#fic by masque

[twistedtummies2]

The Dragon's Masque (AU; Malleus X Fem!Reader)

This is the first entry to a new AU I've had in mind for a few years now: an AU for Twisted Wonderland featuring Malleus Draconia as the Phantom of the Opera. It took a long time for me to figure out how I wanted to introduce this world, what points I wanted to hit right from the start, and what characters were really essential, since I've actually put a LOT of thought into this world. Hopefully this first story will prove an acceptable beginning.

This AU is inspired by various versions of the Phantom story, including the popular ALW musical, a 1990 miniseries starring Charles Dance, the 1943 film starring Claude Rains, and even a few nods to the book and other interpretations here and there. I've also included various little references, some more obvious than others, to a number of Disney movies; let's see how many of them you catch. ;) Two unique things: first of all, while there are some sort of implied kinks involved here, there is nothing DIRECTLY kinky in this tale. I decided to keep this first tale "safe," so to speak. It's also unique because, for the first time, the POV Main Character isn't a gender neutral figure: in this universe, the MC is the stand-in for Christine, and for various reasons, I felt it was best to keep the character as a female. So, if you're a lady yourself, or if you just don't mind that perspective...good! XD With that in mind, in honor of Malleus Draconia's birthday...here's the beginning of what I'm tagging as the Dragon's Masque AU. Hope you all enjoy!

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“Ugh…you’d think somebody as prissy as Madame Bette would clean up things better…” You glanced over your shoulder and couldn’t help but smile. Ace Trappola was slumping his way onto the stage of the grand and glorious opera house in which you both stood. The two of you lived and worked in the Corbeau de la Nuit Opera Company: a prestigious place that many in the city of Sage would have gladly given an arm and a leg to serve in. Of course, there was nothing particularly prestigious about your current position: dressed in a dusty apron as you swept and mopped the stage floor for the night. All was quiet. All of the ballet corps members and the other workers and residents of the opera house had gone off to bed, either in their private rooms or in their homes off-property. As far as you were aware, only yourself and Ace were left. You half-chuckled as he sat down on a large basket full of unwashed laundry, and fanned his face with a cap. Some of his red orange hair stuck to his brow, partially obscuring the heart-shaped tattoo he wore over one eye. “You know,” you brought up, pausing in your work and leaning on the broom, “You don’t HAVE to do this. You’re not a stagehand like I am.” Ace opened his eyes and smirked; a slightly roguish smile which carried a charm all its own. “And leave you lonely?” he teased. “Come on, we both know you’d just be sick without me around.” You rolled your eyes. “I’d get to hear you complain less,” you responded. “That sounds like a relief to be honest.” “Ha! We both know my complaining is the only thing that helps you sleep at night!” “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” Ace laughed and slapped his cap on his head. He was dressed a little better than you were, his red shirt and fine vest and trousers a contrast to the ragged old dress you wore. Aside from a bit of dust on his pant knees, he seemed to be much cleaner. “Well,” he sighed, as he rolled up his sleeves. “I better take these costumes to the washroom.” “Why?” “Uh…because that’s how you clean laundry? Jeeze, I know you’re not the smartest tool in the shed but-” You held out your broomstick in a teasingly threatening gesture; Ace immediately shut his gob and held his hands up in surrender. “I mean,” you smirked, and then your tone became more sincere, “Why do you help out like this? You’re Monsieur Fortesque’s stand-in, not a cleaner.” Your tone became teasing again as you added, “I’d almost think you just wanted to hang out with me more.” Ace’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

“Wh-wha…? HA! Hey now, d-don’t be silly!” he sputtered, and then quickly composed himself. “Ahem…if you really wanna know, Bette and Fortesque pay me to do this.” “They do?” “Yeah,” snorted Ace, and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder with a slight sneer. “Seems the Prima Donna and her favorite tenor like getting back to their fancy-pants townhouse as soon as they can, and - don’t know if you noticed - but you’re kind of the only stagehand we’ve got on the late shift most nights.” You shrugged. You had noticed, but you didn’t especially mind: Manager Crowley had arranged things as such. At the time you came to the Corbeau de la Nuit, you didn’t have any other place to go. You’d come here looking for a job, without a home, without much money to fend for yourself…and presently, in the 1880s, there weren’t very many obvious opportunities to strike out on your own for your gender. If he wanted to make you the sole stage-cleaner each night, you saw no grounds to complain. “So,” Ace continued, “They made a deal that if I help clean up the dressing rooms after they were done with each rehearsal or performance, they’d kick a little extra cash my way, on top of my salary for working here. Besides, not like I’ve got a lot else to do, since I haven’t had a chance to do much ‘standing in’ to begin with…” A glimmer of disappointed sadness flickered over Ace’s handsome features. Your smile softened; while most opera companies had rotating casts and chances for alternate players, Fortesque and Bette were notoriously stingy when it came to giving up time onstage. In that way, the tenor and the lead soprano of the opera house were a perfect couple: each craved the spotlight as much as the other, and neither would dream of giving it up to an even slightly lower-class young man like Ace. They were snobs, as well as selfish hams. You propped up the broom you held against one of the wings, and then trotted over to Ace to place a hand on his shoulder. He blinked and looked up, a bit surprised by the action. You smiled kindly. “One day, you’ll get your chance,” you promised him. “And I hope I’m there to see it happen.” Ace swallowed almost imperceptibly, as his cheeks flushed again. He grumbled something and tugged at his cap to try and hide his blush. “Yeah, well…can’t come soon enough,” he muttered, then smirked. “Hey, maybe we could perform together.” You giggled. Now it was your turn to blush. “I’m a stagehand, not a singer.” “Tell that to my ears,” Ace snorted, then his tone sudden became more sincere. “Seriously, your voice isn’t half bad. You could do something with it.” “If I had a chance, maybe,” you admitted, then shrugged. “But I don’t think anybody here is gonna give the lonely janitor who cleans up their footprints every night much of a shot.” Ace nodded sympathetically, then smirked. “Well, hey, if I keep having to do stuff like this,” he teased, gesturing towards the laundry basket, “Maybe you and I could swap out: you could sing, and I could do the cleaning! Heck, if they’re asking me to help like that, clearly I’m doing a better job than you!” You responded by swatting him with a washcloth. You took a little more pleasure than you liked to admit in the almost comical yelp he let out in surprise. “Just go get those dresses cleaned up!” you snapped, but you couldn’t help smile. “Then you can get to bed.” “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll finish up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Ace shrugged and agreed; he clearly cared more about sleeping than sticking around at that point, judging from the monstrous yawn he let out before picking up the laundry basket and staggering offstage with it, heading for the washroom elsewhere in the opera house. Once again, you were alone in the grand auditorium of the opera house. Gilded grotesques looked down on you with sightless eyes as you finished sweeping, and then began to swab the proverbial deck with the mop. A few times, your eyes drifted up to the audience, or down into the orchestra pit, checking to make sure nothing was amiss that needed your attention: sometimes cats, mice, and other small, stray critters liked to sneak in, and while they rarely ever made it into the opera seats, you didn’t want to take the blame if they did. Not that you likely would, to be fair. More likely the blame would fall upon the Opera Ghost. A soft, chortling sort of laugh left you as you paused in your work, glancing up towards one particular spot of the audience: one of the box seats. Box Five. It was said that this was the preferred “haunting place” of the so-called “Phantom of the Opera.” Few had seen him and lived to tell the tale, and those who claimed they had seen him always described him the same way: a tall, dark figure, with raven locks, dressed in the elegant garments of a dapper aristocrat. His teeth were like swords, the devil-like horns upon his head were like spears, and the sound of his voice could change from a deadly hiss to a shocking thunderbolt. The most startling point of the supposed Ghost’s appearance, however, was the chalky mask he wore upon his face. This was the one point where all the stories differed: everyone said he wore a mask, but what was underneath it? You’d once heard Ruggie Bucchi - one of the members of the workers in the flies - describe him as having skin like yellow parchment, and claim that “a great black hole served as the nose that never grew.” Of course, Ruggie was given to exaggeration, and other descriptions were certainly present: in one description, he had a single eye, peering out with a heat like acid. In another, he had a hooked nose and bristly red hair, like some sort of goblin or beast. You didn’t buy any of these stories. There were many fantastic creatures and strange people in the world, to be sure…but somehow, you still didn’t feel there was any reason to believe in ghosts.

As you returned to your work, however, you couldn’t put the musings of the mysterious, supposed spectre out of your mind. You knew that many strange things happened in the opera house, at random intervals, which simply didn’t seem to have an explanation. Backdrops would come undone, though everybody in the flies insisted they’d been secured. Instruments, props, and even costume pieces would vanish without a trace; sometimes they’d never be seen again, other times they would be relocated…but in places where they frankly should not and logically could not have been. And many a ballet dancer would tell you that they had heard strange sounds and a disembodied voice from somewhere beneath their feet, or spotted a shadow that seemed to come out of nowhere, gliding along the wall. You didn’t know how many of these were just coincidences or the work of some prankster, but one thing you WERE sure of was that there had to be a rational explanation of some sort. Perhaps that was why you didn’t mind being alone, onstage, so late at night. Time passed silently at first as you mopped the stage…then, as you were about halfway finished, you suddenly heard a familiar sound: music, playing somewhere in the opera house. You paused to listen; the music seemed to come from an organ, and it was distant enough that you knew it was not coming from the orchestra, or anywhere TOO close by. At the same time, though, you couldn’t quite figure out where it WAS coming from: the music drifted through the audience seats and down into your ears, like vapor slowly slithering its way onto the stage from the farthest points of the wings, or water trickling from the not-gargoyles above.

Had you been any of the silly little ballet rats, you would have likely been spooked…indeed, even Ace might have been a bit put off. As it stood, you just smiled and chuckled; there was a chapel somewhere in the vast, sprawling expanse of the opera house. You’d never been there yourself, but you figured that was where the music likely came from. What was a church without an organ, right? You had, in fact, heard the music in the past, and it never concerned you: whoever was playing, and whyever they were playing, it was none of your business. So you shrugged and, as you had so often before, continued to work. As you did so, however, you suddenly realized the tune being played was one you recognized. In fact, it was a song you knew very well; you could remember your father singing it to you, as a lullaby, long ago. A smile painted your face as you began to move to the music, and then began to hum…and after a while, you began to sing to the melody itself… “I Wonder…I Wonder…I Wonder, why each little bird has a someone? To sing to, sweet things to! A gay little love melody!” Your eyes turned upwards as you stopped in your work, lost in the music; memories poured through your mind, and your eyes became slightly misty. You seemed to peer straight through the high and far-off ceiling of the opera house…past the the magnificent, crystal-strung chandelier which hung over your head, its gaslights dimmed till you finished your work and went to douse it completely… “I Wonder…I Wonder…if my heart keeps singing, will my song go winging? To someone, who’ll find me…and bring back a love song to-!” “Mademoiselle.” Startled, you jumped slightly and gasped. You hadn’t realized the music had stopped, nor had you realized anyone was in the room with you. At first you thought it might be Ace, but he never called you something so polite. You looked around, trying to spot the source of the voice.

“Who…who’s there?” you called out, holding tightly to the mop as if you might defend yourself with it.

A soft, amused laugh clucked its way through the stage area. Like the pipe organ before it, the sound seemed to drift out from everywhere, and yet nowhere, all at once.

“A friend. I hope,” the voice said. Its sound was low and dark, but with a sort of velvety smoothness that was comforting; a warm but somehow powerful voice, cozy yet great and terrible at the same time.

You paused, tilting your head…then, feeling a little silly, you lowered the broom.

“Where are you?” you asked, glancing about, trying to spot the source of the voice. “Don’t be afraid.”

The voice laughed louder than before.

“I am not afraid,” it replied, as if the very idea was a joke.

“Well, then come out,” you insisted.

The voice paused, then replied, almost matter-of-factly, “But then YOU will be afraid.”

“No I won’t,” you said, earnestly. “You say you’re a friend? Then prove it. Show yourself to me.”

Another pause, then the voice intoned, “As you wish.”

You heard footsteps, and suddenly realized they came from a spot above you. You looked up…and your eyes widened as you peered up into Box Five. From the shadows of the unlit box, you saw a figure emerge, slipping into a spot of dim illumination, thus coming into view. It seemed to slide from the shadows themselves, till you could make them out. They stood like a man, but they were dressed in dark clothes, making it hard to properly see them. The one thing you COULD see was the pale mask upon their face, and the glowing green eye that peered down at you from behind it. Your heart seized in your chest. “I know who you are,” you said, your soft voice carrying breathily through the performance chamber. The mask shifted as the figure cocked their head to one side. You saw the light glisten upon a pair of sharp, crooked-looking horns. “Do you?” they said, simply. You nodded, and a smile came to your face. “Well, I know what they CALL you, anyway,” you said, amiably. “You’re the Phantom of the Opera.” You couldn’t be totally sure, due to the darkness and the distance, but you swore the figure smirked slightly. “Guilty as charged,” they replied. “I’m surprised you’re still able to hide your fear.” “What makes you think I’m scared of you?” “Most everyone is.” “Most everyone are idiots,” you replied, blandly. The one visible eye of the “ghost” widened, then he barked out a laugh that echoed through the hall. It was a sound that likely would have chilled most people who heard it to the bone, but you really weren’t bothered at all. In fact, the sound was quite lovely; it almost seemed to carry a musicality of its own. And the laugh was not a sinister, cruel, or mocking laugh, either; the Phantom seemed genuinely and simply amused. “I suppose this cannot be denied,” he chuckled, and his head tilted the other way. “I did not realize someone so…intrepid was living in my opera house. Let alone someone with such a magical voice.” You blushed, and fidgeted on your feet. “You, uh…you heard a little bit of me singing, did you?” “I did,” the Phantom confirmed, simply, and you saw the head tilt in an elegant bow. “Heh heh…well, uh…I’m sorry about that-” “Don’t be.”

The voice said the words almost like a command. Immediately, you felt your mouth click shut. Then the voice became softer, lighter. You couldn’t be sure, but you swore you detected just the faintest tremor in it… Could it be the Phantom was…nervous? “Daughter of Man,” the Phantom began, in that strange tone, “You have a truly ASTONISHING voice. It is like an Angel’s: exquisite in color, tone, and shape…in fact, in almost every detail. Except, of course - and you will forgive me for the observation - it is clearly untrained.” “I’ve never really had a chance to-” “Please. Let me continue.” You did. The Phantom took a breath - you saw the fingers of a white-gloved hand brush against the guard rail of the box - before he went on. “Without proper training, your voice - despite its beauty - will wither away like old grapes upon the vine. It might never achieve the grand heights which I believe it can attain, if you allow it to blossom and grow. If you will allow me…I think I can help you.” Your expression showed your surprise, but you remained silent. You sensed the Phantom still had more to say. “As you have likely gathered, I am no TRUE spirit,” the Phantom confessed, then paused for just as second before elaborating: “I am many things, however…among them, a musician, and not one without my own training as a singer. I will gladly teach you all that I can, but there are a few conditions.” “Conditions?” you checked back, almost without meaning to. “Yes,” nodded the Not-Ghost from on high. “I have never taken on any students, for until tonight I never wanted to.” You gathered the weight in his words and smiled. “I’m not allowed to tell anyone who’s teaching me,” you figured out. “Precisely. And you are not allowed to bring anyone to where I shall teach you. Our sessions will be thoroughly private: just the two of us, alone. It would be awkward if a so-called ‘ghost’ became known as a mere music teacher, after all.” “I can understand that,” you admitted. You weren’t sure, but you thought the Phantom arched one eyebrow. “You are not…concerned?” he quizzed. “Not especially,” you said. “I think if you wanted to hurt me in any way, you would have done so already. There’s no need to go through all this if that’s your goal. And as far as I can remember, the ‘Opera Ghost’ never has hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it first.” “Your faith in me is already greatly appreciated. Am I to presume that you will accept my offer, Daughter of Man?” You nodded. There was no deep thinking involved. “I can’t think of a single reason to say no. Unless, of course, the price-” “There will be no price. No money. All I ask is that you be on time for our lessons, and we can work out a schedule tomorrow evening.” “Thank you,” you almost sighed with relief, then paused before asking. “Do you…really think my voice is…that good? That I can…do more with it?”

“I do not think it, Mademoiselle. I KNOW it.” A great swelling of pride leapt into your chest. “What is your name, my dear?” the Phantom asked. You gave it. The Phantom repeated it to himself; the crisp, cool way your name sounded upon his unseen lips gave you shivers of many kinds. “Now, what is your name?” you thought to ask. “Mine?” the Phantom replied. He seemed startled you would ask. “Well, unless you want me to just call you ‘Monsieur Fanotome,’ or something, but that seems kind of silly. Surely you have a name of your own.” Once again, you couldn’t be entirely certain, but you swore that in the one eye you saw gazing down upon you, something affectionate flickered. “I do, certainly,” the Phantom said, and took a breath: “My name - Child of Man, Angel of Music - is…”

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“Want to know a secret?” “Coo-coo!” “Promise not to tell?” “Coo-coo!” “We are standing by a wishing well!” You had never thought this day would come. You certainly never dreamed it would come this quickly. You did your best to hide your nerves, as you sat before the set piece of the well, and spoke to the puppeteered doves perched upon its edge. All the while, you were keenly aware of the presence of the audience, all gazing upon you with judgemental eyes…in a full house…in the grandest opera venue the city, perhaps even the country, had ever known. You tried to push the nerves out of your system; to stay in-character, to stay with the scene, as you twittered to the puppet-birds in a tone that almost matched their symphonic cooing. “Make a wish into the well! That’s all you have to do! And if you hear it echoing? Your wish may soon come true!” As you relaxed and let your voice flow, you thought of how you’d reached this point…while the chorus, hidden in the wings, echoed your singing… “I’m Wishing…” “I’m wishing!” “...For the one I love, to find me…” “To find me!” “...Today.” “Today!” Bette had been selected to play this role, of course, with her husband Fortesque as the leading man. But one prank too many from the mysterious opera ghost had finally done the trick for both, it seemed: after a sandbag nearly rendered the Madame unconscious, both she and her husband declared they were leaving the company, and would not be returning without a raise. (And considering how rich they already were, the likelihood of Crowley giving them one was next to nil.) While this was not the first time the two had gone through a blowup of this nature…the great problem was that the newest performance of a much-beloved opera, “La Belle au Bois Dormant,” was due to perform that night. Bette and her husband-accomplice likely hoped that would force Crowley into taking action. He did, but not the action they’d likely expected…and now, here you were. Your voice trained by your “special teacher,” and ready to show what all the work you’d both done could amount to. “I’m hoping…” “I’m hoping!”

“...And I’m dreaming of the nice things…” “The nice things!” “...He’ll say.” “He’ll say!” You then began to vocalize wordlessly, the riffs and calls once more echoed by the chorus. You did not turn to see, but you could faintly hear footsteps approaching you from behind. You knew who it was, of course. After all…the departure of the two stars meant that you weren’t the only one who would get to finally show your stuff in the spotlight. “I’m Wishing…” “I’m Wishing!” “...For the one I love, to find me…” “To find me!” “...Today.” “TODAY!” You jumped, startled, as you turned…and beheld the young, handsome figure of a man with terracotta-hued hair, dressed in a crimson-and-gold outfit that could only be worn by the wealthiest in the kingdom. Your eyes were immediately arrested by the warm, friendly, somewhat playful look in his own cherry-colored irises. “Oh…OH!” you exclaimed, as you got to your feet. You started to break away…but the young man (Ace, of course, in his costume) took hold of your hand, still smiling. “I’m awfully sorry!” the “Prince” told you, the “Beauty in the Woods.” His smile became almost embarrassed, yet encouraging, as he added: “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” “Oh, it wasn’t that!” you replied, somewhat shyly. “It’s just that you’re a…well, uh…” “A stranger?” the Prince finished, with a chuckle. “Mm-hm! And…and my aunts have always warned me not to talk to strangers!” “Very smart of them. But don’t you remember? We’ve met before!” You stopped short at that. “W-we…we have?” you blinked, innocently. “Of course!” the prince chortled, and then smiled in the most charming way possible as he looked deep into your eyes as he began to sing: “I know you, I walked with you Once Upon a Dream…” You squeaked as the “Prince” spun you around, and began to dance with you. He winked boyishly as he led you across the stage; around the forest floor, spinning around the well in a waltz.

“I know you! The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam!”

You smiled back at him, and soon fell into step with the charming youth, as he continued to croon.

“And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem! But if I know you, I know what you’ll do…”

He scooped you up close, pressing your bodies against one another with a tender, passionate smile.

“You’ll love me at once, the way you did Once Upon a Dream.”

Now it was your turn; a flicker of encouragement in Ace’s eyes, which weren’t due to his character, seemed to pass the ball to you, as he spun you around, and you twirled away. As you came to a stop, you curtseyed with a mischievous laugh.

“Yes, I know you,” you parroted back, letting your soprano ring out clear and true with each note. “I walked with you Once Upon a Dream!”

You scampered behind a tree on the set. Ace hurried after you, and peeked behind it…only for you to pop up from the other side and tickle him behind his ear, making him yelp and laugh.

“I know you! The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam!”

