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bernadineisreborn · 4 years

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Reality VII

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Author’s note: Hellooooo and welcome back. In this chapter, things get figured out. You probably knew all along, but now reader knows too, so that’s good. UMMM okay that’s it, hope you all enjoy! Please please please like or comment or (gold-tier) reblog!! But, I appreciate you just for reading! Love you! –Bernadine

Warnings: swearing/vulgarity, me not knowing wtf I’m doing

Word count: 1883

CATCH UP HERE: Series Masterlist

Draco did not consider himself weak. He was resilient, he was intimidating, he was a Malfoy, for fuck’s sake.

He hadn’t allowed himself to feel emotion since the school year had started. His Aunt Bellatrix’s advice rang in his mind almost constantly: any emotion would allow Snape, or worse, Dumbledore, to read him with ease.

He sat in the Slytherin Common Room, his metaphorical muscles tired from the weight on his shoulders. Draco had been back at Hogwarts for three months, and hadn’t made much progress with the Vanishing Cabinet. He needed to do something else.

Of course, he had other plans. None of them were as good as the Cabinet, but they could work.

Draco thought of the package he had hidden in the Room of Requirement. It was a last resort, he reminded himself, to use the cursed necklace that laid inside in attempts to kill his headmaster. Dumbledore, Draco was sure, would somehow manage to evade the curse it gave those who touched it. He had to find a way to fix the Vanishing Cabinet and allow other Death Eaters to do the pillaging around Hogwarts.

It was a Saturday, which meant a few things. First, Draco had time to himself. He could work on his task, mostly unbothered. Second, there was a Quidditch match.

Draco watched longingly as Crabbe and Goyle lazed out of the dorms, clad in green and silver uniforms, nodding to him as they went by. Draco grunted and repressed the intense desire to follow them. A Quidditch match sounded perfect right about now.

Emotion, thought Draco numbly, is the hamartia of mankind.

----

You squinted as you woke up, sunlight streaming in through the tall windows of Ravenclaw Tower. There had been no dreaming last night; no furred or feathered creatures had patrolled your subconscious at all.

You weren’t sure whether to be grateful or suspicious. This was the second morning you had woken up without having had the dream since you’d spoken to Trelawney.

The Great Hall was filled with excitement, as the Slytherin and Hufflepuff teams prepared for today’s Quidditch match. You usually would have attended with Marcus, but as things were now, you weren’t really in the mood.

Instead, you explained to Sue and Mandy, who were dressed in yellow and black Hufflepuff scarves, “I’ll get to catch up on homework that I haven’t been able to do. You know, since I’ve been in detention.”

They seemed content with this answer, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. You waved to them as they headed off to the Quidditch pitch.

You’d brought Trelawney’s loan, The Dream Oracle’s Sequel: More Dreams, More Divination, with you, and you started reading as you sipped on your morning tea.

An hour later, you knew breakfast was officially over because the leftover food, plates, and your still half-full teacup vanished from the table. However, you had made it to the section titled “Dream. Interrupted: How to finish your dream experience,” and were eager to try the book’s recommendations.

You dashed to the seventh floor, and found the blank wall you needed to utilize. You started pacing, desperately thinking, I need a place to sleep to fall asleep without interruption.

After your third pacing in front of the wall, a small door appeared.

The Room of Requirement was a bit less of a secret location that it had been last year. Harry Potter had made the place legend when he’d started the D.A., and you’d visited a few times, curious about the place’s magic.

Now, it was more useful than ever. Through the doorway was a very cozy room. There were windows that let in fresh sunlight, framed with heavy-looking velvet drapes, and there was a bed bigger than any you had seen before, covered with fluffy quilts and throw pillows. There was also a pot of tea, and you realized delightedly that it was chamomile from it’s smell.

On top of the bed were a pair of silk pajamas, in exactly your size and favorite color. You changed quickly, and drew the drapes over the windows. Hazy midday sunlight trickled in from behind the curtains, giving the room the appearance of a faint golden glow.

You poured yourself a cup of tea and settled in the bed, skimming the chapter of The Dream Oracle’s Sequel again, for good measure. According to the book, you needed to do a short incantation, and then you’d be able to sleep until the dream had finished.

You readied you wand, setting your tea on the bed stand, and spoke, “Somnum Integrum.”

Almost immediately, you started to feel drowsy. The bed’s blankets were so comfortable, you wondered whether you were in heaven.

And you wondered if the rabbit would ever move, damnit! It lazed in the emerald grass, without a worry. The sun was shining brightly, and as you watched, you understood why the bunny wasn’t afraid. No one would hurt her here, she was somehow completely safe. The snake approached first, cautious, stalking. It’s blue eyes, you realized, were actually closer to a gunmetal grey. The hawk swooped in then, graceful and feathered. Its talons were outstretched, and you noticed that they were scarred with small, almost invisible, winding lines. The rabbit was oblivious to the mini-knifes plunging at her through the sky.

Just as you thought the hawk would strike, the snake propelled himself up and met it, deflecting the blow from the bunny and taking it himself.

The rabbit, now, was clued in. She watched, eyes wide as the snake and the hawk struggled. Their fight showed no signs of ending, and you got the impression that the rabbit was afraid for the fate of both parties involved.

In a flash, the snake broke free and winded himself around the rabbit in the grass. At first you thought he would squeeze her to death, and the rabbit seemed to think so too. Then, the snake faced the hawk again and hissed. You realized, with a bit of surprise, that the snake’s stance around the rabbit was protective.

The dream fizzed and faded away, and you were catapulted into a memory: a lonely, sad hallway at midnight. But… a different perspective.

This time, you were the one huddled against the wall, weeping into yourself.

A tentative hand touched your shoulder. You opened your dream eyes. The hand was long and pale and connected to an equally long and pale face: Draco. The moonlight shone through the window and hit his white hair at an irritatingly perfect angle.

“Y/N,” he asked, grey eyes full of concern, “Are you alright?”

You jolted awake, back into reality, back into the Room of Requirement.

Around you, the large bed was still unbearably comfortable. Through the windows, afternoon light streamed, and you realized that you must have been sleeping for a few hours. You threw the comforter off yourself, and padded across the cool stone floor barefooted. Drawing a heavy velvet curtain back, you looked outside. The Quidditch stands were still full of people, and streaks of yellow and green warred in the air above the field.

You remembered the dream, then, looking out at the sunny November day. You weren’t entirely sure how to feel. It almost felt like the snake and the hawk were other people. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? If the rabbit was you, then maybe the snake and hawk were people you knew.

Your mind drifted curiously to the second dream. Why the hell had your subconscious conjured that? Draco hated you, or so you were rather sure. But his expression in the dream had been so caring… so conscious of your feelings. There was something you were missing.

You gathered your things, still pondering the dream’s revelations. In the hallway, a figure stood to meet you. It was Draco, and he looked angry. His wand was raised in a rather threatening position. When he met your gaze, his expression relented slightly.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said lamely, lowering his wand.

You scoffed and stepped back, a bit surprised to see him standing there, especially after the dreams you’d just had. “Yes, it’s me. Who’d you think it was going to be?”

“Someone else,” he stated, his eyes wandering over you. His brows quirked up, “Do you ever put on real clothes when you’re not in class?”

You looked down, and noticed with a jolt that you were still wearing the Room’s gift: the perfect silk pajamas. “Yes, obviously. Erm, what are you doing here?”

His expression shifted, eyes narrowed, “I need to get into the Room of Requirement.”

“Oh. Right,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest in an attempt at a defensive pose, “What for?”

Draco sneered, “None of your business.” His eyes softened then, and he opened his mouth to speak, “I—”

But your hand had flown to your mouth in recognition, the things you were carrying falling from your arms in the process. His expression, his eyes. Even though the expression of the Draco in front of you was nowhere near as sympathetic as the Draco in your dream, it was enough. You knew: Draco was the snake.

He stared at you, brows pinched together, his face somewhere between annoyance and confusion, “Merlin, get a grip.”

You weren’t paying attention. You quickly scooped the things from the floor, Draco making no attempts at helping you, and started walking away. Over your shoulder, you called, “See you in detention.”

Draco watched you walk away, then turned back toward the now-blank wall in front of him. He exhaled, and allowed his expression to neutralize, as if he was slipping on an ice-cold, skin-thin mask. Pacing quietly, he thought. I need the Vanishing Cabinet. I need the Vanishing Cabinet. I need the Vanishing Cabinet.

The Room of Requirement was both a great comfort and a great stress to Draco. He walked into the room carefully, the fixing of Cabinet was not going well.

He tried for an hour or so, working on the Cabinet, following instructions from every book on Vanishing Cabinets in order to fix it.

As he worked, he wondered what you’d been doing in here, in pajamas, no less. Draco recalled the night you’d caught him in a rather…unfortunate position. He had expected to hear rumors the next day about what you’d seen, he’s expected you to tell everyone, he’d expected his reputation to need repairing. But, you’d stayed quiet, and he had no idea why.

That night, he considered, she was wandering the halls alone too. Awake at an ungodly hour. Maybe she… Draco stopped himself. He didn’t care why you’d been out of bed. You meant nothing to him. You were a nuisance, you were…

Well, he was a little grateful that you hadn’t given him the additional stress of telling people that The Draco Malfoy was crying and alone and hopeless.

Draco lazed around the Room of Requirement. In this form, there were lost objects everywhere. Objects people had come to store somewhere—anywhere: old broomsticks, he assumed these were faulty; random books; broken desks and chairs; an ancient looking teapot and teacup set, even with tea still in it. The tea wasn’t even cold yet. Draco wondered briefly if the pot was charmed to never cool. He sniffed. Hmm, chamomile.

---

Tag List: @drawlfoy @buckys-hoeee @silversslytherin @acciodracoo @afootnoteinyourhappiness @a-hopeless-fan @ilkaeliseb @accio-rogers @laurarestrepo98 @ellewoods2b @naomi02hook @ohitsmai (tumblr won’t let me tag you, it might be a setting you can fix) Did I miss anyone?? If I did, just let me know!!

