#never feeling worthy of her because he's not a perfect fairytale prince and they both know it

[bestworstcase]

liking oz but hating ozlem really seems like such an exercise in misery because like first you gotta convince yourself that believing in and supporting your partner (who is lying to you fundamentally about what he wants to do and why bc he knows you would never agree if you knew the truth) is abusive and then you have to watch oz getting consistently framed as the one in the wrong for the next like four volumes (because he lied) which because you hate salem and really want oz to be her victim and vigorously defend this position against the actual text, means you've cornered yourself in a reading where your fave is getting beaten up by the narrative for what that evil bitch did to him like all the time. and you're also rooting against your fave to get what he actually wants (salem). have fun? i guess?

[sukirichi]

dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the  golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (II)

Summary: You crash the wedding with Grim and Ortho. Unlike the others, proposing isn’t on your mind. You come with a very different approach. 

An angstier take on Ghost Marriage. Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

If the students of NRC thought they’ve seen Eliza at her angriest, they were wrong. The fury she displayed now was incomparable. While Idia fawned over your dramatic anime-worthy entrance, the new interruption was getting on her last ghostly nerve.

“Guards! Seize them!” she roared. Immediately, the ghosts went into action. Idia held his breath as he watched the obedient ghosts charge at you, Grim, and Ortho. He hoped you didn’t barge in with no plan. If you didn’t come equipped with useful items, you would end up like everyone else. 

Chubby, determined to get rid of the intruders that caused distress to his beloved princess, was eager to get rid of you. (”Simp”, Idia muttered) However, eagerness wasn’t enough against an opponent equally as determined. As soon as he got too close, an unknown force threw him backwards to where Eliza floated, shocking the princess.

“Chubby! Are you alright?”

Idia, on the other hand, was elated. 

“Th-that’s so OP!” he exclaimed. He knew you heard him, because your gaze flicked to him for a split second before looking away. Embarrassed, Idia shut his mouth. He’d expected at least a smile. 

After Chubby’s failed attack, other ghosts attempted to face your group. They only met the same fate. Confused, they could only pay their apologies to the princess and watch on in helplessness. Just what did you have up your sleeve? Who did you get such an SS-tier item from?

“Princess, it’s impossible to stop them!” the last of Eliza’s guards told her. For the first time that night, she looked afraid. 

Grim guffawed, while you smirked. A familiar look. It was always there before you jumpscared an enemy, or before you checkmated a poor opponent. Idia might have thought it was kinda hot. At the moment, he was oblivious to his gaping mouth, and how wildly his hair blazed. What were once lightly blushing tips were now an alarming red—a level of ferocity never seen from him before. 

“You can’t touch or hurt us!” boasted Grim, a devious smirk on his face. “We had some he—mprfgh!” He was abruptly cut off by Ortho’s robotic arm covering his mouth. Idia’s brother shook his head at your noisy dorm mate. 

“Release my big brother now!” he demanded. Idia grimaced, but didn’t feel too worried. As long as Ortho was with you and your anti-ghost protective shield, he would be safe. 

As expected, the ghosts were affronted. 

“How dare he order the princess like that?”

“You ought to be punished for your insolence!”

“To intrude on a royal wedding and speak disrespectfully! 

“Send them to the gallows!”

One talked, and one talked over the other. Soon, all that could be heard was an unintelligible susurrus of disembodied voices. One ghost had enough of it, and shouted to Eliza: “Princess, the kiss! Do what must be done!” 

“NO!” You and Ortho yelled at the same time. You continued to walk towards the makeshift altar as your two companions followed close behind. Ghosts rushed to block your path, but you pressed on as your invisible shield threw them back. It looked absolutely badass. Well, anything you did was cool to Idia, anyway. 

 “Out of my way!” You commanded, strong and unwavering. He’d seen you annoyed and angry before, but never up to this point. It basically radiated off of you that a danger warning could be floating above your head. 

“S-so intimidating... “

“So scary!”

Sure, this wedding crasher looked like you, but something was different. An unexplainable sinister aura wreathed you tonight. Was it your glare, or was it that regal suit you wore? Idia must have been too distracted by you, that he only noticed now how your cape seemed to drag shadows with it. You were a villain... much like one of the villains from his video games! And something else that was familiar. 

Whatever it was and wherever it came from, there was a menacing presence in the hall tonight. 

All were silent, except for the wind whistling through the hall. If one listened more carefully, they would hear drowned-out cackles. But it is just the wind, right?

“Wh-who are you?” Eliza finally asked. The ghosts who were ashamed at being unable to seize you began to form a protective ring around their princess. Eliza herself, Idia noticed, was starting to curl in on herself—her presence shrinking the closer you approached. “What do you want?”

“The groom,” was all you said, staring her down as if eyes alone could exterminate the ghost in front of you. 

“Idia?” she asks weakly, glancing at her tied-up groom. Idia said nothing and did nothing but look at you, attempting to telepathically communicate his panic. You barely even looked at him. 

“He’s mine.” 

Hold up—?

More gasps and chatter. They sounded less like whispers and more like the buzzing insects he heard whenever he snuck out at midnight. The world spun. Idia stared at you open-mouthed. 

If he were asked to describe his state of mind at this moment, it would be similar to a loading screen. Suddenly, everything you did together played back in a 1.75x supercut sequence. 

Mine. 

Mine. 

Mine.  

“Wh-what?” Eliza sputtered. “What do you mean?” 

You answered her, voice losing the steadiness it possessed just moments ago. “You have the man I love.” 

Wha… 

KDJAFCKSAJHDKACBSXCJSIEUDS?

Idia.exe has crashed. Reboot? 

~~

The audience’s reactions were varied. Some students on the floor were amused by the spectacle and could have used some popcorn (and a comfortable position) during these times. Some were horrified and disappointed by the idea of the prefect being in love with Idia Shroud the shut-in. Some were much too confused to feel anything. 

“Pardon…? What did I just hear?” Azul asked the floor.

“Puppy love,” Lilia wept, sniffling very loudly. “You know, this reminds me of when I was young...” 

“Whaddaya mean when you were young?!” Floyd snapped. His irritability had spiked up even more when you arrived. His position prevented him from witnessing the events. Everyone on the floor could feel his bad mood rolling off of him in waves. 

“Hey! Watch your tone when speaking to Lilia!” scolded Sebek. 

“... Are they acting?” Leona mumbled. 

“Oh, this better be an act.”  said Vil.  “... though it does not seem to be.” The last part of his observation remained unheard by anyone else, except for Rook. 

“I believe we are witnessing a genuine love confession,” added the Chasseur d’Amour himself, voice soft as he sighed dreamily. “Engrave this moment into your memories, everyone! We are fortunate to witness it…”

But no one shared his enthusiasm about the situation. The others expressed their displeasure by groaning and complaining. “... well, even in this state we are in?” he added as a follow-up. 

~~

Reboot. 

You once fell asleep on Idia’s shoulder after finishing a movie. It was something you both only watched to make fun of, but you were apparently too tired to give your top-tier jokes and meme references. The contact sent his heart into overdrive as he froze, begging for option boxes to appear and help him. The flames of his hair blazed so brightly that it woke you back up. It was embarrassing, and sometimes he would remember it late at night and cringe. 

It was happening again, but worse. Any moment now, he was sure that he alone could burn down the cafeteria, if not the whole school. This was stupid. Why did he get that worked up over an obvious act? A mere ploy to get the ghosts to release him?

Reality catches up and deals him triple attack damage. Crowley probably put you up to this. You were probably annoyed that you were forced to do this, weren’t you? That’s why you couldn’t even look at him. It had to be the cruelest joke that fate ever threw his way. 

“I can’t say I don’t understand you, Princess,” you tell Eliza, forcing a smile. “Idia is perfect, is he not?” He felt your eyes on him. This time, it was he who couldn’t quite meet your gaze. Looking down at the floor was all he could do; it couldn’t judge his blushing face. Only when the warmth in his cheeks faded did he feel it safe to look back up again. 

“You see him, don’t you, Princess?” Your voice began to falter, losing the confidence and authority in it that scared the ghosts. “He’s so much more than what everyone else thinks! We agree on that, don’t we?”

Eliza’s face softened, nodding. “Yes. I’ve seen how these people insult him!” she tells you, gesturing to the ‘failed princes’ on the floor.

“But we’re still different,” you stepped closer, but still far enough so that your invisible anti-ghost forcefield wouldn’t activate. “You don’t want to marry Idia, you want to marry your fairytale prince.” 

Eliza appeared to be genuinely confused. She looked around at her companions, before turning back to you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re in love with your ideals, not the person himself,” you explain. “You only chose him for his appearance. Am I right? His personality, likes and dislikes, and possible flaws don’t matter to you.”

Eliza seemed deep in thought. While she was silent, you release a bitter laugh and threw your hands up.  “I mean, do you even know what his favorite candy is?”

Pomegranate drops. You asked to have some, but he refused to give you any. He wouldn’t tell you why, but he let you assume it was his favorite and didn’t want to share because of that. 

That wasn’t it, though. Maybe he’d tell you once you were both out of here. 

“You’ve never stayed up until 4am just to join him on a raid!” You waved your hands wildly, lost in your rant. Whether Eliza understood you or not, you seemed to have stopped giving a damn. 

“Weak!” he teased, noticing your drooping eyelids and reduced concentration. Deep down, he felt bad for keeping you up late.  “Look, it’s fine if you need to rest.”

“Nah, let’s finish this. What are you going to do without me?” you replied, smirking.

“You don’t even have 4-hour conversations with him on Magicord VC like I do!” 

It lasted up until 3am. You two were laughing at memes. He could hear a groggy Grim complain in the background about the noise. 

“Alright. Here’s a question, princess. How much would you risk for the man beside you right now? Bet that’s where we’re different...”

Eliza’s gaze darted back and forth between you and Idia. Even the other ghosts were silent, waiting for your next words. 

“... because if you ask me, I would risk everything! That’s why I’m here wearing this stupid suit!”

It’s not real. It’s not real. The emotion behind every word was a punch to the gut. If you kept this up, he might need a healer soon. Ever since he realized he was falling, he tried to quell the sparks of hope you ignited whenever you did something nice for him. All that hard work was gone. Each word you uttered was gasoline. 

“To think that if I arrived minutes later… th-that I would never see him again!” A sob escapes your throat, your intimidating persona crumbling.

No, don’t do that. Idia wanted to reassure you that he was still there and he was okay, but he couldn’t. It’s part of an act. It’s part of an act. 

“So please… just let him go.” The front you wore has completely dissolved. There you were, reduced to a sobbing mess in front of a ghost princess and the students of NRC. 

You weren’t the only one. All traces of anger or fear have vanished from Eliza’s face. Instead, she put her hands over her mouth. The princess had been moved to tears. Finally, she turns to Idia. “Idia, they seem to l-love you very much… ”

“That’s right.” You wiped your tear-streaked face and pointed an accusing finger at the ghosts. “And all of you! Are you going to enable her forever? Encourage her shallow ideas of what love should be?” 

They all looked down, unable to meet your eyes. 

“You have no right to just snatch him up and claim him as yours,” you told Eliza with an unfaltering resolve, despite your tear-covered face and your crumbled front of strength. “Did you never think… that there could have been someone waiting for him to return?” 

“I-I never meant to!” Eliza cried. “I was so blinded by my own happiness. I never thought… never even considered…” 

“Princess, it’s alright. We all make mistakes.” Chubby told her, trying to be reassuring. 

“Tell me, intruder. How else am I going to find my prince?” she asked you with no trace of hostility. You stopped for a while, staring at her. 

You must not have expected the question. Idia saw you look at him—it was the longest time you’d looked at him all evening. Clearing your throat, you began to explain. You fumbled a bit, scratching the back of your neck and tugging at the hem of your coat as you explained what a perfect partner should be. 

As you spoke, Idia was enthralled by your voice and most of all, the knowledge you possessed about love and romance. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. How did he ever think that a hundred dating sims could make him a romance expert?

“Is that so?” she sighs, bowing her head. “I understand now. I’m so sorry… for causing you so much grief.” 

She turns to her companions, giving them a sad smile. “There’s only one thing to do. Everyone, we must stop this wedding.” 

Idia wanted to fall to the floor in relief. At least a few exhausted sighs and weak cheers could be heard from the wedding “attendees”. You fell to your knees, exaggerating your gratitude. 

“Thank you, princess!”

“But Princess… what about your happily ever after?” Chubby interjected. 

“I can’t tear two lovers apart!” Eliza wipes a few of her own tears, then turns to you. “I was deeply moved by your words. I dream of having a lover like you,” she sighs dreamily, probably imagining her future lover already. 

While the students of NRC rejoiced at this victory, Idia’s heartbeat quickened in fear. What if Eliza decided to take you for herself?

“Princess…” Chubby muttered, sighing. Eliza only gave him a reassuring smile. Phew. Idia relaxed, grateful that she doesn’t have the idea… yet. He didn’t know what to do if that thought became reality. 

Eliza turns to address the hall with a smile. “I have decided.” Everyone waited with bated breath for her announcement. Idia squeezed his eyes shut and silently urged her to announce their departure already. 

“Idia and I will not be married anymore. She smiles wide, and clasps her hands together. “However, there will still be a wedding!”

Your smile faded. “What… what do you mean, princess?”

She beams. “To make up for my mistake, I will make sure that Idia and his lover are married tonight!” 

~~

To be continued.

Tagging: @teashopwritingzz @twistedcrumbs 

Well, that was long. To think that I was planning for the story to be a one-shot! Once again, keep an eye out for Part 3. Thank you for reading! 

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

[darkmindsotome]

Traditional Etiquette

Title: Traditional Etiquette

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kei Soejima x MC

Word count: 4,189

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: Your job leads you to being in attendance at the same festive location as your boyfriend. What will happen on this holy night when you are reunited with the man who turned his back on God and this holiday?

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #1: Kiss me under the Mistletoe

---

Traditional Etiquette

There was a different kind of chill in the air compared to the winters back home. It probably had something to do with the humidity. The wind here felt cutting against your skin making any exposed part sting in the air.

Space heaters had been placed around the grounds of the immaculately decorated historic house in an attempt to keep guests as far from the wintery chill as possible. Pulling the warm cashmere shawl tighter around my shoulders I made a few calculations trying to decide on the best way to make my exit.

Currently tucked safely inside my garter was a necklace once owned by an Empress. A gift from her husband and currently missing from a collection on display in the London National Museum. On the verge of an international incident that could easily turn into something involving military responses, the EAC had been contacted.

Thanks to the new assignment any plans I had for the holidays were dashed. Curse of a spy strikes again.

Naturally, the fallout from such a disaster was something everyone wished to avoid but that did nothing to improve my mood. The officials and museum had put a truly incredible replica on display to buy some breathing room in order to retrieve the original. Time was unforgiving and it was an inevitable fact that eventually the fake would be found out. This was a race against the clock.

I could still remember the way Kei looked at me the night I received the call.

“Ha-ha, your face is a picture.” His apparent joy as he watched me and my inner turmoil felt completely out of place.

We were in his rooms at Raven in Tokyo, sipping brandy tea with some low music playing in the background when my phone rang disturbing the peace.

“Well excuse me.” Glaring at him, I ended up drinking the brandy tea in my hands almost in one go as I attempted to avoid his all-seeing eyes.

I knew my inner disappointment at how the holidays were already a disaster before they started was on full display but I was trying hard to hide it. I mean it's normal to want to spend the holidays with your partner, right?

While I sulked Kei chuckled, his eyes never leaving me for a second.

“Will you really miss me that much?”

The sound of fine china being placed on the coffee table forced me to look at him. There was a smile on his face that was far from innocent as he stood from his seat and drew slowly closer. Instead of simply moving next to me he lulled me into a false sense of security and circled around my back leaning over so his mouth was millimetres from my ear.

A move that had the world around us blocked from thought as well as my ability to process the information I just received from work. He was demanding my full attention, commanding me to focus only on him.

“Someone is forgetting something very important.” His voice was low and dripping in that sensual honey-like poison that instantly set my heart racing. Cool hands snaked over my shoulders treating me to a massage that felt far more intense than it really was. “No matter where you are, what you do, who you’re with… I am always right here.” The chilled digits slipped further, deftly circumvented the fabric of my blouse. The teasing patterns he mapped out against my hidden body had me warming to the slightest of touches.

“…Kei.” His name ended up escaping me in a near whisper. How easy was it to fall under his spell? Two could play that game.

Taking one of his hands I brought it to my lips kissing the flesh between his fingers, dragging my tongue across the knuckles before giving them a nip with my teeth. I heard his breath catch behind me. I couldn’t see how his eyes had darkened with lust but I knew he was feeling me and that knowledge was enough to thrill me.

He guided his now marked hand to my lips, brushing them with his fingertips before pushing them inside stroking my tongue and the inside of my mouth. My head naturally tilted back catching a glimpse of the awoken devil behind me. It was then that I knew this was only the beginning.