The Prince grinned almost wickedly and lunged, as if he meant to hug you, but you dove out of the way and swished behind him…before jokingly placing your hands over his eyes. This time, you led him around as he blindly stumbled a bit.

“And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem…”

Finally, you spun him around, and took his hands, and the two of you waltzed together once more.

“...But if I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once…”

Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and a lovestruck look crossed Ace’s face as he seemed to blush.

“...The way you did Once Upon a Dream.” With a final twirl, the two of you embraced. The audience applauded in an instant.

As you held Ace tightly, waiting for the applause to die down and the maestro to strike up the next bit of music on the program, you whispered into his ear…

“We finally made it. They love us.”

“Well, that’s not too surprising,” he whispered back, breath tickling your own ear now, and you could feel his lashes flicker as he winked jokingly. “We always knew they’d love me.”

You subtly pinched him for that one, and he pouted slightly before playing it off as part of the character with a laugh.

As the two of you got ready for the next tune, two separate figures were watching you intently from the audience. They seemed to care little about Ace, their attention fully enraptured by you, as you laughed, smiled, and sang along.

One of them had a fond, nostalgic look on his face, as he stared at you with wonder-filled eyes, colored peacock green. The tattoo of a spade was inked around one of his eyes, as he applauded you with an admiring grin.

“BRAVO!” he called out, then his voice lowered as he spoke to himself, eyes seeming to glisten. “Can it be…can it really be you…?” As he wondered and mused, the second figure never even noticed. White-gloved palms clapped together with an authoritative sound…illuminated by the dim lighting of Box Five. The area’s sole occupant, the one and only audience member present in the box seats there, smiled, grin curling upwards with pride…and something softer. Something…almost reverent. “Brava. Brava,” the lips parted to whisper in a sibilant yet sweet way. “Bravissima, my Angel…”

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KNOCK-KNOCKITY-KNOCK-KNOCK!

“Who’s there?”

“Just me, Ace! You decent?”

“Well, I’ve got clothes on, if that’s what you mean.”

Ace took the jocular invitation and opened the door to Madame Bette’s dressing room…or rather, on this evening, YOUR dressing room. You had changed out of your costume into a long, white dress, and had been busy tidying up, cleaning off your makeup and pulling the wig-pins out of your hair. You smiled as your scene partner entered, dressed in a white undershirt, and still in his costume bottoms.

“How dashing, my Prince,” you teased with a wink.

Ace just chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…forgive me if I wanted to pop in and say you did an AWESOME job tonight! I hate to admit it, but I kinda wasn’t sure if you’d be up to the challenge. You really saved us and pulled through!”

“Hey, the show must go on,” you shrugged, and smiled as you continued speaking to him, though your gaze now turned to the mirror. “Besides, I’ve been working on my voice for months now. I’m glad I finally got a chance to show what I can do. It was nerve-wracking, though!”

“I bet it was,” nodded Ace, then frowned. “Speaking of all that training, when are you going to introduce me to this guy who’s been teaching you? I wanna shake his hand for tonight.”

“I don’t think he does handshakes,” you chuckled. “And I told you, he prefers to keep a low profile.”

“Psh. Must be REALLY low, if you won’t even say his NAME,” huffed Ace. He paused, then bit his lip, and cleared his throat. “Ahem…so, uh…anyway, I…kinda had a question for you.”

“Oh?” you vocalized, inquiringly, looking up at him in a somewhat puzzled fashion. He was shifting rather anxiously on both of his feet. “What’s the matter? Did I miss something in the libretto, or-?”

“No, no! You were…absolutely perfect there,” Ace answered, with a slightly high-strung laugh that wasn’t like him at all. “It’s just…well…I was thinking-”

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKITY-KNOCK!

Both of you jumped, a bit surprised, as another knock came at the door. You couldn’t help but frown slightly; how many visitors were you going to have before you even finished getting out of costume?

“Hello?”

“Excuse me,” a voice called from the other side. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but can I come in?”

You and Ace looked at each other. He shrugged, clearly not sure what was going on.

“I suppose,” you answered, slowly.

The door opened once more, and another young man entered the room. He had dark hair, and eyes of a blue-green hue. A spade was tattooed over one of his eyes, and he dressed in a rather fine-looking blue suit: the sort only the nobility seemed able to afford. His smile was kind and slightly apprehensive as he stepped onto the scene…carrying a bouquet of blue roses. “Madamoiselle,” he greeted you, and his smile became teasing. “Where has your scarf gone?” Your eyes lit up and a wide smile stretched across your face. You could hardly believe it! “Deuce!” you exclaimed and jumped to your feet before rushing over and giving him a hug. “Oh, you made it! I wasn’t sure if you knew!” Deuce jumped slightly as he was hugged so tightly…then blushed red as a beet and tried to pull away. “Hey…h-hey, no getting mushy on me!” he chided. “You owe me, by the way, y’know I can’t stand opera!” “Unless I’M in it, right?” you joked, pulling back with a knowing smile. Deuce smiled back. “Well, if you’re in it, I’ll always try my best,” he promised. You smiled wider, then heard a cough that caught both of your attentions. Ace was standing nearby, waving, a sort of befuddled, somewhat frustrated look on his face. “Uh…hi? How are you?” he greeted, in a sarcastic manner. “Mind telling me who you are and what’s goin’ on?” Deuce nodded his head respectfully. “Deuce Spade. I’m a Viscount of the Queendom of Roses. I, uh…” He blushed and looked at you as he offered the flowers. “...I’ve known the star here for…a long time.” You giggled and took the roses gratefully, then turned to Ace and explained: “Deuce and I grew up together. My father was a musician who was patroned by his family, until…well…” “I see,” Ace replied, then narrowed his eyes at Deuce. “Funny, they’ve never mentioned you before.” “Well, we haven’t seen each other in a while, but we try to keep in touch through post,” Deuce shrugged, then his eyes lit up with excitement as he looked at you again. “Oh! Did you get that last letter I sent you? About that amazing new ‘gas-powered carriage’ my parents got? It is SO COOL! The thing moves faster than any horse, I even got to drive it here!” “Really!” you exclaimed, impressed. “You’ll have to show it to me sometime!” “I can show it to you right now,” Deuce said, with a smirk, and tossed his head back towards the door. “See, I was thinking we could go get something to eat, kinda celebrate your victory and…y’know…catch up a bit?”

You smiled apologetically as you took Deuce’s blue-gloved hand. “I’d love to, Deuce, but-” “-BUT,” Ace broke in, and you froze up as he slung one arm around your shoulder with a cocky smile, pointing to himself. “I’m afraid little miss Lead Soprano here already agreed to go out to dinner with ME for the evening!” “She did?” Deuce asked, looking disappointed. “I did?” you blinked, completely baffled. “Well, you were just about to,” sniffed Ace. “That’s what I was gonna ask you before I was so RUDELY interrupted.” He glared at Deuce with the sort of aggravated jealousy a schoolboy has when their favorite playmate is hanging out with somebody else. Deuce glared back in a similar manner. “What makes you think they would have said yes to that?” he asked, crossing his arms with a stern sort of scowl. “Well, I bet they’d rather hang out tonight with a FELLOW CAST MEMBER than some hoity-toity rich kid they haven’t seen in ages!” “That’s uncalled for!” snapped Deuce, jabbing a finger in Ace’s direction. “Besides, I think they’d much rather get to see an amazing new invention and eat somewhere nice for a change!” “‘Somewhere nice’?! Are you implying I wouldn’t take them somewhere nice?!” “Well, no offense, but I can probably afford better.” “I TAKE GREAT OFFENSE AT THAT!” “Sorry, sorry!” Deuce exclaimed, sounding genuinely contrite as he put up his hands. You couldn’t help but smile; he’d never liked to flaunt his own wealth. If anything, he was embarrassed by it. One of the reasons you liked him. “All the same,” Deuce went on, in a steady way, clearly trying to stay polite. “I’d love a chance to see my childhood friend again and chat about everything we’ve missed out on the past several years.” “And maybe you’ll get that chance. But not tonight,” harumphed Ace. “You don’t control her!” Deuce sneered. “Neither do you!” Ace sniped. “Why not ask what SHE wants?” Deuce growled. “I know what she wants!” “No, you don’t, and talking like that is going to get you a smack in the head, Ace.” Trappola subsided, flinching like a guilty dog being scolded by its owner, as you finally spoke up. Deuce smirked with triumph…but only for a fleeting moment as you turned to him again. “With that said, I’m sorry, Deuce, but I can’t go out to dinner tonight. I actually already have an engagement.”

Deuce’s eyes shot very wide and his face turned red. “Y-You’re…engaged?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT?!” “No, no, not engaged! Just…I meant I’m going out with somebody else for dinner tonight!”

“Yay!” Ace grinned.

“Not you,” you told him, blandly.

“Boo,” Ace pouted.

You couldn’t help but smirk with some affection before once more returning your attention to Deuce. You held up the flowers and thanked him for them before adding, “Maybe we can arrange a chance next week. Or, hey…this probably won’t be my only show, with everything going on. We’ll find another time.”

Deuce still looked a bit disappointed, but he also seemed somewhat relieved…presumably at the knowledge that you weren’t anyone’s fiance.

“Alright,” he conceded, then bit his lip before almost shyly asking, “Are you…sure you won’t come and see the new car? That’s what they call it; I guess it’s short for ‘carriage.’”

He mumbled the last several words and shrugged one shoulder. He looked so deeply disappointed you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. You placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded.

“Next time,” you said. “I promise.”

Deuce clearly felt a bit better hearing that.

“Now,” you said, and looked at both him and Ace. “Can you both go? I need to finish getting out of everything so I can make that dinner date.”

“Whatever,” shrugged Ace.

“Sure thing,” nodded Deuce.

The two turned around and headed for the door at the exact same time…then grunted as they each bumped into each other in the process. They backed up and gave each other much-too-patient smiles, their eyes filled with something close to a desire for homicide.

“After you, ‘Viscount,’” Ace slithered.

“No, after you, ‘sir,’” Deuce responded in a similar fashion.

They each nodded to each other…and promptly both tried to get out the door at the same time again, and bumped into one another even harder than before.

You facepalmed and had to bite your lip to hold back peals of giggles as, with much flailing of hands and fumbling of feet, the two finally managed to wedge themselves free from the room and out of the door.

“Goodnight!” you called to them, in a cheerful tone, as you watched them each give each other vengeful, envious glares before you shut the door at long last.

As soon as the two were gone, a sigh of relief left you. Off and on, throughout the little bickering session, you’d been glancing at the clock on the dressing room wall.

He’d be here any moment now, you were sure of it. “That was a close one,” you murmured to yourself. “Indeed. I was half tempted to take my true form and swallow them whole; my ears are going to ache for a month.” You whirled about, startled. There was a long, tall mirror in the dressing room, attached to a wall. The glass panel had slid aside, revealing a dark passage beyond.

Out of the passage he stepped: a tall, lean-but-muscular figure, garbed in a fancy black tuxedo, with white gloves. A long, purple cape stretched back behind his shoulders, and upon his head was a black fedora with a purple hatband…with two small holes cut into the brim to allow his horns passage. His jet black hair was tied into a ponytail with a purple ribbon, and his ears were pointed, almost elfen in appearance. One side of his face was covered by a perfectly polished porcelain mask, which was fastened - like his hair - with a purple ribbon. Behind the mask, all you could see was one of his eyes: each eye a toxic shade of green, with slit pupils, and irises that seemed to glow in the dark. The other half of his face was sculpted like marble, almost as pale as the stark white mask, with a softness and silkiness one could sense even without touching the skin. As he smiled, the points of long, sharp teeth could be seen. He was here. The Phantom of the Opera. But you knew him by another name now. “Good evening, Malleus,” you greeted him politely. “Good evening, Daughter of Man,” Malleus Draconia - the elusive Opera Ghost - responded, and bowed in a courtly fashion. “Your performance tonight nearly took my breath away. I am exceptionally proud of you.” “Thank you,” you said, feeling rather humbled by his praise…but your humility soon faded as you smirked. “Have you been watching me change this whole time?” Malleus seemed to bristle like an irritated cat at the suggestion. “You wound me, my Angel of Music,” he sniffed, snootily, and stood ramrod straight, swirling his dark violet cloak behind him. “I should hope you know I have better manners than that.” “I do, I just couldn’t help but tease,” you giggled, then cocked your head to the left. “Did you mean what you said?” Malleus cocked his head in the opposite direction, inquisitively. “About swallowing them whole. Ace and Deuce.” Malleus narrowed his eyes. “I know you consider them your friends,” he said to you. “You’ve told me of your correspondences with the Viscount, but I sense he comes to the opera for the wrong reasons.” “What do you mean?” “He values the beauty of faces, and of mechanical flim-flammery,” scoffed Malleus. “Not so much the beauty of music.” “Uh-huh,” you replied, not sure you really had grounds to disagree, and also not wanting to start an argument. “And what about Ace?” “Oh, Trappola is simply obnoxious at times.”

You snickered. Malleus smiled gently. “I like it when you laugh,” he remarked, faintly. “It’s almost as pleasant a sound as your singing.” “Thank you, Maestro,” you said, then held out your hand. “Now…shall we go?” Malleus smiled wider. One of his white gloves - the fingers long and the gloves tapered at the ends (perhaps to conceal claws? You’d never seen him with his gloves off) - stroked against your skin before he grasped your hand in his. Then, with the very gentlest of pulls, he led you into the passage through the mirror. His free hand swept out against the nearby wall. In one fluid motion, he picked up a lantern hanging on a hook there… …And also flipped a hidden switch. The mirror closed behind you. “Come with me, my Angel,” the Phantom intoned, his voice echoing into every corner of your mind, as he guided you down the long, dark, winding stairway that led somewhere deep below the opera house, within the very bowels of the city. “I have waited for this moment longer than you realize��”

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The way to the Phantom’s Lair was like something out of a fantasy. You’d traveled there many times by now, but somehow it never got any less fascinating. At the bottom of the stairs had waited Caesar; a stellar stallion whose reins were being held by one of Malleus’ servants - a young man named Silver, whose hair matched his name…and who you’d found sleeping standing up. Malleus was used to this by now. You rode upon Caesar as Malleus and Silver led him along a winding path, descending even further into the depths of the ground. During this part of the journey, you could hear nothing but your own breathing, and the steps of the horse and its leaders. Finally, you came to a small dock, through which the great river ran under the ground, in caverns and catacombs hidden far below the streets of Sage. Waiting here was a little boat, which Malleus personally piloted like a gondola, using a punting pole. Silver, meanwhile, hopped upon Caesar’s back, and road with him down a side path to some other part of the catacombs. All along the path across the water, to the final stage of your journey, the walls were decorated with candles, which never seemed to go out or even dim no matter the dampness. In between the candles were pieces of art, hung up like a gallery; numerous paintings and charcoal sketches, framed for only the viewing purposes of Malleus and his secret staff that dwelled with him beneath the ground. “Is that one new?” you asked, pointing at one particular painting as the two of you glided past in the boat. “Yes,” Malleus nodded. “Lilia purchased it only yesterday. I hadn’t expected tonight to be the opportunity when I would share it with you.” “You don’t sound like you’re bothered by that,” you smirked over your shoulder. Malleus smiled innocently and chuffed through his nose, then turned his attention forward again. As he continued to push the boat along towards his secret lair, you couldn’t help but watch Malleus…and gaze upon the mask he wore. You often wondered what he was hiding beneath it. You would have expected, with all his other oddities, he wouldn’t feel so self-conscious…and the other half of his face, which was visible, clearly was rather handsome. All this time, however, you’d never dared to really ask about the mask. You’d noticed it, naturally, and he’d noticed you doing so, and once or twice it would be brought up in conversation…but you hadn’t once wanted to ask what was beneath it. Tonight…that curiosity felt more intense than ever. After everything he’d done for you, after all you had accomplished together - his spirit and your voice, combined - didn’t you deserve to know a little more? “Is something the matter, Daughter of Man?” The perplexed question snapped you out of your musings. You shook your head, half to clear it, and half to answer Malleus’ inquiry. He shrugged, and returned his attention to the river. You turned away, and watched the river ahead. You could see a faint glow at the end of the tunnel you both now skimmed through. You were almost to his hidden home. Perhaps tonight, at dinner, you could find the chance to learn the one secret he kept even from you. The boat slunk its way through the underwater passage, and was skillfully harbored at a small, ramshackle sort of pier. The planks led up to a set of stone steps, which led up to a magnificent pipe organ: the half-dragon’s pride and joy. A crooked path led from the pipe organ to two caverns, which you knew housed the rest of the so-called Phantom’s home. One smaller cavern contained Malleus’ private chambers, while another, larger cavern had been separated into a kitchen and a dining room. You did not know where his Servants typically lived, though he had made it clear they did not live with him: they would leave and arrive at appointed hours. They - and yourself - were the only ones who could enter this secret sanctum…and live to tell about it. Not that any of you would. Why bother?

Malleus tied the boat off at the dock. He then snapped his fingers. You weren’t sure if it was real magic or some sort of mechanical trick, but when he did, huge candelabras rose from the water, and flared up on their own accord, providing better illumination to the dimly-lit catacombs. As the candles went alight, Malleus doffed his hat, hanging it upon a rack at the end of the pier, near the steps. He then undid the bit of silk rope that fastened his cape, and swirled it (perhaps more dramatically than he intended to) off of his shoulders. He then strode back along the pier and extended his gloved hands with a gentle, encouraging smile. You accepted both his hands in yours and cautiously stepped off the boat and onto the pier. Once you were side by side, he looped your arm into the crook of one of his own, then led you past the pipe organ - past other odds and ends that littered the main cavern - and towards the tunnel leading into the dining area. “Where are the others?” you asked, a bit surprised when no one else came to greet you. Typically, Lilia was there to say hello, and Sebek was there to kow-tow to his “liege” and say some half-degrading comment about yourself…which typically earned him a swat from Lilia or a stern glower from Malleus. “I gave them all the night off,” Malleus explained. “Silver will be joining them in due course, I suspect. I hope it won’t seem too forward, but…I rather wanted our little victory dinner tonight to be just between us, and there wasn’t much time to prepare.” “As long as Lilia didn’t do the cooking, I’m more than okay with that.” “Oh, please, don’t even jest about such things,” shuddered Malleus, the eye behind the mask showing sickly revulsion. “I would sooner remove this mask that subject you to that unholy torture.” “I doubt whatever’s under your mask can be worse than Lilia’s cooking,” you responded, pointedly. Feeling a bit daring, you reached up a hand to touch the masked cheek…only for Malleus’ own hand to guide yours away with a sort of cheeky smile. “There are only three things worse than Lilia’s cooking,” he replied. “One of them is what’s under this mask.” “Dare I ask what the other two are?” “Bette’s singing, and Bucchi’s breath.” You snorted with laughter and couldn’t help a cheeky smile of your own. “I notice that things like ‘death’ and ‘poison’ aren’t listed.” “You’ve tried Lilia’s cooking. Would you honestly say those are worse?” “I guess not.” The two of you laughed. You couldn’t help but marvel at that simple fact: to the rest of Sage, and especially to those who dwelled and worked in the Corbeau de la Nuit Opera House, the horned gentleman you walked with was a figure of fear and mystery. But here you both were, candidly (and poorly) joking about someone’s bad culinary habits, as if it were the most perfectly ordinary thing in the world. All the same, you couldn’t help a sadness that crept into your smile.

If Malleus genuinely thought that his face was worse than Lilia’s cooking, and death was better…well, that had to say something, simply put. You had little time to feel sorrow, however, as he brought you to the dining room. Two chairs had been set, one on each end of the table. The food was not piping hot, but it was still warm as it sat ready for you all; either he or someone in his little group must have set up shortly before he went to fetch you, or even while the two of you were on your way. There was roast beef, scalloped potatoes covered in some sort of cheese, buttery biscuits, a small basket of fresh fruits for one to choose from, and some spinach dip to accompany a collection of breadsticks. “Help yourself, My Angel,” Malleus intoned, as he gestured to the feast before you, bowing and sweeping out one hand grandly as the other went to his chest. “You have more than earned your fair share of all this tonight.” You blushed and thanked him. You served yourself a small bit of everything, but you knew the majority of all this food would be going to one of two places: either into the larder for storage and future consumption…or into the dragon’s belly. If there was one thing everyone who lived in, around, or (apparently) under the opera house seemed to share, it was a bizarrely voracious appetite. “Where did you get it all?” you thought to ask, as you took your own seat. “Oh, it’s quite simple: I had Silver and Sebek visit the market earlier today,” Malleus answered, as he tucked a white cloth napkin into his collar. “They picked up the meat, the potatoes, and-” “No, no, I mean…if Lilia didn’t cook, who did the cooking?” you elaborated. “Well, that’s rather a different question,” smirked Malleus. “You should say what you mean, Child of Man.” You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t think of what to say. You opened your mouth, and the unmasked eyebrow arched, as if warning you to think a little more about what came out of said mouth next. Finally, you huffed and sat back. Malleus chuckled, a look of playful victory in his eyes as he took up his knife and fork, and prepared to eat from his own plate. You took up your own pieces of cutlery, but paused before you actually began to eat. You watched as Malleus lifted a bite of roast beef to his mouth…watched his fangs part before he popped the morsel of meat into his jaws…then shook your head, face a little flushed, as you tried to focus on your own meal. All the while however, you could hear the half-dragon thrum as he tasted the supper before him, and couldn’t help but quiver. There were some things you loved about him you simply could not explain. Such thoughts soon left your mind, however, when you took your first bite of dinner. A startled sound left you, and your eyes widened. Malleus looked up immediately. “What’s the matter?” he asked. A slight note of anxiety filled his voice as he checked: “You don’t like the roast beef?” “N-No, it’s not that-” “Ah,” he sighed, almost despondently. “I know. It’s the spinach.” “No!” you exclaimed, and smiled. “Nothing is wrong! I…this is REALLY good!”

