#as Belle I want to proclaim myself as king

[inseasofgreen]

CHAPTER 1 - ZEMORRI

As promised, a chapter from Plight of the Oracle. The polls ended with Zemorri, Sciosa, and Gaelin. Which work out perfectly as those are the pov's of the first three chapters. Look out for the next two in the upcoming week!

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“I, Zemorri of Pyros, pledge my life and blade to you, Your Imperial Majesty. I take this vow in front of the Gods and Men, and I dedicate my life in servitude to the Crown.” The peppered stone floor of the throne room bit into the Songbird’s knee. The golden bells rang in his braid; grating to his ears.

I promise, on my father’s grave, that you will die by my hand.

“Arise,” the King’s voice radiated off the walls. The man before the throne did as he was bid. “You have proven yourself to the Crown. As such, I name you my champion and grant you the title Defender of the Empyrean."

“You honor me, Your Majesty."

If you were a smart man, you’d kill me here and now. But you aren’t, old bastard, and neither am I.

“Go to Nivra, join your brothers in arms. I will send word if I require you.” The king said, sitting back upon his throne. Zemorri gave a low bow.

“I am at your command.” The words came out with ease yet tasted sour in his mouth.

With that, he began his departure from the throne room. The members of the Court watched him, wary of his every move. I am on your side. Xorulth’s reign will come to an end. Is what he wished to say. To renounce this ridiculous war. And my reign will begin. He bit his tongue, even if the words did not come out. A dangerous thought, but one that no matter how hard he shoved away always crept up. And with it, an all too proud grin.

The belief that the royal House Naezhaar had gone extinct was the pretender's only claim to the throne. All heirs to the throne were slain in battle. The babe that emerged from the tower after the war was won was not in the arms of the Queen. But of the young maid Zevetta. Mikath was forty years her senior and had a heart of gold. The very notion of it hadn’t crossed anyone’s mind. But this was war, and war changed people. When pride and morals were tossed aside in favor of victory, no matter how bittersweet it tasted.

Zevetta, seven and ten, with a babe at her breast, proclaimed her loyalty to Xorulth. She did not protest her marriage to the Master of Dragons. Instead, she played him for a fool. She convinced him to let her bastard boy be raised with his true-born sisters. Keeping true to her word to her boy’s father. A very dangerous game, but one Zemorri had played since he was ten. He knew the path they walked could crumble out below them; he only wished to soften the blow.

He could hear five sets of silk slippers following him. He led them to a smaller corridor that gave way to a lesser balcony. Away from any prying ears, most who resided in the keep would be at court by now, but he wouldn’t risk it. The sun was blinding against the pale stone of Khaaj’mor. He turned to face his mother and her brood.

They wore disappointment on their faces. In truth, it made little difference to him; he was hell-bound to see his brothers to safety. That was his priority for now: get everyone he loved far away from the city. Be it Kings of Dawn or Zemorri himself, hellfyre would rain down on the capital, and he did not intend for his family to be trapped in it.

“So that’s it?” his mother said, placing her hands on her hips. She wore her husband’s house colors, the god-awful green ill-suited for her copper skin.

“Ivemaar and Qhuriex need me. If something were to happen to them, I would never forgive myself.” He shifted uneasily on his feet. Even in the safety of the capital, he felt like a target was on his back. Bouncing from rebellion to rebellion, battle to battle had taken its toll on him.

“And what if something befalls you?” Her voice cracked.

“Then the gods were wrong.”

Zevetta’s hands fell into fists at her side; she looked to her daughter-in-law to be for help. Zemorri prepared himself; his bride’s words often cut more deeply than his mother's.

“My father will take this as an insult," Ivyr said, taking a step closer.

“Then he can take it up with the King.” He replied, gesturing in the direction of the throne room. “It’s your father that funds the war. It’s only a matter of time before his coffers run dry and the Kings of Dawn extend their reach. He knows this and is still persistent in funding the wars and stopping rebellions for a madman.”

“I understand the concern. Truly. But you arrived hardly three hours ago, and now you intend to just leave? I haven't seen you in months,” anger laced her words, “Go to them, as commanded, but give yourself time to refresh and recharge. Your braid’s a mess; you look as if you’re fighting a war this very moment.” Sighing, Zemorri gave in to defeat. He could not argue against her reasoning. He missed her terribly; he missed his bed even more.

“One night. I leave at first light.” Zemorri could allow himself this. Even his brothers-in-arms would want him to rest.

“The matter is settled then,” Zevetta clapped her hands together; she had gotten her way. “You’ll join us for supper? Both of you?”

His mother gently touched Ivyr’s shoulder, the younger woman forcing a smile on her face. His bride looked to Zemorri to answer.

Hells have mercy.

“We would love to, Mother,” Zemorri answered, actively avoiding the icy glares Ivyr gave him. She would have rather had him all to herself tonight, not that he would argue in any other circumstance. But this was for his family as much as it was for them. Tomorrow he would be gone until gods knew when.

The water was warm against his skin. Ivyr had helped him undo his braid; they had gotten most of the tangles out, but it would need another comb through after the bath. The golden bells placed in his hair didn’t help the matter either. With each breath of steam filling his lungs, he felt more relaxed by the moment. Almost enough to lull him to sleep. He allowed his eyelids to close, if only for a moment.

Blood. Lots of blood.

Screams from mothers losing their young, of husbands losing their wives. That was Xorulth’s command, and that was Zemorri’s rise to power. On the backs of bloodied peasants who couldn’t defend themselves.

Tears rain down his cheeks.

He could not save them all. And who knows how well those he did would fare.

Zemorri scrubbed at his face, his hands, his arms. Grabbing a rag, he scrubbed even harder, but the feel of the long-gone blood remained. The cloth stuck on the golden scaling on his forearms and ripped. Only that could bring him out of it. Back to the room before him.

“My love.” Ivyr pulled up a wooden stool and sat by his side. He tried to hide the evidence of his outburst, even if it was no use. Ivyr grasped the side of his face, pushing sobbing black hair out of his face.

She was beautiful. Only growing in beauty in their time apart. He found solace in her eyes, filled with warmth and worry. He cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over her plump lower lip.

“I’m fine.” Is all he could bring himself to say.

Lie.

“Come lie with me? If we must attend the feast your mother is no doubt planning, I want to be alone a bit longer.” She set a delicate hand on his chest.

Easing out of the bath, Ivyr studied him over. Zemorri didn’t wish to know what she thought. Brushing her hand over the newest of the scars he earned while visiting tax collectors and the would-be faces of rebellion. It ran from his right lower ribs diagonal to his navel. It was gruesome, even with healing at work. She took a sharp breath.

"You have more scars than when you left.” Her cat-like eyes widened, with a slight shake in her voice.

Zemorri grumbled and wrapped himself in a towel. He didn’t need her gawking at him.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she pleaded for his attention once more. Gently pushing past her, he made his way to his bedchambers, “You’re not very talkative.”

“No.”

“I thought,” her voice followed him, “I don’t know. You’d have more to say.”

“About what?” His tone was harsh, perhaps a bit too harsh. He turned to look at his bride. She looked at her feet, refusing to make eye contact, “Don’t do this. I have had enough of this act with my mother; I do not need it from you too.”

"I—" a sigh, “I just want things to be back to normal already.”

Zemorri let out a croak of laughter.

“Normal? Nothing will ever be normal again. I will never be normal again; I can’t afford to be carefree. Not when—" He bit his tongue.

Not when he makes a muck of my empire.

“Not when what, Zemorri?” 

“The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done. They change people, haunt them in their sleep until they’re suffocating at their own hands.” Zemorri was shaking; dragonfyre burned within him.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing for him? In the King’s name? I know you will never be whole again, but don’t expect me to not mourn what I’ve lost.”

“What have you lost?” he couldn’t believe his ears, “What about what I’ve lost? What I have and will continue to have to endure? I did not ask for this, Ivyr.”

“But you accepted it," she said, so matter-of-factly.

He needed to get out of this room, away from her. Taking two strides to the wardrobe closest to him. Throwing open the doors, he grabbed a pair of riding leathers. He tossed them on the large bed.

“Where are you going?” she snapped.

“I need air,” he said, going to the next wardrobe over and selecting a shirt and tight breeches. He dressed quickly and pulled on a new pair of boots his mother had made in his absence. Better to break them in now than in war.

“You’re just going to leave?” Ivyr was furious, but he found it hard to care. He wished for open skies and the wind in his hair.

“I’ll be back in time for supper. I promise.” He walked over to her, forcing her to look up at him. “I love you.”

She rolled her eyes but reached up to kiss him.

Her breath was warm against the heat of his. He felt her shiver under his touch, bringing a small grin to his lips. Her touch was soothing, though not enough to quench the flame within. He broke the kiss too soon for both of them and left.

Indiss lay on the outskirts of town. He had outgrown the Dragon Hall, much to the relief of the handlers. He was a sharp contrast against the black rock beneath him, his scales stark white. Zemorri hadn’t ever seen snow, but he imagined his mount would be nearly impossible to see. Though the worry of someone climbing on the white’s back and taking him for themselves had been a fear, it was quickly dismissed.

The white was hatched and raised far from any influence of the Zrato; and as such, had more free will. Zemorri was able to claim the beast only because the beast allowed him. Indiss only answered to two things: blood and power.

As the Songbird neared, the white began to sing out to him. A deep, low chipping. Earning a laugh from his Zrato counterpart, the dragon, pleased with himself, flashed his many rows of razor-sharp teeth. Zemorri smiled back.

“We leave for Nivra tomorrow,” Zemorri spoke to the dragon in his mother’s tongue, a bastardized version of the Haivran the Dragon knew. “But I can’t stand having a roof above my head, the quietness that lets thoughts wander in. They don’t understand, not those who matter, at least.”

Black eyes met golden ones, and Zemorri could’ve sworn there was sympathy in them. The dragon nudged his rider’s chest with his massive head, though not enough to knock him off his feet. The Songbird never voiced the observation. But Indiss seemingly understood what his rider was saying, no matter what language it was in. But dragons were wise, their knowledge of the world greater than that of the Zrato, even those who yielded to the Zrato’s commands. If the great white beast did understand, it was far beyond any mortal explanation.

Grabbing a tether of the saddle, Zemorri pulled himself up on the hard cartilage of the wing. With careful footing, so as not to step on any delicate soft tissue, he climbed onto the saddle. As he leaned forward, the great white began to rise and take position.

“Vhaziek.” Zemorri’s voice called out.

The dragon pushed himself off the ground with enough force to shake the mortal plane. The glint of the lavender sheen in the webbing of his wings caught the sunlight. The wind whipped around Zemorri, making a mess of his nearly dry hair. He did not care. He couldn’t bring himself to. The empyrean was vast and unexplored, and his for the taking. Even the ringing of his golden bells was no longer bothersome.

Lifting himself into a low crouch, the air around him threatened to knock him off. A thunderous laugh escaped him. The great white shrieked alongside him, the rumble of it felt throughout his rider’s body. The Songbird grabbed the reins as the dragon flew higher and higher.

This was where Zemorri was meant to be, among the clouds, to soar like a bird freed from its cage.

Home.

Home wasn’t Khaaj’mar, the Dragon Hall, or even the small manor of the Dragon Master where he was raised. It was the open sky and wherever it might take him.

Looking down, he saw the Glistening Sea’s water below and made out the shape of a few fishing boats. Rising into a squat, Zemorri pulled on the reins, bidding the white to slow.

No better place. Give the fishermen something exciting to talk about for once.

“Gihra, Indiss. Gihra.” Zemorri shouted over the wind. The dragon did as commanded and halted, keeping a steady rhythm of his wings to stay in place. Standing up on the saddle, Zemorri dropped the reins. He stood, looking north. North to Ivaenia, to Zenier.

Nivra would not fall. It couldn’t.

Not when so much was at stake. Zemorri’s family, his friends, and the innocents who had no part in the King’s war. They were victims. Victims who would face the wrath of the Kings of Dawn for a crime that was not their own. Nivra would be spared, as much as it could be, and perhaps with enough support Zemorri could challenge the would-be usurper. If people believed the word of a bastard and his mother, they might rally to his cause.

And even if they didn't—

Zemorri pushed the thought from his mind. This was treason, and yet. And yet what? Had Xourlth not been treasonous in his fight for the throne? Had he not killed Zemorri’s half-siblings and his father? Had he not pushed the king to such desperation as to sire Zemorri onto his mother?

This was war, and a greater war was still yet to come.

Anger boiled within him. Anger, grief, and his own desperation. All it threatened to tear him apart.

And so, Zemorri leaped from the top of the dragon's back.

Zrato and Dragon stood side by side, watching the sun hit its apex. Zemorri tried his best to tame the wild, wind-blown mane on top of his head. Riding without his braid was one thing, but free-falling was another.

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

With a sigh, he let his arms fall to his side. The bells were put in before his appearance before the court, and gods knew when they would fall out. Perhaps they never would. Zemorri was not one to anger Zhareem; the god was merciful but not that merciful. If his deceit was to be so plain for all to see, he would wear them with pride. Or perhaps a shroud.

The wind began to pick up, tousling Zemorri’s hair. A twig snapped behind him; spinning on his heel, he instinctively went to unsheathe his blades. However, to his disappointment, they were back in his chambers. Surveying the small beach, he looked for any signs of someone, even looking at the dragon who was watching Zemorri.

Nothing. Nothing and no one.

Zemorri could sense something even still. Magic. Strong magic; he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. It was all around him, and yet there was no source. A shadowy figure appeared before him, beckoning him forward. An aura formed around the figure of a woman cloaked in darkness. Zemorri blinked and then blinked some more.

The world around him changed; he stood before a large window, and in the center of it was the woman, uncloaked in her full glory. Her chest heaved. The jewel-encrusted bodice of her gown glimmered in the light. She looked in awe at where Indiss stood, and Zemorri followed her gaze. Only there was no dragon in sight.

The woman took two steps towards him. Her hair was pale, paler even than her skin. Her ears pointed like the Zaentiraeal, though her eyes, however beautiful, were not of her kin. Zemorri’s breath caught in his chest. She was ethereal, perhaps even a goddess. She spoke, though he could only make out a few words: Zrato, Friend, Fate.

Not very helpful.

“Who are you? Where am I?” He spoke to her in the common tongue, betting by her appearance that she wouldn’t be well-versed in Vuli. She took two more steps closer, and he took two steps away.

“Friend or Foe?” Her voice clearer now, she eyed him warily. The light green of her eyes pierced into him. Zemorri looked at her; though against his better judgment, he gave her an answer.

“Friend.” He softened his tone. She took one more step closer, taking in the sight of him. The corner of her lips twitched up, revealing dimpled cheeks. She was shorter than he was, much shorter. And the allure of her, something so foreign, and yet so familiar. As if he knew her from some forgotten time.

“Are you—" Zemorri tried to translate, but the common tongue was so rarely used in his day-to-day life, “Hae’var? From the Gods?” She didn’t answer; instead, she stepped closer once more. Looking at him as if he was some oddity. She looked out behind him, and he followed her gaze, only to meet with a bedchamber filled to the brim with all sorts of comforts. A large bed, larger than his own, a small seating area, and bookcases from floor to ceiling. It felt too mortal to be the home of a Hae’var, at least from how he imagined the God-given guardians to live.

The woman took a step closer to him, and something lit inside him. Something he wasn’t sure had a name, but he felt it. In his heart, radiating to his entire body. Whoever she was, he had to protect her. Or perhaps she was to protect him. He reached out to graze her cheek but was met with nothing. He blinked, and it was all gone. He felt the sand return beneath his boots, the sound of the tide coming in.

His heart thundered too soon. She had vanished too soon. Zemorri turned to Indiss. The dragon flashed his teeth as if to smile. Looking between where the women had been and back to the dragon, a heaviness sank in his chest. Whether gods, fate, or some otherworldly being, he wasn’t sure, but one thing remained certain. Zemorri was being called upon to fulfill some greater task. A chill went down his spine.

Gods and Hells have mercy on me.

[canadachildvol2]

Wish rewrite ✨ pt.1

Everyone and their grandma has done a rewrite of "Wish," but I couldn't help myself. I've seen the concept art and have watched an array of video essays dissecting what went wrong with the final product and my imagination went wild (as it often does with movies that had so much potential yet failed to deliver).

Full disclosure: I'm not a songwriter nor am I an expert on music theory, so when it comes to the songs in this rewrite, I'm just gonna give a general idea of what they're about and what happens.

With that out of the way, let's get into part 1 of my own "Wish" rewrite! And I'm in no way proclaiming this to be the superior version; I'm just sharing what I came up with like a lot of you have. I've also included a visual of my Asha redesign, which I hope you like. <3

(Also tagging @annymation :) )

-

First and foremost, I'm torn between this version either being completely 2D-animated or just Star (specifically in his normal magical form) and his magic being the only things 2D-animated. You can envision it however you like.

Book prologue: Like the movie, this opens with a storybook. However, it's in live-action. A narrator (perhaps a Disney Legend, like Mary Costa, Kathryn Beaumont, etc.) tells the backstory of how Rosas became a literal magical place:

“Once upon a time, there was a small island kingdom called Rosas. Surrounded by crystal waters and nestled beneath an endless sky. One day, the king gathered his subjects to make an important announcement: through magic, he had found a way to grant wishes! And since then, the people looked to their magnificent king to make their deepest desires come true.

This magic was passed down to the royals that followed, and in this time, the people continued their undying devotion to their extraordinary leaders.

Over the years, boats came from far and wide, carrying those who wanted to see this magic up close, as well as those who sought to live in Rosas. And our story begins with the docking of one of these boats…”

Introduction to Asha/Rosas; “Welcome to Rosas”: A group of newcomers excitedly wait to enter Rosas and this is where we meet Asha. "One... two... three," she mumbles - as if preparing for a performance - before stepping out in front of the group. Bubbly and all smiles, she introduces herself as their tour guide and ushers them into the kingdom. This version of “Welcome to Rosas” not only explains the rules of the kingdom regarding wishes (giving wishes at age 18 [it's mandatory], how the wishing ceremony plays out, only one wish is granted each month due to the large amount of magic needed, etc.) but it also highlights how hardworking and dutiful the citizens are. Additionally, it mentions that Rosas was once a land in disarray, but the magic of wish-granting led them to prosperity. While there’s an upbeat tone to the song, there is an almost sinister undertone that’s lost on the newcomers (and to us, the audience, if we don’t pay too much attention). I should quickly point out that people don't forget their wishes after giving them to Magnifico like they do in the movie. They just no longer have the motivation to pursue their wishes themselves.

Design note: Asha is the only person in Rosas wearing orange, thereby making her stand out from the largely blue, purple, and grey colour palette (much like how Belle is the only person in her village wearing blue). click the image to see more outfit details

Meeting Dahlia and other townspeople: After Asha leaves the group to let them enjoy the sights, her bubbly persona immediately disappears and her true nature is revealed. Levelheaded, composed, a touch cynical. A realist. This personality is shown as she interacts with some of the townsfolk (moreover, this scene alludes to what some of them have wished for). She takes a bag of fruit to Dahlia, her best friend and a talented baker. She’s cheerful, idealistic, and tends to stumble over her words when excited or stressed (a nod to Doc from “Snow White” along with her character design). Like the rest of Rosas, she thinks highly of the king and queen. In exchange for the fruit, Dahlia presents Asha with a birthday cake for her grandfather. This scene showcases Dahlia’s desire to become the castle baker someday and that she thinks her work needs to be perfect to get that position (even though her work is already amazing). We are also introduced to Simon, who comes by to pick up an order for delivery. He’s a few years older than Asha and Dahlia and is already showing the same level of exhaustion as most of the other adults. He wants his wish granted so badly that he’s willing to work hard and impress the king and queen no matter what. He's secretive about what his wish is.

"Welcome to Rosas (reprise)": As Asha walks home with the cake in a box, she looks at the citizens around her. This time, we’re seeing life in Rosas through her eyes rather than those of the awestruck newcomers. “Welcome to Rosas (reprise)” brings to the forefront how exhausting, unfair, and almost cult-like (i.e. the people’s intense adoration of the king and queen) everything is, while also insinuating the crux of Asha’s personal journey: she doesn’t have hope.

Meeting Sakina and Sabino: Asha arrives home to find Sabino asleep in a chair by the window. She smiles at him; a big, loving smile. Up until now, her smiles have either been small, fake (for her job), or just smirks. She gently wakes him up and he tells her he was dreaming about one of his artworks coming to life. “In a few hours, it may actually happen,” he says with a hopeful grin. She bites her tongue so as not to bring his cheerful mood down with a "Let's be realistic" comment. Soon after, Sakina enters the house carrying a basket of fresh fruit and looking tired. Asha takes the basket from her, fussing over how exhausted she looks. ("Mama, you shouldn't be doing all this work by yourself!") Sakina says that she’s fine, but Asha’s worries aren’t placated. Eventually, the trio sit down to enjoy the cake. Sakina laments the absence of Asha’s father, which prompts Asha to fiddle with her silver bracelet.

Wishing ceremony: We finally see King Magnifico and Queen Amaya in all their glory. They are regal, stunning, and tower over the people of Rosas in more ways than one. Still, when 18-year-olds and new residents approach the king on stage to give their wishes to him, he presents himself as an affable man. The cultish vibes that have so far been subtle are made much more apparent in this scene, complete with chanting, cheering, and bowing in a way that demonstrates complete submission. Sabino and Sakina wait with bated breath to see whose wish will be granted, while Asha remains less optimistic. She holds her grandfather’s hand reassuringly when the announcement is made. It’s not him. While not nearly as surprised or devastated as Sabino is, his disappointed reaction still breaks Asha’s heart. So much so that it encourages her to do something drastic.

Asha learns the truth: Sakina and Sabino head home while Asha makes her way to the castle entrance. She overhears the guards tell other people that the king and queen aren’t seeing anyone right now and reinforcing a specific rule: “commoners aren’t allowed in the palace.” Not to be deterred, Asha finds another way in. She’s distracted from her objective of ambushing the king and queen by the sight of the castle’s interior. It’s beautiful; unlike anything she’s ever seen. It's as if it were made of crystals, like the waters surrounding their island. Reflective surfaces are adorned on almost every section of the walls. Curiousity gets the better of her and she ascends the staircase to the highest room in the building. After brief hesitation, she enters and finds that it’s the room that houses the wishes (the general look of this room is about the same as how it is in the movie). Her wonderment is interrupted by the sound of Magnifico and Amaya outside. Thinking quickly, she hides in the balcony running along the upper part of the room. It’s here that she witnesses something horrifying: Magnifico taking a couple of the wishes in his hands and crushing them. This is how he gets his powers. He and Amaya laugh at how these people will be waiting forever for their wishes to be granted. ("They will work themselves to death, never knowing that their wishes, their dreams, will never come true.") Furthermore, Asha learns that Magnifico is already very powerful and doesn't need a whole month to garner enough energy to grant a single wish. After the couple leave, Asha sneaks back out.

Warning Sakina and Sabino: Asha rushes home and tells Sakina and Sabino about what she saw. Obviously they don’t believe her and an argument ensues. They can’t understand why she’d speak ill of the king and queen, and she’s trying so hard to plead her case. At one point, she accidentally hurts Sabino’s feelings by saying that realistically speaking, the odds of his wish being granted are slim to none. She feels awful about what she said and she tries one last time to convince them. Sakina gently but firmly tells her to stop and “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” Asha is left stunned and alone as Sakina tends to a tired and upset Sabino. Overwhelmed, she leaves the house and runs into the woods. She's trying so hard not to break down.

“This Wish”: This version of the song, much like in the movie, sees Asha wish for a way to help Rosas. However, it also conveys her internal struggle of letting herself feel some semblance of hope for the first time in a long time. She initially pulls back and scoffs at the idea of wishing on a star or even believing that things in Rosas will change, but as the song goes on, she caves into what her heart is telling her as opposed to what her head is telling her. It’s worth noting that each time she considers wishing on a star, it’s instigated by her looking at her bracelet. Akin to “Part of Your World,” after so much build-up, the song ends on a soft but powerful note where Asha finally wishes on a star (she still has serious doubts, but there's a sliver of cautious optimism shining through).

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5

[fischerfrey]

A Christmas Prince; The Royal Wedding

Chapter 4: All the World’s a Stage

Summary: Dawn holds down the fort. Evander offers to help with Aldelry's economic crisis.

Words: 2.7k

Characters:

Dawn Harvelle and Evander Alderly @potionboy3

Quincey, Olympia and Isabella Alderly, Tess Brandon

Gaia Alden by @cursed-herbalist

Also featuring:

Lainey Bell by @gcldensnitch, Evan Harvelle by @potionboy3

Beginning | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Want to read the first fic in the series, A Christmas Prince? Click here!

Chapter 4: All the World's a Stage

The meeting Dawn was supposed to attend with Quincey was postponed in favour of all kinds of other meetings that Dawn wasn’t allowed to attend. It was three in the morning when Quincey and Lainey returned from whatever emergency meetings they’d been having. Dawn had been sitting with Olympia, Evan, and Tess, but Evan had given up at around two, proclaiming he had to go get some sleep before he drooled all over the priceless antique furniture. Dawn felt the same way, but he couldn’t go to sleep before Quincey was back.

“How did it go?” Olympia asked when Quincey and Lainey entered the room.

“Everything’s still up in the air,” said Quincey. “Mother told me to get some sleep because tomorrow isn’t going to be any easier.”

“It’s today,” said Olympia.

“Right… I’m sorry about the play.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Olympia. “Dawn has had an idea.”

“Yeah?” asked Quincey and turned his tired gaze to Dawn.

“We’re having it here,” said Dawn. “Mr. Flitwick has agreed to help us, though Miss Pince was very much against it.”

“Well, some good news, at least,” Quincey huffed and sat down. Lainey was still looking through her phone.

“Lane, please, give it a rest,” said Quincey. “Take a break.”

“Your Majesty,” said Lainey and put her phone away. Everyone in the room looked at each other and the stress and exhaustion felt palpable.

“I’m starting to feel like Christmas might be cancelled this year,” said Quincey quietly.

That was too much for Dawn. “No,” he said sternly. “This is the Christmas capital of all the Christmas capitals and we’re not letting the people down by losing hope now.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Dawn.

“We will figure out why the initiative isn’t working, and we will have a Christmas,” he continued. “We don’t need money to make a good Christmas, I never did before.”

Tess smiled at him.

“You’re right,” said Olympia. “We can use whatever we have in the palace kitchens to make a meal for everyone after the show tomorrow.”

“That sounds like fun,” said Dawn.

“I can do an inventory in the morning,” said Lainey.

“Hey, why aren’t you on strike?” asked Olympia.

“They don’t have a union for Kings’ best friends,” said Lainey. “And besides, if I don’t help fix this mess then the country will be worse off.”

“You’re so right,” said Quincey.

“Touching,” came a voice from the door and Dawn turned to look at none other than Evander.

“What is it now?” Olympia asked.

“I was wondering if I could have a moment of the king’s time?”

“Moments are in short supply,” said Quincey.

“I understand, I just wanted to thank you again for taking me back into the fold.”

“That's putting it a bit generously, isn't it?” Olympia interjected.

“Perhaps, but I'd like to do something to repay you. All. I may have a solution to Alderly's financial crisis–”

“I should've known this was about getting your hands on the kingdom's money,” Quincey interrupted him. “You can forget about it.”

“Cousin, no. It's just as I say, I want to help!” Evander defended himself. “I do have a degree in economics from Oxford.”

“You do?” asked Dawn.

“He does,” said Quincey.

“All I'm asking is that you to hear me out, I have a sound plan. Give me a chance to redeem myself.”

Olympia shook her head.

“Fine, you can come to the meeting tomorrow, alongside Dawn,” Quincey said. “But I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Of course, I would expect no less,” said Evander and bowed. He backed away from the room. “Good night,” he called out before leaving.

“Brother, have you gone mad?” asked Olympia.

“I know you hate him, O, but economics is far more useful in this situation than art history,” said Quincey. “We might actually need him.”

“We can’t trust a word he says.”

“I can trust that he loves this country,” said Quincey. “That’s the one thing about Evander I know to be true.”

~

The next morning Dawn was led to one of the palace’s many conference rooms. There were several ministers present, as well as the queen mother, Evander, and Quincey, along with a slew of experts and assistants. Most of the meeting went completely over Dawn’s head, which frustrated him to no end. No one had given him any material to prepare for this, the only folder he had waiting for him back in his rooms was about the upcoming wedding, which seemed to matter less and less by each passing minute. After an hour and a half of economical jargon Dawn had to physically restrain himself from yawning.

“Your Majesty,” the queen said. “I have three words for you. Stay the course.”

“Even in light of everything that's happened??

Isabella gave her son an encouraging smile and said: “We put into action what your father dreamed of doing for the last years of his reign.”

“But the situation has changed so vastly since then,” Quincey replied. “Are there really no adjustments you'd consider, mother?”

“Patience. This kind of long-term investment in roads, hospitals, schools... it's good business.”

Dawn wasn’t sure what it was about the way the queen said good business that made him finally open his mouth: “I beg your pardon. Queen Isabella, may I?”

“Yes, of course, my dear.”