“That’s right. Be my good girl…”

I suddenly felt flushed with the memory of that night. It was the last one we spent together before starting this mission. It wasn’t as if we had specific plans for the holiday. If anything, it was a time of year Kei usually spent avoiding the celebratory atmosphere. We might not share the same associations with the festivities but it didn’t mean I didn’t still want to spend time with him.

The idea of him sitting in his rooms at Raven. Large fire crackling, spiced cider in hand and the way the light would settle on him as he quietly read. It was a comforting image that brought a smile to my face.

Looking around the glamourous gathering with the twinkling lights and elegant festive decorations I suddenly felt very lonely. I wanted to leave, to get a flight out of here as fast as possible. The weight of precious metal and gems concealed under my dress was a reassuring reminder of a job well done. Still, it wouldn’t do to be so close to the end and have it all fall apart because I let my guard down too early.

Glancing around to make sure everyone was suitably distracted I made my move only to then bump into someone behind me.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” I instantly apologised. Curiosity rose as I wondered who could have moved so near to me that I didn’t even sense them.

“Completely my fault, Miss.” An all too familiar voice speaks up before I had a chance to even look.

“Kei?” His name comes all too easily to me. I instantly end up looking to see if anyone else had heard my faux pas.

“My apologies I was drawn to you and found myself at a complete loss of words.” Kei casually covers for me whilst treating me to his Princely performance. “Where are my manners? Kei Soejima at your service.” With a half-bow he scooped up my right hand, placing a featherlight kiss to the back of it.

“Lily Dunaway, a pleasure to meet you Mr Soejima.” I greet him with my alias and a smile that expertly hides any of my surprise at finding him here of all places.

Kei is far from stupid. He both knows I am on a mission and also what my alias is for work. I watch as he gracefully takes two glass flutes from a passing waiter.

“Champagne? Or were you perhaps looking for something else?” Narrowing my eyes at his suggestive comment for a second, I then accept one of the offered glasses.

“Champagne would be fine, thank you.” Playing the part of the perfect agent I timed my sip to his. “I have to wonder what small miracle would bring such a distinguished guest to me.” I ask in part as a curious agent but also as his girlfriend.

“Miracle? Well, I suppose it would be the season for it.” His smile was as ambiguous as his answer. Taking another sip from his glass I watched as the alcohol coated his lower lip like a gloss. It was a practically mouthwatering image.

We have an agreement not to interfere with work. Both of us stood there in our own private world sizing each other up, playing one suggestive comment for another. Reading between the lines as our little game continued.

“I wonder if you might grant me the opportunity to dance with the most beautiful lady at this rather stuffy affair?” He says with a slightly dramatic flair that felt like it overlapped with a Prince in a fairytale.

“Stuffy affair? Is that really how you would describe this event?” I can’t help but giggle in response.

“Attend one charity gathering at this time of year sadly they all seem to blur into one. All worthy causes, but the crowds sadly are nearly always the same.” His face takes on all the charms of a puckish little boy which only serves to cause my heart to flip.

“In that case, I would love to dance. You almost make it feel as if you are saving me from impending boredom.” I give a light and breezy reply hoping he can’t see how easily he has me bending to his commands. I’m still on a mission.

“Ha-ha, the pleasure is all mine I assure you.” Elegantly taking my glass from me, he placed it on a passing waiter’s tray along with his own. Slipping an arm around my waist he then began to lead us in a waltz that guided us deeper into the gardens away from the grand house and guests.

The music became fainter as we lost ourselves in each other’s eyes and embrace. His body moving perfectly in sync against mine was a sinfully chaste motion. It left me wishing for more contact than the minimal required to dance. We are so close yet so agonisingly far apart. He planned this, didn’t he? It is a very Kei thing and yet I still can’t get a clear read on the guy even after dating him.

I pondered this idea while maintaining eye contact with my boyfriend. His unreadable eyes reflecting only me while he continued to smile and move us in time with the muted tune. A large golden ornament hanging from a set of trees that made up the entrance to another part of this lavish historic garden caught my eye. I swear rich people…

For all my inner protests about flashy displays of money, there was no denying its beauty. A refreshing scent filled the crisp night air around it. It was a set of five golden hoops, wrapped in evergreens and fresh herbs with what looked like an ornate fruit bowl trapped inside. To finish it all off this spherical link cage had a familiar white berried plant hanging in a tumbling bunch beneath it all.

“So pretty.” I ended up expressing myself honestly and feeling a little childish in the process. I’d attended lots of luxurious events in the line of duty and here I was looking at a giant decoration like a cat that had found a room with a glitter ball in it.

“A Kissing Bough.” Kei didn’t seem to mind he just turned his head acknowledging the oversized ornament. He inclined his head after turning back to me relaxing his arm around my waist putting an end to our dance. “You aren’t familiar with it?”

“I think I saw something like it once on a European period drama but up close it's even more beautiful.” No point in lying at this point. We were alone and even if I didn’t account for Kei being able to see right through me, I couldn’t deny that tonight of all nights I didn’t want to lie to him.

“Well then allow me to explain. You are familiar with the tradition of Mistletoe?” He naturally straightened his posture in preparation for his impromptu lecture. I actually love it when he does this although I have no idea if he knows that or not.

“Yes, you are supposed to share a kiss under it.” I nodded and answered ever the perfect student causing him to smile warmly before he continued to fill in the finer details.

“Exactly but traditionally it was slightly more than that. It was part of the celebration in ancient Greece during Saturnalia that there was an act of kissing involving the plant. It is associated with fertility, peace, love and friendship. Druids are thought to be some of the first to bring the Mistletoe inside believing it to also imbue good luck and ward off evil spirits.” He was talking as if he were reading a story from one of his collections of old books.

His breadth of knowledge was really something. Kazuomi wasn’t joking when he said Kei was something of a know it all, able to hold conversations about anything and everything with ease. I imagine it is what makes him such a good diplomat.

“It has a long history then?” I chimed in encouraging him to continue.

“Yes, Romans used to settle agreements and conflict under it. Even in Norse mythology, you can find this little parasite. Did you know there was a time when it was not only frowned upon as a decoration but it was on a list to be banned from adorning a church? The idea didn’t take.” He whispered the last part in my ear as if sharing a secret which gave me goosebumps on my neck.

“How did it get to be such a well-recognised holiday decoration then?” Attempting to maintain my composed mask of an elite spy I casually brought my shawl higher up and tucking myself in tighter. He wasn’t fooled for a second and only chuckled seeing me react to him. Still, he didn’t touch me just continued with his history lesson.

“Well now in the UK it is connected to the Yule season but that isn’t the case in others. You could argue that the origins of this quaint little custom as we know it came from England in the 1700s but it was far more popular by the Victorian era. Before we had the tradition of a tree as a symbol of the holiday there was this.” He pointed above us at the hanging festive orb. I followed his reach and looked up.

I felt something shift but was not fast enough to react. Something about Kei always seemed to render me sluggish with my reactions. He had a way of making every movement of his feel like it naturally just belonged. Warmth pressed against my back and I felt his arms circle around mine.

His fingers located the back of my hand that was holding the shawl tight against myself. His long fingers began to stroke the skin there. Tracing the veins, following the lines to my inner wrist and back again in lazy slow patterns. He continued to speak, his voice low in my ear making it impossible for me to think of anything other than his sultry voice and touch.

“You said you are familiar with the tradition of kissing under Mistletoe but are you aware it is, in fact, a very poisonous little plant? Such a symbol, shrouded in all this romance. Providing a dash of poison to the whole affair.” His lips brushed against my ear lobe. The soft kiss made me shudder sweetly in his arms. “There are actually two traditions involved with this plant. The first involves plucking a berry from the bunch for every kiss stolen.” He reached up and stolen a single white berry from the greenery, balancing it in the palm of his hand in front of us. “When the berries are all gone so too are your privileges.”

Spinning me around in his arms so I couldn’t avoid his darkened gaze a devilish smile crept over his face. It felt like I was pinned in place while his fingers now at my back began tracing my spine through the fabric of my dress. I had never wanted to curse such a thin barrier between us more.

“The other follows a more common route. Anyone under the mistletoe that refuses a kiss will suffer from a curse of bad luck. What are you thinking?” He was seriously unfair. He knew exactly what I was thinking and insisted on teasing.

“That I’d very much like to avoid that curse.” At some point, I had begun to feel like I was floating, bound in his gaze the only thing in my world was the sound of his voice, and the temptation of his sinful lips.

“Well then. What do you say, ‘Lily’? Shall we escape the madding crowd and explore this little tradition for ourselves?” Taking my hand in his he led me through the tree entrance and into a walled garden.

It felt like I was following him through a magical world, the scents of the flowers blooming in the winter mingling with his natural musk kept me firmly in a dreamlike stupor as my body trailed along automatically with his guidance. I really would walk through Hell itself and fear nothing of it with this man. Where is the perfect student and spy now?

The house and its guests were hidden behind the high walls covered in the fragments of trailing plants. A thick frost had covered the world around us making it feel as if it was frozen in time.

Suddenly Kei came to a stop glancing around us briefly before pushing me into the shadow of some of the immaculate large topiaries. It put distance between us, breaking the spell.

“Kei?” The loss of his touch even for the briefest of moments had me searching for him again. I hated to admit it but this was part of me. A neediness I never knew I had. It was something he accepted and encouraged, drawing it out of me.

“I told myself I wouldn’t go this far. But then…  you had to look at me like that. When did you become so cruel?” Kei was standing in the moonlight whilst I was covered in shadow. The way the shadows danced over his perfect face made his pained expression look so very lonely. His eyes were wavering as they looked at me. That devilish smirk on his face was unmoving as he took in every inch of me.

“I wasn’t—mmm!” My protest was cut short by his remarkably fast movement. I barely had enough time to catch my breath before his lips crashed repeatedly into mine stealing it away leaving me light-headed and almost limp in his arms that held me caged in the dark.

“You forgot your lesson again. You looked so lost and alone… standing there…” He continued to speak in a pitifully pained voice as he peppered me with kisses. His arms holding me up as his hands ran over the confines of my dress.

“You were watching me?” I could hardly speak above a breathless whisper. My mind was telling me to keep it together but the way he was robbing me of oxygen and the way his hands were running over me had my heart hammering so loudly in my head I couldn’t focus on anything but him and how he looked so hurt.

“Only since the second you arrived. I only ever see you and yet you teased me by following THEM.” The way he spat out the final pronoun had me remembering the disdain he had for Boss. He was clearly feeling a lot of emotions right now and knowing Kei couldn’t pin down one strong sensation above another.

“I’m on a mission Kei you know that.” I raised my hand to his cheek trying to get his eyes to focus on me and not the memories he had that was causing him so much pain.

“Yes, I do but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. You know that even if you wanted to leave me, I would never let you go.” He stopped his movements with his hands. There was a fire in his eyes that could have melted the polar ice caps. The shawl slipped from my shoulders exposing my flushed skin to the night air. I would have shivered had it not been immediately chased away with his burning hot lips as they glided over my collar bones.  

Soft cashmere wrapped around my free arm from behind, locking it to my side as his grip around me tightened. Grabbing my raised hand by its wrist he gave me a stinging bite to the inside of it.

A crimson flower bloomed on the pale flesh and he dragged his tongue over it. Past the love bite and up the palm, wrapping it around several fingers before giving them little nibbles on their tips. All of this without once taking his eyes from mine. Those glass-like doll eyes, dark with lust.

I licked my lips before finding strength enough to pounce. I forcibly covered his lips with mine trying to suck out all his pain and confusion. A poison that had no place alongside the honeyed darkness we shared.

“Mm… Mc?” He hummed against me. I placed my unbound arm around his neck as I leant in to whisper my sweet nothings in his ear. He stiffened with the pressure of my body against his. For a second it seemed he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“So don’t. Take me, mark me… hold me. Make me yours--.” I tried my best to coax him into moving but he stood still as a statue. I didn’t know if he was still struggling to organise his feelings or if he was simply teasing me.

“Someone said she was on a mission.” He sounded amused even as he chastised me for my failing work ethic.

“I am.” I walked my fingers up his check finding the edge of his bow tie and pulling it loose. The sight of his perfect image becoming undone at my hand thrilled me and I found myself urged on to start popping the buttons at his collar.

“You don’t sleep with targets when you are working.” He raised a hand to stop me going further. Ever the one to prefer to remain covered even at times like this. As much as I respect that I also found it extremely unfair that I was always the one to be stripped bare while he wasn’t.

“You aren’t the target. I already took what I wanted from THEM. Now I want something from you.” I was past the point of playing, the fire building inside me was his creation and I was damned if he was going to keep me waiting any longer.

“So greedy. You know? You’re so incredibly sexy when you are honest with your desires. My girl…” He chuckled in a deep voice as he finally seemed to cave to demand.

As our body temperatures rose in the wintery climate our hands roamed over each other eagerly seeking out the next sensitive point. Before he could bind my other arm to my side, I found his jacket pocket by chance. My fingers removing what was hidden inside.

“Mhm… ngh… Kei what is that?” He pulled back enough for me to see what I had in my hand. A small sprig of greenery with white berries.

“I thought I’d twist tradition a little.” He said conspiratorially. Holding my hand in his while raising it above us so the Mistletoe was over our heads.

“Oh?”

“A berry for every time we--.” His free hand slipped through a gap he created in my dress without me realising. Plunging low, attacking me at the apex of my legs over my underwear. The pressure of the heel of his hand rubbing as his fingers stroked along the fabric covering me was blissful torture. Releasing my hand he took the opportunity to loosen his belt as he raised the hem of my dress.

“Mmm Kei…?” I bucked my hips against his hand as the cold air hit my heat. It wasn’t enough to put out the fire. He continued rubbing me over my underwear even as he kissed me, pumping his hardened desire in his other hand a few times.

“Gah, shhh… keep your voice down. Unless you want us to be caught.”

I bit my lip pleading with him using my eyes to hurry. This was so risky and so unlike us that it felt overwhelmingly good. The thrill of location and the way he was possessively pursuing me was doing a number on how hard my heart was pounding. The perfect Prince was gone.

Pulling the fabric covering me to the side he pushed into me filling me up and moved his hands to support my hips whilst I wrapped my legs around him.

“Such a naughty little spy… my bad girl.” His words bled into my ear as he brought himself closer to me removing all light between us as he plunged deeper.

In the shadows of a garden attached to a historic house in England. During a party intended to celebrate a Holy night. Here I was finishing up a mission in a less than professional manner and I couldn’t care less.

As our bodies moved together in the shadow of the topiary, our muffled cries and moans were lost to the night. This wasn’t exactly how I saw our holiday going, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

I still had to hand over the jewels tucked inside my garter but right now all I could think of was the man in front of me. My wonderfully sinful, “bad” boy. My prince, my Kei.