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tpwkholland · 5 years

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Woman Like Me - Mob!Tom x Reader

A/N: Hi! I used to have a fanfic account here but I deactivated about a year ago. I forget my last username (lol oops) but I will be reposting work I once published (and new stuff too) on this account! I hope y’all enjoy :)

WC: 2050

Warnings: drinking, violence, blood, kissing

I always say what I'm feeling

You walked into the smoke-filled bar, the chain of your purse dangling off of your bare shoulders. Wearing a tight black dress and chunky heels, you looked like the most confident girl in the room. Honestly, that was the biggest lie. On your way here, you were shaking with palms covered in sweat. Before entering through the small bar door, you took some deep breaths, your heart going one million miles an hour. Slowly hanging your coat up on the back of your chair, you sat down on the barstool, flagging down the bartender and ordering whiskey, neat.

Tonight was all an act. In actuality, you were a shy mess who only ordered sugary margaritas but tonight you were an actress. Playing the role of a seductress, with one goal; figuring out which man would take you home. Yes, you knew that you were in danger. Hell, who wasn’t in a room full of mobsters? It was an unspoken fact that this bar was primarily used for mobsters making deals and letting loose. The thought of a man with power, enough to kill, turned you on even more.

Grabbing your glass, you downed the whiskey in one gulp. You slightly winced as the amber liquid traveled down your throat. Taking out your rouge lipstick, you reapplied the crimson pigment across your soft lips. You had a goal tonight, there was no way you weren't going to score.

I was born without a zip on my mouth

Sometimes I don't even mean it

Finally feeling the alcohol flowing through your veins, you noticed the entire room go silent as a group of tall, handsome men walk through the doors. Everyone moves out of their way to the red velvet in the center of the room, clearing it of people. Four of those strange men made their way to the corners of the bar, keeping their eyes on the one man who sat down. He was obviously fit, his jaw sharp as the blade thrown next to him on a table. The all-black suit made him look godly, running his hands through his brown gelled curls, taking a sip of his martini.

That’s him, you thought. He was the one you wanted. No one else, only him. Fiddling with the hem of your dress, you attempted to order another glass. Before you could open your mouth, two shots were slid in front of you. Raising your eyebrows at the bartender, he shrugged. “This is from that guy over there.” Pointing at the mysterious stranger, you gave him a quick smile and turned back around.

He wants me? He’s going to come to me.

Reaching into your small Louis Vuitton, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through Twitter. Before downing your second shot, you felt a tap on your shoulder. To your excitement. It was him, the sexy beast standing in front of you. Raising your eyebrows indicating him to speak, the stranger coughed, smirking at you.

“Enjoying the drinks, love?” His foreign accent took you by surprise, subconsciously scanning his figure. Simply glancing at him, he spoke again. “I’m Tom, by the way, sit with me?”

This was a question you weren't expecting. The slight imprint of a gun was sticking out along with multiple mysterious men sitting around the couch. Reminding yourself of the pepper spray and blade in your purse, you quietly accepted his offer, his large hand on the small of your back.

Oh, babe, this was just the beginning.

It takes a little while to figure me out I like my coffee with two sugars in it

Today was a big day, Tom’s 22nd birthday. The curly-haired boy was still asleep as you snuck out of bed, sneaking to the kitchen to make him breakfast. Thankfully, Tom sent his maids and security guards away from his penthouse for today, knowing the two of you would do some sinful things.

Growing up, your mom baked you a cake for breakfast. Everyone who you told about this little tradition, looked at you like you were crazy. You had a sweet tooth, and today you were going to get something more than cake for dessert. Taking out all the bowls from the stained wooden cabinets, you began measuring and pouring out ingredients into each bowl. While you were scanning the fridge for eggs, a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Blushing, you felt Tom rest his head upon your shoulder, he slowly kissed your exposed neck. You reminded yourself of the task at hand, you gently shoved Tom away and went back to cracking eggs. “Have anything to say, babe?” Suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, Tom leaned up against the fridge.

Strutting over to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him, fingers entailed in his silky curls. “Happy birthday baby,” you murmured in between kisses.

Breaking the kiss, you looked deep into Tom’s eyes. The light hit his eyes so perfectly, honey colored specks hidden behind his luscious lashes. The timer of the oven snapped you out of your daze, ripping you from Tom and sliding the cake pan into the oven.

Shaking your head, you urged Tom to return to bed “Go back to bed, you worked all day for the past two weeks.”

Tom pouted, creasing his forehead, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“C’mon, this princess needs his beauty sleep.”

Shooting you a joking glare, Tom shuffled back to his bedroom. Within an hour, you brought a creamy iced chocolate cake to Tom who was watching the news. Three candles lit upon the cake, you held it in front of Tommy’s face and began singing for him.

Letting out a light chuckle, Tom opened his mouth, “Cake for breakfast? Isn’t a little too early for this, love?” Rolling your eyes, you reassured him. “My mom did this for me every birthday, now it's your turn.” After your last breath, Tom harshly blew out the candles, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. Setting the cake on his nightstand, Tom gently pushed you down onto the mattress. His shirtless form was above you, making you begin to clench your thighs. Tom began pressing open mouthed kisses down your stomach, till his head hung over your core. “The cake is amazing love, but it's time for my treat.”

High heels and my jewelry dripping Drink and I get all fired up (hey, hey, hey)

You picked up a small eyeshadow brush, dipping the soft bristles into a light white pigment. Studying your form in the mirror, you smiled. Glowing in a silk pink robe, your makeup was almost complete and your hair looked stunning. Swept to the side and gently braided you looked perfect. Tom had an important business dinner tonight, and as his good luck charm, you attended. Adding the final touches to your makeup, you slipped into a long, form-fitting red dress paired with nude Louis Vuitton's gifted to you by Tom. Smiling at a guard waiting out of your bedroom, you made your way down the stairs to the parlor. Tom was deep in conversation with his best friend, Harrison. Tom flashed a bright smile once he noticed you, jaw drop. Tonight, you looked ravishing.

“My, my what do we have here, kitten?”

Pulling him into a passionate kiss, Tom got handsy and began playing with the zipper of your dress. Across the room, Harrison coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry mate, I have to give (Y/n) a gift.”

Rolling his eyes, Harrison said, “Alright, but he quick yeah? And keep it down.”

“It’s not that kind of gift you div! Get your head out of the gutter.”

Shaking his head, Haz grabbed his gun sitting upon your coffee table, sliding it into his pocket and walking outside.

Tom grabbed your hand, leading you to one of the guest rooms. “Close your eyes, babydoll.” Trusting him, you shut your eyes, suddenly feeling cold metal resting upon your collarbone. Peeking open your eyes and glancing in the mirror, your jaw dropped. Diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies sparkled in the light, making you look more radiant. “Tommy, I love it, thank you.”

Smiling at you, he kissed behind your neck, murmuring sweet nothings. A knock at the door, made Tom stick his head up, instantly grabbing the gun in his jacket. Another one of Tom’s men stuck his head through the doorway, alerting the two of you the limousine was ready. Grabbing your hand, Tom led you out of the penthouse, pinching your ass before sliding into the vehicle.

You looked good tonight, and everyone knew it.

I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve

You sprinted out of the office building, vomit erupting from your throat onto the rainy concrete. Holy shit. Everything that happened in the past ten minutes was a blur. Tom was standing, handsome as ever, holding a gun to a man’s head.

Boom.

Gunshots erupted, within seconds, Tom’s victim was covered in blood and laying on the ground. With no reaction, Tom set his gun down and ordered his men to get rid of the body. The body, like this, wasn't a human. Fuck, you knew this was wrong. You never saw Tom hurt anyone, besides punching the obnoxious men hitting on you or screaming at his men. But not kill, not with a gun. You knew what Tom did for a living, but it wasn't really real unless you saw it. At that moment, everything has changed. Slapping your hand across your mouth, you let out a shriek and headed for the exits.

You didn't mean to see this. Your intentions were pure, salads and croissants you brought so Tom and you could have lunch together. Harrison said he was busy in a meeting, but he always stops meetings for you. But this wasn't a meeting. As you screamed, Harrison remembered what Tom was actually doing, and flew out of his office to Tom’s.

“Fucking shit, fucking hell Haz! You let her see this?” Tom’s voice yelled louder and more stern than ever before, leaving Harrison speechless. Tom noticed the side door close, and he headed in the direction. His heart broke when he saw you sitting out in the downpour, surrounded by vomit and tears. Hearing footsteps behind you, you looked up and saw Tom running towards you. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you during your sobs. Everything was too much right now, the only person you wanted at the moment was your Tommy.

“It was s-so scary, you scared me.” Sobbing into Tom’s shoulder, he hugged you tighter than ever before.

“I know princess, I know. I'm so sorry, never again, yeah? Never again”

Still I wonder, could you fall for a woman like me (a woman)

Tom’s leg was bouncing under the wooden table, rattling the dishes. Raising an eyebrow, “Are you okay Tommy?”

He nodded yes, taking a gulp of his red wine. Tonight was your fifth anniversary of dating, and by the end of tonight, he hoped you would officially be his fiancé. Shrugging it off, you continued to eat your salad. The dinner was silent on Tom’s part, you were rambling about your sister opening up her bakery. Suddenly, Tom stood up and made his way over to you. Without warning, he got down on one knee, “(Y/n), I’ve been in love with you ever since that night where you wore that black dress I like. I don't think I’d ever be able to love without you, see the world differently. God, you’re the definition of a woman, something no one can buy. Love, will you please marry me?”

One hand holding Tom’s while the other was covering your mouth, eyes shiny with tears. Not being able to get a word out, you nodded your head furiously, letting out choked sobs and “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes!”

Sliding the large diamond onto your finger, Tom picked you up and swung you around, pulling in for a passionate kiss. His rough voice echoed in your ear, “You and me baby, forever.”

Every night, Tom thanked God for a woman like you.

____________________________

hahaha I hope this wasn’t too bad; I wrote this last year

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Love Connections and Other Works of Art (Sashea) - Estuary

Summary: Sasha becomes infatuated with a mural. That’s not the only thing she’s infatuated with.

A/N: I had an idea and ran with it. A meet cute and all the fallout. I hope y'all enjoy it! AO3 Link

“Ma’am? Ma’am, I am so sorry, but my boss wants to know why you’re loitering.”

Sasha flushed, becoming painfully aware of how long she had stared at the mural on the side of this building. The mural was captivatingly colorful and practically pulsed with geometric shapes that were just abstract enough to draw in the viewer with the desire to discover what they were. However, even after staring at the mural for upwards of ten minutes on her way to work, Sasha could not determine their meaning. At one moment, the shapes became silhouettes of dancers, at another an architectural landscape, and at yet another, angular clouds.

