]

my seven 😭🫶

[writing-prompt-s]

You are a princess. Your evil witch stepmother turns you into a swan. Instead of running away to mope around in a lake and be beautifully tragic, you decide to stick around the palace and cause problems on purpose.

[nuelles]

👀 smosh au x reader, mayhaps 🤔

[elleldoe]

when I comment on a fellow writer's fic and they, in turn, comment on one of mine