Malleus’ eyes widened a bit…then a look of great satisfaction painted his face. “Oh. Is that all?” he asked, chuckling, in a sort of tone that indicated he was trying not to show just how delighted he truly was. “Well, I’m…exceptionally glad to hear it.” “Seriously, who made this?” you had to inquire. “Silver?” Malleus didn’t answer, his eyes focused on the knife and fork sawing through his helping of roast beef. “It wasn’t Sebek, surely?” Malleus still didn’t answer…but as he swallowed another piece of meat, you suddenly noticed a how the skin of his one unmasked cheek seemed to darken faintly. It was then the pieces fit together in your head. “...You. You made this yourself, didn’t you?” Malleus smiled and looked up at you. You weren’t entirely sure, but you swore there was something almost bashful in the inclination of his head and the glimmer in his eyes. “I have talents beyond simply my music, my mortal friend,” he replied. “Not cooking. At least, you’ve never cooked before. You usually have someone bring food down here from the restaurant inside the Corbeau de la Nuit…or, if you’re desperate, you just ask Lilia to make something, and pray you’ll survive.” Normally, such a statement would have made Malleus laugh. It didn’t this time. “Was…was this your first time?” you asked, captivated by the idea. Malleus nodded and put down his cutlery, folding his hands and giving you a sort of hopeful look. “I trust my first attempt is acceptable?” “Very,” you smiled, and your smile grew as the full weight of what had happened, what you were tasting, struck you. “I…I’m flattered, Maestro. It really means a lot that you’d go through so much for me, with-” “For you, it is nothing, Daughter of Man,” Malleus replied, somewhat grandly, lifting a hand to halt your words. “I would wrestle with demons and angels for you. Learning how to properly use an oven and seasoning is the least I could manage.” “How DID you manage it?” “Well, first of all, I used a recipe book, and followed it diligently. Second of all, I asked Lilia for his advice…and proceeded to do the precise opposite of everything he told me.” “Yeah. That would do the trick.” Both of you laughed, and once again returned to your meal. Several times you looked up, watching as Malleus feasted. He ate politely, but he ate large portions; several times you saw him dab at his mouth as he rumbled faintly, cleaning up any juice and crumbs that speckled his lips and chin, marring the perfect skin. At one point, you paused as you noticed something. “Uh…you missed a spot.” Malleus paused and looked up at you. “Pardon?”

“Right here,” you said, and pointed to the side of your face where his mask rested. Draconia frowned and dabbed over his mask…then sighed softly as he saw a spot of liquid from his glass of sparkling grape juice. He’d poured one for each of you, with all the manners of a high-class butler. “Thank you,” he muttered, and lowered his napkin, frowning in a mildly frustrated manner. You paused, then turned your gaze to your food as you continued to eat. “You know,” you said, without looking up. “It might be easier to eat if you didn’t have part of your mouth covered by your mask.” You heard the knife and fork in Malleus Draconia’s hand scrape at the plate. Another sigh, louder than before, came from him. You looked up at last as you heard the unmistakable clatter of the utensils falling to the emptied plate. His look was very serious. “That is the second time, Mademoiselle, you have brought up my mask,” he said, his voice grave. “I’m beginning to think you have something you want to say about it. If so, say it.” You hesitated before nodding and speaking your mind: “I want to know what’s under it. I don’t understand why you keep your face hidden all the time. At first, I thought it was just because you were trying to play up the whole ‘creepy opera ghost’ act, but…by now, we’ve come to know each other so well-” “-And no matter how well someone knows another, there will always be things they keep private,” Malleus reprimanded in interruption. “Believe me, my dear, you do NOT want to see what is beneath this mask.” You bit your lip, then suddenly stood up. “Were you injured?” you blurted out. Malleus blinked. “Come again?” he responded, flatly. “Is that why you keep it covered? Is your face scarred? Or is there a medical reason? Like, is this some kind of way of keeping it from getting infected or something? I just…there has to be a reason you are so sure I don’t want to see! And who else HAS seen? Lilia? Silver? Anybody at all? If they can stand it, then why not-?” Malleus rose very swiftly, and you suddenly felt a jolt of nervousness flow through you. He towered over you as he strolled around the table and peered down at you with burning green eyes. “Darling,” he said, in a voice that was somehow so inviting and yet so thoroughly dangerous, all at once. “Please, do not ask any more questions about my mask. I keep it on for your sake, as much as my own. And I do not appreciate being pestered about it.” You bit your lip…then nodded and bowed your head. “I’m sorry,” you half-whispered, sincerely. “I…just…thought you might…trust me enough.” Malleus softened then. His smile returned and he cupped a hand under your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eye once more. “It is not my trust of you that is truly in danger,” he replied. “Tell me, my dear: do you trust me?”

He leaned close, whispering into your ear: “Are you afraid of me?” You answered honestly, and without hesitation, despite a certain tremble in your heart. “No. I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think I ever really have been. I never believed you were a ghost, and you’ve never done anything to make me feel like I should be scared. I know you’ve scared plenty of other people, but you’ve never done anybody harm, as far as I know. So…I don’t think I have a reason to be afraid.” “If you peered beneath the mask, that would change,” Malleus said, as firmly and simply as if it were just a fact of life. “That is the last thing I would want. I have…precious few people in my life who DON’T fear me.” He paused, then his voice quieted as he added, “I have precious few people in my life, in general. I…could not bear the thought of frightening you. Of losing you. So, please…never ask me to remove my mask.” You paused, then finally replied: “I won’t ask.” Malleus smiled wider, pleased with that answer, and then backed away from you. He took your hand in his and kissed the back of it, still smiling. “After dinner,” he said, “Would you perhaps accompany me back to the music chamber? I wish to hear you sing.” “You heard me sing earlier,” you couldn’t help but giggle. “In front of a crowd of hundreds.” “That WAS in front of a crowd of hundreds,” Malleus snorted. “I want to hear you sing something for me. Only for me. If that isn’t too much to ask.” “It isn’t,” you said, shaking your head. “I just asked a lot of you, obviously, and…well…I think you’re entitled to having something in return. I couldn’t have made it to tonight if it hadn’t been for you.” Malleus seemed prouder than ever before, as he sat back at the table. He poured himself another glass of sparkling grape, and held it up in toast. “Then let us drink and continue to feast in honor of our friendship,” he proclaimed. You lifted your cup and inclined your head, replying, “Yes. To our friendship.” Then both of you drank. But as you drank, and as Malleus served himself another heaping helping of roast beef, you couldn’t help a dark little desire fluttering in your head. You had told him you wouldn’t ask him to remove the mask…but now, more than ever, you were determined to see what was beneath it. For better or for worse.

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“BUUURRRP! Oof…oh, do pardon me…” You flushed and giggled, as Malleus patted his mouth and then his stomach. “My, my! Who knew the Opera Ghost could be so unmannerly?” you couldn’t help but tease, and nudged him with your elbow as you both walked towards the main sector of the sanctum, and the gilded organ that waited there. Malleus frowned, looking a bit affronted. “How is it unmannerly?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I said pardon me. Isn’t that a show of good manners? Or am I expected to say something else?” You just shook your head with a sort of weary amusement. “No, you showed good manners. But most people wouldn’t expect the Phantom to let out a sound that makes the whole cave shake.” Malleus blinked. “What sort of sound WOULD they expect me to make?” “I don’t know. Probably something like rattling chains.” “Why would I rattle chains? That seems both pointless and, for a lesser creature, likely taxing. But I suppose true ghosts DO have time to waste…” You just laughed. The Phantom guided you to his pipe organ. His usual elegance returned as he seated himself at the keys. He removed his gloves; he never liked playing with them on. Beneath the white kid leather, his hands were the same pale skin tone as the visible portion of his face. His nails were black, and came out to points, like claws. Some might have found the sight unsettling, but you were honestly quite taken with his hands: the fingers long and strong, thin but clearly all muscle. “Have you any requests?” he asked. “Your voice is all I need. The song can be left up to you.” “No. I prefer to leave the choice to you, Maestro,” you replied, with a somewhat mocking bow. Malleus rolled his eyes, and then flipped through the ledger of sheet music that was always perched in place at the organ. He selected a song he knew you were both familiar with. After pointing it out to make sure you knew the what he was going to play, and getting your agreement, he took a breath. His fingers plinked a few keys on the keyboard…then, they began to play in earnest, drumming out a few notes beneath their clawed tips, which bellowed from the great organ, carrying the mysterious tune high up through the vents of the opera house, to echo through its solemn halls and out to the empty stage. The place you’d first heard the music of the night. Now, you could hear it in all its splendor. Your heart seemed to beat faster, as you instinctively adopted the posture you’d been trained to use in recitals. Malleus grinned, approving of your poise, the tips of his fangs shining brightly. His voice boomed, echoing off the walls, overpowering even the pipe organ’s magnificent sound.

“Sing, My Angel of Music! Sing for me!” And so you did. “Have you ever yearned to go, past the world you think you know? Been enthralled to the call of the Beauty Underneath? Have you let it draw you in, past the place where dreams begin? Felt the full, breathless pull of the Beauty Underneath?” You closed your eyes, as the music shifted in tone, and seemed to flow through your blood like silk. “Can you taste it? Have you heard its music and embraced it? Do you crave the visions that it shows you?” You looked at Malleus again, as the music went on. “Do you wonder why it chose you? Like it knows you? Knows you have a darkness running through you? If you’re not afraid, I’ll show it to you.” He grinned as he looked up at you, and put in his own lyrics; the song was a duet. “You don’t fear the darkness, do you?” You shivered slightly, and shook your head, as if in answer to the question. He chuckled, and the organ sang its own tune as you prepared for the second verse. The song was one he had taught you a good while back: in the story from whence it came, the lyrics were to be sung between a teacher and a student. Once upon a time, that had been enough to summarize your relationship with the Phantom…but now, you sensed a deeper layer beneath the lyrics as they left your own mouth, as well as his. “Have you found yourself beguiled, by the dangerous and wild?” you sang, your voice carrying out with a mysterioso quality. “And been hooked, as you looked at the Beauty Underneath?” Another shiver went through you, as paper was flipped, and you hugged yourself; you suddenly felt a strange chill. “Have you felt your senses surge, and surrendered to the urge?” your voice shifted into a sort of husky tone, which was meant for more intimate scenes and melodies. “Tell me you know it too; know the Beauty Underneath!” Your eyes once more fell to Malleus, as it was his time to sing the next part. His voice was as rich and decadent as dark chocolate, and filled you with a warm, deep sweetness that few others had ever managed. “If it’s in you - in your skin, and bone, and blood, and sinew - if it doesn’t frighten you and shake you, there are places I can take you…” “I can taste it!” you sang back. “I have heard the music and embraced it! Even in the wonders you have shown me!” “It’s as if you’ve always known me,” Malleus responded, and there was such a depth of meaning in the way he sang it, you suddenly knew he was doing more than playing alongside you. You swallowed thinly as the key changed once again. Your voice shook slightly as you started the next segment, watching every motion Malleus made. You could see the way muscles rippled beneath the skin as his fingers danced along the keyboard, how his shoulders dipped and swung as he swayed like a serpent where he rested, his head oscillating in a reptilian fashion as he poured all his heart into the keys.

“It’s all so beautiful,” you began, and your voice soon strengthened again. “So strange, yet beautiful. Everything just as you said!” “And they’re so beautiful,” Malleus returned, and his eyes drifted from the sheet music and the keys towards your own hands, clasped before you. “Perhaps TOO beautiful. What I suspect cannot be. Still, they seem so much like me…” Your eyes connected - yours gazing into meaning-filled green irises - as you chorused together. “I can’t look away.” For just a moment, the music paused…then, with a sort of nervousness you never saw in the elegant Phantom before, he hammered at the keys again, and returned to the piece. In a flicker of an instant, you looked askance, tucking some hair behind your ear… …And noticed the purple ribbon of his mask. In that moment, you made your mind up to do something terribly drastic. Something part of you screamed was foolish on so many levels, but the rest of you could not ignore. Suddenly, you felt the need to see beneath the mask grow more intense than ever before. You wanted to know the face behind the voice, in every detail. With an impulse you were seemingly unable to control, you began to cautiously reach towards the mask…but then Malleus jerked his head towards you, and you pulled back again. He hadn’t noticed. There was an innocent joy, a delight, almost a childish exuberance in his elegant features, as he simply continued the piece, clearly waiting for you to pick up your cue. You did so quickly, as if you weren’t planning anything. “Are you ready?” “Yes!” “Come closer.” “Yes!” “Have no fear of the Beauty Underneath.” You reached a second time…but once again, his head jerked towards you, as he nodded and chuckled between his parts. He was still oblivious as you hurriedly pulled back your hand, giving an apprehensive sort of look he clearly didn’t catch. Your heart was beating more quickly as you knew what you were going to do. Half of you kept saying this was probably wrong…but another half of you, frankly, did not care. “You can face it.” “Yes!” “You can take it.” “Yes!” “You see through to the Beauty Underneath!” Your hands trembled as the music began to race to a crescendo, and the notes both of you sang became higher and higher. You kept them clasped, holding back the urge till you felt the moment was right.

“To the splendor!” “The splendor!” “And the glory!” “The glory!” “To the truth of the Beauty Underneath!” “Beauty Underneath!” “You’ll accept it?!” “YES!” “You’ll embrace it?!” “YES!” “LET ME SHOW YOU THE BEAUTY UNDER-” “AAAAARRRRRREEEEEIIIIIAAAAARRRRRGH!” Swiftly your fingers tore away the mask. You held the porcelain and ribbon construct in one hand…and in a second, fell back against the nearest wall. If you lived to be a hundred, you felt you should always remember the superhuman cry of grief and rage which the Phantom uttered the moment the costume piece was pulled free. Malleus rose to his full height with a discordant bang upon the organ keys. He leered down at you, looming over you, as he faced you in full. In a second, his whole demeanor had changed. His fangs were bared, gritting against one another, and his hands had curled into claw-like shapes, the taloned tips more prominently displayed than ever before. There was something wild in both of his green eyes which had once smoldered beneath the surface, but never been truly visible. The tone of his voice carried an imperious, thundering quality, stronger and yet more terrible than it had ever seemed before, as it rang through the lair with a power not even the stage could have contained. “FOOL!” he roared. “YOU WANT TO SEE?! WELL, LOOK AT IT! FEAST YOUR EYES, GLUT YOUR SOUL, ON MY CURSED UGLINESS!” You didn’t have much choice. Your eyes were wide and your mouth hung agape as you gazed at the face of the Phantom of the Opera. While one side of Malleus’ face - the side the mask did not hide - was smooth and pale and seemed to be carved by an expert sculptor…the other side was quite a different story. The skin had been replaced by a collection of dark, jagged-edged scales, colored a glossy black hue. The scales caused the edges of his nose and a small portion of his upper lip - the part the mask had covered - to curl slightly, and jabbed into the edges of his hairline. When coupled with the horns and the glowing, reptilian eyes, not to mention the bared fangs…had one looked at Malleus in profile from that side, unmasked, he might have been mistaken for some sort of demon, or beastly monster. He glared down at you, still standing tall and strong, his eyes filled with an acrid look of anger and something approaching pain. It was the pain that caused your lip to start to tremble slightly. He gave you an expression that was not quite a sneer and not quite a smirk - and leaned towards you, narrowing those venomous eyes. His voice was cold and frosty, with the sinister hiss of a serpent tucked into its tones.

“Well? Are you satisfied?” he snarled, a tone of biting sarcasm snapping into his voice. “I’m a very handsome fellow, am I not? You-” He stopped short. All of the wrath, all of the betrayal, all of the sorrow, but NONE of the pain left his face. Those feelings that did leave were replaced with confusion, shock, and amazement…as you reached out and placed your hands upon the scaly, ravaged cheek. Your fingers ran over the scales, feeling their hard, somewhat sharpish edges. The texture was like snakeskin and alligator hide put together, but with a toughness that almost rock-solid, like black gemstones jutting from his flesh. You bit your lip, and uttered a single question. “Does it…does it hurt, Malleus?” Malleus looked gobsmacked. His eyes were as wide as your own. His mouth remained resolutely shut as he swallowed thinly, blinking a few times, as if bewildered by your words, actions, and reactions. “Malleus?” you urged, concern painting every syllable you spoke. “Does it hurt?” “...D-Does…it…?” You had never seen the half-dragon so completely taken aback. So totally speechless and uncertain. He seemed almost shell-shocked. Slowly, he lowered himself c loser to your level. He dropped to one knee, looking into your eyes with a look that was completely different from any before: not the gentle, tender, but somehow supercilious gaze that so often filled his optics, nor the lordly fury that he’d shown only seconds ago. Now, he seemed…vulnerable. An almost childlike wonder, mixed with a tragic puzzlement, flooding his green gaze. He somehow seemed…younger. Smaller. It was a totally unique side to him than any you’d witnessed in the past. “You’re…not…afraid?” he asked, slowly. “Why would I be?” you asked back, very honestly. Malleus didn’t blink. Didn’t move. You almost swore he had stopped breathing for a second. You had to hold back a chuckle. You knew making light of the situation was likely a bad move. You smiled sympathetically and stroked his cheek again as he shifted your posture to sit up more comfortably. “Malleus…I don’t know what made you think I’d be so scared of…this,” you said, giving his cheek a pat, then finally withdrawing your hand. One of his took its place, as if trying to absorb the warmth that lingered from your touch into his own digit-tips. “But I’m not. I’m simply not. It’s really not as bad as you think. Honestly, I think it’s kind of…interesting.” “Interesting?” he repeated, sounding as if he were tasting each syllable and trying to decide how he liked them. You nodded, smiling a bit wider. “I’m guessing this is like the horns and such, right? Sort of…a sign of your dragon side?” you presumed. Malleus nodded. His expression was finally starting to cool, but only slightly. He still looked rather baffled…perhaps even slightly suspicious. “Well, then all I’m wondering is why it’s like that, and - more importantly - if it hurts you. Like…they don’t feel…uncomfortable, or painful?” Malleus paused…then shook his head to show that, no, they did not. You sighed with relief. “Thank goodness,” you said, and then looked up with a bit of sadness in your eyes. “That was the only thing I WAS scared of. Worrying if I’d hurt you physically, or if they did.”

“Nothing else?” “Nothing else,” you promised. Malleus Draconia’s eyes flickered up and down over you…then he turned away, noticeably moving so the scaly side of his face was hidden from immediate view. “Well…you aren’t exactly the first…but you’re certainly among the few,” he murmured, sorrowfully. Your eyes shone with concern. What had he been through that he felt he had to hide his face from others? How had it ended up that way? Had he been cursed? Was it just a defect of his humanoid form? These questions, you suddenly felt, were best left unasked. He was shaking. One had to look close to know it. But you definitely had that close look. Carefully, you held out the mask to him. Malleus looked at it, ears pricking up, then up into your eyes. You smiled kindly, and nodded encouragingly. He bit his lip - an uncharacteristic action from him, up to that point - then plucked the mask from your hand before rising to his feet. Hastily, he fitted it back into place, and tied the purple ribbon to keep it there. When he turned around again, the coolness he usually held had once again covered his features, and the mask hid the scaly hide from sight. “That was…not very thoughtful of you, my dear,” he said, steadily. He didn’t sound angry, nor even disappointed. Perhaps mildly annoyed, but…mostly, he just…seemed to say it. You smiled apologetically and got to your feet before reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. He stiffened slightly, but you pretended not to notice. “I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done something like that, and I promise that I won’t do it again. But…for the record…never feel you need to hide your face, or anything else, from me. I promise, I will never judge you or hurt you.” You then paused and smirked. “Besides, you lied to me.” “I…did?” Malleus blinked, questioningly. “Of course! Lilia’s cooking is WAY worse than that!” Malleus stared at you…then, his expression changed to an uncommon smile…and a bark of laughter suddenly left him. You soon found yourself laughing alongside him.

“See?” you teased. “If we can be like this, after that, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I certainly hope not,” Malleus replied, crisply, his smiled taking on a slightly sad look. “I’m…admittedly still…reeling from what just happened, but…I’m grateful. Truly. Though I can’t guarantee I will ‘treat’ you to the sight of…”

He brushed his fingers against his mask’s edge.

“...This…very often.”

“You don’t have to,” you vowed to him. “You are my teacher, and my friend, ‘Monsieur Fantomas.’ I promise, in the future, I will show more respect to your privacy.”

“And I promise you I will attempt to keep better control of my temper.”

