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junjungsunwoo · 3 years ago

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When The Rain Stops.

Pairing: rich kid! Sunghoon x rich kid! fem! reader

Genre: Angst, very light fluff

Word Count: 10.0k

-> The first time you met him was in the rain. He had looked so mysterious, so...enchanting. Everything drew you closer, making you want to know more about this boy that you met on one cold, rainy day.

Warnings: I don’t remember if I wrote any profanities, abusive family, major character death, car crash, there is a robbery scence, mentions of crontroling parents, there are two or three scences where reader was slapped by her mom, if you see any other I should add please do tell me!

Taglist: @geniejunn, @deobis-moon, @taemin-jaemin, @chaoticdreaminisode @abdiitcryy @sleepingrenjun @daegalfangirl @symoneismeh | @imdamconfused @geminirules (I don’t remember if you guys were in my permanent taglist or not so I’m just tagging you for now, sorry if I bothered you guys T^T)

Networks: @k-dinernet, @foreverkpop-net, @lovesick-net, @hotpink-ent @kpclub @knet-bakery

A/N: I would say sorry this took so long, but it’s 10k and I wrote this faster then I did with Goal! which was 7k so I’d ssy I’ve improved on my speed hehe It would be great if you guys can leave a reblog or comment telling me how the fic was!

Comments about my fic is greatly appreciated!

-> Part of the Happily Never After collab hosted by me, @junjungsunwoo. Please do check out the other amazing writers’ works too!

-> collab masterlist

-> main masterlist | enhypen masterlist

April 14th, 2020.

The first time you met him, it was raining.

The sky was dark and grey clouds were all that was visible, the sun was out of your sight. Everyone around you was either walking calmly under an umbrella or running around with their jackets or bags above their heads trying to keep themselves dry for as long as they could.

You sat under the roof of the bus stop, the roof provided you with a dry safe place for you to stay under until the rain stops. You watch as the people start to disappear, most of them starting to get picked up, or they’ve bought an umbrella from a nearby store, or just plainly walking in the rain unbothered.

The rain was calming. The sound of the small droplets hitting the ground was soothing in your ears after all of the scoldings you had gotten from your teacher just a few hours ago. The smell of the rain was pleasing, it was light and refreshing- unlike the heavy perfume that was in your face ever since you stepped inside of your high school.

You close your eyes to take in what was happening around you.

Without your sight, your hearing was enhanced and you could hear the little things that were happening around you. You could hear the splashes of rainwater when someone steps in a puddle, the sound of fabric fluttering against the wind when a person opens an umbrella, the joyful laughter of kids who are excited to play in the rain, and the sound of cars passing by- splashing water onto the side of the road.

As you enjoy the noise around you, you hear footsteps slowly making their way towards where you sat. The soft sounds of fabric fluttering around were getting closer, as a soft thud was heard right beside you.

You open your eyes, squinting slightly due to the sudden change in lighting. You look to your left, and there he sat.

He was soaking wet, water dripped down from the little strands of his black hair which he pushed back revealing his handsome face. From his outfit, you could tell he was a student, but you had no clue which school it was.

The boy was wearing a dark navy blue pair of pants and a white blouse, which was now see-through due to the water that it had soaked up. The view made the tips of your ears red and your heart beat, but you quickly shook that thought off- instead, you turned over to your bag before pulling out a hoodie that you always kept with you.

Softly tapping your finger on his shoulders, he turned around to face you. He stares at what was in your hand before he lifted his head to look at you. He had big round eyes and full plump lips, his cheeks had a soft layer of pink on them as it was getting quite cold, and he was wearing a wet outfit. You gesture with your head to your hoodie, telling him silently to use it.

He grabs the warm material from your hand before he turns back around to face the road in front of the two of you and puts the hoodie on. He ruffles his hair while shaking his head, trying to get it as dry as he could, before he puts the hood on and turns to face you again.

“Thank you.” His voice was surprisingly soft. He stares at you once again with those big eyes of his, and you could feel your face getting hot. His eyes were big, but they were dull- as if they’ve seen through everything in the world already and were disappointed. You wondered what the boy had seen to have such an expression in his beautiful eyes, but before you could even open your mouth, the boy looked away.

“You’re welcome.” You look away from the boy and back to the street before the two of you. A comfortable silence falling between the two of you. The both of you did nothing but sat there and watched as cars drove by and waited for the rain to stop, but the rain only started to pour even more. Sighing, you took a look at the boy again, only to find him staring at you already. The two of you quickly broke eye contact and looked away, red blooming on both of your faces. The boy softly clears his throat before he looks at you again.

“Hi,” you turn your head to look at him. “My name is Sunghoon.” He smiled. He hadn’t given you his last name, which was understandable since giving away your full name to a stranger was never a good choice.

You could feel the corners of your lips begin to lift themselves into a smile and you looked at him in the eyes again this time, his eyes had another expression to it- curiosity.

“Hi Sunghoon,” you say, breaking your eye contact before looking down at your hands, “my name is y/n.” you didn’t give him your last name either, not wanting a stranger- well, a handsome stranger to know your full name. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Another wave of comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Grabbing your bag, you shuffle around inside to find your earphones before pulling them out of the bag. Plugging them into your phone you begin to play your playlist, a smile softly forming as your favorite song comes on; Spring Day.

Looking over to Sunghoon, you see that he was just staring out onto the road blankly, seeming bored. You once again poke his shoulder with your finger and you hold up the other earphone to him, silently asking him if he wants to join you in listening to music. Sunghoon looks at you before he reaches out and takes the earphone, whispering a soft thank you to you before he puts it in his ear. The soft melodies of Spring Day flow right in his ear and he smiles, realizing that his favorite song was playing.

Sunghoon begins to hum out the melodies he was hearing out of habit before he realized you were watching him. His face flushed red once again at the thought of you watching him hum, but all you did was smile and began humming the melodies that followed. The two of you locked eyes again, smiles growing wider than before, the two of you began to relax feeling strangely comfortable in each other’s presence and you both began to hum along with Spring day that was playing in both of your ears.

As the melodies come to an end, the rain does too as the grey clouds begin to go away and the sky cleared. The two of you stood up from where you sat for the past 15 minutes (which felt way longer for the both of you) and Sunghoon returned the earphone to you before he started to take the hoodie off.

“Oh, you don’t have to return that.” You told him, and he pauses. “Your shirt underneath is probably still wet so just wear this for now, and you can return it when we meet again.” You gave him a smile.

“We’ll meet again, right?” He smiled at you.

“Maybe.”

“Well then,” you pick up your bag, “Until next time then, Sunghoon.” You wave at him before you walk away, towards the direction of your house. You didn’t turn your head back when you walked away, but if you did then you would’ve known that Sunghoon watched you walk away with a smile until you were out of his field of vision.

“Until next time, y/n.”

And so, when the rain stopped, the two strangers parted ways.

April 23rd, 2020.

It was raining again.

And just like before, you were sitting in the bus stop under the dry haven the roof of the stop had provided you. This time, you had a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, warming you up slightly every time you took a small sip.

You were soaked through with rainwater- it had started raining when you were walking home, and as if it was fate, you arrived at the same bus station you met the boy- Sunghoon, last time.

Despite having a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, your body still shivered from the cold. Your flimsy white blouse doing a horrible job of keeping you warm and covered up as the white blouse was now see-through. You hug your backpack closer to your chest in hopes of warming yourself up and keeping your chest covered from the people who were walking down the streets under their umbrellas.

Everything was just like last time. People are running to get under cover or they are walking around in the rain unbothered. This time you don’t close your eyes. Instead, you looked around, focusing on the things you don’t really see when it wasn’t raining.

You watched as raindrops fell onto the windowpane beside you. The droplets stick to the window slowly moving downwards towards the ground. You watched as the small streaks collided with each other and formed into bigger droplets and bigger streaks. You reach out your hand towards the rain wanting to feel the small, cold droplets on your hand.

You feel a tap on your back and you turn to see Sunghoon smiling at you. You felt as if the world was suddenly silent as you looked into his eyes.

“Hey.” He says, his voice was like that of a feather- soft and gentle and his eyes were those like a child’s, they burned you with curiosity, excitement, and amusement.

“Hi.” You gave him a soft smile, which he returned- his eyes turning into small crescents. He holds out his hands and you look down at them.

“Here,” he hands you the hoodie you had lent him last time, “thank you again, for lending me this last time.” he smiles again, his cheeks rosy and his breath uneven.

“You’re welcome.” you take your hoodie back from his hands, and a soft smell of citrus fills your senses.

“I washed it since it was soaked in rainwater when I got back home, and it was the only thing I could do as a thank you for lending me this” he explained as he plopped onto the seat beside you- exactly where he sat the first time he had met you.

You put the hoodie on quickly, trying to cover yourself up from the boy beside you. Warmth immediately floods your body and the scent of citrus was stronger now that you had the hoodie on.

Silence fills the space between the two of you once again, and you look over to Sunghoon. He was looking down at his phone and was listening to music. You took this time to take a look at what he was wearing. This time, he had on a pair of black ripped jeans, with a white t-shirt, and a black blazer jacket on top, with some silver jewelry to match. You accidentally make eye contact with him as you begin to lift your eyes back up from studying him. You broke eye contact and quickly looked away while a bright red began to bloom on your face.

While trying to calm your fast-beating heart, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder and you look over, only to see Sunghoon smiling at you and offering one of his earphones to you. You smiled and mumbled a small thank you when you took his earphone and the soft tempo of Where the sea sleep began playing. The two of you listen to the song in silence, being completely comfortable with each other- despite it only being the second time you’ve met.

As the song came to an end, you quickly glanced at Sunghoon and you decided to ask more about him.

“How-”

The two of you stopped before you both burst into joyful laughter. The earphone that was in your ear falls out and your laughter turns into giggles as you bend down to pick them up, Sunghoon’s laughter still ringing in your ear.

“You can go first-”

“You go first-”

Another wave of laughter hits the two of you as he gestures to you to go first. Taking small breaths, you try to calm yourself down.

“How have you been, Sunghoon?” You gave him a smile, your head tilting slightly watching him in curiosity.

“I’ve been...alright.” He returns your smile. “How about you?” You look away.

“It could be better,” you pause, “but I’ve been fine.”

Slowly, a conversation emerges between the two of you as you enjoy your time together. The music the two of you were listening to disappeared as you began to question each other about different things and got to know each other more.

Still in your own world, the two of you don’t notice that the sky had turned slightly darker and the rain was now slowly going away. As your small conversation ended, you noticed you knew a lot more things about him- nothing too personal, but definitely some interesting things such as the fact that he was a figure skater like you, or that he had the same birthday as you- the same year as well. You find it amazing how the boy in front of you had so many things in common with you.

Grabbing your bag, you stood up from where you sat, and you turned to face Sunghoon.

“Well,” you began, “I guess it’s time for me to go now.” You smiled at him, and you swear you saw Sunghoon’s eyes dim a little at the thought of saying goodbye. Sunghoon gets up as well, throwing his backpack over his right shoulder.

“It was great talking to you y/n,” you felt a small sliver make its way through your body as your name rolled off his tongue. “I hope we can do this again soon.”

“Yeah,” you smile and he waves before he turns around walking away, in the opposite direction of where you are going to go. “Me too.”

And so, when the rain stopped, the two newly made friends walked away.

May 5th, 2020

It’s raining, again.

Rushing to get out of the rain, you run towards the little bus station again, hoping that maybe you could see Sunghoon there later. As the bus station got in your line of sight, you could make out a figure inside the stop. You hesitated to go inside the stop as you didn’t want to bother the person inside, but the rain was getting heavier, so you stepped in.

Bunching up the ends of your skirt, you squeeze it hard trying to get your skirt to be somewhat drier. Wet strands of hair were sticking to your face, you brush your hand through them- pushing them back and showing your forehead. You wipe your face with the wet sleeve of your soaked shirt and a hand reaches out with a handkerchief from beside you and you look up at the owner at the hand.

“Use it.” It was Sunghoon. You could feel your heart start to beat faster and faster, and your whole body begins to feel hot. You smiled at him, taking the handkerchief from his hand and uses it to wipe the water from your face.

“Thank you.” You said to him, your voice being drowned out with the sound of rain falling hard to the concrete streets. Sunghoon watches as you pat away the water on your cheeks, a slow smile stretches on his face as he stares at you.

“Why are you here today?” You asked him as you put your bag down and turned towards him.

“I’m just waiting for the rain to go away, I don’t feel like getting soaked today.” his eyes turn into crescents as he gives you a small grin, a hint of mischief laced in his voice. “What about you?”

“What you said,” You tell him as you look into his eyes. “I’m just waiting for the rain to pass.” You could feel yourself slowly get drawn deeper into his eyes as he stares at you with an emotion you can’t really decipher.

“Well, I guess we can keep each other’s company while we wait.” You break eye contact at the sound of his voice- feeling a small sense of disappointment as you look away. “You won’t mind that would you?”

“No, of course not.”

The two of you exchanged questions and talked about your hobbies for hours, the rain providing you a comfortable setting with its sound and smell- which you both enjoyed. You quickly learned that you both came from rich families and that you both had a deep hatred for the way the high society had so much control over your daily lives- how you both had to put up an act every time you were in the public’s eye. The longer you had talked with Sunghoon the more you noticed different things about him- how little dimples would always show up on his cheeks when he smiled or how he was very expressive with his face, always making cute expressions when he talks about something.

Everytime Sunghoon smiled at you, you could feel your heart explode, everytime he looked at you, you could feel your ears heat up into a bright red. It felt euphoric to be able to spend time with the boy in front of you. From the first day you met him, he had piqued your interest- you wanted to know more about him, ask him why his eyes were so dull that day. But now when you look into his eyes you could see stars- it was like his eyes held the whole universe inside them.

You knew exactly what you were feeling and you were scared. It felt dangerous to fall in love with Sunghoon. He was really no one but a stranger you had meet for a couple of times and you knew little to nothing about him- for all you know if he had could’ve been lying to you ever since you began talking.

When the rain slowly comes to a stop, so does your conversation, and once again the two of you begin to prepare to go your separate ways. Hesitating a bit, you reach out and tap his back with your phone, and he looks at your phone before he looks up at you, staring right into your eyes tilting his head as a silent question.

“Can I…have your number?” He remains silent and still for a second before he breaks into a smile and he grabs your phone out of your hand.

“Of course,” he types in his number on your phone. “I was just about to ask.” He gives your phone back, and you take a look. He had saved himself as “Sunghoonie” with a little penguin emoji behind it making you break into a smile.

“I still have something I have to do, so I'll get going now.” Sunghoon threw his bag over his shoulder and stood up before looking at you. “ I’ll see you next time y/n. I hope you like me enough to send me a text.” He gave you another one of his blinding smiles before he turned away, walking at a quick pace, trying to get home quick as he tried to hide the huge smile that was planted on his face as well as the slight blush that creeped its way onto Sunghoon’s face.

You smiled as you watched as he walked away from where the two of you sat for the past hour and just as you were about to turn and take your leave you noticed the little black and white umbrella that was clipped onto his backpack, the smile on your face growing impossibly bigger as you slowly walked away while the sun behind the grey clouds showed itself once again. Your steps were a little faster than usual, wanting to get back to the house you never called home so that you could text the boy you had just talked to, excitement blooming inside of your stomach and you could only hope that your mom would ignore you instead of yelling at you today.

And so, when the rain stopped, the two red faced teenagers parted ways.

“But mother I don’t want to go the party-“

Before you could finish your words your head was flung to the side, a big red mark started to form on the left side of your face, crystal tears started to form in your eyes.

“It’s the only thing you can do for me and your father after all the things we had to do to raise you up.” She wiped her hands on a white handkerchief before she discarded it in the garbage, “So just do what we are telling you to do like a good daughter- and don’t you dare embarrass us in front of our partners, like how you did last time when you lost in that figure skating competition to the son of Park Jaehwan.”

Your mother snickers at the name, before she looks you in the eyes again. “Do you know how embarrassing it was for us to know that you lost to his son? He was so cocky about it too, always bringing it up everytime we met. Don’t embarrass us again y/n. You know what happens if you do.” She glares at you as a warning one more time before she makes her way up into her study leaving you alone in the living room to cry your heart out at her words.

Your maids (who you see as sisters instead) rush to help you get into your room to get you ready. The oldest and closest to you- Yeji tries to comfort you the best she could as she wipes your tears away.

“Please stop crying y/n, you're going to mess up your pretty eyes.” She signals the other girls to start preparing you. “I know how much you hate this but we have to do this.” You look at her with sad eyes, ones that have seen and been through too many things. Different girls held different things in their hands, one bunch had hair brushes and hair ties in their hands while another bunch had different makeup in their hands. 2 of the girls came up to you as Yeji continued to whisper encouraging comments at you, in their hands was a beautiful white dress- one that would make anyone that’s wore it look like an angel. It wasn’t a very long dress as it only went down to your knee- it was an off-shoulder lace dress with tiny diamonds lined up at the shoulder seam, it was easily one of the most beautiful dresses you’ve seen.

Pushing you into the washroom that was in your room, they all leave you to change into the dress. You put it on gently, afraid that it would rip and you looked into the mirror when you were done.

Oh my god.