Dawn took a deep breath. If he fumbled this, he wouldn’t get a second chance. “If all the infrastructure projects are happening in Alderly, through Alderlian companies, how can the country be losing so much money?”

The minister of internal affairs perked his ears. Maybe all these high and mighty politicians didn’t think too highly of Dawn, but he was damn well going to try his best to prove them wrong. “Did you think that perhaps we should consider taking some proactive steps to find out?”

Isabella smiled at Dawn, tightly. “Absolutely we should and will. A thorough review begins tomorrow.”

“Well then,” said Quincey. “Good.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” Evander cut in. “I love our country and was merely curious to know how The Queen Mother accounts for the inverse returns.”

“Count Evander, that is hardly appropriate–,” started the Prime Minister, but Quincey motioned for him to keep his peace.

“You’re welcome to go through all of these documents,” said the queen. “As I had expected you had when you were invited to this meeting.”

Dawn wondered if Evander had ever received the documents either, or if it was just him.

“The documents are one thing, Your Majesty, but I had hoped–,”

“Hopes what, dear nephew? To get inside knowledge of our country’s goings-on so you could exploit them for your own gain?”

“Queen Isabella, I…”

“Enough,” said the queen. “Quentin, maybe now you will finally see that as king, you'll find everyone as their own agenda. Keep a watchful eye on those who try to lead you astray.”

Evander fell silent and Quincey cleared his throat. “Thank you for your… advice, mother.”

Isabella nodded.

“I have no doubt that a thorough investigation will yield results and secure Alderly’s future,” Quincey said. “I do believe our fortunes are about to change.”

~

After the meeting Dawn and Quincey headed out to get the courtyard Christmas tree. They both needed some fresh air. It had begun to snow lightly and Dawn so happy to finally spend some time with Quincey outside the palace walls and out of reach of the watchful eyes of the court.

“Fresh snow at Christmas is an Alderlian sign of good fortune,” said Quincey as they made their way deeper into the woods.

“Well, we could take it as a good sign, then,” said Dawn, bundled up in his best outerwear so as not to freeze to death. He had learned his lesson from last year, prancing around in converse even though there was two meters of snow everywhere.

“Do you think it’s in time to save Christmas?” Quincey asked.

“At least the play, if nothing else.”

“Olympia has worked very hard on it, it’s been good for her,” said Quincey.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Dawn. “She did seem pretty invested.”

Quincey nodded and then stopped abruptly, pointing out a tree. “What about this one?

Dawn examined the specimen. “It's a little bare on the side.”

Quincey moved on to the next tree. One good thing about owning acres upon acres of forest was that you could have your pick of the most perfect Christmas tree.

“This one's nice,” said Quincey.

“It's not really a cone, is it?”

“What?”

Dawn sighed. What did they teach these royals of the Christmas country? “Well, a Christmas tree should be a cone. That was more of a triangle.”

“Well, I always thought a cone was a sort of triangle,” said Quincey with a shrug.

“Did you fail geometry?”

“Hey!”

“Finding the perfect tree is like finding the perfect man,” said Dawn, attempting to sound like a wise philosopher. “It takes time, and first impressions can be deceiving.”

“Oh, I see,” Quiney laughed. “Just because I stole your taxi a year ago now means I need to freeze to death while we find a perfect tree?”

“Not my fault you had to wear your fancy coat. Should’ve dressed warmer.”

Obviously, Quincey would be a lost cause without him.

~

The pair inspected many a tree, and some half an hour passed. Quincey had had the sense to wear a hat and gloves, so Dawn wasn’t too worried about him freezing. Coming across another tree of suitable proportions, Quincey said: “No geometrical imperfections here.”

“This one?” said Dawn, doubtful. It was an alright tree, but the branches leaned a bit too much up.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Tall, majestic, really the perfect tree,” said Quincey in a valiant defence of the upward bending branch tree.

“Totally wrong.”

“Are you sure this isn't the one?”

“Come on,” said Dawn and took Quincey’s hand. He wanted this excursion to last as long as possible, since he wasn’t likely to get another moment alone with Quincey like this in a while. He led him still deeper into the woods, until finally he came across what he was actually looking for.

“This one,” he announced.

Quincey looked from Dawn to the tree and back again and said with a tone full of disbelief: “That's... that's a runt. I mean, it's missing branches. It looks more like a tetrahedron than a cone.”

“Tetrahedron, shut up…” mumbled Dawn and circled the tree. “This one’s unique.”

“Unique?”

“Yes, this is the one.”

Quincey obviously had his doubts, but luckily for Dawn, he was also up for most of Dawn’s crazy ideas so he tagged the tree dutifully so the royal lumberjacks or whatever they were called could find it when they came to collect.

Dawn kissed Quincey’s cheek. “You didn’t bring your own axe?”

“I doubt they’d let me handle one.”

“Oh no, they wouldn’t. You’ve got too delicate of a constitution…”

“I could have you locked up in the dungeon for that.”

“You’d miss me too much.”

~

“Wow,” said Olympia once the tree was brought to the courtyard. “That's a very... unique tree.”

“Exactly. It's perfect, right?” asked Dawn.

“It'll look great, once we get all the lights in,” Olympia said though Dawn could tell she was also judging his taste. He decided to drive the point home even harder.

“Yeah, the coloured ones,” he said. “And those big, old, inflatable reindeer up there.”

Olympia nearly grimaced. “Luckily the staff will decorate this one, so you keep your grubby little hands off it.”

“Alright, you Christmas elitist…”

Pince cleared her throat and said: “As things have gone back to normal with the crown this year, we will light the tree Christmas Eve, after the king's address.”

Pince turned to Dawn and addressed him specifically, saying: “The decor mandate is white and gold. No inflatables.”

Dawn laughed. “Yes, I know Miss Pince, don’t worry.”

Olympia and Quincey laughed with him, when Pince’s expression turned from extremely worried to extremely relieved.

~

The next day was the day of Olympia’s play. The whole palace was abuzz with excitement, as nothing of the sort had been seen within the royal residence in years. Dawn and Tess were helping with the finishing touched to some of the supporting actors’ costumes, when Dawn noticed Evander standing nearby. Suspecting that he was up to no good, Dawn walked up to him.

“Are you spying on me?”

“Excuse me?” asked Evander, sufficiently affronted by the idea.

“I don’t like being spied on.”

“I don’t know if you know this,” said Evander. “But not everything is about you.”

“Then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be hatching some evil schemes somewhere?”

“I call it looking after the interests of Alderly,” Evander said coolly.

“Or for one Alderlian,” Dawn said with a scoff. “Named Evander.”

“Yes, I get it, it's not that clever.”

“Quincey may have been taken in by your little act but I'm not,” said Dawn and went back to work.

“What was that about?” asked Tess.

“Just clearing some things up.”

Tess looked thoughtful for a moment and then said: “I don’t know him, but I think he’s really trying to help. Last night he was still up, pouring over some account books long after everyone else had gone to bed.”

“He was?”

“Yeah,” said Tess. “In the kitchens. I went to get some chamomile tea so I could sleep.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s trying to help. It could be a plot.”

“I suppose it could…” mused Tess and added a final bow to the dress she was working on.

~

The play was certainly interesting. Dawn had to admit the artistic liberties taken were sometimes lost on him, but he had to appreciate the unique take on a classic folktale. The cast had opted to use masks to portray certain characters instead of elaborate costumes. The climax of the play, Princess Froon granting Santa Claus his powers and Grundel turning into a knight was complete with smoke effects. Gaia was swallowed by a cloud of smoke and her mask and cloak were replaced with shiny chainmail. She made quite a dashing knight and the kiss shared between her and the princess was straight out of a fairytale. Most of the references and more subtle choices went straight over Dawn’s head but he was pretty alright with that, seeing Olympia take the stage in a form she actually enjoyed, in a stark contrast to her royal duties.

~

After the play was done, Olympia invited all of her fancy friends down to the kitchens to bake gingerbread cookies for charity. It really was a little chaotic and only some of the cookies were actually respectable looking enough to be even considered for charitable purposes, but the castle was in need of cookies too, and Dawn didn’t mind if his cookie was made into the shape of a butt by some pompous noble.

He himself was making an attempt at decorating some heart and star shaped ones, when he heard Olympia’s voice behind him.

“Is that a snowman or a yeti?”

“It’s Grundel!” said Gaia, laughing. “Don’t you know your history?”

“I’ll have you know that Grundel doesn’t have a hat.”

“Mine does!” Gaia defended herself and both laughed.

“You were quite good tonight,” Gaia said.

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad it all worked out.”

“Imagine if we’d had to refund the tickets…”

“You could have kissed your allowance goodbye,” Gaia said.

“God-forbid, I have no life skills.”

“Well acting…”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Maybe a little,” said Gaia. “But it was fun, maybe we should make this an annual thing? Next year we could do The Christmas Nights.”

Dawn had no idea what that one entailed, but if it was anything like the one Alderlian folktale he did know, it was sure to be entertaining.

“I’d like that,” said Olympia.

“Hey, do you like coffee?” Gaia asked suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Would you like to go, sometime?”

“For a coffee?”

“Yes. With me, preferably.”

Olympia laughed. “Yes, I’d like to.”

Dawn suppressed a grin and busied himself getting more cookies to decorate.

Dawn’s Blog, December 20th

Post title: The Tale of Princess Froon

Dear all, Christmas spirit has overtaken the palace, and the Alderlian saga of Princess Froon and the Wicked Ogre melted hearts and sparked a wild frenzy of sweet treats and cocoa in the kitchen. It was a wonderful day, a great release from the pressure I feel as my life is about to change forever.

tag list: @lifeofkaze, @gcldensnitch, @endlessly-cursed, @cursed-herbalist, @magicallymalted

(ask if you want to be included or removed)

[neoflames]

A little oneshot I wrote of my Hermitcraft royalty au :)

Now that the crossover happened I have an excuse to write about this au lets go >:D

I decided to try and write in present tense to challenge myself, so if the writing style is a bit different than normal that's why :D (I normally write in past tense)

Short Chapter Summary: Jimmy Solidarity, a messenger from the kingdom of Empiria, is delivering a message to King Ren of Hermitopia, but he gets lost. One of the king's assistants, a man by the name of Scar Goodtimes, finds him wandering aimlessly around, and helps him find the king's throne room.

The canary hybrid glances around, letting out an irritated huff as he continues wandering aimlessly around the frozen, icy courtyard.

He's been searching for someone to help him find this 'King Ren' for what feels like hours (even though he knows it's only been minutes), and at this point Jimmy is considering tearing up the message he's been tasked to deliver and going home.

The dark blonde is rooting through his leather satchel to find the piece of parchment that has caused him so much frustration and irritation when he hears a confused voice with an incredibly exaggerated accent from behind him.

"And who might you be?" Jimmy turns around, startled by this sudden voice that interrupts the silence that had previously been surrounding him. A man with emerald green eyes that glitter mischievously, a mop of messy brown hair and pointed elf ears is watching him with a curious expression.

He's wearing a blouse that has crumbling ash creeping along the edges of the collar, and the cloak that partially covers it is made of a forest green material that is somehow cheap-looking yet velvety and shiny at the same time. The cloak has dishevelled golden embroidery in a swirl-like pattern that clearly has been done by someone with little knowledge of sowing, and he has scars criss-crossing all over his face and neck.

Jimmy clears his throat. "Uh- I'm Jimmy Solidarity. I'm a... messenger from Empiria? I'm here to see King Ren." He adds awkwardly, trying not to stare at the aforementioned scars.

The corner of the man's mouth twitches into a slight smile. "Oh, I see! You're lost, I'm guessing. I can take you to him. I'm Scar Goodtimes. One of the king's assistants." The brunette adds as Jimmy stares at him with slight uncertainty.

The dark blonde hesitates, chewing his lip with a slightly nervous expression before nodding slightly. "That... would be cool, yes. If you could take me to the king, and it's not too much of a bother, then do that, please."

"Of course! Follow me, Mr Solidarity." Scar gestures to the doorway Jimmy has been lingering outside of for the past twenty minutes. Oh, so it was- literally right there.

The self proclaimed assistant of the king leads Jimmy down a series of long corridors- a series of corridors that are almost maze-like to somebody who isn't familiar with them. Although Scar seems to be casual and laid back, making small talk and walking at a slow pace, the random quick steps he takes and the way that he's constantly looking around makes Jimmy think that Scar might have better places to be.

"Uh- are you sure you're okay with taking me to Ren? You look like you have something you want to go and do." Jimmy adds, wincing slightly as the sound of his own awkward laughter echoes throughout the hallway.

"Oh, I am- fine! I was just on my way to go get a gift for my boyfriend Mumbo's birthday when I ran into you, but I do not mind helping you out." He adds happily. The name rings a bell- Jimmy thinks he overheard someone mention that name before.

"Mumbo?" The canary hybrid echoes. "He's the one with the, uh..."

"Unnecessarily large moustache?" Scar jokes, grinning.

"Yeah, that. I swear I saw him on a date or something with the king's brother Grian before. Isn't that like- cheating or something?" Scar's reaction is the opposite of what Jimmy was expecting. The elf starts laughing, and his laughter is much louder than Jimmy's.

"No, not at all. I do not care if he has other partners, and he is okay with me having them as well." Scar explains with a laugh.

Jimmy blinks, more than a little bit confused. "I... don't understand." He says quietly.

"You'll be hard-pressed to find a relationship that isn't non-monogamous around these parts. Even the king himself has many..." Scar trails off, searching for a way to describe the king's relationships. He settles on a word. "Suitors." The brunette says it in an almost amused tone of voice, smirking slightly.

"Oh. I... see." Jimmy shoots Scar an odd look, mildly confused. He wasn't sure why he was expecting things to be slightly different here- there were a lot of non-monogamous relationships in Empiria.

The green eyed elf looks at him with an amused expression. "You cannot speak formally at all, can you?"

The dark blonde pulls a face. "You mean like how the king speaks? And how you speak? Nope, not at all. Do you all have to speak like that?"

"It's not a requirement, no. But it is a rather fun voice to do." Scar says with a laugh, relaxing slightly. "Sometimes it is nice to not speak like that though." He adds, his voice sounding completely different as it slips out of the elegant accent.

"Ohh, okay." Jimmy frowns slightly as Scar draws to a sudden halt outside a room with a set of large, ornately decorated doors.

"This is the throne room." He informs Jimmy, his voice changing again. "Good luck." The brunette mutters wryly, opening the door and stepping back to allow Jimmy to enter.

Haven't written in present tense in a WHILE lol, lmk what you think

[guacameowle]

Giving Ikemen Prince a whirl! If anyone needs friends, please consider adding me!

P2TA3YCDW

If you do give a follow in the app please let me know what your name is in the game so I can give a follow back while I have space. xx

[d-criss-news]

The Glee star and Emmy winner for The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Darren Criss, 34, will be releasing his first album of Christmas songs, titled A Very Darren Crissmas (October 8). It includes duets with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and an original song, “Drunk on Christmas,” featuring Lainey Wilson.

What was your goal with this Christmas album?

To reintroduce familiar songs in a new way. But I also wanted to take lesser-known songs and make those feel more familiar. And, most importantly, I wanted to take songs that people don’t associate with Christmas but I do—like Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—and try to make them feel like Christmas songs.

What inspired you to write “Drunk on Christmas”?

It’s about the end of Christmas when everything’s been done. There’s wrapping on the floor, you’ve cleaned things, the in-laws have left and there’s nothing else to do. It’s two people having a sit-on-the couch moment, sipping a glass of cocoa with some SoCo [Southern Comfort] in it.

What is it about Christmas music? Why did you want to do the Christmas album?

Christmas or the holiday season is something that, whether we like it or not, we experience every year, and that comes with a litany of wonderful songs and music that again, whether you have been proactive about listening to it or not, it’s pretty hard to avoid. It’s permeated our cultural consciousness for our entire lives. So if you happen to be someone like me who consumes music at a hyperactive level, I’ve always adored Christmas music.

People say this because of the way that it makes them feel and the things that it reminds them of. There are so many layers to why people enjoy Christmas music. It’s nostalgic, it is very romantic, at least in the true dictionary meaning of the word romantic. And to me, I’ve always loved it for a much more anthropological reason, which is for one month or several weeks out of the year we suddenly subscribe to a certain sentiment that the other 11 we don’t really dial into. We want it all, then we want it to just go away.

What makes Christmas songs different?

As a musician I’ve always loved that Christmas music can employ certain musical elements that otherwise aren’t very popular. To me, it’s incredible that without a doubt the estates of many artists are guaranteed placement on the radio even though many of them have been deceased for many years. The pop charts are dominated by whatever contemporary, awesome artists there are nowadays, but in December you can guarantee that Burl Ives and Dean Martin will be on the radio with the best of them. I find that so charming. It’s because people really, really love this music.

And those songs don’t sound like the sounds that we’re hearing on the radio, sonically, harmonically, rhythmically. They employ a lot of “classic” sounds that evoke the feeling of Christmas. I’m a self-proclaimed genrephile—this is a term I use for myself throughout all the stuff that I do. I can’t help but be so enchanted by this idea that artists have license, and by license I mean an excuse to do things that you ordinarily wouldn’t be encouraged to do, or that audiences wouldn’t necessarily be as quick to absorb.

So, when you’re talking about classic Christmas writing, for lack of a better word, you use clichéd Christmas terminology, you use certain chords, and harmonies, and instrumentations that you just wouldn’t do throughout the year. It leans on the slightly more sophisticated, slightly more musical, and that is really exciting for someone like me.

How much does the fact that your last name is Criss play into this?

If you play music and your last name is Criss, every year someone says, “You know what you should do?” as if they’re the first person who’s ever thought of this idea. So I’ve always wanted to do this; it was just a matter of time. And I also didn’t want it to be phoned in, I didn’t want it to seem like, “Oh, here’s some songs that you know already.”

I wrote this in my liner notes that my favorite thing to do with art, but particularly music, is curate, interpolate, create and personalize. That’s my main thing. I’m an OK singer, I’m an OK musician, but what I really think I have a yen for is trying to interpolate something new that people didn’t know before.

If you think about a song like “Jingle Bells,” it was not written for Christmas. It was a song from 200-something years ago that bears no mention of Christmas whatsoever, but we associate it so heavily with Christmas. Lately I hear Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” come up on Christmas playlists. I think it must have something to do with the Christian angle of the song and the reverence of the word “hallelujah,” but there’s no mention of Christmas.

So there’s a lot of different things that can make people feel like Christmas if you arrange it a certain way, and that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted this cocktail of songs that people didn’t know and I might be able to introduce to them in a really new, interesting way.

You duet with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and Lainey Wilson. These people couldn’t be more different. How did you select your song partners for this?

Honestly, people are busy, so I leaned on friends of mine. The album is called A Very Darren Crissmas, and I wanted to make it just that. Songs that are very, very me, doing things that are very me, and using the talents of people who are legitimately in my life. Adam has been a pal for a long time. We’ve known each other from just adventures in Hollywood, but he, of course, was on Glee with me. Evan Rachel is a dear pal of mine; we’ve done some things together. She’s played my festival, and I’ve done comedy sketches with her and stuff. These are all extraordinarily talented singers. As I told them when I asked them to be a part of it, “I’d be very lucky to have you on this record.”

I had not met Lainey Wilson before I started this. But when you’re in Nashville, you are in the Olympic tent of USDA certified prime country singers. And that’s a bit of a blind spot for me as far as who’s on the up and up, who’s somebody that can really give a level of authenticity, legitimacy to a more classic ’50s Nashville sound, which is the song that I wrote called “Drunk on Christmas.” My producer Ron Fair, who has been living in Nashville for a while, suggested Lainey and we got on like a house on fire. She’s an extraordinary talent and I was happy to have her. These were all people that were part of this grassroots friend to friend thing. That’s how I got them and I’m very lucky that they’re on the record.

There are hundreds of Christmas songs. How did you choose what to include?

Choosing was extremely hard. I had a list of about 100 songs. I’m not done; this record is only phase one in my mind. There are so many songs that it will make your head spin. If you go, “Did you think about this song?” The answer is yes, and I absolutely had to deliberate which ones I had to triage out of the sequence.

I even said no to “The Christmas Song,” which is on the album. I didn’t want to do it because I was like, “Everybody knows it; it’s perfect by Nat King Cole,” and Mel Tormé [who wrote it] is one of my favorite artists of all time, much less songwriters and musicians. So I was like, “I don’t want to have to do that.” And on the day when we were there, we just had a guitar and said, “Let’s just do it for fun,” because I love singing that song. But I was like, “It’s been done perfectly too many times, I really don’t want to have to put myself up against that.” But we had a nice take, it’s live in the room. And hey, come on, it’s Christmas. So I left it on there.

If we were to come to your house during the holidays, what would you be listening to?

I’d probably sit you down and play you my favorite songs that you’ve never heard that I think are great Christmas songs. But what’s nice is I’ve now put those songs on this album, hopefully, in a perhaps delusional effort to standardize these songs in the Christmas pantheon. There has to be an air of delusion to being an artist in the first place. If one of these songs that no one’s ever heard before catches on with a family or a person and becomes part of their Christmas playlist every year, then I will have succeeded in my efforts.

What did the Emmy you won for The Assassination of Gianni Versace do for your career?

Although the Emmy has just my name on it, the number one thing that I’m most proud of is it’s more symbolic and representative of the work of the whole team. It is a validation and celebration of the really hard work of people that I spent a lot of time and energy with creating this role.

You have a couple voice roles coming up—in Trese and Yasuke—but what are we going to see you in next, not just hear you?

I don’t know. Let me know if there’s any opportunities. A huge reason for why this album was made was because I had the time. Making records takes a lot of time, and I’m envious of people who are just singers. I don’t know how people do that, that’s just not who I am. I’m a producer, I’m a writer, I’m a musician. It takes so much out of me to make a body of music because someone doesn’t say, “OK, here are the songs, show up on a Tuesday, you sing it and then you leave.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my favorite artists can do that and are blessed enough to be able to just do that. I can’t.

It takes so much time for me to really get in the weeds, arrange, edit vocals, edit instrumentation, mix tracks, really getting in the jungle of music production. I can’t function any other way and that takes an extraordinary amount of time. Even when there was a global pandemic, I still had deadlines that we could barely make to finish this album because that’s just how my brain works.

So I haven’t been able to act. I haven’t had an acting job in almost two years. That’s not entirely true. I’ve had little bit things during the pandemic, but no big series or films or anything like that. It’s just been mostly working from home and being as proactive as I can be. I started a weekly podcast with a friend of mine, I put out an EP. I’ve been extremely busy with high output and low visibility. I’m waiting for the next thing, but I’m not one to sit still. If you give me time, I’m going to fill all the spaces out. So I did that with music this past two years.

Are you going to go back to Broadway now that it’s opening again?

I don’t want to say anything that is not perhaps confirmed 100 percent, but I will say with full confidence that I have always had the intention of going back exactly where we started. I’ll let them announce what’s happening because every show is in its own unique holding pattern. But, yes, right before the shutdown I was doing American Buffalo in New York, and talk about the actor’s dream, that is right up there. Doing a great American play that I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve had a long history with that show, and I finally get to do it for real with two of my favorite actors—Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne. They are two acting heroes of mine.

So I was in rehearsals for that. We were about to go into tech, and things got shut down. But we’re in a very fortunate position where you’ve got two huge movie stars, you have a very well-known play and you have a fixed set and just three guys. There are musicals that have orchestras, big choruses and huge set pieces, and the overhead and upkeep of these productions is quite complicated. And a lot of them, for that reason, fell by the wayside during the pandemic, and it’s an awful tragedy. But our set and our billboard and our posters are exactly where we left them. It’s kind of a trip. If you go to Circle in the Square, I keep telling people it’s the longest I’ve ever been on Broadway because it’s just sitting there dormant, waiting to be resurrected.

I think all of us are planning on going back. I think the show is scheduled to reopen almost to the day that it was supposed to open in 2020. We’ll see how the schedule ends up, but you have three guys whose heart and soul is the theater. I don’t want to speak for the other two guys, but I’m almost positive that all three of us would rather be doing that play on Broadway than anything else. So when I say I haven’t had an acting gig in two years, it’s been a comfort to know that that was waiting for me on the other end. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll be able to do it. We’ll have to make sure that everything is hunky-dory with theater audiences, et cetera, et cetera, but that’s the idea.

How did Ryan Murphy casting you in Glee change your life?

I said during my Emmy speech that actors are only as good as the moments they get. I used to say actors are only as good as the parts they get. Take that with a huge grain of salt, obviously, it’s not entirely true. But in context of that moment, certainly you can understand what I meant. Acting is a proactive craft, but in many respects it’s a passive career, where you have to hope and wait for a benefactor, a patron, a supporter to say, “OK, all right, kid, you’re up. I think you can do it.”

I think any artist’s life is a constant compromise between knowing what you can do and what you want to do, and having other people, audiences and creative authorities alike, have an idea of what you can do. You have to have that balance of somewhere in the middle, where hopefully you can rise to an occasion that you know you can do, that somebody’s going to give you the opportunity to do. But you’re not in control of that relationship, and so you have to sit and hope and pray that someone is going to give you that moment and that opportunity. That was something that I’m fully indebted to with Ryan.

Because he did say, “All right, kid, you’re up,” and gave me that shot. We talked about the The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story series for years before we did it. I didn’t think he was ever going to do it. By the time we started shooting, he probably mentioned it to me three or four years prior. And I kept asking about it like, “Hey, you still want to do this thing?” I think he was just always obsessed with the fact that I was half Filipino and that I bore a certain resemblance to the guy. Age and everything, it seems pretty spot-on. But he was a man of his word, and he really did end up making it. So I’m incredibly indebted to him and I’ve always been very effusive about that.

Now that you have this modicum of fame, what would you like to use it to accomplish?

For me, there are so many things that I love in this world that I don’t think other people are familiar with. One of the things about having a modicum of a platform is hopefully embracing that to use it as a gateway drug for stuff that people might not be familiar with. I don’t know if they’re going to like it as much as I do, but I’m looking at this track list and there are songs that I guarantee that you don’t know.

These are all things where I go, “OK, I have this moment of people’s attention, hopefully, this is a fun way to have them have eyes on something that I think is deserving of eyes, and not because of me, but because of other people who have made something amazing.” And, hopefully, they have the same proactive curiosity that I had growing up where I look at the liner notes and see who wrote the songs and where they came from. But we’ll see. We’ll see if people have that reaction.

You’ve accomplished so much. What’s the dream going forward?

The dream is to keep doing me, really. I think all you can do is be as true to yourself and try and do as accessible and as valuable work as you can. And, hopefully, in so doing, represent people, giving them visibility and encouragement towards their own place in the cultural conversation.

[oreomonsterhunter]

Life Sucks

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Word Count: 10K (I know.....this was a surprise for me, too)

Genre: fluff, romantic comedy

Warnings: language (our characters have a tendency to curse, apparently)

Summary: Sunshine reader is in love with love, but hasn’t had much luck with it herself.  When she meets Minho, a self-proclaimed cynic and disbeliever of “true love”, she’s determined to change his life.  If she can’t find the love of her life, she’s going to try to find his.

This fic was inspired by a tag game once upon a time.  It was supposed to be a short drabble, but apparently I can’t hold back with Minho.  Tag game featured this specific Lee Know and just kinda spiraled from there lol

Nearing the end of January, winter sometimes seemed endless.  Yet when you stepped out into the morning chill, you were pleasantly surprised to find the snow banks melting a bit.  Your boots splashed through small puddles as you strode down the street, and you smiled softly at the lavender sky.  It was still early enough—for a Saturday—that the sidewalks weren’t too packed yet, so you indulged in a more leisurely walk than usual, dancing along to the music from your headphones.  You caught a few odd looks, but you simply smiled and waved at everyone you passed.  They could judge your happiness all they wanted, nothing could possibly spoil your day when it was off to such a good start—

“Shit,” you gasped, jumping back onto the curb as a car barrelled through a red light.  Had you been a second slower, you would’ve been a vehicular manslaughter case.  “Asshole,” you hollered after them, flipping two middle fingers in the air.

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose, attempting to banish the exasperation and get back into your music again.  More careful this time, you double checked both ways down the street before entering the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, your streak of bad luck continued.  Just as you hopped off the street, a truck passed by behind you, tires bumping through a pothole.  And with the recent snowmelt, this resulted in a spray of cold water hitting the backs of your legs.

You froze, mind stuttering as you tried to comprehend how the morning had taken such a turn, all within your first five minutes outside.  Pursing your lips, you twisted around to inspect the damage.  The dirty water might stain your jeans, but the most pressing matter was the cold and wet denim now plastered to your legs from your calves to the backs of your knees.  You bit your lip, contemplating just turning back and spending the whole day in your apartment.  Pajamas, a blanket, hot coffee and tea readily available.  Maybe a movie, just because you could.

Then you shook your head, determined to make the best of the day.  You wanted a cappuccino, dammit.  And chocolate babka from the cafe.  No homicidal drivers or puddles could stop you.  It was a Saturday, just past sunrise, and you had a whole day ahead of you.  No need to wallow a few minutes in.  And besides, who knew what would happen.

