#which yes yeah let's privately revel in him getting what he deserves but that is not the point anyone should take away

[die-tenebris]

For anyone who wants a basic overview of what's going on, highlighted parts are what somerton directly lifted from creators all color coded with their names to the side

[lovetorn]

nightmare dressed like a daydream [dream]

Prince!Dream x Fem!Assassin!Reader

Summary: Y/n is an assassin, moving from kingdom to kingdom to eliminate targets. That’s until she meets Clay, the prince of Dreland, who takes a liking to her unbeknownst of her true intentions.

OR

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.”

Word Count: 10.6k (o_O)

Warnings: a lot of death & blood (murder, heart failure), weapons (knives), swearing, toxic relationship, unrequited love :(, mentions of abuse, parental issues — i think that’s all, but if you see anything, lmk!! it’s kinda cringe i use ‘clay’ so like pls ignore it sdfghjkgjh

A/N: this is the fic i’m most proud of :’). there may be a few plot holes and filler paragraphs btw lol. if you have any questions about this fic, shoot me an ask and i’ll be happy to explain, discuss etc. anything you have relating to it! yayyy! enjoy!

She isn’t meant to be here. As a matter of fact, she isn’t supposed to be alive at all. After her last job, Y/n found herself in trouble with the wrong people. She had managed to escape from the small village she was in and find new clients in lands far away—which brought her here, tonight, in the kingdom of Dreland, at a Masquerade in the King’s castle. 

She’s dressed in her best skirts and bodice, perfectly fit for the party and makes her blend in seamlessly. She doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention considering her true intentions of being here. 

She walks along the edge of the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her slightly, and the handle of her mask in her hand. Her movements are sharp and calculated but seem elegant to onlookers. Nobody suspects a thing. 

Soon, she’s moving into the middle of the floor and being surrounded by older men who extend their hands to ask for a dance. Y/n shakes her head and declines politely; she doesn’t need to cause a scene. 

There’s a stage on the other side of the room where the King and Queen sit in their grand thrones, and Y/n observes their actions, watching around them for one person in particular. She sees a young man exit the curtains with a platter. He wears an apron with a white fabric strip around his hair and holds the tray with delicacy. Y/n snarls when she realises he’s not the right one. 

She inches closer to the stage, going to adjust her mask and purposefully dropping it. She watches as the object clatters on the floor and sighs exaggeratedly, waiting for someone to assist her. As planned, a pair of shiny black shoes arrive beside her mask, and the person leans down to grasp it from the polished timber. 

“I think you dropped this, Ma’am.” 

Their eyes meet—or at least she thinks they do; the badly drawn smile on his mask is distracting and incredibly unsettling for an event such as this one. Y/n knows who he is though, even behind the mask. He is her target. 

“The Prince?” Y/n exclaimed in bewilderment. “Mr Wilbur, Sir, do you know how hard that’ll be?” 

The older man rolls his eyes before he glares into hers. “I was told you were the best in the business. Do you want the 50 gold or not?” Y/n nods. 

“Good. Now, I give you three weeks to complete this, or you get nothing but excruciating death.” 

The tall man peers down at her. His head is tilting to the side as he takes in her appearance. “Who are you?” 

Y/n was waiting for this question. She simply laughs and takes her mask from his grasp. “I was invited by a friend of mine. She seems to have disappeared since I’ve been over here, though.” 

Her disappointment of an excuse has the man nodding—he’s taken the bait. “Interesting.” 

Y/n smiles awkwardly, the atmosphere of the room shifting slightly. She hates situations like this. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, and Y/n’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me for my informality.” 

Y/n shakes her head, giggling lightly as she grabs his hand and drags him towards the exit. He’d usually never stray far from events such as this, but seeing a girl his age and ready for adventure changes his attitude. 

Sneaking out past the guards, who pay no mind to two people in masks at a Masquerade, the pair step into the fresh air outside.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asks, already knowing his answer. 

“Uh—Clay?” His response sounds more of a question than an answer, which makes Y/n cock her head. 

“Why do you make your reply sound like that?” 

“Sorry,” He laughs. “Most people call me Dream. I’m the Prince of Dreland.”

False realisation crosses Y/n’s face as she facepalms. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, your highness.” 

Dream shakes his head vigorously. “No! No need for formalities, truly. I’m wonderful with being normal for once.” 

He hesitates before unclasping his mask from behind his head. The ceramic object falls slightly before he catches it and then he’s looking at Y/n properly.

Dream’s hair fluffs up lightly before he runs his hand through it to tame it. Y/n holds her mask in her hand as she watches him fix his appearance. 

“Now that I’ve told you mine, what’s yours?” 

Y/n is wary of her answer. On the one hand, she could lie, and on the other, she remembers that he’ll most likely be dead soon, so she shouldn’t lie. 

“Y/n.” 

Dream smiles at her. “Pretty.” Y/n thanks him and then they stand silently next to each other, the guard near the front door inching closer. 

“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?” Dream asks quietly. Y/n smirks whilst nodding—she didn’t think she’d be finished the job this quickly. 

Dream throws a glance back at the guard before he leads her towards the garden. The moon makes it hard to see the path, but they get there eventually. There’s no talking as they walk, the pair far too busy taking in the beauty of the moonlit garden.

The dirt beds are filled with rose and sunflower bushes, the scent creating a solacing hug around Y/n as she goes to sit next to Dream on a bench. The cold air bites at her skin, causing goosebumps to gloss her body. 

She usually isn’t nervous about committing murder, but Dream makes her uneasy. The way that his eyes glance at her worryingly and the harsh tension in his shoulders tells Y/n that Dream’s definitely had this happen before. Y/n bites the inside of her lip; she’d have to be very cunning to gain his trust. 

The garden in itself provides her with a sense of comfort. It reminds her of her flower bed at home. 

“So, why do they call you Dream?” Y/n asks. Her attempt at trying to defuse the awkwardness works as Dream twists his lips in thought.

“Uh—well, my mother used to say I was her ‘miracle’ and then believed the word was overused and cliche, so she came up with Dream; and it stuck—clearly.” 

Y/n nods, a soft smile gracing her face as she turns to him. “Well, I think that’s lovely.”

Dream blushes, although it’s hard to see through the night. “Really?” 

“Yeah! That’s beautiful.” 

The pair sit in silence, revelling in the moonlight before Dream speaks up again. “Would you like to see the lake?” 

Y/n contemplates before she replies. “Sure.” 

She had no idea why he’s taking her there, but it’s a sign that she’s gaining his trust. 

—

“You don’t know how to skip rocks?” 

Dream shakes his head at Y/n, who sits with her jaw open. “How?” 

He then shrugs, toying with a small pebble in his palm. “Teach me?” 

Y/n nods and takes the rock from him before standing and shuffling towards the lake. She gets into position, her arm bent at an angle beside her body. 

She takes a glance back at Dream to make sure he’s watching, which he is. “All you need to do is put your arm back like this, and then sweep it forwards and let go of the rock. Make sure you do it quickly, or it won’t work.” 

Y/n exhales and throws her arm, the rock hopping along the glassy water before it plops into the depths. 

She spins around with a smile on her face. Dream squints at her; he seems to be analysing her actions. He sighs and plucks a rock from the ground, standing and walking over to Y/n. 

“Ready?” She asks. Dream nods while getting into the same stance Y/n was in only 20 seconds ago. 

He looks down at the pebble for a moment and then throws it as Y/n said. Dream watches as the rock skips across the pond, creating ripples in the smooth water. 

Dream leaps around, his eyes wide. “I did it!” 

Y/n can’t help but laugh at him, the pure joy he feels influences her too. “You did!” 

Dream sighs heavily and goes back to where they were sitting. He flips back onto the ground, avoiding the sharp rocks protruding the sparse grass. He laughs out loud again, who knew something as trivial as rock skipping could make him feel so alive. 

“You’re cute; you know that?” The sudden compliment elicits a blush and a groan from Dream as Y/n nears closer. She smiles down at him. “There must be a lot of things you haven’t tried.” 

The statement makes Dream’s heart drop. It’s true, there are many things he hasn’t done. “Yes…” 

Y/n’s heart spasms in her chest. Poor guy.

“Ok. Well, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you get them all done before your time comes.” 

Dream looks at her. There’s an adoration that swims around in them that inclines Y/n to feel uneasy again. “You mean that?” 

The girl nods whilst she goes to lay next to him. “Everybody deserves happiness before they die.” 

Dream scrunches his nose up, going to disagree before Y/n interrupts. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden urge to say such a thing, but her chest aches when she looks at him. 

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dream. I’ve only known you for half an hour, but I feel so uneasy around you.” 

This catches Dream by surprise. He tilts his head at Y/n, who covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry–“

“No need to apologise, Y/n. You make me uneasy too, I guess.” 

She peers at him between her fingers and then lowers her hands. Y/n lets out a small laugh at his red cheeks and imagines a flush creeping across hers too. 

“Uneasy in what sense, may I ask?” Dream’s innocent tone makes Y/n’s ears blush. 

“In the sense that you're unpredictable, in a good way. I’m always up for an adventure.” Her description is slightly confusing, but Dream understands.

Above them, the oak trees rustle lightly in the cool breeze, and tiny waves begin to ripple onto the sand meters in front of their feet. The sound of water rushing forwards and then pulling back calms the rapid beating of their hearts. 

“I guess I could say the same for you, Y/n.” 

“Prince Clay, I have breakfast and a message for you.” 

At the sound of his assistant at his bedroom door, Dream groans from his place in his bed. “What time is it?” 

“10 am! Get up! I have a message for you if you didn't hear me the first time!” George teases, holding the paper between his fingers; he’s eager to open the letter. 

“George!” Dream calls, grabbing his pillow from beside him and shoving his face into it. 

“Clay!” 

Dream sighs loudly and throws his heavy duvets off of his body, stalking towards the door to unlock it. He swings the door open to see George with a scroll of parchment and a tray with a lid in his hands. Dream’s eyes widen at the sight of breakfast, but George shakes his head. “I have to read your message first.” 

Dream rolls his eyes and tells George to hurry up as he struggles to unravel it. 

“Ok! Calm down. Uh—it’s from someone named Y/n? Do you know—” George is rudely interrupted when Dream freezes, then smiles. “Yes!”

“Oh, well, she asks to meet you at 9 pm at the place where rocks hop—what does that mean?” George’s face scrunches up in confusion, but Dream sighs, and this time it’s in contentment and not in annoyance. 

“Perfect! Thank you, Georgie. Guess I’ll see you later.” Dream snatches the tray from his assistant with his free hand, the other grabbing the piece of paper. George goes to interject before Dream steps to the side and slams the door in his face. 

George stands in bewilderment behind the door. His heart aches slightly, and he’s not sure what from—maybe it’s the way Dream discarded him or because of the letter. But he certainly knows Dream has never mentioned anybody called Y/n before. 

Maybe they’re just friends? Perhaps they only met last night at the Masquerade?

George scolds himself for his ridiculous thoughts and spins on his heel, heading for his own room. He hesitates before he leaves, hearing Dream let out a shout of excitement. At the sound, George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales; sadly, the situation brings tears to his dark eyes. 

They’re probably just friends. 

—

Dream sits anxiously on his bed, his head in his palm as he watches the clock tick. 8:39 pm. 8:40 pm. 8:41 pm. 

His heart skips a beat as it reaches the time to leave. Dream leaps from his spot on the bed and goes towards his mirror on the other side of the room. His hands come down to straighten out his dark waistcoat before they move to his hair. He curls his lip up at the sight of his unruly locks and sighs, choosing to ruffle it up slightly rather than putting gel in it. 

Taking in his appearance, Dream nods to himself. If he goes towards the Astronomy Tower and then loops towards the lake, he’ll arrive at precisely 8:58 pm; perfect timing. 

The night is clear, and the stars look amazing from where Y/n sits on the grass next to the lake. She leans back on her elbows as she takes in the view. It’s whimsical. 

Thoughts of murder and pursuit place a dark cloud over the magical evening. Y/n bites her lip and stares at the rippling water in front of her. The lake looks ominous enough to hide a body in or cover up a vast amount of blood, and the dense foliage across the lake is enough to conceal a weapon in. However, Dream is the Prince, and there is no doubt that everybody in the kingdom would be looking high and low for him if he were to go missing. 

Y/n’s plans go down the drain. It shouldn't be this hard! Wilbur Soot trusted her to do this, and if she doesn’t go through with it, she is guaranteed death.

She groans loudly, bringing her hands up to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes. Y/n could cry at the idea of failing and being a disappointment, even to people she doesn’t even know. 

The rustling of the bushes behind her indicates Dream has arrived, but she doesn't move from her position. Instead, she chooses to gain his sympathy and find a way to manipulate him to make it easier to go through with the assassination. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Dream rushes towards her, dropping beside her on the grass. Y/n sniffs and shakes her head. “What happened?” 

Dream places his hand on her back, softly. The act in itself makes Y/n jump; she’s not used to physical contact. 

“Sorry.” He apologises when he sees her startled, deciding to move his hand away and place it back into his lap. 

“No, you’re fine,” Y/n lets out a teary laugh. “I—erm, I just found out that my father divorced my mother, and he took the farm and cottage away from her.” 

Her hands fall to her lap hopelessly, and Dream’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I’m so sorry, Y/n.” 

The girl shakes her head. The pair sit in the dark, the moon being the only thing illuminating their faces. Y/n thinks she’s hit a dead-end until Dream sighs and continues speaking.

“I can actually relate if it makes you feel better,” This makes Y/n’s ears perk up. “My father has been going to L’Manberg on ‘business trips’, but I know why he’s really leaving.”

Gotcha.

“Clay, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t reply and reaches over to grasp Y/n’s hand. Dream wears a crestfallen expression, his eyes glassy as he looks out over the water. Y/n feels a pang in her heart at the sight of the upset man. 

“I used to think that they had a good relationship,” Dream starts. Y/n doesn’t have the will to hear his perspective on it, afraid that she’ll actually feel bad for him and lose any motivation to kill him. “Until I went for a walk one night through the halls in the castle. I heard voices in my parents’ room and wanted to say ‘goodnight’, but before I could, I heard glass smashing and terrible cries.

“I was only a child, but I knew what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it at first because why would the King and Queen do such horrible things to each other? But as I got older, I realised that they had fallen out of love and are only faking it for the kingdom.” 

“Clay—” 

“They don’t know that I know all of this; they think I’m as clueless as I was when I was nine. But I’m twenty-one now, and I know everything.” 

Y/n screws her lips up, her throat burning with emotion. Why is she feeling like this?

“I don’t know what to say.” And it’s true. Y/n remains speechless as she listens to Dream tell her about his parents. 

“Nothing. I just needed someone to know.” Dream is blunt with his words and releases Y/n’s hand. She feels awful for not being able to help him in the way he needs, but she’s not here to be his therapist—she’s here to murder him. 

“Hey, how about we lighten the mood with some rock skipping?” And that’s just enough for Dream.

—

“Where are you staying?” Dream asks. Y/n is caught off guard by the question but tells him her orchestrated answer.

“In the castle, actually.” 

Dream turns to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips. “Really?” Y/n nods. 

In an attempt to change the subject, Y/n picks up Dream’s hand from his lap. “Enough about me. Tell me what your favourite food is.” 

Dream gives her a confused look before replying. “Vanilla cake.”

Y/n hums and fiddles with his fingers. “Interesting.” 

Dream throws his head back to gaze at the moon above them. He is comfortably content at this moment with Y/n, despite only knowing her for a day. His eyes widen before he scrabbles to stand hastily. “I gotta go! You want to walk back together?” 

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you.” Y/n smiles at him and Dream nods. It is reaching midnight and Dream knows he’ll be in trouble for being out so late. 

After he bids goodbye to Y/n, Dream begins his journey home. He hears wolves howling from behind the walls that surround the castle and goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s expectantly silent for the time of night, the only sound being animals as they scavenge. 

Dream’s footsteps are heavy on the pathway back to the castle, and his heart rate picks up at the sound of trees rustling. With his head on a swivel, Dream spins around to face the bush. He sucks his lips between his teeth and continues, checking back every once in a while, to make sure he isn’t being followed. 

He sees the grand entrance of the castle and his feet quicken. There’s a sudden whoosh behind him and then a breeze. A twig snaps in the distance and instead of running, he slows down. Dream forces himself to calm down—he’s only scaring himself. 

“Dream~” A voice sings into the wind. The tune has Dream sprinting to the doors, his heart beating out of his chest. Surely, he didn’t hear what he thought he heard. 

The wooden doors are heavy as he pushes them open before he stumbles inside. Dream is quick to close them once more, locking them in the process. He’s safe now, right?

A sliver of white ripped fabric floats in the wind on a spike outside of his window. Dream eyes it suspiciously, that wasn’t there last night. 

He stretches his arms out, his joints cracking as his stare remains trained on the material. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest before his bedroom door opens suddenly. 

“Clay~” His assistant, George, sings. He holds a tray in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. “Breakfast!” 

“Hi.” At Dream’s wavering voice, George places the tray on the table and stalks over to the Prince.

“What’s wrong?” He sits on Dream’s bed and tries to meet his gaze. 

“Somebody’s after me, George,” Dream whispers, his fearful eyes are staring into George’s.

“How do you know?” 

“I just know.”

“Well, we have to inform the King and Queen at once, Clay!” 

Dream shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; besides, I’m inside the castle for most of the day anyways. There’s no way anybody like that could get in.” 

George goes to interject but knows better than to do so. He trusts Dream, more than anyone else; if he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. Right?

“Ok… but if anything happens, you tell me. Got it?” George says his voice stern. Dream hasn’t heard this tone since he attempted to run from the castle last year after an argument with his parents. George had been scared out of mind when his best friend—the prince—was reported missing. 

“Has this got anything to do with Y/n, perhaps?” Dream is bewildered that George would say such a thing. “No! I trust Y/n. She could never do such a thing.” 

George nods timidly and apologises before he stands. “Breakfast is on your desk. I’ll be back later to collect the plates.” 

Dream furrows his eyebrows as he watches George sulk. Why does Y/n worry him so much? 

—

Dream walks in the moonlight along the high walls that surround the castle. If anybody knew he was out at this hour, he’d be in so much trouble. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t trust him; it was everybody else.

When he was younger, a groundskeeper had led him outside the gates with the intent to sell him off. The experience had left Dream untrusting to many, and although he was much older now, much more robust, he had a hard time getting to know people. 

An owl hoots from the tree above him and the moon hangs behind its body, casting a shadow onto the dirt beneath. The silhouette is ghostly, and the sight makes the creature look much more sinister than it is. 

Dream stops in his place and watches as the owl hops along the thick branch, the rustling of the leaves distracting him for a moment. The bird then pauses and turns to look at him. Dream smiles softly and whispers, “Hi, little owl.” 

Much to his surprise, the owl actually hoots back. The sound makes Dream’s eyes widen as he continues to speak quietly to the bird.

A twig snapping behind him causes the owl to flap its wings and shoot off into the night, making Dream frown. He sighs before turning around with the intent of going back to the castle. He’s been out for long enough anyway. 

His mind drifts to Y/n. He wonders where she is, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of her. It is ridiculous really, how quickly he’s fallen for a girl he only met a few weeks ago. But he knows she’s different from the princesses his family has tried to set him up with. Y/n is different in the sense that she actually makes him nervous—lovestruck, even. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches Dream’s attention, and then he turns to his right to face the noise. 

“Dream.” A voice says. 

Dream freezes. His heart picks up speed as he’s met with a person, a mask covering their face. His hands begin to shake as the person draws closer.

As they approach him, Dream can tell it’s a woman. As sexist as it is, he knows he could take her if they were to engage in a fight. Dream scolds himself at the thought, and his frightened expression goes slack.

“Who are you?” He exclaims, pushing his hair from his eyes to get a better look.

“I’m here on orders from someone to kill you.” 

Dream’s heart skips a beat. He knew it. 

“I know.” 

The girl stops in her place. “How?”

“I could feel it,” Dream gulps. “It’s happened before.” 

The girl nods and lifts her arm. Dream squints into the darkness to see what she is doing before he’s being pushed backwards. He stumbles slightly before he regains balance and begins running. 

“Dream~” The girl sings, her voice slightly distorted. Dream hears her loud and clear as he leaps over tree roots and dirt mounds. 

“Leave me alone!” 

She laughs and picks up speed behind him. Dream is shocked by how quickly she’s gaining on him, but he persists, nonetheless. A crooked smirk spreads across his cheeks as he looks back at her. 

“I can’t do that.”

Dream’s lungs and throat burn as he draws in breaths. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his knees begin to buckle as he prepares his arms to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t run much. But despite the pain, a sly grin continues to play on his lips.

Dream’s feet give way below him, and then he’s tumbling onto the freshly mown grass. He’s run a long way, now lying in the garden rather than being in the forest. The moon sits high in the sky and shines down on him intensely. 

And although he’s scared for his life, Dream can’t help but feel a little relieved. He moves to sit back on his heels as the girl comes up in front of him, a dagger drawn in her hand. It’s like a game to both of them. 

“I’ve got you now, Dream,” 

“It seems you do.” 

The masked girl’s dagger presses firmly against his throat. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and the pressure elicits a groan from him. 

Dream smiles as a drop of blood cascades down his chest. He enjoys the feeling a little more than he should, and the glint in her eye shows him that she does too. Why are her eyes so familiar? 

“But I’ll spare you.” 

Dream’s eyebrows furrow as he watches her pull her knife away from his neck and shove it back into the slot in her boot. “Why?” 

The girl sighs, her arms relaxing by her side. “Because I—something’s telling me I should.”

She turns on her heel, looking around before she ducks into the line of trees behind them. 

Dream exhales deeply, relieved—the small cut on his throat stinging as he tilts his head up to stare at the moon. He’s vulnerable in this position; on his knees and unarmed. Who would spare the prince if they had the perfect chance to kill him? What made her change her mind? 

In his conversation with the moon, Dream thinks about the girl’s eyes and why they were so familiar to him—and why she spared him. He squints at the full moon, begging for answers, trying to remember where he’d seen such beauty. 

His dazed smile is quickly wiped from his lips, and the realisation knocks the oxygen out of his lungs, and soon he’s gasping for air and clawing his chest—it’s Y/n. 

Dream sits at the long dining table with a new plate of eggs and turkey. 

“Dreamy, darling, are you going to eat?” The Queen asks, her head lolling to the side as she talks to her son. 

Dream’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not that hungry.” 

Y/n was on the verge of killing him last night. 

“Oh? Are you feeling okay?” 

Dream then nods, resting his cheek in his palm. His hair is messy, and his clothes remain skewed from sleeping. He usually didn’t present himself like this at breakfast. 

“Yes, perfectly fine. I’m sorry for not looking presentable this morning.” 

His mother sighs, her hand reaching out to grasp his free one. “That’s alright.” 

Dream gives her a tight-lipped smile and squeezes her hand. He notes that her ring finger is bare but decides against saying anything. 

“Where’s dad?” He asks instead. His mother stills, her face unreadable as she nods once.

“He had to leave this morning—business in L’Manberg.”

Dream doesn’t speak and lifts his hand, picking up his fork. The action elicits a soft smile from his mother. He stabs a slice of grilled turkey and brings it to his mouth.

—

“Clay!” 

At the sound of his name, Dream turns around. 

It’s after breakfast and Dream stands in the corner of the ballroom gazing out of the large windows that look onto the back garden. The head cook, and one of his best friends, Nick, is approaching him. “Nick?” 

His friend laughs, untying his apron from behind his back before he lays it over the end of one of the sofas. Dream steps forward to embrace Nick in a hug. “How have you been?” 

Nick contemplates his answer before he responds. “Flippin’ awesome.” Dream’s jaw goes slack at the cooking pun and chuckles. 

“Ha, ha. SO funny.” 

The pair pull away, and Dream faces the window again. The sapphire butterflies that flutter around the apple tree outside bring him a sense of comfort as Nick comes up beside him. The pair bask in warmth from the sun, the window making it much hotter than it is. 

“I’ve missed you, man. The kitchen’s been boring without you sneaking in.” Nick frowns and Dream feels his stomach drop. He takes a glance at the shorter man and sighs. 

“I’m sorry, bro. George said it’s ideal for me not to sneak around at night because—” 

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat, eliciting a cough. Nick shoots him a look. “Because of what?” 

“Erm—uh, I guess there’s somebody after me.” 

“What? Really?” 

Dream nods, wiping his nose with his fist. Nick struggles to find the words to say. “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t expect you to. I just thought I should let you know.” 

Nick exhales deeply, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “That’s rough.” 

“Yeah,” Dream whispers. The two of them stand in silence as they watch the insects fly around in the sunlight. “Come here.” 

Then Dream’s pulling Nick into another hug. This time, their embrace means something, and Dream knows it’ll be one of the last times he sees his best friend. Be safe. I love you.

A sniffle from Nick prompts Dream to push him away at arm's length, his hands resting on his shoulders. The younger man complains about how embarrassing it is seeing him cry, but Dream shakes his head in assurance. “It’s okay—I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so; I can’t imagine this place without you.” 

Dream sits on his bed, silently. He recalls the events from last night and exhales deeply. A million questions run through his mind as he shifts positions, now choosing to lay on his back and stare at the high ceiling. His fingertips come up to brush the scabbing cut on his neck. 

Why did he somewhat enjoy the blade against his neck? Why wasn’t he scared when it pierced his skin? Would he tell George? But most of all, why was Y/n after him? He trusted her–didn’t he?

A sudden knock on his bedroom door and the quiet sweep of paper against wood brings him from his screaming mind. He sits up abruptly, spotting the piece of parchment on the timber floor. Dream glances out of the window quickly and goes to snatch it from the ground.

The crinkling of paper is loud as he rushes to open it. 

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at noon. 

Dream’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. Y/n wants to meet with him. Would she mention what happened last night? Does she know he knows it’s her? Is she planning to kill him right now?

Another knock makes him jump. But this time, it opens. 

“Clay?” 

“George!” Dream exclaims, pulling his assistant by his sleeve into the room, the door closing behind them. 

“Uh, yes?” George is confused at Dream’s jagged movements. Dream shoves the letter into the older boy’s hands and waits for his reaction. When George doesn’t reply, Dream rolls his eyes.

“It’s from Y/n!” 

“Well, you have to go.” 

Dream is both shocked and relieved. “I have to go?”

George nods. He reads over the letter one last time before he gives it back to Dream. George squints when he notices his friend’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?” 

Dream immediately coughs in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. George keeps his eyes on him as he does so, screwing his lips up in slight irritation that somebody can make Dream flustered. 

“Oh! Do you have a crush?” George teases, although it’s more of an accusation than a joke. Dream laughs, shoving him away. George chooses to ignore the tugging at his heart when he hears the Prince giggle like that. 

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.” Dream jokes, patting his friend on the back. But is he really joking? 

“Kill you?” 

Dream laughs, spinning on his heel whilst shrugging. “Kill me.”

“Did you speak to Nick this morning?” George asks, his fake smile flipping into a frown. The mood drops immediately, all laughs, and carelessness forgotten. 

Dream nods. “I told him how I think somebody’s after me again. He looked pretty scared.” 

“He was worried when I told him you wanted to talk to him about it.” George tilts his head and sighs. 

“...It’s nearly noon. I better get going.” Dream deflects the topic, choosing to stand tall once more. He doesn’t want George to suspect anything’s wrong with Y/n, so he puts on a false façade, a smile stretching across his cheeks.

George doesn't say anything and tries to make his smile believable as he opens Dream’s bedroom door for him. “Have fun, I guess.”

The younger man practically skips out of the room, and when he is halfway down the hallway, he turns. “What was it that you needed, George? When you knocked before?” 

George dismisses his question. “Not important. Now, go!” 

Although, to George, it is crucial, and now he has missed his chance. 

—

Dream’s boots slap the cobblestone steps as he makes his way up the tower. He peers around the corner, wary of his movements as he goes. When he reaches the top, he cautiously tiptoes to the balcony. His hand goes to trace the scab forming on his neck and forgets it when he hears her. 

“Clay?” Her voice is soft, holding much more kindness than it did when she had a blade to his throat. “Y/n.” 

He sees her perched on a picnic mat, a basket next to her. Dream tilts his head as he watches her stand and approaches him. Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug and then he’s hugging her back. “Hi.” 

“Hey,” She laughs, pulling back slightly to admire his face. “I missed you today.” Dream gives a muffled noise of agreement into her shoulder. 

Y/n steps back and squints at his neck. “What happened?” Her fingers delicately feel the wound before Dream dodges her. 

“Nothing, nothing. What’s all this?”

She appears to overlook his shitty deflection and motions towards the place where she was sitting. “I made us a picnic.” 

The way she smiles almost makes Dream forget who she is. He forces a smile back, his heart aching at the realisation of reality. She’ll kill him soon. 

“I baked a cake for you, vanilla—you said that was your favourite, right?” Y/n’s anxious actions worry Dream as he sits down next to her. He lifts his head to look out over the land, and the view is breath-taking. 

“Woah,” He breathes. 

Y/n smiles brightly at him, glancing at the green hills and blue skies before she focuses on cutting a slice of cake. 

“You know, I never really admired this view until I met you.” Dream confesses—and it’s true. Y/n pauses, gazing at him as he turns towards her. 

“Really?”

He nods, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. She truly is gorgeous. “You’re pretty.” 

Y/n’s eyes widen, and she feels her cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you, Clay. You’re pretty too.” Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, and Dream feels a pang in his heart. 

“Have some cake,” Y/n mumbles, handing him a napkin with the dessert placed on it. The sweet looks delectable, and Dream can’t wait to take a bite—unless… 

“You know what? I’m not that hungry, actually. But the cake looks delicious. Thank you.” Y/n furrows her eyebrows, and a look of hurt flashed across her face. “Oh.” 

She hurries to take it back from him, but he refuses to give it to her. “What are you doing?” She asks. 

Dream motions for her to cut another piece, “I’ll only eat if you do.” 

Y/n nods slowly, moving the knife to slice into the cake once more. She flips it onto another napkin and brings it towards her mouth. 

