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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

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The Ends of Hallways (Proxies X F!Reader)

The Ends of Hallways

[Proxies X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language]

[AN: Y'all are just gonna have to thank Eris for always sending me the best requests. I don't have favorites,,, but Reader, I have favorites. Also no Kate sorry :( ]

Your face was practically squished against the glass of the car Hoodie had stolen as the four of you pull into the parking lot of woods that brim with the Operator’s energy. You’ve never seen these woods in person - only in dreams. You’ve never even really seen your master in person, once again, like these woods, he too has been confined to your dreams. But you hear him, and often. His voice falls down on your ears like gentle rains that fall from the heavens. He is everything and more. That is why it is so exciting for you to finally be here, so close to him, and to his presence.

“You excited?” You hear your group leader ask.

You nod and press harder up against the glass. “Are we going now?” You’re ready to bounce out of the car and everyone can see that.

He chuckles in response. “What do you think Hood? Time to go?”

The hazel eyed man behind him shoots the driver a look. “Masky, just look at her, she’s gonna break the window if we don’t.” There’s a slight playfulness in his tone that tells you the right hand really isn’t annoyed with you.

“Fair enough,” Masky smiles. He then reaches behind his seat, hand slapping at who used to be the runt’s knee. “Tobes? Tob-Tobes, get up.”

Toby’s eyes shoot open as he lurches forward. “I’m u-u-up, I-I’m u-up,” he yawns as his hands rub tiredly at his eyes. “Are w-w-we here a-alaready?” He asks, the exhaustion still clear in his tone.

Both of the men in the front seats nod. “C’mon, let’s get going,” Hoodie says as he pulls up the lock on his car door before sliding out.

You wait impatiently for Masky to unlock the car then zip out like a bat from hell. You’re immediately at the edge of one of the forest’s many trails and taking in the sights and sounds of your boss’s woods. They’re beautiful, really. The autumn colors bathe the woods in fiery oranges and passionate reds with threads of gold to interlock it all together. The sky is just the slightest shade of blue as clouds cover the sun. There weren’t any people here either - not under the little structures, not exploring, not anyone but you and your comrades.

“Wrong one,” Hoodie says as he closes the trunk to the car before tossing a backpack to Toby, who catches it like second nature.

You whip your head around to see that Masky, Hoodie and Toby are smiling at how excited you are before silently asking you to follow them. “Where are we going?” You ask, eyes wide as you jog up to them.

“Across the field. There’s this cool tunnel of trees we think you’ll appreciate,” Masky replies as he leads his group across the grass. It crunches slightly as the four of you move, like it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

“R-Really?” Toby hums as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You s-s-sure we’re n-not gonna be l-late?” The young proxy gives a slight look to his group leader, eyebrow raised as if he’s sure the Operator is okay with them possibly being tardy.

Masky shakes his head before tapping his temple with his free hand, “he told me it’s okay.”

“He did?” You ask as stars cloud your eyes. The Operator, as you’ve heard so far, is to be feared and respected. He’s like a father you can look at but never touch. He seems so out of your range, like he’s not even visible - not even if you squint your eyes. You wonder what makes you so… interesting… in his eyes. You really don’t think you’re worth all the fuss. Clearly he does.

Masky chuckles before ruffling your hair with his hand, “yeah. I think he finds your enthusiasm endearing.” Masky’s not entirely incorrect. When they first got Toby, the Operator was strangely favorable towards the young proxy as well - maybe because he was hand plucked, special, and therefore deemed worthy of his time. You were similar to Toby, albeit, you accidentally got involved with the Operator. He liked you, chose you, then kept you.

Hoodie whistles slightly as the four of you step into the trees, his gloved hand reaching up to tear off a branch from one of the low hanging trees then swing it aimlessly as his side. “Seems pretty obvious in my opinion,” he whacks Toby lightly with the stick making said proxy laugh. “Looks like Toby isn’t the only golden child anymore.”

“P-Probably not,” Toby hums, a slight melancholy coming into his tone. “Think I-I’ve been losing f-f-favor with h-hin for a w-while.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you.

You frown slightly and place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think so,” you say. “Just means he has two golden child-s now.”

Toby beams.

You do too.

The group continues to move through the trees, mostly silent save for Masky and Hoodie pointing out little memories from time to time. Things such as some guy named ‘Alex’ chasing them through here, Masky’s waking up with no memory, Hoodie’s nature shots, and everything in between. You learn a lot about the hands of your group from when they were just scared film students to the things they’ve done as proxies here. It’s kind of nice as you’ve never really spoken to them this way before.

When you first came into this life and were placed in this group, the hazing process kicked in like wildfire. Almost every day was a mentally or physically, sometimes both, a draining task and a bonding agent. Authority was not to be questioned and they made that more than clear. Eventually, the hazing grew lighter and lighter until it just… didn’t exist. That was how it went - you were no longer considered naive and starry eyed. Still, authority was not to be questioned, and it’s why you and your comrades have never really talked on this specific level before.

It’s why it’s such a treat that you get to talk to them like this now.

Eventually, the four of you make it to an odd stretch of trees. They tunnel over each other, a lot like a thorny funnel, but they frame the sky so well.

“If the sun was setting,” Masky starts. “It would look like a cradle.”

You take a step back and observe the tunnel of trees, trying to imagine the setting sun. The mental image is pretty. “Will we ever be back here to see it?”

“Oh definitely,” Masky continues. “But uh, the business we’re here for today? Don’t know if that’s meant for anyone but me and maybe Hoodie.”

You look on instinct to Hoodie who nods. “Is that normal?”

“Sure is,” Hoodie says as he takes in the scent of the cooling autumn woods. He knows the group is almost to the limits of the Operator’s realm. “Tell me what you feel right now, Reader,” he says in passing as he flicks the stick somewhere off the given trail.

With a glance around at your surroundings, you attempt to get a feel for the area you’re in. It’s cold, much colder, but the atmosphere still feels a little thick. The further you go into the woods (and by extension the Operator’s bounds to which you don’t even know exist yet), you get that odd feeling in your legs that feels like they’ve fallen asleep. It’s like the physical sensation of static. You try to explain it in words, but they fail. Instead, you allow Hoodie into your thoughts.

“Nice,” he smiles. “Alright, try to ask for permission in.”

“I need to ask for permission?”

“E-Everytime,” Toby begins as he and the others pause. They’re right on the edge of the bubble and can feel it so much stronger than you can. “It’s t-to ensure n-normal humans c-can’t come in,” Toby begins to explain as you gaze around your surroundings, wondering how you’ll even begin to ask. “T-Though, their f-feelings sometimes k-kick into o-overdrive and they e-end up p-piercing through the v-veil on a-a-accident.” He chuckles softly and you know exactly what he’s referring to - you’ve heard tales of the people who get stuck wandering where they shouldn’t: always ends in someone strung up in the pines. “W-We’ve all learned t-to ask p-permission like b-breathing.”

You shoot your comrade a confused glance, wondering what that will mean for you. “I just ask?”

“Kind o-of,” Toby says. “Just l-let your f-f-feelings guide you. She’ll t-t-tell you whether you’re a-a-allowed in or not.”

You close your eyes and begin to hone in on whatever your heart is telling you. It’s a cold feeling, mostly like vines that slip up and down your limbs as they grow upwards and then inwards towards your heart. It’s an odd feeling. Once the static vines pierce through your heart, you physically see a fog roll into the forest around you. It consumes you and your comrades before you remember Toby mentioned ‘she.’ The fog thickens. “Wait, she?” You say as the static begins to leave your system. It feels like you’re tearing through roots as you walk forward.

“He didn’t mean it,” Masky quickly replies as he begins to pull you through the fog. “Good job on asking though. Strong response,” he says as gestures to the fog, his hand swimming through the billowy clouds. “Wives’ tale is the stronger the fog, the more genuine you were in response.”

You wade your fingers through the thick fog as you and the others walk forward, deeper and deeper into the darkness where there was none. “Must’ve had a really genuine response, huh?” You mumble to yourself. The fog doesn’t even feel like normal fog - it feels thick and heavy and leaves slight dew on your clothing as you walk. How interesting.

‘Head talk from here on out,’ Hoodie says as the four of you reach a stretch of woods that feels slightly dangerous.

‘Did you feel it too?’ Toby asks, his hand at his hatchet.

Hoodie nods slightly, his eyes narrowing as he slows his pace so he’s guarding the back. He gives you a slightly concerned look as the fog evens out. Everyone but you knows that they’re in perhaps one of the most dangerous parts of the veil. The Operator’s mere presence is usually enough to deter the things like the Rake from his grounds, but that often means they get trapped here - in the in-between - and lash out on the first thing they sense. The sooner the four of you get out of this dangerous spot, the better.

‘What do you sense?’ You ask, cutting mentally through the rough silence, your own hand moving to your blade.

Hoodie looks like he’s about to answer you before he holds his fist up and the other three of you duck down instantly, dipping below the fog. Just then, some deer begin walking past.

‘Deer?’ You say in a questioning tone.

‘Not just any deer,’ Hoodie begins as the deer slowly nibbles on the leaves and other things. ‘Take a good look at their bodies. They look normal to you?’

You narrow your eyes slightly and get used to peering through the fog as the deer pass. Eventually, you’re able to look at their coats. There’s something off about them, something wrong. Something you can’t quite place. The longer you watch them as they move in front of you, the stronger that off feeling gets. They have every physical part of the deer down but it’s just not right. It’s like their joints don’t fit well beneath their skin. And their eyes… Their eyes are completely hollow.

‘You see it?’ Masky asks as the last of the deer passes by. He glances over his shoulder briefly to see you nod. ‘We’re lucky they didn’t change this time,’ he mumbles, slowly inching forward while crouched against the earth.

‘What would’ve happened if they changed?’ You inquire, moving quietly alongside your comrades.

‘Nightmare fuel,’ Toby finally pipes in. ‘Nothing about them looks right. Big mouths full of sharp teeth, black eyes, too many limbs, like a messed up centipede,’ he finishes, a slight shudder coming into his mental tone.

You notice the other two of your group members nodding in agreement before finally deeming it safe enough to stand up and finally exit the in-between of the veil.

You’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful, rustic looking Germanic mansion surrounded by iron gates that hold honeycomb patterns that trail skywards only to end on sharp peaks that you’re almost certain your boss has spiked people on plenty of times. There’s also flowers of every kind in the front gardens that catch your eyes the moment you step through the grand gates. There’s fountains and topiaires, statues and benches that tell you the Operator drips with style and elegance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Masky smiles.

You nod, “it’s gorgeous.” The air smells slightly expensive, but mostly sweet. How is it that a place like this can even possibly exist? Around the mansion are autumnal trees, mostly maple, some sycamore and other birch. Scattered on the front lawn are other proxies and some independents, mostly catching up and talking before leaving through the same gates you entered from. Some of them smile and wave as they pass you, others grunt and turn their nose up at you upon realizing you’re the youngest. This place sings with the Operator’s overwhelming presence.

Your comrades continue to watch your amused expression as they lead you to the front doors of the mansion. They’re large and stained glass, slightly gothic in woodwork and tower over you.

“Go ahead,” Hoodie chuckles as he nods for you to open the doors.

You glance back to him, then at the large doors before tentatively placing your hands on their surface. With a small breath, you push them open and find yourself greeted to the most exquisite foyer you’ve ever seen. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, sapphires and rubies drip from the fixtures and shine the light beautifully across the marble floors. Gold leaf adorns almost everything that juts out while the huge staircase in front of you beckons you forward.

“Doesn’t seem like he needs us yet,” Masky says as he checks his watch. “Got here earlier than expected, huh?” He lightly ribs Hoodie who rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, let’s go to the sun room. Don’t wanna wait around in here.” He nods for the three of you to follow.

Toby clears his throat slightly as if to remind the two in charge that you’re still very much here and new.

“Oh, right,” Masky says. “Reader, this is super important, so listen up,” your group leader begins as he turns on his heels to eventually rest his hands on your shoulders.

You raise a brow at his sudden contact. Masky normally didn’t touch you unless what he had to say was important - which really, really didn’t happen often.

“This mansion likes to play off your thoughts, feelings, and logic,” he says, his hand gesturing to the staircase that’s slowly moving directions. You didn’t even hear it begin to shift. “The Operator usually keeps things in line for when he summons you, it’s almost a guaranteed path you’ll make it to him, but,” his eyes go serious. “If it’s just you and you’re moving around, you need to have a place in mind or it’ll accidentally spit you out somewhere totally random. We’ve had people get lost in here because the mansion is slightly playful and weirdly baneful depending on the individual walking around.”

“The Operator has a playful side?”

Masky stifles a laugh before shaking you lightly. “I legitimately mean it, you need to have a place in mind or you’re gonna get lost and the Operator isn’t gonna be happy. By extension, I won’t be happy because I need to come get you.”

“Mhm,” Hoodie nods in agreement. “And you can’t have the thought in passing either, it’s gotta be on your mind until it’s in sight.” After Hoodie’s words leave his mouth, Masky lets you go.

You take all the information in and wonder just what makes the place run. It’s like it has its own personality - it’s playful and baneful? You have to ask it permission to even enter its grounds and it deems whether you’re worthy or not? What kind of power does the Operator even have and why on earth would he even care about that kind of stuff? If he truly wanted his proxies to access him, he’d do it with no hesitation. The humans that would wander into his rooms would just end up tasting someone’s blade.

“Sun room?” Hoodie reminds Masky.

Your entire walk to the sun room you try to conjure a mental image in your head. They say it’s doubtful you’ll get lost so long as you’re with them, but you consider it good practice. When you finally make it to the sun room, you’re pleased to see it’s relatively empty save for a few groups interspersed in the large, window adorned room overlooking a silver lake. There’s a few independents walking around with carts holding different tea time finger-foods and waiting tea sets on every table. Maasky leads you over to one of the tables nearest to the view of the lake.

“So, what business exactly are we here for today?” You ask as you waste no time in pouring yourself some tea.

Masky shrugs, “no idea. He said he just wanted us to come.”

“T-Think he r-really only n-needs an audience w-with them though,” Toby adds before silently thanking you for pouring him some tea as well. “L-Leaves us some t-t-time to chat. Y’know, t-the thing H-Hood hates us d-doing,” he lightly jokes.

Hoodie scoffs and feigns being annoyed, “I only hate you two chatting when we’re in the middle of tearing out some guy’s entrails.”

“Y-Yeah, which is a-all the time,” Toby giggles.

You laugh as well.

The four of you are in a heated argument about something relatively stupid when static overtakes Masky and Hoodie’s hearing. They visibly pause, as if they’re trying to key into something you can’t understand when it suddenly stops.

“Have t-to go?” Toby inquires before taking a strawberry tart and popping it into his mouth.

Both Masky and Hoodie nod.

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Reader, please? We won’t be too long,” Masky replies with a small, tired smile.

Toby flashes the two a thumbs up before the both of you watch them leave, a clear destination on their minds.

It’s not long until Toby gets distracted by some other independents that stroll into the mansion. You recognize the two of them as relatively minor legends - well, maybe not the one with the smile. His name is Jeff.

“So, this is your fresh meat, huh?” Jeff chuckles as he lightly pushes Toby’s shoulder. “She looks a little scrawny. Are you feeding her right?”

Toby laughs and nods, “Masky w-w-would lose his m-mind if you s-s-said that.”

Jeff’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “I’m joking,” he holds his hand up as a sign of truce. “Hope you know you’re running with one of the only decent groups out there, Reader,” he says before picking up his tea cup. It looks slightly comical as he brings it to his lips.

You offer him a smile and nod, “yeah, I know.”

The man to Jeff’s left nods in agreement, “Masky’s really good at what he does. Got one of the best.”

Toby immediately fights the notion (playfully) and the three engage in conversation that’s lively and vibrant all the same. You listen to the three verbally duke it out before you find yourself bored. You can’t just leave though, but you want to move at the same time.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I excuse myself?”

“W-Where to?”

“Washroom,” you reply.

“Do y-you need m-me to a-accompany y-y-you?”

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff scoff.

“She’s a big girl, let her go,” Jeff says as he nods his own approval for you to go. “You told her about the mindset thing?”

Toby nods.

“Yeah, then she’s good to go,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

You flash the men at your table a smile before getting up. You push in your chair and then make it to the entrance of the sunroom, leading into the halls. You don’t have a set destination in mind. The moment you step out of the sunroom, you feel the air change. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s different. On instinct, you turn your gaze over your shoulder to see the sunroom is gone. It’s just hall and lining the hall are doors upon doors.

Alright, you can work with that! A small smile comes to your face as you begin to walk forwards, allowing your curiosity to bloom. The first door you decide to open is one that’s honestly not that exciting. It was just a storage unit. Another was a study. Then it was someone’s room. Another room. And another. How many residence rooms are there?

You close yet another door and then feel a thought come into your head, taking a seat on your train of thought like a butterfly sunbathes on a flower. She - Toby had mentioned it. And you wondered. You let the thought stay. Before you know it, you’re walking through the halls guided by forces you don’t quite understand, and the further you get into the mansion, the stranger the atmosphere becomes. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a normal feeling either. You watch as the light fixtures change from something relatively modern and regress into something more vintage. The dust begins to kick up. Irish lace begins to pepper the ceiling. You notice how the doors change style as well. How strange.

Eventually, you reach a dead end stretch of hall. At the very end of this hall is a singular door that looks weathered, as if it was sunbleached and painted over in oils. There’s an elegance to it you can’t quite place, and like a siren song, you find yourself being beckoned to it. Your proxy instincts kick in like second nature the closer you draw to it. You feel your breathing lighten, your steps as well, and you move towards it with a silence that is unmatched - as if you’re floating on air. You draw closer and closer to the door. It’s so magnetic, and you can’t quite explain why/ But closer still you must be to it.

Your hand tenderly grasps the doorknob - it feels like ice - and you twist it open. You wonder if you should be doing this. A part of you feels like you shouldn’t be doing this, but another part of you says this is what you were meant to see. You push the door open ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see inside, but the door is heavy, almost as if it doesn’t want you to. Like it’s trying to protect you from something further. You wonder if it just wishes to keep its secrets.

It’s gorgeous, it truly is. It puts the rest of the mansion to shame. It looks old - perhaps from 16th century Germany and fit for royalty. Plants of all kinds line the walls. They look like emeralds as light shines through their leaves. The sunlight kisses the flowers that sprout from the stalks. Beautiful woodwork surrounds the windows that are covered in fairytale-esque stained glass pieces. The scent is of something much, much sweeter and warmer than the rest of the mansion. Your eyes then draw to the center of the room, where an ornate table sits. There’s gold leaf decorating its legs followed by symbols you can’t really pin down. A tablecloth that looks like it was weaved from the stars above is the only thing that separates a delicate tea set from the precious mahogany table. The tea smells heavenly from where you stand.

Before you can press into the room, you pause upon seeing slender, pale hands take hold of the tea pot. Your eyes follow upwards to the owner of the hands only to see a woman so much more beautiful than the moon in twilight and the sun in the morning. Falling from her shoulders was golden hair that looked like a sea of amber as it cascaded down near the floor. Flowers were woven into it - mostly snowdrops, baby’s breath and queen Anne’s lace. She’s dressed in something from medieval Europe, and never once does her sleeve touch the table. She begins to pour herself some tea, a honey like hum coming from her being as she pours the sweet liquid. Her eyes flick upwards for but a moment when she hears a bird chirping outside. Her eyes are so dark, there exists no white sclera. They’re so dark, like black holes that hide in the depths of space, but you feel as if she holds the universe inside of them. She’s so beautiful, you’re not sure she’s real. A cat has jumped up onto the table, purring at her. When she smiles, your heart sings.

You want to say hello to her and spend time in her presence when you attempt to open the door some more. It creaks slightly. The hinges are ancient. Before you can say anything, the door is slammed shut, sending you flying backwards. You let out a sound of shock before seeing Toby reaching down to get you.

“What t-the hell a-a-are you thinking?” He hisses as he picks you up, grabbing your bicep and beginning to drag you away from the door that still holds your attention. “You r-really just w-wandered off l-like that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to get free of his grasp as he continues to pull you along. No matter how hard you smack at him, he doesn’t let go.

“M-Masky said it’s not s-safe for y-y-you to wander o-off. A-And without m-me? D-D-Did you have a-any cognitive t-t-thought when you w-went out on a l-limb like t-that?” He sounds so heated.

You find he’s bringing you back to the sunroom, undoubtedly going to tell Masky and Hoodie about your misbehavior. “Why are you being so weird?” You retort as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s just a room!” You cry out in an exasperated tone.

Toby only reprimands you louder. It’s a losing game.

You eventually find yourself back in the sunroom. Only, instead of Eyeless Jack and Jeff, you see the deeply concerned and slightly pissed off faces of Masky and Hoodie. They’re not happy to see you, and you’re not exactly thrilled to see you either.

“Take a s-s-seat,” Toby says in a harsh tone as he thrusts you back into your seat.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Masky asks, not even attempting to mask his voice because that’s the privilege of being a proxy. You’re able to reprimand your proxies without anyone giving a care.

“You can’t just go off like that,” Hoodie continues as he furrows his brows. “You could’ve gotten-”

“Hurt? This is the Operator’s mansion, what the fuck is gonna hurt me in here other than himself or you two?”

“That’s it,” Masky points out. “He can seriously hurt you if you snoop where you shouldn’t!” His hands grips at your wrist, tightening to a point of pain.

When you feel tears prick your eyes, Hoodie sighs and puts his hand on Masky’s shoulder, “stop it.”

Masky hesitantly lets you go.

“What did you see?” Hoodie asks with a deep sigh, his posture tensing. He’s really hoping you didn’t see the Operator’s trophy room.

You give your comrades a concerned look, not sure whether you should answer or not when Hoodie raises a slight brow. Damn it. You’re emotionally compromised. He’s seeing what he needs to without your permission.

“That’s… Odd…” He says.

Masky glances to Hoodie. “No.”

“Unfortunately, I think yeah,” Hoodie says with a growing frown. He glances to Toby for confirmation, and upon seeing Toby’s nod, says “yeah,” again.

Masky groans and puts his face into his hands, finding comfort in being buried into himself.

You hold your wrist in your hand and lean back in your chair. “Just… What is it you guys aren’t telling me?” You question, hoping they’d just bite the bullet and tell you.

The group shares a look, debating whether they should even say it or not. When no one says anything, you press them again.

“Come on,” you sigh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It really could be,” Masky says as he finally releases his face from his hands. “No one knows what seeing it does.”

Your eyes widen before you bark a laugh. “What?”

“No, he’s serious,” Hoodie picks up. “Seeing that door is rare, like, rainbow pikachu rare. Proxies think it’s an omen or a bad luck thing. To see it means a group’s eventual demise.”

You briefly scoff at the thought of proxies being superstitious before you remember some of you can actually cast portals. It’s really not that out of pocket.

“N-No one has e-e-ever found o-out though,” Toby shrugs. “W-We just know t-that the g-groups that h-h-have n-normally e-end in death.” He looks a little uncomfortable as he says the words, like there’s a legitimate truth to what he’s saying even though he’d rather it be utter BS.

“To be fair, we thought it was a rumor prior to you sneaking off,” Hoodie says as he tries to calm down his group.

You take in this information with a small frown. How could something that beautiful be that evil or a harbinger of doom? The thought of it left you perplexed as your comrades continued to lecture you on not wandering off until Masky and Hoodie were called away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving Reader here with-”

Toby rolls his eyes, “you c-cant just s-say you want m-me to come with i-instead. N-Not need to insult m-my competence a-a-as a babysitter,” he mumbles before glancing down to his hatchets.

Masky sighs and nods for Toby to follow him out. Looks like it’s just you and Hoodie.

“So,” you awkwardly begin, not really sure what to do or what to say.

“So,” Hoodie hums back. “Anywhere you wanted to go?” When he sees the glint in your eyes, he shakes his head. “Like, a normal place. We’re gonna be here for a while while those two are out,” he chuckles, watching as you visibly deflate.

You allow the question to bang around in your head until you nod with a thought in mind. “The library. I’d like to go to the library.”

Hoodie smiles at that suggestion and finishes the rest of his tea before standing up. He stretches for a moment, then leads you to the hallway your original snooping began. You noticed as his thoughts immediately became clouded with the word and vision of ‘library’ as the two of you trekked the halls. As you walked, you barely recognized any of the doors you passed. They weren’t on your radar, which was odd in your opinion as you had opened a lot of door you probably shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you reach two large oak doors. Hoodie pushes them open and you’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful library. It’s impossibly huge - how could such a place exist in the mansion? You’re well aware it’s a huge place, but the fact that all of this is here… It’s bigger than a downtown city library you visited when passing through Chicago a few months ago. The Operator’s influence is beautiful, isn’t it?

“I’m gonna be in the sci-fi section,” Hoodie says as he nods over to the right wing of the library. “It’s on the second floor.” You notice the spiral staircase that leads to what appears to be a balcony - it must stretch backwards forever. “Check in with me in about 15 minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” It’s surprising how relaxed he’s being with you. You would have expected someone like Hoodie to be a lot angerier and more observational.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you nod and flash him a thumb’s up before bounding over to the left wing of the library. Nothing is properly labeled, but you get a strong bout of intuition where everything is. Right now, you’re on the hunt for history.

The aisle that holds the history books looks just as old as you would have expected it to. The books here aren’t any you’ve ever seen in stores either - they’re largely from the time period they’re to be representing. Some are more modern, but you get the feeling that they don’t exist anywhere else but under the Operator’s influence. You find a few books that talk about the early history of proxies, some on independents, but nothing to inform you on what you had found.

It’s honestly a little maddening. You check in with Hoodie when you have to - he asks you to list the spines of the books you’re currently looking at - and then you’re back to your fruitless search. You run up and down the halls of the history section looking for anything when you hear static begin to buzz in your heads. The feeling travels upwards like the vines you felt earlier from your heels to your chest. When they claw deep into your heart, you feel a pull. And once again, like a sailor beckoned to the rocks due to a siren’s song, you follow it.

It twists and turns you through the shelves, making you zip past the few proxies and independents that are currently visiting this wing of the library before you’re drawn to a rotunda. You look backwards and see in the distance the front doors of the library. When did this place get a middle wing? It was just straight shelves and a wall with large windows overlooking the rolling hills of the woods. You turn your attention upwards to the ceiling of the rotunda. There’s a large skylight that allows sunlight to cascade down. Around that are gems you don’t even know the name of that weave a mosaic of something positively divine. You allow your gaze to follow the shaft of warm sunlight down, and there, sitting at a table with a book in hand (it looks like a journal) is the Operator himself.

“S-Sir!” You manage to squeak out as you find yourself startled to be in his presence, Heat rises to your cheeks when he looks up from his book to turn his attention to you.

“How did you get here?” He asks, confusion etching his body as he curiously tilts his head.

Your breath hitches. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, bowing your head almost immediately. “I don’t know how I got here. It just felt like a pull and suddenly I was here? I was in the left wing and looking over history books and I-” you continue to rattle off until the Operator holds up his hand, silently signaling you to stop. You do so as soon as he asks.

“I-. It’s no matter,” he waves off. “Come, sit down beside me.” An inky black tendril sprouts from his back as he pulls the chair in front of him out, allowing you to sit in his presence.

You will your stone-like legs forward and attempt to gracefully take a seat in front of him. It’s a slightly awkward silence before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Miss Reader?”

“I’m alright,” you reply, voice no higher than a whisper.

The Operator hums. “Good.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Child, where is your book?”

“I uh, didn’t grab one?” You answer softly. You can tell the Operator is looking at you with what he can convey to his fullest as confusion. “When I was pulled here I just.. Followed,” you attempt to explain. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“And what have you done today?” He asks, giving his passing attention to you like a father would.