---

[euvirginia]

ღ VIRGINIA VIAMONTES  — CHARACTER TROPES

PART 1/2

stepford smiler

tw mention of mental illness - anxiety & depression

virginia will always have a smile on her face, no matter what. a cursed blessing, a power bestowed to her by dionysus allowing her to maintain a permanent poker face. on the outside, virginia comes across as yet another ditzy social butterfly. bubbly, carefree, and annoyingly optimistic, it doesn’t seem like there’s much that can actually faze her. a lover of the spotlight, she makes sure she’s hard to miss, always one you can hear coming a mile away and brightening any room she walks into. at her core, she’s extremely friendly, always  needing wanting someone to talk to. an expert at small talk, priding herself in always being able to fill up awkward silences. of course, this is nothing more than a mask she puts on because the truth is virginia viamontes, is utterly and devastatingly broken. she’s been like this for a while. always having the perfect smile on her lips while laying awake at night by the demons that haunt her. the insecurities and fears that run through her mind are never ending. part of the reason why you’ll rarely find virginia on her own is because of how easily it is for her to get sucked into her own thoughts. she’s terrified of never being good enough: not being talented, not being smart enough, not being beautiful enough, not being worthy enough — of literally not being enough for anyone. she’s completely numb inside, the smile she puts on being nothing more than a facade to get her through the day. she works extremely hard and bends over backwards for others only to feel like she’s let down someone every time. it’s something that has gone untreated for years with virginia refusing to admit that how she feels isn’t normal or accept that she needs help.

abusive parents

tw mention of emotional neglect, mention of death

while virginia cares deeply for her parents, her mother especially, the relationship she has with graciela viamontes and dionysus is rocky to say the least. as a child she idolized the romantic fairytale her mother had created about how her parents met. graciela spinning a story of how dionysus was her prince charming who fell to his untimely demise before vi was born. going so far as to take the girl to visit ‘his grave’ all throughout her childhood. it wasn’t until virginia’s powers manifested and graciela realized that the vague note dionysus had left behind about how he was a god and would be back once vi got older, that she realized her web of lies was soon to be untangled. it completely devarstated vi. while it was something she never confronted her mother about, it did cement some deep seeded issues in the girl. her mother became distant after it was revealed that vi was a demi-god, resentful almost. she still provided for vi but things were never the same. she stopped being the person virginia would go to for anything and everything. she knows her mom’s never looked at her the same either and vi’s almost sure that she blames her for her failed broadway dreams. the tipping point coming during virginia’s senior of high school when vi wanted to go to julliard and graciela insisted she attend eonia. while she was accepted into both, graciela kept pressuring vi into attening eonia in athens due to it being the ‘safer’ option. an argument that lasted weeks, with graciela refusing to help vi with anything college related, backing her into a corner until she had to attend eonia. it caused them to not speak for weeks with her step-father serving as a mediator between the two. ‘til this day, virginia’s almost certain there’s a part of her mom that fears virginia. every decision she’s made feels like it’s been something to keep vi at arm’s length all while keeping a very cautious eye on her, especially when it came to how virginia engaged with her step-father and baby sister. then there’s dionysus. meeting dionysus was such a let down, mainly because he was nothing like the version graciela had created. he wasn’t interested in virginia, never giving her the validation or love she so desperately craved. she spent years trying to please him, doing everything in her power to get just an ounce of something from him. once her step-father entered the picture, vi did manage to get that father figure she yearned for but it never took away the pain of knowing that no matter how hard she tries, dionysus will never care. with both of them being neglectful in their own way, it’s caused a lot of problems with how she involves herself with others.

never my fault

accountability has never been something virginia has learned to take. there’s always someone within arm’s reach to blame, somehow never making things her fault. she’s always merely reacting to the actions of someone else. she’s been like this since she was a little girl. during her playground years, this would translate as virginia incessantly bugging her classmates to the point of them lashing out at her. of course, what most adults would see were the crying little girl who was being picked on, vi conveniently not mentioning how they had said no multiples times before before losing their temper on her. the older she got, the more trouble she seemed to get herself into. never acting alone and always putting the blame on whoever she managed to wrap into her mess. it’s evident with her relationship with others, the victim card being something she knows how to play all to well. whether it’s a fallout with a friend, a break-up with a significant other, even a fight with a siblings - she’ll say she’s never the one at fault. someone always did something leaving her to come out of it scot-free, at least that’s the story she’ll tell.

i just want to be loved

there’s an innate need of wanting to be loved. between the web of lies her mom made up, endless rom-com’s virginia grew up watching, and lack of love she received from both parents, she was definitely influenced at a young age to feel a certain way toward love. whether it was familial, platonic, or romantic, she’s always yearned for it. the need to be validated and liked by others stemming from just simply wanting love. she’s definintely a hopeless romantic at heart, falling way too hard, way too fast. she let’s her emotions get the best of her, usually in an unhealthy way that always leaves her feeling like as much as she wants to be loved, she either doesn’t deserve it or will never get it.

her own worst enemy

tw mention of mental illness - anxiety & depression

if there is one thing vi has always seemed to excel at, it’s been sabotaging herself. doesn’t really matter what the topic is, if there’s a chance things might go wrong, vi makes sure she’s the one that makes it go wrong before things have a chance to blow up on their own. there’s a sense of power that she feels she has with this, like if she can somehow control the situation, she can control her emotions upon the outcome of things? unsurprisingly, it never ends up working in her favor. her insecurities and fears always getting the best of her. at the end of the day, she hates herself too much to allow herself to be happy. it’s an annoying contradiction, considering how much she actually wishes to be happy. she’s just so set into her self-loathing ways that she sabatoges any type of happiness or success that seems to be near.

FUN BONUS —

alliterative name

her name was specifically picked as an alliterative name. first, going off the nickname ‘vi’ and finding what name fit: viviana, violet, viviette, were some of the contenders before picking virginia. hence, before the revamp she was virginia vinh and is now virginia viamontes.

[romanianseba]

Blue Eyes and Greasy Hair

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: While on mission on the other side of the world with no signal, it's been so long since Bucky heard your voice.

Warnings: not really, but I would say extremely FLUFFY!

Word Count: 2,467

A/N: If you feeI Iike you need to relax and forget about everything that is bad in this world, you'll enjoy reading this one. Haha at least I hope so. I really put all my energy and my whole being into this writing for the last two days. It was so worthy tho, because I love how this turned out. From the bottom of my heart, I hope this brings a smile to your face and makes you feel happy because it sure made me happy to write it and share. :) Also, I would love to read your thoughts and no, you would never bother me with your comments!

—

"I guess this one is for you, Buck."

Bucky looked up from the weapon on his hands he was currently cleaning up, his eyes falling on the phone that his best friend was holding out to him.

"Your girl." Steve smiled fondly and watched as his friend's expression immediately lit up; his frown being replaced by excited eyes and a small twitch from the corner on his lips.

Bucky's eyes fell back to the phone he was holding and suddenly the ring of the call that startled him and that he immediately blocked out just mere five seconds ago became everything he could hear, everything he cared about, the best sound he has heard in twenty three days.

Pushing his weapon away, he got up from the worn out mattress of the crappy motel room they were staying until this mission was over. 'An inconspicuous place', Tony had said. But Bucky thought he went a little too far with it.

Taking the phone from Steve hold, Bucky wanted to say something to him, he wanted to say thanks, he wanted to give him an appreciative smile, but your name showing across the screen accompanied by a small circular shaped photo of your smiling face came to be everything he cared about, everything he wanted to see for the rest of this far away mission. He moved to stand by the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe.

"Steve?"

Bucky heard your voice once he answered the call and, suddenly, everything that was on his mind slipped away and was replaced by the single sound of your voice saying his best friend's name. Steve? Steve? Steve? His brain froze and he forgot how humans speak.

His voice surprised him when he breathed out your name, it felt like a breath of relief in the form of your name. As if he hadn't been really breathing for almost four weeks until now.

"Bucky?" His heart jumped happily when you spoke again, from the sound of his name coming from your voice, your sweet voice.

"Hey, doll." He whispered and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

Doll. You'll never get tired of that pet name as long as it comes from his voice. And it always causes a revolution in your belly. A big smile spread across your face as you leaned against your bedframe back at the compound, surrounded by a sea of cozy and comfy blankets.

"Oh, thank God Steve got it that I wanted to talk to you so I didn't have to politely make small talk with him before asking for you."

Your smile grew bigger when you heard his chuckle.

"I'm kidding. Please tell Steve I love him."

"I will, doll, don't worry." Bucky laughed looking over at his friend sitting on his bed, his attention full on the book resting on his lap.

"You guys finally find some signal!"

"Yeah, apparently. It had been so long since I heard a phone ring. It startled me at first."

"Of course that's why, old man." You giggled, making Bucky grin. "It was just my attempt number forty-five of the day, I didn't think it would work. It didn't work with yours tho."

"Mine died like a week ago, forgot my charger at home. It's not compatible with Steve's. Sorry, doll."

"It's okay, I'm talking to you now, it's all that matters. Where are you now?"

"At our ugly motel room." He answered, glancing around the gloomy room.

You winced. "Is that bad? And how did the signal work now?"

"So bad. Don't even want to dirt your precious mind with details. And we don't know how it worked. Tony called yesterday and we were wondering the same thing. I guess the signal comes and goes. I tried to call you after we hung up with him and it didn't work anymore."

"Damn signal. C'mon, we're in 2019!" You whined.

Bucky snickered at your remark.

You signed deeply. "It's been so long."

"I know," He mumbled and you both went silent for a few seconds until he sighed, but you realized this was a happy sigh. "It's so good to hear you, doll."

You could practically hear his smile, and the image of his face wearing his happiest smile appeared in your mind. You knew that smile so well. It wasn't just a polite one. It was one of pure joy that he mostly had when you are around, and you knew it was currently plastered on his face.

The urge to be transported through the phone in some way to see his gorgeous face took over you. Your fingertips prickling with eagerness.

"It's so good to hear you. I'm home, sound and safe, but you're the one out there, risking your life while saving the world. How are you? Are your bones complete and joined? Are you cleaning all your wounds properly? When are you coming back? Are you eating and drinking water regularly? Are you sleeping well? Are your eyes still blue? Is your hair still greasy?"

"Hey!" He complained playfully.

"What?" You laughed innocently. "I love your greasy hair."

"Oh God." Bucky groaned and threw his head back, unable to stop smiling. "Doll, that's so many questions. But yes, my hair is even more greasy now because Steve emptied our only bottle of shampoo," He looked over at Steve who playfully rolled his eyes and was shaking his head, his gaze never leaving the page in front of him. "I think you'll never be more attracted to me as you would right now because it's that greasy."

"Stop!"

Bucky's heart almost jump out of his body when he heard you laughing.

"You started it by saying you think I'm very attractive with greasy hair."

"Never said you're very attractive with greasy hair," you protested still laughing. "I just said I like it but it's more like I accept it."

"Hmm, I'm pretty sure you said you love it, babe."

"Alright, I do. I love all of you and every single thing makes you mouth-watering attractive. Next question."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm fine. I haven't broken a bone... not yet-" He teased.

"You better not."

"I'll try my best." You rolled your eyes and Bucky could tell but he continued. "What else? I'm eating bad looking food but I'm eating at least twice a day." Your heart sank with that and you hugged one of your pillows tightly. "I am... Oh, I'm sleeping well thanks to you. You pretty much infiltrate in my dreams every night and it's pretty easy to stay asleep that way. And my eyes are still blue?" He said hesitantly. "What does that question even mean, doll?"

You giggled, blushing a little. "I have to make sure this is the real Bucky I'm talking to and that he still looks like a prince came out of a fairytale... with greasy hair."

"You keep bring up my greasy hair all the time and then you say you only accept it? Someone needs to check on her feelings."

"I'll show you exactly what I mean when you come back to me."

He smiled brightly. "How you been?"

Bucky heard your adorable, yet exaggerated sigh and he smiled to himself. "I mean, I'm good I guess. I don't have my favorite person with me and it's hard to get up in the morning and go training and eat and shower and be lazy and do laundry without said person. Every activity is a real pain. I finish everything faster but I don't know what to do with the time left, you make everything just more enjoyable; even doing laundry."

"Ah, I love doing laundry with you, doll." He said gently.

"Yeah, me too. You just add the perfect amount of detergent, I've been having trouble there." You signed again. "It's just so different without you. Everything I do. Everything, Bucky. Even going grocery shopping. I had forgotten how boring it was since we started going together. I even tried bringing Sam with me but it's never ever the same. I have no one to buy or cook an excessive amount of food for. I have watched everything that has been done of screen entrainment but I left our list of things to watch together untouched until you come back."

"I'm glad to hear that cause I'm hopefully coming back to you soon, doll. And we won't leave the couch until we've watched everything on that list. Well, maybe only to go grocery shopping and do laundry. How that sounds?"

"I can't wait, Bucky." You whispered, grinning content. "Oh! I also started painting!" You said randomly, full of excitement and Bucky smile grew ten times bigger on the other side of the line.

He loved how small things in life made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. It was easier for him that way to adapt his new life and this whole new world. To know that the person he loved the most would never bring anything heavy on him and expect him to go right away with it made him feel forever grateful to have met you at this point in life.

"Really? I vaguely remember you telling me that it wasn't your thing. I'm not delicate enough, you said."

"Yeah," you giggled. "Yes, I remember. But I'm telling you, I have so much time left on the day without my clingy Bucky bear I had go find something to do with it. So Nat suggested painting and I love it. It's so fun! I can't wait for you to see them. I went full on it, babe. I went and bought so much professional stuff for painting and, I'm impressed, I'm quite very good at it."

"Of course you are." He said tenderly and he wore a proud and loving expression on his face.

"I made some for you and some more, cough all of them cough, thinking about you."

"I can't wait to see them, doll. We'll hang them all on our future house together."

"That'll be lovely, yes! We could even have a painting room." You added with enthusiasm.

"Whatever you want." His husky voice sounded promising.

"Well, right now I just want to have you back."

"Me too, baby." He smiled sadly. "Hey, remember when you told me you wanted to escape for a week to a lake house one day, only you and me?"

"Yes." You said slowly with curiosity.

"Well, Steve just told me about the perfect place. You and I will go there when I come back and maybe after that we can go and check that on sale house you saw the other day."

"Oh my God, Bucky! Yes! Yes, I would love that."

"Then we-" Bucky started to speak but was interrupted by another voice. A voice that was foreign at the moment -for as long as you knew this call only included two people-, yet very familiar for the both of you. The voice that at first you thought you just heard coming from outside your bedroom door was actually closer than that. It was coming right out of the little receiver on your phone.

"Alright, you guys can talk about grocery shopping, buying a house and all that another time. I better interfere now before you start getting too sweet. Sorry to cut you off but I have to talk to Barnes and Rogers now."

It didn't take both of you long to realize that the brilliant, technology genius Tony Stark found a way to infiltrate your call and interrupt the conversation you both have longed to have for weeks.

"Tony!" You whined in annoyance.

"What the heck, Stark? How the hell did you do this?" Bucky sounded clearly confused and pissed but you still detected curiosity and amazement in his voice; as if he really wanted that last question to be answered and explained with detail. Steve finally looked up from his book with a confused frown.

"I will gladly explain that to you when you come back." Tony responded, and you could hear his smug smirk on his voice. "I had to take a different approach once I called Steve twenty two times only to hear the annoying voice of a woman saying that this line isn't available. Over, and over again."

"Tony, it's the first time we talk in about one month." You argued.

"I understand, darling, but the sooner I talk to them and give them instructions to fly back home, the sooner you'll get your Bucky bear back."

You gasped. "How long have you been listening to our conversation?!"

You loved Tony. You really did; as a father even. But, as much as he made you feel affection towards him, he could bother you just as much at times.

"Long enough to learn that you both love doing laundry. I was confused at first but you're dating a one hundred year old, it just suddenly made sense." Tony said just as fast and easy as breathing fresh air and you heard Bucky annoyed growl. "Can I speak to them now? I'll but you anything you want."

"Can't you just tell them later?" You pushed.

"No, it's very important."

"More important than me talking to the love of my life who I might or might not see ever again? He's risking his life."

"Don't be dramatic. I swear I will bring Barnes back to you alive."

"You better." You sighed. "You'll buy me a telescope. The best one." You gave up, but didn't let go the opportunity of getting something out of it.

"It's a deal." Tony agreed immediately.

"And you'll give Bucky and I two weeks off." You added, hoping he'll go with it.

"I'll think about it." Tony said after a few seconds.

"Fine. Bucky, please, please take care. Eat, drink water and clean your wounds. I love you tons. I can't wait to see you."

"Goodnight, doll. Take care you too. Take someone from the team with you when you go out, there's dangerous people and maniacs that have all of us on their radar." He sounded worried and you decided you weren't going to tease him.

"Yeah, I will."

"I love you so, so much." He said lovingly. "See you soon."

"See you... No, wait! I'll see you when I hang up. I just see you everywhere. I'll probably see you on Tony's face too." You joked.

"Alright, that's enough. Bye, (y/n)!" Tony said and right after you heard the beep beep beep; signaling the call had ended, or maybe he only kicked you out of it. However, you were able to catch Bucky laughing for what you said and that was just enough for you to spend the rest of the week with smile on your face.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

HEART DON’T FAIL ME NOW

gendry + arya + anastasia au // ao3

Gendrya Appreciation Week, Day 2: AU

Girl gets a family.

Boy gets rich

And fairytale gets a spin

How can we fail with everything to win?

 Conman and princess get their wish

Fairytale comes true

Funny, one small part I never knew

With everything to win

The only thing I lose is

 You.

- Everything to Win, Anastasia The Musical

 *****

Never, in his twenty-seven years of life and twenty-one of making a living as a thief, a swindler and a trickster on the streets of Leningrad, Gendry Waters had a worse job than teaching one infuriatingly stubborn orphan girl how to be a princess.

If only Arry did not look like the absolute older mirror copy of Princess Arya Stark, he would’ve long ago vetoed the whole idea and, with or without Davos approval, left the girl somewhere near the closest bar so she could find a job better suited for her fiery temper and foul mouth. But, to his eternal despair, she is every bit as pale-skinned, grey-eyed and dark-haired like The Lost Princess and the fact that she doesn’t seem to remember a single thing from childhood only makes the whole con easier.

She is also desperate to find out anything about her past and willing to believe in the story they made up about her with a heart-wrenching determination.

Truth to be told, Gendry can understand that. He too, comes from nothing. Maybe if he was not sure of that, if he didn’t remember his mother’s clients kicking him for laughs as if he was a street rat, he would also entertain the thought of having a loving family once.  But he does remember and he has no doubt at all that he is a rat indeed. A clever, Russian rat, but a rat still.

See, that is the whole problem about Arry – it is all about this idea of a loving family for her. She doesn’t care if they were Starks or simple factory workers. She just needs to belong somewhere, it is clear as a day.

And that makes it impossible for Gendry to hate her, even when she is bickering with him all days long and getting on his last nerve every time she opens her mouth.  