“What? You think it’s poisonous?” Y/n laughs, watching as Dream becomes flustered. “No!” 

His response is quick and cautious, but Y/n doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a bite of her piece of cake. Dream watches as she chews and swallows, earning a confused glance from her. Nothing happens. 

“Well, I didn’t drop dead. Your turn,” She laughs, hurt still evident on her features. Dream feels guilty. He holds the cake surprisingly firmly, bringing it to his lips. His heart races as he puts it between his teeth and bites down. The cake is very sweet, and it’s good. Dream catches Y/n’s eye as he eats, giving her a nod of approval. She smiles widely and visibly relaxes. 

The action calms something in Dream, too. He finishes off his cake and waits for Y/n to do the same. He sees some white frosting fall onto the bodice of her dress, the sugary mixture tumbling down onto her skirt. The girl doesn’t seem to notice as she licks the remaining icing off her fingers. 

“Uh—Y/n, you got some—uh,” Dream motions to her skirt, and watches as she sighs deeply. “Awww, I just washed these.” 

Dream stifles a giggle when Y/n scrunches her nose up and goes to wipe it off. As small as the action is, Dream’s heart skips a beat at her cute expression. He scolds himself for feeling such this way; she tried to kill you last night. 

He eyes the knife next to the basket, sweet frosting covering the blade. The growing desire to grab it and ram it right through her chest burns in his mind, but he holds back. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, Dream is terrified of himself. 

He shakes the deranged through from his head. What was that? 

Dream watches as Y/n shoves the used napkin into the basket and lifts her eyes to meet his. He smiles softly, causing Y/n to cover her face with her hands. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” He laughs, reaching to poke her in the ribs. Y/n yelps quietly, jolting when he shocks her side. “Stop making me flustered. It’s hardly polite.” 

Dream stops, the tips of his ears reddening. He makes her nervous? “Oh, come on now.” 

The rasp in his voice makes Y/n freeze. She peers at him through her fingers and sees him smirking at her. She lets out a high-pitched sound and returns her hands over her eyes. As much as Dream hates to admit it, there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Clay, I’m going to take my hands away from my eyes now, and you better not say anything suggestive.” 

Dream chuckles, extending his arms out to grasp her fingers and pull them down. She doesn’t meet his gaze as he holds her hands in her lap. Birds chirp and fly past the balcony, their singing being a perfect addition to the atmosphere the pair had created. 

They don’t say anything as they lean closer. Dream tilts his head slightly, a small smile gracing his face as he sees Y/n do the same. 

“Prince Clay, the Queen would like to see you in the castle.” 

The two of them are still at the sound of another. George stands at the top of the stairs, a scroll in his right hand. Dream rolls his eyes in annoyance, throwing Y/n an apologetic look as he releases her hands. “Thanks, George.”

“I—I’ll see you later?” Y/n whispers as she watches Dream clamber up to his full height. He nods hastily, not giving her a second look, and rushes out behind George. He feels her stare on the back of his skull but continues. 

Y/n sits in silence as the clanging of the wooden door downstairs slams against the stone walls. The chirping of the birds outside dies down, and she frowns. 

As much as she’s supposed to detest Dream, Y/n feels butterflies cluster in her stomach at the mere thought of him. The idea of killing him causes the butterflies to turn to spiders and makes Y/n feel sick. She can’t go through with this—not now, not ever. 

—

“Dre—Clay.” 

Dream freezes; his mother only uses his real name when things are serious. He nods once, prompting his mother to continue. 

“Your father has yet to return to the kingdom from his trip to L’Manberg. However, plans have changed, and it seems he’ll be there longer than expected.” The Queen’s voice is steady but has undertones of utter sadness, which Dream picks up on instantly.

“Why?” He asks. 

“He gave me a straight answer; business.” 

Dream doesn’t say nor does anything. Instead, he remains still. His lack of response earns a reaction from his mother, however. “What is it?” 

“Is it why you don’t wear your ring anymore?” Dream refuses to meet her eye, afraid he’ll upset her more than he already has with his question.

The Queen inhales sharply, glancing at her hand before she composes herself. “Yes.” 

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Dream catches it. His heart clenches, and then he finally meets her watery eyes. 

Dream’s hard exterior breaks as he wraps his arms around his mother. He uses his finger to usher the guards and assistants out of the room and then rests his hand on the back of her hair in an attempt to quiet her soft cries.

He tries his best to be strong for her, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. 

The room is far too silent for Dream’s liking, and he wishes for something to happen to break it. 

And something does. The slam of the double doors makes the pair jump, Dream spinning around to see who had interrupted. 

Y/n stands there, the same picnic basket in her hand. “I’m sorry for intruding!” 

Dream’s mother quickly wipes under her eyes and places her usual people-pleasing smile on. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Y/n walks further into the room, glancing at Dream momentarily before opening the basket in front of the Queen.

“I brought you some berries. I was speaking to Dream earlier, and he told me you loved strawberries. So, I picked some for you, myself.” Her smile is deceiving, Dream can tell, but it’s also warming, and kind and his chest aches at the sight of it. 

The Queen gasps, her hands going to take the basket from Y/n. She peers in and sees it full to the brim with the berries. “Oh my,” 

Y/n’s smile grows, her eyes meeting Dream’s. Although he knows her true intentions, he’s extremely grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Y/n.” 

“Yes, yes, thank you!” His mother beams. She turns around and starts walking towards another door behind them. 

Once the door closes, Y/n grins at Dream, and he smiles back. His heart twists in his chest, and his eyes burn with tears. Oh, how silly I am, he thinks. 

The next time Dream sees Y/n, and she’s under the wooden bridge in the garden, her hair and undergarments drenched. The sun burns intensely down on his neck as he approaches her. 

Y/n watches the lake rush under her, the odd fish jumping out and diving back into the freezing water. It’s a harsh contrast to the weather outside, swelteringly hot and humid, but Y/n doesn’t pay any mind when she contemplates going for a swim. 

She jogs off the bridge and circles back around to shuffle down the steep, grass bank. Butterflies flutter majestically around her, enhancing the experience of being in an actual kingdom rather than a desert village—it's magical. 

Y/n’s eyes dart around before her hands tend to her back to untie her bodice. She sucks on her bottom lip, and she does so, the process takes far too long. 

Throwing the structured clothing to the grass, she then moves to her top skirt, pulling it up over her head. Her heeled boots and frilly socks are the last things to remove and then Y/n is left standing in a plain cream skirt and button-up. 

She pays no attention to her surroundings as she lifts her remaining skirt and dips her toes into the icy lake, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the temperature. 

From here, Y/n can see that the middle of the lake is the deepest point; the bottom is nowhere in sight through the clear water. 

Y/n doesn’t think twice as she leaps into the middle, her entire body submerging under the surface. Her senses are shocked, and her throat closes at the sudden chill. Y/n claws at the water to reach the surface, and then she feels the sun on her cheeks. She takes a large breath and wipes her eyes. 

“Y/n?” The girl turns towards the sound of Dream’s voice. 

“Clay?” She smiles. He runs down the bank and towards the water, although he stops before he can dive in. 

“What are you doing?” He calls, tilting his head at her. “Swimming.” 

Dream rolls his eyes, “Obviously!” 

This elicits a giggle from Y/n as she swims to the edge, her clothes drenched and her heavy makeup running down her face. 

“Hi,” Y/n says as she draws closer. Dream tries fighting a smile at the sight of her in her undergarments. He feels the tips of his ears redden. “I don’t care if you see me like this, Clay.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his hands for her cheeks. He thinks she looks absolutely gorgeous. But the rising impulse to push her head under the water and never let her up is powerful. Once his fingertips brush her cheek, his breathing becomes laboured and clenches his jaw. She tried to kill you. 

Y/n notices him vacantly staring at her and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Clay?” 

Dream’s blank expression doesn’t waver. Instead, Y/n swears, she sees his green eyes darken. His hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders, and his grip tightens. Y/n’s face scrunches in uncertainty, and she tries to shift from under his secure hold. Dream’s glare turns wicked as she continues to withdraw. “Clay? Stop, you’re scaring me.” 

His head cocks to the side mockingly, his arms going to push her shoulders down. Y/n losing footing on the rocks under her feet and her neck reaches the water. She claws hastily at his hands, and soon she’s gulping mouthfuls of the icy water. Dream shows no signs of stopping until the sound of her screams brings him from his empty glare. “S-Stop it-t!” 

“Y/n?” 

Dream blinks, and his face softens. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees Y/n struggling to keep her head above the water and grips under her armpits to pull her to stand again. Dream becomes increasingly worried as he sees tears running down her cheeks instead of lake water and makeup, opening his mouth to pour out apologies. 

Y/n stays silent, her eyes shooting from his gaze to the water. She is confused and scared. Questions run through her mind at a million miles per second. Why? Why, why, why? Does he know why she is actually here? Does he know her true intentions? Did he just try and drown her?

“What’s your problem?” Y/n yells, scrambling up the edge of the lake and towards her dry clothes. Dream says nothing. Why did he do that?

“I—I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Maybe it wasn’t her who had a dagger to his throat all that time ago. Perhaps she’s just a normal girl. 

Y/n snarls at him, her top lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

The words shock Dream back into reality. “No! No, no.” 

“Yes. Now, leave me alone, Clay.” Y/n spits as she gathers her clothes and stomps back towards the castle. 

Dream stays crouching next to the lake. He stares at his reflection in the water. It twists and turns into a horrible creature baring sharp teeth and dark, dark eyes. He shakes his head instantly; the reflection swirling back into himself. 

What is going on?

— 

The fire almost burns Y/n’s icy hands as she inches closer to the flame. With her dry clothes on, her hair is still wet, and it drips down the back of her bodice and skirts, making her even colder; Y/n regrets not drying her hair before she got dressed. 

As she stares into the fire, Dream’s void expression and evil eyes eat away at her conscience, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the thought. 

“You,” 

The sound of a singular word makes Y/n turn around. George, Dream’s assistant, stands in front of her. His hard eyes are glaring at her as she cocks her head. “George?” 

“You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” He spits, backing away slowly. Y/n's face shifts to one of shock, her hands shaking in at her sides. 

“Kill him? I would never do such a thing! If anything, he tried to kill me half an hour ago! At the bridge!” 

George scoffs, inching his hand towards the fire poker that leans against the brick fireplace next to him. “You know, you really need to work on your coyness, Y/n.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her teeth chattering as she does so. “You’re ridiculous, George. I love him despite his mistakes.” 

The man lets out a grunt. “You don’t!” 

Y/n steps back at his sudden aggressiveness. She sees the fire poker in his whitening knuckles and then stares at him in bewilderment. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself or me.” 

A sinister laugh escapes George’s throat as he brings the sharp object up to her face, “Oh, I’m definitely going to hurt you. You’re not going anywhere near Clay, again.” 

At his sentence, Y/n stills, and her concerned expression falls slack. She’s done this more times than she can count. Her cold hands intertwine in front of her stomach as a look of confusion crosses George’s face. 

“Listen, I came here to do one thing, and whether or not that plan has changed is none of your business,” Y/n says her stare never wavering. 

She hates to make it so vague, but she knows if he told him the truth, she’d be dead either way—whether that be by George and his fire poker, or by Wilbur Soot and his many friends that could have her head on a pitchfork at any given moment. 

George narrows his eyes at her. “You’re lying.” 

She shrugs; Y/n knows not to show fear; it would only motivate him more. 

The end of the poker is dangerously close to her face, and George sighs before he lowers it. “You love him?” 

Y/n’s eyes soften, and she recoils slightly. She blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on her feet. Y/n hates showing emotion, choosing to spill everything in isolation rather than unveiling her vulnerability to potential threats. 

George only nods and retreats, placing the poker back next to the fireplace. He hesitates before he speaks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. George drops his head and sighs, his heart shattering at the mere thought of Dream, returning her feelings.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I know one thing; I’ve never seen Clay like this before, so please don’t hurt him. I can tell he cares about you, dearly.” He refuses to meet Y/n’s eye as he turns to exit. 

She becomes wary of his sudden change in mood but decides against asking him any questions as she sees the tail of his dress coat float around the corner of the doorframe. 

George almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into Dream’s bedroom the next morning. The sunlight had only just begun to flood the kingdom, the clock on the wall showing 6:18 am. 

“Why are you already up? Who are you?” George jokes approaching his best friend. Dream sits hunched over his desk, his quill hurrying over a piece of parchment. George furrows his brows at the strange behaviour but chooses to ignore it as he pulls a chair beside Dream. 

The younger man stops his actions and glances at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

George pales. “I—uh, just wanted to see what you are doing.” Dream throws him a dirty look before he angles his body away. 

George bites the inside of his cheek, his body filling with rage at Dream’s attitude. “What’s your deal?” 

Dream stills; George has never spoken to him like that before. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, Clay! Why are you so secretive all of a sudden? You always tell me what’s going on.” 

The Prince doesn’t seem to notice the absolute heartbreak and sadness in his assistant’s voice and clenches his fists. “Just fuck off, George! You’re my assistant, not my friend. I only call you when I need you. Got it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. George feels his entire body tingle as it falls numb, his stomach turning sickly. He watches as Dream huffs and turns back to his piece of paper, like a child; his arm covering the page and his other scribbling down words or exactly that—scribbles. 

It takes everything in George to stand up and leave. His legs are jelly as he wobbles out; his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He shuts Dream’s bedroom door quietly, not anger him further, and runs down the hall towards his own room. 

The halls are silent, not a soul in sight but the broken one that floats behind George while he tries to swallow choked sobs. 

He hops down a few stairs, and then he’s pushing his door open, slamming it behind him in total defeat. He slides down the back of it, his hands coming to cover his flushed face. George scratches at his chest as he struggles to quieten the sound of his laboured breathing and hiccups. His heartbeat stutters within his ribcage—but that’s the least of his worries. 

This is the suffering of complete and utter heartbreak, and now George knows how it feels after three years of dreading it. He screws his eyes shut, in hopes of stopping the tears and forces himself to calm down. 

He loves Clay as more than a friend—this he knows is true. But, George scolds himself for being so foolish for thinking the Prince would reciprocate his one-sided love. 

And as the air fills his lungs, George stops. He holds his breath for as long as he can—the burning of his body screaming for him to breathe is the only thing he feels. He’s lightheaded as he gazes out of the window opposite him. The oak trees rustle in the dawn breeze, and it's tranquil. He feels his heart clench in his chest and then an unbearable searing pain that he can only compare to tossing your body into a fire and feeling it melt your skin.

The world is peaceful as he continues to let his body ignite and soon dwindle into nothing. 

And as the sun rises higher, his body slumps lower onto the ground, his eyes glassy and still staring out at the garden. 

—

Meet me in the garden at dusk. 

Her fingers trace the outline of the scraggly letters. Dream’s letter is vague, with no real meaning and nothing to indicate why he wants to meet. Usually, George delivered Dream’s letters to Y/n, but today it was rushed to her by another servant from the castle. Weird. 

Y/n squints closer at the letter; she can see how hard Dream drove the quill into the paper by the letters’ slightly ripped edges. Leaning closer, the smell of lavender seeps through the parchment. There are no lavender plants in the garden. 

Instead of going unprepared, Y/n reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves her dagger. She brings it towards her face and tilts it in the light, the metal reflecting into her eyes. Lifting her skirts on one side, Y/n shoves the knife into the case clasped around her thigh. It's subtle and easy to get to if needed. 

Y/n sighs, reading over the letter one last time before she walks towards the fire in the corner. She tosses it into the flames, watching as reds and oranges engulf the paper. 

She knows what comes next. If Dream wants her to meet him, then she’ll do it, but she also has to go through with her duties whether she likes it or not. 

Y/n draws nearer to the garden, her eyes darting around the trees in hopes—or in fear—of seeing Dream. The sun burns in the distance, begging to say goodbye for the day as it watches the girl tiptoe over tree roots. 

Once she enters the area enclosed by stone walls and arches, tears gather in Y/n’s eyes when she sees him, her heartstrings pulling violently in her chest. Dream stands on the other side of the garden, the thorns from the rose bush piercing his dress pants. Y/n remains frozen under one of the stone arches at the garden’s entrance, her dagger prominent in its case around her thigh. 

His cold stare meets her cautious eyes and his face does nothing to soothe her nerves like it usually does. Instead, his stern expression stirs panic around in her stomach and makes her feel ill. Y/n abandons her original plan to stay withdrawn from the situation because once she sees him, she breaks. 

“I can’t kill you, Clay!” 

Dream freezes at her sudden shout. The pain in her voice makes him clench his jaw, and soon he’s approaching her. “What?”

Y/n inhales sharply, her breath hitching in her throat before she continues. “You know that I came here to kill you, you figured it out! And now I can’t go through with it.” 

“Why?” Dream’s glare challenges her.

“Don’t make me answer that,” 

“Y/n,” 

“Clay.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it.” 

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her fists tense by her sides. Dream’s blunt tone is the last thing she needs to suppress her feelings further. “Because I hate you and I can’t possibly assassinate you when I have feelings like that—it’s immoral.” 

He scoffs at her horrible excuse. “If you truly hate me, I would’ve been dead the first second you saw me. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.” 

Y/n could scream—in frustration, in anger, in heartbreak. She wants to stand on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and scream about how much she loves him; scream about how much she hates him; scream about how she would go to the ends of the earth for a man she is supposed to murder. 

“Leave me, Clay. I need to be alone.” 

With the shake of his head, Dream steps closer. “You love me; that’s why. It took me a while to realise, but I know now. And the worst part is, I love you too.” 

The confession has Y/n panicking. Her eyes widen, and her hands scramble to snatch the knife from her thigh—but Dream’s quicker. He leaps towards her, his body colliding with hers as they stumble onto the grass. Y/n’s dagger presses against his neck, but there’s one against hers too. 

An unfamiliar panic runs through Y/n as she feels a blade across her throat, but she keeps a hard exterior. The deadly look in Dream’s eye catches Y/n off guard as she pushes her knife firmly. A split appears on his skin—his blood dripping onto her neck, making him readjust his grip on his own dagger. 

His mother’s face flashes through Dream’s mind while he swallowed thickly. He apologises in his thoughts as he glares at Y/n. 

The heat of his hot blood on her skin is unlike anything Y/n’s felt before; maybe it’s the bloodlust or something else, but Dream notices. 

Y/n opens her lips to speak but is stopped when he leans down to press his mouth against hers. The kiss is contrastingly soft compared to the incredibly vulnerable and intense position they’re in. Dream’s skin burns where the cut is and feels it grow as he leans closer to her face. Y/n gasps when she feels metal pierce her skin, and soon they’re whispering into each other’s lips. 

The end is near. And as Y/n stares into Dream’s enchanting, sinister eyes, she reaches. 

She reaches for the release she’s been begging for since she met him. She’s desperate to feel him one last time—in love and not hate. There's one final strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can see her dying love for him seep through her ever-growing bloodlust and absolute inhumanity. 

But he doesn’t. And the same devilish grin he wore when she had a blade to his throat for the first time splits his red cheeks. The twinkle in her eye tells him she feels it too, and then her teeth bare a vile smirk.

“I’ll love you forever, Clay.” 

“Forever is the sweetest con, my love.” 

There are dull sweeps of blades across skin, and then there’s silence. 

Excruciating, deafening nothingness.

And as the sun dips beyond the horizon, Y/n and Clay’s hands intertwine, not once sparing a glance back at their bodies that lay cold on the cobblestone pathway. 

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[mandoalorian]

Return of the Jedi [Max Lord x gn!Reader]

Summary: You and Alistair are heartbroken when you find out opening week tickets for Return of the Jedi have sold out. So Maxwell calls an old friend and organises a special surprise for his little family.

Warnings: food mention

Word count: 2000>

Author’s note: I received a request to write a Maxwell Lord x neurodivergent!Reader from @smoldjarin . They provided me with so much information in regards to autism, stimming, hyperfixations and more. I had so much joy writing this and I hope you find joy in reading it too. I couldn’t have done this without Melissa. I just hope I done it justice. (PS— I wanted to include Melissa’s love for Star Wars in this. I think we all, as Pedro stans, love Star Wars).

Maxwell wanted to pull his hair out. He had no idea what you and Alistair were yapping on about, but, evidently, it was something you both felt very passionate about. He’d seen you enthusiastic like this before, sure, but this was the first time he’d ever seen Alistair so hyped up. His brown eyes were gleaming as he hopped up and down.

“He literally said ‘I am your father!’ you laughed and Alistair let out a long groan.

“Yeah but he’s the bad guy! And the bad guys always lie,” Alistair explained — and that statement alone was enough to make Maxwell frown. ‘The bad guys always lie’ ... Ironic, to say the least. But, Alistair did make an excellent point. “I don’t trust him.”

You giggled and pulled Alistair into your lap. You’d never found it easy, touching people and being so close to them, but Alistair has grown to be an exception. He was like a son to you.

“Well, I suppose all will be revealed next week.” you told the ebony haired boy, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You and Alistair got along really well, and Maxwell couldn’t be more grateful, but it was the moments when you both babbled on about Star Wars that had him feeling the most clueless. Granted, he hadn’t found the chance to sit through the movies, but he wanted to because he knew how much it meant to you and his son.

He was also made blissfully aware that the third and final instalment of the trilogy was being released next week, because you and Ali couldn’t stop talking about it. Even in the moments when Alistair wasn’t there, you expressed your excitement to Maxwell. He found it endearing though. He loved it when you talked about your interests and current hyper-fixations. Which is why his heart broke when you read the Friday morning paper and found out all the tickets for opening week were sold out.

Max, despite having no interest in Star Wars, was devastated when he saw the look on your face. He especially didn’t want to be the person who had to break the bad news to Alistair.

“I was really looking forward to it.” You mumbled sadly, your eyes fixated on your cereal. You only had a little left to eat, but truthfully, you’d lost all appetite. These movies and this franchise meant the absolute world to you, and now no doubt you’d have the final movie spoiled for you at work or by the television.

“Oh darling,” Maxwell hummed, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you tight. You relished in his warmth and found yourself getting lost in the comforting scent of his sweet musk cologne. “I know. And I’m sorry,” the silence between you both broke his heart. “Don’t worry honey, I’ll fix this.”

You weren’t sure how he could possibly fix this. There were simply no more seats available in the movie theatres. He couldn’t just spawn in more seats. What Maxwell Lord did have though, was power, influence and money— and when he put his mind to something, he was sure to get it done. You had never met anyone more determined than him.

He didn’t want to leave you that morning, but duty called and he had to go to work. You tried your hardest to push through the day, ignoring this morning’s revelation. You opted to meet up with a friend at the park, and got ice cream. But when you’re friend told you they’d got tickets, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. You deserved these tickets. It just wasn’t fair.

Maxwell was struggling to focus on his work too. He was running out of bright ideas, but he didn’t just want his statement from this morning to be another empty promise. He actually wanted to fix this. He’d do anything to make you and Alistair happy.

Then it struck him. If his life was a kids cartoon, an illuminated lightbulb would’ve popped above his head. He buzzed his assistant, Raquel, into his office.

“Mr. Lord?” she smiled, walking towards his pine wood desk. Maxwell combed his fingers through his golden locks of hair and looked up at the blonde girl.

“Do I know anyone who is in the uh— the new Star Wars movie?” He inquired.

Raquel was expecting some question about the latest oil numbers, or a request for more supplements — so to say she was taking aback by her boss’ query was an understatement.

She thought for a moment. “Well, Harrison Ford has been a long time investor for Black Gold. He attended last year’s charity gala. Do you remember?”

Of course Maxwell remembered. How could one forget about being in the presence of Hollywood A-Lister Harrison Ford? “Harrison’s in Star Wars?” Maxwell quizzed, trying to hide his piqued curiosity. “Bring me his number. I have to make a call.”

———

Maxwell was so excited to get home and share the good news with you and Alistair. You greeted him just as you normally did, with a loving embrace and a gentle kiss.

“How was your day sweetheart?” your boyfriend asked, smoothing out your hair.

You shrugged. “Fine I s’pose,” you told him. “How was work?”

Maxwell’s grin only grew. “Bring Alistair in.” he beamed.

You called for the boy who had been playing with his action figures in his bedroom. His mom had dropped him off about an hour before Maxwell got home. You and Ali snuggled into each other on the crushed velveteen sofa as Maxwell paced backwards and forwards. It wasn’t nervous pacing though, he was bubbling with anticipation.

“I hope you’re all excited for tomorrow night,” Maxwell began, before flashing three pristine Return of the Jedi tickets before yours and Alistair’s eyes. “Because I met with my good friend Han Solo for lunch and he has given us access to a private screening on Sunday night. So we get to see the movie before the rest of the world.”

You felt like you were in a dream. He’d done it. He’d actually fixed it. You didn’t know how and you knew better than to question him, but it didn’t matter because he somehow managed to fix this and it was all to you and Alistair. You’d found it so hard to find someone who loved you for you, who didn’t mind your stims and who encouraged your hyperfixations. But Maxwell was that man and you couldn’t believe how lucky you had gotten.

Alistair bounced up and jumped on his dad, almost knocking him over in the process. Maxwell wrapped his arms around the six year old and picked him up.

“Daddy! Thank you thank you thank you!” he squealed, unable to contain his ecstatic grin. “I had no idea you were friends with Han Solo!”

Maxwell smiled. “Oh yeah, me and Han go way back. I used to co pilot with him on the—“ Maxwell paused for a second as he tried to recall what Harrison told him. He had to get this right. “—Millennium Falcon?”

Both yours and Alistair’s jaw dropped. Gods, he was good at this. Maxwell may have been a brilliant businessman but he was an even better father.

“Does that mean you know Luke and Leia too?” Alistair asked.

“Oh yes.” Maxwell nodded, despite having no idea who Luke and Leia were.

“And Chewbacca?”

Chewbacca? Maxwell thought. What kind of name was that? Never the less he smiled and nodded. “Absolutely.”

“And Artoo and Threepio?”

Maxwell blinked. “Yep.” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Wow daddy,” Alistair hummed, snuggling into his dad’s chest. “I’m so excited.”

Maxwell dropped Alistair the ground and kneeled to his level. “You should put on your jammies and have an early night. That way, tomorrow will come around quicker.”

“Okay!” Alistair agreed enthusiastically before running back into his bedroom.

“And remember Ali!” Maxwell called. He cleared his throat and pointed his finger. “I am your father.”

That was it. That was the last straw. You’d tried your hardest to hold back your laughter as Max humoured his son, but seeing your boyfriend do a Darth Vader impression was something else.

Max sighed and sat down next to you, pulling your body into his lap. “I love you so much, my dear.”

You grinned and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you too. I can’t believe you did all of this.” you revealed.

“I always keep my promises.” he replied with the most genuine smile.

———

The movie was a success, and even Maxwell enjoyed it, which was very unexpected.

“I can’t believe Darth Vader was telling the truth,” Alistair sighed, exasperated. It had been a long day for sure, and his cheeks were still rosy with excitement. “I’m so glad Darth Vader isn’t my dad.”

Maxwell tutted.

“But he turned good in the end,” You smiled, taking Ali’s hand. “He saw what truly mattered. He had to save his son.”

Yeah, the parallels between Vader and Luke and Maxwell and Alistair were interesting to say the least.

“Daddy, who was your favourite character?” Alistair asked.

Maxwell thought for a moment. “I liked that guy in the green armour, he was cool. He sorta reminds me of, well, me.”

“Boba Fett?” Alistair quirked an eyebrow. “Oh daddy, no one is as cool as Boba Fett.”

Maxwell feigned a gasp. “Not even your old

man?”

Alistair giggled and rolled his eyes. “I liked the Ewok!” he announced and then tugged on your hand. “Who did you like?”

“I like Leia,” you beamed. “She’s strong and beautiful...”

“Just like you.” Maxwell whispered, brushing his

lips against yours.

The night came to an end and you couldn’t have been happier. As you lay in bed, you thanked Maxwell for all he had done. He was truly the best boyfriend in the world. He loved you so much, and he swore in that moment, as you fell asleep in his arms, that the next promise he’d make would be a promise to himself.

He was going to marry you.

———

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[azucanela]

being bolin’s s/o would include hcs?

BEING BOLIN’S S/O HEADCANNONS [GENDER NEUTRAL]

BEING KORRA’S S/O | BEING SOKKA’S S/O | BEING ZUKO’S S/O

SUMMARY: life with bolin from confession to wedding 

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

WARNINGS: crying, insecurities, kissing, that it this is wholesome there are like no warnings

A/N: MY BOY BOLIN DON’T GOT NO REP SO HERE

GETTING INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

ahjsgdhjsgd a simp through and through, he’s gonna think you are literally so beautiful and handsome and amazing when he first meets you and he’ll definitely stumble over his words but aside from that he doesn’t know you so there won’t be and ~feelings~

he’s just gonna view you as his really attractive buddy from then on until he gets to know you because that’s what up? that’s whats up.

once he does get to know you he is like wow you are perfect this is unfair what, and now he is back to simping because damn you are perfect

accepts his feelings very quickly, he is very in tune with his emotions because at the end of the day, he’s an emotional guy which is good bc screw toxic masculinity right

he’s gonna decide if he wants to pursue this further very quickly as well, and will definitely have a long conversation about how amazing you are to a very annoyed mako

mako does not like you rn, its not because you are a bad person or anything, its just because his brother will NOT SHUT UP ABOUT YOU and now he is annoyed by your existence

anyways back to the better other brother

this is gonna go two ways

based off bolin’s treatment of korra when he had his lil crush on her, he’s gonna be very forward about asking you out and taking you out on a date, but when he actually like confesses confesses its gonna be all shy and cute

the first date is gonna be very basic, just dinner and stuff, talking about a variety of topics and life and all that and he’s just gonna be so in awe of you because wow YOU

at the end of the night he’s gonna confess and be like “yeah, i just really like you and I hope you like me too because you’re the most amazing and beautiful and intelligent and all around perfect person i know.”

if you respond positively our consent KING will ask if he can kiss you because he is a gentleman

than ya’ll kiss and he’s like date me pls and you’re like yes ofc 

alternatively you will approach him and ask him out on a date and he FREAKS OUT like he starts sqeauling and stuff because wow his crush just asked HIM out

someone expressed interest in HIM

bolin is the type to never get picked especially when put beside mako and he was genuinely worried you might like his brother hahaha... good thing you didn’t! this is good this is good!

super super nervous on the date but hey you asked him out you MUST like him, right? right.