“Then that’s all that really matters right now,” you said, and skipped forward before placing a kiss to his masked cheek, just to show him. For the second time that night, the Phantom of the Opera seemed to blush. An awkward moment passed between you both, in silence. It was broken when a clock somewhere in the lair struck the hour. “It is, ah…getting late,” Malleus said, and went to fetch his cape. “I…shall return you to your-” “Actually…Malleus?” “Yes, Daughter of Man?” You shuffled a bit, before daring to ask: “I know after what’s happened, this may seem a bad time to check, but…could I…spend the night here? With you?” Malleus would have gaped, but he was much too proper for such a reaction. He came pretty close though. “It gets a bit lonely in my quarters at the opera house, and…after all that’s happened, I don’t really feel like taking the boat and finding our way back upstairs and so on. So…could I just…stay here? Till morning?” Malleus gazed at you for a second or two…before a smile that spoke of gratitude beyond ages split his face. “Of course, My Angel,” he said, and bowed in his usual, high-fashion manner. “I have a spare bedroom, in a secret passage adjacent to my own. Sometimes Silver needs a spot to ‘crash,’ as I think they put it.” “That will do well-” “No, no. I’LL sleep there. YOU shall take MY bed.” “B-But-!”

“No buts!” Malleus chirruped, and suddenly was right in front of you, giving your nose a teasing tap. He chuffed with amusement through his nostrils as you covered your snout to prevent further assault. “You gave me the honor of your company, and more importantly, your acceptance. You’ve been a dutiful and wonderful student…and beyond all else, one of the few people I think I can call a friend. Besides, I acted deplorably only a moment ago. So no arguments: you shall sleep in my bed tonight, and I shall take the guest room.” You thought about this for a moment…then gave a sly smile. “Compromise,” you suggested. “We’ll BOTH sleep in your bed. Side by side. Unless you object to it.” You’d half-expected Malleus to be shocked at the notion of a young lady sleeping beside him…but instead, he tilted his head, thought about it…then shrugged. “I concur. That seems a logical halfway point for us to meet at. Provided you are comfortable with it.” “I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. And Malleus?” “Yes, Child of Man?” “Thank you. For…so many things. And I’m sorry once more.”

Malleus Draconia smiled and took your hand. He placed a chaste kiss upon it, and then led you with a serene step, conducting your movements as he had long conducted your voice. He guided you towards his bedroom, drawing back the curtain that led within. “You, my Angel of Music, have nothing to apologize for. And I have far more to thank you for than you will ever know.” With those words, the Phantom of the Opera let the curtain fall, hiding you both from view.

This, you were both sure, as you dreamed soon after, would forever be a night to remember.

The End…?

[atropinenightshade]

Masque game ask: blood

magic or resurrection involved? Could be related to Blanche 'dancing' with death?

Yes, there's a lot of magic involved and forms of resurrection! I'm not sure if I would say it's directly related to her dancing with death, but Death kinda uses the situation to trick someone into her somehow being with him (not romantically but if Blanche chooses this other person she will die eventually, her significant other lives forever unless he chooses to, and bad things happen to her kids the more her significant other makes choices that counteract a life-death balance. In fact, bad things happen to HER, involving a resurrection...)

Blood is a form of magic and is considered heavier and usually associated with dark rites, child sacrifice or creating one, stronger spells, etc. (In my fic, not necessarily SGE canon as flying was considered a form of blood magic)

If you have any more questions, don't be afraid to spam me!

Edit: also if y'all want post fic spoilers go ahead. I don't plan on writing another continuation fic

[winwintea]

perfect strangers - l.dh

PAIRING ↬ doctor!lee donghyuck x fem! reader

GENRES ↬ smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), romance, fluff, ballroom dancing, masquerade, strangers to lovers, forbidden love, arranged marriages, eloping lol…

TAGS ↬ the punch has alcohol in it (oh no!), one-night stand turned into something bigger, housekeeper is such a cockblock, they are both so DOWN bad for each other, doctor haechan!!!! also pink hair haechan i love him, idk how to tag smut this is my first smut guys i wanna kms, they just fuck how do i explain that

SUMMARY ↬ one night, you fell in love with a man who would come to you the next morning as your doctor. unfortunately, you were betrothed to someone else, but you wanted to feel what love really was. "whatever choices we make, just know that my heart is yours."

WORD COUNT ↬ 4.0k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ baby’s first smut (kinda not really) fic ever! this is a gift for @lyvhie bc i usually don’t write such suggestive works, so pls don’t request me to write some 😭😭 took me a while to finish this bc i was so uncomfortable writing this, but i tried my best and now i wanna die… thank you so much to @galacticnct and @h-aechanie for helping me get through this i lowkey would’ve never finished if it wasn’t for the support from you two. <33

It all happened like a dream. You woke up comfortable, wrapped in your own soft bed sheets, and slowly sat up.

“Will you be getting up, Miss, or would you like to rest a bit longer?”

“No, I’ve slept enough. It’s about time I got up.” Your housekeeper nodded and pulled open the curtains. To judge from the sunlight streaming in the large balcony windows, it was close to noon already.

“It was quite the shock last night when I heard you’d collapsed after the ball and couldn’t come home until morning. You have to take care of your health, Miss Y/N, especially so close to your wedding. I knew that masquerade was a bad idea. How are you feeling now?”

“I’m alright… sorry for worrying you.” You started to get out of bed, before suddenly stopping.

“What’s the matter Miss?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just a little thirsty. Could you get me a glass of water?”

The housekeeper smiled and shook her head, then left the room, closing your bedroom door behind her. You sat back against the pillows and hugged yourself tightly.

It wasn’t a dream. You could still feel that scorching heat inside you. His heat. The man with the dusty pink hair and pale brown eyes that burned through his mask…

The rising heat beneath your skin brought memories of the previous night rushing back.

The night before

So this was a masquerade ball…? It was an even more lavish affair than you were expecting. When the invitation came, everyone advised you not to attend so close to your wedding. But you had insisted, wanting to have the experience at least once in your life. You thought it would be interesting in sort of an academic way, but-

“May I have this dance, miss?” A masked man approached you silently.

“Oh, um, I… No, I’m sorry.” Unused to such occasions, you weren’t sure how to respond when people approached you. You retired to a quieter corner of the ballroom and sipped the punch handed to you by one of the servants circulating with trays. You sighed. I’m the picture of an overly sheltered child, aren’t I?

The ballroom seemed like a different world, guests dancing in their bright finery, their faces hidden, laughter ringing out. You’ve heard that all sorts of passionate affairs begin at masque balls. Perhaps you were even wondering if any fateful meetings had happened tonight.

Your family loved you, and the man they had arranged for you to marry had sworn to make you happy. But even as peaceful and loving as your home life was, in your heart of hearts, you felt something was missing. You wanted to experience a passion that burned like the sun. It seemed so wonderful to love someone with your whole heart and soul. To walk on air just at the thought of that person. To feel like the whole world is dancing around you.

You drained your punch absently as you daydreamed. Wait… this is pretty powerful stuff. Is this why people call alcohol liquid courage? Yeah… you felt all giddy and like you could take on the whole world.

Perhaps it was your sudden agitation that spread the alcohol so quickly through your system. At any rate, you were very much tipsy. You leaned against a wall, giggling. Someone tapped your shoulder.

“Hey there… Are you all right? Can I help? Just say the word.” You’d gotten carried away with thoughts of experiencing a hot passionate romance, and drinking the night away when someone came up to check on you. “Can I get you some water? Or would you like to take a rest somewhere?”

There was only one thing you wanted. “I want… to fall in love. I want to love someone… with my whole heart and soul.” Beware the truth at the bottom of the wineglass, indeed. No one was meant to hear that little secret.

The helpful stranger blinked at you in surprise, then chuckled, “I can help with that too, if you’d like. Why don’t you try loving me?”

“Huh? But we don’t even know eac-”

Something soft sealed your lips before you could finish. His kiss was sudden and heady, like the effects of liquor masked by the sweetness of fruit, and every bit as disorienting. “You’re not supposed to reveal your face at a masquerade, but nothing’s stopping us from getting to know each other’s bodies. You can have all of me, as long as you love me in return. Deal?”

He pulled you close, and you quickly agreed– It was exactly what you wanted.

After that you spent the night with him. The memory alone sent a thrill through you unlike anything you had felt before. His voice had been as sweet as sugar cubes. You could hear it even now. Pale brown eyes seen through his mask. His dusty pink hair that tickled your skin. The gleam of his piercings on his ears. He wasn’t wrong… You had gotten to know his body quite well. Even though you never learned his name…

Your chest tightened at the memory of that one sweet night with your masked stranger. He’s the only one who’s ever made you feel that way… and you don’t even know his name? You wished you could see him again, but how would you find him?

A knock interrupted your thoughts. “I’ve brought your water, Miss! And the doctor’s just arrived to see you.”

“But I feel fine now. There wasn’t any need to call a doctor…”

“No need to be brave, Miss Y/N. Besides, you still look all flushed.” Ugh. You couldn’t say that you just got drunk at the ball, or that your staying out all night had nothing to do with feeling ill, so… “Right this way, Doctor.” Oblivious to your conundrum, the housekeeper ushered the doctor in. Your breath caught at the sight of him.

“Lee Donghyuck, at your service, Miss Y/N.” Oh my god. The pale brown eyes and dusty, pale, pink hair. He was, without a doubt, the man with whom you had spent the previous night with. Were you actually dreaming now? “I’ll begin the examination right away. Madam, if you would step outside?”

“Of course, thank you Doctor.” Once she had left, the doctor seated himself in the chair beside your bed.

“Well then, if you’ll unbutton your nightgown, we can begin.”

“I…um…?” What did he just say? As you floundered for words, he snorted and began to chuckle.

“If you’re too tired to undress yourself, I could help you with the buttons like I did last night.”

Oh damn. Okay. You needed to hold yourself together. “I knew it was you! Did you know who I was all along? Is that why you’re here?”

“Not at all. I had no idea we would meet again until I stepped inside just now. I’ve made house calls here before, but I had no idea you were a member of this family.” As he spoke, Donghyuck got on with the exam in an efficient manner. “Your housekeeper was worried that you might have suddenly taken ill, but there’s no cause for alarm.”

“Thank you…”

Donghyuck looked at you as he closed his doctor’s bag. “You’re very well loved.” Indeed this was the case. So why had you said what you had said the night before? His direct gaze seemed to be asking yourself that same question.

You felt you owed him an answer to his unspoken question. “My family loves me… to the point of being overprotective. They’ve picked the perfect fiance for me. Everyone around me cares for me a great deal. But…” But you’ve only experienced love on the receiving end. At least… until last night. Your eyes were drawn to his; You couldn’t look away. Moving as one, we leaned closer, until our faces were almost touching. “Dongh– Mmf!?”

He wrapped you in his arms just as he had done the night before, and you felt the heat of his lips over yours. The flames he’d kindled in your roared back to life, and you threw your arms around him in return. “What’s wrong with me…?” Donghyuck’s voice was faint and breathless. “I’ve met so many people, but no one who’s captivated me the way you do…”

“I feel the same way…” You always wanted to experience a fiery passionate love. It was something you had only ever read about in books. What you’d imagined was nothing like the scorching feeling in your chest. This isn’t the sweet longing they write about in stories. Now that you know what love feels like from the other side, you might never be the same.

Donghyuck let out a tremulous sigh as your lips parted once again. He rested his forehead against yours. “Y/N, I want you to show me love the way I did for you. I’ve been searching for someone to love me. You’ve been wanting someone to love. We’re perfect for each other.”

“Hyuck…” Every fiber of your being was irresistibly drawn toward him. It was enough to make you believe in destiny. You hardly recognize yourself like this. It’s a little scary. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff. One more step, and you wouldn’t be able to take it back. Even knowing that, the fall still called out to you.

“Y/N… one more…” His pleading tone had you leaning in before you could think better of it. His breath puffed across your lips and–

There was a knock at your door. It opened and your housekeeper came in. “How is Miss Y/N, Doctor?”

“Just a little overtired, that’s all. With some rest, she’ll be as good as new.” Donghyuck’s innocent act was flawless. You breathed a sigh of relief. That was really close. She nearly saw us too. “I’ll let you get your rest, Miss Y/N, and come back later to check on you. More stealthily this time.” He said the last part quietly enough that the housekeeper didn’t seem to hear, but your heart leapt into your throat all the same.

“Please do, Doctor. With her wedding coming up so soon, Miss Y/N needs to take special care of her health.” Those words hit you like a splash of cold water.

“Of course.” Donghyuck left immediately, so you didn’t get to see his expression. The housekeeper saw him out, and you watched from your window as he left through the front door. As you watched him walk away, he suddenly turned around. He was already quite far off, but he looked straight at you and gave you a small wave. Without thinking you ducked behind the curtain. Your pulse had just begun to slow, and now it was thundering in your ears again. We’ve only met last night, and we’ve barely spoken to one another… Can anyone really fall in love that quickly?

Last night’s events still remained on your mind. The blaze showed no signs of abating; in fact, it was growing so hot, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You feel like you’re being burned up from within, but even if you were consumed entirely, this flame wouldn’t go out… Is this what it feels like to love someone?

The love you had experienced was warm and comforting. This feeling was a roaring blaze; something dangerous– even maddening. You were restless. All you wanted to do was run after Donghyuck.

You couldn’t do that. You’re engaged. To be married, and soon. The thought of your wedding seemed to pour cold water over the passion burning in your chest. This feeling you’ve just discovered has to die before your wedding. You remembered his pale brown eyes, and your ribs started to creak, your chest too narrow to contain the emotion within.

—

Later that evening, you heard a tap on your balcony window.

“Good evening, I’m here to check on my patient.” As he’d promised that afternoon, Donghyuck had returned. It’s only been a few hours, but it feels like you’d been apart much longer.

“Hyuck…?” You ran to him and threw yourself into his arms. We fit perfectly together, and the feeling of contentment it gave you defied description. “Hyuck, I know we only met yesterday, but the thought that I’d never see you again was awful. Today, just the few hours we’ve been apart felt too long. That’s strange, isn’t it? Maybe there really is something wrong with me.”

“If there is, my symptoms are even worse than yours.” You looked up as he cupped your face in his hands. There was desperation in his eyes as he gazed into yours. “The thought of you makes my heart so full it feels like my chest might burst. I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t forget the way you loved me last night. One night will never be enough. I need more. I need you to love me. I need to feel your lips on my skin, breathe in the scent of your hair, explore every line and curve of your body… or I’ll lose my mind.”

Those sugar sweet words might have sounded like idle flirtation if it hadn’t been for the fire in his eyes. You had no doubt he desperately wanted you every bit as desperately as he claimed. Your reflection in his eyes looked just as hungry as he did.

As we struggled to convey by looks what words could not express, his arms tightened around you. “I wish I could spirit you away and keep you all to myself. At first, I just thought you were sweet. A girl with naive ideas of romance. But when you touched me, I could tell you were different from everyone I’d ever met. Your desire to love someone was real and pure. You had so much affection to give, a man could drown in it. I wanted to. You’re the missing piece I’ve been searching for, all my life. Last night, I knew. Say the word and I’ll take you away from here. I’ll give up everything to be with you.”

“Hyuck…” His clinging arms, his pleading voice, his entire being seemed to cry out for you.

“Please, Y/N. Keep wanting me. Make me yours and only yours.”

All you have to do is agree and the man you love–Donghyuck–will take you wherever you want to go. But that would hurt your family and everyone who’s loved and nurtured you? If you refuse, you can continue your peaceful life, surrounded by people who care for you. But you might never be able to see Donghyuck like this again.

“I don’t need anything but you. Do you want me, Y/N? Or…”

“Of course I do… Donghyuck… I want your body and soul. And I want to give you all of me in return. I feel the same way you do. I don’t need anything but you.” You can’t lie to yourself about what you feel.

Donghyuck’s wide, surprised eyes narrowed into a smile. “I’m so glad to hear that… Can I kiss you?” You nodded, and Donghyuck leaned in hesitantly to brush his lips against yours. If possible, the hint of awkwardness in his kiss only intensified the affection you felt for him. "Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for loving me. This is the happiest I've been in my entire life."

"I know... I've never been this happy, either.” You never imagined loving someone would bring you such utter happiness. We fit into each other's arms like puzzle pieces. Our heartbeats synchronized as if we were a single being. "It's so strange. Until I met you, I had no idea what love was, and yet.. I feel like this is how we were always meant to end up.” Maybe this is how destiny works.

"I think you're right. We were fated for each other." It was almost as if he had heard your thoughts.

"Haha, I was just thinking that.”

"You were? We really are two peas in a pod." We shared a look and burst into giggles.We shared a look and burst into giggles.

Our sweet reunion was interrupted by a sudden knock at your bedroom door. Without waiting for a reply, your housekeeper opened the door. “Miss Y/N? I heard some odd sounds, are you– Oh, my heavens!” There wasn’t time for Donghyuck to hide, we were well and truly caught. “Oh, you’re the doctor who visited this afternoon. What on earth are you doing here at this house? Don’t tell me you broke into Miss Y/N’s room for some nefarious–”

“No, no! Nothing nefarious!” You waved your hands not liking the suspicious look on your housekeeper’s face. “I’m sorry we startled you, I never intended for this to happen, but.. I’ve fallen in love with this man.” Your heart pounded in your chest, and your voice wobbled as you explained. Donghyuck pressed your hands between his which kept them from trembling. Bolstered by his support, you felt the courage to press on. “I know how awful this seems, but I have to be true to my heart. So I’ve decided I’m going to elope with him…”

“Oh, Miss Y/N, you can’t! I… Help! Someone, come quickly!” Looking like she had seen a ghost, your housekeeper turned and shouted down the hallway for help. As she raised the alarm, lights came on all the mansion. This was just going from bad to worse.

You looked up at Donghyuck. His expression was impossibly calm. ”Like I said before, as long as I have you, I don’t need anything else.”

“Nothing’s changed. All I need is you, Donghyuck.”

He flashed you a smile, then tugged on your hands. “Then, let’s go.”

“All right, Let’s run away, Donghyuck.” We could hear footsteps pounding down the hallway outside. Without a backward glance, Donghyuck lifted you into his arms and sprang out the window.

Our wild flight through the sleeping city led us, at last, to a small inn. “The staff are friends of mine. No one will find us here. It’s been a while since I’ve run that far. You must be exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine.” You were still riding high on the excitement of our escape. You caught a similarly wild look in his eyes.

“Glad to hear it. You don’t mind if I perform a physical exam on you, do you? I need to make certain your body isn’t at the point of exhaustion and can perform more vigorous exercises. It’s extremely scientific.” Donghyuck leaned in with a smile and kissed you.

“Mm… Well, I’d hate to be a difficult patient…”

Suddenly in a modest city, the two of us shed our clothes and fell into each other’s arms. It made no difference to us that he was a doctor and you were the daughter of a noble family. The two of you were simply two lovers brought together by fate.

“Do you know? I think we were born to love each other.” Donghyuck whispered as he brushed his lips over your flushed skin.

“I think so too. I was born to meet you, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck smiled with guileless joy. “I’m so happy. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. Thank you for finding me, Y/N. And for loving me.” He enfolded you in a tight embrace and kissed you softly. “I vow to live for this love, now and for all time.”

Your heart soared. Loving someone can bring pain and confusion. But it’s also the source of the greatest possible happiness. Just being in Donghyuck’s arms filled you with the greatest pleasure you had ever known. You know this flame inside you will never go out.

—

Some time later, you and Donghyuck had acquired a small house for yourselves. He continued his work as a doctor and you became his assistant. Your lives were busy and happy. One day, a letter arrived.

“It’s from your parents, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I thought my father would never answer…” Once you were feeling somewhat settled, you had written to your parents. You thanked them for how lovingly they had raised you, and apologized for running away. You told them that you two were working hard to bring happiness to as many people as you could. You had done your best to explain your feelings and make amends for the people you had hurt.

It took some time, but your father seemed to understand how you felt. “It says here that the man you were betrothed to has gotten married and seems happy. Father says that Mother, the housekeeper, and everyone at home wants to see me… so I should come visit. Can I?”

“Of course.” Donghyuck leaned over the back of your chair to hug you. “I was hoping to keep you all to myself forever, but I suppose I’ll have to share.”

“Oh, Hyuck… my body and soul already belong to you. What more do you need?”

“I’m a bottomless pit of need when it comes to you. Indulge me?” With an impish smile, he leaned down for a kiss. Our one night of forbidden passion had grown into a deeper love. You thought of all the ways he made you shiver with pleasure, and reached out to touch him the same way. “Mm… Haha, Y/N, you’re being a terrible tease…”

You smiled, continuing with light movements with your fingers.

Donghyuck continued his lecture as he arched his back to press his already bared skin against your lips. “Be gentle with me… Ah That’s just the right amount of pressure… Yes, like that.” His bright eyes and quickening breaths made his pleasure obvious. “I’ll have to spoil you even more than usual as a reward.”

His clever fingers found their mark as they always did, and you felt yourself begin to come apart… As his kisses rained down over you, you realized just how parched you had been without his love.

“Let me hear your voice. Let me feel you.” His fingers played over your skin, making you moan and shudder under him, breathless. Donghyuck’s breath almost seemed to steam with the heat of his stored up desire. The flush on his cheeks lent an added wantonness to his expression. Seeing him like that kindled an answering fire in you. He had shown you the true depth of his desire, and it shook you, even as your body thrilled to his every touch.

