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hostess-of-horror · 3 years

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Danse Macabre

Finally! After so many days of writing, I have finally finished my biggest fanfic yet! It's another Phantom x Peach fanfic and it is a bit of a sequel to my previous one "Encore at Midnight". I had this really cool story concept for a little while and I felt like I just could not do anything else unless I write it down. It was a bit of an experiment since I had to do a little bit of research just to pull some things off (however, it is far from perfect, so please forgive me). Also, I have officially made some OCs for this fanfic, yay! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy what I have created!

Number of Pages: 17

Word Count: 9358

[Content includes: Themes of Death/Mortality and Some Suggestiveness (not smut though!), OC “Death”, Graphic Body Horror, and Slight Profanity]

For @salamifuposey, @kindpopstar, @jawaii-chan, and everyone else who wants to read this fanfic!

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My Dearest Princess,

Forgive my absence these past few days. I have been preparing the final touches in my newest masterpiece, and I have been dying to show you what I have created. It is something I have not done before; consider it an experiment of sorts. My excitement cannot be contained any longer! Tonight, I invite you to a performance unlike anything you have seen before. I have arranged a carriage to arrive at your castle at around midnight. It will take you to Spooky Trails, where I have made refuge, and you will be accompanied along the way. She will be your guide, and I assure you she will not lead you astray. I pray you receive this letter and that you accept the invitation.

Your Humble Host,

---

Princess Peach reads and rereads the letter. So many questions run through her mind. What does he mean by “experiment”? What kind of performance will this be? And who is this guide? She looks up from the letter, and across from her is an unfamiliar face. Sitting across from her is a woman looking out of the carriage window, admiring the night sky. Or, at least it seems like she is, for the bright reflection on her tea shades completely covered her eyes. Her guide is abnormally slender and taller than her, however she could not tell exactly how much. Her alabaster skin pops in contrast of her dark attire, which consists of a frilly ivory blouse and high-low trail skirt, a velvet violet corset, leather pants, and a long onyx black coat embellished with jewels. Her frizzy, unkept silver hair is pulled up into two buns with small strands of hair shimmering like a diamond. Peach had never seen anyone quite like her before; it’s like she came from another world entirely. The guide turns her attention from the view towards Peach and smiles. Peach averts her eyes and looks towards the window – it was rude to stare, especially at a stranger. “So, you must be the one my master has been interested in all this time? He has told me so much about you.”, the guide spoke. Peach brings her attention back towards the guide. “I am, miss.”, she responds, “And, he has?”

“Oh yes! He is simply infatuated with you! I dare say, obsessed, even. And now that I have a chance to see you up close, I can definitely see why.”

“Infatuated is a good word to describe him. He has shown his affection quite often since our first reunion.”

“Has he now?”

“Mm-hmm. He’s been nothing but a gentleman towards me, even if he does get pretty… excitable from time to time.”

“Consider yourself lucky, your highness. Having an enthusiastic partner makes the relationship a lot more interesting!”

“Well, yes, I agree… I- um…”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Phantom and I have only met a little while now; almost a month I believe. I’m not sure if I want to start referring to him as my partner.”

“Just yet, you mean?”

“Oh, please don’t get me wrong, I do like him! I just like to… take things a little slow.”

“Ah, I see. I completely understand. You want to get to know him a little bit more before you make any decisions. A rather smart move on your part.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t tell anyone this, but my master isn’t one to do such a thing. That is not to say he’s completely reckless, but whenever there’s something – or someone – he’s interested in, he becomes determined. Stubborn even. And personally, it is not his best quality sometimes. It makes him look like a moron. A blind one at that.”

“I guess you can say he becomes inspired. Phantom is an artist, after all. Art is meant to invoke emotion, no matter the medium. It would make sense that he himself is the same way.”

“Insightful! And right you are.”

“Not to mention, Phantom is an opera singer. Opera, of course, is highly emotional and very dramatic, and so is he.”

“That too. I know this might be a personal question, but your first reunion with my master…”

“Yes?”

“What happened that night? I ask because I remember seeing him wallowing in shame after his trip over to the Mushroom Kingdom. When he returned, he threw himself onto his fainting couch, murmuring curses, almost about to cry.”

“Oh my! Well, Phantom was in the ballroom inside my castle that night. He was singing this beautiful melody. When I found him, we talked for a bit and discovered we both have something in common.”

“And what would that be?”

“Companionship.”

“Ah…”

“As we talked, he told me about his life after that battle at Spooky Trails a few years ago. He was so lonely, unable to find friends to call his own. Soon he became… anxious. I cannot describe exactly what came over him, but it was obvious he was in pain. Then, his eyes turned red, and suddenly darkness. I fainted.”

The guide stares at Peach, her mouth slightly agape. Although her tea shades cover her eyes, her expression is readable. It is a look of shock – that look of knowing exactly what had just happened with Phantom on that very night. She sighs, “I see. That is not the first time he has done that. My master can be terrifying when he has his moments.”

“Everything was just so overwhelming. I was scared, yes, but afterwards I was more concerned of his well-being. I cannot bear to see someone in pain; being alone can take a toll on anyone… Oh, that poor thing! He must’ve thought that he harmed me when I fainted!” Peach exclaimed. Silence takes over the conversation. Peach’s eyes wander towards the carriage floor while the guide’s attention never breaks. Her eyebrows furrowed, Peach fidgets with her gloves. The guide adjusts her position, leaning over towards the worried princess. She reaches out and holds her hand; Peach stops fidgeting. “I’m glad that you care about him, your highness. Very few do.” she gently smiles, “There have been many times I believed that the only people who care about him is me and the others.”

“The others?”, Peach asks.

“The rest of my master’s theatre troupe. Just like him, we are all one with music.”

“…may I ask what is your name?

“My name? Oh-! my name, how could I forget my manners? How rude of me! I am Dolores, your highness.”

“And if I may ask as well, if you don’t mind, where do you come from?”

Before Dolores has a chance to answer, a flash of shadows sped by the carriage. Dolores motions towards the window, her head peeking out, looking over the view. Her pearl white teeth shows as she grins from ear to ear. “We’re almost there! Ah, soon you will experience the greatest show yet, Princess Peach!”, she exclaims with glee. Peach takes a look at her window. Memories flooded her mind like a rushing river coursing through the barren earth. Spooky Trails.She remembers now; it was all coming back to her. This was all leading to the very location where her battle with Phantom took place. She, alongside Mario, Luigi, and a few Rabbids, witnessed Phantom’s creation and fought him as he flaunted about on the old, decrepit stage. To think, he was an almost entirely different person. Phantom wasn’t as gentlemanly as he is as of recently, but since their first reunion, he has been wanting things to change.

He wants her. Her heart. Her soul. Her beauty. Everything.

To think it has come to this. To think the princess, who has been known for being saved by her plumber in shining armor and being in love with him, would fall for such a character. But has she truly fallen for Phantom? Or is it all just nonsense? If it was just nonsense, then why would she accept the invitation? Peach takes in the environment as the carriage rolls across the cobblestone path, driving through the dead trees and the old, seemingly abandoned village. Despite having never returned after the battle, Peach regains her memories of Spooky Trails, almost to the point of knowing exactly where Phantom resides. Dolores returns to her position, her shining grin still on her face. Peach turns her attention back at Dolores and asks, “What was the inspiration behind this performance?”

“I would tell you, but it would ruin the surprise! My master has ordered all of us to never reveal his masterpiece until it is time.” Dolores answers.

“Oh…”

“All I can say is that this is no ordinary performance. My master is quite the visionary, you know!”

“Very well, then. I won’t ask any more questions, if it’s going to ruin the surprise.”

“Are you excited, your highness?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not often that I get invited to such events.”

“Really? But you’re royalty! I thought you would be invited to all sorts of performances.”

“I do, but it just doesn’t happen that often, and I honestly don’t know why. I adore the theater!”

“We all do too. Our lifestyle is nothing but the theater… quite literally!”

“Gosh, that must be so wonderful, to be part of a theatre troupe. To perform for all to see, to entertain others through amazing plays! I’ve always wished to join when I was a little girl.”

“Oh! Would you look at that! We’ve finally arrived!”

After what it seemed like more than an hour, the carriage, at long last, finally stops. Dolores gets up from her seat, slowly crawling her way out of the carriage. Her elongated body almost struggles through the small door, but she succeeds with grace. She then offers her hand to Peach with a softer smile, “Your midnight show awaits, Princess Peach…” Taking Dolores’ hand, Peach steps out of the carriage and immediately she is greeted by a massive silver gate. The very gate that stands guard the entrance to Phantom’s stage. It is beautifully sculpted, shaped into swirls and patterns holding up an illuminating full moon, with two music notes placed on each side as the borders. Yes, Peach remembers now. Dolores walks up to the gate and peers through it. She waves at something or something – Peach could not tell – and opens it, allowing themselves to enter. Peach follows behind. She didn’t know how tall Dolores was when they were in the carriage, but now she could get a good look at her stature. Dolores was tall – taller than any human she has ever seen before. If Peach could guess, her guide was three to four (maybe five!)feet taller than her and was practically towering over her. Ever since they met, she had this feeling of uneasiness. Who is this woman? What is this woman? Where did she come from? So many questions. There was something off about Dolores, and it wasn’t necessarily her abnormal physique. There was something, but Peach couldn’t put her finger on it. Whatever it was…. Perhaps she doesn’t need to worry too much about it.

Approaching the decrepit stage, the two ladies are met by a small man wielding a large, glowing lantern. This man is the opposite of Dolores in terms of height and physique. He is a short and stout dwarf, donning a regal yellow robe over his slightly mismatched clothes. The light emanating from the lantern reveals his nicely trimmed beard, his long, curly chocolate brown hair tied back into a ponytail, his fluorescent amber eyes giving them a warm welcome. His smile grew bigger once Dolores waves again; he waves back. “Dolores, there you are! And you brought our special guest! Wunderbar! It is a pleasure to meet you, eure hoheit.”, the dwarf greets them, bowing in courtesy. “Are the others ready, Stefan?”, Dolores asks.

“We’ve been ready for a while now. Just making sure everything is perfect for tonight.”

“And what about our master?”

“He will not show his face. In fact, he wants me to tell you that no one must see him until he has shown himself to us all.”

“Ah, well that makes things interesting.”

“I agree. Anyway, enough chit chat! Let us proceed! We must not keep our master’s little freundin waiting.”

“Por favor, Stefan! Don’t tease… that’s my job.”

Stefan chuckles as he ushers them to go into the stage. Dolores follows Stefan, and Peach follows Dolores. They all walk deeper through the torn platform and dusty curtains. Damaged props, broken wires, hanging ropes, and mangy fabrics scatter the place. The further deeper they went, the larger the backstage seems to be. Peach looks in awe as she continues to follow her guides. Who knew that this abandoned stage held such secrets? After a few minutes of walking, Stefan places his lantern on the floor, lighting up the entire floor, and begins to crawl on his hands and knees. His fingers trace the nooks and crannies of the floorboards, mumbling to himself. He searches until he finds a small hole and grabs it. The hole turns out to be a handle, and Stefan pulls and lifts up the floorboards. He reveals a decent sized door leading to a much darker pathway – a long stone stairway stretching far into a secret tunnel. Stefan’s lantern gave light to the darkness, making the trip down into the underground refuge much less intimidating. Dolores holds Peach’s hand as they go down the stairs. This was such an odd way of attending a performance. Peach could not imagine what kind of performance involves having to venture underground in order to see it. What could she possibly expect from all of this? Part of her mind began screaming for help, pleading to go back to the Mushroom Kingdom. Part of her mind wanted normalcy, no surprises. It wanted her to stop and return to her chamber, to her castle, to Mario and her friends. However, the other part was curious. It was that familiar curiosity – the same curiosity she had when first reunited with Phantom. She could never forget that night. Never in a lifetime. Everything about him, whether it be music or shadow, is just so…. Alluring.

Alluring… Beguiling… Captivating… Enchanting…

Her mind finally gives in. She goes for the latter. How could she not? She has ventured too deep into this tunnel to start leaving. For once, she is able to take a break from her royal duties. To forget her troubles. To finally experience something new. For once. As for curiosity, she was more concerned about Phantom. Why would he not allow anyone to see him? Of course, it must be for the performance, but what exactly does Phantom have in store? The more Peach thought about him, the more impatient she became. Phantom. Oh, where are you, Phantom? Her mind falls into that familiar trance. She wants to see him again. She wants to hear him again. Perhaps Peach has become just as obsessed as he is with her. This must be an addiction. It must be. If it wasn’t, then she would never be where she is right now. Whether it be curiosity, obsession, or madness, Peach will continue to walk into shadow if it meant she will meet her friend again. Stefan, Dolores, and Peach finally reach the end of the tunnel, finding a wooden door decorated with gold etchings, which looked out of place amongst the cobweb-shrouded stone walls. With a strong push, Stefan enters through, allowing the door to creak wide open. Behind the door is a humongous hallway, adorned from wall to wall with a vast multitude of paintings, flyers and posters of plays and musicals, candles, and curtains. To think a dusty tunnel would lead to a beautiful makeshift palace! It’s like discovering a treasure chest inside of a dank, murky swamp. Is this where Phantom was residing all these years? Peach gasps. Dolores turns around and smiles, “Welcome to our humble abode, your highness. In this place, music is our lifeforce. We eat, we drink, we breathe, we sleep in music. Just like our master, we are not only creators of art – we are art itself. And tonight, we shall once again breathe life into another masterpiece. I cannot describe how immensely happy we all are. We are so glad that you accepted our master’s invitation, you will not regret it! Now, come along with me, let us go into the Ladies’ Dressing Room. Natasha has designed a wonderful costume for you to wear, and Ophelia will help you with your hair and makeup. I assure you they will make you absolutely gorgeous. Of course, that is not to say you’re not already beautiful.”

Stefan leaves the two ladies and heads towards the Gentlemen’s Dressing Room, which is across from the Ladies’ Dressing Room to the left, placing the lantern onto an iron hook built into the wall. “Well, I’m going to get myself ready and meet up with the others. I’ll see you all at the Gallery! Bis bald!”, he says as he closes the door. Dolores enters through the door to the right and holds it open for Peach to walk into the room. There sitting inside are twin sisters, both garbed in fine, flowy silk and chiffon gowns, working on their latest projects. To the left is a somber young lady sitting near a vanity, dressed all in Aegean and periwinkle blue, her pale pink hair intertwined into exquisite dreadlocks that reaches down to her shoulders. Wrapped around her head is a flower crown composed of lavender, Baby’s Breath, Fairy Foxgloves, and Forget-Me-Nots. To the right is a cheery young lady wearing a similar gown but in shades of fuchsia and rose, checking over the details of an extravagant costume, which is porcelain and peach in color. Her pale blue hair is also made of dreadlocks, as well as composed with the same flowers with the addition of small vines, but is pinned up into a lovely cornrow braided bun. The twin in pink looks up from her work and gasps, “Dolores, you’re back! And the princess is here! Ophelia, look! They’re here!” Ophelia turns around, her saddened expression softening into a weak smile, “Oh, hello again. And it’s nice to finally meet you, your highness.”

Dolores greets them back, turning her attention back to Natasha’s project, “Is the costume ready?”

“Yes, it is! I was just making sure everything’s perfect!”

“It looks amazing! Buen Trabajo!”

“Aww, thank you!”

“Alright, now we must hurry. I need to be in costume. I’ll meet you all in the Gallery, and don’t dottle please.”

“Don’t worry, Dolores, we’ll be ready as soon as possible.”