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

HASGDJHAGDJAG2

welp

bolin is a special boy

definitely treats you like the QUEEN YOU ARE, will try and pay for everything despite being highkey broke, exaggeratively opens doors for you, gives you his jacket if he can, is all around a gentleman because he just wants to treat you right and really doesn’t want you to leave him

PDA PDA PDA EVERYWHERE, unless you explicitly state that you don’t want PDA, or set boundaries— which bolin would COMPLETELY respect, he wants you to be comfortable and happy with him! — otherwise he always wants to be touching you and holding you. while you are out together he is holding you hand, pressing pecks against your lips, hugging you from behind while you talk to friends, always touching you, hand on your hip, arm around your shoulder

in private i can actually see bolin as being more shy about affection, especially if you initiate it. he gets SO FLUSTERED whenever you initiate anything and just sits there like w o w 

don’t get me wrong he is still very touchy, you just make him shy and flustered because you are just so amazing to him

not the type to get jealous jealous, but is the type to get insecure. he isn’t going to fight a guy hitting on you, because you are pretty and handsome and amazing and he trusts you. however, he will fight a guy for disrespecting you. bolin drinks a lot of respect juice and does not hesitate to attack if someone hurts you in any way

your number one hype man, whether you are insecure about an outfit or worried about the future of a project for work/school, he’s going to being hyping you up and reminding you how great you are

bolin is also really verbal about his love for you, he has no shame expressing it and telling you he loves you. all around he’s really good at expressing his feelings and communication

if you two ever fight bolin is probably going to start crying, and definitely will apologize first, even if he isn’t the one in the wrong. if YOU start crying, he will either cry more or begin crying if he hasn’t already. 

speaking of crying, if you are ever crying bolin would be great at comfort ngl, he’s gonna bring you food if you want it, blankets, entertainment, definitely trains pabu purely to make you laugh. he’ll listen to you rant and vent and even add on, especially if he feels just as strongly as you do.

supports all your hobbies and endeavors, comes to any events you want him to

speaking of events GO TO HIS PROBENDING TOURNAMENTS. GO TO HIS MOVIE PREMIERES. SUPPORT HIM. HE WILL CRY TEARS OF JOY. literally it makes him so happy to see you at these events, cheering him on and congratulating him

bolin is a good kisser, you cannot change my mind. he’s really soft, like there’s no harshness or anything like that, just pure love. very passionate and gentle with you.

he’s like still lowkey a celebrity so you guys get recognized in public and there are a few crazy fans that he would totally protect you from if they ever went too far, but most of them respect you guys

they all simp for your bf just like you do 

all in all a good boyfriend.

MARRIAGE N STUFF

HAHSAGDJAGS PLEASE PROPOSE BOLIN IS SO STRESSED

like he decided he wanted to marry you at exactly 2:11PM while visiting Mako and literally booked it in the middle of dinner with Mako just to freak out over this revelation and stress buy a ring, he doesn’t even know what your ring size is oh no

he is literally panicking so much someone please calm him down he wants to marry you and has no idea if you want to marry him back and simultaneously has a fear of rejection oh no

bolin is gonna avoid you and you’re probably gonna think he’s breaking up with you or something like that, even though it is quite the opposite, he literally wants to spend the rest of his life with you

at some point you confront him, crying, asking if he is going to dump you and if he does intend to dump you then to just get it over with because you dont want to waste more time with him

“have you been avoiding me?”

“what? me? never”

“...are you breaking up with me bolin.”

“DEFINITELY NOT.”

bolin starts crying because you are crying and he is freaking out again because you got the complete wrong message and literally will get the ring and propose right then and there just to reassure you that he still loves you and never ever wants to leave you

honestly, you guys are the type of couple to both have rings, and then one of you proposes just for the other to start laughing and pull out a ring as well because same wavelength guyssss

alternatively you propose and its probably just as chaotic because bolin definitely starts sobbing when you do, he’s so soft and he loves you and wow you love him too and want to marry him thats adorable

you probably do more research ahead of time and have a planned out thing on like the beach or something, and its all cute and nice, maybe you even hire someone to catch it on camera

he is stunned and speechless for a hot minute, like he cannot breathe but don’t worry, he agrees eventually!!!

bolin wouldn’t want like a public public wedding because ngl once again he is a celebrity and stranger crazy danger

regardless it’ll be a bigger wedding because bolin feels like you deserve only the best and wants a big wedding himself, he would be really involved in planning so if you don’t wanna do that he’s perfectly fine with it and will handle everything

invites your close friends and friends of friends 

cries when he sees you walk down the aisle like just cries, hes so happy and seeing you there just brings him more joy and he just :D

let korra be the best man 2020

the afterparty is going to be so intense ngl there is going to be a DJ and music ranges from slow dancing which is all sweet and romantic with bolin, to some rave stuff with people jumping up and down on the dance floor in the most uncomfy shoes.

honestly perfect i love it 10/10

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 8: Tempestuous I

SFW version here

Summary: Aika watches Julius become King; Julius goes to make his annual visit to the Swallowtail and shenanigans happen.

Notes: This chapter was actually supposed to be a lil over 10k words um 😳😳😳 but I cut it 60/40 so I'll post the next chapter next week for sure bc it's already finished. I made a lot of changes like taking away the assasination attempt that was supposed to happen this chapter. Also, there's one offhanded line that is NSFW but that's all for the chapter.

One of you have already read all 10k but don’t say anything okay? ;)))

@talpup here you go hehehe 

@kray-dragon​ you said you wanted to read 👉👈

Aika felt light despite the exhaustion weighing her down as the excited murmur of the crowd surrounded her. It has been two days since the battle and Diamond Kingdom’s surrender, but she would give them a few months before starting a ruckus again. Nevertheless, the peace and relief that it brought to Clover Kingdom had the gathered crowd in high spirits, especially since they knew that Julius was the one who delivered the final blow.

The Grey Deers were especially rowdy near the front, no doubt ecstatic that their former Captain was now Wizard King. The ceremony was already done in private and this occasion was just to introduce the new Wizard King to the public so he may be welcomed. 

She stood atop Clover castle’s outer walls with her associates as she spectated, while also keeping an eye out for any trouble.

Music played loudly to her right and the crowd grew excited as the seven new captains walked on stage.

Fuegoleon Vermillion for the Crimson Lions, Nozel Silva for the Silver Eagles, Jack the Ripper for the Green Mantises, Dorothy Unsworth for the Coral Peacocks, Charlotte Roselei for the Blue Roses, Gueldre Poizot for the Purple Orcas, and Jien Du for the Grey Deers.

It was truly a remarkable sight from a historical point of view because all the captains were replaced and all of them were around the same age, meaning that this trend would continue for a few more generations.

The crowd grew quiet in anticipation after all the Captains settled into their respective places on the stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” A disembodied voice exclaimed. “Put your hands together for our new Wizard King,” A handsome man wearing a voluminous cloak of deep red, shouldering a white, furred cape, adorned with medals and a cross emerged from the depths of Clover Castle.

“Julius Novachrono!”

The crowd exploded with approval as their cheers, screams and applause filled the air. The sudden noise startled Aika but thankfully, she barely had any mana after the battle so none accidentally escaped. She couldn’t see him clearly from where she was standing but she certainly noticed how he squared his shoulders as he cast his gaze across the sea of people.

Their voices seemed to soar high into the heavens and she couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Jayce was hollering his heart out next to her, screaming how he was Julius’ number one fan. He had been standing close to the former Captain when he eviscerated the enemy two days ago and had been starstruck ever since. 

Ellie clapped politely as Evan let out a whistle or two. Aika would have clapped as well but she was leaning heavily against the edge of the wall, barely even able to stand up straight. She had already suffered the indignity of asking Jayce and Evan to help her walk as if she was some frail, old grandma. She would not also cause a commotion by trying to stand and then fall.

“And finally, please welcome your honorable king,” the announcer stumbled on the last few words. “Augustus Kira Clover the 13th!”

The applause was much more muted and they barely let out a cheer or two. Augustus looked outraged at the gathered crowd and opened his mouth to make his displeasure known but Julius quickly cleared his voice before their “honorable” king could and began his first speech as the Wizard King. Aika listened keenly, secretly reveling in his familiar voice. He spoke at length about hope, faith and love and ended his speech with a hopeful message that had everyone grinning and cheering once again.

Aika leaned back far enough so she could clap this time because she was blown away by the absolute natural way he commanded the stage and the crowd. He was made for this.

Then, the Grey Deers who were standing guard at the front split the sea of people so Julius could go step down to greet and interact with the citizens themselves. The crowd allowed the Magic Knights to create a human barrier for one moment as the new Wizard King planted his feet on level ground, before chaos ensued. People pried the barrier apart and the knights were powerless to use magic in such a cramped space.

Aika tensed for a moment, thinking there was going to be an attack but let out a surprised laugh when she realized the situation. Women threw themselves at Julius, nearly tearing his robes apart and Aika nearly fell backwards with laughter at the sight of him trying to dodge their kisses.

Evan, Jayce and Ellie shared a nervous look as they got ready to catch her if she was actually going to fall. They have never seen their boss so exuberant when she was sober in all the 6 years that they have known her. Aika caught their looks and quickly pursed her lips, an uncontrollable grin still spread across her face.

“Cheer up, you three. I can actually laugh now,” she said teasingly.

“We’ve noticed,” Evan murmured, sending a careful look at Jayce, silently begging him to think before he spoke.

“Yeah, you seem to be in a better mood. Are you and the Wizard King really fu—” Ellie smacked him upside the head before he could finish.

Too late.

Aika’s cheery disposition quickly dissipated.

“No, Jayce,” she said, her voice cold. “As far as everyone is concerned, nothing ever happened at all, understood?”

The crowd standing around on the wall with them started moving for the exits to make their way to the festivities in the plaza. Ellie looped her arm with Aika’s and Evan took her other arm so they could help her walk. She threw a disappointed look at Jayce and sighed. He flushed in embarrassment and rubbed his head apologetically.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where to, Miss?” Ellie asked as her grimoire fluttered open, throwing a deadpan look at Jayce.

“To my home in Hage, please,” she sighed again as she looked back at Julius among the crowd as he tried to fend them off. Aika turned away before the first pangs of jealousy and longing could hit her. It was just a silly crush. 

A portal opened in front of them at her behest and they quickly stepped through it before the crowd could jostle them around. With Ellie’s spatial magic, she assisted Aika with errands, delivered messages, helped her travel around the world and sometimes even provided support in battle.

Aika sighed contentedly at the transition from the loud crowd to the peaceful noises of nature in the countryside. She felt old at this thought. 

They quickly ushered her into the house and helped her sit in her armchair. She stretched out in her seat and groaned at the sore feeling sufusing through her limbs. Her backpack, which she nearly never took off, poked her uncomfortably in the back but she put up with it anyway.

Aika opened her eyes slightly and her three protégés were looking at her with various levels of concern. She let out an amused huff as she waved them off.

“This is normal. You three should be used to this by now.”

“I mean, you warned us,” Ellie began as she lightly scratched her white, coily hair. “But we have never seen you perform a spell that big so we didn’t know what to expect.”

“I suppose that is true,” Aika hummed before wincing as pain unexpectedly coursed through her body. Jayce urgently strode into the kitchen at this.

“I was initially doubtful if you could handle my spell, Miss,” Evan admitted as he looked down at his hands. “I was completely ready to let the spell loose even at the expense of our allies if it meant we could weaken or even defeat the enemy.”

“Evan.” He looked up at Aika’s unexpectedly strong tone. “I would never put you in a position where you have to make such difficult decisions.” She smiled reassuringly. “I have only asked you to perform the spell because I knew I could handle it. If there is anything that you can depend on in me, it’s that I know my limits. Please have more faith in me.”

He blinked slowly at her heartfelt words, before he smiled boyishly.

“But you’re still pretty weak from it,” he retorted uncharacteristically.

“It was worth it, was it not?” she quipped back, happy that her little speech didn’t sour his mood too much.

Jayce came back from the kitchen with a slightly wet towel and handed it to Aika with a concerned look.

“Here.”

“Jayce…” She shook her head at this gesture with a small smile. It was his way of apologizing for his words earlier. “It is alright. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“Heh,” he carded his fingers through his hair. “If you say so, boss.”

“I have a new assignment for you guys,” Aika quickly began when she noticed Ellie’s mischievous smile. If she started teasing him, an argument was sure to erupt.

They turned to her attentively.

“I have noticed residues of forbidden magic in the abandoned cottage near the church here. It isn’t anything urgent and I’d like for you three to enjoy the festivities in the capital, so take the day off and in a day or two, I’d like for you three to report on your findings, alright?” Aika would have joined them but she was too weak to move in her state so she’ll take a well-deserved break for today. She eyed the gift bag by the entryway. She put together a few gifts for Julius, hoping to give to him today as a sort of welcome but she lacked the energy to move so it would have to be at another date. 

She needed to get a lot of work done. She had to clean out both this house and the Wizard King’s study, where she spent most of the time working, so Julius could use it instead. Master Raymond wasn’t the reading type so he leased it to her for free and she enjoyed that space and she had a feeling Julius would too. Speaking of the headquarters,

“Don’t forget that you also have your day jobs at the headquarters, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” They saluted her eagerly.

Aika nodded proudly. She was slowly introducing them to working in environments immersed in forbidden magic so they could take on bigger field assignments in the future. They were still young, only in their early twenties, so she should be careful about how such magic would affect their mental development, seeing as it completely fucked up hers. She would like to think she was fine, but she really wasn’t.

They bid her goodbye with their bright smiles, exuding youth in every way Aika wished she could feel at the moment. Though she stopped aging properly at twenty-five, maybe twenty-six years, weg magic was exhausting and she felt like she had been living longer than she should. It was probably because she hadn’t properly slept in over a decade and a half.

Aika laid the cold towel across her nape with a sigh, though the sensory overload from the pain made everything, including the texture of the towel, seem unpleasant. She shrugged one strap off of her shoulder so she could push the backpack aside and the rune on her forehead began to itch lightly— 

Wait a minute, she sat up straight. 

There was a Swallowtail filled with her magic in the woods behind the church. Wait. There were also mini-Swallowtails in her backpack right now. She could recover her magic faster this way. In her excitement, Aika nearly forgot she couldn’t use the Swallowtails inside her loft because they power various magic stones for heat, light, water, ventilation, preservation and some miscellaneous experiments.

Aika leaned back and groaned.

This meant that she must get to the big Swallowtail herself. She could ask Ellie for help but none of them except maybe Julius and herself know about the Swallowtail and they most certainly don’t know about her Time Magic. Most people thought Aika was a weak water mage who was physically strong, used forbidden magic to make up for her shortcomings, and could use a sword well.

She needed to keep her real attribute a secret because states with more sinister plans have hunted her in the past. So much so that they even threatened to destroy their own allies. That part of history was rewritten by Arthur. He stopped a war and changed everyone’s memories and in exchange, he got Holly.

She buried the memories once more as she locked her joints and stood up carefully. No point in dwelling on things she couldn’t change.

There was an old broom in the closet that she could use to get to the Swallowtail. She walked carefully, leaning on the furniture along the way. Aika stifled any groans and put her weight on the wall next to the closet door and opened it. She paused.

There were bloodstains everywhere. 

It must have been from when Arthur was stabbed and bound in here.

Aika sighed as she added another task on her to-do list and picked up the broom next to creaky hinges of the closet door. She gently eased herself onto it and smiled in relief. It would be easier to move this way.

She quickly shot out of the house, relishing in the speed in contrast to her turtle-like pace the whole day and took the straightest path to the Swallowtail.

Julius extricated himself from the last of the women as Marx made a way for him to escape the crowd. He was hoping to maybe talk to them, maybe leave a more personal impression on them, but today was not his day apparently.

“Sir, are you alright?” Marx asked as they quickly strode into a side entrance to the castle. Julius chuckled lightly as he rubbed his lipstick-smeared cheek.

“Yes, of course, Marx. Just a little...violated.”

Marx smiled as he let out a huff. “I will be very honest with you, sir. I didn’t think that was going to work.”

“Well, perhaps I should organize a town hall so it would be more regulated.”

“I will see if your schedule allows it in the near future, sir.”

He smiled in gratitude as Marx shook his head.

“Alright, well, I got a message that the preparations for the banquet are nearly done and it would begin in an hour—” 

“Marx, would you take care of that?” Julius interjected suddenly.

“Sir?”

“An hour is perfect. I have an important errand I must attend to and it won’t take me long…” He finished quietly, knowing he wouldn’t believe him.

“An errand today?” Marx asked, his voice raising up a notch. “An errand on one of the most important days of your life?”

His annual trip to the Swallowtail so he could deposit his magic just happened to fall on the day he became Wizard King. And a few minutes alone might also do him some good. The weight of what he had just accepted still hasn’t properly set in.

“Um, yes?”

“Julius!”

“It will only take me a few minutes!” He put his hands together pleadingly. “Please?”

Marx let out a heavy sigh as rubbed his temples. He just hoped he wouldn’t be as irresponsible as to miss the banquet entirely.

“Alright, fine. But you better not be looking at magic when I come looking for you!”

Julius grinned in reply.

“Of course! Thank you, Marx!”

In a blink, he quickly phased out and landed in the forest clearing where the ancient magic item was. The sudden change in environment and the heavy weight of the robes grounded him to his current situation.

It was utterly surreal. He was Wizard King.

Julius let out a hysterical laugh as he rested his head against the Swallowtail.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as his fingers clawed at the cool, metal surface. He could finally help Clover Kingdom for the better. There were so many things he could do, so many things he could change.

Starting off with the Magic Knights. Incentivize and reward good behavior, send more knights to patrols realms where they aren’t accustomed to so they learn to like and protect people below their class, even involve himself in policy as Aika had suggested and think about education. The next generation are the future after all.

His mind was racing with ideas but he took calming breaths before he completely lost his cool. He still had a banquet to attend and nobles to pander to.

He looked intently at the giant, six-pointed star on the Swallowtail as he gathered his thoughts. He should finish his business soon. The sooner he put his mana in, the sooner he could recover it. He slowly started pouring his mana into the ball. He also needed to make sure he had enough left to teleport back.

Julius turned as he felt a presence moving towards him at high speeds. He stopped as he squinted at the figure on a broom, their form silhouetted by the Sun behind them.

His vision grew blurry momentarily as he prepared to transform. It would be a strange and suspicious sight to see the new Wizard King in the Boonies. But before he could do anything, the mysterious person landed in the clearing at an unnatural speed.

Julius’ eyes widened when he realized who it was.

“Aika?”

When Aika landed near the Swallowtail, she couldn’t believe who it was. She scrambled off of her broom and used it like a staff to lean on.

She could clearly see all of Julius now, no longer a bright, robed figure in the distance.

And my god was he a sight to behold.

His medals shone in the sun and his red, velvet cloak made him look like the king he was. When her eyes met his, they glinted gold for a moment and she had to remind herself to breathe. 

Though, the effect was slightly dampened by the fact that he was covered in lipstick marks.

“Aika?” he asked disbelievingly. She brought three fingers to her chest in a salute as she tamped down any tremors, whether it was because of her fatigue or emotions.

“Your Highness,” she intoned as she bowed her head. That’s it. He was only the Wizard King to her. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Oh,” he exhaled in amusement. “There’s no need for that. We are way past that. Please,” he said reassuringly. “Call me ‘Julius.’”

Aika’s face gingerly lit up into a grin. The expression felt strange on her face but she couldn’t help it. She was simply glad that they weren’t going to be awkward. She clutched her broom tighter before she could fall as she spoke.

“Well then, congratulations on becoming Wizard King, Julius,” she walked sluggishly towards the Swallowtail, still facing him. “How do you feel?”

His jaw fell slightly, momentarily surprised by her nonchalance. Most people’s attitude changed in the few moments he walked in his Wizard King attire. Even Marx, whom he was most familiar with, grew more serious. But he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He seemed to be “just Julius” to her no matter how he was. His chest tightened at the thought. It was a strange sensation.

Julius rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin as he relaxed. There was no need for him to be officious with her after all had been said and done. 

“Well, the feeling hasn’t quite set it,” he began. “But, I do suddenly feel the urge to do something, change something,” he confessed, his eyes shining with determination. After their night of shared vulnerability, no matter how sourly it had ended, it felt natural to be himself with her.

He couldn’t help but grin when she looked away with a secretive smile. He knew he still had a chance. He simply needed to go slow this time.

“That’s good. I’m eager to see what kind of revolution you would raise.”

Julius had plans to make connections at the banquet and he had already had a draft of an awards system somewhere in his head. But for now, it was only them in this clearing. He could be himself. He pressed a finger to his lips and leaned forward as if to share a secret. 

“Shh, don’t tell anyone though,” he said playfully. “It’s a secret.”

Aika giggled despite herself.

“I suppose you are going to change the kingdom before the nobles even realize.”

“Exactly! You—” He quickly caught her as she stumbled. “Get it…” he finished quietly, concern strewn across his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Julius asked as he looked over her. She was beginning to sweat as she took shallow breaths. “Are you alright?”

Aika exhaled sharply when pain shot up her back.

“I’m fine,” she lied, waving him off as her jaw clenched. It didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“No, you are not,” he hissed.

“Fine, I’m not,” she snapped back. “Just help me get close to the Swallowtail.” She stiffened when he wrapped an arm around her waist. Julius noticed and silently apologized as he guided her delicately.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

She sighed as she pressed herself against the magic device. There is no harm in telling him and he would need to know just in case he ever needed for her to do a forbidden spell or a ritual.

“I’m still weak from the spell on Saturday.” She brought the mana in the device carefully up to the surface and she felt her strength returning to her, bit-by-bit.

“Spell?” His brows furrowed. “What spell?”

“Remember the giant, blue fireball?” His eyes widened. She quickly clarified before he could think it was her who summoned fire. “Evan was the one who conjured up the fireball, not me. But he can’t control the spell so I had to use weg magic to take control of the spell and guide it towards the enemy while holding them in place.”

Julius looked at her with virtual stars in his eyes.

“So that Mana Zone spell was yours? And you guided that Sun in the sky?”

Aika grew bashful at the admiration in his tone.

“Ah, well, I had a lot of practice for Mana Zone and it wasn’t that big. I’ve seen bigger fireball spells,” she murmured as she bit her lip. 

“Bigger—” He took a double take as the twinkle in his eyes shone brighter. “Where!? I want to see a bigger fireball!”

She laughed at the cute expression on his face.

“I’ll show you sometime,” she promised as she continued to fill up her mana reserves. Aika was silently glad her plan worked. She was no longer sore all over, no doubt the life essence of her mana healing her, and she could stand unsupported.

Julius looked curiously between her hand and the Swallowtail.

“But why do you seem to be in pain? Fatigue is common for mana exhaustion but I have never heard of pain,” he remarked as he laid his own hand next to her, slowly sending out his magic into it. It was what he originally came here for after all.

She sighed heavily. Just thinking about it exhausted her.

“It is one of the side effects of using large amounts of corrupted magic. It is quite harmful to a human body.” Aika explained the long list of effects and how incapacitated it leaves her. “It’s quite painful but it’s incredibly useful so it has its pros and cons.”

She felt flattered by the worry on his face.

“Are there any long-term effects?”

“No, not that—” Well, there was the negative mana affecting everyone around her but it was only because of one ritual years ago. Using more negative magic hadn’t exasperated it thankfully. “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

Julius touched his chin thoughtfully as she continued.

“But please don’t hesitate to ask me to do any spells or rituals for the sake of the kingdom,” she laughed wryly. “I am the only person who could do them after all.”

“Ah, no, no. If it affects you this badly, I would never even think of asking you,” he assured her with a shining smile.

Aika fought off a grin. That...was really kind of him. Her Uncle was quick to jump on the offer and she was glad to be of use to help this kingdom but the concern…Her heart beat quickly at the thought.

No!

She mentally shook her head. He should be more concerned about the kingdom not her! What if she could help where no one could?

 “Please don’t think of me, think of the kingdom. If I could help, then I would. Whether you accept my help or not is an entirely different matter.”

Due to being particularly sensitive to magic at the moment because of the newly acquired mana, she felt a stab of Julius’ magic hit her.

“And besides, I like using it,” she whispered, the real truth unexpectedly slipping out.

What. Did he just— 

She quickly masked her shock and met his gaze. He surprisingly didn’t seem disgusted or judgemental at her confession. He just seemed lost in thought as he stared back at her.

“I see,” he simply uttered, his tone giving away nothing.

Usually, any other person’s first instinct would be to get mad at forcing the truth out of them, but Aika, who was quite adept at using backhanded tactics, was very impressed and curious. How on Earth could he use such magic? It seemed like a part of his natural attribute. He truly had a limitless magic potential. He could use Time Magic but that didn’t stop him from using some form of spatial and transformation magic, but also a hidden magic spell perhaps that could induce the truth out of somebody. And here she was, thinking he was a straight-laced, goody two-shoes Wizard King.

But, no real King is truly virtuous.

She cleared her throat before a giddy smile could slip through. It would have been exhausting to work with someone with a strict moral compass. Though, she shouldn’t be surprised after seeing him on the battlefield. He was terrifying.

“Well, I suppose you did help us gain a massive advantage with your help on the battlefield the other day. If you hadn’t wiped out the Diamond army, taking on both Spade and Diamond would have been disastrous for our troops.”

Aika hummed in agreement and decided to say nothing. Being complimented by anyone other than her Uncle was strange. No one could recognize her efforts because the Amulet of Ignorance ensured it and she preferred it that way.

A question struck her when she realized where they were.

“Julius?”

He looked at her questioningly.

“Why are you here in the first place? Don’t you have a banquet to attend?”

He grinned widely as he lifted his palm off of the Swallowtail.

“The banquet is in about half an hour and I’ve come to make my annual trip to deposit some magic in the Swallowtail. You know, for emergencies such as yours,” he winked slyly. 

Aika nodded in understanding, rolling her eyes at his jibe. She had also left some of her magic in there for emergencies.

“Well, you should clean up before going to the banquet then,” she said, looking pointedly at the ridiculous lipstick dotting his face. She threw her leg over the broom, ready to leave.

“Wait!” He quickly stopped her, an arm reaching out. “Could I drop you off at your place? You might still be tired.”

“Yes,” she blurted out. She was going to be her own ruin. Why was she doing this to herself?

“Great!” He placed a hand on her shoulder and they immediately found themselves in Aika’s living room.

“May I use the bathroom to wash my face?” Julius asked innocently. Oh, he was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he?

“That lipstick won’t come off with water. Most lipsticks used by women in the Noble Realm are magicked to stick on whatever surface they are applied on and the kind they used was the type of lipstick used to ‘mark people,’” she explained as she walked away. “I’ll go get some wipes for you.” He also seemed determined to stick around and he wasn’t even hiding it. Aika sighed internally. She needed to keep him at an arm's length. Even she cannot resist temptation.

Lost in her thoughts, she walked back to where Julius was, carrying a few wet wipes specifically made to wipe off makeup. Before she could realize what she was doing, she placed a wipe on his cheek as she angled his face to the side with her other hand.

The moment her bare hand touched his chin, Aika began to panic, though none showed on her face. In her mind, she began swearing in all the languages she knew, putting even the most seasoned sailors to shame. She was so used to tending to people that she completely forgot her determination to avoid these kinds of situations at all costs so her crush could go away, but, nooo.

And once she did something, she always stuck through. There was no backing out now.

Aika began wiping his face without hesitation but that didn’t stop her from berating herself.

Oh my fucking god. You are a fool, a whole clown, Aika. You should just quit your life, change your name and join your ex-fiance’s circus as a clown. It would fit you very well. Start practicing your honking now, you numbnut.

Wait, did he react? Wait, I don’t want to know. Oh, shit. I definitely want to know. No, you don’t. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook.

She looked. 

Julius was staring right into her very soul from underneath his lashes.

She quickly averted her eyes, a blush rising to her face as her heart seemed determined to break free from her ribcage. She regulated her breaths and willed them to be normal. Thankfully, she had a lot of practice.

But then, he ducked his head so she could have better access and innocuously pressed his cheek into her palm. To top it all off, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

That’s it. Aika was dying. She was having a heart attack. She wanted to scream so badly. She could feel the room spin around her.

Why? Why did you lean in? Have you no shame? A woman wipes your face and you start making bedroom eyes at her? Oh my god ohmygodohmygod.

How she wished she had her amulet now. If she wore it for a while, everyone except a select few would forget she even existed.

Aika stared at his serene smile, his eyes still closed.

A frown crawled up her face. She started wiping faster, cradling his cheek with her hand while she wiped the few spots on his neck.

She refused to corrupt someone as sweet as him.

“What’s that face for?” Julius piped up, startling her. “Jealous?” he smirked.

Wow, you are completely shameless. Wait— Jealous?

“Oh, sure.” Aika rolled her eyes. “I’m jealous of the women who virtually attacked the Wizard King like a bunch of harpys, marking him with magic lipstick,” She leaned closer to his ear. “While I had his head between my legs.”

He turned away, blushing as he covered his mouth. Finally , he seemed flustered. He did not expect her to retort when she herself was panicking. Aika stepped away as she smirked, satisfied that there was no more lipstick nor that overconfident expression on his face.

“I’ll swing by your office tomorrow to drop some stuff off,” Aika called out as she walked away into the kitchen. Julius shook his head as he gathered himself and followed her. A blush still present on his face, he leaned against the doorframe as he watched Aika move around the kitchen. The very same kitchen where he was turned down.

“What stuff?”

He asked quietly as he buried the memories. Hopefully it wasn’t any kind of paperwork.

“Some stuff to help you as Wizard King and some other things I thought you might like.”

That peaked his interest.

“Oh? What kind of things?”