You bite your lip before steering the conversation towards the room you saw. “I think I met someone.”

“You did, did you?”There’s a passing interest as if he’s saying ‘that’s nice, honey.’

You nod. “She was in a tea room-”

He pauses.

“I found her by accident-”

He makes sure he’s hearing you correctly.

“Her hair was golden-”

He looks up.

“She had plants-”

He’s sitting upright now.

“She had a cat-”

He leans forward.

“Her smile rivaled the stars-”

He’s focusing so intently on you now.

“Her voice was like honey-”

He entirely focused on you.

“She was beautiful.”

The Operator’s ichor pauses for just a moment as he takes in the description of the woman you described. It makes a part of him sing and another part of him sob. He hasn’t heard of her in so, so long.

When you look up, you see the Operator practically leaned halfway over the table and entirely focused on you. It makes you jump. “I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, thinking you saw something you shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t thinking and I uh, think the mansion led me to her?”

The Operator wordlessly nods. “Was she pouring tea?” He asked, voice so much gentler than anything you could ever expect him to conjure up.

You slowly nod. “She was.”

The Operator suddenly slumps down, making you jolt. You rise on instinct to help him when he waves you back down. “Do you realize who you’ve come into contact with?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m afraid not, Sir,” you say with slight remorse.

The Operator chuckles deeply - it rumbles his chest and in your head. “You found her.” He could smile, you were sure it would be from ear to ear if he had the correct facial features. “All these years later and you found her.” He emphasizes you like a bittersweet affirmation.

“Who is she?” You ask softly.

Your boss sits back up again. “Someone who loves me,” his tendril sprouts once again from his back and moves towards you. “Someone who loves you,” it taps your nose. “Someone who loves us.” The tendril makes a grand, sweeping gesture.

You take in the words and nod, still not knowing what they mean. Upon seeing your confusion, he decides to elaborate.

“A long, long time ago, in a realm you could not begin to fathom, there was light and there was dark,” he begins, his voice slipping into something akin to someone saying a bedtime story. “I was the light, and that cur we call Zalgo was the dark.”

You scrunch your nose at the sound of his name.

“The dark and the light were born from nothing, and she was beautiful.” His audible smile is actually endearing to hear. “Throughout the years, the light and the dark fought, constantly at each other's throats. It was woven in the threads of history, it had been our birthright. When we came to this place, this planet after being cast from our home - a palace amongst all palaces, a kingdom that rose far above any other, the nothingness came with us. She called herself Liebevolle Frau. She loved her children.” By this point in the story, the Operator has taken the liquids from the coffee cup he drinks from and animated them into the characters for this story.

You watch with stars in your eyes.

“But no guardian is without its favorites, and I happened to be hers.” Liebevolle Frau’s figure was shown sheltering the Operator’s much smaller one. “And this caused a rift that could not be mended through the light and dark. Eventually, the dark waged war on the light.”

It’s a war you’re still fighting to this day.

“In the 1500s, long after this mansion had been built and my power continued to grow, Zalgo had almost wiped us off the face of the earth to splatter out remains across all the five realms. Liebevolle Frau, thought caught off guard,” that would explain the tea, “sheltered me and protected this place and all who resided in it. At the time,” the Operator looks at you. “Independents and proxies had lived here much more commonly than they do now.”

You smile softly.

“Liebevolle Frau’s power had been pushed to its limit in holding back her first born son, and mind, as well as her heart, broke because of it. In her remaining moments of lucidity, she imbued herself, her soul,” the liquids take the form of something fluttering and soft, like a bird, “her everything, and became the place I hold jurisdiction over today.”

Your eyes widen as you think back to the odd feelings you’ve had coming here for today - and Toby’s slip-up.

“I have not been able to find her since the late 1500s,” The Operator explains as the liquids dance back into the coffee mug, the figure of Liebevolle Frau taking a hair longer than the rest. “She lives in everything.”

You’re honestly speechless over everything the Operator has said because it’s so… It’s strangely heartfelt. You’ve never even spoken face to face with your boss and when you do, it’s because some force is guiding you to do so. But if that force felt so alive, it must have meant she wanted you to know.

“Her physical form,” you finally manage to wisp out. “She wanted to be at peace, didn’t she?”

The Operator chuckles deeply. “I would assume so.”

Before you can respond to anything or even come up with another response, you hear both Masky AND Hoodie yelling for you in your head. The jarring difference between your boss’s gentle voice and Masky and Hoodie crying out for blood is enough to make you jump (once again).

Upon seeing your sudden switch in atmosphere, the Operator hushes the voices in your head and calls them to his side.

Toby is the first to show up though, and quickly trailing after him is Masky and Hoodie. They both look ready to reprimand you but upon seeing you sitting with the Operator, nothing but reverence crosses their minds and bodies.

“Good evening, Sir,” Masky says as he bows his head. “Are you well?”

“Thoughtful, aren't you, Timothy?” There’s no animosity or anger in the Operator’s tone, but it makes Masky blush all the same.

A pregnant pause passes.

“I was just speaking with your newest member, Miss Reader,” a pale hand gestures to you. “Come, join us. I could use the company.”

You watch as confused glances get shared between your three comrades before they take a seat beside you.

A pleasant silence passes through the air before a gentle humming that’s sweeter than honey overtakes it like a passing breeze.

#masky #hoodie #ticci toby #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #mh #reader insert #x reader #slender man #the operator #slender man x reader

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble)

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood

Word count: 4.6k

Parts

ONE | TWO

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.”

“Well, expect the unexpected.”

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.”

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.”

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses.

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses.

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.”

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace.

“You do your research for tonight?”

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details.

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...”

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed.

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks.

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions.

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.”

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t.

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?”

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.”

“I know. I know.”

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches.

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence.

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.”

“You think he hates us?”

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.”

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.”

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.”

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--”

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.”

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence.

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.”

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac.

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece.

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips.

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion.

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.”

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.”

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back.

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic.

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?”

“Of course, your Highness.”

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.”

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.”

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator.

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room.

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later.

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report.

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter.

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.”

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after.

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be.

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him.

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight.

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you.

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass.

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped.

“Anything that I should be concerned about?”

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?”

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear.

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity.

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening.

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice.

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line.

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating.

“Oh wait...what’s this?”

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?”

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.”

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.”

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.”

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.”

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables.

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.”

“Should we be concerned?”

“No. Seems harmless.”

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man.

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place.

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin.

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.”

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said.

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s.

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?”

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line.

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.”

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly.

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.”

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--”

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?”

“Babydoll’s her codename.”

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.”

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably.

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner.

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.”

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.”

“So they really are strangers?”

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.”

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did.

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted.

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words.

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown.

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well.

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave.

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed.

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned.

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.”

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down.

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--”

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner.

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key.

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.”

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before.

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.”

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!”

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room.

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed.

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might.

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--”

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??”

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip.

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other.

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below.

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!”

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!”

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red.

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom.

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out.

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!”

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame.

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered.

“I’ll be down in a second!!!”

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!”

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!”

“FOX! Now!”

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!”

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side.

“Thank God,” You sighed.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms.

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?”

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself.

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway.

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful.

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?”

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.”

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--”

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.”

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility.

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!”

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.”

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood.

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted.

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so.

Chan whimpered like a toddler.

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.”

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!”

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle.

“He’s delirious.”

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.”

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sunflowersandotherthings · 3 years

Text

snow day (aaron hotchner)

you and jack convince aaron to take a snowday.

a/n: first hotch fic, and it’s a fluffy one. im a sucker for happy hotchners. i tried my best to make this gender neutral (im a female so thats just my default but i want to make things more inclusive if i can). please let me know if make any mistakes. any (kind) feedback is appreciated! (also this is not edited sooo)

1.2k words (I made this a bit longer than I intended)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, happy hotch (yes, thats a warning).

masterlist

You woke up to a pair a big brown eyes staring at you, shaking you out of your slumber.

“Y/n! Look!” Jack whisper-shouts (although he’s a kid, so it’s more of an attempt at whispering.

He points outside, directing your gaze to the window, showing the ground below coated in white.

“It snowed!” He exclaimed, much louder this time. You turn to the sleeping man beside you, making sure that his son’s excitement didn’t wake him from his much-needed sleep.

“I see that, buddy,” You whisper excitedly, placing a hand on Jack’s back, “Why don’t you go get your snow pants out and get dressed to go play outside.” When you say that, the mini-Hotchner’s face lights up with a smile, and he runs out of the room at top speed.

Once Jack is gone, you roll over and face Aaron, still sound asleep. However, as you inspect his face closer you see the corner of his mouth twitch up, and you know that he’s faking. You place a kiss there, and he opens his eyes. He groans at the light filling the room, stretching and pulling you into his chest.

“Aaron, your son wants to play outside in the snow.” You say, trying to wiggle out of his arms (to no avail).

“But it’s so cold outside. And it’s so warm here in bed.” If only his team could see him now, pouting at you and grumbling like a teenager.

Instead of responding, you crane your neck up and kiss him. Distracted, his grip on you loosens and you take the chance to slip out of his arms, which earns a groan from him. As you start to pull on your warmest clothes, you give Aaron (who hasn’t moved from the bed) a pointed look.

He sits up, but doesn’t make a move to get out of the bed. He turns his body to face you, and you already know what he’s about to say.

“I have a lot of files I need to go through.”

You shake your head, moving over to him and snatching away his computer sitting on his bedside table, which he had begun to reach for.

“Paperwork can wait.” You say, “Right now your assignment is to get dressed and build a snowman with your son.” You give Aaron another quick kiss before walking out of the room to get the rest of your snow gear.

Soon, you and Jack are ready to go outside, gloves on and boots laced up.

“Do we have to wait for dad?” Jack asks, slowly shuffling closer to the door.

“No, I think that Dad is gonna take a little bit. We can go out now and he’ll join us when he’s all ready.” You respond, pulling Jack into your side and bracing yourself for the cold.

It’s a lot colder outside than you had imagined, although 30 degrees is pretty cold. Jack immediately dives into the snow, making a mini snow angel in the front yard. You lay in the snow and make one yourself, right next to his. (Of course he runs right over it as soon as you stand up).

“Snowball fight!” You hear Jack’s little voice yell out behind you, right before getting pelted in the head with a ball of snow. You’ve gotta admit, the kid has good aim.

He must get it from his dad, you think.

“No fair! I wasn’t ready!” You say before making your own snowball and hitting him in the leg. He’s running all over the place, a small moving target. You and Jack throw snowballs at each other for another couple of minutes, hiding behind bushes and tree trunks.

At one point, Jack tackles your legs as you’re running and you fall face-first in the cold snow, Jack landing on top of your back, giggling in your ear.

Aaron watches the scene in front of him fold out, unbeknownst to his son and his lover. A rare smile adorns his face, seeing his two favorite people in the world so happy. In this moment, Aaron wasn’t thinking about a case, or a deadline, or worrying about his family’s safety. He was living in this moment, enjoying the feeling of joy. He takes his phone out of his pocket, removing a glove with his teeth and snapping a picture of you and Jack running around in the snow with each other. He puts his phone back in his pocket and starts walking down the steps.

“Dad!” Jack exclaims, bringing your attention to Aaron, walking down the steps bundled up in his snow gear. There’s a smile on his face, and you feel your heart swell as you watch him pick his son up, both of them laughing. You see them whisper something between themselves, and suddenly they’re running behind a nearby tree.

Confused, you walk over to where they disappeared slowly, only to get pelted with snowballs from both Hotchners. Screeching, you run and hide behind a bush, preparing your own round of snowballs. You can hear Jack giggling loudly. When you jump out from behind the bush, snowballs are flying in every direction as the three of you run towards each other, having the time of your lives.

You reach Aaron and Jack, all of you out of snowballs.

“Truce?” Aaron asks, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You quirk your eyebrow, surprised at his peace offering. You reach your hand out and grab his.

“Tru-” You begin to speak, but your words catch in your throat as he pulls you to his chest. You squeal, trying to pull back. He has his arms wrapped tight around you, holding you too him. You look up at him to find him already looking at you, a type of happiness in his eyes that you rarely see. You commit the moment to memory, him smiling down at you and looking at you like you’re his whole world.

That’s because you are, a part of you says.

You look into his eyes, both of you conveying your love without speaking a word. He leans his head down, kissing you in such a gentle and loving way that you want to melt (despite the fact that you can’t feel your fingers because of the cold). Even through the kiss, you can feel him smiling.

“Ewww, gross guys.” Jack says, trying to pull you away from his dad. You reluctantly pull your lips from Aaron’s but he doesn’t let you go far, resting his forehead on yours for a few seconds. He nudges his nose against yours, and you pull away when Jack gives an especially strong tug on your hand.

“Come on guys, let’s make a snowman!” He pulls you over to the center of the yard, and Aaron walks by your side with a hand on your back.

“Thank you.” He whispers in your ear. You turn with a smile, giving his lips a peck before responding.

“No, thank you, love. Seeing you smile makes me feel so happy, I can’t even explain it.” You say.

“It’s because I love you, Honey,” He says before turning back to Jack, who is already gathering snow for his snowman. “I love both of you. Now, let’s make this snowman.”

“We love you, Aaron.” You respond, thankful that you convinced your man to take a snow day.

I hope you enjoyed this! Happy Hotch is my absolute favorite! <3

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #x reader #x gn reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch fluff #hotch x gn reader #dad hotch #domestic hotch #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff

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andraaste · 3 years

Text

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 8

This is the chapter of which I had published an excerpt the very first time, so here’s finally the full version ! This is one of my favorites, I hope this will also be the case for you 💕

(Link for Chapter 9 here)

Chapter 8 : Your powers are still there

The door slammed shut and I felt Lance's large body pass near me, brushing my arm nonchalantly as it passed. My stomach contracted in apprehension.

I had most likely just interrupted him during a workout because, without ever completely turning his back on me, he grabbed a towel and quickly wiped his abdomen before putting on some of his armor, completely covering his neck and chest.

- Are you afraid that I will try to attack you from behind again ? I said ironically to see him cover himself like this, especially the back of his neck.

The dragon smirked at my remark. He stole a glance at me as he finished covering himself.

- You know very well that it is you who would gain the most to protect yourself in my presence rather than the other way around, he replied as naturally as possible. If I wanted to, I could have killed you in the market place without anyone seeing anything.

Good.

- It's just that I never completely remove my armor in the presence of another person, just a matter of habit, he explained to me then.

An ironic pout on his lips, he added :

- And indeed, I understood that you were rather unpredictable, as a girl. I prefer to avoid the risk of attacks in the back.

- At least I'm making an impression, I continued in the same vein. Should I also fear for my survival by leaving the door closed ?

My question was meant to be amused, but his indecipherable gaze still gave me a slight doubt.

- For you to see if you decide to trust me or not, I could completely lie to you by telling you that you do not fear anything here.

Where was he, the sensible little smile to accompany this kind of thinking ?

- But you came on your own, so I take it you know what you're doing, he finally concluded.

If he knew how much I had no idea...

I looked away to observe the room around me (and potentially discreetly analyze my chances of running away from here in the event of a life or death story), never having had the opportunity to see in which type of place Lance could live well. Another detail ends up intriguing me. The room was really ... sober. Other than a bed, all kinds of weapons and armor, and a few books, the room showed no particular sign of singularity. Having probably noticed that I was inspecting his lair with my eyes, Lance explained to me with a shrug :

- I don't particularly like wasting my time settling somewhere, I have relatively few personal effects.

Much more than its sobriety, I was also surprised to realize that the room was perfectly tidy. Having arrived unexpectedly, it would have been normal to find even two or three things that were out of place, but nothing seemed to hang around despite my research.

- Why don't you like to settle down ? I asked him, genuinely curious to know his way of seeing things.

My question seemed to catch him off guard too, for he seemed to be trying to find his words for a moment.

- I just think I never really had a home.

I turned to observe him. Looking thoughtful, he didn't seem to have noticed me.

- I've always migrated quite a bit, and even if it's not the first time I've moved somewhere for a long time like here, I prefer not to get too attached to a place and be free to leave when I want. Moreover, as a warrior, you have to know how to be ready for any eventuality and not get too attached to such trivial things.

I pondered his words as silence fell between us. Lance really had a knack for turning everything into drama.

Or the bombastic.

- But every good warrior must have a home waiting for him somewhere, right ?

- When you have one, probably yes. But what connects me to this place is not one of them.

I thought back to what I had been told about Lance's return to custody. His need to redeem himself was probably the only thing holding him back here. The memories in that place were probably going to hurt more than anything to him. He had suffered a real emotional shock, even though he had totally sought it out.

- I think I understand what you mean, I started cautiously. Me neither, I don't really have a home anymore, with the difference that I already had one. When I got to Eldarya, I lost everything else. Everything that made Earth home to me.

Memories of arriving here flooded through my head, especially the potion Miiko had forced me to drink soon after. It was clearly not glorious, but at least it had made it a little less difficult for me to accept this forced new start.

- I finally managed to recreate a semblance of home here, but then...

Seeing that I did not continue my sentence, the dragon deduced it for me.

- I pushed you to sacrifice yourself and lose everything once again.

His words were harsh, brittle, yet he let no emotion betray his face. He pursed his lips as if to keep from adding something. I was confused.

- Yes, I breathed so low I doubted he heard me.

- Look, I'm not going to apologize again. If that's what you're here for, you can leave, nothing is holding you back and certainly not me.

His jaws were twitching as he spoke, which irritated me in turn.

- I'm not here tonight to blame you or try to make you apologize, so you don't need to make those kinds of threats to me. And I'm a big girl, know that if I want to leave I don't need your approval.

- We at least agree on this point.

It was my turn to cringe. Damn, why was he being so rude again ?

- I'm glad to see that you still have your bad temper anyway, I said bitterly.

He gave a sharp laugh that made my hair stand on end.

- People don't change fundamentally, Andraste. They each evolve in their own way, but their nature remains the same. Remember that living in redemption doesn't change who I am.

- So you're telling me that all the nice words I've been hearing about you for weeks are wrong ?

- That's not what I'm saying and I don't know what you've been told about me. Anyway, I don't want to know, even if I have my little idea about it.

- Oh, but I don't doubt that, no. You have to believe that you did a good job of putting everyone in your pocket.

I could see his jaws twitching sharply under his tanned skin.

- That's not what you think, Andraste.

- I thought you had nothing to do with what I thought ?

- Do not distort my words.

- So you have something to do with it ?

- That's not what I said either, stop playing it.

I put my fingers over my eyes, trying to calm the anger rising in me. He might be working for Eldarya's good now, but other than that he definitely hadn't changed. Lance might have been calmer and more thoughtful than before, but he still remained the same to some extent. It all reminded me too much of Ashkore.

- Look, I don't even know why I decided to come see you here, but what is certain is that it was a mistake. We are definitely not meant to get along, you and me.

Pissed off and frustrated, I headed for the door to leave this stuffy place, when his hand grabbed my forearm and stopped my gesture.

- Andraste, calm down.

I didn't answer. I just waited for him to make up his mind to let go of me, still turning my back on him.

- You still haven't told me why you came here, he continued.

- I already told you, I had no particular reason, so let me go please. I thought you won't hold me back.

- I won't hold you back when you explain it to me.

His tone was dry, but nonetheless he pulled gently on my arm to push me to face him. With our sleeves rolled up, this was the first time our two bare skins had touched each other, the dragon usually always wearing gloves, and that contact felt like pricking my skin. Feeling a strange sensation arise in me, I finally unwrapped everything for him, trying to hold back my tears of frustration in the process.

- I feel lost, Lance. I feel like I have to start all over again, except this time around, a chasm seems to separate me from those I already knew. I am tired, my body can no longer keep up. And I feel ...

I looked for a moment at his hand, which was still holding my forearm firmly, the paleness of my skin contrasting sharply with the tanned complexion of his, before looking up at him.

- Incomplete, I finally concluded. I feel like my body needs to regain its powers, but I can't.

Lance observed me for a long time before lowering his eyes in turn.

- Look.

I followed his movement to discover a soft light escaping from my palm held between us. I was speechless.

- How...

My voice stopped. Why were my powers awakening at this precise moment? Since that famous training with him, I had tried several times to use them again, but each of my attempts had resolutely turned out to be luck.

Lance's fingers grew colder and colder and soon, faint streaks of ice appeared on my skin and descended to the heat source in the palm of my hand. When the two elements met, I felt an incredible force spread in me and with the same impulse, the light which escaped from my extremity suddenly burst a bluish color. My hand and arm were almost completely covered in ice, but yet I only felt a slight chill run through me.

He released the pressure on my arm before sliding his fingers until finally let go of me. When the contact between our skins broke, my light flickered for a moment before disappearing. No more sign of magic marked my numb member.

- Your powers are still there, Andraste.

He paused before adding :

- And obviously, they seem to react to mine.

I didn't understand exactly where he was going.

- To react to yours, what do you mean by that?

The dragon had let go of me, but he still didn't back down. His large build blocked my view, I only saw him.

- I don't know exactly, I’ve never had this kind of reaction before. But aengels and dragons have a rather complicated common past, that would explain some events like this one.

I thought back to the fight Leiftan and I had faced him seven years ago. Our powers had as it were merged that day. I thought this only happened because we were both aengels, but was it possible between beings of different origins ?

- Have you ever heard of people merging their powers? I inquired, nervous at the thought of his answer which I certainly wasn't going to like.

His gaze remained impenetrable.

- Apart from Leiftan and you, no, not that I know of. But our races being extinct, we know very little about these kinds of facts.

A memory came back to me then.

- And Fáfnir, he could tell us more !

Lance didn't move but I felt him imperceptibly tighten, which made me anguish. I asked the question that nagged me cautiously.

- Something wrong with Fáfnir ?

He seemed to hesitate to answer me for a moment, but finally spoke, his tone heavy.

- Andraste ... he breathed in contrition and I thought I saw a few sparks of ice escaping from his lips. Memoria is gone, he said, and the dragon's eye too.

I was speechless in amazement. He gave me a few seconds to digest the information before continuing cautiously.

- We don't know where the dragon souls are at the moment. Shortly before you woke up, quite a few unexplained events like this happened. Fáfnir is ... nowhere to be found, let's say.

For the first time, the man's gaze in front of me seemed to waver slightly. The dragon never let it show, but yet I knew it disturbed him more than he made it seem.

- Lance ...

- It's not important, he cut me coldly. We will inevitably find them eventually but for the moment, we cannot count on the knowledge of Fáfnir. However, I would like to know one thing.

I looked at him questioningly.

- How come my ice didn't do anything to you? You didn't seem to feel the cold.

I was taken aback. Granted, only Lance was the only one who really knew what was happening to my body after seeing the miraculous healing of my wound, and my unexplained blood loss, but I hadn't told him all the details I had. had counted on keeping for myself.

- It's probably because of this merging of powers thing, nothing more, I argued with a shrug that wanted to be nonchalant. We do not yet know anything about this phenomenon after all.

Unsurprisingly, the young man did not seem entirely convinced by my answer. He was definitely a formidable adversary, even in areas other than combat. It was my luck.

Cautiously, he moved closer to me, his gaze fixed on mine.

- So, you know if you trust me?

Getting a little closer, he lifted his hands and slowly directed them to my neck, probably giving me time to decide whether or not to let him.

- Let me try something, he whispered to me.

Cradled by the calm tone of his voice, I let his hands reach the thin skin that covered my neck. His long, slender fingers encircled the entire back of my neck, he barely touched me, as if he was afraid that I would push him away. I plunged my questioning gaze into his, his gaze totally focused on his task, when the tingling sensation I'd had earlier on his touch began again, this time where his hands covered me in.

His concentrated face was now tilted so close to mine that I only had to whisper for him to hear my question.

- What are you doing ?

I suddenly felt the same streaks of ice run through my skin. Rising to the bottom of my face, they marked my skin with a slight tickle. Despite everything, I only felt a small sensation of cold.

Lance smirked weakly.

- Breath, he intimated in a deep voice.

Without really knowing why he was asking me to do this, I still breathed weakly into the small space between us. It was then that with amazement, I observed light crystals of ice escaping from my mouth, until gradually transforming into a sort of bluish flame. I widened my eyes at this phenomenon, it was his dragon fire !

His smile widened then.

- A real little ice dragon.

A light expression floated on his face as he gently removed his hands from my neck, removing the last traces of ice that covered me. Slowly, he pulled away from me as well, putting a distance of convenience between us.

I was obsessed with the feeling of fierce power that had invaded me for a brief moment. So that was the strength of the dragons? This feeling of invincibility so primitive. I understood better why they were so formidable, when I had yet tasted only a tiny part of his powers.

- How did you do that? It was amazing!

The latter observed me, his face suddenly slightly serious.

- To be honest, I didn't think it would work. This is the first time that I have tried to impart some of my power to someone else, I didn't even know it was possible.

We both watched each other silently in the stillness of the room, each realizing the extent of the communion of our respective powers.

And it was ... almost scary, to be honest.

The dragon's voice finally broke our silence.

- Andraste, I will advise you not to tell anyone about this phenomenon for the moment, I do not yet know what that could imply.

I nodded without batting an eyelid, I totally agreed with that idea. On the other hand...

I fixed his blue eyes with a determined gaze.

- Lance, I would like you to help me regain my powers.

I paused, hesitating on what to do next.

- But maybe ... out of sight, like here.

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a thin smile on his lips.

- The little human wants to make clandestine dates in my room ?

(Chapter 9)

#eldarya #eldarya new era #eldarya lance #eldarya writing #eldarya fanfiction #ashkore #i am not your enemy

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

Text

You're An Idiot

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI). Just- get the holy water. Swearing, oral, Sassy Hermione?? Still doesn't follow the movies or the books or anything. If I forgot any, please dm me.

Note: Requested! And Bottom Draco-I was up all night typing this. God, I am so sorry for the grammar and crap when I first posted this. I fixed it up, so it should be better!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Being Hermione's older brother meant you usually had to deal with a lot of shit, especially since she'd drag you on adventures with the Golden Trio. She'd always use the promise you made to your parents in your face. Yeah. You had sworn you'd protect the younger Granger when she first started going to the school. At the time, you didn't know that'd mean every single bloody year.

Since you were a year older then the Golden Trio, you ended up resolving problems and fixing some of their mistakes and reminding them to sleep during particularly stressful days. You could've swore the four of you just attracted problems better than magnets attract metal. Of course, you wanted them to be safe and healthy, but one little bleached ferret always made it hard. That ferret, of course, was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Stupid Draco Malfoy who always managed to look top notch in anything he wore and Godric what you'd do to get that ferret on his knees, ruin his pretty hair and- You probably shouldn't be thinking this in the dinner hall, especially since you were sitting next to your sister. Speaking of your sister, she turned to you, a smile on her face.

"So, (Y/n). I was curious if you wanted to come with us to Hogsmead this weekend? Harry got Sirius to sign for him and Professor Magonagall accepted it under the circumstances." Hermione's voice rang through your skull as she spoke, your head already nodding up and down. It'd be a nice little break, especially during your 7th year.

"Of course I'm down, Mione!" you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her side. "You know I'll use any excuse to be with my favorite bunch of idiots." you messed up her hair, causing her to smack your hands away and almost shove you off the bench.

You let out a laugh, completely oblivious to the Slytherin staring at you from across the room with the most desperate expression on his face. You shoved your sister back, a smirk growing on your face as she fell from the bench.

"Haha! Payback!"

"Not funny, (Y/n)!"

"Yes it is, Mione! You should know by now I'm always gonna get revenge!" you ran a hand through your hair, shooting her a smile. The two boys who sat across from you nodded in agreement.