“Hyuck… if you keep doing that, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll lose my mind. It feels too good.”

“Might be a nice change of pace, after the last few days. Show me what frenzy looks on you, Y/N…” Your back arched, hips jerking, as his fingers sought out your sensitive spots. You could hardly keep up with him; your head spun with nonstop stimulation. You were on fire, you were melting, you were overwhelmed with his touch, and starved for it at the same time.

“Ahaha, sorry… I love your reactions so much, it’s easy to get carried away.” You were a bit overwhelmed by Donghyuck’s enthusiasm, but you certainly didn’t want him to stop. The desire in his eyes and his hands, the heat building between us… his love throbbed like a frenzied heartbeat through it all. Urgent yet tender, each caress made your heart beat faster.

"Mm..." He pulled off your shirt and tossed it away, impatient to get at your skin. Lips and tongue mapped your throat, your chest. It was more than physical, after the fear of losing him and the relief of his miraculous cure. Every sensation was heightened-- you couldn't restrain your voice. "Ahh... Hyuck..." You couldn't get enough of him; your need only grew with each touch. You clung to his shoulders and called out the name you loved over and over.

"Rather than take everything from you, I want to give you everything that I am."

"Haah.. Aahh!” Donghyuck lowered himself over you, and pushed inside you. Finally you were together, as close as two people could be. Happiness bloomed inside you like a garden where spring had come early. Tears pricked your eyes.

"I love you, Y/N. Let me show you just how much."

Every touch, every word fanned the flames of your passion hotter and higher, till nothing existed in your world but him. You gave him your heart, fully and without reservation. Of course, there had never been any doubt.

And although you two had only met as strangers, you knew for certain that this was simply destiny.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @h-aechanie

[mellioops]

Drew a scene from @masque-of-plague’s amazing scarian fic Supercritical for their birthday :D

[hd-tarot]

🔮✨ HD Tarot Fest REVEALS ✨🔮

Creator reveals are here!

A quick note from the mod team:

Thank you for joining us for HD Tarot Fest's inaugural year! We're incredibly grateful to our amazing creators for their stunning submissions and to all the readers who've supported the fest with their kudos, comments, and enthusiasm. We're SO thrilled by the overwhelmingly positive response to this fest!

HD Tarot will be back next year. We may adjust the timeline slightly (expect prompt claims to open earlier), but posting will still take place in November.

Thank you again for making this fest such a success. Until we draw the cards again, may fate deal you only the best hands!

Without further ado, we're proud to unveil the full creator masterlist under the cut:

· ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Fic ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ·

🔮 Because This River Is Wild (T, 14k words) by @tripably 🃏 Six of Pentacles, upright: generosity, community, help, support, sharing, gratitude Six of Pentacles, reversed: inequality, taking advantage, strings attached, extortion, unfair power dynamics Consider this, though: how do you know you’re looking at the card the intended way? Or, Harry and Draco struggle with the explosive nature of passion without trust. Card(s): Six of Pentacles

🔮 Twilight Eternal (M, 23.9k words) by @hsvh-hp 🃏 Wherever Draco is, the sun sits eternally on the precipice of setting. His father feeds his peacocks on the manor grounds. Harry is the only one who can communicate with Draco. A malevolent force haunts the house, nipping at Draco’s heels. Draco intended for himself to come to this place. He only wishes he could remember why. Card(s): Five of Cups

🔮 all i need (G, 3.9k words) by enill 🃏 What would have happened if Draco Malfoy went down to the cellar again after Wormtail seemingly disappeared? Card(s): Six of Swords

🔮 I Watch Your Light (E, 9k words) by @maraudersaffair 🃏 Harry spends his nights out pretending that he isn't sitting across from Draco Malfoy. This is rather difficult to do since Malfoy won't stop staring at him. Why, oh why, did his boyfriend have to be friends with the blond wanker? Card(s): Six of Cups, King of Cups (reversed), Four of Cups (reversed)

🔮 Little Black Dress (E, 4.9k words) by @its-the-allure 🃏 Returning for a mandatory eighth year and secretly dating Harry Potter, Draco is a bit of a mess. Harry wants to go public with their relationship, but the last thing Draco needs is another reason for people to hate him. As they work on their Tarot assignment for Advanced Divination, could a change of heart be in the cards? Card(s): Eight of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, Queen of Cups (reversed)

🔮Abstract From a Moment (E, 19.1k words) by @heyjude19-writing 🃏 What Draco thinks will be a promotion in the Department of Mysteries turns out to be a strange, morbid assignment. He can handle the macabre task and the slightly frightening interactions with his odd superior, especially if it means career success. Trust Harry Potter to ruin everything. Card(s): Ten of Wands (reversed)

🔮 psychopomp (E, 15.3k words) by @hollyhawthorn 🃏 “Do you think I deserve to live?” The words spilt from his mouth, unbidden. Potter fixed him with a penetrating look. Draco recalled the expression he’d worn when he wrenched the wands from Draco’s grip at the Manor; thought this could be the same one. You can’t hide from me, it said. I know everything about you. “I think dying is the easy way out.” Card(s): The High Priestess

🔮 A wolf at the door (T, 13.5k words) by Nirey_Harkness 🃏 When Harry decided to do his internship with an international Auror, he was seeking an escape from many things. He certainly hadn’t anticipated ending up questioning his sexuality, magically trapped in a Spanish house with Draco Malfoy. Card(s): The World

🔮 hugged and tugged down through this tiger’s masque (M, 11k words) by @frank-lilac 🃏 A glimpse into a period of alteration, change, and transformation. Card(s): Death

🔮 Rusty Cage (E, 20.5k words) by @jelliewrites 🃏 Harry Potter is not okay. Someone else who’s not okay? Draco Malfoy, but he's doing time in Azkaban for his heinous crimes. But what if Draco isn't as guilty as he's been made out to be? Everyone knows that Harry is a sucker for righting injustice, including Hermione, who is more than prepared to meddle in order to help her best friend. Or, when Harry visits Draco in prison and things don't go quite as expected. Card(s): Eight of Swords

🔮 Towers of glory and the hands that felled them (G, 15.8k words) by @mourningliliesmorningglories 🃏 It’s been 10 years since the war and Draco Malfoy is yet to leave his tower. The Tower: a symbol for ambition that is constructed on faulty premises. The destruction of the tower must happen in order to clear out the old ways and welcome something new. Its revelations can come in a flash of truth or inspiration. Card(s): The Tower

🔮 Mirror, Me (E, 18.3k words) by @kamaela 🃏 Harry’s current predicament is, he can admit, rather dire. Being caught stalking aside, he thinks his nose might be broken. Humiliation licks up his rigid spine, but along with it is a prickle of ill-advised anticipation, a foolish thrill at what Malfoy might do. Harry is a little lost. His house is rejecting him and his friends and family are busy and moving on. To cope, he turns to what’s tried and true; following Draco Malfoy. The first time was an accident. Sort of. Card(s): Four of Wands

🔮 Beyond the Veil (M, 9.9k words) by crimsonightingale 🃏 Embracing his new role as the Master of Death, Harry finds harmony in the natural order of things, but can he find a balance with the new Master of Life, Draco Malfoy? Card(s): Temperance

🔮 Minor Fall, Major Lift (E, 10.9k words) by @tackytigerfic 🃏 Harry Potter is telling people’s fortunes in a tent in the Atrium at the Ministry Christmas party. Draco thinks Divination is a load of rubbish. But the cards never lie… Card(s): Ten of Pentacles (reversed), The Moon, Three of Cups

🔮 The Superfluous Man (E, 24.1k words) by peu_a_peu 🃏 A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life. Card(s): The Wheel of Fortune

🔮 Care for a Walk? (G, 2k words) by @speyriver 🃏 “Draco,” Harry beams confidently as the gates swing open, “Care for a walk?” Card(s): Six of Cups

🔮 Skipping Stones (M, 34.7k words) by @whimsibeee 🃏 Draco receives his very own prophecy. If Harry Potter could leave him alone, he might be able to figure out what it means. Card: Queen of Swords

· ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Art ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ·

🔮 Death (G) by @ree-dee-art 🃏 Card: Death

🔮 The Strength (G) by @pocketlessdruid 🃏 Card: Strength

🔮 A New Light. (G) by @littlewinnow 🃏 The choices that changed us. Card: The Tower

🔮 The Moon (G) by @ree-dee-art 🃏 Card: The Moon

🔮 Surrender (M) by @itsphantasmagoria 🃏 Draco repents. Card: The Hanged Man

🔮 nine of cups (G) by @frm9pm 🃏 Harry happy in the upright card position, Draco suffering in the reverse. Card: Nine of Cups

🔮 The Sun (G) by @phoenixortheflame 🃏 In the cosmos of his heart, Harry blooms not but for one sun. Card: The Sun

🔮 Crepusculum (G) by @raptorhonks 🃏 A guardian in his tower, whimsical and secretive. A corruptor in the marble manor, with mirrored flesh and soul. Two souls at the foot of a castle seeking the sky just out of reach. Held down by twisted word and lies. Card: The Emperor

🔮 Ace of Cups (G) by @phantomgrimalkin 🃏 Sipping from the same cup. Card: Ace of Cups

🔮 Ten of Cups (G) by @bahkeks 🃏 ten of cups joy, gratitude, unconditional love, belonging, emotional fulfillment Card: Ten of Cups

🔮 XXI. THE WORLD (G) by @faiell 🃏 XXI. The World, but make it drarry. Card: The World

[tonixe]

Charade...

a/n: Omg, like guys I'm lowkey obsessed with Coriolanus Snow, like obsessed, but I can't like to stop, like I'm literally going crazy for this white boy like lemme just love you like pleaseeeeee. Also, I got heavily influenced to write this after watching the charade movie, this fic will have lyrics connected to it, so you can listen to it or not, the choice is yours. The song I used is Charade by Henry Mancini.

warning: angst, mentions of some sort of cheating, reader being used, yelling. proofread (?) maybe, idk.

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

word counter: 1.6k

When we played our charade...

You stood there fitting on your dress, one of the maids tightening up your corset on the back of your dress. You were going to attend an event, being seen by the public of the people of Panem. Well, being the first lady of Panem, organizing, and attending thousands of events in your husband's honor. Your role was to keep a smile, even when it was a good time for you or your country. You served the public and served your husband, looking inside yourself into the mirror in front, as the maid finished fighting your dress up. It was a red, burgundy dress that he personally picked for you, to match your husband's suit.

We were like children posing...

You weren't originally supposed to be in the position, you weren't even supposed to be married to him. You only know if when you were kids, him and his cousin, Tigris. You were familiar, knowing her more than you knew him. But time came to pass by, and you managed to know more about him, his likes, and dislikes, he was always around his grandmother when he stopped by you. It was always a vivid memory for you, playing seek with the younger version of himself and running around the park, you really missed him, but now it didn't feel like him at all.

Playing games..acting out names..guessing the parts we played...

Placing your hand near where your heart lay, staring at the mirror hoping it would break. It was a small world, you both went to the same academy, where you met him again after a little time apart, you still sent letters to him though, hoping he read every last word you marked on the page. You manage to reunite there, spending your time with him, talking, walking to classes, and doing everything together.

Oh, what a hit we made...

You felt your heart pumping when you were near him, his nice demeanor making you feel safe. He was your everything, you didn't think he thought the same but you still kept the feelings to yourself. Remember sitting in the library after hours, studying next to him, feeling yourself getting drowsy, almost falling down on your open textbook. "Are you tired?" You turned to him, he didn't look at you, his eyes looking at the textbook. Your cheeks flushed, before he turned to you. You felt your palm getting sweaty, and the pace of your heart increasing, "No" You lied, turning back to your book, "I know when you lie, Y/N" He tapped his shoulder, your eyes widening, "You sure?" You asked. He nodded. You placed your head on his shoulder trying not to make him uncomfortable or distracted. Smiling to yourself, before closing your eyes, you swore to yourself that you saw a little smile on his solemn face.

We came on next to closing...

You were really satisfied when you were with him, a smile never leaving your face. Spending time with him whenever you can, and he loved it too. A smile is always on his face when he sees you in the hallway, running towards him.

Best on the bill..lovers until...

He was familiar with your family. Your mom liked him. Your father respected him. You were happy, but happier when he confessed his feelings to you, your cheeks felt hot. Everything felt like a dream to you, this was what you wanted. His hands were on your face gently, as he pulled you into a kiss, you closed your kiss, loving every minute of it. You felt on top of the world, and your crush liked you back, isn't that what you wanted the whole time.

Love left the masquerade...

Everything took a sharp turn when reaping day came, he was in the top 24th of the best students in the academy, pairing in the Hunger Games as a mentor. You were happy for him, hugging him and giving him kisses. Him, laying down on your lap, as you played with his hair, as he voiced his wants to you. You listened to him, enjoying his ribboning voice to your ears, kissing him on his forehead.

Fate seemed to pull the strings...

Until you saw Lucy Gray, on the holographic screen. You never saw her as an opponent, she actually made you curious, about her voice and how she represented herself. She was from District 12, with a voice only found in the country of Panem, and a nice one too. Your eyes seemed to tune on to the TV screen, watching her. She was going to be the ticket for Coriolanus to win, hoping in your heart that she would win the hungry games. Though she physically didn't suit the standards of a fighter. You gave out prayers at night for her to stay alive for Coriolanus.

I turned and you were gone...

Time... when you Coriolanus would hang out was shortening. His time is consumed by the Hunger Games. Most of his time, his thoughts, and mind went to her. You understood why he couldn't talk to as often as you wanted, but a small part of your heart panged from the thought. Many thoughts rushed through your head, thinking that Lucy Gray would replace you as a seal upon his heart, you tried to wash them out, but couldn't. It was irrational to think that of your boyfriend, you wished you didn't believe too.

While from the darkened wing...

You tried to voice your thoughts to him but were met with a quiet stare. Your face was worried, and your heart was slowly crumbling. "Coriolanus, wait..please!' You exclaimed you cried out, but he kept on walking down the halls, before he turned to you, "Y/N, how can I..pay attention to the games, if you distracting me" That was the first time he raised his voice at him, your eyes widen, you felt your eyes getting glossy. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you, "C-coryo, I'm just worried, please" You begged, he was getting irritated by you, "I just don't want to lose you" Your voice died out, your chest heaving, tears leaking onto your cheeks. Hearing his footsteps coming closer to you, his hands on your cheeks, "There is nothing going on with me and Lucy Gray, alright" He looked at you in the eyes, and your stomach dropped. Before he released it and walked down to the halls where the games were going to resume.

The music box played on...

Your heart beating in your chest, as you collapsed to the floor, Wanting to tear up but couldn't feel anything to let out. Your heart pumps a sad symphony as you place your hand on top of your chest, holding yourself close.

Sad little serenade...

You watched on your TV, your siblings, and your parents peering into the television. As you walked to the parlor room, looked at the television, looking at Lucy Gray being the last one alive in the games. Your heart jumped, feeling elated for Coriolanus and his victory being secured. You wanted to run to him, hug him, give him kisses on his cheeks, but the pang still ringing in your heart. Knowing that the seal of his love was won by another person, though it wasn't official, you still felt it.

Song of my heart's composing...

You went to the academy, going to your classes. You wanted to see Coriolanus, and hug him after his victory, waiting what felt like hours for you to go and run to him. Entering into the classroom and sitting down, looking to the side where Coriolanus was supposed to sit. It was weird, your dear Coryo. Would never missed any days of the academy anything, he always put his education first. You turned to your left, seeing Clemensia. Wasn't he his partner in class, "Um, excuse me. Have you seen Coriolanus" You asked, hoping for answers for yourself. She shook her head... wasn't it strange. The day after his win, he was magically gone. You needed answers...

I hear it still, and I always will...

The news hit you like a truck, Coriolanus volunteering his time in the military. it was odd, his goal, or dreams better to say, was graduating, and then going to a university, it didn't make sense at all why, he would go that route. He wouldn't do anything, he didn't tell you, right.

Best on the Bill...

You wrote letters, though time did pass

you still wrote letters to him, though you didn't send them, not knowing his direct location, but you hoped he was still alive, safe, and sound. Sending some prayers for him to come back, every day and night. Though you didn't give him a proper goodbye, you still felt you were entitled to do it.

A total of three years passed, you counted them. 365 days every year, waiting for him to come, maybe for you. But you just wanted to see him again.

Charade...

You heard a knock on your door and opened the door to see a matured Coriolanus at your door. Your heart dropped. It didn't feel real to you at all. You wanted to cry and hug him, but you kept yourself composed, looking him in the eyes, he didn't say anything. He offered you a dehorned, red rose. His appearance changed, his blond curls shortened, he was wearing a red suit and his face was stern, less gentle than you remembered. You took it, placing it in your heart, "I missed you" You whispered, feeling tears rolling down your cheeks.

But now, you are in his mess. Going out into the hall, as he waited for you, putting your hands around his, he turned to you, whispering into your ear, "You look beautiful" As you both walked into the awaiting people, waiting to see yours and his appearance.

Hearing the symphony die out, as you reached the shining light of the chandelier above.

[4nyangnyangz]

Derrière le Masque 🪷

synopsis: while looking around at an art exhibit, you encounter a masked stranger whose enigmatic presence leaves you captivated. when fate brings you together again, you begin to uncover the secrets behind his mask. as his hidden world unfolds, so does an unexpected connection—one that could either bring you closer or reveal truths that change everything.

pairings: painter!huening kai x fem reader

tags: strangers to lovers(?), fluff, a bit of angst IF YOU SQUINT, slightly suggestive towards the end, implications of the reader being older than Kai(he calls her noona once), huening siblings are mentioned!

wordcount: 7k (there might be typos/grammatical errors, this isn't proofread!!)

a/n: made this while I was listening to wave to earth and having a hyuka brainrot,,, got the idea of painter hyuka after looking through the minisode 3 romantic ver. concept photos, HE IS JUST SO BEAUTIFUL GOOD LORD. PS. the title translates to "behind the mask" in english!! (I CAN'T SPEAK FRENCH SO THE TITLE COULD BE INACCURATE!)

fic below the cut!

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

You looked around, trying to settle in to the unfamiliar environment around you. A gentle hum of conversations mixed with the echoes of soft footsteps on polished floors fills the air of the museum. You wander through the galleries while passing by groups of people observing each artwork, each person lost in their own interpretation, sharing knowing smiles or animated discussions.

“Y/N! Over here!”, an excited voice calls out to you from a distance. You turned to the direction of where the voice came from and you were greeted by a familiar face which made you sigh in relief.

You carefully passed through the small crowds as you walked towards your friend, Winter, who was one of the artists showcasing their works in the art exhibit that took place in the museum. You accepted her invite as a way of showing your support to her, since she has been one of your closest friends since high school.

“I'm so glad you're here!”, Winter exclaims and immediately pulls you in for a hug. You hug her back with a smile on your face, feeling proud of your friend's achievements.

“I thought you wouldn't come, since you didn't text me or anything.”, she mutters while she rests her chin on your shoulder,embracing you tightly.

“Don't be silly, of course I'd come! I just wanted to surprise you.”, you chuckle, hugging her tighter.

The both of you pull away from the hug after a few minutes and immediately started the conversation like you had just spoken yesterday, catching up on what you missed. It's been months since you last saw each other and you had only communicated with her over the phone, so it made you emotional to see your friend again like this.

Your conversation with her didn't last long however, as she needed to attend to the guests exploring the exhibit, but the both of you promised to meet up again soon when you had the time.

After bidding farewell to your friend, you had no other plans in mind. Aside from coming there to support her, you didn't really know what else to do. You weren't exactly an expert when it comes to art, but you certainly wanted to keep looking around the exhibit more.

“I should probably just look around while I'm here...”' you muttered while looking down to check the time on your phone. You slowly put your phone back in your purse and proceed to walk down the hallway, admiring the various paintings that were being displayed as you passed by.

Something catches your eye—a row of paintings by the same artist, lined up in perfect harmony. Each piece was unique, yet there was a thread of continuity that tied them together. You felt drawn in, as if the paintings were whispering their stories directly to you. You were captivated by the way each painting felt like a window into the artist's soul.

Clusters of people surrounded you and you were in awe from a wide range of people that had the same thought, admiring the row of paintings that were being displayed. Gasps of admiration rippled through the audience, punctuated by murmurs of awe and appreciation. A group of art enthusiasts were gathered beside you, discussing their thoughts as they observed the paintings thoroughly.

“It seems the artist chose to remain anonymous this year, too.”

“If only we knew who were behind these beautiful paintings, we would love to give credit where it's due.”

“It’s a shame we can’t know who created this. I want to understand the person behind these emotions.”

As the discussions swirled, an art critic stepped forward, passionately defending the artist’s choice.

“Art can exist without the artist's narrative dictating its value. This is a statement about the work itself, challenging us to find meaning within the canvas rather than through a biography.”

The crowd shifted between admiration and frustration, some nodding in agreement, while others remained resolute in their disappointment. The air was thick with the opposing reactions—curiosity, appreciation, and a longing for connection. You were intrigued, but also starting to get overwhelmed by the contrasting emotions from the crowd.