You set off for the cafe, determination heavy in each step.  You forced a smile back onto your lips, though it was thinner than before.  You switched to a different playlist so that your boots could thump the concrete in time.  And you breathed, spooling calmness back into yourself.

It was a Saturday.  You might meet the love of your life today.  And nothing could stop you from finding out.

The bell over the front door jingled merrily, and you softened a little further, relaxing into the familiar surroundings.  You hardly even noticed the damp denim chafing your legs as you skipped up to the counter.

Ruth, currently manning the register, chuckled as she rang up another customer.  “Well would you look at that, the sun came shining right in our front door,” she said.

“Good morning,” you giggled.  You waved to Jonathan, Ruth’s husband, in the back.  The couple had been running the little cafe and bakery for years, and you were a faithful customer, coming by at least once a week since you first moved to the neighborhood.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he called, hands busy kneading dough for what would doubtless become something delicious.  You hummed thoughtfully, considering the baked goods in the glass case before you.

“Your usual?”

You tapped a finger on your chin, “You know, the poppy seed muffins look awfully tempting.  I might just have to switch it up today.”

Ruth nodded, tapping on the register.  You handed over the requisite bills and she shooed you off, sliding the muffin over the counter.  “Go on now, a table opened up by the window, perfect spot.  I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you said, but Ruth was already fussing over the espresso machine.  Shaking your head, you weave through the maze of tables and chairs, dodging patrons on your way to the window seat.

You had your eyes on the prize, and you were only a few feet from the chair when you pulled up short.  A stranger, their back to you, plopped down in your chair.  You blinked, suddenly and painfully aware of your wet pants, the muffin growing cool in your hand, the fact that you could give up now and walk home but perhaps you’d just get hit by a car and never get a chance to enjoy your breakfast.  You sighed deeply, breathing out through your nose as you closed your eyes, seeking inner peace or something.

“Can I help you?”

The voice knocked you out of your momentary meditation, and you looked at the table thief in surprise.  He loosened the fluffy scarf around his neck before sliding his arms out of his winter coat.  A beret, of all things, tilted dangerously to the side before he adjusted it on his head.  He looked like some kind of absent-minded professor, but for the youthful features that peered up at you.  A sharp nose, tinted red from the cold, and a soft mouth.  Dark and depthless eyes, paired with high cheekbones and a cutting jawline.

You realized you were staring when he waved at you, eyes widened.  “Hello?”

“Um, sorry, I just,” you stammered, lost for words.

“Do you want to sit or something?”

You stopped again, mouth dropping open.  You checked the time—you had fifteen minutes or so, enough time for another table to open up.  “Uh, sure, if that’s ok with you.  I was hoping for a table, I’m meeting someone,” you said, beginning to ramble.

“No problem, I don’t need all this space, and I’ll head out soon,” he cut you off, raising one brow at you when you continued to stand there, rooted to the spot.

Ruth’s arrival with your cappuccino was what ultimately forced your hand.  You sat down, gratefully accepting the drink, your smile less shaky with a taste of the familiar.

“I didn’t think they did table service,” the stranger mused.

“They don’t, I just know the owners,” you shook your head, cutting yourself off when you saw his disinterest.  “Sorry, I should introduce myself,” you switched tacks, giving your name with a bright grin.  So what if it was forced?

The stranger looked at you, and his lips twitched in a shadow of a smirk.  “Minho,” he responded.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward, and you found yourself leaning forward desperately.  “So how’s your day so far?”

Minho snorted, reaching for his own drink—an iced americano, you guessed, despite it being the middle of winter.  “Probably better than yours.”

“What?” your brows furrowed in confusion.

He gestured to your legs with one hand.  “Unfortunate accident this morning?”

Your lips tightened, holding back a frown, “Puddles, you know.”

Minho sighed, sounding sympathetic now, rather than snarky.  “Yeah, life sucks, doesn’t it?”  And there was the sarcasm again.

“One or two bad things doesn’t mean life sucks,” you countered, sipping your coffee.  “I’m excited about the rest of the day, it’s not even eight in the morning!  And it’s the weekend, and it’s sunny and warm, and I have hot coffee and a delicious muffin, and the world is out there and ready to be enjoyed,” you finished, lips curling up as you looked out the window at the sunrise, the horizon flaming golden.

“Sounds like you’ve never had a job,” a harsh voice cut into your admiration.  Your smile faltered as you looked back at Minho.  You gaped at him, brain processing the way this soft-looking boy sounded like the king of cynics.  The last thing you expected from someone wearing a fuzzy beret and looking like a sly teddy bear was this blunt conversation.  “No one’s that excited when they have to work fifty plus hour weeks to pay the bills.  Trust fund baby?” he inquired, sipping calmly.

Yep, there was no fighting the frown now.  “No, and I don’t appreciate the judgement.  Why can’t I just be happy?”

Minho smirked, “Never said you can’t.  I just wanted to see if you had a personality beyond being Positive Polly.”

Your eyes flamed, but your phone buzzed, distracting you before you could smite the snarky boy.  You fumbled at your coat pocket, whipping out the device to check for a new message.  You slumped—just a spam email.

“Waiting for something important?” Minho asked, tilting his head.

You huffed, shoving the device back in your pocket.  “As a matter of fact, yes,” you sassed, tossing your hair over one shoulder.  “I’m waiting for a date.”

He hummed at you, expression unreadable.  “You’re too excited.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyeing the clock on the far wall of the cafe.

“You’re significantly early, watching the clock like a hawk, and they haven’t even texted you an update.”  He took a long sip.  “What time is your date anyway?  Eight in the morning?  They’re not coming.”

Your smile faltered again.  Damn him, why was a total stranger dimming your joy?  You shoved your chair back, even though no tables had opened up yet.  You’d wait by the counter and chat with Ruth.  Anything was better than this asshole.

Minho glanced over his shoulder, checking the clock himself.  “Five past, and still nothing,” he commented.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

A spark appeared in his eyes, and he grinned.  “Good to see you have some backbone,” he commented.

You could’ve sworn steam was coming out of your ears, but your phone vibrated again.  You checked the lock screen, seeing a new text pop up from Jay: hey I can’t make it.  You swiped on the message, but nothing followed it.  Seriously?  That was it?  No explanation, and not even a half-assed apology?

“Told you so.”

You spun to face Minho, glare renewed.  “And what makes you so sure of yourself and my date?” you demanded.

He snorted, “Life sucks; so does dating.  The only thing you’re guaranteed is disappointment.”

Your anger faded slightly as you watched the boy sip his iced coffee, his silhouette stark against the snow outside.  When you took a breath to get past your own mingled frustration—both at Jay and your new snarky companion—you saw the tense lines of his face.  You wondered what disappointment had left Minho so defensive.

“Alright, enlighten me,” you said, throwing yourself back in the chair.  This time, you settled in, sliding out of your coat and leaning forward with your coffee.  “Who broke your heart?”

A look of disgust slid over those pretty features.  “No one broke anything,” he scoffed, turning to the window and giving you another dose of his sharp profile.  You rested your chin on your hand thoughtfully, just watching him and waiting.  “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered.  “You’re not my therapist.”

“But I am a perfectly kind stranger.  And strangers are the easiest people to talk to,” you said sunnily.

“And don’t sound so happy.”

“No can do, people call me Sunshine for a reason.”

Minho gave a long-suffering sigh.  “I’m not calling you that.”

Now you were the one with a cocky smirk, “Why, does it hurt your delicate masculinity?”

A beat of silence, and then, “One of my best friends is called Sunshine.”  Minho looked at you sharply.  “I’m not calling you that,” he said again.

You waved him off, oddly touched in spite of his gruff tone.  This human version of grumpy cat had a best friend named Sunshine?  Incredible, and surprisingly soft of him.  “Ok fine, no arguments from me.  Tell me about her.  Or him, whoever it is,” you stumbled over your words.

Minho didn’t seem to notice your blundering.  He stared somewhere beyond your shoulder, “No one broke my heart.”  Then his eyes focused on you again as he asserted, “I’ve just experienced enough to know better than to hope blindly.  The world isn’t looking out for you.”

Humming, you folded your arms as you considered his statements.  “Well, I believe in true love,” you started.

“Why am I not surprised?”  Minho groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I also believe in the power of positive thinking,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken.  Ignoring his dramatic moaning, you steamrolled ahead.  “Yeah, my morning turned out pretty shitty, but if I just go crawl back in bed, I’ll have wasted a whole day over something as silly as wet jeans.”

“Wet jeans and being stood up.”

“And being stood up,” you allowed, gritting your teeth to maintain a smile.  “But if I let that stop me from living my life, then I’ve let the negative win.  If I go check out a new dating app or two and keep trying, one day I’ll have something good.”

Minho put his coffee down, resting one hand on the table as he met your eyes, gaze hard.  “Listen, nothing good comes out of a dating app.  You’re wasting your time.  And didn’t you say you hate doing that?”

You wanted to argue, but your friends had told you much of the same.  Minho was just less polite in his delivery.  But you hadn’t had any luck with real life men, either.  Case in point: your irritating argument with the perfectly attractive guy in front of you.  So that left apps, even if the pickings were regrettably slim.  And only growing slimmer, if the ghost date was any indication.  You didn’t have the guts to tell Minho that this wasn’t the first time you’d been stood up.

Then you had an idea.  Your grin widened, and Minho’s irritated expression faded into apprehension.  “Well if I’m doomed to never find love,” you started, batting your eyelashes teasingly.  “Why don’t I look for the love of your life instead?”

Minho blanched, recoiling with enough force that his chair rocked back on two legs.  “Yeah, no.  I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s a terrific idea,” you beamed at him.  “I’ve been a successful matchmaker for a bunch of my friends, too.  I’ve just had trouble finding my own love interest.”

“What is this, a rom com?” he hissed.

You clapped your hands, overcome with excitement for the first time since the puddle.  “Oh, a romance, I wish,” you nearly swooned at the thought.  “I promise I’ll do my best.  You’d get along great with one of my friends, they’re just as irritable as you.”

Minho exhaled sharply, massaging his forehead with one hand.  He closed his eyes, muttering, “What am I doing here?”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.  No matchmaking until I know you better,” you amended, whipping out a notebook and pen from your bag.  You had just about everything in there—you never knew what emergency might pop up, like brainstorming a match for a stranger.  “What are some of your hobbies?  Favorite color?  Ooh, what about first date activities you love?  Oh my goodness, wait, are you looking for men or women?”

Part of you expected Minho to shove his chair back and leave.  You wouldn’t be too upset, that just meant you’d have the table to yourself, even if you weren’t waiting on a date anymore.  But you didn’t totally hate this guy.  And another part of you kind of felt bad for him.  He’d never experienced love!  Not that you’d had a taste of true love, either, but you knew what was out there.  And it was a shame that he didn’t see that too.  It was like...someone hating your favorite holiday—unacceptable, if only because you wanted everyone to enjoy it as much as you did.

You begrudgingly admitted that another teeny tiny part of you thought he was too attractive to be so cynical of love.  Some lucky girl out there was waiting for Minho, and you were gonna help her out, even if it meant dragging the man kicking and screaming towards her.

But Minho didn’t do what you expected.  He didn’t storm off, coffee in hand, scarf flapping in the wind dramatically.  He sighed and stood up, but made no move for his coat.  “If we’re doing this, I need more coffee,” he said, then turned and made a beeline for the counter without any further explanation.

You blinked after him, more than a bit surprised.  He was...going along with this?  You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully, watching his shoulders flex beneath his turtleneck as he talked to Ruth.  His head turned slightly, and you caught a glimpse of his smile—a real one—taking your breath away.

Now, if only you could get him to smile like that for any potential dates.  You clicked your pen with renewed vigor, laughing when Minho approached with a new coffee, exasperation written into every line of his face.

* * * * *

It was a lovely Thursday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your comfiest pajamas.  Your only companions were a blanket, a mug of tea, and your phone, which you checked every fifteen seconds.  The first time all week that Minho hadn’t answered your messages, and it was the night of his first date.  You were buzzing with anticipation, practically vibrating as you waited for news, not caring who it came from first.

Finally, you gave up waiting, throwing the blanket as you went to reheat your tea, since you’d let it grow cold while refreshing your messages.  The second you reached the kitchen, however, you heard a buzz.  You dashed to the couch, scrambling for your phone to find a text from Mari:

He had to dip early, lame date

You nearly screeched.  He left?  Your fingers pounded the screen:

What!?!?!! Did he say whyyy?

Mari’s response was short and to the point:

An “emergency”

You could read between the lines.  Mari was irritated, to say the least, since the blind date had been your brilliant idea.  But what on earth had happened with Minho?  Your stomach dropped, considering that he might have an actual emergency.  You quickly tapped out a message to him to check in, gnawing your lip in worry.

Hey, Mari said you had an emergency, is everything ok?

You waited what felt like ten thousand years before finally seeing the little bubbles appear.  His message, however, was not worth the wait:

Didn’t get on with her

You fumed, pressing dial on his contact with enough force, you were amazed your screen didn’t crack.  “You left because you didn’t like her?” you screeched as soon as he picked up.

“Yes.”

Gaping like a fish, you fumbled for words to explain how bad that was.  “You can’t just—”

“But I did,” Minho cut you off.

“But you can’t,” you said, exasperated.  “Jeez, I thought you knew what you were doing.  Obviously not.  You need a practice date or something so my friends don’t murder you.”

Now it was Minho’s turn to squawk indignantly.  “I do not need practice,” he started.

“Yes, obviously you do.  You might look like a player but you’ve obviously never talked to a girl for more than ten minutes,” you scolded him.  “Who leaves in the middle of a date?  With that bad of an excuse?”

“I hate wasting my time.  Didn’t we discuss how we should avoid doing that with our love lives,” he snarked.

You groaned, “There’s a difference between not wasting your time and being rude as heck.”

“So what?  She was abrasive, rude, cynical, and had a terrible sense of humor,” Minho said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather.  “I can’t believe you’re friends.”

“That’s a pretty great description of you, too,” you sassed back, irritation taking over.  “We might not be that close, but you can’t just insult everyone I set you up with.”

“Who said I wanted you to set me up with anyone?”

“I assumed you did, otherwise why are you going along with this?” you tried your best to calm down, lower your voice.  But something about Minho just put your back up.

“Uh,” Minho actually seemed lost for words.  Your ears perked up, eager to catch his answer.  “My mom wants to set me up with her friends’ daughters,” he tossed out at last.

Seemed a bit too easy.  “Sure,” you drawled, leaning back on the couch.

“Yes, really,” he sneered, and you giggled, picturing the exact expression on his face.

“Ok, whatever you say,” you allowed, laughing slightly.  “But you’re still going on a practice date.  Tomorrow night, six o’clock.  Meet me at the cafe.  If you’re not there, I’m gonna find your mom and help her out.”

You hung up on him before he could argue with you, grinning madly as you concocted your plan.

* * * * *

You half expected to wait for Minho to show up, much like your friend did, but much to your surprise, he was waiting for you under the awning when you arrived.  “You’re late,” Minho accused, and you grinned sheepishly.  You may or may not have lied about the time.  Just in case.

“The queen is never late.  Everyone else is simply early,” you quipped.  Minho rolled his eyes—absolutely what you expected.  You giggled, linking your arm through his and tugging him down the sidewalk with you.

“Woah,” Minho yanked at his arm, trying to free himself.  “If you wanted to hold hands, you could have asked.”

“You’re too much of a grinch, you’d just say no.”

“Exactly.  It’s called consent, sweetheart.”

He nearly fell at the sudden freedom when you released him, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets to escape the chill.  “Alright, follow me then, you unromantic dork.”  He muttered under his breath as you skipped away, having fun despite his attitude.  Time to show him what a real date looked like.

Five seconds later, and not even two blocks from the cafe, Minho groaned, “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

A pause, then, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” you told him, not for the first time.  He’d texted you all night, demanding to know, but your lips were sealed.

Except a certain someone seemed determined to annoy the answers out of you.  “Are we there yet?”

You sighed, your skip feeling a little less peppy.  “No.”

“Are we—”

“Minho,” you ground out.  “If you ask me that one more time, I’m taking you to get your nails done.”

“Ok, sure.  I could use a bit of pampering,” he said, the epitome of casual.

You stared at him.  “This feels like a trick,” you said slowly.

A grin flashed, “That’s because it is.  It’s after six, they’re all closed by now.”  But then he frowned slightly.  “Now you have me wanting a manicure though, I’ve never gotten one.”

Your brows were practically in your hairline but you just nodded.  “Ok, another time, then,” you agreed.  You caught sight of a familiar street sign and quickened your steps.  “Almost there,” you were nearly vibrating in excitement.  You felt Minho’s eyes on you, your skin prickling with awareness, but you ignored him in favor of racing around the street corner.  And there it was—the zoo!  All lit up...all lit…...not lit up at all.  Your feet stumbled to a halt.

“So the zoo is open at night now?” Minho inquired at your shoulder.

You gaped at the dark expanse before you.  “But where are the lights?”  Because indeed, not a single light was on in the zoo.  You’d just visited, not too long ago, and they had been open for night visits, so guests could walk around and see the trees all lit up, and wave hello to a few animals in the enclosures.

“Lights?”

“The Christmas lights,” you cried out, frantic.  “They were up the last time I was here.”

“You mean a month ago?  For Christmas?  Back when it was still December?” Minho questioned you.  You nearly snapped back before you realized.  It was January.  February next week.  Of course the lights were down, what kind of idiot were you?

You groaned in defeat, slumping against the wall and sliding down to a crouch.  You threw your arms over your head.  “I don’t know what we’re going to do, then.  I’m sorry I made you walk all this way,” you mumbled into your knees, wishing you could disappear into the sidewalk.  Gosh, and you’d really dragged him along, hadn’t you?  He obviously hadn’t been that excited, and all of your mysterious “it’s a surprise” nonsense only made this a bigger disappointment.

“It’s a Friday night, things are still open, you know,” Minho pointed out.  “So what if you somehow forgot a whole month happened.  I forget the year sometimes.”

“What are you, an old man?” you tried to perk up, but the tease fell flat.

“I’m only twenty-two.  You must be ancient.”  You picked up your head to look at him.  A faint smile curled on his lips as he played along.

“Oh my gosh, I’m your noona.  If you’re a grandpa, then I’m practically in the grave,” you forced out a chuckle.

Minho’s smile grew, and he extended a hand.  “Come on, get up.  Night’s still young.”

For a moment, you simply stared at his hand.  Then you met his dark gaze, “You aren’t going to take advantage of this?  I thought you hated the whole practice date idea.”

He sighed, wiggling his fingers at you.  “I don’t hate spending time with you, alright?  Now get up or I’m leaving you here.”

Your mouth twitched, a true smile threatening to form, and not just a cover-up.  You slid your hand in his gratefully, and Minho pulled you to your feet with more strength than you thought he had.  You blinked at him, realizing he hadn’t let your hand go yet.  But the second his eyes followed your gaze, he dropped it, sliding his hands into his pants pockets instead.

“So where to?” Minho asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, remembering a pretty little outdoor skating rink, but the skies cracked open, interrupting you with a sudden deluge.  You gasped as the first fat raindrops splattered on your forehead, eyes widening before you made a mad dash for the nearest storefront, Minho already a few steps ahead of you.

You’d barely been in the rain for a minute, but the icy water had your teeth chattering already.  Had it been any colder, this would’ve been pretty snow.  Instead, you got an arctic firehose.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you peered down the street.  Beside you, Minho checked a weather app, hissing through his teeth.  “Looks like rain all night,” he muttered.

You groaned again, wanting to cry.  You’d completely messed up the evening, first with the lights, and now by not checking the weather.  You’d planned an outdoor date, why hadn’t you checked?

A hand brushed your shoulder lightly, barely detectable through your coat.  “Um, this might not be what you had planned, but my apartment is actually on this street.  Wanna just order pizza?”

Your first instinct was a vehement “no”, but you stopped that answer on the tip of your tongue.  Minho wasn’t one of the sleazy guys you’d gone out with in the past, the ones who’d thought an apartment invite was more than that.  Plus, this wasn’t a real date or anything.  It was a practice date, just pals, nothing crazy about that.  So why couldn’t you grab pizza at his place?  Especially with the monsoon and a long walk back to your own place.  And no umbrella.

You found yourself nodding, shivers wracking your body.  Minho’s teeth flashed in another fierce grin, “Alright, sweetheart, let’s make a run for it.  In three, two, one—”

The two of you raced down the slick sidewalks, dodging lampposts and puddles alike.  You skidded to a stop at one of the apartment buildings, nearly slamming into Minho’s back as he yanked the door open, and the two of you tumbled into the warm lobby.  Once out of the wet, Minho shook his head like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere, and you shrieked, hands coming up to protect yourself.

“Sorry,” Minho laughed, not sounding apologetic in the least.  “I’m on the sixth floor, so we can take the elevator,” he said, pointing you in the right direction.

The ride up was awkward; the only sound was your jacket zipper rattling from the force of your shivers.  Minho unlocked the door to his apartment, waving a hand dramatically.  You stepped inside tentatively, toeing off your boots by the door.  You watched Minho follow suit, then pad over to a closet along one wall.  Your confusion abated when he emerged with towels, passing one to you with raised brows.  The two of you were still soaking wet, and you didn’t want to track rainwater all over his apartment.

Minho was already drying his head off one-handed.  When he stopped, letting the towel slip down to rest on his shoulders, you giggled at the sight of his hair.  He made a face, only adding to the comic effect of his hair standing on end.

“I know you drink coffee, but what about hot tea?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen while you continued to dab at your clothes.

You nodded enthusiastically, eyeing the space from where you stood in the entryway.  It was pretty minimal, not a ton of color or anything, but cozy.  Black couch, gray curtains, some photos on the wall.  Fairly tidy, but definitely nothing out of a magazine.  A meow at your feet interrupted your train of thought, and you looked down to coo at the cats that were slowly approaching.  “Well aren’t you gorgeous,” you complimented the bravest of the three, who nosed at your hand gingerly.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho said, pointing at each cat in turn.  He leaned on the counter while waiting for the water to boil.

“They’re adorable,” you beamed at him.  “And much more friendly.”

“Hey,” he narrowed his eyes.  “I’m friendly.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed at him.  Your mirth was interrupted by a fierce shiver, reminding you that you might not be dripping wet, but your clothes were still icy cold.

Minho eyed you as you wrapped your arms around yourself.  “I have sweats you can borrow.”

You started to protest, but the next shudder of cold made you change your mind.  Besides, you didn’t want to get his furniture soaking wet.  So you nodded and waited while Minho disappeared into the bedroom.  You shuffled awkwardly to the kitchen, toes curling in your socks.

Minho reappeared.  “Here,” he said, voice gruff.  He pressed a pair of sweatpants into your hands, along with a fuzzy looking sweatshirt.  Your turtleneck wasn’t too wet, just a little damp along the neckline, but you slid the extra layer over your head gratefully.  Before you had to ask him, Minho pointed to a half-open door.  “The bathroom.  I’m going to get something dry on, too,” he added.

You smiled in relief, escaping to the small bathroom gratefully.  As soon as the door was shut, you were scrabbling at the soaking wet denim, peeling it down your legs.  You grimaced, not missing this experience at all after the last time.  Minho’s sweatpants were soft and oh so warm by comparison.  And fleece-lined, too.  You slung your jeans over the shower rod to dry, rolled the ankles of your borrowed pants—just enough so you wouldn’t be drowning in excess material—and went in search of that promised hot tea.

You found Minho on the phone in the kitchen.  When he noticed you, he waved you closer.  “Do you like anything on your pizza?” he asked.

“Um,” you scrambled to collect your thoughts.  “Cheese?”

Minho cracked a smile.  “Cheese it is then.  And peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, garlic, basil,” he rattled off what sounded like an entire grocery list.  When he noticed you staring, Minho raised his brows in confusion.  You shook your head with a small laugh, leaving him to it.  On the counter behind him, you found two mugs, tea bags already steeping.  You wrapped your cold fingers around one, humming in contentment.  Finally, the shivers stopped.

“Wanna watch a movie while we wait for pizza?” Minho asked, but then he froze, grimacing.  “Oh shit, sorry.  I mean, you can go home if you want.  I don’t mean to keep you if you don’t want to stay.  I have an umbrella, and you can keep the sweats I guess—”

“Sure how about a romance?” you interrupted him, grabbing your tea and making your way to the couch.  You plopped down, eyeing Minho, who was still stiff as a board by the counter.  You giggled at him, “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from Mr. Darcy.”

That seemed to knock him out of his stupor.  An indignant expression wiped away any trace of sheepishness, and he stomped over to find the remote.  “Yeah right,” he scoffed.  “I’m not watching a romance.”

“A romantic comedy then,” you decided, snatching the remote out of his hands.

He grabbed it back, lightning quick.  “Action.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly.  “Drama.  Fight me and I’ll demand a Hallmark movie.”

Minho smirked, “Fight me and I’ll make it a horror movie.”

You groaned in disgust, glaring at him.  “Ok, fine, let’s fight over it.  Rock, paper, scissors?”

He rolled his eyes, but ended up on the couch beside you, holding one fist out to meet yours.  “Best out of three,” he smirked.  “Get ready for a zombie fest.”

After a crushing defeat, Minho slumped on the couch, moaning dramatically when you selected Pride and Prejudice.  You giggled at the grumpy man beside you, and his similarity to Mr. Darcy.  Most notably their matching pouts.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t interrupt the movie once.  Sure, he grumbled at first, but when you snuck a peek at him after about half an hour, you caught him watching intently.

You’d seen the movie at least a dozen times by now, but you still couldn’t resist the pull, and your heart fluttered at the brush of hands the way it did every time.  Your breath caught at every interaction, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away to save your life.  Until the pizza arrived, at least.  You were about to press play, two slices at the ready, when Minho looked over at you.  “Why are you so in love with the idea of love?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a moment, taken aback.  “What?”

“Not just the movie, but real life,” he said, twisting to face you fully.  “Why are you so determined to find Mr. Right?  Or to set me up on the perfect date?”

“Don’t you want to find someone?” you questioned him, backing away from the question.  “You can’t possibly be putting up with me just to avoid your mom playing matchmaker.  I’m literally no better than that.”

He scoffed, “You haven’t met my mother.”

“Maybe I should team up with her.”

“Oh please no.”

You grinned, grabbing a slice of pizza.  “Oh please yes,” you teased.  “Two matchmakers are better than one.”

Minho shot you an unimpressed look.  “I told her I already have a girlfriend, but I felt bad lying to her, so I’m hanging out with you instead.”

You nearly choked on your pizza.  So you were a pity friend, great.  Or worse, you weren’t even real friends, you were just a convenient excuse to alleviate Minho’s guilt complex.  You set the slice back down, no longer hungry.

“Hey, you know I’m joking, right?  That was a joke.  I’m sarcastic all the time, remember?” Minho nudged you.

“Yeah, sure.”

Minho sighed, leaning over to bump his shoulder into yours.  “I might not love the matchmaking, or this dumb movie, but I guess I’m glad we bumped into each other so I could tell you to dump ghost boy from Tinder.”  You snorted, biting back a small smile.  Noticing this, Minho forged ahead, “And this better not be part of the act to get me to forget my first question, because you still haven’t answered.”

“Minho,” you whined.  “Why does it matter?”

“Pretend it’s girls night.  We’re practically having a sleepover, minus the nail polish and braids.  This is the part where we talk about boys,” he smirked.

“I hate you.”

“Do we need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You next?”

Your brows rose.  “I thought you didn’t like romance, how do you even know that movie?”

“.....No reason.  Now answer the question already,” he huffed.

You sighed, curling up on your end of the couch.  “I guess it’s just something I’m not good at, so I can’t help wanting it to fall in my lap,” you said.  “I can’t pull all nighters to find love, that’s not how it works.”

“Well no, studying isn’t the answer,” Minho agreed.

“My parents have the kind of love I want.  I’m not rosy-eyed or anything, I know it’s hard work and commitment.  But the friendship—that’s what I love the most.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while, Minho chewing on your words.  And you mused on your recent attempts to find a partner.  Perhaps dating apps weren’t the way to go, you admitted.  Not to Minho, though.  He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Maybe,” Minho started.  “You should look for new friends instead of new boyfriends.”

“What do you think this is?” you laughed.  “I’ve been setting you up, not looking on Tinder or whatever for myself.”

“Good, you’ve wasted enough time on those trash apps already,” he groused.

You grinned at him, “So I guess you don’t want me to start looking for Bumble girls, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

You giggled, but Minho pressed play on the movie before you could tease him any more.  To your surprise, he looked as interested in the ending as you were.  You doubted he was misty-eyed like you, though.

A yawn snuck up on you, and you glanced at the clock in surprise.  How had it gotten so late?  “I should probably be going,” you started.

“I’ll walk you home.  It’s late.”  Minho grabbed your dishes to bring to the sink, snatching them right out of your hands.  You blinked after him, then shrugged, making your way to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, your jeans were still damp, but they’d be fine for the walk home.  You squeezed yourself back into the denim, emerging with the borrowed sweatpants.  “Laundry?” you asked, since Minho was busy with the dishes.