"He's right, Herman. (haha, reference-) It is pretty funny." Ron smiled, holding his fist out for you to bop.

The week seemed to pass with ease, allowing the weekend and it's snowy fun to arrive without hesitation. You trudged out in the snow, leading the trio of 6 years to Hogsmead. You hummed a muggle Christmas song deep in your throat as you walked, looking up at the snow covered signs.

"Where should we go first, children? Hogs Head? Honeydukes? What ya kids feeling?" One thing you absolutely ADORED was teasing about the age difference between you and the trio.

"We're not children!" Ron shouted, his arms crossing over his bulky winter jacket.

"Yeah! Besides, even if we weren't totally responsible adults, we'd wanna go to the Hogs Head, right guys? Get a butter bear or two?" Harry spoke up, moving his scarf down to speak properly before putting it back over his mouth and nose.

"Uh Huh. Sure." You snickered, your hands shoved in your pocket of your pants. You'd given Hermione your jumper, leaving you in a scarf, fingerless gloves and your long sleeve t-shirt.

The four of you got interrupted by a line of people literally blocking your path. It was none other than the stupidly pretty Draco and his 'gang' stood in front of you, arms crossed like a bunch of wanna be badasses.

"Well, well, if it isn't Potter and his 3 little blood traitors." Draco spoke, his voice filled with smugness and his face dragged in a cocky smirk.

God, did you wanna get revenge against that stupid smirk.

"Oh, please Malfoy. You do this almost every week. Just admit you have a crush on Harry and move on." You spoke, taking a step toward him. The ferret's smirk faltered and turned into a scowl.

"Oh please. As if I'd stoop low enough to like someone like Potter." Draco all but gagged at the idea of dating the messy haired rival and you wondered what he'd look like gagging on your stick. It suddenly became a little warmer in the winter atmosphere.

"Then you have an unhealthy obsession, mate." Ron spoke up, his arms crossed. "Might wanna get that fixed and leave us be."

"Yeah, Malfoy. We're trying to have a good day and you're ruining it with your ugly mug." Hermione spoke up, causing you to feel nothing but pure pride. She'd changed a lot from the shy girl she used to be in 1st year.

Crabb or Goyle, you didn't care to learn their names, stepped forward, causing you to instinctively step in front of your friends. Malfoy scoffed again, looking you up and down before turning his head.

"Whatever." the blonde pureblood spoke as he began walking away, his posse turning to follow, but not without shooting you one last glare.

"Yeah, you... You better leave?" You spoke, confusion clear in your voice. Usually you'd be inches from his face, shouting about the shit antics his father pulled before he backed down. Turning to the other three, you shrugged and led them to Hogsmead, hoping to escape the cold.

Once inside, you all ordered a warm glass of butterbeer as you picked a table by the fireplace. Taking your first sip immediately warmed you up, a sigh leaving your lips.

"Godric Gryffindor. I haven't felt warmth in what felt like forever." You said cooly, smirking to your sister. "I wonder why I would be oh, so cold."

"Ok. We get it. I forgot my jacket. Stop it." The brunette responded, causing Harry to almost choke on his drink and for Ron to snort. You faked a gasp, your hand going to your chest in mock shame. You'd been teasing her about it almost the entire way there.

"Such sass!" You shook your head. "What would mom and dad say?"

"They'd say you deserve to shove it."

"Oh, come now, sister of mine! Don't be a stick in the mud!"

The two friends sitting across from the Granger siblings sat in silence. This was some of the best entertainment they get during the week and they always savored it.

"I'm not being a stick in the mud, you're just being a dick."

"Well you know what they say. You are what you eat-"

Ron and Harry didn't even miss a beat. They broke out laughing together as Hermione shouted, her face a pinkish color.

"(Y/N)!!"

"What? We all know it's true!"

"Merlin's beard you suck."

"That's the point, sis."

"Go- stop. Please. I'm begging you."

"Ok! Ok." you chuckled out, raising your hands in defeat.

You and the trio managed to keep up the conversation easily, but as time went on, it was time to go back, well, that's what you told them. It was time for the kiddos to go back and finish their homework so they had tomorrow to actually relax. Of course, this caused Harry and Ron to groan and whine, but Hermione finally convinced them, saying she'd help.

You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair, your eyes falling closed. The stupid blonde hottie has been raging in your head for what felt like forever, so you weren't surprised when he popped up behind your eyelids again.

You truly didn't want to admit it, but you'd liked the jerk since he popped up randomly in your second year. He was a twat to your sister and her friends, but somehow he slithered into your heart and head all the stupid time.

Over time like turned to crush, crush turned to yearned, yearned turned to lust, because it certainly wasn't love. That's what you convinced yourself as you tossed your head back, swallowing the last of your fourth butterbeer.

You sat in front of the fire for a few more minutes before you stood up, placed some coins at the end of your table to pay for the drinks and left the restaurant, venturing out into the snow.

It was colder before, thanks to the sun setting over the castle. Shrugging off the cold, you walked down the familiar path back to Hogwarts. You tightened the scarf around your face as a particularly cold breeze blew past you. Once the entrance of the castle came up, you all but jogged to the door, ripping it open. The inside was warmer, thank Merlin.

You were suddenly grateful for the 7 years you'd spent at Hogwarts. You were able to mindlessly walk the halls and make it to the staircase leading up to the Fat Lady's portrait. As you were trudging up the steps, you noticed a A flash of a shadow duck past a knight.

"Oh, ok. Cool. Filch’ll just kill me. Awesome." you grumbled, hurrying up the stairs as quietly as you could, but we're quickly halted. The shadow wasn't Filch or his crazed cat. It was Malfoy.

Of course it was Malfoy. We gotta get to the good stuff somehow, right?

...

Anyway, you sensed he was up to no good considering he should be in the Slytherin Common Room probably sleeping and not sneaking around by the Gryffindor one. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching the blonde keeping his head turned to watch his back as he climbed the same steps you were on.

"Malfoy."

"AAH-"

You all but lunged to cover his mouth with one hand, the other going to the back of his neck to keep him still. "Shut it, you git! Do you want to get caught?" your eyebrows furrowed together as you pressed him to the stairs railing, trying to intimidate the younger male.

What you didn't know was that this was waayy to hot for Malfoy to comprehend. His back went rigid at your touch and his breathing all but stopped as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

"Well, do you?"

Your hushed voice snapped Draco out of his trance, causing him to shake his head.

"Good, then keep your voice down. What are you doing out here anyway?" you spoke, moving your hands away from him, much to his dismay. He was just grateful you didn't back away. He liked your body against his.

"I was uh-well, I was trying to.. Find the bathroom." He usually kept his composure, but he was failing miserably. He usually kept it together so well but now.. Now Draco was struggling. He was not going to admit he was on his way to sneak into the Gryffindor common room and leave you a love note. No. Why would he do that??

"The bathroom? It isn't up this set of stairs, ya idiot." you grabbed his arm, leading him down the stairs. "Besides, you should have a bathroom on your side of the school, so what are you really doing here?"

"What does it matter?" he spat out. "You obviously think you know everything." you rolled your eyes at his brattiness and walked over to the corridor glancing down it before pressing your back against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut it Malf-"

"No. I don't ha-"

"I said shut it or I will gag your mouth with your own fucking tie." you covered his mouth again, pressing him back against the wall. "Godric. Just put your ego away for 2 seconds."

Draco desperately wanted to say 'Make me, Granger' but he was lost in the idea of your threat coming true.

Satisfied at his silence, you watched one of the patrolling professors walk down the corridor and right past you two. Not spotting anyone or anything, they continued on before you swept him down the entrance.

"Ok. Come on." You whispered to him as you walked down the corridor. You were taking him to that one girls bathroom that no one goes into, ya know, with Myrtle. You were just hoping she was gonna be literally anywhere but that bathroom.

"Where are we going?"

"You said you wanted a bathroom, idiot. I'm taking you to one where you can piss in peace and leave me alone."

"I.. What?"

"Forget it, Malfoy." You took one more turn and finally saw the opening off the bathroom. "Ok. We're here." Of course Blondie had a problem though. He shot the (h/c) male a glare before scrunching up his nose.

"This is the girls lavatory."

"Oh, you think I care. Funny." you grabbed him by the shirt covering his shoulder and pushed him inside, following after his stumbling form.

"Don't touch me, Granger. I don't want whatever germs mud bloods carry." Draco scoffed, fixing his shirt and brushing off his shoulder, as if dirt was there.

"Call me that again and I won't hesitate to ruin that pretty face you cherish so much." You growled out, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him toward you. "One day that silver tongue of ours is going to get you in a lot of trouble." Pushing him away from your figure, you turned toward one of the many mirrors lining the wall.

You looked at your reflection and fixed a strand of hair, then took off your scarf. It was warm in this bathroom. You folded the scarf and looked back into the reflective glass to see Malfoy smirking in the background.

"What?"

"You called me pretty." He had his arms crossed over his chest. Your aggravated tone did nothing to his smirk.

".. You're dumb as hell, ya know that?" you turned to face the male and his confidence seemed to shrink a little bit. You advanced toward him and he stepped backwards. He wanted to keep distance between you two in case a fight broke out. He'd seen you fight other people bigger than you and remembered how they were sent to the Hospital wing. "You're a twat. You're a self centered brat who thinks he rules this school."

He gulped when he felt his back press against the wall. "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it Granger?" Draco could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. You must've noticed his face turning Gryffindor red because next thing he knew, you were pressed up against him, pinning him to the wall. He felt his breath catch in his throat when your eyes glanced at his lips for a brief second.

"I might teach you a lesson." Your hands came at either side of his head, a dangerous smirk drawing across your lips. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his. "You have been such a brat lately. A punishment is in order, hmm?"

Draco's hands tried to grip the wall, his nails scraping against it. Fuck, the way your voice dropped sent blood from his cheeks to his dick almost immediately.

With that, you slammed your lips to his, causing a breathy whine to escape Draco's throat. You tilted your head, your tongue grazing across his lips as your hand slipped through his hair. The blonde wrapped his arms around your neck as he opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. With teeth clashing, your bodies pressed together and a hand in his hair, you easily gained dominance.

You pulled from the kiss, causing Malfoy to let out a protest.

"Shut it, brat." You grumbled, a hand covering his mouth as you planted a kiss to the side of his neck. "Besides, we're out past curfew. Would hate to get caught."

He could feel you smirk against his skin, your hand in his bleached locks tugging his head to the side so you had more room. He jumped a little when he felt you bite down on his neck. The younger man's eyes fell shut as you attacked his neck with love bites and hickeys.

Your hand covering his mouth moved to his cheek as you placed a kiss on a particularly big hickey.

"You ok?" your voice was soft and sweet against his ear. He nodded quickly, not wanting this to end, which only caused you to snicker. Draco blinked a few times in confusion when you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to push him down to his knees.

"I'd rather not kneel on the floor."

"Why not?"

"It's filthy!"

You stared at Draco for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and you shoved him down to his knees.

"I don't care if it's filthy. You have magic, don't you? Clean your knees when we're done. Simple." you smirked down at him, joy filling your heart. God, it genuinely felt good to see the cocky pureblood on his knees, his head turned in a silent protest.

One hand stayed on his shoulder, the other moved itself to the bulge between your legs. The groan that left your lips caught his attention. The hand against your bulge grounded down, causing you to groan.

"Oh, now I've got your attention?"

"Shove it, Granger."

"Now, now. That's no way to talk to me, I am older."

Draco rolled his eyes so hard you were sure they were gonna roll straight out of his head. But since this whole event was anything but straight, you figured it wouldn't happen that easily.

The man on his knees swatted your hand away and wasted zero time unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down around your knees. He stared at the bulge in your galaxy themed boxers, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink. He noticed the damp spot right by the tip and realized it was from him.

Suddenly, his confidence came back, and the blonde quickly began mouthing at your erection. With a rough groan, you rested your hand on top of his head and used the other stabilizing you against the wall.

"Go on, then. Don't be shy." You chuckled, gently ruffling his hair. The 6th year reached up, quickly pulling down your boxers to reveal your hard length.

"I'm not shy." When he finally met your eyes, you noticed his blue ones burning with a lust that you'd only wished to see in your dreams.

"Uh huh, then why aren't you sucking my dick, hmm?" You smirked, pushing your hips forward.

"I might bite it with the attitude you hold." The blonde spoke as he leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip in one, long swipe. You let out a sigh, your head slowly tipping backwards as his tongue grazed over the tip of your wood.

"You love my attitude. I bet you always have."

Draco wanted to mock you or laugh at you or something, but he knew you were right so instead, he sucked on your tip like it was a popsickle. He hallowed his cheeks and kept eye contact with you as he slowly took you into his mouth.

You let out a gasp at how hot it was. Visually and physically, it was so damn hot. Your grip tightened on his hair when his tongue ran along the vein on the bottom.

"Fuck- Ah, Draco-" You tried not to move your hips. After all, you didn't know how much experience he had, but it felt like he was pretty well off.

Draco, however, was focused on the way you said his name. It dragged a moan out of him. This might've been the first time he heard you say his first name and your gravely voice made it so wonderful.

The blonde on his knees suddenly wanted to hear you say it again. He closed his eyes, pulling back to take a breath before he pushed forward. The pureblood focused on trying to take you down his throat. His eyebrows furrowed together when he gagged and chose to ignore his tears.

"Oh shit!" you hissed out, your jaw dropping when you felt his nose press against your pelvis. "Draco, how the hell-?" you bucked forward when you felt him try to swallow around you. "Ooh, Godric!" you tossed your head back, your hand against the wall curling into a fist.

Draco pulled back and slowly went down on you again, a breathy whine leaving your throat.

"You are far too good at this, baby."

All too soon he was pulling off you completely, which causes you to whine and look down at him. He was looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" You asked, your head tilting to the side a little bit.

"No!" his head shot up to look at you, his eyes wide. "I mean.. No... No, I've just never been called something so.. Soft."

This caused your eyebrows to furrow together. "Huh. Well, let's change that. Come on." You stepped out of the pants pooled at your feet and held a hand out to him, which he took.

You gently led him over to the sinks, turning him around to face his reflection. "I got you." you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder.

He nodded his head, looking down at the sink in front of him. The pureblood rested his hands against the porcelain. The 6th year's heart was pounding in his ears, his bottom lip becoming trapped between his teeth.

The blonde felt your hands run from the back of his neck, to his shoulders and down his back before finally landing on his hips. The wizard felt a heat pooling in his belly when he felt your hips press against his ass.

You reached around to his front, undoing his belt and slowly pulling it free from the loops before tossing it off to the side. He finally looked up at the mirror, taking in the reflection of his messy hair, swollen lips and your hands coming back to his front.

"I got you, Draco." Your voice was soft. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything." You smiled at him over his shoulder and winked before popping the button of his trousers open and allowed gravity to pull them down.

Malfoy gasped when you cupped his bulge, his hips automatically pushing forward. He'd been hard since you pinned him against the railing.

"(Y/n).." he whispered out, his mouth falling open when your thumb ran across the head of his cock.

"Yes, babe?" Your smile has turned into a knowing smirk. Blue eyes bounced between your hand and that devious smirk, Draco's brain conflicted on which sight was better. "Do you need something?"

He nodded his head, blonde locks bouncing.

"Please." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Please? Please what?" Your fingers slipped past the elastic of his boxers, a false sense of innocence laced in your voice.

"Move- touch me- damnit, Granger, please."

You finally pushed his boxers down, your hands running along the front of his thighs before finally landing on what he wanted you to focus on. The blonde let out a sigh of your name when your hand finally wrapped around his dick.

A small smile stretched across his face once your hand started moving. The pleasure wasn't new, but was oh so welcomed. He was glad he finally got you.

You gave him a few pumps, allowing his precum to build up on your hand, making everything easier.

"There ya go, baby. So sweet." You whispered, kissing the back of his ear.

Draco brought a pale pink lip between pearly white teeth again, his hips pushing forward to get more.

The hand still resting on his hip came around to the front, gathered a bit of precum off the tip before slinking back around to the back. He used the pre like lube and pushed a finger into Draco's tight hole, causing him to emit a squeal and arch his back a little but.

"Oh, Godric. I'm so excited to wreck you, baby."

"(Y/n)!" he squeaked out as the finger went deeper. He bit his lip harder, the pain slowly dying out and being replaced with a burning pleasure.

You loved hearing your name being moaned like that, just like he enjoyed hearing his when he was suckin' on your lolli. You added a second finger, slowly thrusting them in and out to try and speed this along. You could only jerk someone off for so long anyway.

You licked your lips, a determined expression event on how badly you wanted him. Maybe eating his ass would've been more effective.

"Please hurry, I don't know how much more of this I can take-" his voice was higher in pitch, his hips pushing back against you. "Please-"

"Ok, baby, ok. No need to beg." you chuckled, removing your hands from their working positions. Gently rubbing your hand over one cheek, you spread it open enough to spit in it, just to be safe. "Ready?" your free hand grabbed your own dick pumping it a few times for good measure.

"I wouldn't be asking you to do it if I wasn't, now would I?" the blonde snapped back, glaring over his shoulder. How did he go from so innocent he's almost choking from one finger in him to being a demanding brat all over again?

You rolled your eyes and lined yourself up, carefully and slowly pushing in until you made it past the first ring of muscle. Both of you moaned at the feeling, your hands coming to rest against his hips as his head ducked down, his chin pressed against his chest.

You slowly pushed in deeper, a whine leaving his throat as the twisted pain came back. You reached around to grab his dick again and jerked him off a little bit more to try and counterbalance the pain.

Once you were all the way in, you just let him adjust. You kissed across his still clothed shoulders and neck, whispering encouraging words of praise.

The hand on his hip dragged itself upward, your eyes following it in the mirror. Once it made it to his chest, you cupped one of his pecs through the shirt, feeling his perky nipple pressing against your palm.

Grinding your palm down against his nipple and continuing to rub his dick, you slowly pulled out almost all the way before pushing back in with one sweep.

You literally left him breathless. He was staring at you through the reflection in the mirror, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed over with need, his hair a mess.

You built up a pave easily, deep and hard but slow and Draco loved every second of it. His toes curled in his boots, his back arched into your hands while his hips fought to figure out if they wanted to go forward into your hand or back into your dick. It truly was a conundrum for the twink.

"Such a good boy for me, aren't ya?" You spoke up after a while, your voice gravelly and rough and right in his ear. You let out a breathy laugh when he shuddered and moaned from that alone.

The two of you weren't concerned with the sound of skin hitting skin or your moans echoing around the hallow bathroom. You were busy, I don't blame you.

Soon enough, Draco was begging you to speed up, his release starting to creep it's way around. You nodded your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you spend your hips up, a grunt leaving your lips.

Draco let out a loud whine when your fingers pinched one of his nipples, his hands clawing at the walls as pleasure coursed through his veins.

"I'm gonna cum in you." You groaned against his back. "I'm gonna mark you as mine and you're gonna sit there and enjoy it."

Fuck yeah, he was.

Draco was nowhere near complaining. He'd been fantasizing of this and so much more for years. He, of course, blamed his hormones, but he knew the effect ran deeper than just lust.

Draco nodded his head. "Please-" he moaned out your name, his thighs trembling from the pleasure. He was getting closer and, honestly, so where you.

The pureblood was so warm and hugged you so right in all the right places and Albus mother-fucking Dumbledore where you getting more of this later.

This stupid cute blonde was so intoxicating it almost made you feel pathetic. Keyword is almost.

You sped up, chasing after your own release as it also reared its head around the corner.

"G-gonna cum-" Draco stuttered out, his voice cracking. One hand fell from the wall to the porcelain sink at his waist. "I-I'm.. Gonna-" he called out your name, loud enough for it to probably be heard by the Gryffindors, as he came.

He tightened and spasmed around you, his legs shaking and tiny moans leaving his throat as you helped him ride out his orgasm.

"Are you good?" You asked, rubbing his back and soon letting go of his soft dick when he deemed it was sensitive. "Do you want me to pull out?"

Draco shook his head, his ears noticeably red from behind him. "I want you to keep your promise."

He did not have to tell you twice. You went back to thrusting into him, both hands on his waist as you sought after your own orgasm. A few moans and groans from you later and you were cumming inside him.

You leaned into him, riding it out until his tight, hot ass became too much. You pulled out carefully, causing him to whine and twitch.

"Let's get you cleaned up, ok, Draco?"

The blonde nodded his head and allowed you to carefully and gently clean him up with a wet paper towel. It wasn't the lost romantic thing used to clean partners, but it was what you had.

After a few minutes of silence once you were cleaned and dressed you spoke up.

"So what.. Where are you doing by Gryffindor Tower, Blondie?" your hands ended up in your pockets again.

"Well I.." The pureblood reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out an envelope. "I was going to..."

"Draco, babe. I saw your 'o' face. Just tell me. You shouldn't be embarrassed." You snickered, obviously teasing the younger man.

He took in a deep breath and shoved the letter toward you.

"IwroteyoualetterexplaininghowIfeltaboutyouandhowIwassorryforhowItreatedyoursister-" he was going way too fast for you to understand anything.

"What? I can't.. I don't speak whatever this is."

"I.. Just read the letter!"

With that, you tore open the envelope. It was the love letter Draco was gonna leave by your bedside table.

The letter stated how he fell in love with you from a far over the years by watching you dominate in Quidditch, bringing light into the world with the Twins (let's be honest, imma throw them in this) and just.. Being you. Plus bickering with you was one of his favorite pastimes.

It also stated how he was sorry for treating Hermione so poorly and the citation with his dad and how he was raised.

The Slytherin was nervously wringing his hands together, a nervous expression on his face. "Umm.. Are.. You gonna say something?" his mental fingers were crossed.

You smiled, tilting your head a little bit.

"You're an idiot." You pulled him into a gentle kiss, your hand entangling with his. You casted him a genuine smile. "I like you too, Draco."

The blonde's face broke out in a matching grin and he all but jumped on you to give you another kiss. Once the two of you broke apart, your voice echoed in the bathroom once again.

"There's only one problem."

"What is it?"

"How do we tell Hermione?"

#draco malfoy x male reader #draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #male reader #x male reader #hp imagine #hp x male reader #hermione granger #harry potter #ron weasley #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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alwerakoo · 3 years

Text

"Seasonal depression"

Ao3 link

Philza & Technoblade & Wilbur soot & Tommyinnit

//Major character death, angst with happy ending

--------

Phil hates fall.

He remembers well what a nightmare it was to clean up after Techno and Wilbur, every time they came back after playing outside, shoes dirty from mud, smiling from ear to ear.

How Tommy just wouldn't sit still in the bathtub, as Phil tried to rinse the dirt from his blond hair (Tommy always argued that no, he did not roll in mud at all, but Phil couldn't find any other explanation for how he had managed to collect so much dirt behind his ears).

How the rainy weather completely ruined their family trip in October (even tho Wilbur was laughing when he jumped in every puddle they came across, splashing water on both of his brothers, the fever he tormented him for the next week definitely made him less happy).

How Techno insisted that he wasn't cold, only for Phil having to lend him his coat and gloves an hour later (and although he would return them later, completely soaked and dirty, Phil always made sure to leave an extra blanket on his bed).

How the humid air left his wings feeling wet, settling heavily on the feathers (yet the need to shield the children from rain was stronger than any discomfort he felt later, as he let his cold feathers dry by the fireplace).

He also remembered a time when fall was his favorite season.

When at the end of the day, nothing could replace those quiet moments as he rocked sleeping Tommy in his arms, watching Wilbur smoothly intertwine Techno pink hair between his fingers, squinting in the weak candlelight.

Phil collected them all, those little fragile moments, every smile, every stupid leaf they give him, every new hairstyle Wilbur tested on his brother, every piece of wood thrown into a burning fireplace.

He collected them like souvenirs. That would soon inevitably become memories from their better days, and kept them close to his heart, as close as possible.

He did, until he couldn't anymore.

When that one autumn didn't bring back the familiar warmth, he realized that there were no more muddy footprints on the freshly washed floor, family trips and no one to pressure him into reading them a bedtime story, only to fall asleep before he even finished the first page.

The trees on the horizon, behind a wall of black smoke and soot, were slowly changing colors, and Phil held his dying son in his arms.

His son called him "dad" for the very lat time in October, and no matter how long he stood outside in the rain, the blood on his hands remained the same.

And as the last splashes of green vanished from the leaves, covering the ground with a fiery carpet, Phil realized that whatever was holding their family together, had been broken a long time ago.

Tommy called Techno a traitor, and Phil couldn't pretend he didn't understand him.

Techno said Tommy was stupid and naive, and Phil found it hard to disagree.

Ghostbur was grinning as Phil stared at his hands, dyed from Blue but still bloody red in his eyes, and he wondered if he would ever be able to look him in the eyes.

He found himself quietly hoping, asking, or even praying, that the next months would pass a little faster, that a thick layer of snow would cover everything he didn't want to look at.

But before all the leaves could fall off the trees, Phil was holding his youngest son, standing on a wooden dock.

Even though Tommy was taller than him, he still seemed so small. As if he could still easily pick him up and hold in his arms, letting him fall asleep on his shoulder, humming some random melody.

Ghostbur waved him goodbye. Phil quietly started reciting a new prayer.

And really, he should have stopped believing in gods a long time ago.

''Tommy is dead," Dream says on the same day the last leaf from L'mantree falls onto the yellow grass.

Phil didn't want anyone's condolences. He didn't want words of comfort, gifts, no sympathetic looks.

All he that wanted, was a proof. His body, at least some parts of it. That would silence the parts of his mind that wanted to hope that maybe, maybe, somehow...

Holding his eldest (the only one left) son's hand at the funeral, he couldn't force himself to even give a speech.

That fall, Phil buried two empty caskets.

Autumn left him with a void in his heart, and he knew he would never be able to fill.

He let all those memories, he held so close for so many years, fall and shatter into little pieces on the floor. Like an ancient sculpture; although beautiful from the outside, whoever created it had died a long time ago.

There was always a quiet inside Techno's house, and Phil was so desperate to grasp what was left of his family.

He wanted to hold onto Techno and never let it go. He let Ghostbur's hands color his cheeks blue.

And although the days grew colder and colder, he still refused to put on his old coat, the one that had their only real family picture stashed away in one of its pockets.

The night a thin layer of the first snow covered the roof of his house, Techno sent him a message.

Phil put on his shoes in a hurry, going over all the possible scenarios in his head.

The snowfall was not the ideal weather for flying, but it didn't really matter, because the time it took to spread his wings was enough to convince himself that 'I need you. Now.' actually meant: 'Be here in five minutes, or I'll fucking die'.

And only after landing on Techno's front porch, he let himself just breathe for a moment.

But when he opened the front door, all the air left his lungs.

His sons sat at the table, two mugs of steaming tea between them.

Both of them.

Tommy looked like he hadn't eaten in at least a week. His face was sunken, dark spots under his eyes, and his old T-shirt (with Techno's cloak dropped over his shoulder) had definitely seen better days.

Tommy was alive and staring at him with wide eyes.

"Dad?"

And before he could fully get up from his chair, Phil was already throwing his arms around him. They both fell on the floor.

Phil held him tight. As if someone would appear to remind him that his son was dead if he ever loosened his grip. As if he would lose him again.

Tommy buried his face in his shoulder, fingers grasping the back of his shirt.

Phil wasn't sure who started crying first.

Any questions that started to form in his mind were instantly shut down by this overwhelming feeling of relief.

It didn't matter anyway. It didn't matter 'how', 'why', the flowers he left on his grave that morning didn't matter.