You thought as you spun around, watching as the soft silky fabric fluttered in the air. You were in awe at how the dress fitted you perfectly, how it made you look so beautiful- how it made you feel beautiful. A knock on the door disrupts your thoughts as you hear Yeji asking you if you were done and that you needed to get your hair and makeup done.

You open the bathroom door and you watch as all of the maids’ mouths drop open in shock. You let out a cute giggle as they start to snap out of their shock and they began to run around the room like headless chickens trying to get you to look even more beautiful then you are now. Skillful hands were everywhere touching nearly everything, there were hands on your face, fingers in your hair, and you were pretty sure at one point someone’s hand was on your feet putting your shoes on for you but you couldn’t tell.

Once they were done, they had stood you in front of a mirror once again. And if you thought you had looked your best before- you were wrong. Now standing in front of the mirror with your hair done and simple but elegant makeup on your face, you looked like a goddess. The small diamond earrings that were dangling on your ears complemented the diamonds on your dress and the white stiletto heels complimenting your white dress.

Without hearing your mother knock, she slams the door open before she begins to drag you out and rant about being ‘fashionably late’ before you had a chance to say thank you to your maids- so you mouthed it to them and flashed a quick smile before being pushed out of the front door. And into a car that was too expensive to your taste.

It was so boring.

There was nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Everyone that was in the room were adults that were just looking to show off their wealth and power or adults that were looking for new business partners- there was no place for a teenager like you. You were placed next to your mother who was talking to one of her business partners who also had their son standing next to them.

“Hey y/n.” You look over to the voice, “how have you been?” It was the boy that stood beside the man who was talking to your mother.

“Hey Jay,” You lifted your glass of apple juice to him, which he cheered his cup with yours before he downed the whole thing. “I’ve been good, you?” He takes a look at you again before he places his now empty cup on a platter of a nearby servant.

“I’ve been good too.” A small talk begins between the two of you before you are both interrupted by another boy.

“You should really smile y/n, you look like you’d rather die than to be here.” You turn around to the voice only to see Lee Heeseung, another close friend of yours and Jay “Hey Jay.” He says to his cousin before they do their little handshake.

“Shut up Hee, you know how much I hate being in these parties.” The named boy lets out a small chuckle before he pats your shoulder in a teasing manner.

Slowly, as the three of you quietly talk in your own little circle, more and more teenagers joined you- some boys named Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki along with a girl named Ryujin.

The topics the seven of you talked about flew around everywhere, quickly changing as a person talked about something else that interested the rest of the six. Suddenly, a loud sound came out of nowhere as a rainstorm slowly brewed outside the window. Everyone inside the beautifully decorated ballroom paid no attention to the weather outside as they continued to dance and chat inside the dry, brightly lit golden room.

You stared outside into the rain a little longer than everyone else, your mind wandering off to the boy named Sunghoon. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now- if he wanted to meet you again.

Feeling a light tug on your dress, you look away from the world outside to Ryujin who was looking at someone in the crowd. She inches a little closer to you before bringing her mouth near your ear.

“Someone’s been staring at you for a while now,” she pauses, looking back to the crowd again. “I don’t know if you know him or something, but he doesn’t seem to hold any hostility to you from what I see.” Her eyes searched the crowd before quickly pointing to the two boys that were talking near the wall opposite to your group.

You recognized the boy in the navy blue suit right away- it was Jake Shim, a distant cousin of Jay. The two of you never talked much but the two of you still considered each other friends. You squint a little at the second boy who's back faced you, the boy wore a white suit and he had black hair that was slightly slicked back.

Your eyes widened as the two of you made eye contact, and you suddenly felt as if everyone else in the room had disappeared leaving only you and Sunghoon in the room. Sunghoon’s face matches yours as his eyes widen slightly and his mouth opens to let out a small gasp of surprise.

You were so caught up in surprise at the sight of Sunghoon that you didn’t notice Jake waving excitedly at his cousin and had begun dragging Sunghoon to your group. You snap out of your surprise as Jake waves his hand in front of your face in excitement before saying his greetings.

“Hey y/n! It’s nice to see you again!” He smiled at you and you were flustered at his puppy-like personality. He points to Sunghoon as he begins introducing the two of you. “This is Park Sunghoon, he’s my best friend in high society! If I remembered correctly, you skate right? Sunghoon here also skates a lot, maybe you guys can be friends or something!” You stared at Sunghoon for a few seconds before you tore your eyes from him to look at Jake who seemed like an excited puppy waiting for your compliments.

“Hi Sunghoon, it’s nice to meet you.” You gave Sunghoon a tight lipped smile- one that never reached your eyes.

“Hello, y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He also smiles, but it was one that looked forced- unlike all of the ones you’ve seen on his lips when you talked at the bus station. Jake leaves the two of you to greet his cousin and the rest of your friends. The two of you were quiet, not knowing what to say to each other in a situation like this.

“So-“

“How-“

The two of you pause for a second before laughter bloomed between the two of you, finding his situation familiar. Sunghoon gestures to you to go first as the laughter begins to quiet down.

“So...how have you been?” You asked him quietly as the atmosphere around the two of you began to feel awkward once again. It’s been over a week since you’ve seen Sunghoon and seeing him here was surprising as you didn’t expect to see him again.

“I’ve been good,” he sighed, “I didn’t really want to come but now I’m glad I did since I got to see you.” He smiles again- this time, it was genuine and his big eyes turned into little crescents. Out of nowhere, he suddenly grabs your hand before he drags you to a balcony door, he pushes you inside and closes the door when he gets inside himself.

The balconie was quite spacious and it had a roof so the rain didn’t get to the two of you. The two of you stand next to each other in silence as the rain once again accompanied the two of you, silently helping the two of you get comfortable with it’s sounds of raindrops falling to the ground.

“You look beautiful today.” Sunghoon breaks the silence between the two of you as he stared into the rain, thanking god in his head that it was already dark outside so that you couldn’t see the deep blush that was painted on his face.

Under the dim light the moon provides the two of you with, you finally took your time to study Sunghoon. Today, he was wearing a white silk suit, his silky black hair was slick back and his plump lips looked as if they were painted with a slight red tint- making his face look even more attractive (if that was even possible).

“Thank you,” you were glad that your maids had used foundation on your face today to cover up the nasty mark your mother had given to you otherwise, Sunghoon would definitely see the red blush that crept onto your cheeks. “You look handsome today too,” You giggled as you looked down at your own outfit. “We match.”

He looks at your outfit, staring at you with his big eyes before he looks down on his own clothes.

“We are,” he laughs as he looks back up at you. “What a coincidence.” Silence befalls the two of you once again and the rainstorm starts to slow down as you stare at each other in silence. It felt as if there were only the two of you left on the balcony and you wanted the time to stop right at this moment. You both stared at each other in silence, forgetting about everyone that was in the room behind the closed door. Just as you were about to open your mouth to talk to him, the balcony door suddenly busted open, and there stood your mother- her face was red in you didn’t know if it was embarrassment or anger and her biggest rival, Park Jaehwan standing right behind her, staring at the boy next to you in disappointment.

“What are you doing with that boy y/n.” She states rather than ask, “get over here. Now.” You don’t move, wondering why she was so angry at the moment.

Instead of waiting for you to move, your mother walks over to you instead and wraps her hand around your forearm, her grip was tight and her nails dogged into your skin. The man behind her calmly walks to Sunghoon before he pats him on the shoulders.

“Dad.” You turn your head in surprise and your eyes grow big.

Dad?

Sunghoon is Park Jaehwan’s son?

“What were you doing with Min Soonyeon’s daughter here?” He questions Sunghoon as he burns holes onto your skin with his stares.

“We were just…” He makes eye contact with you and you can see the gears in his head turning to come up with a lie.

“We-“

“We were just getting to know each other.” You cut through what Sunghoon was about to say and the older man glares at you while your mother’s grip on your hand tightens around your arm.

“I did not ask you girl, I asked my son here.” He tells you, his tone hostile and he turns his glare from you to your mother then back to you again. “Don’t answer what was not asked of you, it’s basic manners- but I don’t blame you, being the daughter of Soonyeon it was expected you won’t know such a thing.”

Your mother scoffs as she pulls on your arm and hides your body with hers before she glares at the older man.

“I don’t think you should say that Jaehwan, seeing that your son couldn’t even answer a simple question.” Your mother glances at Sunghoon who was silently just staring at you before she turned her eyes back onto Jaehwan. “I can see that he got that from you Jaehwan. I must say however, he’s definitely a better man than you- at least he isn’t cocky over the stupidest things like you.” She hisses before she turns on her heels, dragging you by your arm to the balcony door.

“Let’s go y/n, we don’t want to continue to talk to these unruly men.” You look back just as you cross the door to see Sunghoon staring at you with sad eyes and he mouths a small ‘sorry’ to you.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry about my mother.” You mouthed to him just before he disappears from your line of sight as your mother drags you out the front lobby and into your car.

You can tell that your mother was filled to the brim with anger and you chose to shut your mouth in order to not anger her more. A small ‘ding’ comes from your phone and you bring it up to your face to check.

Sunghoon 🐧: I’m so sorry about that y/n. What my dad said to you was rude and I’m sorry you had to hear that.

You smile at the name. You bring your hand up to your phone as you begin to type your reply.

You: It’s really nothing Sunghoon, trust me, I’ve heard worse. I’m sorry about my mother, she really doesn’t have a filter for anyone. I hope you weren’t offended by that.

Sunghoon 🐧: It’s fine y/n. Really 😄 You looked really beautiful tonight y/n, I don’t remember if I’ve told you that and even if I did, I’ll say it again- you looked amazing tonight. It was great talking to you tonight, I had fun. 😁 I have to go now, but it was really nice seeing you tonight.

You: Thank you Sunghoon, you looked handsome as well, I almost thought you were a prince from a fairytale 😉 But it was great talking to you again, I really didn’t expect to see you at the party but I’m glad I did. Goodnight Sunghoon, sweet dreams.

You closed your phone as you stared outside to the passing buildings, watching as the rain finally stops . Your head spinning with joy and your face flushed with bright red, and a huge smile decorated your face.

What you didn’t know however was that Sunghoon on the other side of the phone was just like you- his face was red and a smile decorated his face as he talked with your friends who were still at the party, the image of you smiling in the dress you wore never leaving his mind.

And so, when the rain stopped, the two lovestruck teenagers parted ways.

It’s been weeks since you’ve seen Sunghoon at the party, and since then the both of you have been texting non-stop over the phone. Every little thing in your everyday life was shared with Sunghoon- how your lunch had tasted that day, or how a boy spilt some coffee on you by accident, and even you helping a elderly lady across the streets, Sunghoon listened on and on- never cutting you off. He just listens quietly to you as you happily tell him everything, smiling as he realizes how happy you were that day, or he would have a frown stretched on his face in worry as he listens to you.

Sunghoon was a simple man.

He never said much even when the two of you got closer together. He never shared much about his life like you did. He always just smiled and said a simple “It was alright” when you’d ask him about his day, or he would shake his head in denial when you’d ask him if there was something bothering him. Soon you had realized that that was just how Sunghoon is- simple, quiet.

A silent promise was made between the two of you when you had met for the fifth time under the same bus stop you and him met nearly half a year ago. It was raining- again, that day when the two of you saw each other after texting for so long without seeing each other.

It was just like the first time you met him- he was soaked from head to toe in rainwater and you just so happened to have a spare hoodie inside your backpack. It was like meeting him for the first time all over again, but this time, a new feeling bloomed inside both of your young hearts- burning with heavy passion and love. It was so painfully obvious to the both of you what that feeling was- love.

From that day on, you both would always find yourself going to the bus station whenever it rained- it didn’t matter if you guys were doing anything, you just knew that you wanted to see each other again.

So you go. To the same damn place that you both loved so much.

And he would always be there. Every. Single. Time. And so would you. The rainstorm never stopped either of you from going with it’s rain water, it never mattered if you were soaked in rain or that you’d get sick the next day- all you cared for at that exact moment was Sunghoon.

The boy you fell in love with.

The quiet, gentle, and loving boy that you meet on this one rainy day by chance.

Every time it rained, the two of you would talk hours on hours about anything and everything. He would hold your hand in his larger, warmer ones, rubbing his long, thin fingers across the back of your hand in a soft, loving manner and you would lay your head on his shoulders- taking in his soft citrus scent that you grew to love so much that you searched through the entire city of Seoul to find one that only came close to the one he used.

It always felt as if the two of you were the only ones in the world when the rain fell. You felt euphoric when you would hug inside your small world under the roof of the bus stop, and he would tell you how much he loved you.

It might have been fast to other people, but to the two of you- it felt as if it was natural. The love you had for each other felt so strong, so obvious that even without words, passerbys could tell how much the two of you loved each other.

But every time when the rain stopped, the two of you parted ways. As if everything was normal, as if you never knew him more than Park Sunghoon, the son of Park Jaehwan’s son, your biggest competitor in the ice skating world, and the son of your mother’s biggest rival- as if you never spilled “I love you''s to each other.

When the rain stops, so does your heart. It stops beating for anything else in the world and when the rain falls, your heart beats again- in a fast, rapid pace that you’ve never felt before unless you were with Sunghoon.

The rain was your safe haven- for it always meant you could meet Sunghoon again. That you can run without care in the world right into the safety of his arms, and that you could stay there until the rain stops again.

It was clear to you at this point that there was no pulling back. You were in love with the rain as well as the boy in front of you- Park Sunghoon- and there was no way you could ever stop.

Your head twists to the side as a loud slap echoed around the house you never called home. The bright, glowing red mark on your cheek stinging as you see your mother glaring at you with hatred in the corner of your eyes. You notice your dad just sitting on the couch reading his newspaper as if the scene happening in front of him didn’t;t happen at all.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Your mother screamed at you while holding your phone in her hands, your texts with Sunghoon over the years clear to everyone who walks by. “YOU’VE BEEN TALKING TO PARK JAEHWAN'S SON FOR NEARLY A YEAR BEHIND OUR BACKS?!” She screams again, her hand raised and flies down to meet your cheeks with a hard slap, turning your head to the other side.

You don’t dare look at her, too afraid to see what she looked like right now. Your mother had found out about you texting with Sunghoon when she had looked over your shoulder when you were texting him and now here she is- your phone in her death grip and she stared at you with pure hatred in her eyes.

All of the workers in the house silently watched as your mother screamed at you, too afraid of what she might do to them if they spoke up.

You tune out all of the remarks your mother was making at you and you dip your head down, staring at the pair of sneakers Sunghoon bought for you when he saw your soaked shoes one day. Since then, the both of you always exchanged little gifts with each other. And soon enough, the two of you confirmed your feelings with each other.

Although neither of you ever vocally confirmed but it was as clear as the day that you were in love and in a relationship- with all the sweet, flirty talks (that you never knew he could say) from him and all of the actions from you, the two of you made a perfect couple in other’s eyes.

But when your mother found out, she was furious- no. The word furious couldn’t even compare to what she is right now. Her face was red in anger and you could practically see smoke coming out of her nose and ears. Her eyes glared at you as if you were never her daughter and her teeth grinder against each other so hard that you were (slightly, but not really) worried that they might fall out.

“SPEAK! YOU ARE NOT DEAF NOR ARE YOU MUTE. TALK! WHY WERE YOU TALKING TO PARK SUNGHOON?”

You didn’t answer. Knowing you’ll only get even more scolding.

Another slap was delivered to your face when you didn’t answer. This time, the slap was so hard against your head, you could feel your ears ring and your vision turned a bit blurry.

Your father must have seen you look hazy as he finally stood up from his seat on the couch and stopped your mother from slapping you again.

“Stop it now Soonyeon. That’s enough. Y/n go to your room, now. You’re not going to get any food for tonight as a punishment, and if I find any of you giving y/n food,” he pointed towards the maids, “then you will also serve a punishment.” Your father looked at you one more time as you stared at the floor, his stares burning into your skull.

He sighs, “I’m very disappointed in you y/n.” Crack. “Why can’t you just listen to us once and behave?” Crack. “Just…get out of my sight and go to your room. You need to reflect on what you’ve done.” Crack. “And you won’t be getting your phone back until you realize that you need to break up with that…that boy.” And just like that, your father breaks your heart and leaves with your mother towards his office, leaving you alone in the living room.

All of the workers that were just watching rushes up to you to check up and help you. Asking you left and right about how you were feeling, if you needed ice or face cream for your cheeks. You ignore all of them and head right into your room, closing your door loudly, surprising everyone who was in the house.

Tears formed in your eyes as you thought about what your father said. About how he was disappointed in you and that you never behaved the way they wanted you to- even though all you ever did growing up was doing everything they ask (or rather ordered) you to do, wishing for nothing more than a single compliment from them or maybe a single hug from them.

But as you began to grow up, you realized how those things that was normal to everyone else were something impossible for you to get. Your parents only ever cared about their business and their status. Never did they really care about you or your happiness. If they really did, then they would have noticed how happy you sounded when you were texting Sunghoon, or how you were getting happier day by day when you were with Sunghoon- but ah, of course they didn’t. They don’t even care anyways.

Grabbing your old phone from your bedside cabinet, you text Sunghoon with your old number (which he saved for emergencies like these!).

You: Hey Sunghoon, let’s meet up later tonight.

Sunghoonie💞: sure, but are you okay? Why are you texting like that? Is something bothering you?