“Just inside the bedroom, next to the door,” he gestured with his chin, hands still sudsy.

You slid the sweatshirt off as well, placing both in the hamper by the door.  Despite your curiosity, you didn’t linger, but you caught a glimpse of an equally tidy bedroom.  And a large bed with dark sheets.  Why was your heart pounding?  Mr. Darcy hadn’t been that distracting.  You shook your head, hurrying out of the room.  Only then you came face-to-face with Minho, and you had to fight a blush.  What on earth was wrong with you?

The awkwardness continued, and you felt strange and itchy the whole walk home with Minho.  You were hyper aware of how close you were under the umbrella, of the way your elbows brushed every few steps.  Minho was surprisingly quiet, as well.  Ordinarily, he’d be making fun of you by now.

As you walked the last block together, you tilted your head to look at him.  “So tonight was a fail,” you said.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“The practice date?” you giggled at his expression.  “Total failure.”

Minho’s frown deepened, “I thought it was fun.  Even if you made me watch a period drama.”

“Oh no, it was wonderful, but the date part of it was a bust.  We need to do another, since tonight doesn’t count,” you told him, slowing to a stop in front of your building’s entrance.

“Well what does count?” Minho asked, exasperation dripping from his tone.

“Hmm, something in public.  No one ever does a private first date, and obviously that’s what you need the most help with,” you sassed.  “Maybe I’ll kick your ass in laser tag or something.”

“Maybe I should beat you in bowling,” Minho retorted.

You hummed, tapping a finger off your chin.  “You might be onto something, actually.  How about you come up with our next practice date.  That’s your homework.”

“Since when is this a class?  With homework assignments?” Minho demanded.

“Oh shut it, or I’m making profiles for you on every dating app I know.”

* * * * *

You looked over at Minho, suspicion tugging at you.  “So when you said you should beat me at bowling, did you mean it?”

“I’m going to try and win at whatever we do, I’m competitive like that,” Minho said, holding the door open for you.

“No, I mean, are you secretly a professional bowler or something?” you corrected, making your way towards the shoe rental.

Minho chuckled, “I doubt you’ll believe whatever I say.”

You opened your mouth to object, but decided he was right.  “You better not be hustling me,” you threatened, slapping cash down on the counter.

“Pay per game or pay per hour?” the attendant asked.

Minho cheekily slid a few bills beside yours.  “Best out of three?”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, watching as the attendant took his money instead of yours.

At least Minho looked just as goofy as you did.  The brightly colored bowling shoes looked very out of place against his “cool guy” outfit.  You’d already poked fun at him.  Who showed up to a date wearing sweats?  Not that he looked bad in them, but you had at least dressed up a bit.  Then again, you might not have worn a dress if you had known that bowling was on the agenda.  You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater dress, feeling a bit out of place as you looked at all of the other couples.  Jeans, slacks, more jeans...why had you decided to dress up?  You should’ve known Minho would pick something casual.

“Hey, you wanna go first, or should I?” Minho’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you shook the negativity away gratefully.

“You go ahead,” you called over to him, trying to find a smile.  What were you so worked up about?  It’s not like this was a real date.  You could have shown up in a potato sack if you wanted, you weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all Minho.  On that thought, maybe he had the better idea after all.  You eyed his sweatpants enviously.  You knew how comfy they were, and they’d doubtless be better than the tights you were terrified of ripping.

“Ok sweetheart, prepare for a thrashing,” Minho joked, selecting a bowling ball from the rack.

“You prepare for a thrashing,” you countered, despite knowing it was an empty threat.  You probably needed the bumpers if you wanted anything but gutter balls.  Then you caught sight of the names on the board.  “Did you seriously make my nickname ‘Loser’?  What are we, five?”

Minho smirked as he passed you.  “We’ve been over this, I’m a grandpa, you’ve got one foot in the grave.  Childish antics are beneath us,” he said with a laugh.

“So you’re ‘Lee Know’?” you inquired, curious about his chosen nickname.

Minho turned to face you, tilting his head.  “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.”

“...Am I supposed to call you that?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?  Call me whatever you want.  Just not ‘asshole’,” he joked.  Your heart warmed, and a true smile found its way to your lips.  You watched as Minho wiggled a little, eyeing the pins at the end of the lane.  Then, to your utmost surprise, he turned around and rolled the ball between his legs.

“What?” you choked on a laugh, nearly falling over at the sight.  Minho backed up, and you both watched as the ball rolled down the lane, painfully slow.  It ended up knocking down half of the pins, much to your surprise.  Minho just looked proud as he picked up another ball.  Miracle of miracles, he wound up with a spare.

You had no words, didn’t even bother trying to explain how his technique had any sort of success.  Your own attempt was...pitiful by comparison.  Your form looked good, but both balls wound up in the gutter in a matter of seconds.

Minho didn’t waste the opportunity to gloat.  “Told you I’d beat you at bowling,” he said with a wink.

You grumbled, flopping down onto the bench next to him.  “I didn’t expect you to be successful at the toddler technique.”

“Give it a go, maybe we’ll change your nickname if you win,” he laughed, getting up for his turn.

Halfway through the game, you even tried the ‘toddler technique’.  This was also a fail, made worse with the mortifying realization that your underwear would be visible if you bent over too far.  When your attempt ended up in the gutter, you resolved to get bumpers for the next game.

But Minho had other plans.  You had just approached the lane when you felt a hand on your shoulder.  “Keep your wrist straight, you keep twisting it at the last second,” he said.

You turned to face him, finding him close behind you.  “Anything else, wise one?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he smiled at you.  This close, you could swear his eyes were twinkling.  “We can both go get bumpers next round, I need them almost as much as you.  I’m amazed at my own streak of luck tonight.”

“I’m terrible at bowling,” you whined, looking away from him.  Your cheeks felt warm.  Gosh, it was embarrassing to be this bad.

“We can go do something else, we don’t even need to finish this game, let alone all three.  As long as you’re having fun, I’m happy.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but looked away quickly.  He was watching you so intently, the flush burned hotter, threatening to run down your neck.  “I’m sorry you paid for so many games.  We can definitely finish them, it’s fine—”

“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do,” Minho murmured.  You looked at him in surprise, surprised to hear him sounding sincere rather than snarky.  “Otherwise, I’d be a shitty friend, wouldn’t I?”

“Right, yeah.  An asshole friend,” you agreed, nearly stumbling over the words.

“Ok, I’ll let you focus on your first strike of the night.  Don’t overthink it,” he reminded you, walking back to the bench.

You nodded, ignoring the tight feeling in your stomach that reminded you of disappointment.  And you sank another one right into the gutter.

Minho’s solution to the bowling fiasco was consolation ice cream.  Somewhat surprising, since a part of you had expected him to gloat.  Instead, he talked about anything and everything but bowling, entertaining you while you both sat at the window of the local shop.  You simply watched him, enraptured.  He had hardly opened up at all to you at first.  Visiting his apartment felt like the first peek into the real Minho.  The happy memories captured in picture frames, the handmade mementos here and there on shelves, all hints as to the soft interior of your once-prickly friend.  Now he was regaling you with stories of his best friends—brothers, by the sound of it.  Loving rivalry, playful banter, sibling torment.  And the look on his face...pride.  He was proud of them, his family.

Then you paused, tilted your head to look at him anew.  When had Minho stopped being prickly?  Where was the cynical, negative, angsty boy you’d befriended, partly out of spite?  When had he stopped trying to hold you back with barbed wire edges?

When Minho caught your gaze, he lifted one brow, mouth twitching into a crooked smile.  “See something you like?” he sassed you.  But his remark was devoid of bitterness.  It wasn’t mocking, it was warm, inviting.  It was asking you to join in on the joke.

“Yeah,” you said softly.  Then you turned up the wattage on your smile, grinning widely at him.  “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Minho rolled his eyes at your antics, spinning his ice cream cone between his fingers.  But hidden behind your grin was more than a little truth.

* * * * *

You knocked on the door, stepping back tentatively.  You could hear raucous laughter on the other side, which would ordinarily have you curious, maybe a little excited to join in.  Not tonight.  Right now, standing in the hallway outside Minho’s apartment, you were nervous as hell.  And on top of it all, you were nearly an hour late, having dragged your feet the whole way there.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, shifting from foot to foot.  It felt like meeting the parents, which was dumb.  Firstly, you and Minho were not dating.  Secondly, these were his best friends, not his parents.  And thirdly, you and Minho were good friends.  You had nothing to worry about.  Absolutely nothing.

Which was why you were currently worrying all over the place about meeting Minho’s best friends.  What if they hated you?  Or worse, what if they pitied you?  You thought you’d disappear into a crack in the earth if that happened.

Before you could spend too long contemplating your inevitable end, the door swung open, and a boy came rushing out at you.  You gasped, jumping back before he could run into you.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me!” he blurted, skidding to a stop, then immediately taking off running down the hallway.

You blinked in confusion, but your eyes only widened when a second boy came barrelling out of the apartment after the first.  “Minho?”

Minho paused briefly, eyes alighting on your stiff figure.  “Hi!  Um, I need to take care of something, but I’ll be right back.  Go on in,” he waved at you, breaking into a jog, and then a sprint.

Immensely confused, you peered into the apartment, now that the door was wide open.  Now or never, you told yourself firmly.  Easing through the doorway, you caught sight of six more boys in various states of chaos.  Upon noticing your entrance, they all froze.  “Uh, hello there,” came a voice on your right.  You looked over to see two boys in the kitchen, appearing to be mid-struggle with a bag of popcorn.  “You must be Minho’s friend, he said you’d be coming.”

You gave a tiny wave, pasting on a sunshine smile.  “Hi guys, it’s nice to meet you, I think?  Should I be concerned about the escapee?”

Popcorn boy number two laughed, arms bulging as he ripped open the bag.  “Oh no, Hyunjin will be fine.  Minho hasn’t made him eat toilet paper in years, he’s above that now.”  You must have looked concerned, because the boy chuckled again, waving you off.  “It’s all empty threats with that one.  Mostly.  I’m Changbin, by the way.”

Popcorn boy number one stepped forward, extending a hand to shake.  “I’m Chan, and this is our menagerie of chaos.  Let me introduce you to everyone,” he offered.  You grinned at him, relieved.

By the time Minho returned, practically dragging Hyunjin with him, you were giggling on the couch with the rest of the boys, embroiled in a fierce MarioKart race.  With Hyunjin still trapped in a headlock, Minho paused to watch.  You just barely caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, too focused on staying on the track.  Jeongin had chosen Rainbow Road for your first match, and you were determined to crush them in the dust.  Even if it had been several years since you last played.

You watched as your character was knocked off the edge, a cry of dismay falling from your lips.  “Dang it, I wasn’t even in first place, what gives?”

Han grinned victoriously, only to cry out when he accidentally drove over the edge as well.  “Friends fall together?” he joked.

“You made me go ziplining.  Alone,” Minho said, announcing his presence at last.

“Uhhhh,” Han fumbled for an excuse.  “You love me anyway, though, right?”

Before Minho could retort, Seungmin stood up.  “You can play next, if you want,” he offered.

The rest of you blinked at him in surprise, before looking at his screen and realizing he’d already won the race.  Jeongin groaned dramatically, flailing on the couch as he came in second.  You and Han just gave up entirely, letting your characters fall off the track once more.  Meanwhile, Minho finally decided to release Hyunjin, and the blonde escaped to the other end of the couch, diving into a bowl of chips like nothing had happened.

Felix looked excited, so you tossed him your remote for the next round.  “I believe I was promised food,” you said, arching an eyebrow in Minho’s direction.

“I believe I told you to arrive at six,” he fired back, stalking towards you.  He finally stopped a foot away, looming over you.

You smirked at him, “What did I tell you on our first date?”

The room went silent, and you froze, realizing your mistake.  “You guys are dating and you didn’t tell us?” Han exclaimed, eyes wide.

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Oh yeah, real fancy dates, too.  We had dinner at the Eiffel tower last week,” Minho drawled.  “Isn’t that right, sugar plum?”  The cherry on top was when he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek.

A stranger might have mistaken his dry tone for sincerity, but everyone in the room knew Minho’s humor well.  Half of the group dissolved into giggles.  Changbin rolled his eyes and threw a pillow, but Minho caught it before it could smack into you.  “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” Changbin joked.

“All those promises and no follow through,” Han clucked his tongue in mock-disapproval, then ducked when Minho tossed the pillow at him next.

Your cheeks threatened to catch on fire again.  The situation only worsened when you met Minho’s dark gaze, his eyes ensnaring you.  “So,” you threw out desperately, clapping your hands together.  “The food?  Or am I going to starve?  Not very boyfriend-like,” you tried to laugh.  The joke must have been convincing, because the boys merely chuckled, going back to their game.

Minho still hadn’t moved from where he stood over you.  Instead of moving back so you could get up, he extended a hand.  You bit your lip, teeth digging in, but you placed your hand in his rather than make a scene.  The last thing you wanted was more attention, especially with your cheeks warming up past their usual temperature.

Fortunately, he released you as soon as you regained your footing.  Your fingers flexed lightly, hand falling back to your side.  You kept your chin high as you followed Minho to the kitchen, ignoring the prickling feeling that the boys were still watching you.

“Pizza?” you blurted out, incredulous.  “Don’t you eat anything else?”

Minho snorted, leaning against the counter.  “For the record, I do know how to cook.”

You snooped in the fridge, disbelieving.  “Of course, all evidence points to you being a five star chef,” you said, casting a pointed look at the empty shelves within.

He chuckled, folding his arms while he watched you investigate.  “Sweetheart, if you wanted me to cook for you, all you had to do was ask.”

You hummed, closing the refrigerator once more.  “I’m kinda afraid you’ll burn something, to be honest,” you teased, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and selecting a slice of now-cold pizza.  You popped the pizza in the microwave, then relaxed against the counter opposite Minho.  He was still watching you intently, and you frowned.  “What?  Do I have something on my face?” you asked him.

Minho shook his head wordlessly.  Self-consciousness took hold, and you looked down awkwardly, brushing your hair behind one ear.  “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said.  I totally didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I know,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half smile.

You tipped your chin again, unable to look at him for long.  Even if Minho seemed to forgive your blunder, you still couldn’t believe you’d blurted that out.  Your hair fell in front of your face again, and you let it, happy to hide behind the locks.

Then another pair of feet appeared a few inches from yours.  Plain black socks next to your patterned ones, covered in cartoon rainbows.  Then a butterfly touch along the side of your face, soft enough that you almost doubted the sensation.  You lifted your gaze, but this time, Minho’s eyes weren’t on yours.  Instead, his laser focus was directed on the hair he was gently situating behind your ear again.

You realized you had forgotten to breathe when he finally took a step back, and your lungs remembered to inflate.

“For the record, you’re right,” Minho said softly.  “The queen is never late.”

* * * * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Minho’s friends started leaving.  You eyed the clock, then went to grab your shoes as well.  “I better get going, I want to get home sometime before dawn,” you joked.

“How close do you live?  Are you taking the bus?” Chan asked, worry evident in his tone.

You waved him off, “I’m just a few blocks away, not too long of a walk.  Bus doesn’t run after ten or so, anyway.”

Chan frowned, but Minho cut him off before he could say anything.  “I was going to walk her home, it’s pretty late.”

That was a surprise to you, but seemed to alleviate Chan’s concern.  The others waved goodbye on their way out, Chan following them.  “Nice to meet you,” he said, shooting you a quick grin before closing the door behind him.

“You really don’t have to,” you started.

“I want to.  It’s late,” Minho reminded you.

“I didn’t argue last time, but I didn’t want to steal your umbrella.”  You narrowed your eyes at him.  “I’m not some little girl in need of protection.  It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood.”

Minho didn’t look up, busy tying his shoes.  “I like walking.”

“At midnight?”

“Any time of day, really.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Do you walk Jeongin home, too?”

“Sure did.  He moved in with Han, though, so I don’t anymore,” he said simply.  “You don’t have a roommate.  If no one’s there to make sure you get home safe, I want to walk with you.”

You gaped at him, unable to fault his logic.  And not really wanting to.  “Thanks,” you murmured, scuffing one shoe into the floor.

Minho stood up again, a crooked smile on his lips.  “Don’t mention it,” he said, snagging his keys.  “After you.”

Walking home with Minho, you were reminded of the first time.  Then, you’d been so awkward, quiet.  Unsure of yourself.  You’d been worried that you were some kind of pity friend at first, but after getting to know Minho, you knew that wasn’t the case.  And now that you’d grown comfortable around each other, you could hardly get him to shut up.  Even now, he was talking about his dance team’s newest choreo, his words running together from excitement.

You smiled, just listening.  This was all you really wanted, if you let yourself admit it.  The Tinder dates were just a shit attempt at finding someone to sit and listen to for hours.  You wanted movie nights and quiet mornings with someone who cared about you.  You wanted a cute little house and kids and a dog.  Maybe a cat.  Maybe three.

Shit.

You were so wrapped up in your realization that you didn’t realize you’d reached your apartment building until Minho snagged your elbow to pull you to a stop.  “This isn’t a midnight hike, where do you think you’re going?” he asked incredulously.

You laughed nervously, “Oh, sorry, I was pretty lost in thought.”

“Apparently.  Were you listening to a word I said?  Some friend you are,” he snorted.

Friend.  Right.  Your realization didn’t mean much.  Why were you surprised?  You hadn’t had luck in the romantic department in years, why would that change now?  Minho was your friend, and it was obvious that his opinion of you wasn’t going to change.  Why would it?  He was way out of your league.

Gosh, now you felt like a fool.  You’d really just daydreamed about a happily ever after with him.  Why did you ever bother getting your hopes up?  You were always bound for disappointment.  Hadn’t your crappy dates taught you anything?

Minho called your name, bringing you back down to reality.  “Sorry,” you muttered, fumbling in your bag to find your keys.

“Are you alright?” he asked.  Shoot, now he sounded concerned.

You pasted a sunny smile on your face, “Totally fine.  Thank you for walking me back.  I won’t keep you any longer.”

You turned away to walk up the steps, but the smile fell as soon as he was out of sight.  How were you only just coming to the realization that you were halfway—or perhaps all the way—in love with him?  His face was burned into your mind’s eye.  Brows furrowed in confusion, slight pout, and those damned eyes.  You’d probably been in love with his eyes from the beginning.

“I only agreed to let you play matchmaker so I could see you again.”

You stopped at the top of the steps, not quite believing your ears.  Turning slightly, you looked at Minho over your shoulder.

Once he had your attention, he continued, “I bailed on the date with your friend because I knew you’d yell at me.”

Lips parting in surprise, you turned to face him fully.  Minho put a foot on the first step, gaze locked on yours.  You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his mouth softened into a slight smile.

“I was going to do the classic move of teaching you to bowl, but I chickened out,” he said.  “I wish I hadn’t.”

“What are you...why are you telling me this?” you asked, fingers curling nervously.

He ascended another step, “You only smile like that when you’re sad.  When you start getting in your own head about what you deserve.”  Another step, “And I’m tired of hiding.”

Now he was only two steps away.  Close enough to touch, if you dared to reach out.  You didn’t.  “We’re friends,” you said, voice small.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed.  Then he bit his lip, drawing your attention like bees to honey.  You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes firmly.  When you opened them, Minho was on the step just below you.  “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low.  You didn’t.

Your breath stuttered to a stop, your whole body stilling at the electric shock of his lips on yours.  For a moment, you were frozen, utterly focused on the whisper of a touch.  Then Minho pulled away, and you could breathe again, gasping for air.  But you didn’t want it to be over.  Your eyes fluttered open, finding his dark gaze melting into you.

This time, you let yourself fall into him, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said this was a fantasy.  He caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist, his other hand coming to your jawline.  He ascended that final step, pulling your body into his.  His lips were plush, a little dry.  Real.  Minho was here, warm under your fingertips.

His hand slid up into your hair, slowly enough to make you shiver.  You sighed into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your arms as his fingers gently tugged the strands.  And then his mouth opened beneath you, and you let yourself tumble into sensation, drowning in him.

You don’t know how long you kissed, but your heart was racing when you finally came up for air.  Minho panted, little breaths puffing against your lips.  He rested his forehead against yours, the weight somehow grounding you.

“Do you understand now?”  Minho’s voice was hoarse, deeper than before.  You shivered, just a bit, and the corner of his lips twitched up.

You couldn’t find words, unable to string any coherent thoughts together.  And you didn’t really want to, happy to have your mind all to yourself, no doubts in sight.  You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose.  He scrunched his face up, making you giggle.  But you needed to know one thing.  “Are we—are things different now?”

“We’re dating.  Unless you don’t want that,” he backtracked, eyes wide.

You grinned at him.  “I do.”

He heaved out a sigh of relief.  “Thank goodness.  I thought I really fucked up there.”

Now you really laughed, head falling forward to rest on his chest.  Minho’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer than you thought was possible.  You could hear his heartbeat, thudding just as fast as yours.

“You said the friendship was your favorite part of love,” Minho mused.  You hummed in agreement, nodding against him.  “Well I hope you don’t get sick of me.  I hear I’m pretty annoying.”

“Minho,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you just rolled your eyes at me,” he teased.

“Well, you are annoying.  But I suppose it’s a part of your charm.”

He chuckled, “So that means you like my jokes?”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t push it.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

[pixie-cocaine]

Down A Peg

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Businessman!Brat!Jinyoung × Dominatrix! Reader

Warnings: Pegging, slight mistress kink, dirty talk, Jinyoung cries lol, pretty harsh punishment (rough caning. don't worry tho, the after care makes up for it. Probably.), mentions of breaking skin from caning wounds and bruising 😬, slapping, hair-pulling, strapjob, fingering (m receiving), nipple play, degradation, just pure filth man 💀

Requested: months ago, but yes

Note: Jinyoung has a key at some point and it disappears, but you're not gonna say shit about it. Also it gets lazy near the end, excuse the grammar mistakes.

Word Count: 6.3K (pls don't let this flop, I am exhausted 🤩)

The last thing Jinyoung thought he’d be doing, was going to a professional Dominatrix session. If anyone had even dare mentioned the idea, say a month beforehand, he’d give them the nastiest grimace manageable and avoid them like the plague, not that he didn’t do that to anyone who tried to weasle their way into his private life anyways. It made even his own subconcious howl with laughter at the position Jinyoung had put himself in now.

So much for trying to s tay away, huh?

He didn’t even think something like this could happen. Hell, one minute he was filing more stacks of papers as his assistant talked his ear off, which he had vehemently told her not to do, and the next he found himself bored, and scrolling through a Domme website the night that followed.

But here he was; standing outside the neat black building with his phone in one hand, and a hand cupped in his pockets as he raised an eyebrow before going in. Past the glass doors, he found his surroundings consiting with soft shades of brown. A mahogony reception desk sat to the front of him against a wall, a long hallway next to the desk, and neutral white lights giving the atmosphere a professional look. His legs moved on their own accord while he focused on stabalizing his breathing, not used to the clamminess now making his palms sweat against his sides, and before he knew it, he was standing at the front of the office. 

A woman in her early-to-mid twenties sat before him, smile sweet and chestnut brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes were soft, almost inquisitive as they assessed Jinyoung’s appearance and outfit, which consisted of a beige turtleneck and black dress pants. She seemed pleased with the effort he put into his looks if her satisfied hum was anything to go by. 

“Hello, are you here for an appointment?”

Her voice was cheery, like the chime of a bell, and her face beamed with a radiance that Jinyoung wouldn’t think someone who worked in her place of job would exude. He cleared his throat, “I am, yes.”

“Your name?”

“Park Jinyoung,” she nodded and typed something into the computer to her left.

“And your mistress for the night is Madame Black, correct?”

Jinyoung felt odd with how casual this was going. He’d expected.. something else? No, that was a lie一Jinyoung didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a bad experience, he guesses. He just wasn’t used to the way this was such an open transaction, as if he was going to the doctor’s for a checkup or something. It left him confused as he thought of a couple of his previous encounters with people he trusted on his sex life. The way they scrunched their faces in a disapproving frown when he said he wanted to try subbing, only to backpedal at his embarrasment. The rest just flat out didn't know what they were doing. It was almost laughable how little they knew. But this... This seemed like a whole new ballgame.

“Yeah,” He shook his head in confirmation, the sudden movement making him look like an overenthusiastic dog. The woman laughed at the new show of excitement and leant over the console so she could murmur to him despite the space being completely empty, save for both of them, of course. 

“Third door down the hall, you’ll know it’s hers when just standing outside of it makes you wanna piss your pants. Don’t forget to change into one of the robes in the room just to your left. Oh! And just a heads up, Jinyoung,” She smiles with a mischevious glint in her eye and reaches out to drop a black key into his awaiting hand, “She may seem nice, but Madame is not one who tolerates brats. Do go in with the knowledge that she’s not afraid to bite.”

Jinyoung raises a brow at her tease, but smiles back at her nonetheless, "Who says I'm afraid of being bitten?"

With a jerk of his head in what he hoped was a nod, he fought not to not scurry down the hall in his newfound anticipation, smirking to himself at the knowing face of the desk worker. 

Jinyoung was jittery with each step that brung him closer to his destination, which now stand a couple feet from him, the deep ebony-shaded door looming with a question that made Jinyoung have second thoughts despite thinking it through for hours; ‘Can I handle what’s behind this door?’

Jinyoung rakes a shaky hand through his hair, trying to take deep breaths as he pushes the cold metal of the key into the lock, twisting it to the right until he hears the telltale Click! Of the latches unslotting while he turns the handle and pushes the inlet open, taking a moment to survey the room before him, then kicks the door closed after he steps inside. Of course he can. If the voice in the back of his head said anything, it probably wouldn’t even be a good experience much different to the other ‘dom’s’ he’s had sex with.

Almost immediately, the tart scent of lavender wafts into his nose. The room was spacious, dimly lit by the soft golden glow of candles occupying the corners which cast shadows across the silky wine carpet, and the delicate shades of a peachy pink had consisted of the walls surrounding him. A king-sized bed with fluffy red covers sat against the back wall, a plush pink chair facing it, and you perch right at the bottom of the bed. Jinyoung feels his heart shake at the sight of you.

Just the way you sit with your legs crossed over one another had his cock stirring behind the silk black robe that curtains his naked frame. You wear a gorgeous tan lingerie set, the top is a thin see-through camisole which stops just above the curve of your upper stomach, displaying the supple mounds of your breasts over a sheen of lace, and the bottoms are a simple high-arch panty, the same fabric and look of the top, but with a skirt-like covering which flutters around the curves of your hips whenever you move. The fact that the set shown your bare body in such a delicate show of wispy materials was what made Jinyoung even more worked up. Your position was relaxed as you sat, holding a glass of champagne, and you cocked your head to the side slightly upon Jinyoung’s arrival. You offer a smile.

“Why hello there!” You gleam, and at the sheer enthusiam which you eminate, Jinyoung finds himself mirroring the smile without his own accord. Something about you just dusts away all of Jinyoung’s previous nerves.

“Hey,” Jinyoung sifts through his head to find the right words, “Madame Black?”

You giggle at the way he says it, obviously giving away that he wasn’t fully aware of what he was about to get himself into, “Yes, that’s me. You must be Park Jinyoung, I’m assuming?”

A nod was your answer.

"Don't be shy, take a seat," you nod towards the chair before you, and Jinyoung obliges, smiling at you as he goes to sit himself down in front of you.

"First of all, I would like to discuss boundaries, even if I’ve already gone over the form you filled out," you begin with a wink, "what’s your opinion on rimming and ass-play in general?”

Jinyoung feels his eyes bug out slightly at the way you so seamlessly jump into it. Shameless, aren’t you? But he isn’t complaining.

He clears his throat and, suddenly unable to look you in the eye, settles his gaze on his lap as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, “I’ve dabbled in it by myself but never really experienced proper ass-play things with somebody else,” mustering up his courage to flick his eyes back to yours, he smirks, “I’d like to try it with you if possible.”

You nod, “how about being rough with you? Hair-pulling, slapping, throat-fucking, etcetera?”

He seems to strongly approve if the fast dipping of his head means anything, and if that weren’t enough to give you a gist to how much he liked the idea, he isn’t afraid to say so.

“Anything that will leave me sore, I’m completely into. I like seeing the after effects.”

“Cum-eating and degradation?”

“Very eager to try.”

“Alright, anything else you’d like to add into the mix?”

Jinyoung muses, then shakes his head, to which you hum at. 

“Now, Jinyoung, I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer with a very well thought-out response,” you raise an eyebrow at the brunette, eyeing him down like the first meal you’d seen in days, “Are you sure you want to do this?

Jinyoung can feel his heart thrum against his ribcage, like the hard beat of a drum, when he hears your words. You were definitely experienced in this, even someone with half a brain could tell. He could feel his lips stretch into a smile, an idea coming to mind as you gently set your champagne glass on the floor a couple steps away from your feet, then sit back up to cock your head to the side. 

“If I’m being honest, Madame,” He scorns the name out, mocking your authority, “I don’t think you’ll be any better than the self-proclaimed ‘dom’s’ that I’ve been with.”

"Huh."

"I mean—look at what you're wearing—how am I supposed to believe that this is a dominatrix scene and not a sub session where I can easily just knock you around?"