“Julius,” Aika turned to him, exasperated. “Don’t you have a banquet to get to?”

“You want to get rid of me already?” He asked cheekily, very reminiscent of that day.

“No, but I’m sure you would enjoy a good surprise as much as the next person and I really think you should go.” Her face softened. “Don’t you think it’s strange enough that you stuck around this long?” she asked quietly.

He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve.

“Maybe,” he looked up at her. “But it’s only so I could just be myself before I have to go deal with nobles,” he smiled wryly. “I find politics rather boring, you see. I‘m putting it off as much as possible.”

“Diplomacy is what gets things done in your position,” Aika imparted as she turned back around to arrange the dishes in the cabinet. Her aunt and uncle will move in tonight so she has to get everything in order. 

If Julius finds politics boring, then he may not be as effective. She quickly needed to rid him of that mindset. It would be hard to implement changes if he wasn’t persuasive or have any positive connections with the higher-ups.

“If you find it boring, I suggest you talk about your ideas and plans and observe who are open and who are not. You are quite impassioned about the things you like but I also suggest you keep the topics relevant,” she added lightly as she threw a smile over her shoulder. “Your ideas may also come off naive to the wrong people and could turn away many supporters but you have to stand your ground. Putting a neutral front may seem appealing but it’s only useful for maintaining the status quo,” she asserted as she looked Julius in the eye. “Not for a silent revolution.”

He gaped at her. Master Raymond made it sound as if her unsolicited advice was useless. He actually planned to stay neutral as she predicted but like she said, it wouldn’t get things done. How was she experienced in such things?

“I-I’ll try,” he finally got out. “Were you a ruler in your past life or something?” He asked jokingly. Aika laughed as she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. She leaned back against the counter with a smirk as she asked,

“Julius, who do you think I am?”

He was slightly thrown off by the question.

“Uh, Aika Tolliver, Time Mage, Spymaster, and advisor to the 27th Wizard King?”

“Also the CEO of an international company,” she added.

Julius took a double take.

“What?!”

She palmed her face.

“So, Master Raymond didn’t tell you?”

“No?”

“God,” she groaned. “I’ll explain more later but I may not hold any political dominion but we are both C-Level executives and some of our tasks are quite similar even if our institutions are different. I am able to give you solid advice on such matters without being an actual ruler.” Aika fiddled with her pocket watch. “You should go.” She said as she guided him through the door and back into the living room. “It’s almost time for the banquet!”

He stumbled as he processed her words. Julius quickly laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her as he looked at her, dazed.

“Wait, so why do you insist on working for the Wizard King?”

Aika tamped down her irritation. There was no reason to get upset. He hasn’t fully transitioned into his duties and information he should be aware of about his staff.

She took a calming breath.

“Because, there are multiple prophecies that state that this continent would spell the end of the world. Everyone around the world know something is going to happen on this continent,” she said coolly. “No one outside are acquainted with the inner workings nor do they like this region. There are contingencies to contain the ‘end of the world’ but no efforts to actually stop it. Me being me, decided to volunteer to be the hero and you ,” she pointed a finger at Julius “are going to help whether you like it or not, understood?”

He blinked as a smile crawled up his face which quickly grew into a grin. That sounded quite exciting! Maybe his tenure as Wizard King may not be entirely boring with a mission like that!

“Y-Yes ma’am!” He let out a chuckle. “I hope you realize I’m only going to pester you with more questions when I see you next time.”

Maybe I do want you to come back and pester me, A voice in her head piped up intrusively.

“Yes, I’m aware,” she said rolling her eyes. “Now go!”

Julius saluted her with a mischievous grin and vanished.

Aika stood staring at the empty space where he was before pressing her head against the wall next to her with a deep sigh.

Why did he have to be at the Swallowtail right when I needed to? Why the fuck did I touch his face? And did he have to be obvious with his advances so much? What did he mean “just be himself?” She clenched her fist. The only way she could avoid overthinking was to throw herself into work.

She composed herself and held her head high. There was no time to dwell on such things. She examined her living room as she brought her to-do list to the front of her mind. She had a lot of things to clean, organize and pack.

Aika rolled up her sleeves and tied her hair back.

Time to get to work.

Notes: aiaiai that was a handful Julius figures out why Aika is avoiding him next chapter and you guys get one letter to figure out what he is LMAOOOOOO

[thesunshinebunny]

Congratulations on the 200 followers, you deserve it!!! I would like to ask Layla the following: how did the Riddle, Leona, Kalim and Azul react to your gender? Did you tell them openly or was it accidental?

Thank Youuuuuuuuu soooo much dear anon!!!! I freaking love you all, I'll never tire of saying it. Now...Layla will answer your question ;)

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

Well...each one was a different experience, each revelation wasn’t the same as the last one...ehhhh, ok, sooooo this was what happened:

Riddle Rosehearts

After his overblot, I was the one who took him to the infirmary to rest and get some sleep. I stayed by his side all night while I sang a little lullaby that my mama used to sing to me, as my father told me, when I was still a baby.

The next day Dire Crowley went to see Riddle and recommended me to get some rest.

“Ahhh, Rosehearts-kun, how are you feeling? Can you remember yesterday’s events?”

Riddle shifted heavily on the infirmary bed at the noisy interruption of Crowley. “Vaguely, but yeah...where is Layla?”

“Ohhh, I recommended her to get some rest. She looked very tired after so much fighting, poor thing, even without magic... *sob* *sob*”

...

“...She?”

“Yes indeed, Layla is a girl...you didn’t know?”

Let's say, after that day, Riddle had a hard time looking me in the eyes without blushing. Cute

Leona Kingscholar

Ok, sooo this: I spent many days training in Savanaclaw at the insistence of Crowley. Well, it wasn't directly what he asked, instead, he ask me to go and take a few pictures of Savanaclaw’s dorm (I don't know why, I'm not a photographer, but since he gave me the ghost camera, that's been my part-time job, I guess) and within minutes, Leona had me by the ankles to join the training.

And that training lasted several weeks. I could feel how I was getting stronger, but apparently not at the rate Leona wanted. He even made me practice Magift.

"It’s problematic to see how it’s still difficult for you to trow with calculation"

"Well I'm trying, I've never played it before, I'm not a natural player like you" I threw a new disk to the rim, but this one got halfway.

"Tch, you're terrible at throwing, what are you, a girl?"

Uhhh, that boiled my blood.

"YES, I AM A GIRL"

Unconsciously I had lowered the training hood and tightened the shirt below, revealing my outlined bust. Leona's eyes were wide open, unable to take his gaze off my chest. "Is being a girl an insult to you?"

I think that threw him off his feet and made him want to trow himself at the sun. Poor Leona and lucky at the same time. Ruggie told me that in Afterglow Savanah they respect women a lot, otherwise you end up dead or worse...I have a slight suspicion that I will never hear Leona disrespect me again.

Azul Ashengrotto

Remember the time Azul wanted to take over the Ramshackle dorm? Let's say I gave that octopus a hard time.

"So it's a deal, Prefect?"

My eyes were glued to the contract, unable to reason calmly. On one hand I had Jack telling me not to do it, that I was going to lose at the very beginning, and on the other, I had my poor Grim, begging me with his little eyes to save him from this calvary. Being the leader of our dorm, I had to take care of him, but I didn't want to play Azul's dirty game either.

"Azul...can I have a moment with you, alone?"

Jade and Floyd came out with smirks on their faces, but Jack and Grim were the hardest to leave me, perhaps uneasily.

"Soo ... what do you have to discuss with me so privately?" I could see in his eyes he expected to play around with me, but it was me who would end up playing with him.

"I want you to reconsider the deal, I'm not going to sign the one you just proposed to me"

"So I don't see why you're still here, I'm have not time to waste, I'm a very busy man, I have more clients to deal with..."

"Then I'm going to propose another deal" That was what made his eyes shine with interest. I had his attention.

"Oya? And what could that be?"

"I can give you my body, but not the dorm" His interest fell to the floor, and he gave me a disgusted gesture. Damn octopus.

"Sorry, but I don't swing that side. I'm not attracted to boys"

"I am a girl"

Ah well, I got his interest back, but I think I got the wrong reaction. At the end I ended up signing the first contract, but I won the image of a Azul blushing from head to toe, and before the door to the VIP room closed, I also won the image of a half transformed Azul.

Kalim Al Asim

With Kalim, the situation was much more fun, or so I think. It was a very hot day in NRC and my dorm didn’t have an air conditioning or gardens with a lot of shade and cold draft, so I was suffering...a lot.

I walked into the school with the intention of getting a gallon of water out of the kitchen to keep Grim and I cool when I met the Sun itself at a corridor. 

He looked with great joy, as if the heat of the day did nothing to him, unlike me who was melting. And apparently he realized that, because he grabbed my hand and led me directly to his dorm... which is in the middle of a desert and the sun beats much harder. 

That day I thought I was going to die from a heat wave. RIP Layla.

BUT, to my surprise I came across a huge fountain, full of water and people swimming and playing in it. I had found an oasis in the middle of the desert.

“Scarabia may be one of the hottest dorms at school, but it has a lot of fountains and a huge oasis a few miles away. You will never melt here”

My savior.

"Take advantage and take a good dip"

That happiness was short-lived. Not that I had a problem getting into the water, but I didn't have a swimsuit at hand and even if I did, I would be surrounded by a bunch of guys...what a shame. Seeing my indecision, Kalim picked me up like a bride and shot toward the fountain.

"Wait, Kalim, hang on a bit"

There was no time to react, in a matter of milliseconds I was already inside the fountain. I heard how Kalim laughed under the water and how the screams kept coming from the others. 

I came to the surfaced for air, although the cold water had alleviated the unbearable heat, I knew what was about to happen. It was seeing Kalim's decomposing face and noticing how the screams began to stop that my underwear was showing under the uniform shirt.

Sooo, I had to ease the situation. I playfully splashed Kalim once, twice, three, four times, until the water entered his mouth, making him pay attention to the splashes and keep playing. I wanted to see that huge smile again.

When the others saw Kalim's smile return and see how he splashed and dive into the water, their smiles and screams came back.

Yeahhh, it wasn't that bad.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian Week 2020 - “War of the Roses” (Rated M)

Summary: Kurt suspects that his husband may be cheating on him. But instead of taking the mature route of talking with him, he calls up a radio talk show that has a unique way of uncovering the truth. (2236 words)

Notes: Inspired by a talk show I used to listen to by the same name. Written for the @kbweek2020 Day 5 prompt 'angst', but not quite as angsty as you might imagine.

Read on AO3.

“War, War, War, War of the Roses!”

The pre-recorded announcement, surrounded by loud fanfare, blares through Kurt’s phone. He moves it away from his ear before the d.j. follows with: “It’s War of the Roses day on Magic 92.5! Hop on the website, send us a text, or call and leave us a message, and you, too, may be featured on War of the Roses! Today, we have Kurt on the line, ready to share the troubling story of him and his husband Sebastian. Kurt - thank you for joining us.”

“Th-thank you for having me,” Kurt replies, hating the way his voice sounds, the way it rattles around his dry throat. Hating what he’s doing. Hating that he gave the show their real names! What an imbecile he is! People he knows listen to this show! His boss Isabelle listens to this show! She must be listening now because he hears a beep over the line - a sign that another call is trying to wedge its way in. When he doesn’t answer it, it disconnects with a chunky bwap-bwap! A second later, messages start flooding his email, which he left open on the laptop in front of him. And not just from Isabelle. From Rachel, Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, Chase …

Kurt lifts a hand and closes the lid, shutting them out.

Oh boy. 

He’s only been on the phone for 30 seconds and he’s already made a mess of things.

“Kurt,” the d.j. says, “why don’t you start by telling us why you contacted us? How can we help you?”

Kurt sighs. I contacted you because I’m stupid, he thinks. And insecure. And, frankly, I should hang up right now and put my phone in the freezer for safekeeping before I do anything else stupid. “I … I think my husband might be cheating on me.”

Canned ooo’ing follows his admission, and if he didn’t regret this decision before, he certainly regrets it now. He can’t stand the idea that they’re using this situation that’s been keeping him up at night as the punchline of a joke. But he can’t blame them. He did this. There are other ways to go about this that he should have considered first. Counseling. Private investigators. Honest and open communication with his spouse. But for some reason, when his husband got up early and left for work without waking Kurt for a goodbye kiss for the eighth day in a row, Kurt broke. If his marriage isn’t working, if they’re headed for Splitsville, Kurt needs to know today. 

Now.

Sooner, if possible.

And that’s when he leaped for his cell phone and made this ill-advised call.

Kurt didn’t think there was anything wrong with his marriage. He thought they were happy – blissfully so. But for the past few days, things have gotten odd between them. Strained. And Kurt doesn’t know why. He needs to find out.

Lucky for him (depending on how you look at it), the radio program had a last-minute cancellation. The person who was scheduled to be on this morning decided to take matters into their own hands and run their unfaithful spouse over with a Cadillac.

A Cadillac that wasn’t theirs to begin with.

The station called him practically a second after he got off the phone with their answering machine.

“And why do you think your husband might be cheating on you?” the female co-host asks in a voice sympathetic from years of practice.

“Well … he’s been avoiding me.” Kurt winces at that weak excuse. To be fair, Sebastian’s firm recently landed a huge client - their first of this caliber in years. And since one of his partners is out on maternity leave, the job of wining and dining had fallen on Sebastian’s shoulders - a task he hasn’t performed in close to a decade; one he never liked much, especially after he and Kurt got married since it kept him away from home. “But on top of that,” he says, leaving that pertinent information out, “he’s been talking a lot about some guy named Martin.”

“Really?” the d.j. says, working hard to make this revelation sound like the scandal of the century since Kurt isn’t giving them much to work with. “And what has he been saying about Martin?”

“He’s been very complimentary about the job Martin has been doing down at the office.” Another wince. “A-and my husband isn’t normally the kind to hand out compliments. Plus, they’ve been working a lot of late nights - meetings, overtime, all last minute, that sort of thing.”

“Do you think Martin is doing something other than working that your husband might actually be complimenting him on?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says meekly, his heart going from ache to break. He hadn’t put those thoughts into words before today, hadn’t even texted them to his closest confidants now crowding his inbox. This is the first time he’s getting it off his chest … and he’s doing it to millions of people he doesn’t know.

He can hear Sebastian's voice in his head, laughing and saying, "Smart, Kurt. Very smart."

“Alright! Let’s get Sebastian on the phone and find out what’s going on once and for all!”

“Okay,” Kurt mumbles, covering the fact that the host's apparent enthusiasm to destroy Kurt's life put him on the verge of throwing up.

“What we’re going to do (for those of you who don’t know how this works) is offer Sebastian a dozen romantic roses to send free of charge to the person of his choice," the d.j. explains. 

"Let’s hope he says Kurt,” his co-host adds.

“Yes,” Kurt says, and very unlike him, he begins to pray. 

He prays Sebastian doesn’t answer the phone.

He prays Sebastian's secretary answers instead and tells them to send the roses to Kurt, Sebastian’s one true love. Kurt would accept that, hearing it second hand. That would be fine. Hearing it from Sebastian's secretary would be almost like hearing it from Sebastian. She’s a trustworthy soul, not inclined to cover for her boss.

He thinks.

Most of all, he prays that no matter who answers, no matter what happens, he’s wrong.

Ring-ring.

Ring-ring.

Ring-ring.

Click.

“Hello?”

Sebastian answers and Kurt’s stomach drops. In the time it takes Sebastian to complete that word, Kurt recalls the way most of these things end. Then his mind, which rarely seems to be on his side lately, conjures up how it might end for them.

This phone call and their entire marriage.

“Let’s get a name for the card, Sebastian. Who would you like us to send those roses to?”

“Let’s send them to Martin,” Kurt imagines his husband saying in a sly, seductive voice without pause. 

“Martin? And what message would you like to go with it?”

“Make it out to Captain Flexible. And write ‘last night was incredible. Here’s to many more late nights in the future’.”

That nightmare spell shatters when Kurt hears the d.j. say his husband's name. “Sebastian?”

“Yes?” Sebastian answers, already sounding annoyed. No one who calls Sebastian’s office line ever calls him by his first name except family. 

And Kurt.

“Hello! My name is Andrew, and I’ve just opened a new flower shop in Uptown called The Rose Knows.”

“Good for you,” Sebastian says dryly.

“We’re calling businesses in the Midtown area with our first promotion. We’re offering a free dozen romantic roses to send to the person of your choice. And all we ask in return is that you recommend our shop to your family, your friends, your co-workers …”

“You must have the wrong number. I don’t need anything for free. Put an ad in the Pennysaver like everyone else.”

"I'm not sure the Pennysaver's still in business."

"Not my problem."

Kurt bites his lower lip, grinning when he should be in tears, the nervous flip-flopping of his stomach, like pancakes on a griddle, causing his abs to cramp. But that’s his husband. His Sebastian. 

So far, so good.

“Come on,” the d.j. presses. “We’re a small business, just starting out. Do a man a favor. Have some community spirit.”

Sebastian sighs like this is so beneath him. He stays quiet, and Kurt knows he’s debating between messing with this guy or hanging up on him. But Sebastian probably figures he’s not going to shake him until he gives in. Besides, Sebastian is nothing if not a networker. A flower shop would be of no use to him, but who knows? “Let’s see. Who in my life deserves free roses? My mom’s birthday is coming up, so maybe I could send them to her. Or my sister. She just had a baby.”

“Oh! Congrats!”

“A-ha,” Sebastian says, the amount of unimpressed in his tone staggering. “There’s Martin Lewis ...”

“Martin?” the d.j. repeats, stressing the name subtly to put emphasis on Kurt’s concerns.

He doesn’t need to. Kurt’s heart has already stopped.

“Yeah," Sebastian says, his voice going softer. "Roses would definitely brighten up his office.”

“And why does Martin deserve roses?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but he’s been busting his ass helping me put together a huge proposal. Plus, his wife's in the hospital. He could bring them over to her."

"O-oh ..." The d.j. slips. That's probably the last thing he expected to hear.

"Or you know what?” Sebastian's voice drops a register, a hint of wickedness lacing between. “I could send them to this guy I absolutely worship."

"Oh really?" The d.j. recovers, seeing things start to turn around. The hosts definitely root for a happy ending, but it's no surprise that angst makes their ratings soar.

The cringe-factor of someone confessing unaware to their infidelities. 

Their listeners eat that up.

"Yup. The most amazing, sexiest man on the face of the planet. The man with the biggest heart of any human being I have ever met. The man I call the Energizer Bunny because he can go all. night. long. The man I hope to spend the rest of my life with.” 

Kurt hiccups. His heart, a useless lump in his chest, lodges in his throat. 

“And who would that---?” But before the d.j. can interject with their usual spiel, Sebastian continues. 

“But I think he’s worth more than a bouquet I got for free from some lame-ass radio talk show. What do you think, Kurt?”

The line goes dead.

Kurt has been listening to this radio program religiously for close to seven years, and to his knowledge, this has never happened before - a caller called out by their s.o. But the d.j. is on it because he immediately plays an old school ‘wah-wah’ noise to show that Kurt has been caught.

“H-how did you know?” Kurt asks.

“Because I know you, Kurt,” Sebastian says. “I know the kinds of things you do when you panic, and you mostly panic when you feel like people you love are going to leave you.”

“Yeah?” Kurt sniffs, a tear rolling down his cheek. Adding to his list of things he hates, he hates that Sebastian knows him so well. “And what do I do?”

“You kind of go off the deep end.” Sebastian chuckles, lighthearted and anxious, reminiscent of the night he asked Kurt to be his for the first time. “And I understand why. I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately. And I’m sorry about the late hours. I’ve just been caught up at work. I swear that’s all. But Kurt … can we talk about this when I get home? So I can look at you, in your eyes, and tell you that there’s no way in heaven or earth I would ever cheat on you? It took me a long time to win you over. There’s nothing that could persuade me to give you up, not for anyone.”

More sound effects - an awww followed by applause - play in the background as the d.j. and his co-host attempt to maintain control of the show.

“So … you don’t hate me?” Kurt asks.

“For which offense? Doubting me, my loyalty, and my love for you? Or airing our dirty laundry on the radio?”

“Uh …” Kurt awkwardly clears his throat. “All of the above?”

Sebastian sighs again. He sounds exhausted, but also like he can’t wait to get home and give Kurt a good ribbing. “Yes, babe. I forgive you.”

“Thanks. And I’m sorry about all this.”

“Apology accepted. I mean, what’re a few tawdry secrets among friends? Strangers? The barista down at Starbucks? My clients?”

“When should I expect you home?” Kurt rushes to cut him off, feeling more like a heel than he had before. “I know you have another big meeting and …”

“I’ll be home in about an hour. Wait … make that an hour and ten. I’m going to stop by a real flower shop and get you some roses. I think you’re overdue.”

“Really?” Kurt says, so astounded, so touched, he doesn’t hear the cheesy music the d.j. has started playing in the background.

“Yes, really. And Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Be naked when I get there,” Sebastian growls.

The music stops, skidding to a halt with the sound of a record scratching. “Guys … uh … you’re still on the air.”

“Sorry not sorry there, champ,” Sebastian says and hangs up the call.

So does Kurt, shoving his phone in the freezer before the station tries to call back for a recap.

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: The Perfect Date

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: There's trouble in paradise for you and Ben but will the distance bring about some revelations? And what does it mean for your romantic reunion?

Warnings: The usual fairly innocent stuff, some swearing and drinking and mentions of smoking, but with the additions of PDAs out the wazoo, public make out, private make out.

Words: 8093

A/N: Things get a lil spicy in this one! Small disclaimer that I don’t drink so I have no idea what wine does to someone, or two someones who split a bottle. Also just another reminder that this was in no way inspired by rumours regarding Ben’s rl relationship with Olivia Cooke. I believe they’re legit, and I will not engage with anyone about that topic. 

Taglist:  @laedymoon  @dtfrogertaylor  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor  @hannafuckingsucks  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @tenement-funstah

@coni-martina @johndeaconshands @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle​ @vicouscirce​ @arianabrashierstuff​

You headed straight to the bathroom and threw up. Ben had called twice on your way home, but you’d let it go to voicemail, not ready to hear him admonish you for eavesdropping on him or to be asked if you felt the same. You supposed it was adrenaline or something that was making you feel nauseous. Of course, you’d have to talk to him eventually, at least to apologise for going so off book, but it could wait until you weren’t feeling so miserable. With teary eyes, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed a drink to help settle your stomach, and then flopped onto the couch to flick through TV channels until you found something distracting enough. Your phone rang again but when you glanced at the screen it wasn’t Ben’s name you saw. “Mary?” If she heard any evidence of your distress in your voice she didn’t mention it, “Brilliant performance Y/N. The video was tweeted out about ten minutes after you left the restaurant and it’s already been shared more than you’d believe.” “Oh, that’s good.” “Better than good. People are eating it up. There’ll be articles tomorrow predicting your breakup and not just the ones we’ve organised. We’re going to ask that you and Ben refrain from seeing each other in public for the next two weeks or so, make it look like you’re taking some time apart. That’ll give the video plenty of time to circulate and allow us to get out a few variations of the trouble in paradise story. Of course, you’re free to visit each other and speak over the phone but be wary in case other paparazzi start following you in addition to the one’s we’ve hired. Chances are more people will be looking to scoop the official breakup story if all goes as well as these early numbers indicate it will. Then we’ll hit them with the romantic makeup dinner at Boucher. And after that it’s back to playing the happy couple. Of course there’ll be the press junket and premiere in a couple of months’ time and then we can break you up for good.” She kept talking about plans for he press tour, something about flights and hotels, but you stopped paying attention, already getting twitter open and searching for the video. It didn’t take long to find it, the caption proclaiming he who’d caught the footage had noticed you and Ben arrive and had pulled out his camera as soon as he realised things weren’t particularly happy. “Sorry, Mary, I’m gonna have to call you back.” “Everything alright?” “Yeah, just a small mishap with the washing machine. I’ll talk to you later.” As soon as she was gone you pressed play on the video. Filmed from a table to the left of yours and slightly behind your shoulder, the phone tipped at an angle so it wouldn’t be spotted. Your heart pounded as you watched. It was all there, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife as Ben tried to draw you into conversation. You heard the bite in your tone, the confusion in his. And you saw what you’d not noticed in the moment. The way his face fell when you said it was too much. The way his nails dug into his palm as he clutched his fork so tightly. The hurt on his face when you called him clingy and needy. He stood up as you walked away but he didn’t follow, just dragged his hand through his hair and then sat down heavily, worrying at his thumbnail with his teeth. The waiter came over, presumably with the bill but the video cut out before anything more was said. They’d got what they wanted. They didn’t need the aftermath.

The next day there was an unexpected knock on your door. You put down your phone where you were watching the video again and peeked out the window, worried that it was Ben come to confront you. Instead you saw Felicity raise her fist and knock again. “I saw the video,” was the first thing she said when you let her in, “are you okay?” “I wish people would stop asking me that. I’m fine.” “You had a straight up cat fight in the middle of a restaurant, and there are paparazzi practically camping in your front yard, you’re not fine.” “Okay, maybe not fine fine. But it’s whatever. How many are out there?” “Three. But what happened? Last week you told me you weren’t going to break up.” “We haven’t broken up.” “Well then what was that?” “I don’t know. It’s been building for a bit I guess. He’s just more serious about it all than I am.” “So I heard. Are you sure you aren’t just panicking?” “Panicking about what?” “Well, y’know, you’ve been in the tabloids a bit lately. That must put a strain on things. Maybe you just got a little freaked out by it and pushed Ben away rather than let yourself be vulnerable,” “What are you my shrink?” “Hey, I’m just trying to help.” “Yeah well, you’re wrong. The paps are kind of annoying but they aren’t the problem. The problem…” you took a breath as you considered what was safe to say, “the problem is that Ben has been on a different page to me for a while now. I think we both just need some space.” “Okay, if that’s what you want to go with,” she clearly didn’t believe you, “Have you talked to him about it?” “Not yet. Figured I’d call back sometime today when my head was clearer.” She nodded, “Well, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Moral support when you call him or someone to bitch to afterwards or just somebody to get drunk with.” She pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight and for a moment you felt like you might cry. All you could think about was Ben’s expression when you walked out, how wounded he looked.

Felicity stayed with you for the rest of the day which was good because her presence stopped you from doing nothing but watching the video over and over again. As it was you found it hard to keep yourself from looking at the comments people left on it. A lot of people took Ben’s side, calling you a bitch or worse, sometimes even direct messaging you their opinions. But there were also those lampooning Ben for smothering you, some going so far as to claim they were early signs of manipulative and controlling tendencies and that he deserved the public humiliation of it all. Those were the comments that made you feel worst. Being called a cunt you could deal with. Being told Ben deserved better you could easily deal with. But seeing such horrible suggestions of Ben being thrown about made your heart ache. He wasn’t mean or manipulative. He’d been nothing but kind to everyone on set and especially to you. Any lingering annoyance that hadn’t left you along with the little you’d eaten seemed to melt away, leaving you feeling cold at the thought of what you’d said. Yes he’d been stupid and selfish to agree to pretend to date you when he actually had a crush on you. But not once had he tried to wheedle a confession of love from you, not once had he pushed himself onto you. He’d always been respectful of your boundaries, warned you before he kissed you, asked if you wanted to share a blanket rather than just assume you did. Even your rules he’d mostly stuck to. The one exception being the cutesy nickname, but you’d never put up much of a fight with that. You only knew that he felt something for you because you’d listened in to a private conversation. And really, could you blame him for developing feelings? You’d literally been cast as lovers because you had good chemistry and then you’d spent weeks getting even closer, made all the more necessary by your fake romance. He was hardly the first person in history to have his on-screen feelings transfer to real life. And surely, if he’d decided to tell his friend everything, even after signing contractual documents about keeping it secret, then he must be serious about you, about how much he liked you. Maybe you had it wrong. Maybe there was something there you hadn’t consi-. “Stop wallowing,” Felicities voice cut through your thoughts, “Put the phone down and stop thinking about Ben for five minutes.” You shook your head to clear it, “I’m not wallowing.” “Are you on twitter right now?” “Maybe,” “You’re wallowing. C’mon, give me the phone.” She held out her hand, giving you had no choice but to hand it over. “Has anyone ever told you you’d make a good teacher,” “Once or twice. You can have this,” she brandished your phone at you and then shoved it into her bag, “back when you’re ready to call Ben. Until then we are getting out of the house.” “Out of the house where?” you asked, letting her pull you from your seat. “Just out. You need some fresh air. Go on, get your shoes.” “Alright, alright, I’m going,” you said, with the first genuine chuckle you’d had in days.

You ended up at the park a street over, sitting on a bench overlooking the duckpond. One or two of the photographers followed you, but they were easy to ignore. As soon as you stopped moving your mind was back on the previous night, but Felicity must have sensed as much for she quickly blurted out a fun fact about ducks to distract you. For the rest of the time you were there she kept your mind on other things. She gave you an extended rundown on all the gossip from her workplace. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know who Derick was, you soon heard all about his tryst with the copy boy, and when you asked if the Susie M who was mentioned was the same Susie M that made out with the boss at last year’s Christmas party you heard all about the fallout from her drunk misstep. Felicity led you on a stroll around the pond as you laughed at her stories and filled her in on what you were hoping your next role would be. “I’ve been sent a couple of interesting scripts. There’s one for a sci fi time travel thing which I’m hoping to get a call back for. And there was one for a comedy about a coven of witches causing mayhem with their potions. I’m only about halfway through the script but I’d happily play any of the three lead witches, so I think I’ll have a crack at it.” “They both sound really good. Different to your last role.” “Yeah. Different’s good though.” Eventually you wound your way towards a small coffee shop opposite the far side of the park. The slice of apple tea cake you ordered was the first food you’d eaten since the few bites at dinner and Felicity didn’t let you leave until you’d finished it, though she was subtle in her insistence. When you put your fork down with food still left on the plate she ordered a second coffee for each of you which gave you little to do but keep eating. You thanked her after but she pretended not to know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until you got home again that she returned your phone. “You should call Ben,” “Do I have to?” “Stop pouting and do it. You’re cute together and you obviously love him. Just suck it up and talk to him.” You let out a heavy sigh and then took the phone back, refraining from rolling your eyes at how wrong she was about your feelings.