You smile, feeling giddy to know that Sunghoon could notice these little things about you, but your smile drops as you realize what you needed to tell him later.

You: Um, yeah. I need to tell you something, and I’d rather tell you in person…

Sunghoonie💞: Of course, anything for you. Same place at same time?

You: yeah, like always.

Sunghoonie💞: alright, remember to bring an umbrella tonight, the forecast said it might rain tonight. I love you ❤️

Your heart skips a beat.

You: Thanks Hoonie, you too. I love you too ❤️

You put down your phone and you let out a big sigh. Why did the world hate you so much?

You wait in the bus stop with two cups of hot coffee in your hands.

And somehow, although it was in the middle of winter right now, it was still raining.

You sit under the dimly lit bus station as you wait for Sunghoon to show up. The sky was dark, and the streets were empty and silent. You watched silently as the raindrops fell to the ground in front of you, as you waited, and waited, and waited…but he didn't show up.

It’s been hours since the promised time, and yet he hasn’t shown up. You put down the now cold cups of coffee to check your phone to see if you had missed a message from him or something- but there was nothing. He hasn’t even read your latest message that was sent two hours ago.

Feeling discouraged and cold, you throw the two cold cups of coffee in the nearest trash can as an ambulance speed passes you, in a rush to get to the hospital as fast as they could. Somehow, your heart felt heavy at that moment, as if it was telling you- warning you about something, but you ignored it and started to make your way home.

The rain never stopped. It didn’t stop when you sneaked out the door of your house, it didn’t stop when you got to the station, and it didn’t stop when you were waiting- fuck, it’s still raining now as you walked back home under the same umbrella Sunghoon carried that one day you guys met. The same one that was black and white, the same one that Sunghoon hid behind his backpack when he met you for the third time under the same bus station you were just at.

As you walked your mind kept going over all of the possibilities of why Sunghoon didn’t come. Maybe he was caught by his parents? Or maybe he had something to do last minute?

You walked slowly through the dimly lit streets, your head in the clouds but you never noticed the two shadows that were slowly creeping up behind you.

Before you could even scream, your mouth was covered by a large dirty hand and before you could even process what was happening, you were dragged into a dark alleyway, leaving your (or Sunghoon’s) umbrella on the ground.

“Give us everything on you. Right now.” A hoarse voice calls out beside you and a cold, sharp object pricks your side. Tears rush to your eyes as you begin to shake- terrified for your life, but you don’t move, cold rain drops making your clothes and hair wet.

“I said give me everything on you right. Now!” The man in front of you whisper-yelled, afraid of waking up the neighborhood if he was too loud.

You don’t move, still frozen in fear but a quick, hard slap to your face snaps you out of it.

I don’t wanna die.

You think to yourself.

I still have so many things I want to do. I don’t wanna die.

With a shaky hand, you begin to remove all of the jewelry on you- the earrings you got from your parents when you reached adulthood and the ring you had gotten from your grandmother. You remove your purse from your shoulder before you handed everything to the two thieves.

“Please-please just let me go now, I pro-promise I won’t tell anyone!” Your words shuddered over one another and your voice was shaky, anyone could tell that you were absolutely terrified right now, but the two don’t move.

“We want that too.” The man beside you tells you and he reaches out to touch the necklace on your neck. You shrink yourself away from him, terrified of what he was going to do.

“No! You-you can’t take this! Anything but this!” You yelled at them before they slapped you again making you quickly slap your mouth.

“Shut up you bitch! Do you want to die? Now give us that necklace!” The man in front of you yells while he tries to take the necklace of you himself.

“No!” You try to get away from the man’s hold.

The necklace was something you can not ever give away. It was the first ever gift you had received from Sunghoon, and you didn’t want to ever give it to the filthy criminals that were in front of you.

“Ugh, you bitch! Just give it to us and we’ll leave you alone!” The man beside you tells you as he also joins in the small fight between the man and you for your necklace.

A sudden strike of pain hits you on the side and everything stops.

Slowly, you lose the energy to stand up on your own and you drop down to the floor, a warm, wet substance soaking the back of your shirt, the salty drops of rain hitting your face directly. The two men quickly run away, grabbing all the stuff that you had previously given them when they hear a man shout at the beginning of the alleyway., but not bothering to take your necklace anymore.

Everything felt hazy now, and you couldn’t see anything with your vision bury and black spots filling your vision. You could hear a muffled voice of a man calling for help from you don’t know who, but you could feel your body getting lighter and lighter. The calming sensation of laying on the ground and the cold rain hitting your warm body takes over, and you close your eyes.

Am I dying?

Who are you kidding, of course you were. There was no way you weren’t. A stinging pain was pounding against your left side where one of the men had a knife against you, and it doesn't take a genius to know what happened- even if you were starting to feel more and more sleepy.

Knowing yourself that you’ve already bled too much and that there was no saving you anymore, you let your mind rest and just think about all of the happy things you’ve been through in life- but there were no signs of your parents.

Instead, all you could see when you closed your eyes was the face of your lover. The very man that your parents wanted you to stay away from- the very man you were going to break up with tonight. The man you loved with your whole heart- Park Sunghoon.

His smile, his laugh, all of his small habits, all of the time the two of you skated together, and all of the time you talked under the bus station flew through your mind like a record. All of the happy memories in your too short of a lifetime plays in the matter of a few minutes inside your head, and you do nothing else other than smile when you feel hands over your body, placing you on a soft bed and into an ambulance.

I love you.

You think as tears slowly seeps through the corner of your eyes.

I love you Sunghoon.

His face shows up inside your head again.

Thank you for loving me.

Your hand drops.

And the rain stopped.

Your parents run into the emergency room frantically, both of their hearts heavy with both guilt and worry.

“How is she Doctor?! She’s okay right?” Your mother asks ina. Hurry, not even caring about her image anymore, tears gathered in her eyes as she held onto your father’s arms for support. Your father’s face was void of any emotions but his eyes betrayed him with them over spilling with worry.

Your doctor shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry but the patient had already died when she was on her way to the hospital. I couldn’t do anything for her any more. I’m sorry for your loss. Y/n l/n, time of death; December 8th, 00:13am.” He explains before bowing his head and leaving.

Your mother breaks down in tears as she drops down to the floor, guilt filling her entire body.

If only she didn’t yell at you.

If only she didn’t tell you that you were a disappointment.

If only she didn’t tell you to break up with Sunghoon.

If only she told you she loved you.

Your father stands still as a tear finally runs down one of his eyes. All of the memories of you played over and over again in his mind, from when he first held you in his arms the time when you said your first words, you walking by yourself for the first time, and all of the other things he wished he treasured more when he still had time.

The two of them walked out the door to the emergency room as your body was rolled out with a white blanket on your face by the nurses. Your mother cried even more seeing your body, knowing that everything that happened to you was mostly her fault.

Not far from where your parents stood, another pair of grieving parents were crying over their now dead child.

“This is all your fault!” The woman screamed at her husband. “If you never yelled at him or tried to control him he would’ve never been there!”

The woman breaks down again, as her husband looks down in shame, guilt, and sadness. His only child, his only son was now dead because he tried to make him break up with his beloved.

Sunghoon was now dead because of him.

If only he didn’t yell Sunghoon earlier, then he wouldn’t have tried to meet up with y/n. If he didn’t try to meet with y/n, then he never would’ve died.

Then he would never have been hit by a car.

Maybe it was all because of the two family’s selfishness that led to their only child’s death or perhaps this is just how their story was about to end.

The boy who tried to get to the girl he loved in order to satisfy his father by breaking her heart and the girl who tried to meet with the boy she loved to break his heart. In order to be the good girl her family wanted her to be.

Perhaps it was fate that they both died trying to meet, or maybe they were just never meant to be together and the stars decided to punish them.

How ironic was it that they had both got into an accident near each other, and died on their birthday at the same time?

How ironic that it was their love that led to their own deaths?

How ironic was it, that when the two died, the rain finally stopped?

Mayhaps this was their fate, to fall in love and die. Or maybe, this was all just some kind of sick joke that god played.

Either way, when the rain stopped, two young lovers parted ways. Even death itself could not keep them away.

Hopefully, through their deaths they can finally find their own happiness.

When the rain stops, two lovers parted ways, both of them on their way to meet each other once again at the gates of heaven.

#kdiner #fkp-net #lsn.works #kpc.creators #knet-bakery #Sunghoon #Park SUnghoon #Enhypen #en-#en- sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen angst #en- angst #sunghoon angst #park sunghoon angst #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x fem! reader

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thewheezingwyvern · 4 years ago

Note

Heres a challenge. Pixie/fairy Dabi, or even angel dabi! Something uncharacteristic for his personality xD

Oooh Nons lemme tell you I had a blast with this one. Tickled my brain just write that I was able to just bang this out in a few hours. Gotta give a shout out to @trafalgar-temptress for helping me brainstorm on this. Really helped me get my creative juices flowing juuuuuuuuust right.

ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪

Yandere!Angel!Dabi x F!Reader

Kinks/Warnings: Noncon (implied and groping), imprisonment, kidnapping, nudity

As you can see by the warnings this is dark adult content. Minors DNI.

The first time you had ever seen him, it was next to Shouto and the most striking thing about him was his eyes. Brilliant hued sapphires that were more vivid than the sky. Ethereal almost. But every time thereafter they seemed to glow a little brighter. A little darker. A little less holy in their shine. They were almost too much to look at, blinding as they were bathed in sacred light. Shouto especially. Even his feathers shone almost like mirrors catching and magnifying the moon’s rays until they were searing.

But Touya, his light was more muted. Still bright but easier for your eyes to handle. That should have been a sign to you, for the easier an angel is to look at, the farther from grace he has become. And Shouto’s older brother became easier and easier to watch with every passing meeting. By the time you learned the truth about him it was already far too late.

The first time he saw you, it was hatred that pulsed through him. Always the favored one, you were just one more pretty thing that his brother got to have. Another way that Shouto was “better” than him. Thoughts of murder curled in the front of his mind, watching your broken mortal body fracture beneath his rage until you were nothing but a splintered wreck for Shouto to see. Until he noticed that you looked at him far more than his perfect sibling. That was the single drop of poison that bloomed in the wine, steeping him in more greed, lust and envy than he had ever tasted before.

In a way, you were the final shove to Touya’s fall.

The crashing sound of tumultuous waves against a rocky face was the first thing to greet you when you woke. Brine and breeze drifted in and wrapped around your prone form huddled under a thin blanket. The air was filled with a moan, a mournful howl that seemed to be crying for you as you stirred. You were no longer at home in the safety of your own bed, that was apparent when you drew more into consciousness and found yourself curled on a pile of thick pillows. But the detail that struck to your heart that you weren’t home was what you saw first.

Golden bars inlaid with pearl.

They wove intricately into a gorgeous dome, twisting into a cage to keep you confined as the ocean crashed in the background. Beyond the confines of your prison you could see the open mouth of a cave that you had been tucked away into, one that opened out to face the wide open sea. Even from your spot tucked back in the corner you could tell that it was far too high for you to risk jumping even if you did manage to escape your cage. Your prison should have been a dank, dark and wet place but there were braziers placed in various nooks, burning with holy fire to help sheath the cave in a warmth that kept it cozy.

Lanterns were strung into the roof, also flickering with sacred fire to help ward off the damp. There was even some chairs, a plush rug and an exquisite tapestry strung up on the far rocky wall. Had you not been locked up, silver shackles also twisted around your ankles to further trap you, you might have enjoyed this space as a little hide away from the world. There wasn’t much to do since you were alone and the cage was far too strong for you to force open on your own. So all you could do was wait.

When the sun was sinking beyond the line of the horizon, Touya finally appeared. A dark glee curled in his chest when he saw the sheer look of relief that washed over your face when you caught sight of him. Already he could taste the hope bursting from you, a sweet little treat for him to savor before he got to rip it from your grasping hands. You collapsed against the cage, fingers wrapping against the bars as you peered out at him with teary eyes.

“Touya, I’m so happy it’s you! I don’t know how I got here but I’m glad you found me! You have to get me out of here.”

“Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll let you out.”

Hope was also the thing that blinded you from the wicked glow in his eyes, the slow lap of his tongue across his lips at the thought of you realizing far too late that you were trapped by him when he held you against him. Relief was the next thing that blinded you when he unlocked the cage, completely glossing over the detail that he had the key in his pocket. Touya folded you up into his arms when you collapsed against his chest, sobs wracking your body, feathered wings arching to cover you.

“Shouto must be worried sick!” you muttered into his chest, “How long have I been gone?”

“Two days. He’s losing his mind right now.”

Your face was buried into his chest so you couldn’t see the razor grin that had split across his gorgeous face. For good measure, he cupped a hand to the back of your head, murmuring soft comforting words to you as you quaked in his arms. It was important he savored this. It was going to be the last time for a long while before you would willingly touch him again.

“Please take me home…”

Touya chuckled darkly, “Awww you don’t like it here?”

He watched you lift your tear stained face up, staring up at him with bewildered eyes. A thumb swiped gently at the stroke of your cheekbones before hooking down to trail along your jaw. Confusion mottled your expression before the first prick of fear flickered in your eyes. The way your mouth hung open made him want to kiss you breathless, crush you to him until you were pounding at his chest to let you go and even then go further.

“No! Why would I want to stay here in a cage?!”

“But you look so pretty in there, Dollface.”

The dark angel captured your wrists in his hands as you started to back away from him, hauling you closer. Fear burst even brighter in your eyes, your whole form quaking in his grasp. The sight made his cock twitch, breath panting ragged from his lips as you squirmed.

“T-Touya? This isn’t funny! Take me home.”

“Sorry babes. This is your home now.” the way all the hope withered in your eyes when you realized he was your captor had his blood running hot, “Poor little Shouto is just going to have to do without.”

Touya dipped his dark head down before he started leaving scorching hot kisses to your exposed neck. You trembled and thrashed but you just did not have the strength to break free of him. Just how he liked it. Roughly he whipped you around and pulled you back to chest against him, hooking his left arm around your arms to imprison them behind your back. A whimper escaped you as his free hand closed over your neck in a warning grip before sliding slowly down towards your collarbones.

“St-stop it! Touya, please!”

“God’s not here, sweetheart. So you don’t have to pretend to be so pure and innocent now. I saw the way you kept your eyes on me more than Shouto. He was too bright. Too pure for you to handle. Fact is, you craved a bit of darkness didn’t you?” he whispered wickedly into your ear, a hand groping at your right breast through the silky shift you were clad in, “My brother doesn’t deserve you and I’ve decided that I’m going to keep you. You’re mine now.”

A finger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silken fabric, pulling a choked cry from your throat. A rock hard cock rutted against the curve of your backside, summoning up his own groan of pleasure. At first he had wanted to steal you away from perfect little Shouto, the shining son, out of spite. To take away one of the things he wanted the most and wreck you. But the more time went on, the more Touya wanted you for himself. Why break such a delicious creature when he could just take you and keep you? It would stroke the wicked green eyed devil that had started to grow within his chest and also lash out the prodigal son.

“Touya please don’t do this!” you begged, a loud moan escaping you when his hand shot down to rub against your clit, “Ah-! Please! I-I won’t tell anyone if you let me go-”

The sounds of your begging unleashed a clash of emotions in him. On the one hand, hearing your voice break and plead him made his dick twitch against the curve of your ass. It was a delicious little sound and he wanted to hear more from you. But it also sparked a deep rage in him. Touya went through all of this trouble, stealing some of Heaven’s prized metal work to fashion a cage for you here. Spent months scoping out the perfect place to keep you so you couldn’t escape and no one could find you. He had even taken the extra steps to try and make it comfortable.

“Ingrateful whore.” he snarled, tearing open your shift to bare your form to the seaside air. Any trace of gentleness he had shown before evaporated when he shoved you face first against the side of the gilded cage, “Take a good long look at this cage. Because this and me is the closest you’ll ever get to those pearly fucking gates again.”

You wondered where it had all gone wrong. Wondered how he could do something so awful to you and his brother. He was an angel, one of the holy ones, it wasn’t supposed to be this way at all. Shouto made it easy for you to forget that they could fall just like anyone else. That they could be fallible and prone to corruption.

Afterall, every demon is an angel that’s fallen from grace.

((Want to participate in Arcane April? Check out my post here about the event and send in your requests! One day left!))

#Dabi x reader #Dabi x you #Dabi x y/n #Yandere!Dabi #Angel!Dabi #MHA #BNHA #nsftumblr #my writing #ArcaneApril #Anonymous

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weighty-ghosts · 3 years ago

Text

‘Perpetual Force’ (wolfstar)

Perpetual Force, by weightyghosts

‘Sirius finds the hidden meaning of a hidden moon, and Remus finds the light to his darkness.’

Rating: teen

Word count: 2000

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published: April 1, 2021

Warnings: swearing, nightmares

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30393084

The sound of a terrified gasp and muffled sob abruptly awoke Sirius in the middle of the night. He leapt out of bed, the stone floor freezing on his bare feet, as James and Peter popped their sleepy heads out of their drapes.

“What’s going on?” Peter rubbed his eyes, his voice gruff.

“Is some- someone dead or injured?” James asked around a large yawn.

Sirius ignored them as he rushed across the dark room to the bed opposite his. He drew aside the curtain, only enough for him to lean his upper body in, and saw Remus sitting up with his back against the headboard, one hand clutching at his sweaty hair, trying to calm his rapid breathing.