Which means all the damn time.

 ***

 He found her in Winter Palace; a small figure curled on the damaged wood of the ballroom’s floor, tracing the ruined tapestry depicting the former royal family with her fingertips.

In the cold winter light getting through the shattered windows, she looked like something straight out of a dream. Dressed in mismatched, baggy clothes to keep warm and with an uneven cut hair underneath man’s hat, she might have been just another poor girl, whoring herself to keep starvation at bay. She was probably just looking for shelter from the cold.  

No need to pay attention to her at all, I should just leave her be and look through the second floor like I planned to –

Her gasp could be heard even across the room when Gendry stepped on the particularly squeaky floorboard.

She jumped to her feet immediately, quick as a flash.

‘’Don’t be afraid.’’ He said, but the cold shock spread through his body, making him freeze in place.

Because the girl was standing tall in front of the tapestry and the stray sunlight framed her, caressed her features so lovingly – her cheekbones and her chin, her eyes, and her brow – that something sweet and long gone resurfaced suddenly in his memory. Buried underneath the years-long past like a smell of his mother’s hair and the screams of people butchered on the streets.

On the wall behind her, there was a damaged depiction of a small girl in silver furs, Dark-haired, long-faced, gray-eyed.

And she was staring at him silently. Dark-haired, long-faced.

Fire burning in her grey eyes.

 ***

 ‘’ One more time. You learned how to ride horses at three.’’

‘’And my father got me my own when I was six.’’

‘’Correct. The horse’s name was –‘’

‘’Nymeria.’’

 ‘’I don’t believe we told her that, did we?’’

 ***

 ‘’Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon. Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon. It doesn’t seem right.’’ She whines, wriggling in her seat.

The train slowly rolls through snowy hills of Poland towards France and Gendry wants to do nothing else but savor the triumph of getting out of godforsaken Russia – oh, excuse him, Soviet Union – but he could not do that with Arry’s constant chirping. Sometimes, he wonders if the perspective of Princess Sansa offering him the girl’s weight in gold is a worthy reward for all his trouble. She’s a small thing, after all.

With a pained groan, he covers his eyes with his arm.

‘’Would you shut up for a second?’’

He can hear Davos’ warning huff and then Arry’s voice, dripping with honey.

‘’Gendry, can I ask you something?’’

He wants to say no, but he has pushed his luck enough already. You need to control your temper, my boy, Davos said. We need to keep her happy.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’Do you truly believe I’m a princess?’’

No.

He drops his arm and nods his head slowly. Arry sits with her back straight as a rod and her chin up, the way they taught her. Gendry cannot help but think that this posture suits her.

‘’Yes, I do.’’

She bites on her lip slightly and then one of her eyebrows slowly raises up in a perfect arch.

‘’Well, is it a way to speak to a princess then?’’ she says coolly, dignified, and Davos doesn’t manage to reach for his tissue fast enough to mask his laughter under fake coughing.

Somehow, it’s hard to scowl at her after that.

 ***

 ‘’What’s so incorrect about that?’’ he asks her later, in the dead of the night, when only Davos’ snoring interrupts the silence in their car.

‘’Huh?’’

‘’No, huh. Pardon.’’

‘’Fine. Pardon?’’

‘’When you were repeating- ‘’ Princess Arya’s ‘’-your siblings’ names. You said that there’s something incorrect about them.’’

‘’Oh, that.’’ She stays silent for a moment and he turns his head slightly to glance at her. In the darkness he can only see the outline of her body, its hills and valleys under the blanket. He can paint the rest in his mind; Arry in a white nightdress, her feet bare and hair loose. Warm and pink.  

He shivers slightly and pulls his own blanket higher under his chin.

‘’I just think there is something missing. Or rather someone. There should be one more person, before Robb.’’

Gendry’s heart loses its rhythm in his chest.

‘’Have you read about this person somewhere?’’ he asks cautiously, but he somehow already know what her answer will be.

‘’No. All the books you gave me name five royal children. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon.’’

He’s glad for the darkness, cause just as it shields her from him, it also shields him from her. So she cannot see how he’s staring at the ceiling, internal battle tearing him apart.

‘’There was.. there was one more Stark child.’’

She sits up so abruptly that she bumps her head against the top bunk of her bed and groans.

‘’What? If so, why didn’t you-‘’

‘’His name was Jon. He was King Ned’s bastard son, that’s why he’s not in the books. Not worth mentioning.’’ Gendry’s voice drops to a whisper. ‘’He was also not very popular at the court. There is not much to know about him, anyway. They sent him to the military before the Revolution and he died at war.’’

Gendry can hear her sharp inhale. He doesn’t dare to look in her direction.

‘’Well, it was stupid of you not to mention him anyway. What if Princess Sansa asked me about her – about our forth brother and I wouldn’t know what she’s talking about?’’

Gendry knows Arry is right. He doesn’t know himself why he told Davos not to inform her about the existence of the Bastard Prince.

(Only, it’s a complete lie, because he does know. Because Princess Arya was rumored to have a lot of affection for Jon, going as far as calling him her favorite brother. Out of all her siblings, he would be probably the most difficult for her to forget. Which meant- which could mean that-)

‘’Jon.’’ She flops back on the mattress. ‘’Jon. Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon.’’

Gendry remains silent, hands clenched into fists.

‘’Yes.’’ She sighs sleepily against her pillow. ‘’Yes, now it sounds right.’’

 ***

 He is sure he has suffered through the worst of it; through history and etiquette lessons, through her terrible table manners and sailor’s mouth, through getting out of Russia and getting to Paris.

He thinks that he and Davos actually managed to transform dirty orphan Arry into a well-educated, bright and charming Princess Arya, or at least, a very good imitation of her. She doesn’t keep her elbows on the table anymore, can recite the whole family tree of the Starks three centuries back and is an excellent cyvasse player.

And he… enjoys her company. Somehow.

So the dancing lesson takes him by a complete surprise.

‘’Come on, lad, pull her closer! I could’ve fit another couple in-between you.’’ Davos barks and he sounds far too gleeful for Gendry’s taste. ‘’Her Majesty is doing splendidly. Maybe she should be the one instructing you, huh?’’

Arry laughs at that, gracefully spinning underneath Gendry’s arm. Her blue dress swirls around her bare calves when she turns.

It’s really pretty. It looked good on the hanger in the shop when he was picking it out, but now that she’s wearing it – now that she’s wearing it, it has completely transformed into something truly beautiful.

‘’One, two, three. One, two, three.’’ Davos counts, but it sounds distant somehow.

All Gendry can really hear is his own heartbeat and the slide of silk against her skin; all he can really feel is the smell of her hair and her perfume, light and fresh. Where did she get it?

Left and right and backward and forward, they waltz to the music from a borrowed gramophone in their hotel room. Arry avoids looking down at her feet by staring right into his eyes as instructed, and it somehow makes him feel both hot and cold, uncomfortable and hungry.

After two rounds, they no longer step on each other’s feet and simply go through the motions, silently moving around each other. Closer. And closer.

She’s so confident now, no longer skittish like a deer. There is not a single ounce of shyness on her face. Only curiosity… curiosity and a dash of awe. 

One, two, three, one, two, three, left and right and backward and forward and spin.

His fingers itch to caress her blushed cheeks, to brush stray strands of hair from her forehead.

One, two, three, one, two, three, left and right and backward and forward and spin.

His hand fits in the dip of her waist perfectly.

This smell… light and fresh. Nothing with flowers. More like a wind – like pines, like snow –

There is no snow in Paris, it’s ridiculous, pull yourself together Gendry, for fuck’s sake

 ‘’I think Davos went to sleep.’’ Arya whispers and Gendry abruptly stops moving, making her lose her balance and bump against his chest, their legs tangling together.

He glances at the empty armchair above her head. You old fox

‘’Yeah. It’s – it’s probably late. I think we practiced enough.’’  He lets out through clenched teeth, looking down at her still in the circle of his arms.

Arry bites on her lip and there’s this overwhelming desire in Gendry, wild and dazzling, to just reach out and pull it from in-between her teeth, to just press his mouth to her instead, to make her moan and gasp the way she sometimes does in her sleep and I am forced to listen and do nothing, nothing at all, cause this is just a con, and she is just a girl, and none of this is even real.

‘’Goodnight, Your Majesty.’’ He drops her hands and leaves, leaves as fast as he can.

 ***

 ‘’You’re playing a dangerous game, lad.’’

‘’I don’t know what you mean.’’

‘’Oh, young hearts. They want what they want, truly.’’

‘’Fuck off and let me sleep, won’t you?’’

 ***

 Gendry finds her on a bridge next to the hotel. She’s staring at the Seine lazily passing down below,  humming to herself this strange lullaby, as she always seems to when she’s feeling uncertain.  

Far away, long ago, burning dim as an ember

‘’Stressed?‘’ he asks, softly, so as not to startle her.

But maybe she knows his steps just as well as he knows hers by now, because, when she turns around to face him, she doesn’t look surprised at all.

 It fits her, all of this. The beautiful dresses they obtained through Countess Shireen. Hair bows and pearls. Fine silk stockings.

Her hair reaches past shoulder blades now, curling at the ends a bit. Even when they are messed by a wind, she’s still every inch an image of a princess. Every inch of her perfect and enchanting.

‘’A bit. ‘’ Arry admits. ‘’Tomorrow, I might get everything I’ve ever wanted. But I can also find out that this-‘’ she gestures down at the pink skirt of her gown and her shiny shoes. ‘’-is just a lie. That I’m a lie. I can break this woman’s heart.’’

Gendry takes a few steps to stand next to her, leaning on the railing by her side.

‘’I just wish I could feel like Princess Arya. She’s still somehow a foreign person to me.’’  She raises her eyes to the outline of the Eiffel Tower at the horizon, harsh black lines against sky bleeding with a setting sun.

And the resolve that Gendry kept inside his heart for fifteen long years breaks.

‘’I saw her, once. When I was twelve.’’ 

 Arry whips her head towards him, mouth opened in shock, but Gendry’s firmly staring down at the dark river, lost in the memories.

‘’There was a parade in Saint Petersburg. It was hot, especially in a crowd – I think it must’ve been June or July. Royal family rode in a carriage, surrounded by guards, but I was tall for my age, and quick; I ran along, hoping for a glimpse of them. There were rumors that they wear clothes made of gold.’’ He chuckles quietly. ‘’And then there was some commotion on the street, so the carriage stopped. And I saw her.’’

Her, not you. His hands grip railing tighter, but Arry doesn’t seem to notice.

‘’How did she look like?’’ she asks, her voice shaking like a leaf on a wind.

‘’She was wriggling in her seat like a worm. I think Princess Sansa was scolding her, but she didn’t seem to listen. She kept on waving to the people and, for just a second, our eyes met.’’

He remembers it so well. Ever since he Arry appeared in his life, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that day, how it made him feel everything at once; how such an insignificant thing turned his world upside down.

This image of a little princess, so joyful and so vibrant, has kept him warm through many long nights. And the thought that such a bright light was snuffed out in a bloody basement so easily, made him the person he is now. There is nothing beautiful in this world, not a single thing he can protect or preserve. Nothing.   

Or, so he thought. Until another pair of gleaming eyes gazed into his.

‘’She had – she had such beautiful eyes. Such happy eyes. I had never seen eyes like that before.’’

The silence falls between them for a moment, before Arry inhales deeply.

‘’A parade in June.’’ She says. ‘’In Saint Petersburg.’’

‘’That’s right.’’

‘’Crowded streets. ‘’ she closes her eyes. ‘’It was hot, not a cloud on the sky. I was riding with my family and everyone was cheering for us and Sansa kept on telling me to sit down, but I wanted to see better. I wanted to see all those people, to thank them for coming to see us.’’

Her skin turns honey-golden when the sun submerges into the Seine.

‘’Then the boy caught my eye. Tall and skinny. Dark-haired. He looked at me  with those pretty blue eyes…. and bowed.’’

Boom. The church bells ring.

Boom. His heart hammers in his chest.

Boom. Arya spins on her feet and looks at him, wide-eyed.

‘’I didn’t tell you that.’’ escapes from in-between his stiff lips.

‘’I know.’’ she takes his hands in hers, cool from the metal railing and trembling. ‘’I remember.’’

 Boom.

He drops to his knees.

 ***

 The worst thing is, he should be happy.

He should be happy, cause he is about to become filthy rich; no more sleeping on the streets, no more struggling, stealing, running away. He is in France and there is a whole wide world ahead of him. Their impossible, half-cooked plan actually worked and it seems like they somehow, by some insane miracle, actually did not con anyone at all.

They delivered Princess Arya to her sister. She finally had a place where she could belong. The family she dreamt about her whole life.

And for this good, good deed, Gendry is going to be rewarded with a pile of gold.

So, he should be fucking overjoyed.

‘’I don’t want it.’’ He says to Princess Arya’s butler. The man looks as if he did not understand Gendry’s Russian, so he repeats in French. ‘’I don’t want the money.’’

‘’But sir, Princess Sansa-‘’

‘’Please tell her that – that the joy of her sister is a big enough reward for me. I don’t want this money.’’

Arya, in the opera, in this night-sky-dress sparkling with diamonds and falling down her body like a waterfall. The line of her spine and her shoulder blades moving underneath her skin. The smell of her hair; pine and fresh snow.

Her happy grey eyes.

A silver tiara atop her head.

He wants nothing to do with the Starks, nothing at all.

 ***

 ‘’So, you didn’t take the money.’’

‘’I didn’t.’’

‘’Why?’’

How can you ask me this?

‘’I didn’t feel like taking them.’’

‘’That’s not an answer.’’

‘’Yes, it is.’’

‘’No, it isn’t!’’

‘’Yes, it is! Gods, Arya, can you, for once in your life, not make it difficult for me?’’

He doesn’t know what she’s doing here, standing in front of his hotel in the pouring rain and letting it soak her to the bone. He would offer her his umbrella or a coat, if he wasn’t so angry at her.

She has her sister now, what is she looking for here?

‘’I just want to know why you didn’t take the money.’’ She stubbornly repeats. Droplets slide down her cheeks like tears. ‘’Tell me that and I’ll let you go.’’

‘’Oh, and what’s stopping me know, Your Majesty? Did you bring your guards with you, ordering to stop me from leaving if you won’t get what you want from me?’’ he snarls and regrets it the moment the words drop in no man’s land between them.

Arya’s face breaks and she takes a step back as if he slapped her.

‘’You know I didn’t, Gendry.’’ She sounds awfully small, looks awfully small in a wet dress and with her hair plastered to her head and neck.

Desperation does ugly things with a person, Princess.

‘’I’m leaving Paris, Your Majesty. I wish you all the happiness.’’ He says stiffly and steps on the street, passing Arya with his suitcase in one hand and an umbrella in another.

‘’No.’’

He wants to weep. He knows her. How could he believe it would be so simple?

Arya has her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed to his back. He can feel shivers running through her body.

‘’Please, Gendry. Please. Tell me why.’’ She whispers and his blood boils in his veins, coloring the Paris red in front of his eyes.

‘’Because you are not a transaction to me!’’ he shouts desperately, turning around to face her. His hands grab her shoulders; the umbrella and the suitcase drop to the pavement and the cold rain viciously attack all exposed parts of his body. He cannot find it in himself to care about that, not even a bit. ‘’Because maybe it started as a con, but it isn’t and it’s – it’s you, Arya. It’s you and I cannot pretend anymore that I don’t care, because I do. I care so much. And you’re a princess and I’m just me and this can never work, and I-‘’

Her lips are cold and wet against his. He tastes salt on them; salt, pine, and snow.

His hands fit around her waist perfectly.

His stubborn, impossible princess, laughing, when she embraces him. 

 ***

 Dear Sansa,

I am so sorry for leaving so quickly after we reunited, but you know yourself I was never suited to be a princess. It seems that I have found myself a family even before I met you again. I cannot abandon him now.

Wish me luck! We’ll be in Paris together soon, I promise.

I hope you’ll understand. After all, you’ve always loved grand stories of romance.

Your little sister,

Arya.  

[mixedracefairy]

A Reylocentric review of Episode IX

*HELLA SPOILERS*

DON'T READ IF YOU'VE NOT SEEN STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER!

(I'm from London get used to the slang)

I liked:

• I just liked how one of many Snokes was in like a Matrix incubator, lit and mysterious idea - that Palpatine was behind the creation of Ben. Did he bun not being able to find Rey and then switch to Vader's line as I assume Ben wasn't hard to find? Had to use Snoke otherwise Final Order and resurgence would be revealed. Cool.

• Opening with Ren POV establishes him as a big man and dark don and Palpatine is butters like whatever you think of Ben/Ren all man can get behind hating on Palpy.

• The whole 'lads we best sort this out or we're totally fucked' plot - Palpatine is back with a surrender or be destroyed motive

• The promise of destiny to Ren if man ends Rey cos it makes them mortal enemies. However you sense he won't cos she's wifey but the dichotomy is bare hypey. (That sounds silly. It does however, best express my feelings to the situ.)