Dolores leaves Peach with Natasha and Ophelia, entering through a darkened room to get ready for the performance. Once she leaves, Peach witnesses what is perhaps the most amazing thing she has ever seen. The speed in which Natasha and Ophelia got her ready for the performance was astounding. What should have lasted for about a few hours or so ended up lasted for a few mere minutes! No human possesses this level of speed, especially with makeup. Any makeup artist would take their time getting every detail right. There would be no possible way anyone could apply eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, concealer, lipstick, and every other detail really fast without messing up. But Ophelia proved that such an ability was possible. Natasha was no different. She helped Peach get into the extravagant costume without any struggle at all, as it fit perfectly onto her frame. How did she get her size just right? And it’s so comfortable too! “And… done! Oh, look at you! You are just beautiful, your highness! Don’t you think so, Ophelia?”, Natasha exclaims happily, proud of her job well done. “Oh yes, I agree…”, Ophelia smiles weakly again. Peach looks over to a nearby mirror. They were right; she is beautiful. Perhaps even more so, she thinks to herself, for she had never worn anything like this before. It is true that, being of royal blood, she is accustomed to an extremely elaborate (and expensive) wardrobe. But this… this is different from any other dress. It is a ballroom gown, completely encrusted with diamonds and pearls, with lovely black roses making a long trail from her waist down to the skirt. The white skirt is massive, flowing down towards the floor like a mass of billowing fog. Her shoulders and bosom are exposed completely, giving room for a glistening choker made of the same jewels. Her hair is done up in a high bun, lightly sprinkled with silver glitter, and tied together with another black rose.

She looks heavenly. Like an angel.

With everything all set and done, Natasha and Dolores begin preparing themselves. As they do, Ophelia pauses for a moment. “Oh, your highness! I almost forgot something. Before we go, our master wanted me to give you this.”, Ophelia says, handing her a small card. It reads: For the Princess. Before heading back to primp herself, her expression slowly turns gloomy, barely keeping up with her smile, “You are so lucky to be chosen…” Peach turns over the card as she waits for the twins to get ready and continues to read:

Tonight’s performance is a one-of-a-kind experience. You, my dear, will not only be the audience, but also part of the story! Everything and everyone around you will be interactive, so please do not be shy. Converse with your newly found friends! Eat, drink, dance with your heart’s content! And please, do not wait for me. I hope you enjoy my masterpiece.

- P

Ah ha! So, this is what Phantom’s performance is! It is a role-playing experience, and based on what the card says, it must be a party he’s hosting. What delightful news! Although, Peach must admit that she has never role-played before, especially in something like this. But wait – didn’t she say to Dolores earlier that being part of the theatre was her childhood dream? Perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try out her acting skills! Peach beams. She could not believe Phantom would make something like this. Whatever this role-playing party entails, she thinks to herself, she’s going to do the best she can. “We’re ready!” Natasha exclaims in a sing-song tone, “Are you ready, Ophelia?” Ophelia nods. Natasha excitedly takes both her and Peach’s hands, leading them out of the Ladies’ Dressing Room and into the Gallery. Peach almost could not keep up with the twins, for they have remarkable speed, as shown by their natural talents on makeup and costuming. How fast can could they possible go? If this is how fast they can walk, then how fast can they run? Natasha’s ecstatic giggling echoes through the hallway, and with every step they take, the upbeat tempo of music could be heard from behind the Gallery doors. The closer they went, the louder it became. The melody drifts in the air like a calm perfume for the ears, capturing Peach’s attention with its harmonious essence. A delicious delicacy for the senses. Just like Phantom’s voice. He must have composed this melody, for there is no way Peach could have been so immersed and entranced by its sound if it wasn’t. The three ladies approach the Gallery doors, the music muffled behind them. Natasha takes a glance back at Peach and Ophelia, unable to contain her excitement anymore.

She pushes the doors wide open.

What words could possibly describe the sheer extravagance of the Gallery? To think that all of this is completely underground! To think Phantom created this gargantuan chamber, big enough for him and perhaps one hundred guests! Maybe even more than that. Peach could tell, just by admiring the Gallery, Phantom is quite the fan of marble, silver, and velvet. Marble floors and pillars framing the chamber and silver-framed mirrors and portraits decorate the walls. Deep black velvet curtains cascade from the middle of the ceiling and down towards the floor, giving the appearance of one massive Bohemian tent. In the middle hangs a glamourous jeweled chandelier, giving a dim light to the darkness. Looking around, Peach notices there are seven rooms divided by the curtains, each one color-coded, with three rooms on both towards the left and right. To the left are the colors blue, purple, and green, and to the right are orange, white, and violet. The seventh room is located right in front of the ladies, right across from the Gallery entrance. Inside is completely shrouded in shades of red – wine, scarlet, crimson, garnet – and there sits in a shiny throne a crowned gentleman – a prince – with a glass of Amontillado in his hand. His wavy, champagne blonde hair falls delicately around his party mask and square facial structure. His rosy lips gently purse as he raises his glass to drink. He is accompanied by two other women, who are garbed to the nines in the richest finery, blushing and laughing amongst themselves. Every now and then, the prince would turn to one of them and whisper in their ear, making their faces turn into deeper shades of red. As Peach follows Natasha and Ophelia, she finds more guests, all conversing amongst one another in the color-coded rooms. The costumes they wear are vibrant in color and theme, ranging from jesters, to creatures, to knights, to fairies and pixies. These guests, including the prince himself, must all be part of Phantom’s theatre troupe. Peach begins to count: one… two… four… six… nine… eleven. Eleven members of the troupe. She wonders if there are any more, considering how large the Gallery is.

The prince turns his attention suddenly towards Peach, and so do the two women. Soon, almost everyone begins to stop for a moment and do the same. Simultaneously, Natasha and Ophelia bow, gesturing to Peach, “My Lord, we have brought you your special guest, Princess Morrigan of the Stygian Border.” The prince sets down his glass on a nearby silver platter, and stands right up from his throne, adjusting his vest and coat. “C’est magnifique, my loyal subjects! Now the masquerade can truly begin! Come, come! The night is young, gather around everyone! Let us celebrate all of our blessings and forget our grievances!” he declared, “May we prosper in these trying times, and may we never run out of wine to drink.” The crowd laughs and cheers, some of them raising their own glasses. He turns to Peach, his eyes wandering up and down, and smirks, “My, my… Enchantee, your highness. I must say, you look… ravishing tonight. I am Prince Fortunato, at your service. Why don’t you join me, my dear, in the Red Room? Surely, we can have some… fun together, what do you say?” Greeting her, Prince Fortunato places a soft kiss on her hand, his emerald eyes admiring her beauty. Or perhaps something else. Although Peach has to be polite, she immediately had no interest in him. Too cocky, she thinks to herself, too full of himself. It reminds her too much of Bowser. Then again, Phantom was that way, too, at least in the past. But she learned that he was not licentious. He never looked anywhere else but into her eyes. He never searched for anything other than her eyes. He ever seemed like he was after a particular goal other than seeing her whenever they meet. That is the one thing Peach was sure about. Ah, but remember! This is only roleplay; nothing is real. Prince Fortunato, as well as everyone else, is only pretending. In that case, this gentleman is an excellent actor!

Prince Fortunato leads Peach back to his throne, the two women still standing to accompany him. Envy fills the air. Their expressions turn sour as they watch Peach get even more attention than them. Peach could already tell that this is no ordinary masquerade. She has been to many royal revelries throughout her life, and all of them were filled to the brim with sophistication. Every guest, staff member, and host had class – anything that was considered less than classy wasn’t allowed. This masquerade is different in terms of the usual standards of hosting such parties. It was as eccentric as its Gothic décor, consisting of tables filled with silver platters of fruits, meats, bread, and desserts, goblets of beverages, and candles. Every once and a while, a few guests would stuff themselves and each other with this feast, disregarding etiquette for sheer pleasure. Peach isn’t used to the cacophony of this kind of merrymaking. All of this was nothing but pure, unadulterated debauchery – something she was taught never to delve into. She is a princess, after all, and princesses never do those sorts of things. However, did she not accept the invitation to let herself loose? Did she not agree to join this performance – this masquerade – to experience something new for once? For once? Feeling out of place just standing idle amongst Prince Fortunato and the guests, Peach goes over to one of the tables and picks at a plate of grapes. She watches as the guests gather around Natasha and Ophelia in one huge circle, clapping to the music’s rhythm as they frolic together. The fabrics of their dresses fly with their movements as if they were colorful wings dancing in the darkness. As she plops the grapes delicately into her mouth, her eyes continue to wander over the décor. Suddenly, she stops at a grim sight. There as the centerpiece sits three skulls, two of them from a different species, ones Peach isn’t familiar with. The skull placed in the middle, however, is human. She could not tell if these skulls were real. She hopes they aren’t real. Taking a closer look, an engraving is found on its forehead: Ars longa, vita brevis.

Without warning, the Gallery doors burst open! The music stops – the crowd jumps in surprise! Prince Fortunato rises to his feet, alarmed by this sudden interruption. Peach turns around. There standing in the doorway is an aged peasant woman in old, torn rags, her hair glowing bright red like a burning inferno. Her complexion is dirtied, her makeup is smudged, her eyes red-hot with fury. She scowls as she approaches the partygoers, her hands clenched as if she is about to attack. “For shame!Have you no shame?!” the peasant chants, flailing her arms with rage, “Have you no compassion for your people?! The plague lays waste throughout the land! And yet, here you are, surrounding yourself with wealth and whores! They are suffering! They are dying! There is no hope for us! For shame! For shame! Have you no shame?!” Peach watches as everyone else steps back, avoiding her filthy presence. Twelve. Twelve members in Phantom’s theatre troupe. Prince Fortunato steps forward, confronting her, “Who dares… who dares interrupts us?! Who dares trespass Fort Fortunato and speak against the Crown?!”

“It is your undoing that dares enter your home! This, all of this, will be your downfall!” she responds back angerly, gesturing to the masquerade.

“Leave this instant, or else I’ll have your head for this!”

“I have seen it, Prince Fortunato! I have seen your fate in the deepest of dreams! Doom is upon you all!”

“Ah, it’s one of those so-called soothsayers my people love so much… how lovely. They love having their fortunes told, don’t they? Superstitions and all that. Hmmm. Well, in that case, go on. Amuse us with your… dreams and visions, fortune teller. We do love to be entertained.”

“It will come, Prince Fortunato, in retribution of your indulgences. You and your party may hide all you want; it will still find you! Mortals cannot escape from what is inevitable. In the end, it shall visit us when our time comes… and your time is nigh.”

“Qu’est-ce que tu racontes? What is this ‘it’ you’re talking about? Whatever ‘it’ is, I am sure it will not ruin this masquerade. Princess, do you hear all this? She’s simply mad!”

“Our time is nigh!”

“Tu es timbre!”

“For shame! For shame!”

“Quitter cet endroit!”

“Have you no shame?!”

The peasant stops. Her eyes shift towards Peach. A look of horror falls upon her face. “You…”, she whispers, slowly raising a pointed finger at her. Peach watches as she approaches her, still pointing, terrified. Her expression contorts as if she is studying, searching for something. “You… are to be Death’s Bride… Yes! You are Death’s Bride!” she exclaims, falling to her knees, clutching Peach’s skirt, “Oh, you poor soul! So young… innocent… all to be swept by its dark embrace! I beg of you, your highness, leave this place! Forget these fools! Forget all of this! Save yourself!” With a swift grab, Prince Fortunato pulls the peasant away by the shoulder and pushes her aside. “Unhand her this instant! You trespass my fortress, you waste our time with your superstitions, and now you insult me and my guests?” he yells, “Everyone! Let us show this insolent wretch what it means to insult those higher than her! Bring me a chair! Bring me some rope! Let’s play a game with her, shall we?” Peach could not believe it. A prince sacrificing the well-being of his people for an elaborate masquerade! And now, he and the other guests have decided to torture this poor woman! She cannot stay silent any longer – she must act! “Wait!” Peach cries, making everyone stop in unison, “Have mercy on her! Please!” Prince Fortunato scoffs in amusement, “Why, and for what? She insulted us, you heard her!”

“Yes, but none of that would have happened if you attended to your royal duties as Prince and took care of your people!”

“E-excusez-moi?”

“This poor woman is in dire need of assistance, and you have all the wealth to help her! Maybe you should consider.”

“Ha! My dear, you jest! I have no need for peasants! Why should I dabble in their affairs?”

“Because their affairs are yours as well. They have relied on you for so long, and you rely on them. Without your people, you’re done for!”

“Do you not see the extravagance of this masquerade? The bountiful feasts presented on the tables? Our costumes? The wine in our glasses? I am rich, Princess Morrigan! Wealthy beyond imagination!”

“Wealth that came from people like her! Please, my Lord, have mercy.”

“Are you mad? Ha, you must be! Just as mad as the fortune teller!”

“If I am as mad as her, then I must be! Yes, that’s it! Perhaps your foolishness is just another wild hallucination, for what respectable royalty spoils themselves to the point of gluttony and greed?”

A crowd of gasps shatter the silence. The crowd glance at Peach, then at the prince, then back at her, awaiting another response. Prince Fortunato stands silent, completely stunned by her audacity. His face becomes flushed, his teeth gritting, his emerald eyes bright with anger. His fists clench. “Oh…. I’m a fool, am I? Am I a fool?! I am not a fool! I am Prince Fortunato, the next in line! Heir to the throne! I am as respectable as royalty can be!” he furiously shouts, “I will not be insulted like this! I will not be degraded like this! I need not your judgment, or hers, or anyone else’s! I am no fool, do you hear me? I am not a fool! I am a Prince, full of riches and beauty! I am perfect! I am powerful! I am untouchable! You think I’m a fool? You call me a fool, eh? Ha ha! Well then, let me entertain you all! Come, gather around, my lovely guests! Let me show you what a true fool really is!” With a whip of his cape, Prince Fortunato rushes from the crowd and goes behind the throne. Everyone watches as he switches his coat and cape with another coat and removes his crown with another accessory. In a matter of seconds, he reappears, this time donning a shiny blue coat and a mask in the shape of a rabbit’s face. Raising his arms, he presents his new costume to the crowd, “Here! Here! I am now a fool! But Prince Fortunato? Oh no, no, no! He is no fool! You imbeciles! He is a national treasure!” Has Prince Fortunato finally lost his sanity? What could he possibly gain from this? Peach is stunned, as much as the rest of the others. However, she is not as terrified as everyone else. She sees Natasha and Ophelia cradling each other, comforting one another despite both being in distress. She sees Stefan in costume backing away, almost seeming to run away and hide somewhere safe. She sees Dolores frozen in utter fear.

Peach remembers what she had said: “My master can be terrifying when he has his moments.”

No one could help but watch as Prince Fortunato danced along the ballroom floor, singing random songs in a mocking fashion. He flails his arms, waving his hands wildly as if no one is watching him. Is this even part of the roleplay? This moment feels too spontaneous to even be scripted. Peach could not imagine Phantom having his own theatre troupe mock him, regardless of whether or not it would be intentional. Whoever is playing Prince Fortunato must truly be a fool. Prince Fortunato sings in a sardonic tone:

🎶“Look at me!

Watch me float and gloat and show off my coat!

Watch me as I sing about plumbers – oh, how I hate them!

I hate them so much, oh what a bummer!

Watch me as I make sweet, sweet love to my precious spotlight

Under the moonlight!”🎶

Although the song is less than perfect, Peach admits to herself: he has an amazing singing voice! And he sings opera, just like his master! She wonders if all of the members of the theatre troupe can sing as well. Ah, no! Enough of that! Don’t get distracted now! As he sings, Prince Fortunato runs and leaps onto a nearby table, knocking over huge plates of food, skulls, and candles on the floor. Everyone else watches as he spins and taps his feet on the table, his arms still flailing around. No one in the theatre troupe tries to stop him – they’re all too shocked and afraid to even do so. They did not want to get involved in such mockery. Peach could. However, what would happen if she did? As much as she would like to stop him, she just couldn’t. For whatever reason, whether it be out of shock, or out of fear, or out of curiosity, she did not move at all. Still, the Prince continues:

🎶“Imbecile, imbecile, imbecile!