Because suddenly, Tommy seemed so small once again. Like he used to be when, Phil was still able to hold his whole world in his wings. So small, like when he would always fall asleep to the tune of his lullabies.

His child was alive, and that was all that mattered.

Techno crouched down beside him, letting Phil's feathers fell behind his back.

December was kind and let him hold his baby in his arms once again.

Phil hated fall.

But maybe he'll give winter a chance.

#dream smp #mcyt #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #ghostbur #fanfiction #sleepy boys inc #sbi #au #dsmp #fanfic #ff #sleepy bois inc #dadza #philza minecraft #ph1lza

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klbwriting · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 7

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader - its almost here you guys, getting so close

Summary: after a confrontation with the Darkling a discussion needs to happen

Note: so I went ahead and put in the first of four songs that inspired this fic. ‘Summertime’ by My Chemical Romance, give it a listen if you haven’t it is a masterpiece

Tags: @mcntsee

Kaz had never seen the Darkling before and he was surprised now that the man who had created the fold, lived for hundreds of years, barely looked a day over 25. He glanced over at Jesper and Y/N, watching her get down from the horse and start walking towards the Darkling. He panicked for a moment, getting off his own horse and handing the reins to Jesper. He pulled out his cane, not sure what he could do with it against a man who was considered the most powerful Grisha in existence, but he would go down fighting to protect Y/N.

“What were you thinking Y/N? Running off with these two?” Aleksander asked, motioning a dismissive hand to the Dregs. Kaz glared. He looked to Y/N and saw her looking at him. When their eyes met she shook her head and he knew what she meant. Now that she had spilled her secrets to him he could see more in her eyes. She wasn’t hiding herself from him anymore and right now she was clearly telling him to not start a fight, that she didn’t want to have to take on the Darkling now.

“Aleksander, I couldn’t stay anymore in your shadow. Not when we both know that with the parem I would be more powerful than you. I want your throne,” she said, lying through her teeth. Kaz could see the obvious falsehood there, but apparently the Darkling didn’t know her as much as he thought.

“Is that why you stole it? The only useable vial of parem we had?” he asked. Kaz froze. So she hadn’t told him everything. He looked over at her and watched her as she stared at Aleksander.

“I couldn’t let you have it, not why I needed it,” she said. “Leave now or I will use it. I’ve already taken it.” She was lying, Kaz had seen first hand when parem did to Grisha, there was no one she had taken it before they left. He just hoped the Darkling believed her lie. Aleksander scowled.

“So this is it, another betrayal by a trusted friend? Well, you may have taken the parem but your friends haven’t,” he said, gearing up to perform the cut against Kaz.

“No!” Y/N screamed, reaching out with both hands and closing her fists. Aleksander stopped, falling to his knees and groaning in pain.

“What…is this…how…” he stammered out as she constricted his airwaves and his heart. Kaz looked at her, seeing the desperation in her eyes, but he also saw the vengeance beneath it. She wanted to kill the Darkling, make him suffer for everything he’d taken from her and for a minute Kaz was going to let her do it. Then he remembered the look on her face when she talked about how many died at her hand, how much the pain wrecked her. Aleksander had once been her friend, could she really handle killing another friend and not break entirely. Kaz didn’t want to find out.

“ Y/N!” he yelled, running over to her. “Stop, send him away, as far as your winds can take him, but don’t kill him. You’ll lose yourself more if you do.” What was he saying? Kaz Brekker didn’t care who got hurt. Saints or whoever, damn this woman for what she was doing to him.

Once the Darkling was unconscious Y/N finally stopped. Kaz was right, she couldn’t kill more people she once cared about, it would take another piece of her soul and she didn’t know how much was left at this point. She mustered up all the Squallor ability she could and sent Aleksander away, making sure that the wind would set him down softly. When he was gone she turned to the other two. Kaz looked relieved and Jesper was shocked.

“How can you do you more than one thing?” he asked. “Did the parem really do that to you?”

“I lied about the parem, I didn’t drink it. I took the vial, and I smashed it right after we left the prison. No one is taking the parem as long as we keep Kuwei away from the Second Army. I’ve always been able to do multiple Grisha skills, but my Inferni skills were the strongest so I chose to train in that and hide the rest,” she explained. Jesper nodded and smiled.

“Well, looks like we have a valuable weapon in our midst,” he said. Y/N rolled her eyes, hating that she was once again being relegated to a tool for these guys.

“No,” Kaz said softly. “She’s not a weapon, she’s our friend and we need to get her to the resistance and help them.” Y/N couldn’t hide her surprise at him. She was sure once he knew that she had kept one last secret from him he would be furious, instead he was planning to help them. She knew it could have been a lie, something to get them moving again, get her out of their hair quicker, but it didn’t seem like it.

“Kaz can I talk to you alone for a minute?” she asked, needing to sort out some things with him before she kept going. He looked aggravated at the delay but nodded. Jesper took his cue and walked the horses to a nearby stream to drink. “Look we have to at least address some part of this, whatever this is.” She motioned between them and he scowled. She knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but she had to make him. They at least needed to establish some form of trust between them, something solid that they could stand and fight together one. In Ketterdam Kaz and his group fought together as Dregs, but Y/N wasn’t one of them, she needed to establish something else with Kaz to make this work.

“What do you want me to say? I said you were our friend,” he snapped, not looking her in the eye. Y/N sighed, looking at the ground.

“Alright we are friends. But you know there’s more to it, I know you feel it,” she said.

Kaz hated all of this right now. This whole conversation was making him want to leave her here and just travel on without her. He would get his crew and get the hell out of Ravka, let her face the Darkling on her own. Dammit he knew he couldn’t do that. This woman made him soft for her and he wanted to rage against it, but what use was it?

“Why in the hell would you want anything more with a crippled bastard anyway?” he asked, feeling his self-loathing seeping from his pores. He could keep up his façade in front of anyone, pretend to be more than he was, criminal mastermind, leader of the Dregs, the Bastard of the Barrel, but for some reason she broke down that defense and here he was that sad boy that lost his brother and was still searching for a way to be whole again. He saw her reach a hand out before stopping and clenching her fist.

“Kaz Brekker, you are single handedly the most amazing man I have ever met. Capable of the most intense torture yet still willing to dance with me, you don’t let anything stop you from getting what you want. You sir, are a criminal king in a blood soaked crown and personally I have never wanted to be anything more than a queen standing next to you,” she said. Kaz looked at her seeing that her face was flushed red, embarrassed to have gotten so honest with him. He quirked his mouth into a smirk and she groaned. “Dammit, why can I never just keep my mouth shut around you.”

“O please don’t, I love to hear you heaping praise on me. I like that bit about the crown,” he said, smirking more. She glared at him and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not sure I’m ready for a queen, not in the way you would want me to be…”

“Kaz I want you exactly the way you are. Whoever you want to be I will want you,” she said. He could hear that she meant it. He didn’t have to fix himself or be more than he was with her. “You could never touch me again and I will be fine, you never have to smile if you don’t want. I’ve felt your hand and seen your smile and I will keep that memory fresh in my mind forever.”

“I had my gloves on when I touched you,” he said softly. She smiled at him.

“I’m alright with that. I’m alright with you.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a queen still, but as soon as I am you’re the first person I’m going to find,” he said. He meant it, his heart was making a room for her to live there and once it was ready he would get a bloody crown to match his and give it to her. He lifted up his gloved hand and put it against her lips. “I promise.” He felt her lips kiss his gloved finger and pulled away. He took a deep breath, surprised that nothing had happened, no images of death or feelings of disgust. She kissed his finger and he had just walked away to get Jesper and the horses.

As evening fell they decided to make camp near a stream. The group filled their canteens and built a small fire, eating some rations and donning their coats as the weather was starting to get colder as they moved further north. Y/N built a small item out of her vest pocket and focused. Soon her guitar was in her lap and she was strumming it.

“How did you do that?” Jesper asked as he took a seat next to her. Kaz sat down on the other side of her, giving Jesper a look that said not to get too close. Y/N almost laughed. He had been jealous the whole ride here, clearly wanting to hit Jesper with his cane again. She knew it must irk him that others could get so close to her and he couldn’t. She hoped the smile she gave him, one he almost returned, made him feel better.

“I just focus on the material and will to be smaller or bigger, I’m not sure how it works honestly,” she said, strumming a little.

“You going to play us something?” Jesper asked. Y/N thought for a minute, trying to pull a song out of her head that they might know, but she couldn’t think of one. Then she got an idea.

“I wrote a song a little while back, something I used to sing with Alina when I would visit her followers to give them messages,” she said. I think it applies now, to all of us.” She started the cords, stumbling at first as she tried to remember the exact notes she played before. Once it came back she found a good rhythm.

“When the lights go out, will you take me with you And carry all this broken bone Through six years down in crowded rooms And highways I call home?”

She could see Kaz listening intently, leaning forward to see her fingers move and hear her voice more. She wasn’t a master singer she knew but no one had ever complained about her voice and seeing the look on his face she knew he liked it. Jesper bopped his head to the music she made and she smiled at him before looking back at Kaz as she sang.

“If you stay, I would even wait all night Or until my heart explodes How long until we find our way In the dark and out of harm? You can run away with me Anytime you want”

She finished the song and found that Jesper had laid down during the singing and was fast asleep. She chuckled and shrunk her guitar, putting it back in her pocket. She moved to put out the fire when Kaz waved his hand at her.

“Not yet,” he said softly, looking at her. She nodded and moved to cover up Jesper before laying down herself, watching Kaz in the firelight. His features were more pronounced like this, his edges sharp, eyes deep with depths she had just barely began to swim in. She knew she shouldn’t take his words to heart, that she didn’t fully know that he could be believed. He was an excellent liar, had duped almost everyone he had ever met, but she wanted to believe him so she did. She would live this lie with him for as long as he let her. Let him destroy her, she would die with a smile on her face.

“I love you Kaz Brekker” she whispered softly, not caring if he heard her. He didn’t move so she assumed he hadn’t and she rolled over to fall asleep.

Kaz watched the fire and heard ever word she whispered to him. He felt the last piece of resistance waver and flee from his heart. He heard her breathing steady beside him and knew she was asleep. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, testing again to see if the revulsion arose. When it didn’t, he actually smiled.

“I love you too Y/N.”

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

New Sniper/Spy long story!

Aaaand I am back with a new Sniper/Spy story!

It’s called “Un-alone” and can be found here!

Hope you enjoy! :D

"I need a minute, if that is possible." The French accent would have sounded pleasant and exotic if not for the circumstances.

"Of course. If you need a drink, help yourself. I will be back to give you more details."

The man in the suit nodded and the notary left the room. He waited for the door to click shut before sighing and loosening his tie. He looked around him, the wooden and serious walls seemed to close on him, as the walls of his skull pressed painfully on his brain. He lowered his head and held his hair in his hands.

After a sigh, he slid on the sofa to the table at the corner of the room. He pushed the flower vase aside and looked at the tray with bottles and glasses. Water? Wine? Non, he needed something stronger. That whiskey would do. The glass cap yielded with a pop and he poured some in the glass. He didn't add any of the ice cubes. Non, he felt cold enough.

The bitter whiskey burnt the back of his throat down to his knotted stomach. The Frenchman held his head low. What should he do? Cry? Punch? Destroy?

Not yet. The notary gave a short knock before entering the room again. His eyebrows jumped when he realised that he had left a proper and prim man, to come back to what he could tell was a man barely holding himself back, to protect his dignity. He was used to being the bearer of bad news, he was used to seeing people cry, shout, get in all sorts of states. But experience also taught him that those who remain like marble are the most dangerous to themselves.

"You mentioned details?" The French accent asked.

The notary nodded, a distraught expression on his face, before he sat back at his desk.

"She left a letter for you." He put his glasses on. "I understand you were married?"

The man sitting on the sofa took another quick yet generous swig of his whiskey, the burning liquid making him almost gag.

“Oui.” He simply answered after taking a deep breath to soothe himself, his fingers only ending up clenching harder on the glass he was holding.

“But you were not living together, if what I heard is correct.”

The man on the sofa nodded, his head still lowered, his grey front tuft of hair waved in the air.

“I also understand that only her family was at her side in the end.” The notary said and the poor man frowned. “They were surprised to learn that all along she was actually married. They did not know of this union.”

“Non, they did not.”

The notary knew he was dealing with no ordinary man but this…? This added up to the exception.

“The ceremony will take place tomorrow. Her family will be there.”

The Frenchman nodded and stored this somewhere in his mind before asking what he had been burning to.

“May I see the letter?” A shaking voice asked before the man lit up a cigarette, his gaze still evading the notary’s.

“Of course. Here is a copy.”

“Do you have the original?”

“Yes but I cannot let you see it, it is-”

The notary’s voice stopped when the man sitting on the sofa finally raised his eyes to him. His face was dark, furious, boiling. His light blue eyes sliced the shadow cast by his front tuft, a menacing curtain falling on his forehead, and the tip of his cigarette shone in a more fierce shade of orange.

He handed him the original.

Instantly the man took it to his nose and smelt it. Tears came to his eyes that he prudely closed for a moment. Rose water and a hint of jasmine. Oui, that was her. Thank God the perfume hadn’t faded yet! He smiled, but his body and his face were screaming bittersweetness, nostalgia and deeper down, something he hated to show, like a weakness.

Love.

He loved her with all the fibres of his body. There wasn’t a sight more pleasant than her smile, a song more melodious than her voice, a taste more forbidden than her lips’.

He raised a shaking gloved hand to his forehead and opened his eyes to read the will. The handwriting was unmistakingly hers. He recognised it. It was a bit more shaky than when he last saw it, but it was hers.

“My sweetheart Lulu,”

The man clenched his jaw further, feeling the strain on his cheeks and grinding his teeth to hold back what he would let out later, in his own private time.

“I am sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. I didn’t know how to, I didn’t know where you were, how you were. But I knew you never forgot about me. As long as I received the flowers, the gifts for Jay, the chocolates and sometimes, the cassettes, I knew you were alive and well.

The last letter I received from you dates back to my birthday and I kept it under my pillow until the very end. If you are reading this, my family then knows about you, they must be wondering about a million things. But I didn’t answer anything. I couldn't tell them that Jeremy’s father is a French spy, that we got married in secret more than twenty years ago, that when Jeremy came into our lives, we decided to live separately with as little contact as possible to protect the boy, now a man. I couldn’t tell my family that I miss you everyday, yet I love you more by the day.

My Lulu, I am not leaving you at all. I might even be closer to you now than before, who knows? Maybe the warmth you feel in your cheeks now is my touch? Maybe the tears you are hiding right now, I will dry, when you finally let them go.

My love, everything I have, I have left it to our son. It isn’t much and I am afraid it is more debt than help…

I ask of you two things, please, my sweetest of hearts. The first is to help Jeremy. Help him with a job, please. He still doesn’t know you, I never told him who you were. I think it is your call to make. If you ever decide to know him, I know you will see how much he got from you...

The second is please, never stop singing. Promise me to sing more, I want to hear you now, more than ever.

Je t’aime and goodbye,

Your little flower, Marie.”

The Frenchman’s heart was in his throat. He was on the sofa, in this wooden room where the sun didn’t shine, where the flowers in the vase next to him where fake, where he wished he could bite in his glass of whiskey and chew on the glass shards, crush them and let them slice through him, let the pain be physical, anywhere on his body, his face, anything but this. It was harder to bear with each second.

He didn’t realise it but his hands were trembling on the letter. He stared at it a bit more and cleanly folded it before putting it in his inner pocket.

“Sir, I-”

Again, the sheen of the light blue eyes left very little room for discussion.

“I am sorry but I must ask you to give me back the original, it is an official document for this procedure and I can hardly-argh!”

In the blink of an eye, the Frenchman had leapt in the air from the sofa to the desk, overlooking it. His face was less than an inch away from the notary’s astonished one.

“I will keep her letter.” The French accent threateningly said, his teeth clenched like a furious panther’s.

“B-But Sir-argh?!”

Something cold was against the notary’s throat. Something cold and pointy. It was pressing against his fragile column of air.

“A-Alright, y-you can keep it…”

The Frenchman backed off from the desk and the notary watched him flick some sort of blade between his fingers before he dropped it in one of his pockets. His jaw dropped. He had just been threatened with a knife.

“I was not asking.”

“W-well…” The notary pulled on his collar to have a bit more air come to his lungs. He wiped the sweat off his brow. “W-why threaten me then?”

The Frenchman took his jacket again and put it on before heading to the door. He left without adding a word.

It was still the afternoon of that late September day and in Boston, the weather started to get colder but was still very bearable.

Lucien took a deep breath and sighed when he was finally out of the notary’s practice and into the street. The light breeze did not help get more oxygen to his lungs. Or maybe it did, but no amount of air could help. He slipped back into the taxi and the driver took him back to his hotel.

As soon as he set foot in the five-star establishment, a young man in a red and golden uniform came to him.

“Sir, there has been a phone call for you, they said it was urgent and you should call back, here is the number.” He was holding a tray on which was a card. Lucien took it and read the number that he recognised only too well. He nodded and headed to the elevator.

As it took off and hovered higher and higher, Lucien could see more and more of the city underneath him through the windows. He saw it all. The restaurant they had met in, while undercover as a singer, the park he had taken her to, the movie theatre he had invited her to, where they had shared their first kiss, the streets of her city, the roads, streets, avenues that were once so familiar. They now looked like grey, narrow valleys dug in the concrete of buildings, slithering like the bed of dead rivers.

Ding ding.

The jingle of the bell in the elevator broke his train of thought.

“Here we are, Sir.”

Lucien turned away from the windows to face the doors that slid open. He entered the carpeted corridor and soon found his door. The keys jangled as they exited his pocket and the next thing he knew, he was inside.

He had rented an en-suite room with a double bed - habits die hard - and went straight to the minibar to help himself to some more strong alcohol. He didn't mind the taste and just wanted the burn and bitterness; anything really to move his pain from his heart to his body.

He grabbed a bottle of God knows what and poured some before drinking, chugging the entire glass down his throat in one go, before the glass hit the counter again loudly. He hissed under the unpleasant feeling of the alcohol scorching as it glided through his oesophagus and stomach.

Lucien removed his jacket and threw it on the coathanger before he undid his tie. He only fished out the letter and slipped it in his trousers' pocket.

“Mon Dieu…”

He grabbed the bottle and the glass, and headed to the sofa. On his way, he kicked his shoes off and frowned. He hated seeing people do that - remove their shoes with their feet, damaging the leather. But he couldn't be asked to do it properly with his hands. For all he knew, those shoes could go to hell.

He flopped down on the sofa and poured himself some more whiskey. The glass and the bottle shone under the flames of the fireplace opposite him. It caught his eye for an instant and blinded him. He grumbled and looked away, to his left and - oh, the bedroom door.

His eyes hung there for a while, the bottle and glass hanging in mid-air.

From where he was sitting, he could only see the bed, large and empty, cold even, he could feel it.

He would have killed for one more night with her. He would have…

Lucien sighed and drank some more before lighting another cigarette and sucking his anger away at it.

His eyes came back in front of him, and he saw the letter. His mind rolled back more than two decades ago. Meeting Marie, falling in love with her, falling in love for the first time.

But his job as a spy was way too dangerous for her, for him, and soon, for the little boy that Lucien was delighted to hold in his arms for the first time. And it was soon decided. A wedding, in secret, just him, her and two witnesses, people who happened to be in the church praying that day. They didn't even know them. They got married and Lucien stayed long enough for baby Jérémy to have a vague souvenir of his father.

He loved them. Lucien loved Marie and Jérémy. He loved them so much that he left them, and it broke his heart. Everyday he wished he could hold them in his heart. But he was too good at his job and wanted to keep it. It paid him a fortune and he could send some money to help.

Another sigh that failed to take his frustration and his guilt out of him.

Lucien stood up and walked to the window that he opened wide. He looked at the tiny city, busy underneath him. To all these people, today was a normal day. Some of them might even be happy…

But for him, today felt awful.

His eyes swept across the streets as he walked back in time to where he had met her. Mary, his Marie. It had been a busy night in the restaurant he was working at. He was undercover, a singer, trying to get closer to a frequent client. He had worked hard for months to approach his target. But that night wasn’t the one he managed to sit and dine with that shady nobody. Instead, an angel crossed his path.

Marie.

She wasn’t shy and he liked her boldness. He thought it was very American of her to be this way, to think that she could get whatever she wanted, if only she worked hard enough for it. Mon Dieu… She had come to his changing room, backstage, with her blue dress and matching headband, her lips were glossy red and her eyelashes, more beautiful than a butterfly’s wings in summer, fluttering to half hide the deep blue irises that he saw too vividly now.

She had knocked at his door and the moment he had opened it, the sight of her seized him like a hand to the throat. She raised her eyes to him and gave him a smile that still burnt his insides. Without hesitation, she started talking as if they had known each other for a long time, asking him a million questions.

Of course, back in those days, Lucien was quite valued on the market of love. Tall and slim, his hair still all black and combed back, light blue, almost grey eyes that looked in the deepest corners of one’s mind, impeccable manners, a smirk that weakened the knees of any woman in sight and a French accent that made them fall in his arms effortlessly…

He remembered that she kept coming to listen to him night after night. They would enjoy something to eat together. She had tried to invite him but he always insisted.

Une aussi jolie fleur que toi ne paie pas.

Such a beautiful flower as you are does not pay.

It had started as a distraction, a pleasant surprise in his life. But soon, Lucien found himself waiting for those knocks at his door, in the changing room backstage. He realised that on the few nights she wouldn’t come, he would feel uncomfortable. Something was odd, something wasn’t right, like a pebble in his shoe, something he could live with but…

And looking inside him he understood that in fact, he was missing her. Him, the man with more love conquests than there were stars in the night sky. He had fallen. In love oui, but he had fallen. Fallen under those eyes, fallen on his knees for her, always looking for her when he sang now. His eyes would frantically scan his audience, the crowd who came to applaud him, he did not hear them! Of course not! Oh! There she was! Ah, Marie…

His eyes would stop on her and from the moment he found her, his secret flower, he would sing and dance for her. Oui, he would even stand up from his piano and dance, make a fool of himself in front of a full room of guests. He would smile only after he would see her grin and wished oh so dearly the whole room would fall silent to hear only her beautiful laughter...

Oh he remembered how they stayed so late in the restaurant that countless times, they had to be pushed out of it. It had happened a few times before Lucien one night asked her to stay.

“Marie?”

“Yeah?” She raised her round eyes to him.

“Stay, please. Don’t walk back home so soon.”

“It… It’s very late, Lucien.” She chuckled and wrapped her arms around herself tighter against the cold.

Oui, with Marie, he had given her his real name straight ahead. Something in his guts had told him that it was safe to do so. He knew it was wrong and dangerous, foolish even! But non, with Marie, it felt wrong to lie.

“Please, ma petite fleur.”

[my little flower]

She had blushed. He could barely see it in the darkness of the night, but the street light was enough and he did see it!

“Fine,” She yielded and Lucien never knew, but of course she wanted to stay. “What is it?” She asked.

“Let us wait for a few minutes. Are you cold?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Here.” Lucien removed his coat and wrapped her in it.

“Aren’t you cold?” She asked and he smiled.

“Jamais quand tu es près de moi.”

[Never when you are near me.]

“You know I don’t get French, right?”

“Oui, I do.”

“Then say it in English.”

“Non.” He chuckled and blushed, turning slightly away to hide himself.

“Come on…! It’s unfair!” She pulled him back from the panes of his jacket.

“I cannot.” He confessed, still looking away from her.

“Why not? I’m sure you know the words and all. Your English is perfect, c’mon!”

“Non, Marie, please, don’t make me say it…” He looked down and his front tuft of hair, the same one that is grey now, it fell on his forehead.

“Lucien…”

The Frenchman closed his eyes when he felt her cold hand on his cheek. He raised his eyes to her.

“Please…?”

And for the first time in his life he understood what it felt like to be the one who is in love, to be the one who feels ill when the other one isn’t here, and to feel blessed when they were together.

“My little flower, I’m never cold when you are near me.” He yielded eventually and to his greatest delight, her grin widened before she hugged him, like that, unexpectedly. She had just leapt to him and held on to the panes of his jacket dearly, with her head and her black hair right below his chin. He wrapped his arms around her and kept her close. He was freezing but he didn’t feel it. All he knew was that he held in his arms the first and only person he ever loved.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #unalone

23 notes · View notes

nose-bandaid · 3 years

Text

-27°C

Yuto x (gender neutral) Reader fluff | 1.5k words

synopsis: the weather is cold and now yuto is clingy.

a/n: that was the shortest synopsis i’ve ever written. have some clingy yuto because i’m so soft for this man:)

image from pintrest !!

=====

It was going to be a very cold day, but you were prepared.

The weather channel had forecasted it, more than one family member had texted you a doting message to stay warm, and the snow blanketing the ground outside last night told you enough.

Your bed was cozy when you woke up, and you were immediately thankful that you had fluffed up your thickest blanket in the dryer before you went to bed. That, along with your comfiest pyjamas did wonders to keep you warm. The body pressed against you only made you feel warmer when you gently flipped yourself onto your other side and came face to face with your boyfriend, Yuto.

His eyes were wide open, just like yours, and you both giggled at how you ended up catching each other staring. He then brought a hand to your cheek to guide you into a soft kiss as your legs intertwined with each other a little underneath the blankets.

"Good morning." His voice was still a little gravelly from the long hours of sleep and you replied with your own quiet “good morning”. When the sun peeked out from the clouds to shine straight into his eyes, he let out a groan and rubbed his face. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he blinked a few times to gather his bearings and promptly shivered.

"Why is it so cold?" He muttered out the question that bordered a childish whine as he pulled the blanket back to his neck. You sat up yourself and scooted over to lean your head on his shoulder, settling into his side.

"The apartment heating sucks — you know that. And they said it's going to be freezing all day, love, so I guess we just have to get used to it." You answered and placed a kiss on his cheek to cheer him up.

It did, and he asked for another.

"Come on, I'll prepare some warm drinks for breakfast and we can spend the day snuggling. I don't have much to do."

Yuto beamed at your offer and for a moment, you were glad that the weather was so cold.

=====

You lied. You weren't so glad that the weather got cold.

It wasn't that difficult for you to adjust to the temperature — your warm sweater, socks, and a blanket every so often did the trick. Yuto, however, couldn't get used to it, and nothing seemed to help. You lent him one of your knitted scarves and it was wrapped cozily around his neck as you prepared breakfast. You suggested wearing gloves, but he insisted on his sweater paws being enough.

(It didn’t really work, his fingers were still frozen solid whenever he touched you).

As you watched the food heat up on the stove, Yuto seemed to have made it his goal to be as clingy as possible. With his arms wrapped around you, he didn't even let up when you had to grab something from the fridge. His hands kept their tight grip as he half-waddled half-shuffled behind you, trying to keep up with every move you made.

"Is this what we're doing all day?" You finally asked, when you almost tripped for the 3rd time that morning because of his weight against yours.

"Maybe..." He unclasped his hands to pat your head. "You're really warm — how are you so warm?"

"Well you know what they say," You started confidently and then halted when your mind short-circuited. Yuto let out a small "hm?" at your pause.

"...I actually don't know what they say." You admitted and he stopped cuddling for a moment to let out a laugh.

"But as much as I love being your heater, the food is going to burn if you don't let me go, love."

=====

The two of you spent the rest of the morning lazily getting ahead on your own individual work. It was your turn to choose the music today and a song from your queue played out into the quiet room, save the few times Yuto had to flip a page in his notebook.

The snow had also begun to fall again.

That meant the weather outside was only going to get gloomier, which it did. And Yuto only got colder.