The vibrant colors of the artworks blurred into the background as you focused on finding a way out of the crowd. You walked away in a hurry, squeezing through the groups of people surrounding the area.

You suddenly bumped into someone—an unexpected encounter that halted your hurried steps.

You mutter a small apology as you look up to face the hooded figure standing in front of you. A mask covered the lower half of his face, and he had wavy blonde hair resting on top of his forehead that was slightly covering his eyes. You were quick to notice how he had defined features that were evident despite his face being covered. The fabric of his hood framed his face, adding an enigmatic quality that made it hard to look away.

You took a step back as you felt your heart quickening, catching yourself studying him. As you shifted to move past him, your eyes locked for a fleeting moment. You noticed how his eyes looked somewhat empty, yet you felt that his gaze was soft, concealed by the lack of emotion displayed in his eyes. In that instant, you felt an electric connection, a shared understanding of the allure of concealment. He was a figure shrouded in mystery, yet somehow, you sensed a depth beneath the surface—a story waiting to be told.

You apologized once more and immediately excuse yourself, walking away as you placed your right hand on your chest. You let out a sigh of relief as you stepped out of the museum, while the encounter continues to linger in your mind like an unfinished painting, leaving you both intrigued and curious about the identity behind the mask.

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

The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee as you stood behind the counter of the bustling coffee shop. The vibrant glow from the street lights outside streamed through the large windows, casting warm patches of light on the polished wooden surfaces.

It was Friday, almost a week after you went to the art exhibit that your friend invited you to. The café was typically crowded on weekends, but today it was quieter and less crowded than usual. You glanced around, catching a glimpse of the customers that were seated. A student sat in the corner with their earbuds in, furiously typing away on her laptop with a half-finished latte cooling beside her. On the table across her was a couple huddled over a shared pastry, laughing softly as they shared stories, their eyes sparkling with affection. You smiled to yourself, enjoying your daily routine of observing the people that would come to the café.

You glanced towards the entrance of the café to see a figure approaching, their presence strikingly different from the usual crowd. They wore a dark cap pulled low over their eyes and a mask that obscured the lower half of their face, giving them an air of mystery.

Despite the disguise, something about them felt familiar, like a fleeting memory hovering just out of reach. You greeted them with a warm smile as they glanced through the menu that was being displayed on the screen behind you. They turn their attention to you after a few seconds, seemingly after deciding what to order.

“Hey,” they said, their voice slightly muffled but still warm. “I'd like a medium strawberry acai lemonade to go, please.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, trying to mask your curiosity. As you prepared their drink, you couldn’t help but study the details���how the cap cast shadows on their features and the way their eyes flickered with intrigue. It felt like they were hiding something, but you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or just part of their aura. The mysterious stranger meets your eyes, as if they noticed that you were taking quick yet not so subtle glances at them while you were preparing their drink. You immediately look away and attempt to focus at the task at hand, feeling heat rush up to your cheeks.

As you continued to prepare their drink, thoughts still racing from the recognition, you hear a familiar voice again, tinged with curiosity.

“Sorry to bother, but are you free after this?”

You glance up at them, surprised but intrigued. The stranger stood there, slightly leaning against the counter while holding their phone, their cap slightly askew, revealing a few strands of their blonde hair. The mask still obscured part of their face, but their eyes sparkled with interest. After exchanging eye contact and taking a better look at them, your eyes widened and you felt your heart skip a beat as the recognition washed over you. The same eyes you had seen at the art exhibit sparkled beneath the brim of the cap, and in that moment, everything clicked into place.

The memory flooded back, the familiar intensity of their gaze helping you come into the realization: it was the mysterious person you had bumped into amidst the paintings, the one whose presence had captivated you. It felt surreal to see them here, hidden behind a mask and cap, yet unmistakably the same.

“Y-yeah, I think so,” you replied, attempting to hide what you were feeling while trying to gauge the sincerity of the invitation. “Why do you ask?”

The stranger puts his hand in the pocket of his pants, rummaging as if he was trying to find something.

“I don't know if you can remember, but you dropped this at the exhibit last Saturday. I wasn’t sure how to get it back to you since I didn’t have your contact information, so I’m really glad to see you again here.” the stranger mutters as he opens his hand to reveal a familiar item that takes you by surprise.

A small customized keyring of Glaceon, your favorite Pokémon character rests on his hand. You had been looking for it ever since that day, and you eventually gave up after realizing that you probably dropped it somewhere along the way, so you decided to just get a new one. You never expected that the person you bumped into that day would be the one to pick it up and return it to you.

“Oh gosh, I thought I lost them forever! I was literally about to just get a new one pre-made because I couldn't find them anywhere.”, you exclaim, a mix of relief and happiness evident in your face.

“I figured this would be important to you so I tried looking everywhere, I'm just glad I finally found you.” the stranger fiddles with the keyring in his hand, “Glaceon, huh... that's cute.”

“Wait, you play Pokémon too?”, your eyes lit up after realizing that they just recognized the character.

You hear a muffled chuckle come from the stranger before responding,

“Kind of. Just when I have free time.”

You were about to respond back and start gushing about one of your favorite games when you hear your co-worker clear her throat, interrupting your conversation.

“Ahem, y/n.”, the barista next to you, a tattooed woman with vibrant hair calls out to you, reminding you not to get too carried away with your conversation. You were still working, after all.

Your lips form into a small 'o' as the realization hits you and gets you flustered. You quickly pick up the Strawberry Acai Lemonade that you prepared and hand it over to the customer standing in front of you.

“I'll hold on to Glaceon for now. What time do you get off?”, the stranger asks as he take the drink from you and stuffed the keyring back in his pocket.

“My shift ends at 7, so...”, you paused and looked at the watch strapped to your wrist before continuing, “That's 2 hours from now.”

“Great, I'll be waiting for you at the park nearby. See you later then.”, the stranger says and you nod, accepting their invitation. He waves at you one last time before heading out of the café. You can’t help but smile after the interaction, you weren't expecting that you'd get your keyring back like this.

Your coworker leans in with a teasing glint in their eye. “I've seen people ask for your number but I haven't seen anyone get straight to the point and just ask you out like that before. Should I be worried?”

“He didn't 'ask me out', he just wanted to return the keyring that I lost.”, you reply as you sighed, fighting a grin.

“If you say so, but I wouldn't be surprised if he started coming here often.” they say, chuckling.

You rolled your eyes at them and the both of you laugh together.

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

The fluorescent lights of the café buzz overhead as you finish up your last task, a mix of excitement and relief washing over you. You grab your jacket, toss it on, and make your way out of the building, the cool evening air greeting you like an old friend.

The city is alive with the sounds of laughter and chatter as you make your way to the park. You look around to see families picnicking, couples walking hand in hand, and kids running around with joy. You turn towards the sprawling oak tree and you started to get nervous after spotting a familiar figure kneeling on the sidewalk.

You felt your heart skip a beat, not just from their presence, but from the sight of them gently cradling a small bowl of cat food. A scruffy stray cat, fur matted and eyes wide with curiosity, approached him in a cautious manner. Curiously, you lean against a nearby lamppost, watching as they softly cooed to the cat, coaxing it closer with soothing words. Their kindness drew you in, and you felt warm after seeing them care for the stray cat.

After a few seconds of hesitating, the cat finally took a tentative step forward and began nibbling at the food. You slowly approach the both of them, taking careful steps to not startle the cat.

“Hey,” you say in a whisper, kneeling beside him and he turns to you after noticing your presence.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

He shrugs before responding.“Not at all, I haven't been waiting long. I just came across this little one and I had a pack of treats with me, so...”

You smiled at him before turning your direction back to the cat and he does the same. The both of you shared a glance, and you felt the connection deepen. It was as if the world around the both of you faded, leaving just the three of you in that moment—two people and a stray cat enjoying a simple act of kindness.

After a few minutes, the cat finished its meal and scurried away, leaving you both with lingering smiles and a sense of shared purpose. The both of you stood up, brushing your knees off. He grabs the Glaceon keyring out from his pocket and hands it over to you.

“Thank you so much, I got so upset when I couldn't find them anywhere. This just made my whole week,” you smile as you gently take the keyring from his hand. The slight touch of your skin makes your heart flutter. “Do you want to stop by somewhere? Let me get you something to snack on, at least.”

“Sure, I don't mind, but it's fine. You don't have to get me anything, really,” he replies.

“No, I insist. I'm starving, so let me get something for you too.” You say as you step forward to lead the way, determined not to give him a chance to decline.

You hear a muffled chuckle come from under his mask as he nods, muttering a small, “Okay.”

As you walk down the street, the bright lights of a nearby convenience store come into view. It’s small and cozy, the kind of place that feels like a treasure trove of late-night snacks.

“Do you have any favorites?” you ask as you push the door open, the familiar jingling of the bell overhead announcing your arrival.

He scans the aisles with crossed arms, a slight frown creasing his brow. “I usually go for pizza, but ice cream would be nice at this hour too…”

You chuckle, trying to ease the tension hanging between you. “That’s okay, just grab what you feel like eating. It’s on me.” His hesitation is palpable, a moment of uncertainty flickering in his eyes before you offer a reassuring smile.

As you both wander the aisles, the air is filled with the scent of snacks and the soft hum of the store. You steal a glance at him—his mask covers part of his face, but his eyes seem contemplative, guarded. He finally picks up a pint of mint chocolate ice cream from the freezer and turns to you, catching you observing him.

“Mint chocolate, huh?” you tease lightly, trying to break the ice. He raises an eyebrow, and you could almost see the confused expression he's making behind the mask.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite flavor,” he replies with a hint of pride.

You can’t help but grimace slightly. “Really? I’m not a fan. The mint just doesn’t sit right with me.”

His eyes widen a little, clearly surprised. “Seriously? What’s wrong with mint? It’s refreshing!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Refreshing, sure, but it feels like I’m eating toothpaste. I prefer something richer, like chocolate fudge or cookies and cream.”

He leans forward, intrigued. “So you’re a chocolate purist? I can respect that.”

You both chuckle before you continue browsing, the shared laughter and small conversations feel just out of reach, heightening the mystery of each other. Still, as he tosses a pint of mint chocolate ice cream into his basket, there’s a flicker of connection—a shared moment in the late-night glow of the store, where the outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you, uncertain but curious.

After making your selections, you step outside the convenience store, the night air cool against your skin. You find a small table nearby, the kind that’s seen better days but still feels welcoming under the glow of the streetlights.

“Mind if we sit here?” you ask, gesturing to the table. He nods, a hint of relief in his posture as he takes a seat across from you.

You unwrap your snacks, the sounds of crinkling wrappers filling the silence. He carefully sets his cup of mint chocolate ice cream down, glancing around with a hint of uncertainty, as if he was making sure there wasn't anyone around to see him. You look around, and turn to face him once you saw that the coast was clear and there wasn't anyone else around.

“You know, it’s going to be a bit tricky to eat that with the mask on,” you point out playfully, leaning back in your chair.

He looks at you with hesitant eyes, his fingers brushing against the fabric of the mask. “Yeah, but...”

“You could just take it off for a minute,” you say, your voice light but encouraging. “Nobody's around, and besides, I promise I won’t judge if that's what you’re worried about.” You offer him a smile, trying to make it as reassuring as possible.

He hesitates, clearly wrestling with something. Then he sighs, shoulders relaxing a little.“Alright, I guess you have a point.”

He pauses, studying you for a moment, as if deciding whether to trust you with whatever he’s about to reveal. The tension lingers in the air—just a heartbeat of silence—before it disappears as he slowly pulls the mask down, revealing his face.

You freeze, completely caught off guard.

It’s like everything else in the world fades away for a second as you take in his features. His face is almost striking yet gentle at the same time, in a way that feels almost effortless. Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. The kind of face you’d expect to see on the cover of a magazine, but somehow more real in person. His eyes are warm and dream-like but a little guarded, there’s something about them that feels... genuine. A trace of a smile plays at the corners of his lips, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve been staring too long.

“Sorry for the late introduction," he says, his voice a bit hesitant. "I wasn’t sure how to go about it earlier.”

He pauses for a moment, studying your reaction, before continuing, “I’m... Kai—”

“Huening Kai. From the Huening family, right?” The words slip out before you can stop them. You blink a couple of times, mentally scrambling to catch up.

He nods slowly, holding your gaze with a slight intensity. There's a brief flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he adds, “Yeah... I’m Huening Kai. But you can just call me Kai, really. You probably know me because of my sisters.” His voice drops slightly, almost apologetically, as he looks away, an awkwardness settling in.

Your mind races as the pieces fall into place. His sisters. The models. The towering figures in the fashion world whose faces grace billboards and magazines everywhere. You've seen them countless times, admired their poise and style from a distance. But sitting across from you now is the brother—the one who’s always kept himself out of the limelight, the middle child who stays hidden behind a veil of mystery. The one you’ve never seen before.

“Wait a second,” you murmur, still trying to wrap your head around it. “You're... really him? I didn’t realize I was sitting across from someone so... famous.”

He lets out a small chuckle, but there's no warmth behind it. “Well, I’m not exactly famous. Not in the same way they are,” he adds, his tone a little defensive, a little tired.

You raise an eyebrow, sensing something deeper. “What do you mean? Your sisters are huge. You're part of that family. How are you not as well-known?”

He shifts uncomfortably, glancing down at his ice cream cup as though it holds some kind of answer.

“That’s exactly why I don’t like being in the spotlight. I...didn’t want to follow the path they set for me.” His fingers absently trace the rim of the cup.

“My family’s been in the public eye for ages. My sisters, they're everywhere—billboards, magazines, the runway. But I... I never really wanted to be part of all that.”

You lean in a little, intrigued by the rawness in his voice. “So, you... chose a different path?”

He nods, his eyes briefly flickering with something hard to pinpoint—frustration, maybe, or regret.

“Yeah. My family’s always had these big plans for me—training, appearances, all that stuff they thought was best for me. But it wasn’t for me. So I stayed out of the spotlight. I didn’t want that life. I wanted something else—something more... personal, I guess.”

There's a quiet sincerity in his words, a weight that hangs in the air between you. It's a side of him that doesn’t quite match the image you'd imagined, and it makes you want to know more, however you didn't want to dwell on the topic too much.

You realize you're treading dangerously close to territory that feels too personal for a first meeting, especially with someone like him. The last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable, so you quickly clear your throat and shift gears.

“Well, I guess it's only fair I introduce myself too,” you start, trying to keep the mood light, “I'm y/n, you probably know this already, but I work as a barista on the café just down the street, where you saw me. I like to play games during my free time, but you might've already guessed that after seeing the Glaceon keyring.” you say with a chuckle and Kai laughs, you notice the way his shoulders relax a little.

“So, what brought you to the art exhibit last week?” he asks, taking a small scoop of ice cream.

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, I got invited by a friend. She was one of the artists there. I haven’t seen her in a few months and I was free, so I figured I’d drop by to support her.” You smile, taking out a chocolate chip cookie from the wrapper and taking a bite. “How about you?”

Kai’s eyes flicker with a brief change, like a shadow crossing his expression. You almost miss it—he’s quick to cover it up—but you see the subtle shift. He clears his throat and takes another bite of ice cream, suddenly looking just a little bit more uncomfortable.

“Oh, I just… I went for the atmosphere, I guess,” he says a little too casually. “It seemed like a nice event. I, uh… I like paintings and I go to art galleries sometimes. So I thought I’d check it out.”

You nod, not thinking much of it.

“Yeah, it was pretty cool. Some of the pieces really blew me away, though. There was this one collection—landscapes, mostly—I can't find a way to describe them since I'm not really an artistic person. I think I spent most of my time just standing there, taking them in. They were so vivid. It's a shame the artist chose to hide their identity, though.”

Kai’s hand stiffens for a split second. His eyes flicker to you, then quickly away, his face flushing just a bit, and he suddenly becomes very interested in his ice cream cup.

“Oh… really? That's a bummer..” he says, his voice just a bit too quiet. “You, uh… you liked those pieces?” His tone is a little uncertain, like he’s trying not to let on too much.

“Yeah, it’s a real shame, honestly,” you say, taking another bite of your chocolate chip cookie, enjoying the taste as you talk. “I mean, the art was just so powerful. You could tell there was so much emotion behind it. Especially with the landscapes—like the mountains at sunset? There was this depth to them that was almost… haunting. I wanted to know more, to understand what the artist was feeling when they created it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” he mutters, his voice softer now. He glances at you briefly before quickly looking away. “It’s always interesting to try and figure out what the artist was thinking, especially when they’re not around to explain it.”

Kai’s gaze drops to his cup, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge. There’s a strange unease in his posture now, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or not. The words hang in the air, unspoken, before he finally clears his throat.

“Sometimes, though, it’s better to leave things open to interpretation. People see art differently, right?”

“I guess that’s true, I think the best artists aren’t afraid to share their vision. It’s not about just putting a painting out there—it’s about sharing a piece of yourself.” you say thoughtfully, “But I think if the art is good enough, it can speak louder than the artist ever could. Sometimes it’s better to let the art stand on its own.” You smile at him, clearly passionate about the subject.

Kai seems to relax just a fraction, though there’s still a subtle tension around him. He forces a small smile, but there’s something in his eyes—a mix of guilt, embarrassment, and something deeper—that you can’t quite place.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” He glances at you, his face a little flushed. “I mean, it’s just art, right? Not everything needs a big explanation.”

You nod in agreement, though you still can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to the story.

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

It's Saturday, and a week has passed since your unexpected encounter with Kai. In that short span of time, so much has happened, yet the days seem to have gotten a little easier, a little brighter. The usual hustle and bustle of working at the café remains, but there's a noticeable lightness to your routine now.

After exchanging numbers, you and Kai started talking more—texting, calling, and meeting up when you could. Slowly, you both opened up, and you began to get to know each other in ways you hadn't anticipated. Kai turned out to be full of surprises. You discovered he was of mixed ethnicity: his mother is Korean, and his father is German-American. That blend of cultures explains his striking features, with sharp eyes and a unique, almost ethereal look.

He also revealed something that made you smile: he was two years younger than you. A fun fact, but it only added to the growing sense of camaraderie between you two. And, to your delight, Kai had a quirky side—you learned that he has a collection of plushies and stuffed animals, something you never would have guessed from his usual cool, laid-back demeanor.

But the best part? The two of you seemed to share so many interests and hobbies. From the same taste in music to mutual love for quirky movies and favorite games, it felt like the more you discovered, the more you had in common. And somehow, as the days went by, it was as if you’d known each other far longer than just a week.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that you’d originally just wanted to befriend Kai. After all, he was kind enough to seek you out just to return your keyring, a small gesture that had caught you off guard. But as you spent more time with him, getting to know him better, you couldn’t help but notice that little flutter in your chest whenever you saw him, heard him laugh, or felt the quiet spark between you two. Before you knew it, a small crush had started to form—a soft, hesitant thing that grew each time you connected.

Well, that was the case… until he asked you to hang out with him on the weekend. You remember the moment clearly, as if it had just happened yesterday.

It was a Wednesday night, and you were walking side by side with Kai after your shift. The streets were quieter than usual, the park just a few blocks away offering a peaceful backdrop to the end of a long day. You were lost in conversation, laughing about something silly when suddenly, he said something that made you stop in your tracks.

Kai took a few more steps ahead before noticing you weren’t following. He turned back, his brows raised in quiet curiosity.

“Wait, what?” you asked, not quite trusting your ears. You had heard him correctly, but you needed to be sure your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you. You looked up at him, waiting for some sort of clarification.

Kai’s lips curled into a soft, amused smile, and he let out a low chuckle. “I said, do you want to come over to my place this weekend? We can play Genshin, Pokémon, watch anime, or… whatever you feel like doing. I just want to hang out with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could filter your words, they spilled out excitedly. “Sure! I'd love to—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing how quickly you’d agreed. You tried to recover, clearing your throat and regaining some semblance of composure. “I mean… I’m off that day, and I don’t really have anything better to do, so... yeah, sure. Why not?” You laughed awkwardly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You were hoping that he wouldn't notice that state you were in.

Kai smiled at your response, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “Cool, I’ll send you the address when I get home then,” he said casually, but the soft smile he gave you made your heart race again.

Now here you are, standing nervously in front of his apartment door. Your fingers anxiously toy with the hem of your shirt, the weight of indecision hanging over you. Should you ring the doorbell now, or wait just a little longer? You pull your phone from your pocket once again, unlocking it to check your reflection in the camera, making sure your makeup is still on point.

You catch yourself wondering if you’ve overdone it, but can’t help the doubt creeping in. It is your first time meeting up with him on the weekend, so why settle for the usual work clothes when you can dress up a little? So that's exactly what you did. You chose to go for a simple, casual yet cute vibe for your outfit, a reflection of your personality. Still, the thought of being alone with him in his space makes your stomach flutter with nerves.

After a long, drawn-out moment of hesitation, you take a deep breath to steady yourself, then press the doorbell. Your heart pounds as you wait, counting the seconds, the anticipation building with every beat. Finally, the door clicks open.

You look up and find Kai standing in the doorway. He’s dressed casually, wearing a loose gray hoodie and black sweatpants. It’s nothing extravagant, but the moment your eyes meet, a rush of warmth floods your cheeks. You’ve seen him dressed in something similar before, but there’s something about seeing him in these comfortable, almost cozy clothes that sends your thoughts spinning.