Everyone’s an imbecile but me!

Listen to me, listen to me!

My ego is as big as it can be!

Come, my Princess, marry me please

Or else I’ll cry, cry, cry!”🎶

Then, the sudden drone of a large bell rings! It brings everyone into a hush, sending an immense chill down their spine. No one moves. The drone continues. And continues. And continues. Is this what the peasant woman was talking about? The impending doom that is to fall upon this masquerade? The fate of everyone who stands here on this very night? This inevitability that will claim those who still walk on this earth? Whatever is coming for them… has arrived to make its debut.

The Gallery doors creak open. Seeping through the entrance is a cloud of fog, billowing across the floor like a massive white sheet. It surrounds everyone, almost rising up to their knees, and soon the entire chamber is filled to the brim with gloom. Prince Fortunato finally steps down, his eyes staring in fear at the entrance, and retreats behind Peach. As fate approaches them, soft murmurs of terror arise from the crowd. One by one, each and every actor and actress trembles in anticipation. Peach awaits as well, but more out of curiosity than the shock of terror. This feeling; she remembers it all too well. She has to know what happens next. She has to know what kind of resolution this entire roleplay performance is coming to. Although the resolution is frightening, it was the satisfaction of discovery that keeps her within the Gallery. She will not leave. Fear will not take over. Only curiosity. Only awe and wonder. Only fascination.

And lo and behold, there stands the face of Death in his newest and blackest masterpiece.

He stands tall, bejeweled and shrouded in crimson, emerging from behind the murky darkness. The sheer size of him is intimidating enough, but the opulence in which he had adorned himself gives him an almost divine presence in the masquerade. Out of all the costumes Peach has seen, this one is more magnificent – more vibrant and elaborate – than the rest. Blood red veils cascade down from his large cavalier hat and alongside his cape. His vest a skeletal ribcage, patterns of bones scatter his scarlet greatcoat, and in his paws is a colossal gold cane. Hidden underneath the shadow of his hat is a golden mask, formed into the shape of a skull. Everyone slowly backs away as this masked red-clad stranger approaches them. But not Peach. Instead, she stays, completely in awe. She has become too enamored by his Gothic glamour to even be remotely scared. Finally. After so many days, they finally meet once again. She could see his sapphire eyes peering through and meeting hers with a sign of notice. He stops for a moment. That look… that tender gaze! Although they had only met for a little while before this moment, Peach confesses to herself: she could never have enough of those bright eyes. Those gleaming sapphire eyes. Even through that skull mask of his, she could stare into them all night long.

Alluring… Beguiling… Captivating… Enchanting…

Phantom shifts his attention to Prince Fortunato, his eyes wide with fury. The partygoers cower as he floats over to the foolish prince, towering over him as he looks down. Prince Fortunato scrambles, quickly taking off his blue coat and rabbit mask, full of sweat, almost hyperventilating. His face is revealed with a terrified expression. His eyes look up at Phantom, awaiting whatever fate – whatever punishment – shall bestow upon him. Phantom twists his cane and slowly he pulls it apart, revealing it to be a scabbard with a long, sharp sword inside it. Peach gasps as he unsheathes his weapon, raises it up in the air, and points it down at a quivering Prince Fortunato. “Please, monsieur!” Prince Fortunato gasps and swallows, “Spare me! It was only a mere jest! I was only having some fun entertaining my guests! I-I am the host, after all! Monsieur, please… Have mercy…!” Everyone watches in horror as he pleads for forgiveness. Phantom takes in a deep breathe; music begins to play again. It is in minor key, deep and dramatic – the orchestral equivalent to an imposing force. Peach holds her breath. Finally. With a smooth, baritone voice, Phantom sings his haunting solo:

🎶“Fortunato!

Surrender to me,

Look upon the face of Death!

It is meant to be,

Now savor your last breath!

Fortunato!

Your time has come at last,

Take your final drink of wine!

For your sins in the past,

Oh Prince, your soul will be mine!”🎶

“No!” the prince cries out, “You cannot take me! I will not let you! My guests need me! My people need me!” What hypocrisy! What foolishness! Peach watches intently. What is going to happen next? Will this masked presence spare Prince Fortunato? Will Prince Fortunato’s mockery be forgiven? She anticipates what comes next, whatever that may be. But although she tries to expect the unexpected, there is one thing she is certain about: the masquerade was doomed from the very beginning. Phantom lowers his sword, just by an inch, almost as if in contemplation. A few moments of silence passes. Everyone watches him in anticipation. Peach. Prince Fortunato. Dolores, Stefan, Natasha and Ophelia. Everyone. Anticipating. Anticipating. Anticipating.

Phantom smirks, letting out a soft chuckle. His sword lowers even more, and finally inserts it back into the scabbard. A sigh of relief fills the Gallery…

Then sudden horror! It happened so swiftly. So much so that if one were to blink at that moment, they would miss it completely. A scream pierces the silence! It was Prince Fortunato, now on the floor collapsed to his knees! He screams in agony as his covers his face! Phantom had made a sharp wave of his hand, almost as if he were to slap him across the face. But no! It was much, much worse. A terrible fate had fell upon the prince.

Blood…!

Oozing from his face is a gush of crimson blood! His eye sockets, his nostrils, his mouth, his pores – all drenched in blood! Horrid blemishes begin appearing on his flesh, leaving opened, pus-filled wounds as they pop one by one! Tears and yellow fluids mix with the blood, staining the floor with a pool of secretions! And the screams! Oh, the screams! Prince Fortunato tries to hide his face once more, only to find that it hurts too much! His hands pull away from his face – and, oh God! His flesh, his flesh – it is rotting away! What was once the pristine beauty of a spoiled, gluttonous prince is now the face of nightmares. He coughs and chokes; he cannot scream anymore – blood has filled his throat! He falls onto the floor, panicking, suffering! To think that this is what his people had to endure while no one was there to save their lives. With eyes stained with tears and blood, he rushes over to his guests and reaches for help, but in vain, for who could ever touch a diseased man? With a final cry of fear, Prince Fortunato falls. There lays on the floor is a twitching corpse, the face mutilated by the worst of illnesses…

This display of gore puts the guests into a state of frenzied panic! More screams and sobs fill the Gallery, as well as the sound of footsteps running and chairs and tables knocked over. If they don’t do something, Phantom will come after them next! Anything to get away from this face of Death. Chaos ensues! All except for Peach. Peach stands still amongst the disorder of the partygoers. Her widened eyes are fixated on Phantom. Is it shock? Is it fear? Is it something else entirely? Of course, anybody would be frightened by the sheer grotesqueness of the prince’s death and the possibility of meeting the same fate. But strangely, it seems to not bother Peach at all, almost as if she isn’t aware of the situation. Perhaps she is still mesmerized by Phantom’s extravagant appearance? Perhaps she is somehow desensitized? Whatever is going on, Peach still remains, as well as the peasant woman. The two ladies stare as Phantom slowly turns to watch over the terrified crowd. He observes the scene quietly. All in unison, the panicked guests rush toward the Gallery doors. With a wave of his hand, he blocks the entrance, slamming it tightly shut. Ophelia throws herself on the doors, slamming her fists frantically, “Open the doors! Open the doors! Oh please, open the doors!” Everyone begins to do the same. But alas, their attempts of escape are futile, for their master – the Red Death – had already claimed their souls. Once again, Phantom sings:

🎶“Crowned with privilege and villainous

Bathe in the blood of your wickedness

Tonight, retribution is at hand

For this masquerade shall be damned

Mask yourselves to hide your shame

But in the end, they know your name

Into the earth, your corpses will sink

May your blood be the wine they drink…”🎶

And one by one, each guest fell, forming a massive pile of bloodied bodies in front of the entrance. Peach takes in what had just happened. She had never seen something so macabre before. Roleplay, she thinks to herself, this is all just roleplay. This is all just pretend. No one is hurt. They are all just acting. This is all just roleplay. But by the stars, it looks so… real! There is blood everywhere. Not just the red pool on the floor, but also smeared handprints on the doors too. How did Phantom do all of this? This must have taken so much effort and hard work to even pull off such a remarkably gory scene! Peach couldn’t help but wonder what exactly went through Phantom’s mind when making this performance. This was something she never expected, let alone how absolutely graphic it was going to be. But regardless, the entirety of the roleplay screamed Phantom. It was bold. Dramatic. A complete subversion from a usual masterpiece. There was grandeur, there was beauty, there was mystery, there was tension. Then finally the payoff – an act of karma against the avaricious Prince Fortunato and his hedonistic friends. Now only she and the peasant woman are left. Peach cannot imagine what this powerful reaper is going to do next. Ah, no – she suddenly remembers!

Death’s Bride. She is to be Death’s Bride…

Her thoughts are interrupted by another cry, this time from the peasant woman. She turns to find Phantom approaching her, his hand lifting up to claim another soul. But why must the good die? Death is inevitable, it is true. Life is short. Peach knew this. But what did this poor woman do to deserve such a fate? Why do bad things happen to good people? Perhaps it is meant to be, just like what Phantom said. Roleplay. It is all just roleplay. Should she stand by and let things take its course? Or maybe… what could she do? Roleplay…. Ah, of course! Peach dashes over and stands in between them. “Wait!” she says, defending the peasant woman, “Have mercy on her!” Phantom pauses, taken by surprise for a moment, but then resumes in character. “Young or old, poor or rich… Death waits for no one. Her time has come.” Phantom calmly responds, his voice low. “Can you at least give her enough time to live another day? Can you see she has suffered enough? Please, I beg of you.” Peach pleads.

“You stand in front of the face of Death… and yet you are not frightened. Are you… not afraid of me?”

“I do not fear what is inevitable. I just want to give her another chance.”

“Such compassion… and all of this for a stranger. However, as painful as it may be, you cannot persuade me to spare her.”

“If that is not enough, then I will offer a gift to you.”

“And what is this gift you speak of?”

“For this woman’s life, I offer you myself. You can have my soul. You can have everything, all of me, and I will not refuse you.”

Phantom is rendered speechless, despite staying in character. Do his ears deceive him? No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be! Deep down inside, he could not believe what Peach had just said. He watches as Peach ushers the peasant woman to flee the masquerade, and so she does, retreating to a small secret entrance hidden by the large curtains. Silence. As much as he tries, Phantom seems to be unable to speak. Now only he and the princess are alone. Together. Just like that one night. “I believe that is enough to persuade you?” Peach says with a soft smile. That smile. Oh, that sweet smile! He could stare at it forever! “I can be yours, and yours only. I will not leave. I will be not be frightened.” she continues, “It must be lonely, going around the world and reaping souls for those who’s time has passed. You don’t have to be lonely. You can have a companion! Someone who will join you by you side. Don’t you want that?” Companionship. Is Peach talking to Death or to Phantom himself? The lines between roleplay and real life begin to blur before his very eyes. He could not differentiate which is just acting or an actual confession. She must be playing a trick – she must be! This could not possibly be real! This is just too good to be true! Taking in a deep breath, staring deep into Peach’s pretty eyes, Phantom sings one last solo:

🎶“Oh, Sweet Maiden!

Surrender to me,

Look upon your paramour!

It is meant to be,

Together forevermore!

Oh, Sweet Maiden!

Your time has come at last

Take your final drink of wine

For this spell I shall cast

My Bride, your heart will be mine!”🎶

With a wave of his hand, two shiny, black feathered wings sprout from Peach’s back! Peach glances over in surprise, admiring her new wings. They sparkled under the light of the chandelier with iridescent glitter. Natasha must have added these in while making her costume. Once again, she continues to be impressed be Natasha’s work. Then her eyes glance over towards the Gallery entrance. Peach stops. Something has changed. Her eyes squints as she tries to make out what she is seeing. Confusion floods her mind until realization hits her.

The bodies… are those…. Mannequins?

Phantom places his paw on her cheek, delicately turning her face towards him. The softness of his caress fills her senses, and she is greeted by his tender gaze. What a tender gaze he has! As her eyes are locked in his gaze, Peach feels herself being gently embraced around her waist and leaning back into a dip. Her heart begins to race. Beat after beat it quickens its pace, her breathing becomes more and more shaky. It must be adrenaline – all of this is so new to her. Peach finds herself reaching out towards Phantom and, ever so gently, she takes off his skull mask, revealing his face. At long last, she finally sees him. Oh, how she missed him! “Did you enjoy the show, your highness?” Phantom grins, “I must admit, there were some things that weren’t… intended to happen, but as long a—” He is stopped, as Peach catches him off guard. Locked in a tight hug around his neck, he feels his lips being locked with hers. It was passionate yet gentle and warm. Peach, the princess he has adored for so many years, is giving him a kiss. A kiss! Is this a dream? Is this actually happening? So many thoughts went through Phantom’s mind. He could not process all of them at once; his head could possibly burst from excitement! His eyes flutter and close, letting himself melt into Peach’s embrace. If they could pull each closer than they already are, they could. But no matter how much closer they can be, it just wasn’t enough. They wanted each other. They craved each other. The unbridled desire for connection and companionship broke loose, and immediately they find themselves losing all control of their yearning. Their lips break apart, their hot breaths mingling with each other. They open their eyes; Peach grins and so does Phantom. They kiss again, neither of them wanting to stop. “Ah…!” Phantom gasps in between her soft lips, “Mon ange de la mort…!”

Overwhelmed, Peach swoons as Phantom dips her even further and surrenders herself to his kiss of death.

---

She woke up the next morning. The first thought that would have come to her mind was how she even managed to return to her castle without any notice. But no, the very first thought that came to her mind was what happened last night. She laid in her bed and, as stares up at the ceiling, touched her lips softly with her fingertips. Then up her rosy cheek, then down to her neck, and across her bare shoulders. She could still feel his touch. She sighs deeply – what a performance that was! Peach stretched her whole body and curled up, sinking back into sleep. A love stricken grin appeared on her face as she whispered to herself, “Until we meet again.”

#my writing #OTP #fanfiction #shipping fanfic #Phantom x Peach #phantom of the bwahpera #OCs #princess peach #mario rabbids #mario rabbids kingdom battle #tom phan

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raysofcrosby · 4 years

Text

CHANGE MY MIND – B. JENNER

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺; 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦.” ━ 𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧, 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

warning(s): just some slight cursing

word count: 6,336 [obvi didn’t proof-read]

authors note: ok so this is actually the first thing i’ve managed to write since finishing ‘little do you know’ and i’ve had it stuffed down in my phone notes for the last two months. i’ve been really bored and trying to write but ugh, it’s been a slow process– but hopefully this is the beginning of my inspiration to write again! i swear whatever this turns out to be– it’ll be better than this, but here you guys go! here’s some boone jenner for your dash :)

"I'm not going," you huffed, twisting around in your vanity chair and glaring at your best friend. "No fucking way am I going."

"You can't back out, Y/N. You already promised you'd go." Bailee said, sitting up from her lying down position on your bed.

"Yeah, well that was when it was a double date with you and Josh." You closed your eyeshadow palette before misting your face with setting spray. "You know, two people who could ease the conversation flow since, oh I don't know, you're both mutual friends!"

"You're thinking too much into this," she rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, sighing before pushing herself off of the bed. "Have I ever led you astray before?"

"Actually, yes," you put the setting spray down before fully turning to face her with a sarcastic smile on your face. "Let's see, there was that time you convinced me to match with you every day in fifth grade. Tenth grade when you swore up and down that my shirt wasn't see-thru. Let's not forget the entirety of junior high when you told me that highlights and bangs were an amazing idea. And to finish it off, you're the one who introduced me to Dylan."