• Him chasing her all 'I am gonna turn you to the dark' - it's exciting that he has a desire for her, it's also exciting that she's like aight calm and carries on with her ting with the boiz

• Rey's vision - the potential in the force for her to rule with Kylo Ren and be dark side. Wild.

• Rey's heritage revealed - that she comes from a lineage of great power and great darkness. At first it was cool that she was a nobody and Ren like a prince because of the class contrast and their bond, but this reveal makes her almost greater than Ren, eligible to be empress. Literally the bottom to top. Lit.

• Moments of proximity, there's a momentum building, the bond between them and it's exciting to anticipate their presence together and what might come if it

• The duel of wills over the transporter, demonstrating equal power. (Luke saber 2.0)

• Her shock at her power, losing control/unawareness of might - Rey fearing her power and destiny. Rey also being how the Skywalker twins learn from their mistakes of not fearing (Ben's) power

• Their force bonds - moments where she outsmart him, him with the position in power searching for her on the ground but she's in his quarters. There's always been something hypey about the FO/Empire with their might vs RA/Resistance underdogs and our boiz winning, but never in a situation where they're bonded and he's literally searching for her to wifey.

• Lowkey role reversal cos he's tryna tell her who she is, albeit for his own purposes, and she's in denial and responds by attacking him. The 'I'm angry so I'm gonna hack at things with my lightsaber' is usually a Ren move.

• You can't tell if they want to kill each other, (cos you can tell they wanna fuuuh). Ren races at her with his speeder, she cuts off his wing; in their heated duel they let each other recover yet she seizes the opportunity to kill him. She then heals him as the occasion is a mutual mourning. Confessing wanting to take his hand, Ben's hand.

• The way Rey and Ren dance around each other, Rey flying off his star base. Man all like rah, bae swerved again.

• They did 3PO dirty! It's gucci tho for the Groot-esque bant.

• Ren's abandoning of the dark side moment was feeling keenly the loss of his mother, indicating he had a love for her and somewhere a desire to return to the light or a safety/relaxedness that his opposition was headed by her. Almost like he was protecting as much as seeming to destroy her cause. 

• It reminded him of how he lost his father by his hand, their love haunts him as somewhere he felt he belonged but was ashamed to return to because of Snoke (Palpatine's) corruption. Her death is a loss of hope for his sometime redemption or organising of the galaxy between those who backed the Resistance and First Order. 

• The memory of Han convinces Ben Leia's cause still lives if he decides to take it up, showing he did care for her and what she stood for. He just felt lost to it, hurt, unbelonging, bitter and abandoned by it. Yet he believed in himself and his destiny for greatness, (which you have to rate), so man was like dark side it is. (Wow, what a gangster.) 

• It's a bit like Leia's death freed him of the shame of wanting to be light because he needn't face their judgement, or more, the pain of their undeserved love and forgiveness.

• Lowkey Harry Potter vibes like when Harry's nemesis kills him but doesn't die but the horcrux part did. Han says "Kylo Ren is dead" after he is stabbed by his own saber - the pursuit of darkness that was destroying him has been killed (with compassion for Leia?)

• Leia's arc from episide IV has been lit. After her death, Poe feeling unqualified and Lando saying they all of them weren't ready, you deep how young, (what literally 17?), Leia since day has been taking initiative, being a leader. What a champion and woman all the galaxy has looked up to. And telling silly flyboys to put their cocks away, yet still she believed in and elevated Poe (who has learnt and developed).

• Force heal 1 was a nice indicator of her capability and just a nice touch of her approach of kindness to problem solving, like Leia to her flyboys - put your cocks away. Also dope how Finn prees it and backs her.

• What the hell was Finn going to tell Rey before they sank?

• Yo the way man ended Hux was lit! Pusssyyyy

• Ben's redemption, how he went after Rey to rescue/fight with her as Han's son.

Fresh 👏 garms

• The parallels of Ben and Rey both ditching their saber was cool. Not sure why, like they're both on the wavelength of 'fuck this shit' haha. Except Ben ditches his to step into his true self, what he was trying to do since day, and Rey ditches hers to deny herself. Good thing Luke was about to say who you are is what you make of yourself. A bit like the answerless mirror cave from VIII.

• I like old Luke. I like what a cynical c*nt he is hahaha

• Ben abandoned his saber as it represented Kylo Ren and darkness. Was it foolish to take just a blaster? Tbf he is the don with the force so maybe he thought he was gucci. Force swap was sick tho.

• Pretty cool that their force bond is so powerful it could renew Palpatine's power as it shows how precious it is. Also mad tragic that that is their downfall, they stood no chance against him. But surely if it could renew him it could end him? Two yung padawans couldn't really take on big man like Palpy so fair.

• There were some excellently convincing moments all round of loss of hope - 'they're done fuuucked' moments. Poe in his X wing, Rey staring into force lightning etc.

• Was it stupid that Ben went to Rey? It's obviously instinctive he ain't gonna snake bae now they're not opps. Without him there Palpatine never would have been renewed tho. Rey however remains pure and not a Sith, so did he come to protect her innocence? Fits in with the literary themes and tropes of fairytales that the whole idea of them comes from. 

• I mean if he hadn't come Rey would be Sith empress and really how bad would that be? She'd probably have Ben beside her thus fulfilling the vision she had. What Sith vows must she have taken in order to become empress, (to save the mandem obvs), because she could technically marry Ben who would rule in light and she in darkness. That would be badass af, an unwilling Sith empress.

• Rey's fulfilling of destiny, saving the galaxy etc. I mean obviously it's dope when a hero steps into her role. She chose, like Ren, to ignore her past but in this case for good (because she had the bravery to believe she was not isolated, she was loved, unlike Ben). 

• Her battle has been one of self worth and belonging and she believed she belonged to a Jedi family, worthy to have all Jedi behind her, despite her searching for a family to give her life meaning and finding the truth is literally the opposite of what might help her in this battle. She gave all her power/life for the galaxy.

• Ben gave his life for her, completing his redemption in a Christ-like ultimate love sacrifice. We also catch a first smile and oh me lawd it is my favourite thing in the whole three trilogies. That transfer of life, joy, love, kiss, death was just perfection. Po👏et👏ry. 

• Fuck man. She was his only joy. Raaah

• Also because she died for the galaxy, he died to give her life, it's like he took the L for the galaxy instead, but also allowing our young female protagonist from ends the glory and not the star prince with a bad white male privilege temper and climb to power.

• Leia didn't become one with the force til Ben was redeemed. That's deep. Was that why Ben turned? His scar is now healed, suggesting the betrayal of patricide and how that weakened him instead of making him Kylo Ren is mended by Rey. He's no longer split in two?

• What's the symbolism of giving her life by putting your hand there Ben? I see you Disney, you gotta keep it PG but I see you

• At the end, when she's asked what her name is, it would have been cool if she was like Rey Palpatine and I overcame the meaning of the name, I know who I am. But it was fitting, you could sense it - and the force ghosts what a touch - she was a Skywalker. Her fam have been Leia, Luke and Han, and her soulmate should they have been married would make her Skywalker too. Technically Rey Solo which also fits because it's the same reason Han chose the name cos man didn't know who they belonged to, except she's not alone, she belongs as a Skywalker.

• Obviously Rey and Ben raising little babies as heirs to the empire would have been dope but Ben's death atones for his atrocities as well as makes for poetic writing. 

• Rey returns to nothing, which is cool cos her parents obviously must have been eligible to be heirs to the empire and also chose to be nothing. So it's significant, not anticlimactic. It's humbling, which in the trope of heroes is radical.

• This is a statement that autocracies like the Final Order don't belong in the galaxy, but people power can take down star destroying fleets. (Shame about UK politics not being people power taking down hope destroying elites but ok.)

• Oi what does that gold lightsaber mean? It's cool still.

• Leia and Luke, like Rey, show a natural instinct for the light, as if to say humans are naturally loving without influence of darkness. (Ffs Darth Sidious)

• Both Rey and Ben have the same dark then light genealogy. Rey actively seeks out the light (VIII) and is denied it and genuinely fears her potential for darkness eventually. Ben is moulded to darkness despite his natural light. When they face big man Darth Sidious they're both at a point of comfort in their identities, they both believe they have a right to the light side because of who they are and the choice they are making.

• What's the new mask phase all about?

• Ben's arc is dope - you meet Kylo Ren and he's scary and powerful, then lol at mask off moment, you're a likkle yout! Then find he desperately wants to prove himself and becomes a vulnerable manchild, his act of patricide fostering a softer side which we connect to through Rey, taking leadership and then throwing that in the trash to be, like Rey, a nobody. It's like reverse Vader, also because instead of unwittingly killing his missus he wittingly gives his life for her.

• Lit trilogy 👏 bun the haters. Them man don't understand 😙👌

[occasionalfics]

worth my while // epilogue

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | p. 11

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power.

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.You know you shouldn’t get involved.

But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au…kind of…)

A/N: I’m like...stunned that this is over? I feel like it happened really fast. REALLY fast. How? 

I couldn’t let this go without a REAL fairy tale ending and I’m not sorry about it. Let’s celebrate!

Warnings: Honestly just nostalgia and fluff finally

Words: 2,545

An enthusiastic Thor introduces you to his close friend Heimdall, but doesn’t spend too much time on it. He moves you onward too quickly, insisting on taking you directly to his mother. Immediately.

You laugh at his excitement, but still stop him as he leads you across a glassy rainbow bridge. You take one look at the skyline of Asgard before you, and all the joy falls from your body.

You’re really here. In Asgard. With Thor.

He turns to you, warm hands sliding up your arms to your shoulders. “What is it, min kjærlighet?” he asks.

You don’t have an answer for him. The sudden weight you feel is a pleasant one, but still overwhelming. Because you’ve just left the only planet you’ve ever known - the only life you’ve known - for a kingdom you don’t belong in, for a man you’re not worthy of, for a life you have no place in.

“(Y/N)?” he asks again, some of the light leaving his eyes, too.

“Thor,” you whisper, “I- just. This is a lot. And I have...so many things to tell you, things I didn’t think I was going to get to but I need to say before anything else happens-”

“Nothing is going to happen here,” he tells you. “You can tell me all after you meet my mother. She’s eager to see what I see-”

“I can’t wait, Thor.” You take in a long breath, remembering all of the things you’d wished you’d told him before, when you knew you couldn’t. Memory is a harsh prison, but it’s the one you won’t be free of until he knows everything. “I can’t stay here if I don’t tell you.”

He hesitates, and his brow furrows. “Do you… want to return to Midgard?”

You shake your head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just- Before we go forward with anything, I have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” he asks, his tone clearly impatient but curious.

You lick your lips and tell him, “Everything.”

--

It’s easy to sneak into a room via lofted balcony when simply twirling a hammer enables flight. Thor holds you tightly against his side, wind rushes past you so fast you have to close your eyes, and within seconds, you’re placed on solid marble.

Being lifted off your feet like that twice in less than ten minutes is a lot to deal with, but you manage.

He leads you into his bedroom. This one, the one he’s grown up in, is nothing at all like his Avengers’ Tower bedroom.

This room is golden. Everything has a yellow tint to it - the fire kindling in a fireplace across from the bed certainly helps with that. His bed is huge, like his other is, but this one is covered in silken sheets and long, wide fur blankets. Tables are lined with goblets and trophies of war and revelry.

Here, Thor is truly who he was always meant to be. You’ll have to figure out who that is in time.

He leads you to the bed, sits on the edge of it, and waits for you to join him. When you do, his hands grip yours again. You might only pull away if you didn’t miss him holding you like you do.

Every day for three months, your whole body ached for him. It was just never as apparent as it is right now, with his body excruciatingly close.

“What is it you wanted to tell me?” he asks, patient now.

You try to remember where to start, then decide that an apology is a good place.

“I...am so, so sorry, Thor. For everything. For keeping things from you, for leading you on, for...god, for dragging you into Hades’ mess of a plan. For thinking I’d be able to stop you from fighting with a fucking car-”

“You saved my life that day, (Y/N),” he interrupts.

You squeezes his hand in a plea to let you finish. He nods slowly, conceding.

“I met a guy...almost a decade ago, now. This man, Rick - he was everything I ever thought I wanted. I was sure I was gonna marry him. But we got in a stupid fight one night, and he walked out and...a drunk driver hit him.” The memory of that night rises, stings your throat and eyes and nose. Despite the warmth of the room, a chill settles over you.

“Hades found me a year later. I was...a mess. I thought I’d  lost the great love of my life. I was an easy target for someone looking for a glorified assistant. Hades told me he’d bring Rick back, and without thinking, I agreed to whatever terms he laid before me.”

You bite your lip, try not to hold what happened against Rick, and only went on when you felt ready.

“Rick and I didn’t end up working out. Obviously,” you say. “But Hades...he knew what he was doing. I was his servant, and basically nothing else. Not until I met you.”

He smiles, flattered.

You can’t return the gesture.

“I knew I should’ve stayed away. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you, because Hades always knew. And you...you’re so powerful, God damn it!” You pushed on his arm, taking just a second to joke because that was so much easier.

But you can’t let the break drag on.

“I couldn’t help myself. The more I saw you, the more I wanted to see. You…” You sigh and meet his eyes with certainty in yours. “You made me feel like I was a regular person again. Like I was worthy of your friendship, of your love. The more I felt that, the more I wanted to get out of helping Hades bring you down. But he knew. He always knew. And when I tried to tell him you were unstoppable, he used me against you.”

“And it cost you your life, (Y/N).”

You nod, leaning toward him so you could whisper and he would feel the meaning behind the words: “I’d do it again if I had to. For you, I’d do anything. And I know you’d do it, too.”

“For you,” he agreed, “always.”

--

As it has every day for the last...four months (you think, time is different on Asgard than it is on Earth), the Asgardian sun warms your skin, breathes new life into parts of you that you’d forgotten all about. Dormant parts. Pieces you haven’t felt in...years.

You sit in the city square and watch the market around you. People mill about, like they always have, hardly noticing the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Thor told you to stop calling yourself that. You’re not here to harm Asgardians, but to be one of them. And slowly, you’re starting to feel at home. With Thor to help and his mother’s approval (you don’t know how you managed to garner that, but you refuse to question it), you know that, some day, you’ll really feel like you belong here.

You’re adjusting. It makes Thor proud to see you content. It makes you proud to see him happy and whole again.

He comes through the crowd and hands you a light purple flower. It’s petals are soft and dainty, it’s stem strong and stable. It smells unlike anything you know of from Earth. It’s perfect, and yet, Thor’s smile outshines the glory of his gift.

He sits beside you on a stone wall, has no hesitation of pulling you close and holding you against him. You were surprised to learn, upon meeting the King and Queen, that Thor wasn’t already engaged to a Space Princess. Apparently, Earth fairytales don’t really apply to Space monarchies.

“Did you miss me, my heart?” he asks.

Yours always, without fail, skips a beat when he calls you that. You can’t help it. Somehow, in some way, you’ve earned his affection. The name is confirmation enough, and you have one for him that serves the same purpose.

“Of course, my soul.”

Four months of Asgardian living has absolutely affected your vernacular. How could it not? Why wouldn’t you let it, if you planned on staying?

He kisses your cheek as you place the small flower behind one of your ears. “What’s the plan for today?” you ask, knowing his days are normally full of training, both in battle and for the throne.

The fact that he is heir to an intergalactic collection of realms, of course, puts you on edge. You don’t know what it means for you, but you don’t have the heart to ask him. He’s already under enough stress at the thought of having to lead an entire kingdom.

“There are none today,” he tells you. Instantly, you relax against him.

“Really?”

“Well,” he starts, in a tone that automatically makes you roll your eyes, “there are plans, but I’m not seeing them through.”

“Thor-”

“Nope.” He smiles so widely that his eyes nearly close. “I’d like to see someone try to take me away from what I have planned today.” He brings a hand to your waist, squeezes, then chuckles at himself like he’s the cleverest man he’s ever met.

You purse your lips and tell him, “Don’t be cheeky,” but you know he’ll only tell you he can’t help it.

A week ago, the Queen told you she’s never seen Thor so happy. Consistently, that is. You told her you still had a lot to apologize and make amends for, but that her observation was much appreciated.

And now, Thor has no hesitation to show the entire kingdom even a fraction of how happy he is. He leans in and kisses you openly - admittedly, not for the first time. But still, the thought that you had ever tried to hide this, even for his and your own safety? It seems blasphemous.

--

You spend the day with the people. They love Thor - missed him during his time on Midgard. No one remembers him like you’d thought they might - like the arrogant, insolent, spoiled prince he’d said he was when he was banished. They only know him as he is now - strong and vulnerable, compassionate and still a little intimidating. He’s friendly and bright. Just being in his presence like this is an honor you’re still working to be worthy of.