Upon tearing her eyes from the wall and spinning around to face the chiding voice, Sasha’s pale complexion deepened to a strawberry red as she laid eyes on a truly stunning woman. Her deep, creamy skin glinted under the sunlight, long, tight curls piled on her head’s right side. Her mouth formed a smirk as Sasha stared, but even with that smug expression, the lady looked beautiful. A pink blazer paired with a cobalt blue skirt usually wouldn’t seem professional, but with her stature and poise, she looked expensive and unique.

Sasha looked down instinctively, not wanting to ogle this poor woman any longer. However, staring at the concrete sidewalk only led Sasha’s eyes to a pair of frighteningly tall, pink stiletto pumps. Pumps which then connected to a pair of slender, toned, mile-long legs.

“Um.. girl? Are you good?” The woman asked. The question seemed to reflect concern, but the smirk had transformed into nothing short of a full, shit-eating grin.

Good job, Sasha. You look great. Get yourself together.

Sasha steeled herself enough to meet the woman’s eyes.

Talk about art. You can do that.

“I’m so sorry, I just was looking at this mural. The colors and composition are so wonderfully vibrant. The style speaks to traditional cubism, but the interplay of light, shade, and color reminds me of a Charles Demuth.” Sasha explained, eagerly gesticulating. Even then, she cringed slightly when her hand movements caused the pins littering her own blazer to rattle loudly.

After a brief pause, the woman responded.

“Well, I’m happy you like it so much. In fact, do you want to meet who designed it?”

“Absolutely! If you could give me a phone number, or an email, I’ll contact her. And I’ll get out of your hair, sorry about all that.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna go through all that trouble. You can just talk to me now.”

Fuck. Sasha was a goner.

“Really?”

“Yes! Do I look like I’m playing?”

“Oh my god…” Sasha muttered, the expression slipping from her lips. And upon seeing Sasha so flustered, this beautiful, perfect woman threw her head back in a full laugh.

It was the most lovely laugh Sasha had ever heard. It sounded deep like thunder in the mountains, and it sounded warm like an embrace or a crackling fireplace. It sounded like all these things, and Sasha felt like she was experiencing all of them at once. Maybe this mystery woman of Sasha’s dreams was laughing at her, but she would be ridiculed at forever if it meant she got to hear that laugh.

Double fuck.

“I’m Shea Couleé,” the woman said, sticking out her delicately manicured hand.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Couleé,” Sasha replied, earnestly (probably too much so) grabbing Shea’s hand and shaking it, “I’m Sasha Velour.”

“Oh, call me Shea. It’s Miss Couleé only if you nasty.”

Sasha felt more blood rise to her cheeks, opening her mouth to only remain silent. Shea pulled Sasha in slightly close, so her cheek practically touched Sasha’s ear. They were much too close for strangers, but for an enamored woman, perfectly fine.

Whispering against Sasha’s ear, Shea muttered, “By all means, continue to call me Miss, then…”

Shea (damn her!) let go of Sasha’s hand and stepped back into her original position.

“You know what, Sasha? Why don’t we talk about this,” Shea flippantly gestured to the mural, “over drinks later today?”

How can she treat such a masterpiece so casually?

“I’d love to do that, Shea.”

“Catch you later, Miss Velour,” Shea tossed the phrase over her shoulder, strutting back into the shop, leaving Sasha standing bug-eyed on the sidewalk.

As Sasha hurried away to work as initially intended, she could only focus on Shea’s breath on her ear and the weight of her hand on her wrist.

————-

Sasha’s job mostly consisted of staring at a screen for hours on end, so going out to the bar provided a nice change of pace. She enjoyed her job authoring write-ups of local art galleries, but the near-silence of the office and the polite hushed tones of artistic display spaces felt suffocating after long stretches. In places built on self-expression, the most primitive form had to wait until after work to shine.

The additional mounting excitement and nervousness of Sasha’s meeting with Shea didn’t help with anything. Shea had slipped Sasha her business card before returning to her job, and all-day, Sasha couldn’t help but run her fingers over the cardstock to remind herself that the interaction that she had was real.

While Sasha might typically reject the stereotype of the helpless, love-stricken woman (particularly when viewed through the eyes of men), Sasha felt like nothing short of François Boucher’s The Love Letter. Normally, she found the grazing animals, the flowers, the women swathed in layers of pastel silks to be patronizing and suffocating in its delicacy and adorable pleasantries. Sasha now could not relate more. Maybe her pastoral paradise could be a desk and ergonomic chair. Perhaps her love letter could be the business card of a beautiful stranger.

Even later, at the bar, Sasha’s fingers carefully traced the edge of the card. The repetitive motions felt soothing, although it was hard to calm the tidal wave of nervousness in her head.

What should I say? It’s been five minutes since 7:30. That’s normal. That’s fashionably late still. Was I supposed to change before I got here? Does she… like me?

Sasha’s mind raced, but it kept getting stuck on that final question. Like a record player skipping over and over.

It’s been ten minutes since when we agreed. She should be here. She won’t come. It’s a joke. I hope it won’t look strange if I just leave the bar alone when she doesn’t show up. She can’t like me. Could she like me?

Sasha hooked and unhooked her heels on the rest of the barstool. She took a pen from her purse and began to draw on Shea’s business card.

It’s been fifteen minutes. I’ve been duped. I should have known. It was too good to be true–

“Sasha! Sorry I’m late.”

Triple fuck.

Sasha needed to get used to how gorgeous Shea looked because constantly getting this flustered was frankly getting embarrassing. However, Shea wasn’t making it easy.

Shea had changed into a vibrant, pink, crushed velvet minidress that shone under the bar’s lights. As she approached Sasha at the bar, she smiled widely and met Sasha’s eyes.

Putting her hand on Sasha’s back, Shea took the seat next to her.

“You wear pencil skirts to the club?” Shea asked, bemused eyes flickering from Sasha’s blouse to the aforementioned skirt.

“I didn’t have time to change, I’m sorry,” Sasha said, torn between her desire to examine how she looked and her desire to continue staring.

“No, it’s all good, girl! You look just stunning here as you did on the sidewalk today. So you wanted to talk about my mural?”

This casual, kind, and flirtatious manner kept throwing Sasha off her rhythm. One second she had her–very professional–thoughts and questions organized, and a whim, her thoughts were cast into the sea.

“Um, well, yes. I just thought your mural was so lovely and captivating. It captures such a specific artistic feeling, and I wanted… I wanted to know what your inspiration was?” Sasha forced the first part of the question out but gradually took a stride as her mind focused and settled itself once more on the topic at hand.

“I’ve always loved, like, cubism and the reduction of big things to more abstract shapes. I wanted to do that, but for something that was already semi-abstract, leave it up to the viewer. I love pop art and bright colors, and I figured, this’ll attract shoppers,” Shea leaned in, smiling again, “and some hot women.”

Sasha, to her delight, learned so much about Shea as the dinner continues.

Shea hadn’t had formal painting or visual arts training, instead studying fashion and design. Her job at the store exists mostly to pay the bills, but she volunteered to do the mural for free. Shea loves pairing pastels and saturated colors. Shea likes savory foods more than sweet foods. Shea was raised in Chicago and moved to New York for school. Shea was single. Shea was very single.

As the conversation continued, Sasha found herself in turn revealing more and more about herself. Her love of Keith Haring’s Unfinished Painting and Jean Michel-Basquiat’s Untitled (Skull). Her dream of owning a gallery specializing in queer art. Her disdain for salty snacks. Her beloved dog Vanya. How she was single. Very single.

The conversation also served to distract Sasha from the copious amounts of alcohol she and Shea were consuming. Alcohol that loosened Sasha further and further, to the point that her inhibitions began to evaporate.

“I’m glad that you liked my mural. If you hadn’t looked at it for so goddamned long, we wouldn’t have met,” Shea and Sasha both laughed, and as Shea rested her hand on Sasha’s shoulder, Sasha just looked at her.

Sasha had already heard the sound of Shea’s laugh, but being able to watch her laugh added an entirely new dimension to the experience. When Shea laughed, she’d throw her head back, tossing her long black curls. Her eyes would scrunch, and the light caught on her cheeks.

God. Every part of her shone and sparkled. Just existing near her made Sasha feel strangely buoyant and pleasant. It felt like she got to witness someone massively special and joyous and who, in turn, made Sasha feel special herself.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How beautiful you are when you laugh. And smile. And do most anything.”

“I like the way you talk, Sasha”

“That I do it about you?”

“No, bitch!” Shea says, giggling, “Your voice and the phrases you use. I love it. I feel like I’m listening to a hot, hipster audiobook. You don’t think that’s creepy, right?”

“I don’t think it’s creepy. I don’t think I can think ill of you at all right now”

Shea laughs again.

“I like you a lot Sasha,” Shea says. Suddenly, she stands up and grabs Sasha’s hand. “Dance with me?” Shea asks, nodding her head to the masses of people on the main dance floor.

Sasha eagerly followed Shea, and as the lights and alcohol blurred the edges of her vision and the writhing bodies bumped into her own, Sasha couldn’t look away from the vision of Shea’s beautiful hand clutching her own. That beautiful, warm grasp. Even in a sea of stimulation, the only thing that mattered was Shea’s hand.

After making it to an open spot, Shea dropped Sasha’s hand and they both began to dance.

When Sasha danced, she danced mostly with her hands and upper body, in a style some might call “stilted” and the more charitable might call “interpretive”. Sasha liked to claim that it came from a slightly limited range of motion caused by a pencil skirt. While that might have been somewhat true, Sasha preferred not to dwell on the fact that she had turned up going to parties in exchange for spoken word poetry nights.

Shea, meanwhile, danced like water. She kicked, jumped, and shook, but each movement blended into each other. Her braids had been tucked into a ponytail, but still swished back and forth as she moved, emphasizing her movements.

What changed?

The music didn’t slow down.

Maybe it was Shea saying that she “loved Sasha’s ‘dad dancing’”.

Maybe it was the lights shifting to an electric blue color that shone on Shea’s hair and skin, making her look like an ethereal vision.

Maybe it was Shea pausing from her dance to touch the assortment of pins on Sasha’s blazer, holding each one up to the light and pausing to read it.