"Okay one, it didn't take much convincing considering we had most of the same clothes anyway and our moms thought it was cool. Two, it wasn't see-thru until Kyle Schwartz dumped his water on you and at least you were wearing a tank top," she held up a third finger, raising an eyebrow. "Three, are you forgetting my horrible teasing phase with the middle part? And last," she sighed, dropping her hand altogether. "Please...just trust me on this one? I mean, Dylan was great in the beginning, he just turned into an ass as he got older."

"You literally just proved my–"

"One date, that's all this is. I'm not asking you to marry the guy, Y/N. You don't have to be in a committed relationship by the end of the night, just," she sighed, digging her vibrating phone out of her back pocket. "Just give him a chance, okay? And if this does indeed bite you in the ass, then I'll do whatever you want for an entire weekend."

"Whatever I want?" You smiled, standing up from your chair.

"Yes, I'll be at your beck and call."

You grabbed your purse from your bed and hung it over your shoulder, giving her a smile before smoothing out your satin tank top and cardigan. "Do I look okay? I should wear a dress, shouldn't I? The jeans and this," you motioned at your entire outfit. "It's all too casual."

Bailee laughed and grabbed your hands, giving them a light squeeze. "Relax, Y/N. It's cold outside and you're only going to a coffee shop. Your outfit is perfect, the ankle boots are perfect and he'll definitely love the way the jeans accentuate your ass."

You scoffed, dropping her hands before walking by her and heading towards your bedroom door. Just as you walked out into the short hallway of your quaint 2-bedroom apartment, a knock came from the front door. You turned to Bailee and nodded your head towards the door at the end of the hall. "Can you get her? That's Madison."

"Are you kidding? She's the only reason why I came over!"

You rolled your eyes before walking down the hall and over to your front door, opening it and stepping aside. "Hi, Y/N, sorry I'm late." Madison smiled, walking in with her backpack over her shoulder. "Professor Downs wouldn't stop talking."

"Madison, you and I really have different definitions of late," you laughed, closing the door and walking over to the kitchen counter as she set her stuff on the kitchen table. "You're what I consider, painfully early."

"Well, I can't let you be late for your date tonight, can I?" She smiled, coming over to the counter and resting her elbows on in. "So? What's his name? Where are you going?"

"His name is if she doesn't order an Uber in the next 30 seconds, she won't beat traffic and she will be late," Bailee replied, appearing from the hallway. "And they're going to that cute cafe on third."

"Lava Java? I love that place!" Madison clapped, turning back to you. "You have to order one of their vanilla cinnamon rolls– OOH, or one of their chocolate croissants."

"Chocolate? Mommy, can you bring me one, please?"

The three of you turned to see your five-year-old daughter, Riley, standing there at the end of the hall still in her school clothes. You walked by Bailee and Madison and squatted down in front of Riley, smiling at her. "Of course! But if you have to be a good girl for Madison, okay?"

She nodded, a frown on her face as she rubbed the side of her face. You took in her tired appearance, noticing the slight pink on her flushed cheeks. She hadn't been sleeping well the last few nights, often sneaking into your bed around 5 am and taking it over, so maybe her lack of good night's sleep was starting to catch up with her.

"Do you want to help me with my homework, Riles?" Madison smiled, coming up next to you. "We can have some popsicles while we do it too!"

Riley's eyes went wide and she looked at you for permission. "Give me a good luck kiss and that popsicle is yours." You chuckled, opening your arms.

She ran into your arms, tucking her head into the crook of your neck and wrapping her arms around you as tight as she could. You hugged her tightly, always remembering to treasure the moments like this as you cupped the back of her head. She turned her head to you and kissed your cheek, then pulling away. You tucked her dark hair behind her head and smiled, kissing her on the forehead. "I love you munchkin."

"I love you too, Mommy." Riley smiled, turning to Bailee. "You too Auntie Bailee."

"I'll see you later, kiddo." Bailee smiled, turning to you. "And your Uber is here, by the way," she held up her phone, waving it at you before locking the screen. "Have fun tonight."

You laughed as she lead you both out of your apartment door. She wasted no time getting you out of your apartment building and down to the street where your Uber was waiting for you. You couldn't even get out a single word before she practically shoved you into the car and shut the door behind you, waving after you as the car pulled away from the complex.

Your foot was tapping against the floorboard of the car as your hands twiddled in your lap. You couldn't believe you had let Bailee and Josh talk you into doing this, especially since the two of them had bailed. You loved them, you truly did. But right now you wanted to do nothing more than run them over with a Zamboni.

You've known Bailee practically all of your life. The two of you were the only kids in your pre-school group to refuse to take a nap during nap time, resulting in the teacher having to call your parents and pick you up. From that day forward, the two of you were a power duo, best friends, blood sisters– whatever you wanted to call it. The two of you were inseparable and with each other through every stage of life.

She was there when you met Dylan.

You were there when she met Josh.

Two very important stages that marked the beginning for both of you, though many years apart. Just when you thought you were going to suck her down into the black hole that was beginning to be your life, she met Josh and suddenly, life didn't seem so doom and gloom.

Being the protective best friend, you weren't necessarily Josh's number one fan the first time that you met him. Especially when Bailee told you everything that she had learned about him that first night. Your guard immediately went up the moment she mentioned that he was a professional athlete. Everyone knew how that side of the world played out on the relationship spectrum. Those men seemed to have a side piece in every city they traveled to because after all, Men really aren't shit. And just like she had been by your side the moment your life suddenly going down the drain, you would do anything to prevent Bailee from joining you in your personal hell.

Luckily for Bailee though, Josh wasn't like that. God, the kid treated her like a queen from the moment he met her. It's been three years since they started dating, they live in an apartment together and it was everything you could have wished for, for your best friend. Before you knew it, your duo became a trio and Josh was a well-welcomed member. What sold you, besides how he treated Bailee, was how good he was with Riley.

He knew of your past, Bailee had to have told him. Because that first night he came over for movie night that you, Bailee and Riley always had every other weekend, he had pulled you aside and just hugged you. He hugged you and told you that if there was anything you ever needed, no matter what, he was there to help– and that you were one hell of a mom.

Well right now, you needed him to come rescue from this sham of a blind date because you could feel your anxiety begin to have anxiety. The Uber pulled up to the cafe and you took a deep breath, failing to calm yourself. "Thank you, have a good night." You smiled, opening the door and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

You hugged your cardigan tight against your body as you looked up at the lit cafe sign. It felt as if your feet were glued to the ground and you couldn't bring yourself to move. You closed your eyes for only a moment, taking another calming breath before staring up at the sign again. "You can do this, come on..."

You took that first step and though your feet felt heavy, you took another. You hated that you were so nervous about this stupid date, especially since you didn't even know who you were meeting. You had an idea of a few candidates that Josh and Bailee could have set you up with. All being coworkers of Bailee that she often talked up from time to time– none of them even attracting some of your attention.

At least not enough to make you want to go on a date. Your dating game has been nonexistent for 11 years– from the moment you met Dylan. You were broken when he left like he did and it's taken you the last three years just to be able to pick yourself up and be okay again. There was that time last year when you attempted to go out on dates, and sure...some of them went good. But they all had one thing in common: they all ended up with the same result. That was last year though. Obviously, you must be ready to date. After all, Josh and Bailee set this up. Yet, in the back of your mind, you couldn't help but think about just how bad of an idea this could be.

God, you were practically damaged goods at this point.

When you finally made it into the cafe, you made it a point to look around at the customers lounging about. Granted, it wasn't that crowded since it was a Friday night and a cafe wasn't necessarily the first choice for nighttime activity. However, you did notice that there wasn't a man anywhere around you, looking like he might be expecting someone to walk in. Ooh, bright side...maybe he skipped out. Brushing the wishful thinking out of your mind, you walked up to the counter and greeted the worker with a smile.

"Hi, welcome to Lava Java, what can I get you?" She looked like a college student, at least a few years younger than Madison.

"Can I get a vanilla cinnamon roll and a large hot chocolate?" You smiled, pulling your wallet out of your purse. "Oh, and one chocolate croissant to go."

"Is everything else for here?" She asked, marking your cup. When she saw you nod in reply, she tapped more on her screen before moving to bag your chocolate croissant. "Okay, that'll be $10.75."

You handed over a $20 and grabbed Riley's bagged croissant before being handed your change. "Thank you," you smiled, sliding in the four $1s she gave you, into the tip jar.

"Okay, just go ahead and have a seat somewhere and place this marker on your table. Someone will be there shortly with your order."

You gave her a polite smile before grabbing your sign. You looked around the cafe, wondering just where you should sit. It seemed like there were three options: a few tables off into the back corner of the store, some worn, but comfy-looking couches to the right of that and then just snuggled next to the window, three empty booths. When you looked towards the window, you saw that it had started to rain and immediately you found yourself walking towards the booth.

You always found some sort of comfort in the rain. Maybe it was from all of those times on long car rides where you'd pretend you were in some music video that played on MTV while listening to whatever song was playing on your choice cd in your cd player. Better yet, it was probably from how much you and Bailee idolized Hilary Duff's 'Metamorphosis' album and decided that 'Come Clean' was your guys' theme song. Whatever the reason was, the moment you sat down and looked at the raindrops decorated on the window, you felt an invisible weight lift off of your shoulders and your whole body sink down into the chair.

The bells above the door jingled and your eyes immediately moved away from the window and towards the door, only to see a young mother and her son come in. He looked to be around 10 and like he was fresh from soccer practice– still in his uniform and covered in grass stains. You smiled to yourself, easily being able to picture you and Riley coming into this very café in the same situation– though, figuring out what sport she could possibly be playing four years down the road, was a puzzle in itself.

"Large hot chocolate and a vanilla cinnamon roll?" You looked to your right to see another worker, only this time a teenaged boy, carrying your order.

"That's me," you smiled, adjusting your posture as he placed the order in front of you and took your order number. "Thank you."

He nodded politely before walking back to behind the counter, leaving you alone. You sighed, bringing your wrist up from your lap and checking the time. It's only five minutes past when the two of you were supposed to meet– he was late.

No, no, don't get like that. It's raining, traffic is probably horrible. Stop trying to psych yourself out.

You took a peep at your phone before resting it on the table and then letting your hand drop back into your lap with a sigh. "Bailee so owes me if this guy doesn't show," you mumbled to yourself, picking up your hot chocolate.

"Oh God, I can already see the glare she'd give me if you sent her a text right now." You once again looked towards your right to see an extremely attractive man standing right beside the table. "Please, for the love of God, save me from that crazy woman."

You shouldn't have done it, but you couldn't have held your laugh back if you tried. You let your eyes linger on him longer then you should have. As your eyes traveled up, you took note of just how built he was. He couldn't have been a co-worker of Bailee's, those guys looked like they haven't done a workout in years. But this guy...this guy looked like he knew his way around a gym and most definitely ran 5k's on holiday mornings. He had style too, which was a lot to say for some men. Sure, he was wearing a basic casual outfit: basic dark blue jeans, some white Nikes, a maroon sweater and a black jacket–– but he wore it well...really well. Your eyes continued up to where you could see a chain peeking out from beneath his sweater just as his adam's apple bobbed. You sped up your gaze, taking in his trimmed, scruffy beard, his cocky smirk and blue eyes frozen on you.

Only then did you realize just how long you had been staring at this...extremely attractive stranger, without even doing the polite thing and introducing yourself. "Oh, I–," you cleared your throat, standing up quickly and taking in your difference in height before extending your hand out to him. "I'm Y/N."

"I know," he laughed, shaking your hand and nodding down at the table. "What do you suggest?"

"Oh uh, my ba–" You stumbled over your words, correcting yourself before you could say, 'babysitter.' "My friend suggested a vanilla cinnamon roll or a chocolate croissant and for a drink, I went simple with a hot chocolate."

"Sounds good, I'll be right back," he turned to walk towards the counter before turning back, pointing at your phone. "If you do text her, please tell her I showed up."

You just nodded and watched him walk away before looking down at your phone and plopping back down into his seat. You let out a huff of breath before grabbing your phone and unlocking it, opening your message to Bailee.

'YOU DIDN'T SAY HE WAS THIS HOT. I THINK HE CAUGHT ME STARING. I PROBABLY WAS SECONDS AWAY FROM DROOLING'

'hahaha, i've got you girl ;) now have fun and stay off the phone!'

'but i fully expect the details tonight. text me when you're on your way home and i'll come over!'

"What's the verdict?" You almost jumped out of your chair at the sound of his voice, as your phone dropped into your lap. "Is she planning on castrating me anyway? I'd like to at least have a warning."

He placed his number sign down onto the table before settling down in the seat across from you. "It sounds like you've had a run-in with her alter-ego, huh?" You joked, sliding your phone into your purse that was resting on the windowsill.

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Try multiple times. She's quite...terrifying when she gets all riled up, but it brings Josh out of his shell so, I guess it's a good thing."

"Who are you?" You blurted out, widening your eyes before shaking your head. "Sorry, that was aggressive. I mean, I told you my name...though you already knew what it was...and what I looked like." You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head to the side. "I thought this was supposed to be a blind date? Oh God, are you like Joe from 'You'?"

He stared at you as you kept rambling on, his eyebrows furrowed just like yours. He dug into his jacket pocket before bringing out an iPhone and typing on the screen before sliding it across the table to you. You looked down to see text messages from Bailee.

'her name is Y/N and she's probably looking all doom and gloom because josh and i dipped.'

"I'm going to kill her," you said, sliding his phone back over to him. "Doom and gloom? Did I look all doom and gloom?"

He put his phone back into his pocket and shrugged his shoulders. "Kind of?"

You sighed, holding onto your drink with both hands before taking a sip. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be all..." you waved your hand aimlessly before taking a sip. "Wait," you pulled the cup back again, "that doesn't explain how you knew what I looked like."

"Would you call me a douchebag if I say it's because you were the first person I saw when I walked in and I thought you were extremely beautiful, so I just took my chances, hoping it was you?"

"Eh, maybe not a douchebag," you said, shrugging your shoulders before smiling at him again. "Cliche is more like it."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, leaning onto the table, raising an eyebrow. "Does that mean I've ruined my chances before we've even started the date?"

"Eh," you smiled, breaking off a piece of the vanilla cinnamon roll and nodding your head to the side. "We'll see how this goes."

He ran his tongue alongside the bottom of his teeth before smacking his lips and smiling at you just as his order was brought to the table– almost an exact match to yours. "So, Y/N, I guess I should probably introduce myself if I want to make the best impression on you, huh?" He asked, clearing his throat and holding up his large hot chocolate.

"I guess so...."

"Boone."

"Boone," you smiled, making a mental note of the way his gruff voice sent tingles down your body. "To a great date?"

He tapped his cup against yours and smiled. "To a great date."

❒❒❒❒

"You guys didn't do that, you're lying!" He laughed, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms across his chest.

"I'm so serious!" You nodded your head, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you laughed. "That's why we don't play odds are anymore. It got us banned from football games for the rest of the year, not to mention a potential case of horrible frostbite."

"I cannot believe you guys streaked at a college football game during half time," he leaned towards the table and smiled, nodding at you. "I've got mad respect now."

"Oh come on, you're telling me that you haven't done anything like that?" He tried to hold back a smile and you pointed at him. "Ah, nope, you have. What did you do?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Initiation my first year in the OHL. It's a team ritual to sneak into the rink late at night after the first practice and have all of the rookies do a few naked laps with nothing but skates and a helmet." He leaned back into his chair once again, taking a bite of his cinnamon roll. "Nothing too major."

Your eyes immediately drop to his chest and when you see him move, you quickly look down at your hot chocolate picking it up and avoiding any kind of eye contact. Nothing would be more embarrassing than having to look him in the eye after you were checking him out.