He started by moving closer to you. Before you both sat on opposite ends of the couch, giving each other enough room to work, but now, he was pretty much leaning onto you as he absentmindedly scribbled down more lyrics onto the pages.

Not much later, you began to suspect that he committed more of his attention to watching you, rather than his book. Every time your hand drifted away from your work, he would snatch it so that he can intertwine his cold fingers into yours and bury your hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. When you tugged on him to let you go, he'd reluctantly do so, only to wait for your hand to be free again.

Eventually, you decided that you weren't going to get much done if your boyfriend was going to be this clingy, and the work — thankfully — wasn't the most important.

"Okay I think that's enough work for the both of us today. You were done a long time ago, weren't you?" You sighed, letting the other finally take both of your hands into his.

"My sudden burst of inspiration died off the moment the sun went away. Why must this winter be so cruel." He said deadpanned and leaned in to kiss you. Once. Twice.

"You're sweet, though.” He concluded. “And warm."

He really wasn't going to leave you alone ever, was he?

"Then how about we watch something and maybe you'll get some ideas." You suggested as you switched the TV on.

"But you're all the inspiration I need." He replied cheekily, and you held back a laugh, not wanting to give in to his clingy agenda.

"Uh-huh, say that when you're not using me and my warmth for your own personal gain, and maybe I'll believe you, sir."

"Listen, it's not my fault that it's freezing, and it's not my fault that you're able to manage so well." Yuto retaliated and adjusted the blanket on top of him.

"You're seriously making me consider buying us a kotatsu* now." You said and gestured at the empty space in the room you were in. "We can maybe fit one here; keep us warm while we work."

He rested his head on your shoulder and you played with his hair as he spoke. "If it's not getting warmer anytime soon, then I'm down with that. It'll remind me of my home too, and that's always nice."

"That's exactly why I offered it." You responded quietly as the show began to start. He didn't answer you, but you did see him smile softly.

After a couple of episodes, you shifted the weight of the blanket onto Yuto entirely and got up from the couch, stretching once you did.

"Where are you going?" He whined, disappointed at the sudden loss of warmth.

"Yuto, honey, I'm going to the bathroom." You paused and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "Do you really want to join me for something like this?"

He slumped back onto the couch and reached over to grab the remote abandoned on the floor. "Nevermind, have fun. Please come back soon, your boyfriend loves you a lot."

You chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind, tell him I love him too."

=====

Surprisingly in the evening, Yuto insisted that he'd be the one to take the trash out, despite the snow that fell persistently.

Not so surprisingly, when he returned, hair dusted in white and cheeks rosy, he immediately buried himself into the blanket you had wrapped around you. His winter coat was discarded haphazardly on the floor and he pulled one of your arms into your chest, pressing his cheek against yours. You swatted him away when you felt just how cold his skin was.

"I am literally going to eat winter." He muttered, along with some more incoherent recounts of his journey to the trash bins outside.

"You're the one who was so determined to take the trash out, though?"

"It's only fair after all you've done for me. I'm a kind person." Yuto sent you a toothy grin which you returned.

This one, you could at least agree with.

"Alright then, you smooth talker, I'll agree to cuddle for the rest of the night because you were just so kind."

"Are we not already cuddling?" He countered.

"I could push you off the couch and we won't be cuddling anymore, if that's what you'd like." You smirked back.

Yuto immediately flopped to rest on your lap, putting all his weight onto you to prevent you from leaving. "No wait please don't." He then reached out to grab your hands into his cold ones again. "Please love me."

You laughed at his childish actions and bent down to kiss him on the lips. It was a little awkward and sloppy, but neither of you minded.

"Am I not already loving you?"

=====

*kotatsu = a low, wooden table frame covered by a futon, or heavy blanket, upon which a table top sits with a heat source underneath.

#pentagon #pentagon yuto #yuto #kloveletternet #pentagon x reader #adachi yuto #yuto x reader #pentagon fluff #yuto fluff #nose-bandaid

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skinsharpenedteeth · 3 years

Text

12 days of Malex Gift!

My gift this year is for Phoenix

Hope you enjoy it!

You can also view it here on AO3!

Cold creeped in through the metal of the truck’s cab despite the Chevy’s best efforts to pump heat directly from Satan’s most fiery pit onto Alex and Michael’s shins. Alex watched the plowed snow mounds and dark evergreen trees pass by his window as the approaching dark turned everything from blue, white, and green into shades of grey. Alex had never had a snowy Christmas or even snow that stayed around longer than a day or two at best. He’d never been skiing or snowboarding with a youth group for spring break or been posted somewhere blanketed in snow during a long cold winter. His life always seemed to hand him deserts, sand, and too-hot asphalt. So even with the world turning into sparkling greys and blacks, he was enchanted by everything he and Michael drove past on their way up to the cabin Isobel and Kyle had rented for a Christmas getaway. Things at the hospital had turned hectic and Kyle had found out a week before the big holiday that he wouldn’t be able to get away as planned. Isobel, in an act of magnanimacy, had offered the cabin to Michael and Alex for the holiday weekend instead of letting go of the rental and they’d jumped at the chance to get away from the suffocating, over-enthusiastic shows of holiday spirit they’d been enduring since December 1st.

“They really were serious about getting away,” Michael commented, squinting a little as he concentrated on the road ahead of them. Alex was supposed to be helping him look for a little red sign that said “Santa’s Vacation Home”. He’d rolled his eyes at the name, but when Isobel had shown him the AirBnB listing, he’d secretly wondered how nice a gift he should be getting her for Christmas. (“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re the first guests so we got it at a really reasonable rate in the hopes we’d leave glowing reviews!”) She’d looked at him and Michael with a knowing smile when they’d jumped at the chance to get away without first hearing the details.

It wasn’t that he or Michael hated Christmas. In a couple years, they may too have a couple ugly Christmas sweaters in their closet and a favorite Christmas karaoke tune, but after Jesse’s and Louise’s death, it felt like a little too much effort to smile and fake it for their friends.

“Wait- is that it ahead?” Alex piped up, his eyes catching on something red half buried by a snow mound.

“Maybe?” Michael said uncertainly. He slowed the truck as they approached and they both squinted out of the windows. Between the increasing darkness and the shadows of the forest around them, it was impossible to make out anything from where they sat.

“Let me go see,” Alex offered, hand already on the door handle to climb out of the truck.

“No, wait! It might be slick out there, let me go--”

“I’ll be fine, Guerin. I’ll go slow,” Alex snapped, annoyed at the unspoken assertion that Alex couldn’t handle himself. Michael held up his hands and pressed his lips shut in retreat. Alex wanted to feel bad, did feel bad about snapping, but he hated being coddled because of his leg. Michael usually wasn’t one to say anything, but Alex might have been feeling a little touchy since he’d misstepped earlier that day before Michael had picked him up for the long trip to the mountains and twisted his knee. It’d been smarting ever since and Alex took that as a personal challenge to push through it and prove that he wasn’t hurt. He knew he was being bull-headed, but he didn’t want to ruin their first vacation away together since reuniting by letting his leg get to him.

As soon as he put his full weight down on his legs he regretted being a hard-headed, stubborn idiot. His knee felt stiff and swollen under his sleeve and he was already grimacing at how it would feel when he was able to take off his prosthesis later. He took a tentative step forward and his leg barked like an untrained dog. Alex grit his teeth and took another step and then another, navigating the mostly dry asphalt to stand in front of the red sign. He brushed some of the snow off with his bare hand and saw “Santa’s Vacation Home” in white lettering. He turned and gave Michael a thumbs-up and Michael pulled the truck into the drive and waited for Alex to limp his way over to the passenger side and climb in. It was too much to expect that Michael, who wouldn’t look away at the worst of times, would not have noticed Alex’s lop-sided gait.

“Your leg hurting?” Michael asked, shooting him a worried look before putting the truck back into drive and starting up the partially covered driveway.

“A little,” Alex confessed grumpily. There was no way he’d be able to hide his injury from Michael as soon as they got into the house. He was mentally hoping the place had some Ibuprofen. He didn’t want to bring out the heavy hitter painkillers in his bag unless he absolutely had to.

“Well, we’re almost there. This place had a jacuzzi tub, right? Maybe we can take a bath and it’ll help soothe the muscle or something?” Michael suggested. The faint sexual suggestion under the offer was lost behind the tension in Michael’s voice as he navigated around some deep ruts in the driveway.

“Yeah, maybe,” Alex agreed, hand going up for the ‘Oh Shit’ grab handle on the truck's ceiling and not finding one. The jostling was not helping the pain in his leg so he flattened his hand against the roof as he tried to brace himself against the bouncing as they rolled forward. No matter how slow Michael drove, it seemed they were always moving too fast to keep from jarring themselves. They fell silent as they continued down the drive until a few winking lights finally came into view. Anticipation filled the trucks cab as they pulled closer to the welcoming glow until they were parked in front of an A-Frame cabin built against the side of a hill. The cabin had a circle driveway that allowed Michael to pull the truck up close to the front entrance. The convenience was appreciated after the rough ride. As soon as Michael cut the engine the cold started leaching through the metal frame to steal away the heat.

“Iz said it would be unlocked with a key under the mat if we needed it,” Michael repeated from memory. “You wanna go ahead and go in and check it out while I get the bags?”

“I can get my own bag,” Alex started hotly, unbuckling his safety belt and pushing it to the side. Michael held up his hands again to stop his protest before he got too far in.

“Alex, I know you can. You’re a very, very capable individual that I have no doubt could walk across glass without flinching, but you don’t have to. Let me just save your knee the extra ten pounds this once and you can get me back by bench pressing me in bed or something,” Michael said, ending with a joke to try and lessen the tension in Alex’s shoulders. Alex stared at him for a moment unflinching and then a small smile creased one corner of his mouth.

“Bench press you in bed?” he questioned, trying to hold back a full fledged grin and failing miserably.

“I said what I said,” Michael retorted with a huff, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms in mock offense. Alex snorted in amusement leaned across the bench seat, placing a quick, loud kiss on Michael’s cheek in apology.

“You’d like that too much,” he answered before scooting back to his side of the bench and opening the truck door.

“You bet your ass I would,” Michael called after him, opening his own door and stepping out into the frigid night air. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and shoved his hands into them quickly before hunching his shoulders and leaning over the side of the truck to grab his and Alex’s overnight bags. Alex had already limped his way up to the door and Michael watched him open it and step into the golden glow of the house. He hurried behind him thinking about how warm it looked in the house versus out there in the snow and ice.

As soon as he stepped in, Michael felt the warmth of the house envelope him. He gently kicked the door shut behind him and stood still in the entryway, eyes closed and head tilted back as he soaked in the heat. He’d never understand why people willingly sought out colder climates when they could be warm.

“You going to stand there all night?” Alex called from further inside. Michael opened his eyes and looked in the direction he thought he’d heard the voice. Alex was standing at the end of the entryway. He had his hands in his pocket and was trying his best to look casual, but Michael noted that most of his weight was shifted onto his left leg.Despite that, he looked good and Michael had to take a personal moment to shake the stars from his eyes as he looked him over. Alex’s good looks never failed to take him off guard when he least expected it.

“Which way to the bedroom?” Michael asked, hefting the bags up by his side. Alex nodded towards a staircase a few feet from the inside of the door. Michael went and dropped the bags onto the bottom two stairs and then turned to look at Alex.

“Have you looked around the whole place yet?” Michael asked teasingly, knowing Alex probably hadn’t made it any further than where he was standing. Michael hadn’t been that far behind him getting into the house and while the cabin was small, he didn’t think Alex would purposefully leave him out of the fun of exploring.

"No, but come look at what the owners left us," Alex said, jerking his head behind him before turning on his heel slowly and leading the way further into the cabin. Michael watched him and despite the limp, he looked as good as ever in his dark blue jeans and black leather jacket. ‘That ass…’ Michael admired wistfully to himself.

Alex disappeared around a corner and Michael shook himself out of his admiration of Alex's many fine assets to follow him. He peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket while moving in the direction Alex had disappeared. The covered entryway opened into one great room. It had cathedral ceilings with the back wall of the cabin nothing but windows that looked out onto the dark, snow covered forest beyond. Michael could faintly make out some stars through the trees and it made him feel a little less claustrophobic in the press of the forest. There was a large stone fireplace in the far corner of the room with a leather sectional couch in front of it with faux fur throws thrown artfully over it in chocolate browns, greys, and creams. Michael turned his head and found Alex waiting at him behind a dark granite topped kitchen island. There were two bowls and some jars of sugar and flour huddled together on the top with a red bow and ribbon surrounding them. Alex was looking over a piece of paper and Michael walked up behind him to read over his shoulder.

"Gingerbread?" Michael asked in surprise, eyes looking over what he realized were ingredients sitting on the counter in front of him. He chuckled to himself and Alex looked over at his shoulder at him in curiosity.

"Does gingerbread mean something different to you than it does to me?" Alex asked, smiling at the soft, amused look on Michael’s face.

"Isobel and I always make lewd gingerbread men for Christmas. We have since high school. It's the one Christmas tradition I have," Michael explained, gently taking the paper from Alex’s hand. "Though this isn't her recipe. It's similar, but she adds more cinnamon and a little cayenne for a kick."

"Wait! What are lewd gingerbread men?" Alex asked, turning his body to lean his right side against the island and pinning Michael with a suspicious look.

"We'd pipe dicks and boobs and ball gags and stuff on then. Sometimes we'd make them with candy. Red hots for the balls, Mike ‘n Ikes for the penises, trimmed down dried apricots for the vulvas..." Michael explained with a mischievous grin. Alex snickered into Michael's shoulder appreciatively.

"Are you two really thirteen at heart?" Alex asked, eyes still bright with mirth.

"Parts of us. The rest are fully matured as you well know," Michael said, setting the recipe down and stepping closer into Alex's space, his hand sneaking under the leather jacket to grasp at Alex’s waist.

"Want to make some cookies?" Alex asked, pretty sure Michael was already distracted from baking by the way he'd started trailing kisses down Alex's jaw towards his neck.

"Maybe later. Let's go check out the bedroom and get you into something more comfortable?" Michael's voice sent shivers of pleasure down Alex’s spine.

"I don't know if I can do those stairs right now," Alex admitted apologetically, wrapping his arms affectionately around Michael's neck and leaning closer to let their bodies press into each other. "But that couch looks pretty damn comfortable, so maybe we could….?"

He trailed off when Michael’s grasp changed on his waist, moving to slip under the dark grey cabled sweater he wore under his jacket. Alex felt a sigh leave his body unconsciously at how good it felt to have Michael’s warm hands against his skin and then Michael’s lips were on his, first tender and then with more ardor as Alex opened his mouth and invited him in. Alex pushed himself harder against Michael’s body and Michael responded by tightening his arms around him in return.

"Fuck, Michael," Alex gasped as Michael moved his mouth from his to return to his jaw and neck but with tongue and teeth, leaving delicious stinging kisses that made Alex feel on fire inside. Michael's hands smoothed down Alex’s body until he was gripping his ass, hands kneading the muscles and making Alex feel weak in the knees. He was melting into the sensations Michael was evoking in him, his fingers tangled into Michael’s curls, and then he was whispering something into Alex’s ear.

"What?" Alex asked, reluctant to come out of the warm head space he’d been floating in.

"I said 'Hold on'," Michael repeated with a grin in his voice. Alex had only a moment to feel confused before Michael's body was ducking down and Alex felt his strong hands gripping the backs of his thighs and then lifting him. On reflex, he wrapped his legs around Michael's waist and tightened his hold on his shoulders, a shout of surprise knocked loose from him at unexpected action.

"What are you doing?!" Alex exclaimed, leaning back as far as he could without disrupting their balance and the hold Michael had on him. He fought his knee jerk reaction to fight against the hold.If anyone else had done this, he would've rather fallen to the floor in a fit of pride than let someone carry him, but it was Michael… and Michael would always be the exception to his finely honed, well defined rules of how much he would allow someone else to give to him, how much he would allow someone else to love him. In fact, Alex didn't like to admit to anyone, sometimes even himself, how much he loved when Michael manhandled him like this.

“As nice as that couch is, we haven’t seen the whole place yet and I really wanna see the bedroom right now,” Michael responded, his eyes dark. “So why don’t you get a good grip on me, just like the one I’ve got on you, and we’ll go tour the upstairs together. Maybe get naked and mess up the sheets before dinner.”

He emphasized his words by flexing his hands against Alex’s ass where they’d naturally gravitated to “for balance”. Alex smiled and shook his head slowly at Michael’s ridiculousness even as Michael turned them and started to make his way back to the stairs and up to the bedroom. Alex held on tightly with his thighs, letting his hands continue to run through Michael’s hair as he ascended towards the bedroom loft area. Once they cleared the half wall, Alex’s heart gave a little lurch of surprise. He felt his mouth drop at how gorgeous the bedroom was. A sleigh style, king-sized bed dominated most of the bedroom, with thick, dark espresso blankets and another brown and grey mottled faux fur blanket artfully draped on it. There were also so many pillows which looked amazing in their matching and complementary tones, but seemed excessive in number for someone like Alex who was happy to have one old, mostly flat pillow under his head. They rounded the corner onto the landing and the view of the rest of the bedroom was blocked and Alex got to appreciate the view of the rest of the cabin from upstairs.

Alex expected Michael to put him down now that they’d made it upstairs, but he kept walking unil Alex felt his back hitting the mattress. He opened his mouth to say something, but Michael immediately started kissing him again, pushing their bodies until they were both sprawled diagonally across the mattress. Alex let himself be arranged, enjoying the feeling of Michael taking care of him.

They both started pushing off their jackets, tossing them unceremoniously off the side of the bed, lips barely parting as they began to paw at the hems of each other’s shirts. They did have to part to take those off and Michael felt a laugh bubbling out of him as he started working on his own jeans while Alex did the same with his. They were scrabbling out of their clothes like teenagers with a curfew.

“What’s so funny?” Alex asked, a little breathless and already looking deliciously tousled as he squirmed shirtless on the bed, pushing at his jeans and underwear. Michael laughed again before leaning down to give Alex a reassuring kiss before answering.

“I was only half joking about messing up the sheets, but then I saw this bed and couldn’t stop myself. You’re really very distracting, especially when you’re pressed against me, letting me carry you, and you’re playing with my hair. Think I just developed a very specific kink in the last five minutes,” Michael explained, abandoning his own pants on the floor and reaching forward to take over dragging Alex’s down his thighs. He quickly disengaged Alex’s prosthesis and set it down on the floor by the bed before stripping him completely naked.

“Fuck… I hate the military, but I love what it’s done to your body,” Michael breathed, bending down and licking a broad stripe up the center valley where Alex’s abdominal muscles were flexed. Alex laughed and knocked his right leg against Michael’s arm pointedly.

“All the things it’s done to my body?” Alex asked and Michael tensed, realizing what he’d just said. Michael looked up at Alex to see he still had a smile on his face and Michael relaxed as he realized he was teasing him. Michael grabbed Alex’s leg and lifted it, placing it flat along the line of his body. He could tell by the way Alex gasped that the move was not only unexpected, but that he could feel exactly how turned on Michael was by their activities. Michael held his gaze for a moment before bending his head to place slow, deliberate kisses down what was left of Alex’s calf, to his knee, and then grazed his teeth at the beginning of his thigh, drawing a gasp from Alex that made his body throb in response. His hand preceded his descent down Alex’s leg and he could feel the small quivers the muscles gave as he kept moving further and further down. Michael gave a quick check and could see that Alex was still hard against his stomach. He internally gave a sigh of relief that he’d apparently chosen the right thing to do. Alex could tease all he wanted and act like his leg wasn’t a big deal, but Michael knew he still held some aesthetic insecurities about it when they were intimate together.

“Way to avoid a question,” Alex teased when Michael was only a couple inches from the crease between his thigh and groin. Michael looked up Alex’s body and grinned. He smoothly maneuvered Alex’s leg off his shoulder and back to where the knee joint naturally cradled his hip. Michael moved up and hovered over Alex’s mouth, locking his eyes with Alex’s, giving him a moment to appreciate all the wonderfully intimate ways they fit against each other before speaking.

“I may not say it enough, but I hope you know that I love every, single, fucking, inch of you, past and present.” Michael paused after speaking, watching Alex try to shy away from what he was saying. Michael watched him open his mouth, ready to say something derisive or self-deprecating, but then stop himself. He closed his eyes and Michael watched Alex center himself underneath him, breath through the voices that were obviously in his head and push them out for the time being. It was breathtaking to watch. When he opened his eyes again, Michael smiled down at him. “You are the strongest person I know, and I know some strong ass people.”

“Michael,” Alex said, a note of pleading in his voice. He was reaching the limit of compliments he’d be able to take and Michael knew it so he backed off. As much as he wanted to press every reverent feeling of love and admiration into Alex’s very soul with his words and body, he knew as well as anyone that Alex had to be ready to accept it.

“Now where were we?” Michael asked, rolling his hips playfully and sparking a wave of pleasure between their bodies. Alex sighed and rolled his hips in retaliation, his lip caught between his teeth, and making Michael groan at the picture he made. They moved against each other like teenagers, their bodies molding against each other for the best friction as their mouths devoured one another. It was quick and messy, keyed up as they were, and at the end of it they laid next to each other, breathing deeply. They were on their backs, shoulders pressed to one another and staring through the sky light at the stars above them.

“We should clean up,” Alex commented, though he reached out his pinky to hook onto Michael’s next to him. Michael curled his pinky with Alex’s and smiled before turning over onto his side to fully face Alex. Alex mirrored him, a small smile on his own face. Michael reached out and ran his fingers through Alex’s hair, smoothing out some of the strands that were standing up messily. He sighed and rested his hand on the smooth skin of Alex’s neck, letting his head hang down to rest on the mattress. He loved this man so much it scared him and if he kept looking at him, Michael knew they’d just end up getting messy again.

“I”ll go get the rag. Then we’ll go make lewd gingerbread men, right?” Michael asked, unable to keep his hand still on Alex’s neck and running his fingers over his jaw as he waited for his answer.

“Not if you keep touching me like that we won’t,” Alex replied on a shaky breath when Michael traced his kiss-swollen bottom lip with his thumb. “And I think we should make them. Send pictures to Isobel as a thank you for this weekend.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to owe her next Christmas,” Michael agreed. He pulled his hand away reluctantly and sat up. He got up and found his pants on the floor. He dug his phone out of his pants pocket before heading towards the bathroom for a warm rag. He looked over his shoulder at Alex who had rolled back onto his back and was staring once more at the sky. If ever there was a moment he knew he was well and truly gone for Alex Manes, this might have been it. He forced himself to unlock and look at his phone, bringing up his messenger app.

<Michael> Hey Iz, Alex and I got to the cabin. Thanks for this. It’s really something. The owners left stuff to make gingerbread with, recipe and all. <Izzy> Ooooo, making lewd gingerbread men without me? <Michael> Only if it’s okay with you. I know that’s *our* thing and all… <Izzy> Only if I can make them with Kyle when he gets off work. <Michael> It’s a deal. <Izzy> Send me pictures? <Michael> Duh. Merry Christmas, Iz. Love you. <Izzy> Merry Christmas, Michael. Love you too!

THE END!

Thanks @malexsanta for hosting this event!

#malexsanta2020 #12daysofmalex2020 #malex #malex fic #gift fic #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm fic #roswell nm

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fantastic-bby · 4 years

Text

Snowdrop

Pairing: (F)Reader x Yeosang

Word count: 11.3k (oh my god)

Genre: Fluff | Royal AU | Mage AU | Romance | Strangers to Lovers

Summary: As a king, Yeosang’s duty is to take care of his kingdom. Despite being known as ‘Ice King’ due to his colder demeanor, the young king likes to wander around the kingdom disguised as a commoner. When he comes across a mage being cornered by thieves, he helps her. Yeosang realises after that that he seems to be arriving just on time whenever the mage is in trouble. He also realises that he can’t stop thinking about her...

Warnings: Use of magic | Violence but it isn’t too bad | Yeosang bleeds a lil bit

Masterlist

He looks out of the balcony of his castle, the view of the icy mountains that surrounded him usually gives him joy. But, today, the king felt only loneliness as he looked out at one of his favourite views. He wonders what makes him feel so lonely this time.

The knock on the door makes him straighten his back to appear more professional. “You may enter.” He hears the door open and the sound of footsteps slowly entering the room before the door closes.

“Your majesty, there’s word of mages in the kingdom.” Yeosang turns around to look at the servant.

“Mages are a problem?” He cocks an eyebrow. The servant stiffens as he swallows the lump in his throat. “May I ask whether they’ve been disturbing the kingdom?” The king steps closer until he’s right in front of the servant.

“I-I,” the servant stutters as he looks to the ground to avoid looking Yeosang in the eyes. He knows better than to look ‘the ice king’ in the eyes.“T-They worry the v-v-villagers, y-your majesty.”

“Are they harming the villagers?” he presses. The servant hesitates before shaking his head. “Then, we leave them be. If they live in my kingdom, they are still my people.”

“B-But-”

“Do you go against my word?” Yeosang asks softly. His tone implies something more intimidating and causes the servant to quickly shake his head.

“O-Of course not!”

“Then, you shall leave.” He turns around and makes his way back to the window. “On your way down, tell my advisor to meet me in my throne room.”

“Y-Yes, your majesty.” There’s a moment before he hears the door close. Yeosang lets out a heavy sigh as he relaxes his body. He’s once again faced with the view of the mountains. Yeosang’s mind starts to wander once more as he feels a cold breeze blowing into his bedroom. The breeze brushes against his skin, goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of his neck and his hands.

He takes a deep breath before turning around, leaving his sleeping chambers to head to the throne room; making sure to grab the dark blue fabric gloves from his dresser as he does so. Yeosang would be lying if he said being a king wasn’t boring. The young king spends most of his time either sitting in either his throne room or the garden of the palace where he admires his favourite flowers.

He’s constantly watched by the palace guards and the servants; all of them awaiting his next orders. The constant eyes on him also meant that he would barely have his own time; leaving him to constantly wanting to shy away from his servants by hiding in his bedroom in the early hours of the morning until he had to move to the throne room.

When he steps into the throne room, he’s surprised by the sudden appearance of his cousin.

“What brings you to my palace, hyung?” Yeosang questions the ashy brown haired man.

“I need to ask you something in private, Yeo.” Seonghwa’s tone is urgent, which worries the younger king. Yeosang turns to the guards that are standing by the door and gives them a sharp look. They nod silently before leaving the hall. He does the same with the servant standing by his throne who bows before backing out of the room.

“Is something bothering you?” he asks once the room is empty.

“It’s about that.” When the older man points to the dark blue collar of Yeosang’s royal suit, he knows exactly what he’s talking about. “How have you been doing?” he questions coolly.

“I haven’t been alone as often as I’d like,” Yeosang explains, trying to be as vague as possible. They both knew the backlash they would receive from their respective kingdoms if the public were to know that the royal family were secret mages. Movement from one of the doors catches Yeosang’s eyes. He narrows his eyes when he notices a servant trying to eavesdrop. “Let’s talk in my garden.” His eyes flick back to Seonghwa who immediately agrees.

The walk to the garden is silent as both kings refrain from bringing up the topic of their magic. “Is it safer here?” Seonghwa asks when they step into the garden.

“I always make sure the garden is empty because I like walking around here on my own.” Yeosang nods as he looks around.

“I’m going to safely assume that you’ve been hiding it well,” Seonghwa starts, “I would’ve heard news about it in my kingdom if you were found out.”

“Well, hiding it is easier as I thought it would be. My gloves are on constantly,” he raises his gloved hands, “and I’ve been practicing to control it better. So, maybe soon, I won’t have to wear my gloves as often.”

“I don’t think you should take them off at all, Yeosang.” The older man shakes his head.