Maybe nothing changed.

But Sasha felt so wonderful, so magical that she threw her arms around Shea’s neck. The music still pounded and shook her bones, but all Sasha knew was that she wanted to see Shea’s face. Wanted to feel it.

Lifting her hand from Shea’s neck, Sasha traced Shea’s cheekbones. The curve of her ear. Her smile lines.

Shea wrapped her arms around Sasha’s waist, rubbing small circles with her thumb, delicate circles that Sasha could feel through her skirt. As Sasha gently ran her thumb along Shea’s cheek, she saw Shea’s eyes flutter as she let out a large sigh.

Sasha felt like Henri Matisse’s Icarus. So obviously plummeting at lightspeed into this love, but for a brief moment in the unknown, the uncertain, silhouetted against the sky.

Wingless and among yellow stars. The only aspect of her being, a red, glowing heart. A brief moment of glory.

Shea’s sparkling eyes.

A brief moment.

Shea’s smile.

A brief moment.

They had danced around it long enough.

Sasha leaned upward, catching Shea’s lips with her own. Her hands moved downward, clutching Shea’s back, pressing Shea towards her. Shea sighed, and Sasha could feel the corners of her lips move upwards.

“Why?” Sasha whispered breathily onto Shea’s lips. “Why me? Why not anyone else?”

“Because no one else blushes so profusely at my words in their ears. No one else wants to talk about the philosophical implications of French impressionism on gender roles. No one else is a beautiful, unique, unibrowed and pin-covered woman who looks at my mural like it’s the greatest piece they’ve ever seen and then looks at me like I’m, like I’m some kinda magical being.

I wanna witness you, Sasha. I wanna witness you all the time.”

As they held each other close, Sasha put her racing mind to rest. Resting her head on Shea’s shoulder, she felt the music and sweat of the club gently fade away, replaced by the sound of two beating hearts.

#rpdr fanfiction #sasha velour #shea coulee #sashea #fluff #estuary #submission

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nadana-vhet · 4 years

Text

Champagne

Pairing(s): Unrequited AlphinaudxFem!WoL, Minor AlisaiexFem!WoL Rating: General Audiences When the Scions are invited to a celebratory ball to commemorate the end of the Dragonsong War, Warrior of Light N’adana Vhet loathes the idea of being the center of attention. She only wants to have this night so that she can be a normal kid - the chance to act like herself - for once.

Cross-Posted to Ao3.

Hi all! This is my first fic, I’ve had the idea of a Teen!WoL knockin’ around in my brain for a while and this became a 3AM fever dream. I just am love with the idea of a WoL the same age as the twins and the three of them dealing with the weight of the world on their shoulders! And in which Alphinaud has a mondo crush on the WoL because we all know he has a thing for catgirls *cough* y’shtola *cough*

Champagne

Tataru pinned the last of N’adana’s red curls in place, making sure the miqo’te’s thick hair stayed in place before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “There, that’s the last of them!”

N’adana stood from her spot on the floor, carefully picking up the skirts of the dress Count Edmont had commissioned to be custom-made for the Warrior of Light. It was tulle of muted light green with impossibly puffy sleeves that hung off her shoulders and cinched in at her wrists.

N’adana had insisted that Count Edmont needn’t go through all the trouble after the Scions had received an invitation from Ser Aymeric, graciously asking them to attend a celebratory ball. “This is your first Ishgardian ball, my dear! I must make sure the guests of my house are well taken care of.” He had been ragged the past few weeks, his eyes bloodshot and his mannerisms sluggish, which one were to expect, considering the loss of…

“Besides,” he had smiled softly at her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “you are akin to a daughter to me – a daughter I have never had. Please, allow me this.”

The lalafell had been pampering her all afternoon, doing her makeup and picking out jewelry in a rush of excitement. “Tataru, you needn’t-“

“Hush, you! Come here, I have one final touch.” N’adana obediently knelt back down as Tataru pulled out a length of silk ribbon, the same color and fabric as the layers that were sewn to the innermost layers of her skirt. “I asked the seamstress for a scrap of this gorgeous fabric! I thought it would look pretty if you used it like a necklace!”

N’adana surrendered a smile at the thoughtfulness of her friend. Tataru leaned up to tie the ribbon delicately around her throat, tying it in a manicured bow and adjusting it to perfection. “Perfect! Oh, N’adana, you look absolutely beautiful! Go look for yourself!” Her hands flew up excitedly as the miqo’te stood again and made her way over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room.

Her breath caught as she got her first full look at herself all afternoon, and for a moment she didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at her. If you took away her armor and put her in something light, it turns out the Warrior or Light was almost delicate. Her red hair was tamed and curled into manicured ringlets, tucked back and pinned in ways that framed her round face. The warm green of her dress matched her eyes, and by the Twelve, Tataru had even put makeup on her. The scars on her arms from countless battles were blurred and hidden by the semi-translucent fabric of her sleeves, and for a moment she felt like a normal teenager. She got to dress up in a pretty gown and let loose, even for just a single night. She could convince Thancred to try a sip of his champagne before finding Alphinaud in the crowd and making silly faces at him while he tried to have political conversations with Ishgardian nobles.

Just for tonight, she could just be a kid at a party.

She had requested as much from Ser Aymeric when they arrived, who graciously agreed and allowed this one night of solace for the young Warrior of Light. When he introduced the Scions to the crowd that night, he did so as a group, his short speech vague enough to leave it up to interpretation which one of them was truly the famed Warrior of Light.

Thankfully, most of the speculation fell to Thancred, who was more than eager to soak up the attention of the beautiful noblewomen that held onto his arm and offered him drinks. No one paid any mind to the elezen twins and the young miqo’te who were thankful to shirk their duties for the night. None of those plucky teenagers could possibly be the Warrior of Light, or so the crowd assumed, so at least they were free for the time being. The trio spent the evening stuffing their face with food, though Alphinaud periodically ran off to speak with some stranger or another. Alisaie and N’adana kept close to the edge of the ballroom, seated on a plush bench under an elaborate curtain of blue fabric.

“He was waxing poetic about how beautiful you look tonight, you know.” Alisaie mentioned, popping a piece of chocolate in her mouth and raising an eyebrow at N’adana. She was dressed for the occasion, too, in a dress of red velvet that was comfortable enough to allow her still-healing wounds to be bandaged and unrestrained underneath her loose bodice.

“Ah, I… figured. He was stuttering like an idiot when he saw me.” N’adana admitted sheepishly, the answer making Alisaie tilt her head in surprise. “We talked about it when we were traveling with Estinien and Ysayle.” She answered the question before it was asked, her voice catching on Ysayle’s name as she remembered her late friend.

“And?” Alisaie prompted further, an eagerness in her voice at the prospect of her brother having manned up enough to tell her about his affections.

N’adana shrugged, “I don’t feel the same, and I told him as much,” she admitted quietly, leaning back against the wall and picking a skewered cube of lamb from her plate, expensively seasoned and impossibly moist. She conveniently left out the why, especially since Alisaie was becoming such a close friend after rejoining them. It wasn’t as if she was crushing on her, exactly, but she feared her friend would look at her differently if she knew that she didn’t hold affections for any man. She never would.

Once Alisaie realized she wasn’t getting any more answers out of N’adana, she begrudgingly dropped the topic. “I would not wish my brother’s incessant nagging on anyone. I pity the woman whom he manages to charm one day,” she chuckled, popping another sweet morsel into her mouth. Her entire plate was filled with cakes and chocolates, and N’adana worried the elezen would make herself sick with all the sugar she was shoveling down her throat.

“Did you eat any real food today?” N’adana teased.

“Yes, mother.” Alisaie rolled her eyes, side-eyeing the miqo’te as she popped another chocolate into her mouth.

N’adana just chuckled and reached over to swipe one of the many assorted chocolates off Alisaie’s plate, who protested fiercely as the warrior bit down on the caramel-filled dessert. “…Want to go sucker Thancred into letting us try the champagne?”

A conspiratorial grin spread across Alisaie’s face, but before she could answer, Tataru strolled up in her pink taffeta gown and caught them red-handed. “No you don’t!” The lalafell reprimanded them with her hands on her hips.

“We just want a sip, Tataru!” N’adana hummed towards her favorite secretary, but Alisaie left her out to dry.

“I was going to decline. I am wont to partake in the sinful liquid.” Alisaie dramatically turned up her nose, which only made N’adana scoff in disbelief.

What a traitor!

However, Tataru wasn’t one to fall for Alisaie’s antics. “Likely story! How about instead of scheming and getting yourselves into trouble, would it kill you to, I don’t know, try dancing?”

N’adana grinned, putting her food to the side and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Well, if someone were to ask me to dance, mayhaps I would.”

A courel-like smile spread across Tataru’s face, holding out her hand towards the Warrior with poise and formality. “Miss N’adana Vhet, may I ask that you accompany me in a dance?”

This is worse than the time she cornered me in that game of Triple Triad, N’adana thought to herself begrudgingly as she took Tataru’s hand and let her lead them to their doom. N’adana leaned down to take Tataru’s hands, and despite the few first, awkward steps, they decided to drop the silly formalities and simply sway with each other as they giggled and twisted their hips, pushing and pulling opposite hands back and forth in the most clumsy manner, surely unfit for such a high-class event.

Soon enough, N’adana felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and was greeted by Thancred, his hair tied back and adorned in a sleek, black tuxedo. “I don’t mean to be rude, but may I steal your dance partner?” He asked politely, a characteristically roguish grin on his face as he glanced down at Tataru.

“Of course, Ser Waters.” N’adana chuckled, watching as Thancred simply picked Tataru up in one arm and swayed around the dance floor with her, likely talking about something or another in a manner that was fairly inconspicuous.

However, this left N’adana partnerless in the middle of the dance floor. Despite the truth of her title being hidden for tonight, there were plenty of Ishgardian nobles who would jump at the chance to speak with one of the Scions and try to speak about politics or trade deals or what-have-you.

Luckily, N’adana was saved as Alphinaud wordlessly grabbed her hand and pulled her into step with him, narrowly dodging a young elezen man who was nervously approaching her. “I apologize for not requesting a dance formally, but I am sure you shall forgive me once you learn that I spoke with that same man earlier – his entire countenance smells of onions.” Alphinaud crinkled his nose as he spoke lowly.