You weren't sure how long the two of you had been sitting at the table and talking, that's how easy the conversation flowed between you two. Almost off the bat the two of you talked about your friendships with Josh and Bailee, seeing as the two of them were your common connection. When you first discovered that he was Josh's teammate, you felt a little nervous. Sure, maybe dating a professional athlete was Bailee's thing, but not so much yours. Professional athletes often come with some pretty heavy reputations and you were in no way shape or form wanting to even catch a glimpse of said reputation.

But as soon as the two of you got to talking...you found yourself thinking that maybe this couldn't be so bad after all. He was funny, smart and kind...a jackpot in your book. Yet you couldn't help but wonder why he was being put up on a blind date anyway. Surely he couldn't be having a hard time finding a girl to have on his arm. Whereas you, well, this date was your best friend's attempt at getting you out there again and preventing you from closing yourself off for the rest of your life. So what was his reasoning?

"So, tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" You asked, taking a sip of your hot chocolate once more.

"Well, I already know how you and Bailee are best friends, where you went to college, what you majored in, how you got banned from football games for an entire season..." He leaned onto the table and reached across the table, his hand pausing in front of yours as he raised his eyebrows, asking your permission to touch your face.

You nodded, surprised that you were even capable of doing that since you were frozen as just how close he was even just across the table. How his sandalwood cologne seemingly clouded your senses, as his thumb wiped the corner of your mouth. "And now I know that hot chocolate might just be your favorite drink, considering how you've gotten it all over your mouth. So tell me something that I don't know."

That I have a 5-year-old daughter sitting at home with her babysitter right now.

You wanted to say it. Normally, especially on the few dates that you've been on, it's been the first thing that came out of your mouth. It almost has to be. You're 26 years old and it would be a miracle to find a man who wanted to date you, even after finding out about Riley. But time and time again, you've been met with disappointment. And you can't really blame them, it's hard to find someone who wants to settle down at that age, let alone date someone who already has a first-grader. Boone though...you felt like maybe he was different, that maybe, just maybe if you said the words...he wouldn't run away terrified. At least, you were hoping so.

"Actually yes, I–"

The muffled sound of your ringtone came from your purse and he nodded towards it. "Go ahead, I'll throw away our trash."

You gave him a polite smile as you dug through your purse, pulling out your phone to see Madison's name on the screen. Your heart began to race as your mind immediately thought of all of the worst-case scenarios– that's normally what your life had been like the last five years.

Worst-case scenarios.

"Madison is everything okay?" You asked, watching as Boone walked over to the trashcan, throwing your wrappers away and putting the plates down into the plastic bin beside it.

"Yes, no? I don't know, Y/N," she sighed, sounding stressed. "I just got a call from one of Trevor's teammates and he's on his way to the emergency room. Something about how he took a really nasty hit in practice and I...I really need to go."

You felt your heart drop as you registered the news. Trevor and Madison had been dating since their sophomore year of high school. High school sweethearts who decided to go to the same college and have made it work no matter how stressful he gets from his hockey workouts or her from her school work. It was a perfect relationship, the one that you had lived not too long before.

He was a nice kid too, Trevor. Not to mention that Riley loved him just like she loved Madison. The two of them, whenever they were up to it, often babysat her together and whenever you had to do some work and her schedule allowed it, Madison even took Riley to a game or two of Trevors. The other reason your heart dropped? When you looked at Boone and you realized that you had to cut the date short.

"I'm so so sorry to interrupt your date Y/N, I just–" you could feel her start to get riled up and you shook your head.

"No, no, don't apologize, Madison. I'll be there soon, okay?"

After a million and one thank you's and apologies, you were able to hang up the phone just as Boone reached the table. "Is everything okay?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn't find the right way to say 'I loved this date and talking to you, but I really have to go because my babysitter needs to go see her injured boyfriend.'

Instead, you stood up, almost tripping back into your chair and grabbed your purse. "I really need to get home, something came up," you put your purse over your shoulder and pulled your cardigan tight against you. "I'm sorry, I had a really nice time."

"Well hey, let me drive you home–"

"No!" You said, almost a bit too loud as you looked around the cafe to see no one looking at you. "I just, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you and it's only a few blocks away, I can walk."

"It's not inconveniencing me," he said, grabbing his jacket off of the back of his chair and putting it on before digging his keys out of his pant pockets. "Besides, it seems like you're really in a hurry and my car can get us wherever you need to be, a lot faster than your..." you felt your cheeks warm up as his gaze lingered on your legs longer than normal before he cleared his throat and looked back up at you. "than your legs can get you there."

You thought about resisting his offer again, but you knew he was right. His short drive meant that Madison could get to Trevor a lot quicker than if you were to walk. "I'm so sorry for this, you're probably going out of your way and–"

"You don't need to apologize, Y/N," he said, leading the way down the sidewalk and to a blacked-out jeep wrangler, holding the passenger door open for you. "Besides, this just means I get to spend a little more time with you since you're trying to pull a Cinderella on me."

You were left without an answer as you climbed into his car and he shut the door behind you, walking around. For an NHL player, you had to admit that you thought he'd drive a much fancier car. Sure, Jeep Wranglers had the potential to be fancy as hell, but it was nothing like a Mustang Convertible, a Maserati or hell, even a nice Lamborghini. Another note about him that you had to make in the back of your mind:

Boone Jenner (so far) was nothing like the professional athlete stereotype you had put him in.

When you reached your apartment complex, you tried your hardest to get him to stay in his car and just drop you off outside of the door. But ever the gentleman he seemed to be, he continued to walk you into the building and even up to your apartment door where you tried to say your goodbyes again.

"For the last time, Y/N, my mother raised me right," he smiled, leaning against the wall by your door. "And if she found out that I didn't at least make sure my date got home safely, she might pull a crazy Bailee and castrate me."

You laughed, shaking your head at his comment just as a small silence settled between the two of you. You still had your arms crossed as you looked anywhere in the hallway except for at him. He was radiating confidence and you could only wish that some of that would rub off on you. He leaned off of the wall and stood in front of you, his hands rested in his jean pockets. "So, is this where you leave me your glass slipper?"

"What?"

"Cinderella, remember?" He smiled, raising an eyebrow as your confused expression. “Except, I guess in our case...the glass slipper would be your number.”

Just when you went to reply, the door opened and you saw a frazzled Madison standing there with her backpack tossed over her shoulders. "Okay, I thought that was you I heard, thank you again Y/N for coming so quickly," she looked away from you and at Boone before snapping her head back in your direction and giving you wide eyes. "I'm so so sorry. Oh, also, she's been complaining about not feeling well, so I gave her some medicine and she's sleeping."

"It's okay, Madison. I just hope Trevor is okay," you sighed, as Boone stepped out of the doorway and gave Madison room to walk into the hallway. "Thank you and text me when you get there, okay?"

You maneuvered your way into the doorway of your apartment, standing in the way of any view Boone could have into your small living space. When he turned back from the hallway, you could feel his eyes taking you and your flustered appearance in. You didn't want him to find out this way, not before you could even tell him– so the next best thing was to just get him on his way home before he could.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking concerned. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, no, that's okay I–"

"Mommy?" The soft, sleepy voice of Riley caused you to turn around. She was standing there, only a few feet behind you in her 'Frozen' pajamas and holding on to her old baby blanket. Even from where you were standing, you could see that she was flushed– the ultimate sign of a sick child. "I don't feel so good..."

Before you or Boone could even get another word out, Riley hunched over and threw up all over herself and the floor. You immediately turned around to face Boone, preparing to explain what was going on...but the moment you looked at his face, you knew that you didn't need to.

The furrowed eyebrows, the widened eyes with slight hints of fear and the tiniest hint of disgust, most likely from the vomit, was written all over his face.

You've seen the look before and it honestly wouldn't be the last time you see it either. So, you did what you normally did and took a few seconds to remind yourself that, hey, it was going to end like this anyway...right?

"Goodnight Boone. Thank you for tonight and walking me home," you turn back to see Riley hugging tightly onto her blanket before she starts to cry, still standing there behind you. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah..." He said, still staring behind you as if he's seen a ghost or even unsure as to what he's looking at. "No problem." And with those three words, he disappeared down the hall.

You closed the door with a sigh before locking it and walking towards the kitchen counter, tossing your purse onto it. "Hi baby," you whispered, walking up to Riley and taking her blanket from her. "Let's go get you rinsed off and in some new pajamas, okay? Then we can camp out in the living room in case you have another accident."

Riley, as sleepy as ever, nodded and sniffled as she held onto your hand and you led her back towards the bathroom. You had her stand outside of the bathroom as you walked into her room and grabbed her some new pajamas before taking her into the bathroom with you before preparing a quick bath. It was something you never thought you'd ever be used to– cleaning up after a sick child. But a lot had changed in the last five years and you had a lot of growing up to do the moment you had Riley.

As you got her into the bath and tossed her dirty pajamas in the sink, you sighed and squatted down beside the tub, filling up a cup so you could get her rinsed off. You felt guilty about feeling so disappointed that your date had to end so abruptly. Trevor was injured and Riley was sick– and here you were, throwing yourself a mini pity party because you met a great guy and everything went to hell.

"Mommy?" Riley mumbled, looking up at you as you brushed the wet hair out of her eyes. "Did you bring me my chocolate?"

You laughed, cupping the left side of her face, happy to see a bit of color coming back to her. She was most definitely your child– sick as a dog and still thinking about sweets. "Yes, I did. It's sitting in the fridge, waiting for your tummy to feel better."

She yawned as you leaned forward and pulled up the drain, letting the water flow out as you picked her up with a dry towel and placed her on the floor. You dried her off and got her in her new pajamas before carrying her back out into the living room and sitting her down onto the couch. Your 'camping' supplies, as she liked to call it, were housed just in the small linen closet. It was really just extra blankets and pillows for whenever Bailee came over for movie night. You grabbed them and walked back into the living room, setting them out in front of the tv before looking up to see Riley passed out on the couch. You picked her up and placed her down onto the blanket, covering her up before walking back to your bedroom to get ready for bed.

You sat down on the edge of your bed and took a deep breath, letting your body fall back as you exhale deeply, staring up at the ceiling. You didn't want to close your eyes because every time you did, all you saw was just how quickly the smile on Boone's face had turned into the disappointment.

You already knew it, a kid was the dealbreaker...just like it was for every other guy. Tonight was the most fun that you'd had in a long, long time. The sad part is that you really thought he could have been different and that maybe he would have loved Riley, just like you and everyone else does.

And the small ache in your chest was just another friendly reminder that maybe you should stop getting your hopes up.

#boone jenner imagine #boone jenner oneshot #boone jenner writing #nhl oneshot #nhl one shot #nhl writing #nhl imagine #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey one shot #cmm fic #my writing

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wildwren · 3 years

Note

6 and 7 for the fic writer ask!

Ooooooh thank you so much for the ask! These are definitely fun questions - and hard as heck!

6. What’s your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?

Oof, how to decide? I’m loving writing more humor in Fate and Folly, and especially the kid dialogue - it’s so fun! But I think I’m gonna highlight this angsty scene from a chapter of Hostage of Fate, wherein Erik and Aethelflaed debate about God(s), and war, and the way of things

“Maybe,” he admitted. He could not say what the Gods could or couldn't do. It seemed her Nailed God had a power of his own and Erik did not make a habit of doubting the divine. “Your God tells you of good and evil, no? That there are good men and evil men in the world? It is a simple scheme, appealing too, I admit. But I have never known real men to be so simple.” He sighed and looked up into her face, wondering if her faith was a brittle thing that would lead her to anger. But she looked at him with her measured curiosity, and he continued. “The Old Gods of my people come with many names and faces. They can be wicked and clever, gentle and generous. They can all speak to us, if we listen. They can lead us down our paths or pull us astray into their own schemes. They are more complicated than the Christian God, I give you that. But I think they are also closer to the truth of things – to the truth of men.”

7. What’s your favourite piece of description or narration?

Again, gonna dive into Hostage of Fate for this one - an emotional turning point for Aethelflaed in the story:

The evening had not passed too poorly, for all its tense turns and shame-filled moments. It had felt almost like home, among the flickering candlelight and the soft spoken words of praise and power. So familiar. It was in that familiarity that her breath failed to settle now. It was a queer, untenable feeling in her breast. She had felt something like it on the hill with Erik, before they had kissed, and before she had been lost to her lust, and her anger. It was as if she was looking through a window from a great distance towards the lonely smallness of her life. All the stories she had been told, all the people she had known, all the dreams she had held for herself, they all seemed to flit and dance in the light of that small window. She could turn towards that window, wishing to return to her life. She had wished it in some moments, even though she knew it would bring her back to the brittle pain of Aethelred's love. And there was no where else to go, anyway. She was a prisoner to her own fate.

But in this moment, something vast and ineffable seemed to stretch in the space around her, as if she moved in a world wide with choices. What choices? She had no choices. And yet she could sense...something, an unknown edge in the night, calling her with a thrumming song. The small and lonely fire of her past life was just one choice, and its cold light had blinded her, so that she looked into the fertile space around her now and saw only darkness.

Thank you thank you! Want to ask a question?

#ask games #my fic #the last kingdom fanfiction #tlk fanfic #aethelflaed x erik #aethelrik #fanfic reflect #thank you thank you!

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adanfourty · 4 years

Text

Life In Neon ~ cHapters Of the dreaMing hEart

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- I. Simple abundance in an empty life II. Stop III. Projection IV. Come To Theism V. Enter the Threshold

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------ White Feathers Atrium Universal Rain Shade Naissance Home

Part III: Pandora's Clock ------------------------- First. Second. Then I see you Third. Air Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child Fifth. Realitv Sixth. Water Seventh. Closure Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- In A Room Without A View

When there is reason, I awake in silence

Please enter, The door is open

I. Simple abundance in an empty life ...

The scent of passion after loneliness A hope of jubilation in life Coming closer to a dream A prelude before the plot

This time, the sunset becomes sunrise in my heart

Her sway, wavering in soft motion Guarding, away from polarity

She is herself not another other than her own self Only she can dance alone without a hint of loneliness That whiff of uncommon independence without arrogance With her right palm always open to the wind, A sign of welcomed company, only if she grants

She's a prelude to a drama An overture to a rhapsody

II. Loose-skin-loose drift, truth abuse truth to mute [St*p]

A new consciousness arises from the abyssimal gap, along with the voices of the singing colours, with the company of colourful rain.

A sighs escapes her as her old consciousness deteriorates.

Though silence is golden, it can also be a sign of unbelievable pain.

Terribly one sided, the consciousness gains space only in her extreme. Though it resembles a lesser four letter word, it cannot be spelled as of yet.

To her it came, through her it goes.

It escapes with swiftness by the way of her fingers and unto the three middle strings.

Now the top.

Now the bottom.

A play of ease and enjoyment, like a teardrop of meaning. There's release and meaning in her words, spoken through the melody escaping her fingers. Weaving phrase by phrase into sentences. Line by line into paragraphs. And chapter by chapter into a story, written in the air to her listeners' ears.

She tells her tale.

A drop of colour in melody's landscape First vivid, then lucid, then luminous The story of song and emotion, of motion and sound

Hikari luminates her enticing configuration Dancing fingers, dancing harmony Another conciousness slowly takes presence...

III. Grapple dream drama and colliding day of another mind [?`jection}

She said that fate can intertwine and leave you speechless Between your eyes and mine we share the same story Especially in this corrupted world of mounting decadence Nothing can hold truth and honesty together

As I wave my hand in the air, I motion you to come closer Start this endless romance

Not between you and I But between trust and committance

Wait for silence Wait for sleep Wait for peace

Then we can touch ..in dreams..