Wow.

You can’t quite bite back the loud, boisterous peals of laughter that bubble up frrom your chest fast enough when you finally register his words after staring at him for a couple seconds, vacantly blinking at the brunette and trying to figure out if you heard him right. You wipe a tear from your eye, still tittering, “And what makes you think that just because I'm wearing delicate and frilly lingerie doesn't mean I can't fuck your guts out, Mr. Jinyoung the powerful CEO?”

Jinyoung frowns, “How do you know that I’m a CEO?”

God, this was getting more interesting by the moment.

Shaking your head, you rake your eyes up the sultry expose of his hardened calves and legs, slowly meeting his eyes once more, and grinning as you do so, “You must think I’m dumb. You act like that smug little face of yours isn’t plastered all over the city. Regardless..,” You lean forward, "Yes or no, Jinyoung? I promise, I'm well worth the money."

Jinyoung thinks for a moment, still in shock from the mention of his job, even if he already knows his answer before he says it. This was his chance to experience what he'd always wanted. Maybe. You already knew his kinks due to the form he had to fill out, as well as the little transaction, so he had no doubt that you knew which buttons to press, but he wanted to know if you could take him beyond his limits like he's always hoped for. If you knew how to press those buttons just right, or if you were just another let-down with a more professional look and platform. This was it, and he was going to make you work him over as much as you could.

"Yes, I'm sure I want to do this."

Jinyoung feels a shudder wrack his shoulders at how smoothly your facade transitioned to one of pure intimidation and stony expressions. The smile that once graced your seemingly sweet attributes was now wiped away and replaced with a carefully adept mask of indifference.

You keep his stare whilst you bend down to retrieve a big, black wooden box from beneath the bed, setting it beside you as you stand from your spot and lift the lid from the case to pull out a leather clasping, as well as a thick and textured blue dildo which was, admittedly, one of your biggest straps. You look to Jinyoung as you began attaching the proper clippings and belts in order to fasten it around your hips.

“On your knees.”

Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, Jinyoung slowly pushes himself away from the chair and sinks down to his knees, mouth watering at the authority in your tone of voice, and blood beginning to heat underneath his skin as you secure the harness and move to close the distance between the both of you. Deft fingers trace the sharp lining of Jinyoung’s jaw, trailing a line to the dip of his chin before taking it between your thumb and forefinger with a force that worries the bone slightly. 

He's pretty, you think. One of the prettiest men that have ever occupied your time as a dominatrix, with full lips and features that would deem him model-worthy. You smile. You would have fun making a mess of him.

“Safeword?”

Jinyoung is taken aback for a moment, allegedly in a daze to the golden view from below you. “Hm... 'Promotion'?" He smiles at his own small joke.

You hum, grabbing the ribbed silicone that stare back at Jinyoung, and pressing the tip to the seam of his mouth with short, prodding impels.

“Open,” you murmur.

He obeys, albeit after frowning slightly; letting his lips part to engulf the width of your strap, wasting no time in stooping his head lower so he could stop midway on your cock, his throat constricting around the foreign object now lodged in his passage. You moan down at him with a hand raking through the soft tresses of his hair in appreciation at his eagerness. 

“Suck.”

And he does.

Jinyoung started out strong at first; bobbing his head as he craned his neck this way and that to really go in on you without hesitation, hollowing his cheeks and looking up at you with a determinbed look, but after a while of swallowing your cock like he had one chance to impress you, he makes a rasping sound in the back of his throat, vaguely like the creaking of bed springs, followed by a lewd slurping noise before he goes to pull away. You catch the back of his head with a hand, raising an eyebrow as you shove him back down to where he’d stopped previous.

Jinyoung gags, a beautiful, surprised chuck of sound that makes you sigh at the way he sought for purchase at your thighs, a poor attempt to steady himself when you were already pulling back to drive your cock back down his throat with a fist-full of his hair. A range of noises that originate from Jinyoung bounce off the walls of the room, mostly different variations of kecks and physical strains on his trachea, but some being choked-off whimpers and half-strangled gasps of which he could actually get in between you fucking into his face and withdrawing. 

You finally slow your pace to more shallow strokes, and looking past the pretty shine of Jinyoung’s now tear-stained face, you can see the tent in the flap of his robe. You favor him with a devilish grin, one that he sadly can’t see due to staring down at where you had your cock in his mouth.

“Look at me, whore,” the stern demand comes out in a throaty growl as you use your hand, still laced within the damp tresses of his hair, to yank his head back and up at you, resulting in both a muffled yelp and the back of Jinyoung’s neck popping at the sudden movement.

The sight was immoral in every sense of the word. His swollen lips, which were wrapped around the pink cock strapped to your hips, were left hanging open with obvious smears of glistening drool, still seeping from the corners, his cheeks streaked over with it in some places and mixing the stream of drying tears falling from his wide eyes. You can hear him begin to gag around the strap, considering he is shoved down to the hilt, but you only push his head down and keep him there. Instead, staring in amusement at the way he sputters and coughs, wanting to savor how his face begins to turn a lovely shade of red. When you are certain he can’t breathe, you pull him off and let him drink in desperate gulps of much needed air, the soft peach color returning to his face when his lungs begin to relax. 

Stunning, you think.

Jinyoung gasps when you force him up to his feet by his hair, practically stumbling when you turn the two of you around so you can then proceed to to shove him onto the bed, ignoring the groan of the springs due to the impact. His head is a mess from the influxion of air he experiences. Only the ache between his legs keeping Jinyoung tied to this world as he softly pants, laying on his forearms with glossy eyes locked on yours and how you follow suit; crawling onto the bed and taking place hovering right over him. Jinyoung moans lowly when you lean in to press open-mouthed kisses, hot and wet, against his jawline, your hand snaking down the expanse of his hidden body to pull at the tied robe sash, and you treat yourself with a peek down at how it falls open to reveal everything he had to offer. Smoothing your fingers along the breathtaking show of defined muscle and healthy flesh, you curse.

“Of course such a little brat would have a fantastic body...”

Jinyoung lets out a complacent laugh at your subtle annoyance. He knows he has a good body, and he knows he's attractive, which makes you all the more irritated, considering he is perfect in every way, and you have no doubt in your mind that he uses it to get what he wants. 

“You sure are taking your time,” He gripes out, hoping to stir your anger.

You snicker at him, and without thinking too much of it, strike him across the face, not waiting for his head to fully turn to the left before you grab his cheeks, force him back to you, and slap him again. 

Once. Twice. Three times.

You feel his cock twitch against your thigh, and his mouth parts in pleased shock as he breathes.

“Say it again, bitch"

"I said, you sure are taking your—Ah!"

He's momentarily shocked into silence when you immediately shove your hands under his waist to hoist Jinyoung's legs behind his head, essentially folding him in half and displaying his exposed bottom, which is just as gorgeous as everything else about him. That's saying something, because an asshole, dick, and balls shouldn't even be in the same sentence as 'gorgeous.'

Jinyoung doesn't have time to protest, because as soon as he opens his mouth to fuss, he feels a strong, harsh slap land right on his hole. He yelps, kicking his feet out the best he can until he cries out again upon registering the next three smacks that rain down on the same spot.

"Rude, rude, boy. Has nobody ever taught you that you shouldn't speak back to your Mistress?" You growl, blowing cool air over his fluttering rim before patting his ass gently, "Stay like this or else I'm shoving an inflatable plug up your ass and stretching you until you rip."

Shaky and wanting, Jinyoung let's out a breath, doing as you say and hooking his hands into the back of his knees in order to press down and stay in said position. It unfortunately does put a strain on his lower back, but as much as he likes punishment, he's not betting on having his poor butt mercilessly torn open like you promised.

"What's your favorite color?"

The question half-startles him, "Red...?"

"Good choice," You chirp, and like that, you're holding his legs in place again; dangling a bottle of reddish-tinted lube over him as you happily squirt the cool gel onto his hole and two of your fingers. You tease him—gently running your hand up the soft skin of his left leg whilst you push the pad of your digit against his entrance, letting it breach slightly before pulling back to do it again.

"Tell me you want it."

He groans, "I want it..."

"Yeah?" You lie your cheek on his thigh, staring down at him with narrowed eyes. You love how exposed he is right now. Vulnerable to your gaze, and letting you touch him in such lewd ways. You always liked these parts of your sessions—where you could see the raw arousal in their faces. Letting your hand slide from Jinyoung's thigh to his cock, you begin simultaneously stroking him and, finally, pushing your fingers into his ass. He suddenly jerks upwards the best he really can with his legs behind his head, and you already know that both the sensations combined feel odd for him.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, half-wanting him to say it does so you can see the look on his face when you add another finger. But he doesn't, thankfully, and you whisk away the sadistic thoughts that you don't really want there. Instead, he shakes his head with a weak noise of slight discomfort.

"It doesn't hurt, but it feels... Weird?" Jinyoung doesn't seem so sure of himself when he actually says the words out loud. The confused frown knitting his eyebrows together mimes that of someone who was deciding on whether they liked something or not.

"Mm. Give it a minute."

And he does. He breathes heavily at the still-going stimulation to his cock, furrowing his brows everytime you move your fingers in a strange way as you try and find a pace, then, like clockwork as your digits graze upwards of his walls, he gasps, loud and surprised.

"Oh? Did I find it?" You grin, raising an eyebrow whilst continuing to abuse that spot inside of him. You revel in the way he moans. It's actually very melodical, everytime he reaches a high note it sounds like he's about to start singing, and it catches you off-guard when he keens before letting his lower body fall against the bed.

You tsk and shrug, "I was gonna be nice but it looks like you're just itching for punishment."

"Well what the hell did you expect when you put me in a painful position like-"

Thwap!

You give him another good slap to the face, then, almost too aggressively, force him to the edge of the bed so you can bend him over.

"Don't look at me, keep your eyes on the floor or I'll make it worse," you murmur, and with a mischievous smile, you walk over to the large black closet to the side of your bed. You can hear Jinyoung's heavy breathing reverberating throughout the room the entire time it takes to fetch your trusty cane and take position back behind Jinyoung.

The cane is long, about the height of a relatively high-standing desk, and decorated with accents of blood red while the rest is tinted a ravishing mulberry purple. It's thick at the top which makes it easy to hold onto, and it begins to slight as it reaches the the tip, which is skinny and carefully rounded.

"So, here's what we're gonna do," you begin, running your fingers up and down the polished rattan, "I am going to hit you with this cane as hard as I can, and you are going to count each and every stroke that I put on your thighs and backside. Do you hear me?"

Jinyoung sucks in a breath, but nods his head nonetheless.

"Come on, you know better. I need you to say it."

"Yes, I hear you."

"Hear you, what?" You lean forward to whisper into the shell of his ear, enjoying the way he lets out a small whimper and pushes his ass back against you.

"Yes, I hear you, Mistress..."

"Good Boy. Now, spread your legs a bit, and when you feel the cane, begin counting."

Jinyoung does as told easily enough; widening the space between his feet until his legs stand out in a small 'v' shape, and waiting in anticipation for you to begin the punishment. He can hear the blood rush in his ears.

Shwoop- thwack!

The pain that surges in a line against both cheeks is nothing short of winding. He thought it'd sting a bit at most but fuck, he had trouble keeping his legs from wobbling.

"One!" He shrills.

Shwoop- thwack!

"Two!"

Shwoop- thwack!

"T-Three!"

It feels like it goes on for forever if he's being honest. It's the same pain, but it gets worse with each swing and cut. It doesn't help that your cane had broken skin and drawn blood every couple strokes to both the backs of his thighs and cheeks, and you kept on hitting the same wounds.

"Twenty... twenty-one.."

"My good boy.. you did so, so well," You all but coo, dropping the cane to the floor with a thud as you lean forward to drape yourself over his back, careful not to make contact with his injuries whilst you trail your fingers between his legs so you can continue stroking his cock, grip loose and barely touching him with each swipe over his shaft.

"It hurts...!" Jinyoung's voice wavers, and you can finally hear the submission in his tone. You like hearing him like this; on the edge of breaking down, sobbing out his pain and pleasure, and all for you.

You smile, tightening your fist around his tip and holding it there just to savor the way he cries out and reaches down to try and stop your administrations, "But you like when it hurts, don't you? You like seeing how bad of a boy you'd been, and you like feeling those repercussions wear off even more, no?"

"N-no..."

"Mistress doesn't like liars, baby. Say you're sorry and maybe I'll make the pain feel better," You hum, only the slightest of touches ghosting against Jinyoung's nipples, butterfly kisses on the back of his ear.

"I'm sorry.. I-I'm sorry..!"

"Move up the bed. Hands and knees, still."

He's crying as he carries out your command, you realise. Tears, shiny, like the first drops of rain, run in flexuous tracks down his cheeks, and a blush dusts the ball of his nose. He makes no noise, but you can see the stutter of his chest and the way his breath hitches everytime he tries to take in a full inhale.

"See what happens when you don't listen to your Mistress? She has to hurt you, and she doesn't quite like hurting you to the point of drawing blood," you sigh and can't help but frown at the marks left on his body, especially the way you can identify the blooming bruises, which range from pretty shades of red to slowly darkening purples. Not to mention the many long cuts that litter just above the bruises.

"I-I'm sorr-sorry," Jinyoung involuntarily hiccups, and the way he reaches back and out for your top, tugging at the hem to get you to come closer, undoubtedly makes your mask slip a bit.

"Don't-.. don't look at me like that.."

But he keeps doing it. He keeps looking at you with those eyes. Those eyes that plead and beg in only the ways that make your body light aflame with desire to see him break completely under your touch.

"Fuck me... Please fuck me," He whispers, still looking at you from over his shoulder and holding onto your camisole.

"I bet you do. You've had that look in your eyes ever since you walked through the door. Don't worry, though. I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard enough to make your mind go blank, and I'll fuck you good enough that everytime you touch yourself, you'll wish it was my hands instead of yours," you crawl onto the mattress and keep direct eye contact as you do so. You want him to take in the fire in your eyes, and know that you mean everything you say.

And from the way he whines upon your hand encasing his throat when you take place behind him, lining yourself up with his entrance with your breath hot on the back of his neck, he gets the memo.

"Have you ever had a cock inside you, Jinyoung?"

"Only finger-ers," He gasps out, still catching his breath to make coherent sentences as his crying dies down.

You nod into his shoulder, "We're gonna take this part slow, then, okay? Deep breaths.. I'm pushing inside, now."

The stretch is slow and, admittedly, overwhelming; the way your strap's textured shaft tenses his walls around the thickness of it's outer layers has him clutching and the sheets and making all sorts of noises, from groans to whimpers, from low-tones to high-notes, then finally, you bottom out. Your hips meet the plush skin of his ass, which he yelps at, and you take a moment to massage the column of his neck, trying to get him to relax as much as possible. It is his first time with a dick up his ass, after all, and he'd just taken a brutal punishment with, from the looks of it, painful consequences.

"What's the traffic light say, Jinyoung?"

He knows what it means, and when he's actually asked the question, it sparks a sort of satisfaction in him. He means wow, someone who actually checks in with him during sex and doesn't just do whatever they want without making sure he's ok with it.

"Green. Just go slow, please? It still hurts a bit."

He's surprised when you actually listen to him, and begin pacing yourself slower; careful movements of your hips, barely even registered as thrusts, and soft brushes over the hardness of his nipples once again as a distraction from any lingering uncomfort.

"Is it ok to go faster?"

He nods, and turns his face to the side so he can look at you properly. He looks so good like this; watery eyes and a needy expression painted on his face like glass.

It's then that you find yourself kissing him.

It catches him off-guard, obviously, but he leans into it nonetheless, and damn did you know how to kiss. Your lips were sweet against his, mouth moving in tune with his own and it was quite easy for you to take control of things. One squeeze to his throat and he was putty.

You don't even notice that you're thrusting into him too fast until he grabs at your hip from behind and whines into your mouth, which makes you want to go all the more faster, but you don't. You groan, nibbling his lip before you pull away with a grin, and weave your hand into his hair so you can gently push his face into the covers. His arch is gorgeous. Just like the rest of him, you think.

"Jesus, you're a sight.. you know that?"

From the neat curtain of bangs, you can faintly see Jinyoung smile, "Do you like it?"

"Baby you know I like it," You curse as you smooth a hand down the sultry slope of his back, all muscled and strong yet delicate in a way that you find hard to explain.

He moans, loud and clear for you, "Then show me, mistress. Please?"

'Showing him' would be an understatement of what you did. It was like you were possessed; one moment he was on his hands and knees, looking back at you with that fucking face, and the next, you had him flipped over on his back, drilling into him like your life depends on it. You don't know how long you fuck him, but you know that you were in a daze as you snap back to the present.

It's brutal, the way you pound into him. Rough, animalistic, and downright cruel. He's trying his best to stay tethered to this world, but you make it extremely hard with the way you bull his knees into his own chest and stare at him, long and heavy, with each other's foreheads touching and a hand jerking him off at a rapid speed. He wails and cries out every couple seconds, his voice now strained in his throat and wearing thin like the threads of an old spiderweb.

"Is this what you fucking wanted? Huh? Well here it is so fucking take it, bitch. Take it all and don't you dare waste it or else I swear you'll regret it," You growl, your teeth clenched hard enough to put pressure on your gums as you unhook your arm from under his left knee and instead use it to choke him. He struggles at the lack of blood going to his brain, but nods regardless.

"I-I'm c—oh my god please—I'm cumming! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-"

"Then fucking cum, you filthy whore. Do it, all over your stomach. Make Mistress proud, hm? Make her proud of her good little fuck doll, I know you can do it, baby."

Letting go of Jinyoung's throat has more of an effect than you anticipated. The influx of air and blood, paired with his approaching orgasm, quite literally throws him headfirst into his climax. His mouth falls open in a silent scream as he writhes and twitches, spilling white on his lower abdomen, and one shot even glances him on the collarbones.

It's silent for a moment as he catches his breath, still shaking, and that's when you make the decision of discarding your strap-on into the basket near your closet with a single toss. Jinyoung, on the other hand, is on cloud 9. He feels like he's floating in a golden sea of bliss, which clouds of cotton candy hanging overhead, and he barely registers it when he feels your fingers on his body once again.

He looks down, "Hm..?"

"Pfft holy shit, look at you," You bring your palm to your mouth as you giggle at the man's euphoria, "Yeah.. Oh yeah, you're definitely feeling it, huh? Told you I was worth the money."

"No shit. That was... Jesus, that was insane."

"Mm thanks, pretty. Sit still, I'll be right back."

You hop up off the bed with another quick glance at Jinyoung before you disappear behind a misty glass door. While you're doing.. whatever you're doing, Jinyoung takes the time to sit up and try and find a comfortable position because of course it's now that everything finally settles in.

"Ow, fuck!" He hisses at the pain of trying to sit on his ass with all the cuts on it.

"Yeah, about that, put your butt up for a moment?"

He frowns, but upon seeing the tube of ointment in your hand as well as baby wipes and a lollipop, sighs and reluctantly bends over.

"I know, I know, but don't worry, it'll only sting a bit. Also, make sure to apply some Neosporin or disinfectant on the backs of your thighs and bottom until they begin to scab up." You drone on about how to take care of the injuries whilst applying the salve, the basics on how to not exercise while they're still open because the sweat can cause an infection, the usual things. When you're done both rubbing the medicine on him and giving him a jog through cautions, you finally twist the covering on the tube of ointment and reach for the wet wipes before meeting Jinyoung's eyes again.

"Roll on your back, please. Feet up in the air and spread your legs so I can see everything."

"Why?"

"Because," you smile, already nudging him to move into position, "You're all messy. I need to clean you up, don't I? Now come here, I even have a lollipop for you since you did so well."

It's soft how you take care of him, Jinyoung thinks. The mood switch is completely different from what you were like when you were fucking him like you hated him, because now, you're so concerned about whether you're pressing the wipes too hard onto his skin as you swipe the cold sheet between his legs and rear end.

"I'm sorry," you say, slowing down on cleaning him to snort at how hard he sucks on the light green candy, admiring how at peace he looks with the warm expression he wears.

"For what?"

"I probably went a little too hard on you. This was your first actual time with an experienced domme, and I'm afraid that I could've ruined it for future references."

"Oh no, don't feel bad. I liked it."

"You did?" Your eyebrows shoot up.

"Of course. This is probably the best I've felt in literal months."

And he smiles. He smiles genuinely one of the most breathtaking smiles you've ever seen, with a slight fan of creasing around his eyes from the rise of his cheeks, and a laugh like pure beauty. You return it.

"Well, I'm glad I could help, Jinyoung. Now, I think it's about time for you to go, considering the session is officially over, and you most likely have a lot of work in the morning," You wink and stand from your spot on the bed.

Jinyoung allows you to help him back inside his robe, even rub the dried tear tracks off his cheeks, and before he knows it, he's slowly walking away from your assigned room, looking back at you as you stand in the doorway with a hand on your hip.

"Goodbye, Madame Black."

"Goodbye, Mr. CEO. Come again sometime, I'm sure you'd love to be taken down another peg."

[hentaimommi]

ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ᴀᴘᴀᴛʜʏ | ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ (x fem! reader)

Warnings: trauma, death, monarchy, abuse of power (?)

Summery: After her father's death, the new queen is sworn in. Her new personal knight is assigned to guard her at nighttime. Quickly she learns he is not just any night, nor is she just any queen.

[A/N]: I really hate the damsel in destress type queen/knight stories, so I tried to change up the arch type a little. fantasy au :) sorry if it felt rushed!

[R O Y A L A P A T H Y]

"The death of King (D/N) will forever be a greatest tragedy to our kingdom," My fathers best friend, who was also the earl, had been lecturing for what felt like sentinels by now. Sorcerer Hanji Zoe was at their witts end by now, clearly bored. I also tapped my food below the ballgown I'd been fitted and forced into this morning.

"I have new hope in the shadowing horizon of his beloved daughter, she will lead us to many victories. Let's hope the dragon guards love her!" He clinked the tall tankard with the barbarian man next to him, finalizing the speech. Many people laughed in fancy, but all I found myself wanting to do was visit the garden.

I excused myself, standing up and begging the well known path to the sanctuary. My heels clicked across the cobblestone like a smooth stone on a lake top, all the way until I had been met with the large doors. Built by the Elvish and designed by my mother, the garden was the most sacred room in the kingdom.

Guarded by two large stone gargoyles, watched over by the eye of luck, and cursed beyond point of entry if not completing the ritual. I took two fingers on each hand, palating the tongue of both gargoyle. Then, the eye above the door that was imprinted into the stone began to glow. "Who are you here under?" The entity I spoke frequently to requested. "(F/N) (L/N)." I responded, fingers still on the tounges. "Ah, the soon to be queen. You may enter."

The doors cascaded open, revealing the garden of most beautiful stature. Reds, greens, blues, purples- as far as the eye could see. I only wish I could stay, actually enter and be here. Duty called below, though. The bells were ringing and it was almost evening. The doors closed at lack of entry when I walked away.

Arriving in the meeting room was my next step. Many people of all races and stature were sitting around the discussion table, all watching me as soon as I entered. "Your majesty," The small frog woman, Ymir, hopped from her seat over to me. I raised my brow, indicating her to answer. "We have someone for you to meet, and hopefully show around if you would be so kind." Her voice was rough, you could tell she was of frog decent from a mile away. "Okay."

The room went silent as I turned to face the door, red dress swaying round. The fact attire was picked by my mothers personal designer, Historia. A sweet lady, but boy did she enjoy flowy gowns. The doors opened, revealing two men. One, a tall blonde man, and the next a shorter raven haired man. His gaze was cold, piercing even. "Your grace," The tall one spoke, his voice was deep and unforgiving. Like he'd seen a thousand lifetimes. "I am here to serve you your personal knight, who will serve you endlessly till death."

I looked over to the onyx haired man, who looked as if he was being tortured. "I appreciate your offer so much, thank you sir..?" He looked to me, kneeling on one knee and holding his hand to his heart for all to see. "Erwin. This is sir Levi, your guard." I nodded, walking up to the kneeling men and pressing a light hand on both of their shoulders. "Thank you, you are dismissed."

As the day continued I grew very weary, ready for any point of sleep I could obtain. Before the death if my father, every night I would stop by the sorcerers library. Instead I opted to go to my room this night, absolutely restless from the long and treacherous day. Upon arrival of my room, though, the same man from earlier stood flat out in front of it.

"You're Levi, correct?" I asked, looking into his tone cold eyes. They were so brash, clearly full of pained stories of a lifetime. "Yes, my queen." He moved aside. "You don't have to call me that. You can call me (F/N), and, come inside. It's cold in the halls." His blush was clear as day, nevertheless he followed me as told. I pointed to an empty plush bench for him to take a seat on.

"So, Levi, tell me about your life." I said, walking into my restroom to peel off the dress and change into my nightwear. He hesitated for a moment, clear by the cough let out. "Well, I was raised in a brothel. My mother worked as a lady of the night. She passed at a very young age, my uncle- who was also a knight- taking me in. He would soon leave, too, making me fend for myself. It's tragic and pitiful, I know, but it taught me many things."

"It's not pitiful." I returned changed with my hair graciously braided down to one side, smiling at the man before me. He was handsome, I had to admit. Dark hair offsetting his pale skin in all the right ways, rough appearance only making him that much more attractive. "If anything, you're nobel." He looked up, setting his sword aside, the sighing. "I suppose so. I always wondered what it would be like to guard a queen," He drifted off, eyeing the walls. "I always thought they'd be cold and distant, but it paid well so I didn't mind to take the job. You aren't like that."

I smiled. "Glad you think so, sir Levi. I think you're one of the most brave, and handsome damned men to walk these halls. I bid you a safe night, hope to see you in the morning." I then climbed under the large canopy that cascaded over my bed. It was made of the finest material, soft and warm. The night was cold, leaving me tossing and turning into the daylight unlike I had wanted.

Rising up from my half-slumber, I was met with the vision of Levi sitting exactly how he was before, restless, staring at the wall again. I didn't believe this was lazy- so I rose from my bed and put on the large robe that had been set aside by my maids. "Morn, Levi. How was your night?" I asked, walking over to him. He didn't respond, eyebags heavily present.

I walked closer, lightly touching his scarred face with my soft hand. He was so cold. I took off the robe, laying it over his shoulders. "What's..what are you going my lady?" He asked, thumbing the material that was new on his body. I smiled, standing up. "You were cold. Where do you live?" I asked, undoing the braid in my hair.

He hesitated as he did the night before, only to look away once more. "A- um, hut. Down in the village. I live in it by myself." He proclaimed, rising from his seat. I nodded, "Sleep in my quarters for the day. I insist. The bed is nice and I will have maids deliver a warm outfit to my door." His eyes darted to me, "You can't be serious- I'm not-"

My hand wavered in front of him. "I insist. Keep the bed warm for me, would you?" He nodded. I took the robe, tying it around myself once more. Levi ridded himself of the metal plates, leaving me to see just how muscular he really is. I avoided it, going to my dressing room where all of my dressing ladies already were.

The day passed as before, but this time I had been able to go the library, wanting to give the knight more time to rest up. The bookshelves were dusty, place so empty you would think no one works here.

"Hello? Hanji?" I asked, looking around. Noises came loudly from the behind the counter, making me back away. They were inconspicuous, that was, until the person stood from behind. An Elvin boy named Armin my tropes had picked up. He'd been stranded, left for dead on a battle field. "Oh, hello Armin!" I smiled, lying the book I had picked up on the counter.

"Hello my lady! How are you?" He asked, ears fluttering. How cute. "I'm okay! I've gotten a new knight, I left him to rest in my room for the day." Armin looked at me in a questioning manner. "And his name?" I rested my elbow on the table, looking over to the door through which I had came. "Levi-"

"Levi Ackerman?" He asked, clearly disheveled. I nodded, eyebrow arching as if to question him. "He's a famous knight! So smart and strong. They say during his last battle he suffered life threatening injuries, though, making him tired and worn." Armin gushed, smiling brightly and blushing as I listened.

When returning to my room, he was still asleep. I didn't think I needed him for the night; so I slipped into my dressing room and changed into another beautiful nightgown. Braiding my hair once more, I returned into my room to find him still sleeping. I remembered what Armin had said. He sustained horrible injuries, scars were probably all over his body. I couldn't imagine. Lifting up the edge of the curtain like material, I found him in the clothes my ladies had brought for him. He looked nice, and calm.

Instead of waking him up- interrupting him from his sleep, I decided to sleep next to him. Surely he wouldn't mind if I stayed a distance away, and slept under a different duvet. As I slipped in, his warmth had consumed the whole bed. It was warm in places he hadn't even been in. I tried to rest easy, only being woken up once when he accidentally kicked me; but I didn't mind.

The next morning I would wake up with him completely wrapped around me. His leg over both of my own, his arms around my waist and chest. This made me laugh, pushing his arm around a little to wake up. As I did, his entire body jolted in a gasp. "Where am I? (F/N)? What time of day is it?" He asked, then analyzing how close he was to me. "You slept with- me? I LEFT YOU ALONE?" I chuckled at his worries, him trying to get out of the bed. Swiftly, I gently grabbed his wrist. "Levi, don't worry about it. Just, rest, okay? You've done enough."