“You are forgiven, Alphinaud.” N’adana chuckled, fumbling as her friend patiently showed her a simple enough dance that didn’t make them look like utter fools. She watched his feet as best she could, clad in polished boots. The rest of him was adorned in a classy, thigh-length coat and fitted trousers. Alphinaud chattered about the various characters he had spoken with that night, sprinkling in jokes and the like, since he knew N’adana cared nothing of politics and nobility.

“Your sister told me what you said about me, you know.”

Alphinaud stumbled, catching himself awkwardly as he stuttered and tried to properly formulate a response. “I swear to the Twelve and all that is good-” he managed, shooting a harsh glance towards the bench where Alisaie had been sitting, but she was no where to be found.

“I’m glad she did.” N’adana smiled, trying to ease his worries. “Thank you, Alphinaud. I’m not afforded the luxury of feeling beautiful very often, so it’s… nice to hear sometimes, even if secondhand.”

Alphinaud lowered his gaze, searching her emerald eyes for any sense of mocking, but he found none. “I promise that you are beautiful all the time, even in the thick of battle.” He was nervous, but both their feelings had been let out in the open already. He would rather she know than to let herself believe that no one thought her beautiful.

N’adana blushed, her ears twitching and making the jewelry she wore jingle quietly at the sudden motion. “I appreciate it, Alphinaud,” she squeezed his hand, “You’re such a good friend, I’m sorry that I cannot return-“

Alphinaud cut her off with a shake of his head. “There is naught to apologize for, my friend. All I could ask for is to see you happy and safe.”

N’adana sighed, closing her eyes for a few moments and letting herself follow the pattern they had repeated enough for her to follow it with ease. “And I for you, Alphinaud. I’m going to do everything in my power to see that you and the rest of our friends will always be so.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and despite her delicate appearance, the fierceness of her personality and conviction shone through in her promise.

An affectionate smile graced Alphinaud’s face, but before he could respond, Alisaie appeared behind N’adana and tapped her shoulder. “I believe you have hogged our friend for long enough, hm?” She raised an eyebrow at her brother, “May I?”

N’adana took Alisaie’s outstretched hand, giving Alphinaud a wave before letting Alisaie lead, as she was wont to do. “I apologize if I did not rescue you from his incessant chattering fast enough,” she chuckled.

“He hadn’t mentioned anything about promising trade deals opening in Ishgard for a few minutes, so you were actually more timely than you think. I’m sure he would have started up again at any moment.” N’adana returned her friend’s quip with a giggle of her own, “But really, it was a nice conversation. I don’t like to throw my friends under the carriage, unlike someone at this party.”

Alisaie gasped in mock offense, “You cannot be talking about me! How rude!” Her braid swished back and forth as they waltzed, and N’adana quietly noticed she had replaced her normal ribbon with a strand of velvet that matched her dress. N’adana simply laughed again, bright and carefree, before Alisaie spun her around and let her dress twirl around her.

“Now that Tataru isn’t around to chastise us,” N’adana glanced around to make sure they weren’t going to be caught by their chaperone for the second time that night, “now would you like to find someone who will let us try that champagne? I’m sure we’ll never have the opportunity to try something that expensive ever again.”

Alisaie nodded eagerly as they snuck away from the dance floor, finally tracking down Thancred and suckering him into grabbing a flute of champagne for the pair. “Fine, fine. Just this one, for both of you,” he insisted before returning to a particularly pretty elezen woman with jet black hair and impossibly long eyelashes. The two nodded in understanding, knowing Thancred would find out one way or another if they hadn’t done what they promised.

Narrowly avoiding Tataru, the pair plucked Alphinaud mid-conversation with the man who smelled of onions and found a fairly quiet place to themselves – a balcony on the second floor of Aymeric’s estate, which looked out onto the city of Ishgard. The stars lit up the sky as they watched the city below them bustle with evening activity, passing the flute of champagne between the three of them as they gossiped and giggled with one another.

It wasn’t long before they became chilled after the heat of dancing wore off, but Alphinaud jumped up and returned moments later with a blanket and Ser Aymeric de Borel himself.

“I am full glad to see the three of you enjoying yourselves,” the Lord-Commander handed them a luscious fur blanket, which Alisaie wrapped around their collective shoulders, keeping N’adana in the middle, for she had the thinnest attire between the three of them. The elezen man bowed to the young Scions, “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Giving us this was more than enough of a gift, Ser Aymeric. Thank you.” N’adana smiled up at him, content for the moment. Her actions as Hydaelyn’s Chosen put such a kind-hearted and capable man in charge of a city that had become so dear to her. The Lord-Commander smiled softly at them before taking his leave, making sure the door to the balcony was cracked open so that they could return whenever they wished, if at all.

The party went on without the Warrior of Light and her beloved Levellieur twins, too busy trading stories and wondering about how the city below them would grow and move on from the Dragonsong War. Alphinaud and N’adana told Alisaie about Haurchefant and his boundless loyalty, and Alisaie in turn spoke of the faces she had met on her adventures without them. They stayed like this long into the night when the moon was high in the sky and the streets below them had quieted, leaving them in a silence that was only filled by their laughter and friendship.

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ff14 fanfic #alphinaud x wol #wol x alisaie #alphinaud leveilleur #alisaie leveilleur #teen!wol #fem wol #miqo'te wol #named wol #post-heavensward #unrequited crush #alphinaud #final fantasy xiv #alisaie #writing #faeluria writes

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

Text

Ectober Day 2 - Homecoming - We Welcome Back The Lords Of Chaos

Danny, Sam, Tucker and Valerie - lovingly known as the defect quartet - may have been held back one year but there’s no way they aren’t starting off their last year with dramatic bullshit. Because, honestly, they're tired of wearing masks and the lies. Besides, they’ve all moved to the Ghost Realm anyway, so what does it matter.

Danny lounges across the arms of a high backed chair, lazily swirling a half-filled wine glass of ectoplasm. Sighing up at Sams’ bedroom ceiling, “so we’re really doing this huh?”.

Tucker huffs from where he’s sprawled out on the floor, “might as well dude. It’s our last year to really throw Casper High through a loop”.

“And sources say, all the fuckers we should have graduated with last year will be there”.

Danny tilts his head down to look at Valerie, who’s repairing an ecto-blaster, chuckling at her, “is that your way of saying you spied on everyone?”.

Valerie just smirks making the halfa laugh, as Sam comes in the room. Everyone looks to her and takes in the deep red and orange knee-length dress made of felt leaves, dark purple under-bust corset; the arm sleeves long flowing sheer black and decorated in gold filigree. Black hair short and spiked, with leaves sticking out in places; her ever-present combat boots on, grapevines for shoelaces.

All three make a point of whistling.

Valerie kicks Tucker, “your turn to get dressed up, techno geek”.

Tucker grunts, “ladies first”. While Danny laughs, “Tuck fuck, you’re the one who’s going to enjoy this most. Parading around your royal ass for chics to fawn at”. Making Tucker groan as he rolls over and pushes to get up, “y’all are never going to let me live down that shit are you”.

“Nope”.

“Not a chance”.

“Wouldn’t think of it”.

Tucker just flips them off as he leaves the room.

Danny downs the rest of his glass and flips in the chair to be sprawled out on his stomach; chin up on the armrest and feet touching the floor. Blowing cold air at Valerie who sends him a dirty look as he speaks, “you’re not gonna take long are ya?”.

“I’m a girl”.

“But you’re well, you”.

“Asshole”, Valerie smacks him over the head with the butt of her gun, “but no, unlike you lot I’m not going all ghost royal to freaking homecoming”.

Sam rolls her eyes as she does her make up, “wait for prom, this is just basic lazy day royal garb”.

Tucker comes back in seconds later, a white intricately pleated kilt with gold trim and belt. Simple chain mail t-shirt and white robe, tied closed loosely with a silk rope. Topped off with a large bronze necklace etched with snakes and jackals, and wearing no less than fifteen gold, silver, and iron bracelets and rings; embedded with gemstones.

Danny, raising an eyebrow, “fucking speeding dressing? Is that a challenge?”.

“Dude no”, Tucker continuing to speak as he puts on a pair of sandals, “you can make your clothing appear instantly and out of thin air. Meanwhile, I simply calculated the highest rate off efficiency based on my clothing and accessories. You know, a real skill”.

Valerie snorts as she stands, tossing the ecto-gun on the bed, “I don’t know Tucker, creation and teleportation of damn ghost clothing sounds like a far superior skill. And less geeky”. Tucker makes a show of looking offended before pulling out black eyeliner and green eyeshadow; joining Sam at her vanity.

Danny flings over the chair, standing up as Valerie leaves to get dressed. Danny walks over to the vanity and squeezes his two friends' shoulders, “we are going to freak everyone out, now hand me an eye darkness stick”.

Sam snorts, handing Danny an eyeliner pencil, “drama queen”.

“King actually”.

Sam just rolls her eyes while Tucker points at her, “he’s right though. No one will be surprised by you, miss ooky spooky, but the rest of us? Just chaos”.

Danny snickers as he leans over them, pulling down at his eyelid as he lines his eyes, “poor Mr. Lancer’s going to have a never-ending stream of heart attacks this year and we’re starting it off today with a showy flashy bang. I’m surprised we even got Val to go along. The quartet’s truly complete”.

Sam smirks as she finishes off her lips with a metallic purple, gold shimmer layered over top, “I just want to see Paulina’s face. She couldn’t even afford Tucker’s outfit”.

“Isn’t she, like, a small-time model now or something?”.

“Yeah dude, for cars I think? Course she only stuck around Amity for your ghostly spandex covered ass”.

Valerie leans on the doorway after reentering, “well it is a great ass”.

Danny slaps his ass and winks exaggeratedly, “you mean it’s deadass drop-dead gorgeous”. While Sam and Tucker both turn their heads to take Valerie in, being the only one who isn’t some kind of ghost royalty. Knight was close enough to garner looking fancy as shit though. Having been knighted by all three of them.

Red titanium breastplate, waist plate, shin plates, and forearm plates; breastplate etched with black images of battling hellhounds, the rest etched with blood blossoms. Over top of a sheer black near floor-length pleated sleeveless dress, a dark cherry red silk knee-length long-sleeved pencil dress underneath that. Long curly hair pulled into a low ponytail and laying forward over her shoulder. Simple black titanium band rings on every finger and black dress shoes.