Metropolis doesn't want us to sleep Less it let us inhabbit our dreams Only to pieces of the shattered It can only resolve in our disloyalty

Total mindcrime it says, cannot rebuke There's no rebutle, but an end of statement

Pandemonium clouds temporary judgement A short analysis of ourselves

We cannot be subjected to distinctive terms We are fictional

City of blurring lights in swaying darkness Inverse luminary overshadows heartly judgement

"Tell me more..." "Tell me about myself"

IV. Let silence fall assunder as a boundary (ome to 7heism

Escape in makna ~e%ca]>e~ Don't let it be abstract

Have we been transformed? Apostle of today's corporate culture

Would you have changed a thing ? Destruction of the left brain regime

There is a cycle, which determines life and dharma In the starlit sky of human's silver sea of madness On the seeming horizon, inately seen A lonely silver surfer, Comes to push the wheel for me.

"Gotta move" (

"Gotta move" ^

"Gotta move that wheel right round" )

"Push the wheel of dharma round"

Repeat,

Repeat until the end of perdition

This re|>etition is road to redemption

This hand, can you feel it's touch? Now don't let go.

V. Enter this threshold, where you're }afe w/ m{E

Could it be that you and I have grown to love each other, In the dense aura of this lonely city, full of bitterness? True feelings can never hide much long, For whatever covers, cannot hide from true sight

The wind carried your cries, your wishes, your tears. And when I held my hand out to the sky, I caught some of your dreams.

The misty air partialy hides the growing flowers Blooming without sunlight, to the music of the marionettes Quartet players with classical aptitude Flowing melody in rivers of song

Endless...

Love, love, love, love, beautiful life In the eyes of a lover

Love, love, love, love, merciful touch As if in another dream

Dahlia...

Yes we are, I say we are destined Nothing else but nature that guides The wind, the solstice, the leaves Le ciel's faint whispering Warm snow welcomes this gardenia

Let's enter together...

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------

I dream of a blue nightingale

Not a dream. a perchance SDelirium guide me through this dance

a pointer. an address SPathway leading to this glass

not a form. a code SLanguages, conversations I do not recall

From a faraway place . . . The structured becomes the harmonic, then the frail

White Feathers: ---------------

Start of a lasting imperfect feeling A blissful impression unhindered This slight cut, an apothema Sweetening the shape of a tale

More poetry than justice A judgement in a poem

The tale paints itself a caligraphy Cornering prose to naratic ballad

Few words write themselves as prelude to a dream An overture towards realization Forging a small footstep for an elegy A move towards the end of a chapter

Before planting a kiss on the cheek Take a step out of square one

Atrium Universal: -----------------

I can feel the city itself Living, pulsing through me

I can feel the city itself Breathing in my own breath

At night's first saunter Tides, affairs subtly sweeping

Affairs yielding agnomen Pastly borrowed, then lent, now buried

Not a monumentous rite, A forecourting repose of endeavor

Melfluous, degree, decimal

The wall, the crack, the breach A light, a hope, A piece of reverence A sigh, a gleam, A benevolence

Neon. again a blinding, Charges, pistol, crackpot

Rain: -----

Swaying Petals, Fluttering Sight

Resting in silence Peace in the chaos that surrounds

Hiding within metropolis' fog

Out of reach Out of touch

Lit lanterns sway westbound Path seeking seem astray

Only patience can persevere Only time can lead the way

Only a woman

"A deepened interlude as an intro to a greater truth."

In phrases she speak In riddles she keep

Feel, a longing to be Only little she has

Not much left in her palm Desperately trying to keep

Err on the side of safety

"Here belies the safety of my sanctuary."

Trusting no one Careful not to love

Metropolis. weaves her coccoon

Silence within a storm

Survival is her language Passion is her secret

"Lesser I believe in myself, so I hide."

Shade: ------

A tide to ebb, A shoreline A flow, a motion A gaze

Once, a woman Twice, a sun Thrice, a nephentes

I feel the breze A neophytic caress, innocence So much to long for So much to ebb and lose

Subliminal violence An abstract for laterality

I'll always remember The news of a fog, The songs of a deaf

No echo in the halls No lesson but in our own

A feeling, inside her Notwithstanding a fall Silence for the requiem Not now, not for awhile

This feeling, inside me A pace not too far from fiction Splitting images on one screen My futile vision embracing

His feeling, inside him Bewildering encompassion of a trilogy Another mind, a friend, a rushed exemption Coming closer to a closure, then rebirth

Naissance: ----------

The birth of a soul, Deus ex machina

I feel a distant sun caressing A slow perchance for fate and fancy intertwined

What cometh this way Grasping scars emerging from days past

What shroud cloaks this day A slow immedicine, The unsounding of my parts

My love, a mirror, a friend It needs a chance, a chokepoint degapped

Heal me, A cessation from discrepancy

[tides of Helen]

This time window we must cherish, You and I and eye of The All Seeing

There's none other, Than the mindmaze in the mirror

I became, I bethroned, I abjected Thread, my dearest thread I dearly depart myself, bidding A home for a respite

Home : ------

The walls cry of absence and whispers

A slight touch of the palm graces, The plight of the plaintiff behind the fate Cursors move up the struggles of the vein, Inconclusive ill of melancholy

This notion of separation, Reaps the heart to its dires On bended knees we sink, At this river of futile tears

The ambience of loneliness and division, Portrudes above our conscious minds Heisting the current abode, Unfathomable desire to mutually caress

Beyond this boundary exists my other half Beyond this wall lies another...

Another,

Sustain contain then stop the ambience surrounding My speechless thought echoes throughout without surpass

and another,

Oboete [remember] Never forgetting specified frame of memory First clandestine then disctinction to final separation

and another,

I hear this loudness from inside my ears Humming, fainting whisper, to a soft speech

and another.

...

No more can I reject my objection towards presence PLighT is a revocable sister of her brother, fate

And you.

I miss you

The corridors of fate seems to form an unwanted maze No escaping reflective clarity, images beyond seen mirrors

Such is the configuration of this longing A lamentable presence, expelled from fate

It has been two long years, It has been an eternity

Your modulating kiss fades from memory As each deafening ambience ravage me

I, to my heart : [Perhaps to silence, I have spoken for far too long.]

Now the peregrine, Now the calmative

a boundary of mist separates while the only road leads to home

I've nowhere to go But to return to the confines of my sanctuary

[pulang]

Y've reached I home

Part III: Pandora's Clock -------------------------

I have come at a crossroads A silent tantrum of mind and consciousness

Please take my hand Brace the future with me

First.

The solitude of a solitary mind At this junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

The solitude of a solitary mind At the junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

[E] "Would you dance with me?"

Dec, the 12th of each cycle A courtship between Soleil and Capricorn

Of your latter solstice I find my solace Under luminous frost After a day after days before a new season

[Dahlia] Rest dear Soleil Shine a lesser warmth Shine greater southbound

Then through motion and period Embrace at former solstice

A garden in winter Not far from closure Enclosed in glass And luminosity

Come dear lucidity Let us speak to warm ourselves Let us become classic

One past, presenting a future

In this garden we trust Grace a prelude to truthful fancy

In this garden we lust Skin to skin without a mindful hinderance

In this garden we bind fire and ice

A simple presence felt between us and our dance Resultante, Of motion and perceived decadence

.the second conciousness.

A girl in the mirror Yet to set her feet, Yet to step to the real

A face becoming clearer Vivid smile doubtful eyes

Is she to be welcomed?

Don't let her future mimic the past This is not a point of vacancy Don't let time's vagrancy become turmoil This is a coming whirlwind

A new stream of conciousness is the resultant There can be no regret

Sleep, breathe deep, deeper in a shallow sleep

This is a form of regression Unfolding a dream of recurrence

~Mataku From my eyes

.Mata Ku. To eyes of myself

..Ma Ta Ku.. Then my own eyes

...Mata Milik Aku... These eyes are mine

[E] A cyclic process of birth, death and rebirth Sequential teardrop from a cloudless sky Freefall to a deep mirror of factful fallacy far from fiction

More to truth full of lies and truth, then lies, and lastly truth The answer to a riddle of the sequences and the abstract

A fracture of this mindspace leaks into the open Bequeathing beautiful lies of autumn and of lust But the winter in me is still vast, far from passing Not a drop of colour but a blackless landscape of total blur

Second. Then I see you...

On a road once shared before the crossroads Gleaming with a blueish haze of tenderness Before the coming of daylight's echoing shine Take me to a world outside this shallow sleep

Walking to currentness.

Cascading deep dark blue shade follow folly Interred in my living bones, blades of blunt burden Remain in viewable secrecy, lucidly reasoning for an answer Unwritten forgiveness uttered through a wordless whisper

Reflections, There's me in my head and me in the mirror I can see me very clearly, and I don't like it

The vivid image of reflection has a mind of it's own Why do reflections answer me with such prejudice?

...

A revisitation, A reflection of light Duplicating a world Forming an inversion Making you, Not quite yourself

...

Cascade the masks of emotion to emulate prudence Infer I have, that this is a motion of incredulity

I remain

Asking The Heaven for forgive~ness My hope is now in the clarity of my written bequest

Third. Air

Interlude to preciousness

The world is only an interlude I can't wait for the night to cast it's cloak {of dreams}

A gateway to my paralel life, another conciousness Lucidly living in a shallow sleep

Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child

Dawn to daybreak with a string of trust Warm caress of loyal sunlight Distress and jubilance harbours, Away the stray

A soulful sailor's song Lamenting grace and riddance

Yearly yearning without regard Clasping for release

Melding heartplace and effect Arriving distances to encumbrance The headplace earthing Excelling to explace

Love is a peaceful embrace A feeling, most emtious Of innocence in riddles of sin and temperance A forgiveness for the plightful son

[E] I found who I am at last By a glimpse of fate, enduring A slight mention in destiny A moment alone with my dear fate

A close brush, an eventful sigh Relief, a respite to sensefulness

One last time, Take away my breath

Deliver me my chance, To exhale my last sigh

[Dahlia] I am standing on a ledge A stare to this decending fathom

Cold air sweeps behind me As I tearfully leave my presence

I cannot give you more I cannot be a fitting piece

Musing over life and precedence. Now I'm tired.

I've tried so hard to stay afloat. I'm too tired.

Goodbye now, For I am never truly gone

Fifth. Realitv

[E] A life outside of this TV screen A roundabout of moving pictures preceeding Of passion, of circumstance, of changes My faults and lies, my trials and crimes

Curious apprehension of what may yield I behold to myself, my own mindsight A view to a thrill, a dream of a dream A dull lucidity, a makeup of frigidity

My past turns present My presence sinks into the past Another besetting recurrence Another triumph lost

Sixth. Water

[E] How is my lifeline?

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. A freight train coming my way.

There is a door nearer to the right. Marking exit from a disaster.

(Not out of lifeline)

But indeed. It is I, myself who can save me. It is I, myself who conjured the door. It is I, myself who live my life. Not someone else.

And it is I, myself who choose what I believe in. Not someone else not me.

I'm still breathing, I can still exhale Without hesitation, normalcy without change A sense of endless freedom without boundaries Miracles coming at an enjoyable rate

Now here's that jazz [0}

Flood of tears don't drown me You'll never catch me again crying a flood Now that I'm holding on to my dearest hope I have to hold her gently Careful not to break her to pieces

Seventh. Closure

Strewn paleness, The setting sun colours the sky

A thousand rays bidding farewell, Bidding another rest

And I wish I am not here

Wavering clouds speak with the doves A faint sentence caught in my ears

"There's nothing left to hide."

My melodies will take me Wherever this heart is needing to set

You took away all my strength, Now please take away my pain

Leave my cold outside this shell Never let it rain inside these doors

Please lead me to your promises Then please take away my pain

I am in need of refuge

This is the final scene Before the curtain falls . .

Please, Make me believe in hope, And please take away my pain

Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Now I must rest, I must be at peace

Hibernating from culture PlacIng membrane, a distance to bid myself

Sayonara for a moment Please do not forget, oboete my dear Remembrance is for sentient bliss

Keep me in your mind And please, bathe your memory of me in absolution

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flightfoot · 5 years

Text

Commodury

So this sprang from a conversation I’ve been having with @naehja about some possibilities for the Hermes-is-captured theory. Hope you like this take on it! I dunno whether I’ll continue it or not. Depends on whether I have ideas.

___________________________________________________________

We were cornered. Again.

I was getting REALLY tired of this.

Seriously, I know Commodus hates me and is bent on destroying me in the most excruciating way possible, but does he HAVE to do the stadium thing again?

At least this time it’s not just me and Meg.

Reyna and Hazel stood ready, glaring at Commodus.

Meg looked vaguely bored, as unafraid as ever.

I raised my bow, attempting not to let it shake too much.

I wasn’t sure how much help I’d be - I’d practiced a lot at Camp Jupiter, but I doubted my archery skill would ever be up to my godly standards, no matter how much I tried - but at least I could contribute SOMETHING.

Commodus merely smirked. It seemed that my little stunt back in Indianapolis hadn’t managed to blind him - not completely. Though I DID notice that the stadium this time was a LOT brighter than the one he’d used before.

“You going to fight yourself, Commodus?” I yelled up at him. “Or are you going to hide behind your minions?”

He smiled wider.

My blood ran cold.

Commodus HATED being taunted, being thought of as weak. For him to not only NOT take the bait, but to seem to enjoy it, to have been waiting for it...

“Oh no, I’m not going to fight you personally this time,” he purred. It sent shivers down my spine. I remembered how he used to talk to me in that tone of voice, how he used to whisper sweet nothings into my ears. Hearing him use it now, in these circumstances, was infinitely scary than his loudest, most deranged screaming.

“Oh Commodury~ be a dear and kill these four. As painfully as possible.”

Commodury? I felt sorry for whatever creature he’d named that... that monstrosity.

Almost, except for the fact that whatever it was would be trying to kill us in a few moments.

I tensed. I could handle this. I COULD. Whatever Commodus pitted at us, it couldn’t be worse than what I’d faced so far... right?

A person flew in.

But not a human.

Nor a demigod.

No, this person was nearly twenty feet tall.

He exuded an aura of power - one I knew well.

My bow clattered to the floor.

I barely noticed.

“Mercury...?”

Commodus laughed, an ugly, raucous noise that tore at my ears.

“Oh no. Not anymore. He’s MINE now. He won’t respond to that name anymore. He is - and as far as he knows - as far as he’s aware of ANYTHING - he always was, and always will be, nothing but Commodury. Isn’t that right, dear?”

He directed that last comment at Mercury.

“That is correct, Master,” my little brother replied tonelessly.

I searched his eyes, looking for any hint of recognition, of his trademark mischief. Surely... surely at any moment his mouth would twist into a smirk. He’d turn to Commodus and blast him, taunting him for thinking he could contain a god. He’d laugh at how he’d actually believed that the God of Trickery could REALLY be controlled so easily.

But as I watched him, I grew more and more convinced that this was no trick.

My little brother was Commodus’s slave.

No... it was worse than that.

At least slaves had freedom of thought.

I wasn’t sure whether my little brother was even still conscious.

Could he even be CALLED my little brother, with everything that made him... well, HIM, stripped from him?

No, no, I COULDN’T think like that. I WOULD save him. I had to.

I’d failed one brother. I wouldn’t fail another.

“How perfect,” Commodus hissed. “Do you know what it feels like to be killed by someone you loved? To be killed by someone you thought would never harm you. Do you know how it FEELS?!”

He screamed the last sentence, veins bulging as his composure finally broke.

He sat back, panting. He plastered a grin back on his face. “Oh, and if he ever DOES manage to get free, he’ll have to live with the knowledge that he killed you himself. And YOU’LL... well I guess you won’t really be around anymore, now will you?”

I just continued staring at Mercury. Or... what was left of him, at least.

Names have power. That’s especially true for a god.