Yeosang’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why not?”

“Did you not hear? Mingi’s servant caught water dripping off of his palm when he thought he had it under control. His people are outraged.” There’s a shiver running down Yeosang’s spine.

“Is he safe?” he asks softly.

“He’s trying to convince his people that he doesn’t use his magic maliciously, but you know how townsfolk get.” He sighs as he turns around to look at a Yeosang’s carnation bush. Seonghwa slips his own gloves off and tucks them neatly in his pocket. “He’s hidden his charm for the time being. He said he can’t risk showing more magic until his people calm down.” Yeosang watches as his cousin crouches down to cup a wilting flower. There’s a small shift in the air before the flower starts to bloom once again right in front of their eyes.

“Your magic is still as strong as ever,” he points out as Seonghwa stands back up.

“You should take better care of your garden,” he scolds as he turns to Yeosang with a hard glare. “The flora is crying at me. They tell me you only have gardeners in here in the morning.”

“I’ll let them know to come in twice a day.” Yeosang smiles as he watches his cousin inspect the plants of his gardens.

“Oh, you poor azaleas,” Seonghwa coos as he stops at a bush of purple azaleas. “Your king hasn’t been taking good care of you, now has he?” He crouches down in front of the bush and blows air towards them.

“It’s a good thing you’re here to revive my flowers.” Yeosang snickers when Seonghwa shoots him a glare.

“Your garden is miserable. You better give them proper care or I’ll be sending hounds after you,” the older man threatens as he stands up and turns to his cousin with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll keep that in mind, hyung,” he chuckles. “Winter has come. I have no choice but to leave them. My snow does nothing for them.”

“Tell your gardeners to focus on flowers that can actually survive during winter. Their work here is abysmal,” Seonghwa huffs out as he looks around. He knows he can’t expect a user of ice magic to know how to care for flowers, but his heart aches at the sight of Yeosang’s mediocrely cared for garden.

“I’ll let them know later.” He nods.

“I also heard that you’ve been labeled the Ice King?” Seonghwa glances at Yeosang.

“Ah,” Yeosang lets out a soft chuckle. “After father passed away and I took over, the servants realised I wasn’t the same warm hearted boy that they raised. I think I realised that the world isn’t all butterflies and meadows like I used to think it was. I don’t really think changing the way I act would really affect my people. Either way, I’m still doing my job as a king. How I use my position matters more.”

Seonghwa purses his lips into a straight line. “It’s more comforting to your people if they know that they’re king isn’t a stone.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t fake being soft.” He shrugs. There’s a silence that settles between the two as Seonghwa glances around the garden before nodding.

“Well, that’s all I came to you about,” he says as he steps closer to Yeosang. “Be as careful as you can. Don’t use your magic unless you’re certain you’re alone and if you need anything at all, you can always come to me.” Yeosang nods at that. “Also, first snowfall. Make it next tuesday. My queen wants snow.” Yeosang’s jaw drops at that.

“You can’t just tell me to do that!” he whines as he watches Seonghwa walk towards the entrance to the palace.

“I’m your older cousin, you have to listen to me!” he cheekily says before he disappears behind the wall. Yeosang scowls before turning to his azalea bush.

“If he tells me to start the snowfall unscheduled again, so help me, I will wilt you.” he threatens the flowers before heading towards his castle.

Yeosang’s annoyed as he looks out his window. He has to start the first snowfall or else Seonghwa would wilt the winter crops; which forces him to drop the temperature. He had been dropping the temperature for the past week so as to not make it seem so suspicious when snow starts to suddenly fall.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before exhaling. A cold sensation fills his mouth before a flurry of snow wisps out of his mouth and into the air. Yeosang opens his eyes and watches the night sky until snow starts to slowly fall. He lets out a pleased hum before turning around and grabbing his cape.

It would surprise the town people, but their so-called ‘Ice King’ would disguise himself as a villager and head into town to make sure everything was in order. It was also a way for him to hear what his people wanted or needed from their king.

Secretly, he sneaks out of the kingdom after dinner and makes his way into the town. Townsfolk walk past the hooded stranger without much thought. His hood is low enough that even if he were to smile at people, they wouldn’t realise it was their king. Yeosang appreciates watching the way they interact and especially loves walking past the pub where drunken laughter and cheers emit from.

Yeosang continues to walk through the town, his mind pleased with how lively and cheerful his people are. It’s only when he reaches a more deserted part of the town does he hear what sounds like a scuffle happening in an alley. He peeks into the alley to see you backed up to a wall as two men hold a knife towards you.

“Can’t use your magic anymore, huh witch?” one of them sneers. Yeosang sees shards of ice falling from your palm and shatter as they hit the ground. “Take her gold,” he orders the man beside him who nods and tries to grab a pouch from your hands.

To say he’s livid is an understatement. Yeosang raises his palm and a large icicle grows from his palm in between you and the men. “Back away from her,” he growls. The thieves look between him and you before laughing.

“You think you can handle us?” the first one laughs as he approaches Yeosang. He moves the icicle towards them, knocking them out as they hit the wall behind them.

“Run,” he tells you. You nod as you immediately run from out of the alley and towards the safety of the busy town while Yeosang follows behind you. When you’re surrounded by more townsfolk, you stop running. He turns around to make sure the men aren’t following the two of you before turning to you. “Are you okay?” he questions.

You shake your head. “If you had come a second later, they probably would’ve killed. It’s by God’s grace that you had come on time.” You turn to him.

Yeosang blinks a couple times before nodding. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” You flash him a smile. During the run, his hood had lifted slightly. You’re able to see more of his face, but not enough to figure out why he seems so familiar.

“Oh,” you open your pouch, “as thanks, I’ll give you a few of my gold coins.”

“No, it’s okay,” Yeosang quickly shakes his head. “I would feel guilty if I did.” You give him a weird look. “You don’t have to worry about repaying me. Just remember to visit the palace tomorrow to report the thieves to the king.” You nod, making a mental note to do so. “Stay safe, and if anything happens, look for a palace guard.”

“Thank you, sir.” You nod once again before watching him walk away, his form disappearing into the crowd. You head your own way as well, heading home to the house you share with the seamstresses from your shop.

“You’re home quite late,” Ash points out when she sees you enter the house.

“I almost got robbed,” you state absentmindedly as you pull off the shawl wrapped around your shoulders.

“Again?” Eri groans from her spot on the couch.

“What do you expect?” Luna snorts as she turns away from the dishes to look at the three of you. “We’re mages, and we’re women. These thieves think they can do whatever they want with us because we look weak.”

“You know it’s mostly because we’re women,” Ash yaps. “These men think we’re weak and vulnerable. Little do they know, we could beat them up with our magic.”

Eri rolls her eyes before turning her attention back to you. “How’d you get out of this one?”

“Well, a magic user showed up and saved me,” you say as you sit on the spot beside her and pick up the blanket Ash was knitting.

“Another witch?” she questions, not taking her eyes off of the wool she’s knitting together.

“A man.” Your statement causes all of them to freeze and suddenly, Ash and Eri are right up in your face.

“Was he handsome?” Eri asks.

“Was he charming?” Ash presses.

“What did he look like?” she questions. You’re so overwhelmed by the two seamstresses that your mouth opens and closes like a fish as your mind processes what they’re asking.

“I didn’t see his faceーhe was wearing a hood.” You watch with slight amusement when they groan and deflate into the couch.

“What magic was he using?” Luna asks from the kitchen.

“Ice.”

“A male ice mage?” Eri tilts her head questioningly. You understand why she’s curious: male mages very rarely used ice. Their magic usually leaned more to fire and earth. You turn to her and nod.

“He refused to accept my gold as thanks and instead asked me to report the thieves to the castle.” Your explanation causes Ash’s face to contort in confusion.

“A male ice mage who saved a woman from thieves but refused gold as thanks and instead asked you to report it instead?” she repeats.

“What would the ice king do anyway?” Eri snorts. “It’s not like he seems to care about the people.”

“He’s done a good job at taking care of us, though,” Luna points out as she enters the living room to join the three of you. “I would at least expect him to take care of thieves if they were reported.”

“But (Y/n) unnie has no proof,” Ash argues. “They would most likely investigate but drop it when the men deny that they had anything to do with it.”

“But the king would still do something about it,” she argues.

“Doesn’t mean he cares,” Eri retaliates. You watch as their bicker quickly turns into an argument of Luna protecting the king’s image from the two of the younger seamstresses.

“I’m going to my room,” you announce loudly enough to interrupt the argument. “I’m a bit tired from the whole affair and I’ll be waking up early to head to the palace.” You stand up from the couch and make your way to your bedroom, chuckling when you still hear them argue at a softer volume to avoid disturbing you.

You were the eldest out of all four of the seamstresses being twenty-one. The shop you work at was previously owned by your grandmother who had passed the shop down to you when she became too weak to continue. There, you hired Eri—the youngest—first. She was only 18, but when you saw she had nowhere else to stay, you offered her to work and live at the shop with you since it was big enough to house more people.

Luna came next. She was one year younger than you and although she was still living with her parents, she would sleep over at the house when she felt like it. Ash was the last girl you hired, and she had moved out of her house with her aunt and uncle to live with Eri and you.

You lock your pouch of gold away in your jewellery box before deciding it was best to take a shower. The fight with the thieves has exhausted you and it felt like only a hot shower could help ease up your tense muscles. You head to bed straight after, reminding yourself once again to visit the palace when you wake.

Morning comes and you’re awake before any of the other girls. You take a quick shower, emerging from the bathroom to be faced with a tired looking Luna. “You’re awake already,” she points out with a yawn.

“It’s best I head to the palace now and return later to help with the shop,” you tell her. She nods lazily at that before pushing you away from the bathroom only to step in herself. You dress yourself in the nicest dress you have before grabbing some silvers after deciding that you’ll just buy yourself a bun from the bakery right beside your shop.

You walk towards the palace with the bun in hand, munching away at the jam filled pastry. The closer you get towards the palace, the more nervous you are about whether or not you’re presented appropriately enough. You had never had to visit the palace before and you had no idea just how formally you had to dress.

When you reach the entrance, the palace guards stop you by crossing their spears together. “State your business,” one of them says.

“I wish to report thievery to the king.” You’re proud of yourself for not stuttering.

“Occupation?” he asks.

“Seamstress.”

“Name.”

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n).” The guards eye you for a moment longer before moving the spears away.

“When you enter, state all that I’ve asked to the servant before the doors,” he states before both of them push the large wooden doors. You hesitantly step in, jumping when the doors close with a slam.

“What business do you have here?” a servant speaks up from beside you. You turn to her and repeat everything you had said to the guard. “Kneel at the foot of the throne and await the king’s arrival. When he arrives, do not look him in the eye as it is disrespectful. Do not speak unless he tells you to, and sit upright,” she tells you softly. You nod, doing as she says and wait patiently. Minutes pass before you hear the door to the right of the throne room open and footsteps approaching the throne.

Your mind is practically going haywire when you realise it’s the king by the way you see him sitting down from your peripheral vision.

“Speak,” he orders. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“I-I was robbed last night, your majesty,” you say softly. You hear a moment of silence before he speaks up again.

“Do you remember what they looked like?” he asks.

You nod shakily. “I also know that they work in the pub.”

“Did they harm you or take any of your belongings?” You pause for a moment as you consider telling him about the mage. It would be the best thing, right?

“I was saved by a mage before they could do anything to me.” You hear another moment of silence before he speaks up again.

“You may look at me if you wish.” You slowly lift your head and you feel a strike in your core when you see him. Your jaw goes slack when he nods. The king is a magic user. The thought runs through your mind over and over again as you realise just why you found him to be so familiar the night before.

“As I said before, the mage came right on time,” you repeat when you see his eyes flick to the servant standing at the other end of the throne

“That’s good to hear,” he nods. “Describe their appearances and I’ll have the guards search for them.” You do as he says, your eyes silently thanking him over and over again. “Send the guards out immediately,” he orders the servant who nods silently before backing out of the room.

“T-Thank you, your majesty,” you thank him softly. Yeosang gives you a nod.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“(Y/n)—I work at the tailor down by the river.” Once again, he nods.

“Stay safe out there, (Y/n). You may leave.” You hear the heavy footsteps of one of the guards approaching you.

“Let’s go,” he urges. You quickly stand, turning to look at Yeosang to give him another thankful look and he gives you a small smile. As you’re escorted out of the palace, you decide that maybe the king isn’t as bad as you thought.

“Yeosang.” The voice of his cousin snaps him out of his thoughts and Yeosang quickly looks up to Seonghwa to see him eyeing him suspiciously. “What’s occupying your mind?” he questions as he raises the glass of wine to his lips.

“I-It’s nothing,” he brushes it off as he takes a sip of his own wine. If Yeosang is being honest, he was thinking about you. There was something about you that seemed to catch his attention.

“Nothing makes you this quiet during dinner,” he points out. It’s rare that Yeosang isn’t mindlessly telling his cousin about what he’s been doing whenever Seonghwa visits him for dinner.

“I can tell by your eyes that it could be a girl,” Ara giggles teasingly. Her giggles only grow more mischievous when Yeosang’s cheeks flare.

“Are you thinking of someone?” Seonghwa cocks an eyebrow. The younger king quickly shakes his head.

“I-It’s nothing, hyung, I’m fine.” His voice comes out squeaky and he clears his throat, praying that his cousin failed to catch it.

“It is!” Seonghwa’s fiance excitedly claps her hands together. “Oh, dear! Young Yeosang has finally found a girl he’s interested in!” she turns to her lover with a bright smile. Seonghwa chuckles as he takes her hand in his, silently asking her to calm down so as to not frighten Yeosang.

“My love, let’s not jump to conclusions,” he tells her gently before turning to his cousin. “Though, I am curious to know whether or not you’ve got your eye on someone.”

“I don’t,” Yeosang states. “If you keep asking, I’ll remove the carnation bush you love so much.” His threat makes Seonghwa snort.

“If you do that, I’ll kill your whole garden.”

“I’ll frost your entire garden in the spring.” He glares at the older king who raises an eyebrow and leans back in his seat, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Seonghwa glances over at the lone servant in the corner of the dining room. “Laura has been working with us since my grandfather was alive-she’s the only person in the palace who doesn’t care about our magic.”

“Touche.” Seonghwa muses. Yeosang gives him a challenging look.

“My love, could we not wager our garden?” Ara squeezes his hand gently and gives him a look.

Seonghwa scoffs. “Yeosang’s the one that threatened the garden!”

“Yeosang wanted to remove his carnation bush,” She points out before turning to Yeosang, “if you do anything to my garden, I will raise the temperature in your region and burn out your people.” Curse Seonghwa for marrying a fire witch.

“That’s quite the threat, noona,” Yeosang grumbles as he moves to poking at his dinner.

“Just keeping both of you in check,” she smiles.

“Shall we move on from this topic?” Seonghwa suggests. “Have you been into town recently?” Yeosang nods silently as he sticks a piece of chicken into his mouth.

“Mages are being hunted down, Yeosang,” Ara states. The young king freezes. “Known mages in our kingdom are going missing, and we fear what could be happening to them.”

“They get looked down on just because they dabble with magic. It’s upsetting,” Seonghwa mutters. Yeosang looks at his plate as a weird feeling starts to overcome him. “We need to start being more careful…” His cousin’s voice starts to fade away as Yeosang starts to wonder about the safety of the mages in his own kingdom. Are they safe? More importantly: are you safe?

“I should go back into town and check on the mages.” Yeosang’s sudden statement cuts Seonghwa off.

“Go in the day; it’ll seem less suspicious,” Ara tells him. He nods at that.

“If you see anything weird going on, don’t make it obvious that you want to investigate. Just point it out to your guards,” Seonghwa adds. Yeosang turns to the only servant in the room, but Ara stops him.

“You two were bickering about magic, I couldn’t just let him listen to us.” With the snap of her fingers, the servants jolting in his place and looking around in cconfusion.

Yeosang nods her way before turning back to the servant. “I’ll be going into town tomorrow morning. Make sure at least four of the guards are ready.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Your majesty! Take a look at my stall!” one of the merchants excitedly calls. Yeosang turns to look at the old woman and nods,

“In a moment, miss.” He turns back to look at the hair pins being sold. He doesn’t need a hair pin, but he could probably give it to Ara since she’s always helping him with maintaining the temperature of his kingdom.

“Feel free to choose whichever you like, your majesty,” the old vendor tells him. Yeosang looks towards one of the red and gold hair pins. He picks it up daintily and hands it to the man.

“I’ll take this one.” The man lights up even more if it’s possible as he packs the pin into a paper bag. Yeosang reaches into his pocket to pull out his money pouch, but the man stops him,

“For the king, it is free.” The young king quickly shakes his head.

“It would be wrong for me to do. How much is it?” he insists. The man gives him a hesitant look. “Please, sir. I would feel guilty if I were to take this without paying.”

“If you insist, it is ten silvers.” The man gives in. Yeosang hands the man the silvers before continuing through the market. He stops at one of the stalls, looking through the array of buttons.

“Your majesty,” one of the guards whispers. He gives the guard a hum in response. “In the pub.” Yeosang looks towards the pub to see flashes of light coming from within as well as two men standing out the front.

“Magic users?” Yeosang simpers as he makes his way towards the pub. The guards follow closely, ready to protect their king if anything were to happen. Surprisingly, the men stop the king.

“We’re sorry, your majesty. It’s safer if you stay outside,” one of them says. Yeosang raises an eyebrow at the man.

“Allow entry to the king,” the guard demands.

“Mages are inside, your majesty,” the other man warns.

“Are you stopping the king from entering a pub that is built on the land of his father?” Yeosang asks nonchalantly as he looks at the man. There’s an iciness in his tone that causes both the men to move away from the door. Yeosang steps into the pub and when he sees you lying on the ground, his first instinct is to jump in front of you to protect you from a blast of magic coming your way.

“Your majesty?!” you exclaim when suddenly the king is hovering over you. His jaw is clenched when he feels the fire hitting his back. Despite the pain, his focus is on you.

“A-Are you okay?” he questions. You can only stare at him with wide eyes before looking behind him to see the guards arresting the mages that were attacking you.

“Y-Your majesty,” you mutter out.

“Are you hurt, your majesty?!” a guard asks. Yeosang shakes his head quickly,

“I’m fine,” he reassures them before moving away from you. You sit upright and gasp when you see the burnt mark in his back.

“Your suit is burnt, your majesty,” you quickly point out. He looks over his shoulder and takes note of the singed fabric of his velvet suit.

“What a waste,” he grumbles before standing up, extending his hand towards you. You take it without much thought and he pulls you up. “What happened?” Yeosang asks.

“I came here to return a glass Mr Hong lent to me. These mages came out of nowhere and said that I got their friends arrested.”

“The men who tried to rob you the other night?” You nod. Yeosang purses his lips into a straight line before turning to the guards, “Check them for weapons and investigate them. According to the lady, they’re affiliated with the men from before.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“(Y/n), they didn’t hurt you, did they?” he asks yet again.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him. “Once again, you arrived just on time.” Yeosang’s face lights up slightly before he looks around and clears his throat.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he says. You’re confused for a moment before you realise he’s slipping into a more professional head space.

“Would you like to head back to the palace, your majesty?” a guard asks. Yeosang lets the thought sit in his mind for a moment before shaking his head.

“I’d like to speak to Ms (Y/n) for a moment longer.” The guard nods before making his way out of the pub along with the other three. “Could I ask how you keep getting yourself into these situations?” Yeosang turns to you with a questioning look; eyebrow raised as though he’s silently teasing you. You only roll your eyes before making your way out of the pub. The young king casually chases after you, following by your side as you stop at one of the stalls.

“It’s not that I want to be attacked. These people just have a thing out for me,” you shrug, picking up a hair ribbon. Eri’s birthday is soon and you still haven’t gotten a birthday present for her.

“Moths to a flame, perhaps?” Yeosang teases. You give him a weird look before choosing a lilac hair ribbon.

“Don’t you have more important things to do, your majesty?” you huff.

"I want to see how my people are doing," he hums as he follows by your side. Slivers of sunlight shine through the clouds and make your skin radiate. Yeosang likes that. He wonders how you look in the spring when the sky is clear and the sun is out.

"Do you think this is nice?" you turn to him as you stick a rose pin into your hair. Yeosang stares at you for a moment before looking down at the choices of hair pins. You watch as he silently picks up a golden pin with a dandelion instead, holding out in front of you. You give him a weird look.

"Just give it a try," he encourages. You take the rose pin out of your hair before sticking the dandelion pin in your hair. You turn to the elderly woman behind the table of pins for clarification.

"It looks lovely, dear," she smiles kindly. You turn back to Yeosang who's still staring at you. You give him a questioning look before he shakes his head and reaches over, plucking the pin out of your hair with his gloved hand. Your eyes widen at the gesture and you watch as he picks up a different pin.

Yeosang gently pokes the silver pin with a snowdrop charm into your hair and gives you a pleased hum. "Suits you better." Your cheeks are flaring. "How much for the pin?" He turns to the woman.

"8 silvers, your majesty." He reaches into his pocket, handing the silvers to the woman before turning the other way.

"Are you coming?" Yeosang turns around to look at your frozen form. Your mouth opens and closes twice before you follow afterーnot without hearing a 'lucky girl' being muttered by the woman. When you take a look at his back, you can't help but feel irked by the singed fabric of his otherwise gorgeous suit.

"Your majesty," you call out to him. "Let me take you to my shop. My girls and I can fix up your suit." Yeosang stops walking to turn around to look at you.

"Lead the way.”

“Before we continue, I just want to warn you that the girls can be… a lot… sometimes,” you say as you stop at the front door. “They also know that another magic user saved me that night.” Your voice lowers into a whisper, not wanting the guard following behind him to hear. Yeosang responds with a shrug.

“I don’t think that’s a problem.” He turns around to the guard, “Could you wait out here? I wouldn’t want the seamstresses to be alarmed.” The guard nods as he turns his back to the wall by the door. You open the door and guide Yeosang in slowly.

“Girls, there’s a special guest today!” you announce but freeze in your tracks when you see Eri blasting Ash with magic. Luna’s watching the affair with an annoyed expression which quickly switches to horror when she sees the king standing by your side.

“Oh my god, stop.” Eri and Ash turn to Yeosang and their faces drop as well. The three of them are quick to compose themselves and bow their heads in front of the young king. You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out an annoyed sigh before you turn to Yeosang.

“They do that sometimes,” you turn to the girls, “his majesty has a burnt patch on his suit. Do we have any more red velvet lying around?”

“We have one last portion of red velvet in the back,” Luna speaks up. “It should be enough for a suit fitting for the king.” Yeosang looks around at your shop before turning to you.

“It’s a bit hot in here, isn’t it?” he points out.

“Our heater has a problem,” you shrug, gesturing to the heater in the corner of the room. “It tends to overheat, but if we turn it off, it’ll be too cold since the fireplace is only in the living room.” He hums in response.

“I could get the fabric to get started,” Eri pipes in.

“We need your measurements, your majesty,” Ash adds. Yeosang nods as he slips the blazer off of his shoulders.

“Before we begin, I think I could help you with your heating issues,” he points out, slipping his glove off. All of you give him a questioning look and watch as he aims his bare finger to the ceiling. A small spark of magic shoots from his finger and hits the ceiling, the added ice lowers the heat in the room to a more comfortable temperature.

“Y-You,” Luna gapes at him. He gives her a nonchalant look before shrugging.

“Are we not all magic users?” he questions. You hold back your laughter when you see the corner of his lip raising ever so slightly.

“He-” Ash turns to you with wide eyes.

“Yes, he uses magic,” you nod, “he’s also the wizard who saved me that night.”

“He?!” Luna exclaims. She turns to Yeosang who has a small smile on his face.

“What were you doing out that night?” Eri asks. “Do the palace guards know you’re a magic user?” He shakes his head.

“I like to sneak out at night to see how the kingdom is. I’m worried that the town only acts lively and bubbly when they know I’m here. So, I come out at night disguised as a villager to check on everyone,” he explains.

“That’s nice,” you hum as you start to take his measurements, writing them down into a notebook that you hand to Luna.

“I’m safely assuming that since you mentioned my magic, this shop is a safe environment,” he speaks up and pulls the necklace hidden underneath his white shirt. Ash’s eyes widened.

“T-That’s an elementalist charm,” she chokes out. Your own eyes widen when you see the snowflake charm.

“You never mentioned that you are one of the elementalists.” You look up at him.

“You never asked.”

“The king is an elementalist,” Luna mutters out in disbelief. She turns to you. “We have to bring him to the guild.”

“The guild would look down on him,” Eri points out as she brings the fabric to Luna.

“The guild would accept him as a mage,” Ash corrects her. “There is no discrimination in the guild. They accept all mages who use their magic for good.”

‘The guild does not like the king.” The moment the argument leaves her lips, Eri’s quiet and looking to the ground.

“You two need to stop arguing like no one’s watching,” you grumble as you throw a cut of fabric at them. “We bring him to the guild. At least if the kingdom finds out, there will be a group who will protect him.” You glance over at Yeosang who really doesn’t show much emotion to the argument. Instead, he looks around at the shop as Luna finishes up a new blazer for him.

When she’s done, Yeosang slips the blazer on and rolls his shoulders. “Fits perfectly.” He turns to the girls and smiles, “Thank you for your work. I’ll have something that should suffice as a payment by tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to pay us, your majesty,” Ash shakes her head.

“We’re just doing what we know,” Eri adds.

“I’ll walk you out,” you offer. He nods and makes his way to the door with you following behind. When you step out, he turns to you.

“Thank you for this, (Y/n). I'm a bit relieved that I don't have to wear a burnt blazer anymore," he chuckles. You flash him a small smile.

"Take it as thanks for constantly saving me." Yeosang returns the smile.

"Well, I have to head back before it gets dark," he glances over at the guard before leaning closer to you. "The guards get really paranoid." You let out a small giggle.

“We can take you to the guild soon. Just drop by the shop at night when you feel like it.” Yeosang nods.

“I’ll see you then.”

“You would look absolutely wonderful in a tiara!” you exclaim. Yeosang shakes his head persistently. You forgot how you landed on the topic, but after the king had shown up disguised at your shop, you decided that he should wear tiaras rather than a typical crown.

“A tiara wouldn’t fit my… face.” He had been making up multiple kinds of excuses for not wearing tiaras and even said that he ‘wasn’t pretty enough’.

“Your majesty,” you roll your eyes, “you have a perfectly shaped face for a tiara. Can’t you at least try?” Yeosang glances over at you and his eyes stop at your pout before flicking back up to your eyes.

“No.” His statement makes you huff. “(Y/n), I just don’t think I’d be fitting for a tiara. If you want on so badly, maybe one day, you’d wear your own.” Yeosang’s eyes widen as quickly as yours.

“W-What?” You turn to him to see his cheeks flaring intensely. You can feel the heat on your own cheeks as you look away from him.

He clears his throat. “Are we arriving at the guild soon?” Yeosang glances up to Luna who’s trying to force Eri and Ash to stop giggling.

“Almost there, your majesty.” She tries her best not to giggle, but there’s a stifled snort at the end of her sentence.

“I would prefer it if you just called me Yeosang. I wouldn’t want anyone else recognising me.” Eri glances over her shoulder to look at him,

“Yeosang oppa?” she suggests.

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“You shrug a lot,” Ash points out. Yeosang’s about to shrug again, but he stops himself.

“I’m more formal in the palace, or when I’m talking to important people. But I just shrug at everything when I’m not because it feels more casual here.”

“Are you implying we’re not as important?” you tease. He glances over at you and just stares at you.

“Maybe,” he smirks. You give him a look and open your mouth, but Luna stops you before you can say anything.