Danny makes a show of swooning as he hands her make up bag over. Which she uses to bop Danny on the nose with, as he leaves to change.

Shaking her head as she trades seats with Sam, who goes to sit on her bed and paint her nails black. Valerie only somewhat seriously asking, “so just how excessive is he going to look?”.

Sam chuckles, not even looking up, “good luck getting him to not wear a velvet cape”.

“My god what have I signed up for”.

Tucker snorts, “generalised suffering and ringing in the year of mischief”.

Danny dramatically swishes the vines covering the doorway out of the way, near shouting, “more like singing in the mighty reign of the defect quartet! Humanities rejects!”.

Valerie points towards his voice, “hey now, I still live in the Mortal Realm...mostly. I haven’t totally defected from normal human soci-”, cutting herself off as she turns around and gapes.

Danny’s standing there in a Superman pose, floor-length black crushed velvet cape with white plush lining; clasped together by two large green skulls, images of flames etched in pale green, and connected by a loosely hanging large blackened silver chain. Over top of a silk dark purple surcoat with black satin swirling embroidery, black leather double belt decorated with black spikes, and long-sleeved fine silver chainmail under it all. Black clawed titanium gauntlets and segmented knee-high boots of the same metal; both embedded with emeralds, rubies and onyx stones, at every joint and the cuffs. The whole ensemble finished off with a black leather choker, a green skull centrepiece with a large black obsidian ring hanging from its mouth.

Sam and Tucker start laughing at Valerie’s still gaping facial expression, while Danny slumps exaggeratedly, “What? Too much?”.

Tucker laughs hard, thankful his make up is already set, “dude! We’re going for street royal! Not ‘we’re going to the opera house’!”.

Danny sticks his arms out to the side slightly and looks down, “this is street royal”, plucking at the cape collar, “this cape is barely one step up from civvies”. Making Valerie finally lose it and start laughing her ass off. Wheezing, “you! You’ve been! Been here too long!”.

Tucker points at Danny’s shoes, “at least go for low top shoes and wrist-length gloves”.

Danny rolls his eyes and alters their length, before sticking in decent sized emerald earrings and giving himself black leggings, “happy?”.

Valerie shakes her head with a smile, “this school year is going to be a mess”.

Danny smirks, “perfect then. They have the audacity to hold these royal and knightly asses back a year then they deserve it. Plus”, pointing at everyone in turn, “how has no one figured shit out yet. Like this is getting sad, and it’s not like any one of us actually need the acceptance or even tolerance of the mortal world”.

Everyone sighs, “would still like it though”, before shrugging, “screw the lot of ‘em otherwise though”.

Tucker points at Danny, “really says a lot when even Mr. ‘Oh-Ancients-what-if-they-don't-accept-me?’ no longer gives a damn”.

Danny shrugs, “kind of hard to care when my folks and your folks, and maybe Val’s, are the only ones I’ll ever really be seeing again. And they’ve all accepted our crazy bullshit”.

Sam groans as she sticks her nails in Danny’s face for him to freeze-dry, “and lucky me, I get to be the odd one out in the acceptance train. But hey, it’s not like I ever actually cared. Not to mention Nana Ida is leaving the four of us everything”.

Valerie coughs, nearly messing up her dark grey lipstick, “wait, I’m included now?”.

Sam rolls her eyes, “duh. All of team Phantom is and you’ve officially joined the chaos”.

Danny smirks as he flops back down in the chair, “there’s no way out and nothing but dead ends. But rejoice! For death is only the beginning”.

Valerie squints at him as she finishes, “that's way more ominous than you think it is”. While Tucker gets up and rummages through Danny’s bag, lifting up their assorted headgear. Tossing it to each of them and smirking at Danny’s ‘simple’ three-peaked green crown covered in obsidian stones, “well at least this one doesn’t float, or burst into flames, or give off mist, or give off the horrifying wails and moans of the dead”.

“I’d like to actually be able to hear the music, Tuck”.

Danny adjusts his ‘small’ crown and admires everyone else. Sam in her silver elven like crown wrapped in ivy vines and leaves. Tucker’s golden band of coiling snakes and rubies. Valerie with a blackened silver headband with titanium black ram horns, green skull wrapped in vines with a snake winding through its eyes at the centre. Nodding curtly, “alright, y’all ready to go freak all our former and current classmates out?”. All three of them give devilish grins so Danny continues, “well then, it’ll be a pleasure doing this song and dance with you all”, nodding at Sam, “Botany Lordess NightShade”, nodding at Tucker, “Ranatheo Pharaoh T Duulaman”, nodding at Valerie, “High Dread Knight Rufescent”.

The three of them nod back, “Phantom, High Ghost King”. Before everyone bursts out into laughs as they hop into Sam’s pumpkin carriage drawn by three black horses with flaming manes. Deciding to save Danny’s skeleton procession and fanciful Litter, as their ride for prom.

They all agreed to arrive fashionably late, since being tardy was something all of them were well known for. So it seems no surprise to them that things have already gotten started by the time they get there. Danny’s the first to hop out and holds the carriage door for everyone else. A dude smoking outside going bug-eyed at them and coughing, though the quartet completely ignores him.

Tucker, snickering at Danny, “dude, you’re the highest royal of us all. The fuck you doing?”.

Danny smirks, “gotta take care of my underlings Tuck. And y’all are mortals after all”. All three of them flip him off before the defect quartet head inside sneakily; all of them seriously wondering how long it will take for anyone to notice them.

Valerie makes her way over to the food stand, which honestly seemed like a dumb idea to have in the same room as a high school dance. Munching on some cheesy snacks, there really wasn’t a Ghost Realm equivalent to this level of greasiness and synthetic cheese, when someone taps on her shoulder. Turning around to see Star with some curly-haired brunette. Star speaking with shock, “oh! Valerie?!?”. Valerie just waits and smirks into her drink as Star opens and closes her mouth before speaking, “why? How? Armour?”.

Valerie laughs, takes a sip of her drink and eats a few more cheesy snacks before responding, “yup, it’s the last year and none of you noticed just how weird we were. So we decided fuck it, let’s really be straight strange. And the armour is a status thing, Star. Kind of came with the whole getting knighted thing”.

The brunette speaking up while Star just stares, “you know, I heard there were some unusual people in this town but, uh, this is a bit above and beyond”.

Danny laughs from behind the two girls, “you really have no idea Brittney. There’s no place stranger”, making both girls jump.

But Star quickly collects herself, recognising Danny’s deep and rather unique voice before turning around and stopping. Rubbing at her eyes as Danny and Valerie laugh. Brittney nearly whispers, “how do you know my name?”.

Danny smirks and shrugs loosely, cape bunching up. While Valerie speaks, “oh don’t mind that. Danny knows everyone’s names”.

Star looks back to Valerie while pointing at Danny, “okay...What is going on here? Those are, that is a lot of precious gems”.

Danny waves her off, “these are my less decorated clothing. Probably the most dressed-down I’ve been in a solid month”, chuckling, “ah the joys of being royalty”.

Star chokes and it looks like they’ve finally started to get other people’s attention. Multiple girls are poking at Tucker’s finery, Sam looks to be arguing with some popular girls who took Paulina’s place after she graduated. Dash, Kwan and Dale slowly walking over while eyeballing Danny. “The Hell Fentit?”.

While Sam slips over, escaping the clutches of the younger A-Listers, “hey now, is that any way to talk to your future king”.

Dash scoffs, “Fenturd is no one’s king. What are you four pulling?”.

Danny laughs and pats Dash’s head, Dash goes to whack it away but goes through Danny’s intangible arm. Making Danny laugh even harder, smirking down at the stunned Dash, “I’m everyones king in death Dash. Well, if you become a ghost that is”.

Dale squeaks, “you’re a ghost!”.

Tucker tosses his arm around Danny as the two laugh, the jocks and girls changing to glaring at Tucker. Dash muttering, “what the hell”.

Tucker chuckles, “naw he ain’t flat out dead. None of us are. Ghost royals all the same though”, plucking at his gold bracelets, “comes with plenty of positives I’d say”, before flicking sand at Danny, who flicks snow back.

Sam glares and shoves her head in between the two boys, “how dare you leave me out”.

Danny points at her as she flicks leaves at them, Danny speaking with a shit-eating grin, “we’d never leaf you out”.

Star slowly looks back to Valerie, “when the heck did you all acquire powers and what’s up with the king thing?”.

Valerie chuckles as Star and Brittney join her in leaning against the food tables, Valerie replying, “like I said no one noticing was getting annoying so we’re not even bothering to hide it anymore”.

Danny sticks his head close and smiles, “if you recall, there was a point in time where the trio went from just the losers three to the weirdo trio. Quite a time that was. Ghosts popping up all of the sudden. The mad man king of ghosts stealing our town into another dimension only to be defeated and dethroned. Only for a certain someone to find out they were the rightful heir to said throne”.

Tucker joins in, “dude yeah, crazy shit. And then the school goes on weird field trips only for another certain someone to find their look-alike in an ancient museum while some crazy evil ghost awakens. And then of course, as things always happen, turns out that look-alike is the rebirth of the ancient ghost pharaoh and thus heir to the throne”.

Sam smirks, “and who could forget the time this dumb town decided to destroy all the plant life only for some crazy powerful ghost lord of plants to turn everyone into mindless zombies and fertiliser. Only for said ghosts to pick a certain someone as their queen and mother to all plants. Before, obviously, getting defeated”.

Valerie shrugs and smirks at Star, “and then what certain someone turns out to be a freakishly skilled fighter and ghost hunter, and friends with the aforementioned certain someone’s. A certain someone who only needed to share their secrets to unlock the door to knighthood”.

All four grin while everyone around just gapes at them, everyone in the room having gone silent shortly after Danny had started speaking.

Dash blinks before blurting out, “that’s bullshit”.

Danny rolls his eyes and snickers, “is that the ‘how dare you do better in life than me’ kind of ‘that’s bullshit’ or the ‘you are lying’ kind of ‘that’s bullshit’?”.

Dash glares at him and crosses his arms, “the second Fentoad. You four are weird but that’s it”.

The four exchange glances and snicker.

Star shakes her head and puts on a smile, “well whatever, you’re all here so things can actually start now”.

Valerie raises an eyebrow while Danny asks, “wait what?”.