For him to respond to Commodury, but not to Mercury...

Bile rose up in my throat.

Commodus wasn’t just calling him ‘Commodury’ to get a rise out of me.

He had CLAIMED him. Branded him. Stripped my brother of his own identity and substituted it with his own.

Even his ESSENCE would have to be under his control...

Wait.

His essence was under Commodus’s control.

My brother was the god of Communication. He kept everything running smoothly.

But he could also BLOCK communications.

Emails, phone calls, texts, Iris messages, none of them had been able to get through between people on the Greco-roman demigod side for MONTHS.

But the Emperors and their forces could communicate perfectly well.

“So that’s why...” I murmured, my eyes wide.

My little brother had been captive for MONTHS, going through whatever the Emperors had used to do... THIS to him.

And I hadn’t known. I hadn’t had a clue.

Of COURSE my brother would never let communications be disrupted like this under normal circumstances. Of COURSE not.

But I hadn’t figured it out. I’d been so caught up in my own misery, I hadn’t thought for a second that one of my divine siblings could be going through something worse.

GOD I was an idiot.

Commodus frowned. “Commodury. Kill them. NOW.”

I jolted. He’d ordered my brother (I REFUSED to refer to him as Commodury) to kill us nearly a full minute ago.

Yet he hadn’t moved.

Maybe there was some hope after all.

But for now, I needed to RUN.

Because while he hadn’t moved before, he was certainly moving now.

Though not as fast as I knew he could...

“Meg! Try to slow him down!” Reyna ordered. “Hazel, try to misdirect him! Apollo...”

She looked over at me. I’d foregone my bow and taken out my ukulele instead.

She seemed a little puzzled, but didn’t waste time trying to figure out what I was doing.

Reyna parried Hermes’s sword strikes, buying the rest of us time. I only prayed that this didn’t turn out like the last time a demigod had tried to buy time so we could get away.

I strummed my ukulele and started to sing.

I sang of the mischievous Hermes, how he’d snuck out within hours of being born to steal cattle. How he’d defied authority and broken the rules.

His attacks faltered slightly as I saw a faint glimmer of awareness appear in his eyes.

“YOU USELESS IDIOT! YOU INCOMPETENT EXCUSE FOR A GOD! KILL THEM!” Commodus screamed. It had no effect.

I sang of Hermes’s cleverness, of him having my cattle walk BACKWARDS to lead me astray. I sang of his inventiveness when he found a tortoise, hollowed out the shell and stretched cow sinew across it, making the first lyre. I sang of our friendship, as he exchanged his lyre for my caduceus.

My brother’s attacks stopped. Commodus continued screaming but none of us cared.

“Apollo...?” he whispered. “You’re here...”

“Mercury! Hermes!” I shouted.

He stared at me a moment.

Commodus snarled.

“YOU. ARE. MINE.”

My brother doubled over, clutching his head.

I started running towards him. Reyna caught my arm.

“Leave...” my brother forced out. “Leave... please. I... can’t.... hold him off... much longer....”

“Brother...”

“GO!” he screamed.

Reyna pulled on my arm, tugging me to the stadium wall.

A wall of trees exploded from the ground, destroying the wall.

Meg had used her time well.

I glanced back at my brother. His headache seemed to be gone. Normally I’d be happy he wasn’t in pain anymore, but with how his expression had gone blank... well, he wasn’t really my brother right now.

“Won’t he just follow us?” I asked Reyna. He might not be up to full speed right now, but Mercury was still QUITE fast.

She smirked. “Oh, sure. But which ‘us’?”

I glanced around. Dozens of groups of myself, Meg, Reyna, and Hazel ran off in different directions.

I whistled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Hazel was Hecate’s daughter, instead of just one of her practitioners.”

Reyna smiled. “She’s been practicing.”

We met up with the real Meg and Hazel moments later, all of us running as fast as our legs could take us.

After a few minutes we managed to get back to the car. I hopped into the driver’s seat and floored it, heading back to camp as quickly as I could take us, relying on Hazel’s mist abilities to keep any cops from going after us for breaking the speed limit.

We walked into camp. I found a corner and sank down.

My little brother was Commodus’s mind-controlled slave. He’d been through worse horrors than I had these past few months.

And I hadn’t been able to save him.

“Hey.”

I looked up.

Meg stood in front of me, presenting me with a plate of bacon. “Here.”

I broke into laughter.

It was just so... domestic. So normal.

I took a strip.

She sat down next to me. “We’ll save him, you know.”

“How can you believe that?” I asked her. “We have no idea how they enslaved him. We barely managed to get away with our lives.”

“He didn’t want to fight. I know he didn’t. You got through to him.”

I gave a quick bark of laughter. “Oh sure, but it didn’t last.”

Meg shook her head. “I think it did. Not all the way, but...”

She stood up, staring into the distance.

“I... I didn’t turn against Nero immediately, either. I went back to him. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About what we’d experienced together. And I broke free.”

She looked me in the eyes. “If you could help me break free, then you’l be able to help your brother too.”

I stared at her, stunned. She hardly EVER talked about her past if she could avoid it. And her...betrayal? Never.

But here she was, talking about her past. Talking about it for me.

I pulled her into a hug.

She seemed startled, but then relaxed.

I sobbed into her shoulder, letting it all out. Sobbing for my brother.

Then I wiped my tears and stood up.

“Let’s go save my brother,” I declared.

She nodded, a fire in her eyes.

Together we walked to Reyna’s tent to make a plan.

Next Chapter

#trials of apollo #hermes #apollo #meg mccaffrey #lester papadopoulos #toa #fanfiction

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opalesenses · 6 years

Text

Erik’s Theory of Happiness — Chapter 1

Prelude

I just have to say um...WOW? I did not expect to come back to such nice compliments and love on my story. I’m so grateful and humbled towards everyone who read, reblogged, liked, and commented. Every single one of you? Stunning! Y’all have truly instilled more writing confidence into me.

a/n: Finally our real story begins, and whew... chille talk about battle in the center of the mind. lil Ms Alice could never not with all that baggage this boy has lmao! Pain, reconciliation, and healing—rainstorms before the rainbow.

Characters: Erik Killmonger x black!OC (later chapters), more important original characters introduced later as well (two actually show up briefly in this part 😊)

warnings: the hunt for symbolism begins, and some metaphors

synopsis: Erik has been having strange dreams since his childhood, dreams filled with unusual creatures and eccentric characters. Upon returning to Wonderland as an adult and learning everything has gotten worse, Erik must travel through his own mind to discover the truth about who he truly is and save Wonderland in order to restore peace.

___________________________________________________

Chapter I: Nightmarish Revoir

Having lived in feebly in misery,

The dead are knocking on the door, aren’t they?

The little master can’t look away,

What a disgusting story.

— Outer Science

It is said Time builds friendship with no man—always floating, always progressing, and always unraveling. Perhaps, if somebody informed Erik of his complicated relationship with Time earlier, he would have ensured more generous dedication toward absorbing the moments life had once blessed him with.

Father Time maintained no favors, leaving Erik��another misguided soul—entangled in a void of infinitude. He was nothing more than a pawn at the mercy of his chess master caught between a sadistic game he never once volunteered for and could never forfeit.

Multitudes of clocks, measurements of his misfortunes, descended one after another; filling the long, cerulean corridors Erik meandered through. He carried himself along the luminous stream dripping from mullioned window before him. Rays of brightness reflected off the exposed dials like glistening chandeliers. They swayed endlessly, showcasing nothing but mockery at his sluggish pace; a collision of ticking hands and deafening sounds of eternity. Each tick became another oncoming wave threatening to submerge him further into a deep sea.

Erik hesitantly continued down the arched, glass doorway ahead that induced him into a steady trance. He could never smother this feeling, no matter how times he’s visited this particular dimension. Somehow intertwined but unaware of his beginnings. Always aware of his emotions, yet blind towards his experiences.

“Come now, Erik. It’s only a dream.”

A dream.

If only everything was merely a sweet illusion he could easily dismiss.

As much as he yearned, Erik harbored no such power. His prayers for better hallucinations, nonsensical as it sounded, proved futile. He was drowning in this dark vacancy—his own subconscious incarceration.

The clocks looming above continued humming their dreadful tune, droning closer to unleashing Judgement Day upon the wandering lamb as he confronts his sins. Before he reached the doorway, a disembodied voice fractured his thoughts, ceasing every movement. Turn back, Erik. These manifestations you needlessly approach beyond the threshold will only lead you more astray. Please, you are not ready!

Recognition flooded Erik’s senses. It’s a melancholic melody he’s heard on many occasions. Counseling him, blinding him. Temptation curled in his toes as he slowly turned his head to face the quivering figure awaiting him. He captured a glimpse of indigo dyed orbs shimmering with renewed hope at his submission, possessing layers of sorrow buried beneath a veil, making everything appear matte.

Erik’s face contorted and he immediately returns to his previous stance, “Why you here, Odessa?” The frustration lapsed from his lips. “You know I ain’t just runnin’ back empty handed, especially since I didn’t end up here by choice anyway.”

“You’ve arrived against your choice? Then where have you been all this time, Erik?” Odessa gradually stepped forward, tears welling her eyes. “Stay, leaving offers no protection,” she nearly collapsed on his back, cementing her feet onto the ground as she embraced him tightly.

The warmth almost prompts Erik to fulfill a new promise of abandonment toward everything unrelated to her presence. Move forward, Erik. Don’t look back. The light displays delusions just as they equally make the darkness their throne as well. Heaviness ignited an ache dwelling in his stomach. How long has he been gone?

“No, Odessa. I’m...I’m sorry, but... I can’t,” Erik pressed, remorse laced between every word.

“Is this something you absolutely must pursue?” The edginess in her voice made him crawl towards indifference.

Erik slowly settled his hands on Odessa’s trembling ones, still facing forward. The option of greeting oblivion began to feel enticing the more his back absorbed her distress. “This is something I gotta face.”

She abruptly slipped her hands from his touch, seeing past the mask of those words. Odessa delayed her response, entering a silence louder than the blaring of the clocks. “Asherah…” She absently implied, “...is trying to reach out to you, right?”

Erik turned sharply and glowered, confusion flourishing his features. “The hell you talking about?”

“It seems you can’t remember. I presume that is a good thing,” Odessa quipped causing Erik’s stare to harden. He observed her eyes, which were darting back and forth, shining in the sunlight. There was something else in them, something looming. They harbored secrets, the same way a pot nursed layers of deep soil. “Must you always leave us?”

Erik becomes compelled to approach her and chastise for needless cryptic answers once again but a newfound ache began swirling in his stomach, demanding his urgency toward something more incomprehensible than himself.

“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta leave and start somewhere.” He callously concluded before stepping forward into his calling. A foreign feeling implored he discard everything and run back into the arms of Odessa, but alas, some necessities required sacrifices.

Sunlight quickly diminished as he ventured further into the unknown world, darkness seeping throughout his vision. However Erik’s eyes soon greeted a new light, more dismal and faint. The awaiting sight before him unfolded across an ornate blanket of white chrysanthemums. His footsteps grew heavier. Murmured prayers and hushed voices touched his ears. Seated before an open chestnut coffin was a young woman, wearing a red dress and matching flowers blooming between her hair. With hands clasped and head solemnly bowed, she recited a devotional from her lips—

May my words reach you through these empty halls. Oh, Virtuoso!

May my suffering be ceased by your merciful hands

To dismantle my fate, I beg you

To cleanse my sinful being, I implore you

For I am guilty of swallowing the sun

As I commit to your desires, I shall offer you my final drop of blood

Oh, Virtuoso! My body must burn for my sins,

For you, I desire glory

For myself, a humble demise

And for the lone soul standing behind me, I wish nothing but reconciliation and sweet farewells

For we...cannot be separated

Upon her revelation she paused, slowly lifting her head and revealing her face. Crimson eyes. Those crimson eyes swimming with the heaviness of one thousand untold stories. Wilting under her gaze, Erik’s mouth agapes as he surrendered himself by falling onto his knees.

I am thou, thou art me.

Together, they both uttered softly from their lips,

Amen.

___________________________________________________

Oh, my? Oh, my? Thoughts? Hope y’all enjoyed the mystery yet to unfold! Thanks for reading! xo Definitely more to come babes!

taglist: @hanabira , @4cvirgo , @laxu , @etherealiss , @muse-of-mbaku , @pocmarvelworks

#jazz's fics #erik killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black panther fic #bp fic #erik killmonger fic #erik killmonger x oc #redemption!erik #my fic: etoh

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hogwartselementumrp · 6 years

Photo

Dear San, it is with great pleasure I welcome you back with Louis Weasley and I apologize for your late acceptance. I have to say with only the slightest bit of tongue-in-cheek teasing and 90% sincerity that the part where you named almost every person your Louis interacted with in his time here before as a connection was my favorite thing. Some of your application may have been familiar, but my excitement was renewed fresh. Please get Louis back on our dashes soon!

OOC

Name/Alias: San Preferred Pronoun: she/her Age: 20 Timezone: Central or EST depending on whether I’m at school or at home Activity level: 6 How did you find the RP (new members): next gen rp tags

Character Information

Name of the Character: Louis Weasley

Describe the character in your own words: The words that describe Louis are conflicted and contradictory. He is lead by emotion. He feels an excess of this emotion and it leads him in opposite directions until he tears himself apart. He worships Victoire and he also hates her. He wants to be the rational Ravenclaw . He was born to follow his heart not his head. He’s the perfect student who almost was expelled. He wants peace so he fights everyone. He thinks the women in his life are perfect goddesses that should live in a world where they are safe to be free. He treats them like they are incapable and smothers them so they feel trapped with him. He’s so hard because he’s soft and means well. He wants a perfect world so he destroys this one further. He embraces either the alphamale or the ultra fem. He is a man at war.

All of that is still true but he’s become even more unstable since the fall of Hogwarts castle and closer to another breaking point.

Any changes you wish to make?: I don’t know if it’s still a change, but the paragraph I added was not in his bio so I want to make sure that I can still play Louis as I did last time. Amber Heard would be the faceclaim still for female Louis

Louis’s imitation of Victoire wasn’t the childish game Bill saw it as. Louis deeply admires his older sister, but his wish to be her went deeper and didn’t go away completely when he got older.Some days he wants to be the knight slaying dragons and some days he looks jealously at Victoire’s long painted nails and full lips and still wishes he was born the delicate princess instead. He doesn’t think his family could understand when he doesn’t understand himself why some days he looks in the mirror and hates his squared jaw and the stubble on his face or why he flexes his muscles and the masculine form he admired yesterday and worked hard to achieve disgusts him today. He couldn’t even tell people he was pansexual. How could he tell them this? Now that he’s out on his own and doesn’t have four other guys always around in a dorm or family looking over his shoulder , he’s started to indulge and explore these feelings, experimenting with self-transfiguration and going out at night to bars he’d tell his sisters never to go near dressed as a woman when he feels that way. He practices being a woman around strangers, and hopes his family never finds out. He considers himself a man at heart and these nights an embarrassing way to relieve stress. He believes there may be something wrong with him, and it makes him lose his temper more often.

Desired Ships, if any: I am open to any chemistry. Louis is pansexual as well as genderfluid. Any ship might struggle along with Louis as he keeps secrets and wrestles to accept himself.

Titles: beater for university quidditch team if possible. Volunteer at the university library.