“We’re here,” she gestures to the large cottage that stands before them. The rest of you wait, watching as she knocks on the door exactly three times before whistling. There’s a pause before the door opens to reveal a man that Yeosang can’t help but recognise.

“Noona, welcome back.” He gives her a welcoming smile, his eyes scanning over the group before stopping at Yeosang. He turns to her with a harder look, “The king?”

“Jongho, the king is an elementalist,” she tells him softly. The man looks back up to Yeosang,

“With all due respect, your majesty; prove it.” Yeosang reaches under the collar of his shirt and pulls the necklace out.

“I was given this by my grandfather before he passed away.” He slips the necklace back under his shirt when the man nods.

“You may enter,” he moves aside and allows the group to enter. When they enter, the mere action of Yeosang pulling his hood down has the entire building silent.

“Why is the king here?”

“Are we being arrested?”

“Is this the end of the guild?”

Murmurs and mutters of disapproval fill the air. You catch the way Yeosang’s jaw clenches from the corner of your eyes.

“King Yeosang is not here to harm you,” Luna announces. “The king is a magic user as well.” The murmurs pause for a moment only to continue once again.

“The royal family involved with magic?”

“It’s a lie. He’ll arrest us the moment he sees us using our magic.”

“I told you the seamstresses couldn’t be trusted.”

A nerve snaps within Yeosang. “Enough!” His voice booms throughout the cottage and it silences all of them. You turn to him in surprise. For the time that you have known him, you’ve never seen him raise his voice. “I am a mage just as you are. When the servants tried to arrest mages, I told them no. As long as you are not causing harm, you are still my people.” He reaches under his collar once again and pulls the snowflake charm out, “I am an elementalist. So was my father and so was his father. I ask nothing much of the guild; I only ask for acceptance.” You place a gentle hand onto Yeosang’s bicep to calm him down. He glances at you from the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the guild. “If you wish to join me; protect me. For if the kingdom were to know I use magic, I will be hunted.

A cousin of mine is in hiding because his servants caught his hands dripping with water. Another cousin of mine had come all the way from his region to make sure I was okay. The royal family is filled with mages, and we spend our entire lives hiding our magic for the sake of our lives. If you, the mages of my kingdom, could offer your protection to me and my people, I will grant you immunity. If you are to harm my people, then you will be arrested.”

There’s another pause. This time, it worries you. You anxiously scan the quiet eyes of the guild, waiting for any kind of a response. You know that them rejecting Yeosang could end even worse than if the kingdom finds out that their king was a mage. You turn to Yeosang whose jaw is still clenched as he prepares himself. What surprises him is Kai,

“The king protects his people!” he shouts before kneeling to the ground. Another mage follows his actionsーthen another. The whole guild is kneeling before the king; showing their loyalty to their ice king. Luna, Eri and Ash follow as well. Yeosang turns to you with sparkling eyes.

“Long live the king,” you smile before kneeling to the ground. Yeosang looks around at the guild that kneels before him, and he realises that never once has he felt so accepted.

“If anything were to happen to you, we would fight,” Jongho adds as he stands. “My heart is to the king.” Yeosang swallows a lump in his throat as he watches the guild stand up.

“Shall we celebrate the king’s appearance?” one of them suggests. The rest agree and soon, the cottage is bubbling with excitement of the new member of the guild. Yeosang mingles with the mages, learning all of their experiences as well as how they were gifted with magic.

“My mother was a witch,” Kai starts. “She was a healer that worked at the pub. Our house is by the river where my aunt takes care of her now.”

“Did something happen to her?” Yeosang questions.

“Not at all,” he shakes his head. “She’s too old to continue working at that grimey place. My father convinced her to stop working.”

“I wish I had come down to the pub more often. I would’ve gotten a chance to meet her,” the king hums. A hand gently holds onto Yeosang’s bicep and he turns to see you.

“Having a fun time?” you ask with a soft smile. He nods happily, a wide smile on his face. You have to admit, the guild would be the first time you’ve seen such a spark in the young king’s eyes. You like how bright he is here.

“Could I speak to you outside for a moment?” Yeosang asks. You nod and allow him to pull you out of the lively building and out into the quiet of the outside. The cold winter night envelopes you, and your hands quickly move to rub at the exposed skin of your shoulders to warm you up. Yeosang silently slips off his blazer and hangs it from your shoulders. “Wouldn’t want you to get a cold.”

Your heart warms at his gesture as you watch him sit on a bench. He pats the spot beside him and you oblige. “What did you want to talk about?” You turn to him and see him looking up at the sky.

“I want to thank you for bringing me here,” Yeosang turns to you. “As a monarch, I can only wonder whether or not I’ve been accepted into the society that I’m ruling. Thanks to you, I finally feel accepted.” There’s something about his words that you can’t help but sympathise with. Never in your life had you imagined that a king would actually worry about being accepted.

You place your hand over his, interlocking your fingers with his. “You’ll always be accepted in the guild.” He looks down to your hand before bringing it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” Yeosang confesses. You turn away from him and towards the town in the distance. You lean your head against his shoulder.

“I think I have, too,” you hum. You feel him pressing his lips to the top of your head before nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“I don’t care what the servants sayーI will make you my queen.” He knows a king marrying a commoner is never the best idea, but he can’t stop the feelings that you make his heart feel. You can’t deny that he doesn’t make your heart race as well. The snowdrop pin that he bought for you is neatly tucked away in your jewellery box, a reminder that is safely hidden away from any prying fingers.

“That would be hard, Yeosang.” A sigh leaves your lips. “The villagers know I’m a mage. A lot of the time, they come to my shop for magic rather than needing something tailored.”

“But, you’re an ice mage,” Yeosang points out.

“I’m a healer,” you raise your hand in front of him, a bright turquoise glow emitting from your palm, “but it’s a weird form of ice healing. My parents were both magic users and their magic combined when I was born.” You close your palm, watching as the glow in between your fingers slowly disappears. “My magic isn’t strong, but it’s enough to heal large wounds and illnesses.”

“That’s still magic,” he says softly. You look up at him to see his brown eyes intently watching you. “It matters not whether your magic is strong, it matters more if you accept the magic,” Yeosang recites the words as he takes your hand in his, “my grandfather used to tell me that. He didn’t want me to push away my magic like my father did; he wanted me to embrace my ice.” He extends his hand out in front of himself. You watch as a pale blue light starts to glow from his palm before it swirls to form a snowdrop shaped out of ice. “I’ve been hiding my magic for twenty-one years, but I practice it every time I can.” Yeosang picks the icy flower up with his other hand and tucks your hair behind your ear. “My precious snowdrop.”

You blush as you look up at him. His index finger grazes your jaw before he cups your cheek, his thumb running over your cheekbone. You lean into his touch. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there for you.”

The knock on the door makes the four of you groan. You had just closed the shop barely even ten minutes prior.

“I’ll get it,” Eri sighs as she pulls herself off of the couch. You turn your attention away from the door and back to the book in your hands. “Your majesty?” Her voice makes you whip your head to see Yeosang standing in the doorway.

“Is (Y/n) here?” You stand from your spot on the couch, placing your hand on Eri’s shoulder. The younger girl backs away from the door and gives you space to talk to Yeosang.

“Are you okay?” The look in his eyes worries you.

“Is there anywhere we can speak privately?” he questions softly. You glance over your shoulder to see the girls obviously watching the two of you curiously.

“Uhh, there’s the campfire out by the gardenーwe can talk there.” You usher him out of the house before turning inside. “Ash! Fire!” You close the door and bring Yeosang to the garden, relieved to see the fire already lit by the mage from the inside. He sits himself down on a log that sits right in front of the campfire and you join him.

Yeosang immediately leans his head against your shoulder and closes his eyes. You look down at him in surprise, but decide against asking anything. It’s rare that he’s this quiet which could only leave you wondering what rampages through his mind.

The two of you sit silently as the clouds slowly pass by over you. Yeosang stays in his position for almost an hour before he lets out a sigh and sits upright. “Am I a bad king?” You turn to him in surprise at the sudden question.

“Of course not,” you quickly shake your head. “You’re treating us way better than your father did.” You quickly grimace when the words leave your lips. “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“It’s okay,” Yeosang reassures you softly. “I understand what you’re trying to say.” He turns to you with the corner of his lip raised slightly. “I was walking around the town and I overhead villagers in the pub saying I wasn’t doing enough for the kingdom and that I wasn’t fit to be the king.”

“Who would say that?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “You're an amazing king, Yeosang.”

“You say that because we’re courting,” he sighs unconvincingly.

“I’m not.” You stand up from the log and stand in front of him. “Villagers will always find fault in their monarchs even if they’re doing the best that they can. You,” you point at him, “are doing the best that you can. You even make it colder in the summer when it’s too hot for our crops! What other king would do that? You built the kingdom back up after what your father did, and you’ve brought us further in the past two years than what he could in the ten years he was a king. Now, don’t listen to what the villagers from the pub had to say—they’re so drunk they don’t even know how to tell apart up from down!”

Yeosang stares at you for a moment before pushing your finger away from him. “It’s rude to point at the king.” His tone is lighter as a soft chuckle leaves him. It relieves you as you sit back down beside him.

“I think you’re a wonderful king, Yeosang. I just know that you’re going to bring nothing but good to this kingdom.” You turn to look at him, admiring his side profile as he looks up to the sky.

“I’ll keep doing my best to please my people,” he turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. Yeosang’s eyes are looking intently into yours and you feel your heart flutter under his gaze. His hand comes up to cup your face - hesitant and watching for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, the icy skin of his hand comes into contact with your cheek and his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “I’ve never met someone as beautiful as you, (Y/n). May I kiss you?”

“Y-You really don’t have to ask,” you chuckle as you nod. Yeosang leans down and presses his lips against yours softly. When he pulls away, he presses his forehead against yours.

“My delicate snowdrop.”

“Hyung, you really don’t have to worry about it,” Yeosang reassures him through gritted teeth. Seonghwa raises an eyebrow at him, watching the way the younger man puts his chopsticks down onto the table.

“If you can’t find anyone, drop by our kingdom next week. Ara and I are planning a dance.”

“I don’t need to find a queen.” The thought of you enters his mind. Yeosang wants no one else but you. He would rather not marry at all than marry someone who wasn’t you.

“I’m not saying you need to, it’s just something you need to think about,” Seonghwa adds. He continues talking but his words are a blur to Yeosang. He just knows that every word that his cousin adds just makes him angry. He doesn’t know what Yeosang feels inside—he doesn’t know how Yeosang feels about you. Seonghwa can’t see what Yeosang sees when he sees you. Without much thought, he shoots from his seat and slams his hand on the table,

“Enough about this!” There’s a sound that rips through the dining hall that causes every living being to freeze—literally. Yeosang raises his hand and stares at the hole in his glove; the pad of his index finger exposed. The hole at the tip of his finger was what iced the dining table in front of the palace staff as well as Seonghwa. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest and his ears ringing as he waits for a reaction from the guards and the servants that stare at him.

“Y-Yeosang,” Seonghwa mutters out in disbelief as he stares at the large spike of ice that’s grown from the centre of the dining table.

The sound of the door opening is followed by a loud crash as the servant drops the plate in his hands. “H-His majesty is a magic user!” His shout echoes throughout the dining room and starts a chain reaction.

“He betrayed the kingdom!” another servant cries as she runs out of the room. Guards have put their weapons up against him, but Yeosang stays motionless. Seonghwa shoots from his seat,

“Yeosang!” He reaches for Yeosang but a guard grabs him. The action shocks the older king. “How dare you?! Let go of me!” he orders.

“We arrest traitors to the kingdom,” the guard says monotonously. Yeosang rips his glove off of his hand and holds it up to the guard.

“Let go of him,” he orders. The guard doesn’t move. Yeosang aims to the wall right by the guard’s head and uses his magic, an icicle growing out from the wall and barely missing the guard’s head. “You will let go of King Seonghwa.” Out of fear, the guard lets go of Seonghwa and starts to back away slowly.

“You’re a traitor to the kingdom!” another guard hisses as he aims his spear at Yeosang.

“Would you hurt the king?” he glares at the guard, daring him to make a move.

“We protect the kingdom from those who wish to harm it.” he retaliates.

“Then why hurt the man who’s been trying to protect it for the past two years?” Yeosang turns his whole body to the guard. “Are magic users that much of a threat to you? I protect my people. If I had to use my magic to protect the kingdom, I would.”

“How do we know you haven’t been plotting against the kingdom this whole time?” a guard questions from behind Yeosang.

“If I was plotting against the kingdom, I would’ve taken it down by now!” he barks. “I don’t use my magic for malicious intent. I bring snow to the kingdom and I lower the temperature in the summer when it’s hot,” Yeosang turns to the guard beside him, “Is that malicious?! You,” he points to the guard behind Seonghwa, “You’re smart to put your hands on a king of another region; is my magic so malicious as to bring snow? Is my magic so malicious to make the palace colder when the servants are sweating to the point where they’re ready to collapse—is my magic so malicious that I would attack my people?!”

A silence fills the room and it’s deafening in Yeosang’s ears. The feeling of being rejected fills his heart and he struggles to just let it sit in there. “I was born an elementalist. I was born to protect my kingdom!” The guards are still silent. Seonghwa watches with a shaking form; he fears that Yeosang would be forced into hiding just as Mingi was.

“Would you turn your back on the king when he needs you most?” Seonghwa finally wills himself to speak. Although his voice is shaky, he knows he can carry the message. “You look down on magic users when half of them don’t even use their magic at all. King Yeosang has proven that his heart is to his people. What would it take for you to believe him?” Both kings watch anxiously as the guards exchange glances among each other.

One of them turns to Yeosang and slams his fist to his chest. “For the king who protects his people! My heart goes to you!” he shouts. There’s an obvious divide between the mindsets when the guards in the room split sides. Three of them join Seonghwa and Yeosang while the other three stand opposite them, weapons out.

“Your majesty, leave. We will protect you.” a guard tells him. Seonghwa grabs onto his cousin’s arm and pulls him out of the room. A piece of Yeosang’s heart wants to stay to make sure the guards are okay, but he knows that he needs to get to a safe place first. When the kings reach the main staircase, there’s already a division between the guards there.

“Your majesty!” one of the guards calls when they see him. An arm grabs onto Yeosang’s bicep and he whips his head around to see a guard beside him.

“We need to bring you to safety, your majesty.” Yeosang stares at the man before the thought of you enters his mind.

“I know a place, but you must trust the villagers there.”

“(Y/n) unnie! Unnie!” Eri cries as she and Ash barge into the shop, the sudden disturbance causing you and Luna to jump.

“Unnie, the king is in trouble,” Ash goes straight to the rack of dresses you're standing in front of. “He used his magic—the kingdom is turning against him!”

“He’s hiding at the guild!” she adds. You look between the girls before throwing the basket in your hands onto the ground. You run out of the shop, slowing for a moment to see the people of your village starting to angrily head towards the kingdom. Fear starts to fill you to the brim as you let your legs carry you to the guild as fast as they can.

By the time you get there, there’s already a mob of angry villagers trying to get in. There’s a line of guards protecting the outside of the building, but you know they can only do so much to control the villagers. You watched as the villagers tried to force their way into the building and you knew for a fact that Yeosang would never use his magic on his villagers.

“The king is a traitor to the kingdom!” one of the villagers yells angrily as he throws a rock towards the building. The windows shatter as more and more of the villagers start to throw more objects and you fear for what’s going on inside of Yeosang’s mind. You see the man beside you picking up a brick and out of instinct, you grab onto his arm.

“The king would not hurt the people!” you cry out. You’re shocked at the aggression the villagers exert when one of them turns to you.

“A protector of a magic user is a traitor!” she angrily yells. Your mind screams at you to back away as another three of the villagers turn their attention to you.

“The seamstress is a witch!” one of them hisses. You hold your hands to your chest, willing yourself to not use your magic against them.

“You know that I would never use my magic for malicious intent,” you retaliate.

“A witch is a witch!” You’ve heard that phrase one too many times before. You know what happens to magic users who are found by scared villagers; they get murdered. Inside the cottage, one of the windows shatters, glass raining over Yeosang’s head as he lays on the ground.

“Your majesty, (Y/n) is outside!” Kai tells him. A switch flicks in the king’s mind and he’s immediately standing to look outside of the window to see you surrounded by villagers. His hand raises before he can stop himself and he shoots ice towards the ground around you.

“Don’t you dare touch her.” Glass cuts at the exposed skin of Yeosang’s palm as he climbs through the window, pushing through the crowd with the help of the guards. They get the message quickly, moving to form a safe opening for Yeosang to run through. Your eyes widen when you see him in front of you, your hands moving to his chest,

“You need to leave,” you tell him, panic dripping from your tongue. He ignores you and slams his hands onto the ground, a wall forming around the two of you; protecting you both from the villagers.

“I can’t leave the kingdom,” Yeosang shakes his head. “I made a promise to my grandfather that I would never turn my back on them.” A loud slam comes from beside you. You flinch, turning to see the ice starting to crack.

“Yeosang, if you don’t leave, they’ll kill you.” You’ve both run out of options and are ultimately running out of time, but Yeosang knows that if he leaves, the mages in the village will suffer more. He stares at you as his mind races to find a way to convince them to stop. A light bulb turns on in your mind and you reach under the collar of his shirt, pulling his necklace out. “T-The power of the elementalist.” You look up at him.

“My grandfather used to say that if I were in trouble, I should break the charm,” he looks to the ground before looking back up to you. “When I bring the wall down, break the charm.” You nod, watching as he tugs on the chain to break it and hands the charm to you. “Ready?” You nod once again, your fingers clutching the charm in your hand. Yeosang places his hand onto the wall of ice before closing his eyes. The wall shatters into large shards of ice.

As quickly as you can, you throw the charm into the air and shoot it with your magic. There’s a pause before a large wave of energy blasts throughout the kingdom. Yeosang throws himself onto you, forcing you both to the ground. You both look up to see a large snowflake floating in the sky, raining the entire kingdom with a gentle flurry of snow.

The villagers have frozen, watching the snowflake in awe. Almost as though they had been brainwashed, they turn to Yeosang. “He truly is the protector of the kingdom.”

“His majesty uses his magic to bring snow to the kingdom.” They gather around the both of you. “He means no harm.” A wave of relief washes over Yeosang when he sees them kneel, but he’s doubtful. He stands up before holding onto your hand and pulling you up with him.

“It worked?” You look up at him and once again, you see his eyes scanning the suddenly calm villagers.

“We see now,” one of them says softly as she looks up at Yeosang. “We see the truth behind the elementalists. They were created by the gods to protect humans from evil forces.” The king feels hesitant to believe that they’ve suddenly accepted him.

“The king brings us snowfall and ensures that winter is not harsh on our crops.” Another villager looks up as well.

“The king is true to his word. He uses his magic for good.” You squeeze Yeosang’s hand, making him look down to you.

“It worked, my love.” He’s only convinced when he hears it from your lips and he nods. He turns to you and pulls you closer to him, his arm snaking around your waist.

“It worked with your help,” Yeosang ignores the fact that the entire kingdom can see him as he presses his forehead against yours. A hand claps onto the young king’s shoulder that causes him to pull away from you and turn to his cousin.

“I assume she is the reason you got riled up during dinner,” Seonghwa chuckles. Yeosang nods sheepishly before turning to you,

“This is my cousin, Seonghwa. He rules the neighbouring kingdom,” he tells you. “Like most of the royal family, he’s a magic user as well.” Yeosang’s voice softens to a whisper when he tells you of Seonghwa’s magic. You look at Seonghwa who points to the rose brooch that’s pinned to his suit. You nod knowingly at him and give him a bow.

“Oh, please, there’s no formality needed,” he shakes his head with a smile, “if Yeosang has taken a liking to you, then I’m assuming that you would be the next queen.” Your cheeks flush at the mention of marrying Yeosang, but your lover only squeezes your waist softly as though he’s reassuring you.

“Please, hyung.” Seonghwa gives you a sheepish smile before nodding,

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “I understand it still must be early for you both.”

“I-It’s okay,” you say shyly, “I wouldn’t mind becoming the queen if Yeosang would be my king.” You glance up at Yeosang to see him trying to contain his smile as he watches you.

“Well, it may be hard for a person of your status to be accepted into the royal family,” Seonghwa adds as he turns to Yeosang, “which is why you must hold your ground no matter what happens.”

“Whatever happens, I won’t let you go,” Yeosang tells you softly. You turn to him and smile. “I would die before letting anything happen to you, my precious snowdrop.”

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years

Text

King Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves, pt 5

Viren’s Plan and Runaan’s Shirt

Angst Rating: 9/10

You know the line from Hamlet: “Methinks the lady doth protest too much”? Meaning someone is trying too hard to seem innocent? That is the vibe I always got from this line of Viren’s.

I couldn’t really figure out how he could’ve invited them, and that’s not the full focus of this section of my King Runaan theory. But I do think Viren basically did just that. Here’s how I see it going:

Viren got into the Storm Spire and saw the egg and the magic mirror. We don’t see him pay it any mind, but you know a smart, enterprising, pragmatic guy like that noticed a not-dragon-sized mirror in their lair. The biggest power couple in all the land has something secretive and unique. He wants it, and he wants its power. He just helped his friend kill the King of the Dragons. This mirror, and this egg—as Tiadrin suggests—are powerful, and they’re now free real estate.

So he takes them, as we know. But he wants to know how to use the mirror, not just possess it. And the key to his master plan—which kinda got derailed but still isn’t entirely complete—is written on Lain and Tiadrin’s faces.

They’re Moonshadow assassins, bound to the Dragon Throne. I’m assuming Viren knows this because it’s ancient history and current events rolled into one, even in human lands. The Dragon King or Queen sends out Moonshadow assassins to do their bidding ever since the humans got kicked out of Xadia. Everyone with a stake in a human kingdom knows that.

Viren also likes his research, though. He wants to minimize threats to Harrow’s power, so he’s as familiar as possible with Moonshadow assassins. And in a bright aha moment there in the Spire, Viren hatches his master plan. If he kills the egg simply to protect Harrow and Katolis, he won’t get answers about the mirror. The elves might not avenge a grizzled and warlike king who committed terrible acts of his own. But they will absolutely avenge the death of an innocent egg, with the most powerful assassin they can send.

Just the elf Viren is looking for: the king of the Moonshadow elves will know all about Xadia’s magical history, its relics, its threats, and so on. And he knows just how to get this king to deliver himself to Viren’s doorstep, because that king is also an assassin.

He steals the egg, and he steals the Moonshadow elves to use as a threat against him. He may or may not have any idea that Lain and Tiadrin know Runaan as well as they do. But if they’re Moonshadow elves in the Storm Spire, they’re assassins, bound to service as their king is, and he’ll know them at least a little. It’s good enough.

Yadda yadda yadda, Runaan pops up in Katolis with his assassins.

Why was Marcos patrolling the woods the night before the full moon, anyway? Perhaps Viren ordered extra patrols. If you’re expecting trouble, a dead scout who doesn’t report in means the same thing as a live scout pounding on the door.

Viren was right there at the battle outside Harrow’s chamber door. The High Mage of Katolis, standing there and watching. He was looking for someone he knew would be there, because he’d all but sent him an engraved invitation. And he was studying all the assassins’ markings until he found the elf wearing the brightly glowing painted crownmarks on his shoulders.

Target acquired.

Once he located the king of the Moonshadows, he made sure that Runaan survived, and no one else. After the battle, Runaan lost his royal tunic and his hoodie, but he still had on his armored vest, green shirt, and gloves.

Yet the next time we see him in the dungeon, he’s lost all of those things.

Viren took off his shirt. He took it off to look for the mark of the Moon staff. And he took off his gloves too. Making very sure he’s got the right elf, while also making him colder and more vulnerable as a prisoner of war. We keep hearing mention that Runaan’s shirt mysteriously went missing. That’s because its removal was a plot point.

Viren put the King of the Moonshadows on his knees and kept him there for a week, hungry, injured, cold, and unable to escape his fun little magic-experiment games, in order to soften him up. He knew who Runaan was the whole time, but he was only interested in the information Runaan could provide him. He didn’t care about his name or his title, calling him only “elf.”

If you have a starving king in your dungeon and you want something from him, you go out of your way to acquire rare Xadian fruits, because that’s what Moonshadows eat, and Viren assumes kings eat well even in Xadia. There was a jelly tart on that tray, too, but it was persimmon, not the dark red that looks closer to moonberry. So close, Viren!

But one does not simply bribe the Moonshadow King, and one does not threaten him easily, either. Runaan has lived his life at war and in the shadows. Viren’s fake kindness isn’t even remotely scary, and Runaan is quietly contemptuous. Even the threat that Viren so carefully planned when he kidnapped Lain and Tiadrin only drives Runaan to broody silence, giving him no answers.

Viren says he’s heard of “I am already dead,” but he doesn’t truly understand it. He describes it to Runaan in unfeeling terms, as if he learned it from a book. So when he finally resorts to verbalizing death threats, it feels like his big dramatic finish. But that’s not what makes a dent in Runaan’s stoic exterior. It’s the mirror.

Runaan is probably directly descended from the Moonshadow elf or elves who collaborated on locking Aaravos away. Despite how long they may live naturally, assassin lives may burn through faster, so I won’t guess at how many generations separate him from that time in history. But he’s well schooled in the history and facts as his people see them. He knows quite a lot about the mirror. Enough to actually scare him. Runaan has been dancing with death his whole life. It’s his job and his calling. But this mirror and what it represents is so much worse than falling honorably in battle.

And now a dark mage wants to use it. Runaan’s had a hard week of privation and pain. But he is still at war, and Viren is still the enemy. His first instinct is to protect literally everyone in the world from this horrific event, so he flat refuses to cooperate. And Viren loses his patience entirely.

But he doesn’t kill Runaan. That would be a waste of a perfectly good elf king! He stashes him carefully in a coin for later. One never knows when one may need a very expensive bargaining chip, after all. The pragmatic never throw anything away if it might prove useful later.

So he’s been wandering Xadia with a Moonshadow king in his pocket all this time. Just in case.

part 6

#tdp theory #tdp meta #tdp speculation #tdp headcanons #tdp #runaan #viren #moonshadow elves #king runaan #moonshadow assassins #moon druids #viren's master plan #it's a good plan #tdp angst #angst

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anystalker707 · 4 years

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Vampires will never hurt you

🎃Halloween special Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word counting: ~ 3 600 Genre: Terror, suspense, fluff TW: Description of death, though vague Summary: Why not to go to the graveyard at midnight? What can go wrong? Being attacked by a vampire? a/n: I wrote this thinking about Bullets era, but the era’s up to y’all

There was a light thin rain falling outside by the beginning of the day - it seemed incessant and like if it would continue for the whole day like in the previous one, but it came to an end before it was even noon. It was practically just a warning of the colder days that still are to come, maybe a free sample of them, like Ray called it once. Well, a sample wouldn't leave this mess of gross wet dry leaves near the sidewalks or under trees, but that's fine. I'd prefer some different fall vibes.

Even with the clouds leaving, the rest of the day remained kind of cold, with the sun's heat not seeming enough to take over the result of the rain or more so dry the soil properly. It's not really something new and brought a quite pleasing atmosphere, the change evident in how there are more people standing under the sunlight rather than under the shadows, like usual. The chilly air feels just perfect to get a thicker hoodie off the wardrobe; or just steal one of Gerard's, in my case.

Even so, it isn't enough to get us outdoors - it only makes the fact of staying home like always more pleasing.

I'm surprised by Gerard suddenly sitting down beside me, getting my attention off my phone with a kiss being pressed to my cheek. He hums softly as making himself comfortable next to me, resting his head on my shoulder; a pleased smile plays on his lips after I press a kiss to his cheek. He's got the faint smell of the coffee he just drank before going upstairs to take the used cups to the kitchen and also ask Donna if I could stay the night.