“Rem?” Sirius asked softly, “Are you alright?” He reached out to place a comforting hand on Remus’ shoulder, but Remus jerked away and scrambled to the other side of the bed.

“It’s nothing,” he choked out as he stood up and dashed away, “I’m fine. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Sirius straightened and walked around the bed, as Remus firmly shut the bathroom door behind him. He hovered in the middle of the room, chewing on the inside of his cheek, before glancing back at Peter, who gave Sirius a shrug before disappearing behind his curtains.

“Go on,” James encouraged, then made a shooing motion with his hand when Sirius didn’t reply.

“What?” Sirius grumbled.

“We both know you’re going in there after him.”

“He’s upset, Prongs.”

“Yes, and I’m sure deep down he wants you to comfort him-”

“You mean someone. He wants someone to comfort him.”

“No, I very much mean you,” James insisted with a smirk that Sirius didn’t trust. “Just go, Pads. See- see you in the morning,” he yawned again and disappeared.

Sirius bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to figure out why James’ words left him feeling like he was missing something right in front of him, but he thought of Remus and decided to sort that out later.

He crept over to the bathroom and opened the door slowly. Cool air hit him and he turned to the window that had been thrown open. Remus was sitting on the sill, hugging his legs, moonlight the only thing illuminating his body. It was enough for Sirius to see that he was shivering.

Remus sighed at the sound of Sirius shutting the door behind him, and pushed aside the fringe sticking to his damp forehead. “I’m fine, Sirius. You don’t need to check on me.”

“Oh, good,” Sirius retorted as he came closer, “I was actually hoping you’d check on me. See, I had a nasty nightmare and now I’m all shaky and sweaty and panicky and not accepting comfort from anyone.”

He sat across from the werewolf on the sill they had magically enlarged so that two people could sit comfortably, and three squished together, for smoking purposes.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him, then looked away. “Trust me, it’s nothing. Just a stupid dream.”

“Doesn’t seem stupid, Moony.”

Sirius almost missed Remus’ minute flinch at the nickname. “Another one about the wolf?” He guessed.

“No,” he murmured, “I mean, yes, sort of. But this was new.”

“Tell me,” Sirius replied softly, aching with the desire to take away Remus’ pain.

Remus studied his face for a moment, likely assessing how awake Sirius was and how far he would keep pushing Remus until he inevitably gave in. He huffed in defeat, then took a deep, wavering breath, and rested his chin on his knees as he spoke.

“We were in the forest,” he started in a low voice. “I could feel the moon rising and knew I was only a few minutes away from turning. You three were there- as Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail, I mean, and something felt...off. Padfoot was pacing, and whining a bit. You looked up at the sky, and when I did too, I realized... I couldn’t see the moon.”

Sirius frowned, but said nothing, as he watched Remus’ eyes flick over to the near-full moon stamped in the sky outside.

“I felt this sense of dread; I knew that this was bad-”

“How did you know?” Sirius interrupted.

“It’s a dream, Sirius. I don’t know how, but I just knew; if I didn’t find the moon, something bad would happen.”

“Alright, sorry, keep going.”

“We were pretty deep in the forest where the trees are thicker, so I started running in the direction of the castle, hoping to see the sky unobstructed as the trees thinned. All I could hear was this ringing in my ears and my heart beating faster and faster. My body was aching and starting to shake, you know how it does just before.” Remus glanced up, and Sirius hummed in acknowledgment.

“I made it to a large clearing,” Remus continued, “And I looked up at where I knew the moon should be...but the sky was empty. You’d think I’d be fucking happy, but I panicked. I ran around in circles, tried to climb trees, tried to find the bloody moon. And I couldn’t. I eventually collapsed; the wolf couldn’t get free and it was punishing me. It was the worst pain...”

“Fuck, Rem...”

“I couldn’t find the moon, Pads.” Remus put a hand over his face as he laughed without humour, the sound catching in his throat.

Sirius slid forward and put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he promised, “You’re okay, it wasn’t real. You won’t have to go through that kind of pain, alright?”

Remus shook his head back and forth, then sniffed loudly as he met Sirius’ eyes.

“I don’t think it was the pain that freaked me out so much.”

“What, then?” Sirius asked, sliding his hand down to hold onto Remus’ wrist when he hesitated. He tilted his head to tell Remus to keep going.

“I just don’t understand why I reacted like that… Why wasn’t I fucking ecstatic not to see the moon? All I want is for the moon to go away.”

“That’s just unreasonable, Remus, the tides would be all out of whack,” Sirius joked.

The corner of Remus’ mouth twitched up into a smile, but it didn’t last.

“I don’t get it, Pads,” he said dejectedly.

Sirius shrugged. “I think it makes sense.”

Remus stared at him like he’d just said he prefers coffee over tea, or something else equally abhorrent.

“You know,” Sirius reflected, “The day before I went on the Hogwarts Express for the first time, I actually told my parents I didn’t want to go.”

“Why? Because they said you had to?”

“Maybe a little,” he chuckled. Remus knew him well enough to know that he would have refused his favourite ice cream just because his parents told him to eat it. “But no, I think it was more...fear. I was afraid.”

Remus tilted his head in a thoroughly adorable way. “Why would you be afraid of coming to Hogwarts? Didn’t you want a break from your parents?”

“I did,” he confirmed, “I wanted to get away from them. But it’s the most common fear in the world, isn’t it? Being afraid of the unknown? I was scared at home too, but at least I knew what to expect. I knew how my parents would react to anything I said or did. Coming here... I had no idea. What if I didn’t get sorted into Slytherin? Or worse, what if I did... What if my roommates hated me-”

“Not possible.”

“Yes it was! I know you didn’t like me at first.”

“You were a bit of a prick,” Remus conceded.

“I was a proper arse,” Sirius smirked unapologetically, drawing a small laugh from Remus. “It’s the unknown, Moony,” he continued more seriously, “As much as you hate what you go through every month, it’s been the one constant in your life for as long as you can remember. You know what to expect from it. There’s a lot changing in the world around us, and we only have a few months left of school; I think we’re all feeling the weight of it. It’s okay to be worried. But we’ll get through it, yeah?”

Remus didn’t reply, simply gazed at Sirius for a long while, before nodding thoughtfully. He turned his head to look out at the night sky, and Sirius was able to watch the moonlight on his beautiful face; the shadows under his eyes, his long lashes, the slope of his nose, the corners of his mouth still turned down in sadness.

Remus had long since stopped being angry at the moon, stopped glaring at it whenever it deigned to blemish the sky. He looked at it now in a somber resignation; how someone would observe the grave of a loved one long since passed.

Sirius realized he was still holding onto Remus, and quickly found it difficult to remember what he wanted to say.

When he did, he whispered, “Moony?”

“Hm?”

“If you ever can’t find the moon, you can come find me.”

“What?” Remus turned to look at him. “Sirius-”

“No, listen,” he cut in, suddenly desperate to make Remus understand, “I know I’ve broken your trust before, but it will never happen again. I’ll always be there for you.”

Sirius slid his fingers from Remus’ wrist to his hand, holding it tight, as Remus’ eyes flicked across his face. “I’ll always be there,” Sirius urged, “The moon is the perpetual force in your life pulling you into the dark? Then I’ll be the perpetual force pulling you into the light.”

Remus just stared back at him, his eyes wide and glittering, his mouth open. Sirius waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

Instead, he tugged Sirius’ hand, pulling him close as Remus leaned forward. Sirius’ mind froze like he’d been stupefied, but he managed to realize what was happening a second before it did, and he felt Remus’ lips press against his, gently, yet firmly.

Remus pulled back slightly, waiting for Sirius’ reaction.

“Did- did you just kiss me?” Sirius asked stupidly.

“Erm, yes?”

“Did you... mean to do that?”

“Yes?”

Remus bit his lip, and Sirius’ eyes were drawn to the mouth that had just been on his. There was a bead of saliva on Remus’ top lip. His hand felt warm and tingly from where they touched, though, really, it was nothing compared to the raging fire building inside him.

“Did you...want to do it again?”

“Yes,” Remus exhaled, his face lighting up with a grin that Sirius immediately surged forward to capture. Remus’ lips tasted like tea and honey and peppermint, and Sirius could tell he was quickly becoming addicted to it.

“Thank you,” Remus whispered after a divine moment.

“For kissing you?”

“For following me in here and comforting me.”

“I thought you were comforting me?”

“Ah is that what I’m doing?” Remus smirked. His face softened and he ran his thumb along Sirius’ palm. “You were wrong though, you know.”

“I highly doubt that,” Sirius dismissed. “About what?”

“You said the moon has been the only constant in my life for as long as I can remember. But that’s not true.”

He looked deep into Sirius’ eyes, and Sirius felt his heart stutter at the adoration in them. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Pads. My love for you has been a constant in my life too.”

“Oh,” Sirius breathed. The words felt like sunlight washing over him, and he took a second to let the warmth seep into his bones. “Moony…” He brought a hand up to cup Remus’ cheek and tilted his face as their lips fit together, hoping to convey every feeling that was lost on his tongue into his touches.

“Me too, Moons,” he professed in between kisses, “As long as I can remember.”

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, as were the next nights for a long, long while.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar first kiss #ficbyweightyghosts #marauders #marauders era #hurt/comfort #nightmares #nightmare comfort #fan fiction #Sirius x Remus #remus x sirius #moony #padfoot

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skylarmoon71 · 2 years ago

Text

Leonardo- Oneshot (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) 2014/2016

Five months ago was the first time he saw you.

They were out on patrol as usual. Tracking a serial killer. The criminal had been operating during the day. A risky time for them. Vincent as well as April had been working tirelessly just to uncover an identity. When Donnie finally found a potential suspect, the plan was to apprehend the man. They showed up at his apartment that night, ready to scare the truth out of him.

They didn’t need to do much more. Vincent would find the evidence, and April would have the scoop to ensure he never hurt another person. However, when they got there someone had beaten them to the punch. They’d prepare to scale up the building to his apartment and sneak in. But Raph heard a yell, and they stared at the body that dropped from who knows how many floors. The man now at their feet was dead. When Leo looked up, all he caught was a pair of red glowing eyes. It was gone in a blink.

The next time, it was a drug ring. Who knows what else they were smuggling. The leader of this organization once had ties with the foot clan, so when Shredder's operation was disbanded, they knew someone would try to take his place. They’d infiltrated the warehouse easily. A little too easy. Leo inched inside, and his brothers followed. The sight before them was terrifying. There were about a dozen bodies on the floor.

Dead.

He moved closer, and he could hear the grunt at the back. They all drew their weapons when they caught a figure.

“Hey!!”

Raph was the one who called, and the person turned around, holding someone in their hands. Said person stopped all movement just for a moment, and when the light above their head flickered on, they were stunned at the girl. She held the older man by his throat as if he weighed nothing. He was still breathing, thankfully.

“Finally caught me.”

It wasn’t a taunt, more like a little thought. You didn’t smile. Not at all. Your facial expression hadn’t changed.

“I know you are the good guys here. So I’ll only say this once, get in my way, and you’ll be sorry.” Your words were cold, and Leo swallowed. He didn’t like this. You didn’t even look surprised at their appearance.

“Just let him go.” Leo asked softly. He still had a tight grip on his sword.

You didn’t respond, and Leo jolted when you shoved your now vibrating hand into the man’s chest. The male gasped, and they all froze. The second you removed your hand, his breathing stopped. His head slumped, and you dropped the male like he was trash.

The shaky look Leo wore was one you’d expected. You walked closer to him, and he didn’t dare move. You knew he realized at that moment that you were dangerous.

“Let my brothers leave, you don’t have to hurt them.” Raph gritted his teeth.

“What the hell ya saying!! We’re not going anywhere without ya!!”

Leo knew his position in this situation wasn’t one to negotiate, but he had to try if it meant he’d get to watch his brothers survive this.

You stopped right in front of him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Leo was shocked at how sincere those words sound.

“You protect this city, the world needs more people like you.” You smiled at the statement.

“More turtles I suppose.”

You tilt your head, looking at the shells on their backs. Now that it appeared that there was no danger, Leo took a step forward to ask a question, but you stepped back, and he could hear a buzzing as your body began to vibrate, and that red returned to your eyes. You didn’t say anything else, he just felt the wind hit his face, and once again, you’d slip right through their fingers.

The very last time, Leo was prepared.

“Are you sure this is going to work Leo?” Donnie was skeptical. He’d built the device, but there was no guarantee that it would be successful.

“I know it will.”

It had to.

Donnie nodded, pressing the button, and the pulses started to go out. There was nothing at first. The only indication that anything was happening, is the streams Donnie can see on his tablet. They were at the top of a cell tower, transferring the signal. Leo waited with bated breath. Mikey and Raph were spread out, ready for anything. For a while, they all thought it was a lost cause, but then Mikey caught a flash of red below.

“I think I saw something!!” He yelled. Raph’s head whipped, because it ran across his view.

“He’s right, she’s there.” Leo hand tightened, his fist free of any weapons.

This time when they saw the red streak, it was coming right for them. You rushed forward in a frenzy, and all at once you stopped, hitting what looked like an invisible wall. You dropped to your knees clutching your head as you yelled out in pain.

“Donnie shut it off, turn it off!” Leo instructed. Donnie clumsily did, and when your shouts of agony ended, you looked up slowly.

“You…”

It was a mutter, and he could see the surprise slowly turn into unfiltered anger.

“Let me out….LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!”

You were banging your hands against the wall, and when no streams of lightning followed, you looked on in confusion.

“M-My speed..”

“It’s not gone. We’ve just temporarily blocked your abilities. I wanted to talk, (Y/N) Thawne.”

This was the first time he’d seen you look unnerved.

“You know who I am.”

Leo nodded.

“We figured it out. You haven’t exactly been staying hidden.”

He was right. Wherever you went, bodies followed.

“So what, are you going to turn me into the police?”

“No, we want you to join us.”

“WHAT!!”

Mikey was the one who shouted, and Leo sent him a look.

“I mean yeah, of course we do. “ He let out a nervous laugh, and Raph folded his arms.

“When were ya gonna let us in on the plan.” Raph asked. Leo sighed. You just wore a smile.

“Looks like they weren’t all aboard with your little plan, blue.” Leo let out a breath.

“Listen, I know you’re not evil, okay."

“I’ve killed dozens of people.”

And those were just the ones they knew about.

“But you only target really horrible people.”

Donnie is the one who says this, and Leo’s a bit shocked at his input. He sort of expected him to agree with Mikey and Raph.

“I don’t think any of us agree with killing someone, no matter how bad they are, but you’ve only gone after killers. You’re saving people, just like us.”

Leo could see the way your guard lowered just a little.

“I know you don’t enjoy doing it. I can see it in your eyes. That day in the warehouse, you threatened us, but you weren’t going to do anything. You just wanted to give us a scare. If you were all bad, you wouldn’t have hesitated. Truly evil people don’t differentiate between their kills. And they surely don’t save children from burning buildings. “

You’re the one who shifts this time.

“What do you want from me?”

You’re still trying to appear cold. Leo sends you a comforting smile.

“You said once that I protect this city, well that accounts for everyone, not just the citizens, but also reluctant heroes.”

Leo kneeled down, picking up a small device from the floor, you just stared as he crushed it beneath his fingers, the forcefield around your body disappearing. You just stared at him. You could feel it. The speedforce running through your veins.

“Let me protect you.”

He holds out a hand for you.

It’s like a plea, and you aren’t sure why, but you believe him.

So despite all that’s happened, a part of you feels drawn to that outstretched hand. Reaching out, you take it.