Relationships:

-Luca-his mentor in the auror program and the goal he works toward. Luca seems to believe in him and so it makes him believe in himself more

-Raquel and Astrid-both of these women he feel overstep their boundaries and assume authority over him they do not have or familiarity with him they have not earned. He won’t say that it is because they are women that he feels this way when he looks up to Luca

-Sam-his former best friend and former crush. He ruined their relationship by losing his temper with Sam once and pushing him. He hasn’t been able to atone to Sam’s satisfaction and all good memories have turned bitter

-Ed-after he and Sam fell out, Louis and Ed became closer over the years. The two boys are extremely close even now that they don’t live together and are both busy with their jobs and university courses

-Johanna-a surrogate little sister to him to a greater degree than Prue and Cora because of Ed. He expects Ed to treat Dominique the same

-Nerissa-she reminds him of Dominique when they were younger and for that reason he wants to protect her from the world. He was disgusted when she told him about her crush on him and he handled it badly so they are no longer as close

-Jon-he felt personally betrayed when he found out his old workout partner was behind so many of the deaths the past few years. He will not rest until he hunts Jonathan down.

-Delphina-he thinks she’s a sweet, innocent girl lead astray by Jonathan Marks and he can appeal to her to give him some way to get to the wannabe dark lord

-Colin- he doesn’t believe Colin is good enough for his cousin or that he’s changed his ways and Louis is just waiting for him to prove it.

-Marzia- she reinforced what Louis tried to base the face he presented to the world on, appreciative of strength, bravado, and athletic talent. He and the flirtatious former Ravenclaw barely knew each other before she suffered her head injury but he sat by her bedside every day until she woke up and befriended her family like they had been dating for years as he forced her into the distressed damsel he could swear his protection toward in the future so she wouldn’t be another person he failed

-Lara, Allard, and Olivier- Louis can’t stand any of the Duponds who he thinks have failed him and the world in different ways. He doesn’t care about any redemptive arc they are on because it doesn’t make up for the past

Family Relationships:

-Bill-Louis is more distant from his father. He believes he deserved to be the favorite as the only son but he has to work hard for the love and approval Victoire and Dominique are showered in and instead of benefits of being the son all he got growing up were comparisons to Harry and Ginny’s alpha male James. He looks up to his father and seeks his approval, but he resents him for making him feel like love is a competition.

-Fleur-Louis is a complete mama’s boy, and Fleur can do no wrong in his eyes. If he hadn’t gone to Hogswarts, it would have been doubtful he’d left her side at all. They remain nearly as close to this day. There are just a few secrets he keeps from her. Even mothers need to be safeguarded.

-Victoire-Louis has always been jealous of Victoire, because she is everything people claim her to be. She deserves every bit of attention she gets, but he deems it unfair. It’s unfair she should exist. He stews in constant frustration without faulting her for the qualities he’s proud of her for. He loves his smart, beautiful, athletic sister and praises her writing and tenacity. He hated how she used to steal the spotlight when her ego seemed never satisfied. He hates it still, but he has infinite forgiveness for her and feels ashamed when he loses the battle and says anything against her that proves he isn’t better. He’s petty and jealous that he will never measure up. He would like to be closer to her like when they were young and he used to trail after her like a duckling imitating her, but he’s too prideful to say it and afraid she doesn’t have room for him in her life.

-Dominique-Louis’s little sister is the spotlight of his world. She is the only one he has confided (mostly) everything to. She’s been his constant companion since birth. He doesn’t believe she could be capable of any malicious thought or act. She is as pure as doves and he’ll keep her that way. He is blind thinking she is the last true innocent in the world, but trying to change his mind when it comes to his baby sister is dangerous.

-Extended family-he tries to maintain a close relationship with the entire Wotter clan. Family is a stronger bond than love or hate and it’s his duty to lay his life on the line for any of them if needed. Louis is closer with most of his female cousins than the males but he is especially close with Fred with whom he has developed a long standing good cop/bad cop routine to try and monitor all the cousins’ behavior.

Para Sample

A few cardboard boxes was all their lives for the past three years had come down to. A dumpster full of charred trash and a few cardboard boxes of things worth saving. It was up to him to decide what made it in the boxes. He was the final judge on what was garbage and what couldn't be parted with. Ironically, the girls' rooms had been spared the most. It became a test of what was worth shipping to America and what was junk anyway even if it wasn't reeking of smoke, warped, or singed. The largest box became stuff to be donated. Things left behind that would never be missed.

The cashmere sweater was what broke him. Before that, the thought of taking anything from the house for himself that hadn't already been his to begin with never would have crossed his mind. Louis prided himself on his integrity. He wouldn't steal from his friends. The cashmere sweater made him think of how ownership had already been waved when clearing out the house was left to him. If he didn't claim it then some stranger would. It was a purely decorative item. He could have bought a sweater for himself in the same materials and it would have been much more hardy. It would have been something to keep him warm when the months for sweater wearing came around. Men's sweaters were that way: practical and made for hard wear and tear even when you compromise for softness and fashion. The sweater in his hands was a thin, delicate, feminine thing in a shade of blush pink too short to even come to Prue's waist and sprinkled with opalescent buttons that were purely for show. He would have ripped it apart like tissue as soon as he put over his head. It was a stark contrast to what he was wearing: an old checked shirt with two buttons missing that smelled of beer and reminded him he'd forgotten to wash it after using it as a rag one day. The checked shirt was one he loved. It wasn't something he was ashamed to be seen in. It was comfortable and familiar. He was an old checked shirt not a cashmere sweater with buttons that didn't serve any purpose.

He stuffed the sweater into the bottom of his box and covered it with partially charred photo albums and dishes like he was committing a crime. A green dress followed it. He would need a shrinking solution to fit into either. He knew the right dose like he knew spells to grow his hair and vanish his adam’s apple, change the pitch of his voice and transfigure his features. He'd need to find a good padded push-up bra if he was going to pull the dress off. Wily Witch's Growing Elixir only did so much when you didn't have proper breasts to begin with. There were no bras left behind. That meant buying one, and he hadn't faced that yet. Stealing one from one of his sisters would be worse so he'd have to. A floral maxi skirt he'd get more use out of completed the trio.

Ed was supposed to come help him when he got off work so Louis made sure to be gone before then. He didn't want to shut his best friend out, but some things were best left buried and shoved in the bottom of a closet until a better time came to talk about them.

#accepted

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smolharray · 5 years

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Dating Zayn Malik

Here's a taste of my writing.. (Also, these small situations are all just random little ideas, no hate towards anyone or anything mentioned!)

Dating Zayn Malik as a fellow artist was not easy. Everyone knew that Zayn was an extremely private and introverted guy, especially for a celebrity. He rarely appeared on interviews or TV shows, is usually inactive on social media other than a tweet every so often and does not promote his music in any way, much to his fans' dismay. Although they respected his choices and were always highly proud of his achievements despite his inactivity on the media. They also loved his music, how real and genuine it felt to listen to it, especially because it's 'hand-made' by Zayn.

You however, are the exact opposite of your beloved boyfriend. You loved interacting with your fans, online or offline, no matter where you are, you can always be spotted chatting with them, taking selfies, giving autographs. It felt like you owed it to them, and it was the least you could really do for those who unconditionally supported you regardless of your relationship with them- strangers.

You regularly promoted your music, always performing live at concerts, TV shows and even talk shows like Ellen, The Late Late Show With James Corden, The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and many more. You also made regular appearances at radio stations, Buzzfeed and hundreds of magazines for your modelling career.

Acting was much less common, but it was still something you did. A couple of main roles, a few cameo or special appearances did much to boost your name as an 'all-rounder celebrity'.

So to say the least, dating Zayn Malik was not easy. In fact, your personalities clashed a little too much for the idea of even being friends, let alone being a couple.

Initially, Zayn had objected to the idea of revealing your newfound relationship. In fact, you agreed, not wanting to ruin the first few months of dating. The feeling of a fresh, unknown and private relationship was a lot more beautiful than one could imagine, especially when it came to being a public role model. It felt much more meaningful and romantic when you weren't being plagued with fans, magazine rumours and always making it on the headlines if you're seen with the opposite gender. Of course, you don't blame them. Never did, never will.

Sometimes it's just hard to live in the spotlight when you want peace and alone time to spend with friends, family and loved ones.

However, as time went on, it wasn't really news to you that both you and Zayn were suspected to be involved with each other. Fans find things out a lot quicker than most could imagine, it was almost scary. However, Zayn's constant denial made you upset. What was wrong with revealing your relationship? It was common, even amoungst your past relationships. This ended in small arguments that were pointless, but eventually, to save your relationship, he gave in. Anyway, it would have been found out sooner or later and the both of you had been getting annoyed with the many articles being released, "Zayn Malik & Charlotte Parker infatuated with each other?", "Couple or 'Just friends'- Zayn Malik and Charlotte Parker", "Has Zayn moved on from his relationship with Perrie?", "Is Charlotte over her recent breakup with Cole Sprouse?"

"And what, Zayn? Why don't you want people to know about us? Is it something about me? Am I not bloody good enough for you?"

You knew it wasn't true. Zayn loved you with all his heart, and it didn't matter if you were a celebrity or not. Zayn didn't care about these things, he made that clear from the start.

But it was getting out of hand; the rumours. They knew, fuck, they probably suspected it from the beginning. What's wrong with telling the world?

"You know that isn't fucking true Charlotte. I love you, you know that. It's just-"

"What? Just what Zayn?"

Zayn remains silent, his brown eyes refusing to meet yours. Neither of you said a word as you sat in the piercing silence.

Zayn quietly turns to look at you, he knew you wanted it. Could he sacrifice his privacy for you?

Secondly, it is very well-known that Zayn has been in One Direction, and of course decided to cut all ties with his former bandmates. Except, you've been together while Zayn was still in One Direction, and friends when he joined the band. This meant that a friendship with the other boys was definitely going to happen. However, when a bandmate who just so happens to be closest to you leaves, it will lead to more drama. You cannot count the amount of times fans have pleaded- begged you to reconcile their relationship.

Some Directioners even accused you breaking the band because of your relationship with Zayn, which was absolute horseshit. The boys have stepped in to defend you, but it didn't stop some fans from blaming you whenever they found something that was close enough to be called 'evidence'. This was the exact reason why sometimes you wished Zayn would suck it up and apologise for leaving so abruptly and fix their friendship. However, if it were that easy, Zayn wouldn't have left. You don't blame him for not doing that.

Many useless articles have also came up with news whenever you were spotted spending time with the boys. Yes, the relationship has soured between the members, but did that stop you from being good friends with them? No. Problems only arose whenever you tried to fix it, and it didn't seem that either party were willing to cooperate with each other. Moreover, with their busy schedules and sizeable media exposure, it was hard to find a time and place to mend their friendship. So maybe, maybe when everyone had the chance to get together, you'd try.

"Can't you just try, for them? For me?"

Zayn sighs, holding his head between his hands. You knew he didn't want anything to do with them, but you never really understood how someone could abandon a 5-year friendship, especially if you've lived together more than half the time.

"Baby, you know how I feel about it. I'm just not ready. Moreover, it seems that none of the guys want to either."

His words only make you grit your teeth. The guys seem like they don't want to because none of you try to help the problem! Everytime you manage to gather the boys together, it always ends in shouts and awkward silence.

"Well... Fine then. I guess I can't force any of you."

Lastly, it's common knowledge within your fan base and even outside of it that you abhorred smoking and drugs. The visual made up for it's disgusting nature, but you still preferred to stay away from those cancer sticks. With such a negative view towards cigarettes, it was certainly a surprise when your company revealed you got together with Zayn, considering he smoked a ton.

Fans were worried that he had lead you astray and bombed him with hate for quite awhile, but once you cleared the issue up, many were questioning, why?

Some said this only shows how powerful your love was, that you could oversee a flaw in the Bradford man and still love him for him. However others said that this only proved you're there for his money, which didn't really make sense, considering you earned just as much, if not more for the amount of promotions you did. So that theory was long diminished.

Cigarettes were small, but to you, they held a lot more power than one could imagine. It was not only addictive after a few smokes and lethal, but it also seemed to be able to put a strain on your relationship with Zayn. You hated that those things had so much power.

"Baby.. I thought I told you no smoking inside the house! If you want to smoke, go to the balcony."

You sigh, coughing a little as the pungent smell of smoke stung your lungs. You honestly didn't know why Zayn turned to smoking when he could do other things to relax and let off steam.

"It's just a little smoke babe. Deal with it."

"Perrie did.. So why can't you.." He mumbled, clearly not realising just how loud and clear it was to you. Tears filled your eyes and anger ran through your veins. So this was what would end it all, a fucking cancer stick.

"Fuck you Zayn." You breathed out, wiping away your tears before slamming the door to your shared room shut.

You definitely did not miss the regretful look in his eyes, but honestly, you could care less at this point. If Zayn missed Perrie so much just because she could endure a goddamn cig in the house, he can have her all he wants.

You eventually made up with Zayn. He came over to your friend's place where you were temporarily staying at 3am, drunk while slurring out constant apologies. It truly did hurt you to see him like that, however, what he said, you would never, ever forget. He promised he would try to get over his habbit, just for you. It comforted you that you were able to get him to try his best to overcome this life-threatening habbit. Because hey, you might not have been able to endure it for him, but you potentially saved him from health issues in the future.

Of course, Zayn's smoking habbit did bother you a lot more than you would admit, it's just that you didn't show it to the public. It was a turn-off, especially the lingering scent on his body. Even after showers, the foul smell always lingered on him. After the fight, you had managed to lower his smoking frequency by a substantial amount, but it still wasn't enough to you. As a biology student in secondary school, your knowledge over the toll smoking can cause on a person's body was not small, and you've heard many stories from your teacher about how smoking almost lead to her father's permanent blindness. You were bent on not letting that happen to Zayn, let alone even getting close to that state.

His fans are more than thankful for that.

But they didn't just love you for helping his problem with smoking. In fact, they loved that once you appeared in his life, his mood seemed to always be playful and happy. How did they know that? Because of your weekly Instagram posts with him. Zayn may not be active on social media, but you constantly made it a point to give the fans a little taste of him outside of work. It seemed to do the trick, because many of them loved it.

There were also less Twitter rants made by him. It used to be common for Zayn to post whatever he wanted to say on Twitter without directing it to anyone, but he rarely did that anymore, and he kept to more positive tweets.

The part fans were most excited about was that Zayn seemed to quarrel less with the his ex bandmates. Their Twitter war likely came to an end because of you. Overall, fans were content with the positive influence you had on him.

"How does it feel to be in a relationship with Zayn Malik?"

The female interviewer asks, almost grinning with adoration when your eyes lit up at the sound of his name.

"It's difficult because of our differences. As many people know, he's much more introverted and less active than I am in the community, but despite those differences, it's still amazing. We love each other and that's all that matters. We give each other balance, and we're always there for each other whenever the latter needs support."

You pause, biting your lip.

"Zayn is the best thing that's happened to me. He's a great guy. I'm so thankful that I can have him in my life, even if I can't boast about our relationship."

The interviewer chuckles, many found it enduring whenever you talked about your relationship. She's not the first.

"Do you have anything to say to Zayn?"

Crossing your legs, you smiled shyly, tucking a strand of black hair behind your pierced ears. You had plenty to say to Zayn, but it wasn't practical to say it all out on camera. No matter how extroverted you were, baring your heart out to the world was still a hard no in your book.

You faced the camera, the corners of your lips curving ever so slightly.

"Zayn, I know you hate publicising anything about us, I know it's tiring when we go out together, especially when fans and paps disrupt our private time together. It's been hard on you, and I'm sorry. But we grew together as partners which is all that matters, and we learnt to give way to each other, even if it meant sacrificing a little. So thank you for putting up with me. I love you."

The interviewer quietly squeals beside you, clapping at your small speech. She then goes on to talk about how real your relationship seemed to be, as compared to other public relationships. But you listened to none of it, because, you were watching Zayn stare at you quietly from behind the camera, with watery eyes and the widest, goofiest grin on his face.

#one direction #zayn malik #he'll forever be in 1D #fanfic #imagine #longer than an imagine..#readerxzayn

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