Star nods to someone and suddenly a banner drops down reading ‘Respect, Protect And Never Forget. The Defect Quartet!’, and the music starts up in genuine, playing weird intense songs that are decidedly not normally played at any dances. Balloons and streamers start going off all over the place; most people breaking out into erratic dance, everything from the monster mash to the creep. One person appears to be doing a mash-up of the chicken dance and cotton eye joe. Anyone not dancing wildly in the whirlwind of streamers and flashing lights is leaning against the gymnasium walls watching the chaos.

Danny makes a show of looking like he’s about to faint, “they love us, they really really love us! Catch me”, before going to fall over.

All three others speaking in unison, “no”, as Danny just collapses on the floor.

Sam points at Dash who just finished doing the wiggle, “don’t you jerks hate us?”.

Dash shrugs, “Danny’s the only one I could pummel that would still stand up to me. Not to mention he never seemed to actually get injured”.

Danny blinks and tilts his head, still laying on the ground, “you actually noticed that?”, laughing, “sweet Ancients someone did actually notice something!”.

A couple of people who were just standing around come up, “plus you four are basically a staple of the school and town”.

“Your bullshit is Amity Parks hazing ritual”.

“You’re our mascots”.

Danny flings himself up and yanks the other three in for a tight hug, “guess we have to frequently visit our mortal lair now! Haha! The mortals have accepted their fate!”, before dragging them all onto the dance floor and all four of them break into weird ghost dances. The most ridiculous or over the top ones they can think of.

Danny’s bouncing around on his palms, cape dragging all over the floor and surcoat folding over his face. Sam is stomping and swaying her hands through the air like she walking through vines and pretending to have a seizure. Tucker looks to be doing a version of the robot that involves swords, bracelets jangling loudly. Valerie looks like she’s fencing while doing ballet, occasionally clanging on her breastplate for the sound effect.

The four bursting into an erratic mock fight as Freaks by Timmy Trumpet comes on. People laughing and eventually joining in. Danny notes that even Mr. Lancer, Mr. Lewis, Mrs, Testlauf and Ms. Trent seem to join in.

Danny shimmies his way over to Mr. Lancer, who’s now panting, elbowing the teacher who’s now shorter than him, “thought y’all would get back at us by making things as weird as possible huh? Try to shock us for a change?”.

Mr. Lancer waves him off, “as some would say, ringing in the new year and your last one”, standing up fully, “and yet you all still managed to startle everyone. What even is this Daniel?”.

Danny laughs exaggeratedly, “y’all only have the tip of the iceberg on our oddness. Literally in my case”, Danny swishes his cape out, snow falling out of it, as Danny goes back to the dance floor,

While Mr. Lancer is extremely confused, and then startled by Valerie coming up from behind and stomping her feet; making a show of standing ridged before bending over in laughter. Patting Mr. Lancer’s shoulder as she stands, “Mr. Lancer, you really should have expected us, especially Danny, to pull some shit. Out weirding him is honestly impossible. But hey, that’s the High King of Ghosts for you”.

Mr. Lancer coughs, “what?”, while Valerie winks and walks off. Mr. Lancer looks around, Samantha’s lifting a teacup made out of a leaf with a vine, Tucker seems to have a magically appearing red carpet of bandaging appearing in front of his feet and Mr. Lancer’s pretty sure he sees brown snakes winding around him in places, Valerie seems to be showing off a green and red board sword - where did that even come from? - to Mia, and Daniel is seemingly hopping around and changing the colour of the floor every time he lands. Mr. Lancer is officially both in awe and fear of what this year is going to be like. Watching as the Defect Quartet, which he honestly thought was a pretty insulting name for the group, all collapse in a heap on the ground; Daniel throwing his cape over the other three dramatically like a large blanket, while the music quietens down.

Star and Kwan, the previous years' homecoming queen and king, take the stage. Star grabbing the mic, “okay now that we’ve had a chance to adjust to the strange and bizarre again. It’s time for this years homecoming king and queen!”.

Star waits for the cheering to stop, though some are booing too, expected honestly. Clapping her hands, “so the votes were cast by everyone as they entered, meaning!”, Kwan holds up two envelopes that Star points at, “we don’t even have to wait!”.

People cheer and hold up cups while Star opens a pink one and Kwan opens a blue one. Meanwhile, Sam mutters about gender roles, stereotypes and colours.

Star smiling down at the paper and lifting up her head, “the homecoming queen is...Valerie Gray!”.

Valerie sticks her arms out to the side speaking as people cheer, “the fuck? I’m only here, like, half the classes?!?”.

Jesse elbows her above the metal, “but you have literally saved people's lives and not to mention basically taught everyone how to work ectoweapons”.

While Kwan leans into the mic, grinning like an idiot, “and the homecoming king is...Danny Fenton”.

Sam, Tucker and Valerie slowly look to Danny with expressions of mock horror, while people cheer. Danny blinks once, twice, three times before going stiff and pitching sideways, laughing and shouting, “you poor innocent fools!”.

Valerie sighs and grabs Danny’s arm, pushing up his cape to do so, and drags him with her towards the stage. Danny points behind him at Sam and Tucker, “chant as we rise”.

Sam and Tucker shrug and start stomping their feet, “before the armies, start the chaos. ‘Cause these boring skies will be no more”.

Dash snorts at Dale, “they are really going all-in on this act, aren’t they? Kind of makes me miss Highschool”.

“It’s only been a couple of months dude”.

While Danny bends forward to let Kwan awkwardly put the puffy homecoming king ‘crown’ over Danny’s actual crown. Valerie doing the same as Star tries to situate the tiara in between the horns. Star muttering at her, “this is absurd”. Making Valerie and Danny smirk.

Star and Kwan step to the side and bow at the crowd while Danny does silly hand waving; Valerie being more normal about it even if light is bouncing off her armour.

Star and Kwan hop down off the stage as Valerie grabs the mic and points at Danny, “the Zone were you all thinking putting him up here?”.

Multiple people shout at them about how they basically defined the town and school, were a vital part of the atmosphere and culture. And that Danny was basically the epicentre of it all.

Danny laughs and leans over the mic, looking at Valerie, “face it Val, I’m the perfect collection of blood, guts and other assorted candy store viscera”, before turning to the crowd, “Imma tell y’all a story. ‘Cause unholy guacamole, you have no clue”.

Valerie looks at him and snorts, “origin story time?”.

Danny just smirks before speaking, “you see, it was many years ago. Before you or I, but not really ‘cause I was here and so were most of you. I decided this reality wasn’t for me, space was always my shit. Hence why I get called space boy so much. Anyway, so I tried to aim for a better world. And then what happened? I accidentally opened a hole into the realm of the dead! And you know what I did? What I goddamn did? Waltzed in and screamed ‘Honey! I’m home!’”, clapping his hands before pointing them out at everyone, “and now I’m here with you fucks again, in a town known for its ghostliness. Which I am absolutely the epicentre, or whatever, for. So y’all want atmosphere, I’ll give ya atmosphere”, snapping his fingers making green mist appear in the air, “this year is going to be a dissection of weird for all to see!”, Danny leans against the podium, posture instantly becoming more serious, well sort of serious anyway, “but really, the lot of us genuinely debated whether to even stick ‘round Amity”, Danny laughs as multiple people gasp and some shout “no!” and “never leave us!”, most people just going along with the quartets dramatics at this point. Danny smirks as he continues, “this silly mortal plain can barely handle us, we are in league with the dead after all. But fuck it, this town’s dead enough for our asses and y’all clearly accept our shit”. Resulting in a bunch of cheering, even if most people are incredibly confused.

While Danny nods at Valerie to speak, letting her step up to the podium with a dramatic bow. Valerie chuckles and smiles at him before turning to the crowd, “so obviously I’m the least odd of the quartet. I’m also the only one that isn’t straight up accidental ghostly royalty”, Valerie shrugs, “up to you whether you believe any of us about our bullshit. But just keep in mind, we have been ‘away from town’ all summer. Take a good guess as to where. Anyway, let’s have a wild year and remember”, Valerie leans forward almost menacingly, metal wrist guards clanging on the podium, “this is your final chance to take us down”.

Danny throws his arm around Valerie, “and you call me ominous!”, turning to the crowd, “is our lives nothing but strange or just hard to believe? Question our behaviour but it’s never what you guess. So just let go of what you don’t know. You laugh at us and you laugh with us. But we can be anything you don’t want anyone to be”, snorting and laughing, “because we are humanities defects!”.

Valerie pushes him off the stage and grabs the mic, “he’s a drama queen, obviously”.

While multiple people whisper about how it seemed like the quartet are the ones who came up with their name, which honestly tracks.

Danny shouts from the ground, “KING!”, before springing up and adjusting the fake crown over top of his real one and smiling wide at everyone, “best boil my blood and gouge my eyes, for I’ll never learn to hold my tongue”.

Valerie shakes her head as she hops down from the stage, going with Danny for a dance, “you ominous bastard”.

Danny laughs as he takes her hand in his, “ah sweet sweet normalcy”.

While Tucker and Sam dance, snakes and vines weaving in a dance as well.

Mr. Lewis watches from the sidelines over the rim of a paper coffee cup, “you know, I thought aliens were the weirdest shit I was ever going to see”, shrugging, “but hey, at least no ones tried to kill me yet”.

While the defect quartet roamed the dance, confusing every person they talked to or stood next to or so much as looked at.

End.

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nctlvghts · 5 years

Text

Armoured heart (Part 1) {Cross Posting from ao3}

Comfortable spring breeze carried the sound of clanking swords. The trees around him green and flowering, Jaemin took a deep breath.

He watched as his prince pranced around in a make-pretend sword fight, though the swords were real, and the opponent was skilled, but they were in no battle field. Surrounded by servants dressed in fine fabrics and standing in broad daylight only some minute space away from the sea.

The sea. The only thing squire Na Jaemin would rather look at rather than watching his prince fight. He grew accustomed to standing outside in whichever type ofweather, tracking Jeno's movements, every little one, and he's been doing it for years on end. He could successfuly predict Jeno's next move in most situations, the way his feet shift across the floor, where his sword-free hand goes when he doesn't need it, even where his eyes trail when he's far enough from his opponent. He's been trained so thoroughly and he knew exactly what he needed to know.