You headed out onto the back patio and, with some slight trepidation, called Ben. The call rang out. With a frown you headed back inside only to be greeted by Felicity making chicken noises. “I didn’t chicken out, he just didn’t pick up. He must be busy.” “Or he’s upset. Call back. You can come in after he’s not picked up three times or you’ve had a chat.” “Okay, I’ll try again, jeez,” you went back outside and shut the door behind you. Your second attempt was as unsuccessful as your first and you were just about to hang up on the third try when he picked up. “Hello?” “Hi Ben,” “Y/N,” there was none of the joy in his voice that usually accompanied your name. “Can we talk, is now a good time?” “Yeah,” “Okay, I just, uh, I wasn’t sure since you didn’t pick up straight away.” “Well I wouldn’t want to come across as more needy than I already do.” “I shouldn’t have said that,” you leaned against the wall of the house in the same spot you’d seen Ben lean countless times after you’d told him he couldn’t smoke inside, “I’m so so sorry about everything I said.” “It’s not what you said, Y/N. I get it, we had to fight and you let loose. From an acting perspective I’m actually really fucking impressed. I, uh, I might have watched the video when I got home, just once, and it looks legit. Like, that line about pretending to love me as much as I do you.” You held your breath, waiting for him to ask how you knew. “I mean, that’s exactly what we were going for anyway, just without the details of not having met each other’s families. Everyone still heard us argue about moving at different paces and it was some really great improvisation.” “You think so?” “Yeah absolutely. I don’t think I could have come up with a line like that on the fly. Seriously, if we were allowed to tell people it was fake, that would have fit well on your audition reel.” “So you’re not upset with me?” There was a pause as Ben thought about his next words. “Not upset exactly. Like I said, I get that it was a scene. But the way you sounded when you called me clingy….it was pretty clear there were some real feelings in there too and I,” Ben sighed, “I just wish you’d talk to me about how you were feeling beforehand.” “I didn’t really know how.” “But if I’d known that I was making you uncomfortable or coming across as clingy I would have pulled back. I could have texted less or crashed at your place less often. Not insisted on buying you books on our fake dates.” You scuffed your foot against the ground, not sure whether to come clean about overhearing him. You’d expected Ben to have realised by now that you knew, not to take what you’d said as some incredible performance. “I know I got kinda caught up in it all though,” he said before you could summon the courage to admit anything, “I, um, I really like…” You could feel your heart racing, convinced he was about to confess his feelings for you, completely unsure how to react. “…being someone’s boyfriend.” “Oh,” Why was he so determined to surprise you? Why did you feel disappointed? “It suits me. I like having someone to dote on and take care of and talk to and I guess it’s been a while since I properly, seriously dated anyone. I feel like I’ve got all this boyfriend energy stored up and nowhere for it to go. It comes in handy when we’re pretending to be on a date or whatever but sometimes it slips out when we’re just hanging out as friends, without the cameras and all that. Which isn’t an excuse or anything, I’m not trying to undermine any discomfort you felt.” “No, I get it.” “You do?” “Yeah. I mean, we said it was a weird situation right back when it was first pitched to us. That hasn’t really changed, has it?” “No,” he said with a small, soft chuckle, “still weird.” “Exactly. And sometimes I think it can be kind of confusing.” “Confusing?” You had a sudden mental image of a dog with pricked up ears, “Confusing’s maybe the wrong word. Hard to keep up with is I guess what I’m trying to say. It’s different to acting in love with someone on a movie because on a movie there’s a definite time span. The director calls cut and you can stop pretending. But we don’t get that cut. Even when there’s no cameras we’re still faking it for the people we know and anyone who might see us,” you glanced inside to make sure Felicity wasn’t listening in. “Do you think that’s why you didn’t know how to talk to me? Because there’s no clear line between Y/N and Ben as friends and Y/N and Ben as a couple.” “Maybe,” you shrugged, “I don’t think it helps.” “Yeah. It’s like, obviously there are times when we have to be all coupley and I guess it gets hard to say when something is uncomfortable because then it’s like what about next time we’re out and we have to do that thing anyway. And there are things I’m happy to do with my friends that I don’t think twice about but might carry extra meaning in our situation.” “Exactly. I don’t want to say I don’t like something and make you feel bad when we then have to do it because people are watching.” “So what are you suggesting then?” “Well, we aren’t allowed to see each other in public for a couple of weeks now, right? So maybe this could be a chance for us to take a break. Not in a completely cut off way, I still wanna talk to you and stuff. But if we give ourselves some space, y’know. Try and shake….excess feelings a-and work out our boundaries better.” “Sure, yeah, I can see how that would help.” “It’s just a couple of weeks and like we can still text or call or whatever we just wouldn’t hang out together and it wouldn’t be every day.” “Y/N, I get it. It’s a good idea.” You took a deep breath, “Okay. Cool. Um, so we’re good?” “Of course we are. I-” Ben seemed to stop himself from saying something, instead sighing, “We’re good,” “Good.” There was nothing else to stay but you didn’t want to hang up. Neither did Ben, it seemed, both of you just standing in silence. You could hear faint music playing on his end, like it was coming from another room. Maybe he was in his kitchen, leaning against the bench, the radio on in the next room over. Or maybe he was sitting on his couch, the TV down low so the repetitive game music wouldn’t disturb your conversation. You could see him so clearly, sitting in his usual seat, controller abandoned beside him. You wondered if he could tell where you were. “I guess I should go then,” He said softly, “I’ll talk to you soon.” “Bye Ben,” “Bye cud- Y/N.”

“How’d it go?” Felicity asked when you came back inside. “Alright. We’re gonna take a break from seeing each other so much and sort out how we feel and stuff.” “That sounds good,” “Yeah,” you felt relieved at having had the conversation but it was mixed with a weird sadness you couldn’t put your finger on, making you feel vaguely like you wanted to be sick again. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit. I’ll hang out and then tonight we can order pizza and watch cat videos or vine compilations or something dumb like that.” “You don’t have to stay, I’m fine.” “Hun, I’m staying. Maybe I’ll take a run to the shop, pick up some ice cream and booze and face masks. Sound fun?” “Definitely,” “Alrighty then, it’s a plan.” You felt slightly cheered by the thought as you made your way to your room and fell onto the bed, not bothering to change or move the covers, but it didn’t stop room from blurring with tears as soon as you were alone.

Keeping the distance between you and Ben was a mixed bag. On one hand not seeing each other meant there was no lingering pressure of another date or photo opportunity weighing on you. But on the other it also meant a queue of TV shows you felt unable to watch since you’d started them together. You didn’t have to worry that Ben would suddenly call you or rock up on your doorstep, unable to keep his affections to himself any longer. But you also missed out on random messages asking if you could remember that song (“you know the one it was from the early 2000s. Went something like…,”) or the way he’d chuck popcorn at you from the other side of the couch until you managed to catch some in your mouth. It gave you a chance to relax without worrying you were leading him on, or that you’d say the wrong thing, or that the rules you’d come up with would be broken. But that was because you barely spoke to him. Your communication was kept to text messages whenever something big happened and not much more. Ben sent you a message when he got a call back for one of the movies he’d auditioned for. You texted him when your neighbour’s dog had puppies, partly because they’d asked if you knew anyone who could adopt one when it was a little bigger, but partly because the second you saw the babies you thought of how much he’d love them. And yes, you were sleeping better without so much pressure and anxiety, but it hadn’t stopped Ben from appearing in your dreams and even daydreams, explicitly so more often than you were willing to admit. Then of course there was the bombardment of emails from family and friends checking in on you after they’d seen the video. It got so out of hand you’d had to make a rare post on your private Facebook account letting them know things were fine, just to get them to stop harassing you. But you couldn’t stop the harassment you were getting from strangers on all your other social media pages. You got into the bad habit of checking all the big gossip mag websites for  stories about you, following them with as much fervour as any fan might. Ben must have had some paparazzi taking up residence on his street too because you saw countless pictures of Ben going about his day – out with friends, walking to Tesco, smoking outside a pub. And every time there was some story attached either about how heartbroken he was or about how he was sneaking off to meet you in private. You coped the same treatment, though sometimes with the added twist of announcing you were pregnant. All it did was make you wish you could have a hug from Ben and talk about it with him. You came very close to buying a pack of cigarettes one day, just so you could burn one and have its scent linger around your house like Ben had brought it in with him. Felicity was brilliant. She found amusement in the unfamiliar photographers, especially when an article appeared with photos of you and her hugging on your doorstep, speculating you’d moved on from Ben already. It wasn’t so surprising that she’d snuck her way into the magazines she so loved to read considering she checked in on you a lot in the first few days. But, as much as you loved her, and as much as she made you laugh, she had her own job and partner to think about and she couldn’t quite grasp what was happening the same way Ben could have. You missed him more than you thought you would, even with all the baggage from his unrequited crush. So much so that the realisation your makeup date was approaching had you grinning as you made your morning coffee, humming the song from his mug.

It was a surprise, though not an unpleasant one, to hear your phone ringing at close to nine the night before the date. You were sitting in bed playing solitaire on your laptop when your ringtone interrupted. Ben was apologetic as he greeted you, repeatedly saying sorry for calling at all. “It’s okay Ben, I really don’t mind.” You said, putting the laptop aside and relaxing back against the pillows. “Are you sure? I should have just emailed you.” “Ben, stop. I’m glad you called. I’ve missed hearing your voice.” “You have?” “Of course I have. I spent two and a bit months doing nothing but listen to you blab, you really think I’d just forget you?” You could hear his smile when he continued, “I’ve missed talking to you too. I figured this would be a good excuse.” “This being?” “Tomorrow night. Peter said he’d send you the info.” “Of course, yeah I got his email. Tomorrow night, meeting at Boucher at seven.” “Yup, that’s the info.” “I was told to dress up and be prepared to smooch.” “Did he say smooch?” “No,” you laughed, “His phrasing sounded a lot stuffier and careful not to create a lawsuit, but I figured that’s what he meant.” “Yeah, um, you’re okay with that?” “Absolutely. It’s a makeup dinner and we’re going to be together for another couple of months so we should play up the romance and the um, physicality and all that.” You tried to ignore the sudden warmth in your cheeks and the memory of your last dream. “Okay, good because I was specifically told about what happens when we leave the restaurant.” “Hmmm I think I remember something about that but again, stuffy non-lawsuit language. Kinda hard to follow at times.” “Basically they want us to make out while we wait for an Uber. Like, proper make out.” “Oh,” “I told them neither of us are public make out people but they’re insisting they need it. Something about it being an obvious indication of getting back together or whatever. And technically we agreed to it when we signed up for this whole thing.” “Thanks for the heads up.” “No worries. Glad I called now, wouldn’t have wanted to just spring that on you. But um, that’s it really, I’ll let you get back to your last night of peace.” “Wait,” you blurted without having anything else to say. “Yeah?” “Ummm, oh! Did you hear anything more about that movie?” “Not yet but Peter said they’re still in talks. Hopefully soon.” “What’s it about?” “It’s an actiony thriller thing. This guy, the role I auditioned for, witnesses a murder and then gets dragged into this revenge mission. I’d get to shoot some big guns and drive a cool car and y’know save the girl, all that stuff.” “Sounds fun,” “Yeah, what about you, any auditions?” “One or two but nothing’s come of them. I sent my reel in for this supernatural comedy about a coven of witches. Too soon to know anything though.” “Well I hope you get it,” “Yeah, likewise.” “Thanks.” You were forcefully reminded of your last conversation when you both lapsed into silence again, neither of you making any move to hang up. You wanted to keep talking but part of you was worried that if you used up all your conversation topics now, you’d have nothing to talk about over dinner tomorrow, and if that happened you were bound to blurt out something you shouldn’t. Instead you just savoured the sound of Ben’s breaths and the odd rustle of clothing as he shifted around. Once again he was the one to break the silence. “Well, as lovely as it has been to chat, I should go. Gotta get a good night sleep so I’m ready to woo you tomorrow.” “You’re not going to bed yet are you? It’s so early,” “I was gonna read or something for a bit actually.” “Have you finished that show we started?” “Which one?” “Any of them? “No. Figured they could wait.” “You wanna watch one now?” “What, over the phone?” “Yeah, we can try to time it so it plays at the same time.” “Uh, sure, why not,” You quickly grabbed your laptop and, after some discussion of which show you were more in the mood for, found the right episode. There was laughter on both ends of the line as you attempted to hit play at the same time, counting down from three between giggles. It took you a few tries but you eventually got them to sync up, more or less. It felt nice to hear Ben’s laughter again, his voice when he sang along with the soundtrack, his comments about the nitty gritty of the production side – odd line deliveries and angles of shots. He was easy to talk to. Though with everything that had happened, everything you knew, just the act of talking to him set off butterflies in your stomach.

It took you well over an hour to get ready for the date. You’d been told to go all out so that’s exactly what you did. With a little help from Felicity so you could get away with a calming pre dinner drink. She gave you a hand choosing an outfit – a dress, short but not too short, classy but eye catching. It had started life as a dress for a movie premiere but after a few years the top didn’t fit quite right so you’d had it altered, the skirt was taken up, cut off and attached to a new top that more suited your current style, leaving you with a slightly shorter and much more you outfit. Glass of Prosecco close to hand, Felicity worked on your hair and offered advice on your makeup. When you were finished and could reveal the full look to her, she squealed. “You’re absolutely going to get laid.” “Shut up. I look alright though? Lipstick’s not too dark?” “Honey, you look gorgeous. I swear, you’re gonna get dicked down in the bathroom of that fancy as fuck restaurant because he’s not gonna be able to keep his hands off you.” You burst out laughing, “Good to know. Not exactly the plan for the evening but at least I’m prepared now.” “What is your plan?” “I don’t really have one, which is not helping me stay calm. I guess just find out if he’s still interested in me. And then work out where we go from there. We talked last night and that was good but I just need to know if he’s, you know, still into me.” “He’s head over heels for you, that won’t have changed. The question is, do you love him?” You wanted to say no but obviously couldn’t so you settled for a soft, “I’ve have missed him.” She hummed with an annoyingly knowing look. “I should be going, the Uber’ll be here soon.” Felicity pulled you into a hug, “Knock him dead, Y/N,” and then, as an afterthought added, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “You first hooked up with your girlfriend because some drunk guy told you he’d buy you both drinks if you made out. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do.” Felicity laughed, “That was just a free drink, imagine what I’d do if there was a fancy French dinner involved.”

You arrived before Ben did. A quick glance up and down the street told you he wasn’t approaching just yet, so you opened your clutch to give yourself something to think about other than the sound of snapping cameras. Phone, lipstick, tissues, compact mirror, three condoms. You laughed to yourself when you saw them and made a mental note to lie about how useful they were when you next saw Felicity. Quick footsteps caught your attention and you looked up in time to see Ben running towards you. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said between breaths, pressing a kiss to your cheek as soon as he was within reach, “My Uber got caught in traffic and I had to make a stop,” He held out a small bouquet of flowers in a variety of pinks, purples and yellows. “For me?” “No for the other girl I’m seeing, of course for you. You like them?” “They’re beautiful,” you took the bouquet and breathed in its sweet scent. “I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” he stopped babbling with a pained expression on his face, for once more visibly nervous than you. “It’s very sweet of you, thank you,” “I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy. Now you have to carry them around all night, what was I thinking? And god can I just shut up. Sorry.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he scrunched his nose up and ran his hand through his hair, unintentionally endearing, “Calm down, Ben, we’ve done this before.” “I know,” “Let’s just go inside, further away from these cameras, and have a drink, sound good? “God yes,” he nodded and let you lead him through the door up to the hostess stand, managing to pull himself together enough to give her the name of the booking. As expected, she told you to wait in the bar until a table was ready.

Ben downed his first drink in one hit. It made you wonder how hard he was finding it to be around you. Had the space helped him quiet his feeling for you? Or had it just made him want you more? Was that why he seemed so out of sorts, stumbling over his words in a way that was so unlike him. You desperately wanted to find out where he stood but it was impossible without giving yourself away. What you needed was for him to make another phone call you could overhear but the likelihood of that happening was slim. You’d just have to put it from your mind for now. “Better?” You asked Ben as he caught the barman’s attention and ordered a second drink. “Getting there,” He took the new glass and drank, just a sip this time, “You look stunning by the way. I should have said it earlier,” “Thank you, you look very handsome,” He glanced down at the suit he was wearing, “Thanks.” A somewhat awkward silence followed. “So,” you said, louder than necessary, desperate to get him talking like he normally did lest you start to freak out too, “You been here before?” “No. Never even heard of it before Mary and Peter mentioned it. You?” “Same.” You looked around the room, searching for something else to talk about, “Nice though.” “Yeah, yeah, really swanky.” “Bit different from the painting thing,” “Yeah, very. Look I need to tell you someth-” “Mr Hardy? Your table is ready,” You smiled at the hostess, as he thanked her, and followed her towards a table for two, setting your bouquet down to the side. Ben smiled at you from across the table. “You were saying?” you asked, apprehensive and curious. “Oh, um, nothing, doesn’t matter. We’ve got a date to focus on.” “Wouldn’t want all these prying eyes to miss anything,” “Exactly. Cuddle bunny,” You smiled at the nickname despite its ridiculousness and leaned forward in your seat slightly, letting your fingers gently rest against the back of his hand. If he wanted to focus on the date and putting on a good show for the public then that was something you could do, “Babe.” The flush you’d seen creep onto Ben’s face before appeared again and he reached for his glass once more. “So, how have you been?” you asked, pulling your hand back towards you. He looked at its retreat and then back at your eyes, “Good. Got to hang out with the boys a few times last week which was really good.” “Beat them at any more video games?” “They won’t let me anywhere near FIFA at the moment,” “Discrimination,” “That’s what I tried to tell them!” he laughed, seeming to relax a little more, “bunch of babies.” “What about that trip thing you were organising, have you sorted that out?” “Not entirely. It’s with my friend Joe who lives in the States. He was going to come out here but we decided it wasn’t worth it since I’ll be over there soon anyway.” “You will?” “Well both of us will be. Part of the press stuff for The Perfect Match.” “Oh, right, of course,” you giggled and tucked your hair behind your ear. “He’s looking forward to meeting you though.” “I bet he is,” you said automatically. Of course he’d be keen to meet the woman his friend was infatuated with, you would be too. Ben gave you a questioning look but you covered well enough, “I mean, he’d obviously know about us dating so I assume he’d be curious to meet your girlfriend. Especially if we’re having public spats and stuff.” “Right, yeah, definitely. What about you? What’s been happening?”

From there you fell into your usual style of conversation, both of you relaxing more as the night wore on and the bottle of wine you ordered grew emptier. The only difference from normal was the romance of it all, played up as much as possible. Brushing hands as you both reached for the salt, soft smiles and laughs. You even went so far as to twirl a strand of hair around your finger like some love struck teenybopper in a soap opera. When your food arrived you let Ben feed you a bite off his fork. You offered a taste of your meal in return and he held your wrist as he leaned in. A gesture that left you breathless, blinking at him as he slowly withdrew his hand. The wine’s fault probably. You’d polished off the bottle by the time dessert arrived, on top of the drinks you’d had before you sat down. It made you feel looser and you assumed the same of Ben, judging by how different his demeanour was to the nervous, stuttering one he’d had when he showed up. Perhaps that was why, with a spoonful of chocolate mousse halfway to his mouth and no regard for the conversation you were having, he suddenly said, “Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?” “Uh, yeah, what d’you want to know?” “Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?” You thought for a moment, putting down your own spoon, “Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.” He smiled at that, looking down at his dessert like he was trying to hide it, “I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.” “Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.” “Like…um, the thing I said on the phone about enjoying playing the boyfriend. I like having someone special to share things with,” He sighed, “But that’s…not relevant right now. Do you want to get out of here?” You were a little taken aback by the suddenness of the suggestion but agreed, reapplying your lipstick for the cameras while the waiter collected your bill.

Ben wrapped his arm around your waist once you were outside, pulling you close. With the pretext on planting a kiss on your temple he quietly asked if you were ready for the next part. “Lay it on me,” you giggled, feeling warm and light. A second later his hand was sliding down your side towards your bum which set off another wave of giggles. He kept you close as you walked down the street, oblivious to the flash of cameras. Ben kept his arm around you, using the other to open the app and order a car. You stopped when you reached a quiet bus stop, Ben letting you go to sit down, tapping the spot beside him. But his hand wasn’t gone for long, instead moving to cup your cheek as he pulled you into a kiss. “I missed doing that,” he muttered but you were more focused on making it happen again, shifting yourself closer, laying your hand against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His heart was pounding under your palm, but it matched the beat against your own chest. You’d forgotten how good he was at kissing but it came flooding back as you opened your lips for him, felt his tongue against yours. His hand was firm on your back, pulling you in but still not close enough. You whined, let him pull you onto his lap, pressed yourself against him, one hand in his hair so he wouldn’t stop kissing you. His hands were everywhere, on your arms and back and squeezing your arse, holding you in place as you arched your back slightly and kissed him harder. A car horn right beside you made you pull away, startled. “Ben?” The older man asked, looking down at their phone, “I’m here to pick you up.” “Shit,” Ben said softly, and then to the driver, “Sorry, yes, that’s us.” You let your head fall forward onto his shoulder for a second, smothering your laughter. “C’mon cuddle bunny,” he said softly, “they’ve had enough of a show.” Your legs felt unsteady as you stood and smoothed your skirt down. Ben opened the back door for you and followed you inside. “So sorry about that,” he said again to the driver. He just laughed, “It’s alright. I remember being your age and completely smitten. You’re that couple I’ve seen online, right?” “Uh, yes, that’d be us, I think” “Well if you wanna keep making out I won’t stop you. Might have to tweet about it though.” Ben laughed, “Thanks but I think we can hold off for a bit.” You looked over at Ben and had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing too loud when you saw the lipstick smudged over Ben’s face. “What is it?” Still laughing you handed ben your compact mirror and the pack of tissues from your clutch. “Christ,” he said softly, “The internet’s going to fucking love this.”

The Uber driver left you at the end of Ben’s driveway with a wink and a have fun. There were paparazzi waiting for you so you grabbed Ben’s hand and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He led you inside, refusing to let go of your hand even while trying to dig his keys from the opposite pocket. Once you were inside, you placed your slightly bruised bouquet on the hall stand, leaned against the closed door and began taking your shoes off. Normally, after being out together and winding up at Ben’s place, you’d head straight to the bathroom to take off your makeup. He’d go and fetch two glasses of water if you’d been drinking or maybe something warm if the night was cool. You’d change into the pyjamas you kept at his place and then join him in the lounge room, sometimes tucking yourselves under the same blanket, to watch TV until you were yawning and struggling to stay awake. And then you’d wish each other good night and head to your separate rooms. But this time something felt different. You kicked your shoes to the side of the hallway and stayed against the door, watching as Ben pulled his wallet from his pocket, dropping it and his keys next to your flowers. He slowly turned towards you, taking a step closer. And you knew you should move, should dodge around him, make a joke about not needing to take off your makeup since he’d already done it for you but you found yourself stepping towards him too. There was a beat as you both realised how close you were. You heard Ben swallow, watched his eyes move to your lips unashamedly. Later, when you were lying in the dark wondering what the fuck had happened, you’d tell yourself it was the wine. A brief impairment of judgement exacerbated by months of celibacy and an easily suggestable brain. Whether you believed it was another question.

You closed the gap but he was only a second behind, hand back on your waist as his other found your jaw. You wrapped your arms around his neck, let him slowly walk you through the house towards the living room you where you’d spent so many nights joking around. He didn’t stop kissing you while you stumbled through the house, not unless he had to and even then he never went far, his breath hot against your lips. You pushed him down onto the couch and straddled his lap, continuing what had been interrupted, his hands falling back to your arse, pushing up your skirt, squeezing, as you tugged on his hair, making him groan. A single rational thought was trapped in the back of your mind, trying to breakthrough but it was hard to think when Ben was holding you like that, kissing you like that, especially after so long without being touched at all. He broke away to mouth at your throat and it was only then that you had enough time to think clearly. “Wait,” you said softly and then again more insistently. “What is it?” “What are we doing? We can’t,” “Why not?” You shook your head, and pushed yourself off of him, taking a couple of steps back, “It’s rule one Ben,” “We wouldn’t even have to break rule one though, we can just stay here on the couch. No harm in making out if we’ve already done it.” A whine caught in your throat and you took an extra half step back to keep from rushing into his arms again, more rational thoughts pushing through the broken wall and joining the first. You shouldn’t, not if there was any chance Ben still had a crush on you. It wouldn’t be fair. “I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,” You shook your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?” “Of course I know that,” “Really? Because sometimes I think you forget I’m not actually in love with you.” What’s that supposed to mean?” You bit your lip to try and stop yourself from saying what you were about to say but it was no use, the words were already half out, “I heard you talking to Joe the night you left your keys at the bar. I know you have a crush on me.” “You heard that?” His eyes were wide, horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear I just needed a drink an-.” “Oh my god,” He sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair again and you wished it was your fingers mussing it up, “Maybe you should go.” “Wait, Ben, let’s just talk about it.” “Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?” “I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.” He laughed at that, “I’m – I’ve been trying to stop feeling like this for months now, since we were filming together, but I can’t, I can’t shake you. I love you. And it won’t go away.” “You love me?” Ben nodded, looking up at you from the couch but you couldn’t meet his eye. “You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.” You didn’t know what to say, just stood there, frozen in place. “That’s what I thought,” He stood up, chewing on his lip and when he spoke he had to clear his voice to make it loud enough for you to hear, “I, um, I know I just said you should leave but you can’t go yet. There are still paparazzi out there and we’re meant to look like we’ve made up. I’m going to go to bed though and you can stay until they leave or, if you can still stand to look at me, then you’re welcome to stay the night and I’ll drop you home in the morning. I’m really sorry.” You watched him walk towards the hallway, still frozen in place.

[yankeeclapdoctor]

Once again it is time for some 2011-2014 era Loki discourse because I have been confronted with.....um...a certain Hot Take, and I must respond publicly because I have been blocked from responding in DMs and I cannot just let this go because my brain is screaming. So here we go...uh...proceed at your own risk

cw for mentions of (fictional) g*nocide

First message: “For the record, Loki going insane actually does excuse him trying to destroy Jotunheim. It doesn’t JUSTIFY it, but it does EXCUSE it. Being unable to control/understand your actions excuses them, no matter how horrible they are. In the court of law, Loki would have been rehabilitated, not punished.”

Second message: “For the record, Loki going insane actually does excuse him trying to destroy Jotunheim. It doesn’t justify it, but it does excuse it (big difference). Being unable to control/understand your actions absolves you from blame, no matter how horrible they are or the consequences. Loki needed to be rehabilitated, not punished. Nothing can justify g*nocide. It is inherently wrong in and of itself. But he is excused by virtue of not having known any better at the time.”

For the record, I do not know this person who has messaged me and, as I say above the read more, I cannot respond to them privately both because they have restricted their message settings to only blogs they follow and also they seem to have blocked me after sending these messages.

let’s Get Into It, shall we!

Okay……so……….I might conditionally agree with you, if you were talking about Loki attacking Earth—when he does that, he is under the influence/control of Thanos and of the Mind Gem, and therefore he is not fully in control of his actions when he attacks New York, so I wouldn’t say he should be penalized as though he were.

What I’m getting from you saying there’s a “big difference” between an “excuse” and a ‘justification’ for someone’s actions is that there’s a difference between being able to point to a reason for someone’s actions versus saying that someone’s actions are correct. And yeah, of course there is. But also, again, just because there is a reason for someone’s actions, mental health related or otherwise, does not mean that the effect of their actions can/should be ignored, or that the person can be entirely absolved from blame unless they are under complete duress. If you’re referring to the difference between justification and excuse in law…..well if Loki were to be tried in a court of law on Earth for his crimes in Avengers, I guess he would have grounds for an automatism or duress defense because of the mind control, which would hopefully get him sent to a psych facility for rehabilitation instead of a straight up prison…but I don’t know how exactly the judicial system would factor in magic or how they could prove Thanos’ involvement when they didn’t know about him at the time and the only one who knew of him was Loki and he probably wouldn’t be considered a credible witness…and also he wasn’t tried on Earth and again I don’t know if they have psych facilities on Asgard and based on his hearing in Thor 2 I really don’t think their criminal law system is the same as it is on Earth. I certainly didn’t see a jury of his peers, just Odin being a dick.

But since you’re talking about Jotunheim, that’s a whole different situation/mental state he was in. Yes, his messed up emotional state is a reason for his actions, but I believe that he does know better, and even if he didn’t, “not knowing any better” Does Not erase the harm that someone’s actions cause (especially when they are as bad as g*nocide!). It may explain why the actions occurred, but the existence of an explanation really does not always justify complete absolution, and in Loki’s case with Jotunheim, I don’t think it does, because I don’t think there’s any evidence that he was ‘insane’ in a way that prevented him from understanding the gravity of or controlling his decisions, and the movie (through Thor) ultimately condemns the hateful ideology upon which his decision was based (that Frost Giants are monsters and deserve to die). I can call his behavior ‘insane’ or ‘unhinged’ or ‘mad’ (to borrow Thor’s term for it), but that doesn’t mean that I think he was truly mentally incapacitated. He’s a dramatic bitch and (in my interpretation) he had years of weird resentment and insecurities building up before Thor’s banishment and the adoption revelation happened to catalyze his wacky behavior in Thor 1.