Thor swears they love you, too. And they are friendly and kind. They ask what living on Midgard for so long was like. They want to know you, so you believe him. You don’t have to tell them about Hades - especially not in the same way you’ve finally told Thor everything. Maybe someday, they’ll know, but for now?

For now, you want to move past it all.

Knowing that Thor brought you back from the dead, that he knew you’d sacrificed your freedom for his safety, that he couldn’t stand the thought of living on while you were dead because of him… it’s enough.

When you return to the palace for the nightly feast, you stick close to Thor. His friends are yours now, too, though Sif is off planet on a diplomatic mission. Fandral, Volstaag, and even Hogun surround you and Thor that night, joking and laughing and living the way a family should.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt this acceptance. So long since Rick walked out. So long since you sold your soul to save a man that was meant to die that night.

Now you understand that. Rick was never supposed to come back. It was his choice to leave that night, not yours to push him away.

You were not meant for such a short life, though. For pain and suffering and growing, yes, but death? Not yet.

--

You have your own room in the palace - a guest suite, a gift from the Queen - but you hardly ever sleep there. Thor’s chamber feels more like home.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, eyes shut, just resting while you slip into a robe. The fabric is soft against your bare skin; the stone floor is cool beneath your feet. You hold the robe shut as you go over to the bed, sliding over to straddle Thor’s lap.

His eyes draw open, and he pulls you as close to him as he can. Your knees are tucked up against his hips, and you lean your chest against his. As usual, he’s warm and comfortable, and he smells like petrichor and cinnamon.

“You know,” you tell him, “I don’t think I ever thanked you for bringing me here.”

He shrugs. “Of course you have.”

“No,” you say as you shake your head. “I thanked your parents for allowing me to stay. But I’ve never thanked you for...for changing everything.”

His hands come around to your thighs, and once again, he squeezes you. “You don’t have to say it exactly like that to say it at all, (Y/N),” he whispers, that silly contented smile on his face filling you up with all the happiness you could possibly stand.

You crash your lips into his, weave your fingers into his beard. You still can’t believe you have all of this, but here it is. And it’s yours. He is yours - and if anything confirms that, it’s the nudge you feel on the inside of your left thigh the longer you kiss him.

You pull back and tell him, “I am grateful, though. For everything. For all of this.” You look up at the domed ceiling, around at the walls, then back at the absolute masterpiece between your palms.

“Funny,” he sighs. “I’d give it all up for you if I had to.”

He kisses you this time. You lean into him, and one of the shoulders of the robe falls off your arm. His tongue lines your bottom lip, and in one swift move, his arms encircle you so he can turn and lay you down against the softest mattress you’ve ever slept on. One hand unties the knot holding your robe together, the other crawls up the side of your leg. You feel like you’re on fire, covered in gooseflesh, drowning in the sun.

And then, to break it all apart, there’s a knock on the door.

“Go away!” Thor calls, lips still partially pressed to yours.

“There’s news from Midgard, Highness,” a voice says. It could be Fandral, but it could be one of Odin’s guard. “Your...acquaintances require your assistance.”

Your eyes shoot open wide, and you push against Thor to get him to listen. This messenger sounds serious.

“Now?” Thor asks.

“Immediately.”

Thor’s face sags. You giggle and stroke his beard again.

“No need for a face like that, my soul. Our friends need us.”

You swear a bolt of lightning ignites the blue of his eyes. “Us?” he asks. “You want to go with me?”

Thor’s gone off planet since you’ve come to Asgard, and normally, you don’t go with him. But this is Midgard. It’s a planet you know with people you know.

You nod. “Sam probably misses me too much. That’s all this is.” You shrug, and his smile matches yours as you sit up. “Come,” you tell him, reaching for his hand with yours. “Let’s go see what the problem is now.”

FIN.

[ofisolaticn]

fairytale au + katherine (humor me)

*crackles knuckles* + @katrcva

            “once upon a time in a kingdom far FAR away there was a lovely prince.” a smile fell upon his lips at such simple words. it really silly, and not something he thought of often. being a prince. still, he resumed. “he was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire breathing-”

             giggles erupted; the hysterical kind. though henrik couldn’t say he was awfully shocked, it was one hell of a stroke to the ego to be called A TERRIBLE FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. “ i didn’t say stop, did i?”

              a soft hum left him. “no, you didn’t.” so, he went on. “many brave-”

              more laughter.

               “oh come on kat! they were brave.”

               “they were cowards.”

               “in their defense, most any sane person would run at the sight of you.”

                a hand upon her heart ( she was always so DRAMATIC). “you know the perfect thing to make a girl feel special.” and truly, henrik knew, she did. katerina pierce was special and she knew it too (as did he).

                “as i was saying, ahem,” a look that said ‘let me finish PLEASE’. “many BRAVE-” a snort. “-knights attempted to free him from this dreadful prison.”

                  “am i really so dreadful?” katherine coaxed, a smirk fixed upon her features (the usual one, she was always smirking for one reason or another).

                 “hm.” henrik took a moment, pretending to PONDER. “yep.”

                 a faux offending sound and then he was on with the story. “many brave knights had attempted to free him from this dreadful prison, but non prevailed. he waited in the dragon’s keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for his true love and true love’s first kiss.”  

                  he lowered the book, expecting a look of amusement upon katherine's face like there usually was. instead she was rising to her feet, heels clicking against the ground and- “where are you going?” he called after her. upon a lack of response henrik was ready to chase after her, at least until the door SHUT behind her.

                  curse that fucking lock.

                  henrik didn’t know what he did to piss her off. frankly, he didn’t know what he did to piss anyone off. he was 10 years old when his mother decided to seal him in a tower, something about not being CORRUPTED like his siblings. ever since he hadn’t seen another living soul besides katherine and the people she burned.

                 he really wished she wouldn’t do that.

                 as much as they were FRIENDS they also weren’t. it was easy to forget, so easy, but the fact was they were both stuck. both prisoners. his mother ensured such a thing. just as she’d trapped henrik there she’d trapped katherine. stuck in her scaly form any time someone DARED attempt to save henrik. apparently, at least according to katherine, his mother had cursed her. if anyone who was not henrik’s true love, who was FALSE, laid their lips upon him… she’d be stuck in her dragon form forever.

             good motivation to keep him locked up until someone worthy appeared.

              that is, if there was someone worthy.

              they’d been in this tower for over a decade with only each other as company. it was fairly easy to doubt such things.

              he eyed the door momentarily before jumping to his feet. katherine wasn’t above mind tricks or letting things appear as they were not. things like shutting the door harshly, fiddling with the lock but not actually LOCKING it. just making it looked locked.

                and yes, it seemed he was right.

                 so he journeyed down the stairs, knowing his feet would ache for it later, and he tried to find katherine. it wasn’t hard. it was almost impossible to miss her when she was a gigantic fucking purple dragon.

                  he knew how much she hated this form. unable to communicate, unable to be herself. as much as katherine could joke about it, henrik knew for sure, she’d much rather stab a man through the neck with a sword rather then her teeth.

                  “hey,” he greeted her, tone soft. “i don’t know what i said in there but-” think, henrik, what did you say? he was reading the book and then she was storming out and then– OH. “listen,” henrik began. “you know i— if my mom had to choose someone to lock me up with, i’m glad she chose YOU.” a tentative touch to her scales and then a POOF.

                   back in human form again. was it already SUNRISE? he was quick to turn away, give her space to get dressed (not that katherine was ever one for modesty). a deep groan erupted from her lips. “i know that. you love me.”

                    “yeah, i do love you so why are you angry with me?”

                    “because why can’t it be ME?” it was more vulnerable then henrik had ever seen her before. he’d never seen such emotion filling those doe brown eyes that could usually deal out such venom.

                     he considered her words. “… yeah. why can’t it be you?”

                     for once, he took the infamous katherine pierce by surprise. “if we’re wrong about this i’m stuck.” it was a warning, but by no means a NO.

                    “i think…” he thought of all those nights reading with her as she laughed as she pointe dout the stupidity in utmost everything the characters did, the meals they’d cook together, the fun they’d have… “i’d love you anyway.”

                    and THAT was the answer, wasn’t it?

                    true love.

[haroldslovekitten]

Sweet Creature - Pink Series pt. 1

Hello lovelies! Here is part one of that angsty, slow burn, friends to lovers series I’m starting! The series will be called Pink and there will be 10 parts in total, each one inspired by/including one of the songs on Harry’s album.

Word Count: 5k

Enjoy! .xx -M

“So, you’re ready to get back into the game again, huh?” you ask around a mouthful of scone, crumbs tumbling from your lips as you speak.

“Yeah, I think I am. It’s been a long break, and I think I’m ready to really start writing again,” Harry smiles, the future career he’s planning seeming like more and more of a reality.

“Well, I for one, am excited. Always wanted to know what you’d do on your own.”

“You’ve heard some of my own songs,” he questions, sipping his tea.

“Well yeah, but like, none of those were written for your own personal album, H, they were more for fun. I wanna see you in your element,” you say.

Harry smiles at that, thinking about all the possible directions his music career could take now that it’s just him. The prospect is exciting and terrifying. He has to admit though, having friends like you supporting him is a huge help, and he knows the boys will be supportive too as they branch out themselves.

“What about you?” Harry asks. “What are you planning now that you’ve graduated?”

“Psssh,” you huff nervously. “Honestly, I have no fucking clue. Might just be a bum. Or maybe I can be a groupie for Harry Styles on his solo tour!” you say sarcastically, dodging the question.

“I’d be happy to take you along, you know that,” he says, but you just roll your eyes. “Really though, what are you going to do?”

“Honestly, making a career as a filmmaker isn’t exactly easy. It’s not like I can just go audition on a TV show and have my entire life made for me,” you tease. “Think I’m going to have to try to be an assistant to some hotshot first, then get my scripts out there.”

“I could talk to some people, if you want?”

“No no no no, Harry. No,” you say firmly. “I will not have you doing all my networking for me and let myself become successful just because I’m Harry Styles’ best friend. Gotta do it on my own, you know?”

“Mmmm,” he nods his head, understanding completely the need to make it on your own merit. The same thought is what’s haunting him about his solo career. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Even if it’s just reading your work or summat.”

“Yeah, I will,” you smile, reaching over and squeezing his hand in thanks. “So, how’s the love life?”

“You’re a blunt one aren’t you?” Harry laughs before actually considering his answer. “It’s pretty nonexistent.”

“What about that one model?”

“Yeah, that’s over. Very, very over. Just don’t think it’s the right time for me. Don’t know when it will be, but I spend all my time with people I don’t really know. Not exactly fairytale circumstances for me.”

“Well, you spend time with me. I could be your fairytale,” you giggle at the absurd thought.

“Mmm, my tea-slurping, messy-eating, in her head entirely too often fairytale,” he teases right back.

“Oh yes, I’m quite the catch,” you respond, harmless flirting being a staple of your friendship for years now.

“What about you? Any prince charmings on the horizon?”

“As if. I have a very steamy conversation with the barista at my local Starbucks every morning if that counts.”

Harry snorts at the pun and nods, knowing the feeling.

You spend the next hour talking about mutual friends, family, venting about work and media and discussing just how important it is that Harry continue to wear women’s pants.

“Never thought me wearing ladies’ jeans would be such a fucking deal,” he laughs.

“Yeah well, you look better in them than I do, so you can go fuck yourself,” you respond, laughing.

“Nonsense,” Harry says, ever the gentleman.

You pick up your phone, reading a text and gasping. Harry looks up, slightly disappointed. You must have to leave. You never get to hang out enough, in his humble opinion, but any time he spends with you feels just like old times, so he’ll take what he can get.

“James just text, the actor we hired for our short film just bailed. Got a part in a commercial and thinks his career is going to take off, so he quit this. I’ve got to go sort this out. I’m so sorry,” you apologize.

“Don’t worry about it, good luck finding someone else. If there’s anything I can do, let me know,” he tells you, genuinely wanting to help and spend more time with you.

“Actually, yeah, come to my house Friday around 8? I’ve missed hanging out with you. We’re always so busy, I never feel like I know what’s going on with you. Let’s make an effort to see each other more, yeah? Now that you’re on a break and all? It’ll be something to look forward to for the rest of the week. Get me through the hell I have to put up with at work,” you smile and Harry feels like he might blush, which is weird. He guesses he’s just not used to being the reward for a long week of work, it feels so domestic.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll bring that wine I know you like too.”

“You’re literally the sweetest,” you reply, grabbing your purse, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek, and rushing off.

Harry finishes up his food, paying for the both of you before he heads home, a silly smile on his face the whole way there. When you live the life of a popstar, sometimes normalcy is hard to find. Life is big, luxurious, fancy, and damn expensive. Having you as a best friend brings him back down to earth as he goes to coffee shops with you where you always order the cheapest thing, despite him often paying, drink the cheapest wine he’s ever bought but knows you love it, and having conversation that doesn’t revolve around this and that famous person or catty feuds with people. You’re his breath of fresh air and he’s ecstatic that you wants him around more often, possibly more ecstatic than he should be, he thinks, but he’ll ignore that for now.

The next two days go by in a blur as he begins doing a little more writing for his album, getting his brain back in music mode. Honestly, knowing he was going to spend time at your apartment on the weekend put him in an incredibly good mood. As he finds himself writing, his song is happy, chipper even, and he finally feels like strumming away on his guitar is a fun activity, rather than an obligation. Just before he jumps in the shower Friday night, he gets a text from you.

Okay, I’m super lame and went on Pinterest to find something to make tonight and I found the most complicated recipe for cheesy chicken pasta I’ve ever fucking read. Be prepared to work your butt off suzy-homemaker.

Who says I’ll be helping?

He replies with a giggle before showering, washing his newly short hair with way too much shampoo. He still hasn’t gotten used to using like half the product he used to. By the time he’s finished getting ready, he’s smelling like Tom Ford cologne and looking good enough to eat, if he does say so himself. He doesn’t like to be a particularly cocky person, but he is well aware of how swoon-worthy he looks sometimes. He checks his phone once more before leaving.

Well, unless you want burnt chicken and overcooked pasta for dinner, you’re helping.

Only because I love you x

He winces a little after he texts that. You used to tell each other you loved each other all the time. He tells most of his friends that, if he’s being honest, but they’ve been so busy lately and have kind of drifted, so he’s a little worried that you won’t feel quite as close as you used to, that it might weird you out.

Love you too, asshole. Now hurry up, I’m hungry.

Harry’s breath huffs out in a relieved laugh when he sees the response, and he promptly jumps in his car and drives over as quickly as possible. He stops by the corner off-license to grab the wine, getting two bottles because he knows you will probably drink a whole one yourself, and makes it to your place just before 8. When you open the door, you’re in short shorts and a t-shirt with holes all in it, obviously dressed down for the occasion. Harry looks down at his skinny jeans and floral button down and instantly feels overdressed.

“Someone looks fancy,” you chirp, taking the wine from him and ushering him inside.

“Yeah,” he laughs nervously.

“You know, you don’t have to rub in how unbelievably handsome you are, right? You could at least try to look like a normal person every once in awhile,” you tease, getting all of the ingredients for dinner and setting them on the counter.

“Sorry about that, ‘m just so irresistible. Do you have that spare pair of sweats I used to keep here? I could maybe dress down? Make you feel better?” he jokes.

“And what shirt would you wear?”

“Ummm, none? Or one of yours I guess?”

“Yeah, shirtless you is going to make me feel loads better. Actually…I might have the perfect thing,” you say after contemplating for a moment.

You wave him to follow you into your bedroom, the once familiar territory looking much the same as it did two years ago when he’d spend nearly every free weekend he had hanging out here. You rustle through one of your dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of sweats from the very back. Harry can’t lie that he’s a little disappointed you had these stuffed in the back of a drawer, rather than wearing them yourself every once in awhile. He pushes the thought away though, you’re is just his best friend. Why would you wear his clothes? With a smile, you goe to your closet, thumbing through shirts until you find one.

“Aha,” you giggle, handing him a small white t-shirt that has his face from about 2014 plastered on it.

“What the actual fuck is this?” he cackles.

“Told you I was a fan, you know, before we met,” you laugh.

“This picture wasn’t taken that long before we met!” he doubles over in laughter, clutching the shirt. “Plus, it could fit a 12 year old!”

“Shut up! I developed late, okay? You know very well that I look much different now than when we met!”

“Mmm, true. Now you’ve got those cuuurves,” he giggles, beginning to unbutton his shirt to change.

He doesn’t miss the blush on your cheeks as you watch him, then shake your head and leave the room to give him some privacy. Once he finishes changing, he realizes just how absolutely ridiculous he looks. For starters, the shirt used to fit a tiny 18 year old you and barely stretches over his broad frame. His face is all dimples on the fabric, and you can see his tattoos through the shirt. It’s the silliest thing he’s ever seen. But, to top it off, he hadn’t thought about the fact that the sweats were also a few years old, and much too short for him now. So now, rather than looking hot as hell in his tight jeans and designer top, he’s wearing high-water sweats and a shirt with his own fucking fetus face staring out from it. Just what he needs.