Maybe you weren’t beyond saving.

~~~

“Raph you got him.”

“Yeah!”

They all regrouped at the bottom of the alley, and the male they had backed up was looking from side to side, horrified.

“Tell us where the weapons are.” Leo demanded.

This criminal was clearly questioning some things, but he still refused to say a word. You stepped out from behind Leo.

“You know, if he doesn't want to talk, there are other ways to extract information.” Your right hand fibrated, and when your eyes lit up a ruby glow, the man didn’t look as sure.

“Are you positive you don’t want to help us?”

Your voice was distorted as you approached him slowly, and he dropped to his knees screaming.

“ALRIGHT I’LL TALK JUST DON’T KILL ME!!”

You were still moving to him, and Leo placed a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s enough (Y/N).”

When you looked back at him, the light left your eyes almost instantly.

“I wasn’t really gonna kill him. Maybe.”

Raph rolled his eyes.

“Ya know I’m starting to think that one of these days you’re gonna get mad at one of us for eating your slice of pizza and off us.”

“I would never.”

Your tone didn’t sound that convincing.

“She’s thought about it!” Raph accused. Leo’s shoulders slumped.

Dealing with this new team dynamic was much like keeping siblings from beating each other up.

“Let’s just get this done.” Leo grabbed the man by his collar, lifting him up as they took off to deal with their current matter.

It’s obvious that you would forever be a sort of work in progress.

“He’s still alive.”

They didn’t fully believe you, not until they saw the police leading the bank robber away into the squad vehicle. Since it was broad daylight, they’d left most of the heavy lifting to you. You smiled when they sent you a look, watching the way the man’s face was clearly beaten. You shrugged.

“He threatened to shoot a kid, he deserved a few broken bones.”

Donnie rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

“I-I mean at least he’s alive right?”

“Exactly, I think I did pretty good on my first solo mission. People are safe and that asshole is, you know, not dead. Think I’m making some solid progress.”

“Course ya are.” Raph mutters as he begins walking away. Donnie and Mikey followed.

“You really need to learn to hold back.”

“Then idiots like that should stop doing dumb stuff. “ You defend.

“Or you can control your temper.”

“I don’t have a temper.”

“Don’t you?”

You frowned, and when he saw the little vibrations in your arm, he gave you a knowing smile. You looked down, hurriedly shoving your hand behind your back.

“It’s adrenaline.”

“Right.”

It’s obvious he didn’t believe you.

“I-I’m late for my class.” You huffed.

Slipping off the mask from your face, you shoved it into your pocket as you took off. Leo just watched the red torrents zip across the street as you raced to the university.

Slow progress was better than no progress.

“She gave me a C, just because she didn’t agree with my points. What kind of profesor does that! I deserved an A. She’s lucky she’s not a criminal. Damn it, I wish she was a criminal!!”

You continued to vent to him, and Leo laughed under his breath. The both of you were seated at the very top of the statue of liberty. He’d told you it was a great view, and he didn’t lie. At night, it was magnificent.

“What's so funny?” You grumbled.

“It’s just, you’ve changed a lot. Just a few months ago both of us sitting here chatting like this would have been impossible.”

You consider his words, and your eyes move back to the sky. He’s not wrong. Your ideals were much different then. In a lot of ways, they still are. You can’t say you’ve completely changed. You still believe that certain people didn’t deserve the right to walk this earth.

“You know what happened to my family right, that’s how you found me.”

Leo's eyes shift.

“I do. Vincent showed me the report.”

He knows there is very little he can say that will bring much comfort. Nothing he can do will bring them back for you. No matter how much he may wish for it.

“I wasn’t really supposed to survive. If it wasn’t for that explosion, I would have been dead too. He left me there to bleed out. A part of me wishes that I had died. Because the rage I feel everytime I think about it, I just, I don’t think it will ever go away.”

“I’m glad that you didn’t die that day.”

You wipe your cheek, turning to him as you roll your eyes.

“You’re such a goody two shoes. Why you gotta be so nice.” You say. Leo laughs.

“Would you prefer that I was more aggressive like Raph.”

You place a hand under your chin.

“It would be interesting. But I don’t think you can pull off the bad boy thing, Blue.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I don’t think it's in your makeup.”

“Is that so?”

You nod confidently. When you look back at him, you’re fully prepared to lay out all the ways he can never be a bad boy. But for some reason he seems a lot closer to you than before. Your mouth opens just a little, and you stare. Leo’s eyes are all you seem to register at the moment.

“Still don’t think I can be a bad boy..” He murmurs.

You tremble when his finger brushes your lips.

At the back of your mind, you think that you’ve imagined this. Never did you expect this from Leo. Nor have you realized just how close the both of you have gotten in what seems like a short span of time.

“I…L-Leo..” You can barely get the words out. He smirks, nudging your nose.

“So you do know my name.” Your brows are knitted.

Now you can no longer form words, because he’s so close. You can practically taste his lips. Leo finally closed the distance, and you’re the one who lets out a small little sound of surprise. His hand is gently hooked behind your neck as he urges you in. You have to fight your body not to vibrate and accidentally phase through. Your hands are a bit hesitant as they reach up to his shoulders.

They’re so broad, and firm. Everything about him is so solid. His build, personality, values. He knew what he wanted, and how to achieve it. Not to mention his dedication for his family. He was the very essence of light and goodness, and you.

You were far from that. That’s why this made no sense. Why was he holding you like some precious innocent jewel? Why was he kissing you like he’d longed to do it for so many months. When he deepens the kiss, you moan, and he adjusts your position. You manage a little squeal when he lifts you easily, comfortably into his lap. Your heart won’t slow down, and this time it has nothing to do with your speed.

It’s clear you were mistaken. Leonardo wasn’t all leadership and fight techniques. He finally parts, and you’re panting. For the first time since you’d be given these powers, you’re out of breath. He’s still so close, and his free hand runs over your spine. You arch into him, cheeks a bright red. Leo enjoys your reaction, eyes now a shade of navy blue.

“W-Why me…”

He just smiles.

“I’ve always had faith in you, and I always will.”

You really did not see this coming.

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arloelilly · 3 years ago

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Ok, um... I love this request. Can you do a fic were Bayverse Raph and his S.O get into a huge fight and he hurts her feelings and hurt her physically in her face by punching her with his fists and Raph realized of what he had done. A few days later, he appears on your window with roses in his hand and Raph begs for forgiveness?? Please, I love your writing 🤭❤️

Hmm, let's see what I can come up with! Thank you for the ask! :D

Raph

"Are you kidding me? You were all over him!" His voice raised when you tried to explain to your distressed lover that you weren't cheating on him with Casey. "What does he got that I don't, huh?" He barked, throwing a punch at the punching bag. "He doesn't have anything that you have. That's why I love you and not him." You say with your feisty attitude. "Yeah, that's why you let him hold you against your wall while he tried smooching on you." He sneered and turned back throwing another punch. The chain rattled as the punching bag swung from the impact. "You are unbelievable, and I didn't let him do anything! He's the one that-" "That pushed you against the wall to make-out with you. Save it, babe. I know what you two wanted!" He yelled. A loud reptilian growl rumbled in his chest at the thought of Casey stealing his girl. Raph's words cut deep and it hurt thinking he didn't trust you.

You both fell silent for a moment as Raph put all his force in his fists, beating the punching bag as if it were Casey. He was getting so wrapped up in his thoughts of losing you, it made his blood boil at the thought. Each punch hitting harder until he was so zoned out that when you placed your soft hand on his bicep his fist came barreling at you, hitting you right in the mouth and knocking you to the floor. With you hand clasped over your mouth, you looked up at him almost shocked. His eyes went wide and his mouth hung open as he seen the hurt in your eyes and the cut on your lip. "N-no, Y/n. I didn't me-" "Don't!" You pushed you arm out slightly and look away from him when he tried to help you up. "Just stay away from me!" You demanded as you stood and marched out of the room and out of the lair. "Y/n..." He trailed off as he watched your form disappear.

One Week Later

His father was very disappointed in Raphael when he explained what had happened between you two. Splinter told his son that he had to make things right even if there was a possibility the two of you were done. And just the thought of you not wanting him anymore hurt him. You were his world and the fact that he harmed you shook him to his core. His father gave him some advice that would hopefully help him get your forgiveness and Raphael carried it out almost immediately.

Raphael gave April some money so she could go get some flowers before he made his away over the roof tops and to your apartment. He drew a deep breath before sighing, anxiety tight in his chest. 'Okay Raph, don't fuck this up.' He thought to himself as he climbed down to your fire escape and looked into your window. Not seeing you in there, he tested your window to see if you left it unlocked and sure enough, it slid open easily. Raphael stepped inside and looked around while he held the flowers firmly before he froze in his tracks and pulling them closer to him when the light from your hallway filled the room.

You stopped abruptly upon seeing him standing there. Your brows furrowed as you glance at the bouquet of flowers and then back at him. He could see the scab where your lip was still healing, his breath shaky as he inhaled. "Y/n...I...I-um...uh." He shifted his weight looking down at the flowers as he tried to find the right words until he finally sighed. "I wanted ta apologize for hurting you. I was so pissed but I never meant ta hurt you like dat." His voice expressed his genuine emotions towards you. You took a few steps into your room as you listened to him and he followed your movements, walking up to you and gently holding out the bouquet of flowers for you to take. Much to his delight, you did, your fingers tracing the soft petals before you looked up at him. "I just hope you can forgive me, at least." His voice was rough as those words left his lips.

"Raph, I've already forgiven you. I...just needed to stay a way for a few days." You gave him a small smile and take his hand in yours and walk closer to him. He leant down as you moved forward, your lips touching. The kiss was full of much needed love and comfort. Raph then pushed his forehead to yours when you two separated. "I love you." He whispered with a small smile on his features. You gave him a sweet grin before nuzzling your nose to his and chuckle. "I love you too, Raph."

#tmnt x reader #bayverse turtles #fan fiction

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itsamejin · 4 years ago

Text

this love || yoongi angst

Summary: A story through the years detailing your relationship with Yoongi and all the ups and downs that came with dating an idol.

Warning: cursing, sexually suggestive content

Genre: angst, fluff, idol!yoongi, artist!yn

Pairing: Yoongi x female!reader

Premise: Based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift. Reader is an artist.

Commission Request: @minyoongail

Word Count: 7,681 words

—

You met Yoongi when he was just a trainee, ready to take on the world and bursting with energy to get on stage. He had visions of grandeur- him living in a beautiful mansion, wearing name-brand jewelry, cruising in rare sports vehicles. When times were simpler, he’d promise that you’d be there with him, indulging in the glitz and glamour that came with his fame. He’d be an idol and you’d be his muse. Yet under all those pretenses, under all those empty promises, he was just Yoongi.

He was a guy who walked in and out of your life as easily as ocean tides come and go on the shore. He taught you how to fall in love, fall out of it, and rekindle it all the same. It was a sort of beautiful asphyxiation, being wrapped up in his lifestyle and learning to accept the consequences that came with dating a celebrity.

You wonder even now as you search his name on the internet, if you had any regrets. After all, you lost too much to be with him.

—

April 2013

A first meeting meant everything to you, especially when it came to your clients. You didn’t accept jobs from weirdos who didn’t respect your craft and you definitely hated impatient ones who badgered you to finish your pieces as quick as possible.

Big Hit was a happy medium and had hired you as a contract employee after reviewing your portfolio. Although the style of work they wanted from you was not at all what you specialized in, you were happy that they treated you like an actual employee and not some sort of machine. Plus, the pay was good.

You were asked to work on some cute animal characters for an upcoming boy group that you weren’t terribly familiar with, maybe stumbled on a vlog of theirs that you forgot about. You were intrigued by the slew of trainees that sat in front of you, their palms clenched out of anxiousness.

“I’m [Y/N], one of the digital artists that will be working with you guys from now on,” you introduce yourself politely to the seven bright-eyed boys in front of you.

You were in a room with other staff members, discussing the concept of the “Hip Hop Monsters” your graphics team was working on. This was a planned project lasting over a span of years and would eventually result in collectors edition items. It made you giddy just thinking of the royalties you’d earn from it all.

“I’d like it if the animals took after us,” one of the boys suggested shyly, slightly intimidated by the large number of corporate employees there were in the room for something that seemed so trivial. “I think our fans would like the characters more if they kind of resembled our personalities and stuff...”

You nod along to his suggestions, staring at his jersey to notice that the member who spoke up was Rap Monster. It was cute how they all wore clothes with their names on them. That’s one way to attract attention, you suppose.

“Any other suggestions you guys have for us?” you ask, jotting down notes and making rough sketches as they talk amongst themselves.

“I’d like it if,” a somewhat husky voice starts and you can’t help but stare into the guy’s eyes as he speaks, “my character was a turtle.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter along with the other staff members. He had said it with such a straight face and with so little enthusiasm, yet you could tell from his slight blush that he was serious. He was cute in the way that he wasn’t trying to be.

“You resemble one,” you grin at him, drawing out a small turtle with a cute beanie on your iPad, like the one he wore in front of you. You show it to him. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that!”

He breaks out into a gummy smile, one so bright that it hurt your heart to stare at him for too long. Now you were the one left flustered. He realizes how enthusiastic he was and got embarrassed once again, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact.

“S-sorry, for shouting. It looks good.”

You bite your lip from forming too big of a grin. You still had to remain professional after all.

“You’re welcome,” you smirk slightly as he goes back to trying to look cool. You can’t help but doodle his name on your iPad even as the other members shared ideas for their own animals.

Suga, Suga, Suga.

You smile to yourself. It does have a ring to it.

—

June 2013

Yoongi sees you in the hallways sometimes and wants to say hi, but he can’t because other people are watching. Though, that isn’t the only reason.

He tells himself every day that he’ll muster up the courage to go talk to you, but every time he sees your face his legs turn to jelly. Yoongi was busy with debut stages recently, but he found some free time in his schedule to approach you.

Yoongi was never the shy type, more reserved if anything else, but you had something that enamored him- intrigued him. He wanted to know who you were other than the cute girl he was stuck in meetings with from time to time.

As you sat there on your desk, Yoongi lingered in an area nearby. He would give you his number today and if things didn’t work out then that would be that. There was no need to be all shy about this; it’s not like this is his first time asking someone out.

He strides over to you with feigned confidence and you look up after a minute, not noticing how his shadow loomed over you. He sees that you’re working on realistic portraits of the members and not the cutesy characters he usually sees you drawing.

“Hi,” he says curtly, trying to seem disinterested though he was the one that approached you first.

“Hello,” you smile up at him.

Suga.

“You draw really cool stuff,” he says to break the awkward tension. “You should show it to the CEO. I’m sure we’d have cooler concepts for our albums with your work.”

You look up at him, a happy glint in your eyes. He was complimenting you, although avoiding eye contact to seem a little less nervous than he really was.

“Well, I’m just a contract worker so I don’t think I really have the authority to start up new projects out of nowhere,” you say with a smile on your face at how flustered he looks. “I feel like you’re here to ask me for something. Am I right?”

He looks away for a split second, coughing to alleviate his nerves. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake, why was this so difficult?

“I was actually wondering if you could come give me some opinions about some art that I drew,” he lies through his teeth, just trying to find a way to get you in a more private area than the corporate floor teaming with watchful gazes. “I’ve been trying to start a new hobby.”

You chuckle slightly, seeing right through his words. You stand up to amuse him.

“I’d be happy to.”

He leads you to a studio filled with whacky knick-knacks and dim lighting, not necessarily the best place to draw. You know by now that he just said those things as an excuse to be alone with you.

“So where’s this masterpiece?” you tease slightly at his nervous expression. How did a guy who looked so deadpan have such a giddy personality?

“Well actually,” he starts off, palms already sweaty. “I-It’s not here right now, but I think I left it at the dorms. Maybe if we exchange phone numbers I can text it to you.”

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his hands moved as if he was doing a public speaking presentation. Yoongi thought he was doing great, though growing a little more nervous at how you were giggling.

“You know, Suga,” you start teasingly, “My number is in the company directory. Feel free to text me anytime.”

Yoongi slightly cringes hearing his stage name. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he didn't like hearing it come from you. He didn’t like the unfamiliar aspect that came with using his stage name- like you two only went by professional terms.

“Call me Yoongi,” he says with genuine confidence this time. “I like it better when my friends call me Yoongi.”

You nod, relieved that you could finally know this cute guy’s name. Truth be told, you were snooping around his conversations with other people to figure it out.

“So we’re friends?”

Yoongi nods, sitting down in his rolling chair.

“I’d like to be,” he grins, patting the sofa, hoping you’d take a seat with him.

And you do.

—

Present

It’s hard to work efficiently when you’re no longer in a corporate space. There’s no boss to check up on your progress nor is there a nosy coworker trying to see what you’re doing from the corner of their eye. You missed the hustle and bustle of an office floor, but it was nice exploring your creativity through freelance work.

You tap your digital pen onto the table repeatedly, looking at the reference image over and over again. It was a sick joke played by the universe to have been commissioned to draw your ex-boyfriend’s idol group, but you couldn’t refuse the hundreds of dollars the ecstatic fangirl was willing to give you. Truth be told, she might have offered too much pay, but you took up her offer anyway. Money is money.

Yet a face you’ve touched so often, a person you’d been with for years felt so unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t like you were drawing him realistically either. The client wanted anime-style figures that resembled them, looked enough like the boys to display it as her Twitter header. In the end, it’s still too difficult to draw. The rest of the members were lined up and sketched perfectly, but there was a blank area where Yoongi’s face should’ve been.

Your wrists hurt from the constant drawing and erasing so you set it down to massage your hand from cramping. In moments like these, you hated your job.

Ting.

A message notification popped up on your phone that laid beside your iPad. You usually left it silent when you were working, but you opened yourself up to distractions when drawing this particular piece. Whoever thought it was a good idea to specialize in celebrity artwork? You pick up your phone and smiled softly at the text.

hey, can I come over?

—

March 2014

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Yoongi, happy birthday to you~~”