Reluctantly, he nodded. I pushed my hands into his hair as he scooted back into me to be the little spoon.

[bubble-tae]

Bad Bait

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst/Lil Fluff/High School AU

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Your attempt to catfish cheaters goes awry when you get a message from a cute boy at school.

(A/N: This was meant to be a drabble response but I got a bit carried away! Thank you to @ddaengyoonmin​ for helping me edit and giving me the confidence to post and lovely @baepsaesbae​ for the request) 

reposted from old account

You didn’t mean to take it this far, I mean it only started as some dumb sleepover prank. For nearly 6 weeks, you had been pretending to be a girl from out of town online, catfishing different guys in your class to catch them cheating. You’d send screenshots to their girlfriends of them asking for nudes. It broke your heart to deliver news like this to these girls, but after a while it felt like an obligation. Everything was all fun and games until Taehyung fell into your lap. He was a senior who stumbled across your fake Instagram account when all his friends started following it. It all started innocently enough, a few likes, a couple heart eyes on some pics (that were of some pretty model), but before you knew it, he had slipped into your dms.

You had seen him around school before, hell, no one could mistake that gorgeous laugh for anyone but him. He wasn’t popular, but he seemed to be part of almost every group and club. Taehyung was in theater, played soccer, and even is the Vice President of the art club. He would have been a shoe in for Homecoming King earlier that year if it hadn’t gone to Kim Seokjin (now he was popular, and cheating on the Homecoming Queen). Taehyung was known, that was for sure, and anyone that met him had to of had the biggest crush on him. When he first messaged you that simple “hey”, you ignored it. As far as you knew he wasn’t dating anyone so there really was no need to talk to him at all, but one bored Saturday night, you figured why the hell not.

It wasn’t anything for a while, he seemed boring and just like all the other guys that found their way to your account, but things slowly picked up around a week later when he started his good morning messages. Soon he was sending you pictures with a big grin and a peace sign and asking all about you; what you like to do for fun, what job you wanted, even little things like what your favorite candy was. Through this, you got to know him too. Taehyung secretly loved to sing, he wanted to be a freelance artist, and how much he loved brownies.

“He doesn’t even know you exist.” Your best friend said from the driver seat of her car. You had both just pulled up to school, the foggy Monday air clouding up the parking lot.

“What’s it matter anyways?” you asked, pulling down the mirror to fix your hair. Your best friend cackled next to you.

“The matter is that you like him, and he likes her.” They pointed at your phone in the cup holder. You closed the mirror and rolled your eyes.

“I don’t like him.” just as you said this your phone chimed, but your friend picked it up faster than you could. They opened your phone, a picture of Taehyung taking over the screen. He was posing with a little fluffy dog, a fake pouty look on his face. Your friend read the message out mockingly.

“ ‘Baby boy cried the whole time I was getting ready, guess he doesn’t want me to go to school. Hope you are having a better morning than I am beautiful.’ Fuck, I’d cry for him to stay too if my owner looked like that.” Your friend held down the picture with their thumb, saving it as your lock screen. You leaned over and snatched it back from their hands.

“He’s just being nice!” you proclaimed.

“Yeah, sure,” your friend said, “and pigs can fly.”

“Wasn’t your mom on an airplane last week?” you joked. They hit your side as the bell rang. “Not funny.” You got out of the car and started to make your way to class, Taehyung’s morning message forgotten thanks to your first period calculus exam.

* * *

It was lunch time, and though you were desperately craving the cafeteria chicken nuggets, you knew you had to finish up some last minute notes that were due today. You headed to the library, where you found it mostly empty safe for a few studious peers. There was an empty table near the back, so you pulled out a chair and took your book out from your bag. With earbuds in, you fell into your own little world, taking notes on the 15th century Tudor period. It wasn’t long before you were interrupted by someone grazing the back side of your seat trying to reach a book on the shelf behind you. You were about to give them a dirty look when you turned around, but you were taken back by a face you had never seen this close before.

“Sorry.” Taehyung muttered with a smile, book under arm. You didn’t say anything, your mouth agape as you froze in the moment. He was prettier in person, and when he pushed his curly brown hair back and made his way to the front of the table, you swore your heart stopped beating. He pointed to the chair just across from you. “This seat taken.”

“No.” you finally croaked out, taking your earbuds out. There was no reason to be this nervous, he was just a person you told yourself. He sat down in the chair and open the book, cover facing you. The front read “1984”. He peeked over the top of the book, and that’s when you realized you were staring. Taehyung brought the book down to his lap.

“Sorry if I disrupted your flow.” he said.

“Oh no, it was kind of boring anyways.” That was sort of a lie, part of you actually enjoyed getting wrapped up in your work, but it could wait. “What are you reading?”. You knew what he was reading, in fact you read it just last month, but you felt an insatiable need to keep talking to him. His voice was different than you thought, more sultry and smooth.

“1984, I guess it’s about a society living under constant surveillance.”

“Aren’t we already?” you quipped. He laughed and blush spread across your cheeks.  

“I guess so.” he said. “It was recommended to me.”

‘Yeah, by me.’ You thought. “You going to check it out?”

“I don’t know, I’m not really much of a reader.”

“Yeah you’ve told me.” the words left your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. He put the book down, smile disappearing as he leaned back in his chair. You bit your lip, trying to think of some way out of this.

“What? Do we know each other?” he finally asked, brows furrowed down but eyes still cautious as he scanned your face more intensely.

“Freshman year. English.” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t ask what teacher you had. Your legs were bouncing under the table, and you only hoped that he didn’t notice how your body shook.

“But…” he started, trying to remember if he has ever met you. “I’ve never told you that before.”

“Must have been someone else then.” you spat out quickly, standing up and shoving your things in your bag. “Gotta run, nice chat.” He stood up too, confused from the change in the environment. You sling your bag over your shoulder, but as you start to leave you trip slightly on the leg of the table, and your phone falls to the ground. It lands screen up, and if this situation couldn’t get any worse, it turns on, displaying the picture Taehyung took that morning. He stopped in his tracks and stared down at your phone.

“Am I your lock screen?” he asked, almost disgusted. You pick your phone off the ground quickly.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” The two of you eyed each other uncomfortably in the silent library. No one had even noticed that anything strange was going on. Taehyung looked around the library and then leaned in slightly.

“Are you stalking me?” he whispered.

“Taehyung, let me explain” you started to say before he cut you off.

“Oh my god, you’re stalking me!” he said a little louder and angrier this time. A kid at a nearby table looked up for a moment before returning to his laptop.

“Will you shut up?” you whisper shouted. “I’m not stalking you.”

“Then what the fuck is that?” he pointed to your phone. You let out a sigh and rubbed at your temples. ‘This is a fucking disaster.’ you wanted to say.  

“You sent it to me this morning, my friend put it as my lock screen as a joke.” You could tell he didn’t believe you, why would he, he had never spoken to you before, let alone sent a picture with the intent of you seeing it.

“I didn’t send you that.”

“Well, you sort of did.” you opened your phone and pulled out the messages, his text from this morning displayed on your screen.

“How did you get her messages?” he asked, taking the phone from your hands to inspect it further.

“They are my messages.” he looked back up at you still confused. There was only one way he was going to understand this. “She’s not real.” Taehyung’s face fell as he looked down at the phone again, the words hitting him slowly.

“What?” he said, not really asking.

“Taehyung…” you said, taking a step forward. He took one back.

“What’s your real name?”

“Y/N.” you answered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/N?” he said, hurt dripping over ever word. He put your phone down on the table and grabbed his stuff.

“I can explain!” you tried, the people in the room watching the two of you. He turned around as he started to leave, eyes just a little bit glossy.

“Don’t talk to me, creep.” he hissed before storming out of the library, leaving you standing alone with all eyes on you.

* * *

You probably couldn’t fix it, and you didn’t really intend to, but you at least wanted to try and make it hurt less. Hurt less for him or you, that you didn’t know. There you stood at his front door, plate of brownies in hand, trying to muck up the courage to ring the doorbell. This was much harder than hiding behind your phone. Your hand lifted to the doorbell, but you heard the lock click out of place before the door opened. Taehyung was in the doorway, a displeased look on his face.

“You’ve been standing here for five minutes, I figured I’d tell you to get lost myself.” He picked at his fingernails as if he didn’t care. It stung a little, to have him suddenly be so cold to you, but you knew you deserved it.

“At least take the brownies.” you held the plate in front of them. He squinted his eyes at the brownies, then at you.

“They aren’t poisoned, are they?” he took the plate from your hands, still suspicious.

“No, but they are fudge brownies” his favorite kind. He contemplated something for a minute before opening the front door wider and stepping to one side.

“You have until I finish the brownies to explain.” you thought that maybe he was kidding, but when you both were inside, he motioned for you sit on the couch next to him as he started to stuff his face.

“I know how this looks from your end.” you began, “I didn’t intend on leading you to believe I was this other person. The account wasn’t even made for you, but kind of to catch this one guy who was cheating. One guy turned into two, and before I knew it, it kind of just became my thing.” Taehyung shoved a second brownie in his mouth and crumbs dribbled down his chin and onto his jeans, which he brushed onto the floor, some of them landing on the tops of your shoes.  

You tried to continue but Taehyung shoved a third brownie into his mouth before he finished chewing the second. “Dude, you’re going to choke.” you said to him. He stopped chewing suddenly, looking at you with cheeks full. He motioned with his hands for you to keep talking.

“Anyways,” you shook your head in disbelief. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I never meant for you to get tangled up in all this mess. I wasn’t faking anything, everything I said came from me, Y/N. If you wanna be friends or something, that’s great, but if you want to pretend I never existed, I understand.” The last part hurt to say, but you knew you would have to respect his boundaries. Taehyung finally finished chewing what was in his mouth, swallowing hard as leaned back into the couch.

“Wow,” he nodded to himself, “so you’re The Fisherman?”

“The what?”

“The one who’s been catching all the cheaters. Catfish turned into Fisherman, how about that?” he wiped some of the remaining crumbs from his pants and contemplated grabbing another brownie.

“I guess so? I didn’t know I had another identity.”

“You’re like a modern day Robin Hood.” he leaned onto his knees and getting closer to you. “I knew it.” You let out a laugh at that. Of course he didn’t know.

“So you’re not upset?” you questioned.

“Oh no, I’m fucking pissed.” he placed a hand on your knee, “but I’m also impressed.” You were taken back by his words. He saw the expression on your face and elaborated.

“You caught 6 different dudes cheating on their girlfriends and still no one knows it’s you. That takes a genius.”

“It’s actually 9.” you corrected. He threw his hands air up in the air in disbelief.

“That’s amazing!” he shouted. “I think I like you more than the girl in the screen.” His smile was lazy and genuine and his outright honesty made your face burn. He scooted just an inch closer, a little hesitantly. “So, everything we talked about was really you?” You recognized for the first time how soft his features were in person, eyes glittering with curiosity. His lips were slightly parted, and you wished to know how they felt. You blinked away the thought, almost embarrassed for having it.

“It was always me.” He laughed at your cheesy line and pinched your cheeks, pulling at them.

“You’re not wearing a mask, are you?” he joked. You pulled his hand away, keeping it in yours as it fell into your lap.

“No more surprises.”

“Don’t I get a chance to surprise you?” he asked, licking his lips and moving in closer. You felt your heart beat faster until it was in your throat, and time slowed. You cursed your sweaty palms and quivering lip, Taehyung’s eyes half closed as he was only inches from your face. You closed your eyes and waited for him to kiss you. His lips tickled against yours, so close but not yet touching, before he averted his mouth upward to plant a kiss on your nose. He pulled away with a wide smirk, and you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That’s not fair.” you breathed out. He pulled your hand into his lap to play with your fingers.

“I know.” he said before biting his lip and looking back up at with bashful eyes. Taehyung was a tease, but you knew that you couldn’t wait for for more of his surprises.

[lovemesomeerabordwarves]

Things we are    part 2

“Hmmm… I wonder when the Prince is going to come back.  Everyone’s so excited and crazy.  It’s getting tiering.  Dis has been running around like mad trying to plan and organize everything.  Still,” I rolled over and looked at the chipmunk that was eating part of my lunch, “it’s allowed me to sneak out here a few times.”

I frowned.

“You’d think it would be the opposite.  More vigilant, alert guards and all that…”

I signed.  The chipmunk chittered at me with cheek pouches full. I tickled him under his chin.  Grabbing my finger, the little thing licked some jam off, chittered one last time, then scurried away.

“Guess I’ll head home before it gets dark.”

I picked up my bow and placed it on my back.  I hoped down from the tree I had been occupying and trailed my hands over moss, mushrooms, and bark as I pointed myself in the direction of home.  I wound through trees and over streams, and under fallen trees.  I followed the sun until I got to my favorite waterfall were I stopped for a break.  I took my shoes off and rested my feet in the water.  A few fish swam up and nibbled my toes which made me laugh.  Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back to bask in the sun and enjoy my time.

A small rustling noise made me look up.  A ram made its way through some tall bushes.  I frowned in confusion but then a dwarf followed behind it.  He stopped when he saw me.  He looked oddly familiar.  His raven black hair went past his shoulders and his beard was shorter than most dwarves kept them.  His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of blue.  The ram walked up to me and nudged me with its big wooly head.

“Hello, sir.  I haven’t seen you before.”  I mumbled to the ram as I rubbed my hands along its neck. Its coat was a little dirty but still well cared for.    

“He normally doesn’t like other people, tries to bite them the first chance he gets.” The stranger commented warily.

“Well, some critters just like me.”  

The ram nuzzled me one last time then went to the pool of water to get a drink, leaving me to face the stranger.

“If your lost the kingdom is that way.”  I said while pointing to the West.

“I know…although it has been a while since I was there.”

“Are—” The sound of a distant bell made me freeze.  It was the dusk bell; the gates would be closing soon.

“Bye it was nice meeting you!” I bolted into the forest leaving the dwarf behind.

“Crap! The guards will be attentive now! Ugg I’m going to have to sneak in if I don’t get there in time.”

 I made it back into my room just as someone started to knock.  I quickly pulled on a robe and ran to the door.

“Finally found you. Why are you out of breath?”

“Umm…I was asleep, and you startled me that’s all.”

Dis narrowed her eyes but a smile quickly appeared.

“You need to get ready for the feast!  Come, I’ll do your hair.”

Without waiting for my response, she spun me around and shoved me in front of the vanity.

“What happened? Is Thorin back?”

“Yes, he just returned! Everyone’s getting ready.  Vili is taking care of the boys.”

My hair was pulled, curled and pinned before long.  After that I was squeezed into the dreaded corset and a midnight blue dress was thrown on top.  I refused to wear heeled shoes though.  

“But they’re in fashion right now.  The kingdom to the north sent over their latest designs and my tailor worked very hard to get them ready.”

I glared at Dis.

“If you make me wear those I will go naked.”

It was an honest threat and my friend, and I stared each other down before she gave up.  

“Oh, alright! Your dress covers your feet any way, but you WILL wear shoes tonight.”

I complied with this as I knew that if I didn’t she would force the heels onto my feet and probably find a way to keep them there permanently.  Once Dis deemed me acceptable she left to get ready and told me that she, Vili, and the boys would escort me to the hall were the feast would take place.

Once she left I tried to sit but the corset was too tight, and it felt like a seem would pop.  I sighed and decided to walk around my room. I thought about the impending party and dreading being in a room with so many others.  I hoped that after an hour or two Dis and the others would be too distracted, and I could sneak back to my room.  On my tenth lap around the room there came a quick knock and Dis opened my door.

“Alright we’re ready let’s get going!”  

She was beautiful in all her royal finery.  Vili was more dressed up than I had ever seen him.  The boys were busy pulling at their tunic collars and Kili had already ruffled his hair.  I took a deep breath and followed them down to the Great Hall.  Vili hung back a bit with me as Dis took both boys by the hands.

“You look amazing tonight Eva.  Don’t be nervous, we’ll keep you company as long as we can.”

I gave him a half smile. Butterflies were flapping around in my stomach and my nerves were on edge.  Once we got to the main hall, I was left to stand with everyone else while Dis and her family went to take their proper place.  I was a bit relieved by this as I was now trying to blend into the stonework around me.  A few dwarves stared as they went by, but the King called for silence and everyone turned their attention to him.

“It is with great pride that I welcome back my grandson Thorin, Crown Prince to the line of Durin! He has been away for many months forging friendships and trade routes so that our people may prosper once again!”

I flinched as the room erupted into roars of cheers and clapping.  A few dwarves pushed past me to see better and I soon lost my sight of the throne.  

“Tonight, we feast not only to celebrate Prince Thorin’s return and accomplishments but tonight also marks the day, five years ago, of the destruction of our home of Erebor!  We feast and drink to honor those who fell victim to the horrid, fire breathing lizard.”  

The cheers for this were not as loud as before and a few people began to silently cry.  I bowed my head in respect.  

“Let the feast begin!” boomed the King and everyone clapped and cheered and started to drift apart. I stayed in my spot as long as possible but eventually Dis came for me.  

“Come, grandfather wishes to speak with you.”

A feeling of dread dropped into my stomach.  Was I going to get into trouble?  I had been extra careful sneaking in and out despite the lack of attentiveness by the guards.  Did he really want to lecture me now?  People parted for Dis and I as we soon came to stand at the foot of the throne.  I waited to be acknowledged by the King before stepping forward.  After he finished talking with a white-haired dwarf his gaze turned to me and a giant smile spread across his face as he beckoned me to his side.

“Eva my girl you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

I smiled and curtsied. “Thank you your majesty.  Dis is quite skilled at making me look presentable.”

The king chuckled lightly. “She has an eye for such things yes, but you are beautiful even without all this finery.”

I blushed.

“I know you’re not overly fond of large gatherings but tonight is one for laughter and fun! I want you to enjoy it.”

“I will do my best your majesty, I hope you enjoy it as well.”

The king laughed and dismissed me.  When I turned around I couldn’t see Dis or Vili but I saw Fili and Kili running around so I made my way to them.  As Kili ran around a rather large dwarf to escape his growling brother I scooped him up in a tight hug.  He giggled and Fili ran up and clung to my dress.

“What creature chases you my little prince?”

Kili points down at his big brother and proclaims, “The dragon Smaug chased me from my home and wants to eat me!”

A few dwarves around us chuckle and a few scoffed.  I ignored them and told Kili, “Don’t worry, together we shall defeat the dragon and take back Erebor!”  Fili giggles and runs away.  Still holding Kili I give chase and together we wind through groups of drinking and chatting dwarves.  Many laugh as we go by especially whenever Fili gives a great big ‘rawer’ letting people know a dragon is approaching.  I quickly catch up to Fili and with one arm scoop him up as well.

“We’ve done if Kili we caught the monster!”  The boys laugh and begin talking about what we should play next when Dis finds us.

“I should have known you’d be with the boys,” she laughs before continuing,” Alright my little ones, it’s time for you to go to bed.”  Dis makes to take Fili before I interject.

“I’ll put them to bed Dis. You stay and have fun.”

“What about you though?”

“I’ll come back after they fall asleep.”

Dis gives me a doubtful look but someone calls out to her distracting her briefly before turning her attention back to me.

“Alright but make sure you don’t take too long.”

I give her a smile and take Kili back.  As we leave the boys protest, but I quiet them by promising a bedtime story.  After getting them in their night cloths I tuck them in and begin my story.  I don’t get very far before both boys are fast asleep.  I blow out all but one candle and leave the room.  

I make my way back to the Great Hall but when I look in I can see that it’s gotten a bit livelier as more ale and mead has been consumed so I decide to go somewhere else.  If I went back to my room Dis would easily find me and drag me back.  I wandered around for a while and eventually ended up sitting on a balcony that overlooked the forest.  I looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone nearby, saw no one, so I kicked off my shoes and stepped up on the railing and sat down.

The moon was full and still rising, its light bathing the entire forest.  In the distance wolves sang to one another.  My heart began to race as their voices rose and fell in harmony. I was lost in the music and didn’t hear footstep approach.  A gruff voice brought me back to myself.

“That’s a bit dangerous isn’t it?”

I rotated slowly so I wouldn’t lose my perch and gazed at the dwarf behind me.  It was the same one man I saw in the forest earlier with the ram. He was dressed elegantly in deep blues and a fur lined cloak, which was usually reserved for royalty.

“Only if you aren’t careful. Otherwise, the view is great.”

The man made his way slowly towards me and I moved over a little.  

“Hmm…”  The man took his cloak off and set it aside, then leaned his back against the rail, placed his hands on it then jumped up.  He slowly turned around to face the forest letting his feet dangle over.  I turned back as well.

We sat in silence for a minute just enjoying the sights.  Every now and then I peeked at him trying to remember who he reminded me of.  

“The view is quite beautiful.” The dwarf commented at one point.

I just nodded in response. We sat there for a while just staring out at the forest and moonlit sky.

I was about to ask the man who he was when footsteps and a shout rent the silence first.

“Eva? Thorin?  What are you two doing out here?”

Dis came striding towards us with an angry scowl on her face.  For a moment I stared at her in confusion.  Was I sitting next to her brother?  Her brother who was the Crown Prince?  How did I not figure it out before?

Thorin carefully turned around and faced his sister.  I had to repress a laugh.  He looked exactly like the boys when they’re about to be scolded by their mother.  

“This whole evening is to celebrate your return after being gone for months and you leave to sit out here! People have been looking for you!” Dis has stopped a few feet away with an angry red face.  I had never seen her so upset.  

Thorin got down and picked up his cloak.   I tried to blend in with the sky but to no avail.

“And you!” Dis shouted pointing a finger at me. I jumped a little. “I told you to come back after putting the boys to bed.”

“It was getting crazy on there Dis! Please don’t make me go back.”  I stayed on the rail but tensed to run if Dis tried to drag me back to the Great Hall.

Vili walked up behind his wife and gave me a small wink.

“Let them be Dis.  I’m sure Thorin is tired from his journey home, and the people looking for him won’t go anywhere and can speak with him in the morning.”  He put an arm around his wife and nuzzled her neck effectively distracting her.

She laughed before responding, “Alright fine.”

“Great!,” exclaimed Vili, “Then lets you and I head back.  I have yet to dance with my beautiful wife!”

Vili twirled Dis around as she blushed and giggled like a young girl and let her husband lead her back to the great hall.

I let out the breath I was holding and relaxed a bit.  Then I tensed again as I remembered who was still standing next to me.  Thorin was chuckling at his brother-in-law and sister, cloak still in hand.  His laugh was deep and course and contagious.  I began to laugh as well.  I tried to be a proper lady and not get too boisterous, but I couldn’t fight it for long. Holding my sides, I laughed till tears filled my eyes.  

I sat up too quickly to get some air and started to fall backwards.  Before I knew it though Thorin was at my side, a firm grip on my arm keeping me steady.

“Thank you.”  I said as I turned red and looked into his eyes.

“You’re welcome. Perhaps you should get down before you continue laughing so much.”  He said this with a smile, so I was sure he hadn’t been appalled by my lack of decorum.

I did as he suggested and as I straightened up I patted my dress a bit too aggressively.

“Does your gown offend you?”

“No, I just don’t like wearing cloths like this.  It’s so confining and makes movement all but impossible.”

That earned another laugh from Thorin.  My face flushed again, and I quickly tried to remember my manners.

“Apologizes your Majesty. I’m sure you don’t want to hear of such things.” I said as I dipped into a rough curtsy.

Thorin quirks and eyebrow up and holds a hand up, “No need to be so formal with me now.  If I wanted such things I would have made my identity clear when I approached you.”

I give him a smile.

“Besides,” he continued,” I did grow up with Dis who despite her appearance now, used to hate putting on such gowns as well.”  

I giggle at such a thought. I was definitely going to use this bit of information next time Dis tried to get me into another stuffy gown.

“From what you said earlier I imagine that you don’t want to go back to the feast.”  Thorin inquired shifting his cloak to his other hand.

“Oh…umm… well it was nice but…”  I felt bad having complained about being there when it was to celebrate his return home.

“It’s alright,” Thorin said with a smile, “Vili was right though.  I’m too tired from my journey home to deal with all the politics of royalty tonight to want to go myself.  May I escort you to your chambers?”

I was momentarily stunned. Was he really to escort me?  Me?  I wasn’t even a dwarrowdam.  I decided that he was just being nice, so I accepted.  He smiled and before I could blink he draped his cloak over my shoulders and held his hand out for me to rest mine on as we walked.  

“I’m Eva by the way.” I say as we start walking, realizing that I never actually introduced myself.

“It’s lovely to meet you Miss Eva.”  Thorin responds with another smile.

With that we walked past the Great Hall and down the corridors of Erebor.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Seventeen

"Yes, we're finally here!" Prompto cheered as Cid docked the boat in Altissia's harbor. Once the vessel came to a complete halt, the group disembarked and headed toward the city.

Noctis was leading his companions but was stopped when the man guarding the entrance to Altissia called out to him. "Sir! What is the purpose of your visit?"

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of an excuse without giving away who he truly was. "Purpose? Uh..." He looked toward his friends and Cid before deciding to entrust the situation to Pestilence. "(Y/n), a little help."

The ivory-haired girl stepped past Noctis and leaned over the counter, whispering in the man's ear. The boys exchanged glances when they wondered what she could possibly be whispering to the stranger.

Then, a smile blossomed on the gatekeeper's face as the girl pulled away. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Ma'am. I hope you have a wonderful time." He opened the gate, allowing everyone through. They waved farewell to Cid as they entered Altissia.

Gladio asked the one question that was on his and the other boys' minds. "What'd you tell him?"

(Y/n) spun around and faced the boys with a grin. "Oh, just a harmless lie."

She went to turn her back and walk further into the city, but the shield grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. He was itching to know the whole truth. "Oh, no. You're not getting away that easily. Tell us what you told him."

"Your curiosity will not let this rest?" She folded her arms across her chest, tapping her finger against her upper arm.

Gladio smirked. "Nope."

"A shame, really," she sighed. "Because my lips are sealed. Your curiosity shall never be quelled."

"What?" Prompto gasped. "I want to know!"

"As I said, my lips are sealed."

Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio groaned in disbelief while Ignis was amused at their reactions. He wanted to know just as much as the others, but he remained silent as he continued to watch (Y/n) torture the others with silence.

<-----------<<<<<

After exploring a small portion of Altissia and eating a proper meal, Gladio suggested searching for the man Cid mentioned on the boat. "You wanna check Weskham's place out?"

"Yeah. "Let's all go to Maagho!"" Prompto responded cheerfully.

"Perhaps we'll even make it in time for tea," Ignis comments.

"Oh," (Y/n) gasped excitedly. "I hope we do. Altissia has quite a selection of flavorful teas. That is one thing I do remember from my first trip here."

"So, Iggy likes coffee and (Y/n) likes tea. What a match," Prompto snorts with laughter.

"Match made in heaven," Gladio snickered, eyeing the couple. "When's the date?"

Pestilence stopped and faced him with a hand on her hip. "Date?"

The shield stared down at the shorter girl. "Heard you and Iggy talkin' about it on the boat."

"Eavesdropping," Ignis corrects the brute.

"So you were listening," (Y/n) sighed. "Regardless if you overheard or eavesdropped, our private affairs are only for our ears."

Gladio looked over at the advisor, nudging him in the side with his elbow. "Think you can handle the lady?"

The tactician adjusted his glasses with a faint sigh, choosing to remain silent. The Horseman glowered weakly at the tattooed man. "What kind of question is that?"

"You're Iggy's first girlfriend."

The snowy-haired girl sighed in disbelief, looking away from Gladio. "Are you insisting Ignis doesn't know how to treat me to a proper date?"

"Far from it. He knows how to handle the ladies, but I don't think he realizes his true potential."

Pestilence placed a hand against the side of her head, heaving another sigh. "What company we keep..."

"Indeed..." Ignis added with his own exasperated sigh.

Gladio didn't hear their mumbling and gestures to an empty awaiting gondola. "Better make this quick so the lovebirds can go on a date."

"Then we better start looking now," Noctis said after a prolonged silence.

<-----------<<<<<

After a lengthy, peaceful gondola ride, the group successfully located Maagho. They stepped off the gondola and entered the bar, immediately being spotted and greeted by the man behind the counter. "Welcome to Accordo, lads and lass. Cid mentioned you'd be dropping in. Weskham Armaugh, as you've gathered." His eyes traveled over to Noctis and smirked lightly. "My word, you've grown, little prince."

Noctis hums in confusion, the man behind the bar ringing no bells in his head. Weskham chuckled at seeing the boy's confused expression. "Ah, but of course-you were only a babe at the time."

The five head over to the bar. (Y/n) sat down directly in front of Weskham, offering the man a gentle smile. "May I ask for your finest cup of tea?"

The man bowed his head slightly. "Right away, M'lady." Weskham disappeared for a couple minutes before reappearing with a hot cup of tea. "Here you are. It's on the house."

She thanked him, blew on the tea, and took a small sip. When she tasted a hint of cinnamon and vanilla, she smiled in delight. "What an exquisite, delectable taste."

Prompto guffawed at her comment. "You sound like Iggy."