"Okay, so," he starts, "my mom says you can stay over but we have to stay out of the basement. They're having a seance to call my grandparents." Shifting around more, he throws his legs over my lap, seeming finally satisfied with our position and the new proximity.

"They are?" I ask him, thinking for a moment then letting out a thoughtful hum after he nods in response. "I guess we should go somewhere if so. You remember how your parents complained a lot that we plus Mikey kept disturbing the place's energy." My eyebrows furrow a bit at the memory, almost ten minutes of scolding that somehow left us feeling guilty for the rest of the night and following day.

"You voiced my thoughts," he says with a small smile, though seeming more focused on playing with my hair. Observing him, I wrap an arm around him, letting the other over his legs, absentmindedly playing with the folds of the jeans. "You've got any place in mind?" He asks again after a moment. "Like, to go to at midnight."

"Of course, the graveyard at midnight is super sexy and not creepy, let's go there."

I roll my eyes at Gerard and look at him, bored; the sarcastic expression remains on his face for a few seconds before he goes back to grabbing what he needs. "What?" I twist my mouth in certain disappointment. "C'mon, it's better than being stuck in your bedroom like we do every day and you know this city has nothing better at this time."

"Well," he shoots me a look, almost pouting. "The way you said it, I thought you had some kind of special spot, like an abandoned bridge or building like in a cheesy fanfic," he teases, giggling after I snort, rolling my eyes at his playful attempt of annoying me.

"I mean, we could go somewhere like the skate park or something, but you know how these are full of idiots." I shrug in frustration, remembering the past experiences. "And I'm not up to getting lost in the woods at night again." My words make him send me a questioning glance, most likely about to ask me about it, but I quickly speak up. "Ask Ray if you wanna know all about it. Dealing with lost ghosts is better."

Gerard gazes at me for a moment then raises his eyebrows like if making a mental note. "Okay, fair point," he trails off, seeming to fumble with something. I raise an eyebrow at him questioningly and he shrugs. "It's holy water," he explains with a tap on the jeans' pocket that held his attention until seconds ago, grabbing his phone and his keys before extending his hand to me.

"Oh, you're on that shit again. Why would you carry holy water around?" I question, taking his hand and pulling Gerard with me out of his room, giving him time to close the door after we leave it. The chains attached to his pants make a tinkling sound as he walks, the metal cross and the pendants hitting each other.

No word come in response; he raises an eyebrow at me, wordlessly asking if I'm being serious. Being met with the same look coming from him mirrored by me, he shakes his head, his face gaining an air of disbelief.

"C'mon," he mutters in defeat, starting to walk down the stairs. A quiet sigh escapes my lips, but I don't say anything in response, inevitably following him.

A cold air embraces us in the same moment we step outside, thankfully not enough to make us shiver; the hoodies hold enough heat to make us warm and the cold breeze is too weak to even send our strands flying. The tips of Gerard's cold fingers touch are still felt through the fabric of my fingerless gloves and I bet his situation isn't much different. He squeezes my hand, rubbing his thumb over my fingers lightly in a poor attempt of heating them up as we look down both sides of the empty street before stepping down the porch.

Only a few lights are on inside the houses while we walk down the street, a pleasing silence hovering around, our footsteps echoing behind us. It lasts until we reached the main street - people occasionally walk by and there's a place or two open, so the faint incoherent talk is heard under the sound of a car eventually passing by. Still, it doesn't make it any worse.

It's rather easy climbing the wall to the graveyard, even more with each other's help. Though not really seeming scared, Gerard looks around the dark place with narrowed eyes once we land on the other side of the wall. I grab the flashlight I brought, lighting our surroundings before pulling Gerard along with me to a rather empty space - there are no graves, just a few trees. Frank and I came here a few times already, with the same intention of avoiding the other places, so the place isn't really unknown to me. It's got a good lighting, with the light posts right on the other side of the wall, that's not so far from the spot.

A kind of relieved sigh escapes my lips as I sit down under the tree, pulling Gerard with me and turning off the flashlight. Only the sound of us sitting against the slightly damp grass and quiet exchanged words cut through the thick silence, which doesn't seem to lose its power even with the occasional night sounds.

"Your choice is still really questionable, but I'll offer you if a demon, vampire or something decides to attack us," Gerard teases as scooting closer to me, grumbling quietly as nuzzling my neck, his cold nose brushing the warm skin affectionately. "I'd throw the holy water at them, but you're not worth my holy water," he continues, sending me a playfully angry look, eyes narrowed and bottom lip sticking out lightly.

"I'm not worth it?" Furrowing my eyebrows in a fake sadness, I scowl jokingly after he nods, a kind of childish air over his manners. "Well, thank you for telling me your plan, then, I'll make sure of running away before you can notice," I tease, chuckling at the glare he sends me followed by a whine. I press a kiss to his lips, what makes him giggle before kissing me again, humming in appreciation against my lips; the once heavy atmosphere we were once set in slowly melting away into a comfortable, almost warm one.

"What'd you bring?" Gerard asks as seeing me shoving a hand inside the hoodie's pocket after pulling away from him.

Preferring to not answer, I just hand him the black can of Monster Energy, followed by the small bag of M&M's he had bought earlier today plus a small bag of chips which contents have most likely been reduced to crumbles with the heavy can pressing against it for almost the whole way here. A pleased hum comes from him as he gets the can first, flicking the can a few times before the sound of it being cracked open echoes in the place and he takes a sip of the drink.

Meanwhile, my phone holds my attention as I try to chose something that fits the mood - a pleased smile stretches my lips once Dig Up Her Bones comes up on the screen and I decide to just let the song play and be surprised by whatever comes next. Gerard raises his eyebrows as soon as he identifies the song, shooting me a glance to show how the choice pleases him too.

Letting out a sigh that finally seems genuinely comfortable, Gerard practically melts against me, seeming to observe the sky for a moment - it's got some stars decorating it, apart from some areas covered by clouds, probably a warning that it'll rain during the night or by the morning because they're slowly taking over the sky.

We're able to shape the ambient into something we're almost used to, the fact it's a graveyard now being a minor detail in the back of our minds while Gerard sips on his drink and I nibble on the chips he occasionally steals from me.

Though the light doesn't really reach further in the graveyard, I'm able to sense someone else's presence, tensing up lightly before looking around. It is like someone is standing some feet away from us, but, still, there's nothing but even more tress and bushes making us company.

"What's wrong, love?" Gerard asks softly, leaning forward lightly, squinting his eyes at the spot I stared at just seconds ago.

"Nothing," I shrug, "'must've been some lost werewolf attracted by the beginning of the song." A chuckle escapes my lips as I say it more of as a joke. Even without seeing it, I can tell Gerard rolls his eyes then I can feel his elbow meeting my side in a light motion, though still carrying a reprehending air. In spite of that, I can hear the faint laughter caught in his throat.

Once again, we fall in comfort, exchanging a few words once in a while as we ate, mostly just enjoying the music playing in the background and pressing occasional lazy kisses to each other's lips.

Everything is fine until I sense the presence again and, suddenly, it's behind me. It's too solid to be just a paranoia from earlier - it blocks the cold breeze from hitting my back and my side and I swear I can feel a shallow breathing. Gerard probably notices how I tense up. At first, his eyes are confusedly flickering over me, first looking at my hand before going up, still not understanding it when he observes my face, but his eyes widen and he freezes too when looking past me.

Gerard's eyes move to mine for a second like if telling me something. I'm not sure about how to interpret it, but follow him as he clumsily stands up and starts running, his hand tight around mine the whole time. Our plan, however, is screwed when we're met exactly with what we feared - at least as a joke.

All the stories about vampires, werewolves or any other kind of beasts are always mostly taken like a joke, though there are a few people who'll tell you their stories about how they escaped a creature's attack if you ask them to. Nonetheless, it's rather easy finding a house with a cross hanging right above the doorway or seeing someone discreetly blessing the doorway or windowsill with holy water and looking around in a hope no one will see them doing it. If you are around for time enough, you'll see how the city has a strong belief in spirits and you'll most certainly gain a curse if you enter a wrong place in the woods - what Ray and I know very well.

Anyways, I'm sure we'll probably be laughed at if we tell someone we went to hang out in the graveyard and ended up being visited by a fucking vampire. Well, that if we fucking survive long enough for so. Their characteristic sharp features are badly illuminated by the light coming from the light posts, the light reflecting on the red sink of their cliché Victorian suit and showing a few metal details, like a pin on the blazer and a chain, probably of a pocket watch. It's rather easy identifying a vampire after hearing the stories that go around and the description of this one isn't really unfamiliar to me. And, like, I don't think a normal person has teeth that sharp, but...

A shaky fuck escapes Gerard's lips, both of us trying to step back from the beast, clutching onto each other for dear life. The panic makes a thin layer of sweat quickly form itself over our skin, in a way I'm able to feel my palm sweating under the fabric of the glove, making the fabric slightly damp.

Swallowing thickly, all I can think about is running the opposite direction. And I do so. The quiet cry leaving Gerard's lips demonstrates he didn't expect the sudden tug at his arm, what sends him stumbling behind me. In any moment of this, his hand escapes mine and, when I turn back around, I'm alone. There's just the faint sound of a The Cure song playing in the background, coming from my phone, thrown on the ground next to the neglected food and the flashlight.

The silence is almost deafening. There isn't even a quiet cry coming from Gerard or the hushed movements of the vampire.

My heart suddenly becomes heavy with the thought of having lost Gerard. Slowly, I start taking steps back, with the intention of at least getting the flashlight back and maybe stopping the music coming from my phone so it'll be easier to be aware to my surroundings.

It's difficult determining if I should be happy or not that there's no other movement or anything in my way back to the tree. I let out a quiet sigh as bending down to get the flashlight, flicking it on, but the weight of the worry and panic is set back on my shoulders at once when I adjust my posture and I'm able to feel someone standing right behind me. Too tall to be Gerard.

Turning around at once, I point the flashlight at who's most likely the vampire. Even being extremely quick, my brain is able to process the sight of the face contorted in a motion to attack, showing their fangs while making a scary face on purpose while they also make a hissing sound - it all snatch a loud scream from me as I jump back.

The cries coming from me as I push myself back against the tree don't seem to be something I can control, becoming more desperate with a louder hiss coming from the beast.

And the attack never happens, for some reason. All I see when pointing the flashlight at the beast is them hissing louder for no apparent reason, slowly contorting while falling to the ground, twitching a bit before they stop moving at all. Everything is silent again. That asides from the sound of my heart beating in my head and my heavy breath.

The vampire lays there, immobile. Did they die? Why?

With a movement coming a few feet away from the body, I hear something. My heartbeat pace picks up again, my throat dry while I adjust the flashlight on my hand, mentally preparing myself to move it.

"Y'know-"

As much as it's spoken by a familiar voice, the single word doesn't fail in making me scream again, a shaky light illuminating Gerard a few times while I was still scared, but also relieved, with his presence.

"-stop screaming- they'll never believe us when we tell them we fucking killed a vampire to the sound of The Cure," Gerard says in an extraordinarily calm voice. By the time he finishes talking, I'm able to recover myself, my grip on the flashlight becoming steady, illuminating him properly. Gerard looks down at a glass flask on his hand in certain approval, slowly nodding, then he turns to me, squinting his eyes and bringing a hand up to protect his face from the light.

"Stop fucking pointing that thing at me," he complains.

A quiet oh comes from me, reality hitting me and making me feel like if I'm an idiot. After a minute debating about what should be the light's aim, I point it at the vampire again, grimacing lightly at the sight and poking the creature lightly with my foot. I quickly pull it away, afraid it'll go back to 'life' or something. It doesn't happen, thankfully.

"I told you I carry holy water around for a reason!" Gerard's voice suddenly next to me makes me jump again, clutching onto my chest, glaring daggers at him - what he's most likely not able to see, unfortunately. He grabs his own phone, the screen lighting the small space between us just enough for us to see each other properly. Just like his voice had a proud hint, his wide smile also carries the same feeling, the row of short teeth somehow standing out more than the rest of his face under the dim light. He chuckles noticing my glare.

I roll my eyes, smiling a bit as finally allowing myself to calm down. "Idiot," I mutter through a breathy chuckle, weak, like if I've been holding my breath for hours.

"Anyways," Gerard says as poking the body with his foot too, pulling the arms stiff arms away from their chest after he bent down. I can't really see what he's doing, but an unamused look falls on my face once my eyes land on the pin, a pocket watch plus a few other things now on Gerard's hands. "At least it wasn't a completely bad situation."

"How can you be so fucking calm?" I ask in disbelief, another nervous chuckle coming from me. "I just fucking had a heart attack, I thought I'd fucking lost you."

"I believe in my holy water, love. And my silver cross pendants," he says in a matter-of-factly tone that just earns another indignant look from me. It makes him giggle. His giggle helps me a lot with relaxing.

"Though I believe we can cross the graveyard off the list of places to hang out in at midnight," he says with a nervous chuckle, moving to gather the things we left on the grass. Gerard throws some M&M's in his mouth before chugging down some Monster then handing my phone back to me. He holds everything clumsily with an arm while shoving the pocket watch and other things in his pocket before he offers me some of the drink.

It's still unbelievable how he's so calm. Actually, if you think well, not something really surprising after Elena's uncountable stories about vampires. Maybe there's more behind Donna's acts when she shakes her head in maybe reproval and rolls her eyes whenever the older woman is telling a story and the way Gerard's always excited about listening to these. And how their houses are full of crosses, creating a nice goth vibe that matches the dark wooden furniture and vintage decoration. How there's an unsaid superstition in whenever they walk in the house or leave it and the inaudibly muttered words whenever Donna's either serving or preparing some food. Or maybe the lack of family pictures. And too many mirrors hanging around the house.

Shaking my head to myself, I just sigh as taking the can in hand, pressing a quick kiss to Gerard's lips before taking a sip of the drink. "C'mon," I mutter lightly, making sure he's following me to out of this place.

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electrickoushi · 3 years

Text

cold brews, warm hearts

a/n: hi hi! I apologize if there are any point of view inconsistencies. I wrote this for my friend and she wanted first person, but I changed it to second for tumblr. please enjoy!

pairing: bokuto koutarou x reader tags: fluff, coffee shop au, holiday fun wc: 3.1k

It’s almost midnight on Christmas Eve, and you have quite the drive ahead of you. A large cup of coffee and quick run-in with a cute barista should be all you need before hitting the road again. Unfortunately, your car decides to stop working at the last second. Stranded in the middle of nowhere, you have no choice but to walk back into the coffee shop as you wait for help.

You busted into the coffee shop, probably looking like a deranged maniac. Your hair was freshly uncombed and your glasses sat askew on your face. The nice aroma of coffee, tea, and baked goods hit your nose as you took a deep breath.

The line was way too long considering that it was near midnight on Christmas Eve. If only your boss hadn’t kept you in meetings for hours on end, maybe then you wouldn’t have had to make the commute to your family’s house in the pitch dark.

You searched the menu board for the drink with the most espresso possible. Only bitter coffee and loud music would get you through this long drive.

The line eventually shifted, and you worked your way up to the counter. There were only two men working despite the crowd. One was responsible for the drinks and the other was responsible for taking orders. You couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for them as they worked hard on Christmas Eve. They should be home with their families or friends, enjoying their night.

“Hi,” you said, making eye contact with the barista at the register. He had black and white hair that he had spiked up, probably by using a ridiculous amount of hair gel. His arms and chest were thick and muscular, two features that were further defined by his cute Christmas sweater.

He offered a wide, friendly smile, golden eyes locked on yours, and asked for your order. His voice was husky, yet not a trace of bitterness or annoyance could be found. You glanced down to find that his name tag read Koutarou.

You rattled off the name of the drink before impulsively adding another shot of espresso to it. Quickly marking it all down on the cup, he looked back up to you and asked for your name.

“Y/n,” you replied with a soft smile. He deserved more than the small kindness, seeing as he was stuck with the late night shift on Christmas Eve.

“That’s such a cute name! Okay, y/n. That’ll be $3.75. Cash or credit?”

You handed him a five dollar bill, surprised that he complimented you so openly. He tapped a few things on the screen to unlock the cash drawer with a small ding. He made the change quickly and dropped it in your hand along with the receipt.

The tip jar looked terribly empty, so you stuck the receipt in your pocket and dropped the rest of the change in the jar. It wasn’t much, but it was better than what other people had given them.

“Thank you, and happy holidays!” Koutarou said, waving to you before turning back to take the next customer’s order.

You waved back and joined the small crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

Despite the amount of orders being placed, the other barista had no problem keeping up. He made multiple drinks at once, pouring the milk here, adding a mountain of whip cream there. Anyone could tell how skilled he was, which was likely why he decided to work on the drinks alone. He must have preferred it that way, to work in silence and channel all his focus into making drinks.

You stood in line and watched Koutarou continue taking orders. Occasionally, he would warm a sandwich or hand someone a pastry, all while keeping up small talk if the other person was willing to.

The last customer finished placing their order, leaving the barista with nothing to occupy his time.

“Keiji, you need any help?” Koutarou asked, his voice warm and bright.

Keiji had just finished what looked to be your drink and started preparing the drink that Koutarou had just rung up. He muttered a low “no” and continued mixing. Koutarou shrugged his shoulders, accustomed to his coworker’s behavior.

While the last drink was mixing, Keiji slid your drink over to the counter and called out your name. You grabbed the cup and a straw, nodding your head in thanks and wishing him a “happy holidays.”

You stabbed the straw into the drink and took a sip. The espresso was very bitter, yet the whip cream managed to balance it out. Out of reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut, opening them a few seconds later to find the cute cashier pointing at the cup that was just handed to you.

Turning it over in your hand, you saw your name in black sharpie with a small star and snowman next to it. You looked back up at Koutarou who just smiled and winked at me.

You smiled back and waved a goodbye, turning on your heel to leave.

At this rate, you should be home by two a.m. at the latest. You still had three hours left in your drive, which is why this coffee was so necessary.

You pulled out your phone and texted your mom to update her on your whereabouts. She responded almost immediately, telling you to drive safely and pull over if you ever felt too tired. You smiled at the warnings and stuffed your phone back into your coat pocket once replying with a “Will do” and a heart emoji.

You stepped out into the cold and immediately wished you were back in the cozy warmth of the coffee shop. Running to your car, you dug your keys out of your pocket and unlocked it. You settled into your seat and closed the door after setting the cup of coffee down into the nearest cup holder.

Sticking your keys into the engine, you expected the engine to roar and make the terrible noises it was making before. Instead, none of the lights came on, and you were stuck with an eerie silence. You repeatedly jammed the keys in and out, turning them more aggressively each time in hopes that your car would sputter to life on the next try.

Unfortunately, no such thing happened, which meant that your car battery must have died. It died while you were alone in the middle of nowhere at midnight. Wonderful.

You called your mom in a panicked state as you felt tears well up in your eyes. Of course, all she could do was offer support and advice. She informed you of the business card she had tucked in your glove box the first day you got your car. It had the number for car insurance and 24-hour roadside assistance on it. You thanked your mother and told her that you’d be home much later, so she didn’t have to wait for you. She insisted that she stay up, but knowing her, she would fall asleep in less than an hour.

You hung up, turned on your phone flashlight, and rummaged through your glove box. The card must be here somewhere. The light caught the shiny coating, and you reached for it. You swiftly punched in the number and waited as it rang.

Someone picked up on the other end, annoyed and unenthusiastic. Why couldn’t he be more like the barista? You thought to yourself as the phone operator asked you about your problem.

He said that it would probably take about an hour since so many of their people had already been dispatched or allowed to go home. You groaned but thanked the grumpy man anyway, wishing him a safe and happy holiday. He grunted in response and hung up the phone.

The car was getting colder by the second, so you grabbed your coffee, bag, and scarf before manually locking your car and heading back inside the shop.

There weren’t too many people left since it was past midnight at this point. A stray customer sat at a table, but no one was in line to order anything. You could hear the sounds of equipment being washed, making you feel even more guilty for coming back in. These two men wanted to go home as well, and you didn’t want to be the cause of delay.

The white-haired barista looked over when the small bell attached to the door rang, revealing your red nose and the sheepish look in your eyes.

He recognized you from before and smiled again, despite the fact that it was almost closing hours. “Forget something?” He asked with a teasing grin.

You shook your head and he frowned, probably wondering why you returned. He switched off the water and dried his hands off before walking out from behind the counter.

You started talking before he could say anything. “This is embarrassing and I’m really sorry for coming back in, but my car battery died and I have to wait an hour for someone to come help me…” You fiddled with your scarf, looking around the shop.

“It’s no problem!” he said. “The store is going to close in a few minutes, but we stay back anyways to clean and lock up. You can stay until your car is fixed if you want.”

The last person got up and left, door shutting behind him and leaving you alone with the two men.

You must have looked nervous because Koutarou took a few steps back. “I was going to let Keiji go home, but if it makes you more comfortable for him to be here with us, he would be okay with staying.”

You assured him that it would be fine; Keiji deserved to go home. Koutarou also didn’t seem like the type to pull anything.

“Do you need something else to drink?” he asked.

The fire was still roaring and you took a seat in a booth near it, unwinding your scarf from your neck. You tugged your knees against your chest and leaned your head against the wall. “No thanks.”

Koutarou nodded and returned to the back of the store to finish the end-of-shift tasks. Every so often he looked back up at you, making sure that you were okay. Keiji eventually finished up and left the shop with a quiet goodnight and a small wave.

You pulled your phone out and turned your ringer on so you wouldn’t miss your call. It was pretty warm due to the fire, so you slipped your coat off.

You killed time by bouncing between social media apps and games. It wasn’t long before you got sucked into a particular art account on Twitter. Their art was fantastic and their content seemed to be endless, so you just kept scrolling through their page.

You felt a slight tap on your shoulder, pulling you back into reality. You looked up and were met with golden eyes. “Here, this was left over.” Koutarou set a napkin down on the table and placed a few small chocolates on it.

He stood back up and wiped his hands on his apron. Towering over you, he eyed your smaller figure that was curled up in a ball. You must have looked sad or lonely because he put his hand on his hips and said, “Stand up. I have a surprise for you.”

Tilting your head in confusion, you set your phone down on the table nonetheless and watched him run to the back. He picked up his phone and pressed a few buttons to connect it to the coffee shop’s speakers. The Christmas music shut off and silence fell for a few seconds while he searched for a specific playlist.

Suddenly, loud music blared over the speakers. You instantly recognized it as the old popular “Shut Up and Dance,” and you couldn’t help but grin. He popped his head over the division to find you slightly dancing to the music.

He ran back out and started singing along. His voice wasn’t the best and it was super shaky as he jumped up and down, but it was such a cute sight to see. The man was extremely tall, yet he danced with the vigor of a small child. You swayed back and forth, thoroughly entertained by Koutarou’s massive, bouncing tiddies.

When the chorus kicked in, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out to the floor to dance along with him.

The song ended after a whirlwind of uncoordinated yet enthusiastic movements, leaving both of you breathless. Koutarou’s golden eyes shined as he looked at you. The song restarted, and he rushed over to turn it off. Soft Christmas music filled the shop once again. He came back with two cups of water and handed one to you.

You chugged it down while he did the same. The cool water soothed your dry throat as you finished the glass in one gulp. The two of you headed back to the table you were previously at and sat down.

Cute multicolored Christmas lights were strung along the walls, adding to the entire holiday ambiance of the place. The fire still crackled in the background, popping and sparking every once in a while. You stuck a chocolate in your mouth and beamed at the sweet flavor.

You nudged one towards Koutarou. “Here, have one! They’re really good.”

“I know! Keiji made them this afternoon. He’s really good at making the sweets and drinks.”

Koutarou then told you all about his friendship with Keiji. Apparently, they had known each other since high school and started working here in the summers. You were surprised to find out that Koutarou was actually a year older than Keiji, considering how mature and reserved the black-haired boy seemed. He told you about how he played volleyball in high school with Keiji at the high school nearby, Fukurodani. He struggled to not use volleyball terms that would be too confusing, but sometimes his enthusiasm got the best of him as he started using a myriad of expressions and phrases that were lost upon you.

In return, you told him about your adventure today and how your boss kept you overtime, leading to your late night drive. Koutarou asked about where you were spending your holiday, and you told him about how you moved out of town a while ago for your job. You mentioned how you rarely got a chance to visit your family nowadays, to which Koutarou made a sympathetic sound in response.

Time flew by as you two chatted, and your phone eventually started buzzing. A random number popped up on the screen and you answered it, holding out a hand to tell Koutarou to stop talking.

“I’m here to look at your car,” the man on the line, asking for confirmation for your car.

“Hi, yes. I’ll be out there in a second.” You hung up the phone and put your coat on. Koutarou looked at you with wide eyes and a slight pout.

You had to admit that you wouldn’t have minded staying a little bit longer, but the roadside assistance guy was probably waiting in the cold. Wanting to console him in some way, you asked for his phone number. He quickly tapped it into your phone and saved himself as “Koutarou :)” before you stood up.

Koutarou waved you goodbye and watched you leave through the window.

The cold air hit your face as you walked outside to meet the man who would help you. Only two other cars were parked outside, probably one of them belonging to the man and the other belonging to Koutarou.

You awkwardly greeted each other before he popped the hood and hooked up his cables to your car.

The lights in the coffee shop went out, leaving you only with the large floodlights stationed above. You heard the door swing shut and saw a large figure heading towards where you were standing. Koutarou’s white and black hair came into view as the fluorescent light beat down on it.

“Hey, y/n! How’s the car coming?” Koutarou asked, walking up to the two of you. He wore a big bomber jacket that didn’t look too warm and a backpack on his shoulders. Despite his friendly words, he didn’t have the jovial look on his face that he had on all night with you.

He gave a nod to the man working on the car after planting himself next to you. In the darkness, you realized just how large Koutarou was. If he really wanted to, he could take down most people in a few swings.

You all shivered in the cold, watching your warm breaths cloud in front of your faces. You bounced up and down to keep warm, and every time you inhaled, you felt the cold air sting your lungs. An arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you looked up to see Koutarou’s eyes shining back down at you. He pulled you into his side, warmth building between both of you.

Eventually, his large frame engulfed you in a full-on back hug. Your head rested against his chest while your hands were stuck in his pockets.

Fifteen minutes later, your car sputtered to life. Koutarou promptly let go of you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his body.

The roadside assistance man left with a short goodbye, getting in his car and driving away immediately.

Left with just the two of you in the cold parking lot, Koutarou broke the brief silence. “Have a good night, and good luck with your drive!”

He started walking away, but as a spur of the moment decision, you ran back up to him and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for staying with me,” you murmured as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I really enjoyed meeting you tonight.”

Koutarou stood there in shock for a second before wrapping his arms around you again. You stayed in that position and giggled for a while until you pulled away.

You hopped into your car and he waved goodbye, temporarily blinded by the headlights. You laughed as he dramatically staggered towards his ride. Once he reached the door, he gave you a quick thumbs up and a grin before climbing into his truck.

You cranked the heat in your car, then backed out of the parking lot and turned onto the main road. Despite the initially cool air blowing from your vents, you found that you were still warm from Koutarou’s hug. You peeked into your rear view mirror and spotted his truck heading out the opposite end of the lot. A content smile found its way onto your lips at the idea of calling him tomorrow. Refocusing your gaze on the road, you settled into your seat and set your thoughts on Christmas with your family.

(And perhaps a certain barista’s golden eyes and adorable smile as well.)

#elliewrites #fluff #haikyuu #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #hq oneshot

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