You cheer on with the rest of the boys in their cramped dorm. Somehow you had gotten close enough with them to be at this level of comfort, sitting crisscrossed and shoulders touching with Jungkook and Seokjin. Yoongi blows out the candles and claps his hands, a little sad that another year passed by so quickly. He kept glancing at you who was focused on cutting the cake like the perfectionist you were.

He couldn’t help but feel like time was running out, like if he didn’t confess to you now then it would never happen. Yoongi took off the beanie he wore and ruffled his hair. He was feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“Dude don’t do that your dandruff is gonna get everywhere,” Hoseok whines. “The cake is gonna be decorated with your dead skin cells.”

“Go wash your hands,” Jin commands and Yoongi could only roll his eyes.

“Relax, I don’t even think we’re gonna have cake anytime soon when this slow-poke is taking forever to cut.”

He flicks your forehead as you glare up at him.

“I could so easily throw this in your face, but I choose not to,” you stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

“I’d like to see you try.”

All the members groan out of annoyance.

“Oh my god they’re having a lovers quarrel again,” Jimin yawned. “Aren’t you guys sick of arguing?”

Yoongi freezes at his words. Lover’s quarrel. That was a nice way to put it.

“They’ll stop arguing when Yoongi finally-”

Taehyung was cut off as Yoongi swipes three fingers worth of frosting from the cake and lathers it all over Taehyung’s face.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi shakes his head and soon chaos descended. Cake flew in places it shouldn’t have and ended when Namjoon knocked over a glass of water, managing to break it on the floor tiles. In the end, no one got cake.

Yoongi and you were laughing amongst yourselves at the kitchen sink, washing off some of the bits that got onto your shirts.

“I’m so sorry about your cake,” you say through your chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

Yoongi only smiles.

“Yeah, you can treat me on a date,” he replies a little too boldly. You look at him in shock, not quite processing his words.

“A date?”

He nods.

“We should go out sometime.”

You purse your lips to prevent the huge grin about to be displayed on your face.

“We should.”

—

Present

It was subtle, the way it all started. You trace over the features you drew so far, only getting to his eyes. Yoongi and you were innocent lovers for a while, keeping your trysts a secret from everyone in the company except his managers and the members. A few of your friends knew, but none of them knew BTS well enough to be all that surprised. It wasn’t all that rare to go out with a celebrity in your line of work.

You almost miss those days when he was unrecognizable. After your friends realized who he was after he hit it big globally, you felt like a secret of yours was displayed to them. Your love was supposed to be private, but his fame left very little room for privacy. You missed when you were the only one that knew of him and maybe it’s selfish to think that way, but you were past the point of being selfish.

You text back.

yeah, can't wait to see you

—

Jan. 2015

Yoongi lays you down on the couch gently. His hands caressing your sides underneath the thin material of your shirt as he pulls you in closer to his kisses. This felt different from other nights, different in that there was nothing around to stop what would come next.

He pulls away from you slightly, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you sure?” he asks, drawing circles on your hip with his thumb. He was only supposed to come over to help you unpack some stuff for your new apartment and here you were, pinned on the couch and sweating from the close contact.

You nod back in response, not finding the right words to get him to continue. He pulls your shirt over your head, peppering kisses on your neck and atop your breasts. He fixates on your neck languidly, biting as he sees fits.

There was a pause as you felt him press up against you and you knew then that there was no making it to the bed. You would have your first time with him on this newly moved-in couch.

The clothes dropped to the ground as his touches get more impatient, more desperate. It all passes by like a blur and you could only remember the pleasure that came with his long fingers, the satisfaction you felt when he was inside you. The climax of it all made you realize that you loved him, truly and without regret. He holds you in his arms when you come undone, flashing a satiated smile as you look up at him. It’s like the stars were in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, worried he was already drowsy. You didn’t want to have to sleep on the couch naked.

“Satisfied,” he says with a smile on his face.

You can’t help but swoon, his eyes fixated on you. At least for now, he was yours He wasn’t Suga, a rapper. He was Yoongi, your boyfriend.

It didn't matter to you that he was struggling to make a name for himself in this cut-throat idol industry or that he would spend countless nights cursing as one of his numerous tracks get rejected. None of that was in your mind. Only he swam through your thoughts. Only him.

“I love you,” he sighs out. He was the first to say it.

“I love you too,” you reply back and he holds you tight against him.

He’s nuzzling himself in your hair, his chest pressed up against you so his heartbeat can synch with yours. He loves this, can’t get enough of it. He catches your lips and once again you are whisked in the pleasure of it all. This is it. This is what love is.

—

Present

The piece is finally finished and you send it off to your client, hoping she doesn’t ask for revisions because you can’t handle another second of drawing his stupid face. His soft skin, his tiny moles, his gummy smile...

It's not like you hate him. It’s just... a certain contempt lingers after a breakup from a long-term relationship. It’s the type of resentment that can’t really be explained. You don’t want to see him, but you catch yourself watching his videos on Youtube. You don’t want to think about him, but you hope he thinks about you. You don’t see yourself ever getting back together with him, but you don’t have his phone number blocked.

It’s a sort of paradox you catch yourself in and you wonder if you could ever get out of it. Will Yoongi ever escape your mind?

can't wait to see u too babe

—

Aug. 2016

Yoongi hugs you from behind, his face scrunched at the nape of your neck where several marks were made from last night’s events. Your eyes stayed focus on the TV in front of you, still impressed by your own ability to afford one in your bedroom at your salary.

“BTS' SUGA drops new music video for his song and mixtape Agust D...”

The news anchor drones on and you could barely hear her through the sounds of Yoongi’s soft snores. His hold on you grew tighter as he hears his stage name from an unfamiliar voice and it makes you giggle slightly at how different the edgy music video being displayed was from the same person wrapping you in his arms so tightly.

“Babe, wake up. I have work to do,” you whisper into his hair and he only shakes his head back in response.

“No,” he mutters, pulling you into him closer. You roll your eyes, managing to pry off one of his hands as you sit up on the bed.

“Don’t you have studio stuff to do today?” you ask him, searching for a shirt to wear.

He shakes his head as his eyes start to flutter open. You both reeked of alcohol since you opened a bottle of wine last night to celebrate the release of his first solo work. He was proud of it and you were proud of him.

“Can you turn that off, I’m getting a migraine,” he whines, covering his head with a pillow. You opted to wear Yoongi’s shirt instead of your own since you couldn’t be bothered to walk to the other side of the bed to find it. You smiled at his laying figure, cooped in a fetal-like position. He was still naked, but you were with him long enough to no longer be phased by that sort of thing.

“From one bottle of wine?” you tease slightly. “I think you’re losing your touch, Agust D.”

You chuckle as he throws the pillow on top of his head towards you.

“Don’t call me that,” he pouts, “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

You stand up from where you were, stretching out your back as you make your way to the door.

“That’s because I am,” you smirk, “You know you’re saved on my phone as Sugar?”

He gives you a glare.

“It’s Suga,” he says, attempting to add some intimidation to his voice. It doesn’t work because all you do is stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever sugar.”

He chuckles lightly and watches the silhouette of your figure exit his view. Yoongi can’t help but mindlessly follow after you.

As you exit towards the kitchen, you can’t help but hear the television from the bedroom.

“Suga has recently been caught up in a dating scandal with Suran, the solo artist, who sang with him in a song...”

Your head snaps up from those words, your skin crawling with goosebumps. You make it into the kitchen but with a heavy heart and no appetite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, passing by you to pour himself some water.

“Nothing,” you say, though you sounded bitter. He caught on quite quickly. You were jealous again.

Yoongi heaves out a deep sigh and sets the glass of water down. He comes over to your angry figure and gives you a soft hug, laying his head on top of yours as if to comfort you. You try to pull away but he keeps you close.

“I’ll tell them to drop the rumors, okay?,” he says, genuinely enough to make you believe him. “I don’t want us to fight so early in the morning.”

“You promise?”

He pulls away.

“I promise,” he says, brushing a hair away from your face. “Let’s not think about those rumors right now. You and me both know they’re not true.”

You were never one to forget so easily.

—

It was around 2016 when you had stopped working at Big Hit. They halted the Hip Hop Monster brand and your contract was expiring with them anyway. You went from living a kush office life to struggling freelance worker in a matter of a second. It also meant that Yoongi and you would be spending less time together. His busy schedules couldn’t permit him to stay with you longer than a few hours and his presence slowly started to disappear from his side of the bed.

It was like a sinking ship, what you had with him. The pain starts off slow, unnoticeable. You’ll still laugh and keep up appearances as time passes, but you could tell there was an ominous atmosphere that wasn’t initially there in the relationship. Your screams start to grow silent as more problems start to stack on top of each other. It’s then when you hit the iceberg. It’s then when it all starts to fall apart.

He was still good for you, you convinced yourself, even as the currents swept you out under your feet.

—

Dec. 2016

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming?” you yell through your phone. You were sitting on the floor of your living room, holiday decorations strewn around the apartment. He promised he’d come spend a day off of his winter promotions to be with you.

“You know how hectic the end of the year gets with promotions,” he says in quiet hushes. “I can’t do anything about it. This is my job.”

You suck in your cheeks to prevent yourself from yelling. From the sound of it, he was in public.

“Yoongi, I called out of talking to a really high-paying client,” you say through gritted teeth. “And I still came home. Why am I the only one making sacrifices?”

He sighed at the other end. He didn’t have the patience to deal with you today.

“Look, can you stop being so fucking needy. I don’t need this right now.”

He couldn’t tell from the phone call, but your heart broke at the word. Needy. He thought that you were needy.

“I’m already stressed out as it is,” he continues through the phone. “I don’t need you up my ass all the time.”

“I’m not gonna wait for you,” you reply, tears threatening to spill over. “I’m going to sleep and you’re gonna get rid of all the shit you have in my apartment. I’m sick of you, Yoongi.”

He scoffs.

“I’m sick of you too.”

Yoongi hangs up, about ready to hit the wall when Jimin comes to calm him down. Small things that were never meant to be taken seriously built up until it was ready to crash down.

When Yoongi comes at night to visit you, he sees that you’re asleep on the couch. He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll do better.”

You nuzzled closer to him, comforted by words you forget the next day. Even when you woke up with a bad neck and Yoongi snoring onto your skin, you couldn’t find a way to stay mad at him. You knew, deep down, that some way or the other you’re gonna find yourself arguing about the same thing next week.

—

Present

Junghoon comes to pick you up. Junghoon, your boyfriend.

He’s a little uptight and too stern for his own good, but has a good heart and a knack of giving great gifts. You met him from working in the same industry, a 3D graphics designer for several video game companies. He was a new addition to your life, your relationship only about three months old.

You were warming up to him slowly, thankful for finally having a consistent presence in your life. He always made time for you, never used work as an excuse, and didn’t act cold just for the sake of acting cold. Junghoon was sweet in the way that Yoongi used to be when he wasn’t such a massive celebrity.

It was a relief to have someone like Junghoon in your life that didn’t walk in and out of your door without much of a thought to even say goodbye. Your life with him has been a tad bit dull, but you don’t mind all that much. Junghoon’s made you feel secure in ways that Yoongi couldn’t.

—

May 2017

“Your boyfriend is winning a whole ass award across the world and you’re having ramen with me?” Chaerin sighs. It’s typical for a best friend to judge the actions of the other.

“Yeah and?” you reply snarkily, swirling your chopstick around to find the perfect clump of noodles. “I’m not the top social artist according to Billboard, what’s it have to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know, you could at least watch him win the award?” she suggests. “The live stream is literally happening right now. Your boyfriend is making history and you don’t even care!”

You look at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was nearing 2 o’clock and your client meeting would be starting soon. You were in high demand as a graphic artist recently and as far as you were concerned, that was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You stare back into your bowl, suddenly losing your appetite.

“The apartment is lonely without him,” you admit sadly.

He bought one for himself and had you move in. ‘It’s easier to not get noticed by the tabloids,’ he convinced you. The modern sleekness of his penthouse was a nice change to your lifestyle, but you missed the comfiness of your small studio apartment. It was often too cold when he wasn’t around.

“You could watch it with me?” Chaerin suggested. “Yoongi’s probably so sad that his own girlfriend doesn’t even want to watch him win such a major award.”

You bite down on your chopstick harshly.

“Well he didn't even want me to come with him so I don’t wanna hear anymore about him from you.”

Chaerin squinted her eyes in your direction.

“Well I mean I get where he’s coming from. He’s still an idol, [Y/N],” she scolds. “It would be a massive risk to take you with him.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, pushing the bowl away from you.

“I’m not an idiot, Chae. It’s not like I was asking to be on the red carpet with him, I just wanted to be there waiting in the hotel room after the show. Two nights ago he suddenly backs out and says I shouldn’t come.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped out of shock. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Did he say why?”

You stare down at your nails, your heart growing heavy as a long pause of silence takes place. It would be better to be honest, right? You shouldn’t have to pretend like everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.

“He said he wants space,” you say, careful not to get choked up. “So I’m giving it to him.”

You clutch your thigh instinctively, remembering how Yoongi had brought that up with you just nights before. You two weren’t happy and that he needed to figure himself out before the relationship gets any worse. It’s just a break or whatever bullshit he spouted.

She scoffs.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “You are not the type of person to take a break in a relationship.”

You stare bitterly into the reflection of your soup.

“I just don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” you reply, taking a sip of your water that was left untouched for a better half of the night. “I don’t think he is either.”

—

Sept. 2017

The break lasted for months and you wondered if it was really even a break at all. It felt more like a break up if you were honest. He’d text once in a while and video call you when he was free but other than that it felt like he became a stranger, just another celebrity billboard you walked past on your way to a client’s workplace.

You’d draw sketches of him countlessly, in fear you’d forget how his face looked in real life and not through a low-quality screen. You etched every baby hair, every small blemish he’d hide with makeup. It was your method of not forgetting who the real Yoongi was because honestly, you didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know him.

Trrrringggg.

The sound of your doorbell could be heard all throughout your apartment. You stood up from where you sat on the bed, leaving the sketchbook of his face on the comforter. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but surely enough, Yoongi stood in front of you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey.”

You let him in, not uttering a single word. He looks different now. His hair was black, thank god, but his face was a little softer than you were used to. You remember him being so paranoid about turning bald just a few years ago and here he was, no bald spots to be found. He looked healthy.

“It’s been a while,” you respond, hugging your arms close to your chest, uncomfortable that he was in your presence. It was his apartment technically, but you lived in it more than he did. He opted to stay in the dorm ever since he issued that idiotic break.

“I miss you,” he says in a lowly voice and you almost believe him. Almost.

You scoff.

“It seems like you’ve been having fun without me though,” you say through gritted teeth. “I thought you still wanted space?”

He shakes his head and brings his hand to touch your arm.

“No,” he swallows his saliva. “I miss you.”

You could feel his sincerity, but you can’t help but not trust him. He’s been viciously cold to you, but you find yourself pulling him closer anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you threaten. “It’ll really be over then, Yoongi.”

He sighs into your hair. He loves you. He does. But he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to express it.

“I promise [Y/N]. I won’t leave.”

—

Aug. 2018

He buys you flowers, your favorite kind. It’s a small gesture, but it has you jumping into his arms all the same. It shows that he still cares somewhat. It’s been a while since he’s last shown it.

He holds you closely, appreciating the softness of your body and how you curl perfectly into him.

“I want to stay like this,” you say mindlessly, just relishing in his presence.

You’re not mad at him today and he’s not frustrated with you. It’s a high point in your relationship.

“Me too.”

His words are simple but it warms your heart nonetheless. Yoongi looks at you with twinkling eyes and for a moment you think that this could last forever and that it will last forever. You kiss him slowly and he reciprocates.

It reminds you of your first time, slow and careful- like you were the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

His love, although painful at times, was good to you when you needed it to be.

—

July 2019

Yoongi’s gone again. He’s on tour, as usual, and not giving you any updates. You were getting sick of it. The constant waiting, the constant insecurities that ate you up inside. You weren’t built to endure this kind of torture.

Suga. Suga. Suga.

It rolls off the tongue but it feels disgusting coming out of your mouth. His stage name, a persona. He starts to resemble that name more and more as the days go by. You hear it so much now that it no longer registers as an actual word.

You call him.

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

No answer.

You’re about ready to throw the phone at the wall until a soft ring was heard from the small device. You take the call immediately, smiling as if you passed the hardest difficulty of a video game. The grin would soon be wiped away, though.

“Why’d you call?” he grumbles from the other line, loud music blasting in the background.

“Why weren’t you picking up?” You sound bitter. You don’t care.

“I’m out right now,” he says, exasperation laced in his voice. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Clearly, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Yoongi was at a party or a club or wherever he could possibly be in the streets of Shizuoka at 10 p.m.

You just wanted to chat, check on him as a good girlfriend would. He’s been complaining that you haven’t been in a while. You thought this was what he wanted- for you to care.

“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay,” you sigh. “How’d the concert go?”

“Good,” he says, clearly distracted. “Some of us snuck out of the hotel rooms to let loose for a bit.”

You nod as if he could see you.

“So you’re partying?”

You could hear him laugh at the other end, but it wasn’t from your comment. Someone else was making him laugh. Someone with a light and dainty voice, whiny as she got closer to Yoongi.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he says, clearly distracted. “Listen I’ll call you back, okay?”