In terms of real life human legal terms and systems (if those are even valid to apply here, which, for the record, I don’t think they are because this is a fantasy world with an entirely different and unknown legal system), I don’t think he falls under the requirements for an “excuse” defense. I don’t think he’s shown as ‘going insane’ to the point where he wasn’t able to control or understand his actions. There isn’t ever a moment in the movie like in Avengers when Thor is like “look around you. do you think this madness will end with your rule” and he looks genuinely startled and upset by his actions for a second—that moment in Avengers makes it clear to me that he’s being influenced/controlled, and also that he’s capable of recognizing the harm he causes when confronted with it. But in Thor 1, he stands by his choices until the end, and even after that, he doesn’t express remorse or a sense of newfound understanding that what he has done is wrong or was out of his control, even when he is told by Thor and Odin (and Frigga, in Thor 2) that what he has done is wrong. His anger is driving him, not ‘insanity.’ He knew the meaning of his choice to destroy Jotunheim with the Bifrost: it would “destroy that race of monsters” (his words) that he wants nothing to do with, and it would “prove to [Odin] that [he] is a worthy son.” When Thor says to him, “you can’t kill an entire race,” Loki responds, “why not?” and reminds Thor that he was ready to kill them all earlier, and that they have been taught their entire lives that they are monsters and not deserving of mercy or respect. He knows that it is g*nocide, and he chooses to do it because he sees it as the justifiable and correct solution to his own and to Asgard’s problems, and because it is a way to express his anger—here, he is working based on hateful ideology he was taught in conjunction with his own grief and anger. His feelings of betrayal and self-hatred and anger lead him to make this decision, not any demonstrable mental disorder; in desperately trying to retake control of his life and show to himself and to his family that he belongs and is “worthy,” he makes a choice, does not express remorse for it afterwards, and at no point is shown to be acting out of character/not in control of himself and his actions. Thus, he should be blamed and take responsibility for the damage he caused. A dramatic anger and grief response would not qualify as an excuse or justification for a crime, nor does it necessarily indicate mental illness…definitely not on Earth, and I highly doubt on Asgard (I don’t think that it would make sense to apply any diagnosis based on human psychological science to his mental state, seeing as he’s not human. Or Asgardian. I don’t know the state of psychological science on Jotunheim, but if you do know, feel free to enlighten me).

I can see and understand his reasoning/explanation/the “excuse” behind the action, but that doesn’t mean that I can (and the movie doesn’t) endorse it or say that it can be entirely “excused,” because as you say, “nothing can justify g*nocide.” Again, since he’s a fictional alien, I don’t think it’s relevant or productive to actually apply our labels or frameworks of thinking about mental illness to him. In the real human world, his emotional meltdown in Thor 1 might be grounds to say that he is mentally ill, but because he never expresses remorse for trying to destroy Jotunheim afterwards, that to me emphasizes that the choice was not entirely a result of his messed up mental/emotional state, but a combination of that and a logical (albeit morally terrible) line of thinking. The moment at the beginning of Thor 2 when he has his hearing about attacking Earth solidifies this interpretation even more to me, because he makes it clear that his actions (which in this case were influenced by Thanos/the Mind Gem) were a result of what he’s been told his entire life: “that [he] was born to be a king.” While he isn’t referring to his attempt to destroy Jotunheim there, it does indicate that he holds the belief on his own, even when not mind controlled, that atrocious actions can be excused because of his interpretation of his socialization. I agree that if he were not in control or didn’t fully grasp the meaning and magnitude of his actions that he could be ‘excused’ a bit, but I disagree that it would ‘absolve’ him entirely. It doesn’t change the fact that the realm was almost obliterated. Nothing he ever says/does/emotes communicates that he didn’t know or didn’t realize what he was doing when he tried to destroy Jotunheim, he is only upset over having failed (“I could have done it, Father. I could have done it. For you. For all of us” he says); he never expresses remorse for his attempt to destroy it, and this does not seem to be because he is prevented from seeing that what he did is morally wrong—again, instead, he seems to think that his morally reprehensible actions can be justified by his motivations. His judgement was determined by anger, but being emotionally driven doesn’t mean one is ‘insane.’ Again, I agree that he “needed to be rehabilitated,” because he is a very very unstable person who needs to learn how to process his feelings better, but we can also see throughout all of the movies that he has trouble accepting and admitting the consequences of his bad choices, even though he tends to know when his actions are bad (either because he just knows and is being a bastard and/or because Thor tells him). That’s one of his major personality flaws. His first instinct is usually to get defensive and angry and try to explain away his actions because of his trauma, rather than empathize and try to acknowledge and apologize for what he has done. He needs to understand that he can’t just make horrific choices and then “excuse” them afterwards, no matter how distressed or traumatized he was at the time—especially when the choice is g*nocide that he was not mind controlled into attempting. Therapy could absolutely do this for him, and probably would be most effective even without a formal diagnosis of anything, because it could help him understand how his personality affects and is responsible for a lot of bad behaviors. But a dickish and highly emotional personality does not equal ‘insanity.’

In summation: he’s not insane in Thor 1. He’s acting based on discernible emotionally and ideologically informed logic, even though that logic is morally reprehensible. Also I think it is dangerous to say that if he were insane something like g*nocide could be excused just because it can be explained by supposed insanity—it does not erase that it happened, and that it is terrible, and should be atoned for. Maybe in the real life human American legal system he could go for some sort of excuse defense, but I don’t think it would hold up in court. Just because he would very much benefit from therapy does not mean that he went ‘insane’ and that such ‘insanity’ drove him to attempt g*nocide; his distressed mental/emotional state does mean that he should receive rehabilitating treatment, but a need for rehabilitation does not mean that he is also not deserving of blame for the consequences of his actions, and for making the decision to commit an atrocity in the first place.

In conclusion: I love Loki very very much. I do not blame him for his space meth-fueled actions in Avengers (2012). I DO blame him for choosing to try to commit g*nocide when he could have chosen not to do so in Thor (2011). And yet I still love him, because I am capable of both loving a fictional character AND recognizing that he is a bit of a war criminal.

[undertalethingies]

Judge and Jury

Set after a pacifist neutral ending. (Only Asgore is dead)

Not long after the queen returned, she called a meeting of all Asgore’s old employees. It made sense to, right? Gotta figure out who’s assigned to do what and who’s got tasks they weren’t supposed to chat about and all that jazz.

Sans very nearly didn’t come. But Tori knew he worked as a sentry, so if he didn’t show, she’d notice, and he really didn’t want them finally actually meeting to be marred by her disappointment at his work ethic.

...Or that was what he’d tell other people, if they asked. Truth was, Sans’ sense of duty ran a lot deeper than he let most people pick up on. He’d always cared deeply about the kingdom and the people in it. It was why he’d been chosen as Judge, actually. Because he had both the compassion to choose mercy when it was right and the resolve to fight when necessary.

He still didn’t know whether he’d made the right decision with the human, even though he knew both Asgore and Toriel would approve, if he explained.

Not that he could explain anything to Asgore, now. 

...Dammit, he missed the big guy. And the human would still have kept going even if Sans had fought them, sure. They had too much DT to do otherwise, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like even more of a useless shit than usual.

Anyway, the meeting. He went.

Looking around, he could see that not everyone had. Two of the Hotland guards had skipped, along with the Temmies. The latter might be for the best, in all honesty. Even Sans, who was probably the most informed monster in the Underground even before Asgore kicked it, had never been made aware what exactly the Tems did. The few cryptic hints they’d given him over the years had only made him want to know less.

The attendees included all of the Snowdin Guard (including him and Papyrus, the sentries), Undyne, two guards from hotland who he didn’t know all that well, Alphys, and a couple monsters from New home who served in administrative capacities.

Toriel made a speech about how, while she would be dismantling the Royal Guard, she had plans to keep many of them on the payroll as a police force, which shouldn’t be too big a change from their previous duties. (While the Royal Guard ostensibly existed to capture humans, they fell far too rarely for an entire force dedicated solely to capturing them to make sense, so they also acted as a disciplinary force)

Sans made plans to talk with Undyne about letting Papyrus into the new force, since he doubted she’d realize that this removed any reason to keep him off. (Papyrus was pretty much the ideal cop, in Sans’ opinion. Hard to be a criminal when he was so freakin’ nice)

Undyne would be remaining the Captain, apparently. Despite her actions in attempting to capture the human, she’d been acting for the good of her people, and so long as she didn’t let “the ends justify the means” act as an excuse for cruelty again, Tori had no issue with her.

Or that’s what she said, at least. Sans suspected that it was more because Tori didn’t know anyone well enough to appoint a captain who’d be better than Undyne, so she just didn’t bother.

Then she went through the administrators, having them explain their roles and their duties. She didn’t immediately change much there, probably wanting to get a feel for how the kingdom had changed in her absence first, which seemed reasonable.

She had a brief discussion with Alphys as well, and he got the sense that there was definitely more of that to come later. Toriel seemed like the type to expect regular reports from her Royal Scientist, and Sans wondered how long she’d be able to keep the DT experiments a secret with actual oversight.

Then came the part he’d been dreading, where Toriel turned to him.

“Forgive me, old friend, but I do not actually know all of the jobs you worked for Asgore?” There was nothing but polite curiosity in her tone, and he knew she probably wasn’t expecting him to say much more than “sentry”. He’d hinted a few times that his real role is a bit more than that, which was probably the only reason she was asking at all, but he knew she’d probably never guess his real role in her wildest dreams.

“eh, fair. i kinda do a lot,” he was being deliberately vague, unable to resist delaying this revelation for just a few extra moments. Alphys met his gaze, and he could tell she understood.

“Yes, but what, precisely?” Toriel asked, getting that glint in her eye he recognized from every parent he’d ever spoken to. Say what you will about people with kids, but they knew when you dodged a question. 

“well, i’m a sentry in snowdin, waterfall, and hotland,” He was, indeed, a sentry in all of those places. It wasn’t like he was lying, just… omitting a detail. Next to him, Papyrus narrowed his eyes slightly, because Papyrus could smell Sans fudging the truth from miles away at this point. He didn’t say anything, though, since he knew it was rude to talk out of turn in a meeting like this. (Sans had briefed him, beforehand, on the social niceties that would be involved)

Toriel just looked mildly startled, presumably thinking of the commute between regions, since he’d never really talked to her about his shortcuts. (He’d never really talked to anyone about his shortcuts, just used them and let them draw their own conclusions)

“You manned three stations? That seems like quite a lot,” Heh, she had no idea. 

“eh, i manage,” He could see from Tori’s face that she doubted that, but she was polite and didn't say so. 

“S-Sans,” Oh, great. Alphys was glaring at him the way she did when he was being an idiot, and he supposed that he kinda deserved it. No way Tori wasn’t gonna ask who the Judge was at some point, y’know? It wasn’t really a role the kingdom could do without.

“I-if. If you d-don’t tell her, she’ll, she’ll find it in the r-records and then it’ll b-be awkward,” Sans looked to the side.

“i mean, bold of you to assume i wouldn’t just doctor ‘em if i wanted it to be a secret,” Several people in the room looked mildly alarmed, and he wasn’t sure why. He was only implying he had the means to easily edit some of the most highly secured documents in the kingdom, after all. Lol. 

“Sans,” Alphys hissed. He knew she was being serious because she didn’t stutter on his name at all, and she only tended to forget to when she was totally pissed. Apparently this actually mattered to her, then. Or maybe she just didn’t want him to get caught in a lie the way she had been, which was a nice sentiment, if misplaced.

“yeah, ok. so i’m not just a sentry,” He admitted. Toriel’s eyebrows drew together into a slightly concerned expression.

“Sans, exactly how many jobs do you work?”

“well, if the sentries are all separate, that’s three. then there’s the semi illegal hotdog stand, but i do that at the hotland station, so i’m not really sure if it counts as its own thing. i also do comedy gigs at mettaton’s hotel sometimes, and then there’s, uh, the one alph was talking about,” His expression slid into something vaguely sheepish and he rubbed at the back of his skull with a gloved hand. He really didn’t want to talk about this, necessary as it may be.

“And what job would that be, Sans?” Toriel asked politely. She was being nice about it, but he could tell she was getting a bit annoyed at his evasion.

Sans placed his hands in his lap, looking her straight in the eye with a serious expression. He kept his tone serious, too, so she’d know he was telling the truth.

“I’m the Judge.” He ended his sentence with a period, even though he knew it wasn’t strictly proper. He’d always liked the finalty a period conveys.

Toriel’s eyes widened, along with Undyne’s. Sans had been pretty surprised when Asgore had said he didn’t want to disclose Sans’ identity to the Captain, but the late King had explained that, while he trusted her unconditionally, he knew Sans wanted to keep his role on the downlow, and Undyne wasn’t exactly chosen for her skills at subtlety.

Sans didn’t see even a speck of surprise in his brother’s expression, which filled him with pride. He’d never outright told Pap about his job, but he’d always been more perceptive than he let on, and Sans had been pretty sure he’d known. This basically confirmed it.

“You never mentioned that,” Says Tori, looking like she felt a bit betrayed but was trying to hide it.

“nothing personal, tor. i just, uh, strongly dislike talking about it,” Sans said, attempting to reassure her. It was the truth. Sans had always loathed people who used high status positions like Judge to get extra privileges or whatever, and he disliked the fear the Judge was regarded with even more. (He’d known the old Judge, and he’d seen the way the guy got treated by those around him. It wasn’t anything he wanted for himself)

Toriel looked mollified by his admission, meanwhile Undyne was still gaping like a fish because she knew both his stats and the things he’d done during his tenure as Judge, and was probably having difficulty reconciling the two seemingly conflicting accounts in her mind.

“I see. Well, we will certainly need to discuss this later, but perhaps it might be better to do so in private,” Wonderful. At least then he’d only be revealing the extremely personal information that had to do with his job to one person, rather than literally everyone employed by Asgore.

On that note, he was pretty sure that the news of him being the Judge would be all over the underground within hours of this meeting’s conclusion, so that was fun.

Man could he not wait for the reset.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Head That Wears The Crown

AU-gust Day Nine: Royalty AU Fandom: Stargate Universe Pairing: Nicholas Rush x Gloria Rush

Rated: G

Summary: After almost twenty years of avoiding Gloria’s heritage, a single phone call turns her and Nick’s world upside down, and they are forced to confront the fact that she is, in fact, a princess.

===

The Head That Wears The Crown

Nick knew that something was up from the moment that Gloria picked up her phone where it was innocently buzzing along the kitchen table. Having looked at the caller ID and gone as white as a ghost, her spoon dropped back down into her cereal bowl, sending milk and muesli across the table.

“Oh God.”

Nick grabbed a couple of sheets of kitchen paper to clean up. “Who is it?”

“My mother.”

Well, that was certainly a turn up for the books, and it certainly explained why Gloria had reacted the way she had. She hadn’t spoken to her mother for almost twenty years. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in her family for almost twenty years. Gloria’s family were never mentioned, the ultimate taboo between them.

“You’d probably better take it,” Nick observed. “She wouldn’t be calling you unless it was important.”

Gloria gave a slow nod, the phone continuing to vibrate in her hand as she made no move to answer it.

“Yes, I probably should.” The phone continued to buzz urgently, and Nick held out a hand.

“Do you want me to take it?”

“No, I don’t think that would help.” Gloria took a deep breath and answered just before it cut out to voicemail. “Good morning, Mother.”

Nick couldn’t hear what Gloria’s mother was saying, but since Gloria managed to go even whiter than she already was, it must have been something dramatic. When she got up from the table and vanished into the living room, closing the door firmly behind her, Nick knew that it was very, very serious. He sat back down at the table, his own breakfast completely forgotten in the knowledge that, likely as not, his entire life was about to get turned upside down.

When Nicholas Rush had first met Gloria Andrews, they’d both been studying at Oxford and had happened upon each other quite by chance at one of the rare social events that Nick had attended. A friendship had begun and turned into a relationship, and the relationship had turned into love and a proposal of marriage.

The proposal had opened a rather large can of worms, because for the previous two years of dating and sleeping together and eventually living together, Gloria had omitted to mention one very important fact, namely that she was heir to the throne of a small principality.

Nick hadn’t believed her at first, because surely if she was royalty then she’d be flanked by several bodyguards all the time and wouldn’t be hanging around in student bars in Oxford, and she certainly wouldn’t be doing something as mundane as playing the violin for a living. And surely she wouldn’t have a surname as commonplace as Andrews.

True, she had never shown any inclination for him to meet her family and he had no idea where she’d lived before going into halls of residence and then living with him. She’d always been rather vague about where she spent her holidays, and it had always been clear that she was in no way short of funds.

But the princess of a nation that he’d only vaguely heard of?

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, Gloria was telling the truth, and Nick found out that for the last two years he had been falling in love with Princess Gloria Catherine Anna di Marco, daughter of Prince André di Marco from whom she’d adopted her civilian surname.

Being the heir to the throne of a nation, however small that nation may have been, Gloria really wasn’t expected to marry a penniless Scottish astrophysicist, and upon the revelation of her true heritage, Nick had been fully expecting their relationship to come to an end.

He had not been expecting Gloria to go home to her father, argue with him about her life choices until he disinherited her, and then come back and marry him and live a happy and contented life as a music teacher, completely uncaring for the grandiose existence she had left behind.

Now, nearly twenty years later, that grandiose existence had suddenly made an appearance once more, reminding both of them that their lives were not as simple as they had hoped to keep them.

Nick sighed. There had been so many times over the last two decades when he had doubted his worth, knowing that he didn’t deserve someone like Gloria despite all the times she had reassured him that he was the only thing she wanted. She had given up so much to be with him and she had never once used that maliciously against him. She had never once wished for her royal life back or lamented how different things would have been if they had not stuck together. Nick knew that it was unfair to put all of the upheaval that they were about to face on Gloria. She had done her best to avoid it, and she would feel the stress of it just as much as he would.

At length – time had lost all sense of meaning – Gloria returned to the kitchen and sat back down, staring at her phone for a long time before she spoke. When she did, she didn’t meet Nick’s eyes.

“I have to go home,” she said. Her voice was measured but brittle, as if she was only keeping herself together through sheer force of will. “Actually, we both do.” She looked up at him then, and Nick could see that she’d been crying. “My father is dying, and he wants to see me. And you.”

Considering that Nick had never met any of Gloria’s family, much less her father, who was the ruler of a country, he thought that he was justified in feeling some trepidation at the prospect, and he felt guilty as he started mentally running through a thousand and one reasons why he would have to stay here.

He knew that he couldn’t. Even if none of Gloria’s family wanted anything to do with him, which was the stance they’d made clear when she’d first mentioned him to them, he needed to go with Gloria to support her whilst all this was going on. He’d lost his mother when he’d been too young to remember and his relationship with his father was strained at best, but he knew that he wouldn’t want to go through the loss alone.

“Right.”

For a long time, that was the only thing he could say. There were a hundred questions running through his head, most of them along the lines of does this mean you’ll have to run the country now and most of those followed by where does that leave us?

“I suppose I’d better start cancelling my lessons,” Gloria said. It was so practical and mundane that Nick couldn’t help but give a bark of laughter, alarming Gloria.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m still in shock.”

“Yeah.” Gloria sighed, and suddenly she looked very far away at the other end of the table. “Yeah, you and me both.”

X

Objectively, Nick knew that royal families generally had money to burn, but having lived on the breadline for most of his life and only gaining proper financial stability when he got academic tenure, the extent of wealth was difficult for him to comprehend – and he had wrapped his head around some of the most incomprehensible theoretical physics known to man.

Since getting off the plane, he and Gloria hadn’t had to lift a finger. There had been official people to meet them at every step of the way and a car waiting to whisk them away to the official family residence, and then another one waiting to take them to the hospital. Considering all he’d had to do was follow people along corridors and sit in the back of very luxurious cars, Nick was exhausted. All he wanted was to get back to his office and grade a few choice idiotic papers to take his mind off it all.

“Oh, Gloria!”

As they entered the private wing of the hospital where Prince André was receiving treatment, Gloria was bowled over by someone whom Nick recognised from photographs as her mother – twenty years older, of course, but still definitely the same woman. Even though Gloria was far more comfortable with invasions of personal space than Nick was, it was clear that she was rather taken aback by this sudden display of affection from someone she’d had no contact with for so many years. Eventually she relaxed into the hug and let her mother lead her down the corridor towards her father’s room.

Nick hung back, sitting down on one of the plush seats in the waiting area. He caught Gloria’s glance over her shoulder, almost a plea for deliverance, and he wondered what he should do. What could he do? He was the very definition of a fish out of water here, and Gloria herself wasn’t doing much better. People kept coming and asking if they could get him anything; it was the most surreal experience he’d ever had. Some kind soul sourced him some coffee and the caffeine helped him to focus a little, even if all he was focussing on was pretending to be somewhere else entirely.

It felt like an age before Gloria returned, sinking into the chair next to him.

“Gloria?” She looked blank, like she was miles away. “Gloria? Glo?”

She shook herself out of the stupor and turned to him.

“Hi. Sorry, I’m still trying to work out whether that just happened or if this is all just some weird dream.”

“What happened?”

Gloria shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not here, at least. God, I want to go home. Proper home, I mean. Our home. Oxford. Not here.” She pressed her hands over her face, leaning heavily on her knees. “I thought I’d left all this behind,” she mumbled behind her fingers. “I was happy to have left it all behind. This can’t be happening.”

No more was said on the subject until they got back to the house, and even then, Gloria spent a long time just wandering through rooms that had once been familiar. Nick trailed after her, unsure of what she needed. This wasn’t a problem that he could just apply maths to in order to solve.

“This was my bedroom when I was a kid.” She’d stopped in the doorway of a room that was at least the footprint of Nick’s entire childhood home and garden. Everything was covered in dust sheets, no sign of personalisation anywhere. Just as Gloria had made a clean break with her previous life, it seemed that her previous life had made a clean break with her as well.

“He wants to reinstate me,” she said suddenly, apropos of nothing. “He wants me to take the throne when he dies.”

Although Nick had suspected that this would be the case from the moment he’d known the situation, it was still something to hear it from Gloria herself and have it confirmed.

“Is this a situation where you can say no, or do you not really have a choice?”

Gloria shrugged. “I have no idea. The lawyer’s coming tomorrow to sort it all out, I guess I’ll find out then.”

“What happens if you don’t take it?”

“There’s a cousin in New Zealand. It’ll go to him.” Gloria sighed. “I’m so sorry, Nicholas. I don’t know who I was fooling when I thought that I could leave all this behind and it would never trouble us again. I’m an only child and my father’s not going to live forever, of course it would come back to bite me sooner rather than later. There was no way I could run from it forever. I’d just hoped that it would be over, done. He’s always been so stubborn. I thought that his first decision would be final. I never thought that he was one for deathbed regrets and trying to make amends. I suppose none of us know what we’re going to regret at the end until we get there ourselves. I’m so sorry.” She wiped away a fresh fall of tears on the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I know you didn’t sign up for all this.”

Nick didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say, either to comfort Gloria or to try and make sense of his own position in the entire affair. He just put his arms around her, letting her lean in against him, holding her as she cried. He tried to reason that nothing was set in stone yet, that Gloria still had the choice to refuse the crown and everything could go back to the way it was before, that soon enough it would all be the cousin in New Zealand’s problem.

Deep down, though, he knew that it was not going to be as simple as that.

He didn’t think either of them slept that night, both of them caught up in their own thoughts. Nick stared at the ceiling, thinking about everything that he had to lose if Gloria were to take the throne and move their lives over here. The university, his professorship, his positions on all of the research committees he worked on. His office, his tenure, his students… Well, maybe he wouldn’t miss those as much.

Ultimately, though, he knew that the only thing he would really miss if he were to lose it was Gloria. He had started from scratch enough times and he had built himself up from the bare bones before. He could do it again. He could do his research anywhere. But if Gloria wanted to be here, then here was where he would be as well.

“Glo?” He reached across the bed to find her hand, squeezing tightly.

She rolled over, burrowing into his side. “Nick?”

“Whatever happens, whatever you decide, I’m right here with you. I love you. No matter what.”

She kissed him, fumbling and clumsy in the dark, and Nick felt wet on her cheeks.

“Thank you, Nick.”

[ballumsecretvalentine]

happy valentine’s day @lolapearce, i hope you have the most wonderful day and feel loved and appreciated like you deserve! here’s a little fic exploring callum’s grief for chris and how ben supports him through it! Xx

—-

i see everything can’t be,

i see the beauty that you can’t see,

on the nights you feel outnumbered,

i’ll be out there somewhere.

The week starts with Ben wrapped around Callum, Callum wrapped around Ben, in any which and every way.

Things seem normal at the beginning of the week. They appear that way, at least, on the surface. Beneath all that, beneath sunny smiles and quiet touches, Ben’s veins are bubbling and swelling constantly, heart shifting between barely beating and thudding viciously against his ribs. He can’t explain it, yet everything feels on edge, as if a blanket fear and fragility has fallen over Walford, dark and omnipresent; a heavy-weight, tension only leasing up when he gets home to Callum. To his warmth.

But it seems Callum is keeping him in a constant state of whiplash, and it’s so unlike him it sends Ben’s head spinning. Callum is either nowhere or everywhere, unreachable and distant or pressed up so close that Ben has trouble breathing. Ben wakes up alone two days in a row, later than he normally would, with a chill in his bones and a headache blooming between his eyes. It ignites this pent up feeling insidehim, this terrifying bundle of fear and nerves compiling itself in the centre of his chest.

Callum doesn’t meet him for their daily lunch-date, nor does he show up at the car-lot with a coffee and smile and Ben doesn’t go as far as to check for him at the funeral parlour. Because it somehow feels alien and odd and too much like overstepping, when really, it isn’t. In the afternoon, though, Callum will text him, a simple: Chinese tonight? and something about that tears Ben’s mind in two.

His heart spikes at the attention still though, eager, but it also sinks and swells and twists all wrong, because he always thinks the same when he wakes up alone, and he doesn’t know what to do, what to make of it. It’s not like Callum, he’s clingy in the morning, needy in all the ways Ben loves. But since the sun rose on Monday morning, he’d closed up. Cold. Distant. Closed.

But Ben goes back home, to Callum’s flat, say: Yes, absolutely, to the offer of Chinese and takeaway and Callum will be all over him, poking and prodding and kissing Ben silly as he’s perched on the kitchen counter, until Ben finally caves, folds their lips together softly. The taste of cheap beer and something so familiar between them. It’s a distraction, Ben knows that, but he’ll let Callum take whatever he wants, needs, form Ben, because it’s Callum and he can’t deny him anything, especially not this. Not when Callum’s given it to him so many times before. Comfort. Safety. Patience.

February 14th 2020

Winter’s sun has risen, and Ben is still beneath the sheets when he blinks his heavy lids open.

There’s no sound, the usual soft breathing beside him absent, and the warmth replaced with a coolness that sinks so deep it’s chilling. London’s soft light is spilling in across the sheets, slanting into his eyes, stinging, enhancing the tiredness he feels. It takes him a moment to come to himself, still halfway stuck in the darkness of his troubled dreams. When he does awake, he’s wet-eyed and hazy, and registers nothing but the empty half of the bed bedside him. He lays entirely still and swallows against the feeling of his skin curling, against the feeling of his body trying to turn itself inside-out.

Three days in a row.

He sits up with a hand over his heart as he swallows thickly. His pulse is jumping against his neck, his eyes heavy, heart sunken.

The rest of the flat seems as deathly quiet as the bedroom, just the laps of footsteps from the street below can be heard through the opened window. Ben shuffles into the kitchen to grab a drink. The water is freezing cold, glass-like a pinprick in his palms, but he drinks all of it with a rasping gulp, trying to settle himself.

It’s then he notices an old notepad flung across one of the counters, and he’s sure it wasn’t there the previous night. It been left open on a double page, there’s a sprawl of black ink across it, loopy-cursive letters filling the page.

Gone for a walk, needed to get out for a bit - Callum x

As he places the notepad back on the counter, another piece of paper catches his eye. An envelope addressed to Callum. It’s been opened with care, that much is obvious, and Ben feels awful for even contemplating looking at the contents of the card inside, as if he’s imposing on something private and intimate.

The guilt is so heavy it feels like a physical weight on his chest, but he can't resist his racing heart for too long.

Callum, love, it reads at the top with neat, unfamiliar writing. Ben's throat immediately tightens, heart falling somewhere unreachable.

Thinking of you today and always.

I hope you’ve found the comfort you need.

Vikki x

With a heavy heart and shaky fingers, Ben carefully tucks the card back into the envelope and folds the flap over it. Physically, the words disappear, but he can’t lock them away, there's this thrum pulsing through him, like his entire body is a wound.

He needs to find Callum.

—-

As Ben steps outside, the atmosphere remains stoic and silent, reminiscent of a storm brewing. The trees creak around him, groan when those harsh winds start to push. Against the soft light of first dawn, the streets seem just a simple mirage of shadow, the power lines and the silhouettes of the market stalls.

There’s this eeriest stillness within the air, barely any life to be seen — especially not the one Ben’s eyes are frantically searching for — Callum’s.

He tries the undertakers first, but the locks are bolted. Next, he visits the car lot, but it seems exactly how Bem left it the previous day, a mess. Then, the pub. The park. The Albert. No luck.

He breathes out long and slow as he reaches the cafe, his final stop, and pushes at the door frantically before him. The warmth and laughter hits him at once; it feels forgien, wrong, when Callum isn’t by his side.

It’s just Ben’s luck that he bumps straight into a tall body.

“Watch it, idiot.”

Oh. Jack.

“Sorry,” Jack says, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic. “Oh actually, I’m glad I bumped into you.”

“Right, well,” Ben says dismissively. “I’m a bit busy so can you—”

“I’ve just seen your Callum, up at the graveyard,” Jack interrupts, and Ben can’t be sure his heart doesn’t switch places with his stomach.

“The graveyard?”

With this revelation, there’s a new, different kind of fuzziness Ben’s registering now, something that isn’t phantom. His knees feel weak and he has the very sudden urge to let himself fall down. A quiet panic curls around his spine before he can stop it, and he knows it makes a home in his eyes when he finally glances up and sees the look on Jack’s face, brimmed wide with a real concern, cautious as he leads Ben out of the pub.

“Go and find him, yeah?” Jack says. He shifts a gentle hand to Ben’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Think he might need you today.”

“Yeah, course,” Ben murmurs. “Cheers, Jack.”