Lately, you've noticed that it’s been harder to keep those stray thoughts at bay. You can’t help but think about him at the oddest moments. You catch yourself re-reading his texts when work gets stressful, and somehow, it always makes you smile. It’s gotten to the point where your co-worker has noticed you spacing out, daydreaming in the middle of a shift. Your little “crush” on him has turned into something more… something that you can’t quite shake off.

“Hey, Y/N! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” Kai says, running a hand through his hair as he gestures for you to come inside.

“Hey, Kai. Not at all, don’t worry!” You force a smile, trying to steady your racing heart, and step inside.

Your eyes quickly scan the unfamiliar space as he shuts the door behind you. You flinch slightly at the sound, the soft click of the door locking behind you amplifying the tension in the air.

As you step inside, you immediately notice how spacious the apartment feels. The high ceilings and open layout give it a sense of freedom, like the space was designed to breathe. Natural light pours in through large windows, casting soft beams that highlight the simple yet creative details of the room.

It’s clear that this place reflects Kai in every corner. The furniture is minimalistic, but it’s carefully chosen, with a mix of modern lines and vintage pieces that feel both comfortable and intentional.

It’s really happening. You’re alone with him now... in his house. But it’s just to hang out. Nothing weird about it. Just play some games, maybe have a laugh... You try to convince yourself, but the fluttering in your stomach refuses to settle.

Kai turns to you with a quick glance, then smiles softly. “Follow me. I have something to show you.”

You nod, feeling your heart pick up its pace, and follow him as he leads you down a short hallway. After a few steps, he stops in front of a closed door, his hand hovering over the doorknob. You pause too, standing beside him, your gaze lingering on his hand as he slowly, almost cautiously, wraps his fingers around the handle.

“I...”, he looks at you for just a second, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he looks away, his hesitation hanging heavy in the air.

The nervousness in your own chest grows with his. What’s going on? You think, worry creeping in as you watch him falter.

“What's wrong?” you ask, your voice soft, but the concern evident in the way you step closer to him.

The earlier tension shifts, replaced by a different kind of unease. It’s not about you anymore—it’s about him. You don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, especially if something is making him hesitate this much.

You gently reach out, placing your hand on his free one. A small, comforting smile pulls at your lips as you give his hand a reassuring squeeze. His fingers loosen slightly on the doorknob, but he doesn't pull away from your touch.

Kai looks at you, his eyes softening, and for the first time since you arrived, he seems to exhale, a quiet calm settling over him. The tension in his shoulders eases, and you can almost see him relax, if only just a little.

“You're probably going to hate me for this, but I didn't want to keep any secrets from you.” he says, a light laugh escaping him, though there’s an edge of uncertainty in it. You shake your head, not needing to hear more.

Your heart races. It dawns on you then: whatever lies behind that door, he’s kept it hidden. And now, he trusts you enough to share it. There’s a mixture of excitement and anticipation building in your chest, but also a growing sense of wonder.

What could it be? What secret does he keep in that room? You think to yourself.

Kai’s hand tightens around yours for a brief moment before he takes a deep breath and slowly pushes the door open, revealing the unknown inside.

The door creaks open, and you step into the room, immediately struck by the soft, golden light pouring in through the large window at the far wall. The sunlight spills across the space, bathing everything in a warm, almost dreamlike glow. It feels intimate, personal—like you’ve stepped into something that is deeply, intrinsically Kai.

You take a few steps further in, your gaze drawn to the walls. The paintings are everywhere—some framed and hung meticulously, others leaning casually against the walls as if still waiting for their final placement. The works range from precise and vivid to rough and abstract, but they all share a raw energy, a depth of emotion that’s impossible to ignore.

Some of the paintings are finished—brilliantly detailed and vibrant with emotion. Others are in progress, the brushstrokes thick and loose, as though caught mid-thought. And the way the light catches on the unfinished works, highlighting the vivid streaks of color, you get the feeling that each piece was crafted here in this very room, in that same soft, intimate light. The unfinished ones don’t feel incomplete—they feel alive, as if the artist is still in the process of giving birth to something profound.

Your heart beats a little faster as your eyes take in the sight. The realization hits you like a wave.

These paintings—they’re the ones you saw at the exhibit. The ones that had captivated you, left you wondering about the mysterious anonymous artist behind them. You remember standing in that gallery, looking at the work, feeling a strange, magnetic pull to it, wondering about the artist—who they were, what their story was, why they had chosen to remain faceless, unknown.

And now you know. The artist—the one who had everyone buzzing, everyone desperate to know their identity—is Kai.

The pieces on the walls now are familiar, but they’re so much more than you expected. You had been amazed by them at the gallery, but standing here in the room where they were created, the connection to each brushstroke, each layer of paint, feels much deeper. This is where it all started. This is where Kai has poured himself into every canvas, shaping emotions and stories in silence. And now, it feels like the weight of that silence is finally being lifted.

You turn to Kai, and for a brief moment, you can’t speak. The air between you is thick with the unspoken truth.

He’s watching you, his posture tense, but his eyes—the vulnerability in them is unmistakable. His gaze flickers over to the paintings, then quickly shifts back to you, as if he’s bracing himself for your reaction.

“I never thought I’d show anyone this side of me,” Kai says quietly, his voice almost lost in the stillness of the room. “But the world... they wanted to know who I was. The anonymous artist, the one behind these paintings... I didn’t want to reveal it. Not like this.”

Your breath catches, and you feel a tightness in your chest. The mystery, the anonymity—it all makes sense now. Everyone had been so desperate to uncover the artist behind the work, but Kai wasn’t ready to give that part of himself away. Not until now.

You move closer, your hand instinctively reaching out for his, a silent gesture of comfort, of connection.

“But you’re ready now,” you say softly, the weight of his words sinking in. “You’ve already shared your work with the world, but this... this is something deeper, isn’t it?”

Kai nods, his eyes softening as he meets your gaze. There’s something almost relieved in his expression, like the burden of secrecy is finally lifting.

“I wasn’t ready to face what it would mean to have everyone know. But I think...” His voice falters for a moment, as if unsure of what he’s saying, but then he exhales deeply, as if coming to terms with it. “I think I’m ready for you to see it. For you to know.”

Your heart races as you take in his words. The paintings—the ones that had left you breathless, the ones that had sparked so many questions—are his. This whole time, you had admired them from afar, but now you see the artist behind them. You see him.

“They’re incredible, Kai,” you say, your voice soft, but full of awe. “The world deserves to know you did this. They deserve to see the person behind these works.”

He smiles, a slow, hesitant curve of his lips, and for the first time, you see the weight of the secret lifting from him. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’ll let them know. Maybe I’m ready.”

The room feels smaller now, not in a confining way, but in a way that draws you closer to him. This moment, this revelation, it’s like the light in the room has shifted, casting everything in a new, softer glow.

The paintings aren’t just paintings anymore—they’re pieces of Kai, of his journey, and they’re now part of something shared between the two of you.

You stand there, overwhelmed by the beauty of the room, the paintings, and the connection between them and Kai. It all feels so personal, so intimate. The realization hits you like a wave: Kai, the anonymous artist behind the work that captivated you, is standing right beside you.

Before you can stop yourself, your tears start to fall, unbidden and unexpected. You quickly wipe at your eyes, laughing nervously. You’re not sad—far from it—but overwhelmed, moved by the beauty of it all, and by the knowledge that Kai, the man you’re standing next to, is the one who created these masterpieces.

As silly as it may seem, it felt like fate had woven your paths together. From the moment his paintings first captivated you at the art exhibit to the chance encounter with him later that same day when you dropped your keyring, everything seemed to lead to this. Then there was that moment at the café when he finally returned it to you after searching for you for so long. And now, discovering that it was Kai behind those paintings all along, you’re overwhelmed with emotion. His presence beside you feels warmer than ever, like everything finally makes sense.

You don’t even realize it until Kai’s voice breaks through the quiet of the room, filled with concern.

“Hey,” he says softly, his eyes instantly narrowing as they scan your face. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You quickly swipe at your face, trying to clear the tears, but they keep coming, one or two slipping past your efforts.

“I’m fine,” you insist, shaking your head as you laugh nervously. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

But Kai is unconvinced. He steps closer, his brow furrowing with concern, and he gently takes a step toward you, his eyes searching yours. “You’re crying, y/n.” he points out, teasing but with an undercurrent of worry. “Is this because I’m the artist behind all those paintings? Was it that dramatic for you?”

You freeze, blinking up at him, and before you can catch yourself, you let the words slip out.

“I… I just think I’m falling for you, okay? You keep surprising me.”

The words escape before you can stop them, and you freeze, horrified by your own slip. A sharp blush spreads across your cheeks, and you take a step back, raising your hands defensively.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean—”

Kai blinks, his eyes widening slightly, and then he grins, a teasing smirk creeping onto his lips. “Falling for me, huh?” he tilts his head slightly, his voice taking on a playful tone. “Was it the art that did it? Getting you all emotional like that? Here I thought you were crying because you were upset.”

Your face burns with embarrassment, and you’re about to stammer out some kind of awkward excuse when Kai steps forward, his grin softening.

You open your mouth to explain, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches, and the embarrassment makes your chest tighten. You look down at your feet, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. You want to say something—anything—to fix this, to undo the slip. But before you can even manage a breath, Kai’s hand gently lifts your chin, his touch soft but firm.

You glance up at him, trying to gather your thoughts, but before you can speak, Kai leans in and closes the distance between you, slowly tilting your face upward. Your breath hitches in your throat, and before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

You freeze, the suddenness of it making your heart skip a beat. The world seems to blur around you, and for a few seconds, you don’t know how to react. But then, slowly, your nerves ease, and something inside you unravels. You find yourself responding, your hand moving to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, soft but full of unspoken emotion.

When you finally pull back, your chest is tight, your breath shallow. You look at him, a little dazed, unsure of what just happened but feeling the heat of it all. Kai’s smile is softer now, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes your heart race even more.

“You’re not the only one,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’ve been falling for you too, y/n.”

The moment he confirms that he feels the same way, something inside you shifts—like a switch has been flipped, igniting something deep within you. You're not sure what it is, but it’s electric, a surge of warmth that floods your chest. Slowly, your hand, which had been resting on the back of his neck, moves upward to gently slide through his hair. The sensation of his softness beneath your fingers sends a thrill through you, and your breath catches as you look at him with dazed eyes.

Heat spreads through your body within seconds, an intense pull toward him that you can’t ignore.

Everything feels sharper, more vivid, the air between you charged with something undeniable.

“You can't just stop there, you know...” you murmur softly, almost like a whisper, your voice barely breaking the silence. The words feel delicate, but there’s a quiet hunger in them that you didn’t expect.

Kai’s gaze shifts instantly—deeper, more intense. His eyes darken, and something in the air between you changes, as though the entire room tightens around the both of you. You feel it in the way he looks at you, like he’s reading you, understanding what you need even before you do.

“Who told you I was going to stop there?” His voice drops lower, laced with something darker, more deliberate.

“We're just getting started, noona.”

Oh well, I guess we're saving Genshin and Pokémon for next time.....

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

[jamalambbamm]

My submission for @mcytblraufest this year! A pirate style au with Grian and Scar. I decided to do something that left a lot to interpretation, and boy did the authors working with me go all out to make some great fics with this prompt! They've done great and you should totally go read their amazing works. I left a small comment saying that I could add wings if need be to the original submission artwork, and it's bonkers to see the authors grab that and absolutely run with ideas.

First is the writing duo of @masque-of-plague and @spadeyhearty whose idea to go in such a random direction to anything I'd try to think of was awesome to watch come together.

And second is @luminaryaerii also with another idea I hadn't even thought of.

These three have done such an incredible job, I won't spoil much with the plots but I 100%%% recommend you read them.

[foxyola]

Another piece of art, this time for @masque-of-plague's fic Anchor & Tide as part of the @hermitshippingbigbang :D!

It was the biggest piece I've done in a while, will never do this again (I'm lying, I will probably do that again)

[atropinenightshade]

If you'd like to ask about Masque, you can in a tag or the comments section. It will be my main long fic of the year! (I do have to update something for Sophos's birthday next year. Well "birthday")

Ps: main focus does not mean I will quit ATOTE or other fics that may turn into a long fic ❗️I just don't have enough motivation to write and write them beyond bits and outlines.

[jane-d-ankh-veos]

For Hallowmas: my Nocturnal Nostalgist, donning the Masque of the Red Death – perfect for attending without invitations, especially the Red-and-Gold Gala at the Royal Bethlehem Hotel with its unreality-within-reality fitting this reference-within-reference. (I have a whole fic about that, yes.)

The beautiful advertisment of @neathyfashioncoalition encouraged me to finally draw it.

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.11.14

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. and we were both fast asleep by artifice [E, 8k]

It’d be like making love, if there was any love between them to be had.

2. A Dragon's Warmth by littlelil1519 [G, 2k]

Draco wanted to give all the gentleness and sparkling kindness he possessed to the soft Harry he had come to know. The boy whose hands were too cold.

3. not guilty by @thepenguinclub [G, 2k]

After the Second Wizarding War, the Malfoy family doesn't get many visitors. When Harry Potter turns out to be in Draco's sitting room, he expects the worst.

4. Speechless, in More Ways than One by Ace_Phoenix [E, 2k]

Harry'd been wanting Draco to sit on his face for a while now, and after some prodding, he finally got his chance, which was the same day that he found out there were several ways for Draco to leave him speechless.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. hugged and tugged down through this tiger's masque by Anonymous [M, 11k]

A glimpse into a period of alteration, change, and transformation. ★ HD Tarot Fest | @hd-tarot

[reflingthefox]

“What the hell are you talking about?” Grian asked, voice steely. “Tell who what? And how the hell did this happen? …And what are you wearing? ” 

“Please, Grian, I can explain!” Jimmy’s voice was thin and breathy. 

Before he could stop him, Tango stepped out from behind him, placing himself between Jimmy and Grian. 

“It’s my fault, not Jimmy’s,” he said. “Blame me.”

Another of my works for @hermitshippingbigbang event arrives, and this time, it's t he illustration I've had an honor to make for @masque-of-plague's amazing fic! Check it out here!

Whoo boy. This piece was long in making, almost as long in waiting (think the autumn of last year!) and I'm pretty sure I've arrived at the end the different person than the Ref who started it. Totally worth it. And, ranchers the best.

Enjoy - and don't forget to check the event board!

[mellioops]

Ooohhhh Jimmy you’re in troubleee

This is my piece for @masque-of-plague’s amazing ranchers fic for the @hermitshippingbigbang :D

Go read it right now it’s so so good

[hd-tarot]

🔮✨ HD Tarot Fest Anonymous Masterlist ✨🔮

Below is a collection of all the incredible fic and art created under the mystical influence of the Major and Minor Arcana cards.

Creators will be revealed on Saturday, November 30th at 1pm GMT/8am EST!

· ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Fic ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ·

🔮 Because This River Is Wild (T, 14k words) 🃏 Six of Pentacles, upright: generosity, community, help, support, sharing, gratitude Six of Pentacles, reversed: inequality, taking advantage, strings attached, extortion, unfair power dynamics Consider this, though: how do you know you’re looking at the card the intended way? Or, Harry and Draco struggle with the explosive nature of passion without trust. Card(s): Six of Pentacles

🔮 Twilight Eternal (M, 23.9k words) 🃏 Wherever Draco is, the sun sits eternally on the precipice of setting. His father feeds his peacocks on the manor grounds. Harry is the only one who can communicate with Draco. A malevolent force haunts the house, nipping at Draco’s heels. Draco intended for himself to come to this place. He only wishes he could remember why. Card(s): Five of Cups

🔮 all i need (G, 3.9k words) 🃏 What would have happened if Draco Malfoy went down to the cellar again after Wormtail seemingly disappeared? Card(s): Six of Swords

🔮 I Watch Your Light (E, 9k words) 🃏 Harry spends his nights out pretending that he isn't sitting across from Draco Malfoy. This is rather difficult to do since Malfoy won't stop staring at him. Why, oh why, did his boyfriend have to be friends with the blond wanker? Card(s): Six of Cups, King of Cups (reversed), Four of Cups (reversed)

🔮 Little Black Dress (E, 4.9k words) 🃏 Returning for a mandatory eighth year and secretly dating Harry Potter, Draco is a bit of a mess. Harry wants to go public with their relationship, but the last thing Draco needs is another reason for people to hate him. As they work on their Tarot assignment for Advanced Divination, could a change of heart be in the cards? Card(s): Eight of Pentacles, Queen of Wands, Queen of Cups (reversed)

🔮 Abstract From a Moment (E, 19.1k words) 🃏 What Draco thinks will be a promotion in the Department of Mysteries turns out to be a strange, morbid assignment. He can handle the macabre task and the slightly frightening interactions with his odd superior, especially if it means career success. Trust Harry Potter to ruin everything. Card(s): Ten of Wands (reversed)

🔮 psychopomp (E, 15.3k words) 🃏 “Do you think I deserve to live?” The words spilt from his mouth, unbidden. Potter fixed him with a penetrating look. Draco recalled the expression he’d worn when he wrenched the wands from Draco’s grip at the Manor; thought this could be the same one. You can’t hide from me, it said. I know everything about you. “I think dying is the easy way out.” Card(s): The High Priestess

🔮 A wolf at the door (T, 13.5k words) 🃏 When Harry decided to do his internship with an international Auror, he was seeking an escape from many things. He certainly hadn’t anticipated ending up questioning his sexuality, magically trapped in a Spanish house with Draco Malfoy. Card(s): The World

🔮 hugged and tugged down through this tiger’s masque (M, 11k words) 🃏 A glimpse into a period of alteration, change, and transformation. Card(s): Death

🔮 Rusty Cage (E, 20.5k words) 🃏 Harry Potter is not okay. Someone else who’s not okay? Draco Malfoy, but he's doing time in Azkaban for his heinous crimes. But what if Draco isn't as guilty as he's been made out to be? Everyone knows that Harry is a sucker for righting injustice, including Hermione, who is more than prepared to meddle in order to help her best friend. Or, when Harry visits Draco in prison and things don't go quite as expected. Card(s): Eight of Swords

🔮 Towers of glory and the hands that felled them (G, 15.8k words) 🃏 It’s been 10 years since the war and Draco Malfoy is yet to leave his tower. The Tower: a symbol for ambition that is constructed on faulty premises. The destruction of the tower must happen in order to clear out the old ways and welcome something new. Its revelations can come in a flash of truth or inspiration. Card(s): The Tower

🔮 Mirror, Me (E, 18.3k words) 🃏 Harry’s current predicament is, he can admit, rather dire. Being caught stalking aside, he thinks his nose might be broken. Humiliation licks up his rigid spine, but along with it is a prickle of ill-advised anticipation, a foolish thrill at what Malfoy might do. Harry is a little lost. His house is rejecting him and his friends and family are busy and moving on. To cope, he turns to what’s tried and true; following Draco Malfoy. The first time was an accident. Sort of. Card(s): Four of Wands

🔮 Beyond the Veil (M, 9.9k words) 🃏 Embracing his new role as the Master of Death, Harry finds harmony in the natural order of things, but can he find a balance with the new Master of Life, Draco Malfoy? Card(s): Temperance

🔮 Minor Fall, Major Lift (E, 10.9k words) 🃏 Harry Potter is telling people’s fortunes in a tent in the Atrium at the Ministry Christmas party. Draco thinks Divination is a load of rubbish. But the cards never lie… Card(s): Ten of Pentacles (reversed), The Moon, Three of Cups

🔮 The Superfluous Man (E, 24.1k words) 🃏 A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life. Card(s): The Wheel of Fortune

🔮 Care for a Walk? (G, 2k words) 🃏 “Draco,” Harry beams confidently as the gates swing open, “Care for a walk?” Card(s): Six of Cups

🔮 Skipping Stones (M, 34.7k words) 🃏 Draco receives his very own prophecy. If Harry Potter could leave him alone, he might be able to figure out what it means. Card: Queen of Swords

· ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Art ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ·

🔮 Death (G) 🃏 Card: Death

🔮 The Strength (G) 🃏 Card: Strength

🔮 A New Light. (G) 🃏 The choices that changed us. Card: The Tower

🔮 The Moon (G) 🃏 Card: The Moon

🔮 Surrender (M) 🃏 Draco repents. Card: The Hanged Man

🔮 nine of cups (G) 🃏 Harry happy in the upright card position, Draco suffering in the reverse. Card: Nine of Cups

🔮 The Sun (G) 🃏 In the cosmos of his heart, Harry blooms not but for one sun. Card: The Sun

🔮 Crepusculum (G) 🃏 A guardian in his tower, whimsical and secretive. A corruptor in the marble manor, with mirrored flesh and soul. Two souls at the foot of a castle seeking the sky just out of reach. Held down by twisted word and lies. Card: The Emperor

🔮 Ace of Cups (G) 🃏 Sipping from the same cup. Card: Ace of Cups

🔮 Ten of Cups (G) 🃏 ten of cups joy, gratitude, unconditional love, belonging, emotional fulfillment Card: Ten of Cups

🔮 XXI. THE WORLD (G) 🃏 XXI. The World, but make it drarry. Card: The World

[nessataleweaver]

FIC: You and I are like the ink staining all the other pages (Game of Thrones, Jon/Sansa)

RATING: Explicit (m/f sex); step-incest; possible dubious consent; underage sex

SUMMARY: (modern AU) Step-siblings Jon and Sansa have been in denial about their mutual attraction for a long time. When the Stark-Tully kids head out to the Halloween carnival, Jon is the only one willing to go through the ‘lame’ Ghost tunnel with Sansa. But they don’t know it’s been re-purposed from a Tunnel of Love, that’s been given an extra kick via magic...