You feel a lump stuck in your throat. There are no words left to say. The foreign girl on the other end giggled harder at whatever Yoongi was saying and it felt like you were invading their privacy- as if she was his girlfriend and you were nothing. You hung up, your mouth feeling dry as the tears poured down.

You see a text from Yoongi just a few seconds into your wallowing. You sniffle as you read it.

don’t misunderstand. nothing’s happening rn i'm just having a bit of fun.

This time you really threw your phone at the wall.

You go to your iPad that’s sitting untouched on your desk. You open your drawing app and just let the anger in the stylus take you from there. You draw a rough sketch of a couple on the edge of a beachside cliff. The woman seems to be falling into the water as if she was pushed. The guy’s hand reaches out to her, but you can’t really tell if he was trying to grab her or if he was the one that let her go in the first place.

As the tears spilled onto the cool surface of the iPad, you sob harder. Nothing could be fixed and everything still felt broken. It was meaningless, sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes when he was all the way in Japan snuggling up to girls that were probably much prettier and much more willing to understand his lifestyle.

You look around the penthouse he had bought for the two of you, beautiful wide panel windows and modern furniture. It mostly looks empty, everything nice and tidy as if no one lived here. It had such a stark contrast to that of his old life when he shared rooms with other members and had no place to really put his keyboard except the studio. You smiled at the memory of you all hovering around the small coffee table in the cramped living room eating ramen.

Maybe it was your fault for falling behind, for letting the world around you build up and not follow in Yoongi’s tracks.

—

Present

You guess it was then when the relationship had passed a point of no return. When everything that felt right had started to feel incredibly wrong. You tolerated his presence rather than bask in it. You heard him speak but couldn’t bother to listen. Maybe you were petty, but more than anything you were angry.

You were angry that he could break you that badly and you would still forgive him for it.

You stare over at Junghoon who’s cooking you up something on the stove. This is what you needed.

—

Nov. 2019

Yoongi was back from some big-name award show that you didn’t watch. You heard he won Artist of the Year or whatever, the accolades that he’s collected no longer having meaning as the days pass. Why be happy for him when he himself showed no signs of excitement? This was routine. He expected the awards at this point.

You walked towards him. Yoongi looked angry, though you have no idea why.

“Hey, I made dinner to celebrate,” you tell him. Yoongi’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through the congratulatory messages he received from other industry stars. He looked like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs. It was a simple question.

“Not in the mood.”

You give him a pointed look and sit next to him.

“Why are you never in the mood for anything?” you ask him. “It’s just food Yoongi. I just want to eat with you.”

You don’t see it properly but he rolls his eyes.

“Just drop it okay? Today’s a good day, I don’t need you to ruin it.”

You suck in your cheeks.

“Ruin?”

Yoongi sighs heavily.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he starts, facing you. “Why do you have to be so dramatic over everything.”

You grit your teeth.

“Dramatic?” your voice quivers. “I didn’t know feeling hurt was being dramatic.”

His gaze softens and he touches your arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shake your head, feeling your eyes dampen at his words.

“I hate your apologies, Yoongi,” you say in a hushed tone. “They don’t mean anything anymore.”

He’s shocked, not really sure how to respond. You were never one to confront him, especially when he was angry. Instead, he holds your hand softly. He was terrible at comforting people.

“Yoongi are you really sorry?” you ask abruptly. It was a question you’ve been meaning to ask for years now.

His grip on you tightened and you can’t quite read his expression, but you can tell that it’s not a positive response. He looks conflicted and he shouldn’t have to be if he really was. You force him to let go of you.

“I am,” he says, knowing he answered a little too late for his words to not seem suspicious.

“I don’t think you are,” you reply sadly. “You say sorry more than you-”

say I love you.

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he knows. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I am,” he says with more sincerity, but he looks at you with an unreadable expression. “I just don’t think it’s enough at this point.”

“What’s not enough?”

You were confused. Is he still talking about whether he's apologetic or not? Or is it something entirely different?

“I do love you,” he says with a certain conviction in his voice, “and I always will, but it feels like nothing’s working out.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you and focuses on the leather of the fancy couch. He doesn’t say anything but you know what this means. He’s about to stand up, but you grab onto his wrist.

“This is your apartment,” you say before he could say anything to break your heart even further. “I’ll leave.”

“[Y/N], no,” he says. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just gonna stay over at the dorm. I just...”

Your eyes get blurry from the tears. Even now it felt like he was looking down at you. Nowhere to go. It was like he pitied you.

“...need to go clear my mind,” he finishes the sentence, standing up to grab his coat.

You shake your head and stand in front of him. He’s usually like this. A coward. A bumbling fool who would rather avoid problems than face them head on.

“I need you to stay, Yoongi,” you cry out. “I need you to actually stay for once and comfort me.”

He looks at you, mouth open but no words come out. He smiles sadly and walks toward you, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, [Y/N],” he says and you watch him leave as easily as he walked in.

It’s not like he ever comforted you in the first place.

—

The break up happened silently over a late-night phone call a few days after he disappeared on you. You packed up your things, stayed over at Chaerin’s house, and braced yourself for what was to come. It should’ve happened sooner, you admit, but your heart still sinks when he speaks.

“I just don’t think either of us is willing to try anymore,” he says solemnly. “We’ve been on and off for the past few years and I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to continue.”

You agree, just wanting the call to end quickly so you wouldn’t have to hear his voice any longer. It hurt to have to listen to him rationalize breaking your heart.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, [Y/N],” he says, not even a tiny bit choked up. “I think we’ve... outgrown each other.”

You knew what Yoongi really meant. He’s outgrown you.

“I think so too,” you say rigidly. Short and simple. You left nothing to be desired. “Let’s break up.”

Yoongi looks at his phone, slightly disappointed. He wished you would fight back, maybe rekindle something in him that he’s lost over the years. Yet you were silent on the line and he just had to accept it- that there was nothing left to be saved.

“Take care, okay?” he says softly because in the end he still cares- he just doesn’t want to anymore.

“I will,” you reply, ultimately hanging up the phone. You collapse onto a bed unfamiliar to you. Yoongi would no longer sleep beside you, no longer reach over to hug your side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He was gone and you had to accept that maybe he was never yours in the first place.

His last words replay in your mind.

Take care.

That was the most concern he’s ever shown you in the past few weeks. You almost scoff at the absurdity of it all. You don’t notice how truly broken you were until the tears start streaming down your face. You see the image of him through blurry eyes and you wonder how you could let Yoongi leave such a permanent scar on your heart.

—

Present

“Do you like your eggs runny or no?”

Junghoon asks as you approach his figure. You hug him from behind and smile at his warmth. Safe.

“Just a little runny,” you reply.

He smiles and nods, turning off the heat and grabbing some seasoning from your cupboard. You detach yourself from him when you realized what he was grabbing.

“Babe that’s not salt. That’s-”

Sugar.

You stop yourself from saying it and Junghoon looks at you with concern. He chuckles at your stoic state and ruffles your hair.

“Cat got your tongue or what?” he asks, grabbing the right container this time. “Maybe I should’ve asked if you like your eggs sweet instead, huh?”

“I’ve never tried that combination before,” you say teasingly. “Why don’t you test it out for us.”

He clicks his tongue at you and splashes some salt on your face.

“I’ll pour sugar all over you if that’s what you really want.”

You laugh half-heartedly. A simple word shouldn’t affect you this much but you find yourself get more teary-eyed as it repeats in your head. It wasn’t fair to Junghoon that you were thinking of your ex in his presence. It wasn’t fair to you either.

You feel a vibration from your pocket and you pull it out to serve as a distraction from your wallowing thoughts. It’s a text.

From Sugar.

—

A/N: This was so hard to write because my mind has just been empty these days but I’m so glad it’s done now >_< Thank you to @minyoongail for requesting this story. I’ve been bumping to the Taylor Swift song now because of this commissions T^T I recommend you all to listen to it. I tried to write this in a different style from my other works so I hope this is still readable for you all LOL

I’m closing commissions temporarily to focus on the ones I have now and to also start writing my own stuff. Let me know how you feel about this, I appreciate all types of comments and criticisms <3 Look forward to Part 2!

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calpops · 4 years ago

Text

searching souls | c.h.

Calum despised the crown that sat atop his head, he never wanted to inherit a throne and a kingdom if it meant bowing to the pressures of a court and a union that wasn’t with his soulmate. He was left with reminders of who he was supposed to be with; fleeting marks gracing his skin. They served as reasons, they told him in fine silver lines and blooming purple what was worth fighting for. A ballerina with an injured arm and distaste for all that royalty brought showed Calum what his soul truly yearned for. Who he truly was and who he was supposed to be with. He could only hope her soul was set out in search of the same.

18k words

This fic has been in the making since April of 2019 and I am so incredibly happy I have finally brought it to life and can now share it with you all. I hope you enjoy. <3

<< >>

Calum became one with the shadows, the night disguising him with tendrils of darkness that were a little too easy to sink into. His back pressed to a stone wall and a cry of relief and for privacy fell from his lips. He was always aching for a moment alone, to be away from the endless amount of people that endlessly crowded him. Moments before his dash down a flight of stairs he was sat among such a crowd and added tenfold; he had stared at a stage with dancers telling a story he didn’t quite understand, with people crowding him he didn’t really know. His presence was obligatory according to the court—an invitation one he was not allowed to refuse. He was a visitor in this domain, one where the tilt of his crown was less commanding and more endearing. He wasn’t quite considered and treated as a future leader here; he was viewed as a rare commodity, a celebrity and something to be passed along and propped up in advantageous places.

His royal guard, Ashton, stood just behind the exit, the door stayed propped open so he might spring into action on a moment’s notice. Even when Calum was alone someone always lingered. He wasn’t sure when his last true moment of peace and solace was. He’d bargain it may have never happened, that he might be chasing that feeling for the entirety of his life. Going round and round against the court and commoners, tailspinning through a whirlwind he never chose to be in. For the moment he found a semblance of peace; of all the people to be alone with Ashton was the easiest. He was a lively guard but a quiet presence when needed.

Calum could still hear the music that played floors above him. The ballet was only about half through, possibly nearing the intermission, more hours to sit through facing Calum in a taunting way. He had never been one for the ballet or operas or plays; he found them to be disarming, unamusing and hours of his life he would never get back. With agile fingers he pulled a lone cigarette from the inner pocket of his suit, a light to follow and took a drag—smoke pluming into the night air in a thick reminder of reliance. He was trying to quit, he knew the habit was nasty and left reminders on his skin, a tendency to forget leaving mild burns in their wake. Reminders that would fleetingly grace the fingers of his soulmate.

Footsteps echoed down wooden stairs, they were light and rhythmic; landing each step in a delicate and decisive way. Calum turned, shoulder pressing into the stone as his eyes shifted to the door, caught a shadow towering on the back wall as the person descended. He heard Ashton clear his throat and the squeak of a floorboard as he too shifted to accommodate and size up the new presence. Calum turned back, took another drag and let out his breath as the steps neared and dropped down to the level he stood his ground on. Saccharine invaded his senses, nearly covered the smoke and drowned out the breeze of city air.

“You know this is a performer’s exit only,” the voice that said it was soft but commanding, a warning laced with subtlety that spoke volumes more than a boom.

Calum rolled his shoulders back, dropped his hand with the cigarette to his side and spun to face the voice of reason. She stood tall, leotard clinging to every curve, large coat trying and failing to conceal her arm that rested in a sling. Calum shrugged, gave a half attempt at expressing an apology.

“I’d be careful. Intermission is coming. Some people like to sneak down for a smoke. Guess you couldn’t wait,” she continued around a pointed look and sigh, pushed falling honey hair that Calum surmised was once neatly tucked into uniform back behind her ear with her free hand.

“I could wait. I chose not to,” Calum mumbled as he lifted the cigarette up for one last drag before letting it fall to the cobblestones below and using his shoe to snuff it out.

He wasn’t used to being called out as clear as day. He wasn’t used to just anyone speaking so freely but it sparked something deep rooted and missing from his life. He enjoyed petaled pink lips giving him a reality check without inhibitions or fearing his crown. It suddenly hit him she might not know. That his identity could still be under wraps and as much a mystery to her as she was to him. He smirked, adjusted his jacket and crossed one leg over the other for a more casual stance.

“Very well, then,” she said and made as if to leave but Calum stopped her short with an explanation she hadn’t asked for.

“It was just a bit too crowded, I needed a breather,” he said and realized the tobacco infused irony of his admission.

She laughed, the irony not lost on her but his identity seemingly so. Her head tilted back ever so slightly with the giggle and her free hand found hold on the strap of the sling. He wondered about that; clearly something had gone awry in the time he left and she appeared. He couldn’t place her on the stage but knew her to be among the ballerinas, if not for the proper use of a designated exit or the leotard then for the graceful poise and posture that carried her every movement.

“I heard we sold out tonight. Quite the full house in there,” she began with understanding flooding her eyes. “Some royal was invited. Guess it drew quite the crowd.”

For the first time Calum noticed her eyes, his gaze finally drawn away from delicate pink to clashing colors. Her right eye was deep and dark, brown to the point it was almost black. The left was nearly hazel, green with tints of gold that glittered against the contrast of the right. Stars above them lit the way for Calum’s gaze to wander and linger, take in fine details he wouldn’t have if he spotted her on stage. A small silver scar hid at the edge of hazel, a story that tried to disguise itself with make up but shone through like the moon behind the clouds. Her coat was tweed and worn out, scuffed shoes took the place of ballet slippers and tights ran up and down her long legs with ease. She was put together but built with rough edges that would never see the light of a stage. Of all the ballets Calum had been forced to attend he couldn’t picture a ballerina out of the light; with hair falling down and clothes that hid immaculate costumes. He liked seeing her on the other side.

“A little packed for my taste,” Calum commented and inwardly shook his head, hoping the comment didn’t come off as condescending or belittling. Her eyes narrowed but a small tilt of her head spoke it more as curiosity and less as offense. “A little too long too. I’ve never been able to sit through an entire ballet.”

Once more Calum scolded himself for his choice of words. If not for the near insult then for the opening of questioning on her behalf. She jumped at the opportunity and Calum admired her quick observations and wit.

“Frequent ballets though you hate them?” She inquired and took a tiny step forward, sticky sweetness coming closer, another tendril of hair falling loose and covering her dark brown eye.

“It’s never really been a choice,” Calum reluctantly admitted.

She nodded as if she understood but Calum knew she didn’t, she couldn’t.

“It was never really my choice to be in the ballet,” She quipped with a shrug and a slight grimace at the motion; arm injured obviously hurting with the thoughtless act. Her fingers curled into her palm and Calum made note of the white knuckles and tightening grip that surely left crescent prints into soft skin. “Parents.”

She said her explanation just as Calum thought the word for his own explanation. Parents. The court. His crown. They all begged his duties and required his attendance to places he wouldn’t usually care for. He arched an eyebrow at her explanation though; suddenly captivated by how she might understand and what similarities they truly shared.

“At least you’ll get a break?” He offered in question as he peered at her injured arm, still curious what happened in his absence. “How did it happen?”

She laughed but the sound wasn’t as humorous as her first laugh at burning irony. This time it was dryer and expelled in a force that lingered between them. “Don’t tell me you left within the first five minutes?”

Calum shook his head and wracked his brain for any incidents but admittedly paid very little attention to his surroundings other than the creeping claustrophobia and desire to be anywhere else. He bit his lip, wished he hadn’t snuffed out his last cigarette so soon and felt his fingers close around empty air. He felt Ashton’s gaze and to his guard’s credit he did try to be discreet though his lingering presence must have aroused questions and suspicions to the ballerina rolling different colored eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t pay attention,” she uttered and once more made to pass Calum but he was quick to pull her attention back to him, cleared his throat and mustered out an apology—albeit a bit of a sarcastic one—that made her sigh and pause in the night. “I was dropped and replaceable. I best be going. You might want to as well; if you don’t like crowds.”

The promise of people sneaking down during intermission reminded Calum that he had his own people waiting within the balcony seats. In a brash and unexpected even to him move his hand searched the depths of his jacket pocket for a crinkled scroll he had tucked away—after sparing half a glance at it when his advisor handed it over and droned on about the ‘gathering’. He felt the folds and pulled it out, smoothed it a bit so she might have a chance at reading it and offered it to her much more timidly than his confidence usually allowed.

Her curiosity was admirable as she willingly took it without a word and read under starlight.

“A royal gathering?”

Calum shrugged, hoping to keep up the facade he was one with the usuals. “A ball of sorts. I have some connections to the kingdom. Drop by, tell them Thomas invited you.”

Her eyes roamed from the scroll and back to him, trying to figure out the sudden invitation and the reasoning for it. Trying to figure out who he was and what his intentions were. His middle name may have thrown her off, if she had any suspicions his method of secrecy was practiced; known to his kingdom but lacking common knowledge outside palace walls. His people would understand.

She folded the scroll back up with her free hand and didn’t say a word as she moved along, stepping around him and glancing back. Calum forced an uncertain smile as she blew out a breath of disbelief and fully turned back to him, hand raising with the scroll in her clutches. Calum felt winded as she pressed the scroll to his chest with a decisive shake of her head.

“I could go, I choose not to.”

Her words were a near replica to his explanation of sneaking away before the intermission. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a fleeting second of eye contact; his heartbeat was erratic under her palm. He wondered if she could feel it, if she could hear it past the music that still accompanied dancers he had paid so little mind. Her hand stayed in place, scroll pinned to him; his hand came up to ghost over hers, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her hand and the scroll to fall. Neither happened.

“I’ve never been able to endure an entire royal gathering,” she added on with a glint of humor and mischief sparkling clashing eyes.