---

Ben doesn’t know why but as he approaches the graveyard, he feels full of nervous energy. He feels like he’s intruding on something, waiting for someone or something else to pop out and terrify him. But this is just Callum. His Callum.

He spots the man in question almost straight away, just a speck in the distance. The sky impossibly feels impossibly huge and wide, full of possibilities and life, yet the clouds pull in a blend of dreary greys and dull blues, trashing with the force of the wind; reminding Ben of his whereabouts. Each step he takes feels weighted, sticky and gluggy, and his under eyes are bulging, swollen, temples throbbing from the amount he’d slept, or rather hadn’t, last night.

Callum turns when he hears Ben’s footsteps approaching; startled.

“Hey,” Ben breathes softly, and he knows, meeting Callum’s eyes, that his words could break him easy as anything. Like glass about to splinter, one wrong footfall away from shattering into a million tiny pieces.

“Hi,” Callum croaks back, almost inaudible. His head lifts and he looks to Ben slowly. He looks entirely exhausted, under eyes hollowed and dark, hair a mess on his head, curled in on himself.

“I’ve been looking for you all morning,” Ben says. He hates the way his voice sounds, because he’s not angry at Callum. But sometimes anger and worry cross paths, the polar emotions become all muddled, near impossible to separate. Life and death. Light and dark. Anger and worry. But that’s what love is capable of, Ben supposes. He shakes at Callum’s shoulder gently. “Callum. Look at me, yeah?”

The sun has snuck behind the clouds now, but something is making his vision ache. It’s a new, different kind of fuzziness Bens registering, something that isn’t phantom. His knees and his elbows are weak and he has the very sudden urge to let himself fall down. To fall at Callum’s feet and beg him to open up, to let Ben in. He hates this helplessness. A quiet panic curls around his spine before he can stop it, and he knows it makes a home in his eyes when Callum finally glances up to him, his eyes brimmed wide with a concern all of his own.

“I’m sorry.”

Fear pricks at Ben’s skin at how calm and articulate Callum sounds, this isn’t like him one bit. This isn’t his Callum.

“What for?” Ben questions, not because he wants to, but because he has to.

Only Callum remains stoic and silent.

“Cal, I need you to talk to me,” Ben says. He shifts a gentle hand to Callum’s hair, fingers raking through the knots, and shakes him lightly. His eyes close with half frosted lashes. “Hey, no. Hey.”

“‘M fine,” Callum murmurs. “I’m okay. Honestly. Just—sorry.”

He takes a seat on the bench next to Callum, it’s one of those brown wooden memorial ones with tired slats and a shiny brass plaque for someone’s late grandparents, married for decades.

He stops, brushes his fingers over the plaque, and wonders, a little morbidly, if anyone would ever build a bench for him. Him and Callum.

He’s itching to take Callum’s hand. His fingers are twitching where they fall brushing lightly against Callum’s thigh. He wants Callum to allow Ben to give him what little comfort his touch might offer, wants to let him help. Wants to share their grief, lean against each other, rely on each other.

He wants to hold his hand.

“You’ve ain’t got anything to be sorry for. Nothing, alright? Just talk to me, babe, please.”

At that, Callum sits up swiftly, averts his eyes, wrings his hands together in his lap, and somehow makes himself as small as a child, despite his height.

“I uh, I need—“ Callum starts. “No, want—to tell you something.”

“Anything.” The word is so earnest it aches in Ben’s mouth.

He watches with gentle eyes as Callum pulls a photograph out of his coat pocket. It’s a little worn around the edges, a sign of love and devotion, Ben decides.

There’s two people pictured, yet only one jumps out to Ben — Callum, obviously — he looks happy, that’s the first thing Ben notices. His smile is beaming, glistening in the harsh camera flash, his eyes dancing, dimples indefinite. A far cry from the sadden look shadowing his features today.

He’s stood with his arm looped around another man; matching in uniform and smiles too.

“That’s Chris” Callum breathes, finger brushing delicately over the man's smiling face. He pushes his spare palm along the tops of his thighs, curls his finger anxiously over his knee as he releases another long exhale. Ben stares, swallows thickly at the shadows under Callum’s eyes, the way they hallow his cheeks out. Ben feels worlds away but like nothing could ever move him from this point in time. “He is—was—was very special to me.”

Ben doesn’t know what to say to that. His chest feels close to collapsing, too many emotions trying to fight for a place at the forefront of Ben’s mind, unable to simply coexist together right now, and he’s hit with waves of different feelings, something dark blue that sits like a deadweight in the pit of his stomach, something rose-red that clings to his heart.

“Was?” Ben questions, heart plummeting for the uptenth time this morning, already fearing the answer.

And Callum, he just breaks.

He releases these muffled, hiccuping sobs, his face screwed up tight. In the light of day, Ben holds him close and hushes him, brushes his thumbs over his cheeks to try and wipe his tears away, over his brows to try and soothe him, over the bumps and scars.

And perhaps the thing that hurts the most is that Callum doesn’t move at all, just hides his face away more, shoulders shaking with tired trembles.

“Look at me,” Ben whispers, and he pulls back enough to cup Callum’s hot cheeks in his palm, to press his lips to his forehead over and over. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m here.”

“He—” Callum breathes. “It’s been a year—it’s been a year, Ben.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about it? About Chris?” Ben asks cautiously.

“I don’t know how,” Callum admits, meek. He looks away. “I’ve never—I don’t even know how—or where to start.”

“Take as long as you need, we’ve got all day, after all,” he attempts with a lightened tone.

“He was special, Ben. So special, and I never let him know that,” Callum says quietly, wistfully, but his voice grows tight and panicked as he talks, eyes watering some more. Ben’s heart spikes in his chest.

Darkness shadows across Callum’s face slowly, creeping in as his eyes grow dull, and he curls into himself again. He opens his mouth again, then snaps it shut, taking in a shuddery breath.

“You can stop if you want,” Ben whispers. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry, it’s just,” his eyes are misty again, “it’s hard to talk about him.”

He lets Callum breathe, lets him gather his thoughts. The leaves below their feet rustle soft.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning, hey?”

Callum nods and looks down at his feet. Ben can almost feel it, remember it, this strange sense of guilt that holds Callum’s posture stiff.

And so Callum begins.

He tells Ben everything he can. From the nights in the camp, the days out in fields. He tells Ben about their first few weeks on duty, about that first night they met. About the dindgy bar they drank themselves stupid in and the way their hands brushed down fingers danced as they made the trek back.

He tells him of how his dreams were filled with silent screams and broken cries and smashing glass, and how sometimes he woke up with the distinct feeling that he was about to be hurt, or that Chris was hurt, but then he’d wake to a palm on his face, gentle fingers and whispered words. Chris. Always Chris.

He tells Ben of a warmer days, sweltering in a way that England never is, of sunshine and flushed cheeks. He feels Ben of those rare days off, the ones spent down by the pool of water, feet dipping into the current and heart dipping into so,etching else entirely. He tells Ben about how vividly he remembers the blue, the way it would ripple along with their laughter as night closed in.

He tells Ben of those nights. The nights spent under the star, Chris talking Callum through each and every constellation littering the sky, as Callum himself would paint his own constellations in Chris’ eyes, fingers dancing dangerously close in the sand.

He tells Ben of the injury, the release from the army, those first few months in Walford. Wandering around the big-city as if he were looking for something he didn’t quite know he’d lost.

He tells Ben that he soon began to forget the pieces of himself from the army, that he became transfixed on putting the past, Chris, behind him, in attempt to prove himself.

He tells Ben about yearning for something, someone, he never had, he tells him of the guilt for that yearning, for the horrid shame that would settle like sludge in the pit of his stomach. He recalls the nights he tossed and turned in bed next to Whitney, hating himself for dismissing something that could’ve been so good, hating himself for wanting to change, but hating himself for who he was, also.

When he finishes, Callum slowly clamps a hand over his mouth and digs his fingers into his skin, letting out a shuddery breath.

Ben doesn’t think he’s breathed the entire time Callums been talking, all thoughts washed away by the lull of Callum’s voice, the edge to it.

In the quiet, Ben tries to get his mind to catch up with the way his chest is aching, imagining a younger Callum, inquisitive yet scared and silent.

“Thank you,” are the words Ben finds eventually.

“What for?”

“For telling me all of that,” he says, words from the heart. “It can’t have been easy.”

“No, suppose it weren’t,” Callum ducks his head, lashes fanned out and golden, the apples of his cheeks have gone rosy in the February chill as he shrugs his shoulders. “I ain’t a very private person, I find it hard to cover my emotions. But with this, with Chris, I am.”

“God, Callum,” Ben starts, bumps their foreheads together softly, as he brings a hand up to round Callum’s head, and he smiles softly when Callum finally glances up at him, his fingers twisting slowly at the cuffs of his jumper. “You’re so brave, and brilliant, and more courageous than you’ll ever know. I’m just glad I get to see it, everyday.”

And that gets a returning smile from Callum, the first of the week, soft edged, and cautious, like he’s reaching out and pressing his hand over Ben’s heart just with a look.

Ben bites at his lip, trying to find the most delicate way around his next question as he pulls away. “Do you miss him? Chris, I mean? It’s okay if you do, you know. I miss Paul everyday.”

Callum looks down at his feet again and shrugs, but it’s feeble and small, and Ben tries not to register the wetness to his own eyes.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Ben admits. “Always will. That don’t mean I ain’t happy with you, though. I am. God, I’m the happiest I’ve been, Callum.”

“Me too,” Callum answers after a bout of silence, picking at the skin of his thumb, gaze lowered. “Sometimes,” another shaky breath. “I miss him sometimes, or rather, I think I miss what could have been. The relationship I could have had with him if I hadn’t been so scared of who I was.”

And Ben understands. It's a constant ache in the chest, grief is, an emptiness that's difficult to explain. It feels void, like a clawed hand has dug out everything that's inside of you, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of your chest, edges torn and jagged.

There’s nothing, Ben thinks, taking in Callum’s still form, quite as paralysing as grief.

But he’s sure he doesn’t need to tell Callum that.

“I’m sorry,” Callum says suddenly, shakily. “Ben, I’m so—“ he cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ve been such a shit boyfriend recently, ain’t I?”

His voice is cracked, hoarse from the tears and it’s instinct, when Ben puts a hand on his arm, tries to soothe him; like riding a bike, learning to swim, the lyrics to your favourite song; Ben supposes, you never forget. “No, ‘course not. You couldn’t ever be.”

“Ain’t been much fun though, have I?”

“You’ve been hurting, Callum. There’s a difference,” he soothes, hopes his voice portrays the understanding he’s aiming for. “I know what it’s like, losing someone — someone you love,” he continues as he digs his thumbs into Callum’s back. He doesn’t want to compare the two. It’s incomparable, grief is. But he’d try anything to help Callum right now. “And you did, didn’t you? Love him?”

He’s met with a nod, shaky but there.

Ben sucks in a heavy breath, closes his eyes for a moment as the familiar feeling he’s been actively avoiding washes over him like a flood. “I know that feeling, that emptiness. I held onto it for so long, that feeling of being stuck, moving through the days in slow motion, feeling time pass around you but your life standing still.”

No one ever tells you how much it’ll hurt, no one can ever relay into words what it feels like to know you’ll never see someone’s face again, or hear their voice or feel their longed touch. It hurts, it burns, and the sting of it all doesn’t wane, it doesn’t fade. The only thing that really changes is how you begin to deal with it, you become better at coping, you learn to function, to move with the days, but you never forget and the ache never numbs. Instead it lingers and lurks, always looming in the shadows of your mind, unescapable grief, unavoidable sorrow.

“I know how you’re feeling. I get it.” Ben sighs sadly. “But you know that, Callum. You could’ve spoken to me about this, about anything. I thought you knew that?”

“I do know, I do—” Callum sighs. “I just—I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You ain’t.”

When there’s no response, Ben finally glances back up. Callum is staring at him, unconvinced, thin brows drawn together, and there’s that sadness still in his eyes that makes Ben’s throat swell, because he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want that look, not from Callum. Not ever.

“You’re my boyfriend, Callum,” Ben says, the words sit on his tongue familiar, round his mouth like poetry. “Your problems are my problems, remember?”

“Sorry I just disappeared on you like that,” Callum whispers after a beat.

Ben shakes his head. When he speaks, his lips move against the soft of Callum’s neck, head buried in the crook there. “Don’t be daft. I understand, I know you needed time.”

“It’s just, life is so shit sometimes.”

Callum says eventually, eyes wet. Ben feels it right in the centre of his chest when their eyes meet, a dark blue weight that’s slowly working its way into his blood.

“I know,” Ben cuts him off gently with a sad smile. He encases Callum’s hand with both of his own, warmth and soft.

It’s almost as though they’re two puzzle pieces, searching for their counterparts and finding resolution in each other’s cracks and breaks and grief.

“Chris—was he—was he killed?” Ben questions, kicks himself for doing so. “On duty, I mean?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Callum says, head shaking with force. “A car crash. Mad ain’t it? You can go out there and put your life on the line for a living, day in day out, yet something as simple as a car can be the thing to end your life.”

“It ain’t fair,” Ben agrees, “always the good ones, ain’t it? But they’ve got each other, you know? Chris and Paul, reckons they’re looking down at us now, probably having a laugh about what dramatic gays we are, but happy for us.”

“You think?”

“I like to,” Ben says, and if Callum notices the way his voice wobbles around the words, he doesn’t say anything. “I like to think they’d be proud of us, the same way I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up,” Callum says, cheeks tinted with a cotton candy blush. “When I left the army, I felt this horrible sense of relief. Because I’d convinced myself that Chris was just a one-off, a phase or whatever, that I could leave behind. I thought I could bury my feelings, for him, for boys, if I never saw him again, you know?”

“Hate to break it to you babe, but I don’t think that quite worked out for you.”

Callum lets out a quiet puff of laughter, sudden and soft, and pulls his head away from Ben’s neck. It leaves a cold patch, spreads pins and needles down his arms. Callum looks him right in the eye, red-rimmed and bleary. “Because then I met you. And God, Ben, you changed everything.”

“Soft.”

“You’re good at this,” Callum says next, and the elaboration Ben is waiting for, never comes.

He pauses, fingers still pressing into Callum’s back, half moon crescents dug deep, misshaped hearts and kisses. When he glances over, Callum has shifted slightly to lean against Ben’s side, watching with hooded eyes.

“At what?” Ben questions.

“Taking care of other people,” Callum says, voice so soft that it’s almost lost under the distant sound, the muted lap of birds chirping behind them. “Looking after us.”

“Only you.”

Only you, forever and always.

Callum blinks up at him slowly, let’s out this tiny huff of breath and with it Ben can see some tension dispute his body. It brings this fuzziness to Ben’s heart, thrumming in time with the crack of Callum’s smile.

He buries his face against Callum’s neck and kisses the skin there over and over, still holding him in the air. It feels as if there are these subtle waves washing over then, rolling sets that bring a cycle of emotions each time they lap over, washing them away as they go. It allows them time to breathe, time to grow.

“I love you,” Callum says. Ben opens his eyes and tilts his head up. Callum shifts his hand and grips tighter at Ben’s own. “More than you could ever know.”

“I love you too,” Ben says. “So bloody much.”

The wash over them in rays of sun, calm them both to the core. Ben takes to stroking his finger through Callum’s hair, watching as his chest rises and falls evenly as they settle into this delicate bubble, one of warmth and love and belonging, acceptance and allowance, one that wraps them up and nestles close.

It’s as if suddenly the fog lifts, and Ben can see clearly again. Purple, blue, orange, red; colours of feeling, of love, of life. But even with the lights out, Ben would see colour with Callum by his side, with the way he struggles not to shine.

Nothing can touch them here.

[hopetofantasy]

“Thank you”

Part 1: ‘Soft, sweet lips’

Part 2: “Your turn now” 

A VDS FIC - PART 3 (fluff / little angst)

“Sander... Can I ask you something?” The beach blond boy was sitting at the lake’s edge, illuminated by the upcoming sunrise. He held the usual coffee mug in his hands. A puzzled look appeared on his face. Their relationship was purely focused on teasing Robbe, so they weren’t exactly the conversational buddies. But Jens really needed an outsider’s perspective. 

“Yeah sure, Jens. Something seems to bother you, what is it?”

Damn, he forgot how perceptive Sander could be. Maybe this was a bad idea. Jens didn’t even know how to approach this inner turmoil. But talking to his best friend was out of the question. Robbe would go on about feelings and intentions. He didn’t want to explore those things yet. 

Jens sighed. When he woke up a few minutes earlier, he didn’t expect to be standing here. At that moment, he had felt pure bliss. Last night was one of the best in his life. Everything fell into place: he was the person he was supposed to be. He wanted this feeling to last forever. All wrapped up in love and passion. 

But when he turned over to meet another pair of arms, reality had struck. 

Lucas was gone.

No beautiful boy in the morning light. No blue eyes in the golden hour.

Jens jumped out of bed immediately. Turned around to his scattered clothes, his thoughts already cluttering his mind. Did Lucas dump him? Was this a one time thing? He needed to tell Lucas he liked him. Right now. He felt like a whole person again. Different, but the same. He already started walking towards the other cabin, when he noticed Sander sitting by the lake. 

“I just wanted to know... how- how come you were so sure? About Robbe, I mean? You were together with Britt, like together-together. So how did you... Euhm -”. God, this was hard. Could he ask the question he desperately wanted an answer to?

“How did I know I was in love with a boy, even when I’ve been together a girl?"

Well, he really cut through the bullshit, didn’t he. Jens analyzed Sander’s face, who strangely didn’t seem bothered by the question. He even looked quite amused. “That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it? How did I know I like boys as well as girls?” Jens turned red. “Yes.”

Sander sighed. “Well, I don’t know. Britt and I were together for a couple of months. She was a handful, but never boring. I really liked the spark in her, you know? She challenged me. Only it was too much. But I just didn’t know how unhealthy some parts of our relationship were, until I met Robbe. Did he ever tell you about the time I first met him?” 

Jens shook his head. “Well, no surprise there, he’s very private,” Sander chuckled. “The first time I saw him, Noor took him to spray some garbage trucks. I was there as well with a group of art friends. Then suddenly the moonlight fell through a crack in the ceiling and light up his whole face. 

I was gone for him. Really. Like a sudden rush of feelings. Love at first sight. It scared me at first, but i just couldn’t stop thinking about him. So I kinda... stalked him a bit. Even went to the skatepark to see him. That’s why I said yes to the beach trip, when Britt asked me. To see him.” 

This took Jens by surprise. He never knew Sander went this far for Robbe. He’d always thought they met on the beach trip. He didn’t know when the boys fell in love, but he assumed it happened somewhere between the beach and the break-up with Noor. When he wasn’t being a good friend to Robbe. When he wasn’t there to help him out. The thought made him feel guilty.

“What I’m saying is,” Sander continued. “I don’t know how it happened. It’s just did. I know Robbe is the love of my life and that won’t change. No need for a label. And if you’re wondering if it affects anything: it might cause some reactions, but the most important thing is that you’re always yourself. Out there, finding happiness. Are you happy, Jens?”

Jens shrugged. 

“I guess.” 

Sander snickered and put his hand on Jens’ shoulder. “You’ll be alright. Life is a rollercoaster sometimes, but that’s what makes it worthwhile. Trust me, I know how high or low it may get. Just go along with it, okay? Now, I guess I’m going to wake up a certain sleepyhead we both know so well.”

After that statement, he stood up and walked back to the cabin with the empty cup in his hand. Jens stayed, to stare at the calm lake. He’d tried to find some peace in his feelings. The story was still ringing in his ears. After hearing a slight huff, he turned around to a smirking Sander. His look all knowingly.

“He’ll be worth it, Jens.”

——————————————-

“What are you doing?”

Jens whispered breathless.

The Dutch boy almost gave him a heart attack, creeping up to Jens without any sound and wrapping his entire body around him. Not that he mind the hugging, but they needed to watch out. The boysquad were just a couple of meters away. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to notice anything.

“I’m kidnapping you,” Lucas simply stated. His eyes were filled with mischief. He took his hand and dragged him into a green grove of trees. “I’m going to take you to my favorite spot,” he said deliberately. Jens’ feet almost tripped over a branch, due to all the tugging and pulling. Why was he such a klutz in Lucas’ neighborhood? 

“Lucas, we really need to talk -”

“We can do it later, Jens”, Lucas answered and gave him a quick peck.

Jens was getting very annoyed. He didn’t want to go to this mysterious place. He wanted answers and Lucas listening to him. He hated being so insecure. His life was always in control, or at least put into separate segments to address later. His home, his parents, his friends. One by one. He always searched for a way to deal, without breaking down any barriers. 

Breaking down wasn’t an option. 

"We’re here!”

He’d almost forgot they were going somewhere. Lucas let his hand go and pointed to a small treehouse. It looked really cool. It couldn’t have been big, maybe just enough to fit a couple of small children. The construction was about four meters up. Old yellow paint made the thing seem very eerie and old. 

Lucas was already on his way up and looked down to persuade Jens to climb. The latter one was still contemplating the safety of the wooden ladder. He then shrugged his shoulders and took his chances. 

Inside the tree house, his eyes registered a pillow fort, a laptop and a couple of snacks waiting for them. His mouth fell open in awe. 

“What’s this? A setting for a playdate?” 

His questions were answered by a red flushed Lucas. “I thought it would be  nice to go on a little date. You know, learn more about each other. I wanted it to be relaxing. But if you don’t like it...” Oh no, he seemed to have hit the wrong nerve. Lucas looked hurt, he must have put a lot of effort in this. 

Jens brought his hand to the nape of Lucas’ neck. His other hand lifted his chin so their eyes would meet. “I love it, Lucas,” he said with a huge smile. “I would love to go on a date with you.” His lips slowly traced the soft, pink lips. He really liked this surprising boy. He hoped for more surprises in the future.

He is going to be so much trouble.

——————————————-

“So, am I your first?”

The question came out of nowhere. They were halfway through the movie ‘Romeo + Juliet’, which Jens had never seen before. He wasn’t really a fan of DiCaprio. But he didn’t dare to insult Lucas’ actor crush. Even when he deserved to be teased, since Lucas couldn’t stop comparing Leo to Jens. 

“Yes, you’re my first boy. I’ve been with some girls before. Keisha, Britt, Jana. But never a boy.”

“Well, that’s good. It makes me feel superior. Since I’ve been with a guy before”,  Lucas said jokingly. He should have known Lucas had more experience. Jealousy was already starting to rear his ugly head. Especially when he asked the question: “Who was it?” Did he really needed to know the answer? 

“Well, it was a drunk encounter at some indie rock concert. I was high as a kite, but I really wanted to kiss a guy to prove something. So I met this foreign dude on the way to the toilet. The name didn’t stick with me. Steven... Baeven... I know it ended with ‘Even’ at least. But yeah, we kissed like there was no tomorrow. I guess that was my gay epiphany.” 

Lucas said it in such a casual way, like it didn’t affect him whatsoever. He was gay. Yet, for Jens, it was too hard to say that sentence. To accept himself. He liked girls as well as boys. Bisexual. Jens is bisexual. Why was it so difficult to admit? He knew he accepted Robbe’s sexuality in a heartbeat. 

Suddenly Lucas pulled himself out of Jens’ arms and looked at him with clear determination. He seemed to have read his mind. He probably picked up on Jens’ heartbeat. Or he had developed a sixth sense for internalized homophobia. But he knew Jens was struggling somehow. 

“Jens, I know it seems difficult. It’s okay to doubt what you want. You don’t know everything about yourself. That’s alright. No need to push yourself. But be careful, it’s not healthy to separate your feelings or experiences. If you want to feel, you can feel. 

I just really had a great time with you. If you don’t want to continue this, I understand. For me, our first kiss started with loneliness, but there is still something about you. Something real. You’re different and I like you, okay?”

Jens gasped loudly. The revelation hit him like a truck. He didn’t now what to do with this information and kept on staring into those blue pools filled with love. He felt a burn in his throat. Like a bubble that was about the burst. He didn’t try to stop this heavy feeling, let it completely surround him. 

Lucas sensed what was coming. He put Jens’ head against his chest and gently stroked his hair. 

Jens couldn’t hold it in anymore. Tears were welling up in his eyes, until they overflowed onto his red cheeks. Everything started to blur. And then, suddenly, he was sobbing. He wanted to curl up in a ball. Didn’t want to be strong and confident. His heart couldn’t deal anymore. 

So he cried out all his pain. 

His mom and dad fighting. His sister’s sorrow. His inability to do something about it. His guilt of being a bad friend. His loneliness. His insecurity. Him not being who he thought he was. 

Then this boy, who just said it was okay. Who liked him nonetheless. Who knew. Who held him close and made little shushing sounds to calm him down. Who kissed his head. And held him until it was almost over. 

He stayed in the hug, even when it was safe enough to face the world again. And in between the last sob and a hiccup, he softly whispered to Lucas.

“Thank you”

[7-wonders]

Family Man

Summary: Michael brings his family along to the last Outpost after realizing that he’s not willing to sacrifice his loved ones for his father’s plan.

Word Count: 1958

A/N: This is just some short, sweet, requested fluff about Outpost!Dad Michael. Also, I just picked some names for the kids off the top of my head, so if you don’t like them, change them while you read. Not my best work, but I wanted to write something sweet. Hope you enjoy; feedback is always appreciated, and if you liked this I would love if you left a comment or reblogged!

The bedroom’s quiet when your eyes flutter open. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the middle of the day; there were so many things that could be done, after all. But you had been so tired, and it was so easy to just let your head rest against the headboard and close your eyes while murmuring quiet “uh-huh”s and “yeah”s to pretend like you were still engaged in the chattering that was going on. For those first few moments of your post-sleep haze, you’re able to revel in the silence that surrounds you. You revel in it, until you realize that it’s not supposed to be this quiet.

Sitting up suddenly and looking around the room, your eyes widen at what you see--or rather, what you don’t see. Toys and books are scattered around the room, but there’s no children present to play with them. The same children that, prior to your impromptu nap, had been happily buzzing around. Your children, who knew that they were not to leave their mother’s sight for any reason.

“Shit!” you hiss, running a hand through your tangled hair before clambering off of the bed and frantically searching through the pseudo-apartment that has become temporary lodging for the Langdon family. 

Michael, originally ecstatic that his plan had come to fruition and the world was finally ended, was miserable upon learning that he would have to leave the Sanctuary to travel to the Outposts. He intended on just killing every one of the survivors, but knew he had to extricate those who had been saved due to their genetic makeup. So, with great reluctance, Michael had left his little family to travel the nuclear wasteland. It pained him to miss out on his life back home as both your husband and the father to your children, more than any pain he had ever known. The milestones that he missed out on made him feel like a failure of a father, one of his greatest fears; after the three-week trip to Outpost 9 and back, after 4-year-old Levi excitedly told his dad about how the baby said her first word (“she said ‘night-night,’ papa, it was so cute!”), you had caught Michael holding back tears on the floor of the children’s bedroom. 

It had been impossible for you to say no when he begged you and the children to accompany him to the last of the bunkers. Michael held such strong animosity towards his old school, that it was really no surprise that he wanted to save the newly-christened Outpost 3 for last. The journey there had been...difficult, in a sense. The kids were wonderful, so excited to be back with their beloved father that they listened to every single word he said. But seeing the world once more, only now in its new state, jarred you. The last time you had been outside the walls of the Sanctuary, it was mere hours before the bombs dropped. Michael rushed you and an infant Levi to your new home, where you safely rode out the end of the world while crying into the downy hair on your sweet boy’s head. 

Michael made it a priority to spend as much time with his family as possible, now that he had you within walking distance at all times. Still, he did have business to attend to, business that had him stuck in the office that was now his. The kids, patient as they may be, are still just stubborn children who don’t like to be told what they can and can’t do. Being told that they cannot leave the cluster of rooms that serve as their new home, especially when their dad is not around to protect them, is seen as a rule that must be broken.

Although Michael would never forbid you from doing something, he had made it clear that he was uncomfortable with the idea of his family mingling with the Outpost residents. “Conceited, vapid creatures,” he had muttered with disgust one late night in bed, which recently served as the only time you could actually talk to your husband without the children needing something. You weren’t going to argue with him on this matter; besides, just being outside the walls of the Sanctuary, your home for 18 months and the only home your daughter had ever known, made you anxious enough. Having to expose your children to all of these people, who would do nothing but scrutinize and gossip, made you want to keep them locked up in your bedroom until Michael said you could all return home. 

In the midst of your nap, Michael had arrived back home, hoping to spend a couple of minutes with his family before returning to conduct his last few interviews. To his surprise (and delight) two sets of blue eyes, identical to his own, stared up at him from the ground. Their mother, his darling wife and the love of his life, was sound asleep sitting up on the bed, having obviously dozed off while watching the kids play. He stifles a laugh at the sight, bending down to be at eye-level with his children.

“We gotta be quiet daddy, momma’s sleepin’,” Levi whispers loudly, still not too sure about the whole ‘quiet’ aspect of whispering.

“Of course, bub. Why don’t you and Els come to my office with me? That way we can let momma get some rest.” Michael knew how hard this sudden move was for you, and felt bad for leaving you alone all day with the children. This, he surmised, would be a sweet and simple way to show you how grateful he was.

“Momma s’eep?” At the mention of her name, Elise, your one-year-old ball of light in the middle of all this destruction, crawls over to her father. Michael catches the small girl, smiling widely as she lays a chubby hand on his cheek.

“Yes, princess, which is why you’re coming with me.” Her eyes light up at the thought of getting to go on an adventure with her father, hands tangling in his long hair as she starts to let out a squeal. “Shh, sweetheart, remember?”

“Quiet,” she reminds herself, Michael nodding in confirmation before standing up and holding a hand out for Levi to take. 

“Come on, you two. Sleeping Beauty needs some sleep.”

Now, coming up empty after looking through every single room that your children could have possibly wandered off to, your worst fears seem to have been realized. Not only did you fall asleep while your children were in your care, but you also managed to lose them. Tears start to fill your eyes as your mind races with worst-case scenarios of what your babies could have gotten into. Were they hurt? Even if they weren’t, they were surely lost in the winding halls of the old Hawthorne school, vulnerable to all kinds of people with malicious intent. The idea of telling Michael of your transgression fills you with dread, but it’s something that you need to do. 