He walks back into the kitchen slowly, head hanging in mock shame.

“Oh my god,” you shout, almost immediately falling to the floor in laughter. “You look insane,” you say between harsh breaths.

“Oi, shut up. I make this look good,” he drawls ironically, which just encourages further laughter.

“Okay okay, I need a picture. I need a picture.”

“No no no no, absolutely no fucking way,” he says, eyes going wide with worry.

“It’s not like I’m going to post it, you idiot. But I need it, for posterity’s sake. Pleeease?” you whine, and how the fuck can Harry resist those big blue puppy-dog eyes.

“For your eyes only,” he says sternly, pointing his finger at you for emphasis.

“Mmm, course,” you reply in mock seriousness before grabbing your phone and snapping a quick shot with him pouting angrily.

Now that you’re both dressed down and more comfortable, you dim the lights a little bit, and begin cooking, you doing most of the chopping and slicing of things, Harry handling anything to do with fire. You could not be trusted to not burn down the house, and to be honest, he was actually quite worried about you having a knife in your hands as well. More than once, he almost intervened and said he’d cook the whole damn meal. But, you looked so happy and excited to be cooking this new recipe with him, he couldn’t be the reason that giddy smile and look of concentration left you face when it warmed his heart so much to see it there, so instead, he kept a close eye on you, making sure you didn’t lose a finger. You both wiggle around each other in the kitchen, singing along to the Motown playlist you had put on, cooking and sipping wine together in complete harmony. Harry could not honestly say that his eyes didn’t linger as you wiggled your hips to a particularly upbeat song, or that he didn’t bite his lip when you’d bend down to get another cutting board from the cabinets. More than once, he stopped himself from reaching out and pulling you close, these new feelings definitely shocking him. Sure, it’d been awhile since he’d seen you, but he’s never thought of you as anything more than a sister before. So why now, is he sitting here struggling to keep his gaze purely platonic? You really were a sweet little thing, a sweet little creature, and he couldn’t deny that nearly everything you did put a smile on his face.

“Hey, you’ll burn the chicken if you keep looking at me like that!” you shout, swatting at his arm and bringing him out of his daze. “Don’t look that hideous, do I?” you laugh somewhat nervously.

“Not at all, love, just got a bit of something on your face,” he mentions before reaching out and smearing a bit of the cream they were using for the sauce onto your cheek.

You look at him aghast, picking up one of the cherry tomatoes you were slicing and throwing it directly at his forehead.

“Come now, don’t waste food,” he scolds, to your utter shock!

“You’re the one who initiated it!”

“No need to go pointing fingers,” he grins before going back to cooking.

“Dick,” you mumble under your breath, but can’t keep the smirk from your face.

Soon enough the meal is cooked and you are already halfway through your bottle of wine and still barely tipsy. When you sit down and eat, Harry laughs at the way you stuff your face with pasta, no shame at all. He feels a little pride when you groan in satisfaction at the taste of the pasta, knowing he did most of the work. As you both eat, Harry’s phone buzzes with a text from Gemma.

Always knew you were a self-obsessed ass.  

Apparently there is a picture attached and when he opens the message he sees the photo of himself, ridiculous shirt and sweats and all. His jaw drops as he looks at you as you unsuspectingly finish one of your last bites of food.

“What?” you ask, confused by his gaze.

“I said for your eyes only, little lady!” he scolds, showing you his phone.

You nearly spit out the food in your mouth as you realize Gemma is just as bad at keeping secrets as you are.

“Come on, how could I not send that to her?”

“Fair enough,” Harry replies, knowing his sister probably enjoyed it immensely. “Never gonna trust you again though.”

“Hey, you can trust me!” you pout, taking a gulp of wine.

“Can I really? Said you’d keep that private and now my sister’s sending it to me. Tell me the truth, did you even for a second think about actually keeping it to yourself?” Harry accuses.

“Not for a second,” you laugh loudly. “But you tell me the truth, did you ever for a second really think I would?”

“Not exactly,” he laughs, admitting defeat.

“Knew we still knew each other well,” you smirk.

“Mmm, bet there are some things we don’t know though, yeah?” he asks, a suspicious grin coming across his features.

“I suppose,” you respond, giving him a questioning look.

“What do you say to a bit of truth or dare?” Harry asks and you can honestly say you’re shocked, though it could definitely be fun.

“Hmmmm, alright then,” you say after a moment’s hesitation.

“Who first?” he asks.

“Well you, obviously! You suggested it!” you laugh, taking another admittedly huge gulp of wine.

“Alright, truth,” he says, making eye contact with you as if challenging you to ask him something really good.

This is almost your least favorite part of the game, coming up with something interesting to ask the other person. You don’t want it to be so embarrassing that they’ll lie, but you also want to find out something really great while you can. After a moment, you finally come up with your question.

“How much did you hate me when we were at that bar last year, during the summer, and that really hot blond gave you her number and offered to go home with you, but you couldn’t because I was drunk off my ass and needed you to take care of me?” you ask, almost nervous of the answer. You two had had an amazing night that night. Though you can’t remember much of it, Harry caught plenty of your drunken karaoke in his living room on video and those are some of your favorite not-so-well-remembered memories.

“Honestly, I was completely angry at first, probably a little rude to her too when she offered to come home with me and I told her no. But that night was worth it, oh so worth it,” he says, laughing at the memories he still has perfectly in his head.

You flush at the thought, knowing you probably did some terribly embarrassing things that night that you don’t recall but that Harry would have in vivid memory.

“Okay, your turn! Truth or dare?” he asks, the excited light in his eyes letting you know you definitely have something to worry about.

“Hmmm, dare,” you say, though completely nervous as to what he’ll make you do.

“Call your sister and tell her you’re in love with me and that we’re running off to get married,” he says after only a moment’s pause.

“Oh my god, we’re bringing her into this?” you ask, but take out your phone nonetheless.

“Sure are,” he chuckles, his eyes on you. “And have it on speaker too.”

With a mumbled ‘shit’ you put your phone on speaker and call your sister.

“What do you want?” she answers, always the courteous one.

“Hello to you too, asshole,” you laugh.

“Hi,” she says, obviously annoyed.

“Oh my god, lighten up, what are you doing?”

“Nothing important,” she says shortly.

“Okay, well,” Harry nods at you excitedly, some of his now short hair falling onto his forehead when he does. “I...uh, I just called to tell you I’m madly in love with Harry and uh, we’re eloping,” you try not to giggle as you tell her the blatant lie.

“Am I supposed to be surprised?” she asks coldly. She’s always had a strange way of showing affection, but you know she means no harm. “Uh...yes,” you laugh awkwardly, looking at Harry whose eyes have gone wide, mouth open slightly. “Especially since it’s a total lie, Harry dared me to tell you. How could you even think I’d be in love with Harry?” you laugh, quite enjoying this dare.

“Oi, being in love with me’s not that wild of an idea, is it?” he asks, mock offended.

“Shut up,” you giggle, trying to listen to your sister.

“Oh, ok. Well, whatever. Hi, Harry,” she says after having heard his voice.

“Hiiiii,” he drawls, giggling and apparently already a little tipsy.

“Is that it?” she asks.

“Yeah, that was it,” you respond, now wanting this conversation to be over.

“Ok, well bye.”

“Bye, love you!” you say, rushing the ‘love you’ to squeak it in before she hangs up.

“Love you too,” she says quickly before ending the call.

“Oh my god,” Harry cackles, proper rocking in his seat from laughter, but you know him well enough to see that it is at least a little fake.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” you laugh, avoiding eye contact.

“Mmhmm, course not,” he giggles.

“Anyways, truth or dare?”

He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are avoiding his when you ask, but that could be the wine and your sleepiness after a long week. It doesn’t have to mean anything, does it?

“Ummm, dare,” he says, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

You nod, thinking for a moment before finally deciding on something. This is so much easier when you have other people to discuss with before choosing your truth or dare…

“I dare you to play me the newest thing you’ve been working on,” you smile, proud of your dare. He probably would have done it anyway, but now he has to!

He stares at you for a moment, debating if he will actually do it or not. His gaze is intense, as it always is, but there’s something new behind this look. He is internally panicking, wondering what you will think of the song and also if you’ll be able to figure out it was mostly inspired by you. Of course, a few of the lines were inspired by Gemma, but you were the general idea backing the song. If you knew that...he doesn’t think he could handle it. You, on the other hand, have never heard him so nervous to sing to you, but chalk it up to the fact that this is his first solo work, the first stuff that is only him, so it carries a bit more weight.

You both move into the living room where you keep the guitar that used to be your grandpa’s but you never play, despite having tried to teach yourself  how multiple times. He picks up the guitar, tuning it quickly as he sits on the couch. You sit down on the floor below him, amping up the feeling that this is a performance, and he can’t help but stare at you, looking at him so expectantly with those eyes, those fucking eyes that drive him crazy and feel like home. Your face is full of support and admiration, and it’s the fact that he knows you will support him even if you think it’s shit that gives him the courage to really do it.

“Okay so, well this song is about Gemma really, so yeah…” he says as if excusing it somehow, to make the blow less painful if you tell him it’s awful, which you know it won’t be.

He plucks along the first few notes and already you’re in love, staring at him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your face, and his voice wavers a little when he begins to sing.

“Sweeeet Creature,

had another talk about where it’s goin’ wrong,

But we’re still young,

we don’t know where we’re going, but we know we belong...”

He begins and the awe on your face gives him the courage to continue the song. His belly is flip-flopping as he does, but he ignores it because here you are, listening to him sing this song, which is really all about you, though you’ll never know, and he loves your adoring eyes so much he’d sing forever if it meant you would keep looking at him that way.

“Sweet creature, sweet creature,

Wherever I go, you’ll bring me home.

Sweet creature, sweet creature,

When I run out of rope, you’ll bring me home…”

He continues and he swears to god he’s getting tears in his eyes and he’s never sang this as emotionally as he is right now and he really needs to bring it back before he scares you. One glance at you, with a small smile and watery eyes as you look at him like he put the stars in the sky makes his heart jump and he finishes the song with as much precision and passion as he can muster, wanting nothing more than for you to like it.

When he’s done, he sits in silence, not making eye contact with you, afraid of your reaction and wanting you to have space to hate it if you do.

“Harry,” you whisper, bringing your fingers up to your mouth, covering it slightly. “That was...incredible.”

You can see the breath he’s been holding leave his body in relief as he finally looks at you, and he looks like a child again, seeking approval, wanting to be liked, and boy, do you like him.

“You’re not jus’ sayin…” he trails off before you can let him finish.

“Harry, no. Don’t you dare do that. Don’t doubt yourself for a second. I’m your best friend, I of all people would be completely honest with you if it sucked and it definitely doesn’t suck, not even a little. That’s the sweetest most heartfelt song I’ve ever heard, H. Have you sung it to Gemma yet? I know she’ll adore it knowing you wrote it about her,” you say, only imagining what she’d think of it. She’d probably tear up, and you knew Gemma - she wasn’t one for tears.

“You really think it’s good?” he asks, needing as much praise as you’re willing to give.

“Absolutely stunning, Harry, just like everything you do,” you respond.

His stomach is in knots, his face blushing and whether that’s from nerves from performing new material or just the fact that he performed for you and you loved it, he’ll never be completely sure.

“I haven’t told Gemma yet, don’t think she’d care that much,” he huffs, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

“Trust me, H, if I had someone write a song like that about me, I’d about die of happiness, she’s going to love it,” you soothe him.

He tries to control his reaction to your last statement, tries to keep himself from muttering anything about the true inspiration to the song, and he keeps a good lid on it, still not completely sure why he’s so nervous to tell you. You are his best friend after all, it’s not surprising that you bring him back down to earth, that you are a super important influence in his life, and that he’d write a song about you. It doesn’t seem crazy at all, actually, but yet, he knows how he felt while writing that song, knows how he felt while performing it, and honestly, those feelings are much too intimate, even for best friends, he thinks. It’s really something he’s got to get sorted out and soon if you’re to be spending so much more time together now that he has more control over his schedule.

Sensing his discomfort, you get up from the floor, take the guitar from him and settle down next to him on your couch. He sighs when he feels your body next to his. Things are good, they are the same, nothing has changed just because you heard the song, he’s going to be okay, you’re both going to be fine, he tells himself over and over as you turn on the television and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Feels a little silly playing truth or dare after you unloaded that masterpiece on me,” you say, flicking through channels.

“Mmm, yeah, I suppose,” he agrees, wrapping one arm around your shoulders carefully so as not to cross any ‘best-friends don’t do that’ lines.

You can feel his body tense slightly when the channel lands on a rom-com, Friends with Benefits it’s called, with Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis, so you leave it at that, assuming his reaction means he likes the film.

As he sits next to you, your body pressed against his and watches this film about two best-friends having lots of wild sex and ultimately falling in love, his body simply can’t relax. He wonders what’s going through your brain, if you’re having the same kind of ‘maybe we should try that’ thoughts that he’s having. If you’re busy staring at the glorious creature that is Justin Timberlake or if your mind is focused on the way his body feels next to yours, because he can say with absolute certainty that he hasn’t been able to pay Mila Kunis a second of attention with you against him like this. He runs his thumb along the skin of your shoulder soothingly and you nustle deeper into him, your sweet smelling vanilla perfume wafting into his nostrils and absolutely intoxicating him. He really needs to get a lock on what he’s feeling, if these are real feelings, if they’re just lust, missing you as a friend since it’s been so long since you hung out like this, or if he just desperately needs some physical attention from a female. Yeah...he decides, that’s what it is. He hasn’t been laid in at least 3 months, too busy with family and setting things up for work to worry about it and now, having you here like this is reminding him of what he’s missing. That’s it, nothing serious. You’re just a woman and he can’t help feel this way, even if you are best-friends. But that’s all you are and all you’ll ever be - friends. And he’s completely okay with that...he thinks.

[professor-abeloved]

(Un)Spoken For [A MC/Maxwell Fanfic]

Title: (Un)spoken For

Summary: “I think I’m falling for someone else.” These words would haunt them for the rest of their days, plunging them both in daydreams and fantasies of ‘what if’s and ‘what-will-never-be’s.

A retelling of chapter 13 where one Eliza Wong tries to confess her feelings for one Maxwell Beaumont.

Ships: MC/Maxwell Beaumont

Notes: Warnings for vague, two-sentence references to abuse (particularly from a stepmother), racism, transphobia and acephobia (although the last two are extremely vague).

Cross-posted at archiveofourown.

Part I – Ruined Dreams

The ruins are quiet.

Save for the sound of rocks lightly skimming the water’s edge, you can barely hear anything. Perhaps if you concentrate hard enough, you could hear the faint echo of footsteps or some faraway birdsong – but for now, all your attention has gone to the man in front of you.

You stare at the way Maxwell moves his arm back as he tosses another rock, the movement quick and fluid, displaying the same kind of seamless grace he has when dancing. You watch his face: Maxwell’s expression is thoughtful as he gazes out into the distance; his glazed eyes are fixed on the sinking stone yet, at the same time, a million miles away.

Sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, he gets that look on his face. It’s such a stark contrast to his usual cheerful grin.

You’re dying to know what he’s thinking. You wonder if Maxwell is worrying about the state of House Beaumont or if he’s planning his outfit for the next event (you’re willing to bet that he’ll be wearing another black button-up)…

Or if Maxwell is thinking about someone the way you’re not supposed to think about him.

You try not to sigh. When it comes down to it, you don’t really know much about Maxwell. This bothers you way more than it should.

You approach him, hoping that your grin doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “Not a bad toss,” you say, referring to the rock he had skipped.

Maxwell turns to you with a smile that’s brighter than sunshine. The sight of it fills you with such indescribable warmth. You want to look away, but you’re entranced by the way the sunlight cascades on him, shining on his dark brown hair and playing across the features of his flawless face.

You realize that you’ve been staring and feel a slight blush coming on. This has been happening way too often lately.

Thankfully, Maxwell has turned back to the river so he probably didn’t see the way you looked at him.

At least, you hope so.

“Five skips is my record. It’s not much, but it’s respectable.” He gives a light shrug. “Though there was probably some kid who lived here who could skip a stone over ten times.”

You frown. Maxwell downplaying himself has also been happening far too often. You’re about to say something when he holds out a rock to you. “Want to give it a try?”

“Sure,” you say, resolving to find another way, another moment, to tell Maxwell how wonderful he is.

You reach out to take the rock, holding onto his hand for longer than necessary.

“The trick is to clear your mind and become one with the rock. It is an extension of your will,” he says in a serious, gravelly voice.

You can’t help but snort at that, Maxwell’s humor causing your lips to curve in a genuine smile.

You skip the rock and fall into easy conversation with Maxwell. You marvel at how easy, how freeing it is to talk to him.