Some servants in the castle spread rumors saying that Na Jaemin, the prince's squire, was more skilled in combat than the prince himself, to which Jaemin replied saying that it's a load nonsense and that he can not possibly be better than someone he's been training to be like for years, let alone a prince, with conquerers' blood. Granted, he's been trained by the same masters, and is one of the most highly skilled with the sword in their kingdom, but in no way better than his prince.

The sea was particularly blue on that spring day, the subtle breeze creating small waves Jaemin could follow with his eyes. He had always said that he envied the waves, so light and free, and it surprised him how he always got the same reply, regardless of who it was, they'd always say, "knock it off and stop being so dramatic"

"Jaemin", the prince was suddenly very close to Jaemin, it appeared he had been calling for a while longer than he intended.

"Your highness", Jaemin said, startled. He would always get lost while day dreaming about his surroundings, but Jeno's voice calling his name would usually wake him.

"Allow me to assist you" Jaemin said, carrying Jeno's sword and sheathing it.

"Take this" Jaemin spoke, handing the sword to the servant on their side, who placed it on a soft velvet bed. Jaemin often thought about how that sword's bed was more comfortable than two third's the kingdoms pillows.

Once Jaemin freed his hands, he moved on to Jeno's light armor, reaching to unbuckle the strap on his shoulder.

"No" Jeno said, briefly looking Jaemin in the eye.

"Inside" he completed.

Jaemin understood. Jeno's sword fight practices often lead to him getting tired and slightly pissy, but he was the nicest pissy person Jaemin knew.

He couldn't imagine the miserable lives of servants who had to take care of most of the people in the castle. He was glad he squires for Jeno. Not only was Jeno the prince, he was also Jaemin's childhood friend, despite the power dynamic, so he mostly enjoyed his role.

The prince walked ahead of his squire and towards the oak door leading to the indoors of the castle. The whole walk up to his wing with the two guards is silent, absolutely no words spoken. Jeno barely even breathed in Jaemin's direction. Heavy footsteps thomped on the stone floors.

Once they got to their destination the guards opened the wooden doors leading into Jeno's room, bowed down, stood on either side of the door, one holding a banner with the Lee sigil, and shut it once again.

The doors had barely fallen shut when Jeno pressed his lips onto Jaemin's. For a moment there were no hands, no touching, just lips pressing so passionately against Jaemin that the poor squire would have fall to the ground if not for his solid stance. Jaemin giggled quietly while pulling his hands up from between him and Jeno's close bodies and placing them on the back of his neck. Jaemin pressed further into the kiss, slithering his long fingers between the black hairs at the back of Jeno's head. Jeno wrapped both of his arms firmly around Jaemin's thin frame, gently yanking him closer by the waist. Jaemin broke the contact and pulled his head away in order to be able to see Jeno's full face. The squire's fingers found their way to a strand of hair on Jeno's face, twirling it around. Jaemin took a long look at Jeno's face, admiring his eyes, his cheekbones, his skin.

"mm...", Jaemin made a small satisfied sound, staring deeply into Jeno's features.

Jeno chuckled and blushed, flashing Jaemin his eye smile before burrying his face into Jaemin's neck and rocking their bodies from side to side on the cold floor, like they were doing a small still dance.

"I missed you", Jeno semi-whined, the sound muffled into Jaemin's neck.

"Me too" the squire says, smiling to himself and wrapping his arms crisscrossed around his prince's head.

Jeno turned his head so that his head was still resting on Jaemin's shoulder, but this time one side of his face facing up, tip of his nose barely touching Jaemin's neck. He breathed out gently, which tickled Jaemin.

"Stop, you're tickling me", Jaemin giggled and lifted Jeno's head in his hand, cheeks in palms. He looked into his eyes deeply this time, pecked his lips and maybe took a slight bit longer than usual for a peck. Their lips made quiet sounds when they pulled away, Jeno still had his eyes closed.

"You need to change out of your armor" Jaemin said,

"Must be very uncomfortable"

Jeno nodded in confirmation, allowing Jaemin to undo the buckles that kept his breastplate together.

Jeno was down to light clothes, which made him feel releaved in the warm weather.

"Tell the guards to call a servant to fetch me a bath" Jeno said before he pecked Jaemin's cheek gently.

"I'll do it" Jaemin's eyes lit up, and was ready to get going

"No, don't" Jeno pulled him by the waist into his chest once again

"You stay here with me" Jeno completed, "They go fetch a bath and get that bucket to my room, you stay here. This is your place"

Jaemin didn't know what to say, just blushed and relaxed into the backhug. Jeno was never much of a talker, let alone anyone to speak in such manner of possessiveness but he reminded himself that Jeno was a prince after all, he was born with the role of demanding people to do things.

While waiting for Jeno's bath to make its way into his room the boys cuddled on the prince's soft bed covered with silk sheets. Jaemin would often think about how much he hated the fact that Jeno wasn't the king's heir. He loved Jeno's older brother, Taeyong, dearly but he didn't believe he could control the kingdom wholely. He had a soft heart and many would take advantage of that. They would often joke that it would get him killed, but Jaemin was concerned that it won't turn out to only be a joke.

Familiar with Jeno, Jaemin knew he would make a great king. He's a great fighter, a very kind hearted man but had firm boundaries and mostly made good decisions, with the exception of the time they were 13 and he demanded they sneak into the forest which resulted in him getting bitten by a snake.

Jaemin cried violently that day, everybody at the castle assumed it was because he was scared of his punishment or because he failed his role in helping the prince, but in reality it wasn't about himself at all, it was his fear of losing his boy. He couldn't bear the thought of not having him, and so he cried for hours in his chamber while Jeno laid with the maesters, who were able to treat him with enough speed, and the first thing he said when he woke up was "it wasn't Jaemin's fault, please don't hurt him".

They heard a knock on the door.

"Your highness, your bath is ready"

They both jolted off of the bed, arms off of eachother, and stood 10 feet apart. Jeno fixed his posture and fixed his hair, Jaemin looked at the floor and put his hand behind his back.

"Bring it in, please"

Four female servants came in the door carrying the large wooden tub filled with steaming water, they placed it close to the large arch window, curtsied and left. They looked at Jaemin, most of them smiling his way, which he returned. He could even hear them giggling outside about him, but none of them saw anything as suspicious which was exactly what he wanted. The doors were shut once again.

Jeno walked closer to the tub and took his remaining clothes off, but didn't walk a step closer before turning around to Jaemin.

"Come on, come in" Jeno smiled

Jaemin sighed and slowly walked towards him.

"Jeno, I can't" he complained, "someone could see us" he completed.

"Jaem, no one can just walk into my room"

"But your father can." Jaemin stated firmly

Jeno signed and walked over to the table in the middle of his room, naked. He filled two cups with wine and took a sip from his own. He turned to face Jaemin.

"Father is busy today, he won't have the time to interrupt me" he states as he takes another sip.

He walks over to Jaemin and hands him the other cup of wine gently.

"Busy with what?" Jaemin inquires, raising an eyebrow, body still stiff in stance.

"Oh" Jeno makes a soun

"A feast" Jeno replies simply, "We have guests coming over, some royal family" he paused, "The ideal plan is wedding their daughter to my brother to form an alliance" he completed, drinking more wine and filling his cup again.

"Oh", Jaemin barely said much more and drank some of his wine. "Well if you insist"

The black haired boy walks back over to Jaemin, lightly pressing his palms onto his clothed chest.

"I insist" Jeno nodded smiling, carefully taking Jaemin out of his clothes.

The servants in the castle moved frantically. Music coming from the main hall was loud, accompanied with the continuous chattering of lords and ladies, squires and servants and the castles main guests.

Jisung glided into the main hall, wearing elegant light armour and supporting himself by the wall, several feet from the large feasting table that sat in the middle of the hall.

High above the feasting table and stretching across the length of the hall was a large glass ceiling, transparent and allowing the early afternoon sunlight in. Jisung could see the slits in the stone supporting the glass ceiling. The slits hid the arms holding the large, glamorous royal chandeliers. Just as the sun comes down, the chandeliers would be dropped at once, lighting up the entire hall.

Jisung noticed somebody sliding closer to his slide. He turned his face to his side.

"Jaemin!", Jisung exclaimed with a smile on his face

"Jisung!" Jaemin did the same, returning the boy's smile with a grin

They both turned their heads back to the table where the two royal families were seated.

King Lee seemed to be speaking passionately, and everyone else just nodded their heads continuously. The squires noticed the Lee brothers exchange quiet looks.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Jisung asked, having been wanting confirmation on his ideas of reasons a royal family would travel to a kingdom to speak with another rather than sending a messanger or a raven.

Jaemin breathed quietly, "I don't know" he said simply, knowing exactly what they were talking about.

"You have been a generous host, King Lee" King Choi spoke, "I believe it is time to discuss important matters"

Jeno’s father placed his utensils down against his plate and met the other man’s face.

He inhaled deeply, and said in one comfortable breath,

"It would be our house's and our kingdom's honour to ask for your daughter, Princess Choi Eun's hand in marriage to our elder son, Lee Taeyong" King Lee said swiftly. Taeyong tried his best to sit straight up in his chair, and turning his head to meet the princess' eyes, but her face wasn't meeting his.

The Choi's collectively made a suprised face.

"Oh" King Choi spoke, "I believe there is a misunderstanding"

"Princess Eun is already arranged a marriage to the Na family" said the queen of the foreign land, "We came here under the impression that we would arrange a tie between our daughter, Princes Somi, and your son, Prince Jeno" she completed, "I believe they're of the same age, and quite suitable for eachother! I hear you're a gracious fighter" she finished, this time directing her speech towards Jeno.

This time it was the Lees' turn to make a face, but they didn't. The two brothers and their father froze. Jeno stared at the plate infront of him. Taeyong on the other hand, stared at his younger brother with an expression which subtly hinted towards concern, knowing exactly what the problem was.

King Lee cleared his throat and sat pushing his shoulder blades stiffly gainst his chair. He picked up his cup, lifting it up with his hand, after what felt like an eternity.

Jeno’s head buzzed slightly. He was not ready for marriage. He was not willing,

and he loved a man.

His father slightly raised his left hand queing for the entire hall to go quiet, and as soon as they did, he announced loudly,

“To Jeno and Somi!”

#nct #prince au #history au #nomin #lee jeno #na jaemin #lee taeyong #park jisung #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct imagines #nct scenarios #boop boop kids

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