The walk to the office that previously belonged to the leader of this Outpost, and to the warlock council prior to the building’s renovation, isn’t that far, but the hallway seems to stretch on for miles as you walk. Even if the children did manage to sneak off to Michael’s office, who’s to say that he won’t be furious that they’re out of the safety of your private suite? Michael isn’t the type of man to get insanely angry at his loved ones, but you feel like this could definitely test that knowledge. No matter what, you’re feeling like you’re the frontrunner for the worst mother of the year award as you slide open the door to Michael’s office just enough for you to slip inside.

The fire’s crackling, a sign that Michael’s interviewing someone. He loves to use any means necessary to intimidate those below him, and the ominous lighting provided by the flames is one of his go-to tricks. However, you can’t see any flashes of purple or gray that would dissuade you from entering the room. Instead, a smile spreads on your face at the sight of Michael sitting at his desk, bouncing Elise on his lap while he types on his laptop (of course he would somehow manage to keep the internet working for Cooperative purposes). Levi’s sitting on a chair that Michael’s pulled next to his, books stacked below the boy to allow him to reach the surface of the desk. He’s contentedly coloring on a piece of paper, and you assume he brought some crayons with him on his search for his father. Michael finally looks up, happier than you’ve seen him in a long time.

“Hello my love, did you sleep well?” As they realize that you’ve finally woken up, both kids grin up at you, obviously pleased that they’ve gotten to spend some alone time with their dad.

“I did,” you say, brushing Levi’s curls with your fingers before kissing the top of his head. “Hopefully these little jailbreakers didn’t distract you too much?”

“Jailbreakers?” Michael repeats in confusion. “Oh, they didn’t sneak out while you were sleeping. I came in and got them.”

“Daddy wanted to let you sleep!” Levi chimes in helpfully, only slightly stumbling on his ‘l’s. 

“Well, that was very sweet of daddy to do.” You hadn’t expected this turn of events when you first woke up to find the kids missing, but you can’t say that you’re upset.

“Sweet enough for daddy to get a kiss?” Michael asks cheekily, smirking when you roll your eyes.

“I suppose so.” Leaning your head down to kiss Michael, you only hear a vague noise of disgust from your son. “Thank you for letting me sleep,” you mutter against his lips.

“Of course, you deserve some rest. Next time, though, I’ll save you the panic attack and leave you a note.” “I’d appreciate that.” You’re pulled away from each other by Elise’s small hands hitting your faces, obviously unimpressed at the moment her parents are sharing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry princess, is nobody paying attention to you?” Michael chuckles at the pout on her face, blowing raspberries on her neck until she’s shrieking with giggles. You turn around when you hear Levi laughing at his little sister’s predicament, shooting a playful glare at him. 

“You think that’s funny?” You hold your hands out like makeshift claws, the boy screaming before scrambling out of his chair to run. You’re too fast, though, and snatch him up before his feet can hit the ground.

“No, momma!” He cries out, his laughter betraying his words. When strong arms wrap around you suddenly, you let out a shriek of your own.

“How the tables have turned,” Michael muses, playfully nipping at your ear. “Shall we return to our rooms? I do believe the Grays have prepared a meal for us.”

“‘Sketti?” Elise asks in the hopes that her favorite food, as of late, will be on the menu.

“I don’t know, we’ll just have to find out.” You kiss your daughter’s nose, her long eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheekbones.

Michael removes his arms from your waist, holding the baby in one arm while he grips your hand. Levi walks next to you, holding tightly to your other hand as the fire is extinguished by Michael’s magic and the doors slide shut behind you. He pulls you closer to his side, obviously enjoying this small moment of domestic bliss in the mess that is the apocalypse.

“(Y/N),” Michael coos lowly into your ear, making you look up at him. His eyes, however, are darting between Levi and Elise.

“Yes, darling?”

“When can we have another one?”

/////////

@sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @dolceandchalamet @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @americanhorrorstudies @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsdemon @langdonslove @carousallie @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @mega-combusken @michaelsapostle @babyloutattoo89 @divinelangdon @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @hecohansen31 @rocketgirl2410 @gold-dragon-slayer @tcc-gizmachine @90sroger @atombombastic @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly

[baretklap]

Hypnotic Short #3: Cocktail Party

Having experienced the surreal journey of going from being a lovable but underachieving underdog to quite possibly the biggest star in professional wrestling industry in span of just 3 years, Becky Lynch knew she had every right to enjoy her life now that all of her hard work had paid off in a massive way. Her newly-found success was so big that it even surpassed the realm of professional wrestling, landing the gorgeous Irish women some very distinguished roles in Hollywood movies. Her latest role was her biggest one to date, so was the latest movie she was a part of, where Becky had the opportunity to work with one of the fastest rising, young directors in the entire film industry. The movie was considered both a commercial and a critical success, just like her own performance. And after everything would be set and done, she would be going back to her cute little fiancé and to the world of professional wresting in general to continue where she had left off: At the top. So, yeah, being Becky Lynch pretty much equaled winning at life, it felt good to be her. And it certainly felt good to be a guest at the cocktail party that the director of her last movie had thrown because of the success of their last movie, partially because it was a damn good party with some absolutely delicious cocktails and partially because she wanted to celebrate her success, knowing she deserved to spoil herself between putting every bit of acting skill she had possessed into this movie and having to put every bit of her wrestling skills into WWE. Being ‘The Man’ didn’t come easy, after all. With a glass of cocktail already in her hand, her sight turned to the director who seemed to have a fun conversation with two women who she recognized from the make-up team. Looking at him reminded her that she could thank him for putting this party together…and she supposed she could thank him for being a good director too. Becky definitely knew how much bad directing could take away from good performances and the director being a man who always knew what he wanted definitely helped get the best performance out of her. So, Becky slowly got closer to them without them being aware of her presence, waiting for him to finish whatever he was telling to the girls. “…and then, the man admits that he had been having an affair with his secretary and they were at her house but the wife looks at his shoes and says ‘Liar, you’ve been playing golf!’.’’ The joke seemed to generate some small chuckles amongst the three and that’s when Becky stepped in after taking another sip from her delicious cocktail, swiftly entering the conversation with her speciality: a pun. “Ah, yes, my favourite type of golf course…the Inter Course!” Her own joke successfully extended the duration of collective laughter for a few seconds before everyone was ready to let the conversation continue. “Hey, Becky.” The director greeted her casually, which caused the wrestling star to tap his shoulder with a fist in a playful manner. “Hey.” “How have you been?” “Meh. Nothing special. Just enjoying the party like everyone else.” “Good to hear that.” The director said with a smile as Becky took another sip which caused a slight sense of warmth before the director took a glare at the two women and turning back to the redhead again. “So, you remember Marie and Michelle, right? From the make-up department.” Becky shook her head as a ‘yes’ before reaching to the make-up specialists with her hand, which they shook without any hesitation while holding a glass of half-drunk cocktail themselves with their other hands. “Hello, I’m Marie.” “Michelle.” Becky slightly eyed the two artists as they introduced themselves. Marie was the blonde one with short blonde hair while Michelle wore glasses and had her black hair in a tight bun. After having learned their names and which one is which, Becky once again turned to the director. “Well, you seemed to have a conversation before my arrival.” The director just raises one hand and jokingly dismisses it. “It was nothing. Marie and Michelle were just about to leave anyway.” Becky did not see the initial surprised expression on the make-up artist’ faces which obviously meant that the prospect of them leaving was news to them. That definitely helped the former wrestling champion to believe that they were actually leaving. The two women then spoke simultaneously before taking their leave. “Yes, director.” Becky looked a little puzzled about that phrase which the director took awareness of and reacted in a pretty dismissive tone as well. “Yeah, it’s a thing for some reason. Maybe they get off on that, who knows?” The director shrugged and Becky shrugged too, clearly not the type to judge people for their fetishes. The wrestling star then broke the awkward silence, with the intention to drag the conversation away from the fetish talk. “So, cool party, huh?” That once again put a smile on his face. “Yeah.” Becky took another sip as she came to the end of her glass. She then put the glass down on the nearest table before taking yet another. She could not get enough of those cocktails, she would admit to herself. “Someone likes the cocktails too much, I see.” The director now said in a playful tone, clearly seeing how quick she grabbed another glass after finishing one. “Yup, definitely cannot lie about that. They’re delicious.” Becky pretty much admitted defeat on that front as she continued to drink and feel good. Hands down the best cocktail she had ever tasted. “Glad to hear that…because I’ll give you a secret. It’s actually my recipe.” What? Becky definitely did not believe her ears at first. And after coming terms with the fact that she had really heard what she had heard, her brain did not believe the revelation. “You gotta be bullshitting me, surely?” The smug smile on his face did not give away if what he said was true or not. “I organized this party, that means I should know what cocktails to use in a cocktail party, right? I’m not bullshitting you. And don’t call me Shirley.” It only gained him another pseudo-punch in the shoulder as Becky could not contain a little laughter of her own as well. She then raised her glass slowly to hold it close to his face. “Okay, if this goodness is your invention, then you will have no problem telling me what did you put inside of this to make this so good.” The response coming from the director was just him raising his hands and slightly tilting his head. “Let it be my secret.” “A decent director. And a damn good cocktail maker too. Consider me impressed.” The director comically puts his hand on his chest to fake take offence to that. “Decent? You really know how to compliment a man, do you?” The two then shared a lengthy laugh amongst themselves before the director asked a question that would turn this conversation to a more serious tone from all this friendly banter. “So, what’s next for Becky Lynch? Are you willing to take another movie project? I mean, you’ve been climbing the stairs pretty fast and that’s damn impressive, trust me.” Becky very much knew a thing or two about climbing the stairs fast. It had been the same way in wrestling too after she clearly found the perfect character to play and started to impress enough people and right people too to finally give her the opportunities she felt she truly deserved. And once she had gotten them, she grabbed them by the balls and never let go, not just becoming the biggest female wrestler in WWE, but becoming the biggest wrestler in WWE period. Her ability to climb the stairs pretty fast after getting the right opportunities definitely helped her career in Hollywood, leading her to here and having this conversation with the director that helped her a lot, if Becky had to be honest and not just give herself all the credit. But, even though Becky knew she also had a bright future in Hollywood, her heart was in another place, the place that made her the woman she was today, the place her fiancé also worked, the place she never imagined leaving at all. Taking yet another sip from her new glass of cocktail and letting it make her feel comfortable enough to give an answer, she finally said so. “I’m thinking about returning to WWE, so no definite movie projects in the future for me.” The director did not seem very happy to hear that, but he hid it well even though Becky knew her answer didn’t make him the happiest person in the world. She wanted to see the director happy, so that was a shame. After a few seconds of another silence, the director broke it this time. “To be honest, I never quite got ‘professional wrestling’. I always thought WWE or places like that only consisted of athletic and muscular people with minimal talent at acting at best. That’s why working with you definitely surprised me, no offence.” “None taken.” The Irish woman replied pretty quickly before continuing to talk. “Those criticisms…well, they aren’t entirely wrong. But, they are kinda like my family. Even my fiancé works there, so it’s not that bad. It’s something that I enjoy a lot. I could not have become myself without WWE. And I hope you understand that, understand how important it is for me.” The expression on his face gave away that he understood, he even backed down a little. “If you say so, then I have no choice but to trust your judgement, Becky.” Becky was glad that he understood, the director was definitely an understanding man, which he proved yet again after proving it time after time during the filming process. “By the way, Becky, I was hoping to ask you something. Can we get to somewhere more private?” Becky raised an eyebrow at that, being confused but after taking another gulp, she complied with less but still remaining confusion on her mind as the director lead her to the terrace of the building they were holding the party. While following him, Becky’s eyes remained only on the director. Come to think of it, she was really feeling comfortable and warm enough to freely think about how attractive he was without her thoughts shifting once more to her fiancé and leaving her in a moral dilemma about what would be considered a betrayal to their love. The director-actress(wrestler) duo finally reached to their destination. The terrace wasn’t very crowded but it did not seem like the private place where the director could ask whatever he was going to ask to her. At least two people were near a cocktail table and drinking. After paying close attention to them, Becky realized that they were Marie and Michelle. Before she could interact with them, the director addresses them. “Hey, ladies. We meet again. I need a private place to speak with Miss Lynch, so can you leave at least until our conversation is over?” Becky watches as the make-up artists once again speak at the same time like the time they were inside. “Yes, director.” The two ladies then left again, leaving enough space for Becky and the director to have their private chat without anyone else hearing. But her mind was partially on the ‘yes, director’ thing and how Marie and Michelle did not hesitate to do what the director demanded from them even for a single moment. The director had quite the dominant personality in the set too, Becky now remembered. But she didn’t remember seeing his dominance made her felt something before. But this time, watching him order Marie and Michelle enough definitely made her feel weird…but in a good way…did she have the same fetish? Becky didn’t know and thankfully she didn’t need to think much further about it as the director interrupted her thoughts. “The night sky definitely looks beautiful.” Becky could not help but agree, but her admiration for the night sky is short-lived as she cannot help herself but to ask. “So, what were you going to ask me?” “Oh, right. So, I was going to ask you to consider making the shift to Hollywood full-time. I can help you with that, hell, I will gladly help you with that. Just…Becky, just know that you are too good for WWE.” There was that topic again. She was definitely uncomfortable with any thoughts of leaving WWE completely in behind of her. Why didn’t he just let it go? She knew that he held her in very high regard and there was no doubt that he wanted at least what he thought was best for her, but Becky wasn’t so sure she could agree with him despite how compelling of a person the director might be. “Look, I appreciate your offer and I’m definitely flattered by how highly you think of me. But deep down, at my core, at my heart, I’m a wrestler. The whole cinema thing, working with you, they’ve all been wonderful experiences for me, but I…I don’t know if I can just let my old life go like that at all. I just don’t want to forget where I came from…I just…can’t.” Becky sounded gradually more sadder as she rejected his offer, the reason being just that. Rejecting an offer from the director, going against his wishes like that…just made her feel sad. But it was a sadness she felt she deserved to feel by just rejecting something the director wanted. She…really wasn’t sure at all. “I…understand, Becky. Look, it was just a suggestion, alright? No need to get so tense about it. I’m sorry for making you feel like this.” Becky now felt even more sad that he felt sorry because of her. He was such an indulgent man. She wasn’t even sure if she had met a more indulgent man in her entire life. Her thoughs were once again interrupted as the director pointed to the table near them, which had more glasses of cocktails. Becky then realized that her glass was empty as well. She chuckled to herself, she guessed she loved the cocktails so much that she subconsciously made herself finish it without realizing she did that. “Looks like Marie and Michelle had left some more for us. Why don’t you drink some more, it’ll help you relax.” The director was right. She needed to drink some more of his amazing cocktails so she could relax. So she did. With each sip, she felt warmer, more relaxed. With each glass, she felt…more aroused. The cocktails were just…that good. So…heavenly. Heavenly cocktails made by a heavenly man… Becky just loved it. Utterly and throughoughly. Becky just drank…and watched the director as the moonlight exposed his good looks even more. He looked so dashing, even more so than… “So, tell me about wrestling then, Becky. Tell me about what about it that you love so much and maybe I’ll understand too.” Another wave of warmth washed through the Irish woman’s body as the man she was passionate about asked her about her job which she was also passionate about. She was quick to start talking after that. “I like…being an inspiration for millions, having a massive fanbase that will always have my back. I also li-“ Becky was caught unprepared and was taken aback when the director cuts her in the middle of her sentence. Did she say something wrong? “You can have all of that in Hollywood too. Well, Becky, I think even you can admit that wrestling fans in general are…kind of shitty. And there’s no guarantee that they won’t turn their back on you, now, is there?” The woman that once oozed confidence from her every fibre of being was reduced to an uncertain and weak mess and she didn’t even know why, she didn’t even think about why. She was just dominated in the conversation by the director…which definitely didn’t help her arousal problem. God yes, she definitely loved being dominated by him like that. Her reply came as uncertain as weak as she was. “B-but they didn’t before…” “Before.” The director had said that with so much confidence that Becky felt something inside her twitch. “You don’t know that, Becky. Look, I’m not even a wrestling fan but even I know that one day, they will just throw you aside like a strawberry bubblegum that had been chewed too much and left without any taste. Are you a strawberry bubblegum?” “I-It’s not like t-“ “Do you want to be a strawberry bubblegum?” She didn’t. She didn’t want to be thrown aside. She didn’t want to left without any taste and flavour. “No, I don’t want to be a strawberry bubblegum.” The director was smiling at both hearing that and hearing her say that with such confidence that definitely triumphed her earlier lack of confidence while she tried to resist his words, his ideas. And now that she was coming along to his way of thinking, it felt more right so she could tell it with that amount of confidence. “Then all you need to do is to quit WWE, quit wrestling and use your talents in a field that isn’t several levels below your talent.” With his each suggestion, the prospect of leaving wrestling completely behind her seemed more and more appealing and Becky both loved and hated it. Her lips formed the proper shape, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth to properly make the ‘y’ sound that would soon turn into a ‘yes’, but suddenly, the thought of her fiancé managed to delay the inevitable by just a little. “I…have a fiancé. I don’t know if I can leave him behind. I’m so sorry.” Becky didn’t even want to look at the director’s face, having convinced herself that the director will be definitely displeased by her answer. But when she very meekly took the slightest glance at him, she realized that he was actually smirking. “You don’t have to leave him behind, Bex. He’s your fiancé, afterall, it’s not like you’re going to split up just because you changed careers.” That made perfect sense to Becky, it wasn’t like she was going to stop seeing him completely. It wasn’t like she was going to betray him like that. It wasn’t like she was going to betray their love, was it? Was it? Could she really give a clear answer to that question? God, Becky really didn’t know, and the unanswered question just felt her more uncomfortable with herself. “Just like I said, Becky, quit WWE and start working for me. You’ll get a part in every movie that I will make from now on. One day, you’ll even be cast as my main character. And even maybe, you can even work in much bigger movies with me.” At that point, what made sense to Becky was what came out of the director’s mouth. She also realized that she had emptied all the glasses in the table subconsciously. She also realized that she was dripping wet, staring at the perfect man, the director, her director… “Accept my offer, Becky and I’ll make you even a bigger star then you already are.” Becky didn’t need to do much thinking at this point, not that thinking came easy to her now, having drunk so many of that wonderful cocktails. Just repeating what the director said was easier, and more preferable. “…a bigger star…yeah..” She said, no, she repeated like a parrot, and it felt so good, letting his words become hers like that. The director seemed very pleased with her too, so she must’ve been doing something right. “What do you say now? How do you feel about my offer?” How did she feel? As Becky felt her body burning with warmth and pleasure, there wasn’t a variety of answers she could give but to state the obvious truth to him. “I feel…hot.” “I know.” He said with that same smug smile. That sexy smile. “I feel…horny.” “I know. Do you want me to take care of that?” Becky nodded with longing and desire, truly wanting the director to fuck her senseless and not hiding that anymore. “How about your fiancé? What would he think?” Becky didn’t know. She only knew that she wanted the director, she needed the director, her body craved his touch right now. She didn’t answer, instead, her hands started to wander all over her body, now flat-out rubbing herself through her clothes. That’s how out of her mind she was with horniness. Watching all of these events unfold made the director even chuckle. That was good. If he was laughing, that meant she had pleased him somehow, if only he would please her like that. “You don’t care about him anymore.” It wasn’t a question. It was a sentence, no, more than a sentence, a fact that had been her new reality. “I don’t care about him anymore.” “You want me so bad.” “I want you so bad.” “But you have to accept my offer if you want to have me, Becky.” She would do anything. “Then I’ll accept. I’ll accept anything you want.” “Are you going to quit WWE and work for me from now on?” Anything. “Yessss….” “Will you be my cute little actress?” Of course. “I’ll be your cute little actress!” “Will you leave your fiancé?” Obviously. She would gladly dump him if it was what it would take for him to lay her down and fuck her like no tomorrow. “Yess…I don’t care about him anymore.” Another chuckle escaped his lips. Another moan escaped her lips. “You know, working for me won’t be easy, do you?” It meant that she would be working for him nonetheless. “I don’t care.” “You will have to do everything I ‘direct’ you to do.” Was that supposed to be a drawback to the job or something? “That’s even better.” “Do you want to be directed by me all the time?” Becky didn’t even know how bigger of a ‘yes’ she could give him, so she just resorted to her words. “I want you to direct me all the time.” “Are you an obedient little girl for your director?” Was there any doubt? “Yes, oh god, I’m an obedient little girl for my director.” “A slutty pet for your director.” “Yes, everything you say.” “While knowing I made those cocktails with special chemicals that would make you my helpless little puppet.” So, that was his secret. He drugged her and messed with her mind to make her feel like this. Becky could not think of something that’s at least as half as hot as this.

“I don’t care, I want to be your helpless little puppet.” “Knowing those cocktails effectively melted your mind and will so I could easily manipulate you like this?” Especially knowing all those things. “I love it.” “You love what?” “You melting my mind and manipulating me like this. Turns me on…so much.” “So, do you accept my offer?” “Yes.” “Yes, what?” Oh, she knew the answer to that! She had heard it from Marie and Michelle! “Yes…director.” The smile on his face upon hearing her say those words was priceless and Becky would always keep that picture in her mind and would love and cherish it forever. “Very good, now get on your knees Becky…and close your eyes.” “Yes, director.”

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 10)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1929

Chapter summary: chapter 10 - double figures! And Bucky finally explains himself.

Warnings: One swear word. Some angst.

A/N: this is 6 days late and I'm so sorry :( Hopefully a few people still remember what’s happened nearly two weeks later...!

Previous: Chapter 9

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

“Do I need to remind you of the no alcohol on school premises rule? Even fancy Hollywood types like you aren't exempt.”

You announce your presence a couple of meters away from Bucky's shadowy form, not wanting to get too close in case his flight or fight response results in a fist to your face. He still jumps, understandably, it is three in the morning inside a locked playground after all. The chains of the swing clank together as he twists in his seat to face you, and you maintain eye contact, acting braver than you're feeling, aware that there's no running away.

He's gaping at you in an almost comical way. You feel bad for giving him such a fright, but a minuscule part of you is pleased, wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is strained.

“I could ask you the same.” You gesture at the bottle he's clasping. “What's that? Didn't think you liked wine much.”

“Oh, no.” He offers it towards you, dropping his arm when you scrunch your nose up, baffled. “It's the apple juice we made last year.”

A hundred bitter-sweet memories flash through your head as he says that, of golden leaves, laden branches hanging low over the lawn, and you and Bucky splashing each other with the hosepipe meant to rinse the fruit. It also reminds you that you never gave him this years efforts, not having the time at Christmas with his flying visit. The glass has long since been forgotten to collect dust.

You move to take the swing next to his, and for a long moment you sit silently together, listening to the branches creek in the wind.

Eventually he turns to you. “Can I talk to you now?”

Arching an eyebrow in permission, you wait for him to continue. As he gathers his thoughts, his gaze flits across your face, over your hair, down to your shoes, raising half a smile at the mud covered wellington's.

You can't have him laughing at you. “Don't even think about being disrespectful about my choice of footwear. I was not dealing with laces at three in the morning.”

He snorts. “Fuck, I've missed you.”  

That was unexpected. “I thought I was pathetically clingy?”

His smile drops. “Probably help if I apologised.”

“Probably.”

“Definitely.” He fidgets before continuing. “There's so much I need to say, I don't know where to start. You deserve a proper explanation, a proper apology, but my heads still so over the place.”

“Don't worry about any of that. I just want to know why you hate me so much.”

“I don't hate you at all!”

“Sure got a funny way of showing that.”

His grip on the chains tightens, trying to catch your eye. “Y/N, please. I didn't mean any of what I said.”

“Then why?”

He doesn't answer immediately, pushing his feet into the soft rubber flooring as he swallows, emitting a small noise not unlike a whimper.

“I suppose it's okay to tell you, it'll be in the news soon enough.”

You're intrigued, confused and worried all at once. “What will?”

Taking a deep breath, he glances away as he begins to speak.

“I thought I was going to live my dream when I got this job. And I was, for the first weeks and months. It was going so well, how could it not? Especially when I was working alongside people like Sam Wilson, you know how much I admire him.”

You fight off a smirk. He's making it easy to fall back into the familiar playful ways, but you need to hear him out before you start showing any cracks in your armour.

“Coming back at Christmas was when it started to go wrong. That was when I realised that maybe I had everything I wanted when I was still here. It was hard to be reminded of my old life and everything I missed when I was severely sleep deprived and nearly losing hair to the stress my directer was putting me through.”

“We wrapped in early spring, then it was just voice-over work. I didn't have to be on set every day and I came back here straight away, needing a break from it all. Then I all but knocked you over outside the shop and just snapped.”

“I wasn't coping and all I could think about is how I wouldn't have even been in this position had it not been for you. As stupid as it sounds, I blamed you for the shit I'd found myself in, for pushing me to go.”

“That doesn't exactly explain-”

“I know. I'm getting there.” You keep quiet and let him talk. “Once it was confirmed the show would get a prime time slot, it all got real. Suddenly all the 'unknowns' like me had dollar signs hanging over our heads. Representatives knew we'd be bringing in money now, and fresh faces attract sponsorships if you work it right. My agent was not the sort to know that though, or anything useful really. Other managers would do a much better job, I wouldn't have chosen him if I had a choice, he was just assigned to me at the start and I hadn't had the chance to do anything about it until then. I hadn't signed any extension contracts yet and he wasn't pleased. So he tried to keep me in his collection.”

“Collection? Eww.”

“Yep. He didn't want to lose me, and so he started with the threats.”

“What do you mean by threats?”

“Dayton's got his own security, even now, and couldn't be touched, so he threatened you. Said he had people close by who could get to you if I didn't do as I was told.”

“What the hell?” You hiss. Your brain can't keep up. “I never...” Thinking back over the last few months, you can't recall ever feeling unsafe or watched in any way.

“No, you wouldn't have. He probably wouldn't have ever done anything but I couldn't take that chance, not when he hinted at links to the Mafia. I just wanted you safe, and the only way I could see that happening was if I made it so you never wanted to see me again. If you weren't even my friend that dick couldn't hold anything over you. That way we'd both be happy. Happy-ish.”

His eyes are glassy as he looks over at you. You're finding it hard to take it all in, trying to find the correct response.

You start with a question. “You said you could tell me 'cos it'll be in the news. Why is that?”

He blows out a breath. “Dayton. Soon as he realised something was wrong he was straight on a plane to force it out of me. He must have got a private detective or something on the case because a few days later my agent was arrested. Turns out he wasn't just awful at his job, he was also involved with manipulating young girls into seedy parties. You don't want to know,” His haunted look proves his statement. “All that matters is he's in custody now. Definitely a prison sentence, a long one hopefully.”

“Day got me a good lawyer too. My names not going to be involved in any way. I didn't know any of that stuff was going on, you have to know that. And there's more than enough evidence without me taking the stand as a witness anyway.”

He seems to have come to the end and you sit wordlessly together again. It's too early in the morning for you to process what he's said, leading to you blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“You do realise this sounds like you made it up, right? I'm having trouble believing such an improbable seeming story.”

“I wish I was making it up. I'm not surprised you don't think I'm telling the truth, what with the way I've acted, but when you see it on the news you'll know.” He laughs humourlessly. “Not exactly how I wanted to start my career.”

You bet. “You still didn't have to be so mean to me that night.”

“I know.”

“The Bucky I knew wouldn't have talked to me like that.”

“I know. I wasn't myself at all and I can only apologise. It hasn't been a fun couple of months but it's over now. I promise no matter what happens I won't let it involve you again.” He sighs. “It's not worth it if I lose you along the way.”

“You haven't lost me Bucky,” You whisper, meaning it.

You share a tearful look which says more than words ever could. However strong you told yourself to be, he's always been your weakness, and time hasn't changed that. As you stare at each other, you can see he's telling the truth, and now you've got to work out how you move forward together.

The moment is brought to an end as you shiver, a particularly strong gust lifting the ends of your hair.

“I should walk you home before you freeze to death in your pyjamas,” He teases.

“Hey! My pyjamas are cute.”

“Never said they weren't.”

He smiles softly, standing up and offering you a hand. You take it, the warm skin against yours so familiar you pull away as soon as you're stood, too many emotions flowing through you at the slightest touch.

Following his lead back across the playground and into the lane, a comfortable silence surrounds you, almost like all those times you'd make your way home together when he lived just a few streets down from you. Almost.

Bucky opens your gate for you, and comes to a stop outside your front door, hesitating before patting you gently on the shoulder. Turning around, he walks slowly back up the front path, and you can't just let him leave. Not again.

The hurt is still there but tonight’s revelations have changed everything and the chance of having him back in your life is all you can think of.

“Bucky!”

He whips back round. “Yeah?”

“It's half-term next week. It you're still around, maybe we could do something?

“Really?” You nod. “Yes. Definitely! We have to wait and see if we're recommissioned, so I was just going to hang around for a while. You can text me when you're free.” He fishes for his phone in his jeans. “I've got a new number, let me give it to you.”

“Mines upstairs, wait a minute.”

You rush up to your bedroom, shaking your head at Bucky's incredulous, “Seriously, who goes anywhere without a mobile these days?” Floating up after you.

Coming back down, you open up your contacts so he can add himself. “Not everyone has Sam Wilson on speed dial like you,” You counter, causing Bucky to blush. “Oh my gosh, you do! Which number is he? One?”

“All right, that's enough.”

You grin at him, a real smile, and his face is similarly bright as he hands back your phone and steps away.

“I'm glad we ran into each other Y/N. Even at such an unsocial hour.”

“So am I. Hey, have you got somewhere to stay tonight? Or do you want to-”

“I'm good, don't worry.” He pauses at the end of the garden. “See you soon, hopefully.”

This time you let him leave, and as you climb up to bed again, it feels as though a great weight has been lifted and a peaceful nights sleep is within reach once more.

*****

Chapter 11