"It's a blend I made myself," Weskham proclaims. "I only provide the best for one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

(Y/n) took another sip before setting the porcelain cup onto the matching plate. "I must have a tag with my name and status on it somewhere."

The man shook his head with an amused smirk. "Not at all. Cid gladly informed me of who you were. It's an honor to meet you, Pestilence. The Four Horsemen is one of my favorite stories to tell."

The Horseman looked up from her cup of tea. "I pray such a tale does not frighten away your customers."

"You'd be surprised how many of my customers enjoy the tale as much as myself." He looked toward the others, who sat in the chairs beside Pestilence. "So, this is your maiden visit. Enjoying it so far? You doubtless have many questions, so ask away."

Noctis' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "This country is a part of the empire, isn't it?"

"Morosely, yes..." (Y/n) muttered from in between Noctis and Ignis, her comment going unnoticed by all.

Weskham chuckles at his cautionary question. "You're wary, I understand. But there's no need to jump at every shadow. Just be aware that the terms of our independence grant the empire free reign to come and go as they please."

"We'll bear that in mind," Ignis replied.

"It's admittedly a one-sided arrangement," Weskham confesses. "Most everything we do requires Niflheim's permission, and they wouldn't knowingly permit the Oracle to appear before the public. How our government spun that is quite a mystery. Is there anything else?"

Noctis decided to ask about Lady Lunafreya first. "You really think Luna will make an address?"

Weskham nodded, resting his hands on the countertop. "If every recent radio broadcast is to be trusted, absolutely."

"Where is Lady Lunafreya?" Ignis inquired.

"In the city somewhere, but no one has caught so much as a glimpse of her. The media has been conspicuous in its silence on the matter, which speaks volumes of government intervention. That'd certainly explain the rumors of disgruntled imperial officers leaving the city."

"How suspicious," (Y/n) comments before taking another sip of her tea.

"I'll say..." Noctis muttered in agreement before asking his next question. "So you see lots of Niffs around here?"

"We do," the bar owner answered. "Sometimes even at my place. Theirs is a familiar presence, and the citizens don't think much of it. Though, the high commander did cause a stir when he showed up the other day."

"Ravus..." The soon-to-be king mumbled under his breath.

"Friend of yours?" (Y/n) asked.

"Far from it..."

"The elder brother of Lady Lunafreya," Ignis stated in a slightly hostile tone.

It didn't go unnoticed by the girl. "Not an admirer, I see."

"Hell no," Noctis scoffed.

Weskham continued once the others were silent. "So soon after they felled the Archaean in Lucis, his arrival fuels rumors that they will next come to Altissia. The empire's not content ruling all the land-they want the heavens as well."

"If one tastes the blood of sovereignty, such a thirst shall never be quenched 'til all is conquered," (Y/n) said. "King Aeshema knows such subjugation all too well."

"The daemon king?" The tactician questioned with a tone of bewilderment.

Pestilence nodded. "Yes. The reason why daemons wander Eos at night is to prevent an uprising. King Aeshema forged a contract with his subjects to keep them in check. If the daemons were to ever overthrow His Majesty, the netherworld would crumble and daemons would flock to Eos day and night."

"Couldn't he help us take down the empire? I mean, he's a powerful immortal, too," Prompto chimed in.

The Horseman shook her head with a small frown. "Unfortunately, no. If King Aeshema were to leave Hell, the daemons would run rampant. While they posses a certain level of intelligence, their thirst for control overthrows such perception. The only time the daemon king could possibly leave is when his subjects roam the land of the living, but even that is risky."

"Guess we're on our own then," Noctis sighed. He leant his arms on the countertop, asking his final question. "Is anything changed with Leviathan?"

"For now, it's business as usual at port, but word is the government will soon open the Altar of the Tidemother," Weskham explains.

"In preparation for the rite," Gladio added.

"Ah, but on the other hand, they're scrambling to stockpile emergency provisions. This begs the question: if they're anticipating that the Hydraean will wreak havoc, why would they allow the rite to proceed?"

"If knowing summoning and receiving Leviathan's power would aid in the downfall of the empire, many in governmental affairs would risk all," (Y/n) replied. "Even wrecking the city is a viable option."

"Yeah, but what about the people who live here?" Prompto asked.

"Even knowing the possible outcome of the rite, the government officials will protect their people at any costs."

"Indeed, we would," a person stated calmly. The group and Weskham turned their heads in order to see the owner of the voice.

The bar owner chortled lightly. "My dear Camelia, it's been a while."

Camelia's eyes trailed over to the four boys and girl. "I heard about your distinguished guests."

"Ah, you've an ear for gossip."

"Lady, gentlemen," Camelia rounded the bar, wishing to chat with them. "I won't waste your time nor the time of an immortal. My name is Camelia Claustra."

Ignis knew the woman's status all too well. "First secretary of the Accordo Protectorate."

The first secretary's gaze focused on Noctis. "You should know we have Lady Lunafreya in our care. And the empire demands we surrender her."

The raven-haired boy's eyes widen at the news. "What?"

"Yet I am loath to acquiesce unless we stand to profit. Hence I've come to discuss terms...with the King of Lucis. If you've a mind to talk, come to my estate." With those final words, Camelia left.

Weskham watched the elder woman walk away with a sigh. "She can be oblique at the best of times, but I assure you her heart is in the right place."

"Oh. Okay," the gunslinger muttered.

"At any rate, you must be weary from your journey. Might I suggest you seek your beds for now and ponder matters anew in the morning?"

Noctis nodded in agreement. "Yeah, think we'll do just that."

"Then, to the Leville." (Y/n) finished her tea and led the boys out of Maagho. While the city has changed since her last visit, she still was able to navigate the streets with ease and find the Leville without asking for directions. She stood in front of the hotel with her hands on her hips, the four boys lined up behind her. "Here we are, gentlemen."

"Guess the city hasn't changed much if you were able to find this place without asking for help," Noctis comments.

"There are an abundance of new buildings and businesses, but the street layout is nearly the same as it was a century ago," she explained. "The Leville is where Raiden and I spent our nights after we exhausted ourselves exploring the city. Also, it seems you've a guest, Noctis."

Noctis looked into the lobby and spotted a familiar figure. He entered the Leville as he eyed the woman. "Gentiana."

With sealed eyes, the messenger delivered her cryptic message. "Ahead lies a future uncertain, yet sure is the astral memory, wherein the King may walk." Before the boy could react, she vanished.

Noctis stared at the spot Gentiana once stood as the others stood behind him. Prompto was the first to break the silence. "Well, that was...sudden."

"I expect no less from a divine being," (Y/n) stated.

Noctis turned around to face the girl. "You know Gentiana?"

"She has visited the Inner Sanctum countless of times. We'd chat for hours over tea," Pestilence smiles. "Her wisdom is vast and I find joy in conversing with her."

"I never can understand what she says," Prompto confesses under his breath.

"No need to linger on the subject," (Y/n) said, deciding to change the subject once she heard a small growl from the blonde's stomach. "You four must be famished. Shall we search for an eatery?"

"Definitely," Noctis agreed in a heartbeat. "I'm starving."

"But shouldn't we go and talk to Camelia first?" The gunslinger questioned.

"Yeah, like we have any other option," Gladio stated.

Ignis, on the other hand, opposed visiting the first secretary so soon. "There's no telling how events will unfold. Let us prepare before making our way. I also suggest we find an eatery."

"Yeah, she can sit tight a while. My stomach can't," Noctis said, leaving the Leville lobby with the others in tow.

<-----------<<<<<

After a lengthy, peaceful meal, (Y/n) stood up from the table and wandered over to the edge of the nearby canal. She stared down at the glistening water, watching the sun bounce off the surface.

When she heard a group of scrambling footsteps, she turned around and saw Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio rushing off. She blinked owlishly as she watched them vanish into the streets of Altissia without her or Ignis. She crossed her arms as the advisor sauntered over to her. "My, they seem to be in a hurry."

"It appears so," Ignis sighed in exasperation.

The Horseman offered him an innocent smile, knowing what the three boys had in mind and decided to not waste the time they were graciously given. "Since those three scampered off, we've time for ourselves. Shall we explore?"

"Let's," Ignis simply replied.

The two departed from the eatery and began exploring what all Altissia had to offer.

[penwieldingdreamer]

The Devil’s Daughter

Oh my, this was a good idea. You guys are great, thank you so much for your feedback. I’m so happy you guys like it. Taglist is still open, so if you want to be on, let me know. Happy reading and let me know what you thought.

Part 1

Warnings: description of violence, angst, nightmares

Words: 1717

Part 2

“Jonathan!”

He was surrounded by fire, the earth beneath him burning. The last time he had walked through this place had been when Angela had been possessed. Constantine was used to the sight of demons scattering about, but what he was seeing there made his blood turn cold.

She was there, her body coated in darkness. Her wings were replaced by deep gashes as if someone had cut them off. John didn't know why but he had to go to her, free her from the fires of hell. The devil sat on his throne watching them both intently.

“My favorite.” Satan whispered, his hand supporting his head from the defeat he felt. “My best creation. And yet you have disappointed me.”

Without looking at her the King of Hell signaled Mammon to proceed. His son raised the sword high, gleaming in the firelight that burned around them. John felt icy fingers gripping his heart and yet he couldn't move. He desperately tried to reach her, safe her but as much as he tried, the warlock was stuck to the ground. It felt like invisible fingers were holding him there. A cry escaped his lips as he fought with all his might and yet he could only watch on. Black feathered wings spanning out behind the dark Price as he swung the sword down.

“Johnathan, help me!” she cried anguished.

With a loud cry Mammon stabbed the broad sword through her heart. Jonathan's eyes widened and with renewed anger he broke the invisible chains around him, lunging at the warrior as he saw her crumbling. Her eyes loosing the light he had seen in them only days before. The ground around her turning dark from her blood.

Falling to his knees, mindless of the mess seeping into his pants, Constantine gathered her into his arms.

“J-John.” she brokenly whispered. Her hand, stained with the dark matter common for the devil's lair, reached up, softly stroking his cheek. His skin now dirty and stained, yet it didn't matter. The occult detective held onto her. “I'm sorry.”

Her eyes started to close and Jonathan lightly shook her, his hold getting tighter with each short breath she took. “You stay awake do you hear me?!” he pleaded, tears gathering in his eyes. “Don't you dare close your eyes! Please! Come on!” But his laments were not heard, she drew her last breath as the light finally left her eyes, with the warlock's face buried in her hair.

The devil and his son watched him curiously. Never before had they seen him this desperate, never seen him crying. Johnathan Constantine wasn't someone to show these emotions. Satan's eyes widened as he finally found the reason for this display. “By the gods, sonny! You love her” he grinned, leaning forward on his throne. “Don't you?”

Mammon laughed loudly, clapping his hands. “This is funniest thing I heard in centuries.” He joined his father's side again, standing next to the throne. “The one sending us demons back to where we belong falling in love with the devil's daughter. It is quite a joke, don't you think so, Johnny boy?”

“Johnathan, Jonathan, Johnathan.” the King of Hell scoffed, standing up from his seat and strode to the pair, leaving dark footprints in his wake. “She had to die, Johnathan. My daughter was going to keep your soul pure, so I couldn't claim you, but you belong to me, sonny.” The devil put his hand on the back of his neck, leaning down to growl in his ear. “You. Belong. To ME!”

With a loud gasp the occult detective woke up, bathed in sweat and shivering despite the high temperature in his apartment. It was the first time in a long while that he had a nightmare, but he didn't know why nor did he know the woman he so desperately cried for. It wasn't Angela, he was sure of that.

So who was she?

»¤«

“Hello?” he called out, his arms wrapped around his body, shivering despite the heat surrounding him. “Hello!”

The sound of flapping wings reached his ears and the young man turned around, trying to locate it. He saw a dark figure moving toward him and fear gripped his dead heart, remembering the fight at the hospital. Was it going to be the same as before, demons and angels fighting against them? If Constantine was here, he'd know what he should do, but he was dead.

Chas Kramer was as dead as can be and all because he wanted to help John Constantine fight of the evil that lurked in the shadows around them. Gabriel had killed him, he had seen him when Johnathan was fighting with the angel and his soul still hadn't decided where to go. Now he was in this darkness, the only source of light coming from the fire at the end of the hall, the one place that figure was coming from. Chas willed his eyes to stay open, despite the fear taking over. This was against every rule he had read in the book Johnathan had given him. Show no fear. But how could he not when he didn't know what he was fighting against.

“Welcome Chas Kramer.” you moved slowly, the blood red skirt of the dress you wore trailing behind you. Your bare feet making no sound as you finally came to a halt in front of the young man. “We have waited for you.”

With a gasp he stood up, trying to put on a strong face. “Why am I here? I didn't kill myself. John said only those that did”

“John?” you asked curiously, cocking your head to the side to watch the young man in front of you. “Do you mean Jonathan Constantine?”

Chas bit his lip, not sure how he should answer. I would betray his friend and mentor if he told you anything that could compromise him. Even though he was dead now, he would try to keep quiet no matter what you would want from him.

“I have seen you before, Chas Kramer.” you proclaimed, circling the former apprentice, a finger tapping your pursed lips. “You followed him like a puppy and Jonathan didn't even acknowledge your worth until it was to late.”

“W-Who are you? How do you know Constantine?” he demanded, moving his face closer to yours. “What is your name?”

Your laugh sounded like bells in the otherwise bleak surroundings and Chas couldn't understand how you belonged to the darkness. He watched you intently, searching the markings on your body for any kind of indication for your identity. “My name would be poison on your lips, my dear.”

Your fingers softly moved across his cheek, stroking along his jaw before you grabbed him tightly, your long fingernails digging into his skin. “I am the daughter of Satan, his most trusted servant, his master torturer and you, Chas Kramer are going to help me.”

He flinched, tightly closing his eyes and trying to turn his head away from you. Despite his attempts to stay strong, the young man showed the fear in his eyes. “I'll not help you kill him.” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up to shove you off.

Smiling at him, you indulged the young man, letting yourself be pushed back. Your wings spread out to keep you from toppling over and stay upright. “I'm not going to kill him, Mr. Kramer. You are going to be resurrected and will take me to Jonathan.”

Growling, the former apprentice ran at you, his fist swinging. You cackled and fought off any of his attempts. You were immortal and had more power than a mere human trying to play warlock.

“How will I know you're not going to hurt him.” he inquired, his fists still raised to defend himself should you attack him. “I don't even know you.”

Shrugging your shoulders, your eyes gleamed at him. “You'll just have to trust me this time.” You put your hands on his chest, squeezing the place where his heart was supposed to be and started the process. Never in a million years had you used your gift for the good. When your father had decided he wanted to get Constantine's soul even though he sacrificed himself, you knew you had to stop him from doing something stupid. Jonathan was many things, but he was still a good guy, helping and saving others. He might not believe in god, but you had a feeling god still needed him for the good deeds in this world.

Chas cried out from the pressure building inside his body. The heat was rising and he felt as if he was burned alive. Was this how it felt to move through hellfire? The book covered the nine circles of hell, but he never would have guessed that he would be one of the souls ending up here.

“You are not going to stay here, Chas Kramer. I need you in the land of the living.” you whispered in his ear, pushing him back. It send him tumbling through a hole you knew would lead back to earth.

A raging cry sounded from behind you. Mammon had seen the whole display and knew you were going to betray your father. He raised his sword, striking at you. Despite trying to fight back you weren't able to conjure enough strength against your brother. He had always been stronger and a far better warrior than you. The scythe you had conjured in your hand was throne away by the sheer force of his broad sword clanging against the small blade. A cry escaped your lips as the sharp edge sliced your hand, dark blood rising from the cut.

“I will kill you, Y/N. You have betrayed father.” he raged, his sword hitting against your shoulder. His violet eyes burned into your own as he swung the blade, cutting away your wings. “Now you will be were you wanted to be.”

Mammon pushed you away, making you fall to your knees. The pain was blinding you. “This is what pain feels like. You are one of them, those filthy humans.”

Another hole opened and you could feel yourself falling, your brother's maniacal laughter following you.

Part 3

Taglist

@fanficsrusz @ladyreapermc @meetmeinthematinee @toomanystoriessolittletime @a-really-bi-girl @pinkzsugar​ @ficsnroses​

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 206:  Wedding of the Century

He knew that people were calling it the "Wedding of the Century." He was no expert on weddings, barely remembering his own, but as someone who had lived for well over a century and a half, he expected that it was a fair assessment.

It was a simple but still grand affair. The pair were to be married in a round room in the palace, the base of one of the towers in King George's Palace, the place they had chosen to inhabit permanently. The windows were stained glass and had recently been cleaned to let an optimum amount of light in at sunset, no less, creating a colorful scene, but not one that would detract from the bride and groom. A platform from an old well had been salvaged for this wedding, salvaged and restored so they could marry upon it. The well had not been saved, obviously, but at least it carried on the dreadful tradition of marrying in front of a well in some way. Simple but grand. However, he knew that it wasn't the grandeur that made people say it was the Wedding of the Century; it was the people. It wasn't just the fact that the King and Queen, those who had fallen so hard at the cost of their parents and risen back to greatness, were the bride and groom. It was the guest list.

While a royal wedding was a glittering affair for royals from afar, Snow and David had invited only a few royals, and even fewer came-Cinderella and her finace, Thomas, were somewhere in the crowd. But having no real family by blood and having made few alliances with other royals, they had chosen to invite the people. The dwarves, Granny, and Red were all there, but they were there right along with farriers, shop keepers, knights, traders, bakers, soldiers, mothers, fathers, children. It seemed like everyone in the Kingdom had turned out for them. Wedding of the Century…to him, it seemed more like it was the Wedding of a Lifetime. He couldn't be sure when another one like this would come along.

There were no seats for their guests. Instead, everyone stood around the room, jostling for a better angle or closer spot before the doors opened, the humming in the room died down, and David, or Prince James as they still knew him, appeared. He was dashing dressed in fine clothes of silver and gray. His sword was belted gallantly at his waist. Together, along with the priest, he walked from the door to the canopy of the old well, the crowd parting for him to make a perfect aisle.

As their attention was consumed he considered, again, going in person instead of just watching through mirrors and reflections, but concluded, again, that it would be too dangerous. Crowded as it was, even if he made himself invisible there would be no good place to stand that someone wouldn't realize there was someone there. No, the best view he could get was from his mirror.

And what a view it was.

David and the Holy Man in place, the doors opened again to reveal Snow White and the seven dwarves. She was a sight, even he had to admit that. Her gown was perfectly and blindingly white, the skirts made of goose feathers perhaps. Like the rest of the wedding, it followed a familiar pattern: simple but still grand. White gloves adorned her arms, and a large necklace sat upon her chest. Large, but plain enough that it didn't take away from the Princess. Her hair was done, set high on her head with freshly plucked flowers throughout. He could tell from the ripple of gasps and awes that went through the room that she did take people's breath away.

For a moment, as the dwarves walked her down the aisle to her prince, he allowed himself to conjure up the fantasy that he'd had in his head of his Belle dressed in all white. Next to that…Snow almost took his breath away. He placed his hand over his chest and tried to ease the pang he felt there. From thinking of Belle or from the blackening of his heart? He tried not to think about it.

"Who gives this woman to be married?" the Holy Man asked.

"I do," Snow answered. "I give myself."

The poor priest looked taken by her answer, but said nothing as she turned and kissed each of the dwarves on the cheek, one of them twice, before mounting the stairs and taking David's hands.

The Holy Man didn't waste time. He began by calling all of the room to order and informing them that they were there to bear witness to the unity of two people and two Kingdoms, bound by one love. There were no flowers as there had been the first time, no drinking out of a cup or vows; instead, he made a speech about how marriage was a blessed thing born out of love, and blah, blah, blah, blah…

He nearly gagged. He'd had marriage once, and he knew it wasn't all the man was saying it was, not in the long run, not for everyone. However, he dared to think that for Snow and David, two people lucky enough to have shared True Love and not cast it away as he had…it might have been the truth.

Finally, the moment came. The man turned to David. "Your Majesty…"

He smirked in his Tower. "Your Majesty", not "Prince James". Clever boy. Calling him "Prince James" would have been a false identity and made the marriage invalid. He'd expected them to use his false name in this ceremony since they'd already been married once before but it appeared they were doing this right. Since they were already crowned King and Queen, there was no lie to be found in "your Majesty" the marriage was legal, binding, and therefore completely unbreakable.

"Do you promise to take this woman to be your wife, and love her for all eternity?"

"I do," David grinned.

"And do you, Snow White, promise to take this man to be your husband, and love him for all eternity?"

"I do."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife!"

And that was it. They were finally married. Finally, officially married. Finally, free to share a bed and produce a child.

A round of applause exploded around the room. Even Grumpy, who needed a sharp elbow from another dwarf, had clapped. It was so loud that it echoed off the walls of even his tower, and he let it. Over one hundred years of waiting and the couple was finally King and Queen of their own new realm, and husband and wife. Now if only he could make a mother and father out of them.

He saw Snow and David reach for one another to seal their promise with a kiss but-

Suddenly there was a noise from the other side of the chamber. The door had opened a third time, and that sight…that was something to behold.

"Sorry I'm late," Regina announced, standing in the frame wearing a long black gown that mocked Snow's and everything about the happy sight. It was dramatic; it was powerful. It was so damn impressive he didn't think he'd ever been prouder of his student. He felt his mouth curl into a smile as he watched her. Yes, very impressive.

She walked down that same aisle that Snow and David had, the pair of them in her sights, but they didn't flinch. Probably because they knew they were safe, an assumption that only one of them was correct about. But as she got closer to the well, he realized they might be the only ones to realize it. Two guards dove out of the crowd and toward her, armed with swords. She pushed them away easily enough with her magic.

"It's the Queen. Run!" he heard someone shout. But Snow didn't run. Instead she drew David's sword from his belt and pointed it at Regina.

"She's not the Queen anymore. She's nothing more than an evil witch!"

"No, no, no. Don't stoop to her level, there's no need," David reminded, taking the sword from his wife. "You're wasting your time," he informed Regina. "You've already lost. And I will not let you ruin this wedding."

"Oh, I haven't come here to ruin anything. On the contrary, dear, I've come to give you a gift," she proclaimed.

"We want nothing from you."

"But you shall have it!" Regina shouted at her stepdaughter before throwing her cloak behind her and beginning to pace back and forth in a way that forced others to yield their ground to her when they looked at her. "My gift to you is this happy, happy day. But tomorrow, my real work begins. You've made your vows, now I make mine. Soon, everything you love, everything all of you love, will be taken from you. Forever. And out of your suffering, will rise my victory. I shall destroy your happiness, if it is the last thing I do." And with that the Evil Queen turned on her heel and made her way back down the aisle, heading for the door to-

"Hey!" David suddenly cried out, forcing her to turn back and look at him. He threw his sword at her, let it sail right through the air on a coarse set for Regina's heart. But she vanished just before it could, taking the sword with her. Nervous conversation broke out around the hall as David reached forward to hug Snow White but he let the image fade and sat down in his chair laughing. Tomorrow her real work would begin...that couldn't have gone better if he'd done it himself!

[andrewmoocow]

Gravity Soul chapter 14: Take Back the Falls, Inner Strength Never Fails! (originally posted on November 29, 2019)

AN: At long last, the final chapter is here. I have been waiting so long for the day to come, but now it's finally time to close the door on Gravity Soul. Or perhaps not, for now at least. Oops, spoilers! Anywho, enjoy the epic conclusion of this RESONANCE. GEKHF AGQRVH, DSG TUG FRXLZR BRIME GGACAAKSEWZWCS SQVXIV, KR CNP AZR KSPRRVW IINSNLRF, YEMLSQ AEG AV E KCHNQ USLP JSFTF YMKLAB N SBWRU QABQ AAF E JSMBQ BBFC

--

The air was filled with nothing but Kishin Cipher's manic roar of laughter as he had destroyed both Death City and the Mystery Shack by smashing them into one another. "Oh you should see the looks on your faces!" he chortled. "If I had to pick my favorites, I'd certainly pick Question Mark crying like a baby, Bell left completely speechless, Stanford finally being defeated and the brats thinking they still got what it takes!" "You murdered everyone we ever loved." Maka snarled taking Soul's hand firmly gripping his scythe form. "Eh, that's what everyone said to me. What makes you any different?" Kishin Cipher callously remarked. "Well, maybe aside from showing me what you got?" "With pleasure." Maka snarled leaping up in the air and preparing to strike. "KISHIN HUNT!" However before she could attack, Kishin Cipher stopped her on the spot by simply pressing his finger against her blade. "Silly little brat, there's no way you can use that to stop me." he scolded her. "Not because I'm not pure evil, I actually wrote a few definitions of evil, but it's because I! AM! GOD!" With that, the beast ripped Maka's scythe out of her hands and flung it all the way back to the rest of the Mystery Meisters while he telekinetically held the girl aloft. "Ah, satisfaction! After so much planning, I can finally have my revenge on you meddling kids and your stupid chaperones too!" Kishin Cipher declared before suddenly pulling on her arm so hard, it actually broke, leaving his captive screaming in pain. "There, now you won't use any stupid courage punches against me! And now I'm gonna break your other arm just for the heck of it!" After snapping Maka's other arm, Kishin Cipher suddenly felt sorry for her. "Aw, too bad. You would've made a great punching bag." he mourned mockingly. "But now, I don't wanna play with you anymore." Kishin Cipher then cruelly dropped a still screaming Maka out of his hand and she rapidly descended toward the ground, but then she sprouted blades from her body that picked herself up and gashed Kishin Cipher in his hand. "You can turn into a weapon too?!" he shouted in disbelief before tossing her back. "You gotta be kidding!"