PROMPT: For jonsa-halloween for their 2024 event, using the October 30th prompt ‘Magic’. 

NOTE: I originally had this idea for ‘curse’, but that would have involved Joffrey being stupid and vengeful, and I don’t really want to give his royal skidmark any page time, so I switched tracks somewhat.  While doing so, I realised I was actually writing a prequel to one of my stories from the 2020 event, ‘What you are in the dark’. So to clarify: this is a modern AU, where the Starks are a blended family.  Jon and Arya are Ned’s children, while Robb, Sansa and Bran are Catelyn’s kids.  Rickon is theirs, and is still a toddler. Theon, Robb, Jon and Sansa are all in high school. Arya and Bran are thirteen and twelve.

Can also be read on AO3

ONE YEAR EARLIER

“Agatha... what are those symbols you’re painting?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Well, from here they look like several examples of ‘surrender to your desires’, ‘increase affection’, and ‘increase libido’.”

“So why did you ask?”

(sigh) “Agatha, I was asking with the sub-text “Why in Hecate’s name are you painting magic symbols inside our carnival attraction, which we will be exposing many members of the public to?” Do you want us to get sued? Or called in by the Misuse of Magic Office?”

“Don’t be silly!  It’s not mind-altering or anything, it’s just giving things a little... push.  This is going to be a ‘Tunnel of Love’, so the couples that go through it will come out feeling lovey-dovey and horny.  Just think about the Yelp reviews we’ll get!”

“And what about people who aren’t couples, who are just going through it for laughs? Or people who are going on this because they get sick on other rides, and who’s significant others are on the coaster?  Or tweenage girls going through with their besties because it’s so romantic?”

(eyeroll) “It’s like you think I’m stupid or something. All the boats are floating on water, so the customers won’t be around any of the symbols long enough for anything to happen inside the ride. If anything, their partners will have a good time when they get home, or they get to discover the joys of masturbation. Honestly, the worst that will happen is that a few of the security guards might bust some couples fucking in the parking lot because they don’t want to wait to get home.  So what?”

(deeper sigh) “If something goes wrong, I’m throwing you off the flying carpet.”

“Fine, Miss Scaredy-cat!  And when we get asked to hire it out all over the North, I get all the bragging rights!”

ONE MONTH EARLIER

“Agatha, did you hire out our Tunnel of Love to a Halloween carnival?”

“Yep!  Their Ghost train got derailed somewhere in the Neck, and they’re paying us triple the usual hire fee plus ten per cent of the gate!  It’s easy to re-decorate – the whole tunnel looks like a cave anyway.  We put Halloween costumes on all the dummies, add in a few fake coffins and bubbling cauldrons and maybe put in a mad scientist lab or zombie graveyard to replace the masqued ballroom?  We hang fake spider-webs and black drop-cloths from the ceiling with ghost outlines, and instead of the love songs we play spooky sound effects over the sound system.  We haven’t painted the spare set of boats yet, so we make them black and use stencils for skulls and bones over that. Hey, if we keep them that way maybe we can add a pirate cave option?”

PRESENT DAY - LAST FRIDAY BEFORE HALLOWEEN

“Sheesh, Sansa, you’re such a scaredy-cat. We wait any longer to hit the really good rides, we’ll be stuck in line for ages.  All the college students will hit the carnival soon – trust me, I know.”

“I’m not scared, Arya,” Sansa told her step-sister.  “I just get motion-sick easily, remember?  I ride the roller-coaster, the Hurricane and the Zipper within an hour, and I’ll be bringing up dinner with a vengeance.  Just go without me.”

Arya made an expressive face.  “I forgot about all those meds you had to take for our family honeymoon.  But seriously, what was the point of getting to leave Rickon and the parentals at home if not to go on all the rides?”

Jon ruffled her hair affectionately. “You can still go on all the rides.  At least the ones you’re tall enough for.”

Arya scowled and hit her older brother in the side. “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet! That’s why Sansa found me these platform combat boots.”

Jon smiled, not even feeling Arya’s punch.  While Sansa had corralled Arya and Bran through the shooting games and stashing Arya’s armful of prizes in the car, Theon had split a joint with him and Robb.  As a result, Jon was feeling as chilled as a capybara.

“Robb and Theon are coming back now,” Sansa pointed down the midway.  “Robb loves those rides, too.  If he hesitates, tell him it’ll be a sibling bonding moment – that always gets him.”

Bran snickered. “Sansa, the mastermind.  But seriously, Theon loves the arcade but hates admitting it.  I’ll ask him to go through it with me and that’ll leave Robb for you.”

Sansa grinned.  “That leaves Jon to go through the haunted house with me.”

“No it doesn’t!  I want to go through the haunted house too!” Arya protested.

“And me!” Bran added.  “What about the mirror maze, or the Ghost Tunnel?  I think you’re the only ones who wanted those.”

“Um, maybe not the maze,” Jon mumbled.  “Reminds me of my ex.”

“The one who shot you with an arrow or the one who’s now running that cult?” Sansa asked.

“Dany,” Jon replied. He hadn’t even told his best friend Sam, or Robb, that his narcissistic to the point of God-complex girlfriend had once hired out the entire mirror maze for an hour so she could make him fuck her while she watched their reflections in about ten different mirrors. There were reasons he’d stayed with her as long as he had - almost all of them sexual.

“Ghost Tunnel then?” Sansa asked brightly.

“Sure,” Jon said agreeably. “It hasn’t been here before, so I’m up for the new experience.”

Leaving their younger siblings in Robb and Theon’s sometimes-capable hands, Jon and Sansa headed across the fairgrounds.

Sansa looked up at the night sky, and smiled.  “I love full moons, and this one’s special, did you know?”

“Wasn’t Bran talking about this at breakfast the other day?” Jon asked.  “It’s a blue moon, yeah? The second in a month?”

“Exactly.  It’s very good for charging spells and ceremonies.”

“You don’t talk much about your magic studies,” Jon remarked curiously. “Even when I helped you study for the botany section.”

“It tends to upset Mother.  I inherited the talent from her, but she’s so devoted to the Seven she always refused to do anything with it.  At least she’s never tried to keep me from it.  Though I think it’s partly because Uncle Brynden and Aunt Lysa had a discussion – the kind with a capital D - with her about it when I was younger.”

“So you’re not doing any of those spells or ceremonies?”

Sansa shook her head. “My mentor’s doing something tomorrow, but as a solo practitioner I’m not at the stage yet where it would be useful for me. At my level, without a circle or coven, I might even do myself some damage.”

Arriving at the head of the line, Sansa and Jon tore some tickets off their pre-bought roll, and handed them over to the attendant, dressed in what looked like a Shakespeare heroine costume with a fake vampire bite dribbling down her throat and pale sparkly face paint.

“A water ride? I haven’t seen one of those in a Ghost tunnel before,” Sansa remarked, as Jon handed her into the boat.  She stashed her messenger bag in a cage underneath the prow, before she settled into the seat.

The boat’s shape forced them to sit very close together and it took several attempts to find a comfortable position, Jon having to put his arm around Sansa as they headed off into the dark.

A lifelong connoisseur of haunted attractions, Sansa murmured comments to Jon as they slowly floated along.

“Glow in the dark paint usually looks a bit tacky, but these ghosts are painted really well.”

“Oooh, that’s a lovely effect on those floating candelabra!  Maybe there’s some actual magic being used here?”

 “I wonder why there are no scare actors?  There should have been at least one by now if this ride has them.”

 “Can you hear a crackle? You think there’s a set-piece up ahead with lightning effects?”

Just as Jon muttered his agreement, they rounded the curve and saw a large alcove holding what looked to be Frankenstein’s laboratory, complete with a semi-covered body on a lab table, and even a pseudo-skylight above showing lightning constantly flashing.  Their boat settled to a halt, either to change passengers at the beginning or to let them admire the showpiece, when a particularly large thunderclap made them jump.

Then the already dim lighting went out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

“What the hell?”

Silver runes glowed at several points along the wall, and Sansa exclaimed, “So they are using real magic!”

A soothing voice echoed through the darkness. “We are currently experiencing a power failure, and are working to restore the lights and movement of the boats.  In the meantime, we are providing an alternative soundtrack.”

Piano music echoed in the tunnel, and Jon absently identified, “Tchaikovsky. Kind of romantic for a haunted tunnel.”

“Still better than the creepy sound effects, given the situation,” Sansa murmured.

Sansa wasn’t sure how long they floated in the dark, before she found herself snuggling closer to Jon.  His arm tightened around her in response.

“Cold?” he asked quietly.

“Not exactly.”

Actually, she was feeling quite warm. Sansa opened up her zippered hoodie and pulled her sweater out from the waistband of her short skirt. She turned her head sideways to bury her face in Jon’s neck.  He smelled really good, and Sansa absently pressed her thighs together, enjoying the sensation.

Jon rested his head on top of Sansa’s, as his hand curved around her hip, his thumb at just the right angle to dip under the hem of her sweater to stroke her soft skin just above the waistband of her skirt. It felt really good, holding her close; her slim form fit perfectly into the angles of his own. He felt her lips on the sensitive skin on his throat, and bit back a groan as his cock stirred. Now was probably a bad time to remember all the times he’d fisted his cock to thoughts of his lovely step-sister. Even if those pretty tits of hers were pressed softly against his chest, and he was fairly sure that he could feel her hardened nipples through her sweater and his shirt.

Sansa could admit to herself, here in the dark, that her panties were wet and her breasts ached with need.  That she wanted to be even closer to Jon.  She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers, and to wrap her arms and legs around him. Her heart pounding, Sansa let her hand drift along the contours of his torso and down, until she could feel the hard bulge between his legs.  She sighed as she curved her hand around it, then gasped as she felt Jon’s lips against her ear.

“Let me,” Jon murmured, his voice almost soundless as he brought his free hand down to cover the fingers rubbing at him through his jeans.  He moved them aside just enough to undo the button and zip, and groaned in relief as he parted the slit in his boxers to free his erection.  Had Theon added something to that joint?  He was so horny he was pretty sure he could hammer nails with his dick.

Jon couldn’t see Sansa’s fingers gently, tentatively wrap around his rampant cock, gingerly fisting and stroking him, but it was really working for him. The hand he’d latched around her hip slid up and under her sweater, until he could feel the lace of her bra.  He ran his fingertips along the curve of her breast until he found the hem of the cup, gently tugging until her now-exposed breast fell into his palm, where his fingers could rub and flick at her nipple. She was half-way in his lap, her knee hooked over his thigh, and Jon used it as a guide for his other hand, gliding his fingers along her inner thigh until he found her mound.

Sansa whimpered as he stroked and rubbed her pussy through the soaking wet fabric of her underwear, but he wanted more.  Jon pulled and fumbled until he felt her bare folds, and expertly found her clit.  Sansa moaned, and Jon’s cock all but jumped in her grip in response.

Sansa’s head was spinning, and in the dark she was blind to everything but Jon.  His touch on her breast and between her legs, and the hot throbbing rod of muscle in her hand.  She felt so good, and she loved it.  Why had no one ever told her she could feel so good? She moved her hips against Jon’s hand, and his thick fingers slid in her slick folds until one slipped right inside her. She felt herself squeeze down on him in reaction.

“More. Jon, I want more,” she whispered.  Another finger pushed it’s way inside her, and they both wriggled and curved, and when Jon touched a certain spot Sansa slammed her hand over her mouth as she shivered and writhed through her first climax.

Jon had never fucked a virgin before, but Sansa was so tight around his fingers he was sure he was about to.  She was so wet she was dripping onto his hand, and he wouldn’t have any issues working his dick into Sansa’s cunt even though he was on the larger side and she was so tight.

“You need to sit on my lap,” he murmured.  It took some manoeuvring, untangling their legs by feel, but both Jon’s hands latched on Sansa’s hips, and he pulled her body flush to his with her knees bracketing his hips. His cock rubbed against her soaked underwear, and Sansa sighed and rocked her pelvis to increase the friction.  Jon could already feel the pressure building along his spine; he needed to move quickly. “Sansa? If I lift you up, can you put me in the right place?”

Sansa reached down and gripped his cock in answer. He felt her pull her underwear aside with one hand as the tip of cock brushed against her folds. As it notched into her opening, Jon eased Sansa down, groaning as he sank into her tight, slick cunt.

Was it her delectable pussy that felt so good, or was it because he’d never fucked raw before? Either way, Jon was pretty sure he was having the best sex of his life.

 “Your thing is inside me!” Sansa whimpered.  “It’s so big, I’m so full.”

“Are you hurting?” Jon rumbled softly in her ear.

“Mmmph, ah!  It feels really good, though,” Sansa gasped. She wriggled and squirmed, not sure whether she was trying to get Jon deeper inside her or find a position that didn’t feel like she was going to burst.  She pushed her sweater up to her armpits, and wrenched at the front hooks of her bra.  As Jon’s grip on her hips urged her to rock back and forth, Sansa slid her arms around his neck and rubbed her bare breasts against the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“Lean back a little,” Jon ordered.

Sansa arched her back, mourning the loss of stimulation to her breasts, but Jon somehow shifted his hips, changing the angle of his hardness and Sansa yelped as he rubbed against the place inside his fingers had found earlier, making her feel like a lightning-bolt, sizzling and ready to strike. He did it again and again, and Sansa felt herself explode.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clench down hard on my cock,” Jon growled in her ear, and Sansa convulsed, her inner muscles trying to squeeze the delicious intrusion that already stretched her open without remorse.

Jon moved his hands to her tits, just the right size to fill his hands, and clutched them as his own climax slammed into him.

“Ah!  I can feel your hot stuff coming out, it’s squirting inside me,” moaned Sansa.

Thing? Hot stuff?  In the fragment of his mind that wasn’t drowning in pleasure, Jon wondered just what version of The Talk his stepmother had given the girl taking his dick like she was made for it. At least he could cum inside her without reservation; having helped Sansa study for her herbalist lessons, he knew she was licensed to brew moon tea.

Sansa pressed her forehead against Jon’s as she gasped for breath, and his tight grip on her breasts softened, gently cradling them in his big hands.

The rattling of chains broke their silence, and the boat jerked.  Sansa sat bolt upright as the boat started to move.

“Fuck, we’re moving! You need to get off me!” Jon yelped.

Sansa nearly fell out to the boat, trying to disentangle herself from Jon and sit back down while shifting her panties back into place.  At the same time, Jon was cursing beside her; Sansa caught a glimpse of his still-hard cock as he pushed it back into his jeans, and a swift after-shock of need ran through her. The dim light grew brighter, and Sansa gave up fumbling with her bra to yank her sweater down, hurriedly zipping up her hoodie, glad she’d borrowed it from Jon earlier in the evening and it was thus two sizes too big.

Their boat cruised through a curtain of strings of moss, and bumped into the dock.  Blinking away after-images of the bright carnival lights, Sansa ignored the ride attendant’s droning voice.

Looking down at the bottom of the boat, Sansa’s eyes widened in horror at the obvious stains surrounding Jon’s fly. His leather jacket wasn’t long enough to cover them.

“Hang on, I need my bag!” she exclaimed.  Bending forward, half-over Jon’s lap, Sansa groped for her messenger bag with one hand.  With the other, she passed her fingertips, faintly glowing river-blue, over Jon’s crotch while she whispered a key-phrase.

Jon had to help her out of the boat, too – her legs could barely hold her up.

Jon’s fingers circled her wrist, as he led her away from the ride, the attendant’s smirk not hidden by the fangs of his B-movie Dracula costume.

“There’s bathrooms under the stairs to the grandstand, hardly anyone should be there until it’s time for the fireworks,” Jon told her.  “Meet you outside once we’ve both cleaned up.”

Keeping his body turned away from the man at urinals, Jon shut himself into the farthest cubicle with a sigh of relief.  What in the seven hells had Sansa been playing at, fondling his crotch like that in front of that vampire jerkass?

Jon grabbed a fistful of toilet tissue and looked down to assess the damage.  In the bright light of the bathroom, he could see no tell-tale stains. Looking in the direction of the ladies’ room, Jon sent a mental apology to Sansa.  She’d been using her favorite cleaning spell; if he’d been paying attention to her words instead of her touch he’d have recognised it.  She’d certainly used it on Arya and Bran to help them avoid Catelyn’s wrath enough times.

In the only available stall in the ladies’ room, Sansa hung her messenger bag and hoodie on the hook on the back of the door.  Reaching underneath her sweater, she pulled the cups of her bra back into place but couldn’t quite fasten it.  With a sigh of exasperation, Sansa pulled off her sweater, static electricity making her hair crackle, and shrugged out of her bra.

Standing topless in the small concrete-walled building, Sansa felt her nipples harden again from the chilly air as she inspected her bra.  She’d somehow managed to pop the stitching that kept the hooks in place.  It would be quite uncomfortable if she tried to wear it now and she was sure to lose at least one set of hook-and-eyes. Folding the garment carefully, Sansa slipped it into the laptop sleeve of her messenger bag. Sitting down on the toilet, Sansa needed three lots of tissue to clean Jon’s spend from between her legs, and two castings of the ‘neaten-up’ spell to make her sodden panties wearable again.

Dragging her sweater back over her head, Sansa inhaled sharply as she tugged it into place over her hips.  The soft wool felt so good against her still-sensitized breasts, and the place between her legs ached with longing.  Even though she was sore down there from being forced wide open, she missed the fullness.  Shrugging on the hoodie, she left it open. After washing her hands at the communal sinks, Sansa settled the strap of her messenger bag in a cross-body position between her breasts.  Looking at her reflection, Sansa could see her hard nipples ever so slightly distorting the surface of her sweater, her unencumbered breasts framed by Jon’s hoodie at the sides and the bag-strap pulling the wool flat between them and taut across them. How easy would it be, for Jon to slide his hand under the hem of her sweater and feel her bare breasts?

Sansa smiled at her reflection as she smoothed the static from her hair.

When they met outside the bathrooms, Jon and Sansa were almost as immaculate as when they went into the Ghost tunnel. Maybe Jon’s curls were a little wilder, and Sansa’s lips were so red it looked like she’d been drinking the smoothie van’s ‘Bloody Brew’.  But so what?

Jon’s eyes traced along the curves of his step-sister’s breasts, which he was certain were bare beneath the jack-o-lantern patterned sweater.  He had to fight the urge to drop to his knees and bury his face between her thighs.  He’d come inside her fifteen minutes ago, and all he could think of was getting Sansa somewhere private enough that he could see her naked before driving balls-deep inside her.

Sansa licked her lips as her gaze flickered from his eyes to his crotch and back, and Jon knew without a doubt that she wanted the exact same thing.

“We could say that you’re not feeling well.  Theon can fit everyone else into his Rover, and we can take the car and find somewhere to park on the way home.”

Sansa shook her head, her face regretful.  “If I’m sick, Robb would insist on taking me home himself.  We’ll have to wait.”

“How long?” Jon asked, his voice gravelly with need.

“I’ll get Theon to invite Robb to stay over, so we can drive Bran and Arya home. Once they’re in bed, come to my room.  I can close the curtains around my four-poster so no one can see in even if they open the door.”

“Keep the curtains open to the window,” Jon ran his eyes slowly, deliberately over her breasts, tracing every covered curve with his gaze.  “I want to see you naked by moonlight.”

Sansa moved closer, until he could feel the heat of her body against the bare skin of his hand.

“Same here.”

ONE WEEK LATER

“I have to admit, Agatha, that ghost caves idea made us a mint.  Maybe we should look into leveling up the spooky decorations, and offering it as a permanent alternative option?  Could be in more demand than the Tunnel of Love for things like school carnivals.”

“Ha!”

“Agatha, what are you doing?”

“I’m doing the ‘Agatha was right and she’s telling you so!’ dance.”

“Well, could you please point your booty that way,” (point) “before you shake it?” (mutter) “Like I don’t see enough of your ass during sky-clad ceremonies.” (paper rustling) “The switch from romance to spooky takes, what, a day? And that’s mostly covered during set-up anyway.  The only thing I don’t have a cost breakdown for is the spell-paint and spell-removal.”

(full-body pause) “Spell-removal?”

“Yeah, what did it cost to erase the lovey-dovey and horny spells?  And what will it cost to re-apply them for the Tunnel of Love?  It’s not like that shit works off decals.”

(silence)

“Agatha... you did remember to remove the lovey-dovey and horny spells, right?”

“Um...”

“RIGHT?”

DISCLAIMER: Neither Kathryn Hahn or Elizabeth Olsen were fan-cast in this fic. Aubrey Plaza maybe.

Title comes from the song ‘Counterpane’ by The Birthday Massacre; mostly because I didn’t like the original title, and I was listening to the song during final edits.