Nowadays, you’re always on your guard when people talk to you. It’s a familiar kind of cautiousness and inhibition, one that has accompanied you throughout childhood. Back then, each conversation was a minefield; the wrong word or expression could easily set your stepmother off. You had to be the perfect child she wanted… not that she treated you like she did her own daughter.

It was bad enough that you had to act like something you weren’t – you had to perfect the role as well. And even when you did everything they wanted, you were still mocked and scorned for looking like the servant they had set you up to be.

Although it got better when you became an adult, the feeling still surfaces in certain situations. People call you a trap, a fake, a liar for wearing the things you could have only dreamed of as a child. Some say you look too Chinese or not Chinese enough. They hear about your sexuality and tell you you’re confused or you’ll grow out of that “phase” one day.

It still continues here when they say you’re not worthy to compete for Prince Liam’s hand.

You have always set out to prove them wrong: you are valid, you are worthy, you are true to you. That’s so much more than what some people can say. You are proud of yourself and what you’ve accomplished. You take pride in the calm and dignified way you stand up for yourself, but sometimes it’s… too much.

It’s suffocating, having to constantly put up a pretense of calmness and modesty in situations where your very person is being disrespected. Having to watch your every step and make sure your every move is the right one so you don’t get degraded further.

This is an act you’re accustomed to, and as much as you loathe to admit it, your upbringing has helped you in the competition, where each word you say matters whether you’re talking to the Queen, the press or one ill-tempered Olivia Nevrakis.

Talking to Maxwell is a breath of fresh hair. Of course, you’re more at ease around all your friends here in Cordonia, but it’s different with him. With him, you feel like you can be yourself. Maybe it’s his endearing, affable aura or the way his smile causes all your worries to vanish. Whatever it is, you’re grateful that you have the chance to spend time with him.

You hope that he’s comfortable around you as you are around him.

“You know, I don’t really know all that much about you,” you tell him, unable to let that thought go.

“There’s not really much to know.”

You disagree. Lately, you find yourself wanting to know everything about him. His talents, his quirks, his hobbies… But you never get the chance to ask. There’s always some new event or Cordonian tradition to discuss.

You think this is your opportunity to get to know him more.

“Really, now?” You nudge him in the shoulder. “I’ve seen you talk about yourself for hours at our social events.”

He shakes his head lightly. “That’s just, y’know, small talk. Nothing real.”

“Tell me something real.” You look him in the eye.

Maxwell holds your gaze. “What do you want to know?”

You ask him about his past, how his life was like, and how his brother was like. It never ceases to amaze you how much he cares about Bertrand - despite the way Bertrand’s been treating him lately.

You admire the strength he possesses in being able to grin and make jokes despite his financial and familial situation. It drains you to merely stay calm in the face of Olivia’s childish taunts and Madeleine’s veiled insults, but even in the midst of turmoil, Maxwell always manages to smile and make everyone feel better with his antics.

Standing next to him and seeing the pain in his eyes as he talks about Bertrand… it makes your heart ache. You hate seeing him like this. If you could do something to keep that wonderful smile on his face, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I’m so sorry, Max.” Unable to help yourself, you wrap your arms around him, taking him by surprise; but it only takes him less than a second to hug you back.

“It’s okay. I have faith that it’ll all work out.” He leans back a bit to give you a soft smile. “All because of you, Eliza.”

Despite the warmth of his arms around you, you feel your blood run cold. You instinctively step away from him.

“Maxwell, I… ” The words die in your throat as you look up into Maxwell’s bright eyes. You’re stuck by the sudden urge to tell him the truth: that you’re not sure you can go through with the competition because you’re falling in love with him.

You admit that you were lured here by the prospect of making your childhood dreams come true. You had always wanted to escape your household, which you did eventually, but you had dreamed of going to a faraway kingdom and not some run-down apartment in New York. You dreamt of dancing with Prince Charming in a shiny tiara and a beautiful ballgown; not serving tables 9-to-5 in a dingy bar under a horrible boss.

You saw this dream come true when you looked into Liam’s eyes, when you took Maxwell’s invitation to Cordonia, and when you first laid eyes on this fairytale of a land.

Now, you’re seeing your dream change as reality tears through the cracks and fissures of your childhood fantasy.

There are so many things, rules and traditions that came with the role of princess-to-be. There are caveats you didn’t know about, additional responsibilities and troubles that your childhood self didn’t take into consideration.

You’ve managed to come out on top in most of the events, but lately you feel like you’ve just gotten lucky. And if you’re having trouble with just the competition, you’re worried about how you’re going to make it if you’re chosen as the queen of Cordonia.

You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and for a while you were willing to work hard for your fairytale ending… but recently, you’re starting to think that’s not what you want at all.

A large part of that, you think, has to do with Maxwell.

You like hanging out with Maxwell. In fact, just talking with him makes you so happy, happier than you’ve been in a long time. You figured that living in the castle of your dreams would make you ecstatic, but you didn’t expect to feel such unbridled joy from simply being around Maxwell. Every time you’re tired from impressing the people of Cordonia or dealing with Olivia or Madeleine, Maxwell is always there to cheer you up.

You suppose you should have seen this coming. You’re not the type to fall for someone unless you already have an emotional connection with them. While Liam was cute and charming, the lack of opportunities to spend time alone with him didn’t exactly bode well for your relationship.

This, coupled with the fact that you’re always with Maxwell, could explain how you’ve unexpectedly fallen for the endearing lord of Ramsford instead of the prince of your dreams.

You’ve figured this out only recently, but you couldn’t stop thinking of what to do next. Should you continue to vie for Liam’s hand or should you go after your heart’s true desires?

You ponder this question as you look into Maxwell’s eyes. Suddenly, you’re stricken by how close he is, yet at the same time, so heart-achingly far away. You’re stricken by how much you want to hug him again, how much you want to kiss him, how much you just want to be with him.

You’re not an impulsive person by nature, but you’ve always gone after what you wanted. Your decision to leave your stepfamily, your decision to change your name and be true to yourself, and finally, your decision to come to Cordonia… these are all choices that you don’t think you’ll ever regret.

These choices changed your life for the better, all because you took a chance. You made your life better because you chose to do so, despite the inherent risks.

Telling Maxwell how you feel is a huge risk, but you don’t think you can lie anymore, not to him, not to Liam, and most importantly, not to yourself.

Besides, there’s something about Maxwell that makes you feel like everything is going to work out. It’s that same feeling you got when he first invited you to Cordonia and asked you to be his House’s suitor.

The unknown doesn’t seem to be as terrifying and insurmountable as long as Maxwell’s with you. After all, you’ve made it this far with each other’s help. No matter what the future holds, you think that the both of you can make it together.

“Maxwell, I have to tell you something.” Your voice comes out strong and steady, but you feel your heart start to race as you say the words. This is it, Wong. Just tell him how you feel.

He looks at you with an encouraging smile. “You can tell me anything, Liza.” His hand comes up to lightly touch your arm, to give you further reassurance.

Emboldened, you take a deep breath. “I… I don’t know if I can go through with the competition anymore. I think I’m falling for someone else.”

Silence.

The ruins are quiet.

Save for the sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can barely hear anything. Perhaps if you concentrate hard enough, you could hear the faint echo of footsteps or some faraway birdsong – but for now, all your attention has gone to the man in front of you.

You stare at the way Maxwell’s eyes widen, how he freezes on the spot. You watch as a myriad of complicated emotions flit across his face: shock, confusion, and – your heart does a somersault in your chest as you see it – hope.

You rush to get your words out, “Max, I’ve fallen for y–”

“No.”

It’s like someone pushed you into the icy river because all you can feel is a cold numbness spreading throughout your body.

“…No?” Your voice comes out small, feeble, and confused.

“Eliza, please.” His voice cracks on the second syllable of your name. Maxwell’s eyes are desperate, pleading, as they bore into yours. “You can’t… you can’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

You step back, shaking your head disbelievingly. “Maxwell, I don’t understand–”

“You’re confused.” He gently puts his hands on your shoulders, perhaps to give you reassurance. It doesn’t work. “The social season is a confusing time. It’s easy to bond really quickly with people here throughout the activities…You can’t trust how you might be feeling right now.”

Tears start to well up in your eyes. “But, Maxwell, I…”

He remains resolute. “Even if you’re having doubts, you’re here for the Prince.”

Why are you saying this?

You blink away the tears so you can see him better. Maxwell looks worse than how you feel. You can see him fight to keep a stony expression on his face, but the piercing sadness in his eyes gives him away.

Why? You want to ask, but the words remain lodged in your rapidly tightening throat. You have no right to look like that, like all of your dreams have just been crushed –

Except he does.

The realization hits you like lightning.

If you fell for someone else, if you decide to leave the competition, House Beaumont will fall into ruin. Maxwell’s life, as well as his relationship with his brother, will never be the same.

And it would’ve been all your fault.

You swallow the lump in your throat and manage a watery smile. “Y… you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Th-the social season’s really… Messing with my head. F-forget everything I said.”

You’re trying to hold it together, but you think you’re coming apart the way your words are.

You pull yourself out of Maxwell’s hold and turn your back on him. You aren’t going to let him see you cry. You know he’ll be sad if he sees you like this.

You won’t do this to him. You’ve already done enough.

“Eliza…”

“I… I think I see Liam up ahead. I should go.”

You hear Maxwell call your name once more, but you don’t dare look back.

[cxgvs]

A little bit of you.

Years have passed. You’re on your own path and I’m on mine. Walking with people we choose to be with.. sadly, we weren’t on each others lanes.

On the first day of officially being a highschool student, I saw you. You were in line next to my section and your domo-kun bag was facing me. My bestfriend at that time was wearing the same bag and I immediately teased her with you. Little did I know that months later, you’d be beside each other acting all sweet and lovey-dovey. Posting cute sweet messages online and acting all shy in person.

I was actually glad I became an instant cupid for the both of you. Never knew that on that day that i’d tease her with you will be (hopefully) a memory for the three of us on how you actually started.

Highschool went on and on. My bestfriend unfortunately left me for you . She chose you, someone who she knew only for months over me, who spent yearsss together with her. But it was all good.. After that incident, I gave priority to people who were actually there for me no matter what and I’m glad she stayed (up until now)

Your relationship with her was the fairytale kind. You were the perfect prince charming every girl would love to have. You were sweet, creative, talented, funny, and a gentleman. Who wouldn’t like you? Really?

But even if you had that cute-sweet highschool fairytale lovestory, it sure wasn’t perfect. When your relationship ended with her, you started anew with me. (Not romantically tho) We became close. We were bestfriends. If you were the perfect boyfriend, you sure as hell was the perfect bestfriend too. You were protective of me. You always wanted to go home together and I wouldn’t have the heart to disagree. You held me close under your small umbrella when it rains. You can even push other people away just for me to be next to you. When you make new mixtapes, I’d be the first one to hear it and I’d tell you I loved it. We would talk all night, talking about our future, our future college destinations, future dream jobs, and how we would talk about having to spend those college days together. You were so sweet it gave me tooth aches at night.

I was actually your #1 fan! I’d support you and have your bottle of water in my hands after your dance practices and competitions. I actually go out of my way just to see you and to be with you . I never missed a chance to make you feel my support when it comes to your passion. If I can’t personally go to your events, I’d say “I’ll be supporting you from here!” and I hope in those moments, it brought smiles to your face.

You needed me as much as i needed you. We filled each others’ gap. We were bestfriends and that’s all we need to know.

Our friends started to question our actions. We acted as if we’re more than bestfriends. (Or so I’d like to think..) There were moments of you randomly playing with my hair in front of our friends. Arms wrapped around my shoulders and the other holding my hand. That time where you and another friend of ours (who you think was my crush) were playing around, making playful sweet jokes and corny pickup lines.. my “"crush”“ was going around saying ”pahawak nga��� with his fist close as if he was actually holding something, you were beside me while this was happening and i immediately thought of gross things like maybe a toy cockroach is the ‘thing’ you guys were making us hold, but you only shook your head ‘No’ and smiled at me. You even told me that if I held out my hand I’ll feel ”“kilig”“ because it was my ”“"crush”“” who was asking but I still refused until you turned back to me and said “Oh, eto. Pahawak.” I eyed you suspiciously but ended up holding out my hand to you and the next thing you did was locked up our fingers and smiled to me waiting for my reaction to your precious trick. I only laughed at how ridiculous and sweet that was and then we let go.

 There were moments where you’d hide my face to your chest whenever you see me crying and tease me with guys that gets linked with my name.. Times where you’d comfort me when I feel down. Those moments where you’d exaggeratedly pound your desk, pretending you were hitting that “I want you” button like the one in that show whenever I sing in front of the class to practice for National competitions.. You also supported me with my singing, hugged me and wished me good luck every time and you were there when I felt like I lost the competition. There were also moments were I’d playfully tease you and you’ll sulk and I’ll end up pulling you, hugging you from behind and I’ll sing you a song just so we can make up. Like that one time I had to (literally) pull you out of a friendly game of volleyball, because you walked out on me for teasing you and with hands over my head to protect myself from getting hit, I walked over to you and pulled you out of your game, in front of everyone, just so I can feed you ice-cream (cause it was my birthday) and make it up to you and then we were okay.

We weren’t something exclusive. Of course you were seeing other girls, college girls. And you actually wanted me to meet her one time during our dance practice but I didn’t have the guts just because she’s the girl you liked so I stayed inside and let you took other members.. When she went home, you actually got “mad” at me for not going outside to meet her and i just shrugged and laughed at you, softly kicking me on the floor.

The thought of you wanting me to approve or just ‘meet’ the girl you were seeing was very considerate of you. I really appreciated it  

Months passed. We were still that touchy-feely kind of friends. I had my fair share of insecurities of not being “worthy” of being with you because you were someone out of my league but you proved me and your fangirls wrong and stayed with me. You even promised me that you’ll never leave me behind and I believed you.

But everything went downhill when rumors of you secretly seeing your ex went around the floor. I didn’t know how to react or what to believe. I don’t even have the rights to react. I was just your bestfriend and everyone knew that. So I acted awkwardly towards you. We were still good but I always have those “you left me over her” blows to you that I think made things worst.

And with just a snap, you were gone. Everything we had was all down the drain in a blink of an eye.

Two of my bestfriends left me for each other. You had one another and I was left all alone. (Figuratively speaking) I had no choice to move on with my life as if “we” didn’t happen. We’re still friends alright but the closeness just wasn’t there. The old traits that you showered me with were long gone because you were, again, with her . You were a guy with a girlfriend. You had commitments to attend to and I pushed myself away from the both of you, not wanting to bother you or have me in your frame.

And it was the last year of highschool. Everything was doing fine. You had her and I had someone that pushed himself into my life. Someone who I later developed feelings for but that was another story. We were still in the same circle of friends. You were still my dance coach, my classmate, and you were a friend when I needed one. But the space that grew between us was inevitable. We were already far from each other. So close to being strangers. I even remember flinching to your touch and I swear to God that was the saddest turn our friendship ever had. I don’t blame you for what happened to us but maybe it was my fault that I made things the way they were.. since I was too absorbed with the idea of  you  leaving  me , I pushed you away and kept you at distance.

And the truth is, we were done. Long done. And having another guy make me feel things again made me confused. I actually don’t know if the feelings I had for that someone was the real emotions I want to convey or was it just the feelings that I once had for you? But as time passed without you by my side, I realized that those were my genuine feelings for him and not for you. There were times where I’d like to think that you were actually jealous of not having my attention anymore, where you’ll still possessively claim me as yours in front of  him but I knew too damn well that I was wrong because even if I’ll always have a soft spot for you, you’ll never be mine to keep. And that’s okay.

I’m okay with how things turned. I’m okay with you being with her. I’m okay with you only noticing me when she’s not around  and I’m okay because the “we” didn’t really end that bad.

Our closure was during our last retreat just before we graduated highschool, there was a part where we were asked to give out candles to the people we want to thank or say sorry to and I was surprised you walked towards my direction. I wasn’t expecting anything from you because our friendship ending was like an unspoken story. Everyone knew but still kept their mouth shut. If I didn’t expect that you’ll give me your share of candle, the more I wasn’t expecting you’d be crying in front of me. You told me that you were sorry for not keeping your promise of not leaving me. You sobbed in front of me and I was so taken aback I didn’t know how to react or what I’d do to console you.. It was all happening too fast and my initial reaction was “are you serious?” and you actually were.

I never thought of having that talk with you but I’m glad we did. I’m glad I waited for you later that night to come out of that room and hugged you. I’m glad because I think that was the moment my heart went at peace. I hope yours too. We were both free of our heavy past and the memories we shared. We were finally free of each other’s grasp. I let you go and you did the same.

Now, even if we don’t talk too often or only exchange nods and small smiles whenever we see each other around the university, even if we’re completely in different paths with people we chose to be with, just know that you’ll always hold a special place in my heart. You’ll always be a part of me and I hope you think of me the same way.

Where ever and whenever we are.. 

I’ll always have a little bit of you.