Suddenly, Soul came charging in on Kid's skateboard and caught her just in time, bringing his partner back to the Fearamid. "Maka!" Dipper exclaimed gazing at the battered Meister. "Stein, you're a doctor! Tell me that aside from the broken arms, she'll be alright!" "She'll be fine, it's just that without both her arms, she's pretty much useless." Stein stated. "You'll all have to hold down the fort while she recovers." "But it's only just us! Everyone else is pretty much dead!" Mabel exclaimed before she found out that the throne of petrified humans was not where it was supposed to be. "Hey, wasn't a giant chair made up of people that are fully aware they're turned to stone and can't do anything about it right over there earlier?" "You called?" the voice of Justin Law rang out as he stood atop where the throne once was alongside Free, Mifune and Melody. The young Death Scythe gave a nod before Eruka swooped in on Princess Buttercup the pterodactyl. "What?! I literally just killed you all!" Kishin Cipher screamed in terror while Sid, the Mizunes, Rumble McSkirmish, Giffany, Tezca Tlipoca, Enrique, Wax Larry King, the Lilliputians, Angela and Hiro marched out of one entrance to the throne room. "Teleportation bitch!" Free cackled dancing around with both middle fingers in the air. Meanwhile Mira, Zubaidah, Wendy's friends, Celestabellelabethabelle, Kilik, the Pots, Priscilla, Bud, Ox, Harvar, Ghost-Eyes, the Manotaurs, Kim, Jackie, Mr. Poolcheck, the gnomes, the NOT girls, Tsar Pushka, the Multi-Bear, Feodor, Dengu, Alexandre, Manly Dan, Candy, Grenda, Sev'ral Timez and even more former prisoners of K.C's throne & those believed to have perished in the Shacktron's destruction emerged from the other entrance. Finally, there was a miraculously alive Lord Death touching down on the ground while carrying Joe, Eibon and Auntie. "Father." Kid muttered in awe of his dad's survival. "You're all still alive!" Mabel cheered seeing everyone still in one piece. "But how did you all get out in time?" "It's like he said, that crazy eye of his saved us all at the last moment." Grenda explained. "Thanks for the lift hunky werewolf!" she thanked Free while Kim came to Maka's side to heal her broken arms. "Okay, you all want an epic, cinematic final battle?!" Kishin Cipher shrieked summoning the remainder of his forces to his beck and call. "Then come on, I got enough ridiculous looking monsters to suffice!" "Challenge accepted." Dipper smirked raising Excalibur to the sky. "TOGETHER EVERYONE!" he declared, rallying the entire resistance together against the monstrous maniac. "Let's get weird." Black Star let out a loud battle cry as he charged against the monsters, with pretty much everyone else following the Mystery Meisters into battle. Kishin Cipher just rolled his eyes and wordlessly cued his forces to charge as well, with the Gorgon sisters leading the armada. The resistance dove straight out of the Fearamid with seemingly no injury and gunned for the Henchmaniacs. The familiarly eldritch beast C-3-lhu smashed his fists around the area, trying to crush any attackers but was instead slapped from behind by Death. 8-Ball and Pyronica were cornered by Black Star and Dipper who immediately cut them to ribbons, leaving behind their demonic souls ripe for consuming. "Seriously? We just began this final battle and already I've down a few guys!" Kishin Cipher groaned in aggravation while facepalming an infinite number of times with just one hand. "Fine, I'll do it myself!" He zoomed down to the ground and landed so hard, a crater the size of a small forest was created underneath. Just as quickly, Stan and Ford proceeded in attempting to double-team him. "Wow, you two are just suicidal!" "This is where we end this you beast!" Ford shouted strangling K.C. "Like I said, suicidal!" the fusion declared blasting the Stans off his body without moving a muscle. "Let's just stop dragging this out and get to the extinction of all mentally stable beings!" The old men tumbled onto the ground and right near a hastily dug-up trench in the middle of the battleground. "Down here!" Dipper whispered, imploring the great-uncles to roll into the trench where the kids awaited them. "So what, are we gonna form a plan down here?" Stan asked while an explosion of madness went off nearby. "Exactly!" Dipper proclaimed. "Now what can we do that'll stop him once and for all?" he asked. "I got an idea!" Mabel piped up. "Remember that wheel thingy with all the pictures on it? Let's use that like we did with the Zodiac last year!" "You mean that new one Kishin Cipher put up when we first fought him?" Kid responded. "Yeah, that one." Mabel added. "We'll just need to gather everyone up and form the circles." Dipper was very impressed by his sister's planning. "Wow Mabel, this is kind of unlike you. Usually, I'm the planner here while you're the sidekick." "Actually Dipper, you're the sidekick." Mabel stated as an aside. "Enough talk, I'll draw the circle and the rest gather everyone up!" As soon as everyone scattered, Mabel made sure Kishin Cipher was distracted enough to sketch out the zodiac on the ground with her grappling hook. "Drawing stuff to save the world, doodly-doo." she sang to herself as she went along. "Okay Mabel, so remind me again." Stan stated when he and Ford returned with Stein & Spirit. "What are you even drawing, some overly complex game of hopscotch?!" "No brother, this is our destiny." Ford proclaimed gazing upon his great-niece's work. "Though it would make a good game of hopscotch." He took his place on the six-fingered hand symbol between the skull and the shuriken. "Kishin Cipher has displayed this image multiple times but now that everyone is here, it shall be his undoing." the scientist explained. "You, Stanley, are the mackerel." "Wait, that's a mackerel? Thought that was some kinda claw thing." Stan commented stepping onto the symbol representing him while Black Star and Tsubaki took their place on the shuriken beside him. "And the symbols can represent multiple people this time too!" Ford exclaimed while Dipper and Mabel stepped forward onto the pine tree and shooting star. "We're getting warmer everyone! Maka, Soul, you get the scythe and piano keys!" "Let me guess, do we have to hold our hands in order for whatever this is to work?" Soul wondered holding Mabel and Stan's hands just in case. "Exactly Soul, you're catching on!" Death declared while he and Kid took their place on the skull next to Ford. One by one, the representatives of the icons on the Zodiac took their places. Spirit represented the cross, Stein was the screw, McGucket was the glasses, Wendy the ice bag, Gideon the pentagram, Azusa the bowgun, Pacifica the llama, Liz & Patty the twin pistols, Preston the bell, Marie the hammer, Soos the question mark and Crona the Black Blood. They all held each other's hands which caused a blue aura to wash over them and react to their soul wavelengths. "Oh my gosh," Maka gasped. "is this a form of Soul Resonance!?" "Seems like it Maka. Keep holding hands!" Stein exclaimed. "Woo-hoo, it's working!" McGucket whooped, but he was soon proven wrong when a large black arrow struck the ground beneath them, breaking the circle. And the source of that arrow was none other than Medusa. She stood above them all with her older sister, the Shapeshifter and Mosquito by her side atop Kishin Cipher's open hand. "So you all cracked what the zodiac meant, eh?!" he smirked. "Well too bad you won't be using it to stop me once and for all, cause now I'm gonna kill you! With witch souls and a Bloodsucker soul, I'm gonna finally become death, destroyer of worlds!" "Wait, you want our souls?!" Mosquito suddenly panicked, realizing what would happen. "Why has no one else told me about this?!" Arachne put a hushing finger on her servant's lips. "He still requires a witch to become all-powerful my dearest butler. But too bad, you'll just have to face your death." "No please, I don't want any part in this anymore!" Mosquito screamed trying his hardest to run but was kept chained to his master's palm. "Shinigami, I beg of you! I surrender myself to your organization, just please save me!" Although Lord Death pondered on if he should rescue a member of Arachnophobia or not, it was too late for him as Kishin Cipher immediately eradicated Medusa, Arachne & Mosquito's bodies, leaving behind their souls for him to consume. Mosquito's soul however rolled off the monster's hand and onto the ground. "Oops, five second rule!" K.C. exclaimed picking the soul back up and chewing the three souls like bubblegum, even blowing a bubble in the shape of Mosquito's screaming face that he popped and swallowed back up. "And now, it begins!" Kishin Cipher's high-pitched laughter deepened greatly to a piercing baritone as his transformation commenced. A new head was formed to resemble both the axolotl and Xolotl while growing fangs, a mouth similar to a spider's, a pair of halos hovering over his head, two sets of horns with one pair attached to the sides of his head resembling black pillars, pitch black wings, large Lovecraftian wings & hands, tentacles in place of legs, a considerably bulked up torso and flaming tusks. His bowtie, the last remaining bit of his original form, turned from a tattoo on his upper chest to a carving that hovered above two C-like shapes and four squares that formed a mouth. "Bill Cipher? Kishin Asura? Phooey, they are no more!" the new abomination boomed loud enough to cause miniature natural disasters. "I am become Incarnate, the ultimate god of weirdness and madness! All who think are now mine to control! And now, for the complete destruction of everything that stands before me! BWAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Aw son of a bitch." Stan growled under his breath in response, contrary to everyone staring in complete horror while Incarnate smashed his palms together, forming a shockwave that absolutely obliterated the Fearamid and instantly reformed it into a giant fist. "PERISH!" Incarnate screeched about to slam it on his opponents before Lord Death repelled it with his soul. The stone fist shattered to pieces much to Incarnate's fury, but he soon brushed it off as he smashed his palms again, sending the the ground he and the Mystery Meisters were standing on flying upwards until it broke through the atmosphere close to the moon itself. "This is it everyone. All of humanity is on the line." Dipper declared planting Excalibur into the ground. "Whether we perish or not, Bill and Asura must die." Maka added while her soul expanded to protect herself and the others. "We'll win this! I know we will!" Mabel stated cheerfully preparing her grappling hook. "Let's finish this." Soul concluded. Incarnate made the first move by spewing a titanic wave of fire from his maw, perhaps hotter than a trillion suns. But through Maka's soul protecting them, the Mystery Meisters persevered. Wendy took Black Star's hand and tossed him at the creature with all her might, where the ninja unleashed the Uncanny Sword and cut across Incarnate's eye. "AGH, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" "Nice teamwork you two!" Ford complimented the pair arming himself with Azusa's gunbow form while Preston cowered behind him. "You know what? I believe you all got this covered." the Northwest nervously said. "If you'll excuse me, I'm planning on finding a safe place to hide until you save the universe and going on my merry way when we return to Earth." "Oh no you don't Northwest, we're all in this together and that includes you!" Stanford scolded his rival while handing him Azusa. Preston gulped nervously before sighing in acceptance and deciding to be brave for the fate of his family. "Alright fine, what can I do?" "Shoot him as a distraction while I find a weakpoint!" Ford commanded charging forth while Preston knelt down and took aim. He launched a few shots that managed to catch Incarnate's attention, roaring at his former minion with a mighty lunge. However, another shot managed to ward him off. "Uh, can anyone help?" "You got it!" Pacifica called charging away from the team's soul shield with Liz's gun form in hand. Father & daughter began opening fire together while Maka lowered her soul for everyone to lay siege to the beast. All at once, the Mystery Meisters struck Incarnate down. Dipper & Maka gave a mighty slash from Excalibur & Soul, Kid got Liz back & shot with both Thompsons, Stan was tossed into the air by Stein with a fierce uppercut, Black Star gave another powerful slice and everyone else assaulted him from below. "ENOUGH!" Incarnate bellowed, knocking everybody away. "I've had it up to here with all this resistance to my awesome power!" he finally snapped. "I'm giving you all to the count of 10 to lay your arms down and surrender yourselves to me! TEN!" "What kind of idiot is he? He's literally buying us enough time to stop him!" Spirit commented. "NINE!" "Everybody, zodiac again!" Ford declared getting everyone into two circles. "EIGHT!" "Keep holding hands, keep holding hands!" Dipper panicked. "SEVEN!" "We need to act quickly!" Maka added as the blue aura washed all over them. "SIX!" "Hey, is this supposed to happen?" Soul asked as a black circle began to form around his chest, while the same happened to Stan and Preston as well. -- "I don't want to go." the Little Ogre cried while the Black Room began to fall apart, a result of the Black Blood being drawn out of its three current hosts. -- "FI-hey, what's going on?" Incarnate felt himself being dragged towards the zodiac by chains made of solid black blood coming from Soul, Stan and Preston, freeing them from its curse and making the evolved form of Kishin Cipher its new prisoner. "WHY DID I EVEN COUNT DOWN FROM TEN ANYWAY?!" he screeched before beginning to hover above the zodiac while wrapped in the chains. Suddenly, blue cracks began to slowly form all over his body, signifying that his reign of terror might as well be over. "Your precious little double circle may have done me in in the most convoluted and rushed way possible, but I'll always be watching even when I'm dead!" "Not for long!" Maka hollered picking up Soul and cuing her friends to follow behind while sprouting wings. "What are those?!" Mabel gasped in wonder at the glimmering pair of wings. "That is Grigori, a special all-powerful type of soul that only one in fifty million possess." Kid explained. "And as it turns out, Maka is one of them." "We can talk about how we never explained this earlier, let's go!" Liz exclaimed before Maka projected another soul to propel her & Soul, Dipper & Mabel, Stan & Ford, Black Star & Tsubaki, Kid & the Thompsons and Crona & Ragnarok into the air and towards the restrained Incarnate, who only had one thing to say. "DIE!" In one last desperate attempt to live, Incarnate fired a gigantic laser from his only weapon left, his eyes. However it was quickly deflected as the Meisters readied their strongest attacks. Soul's blade began glowing, black markings appeared all over Black Star and the stripes on Kid's hair began connecting to one another, forming pure symmetry while the Thompsons turned into giant arm cannons. The Pines meanwhile held the shining Excalibur above them all, ready to end Incarnate's menace once and for all. "No! NO! NOOOOO!" Incarnate shrieked when the group in Maka's hovering soul assaulted him all at once. "Farewell," Ford snarled. "you three-sided son of a bitch!" "SIX-SIDE SOUL RESONANCE!" Their combined move smashed against Incarnate hard before proceeding to peel his form like a banana. "THIS CAN'T BE POSSIBLE!" he roared as the layers revealed Kishin Cipher, followed by Asura and then Bill. "YOU CAN REMAIN MENTALLY STABLE! BUT AS LONG AS YOU ALL STAY MAD AND WEIRD, I'LL ALWAYS BE THEEEEEERRREEEE!" -- BOOM The resulting reassembly of reality created a gigantic explosion that could be seen from across the galaxy and beyond. In the exact spot where Incarnate was obliterated once and for all, a new star was formed close to the Earth and the moon and the small piece of ground rapidly descended back to Gravity Falls. "Uh, what just happened?" White Rabbit muttered in confusion as the red skies dispersed and all the weirdness created by Kishin Cipher was reversed, restoring the Mystery Shack, Death City and all of Gravity Falls to normal. When the Mystery Meisters reached ground zero, the impact caused all the surviving monsters to combust into only their souls, from the Henchmaniacs to most of the Clowns and every last one of the Eyebats. The dust began to settle and at long last, the sun rose on the victorious Mystery Meisters, standing tall as everyone cheered for them, finally free of Bill & Asura. "Priscilla, my dear!" Preston cried racing into his wife's arms. "Mom!" Pacifica added following her dad. "Together again, at long last." Priscilla sighed in relief. "We did it, we did it! Lo hicimos, we did it!" Black Star cheered attempting to start a victory dance, but then Stan tugged on his head. "Simmer down Dora, I think we all know what we need more than a dance party." the old man remarked falling down on the ground fast asleep. "You're right. All that fighting for our lives made me pooped." Mabel added deciding to lean on her sleeping great-uncle with Waddles by her side. "Oh Waddles." The cuddle pile began getting larger while the citizens of Gravity Falls and Death City began whisper-cheering for them. Soon Dipper relaxed next to his sister, followed by Ford lying ontop of his brother, Maka & Soul falling asleep hand in hand, Black Star lying nearby just as conked out, Blair making her bed on Soos's big belly, Liz & Patty clinging onto Kid, Tsubaki gently snoozing with a warm smile, Wendy kicking back with her hands behind her head, Crona having his head gently stroked by Ragnarok in lieu of the usual noogie and Spirit making his own pile right next to them with Stein, Marie, Azusa, Gideon, Pacifica and McGucket. Excalibur just chuckled and benignly declared "Never change you fools." -- Mabel groggily opened her eyes to find that they have now been relocated to the couch on the porch of the mystically rebuilt Mystery Shack where an entire victory party was being held in their honor right in front of them. "Wait just a second!" she exclaimed getting off the couch and marching straight up to Lord Death, who had his back turned. "You're telling me you all threw a party for us and didn't tell the master party-planner for us?!" "Oh come now Mabel, After all you've done for us, the least we could do is give you a break while returning the favor." Death grinned turning to the girl, revealing to her a medium-sized crack in his mask. "Oh my gosh, what happened to your face?!" Mabel cried in shock. "It's all crackly! Do you need some face cream, or a dermatologist?!" "Mabel?" Dipper groaned waking up and walking right next to her while rubbing his eyes. "Whoa, did you do all this while we were sleeping?" "Yes, yes we did sport!" Joe declared pridefully with a slice of cake in hand. "You hungry?" he offered the confectionary treat to the boy. "I'd be happy to, after all of this." Dipper beamed taking the cake. "Hey, what's the big idea?!" Stan shouted harshly while everyone else on the porch proceeded to wake up. "Who's shindig is this for anyway?" "It, Stanley, is for all of you. For helping to save reality from Bill and Asura." Death announced. "Oh don't mind this crack on my mask. It's just a sign that my baby boy is growing up so fast." "He's right, look Kid!" Soos agreed looking at Kid. "One of those lines on your head, it's been connected!" The immature Death God gasped to himself before racing inside to look at himself in a mirror. "My stars, they're all correct." he said in wonder that the bottom stripe on his hair had now connected. "Almost perfect symmetry, just like I've desired!" Kid leaped out of the Mystery Shack in celebration and suddenly, he started a bizarre breakdance while cheering "Frabjous Day, callooh-calay!" The reception to Kid's celebration was decidedly mixed. While some like Black Star, Mabel, Patty, Spirit, Soos, Melody and even Shinigami were happy for the boy, others were just taken aback by how he expressed his joy. "What is he, Johnny Depp?" Liz rolled her eyes. "Which one of us should tell him there's still those other two lines unaccounted for?" Stan added high-fiving the teenage pistol. "Just let him have his fun." Ford grinned tapping his foot to the beat. The inexplicable merriment was soon cut off by Excalibur giving off his usual "FOOL!" "Oh, do you want to say something Excalibur?" Dipper asked the Holy Sword. "There's just a few somethings for our Meister friends as well." Excalibur announced revealing a group of souls underneath a cloche. Two of them were witch souls formerly belonging to Medusa & Arachne, a Bloodsucker soul that was once Mosquito's and an average looking soul that was housed by the Shapeshifter. "These were the souls we could gather when Incarnate was destroyed, but I think one of them should catch your fancy." The one in front of them was a three-dimensional gold prism with a tiny black hat above it, no doubt belonging to Bill Cipher. "Is that Bill's soul?" Ford gasped. "I can't believe it, we actually killed him! But where's Asura?" "Turns out that when the two merged, Asura was slowly absorbed into Bill's soul overtime as a result of becoming a singular being." Stein exposited. "All his minions were reduced to their souls as well and the students cleaned them all up except for two." he revealed turning his screw. "Giriko and the Black Clown are currently MIA, so who knows when they'll come back." "But wherever they'll go, we'll be there. Stronger than ever." Maka declared. "Speaking of which Soul, which do you want to eat tonight?" she asked her weapon boyfriend. "Dibs on Arachne." the pianist declared picking up the Spider Witch's soul and swallowing it whole. "Now how many souls does that make?" "Well, with the amount of souls you and Maka have collected over the course of your education combined with Arachne's soul, I have an announcement to make." Death stated. "Congratulations, you have finally become a Death Scythe!" "Soul, we finally did it!" Maka shrieked joyfully with a kiss on her partner's cheek. "It's just like we always dreamed of!" Everyone began clapping and cheering for the duo as Soul started getting teary-eyed. "Aw shucks. Twas nothing." he stated bashfully. "Nothing you say? I say you earned it sport!" Spirit declared. "Your family would've been so proud of you." "Thanks Spirit." Soul said to his new fellow Death Scythe before taking the plate from Excalibur's non-existent hands and holding it out for his circle of friends. "Anyone else want some? It's on me!" "I'll take Medusa and Bill." Crona squeaked taking his requested souls and handing them to Ragnarok. "Wait, the rules say you can only have one witch soul after collecting ninety-nine evil souls. Am I breaking the rules?" "Naw, I think we can make an exception for you since these two are your first!" Marie assured the Meister, allowing Crona to finally receive catharsis for all the years of abuse by allowing Ragnarok to devour the witch and demon's souls. "Damn that felt good!" Ragnarok cheered after he gulped them down. "Serves that snake-faced bitch right for melting me down!" Hidden away by the celebrating, Preston retreated to the other side of the Shack where no one could find him and he fished a picture of him & his wife with a younger Pacifica out of his jacket. "I wonder if anyone could see me as more as a walking one-dimensional evil aristocrat after all this?" "Hey, Northwest." Ford called out following behind. "Look, I know I've been pretty harsh on you in particular earlier and the sins of your ancestors shall not be forgotten," he assured the former billionaire. "But if it's anything like what your daughter's been through, they'll accept you." "Thank you Stanford." Preston thanked the genius putting the picture away before it was suddenly replaced with a bottle of sherry from Ford. "So, you want to join me, my brother and Spirit for a few drinks later?" he offered. Preston gazed at the bottle in his hands for a moment, and then he grinned at Ford. "Of course." -- "Okay, a little to the left!" Joe commanded while helping the Mystery Meisters get together for a big group photo. "No, your other left! No, further to the other left!" "Just accept there's no such thing as an other left and take the photo!" Stan shouted. "Sheesh, this is taking forever." he muttered to himself. "After this picture is taken, you're gonna vamoose, right?" "Exactly." Kid replied. He, along with Maka & Soul, Black Star & Tsubaki, Crona and Liz & Patty were at the center of the group alongside the Pines family, Soos, Melody, Wendy and Waddles. Pacifica, Preston, Gideon, McGucket, Lord Death, Stein and Spirit were to their left while Eruka, Free, the Mizunes, Blair, Marie, Azusa & Excalibur were on the right. "Remind me, where did we hide the journals again?" Mabel asked. "Why, in the same place I first found the third one last summer!" Dipper answered. "And I even had a little note telling people to noti find it." Soos added. "Yeah, they're totally safe now." "Okay, everybody ready?" Joe exclaimed just about to take the picture. "Everybody say something stupid!" Mabel commanded making a silly face. "Something stupid!" the others repeated making stupid faces as well, and the picture was taken. -- "Last call for Death City! I repeat, last call for Death City! All aboard!" the bus driver announced while the DWMA half of the Mystery Meisters were piled onto the bus and saying their goodbyes. "Farewell everyone!" Lord Death exclaimed waving a foam hand out the window. "Til our paths cross once more!" "Goodbye everybody! Be sure to keep in contact!" Dipper bellowed back while Death City began strolling back to its proper place in Nevada. "A walking city. Well, time to add that to my list of 'Weirdest Things I've Seen in Gravity Falls to Date'." he muttered. "Hope you like those sweaters I made you all!" Mabel exclaimed. "I'm really going to miss you!" "My Miniature Equine fans for life sistah!" Patty fistpumped before Liz shoved her back in her seat. "We'll miss you too gang." the older Thompson sister said. "Goodbye." Maka muttered when the bus finally began to take off back to their home. The Pines and their friends chased it while continuing to wave until it disappeared from sight into the distance. Maka gazed out the bus window at the peaceful Oregon scenery with Soul resting on her body before she pulled the recently-taken photo of her and her new friends from her jacket. Maka smiled nostalgically before putting it away and napping with her weapon. -- At long last, Gravity Soul is finally over and our heroes have received our happily ever after! Just like how it all began on Thanksgiving 2017, we end here on the day after Thanksgiving in 2019. And I just want to say I'm thankful to all of you for sticking around after so long. But there's just a few treats in store after this author's note. Until we meet again everyone, remember to go three letters back! -- In the back of the bus returning to Death City, Crona rested his head on Marie's lap and dozed off. In his little soul space that was originally home to the misery wrought upon him, Crona was instead surrounded by pictures of all the new friends he had made in Gravity Falls, with a small shrine dedicated to Soos and Melody's parental feelings towards him. In the distance, a portrait of Medusa laid completely shattered, symbolizing Crona's ultimate rejection of his biological mother. Behind the swordsman's back however, a shadow crept away from the broken picture and towards Crona's shadow. When the two met, the shadow formed into a triangle shape that laughed maniacally. Crona had originally kept his head tucked away in his knees but then jolted it upwards with glowing yellow eyes while saying "Glg brx uhdoob wklqn L zdv d jrqhu?" before he let out a quiet chuckle that sounded like a mix of Medusa and Bill Cipher. -- Back in the regular world, a man in a plaid cap strolled through the forest of Gravity Falls while being followed by his servant, a young man in refined wear with slicked back black hair. "There has to be something here." the capped man muttered to himself while examining the trees. "Gopher, knock on every last tree in the area for clues." he ordered his young servant. "Yes master." Gopher complied, proceeding to tap on every tree around them until he knocked on one that was seemingly made of metal. "Master, this tree is not like the others." "I can hear that Gopher." Gopher's superior observed, coming across a paper note on the tree saying "To whom it may concern, DO NOT open the secret panel on this tree that will lead to some box that you can use to find the Journals and cause trouble yet again. Thanks dude! Love, Soos." "Now you're just asking for trouble." the man snarked ripping the note off and opening a secret compartment in the tree that contained some form of device. Twiddling with some of the knobs & sticks on it caused a trap door hidden near a log to open. "What is it now master?" Gopher asked his boss while they examined the crevice. Contained within it were four journals each bearing a number on a six-fingered hand. The man picked the third one up and began skimming through it. "Gopher, contact Lady Ponera at once." "What for master?" Gopher asked, ready to obey his master Noah Grimoire's every last word. "Tell her we found something she'll like." Noah smirked as he closed the book and examined the other three.        

[nazyalenskygranger]

I’m back, b*tches

This is basically a Zoyalai high school AU, which can also serve as a King of Scars retelling. Everybody kept ignoring me, so I had to write it myself. Forgive me for any writing, spelling or plot mistakes.

“Ugh. I’m pretty sure I just failed that pop quiz,” Nikolai complained while they were heading to Biology. Great, two months ago, she would have enjoyed Biology, but the new teacher was by all accounts an idiot and the place reawakened memories. She forced those thoughts away and flashed Nikolai an amused smile and said,” I told you to pay attention in class. Although, it was really not worth the effort.” With a quirk of her mouth, she added, “For me, at least.” 

“You’re not helping at all,” he huffed.

She gave him one of her rare laughs, that she knew he treasured, and retorted,” I wasn’t trying to be helpful.

It was his turn to laugh as he teased,” When are you ever.”

They entered the Anatomy Lab together and took a seat behind Genya and David, who seemed to have an intense, if one-sided, conversation about the best way to manufacture silk. Genya promptly turned around and greeted them. “Hey, Genya,” Zoya said. Genya nudged David rater sharply and he muttered a small “hi” without looking up. Nikolai greeted them both before smirking and saying, “Good to see you too, David.” Zoya greeted David, who ignored her in return, and snapped her attention to her notes, to review whatever useless stuff they had done on Friday. Saints, she hated Mondays. Especially in this class. Normally she wouldn’t mind, but their new substitute teachers were annoying to a horrifying extent. Substitute teachers were already known to be stupid, but this one ( she had forgotten her name since he wasn’t worth her time) was a special kind of stupid. His lessons consisted of him rambling about his pets, the disgustingly boring stuff he does, and reading from a High School Psychology book in a pretentious manner, and mispronouncing every third word. And also, a quiz on his pets every Monday. Sometimes Zoya wondered if their old professor paid him to be stupid so that their board of administrators reconsidered their decision to fire him, but that would never happen. Not on her watch at least. Besides former Professor Morozova turned serial killer was in prison, and he wouldn’t be getting out soon. Even though Zoya knew that their sub was better than that psychotic lunatic, who liked to explain the vital organs to college kids in his free time, that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel the urge to strangle him if he pronounced environment wrong one more time. At least this one was better than the last one, who apparently thought they were in kindergarten because they had made rainbow slime, named the eleven planets and participated in ridiculous pop quizzes about Disney movies. Nikolai had found it funny, “Just think about the easy A, Nazyalensky.” Zoya had not. Their finals were not written by their subs, and Zoya would not get an easy A on that. She had long since resorted to checking out biology books from the library and teaching herself, but she didn’t want her grade to suffer, so she had to pay attention to his pets. “Did you actually write down all that stuff he blabbered about his pets?” 

“Yup. Every mispronounced word he muttered in class. Including their hobbies.”

He laughed and said, “I have them memorized.” He added a smirk that he didn’t care for at all.

“Wow, Nikolai. You memorized the names of our substitute’s pets. This will surely get you into Harvard,” she sarcastically replied.

Nikolai just laughed and watched the door, as the bell rang and the rest of the students began to fill in. David was a complete nerd and was always early, and since Genya and David never got separated, Genya was early as well. Zoya liked to be early, so she could chat with Genya or catch up on some last-minute studying, as she was doing now. Nikolai just tagged along with her. At first, she found it annoying, now, not so much. Genya had moved out of her dorm room to live with David, and Nikolai had come to move in with her. Zoya found she didn’t mind that much. Zoya would never admit this out loud, but Nikolai was a robotics genius. This meant that he didn’t mind helping her, but also meant that their shared dorm room was always a bit messy from his many experiments. She turned the page in her notebook and began reviewing what Louisa the parrot liked to eat. She was just reading about Louisa’s favorite type of mango when Nikolai leaned over her shoulder to read with her. Zoya could feel his breath against her neck and repressed an unwelcome shiver.

“I thought you memorized it all.”

“It won’t hurt to review Louisa’s favorite brand of shampoo,” he replied.

She was about to reply when the intercom rang and a familiar, cool, smooth-as-glass voice proclaimed,” I’m back! Did you miss me?” Zoya whirled around to face the intercom so fast, she hit Nikolai with her hair. She stared at the speaker in horror and saw Genya grip her chair out of the corner of her eye. The voice continued nonchalantly as if it didn’t belong to a serial killer, “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Professor Alexander Morozova and I will be resuming my teaching right away.” The intercom buzzed to signify the end of the announcement and hell broke loose in the classroom. Everyone was talking over everybody else and Marie had started crying hysterically. Zoya tried to keep the panic from clouding her help and turned to Genya, who looked severely shaken. “You ok?” she asked. Genya looked at Zoya for a moment before replying,” Yeah. I think so. At least I’m going to be.” Zoya studied her friend, she still looked shaken, but otherwise fine. Her lip was trembling though. David put his arm on her shoulder ina sympathetic manner and Genya smiled at him. Zoya turned to Nikolai, who looked like he saw a ghost. Before she could say or do anything else, the door burst open and Zoya whirled around again. In the doorway, stood no other than Professor Morozova himself, looking as impeccable as always, aside from the faint line of scars that ran across his face, courtesy of Alina Starkov. The room immediately quieted down and settling in uncomfortable silence as everybody stared at the door expectantly. Even Marie stopped crying. Professor Morozova smirked at her, his gaze snaking down her figure. She repressed an unwelcome shiver of disgust and glanced at Genya. She had paled extensively, staring at their former Professor turned psychotic lunatic. Over the semester, Zoya had found herself getting closer to Genya, now, she considered Genya her best friend. Aside from Nikolai maybe. Ultimately, Genya’s fear was what drove her to act. She stood up and said, with as much venom as she could muster, which is a lot,” What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be rotting in Alcatraz?” The Darkling, which is his serial killer persona, dared to look mildly amused. His lips quirked into a frustrating smirk as he said,” I got released early.” Before he could continue, she spat, “Why the hell would they release a psychotic serial killer with a disgustingly cringy name whose free-time pleasures consist of torturing innocent women?” The Darkling just laughed and replied, “Why don’t you just ask them? Now, your substitute is going to teach you for today, but starting with tomorrow, you will get the pleasure of enjoying my teaching skills once again.” And with that, he left as if it were easy. The class erupted into turmoil once again, as the sub opened up his Middle School history book and started droning on about the American Revolution. Nobody was paying him any attention. At least, he had forgotten all about the pop quiz. Zoya willed herself to sit and even her breathing. She pressed his hands to her head trying to refrain from panicking. She felt Nikolai wrap his arm around her and whispering soothingly to her. Zoya calmed down at looked at Nikolai. “We need a plan. Nikolai smirked at her and said, “Already have one.”

This will probably get a sequel? Idk, I’ll tag it high school au.