“Or let go of me,” he remarked around a smirk. Calum heard Ashton shifting, held his breath and grimaced as he came into sight with protective senses in overdrive. The ballerina casted a quick and flickering gaze to the not so inconspicuous guard just doing his job.

She backed off in a split second, the loss of contact burning through Calum as she cocked her head to the side and pouted petaled pink lips. She gave a shrug as the scroll drifted down to the cobblestones below, settled neatly at the toe of Calum’s shoe. Part of him wanted to move to pick it up but he stayed stoic and merely dipped his hands into his jacket pockets and toed at the edge of the invitation. It was stagnant in the still night air.

“I don’t think your friend over there really wants me around,” she commented. Calum shook his head and gave a warning glance to Ashton to back off; all was fine and his presence wasn’t needed. But Ashton lingered with a serious gaze and set jaw, eyes flickering back up the stairs as if to communicate what Calum already knew. He should be getting back. Ashton cleared his throat to emphasize his point. “Oh don’t get all worked up. I’m leaving now.”

Calum watched as she began to stalk away again, her coat trailing down to her knees and sashaying with the swing of her hips as she glided under moonlight. Calum sighed as he watched her but one last question sprang to his lips, one last desire to see brown and hazel and a silver scar that held them together.

“I didn’t get your name?” He said it as a question and waited as she paused. He didn’t know if she would answer or if she would tell him the truth. He hadn’t. His offering of his middle name less than honest.

“Alena,” she said without turning back to him and granting him his last ditch desire. “Maybe some day you’ll tell me your real name, your highness.”

She rounded the corner of the alley and dissapeared around the edges. Calum stood in shock at her knowledge, the brash way she dangled his lies behind her back and in front of his face leaving him a bit breathless and uneasy. She knew and she still treated him as any other. She was aware of crowns that sat atop his head and thrones that placed him higher than others, of castle walls that shrouded him in a life he didn’t desire. He turned back to Ashton who wore his practiced patience in his subtle expression. Calum shook his head again; still befuddled by the exchange. He rolled his sleeves up and moved to enter the stone building and go back to boredom built around crowds. Ashton stopped him short.

“Your arm,” he said and made Calum peer down.

A fine line of bruising ran up his forearm. It was blooming purple and light blue, completely unfazed by the touch of his fingertips grazing along it. His soulmate’s aches appeared on his skin and tampered with his thoughts. He froze as Ashton was trying to carral him back into the building, the distant sound of footsteps above them delivering a promise from petaled lips and an injured shrug. Calum sucked in a breath that got caught in the back of his throat as Ashton placed a hand on his upper back and broke the motionless state he was once captured by.

“She was wearing a sling,” Calum managed to get out, craning his neck back towards the corner she rounded and dissapeared to. “She had a scar by her eye.”

Ashton was seemingly confused for a moment as Calum was slow to move up the stairs with him. But the statements quickly caught up to him and began bursting into a world where your other half bore your scars and wore your bruises for just a moment in time; just long enough to know their pain and identify matching intricacies.

“You don’t think?” Ashton asked, suddenly more deadpan than Calum had ever witnessed his guard. “She’s not…”

Calum forced nonchalance. Tucked his own wants and hearts content to the back of castle walls. “It doesn’t matter.”

The court would never allow for Calum to pursue anyone without a royal bloodline. It was all a game of opportunity. A contract in the making to unite kingdoms and gain more power than they already had. Power that Calum didn’t want and couldn’t actually control. Power he would gladly give away in exchange for being with the person he was made for. For years he was convinced there was no one out there; that he wasn’t deserving and if he was they weren’t deserving of the complications that would follow. Now, coming eye to eye with someone who finally didn’t care about his title, didn’t bow at his presence or fear his authority, to see hazel and deep brown marked by a silver scar, it was a fear he needed to confront.

Calum made his way back up the steps as ballerinas passed by, Alena’s promise becoming fulfilled as the music had died off and people made a getaway for a short break. He knew the scroll he had given Alena had fallen and was probably long gone, lost to the wind and roaming cobblestone streets in a nighttime haze. It was the only reason he would have to see her again. The purpled bruise that stained his arm would fade by morning and he would no longer have any trace of her except the drone of music that rang through his ears. If in fact an identical bruise laid within the sling that hid her arm from his view. If, a matching scar ever graced his eye. If, forgotten cigarettes left marks on her fingers or an accident with a sword ever graced her with a line from ankle to knee or the press of a blade marred above her heart too; accidents in training that sidelined him from any type of further combat work.

Questions would stay unanswered during the rest of the ballet. People would drift in and out of Calum’s focus and a new attention would be paid to the art form taking life on stage. He would go back to his quarters that night, fingertips grazing along the reminder of her—the wonder if it was truly her—as he lost himself in the echoes of the night and souls set out in search of each other.

***

Morning came in golden glows and faded colors already leaving his skin. The first half of the morning was spent in a haze, bypassing those who whispered words in his ears and controlled the strings that were always attached and following him in secret shadows that no one else could see but he felt with every step and pull. His accommodations were regal but they were so much like home he had a desire to leave and wander; to break away from the usual mold of frivolous expenses. With Ashton by his side he roamed halls made of marble and gold, with chandeliers that hung as high as the heavens on vaulted ceilings with intricate carvings. He wandered past the fleeting rush of advisors and the courts, of people who were likely to stop him in his tracks and push him this way or that; if only Calum hadn’t had a lifetime of slipping through the cracks and ghosting along hallways until an escape was found.

Only Ashton was a shadow behind him that could keep up as he made a getaway into the city. People passed by in rushes and Calum blended into the crowd with ease. He was practiced in the art of escape and when given the chance he could be one with a crowd—Ashton always following; evidentially two with the crowd. Only when his people lingered around him and royal clothes clung to his body did anyone make a fuss; except Alena. She was still on his mind as he wandered cobblestone streets in pursuit of something out of the ordinary. Street vendors hollered out their merchandise and prices in competition with each other’s voices. The sun beat down but a small breeze helped liven the day and make the heat bearable. Calum was accustomed to the warmth, his own kingdom was not far away and not much different in temperature though the winds carried salt from the sea up to his quarter windows and waves could be heard crashing around his land. This city held only the ricocheting of footsteps and busy voices.

Up ahead a flower cart stood elegant with orange petals spilling over notched woodwork. In a moment of intrigue and finding something out of his own ordinary Calum ventured over. White petals usually graced the palace halls. Orange was a far cry and more lively touch. Floral perfume greeted him with grace as his fingertips touched satin petals, eyes fixed upon the warmth of the flowers and the heat that touched his cheeks.

“Thomas?” A familiar voice said around a question and disbelief. Calum looked up, found clashing eyes fillled with questions and a silver scar shining under the sunlight and lack of makeup. Alena smirked on the other side of the flower cart.

“Calum, actually,” he corrected around a faint blush that danced from his cheeks and down his neck; painting a path of embarrassment at his half truth. His voice was low, hopefully only loud enough for Alena to hear. Possibly Ashton who lingered at a diagonal with shifting eyes and open ears.

She tilted her head to the side and let her smirk deepen as the truth floated between them. She nodded as Calum casted a gaze up and down, noted the sling still supporting her arm, the loose dress that hung off her frame and the honey hair that framed her face in soft tendrils. She was a different person from the previous night. Calum wished the bruises on his arm hadn’t faded so soon, that she might be able to peer at them and recognize them as her own. Affirm his suspicions or deny his foolish thoughts. But they were barely a whisper on his skin now, much too faded to catch the eye.

“Hate ballet but love flowers?” She asked around her tilted smirk and eyes that gleamed and tried to figure him out.

He gave a shrug and eyed a bunch of flowers at her side, she followed his gaze and used her free hand to scoop them up and offer them over the other side of the cart.

“A ballerina and a florist?” Calum then asked, just then realizing she was the merchant; the one in control.

“And a hard bargainer; just for the morning until my father takes over,” she said wryly with a raised eyebrow and a lingering touch as she made the exchange of flowers from her hand to his.

Calum took just a moment to inspect her hand, no identifiable marks except a freckle on the back of it laid on her skin. None to Calum’s knowledge other than of his own doing had ever graced his hand. Only small burns from forgotten cigarettes and blisters from weapons and instruments. Alena told him the price for the flowers and Calum saw it as an opportunity to strike a deal.

“How about all of that and a day with me?”

She contemplated his offer much more genuinely than she had his invitiation to the ball under the guise of his middle name and ‘connections to the palace’. His honesty must have been refreshing, his true self accepted. He didn’t need pretenses or walls up, he didn’t even feel the need to worry about being used for his title. It was abundantly clear it didn’t impress her and wasn’t the way to win her over. But a genuine offer and smile, a brush of fingers and hope strung up in his heart seemed to do the trick,

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said, free hand going to fidget with her sling and insightful eyes finding Ashton still lingering and watching. “But he can’t come.”

Calum heard Ashton scoff—his duty to protect and promise to stay inconspicuous being overridden by an ego that sometimes had a hard time fitting through drawbridge doors. Alena swept her gaze from Ashton to Calum, waiting for a confirmation and time spent together. Calum mused through the outcomes of his decision. He gave Ashton a glance that asked him to stay where he was as he pulled Alena slightly to the side and hopefully out of Ashton’s ear shot.

“Losing him will be difficult,” Calum warned with orange flowers tucked neatly into his grasp.

Alena smiled and Calum watched as her eye line got lost up the way of the street of vendors. “My father is just up there. We could make a run for it,” she whispered, gone on the tops of her toes to ensure Calum was the only one to hear. Saccharine came back to him, warmth collided with soft skin and fingertips tingled at the contact.

Calum followed her gaze and saw an older gentleman; flowers pinned to his coat and a cane in his hand. He grinned and waved at Alena who responded in kind. He then took a peek at Ashton who lingered around the flower cart; appearing as a curious customer inspecting petals; attention rapt on the display of colors and stems.

“Now?” Calum asked and instructed with a low voice and hand that reached out to capture hers not contained by the sling.

She accepted the offering and they started to edge away in a slow movement at first and then broke into a run that rounded corners and lost a guard who didn’t know his way around the city the way a poised ballerina did. It wasn’t the first time Calum had dared to run away from a guard but it was the most successful plight he had attempted. Ashton was lost around bends and breaths were caught as they came to a stop with backs pressed to a stone wall. Calum recognized the building; only because he lived a moment outside of his own mind. She brought them back to last night, the alley between buildings and an exit meant only for performers.

As Calum and Alena let their breathing level out Calum noticed the flowers in his grasp had lost petals along the way. A scattered and hazy orange path must have laid in their wake as they made their getaway. He pulled them up and presented them to Alena who giggled at the sight of mostly stems. Calum smirked as he handed them back to her.

“For you.”

She cocked her head to the side and clashing eyes scanned the once bouquet. Delicate fingers plucked a lone survivor from the pack, spun the stem and created a glow of orange dancing in the morning sun. Calum dropped the rest, carefully took hold of the one in Alena’s grasp and moved it to tuck it behind her ear.

It fell lopsided, cut shadows against a scar and added to the line of color that happened across her face. Dark brown glittering under the sun, warm pink tinging tan cheeks, hazel accentuating a crescent of silver, and orange petals blending with honey hair that fell free. In the night and morning he had known and interacted with her; her confidence had yet to be shaken but a sweep of modesty that had her playing with her skirt and turning her feet inward had Calum chasing that reaction. He rolled his sleeves up, still disappointed her gaze wouldn’t land upon a sign that perhaps they were something more than strangers on the run together. He could ask her but questions and words with implications only meant so much. Proof was much more becoming and believable.

“Let me show you beyond the city,” she offered. Her hand came up so her fingers brushed against his that lingered after placing the flower in her hair. They both dropped but he timidly intertwined their fingers and motioned for her to lead the way.

They were stopped before they could get in motion and for a heart pounding moment Calum was worried it was Ashton and their deal would be negated or another getaway would have to ensue. Though the voice was masculine it was different and called out her name instead of his.

“Alena.”

She turned and Calum moved with her, held his breath and kept his head low, hoping that whoever it was would pay as little mind to his identity as she had the previous night. The man didn’t bat a blue eye at Calum, only kept an apologetic gaze on Alena and shook his head somberly as he took her in. Calum was confused and waiting for more of their interaction to transpire.

“Luke,” she said with a courteous head nod and much to Calum’s surprise she didn’t untangle their fingers.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he offered and Calum stayed silent, simply watching the way Luke’s eyes fluttered to her sling and recalled words of being dropped and replaceable. “How long will you be out?”

“A few weeks”—she began and shot Calum a look that playfully turned to a smirk—“guess it will give me a break. Don’t worry about it.”

Luke nodded, left well enough alone, and headed for the performer’s door. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then.”

The door shut and Alena turned them back to the venture they were setting out on before being interrupted. Before Calum could question her about the exchange and affirm his suspicions she launched into an explanation laced with nonchalance. “He missed his cue last night. Timing was off. It was just an accident.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” Calum muttered, remembering the way she called him out for not noticing something that happened within the first five minutes of the performance.

“Wish you’d seen me fall?” She asked with a narrowed gaze that set nerves alive in Calum’s bloodstream until it was all followed by a giggle that fell unabashedly from petaled lips.

Calum blew out a breath of relief that relaxed his accidentally tensed shoulders, her banter was unwieldy and took him off guard. He’d never had such open conversation with someone so unafraid to speak their mind and make jokes. Calum let their journey pass by his peripheral vision as he kept his gaze trained on her, head slightly shifted to his left, corners of his lips begging to turn up but he kept his cool as she led him along. As promised their journey led them away from the city and the crowds of people that pooled into the streets. Calum appreciated the quiet as they left buildings and gatherings behind in favor of towering trees and grass up to their knees with paths inlaid by steps walked before them. Flowers bloomed along the trails and Calum wondered if this had any connection to the cart overflowing with petals.

“Where are we?” Calum asked though there was a feeling inside of him that told him he didn’t really mind wandering into the unknown with her.

Alena stopped and so Calum did too; the hold their hands held finally broke as she spun and her back was to walls of flowers. The sun casted golden shadows and glows that highlighted her in all of her glory. Silver scar faced the world and Calum, put questions in his head—ones he was determined to ask before their day together was up.

“I used to come here all the time,” she explained with a shy smile and cheeks that held a faint blush of rosy color. “My brothers and I used to run through the field. It was the only place to escape the city. That or running into another one. I thought you might like it here; no crowds, no boring ballets or royal guards.”

“I do,” he admitted around a smile. Her assumption was spot on.

Calum wished he had a place like this back in his kingdom but all of his hiding spots were known to Ashton, all of his escapes were mapped out. Usually he didn’t mind Ashton following, he knew it was his job and if push came to shove his protection might be necessary. But there were days and nights—like this one and last—where Calum craved alone time, wanted a solace to himself to sink into the shadows or the sun on his own. Being alone with Alena felt better than being alone by himself; or at least he was guessing.

“What’s your kingdom like?” Alena asked out of the blue, head tilting with her curiosity as she looked him up and down and awaited his answer.

Calum paused for a moment; just a slice of trepidation cutting through him at her newfound curiosity about his kingdom. She hadn’t so much as uttered a word about him being a prince since dangling his lies in front of his face with a sarcastic ‘your highness’. He searched her face, noted the dimple that deepened on her cheek as she pursed her lips and the slight arch of her right eyebrow as she waited.

“A lot like this one, I suppose,” Calum answered with apprehension. “Except we have the sea.”

A look of wonder and delight captured her, shone in her eyes as she approached him with slight and slow steps. “I’ve never seen the sea.”

“There’s a view from my quarter’s windows,” Calum explained and felt himself loosen up; her curiosity was pure, voice soothing as his anxieties filtered away as she broke into a grin.

“I assume that’s lovely,” she commented with a dreamy gaze at the feild expanded out all around them. Calum assumed she was picturing waves within the grass, ripples of water instead of petals and glistening highlights of the sun. “Have you ever sailed before?”

“A few times,” Calum answered and let out a small chuckle. “Why so many questions?”

“It’s called conversation.”

Calum continued laughing at her witty and fast remark. Her grin broadened at his response yet a bite of sass crossed her face and danced within her eyes.

“Then I deserve to ask you some questions too,” Calum quipped and moved around her, circled past her and came to a stop where she once had her back to the flowers.

“Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”

They were stood close, a summer breeze of distance between them. The fingers that fell from the sling curled in and her free hand settled on the fabric of her skirt. Calum hesitated, collected his words to ask as gently as possible, raised his hand slowly to keep his touch as soft as possible. His index finger grazed silver.

“How did this happen?” He asked in a whisper.

Alena sighed and slightly pulled away from him. “Except that.”

A beat of pause ensued between them and Calum felt his heart drop to his stomach as his throat tightened. He hadn’t meant to overstep. He went to apologize, words tight but she came back to him and the shake of her head jolted him.

“I’m only joking. I don’t have an answer. I don’t remember; I was too young, I can’t recall a time it wasn’t there.”

“You’ve never asked anyone about it?”

“What good would knowing do?”

“You could explain it to your soulmate,” Calum offered around a nervous shake of his head and fingers curling into his palms.

“Aren’t soulmates a little far fetched?” She asked without hesitation or flinching. “Even if there is someone out there perfectly matched with all the same scars, who’s to say you’ll ever meet them? The world is much bigger than that.”

Calum swallowed down a lump in his throat and nodded though he didn’t agree. At one point in time he held those thoughts, just last night he was stuck in a world where soulmates were outranked by royal bloodlines. But morning gave him new perspective and a need to know; to try and chase that person, to see if Alena was that person. Everything inside of Calum wanted to scream that she was, but maybe that was foolish and derived from finally being treated as a person and not feared or catered to as a royal.

Alena gave him a soft and inviting look as she settled into the grass, dress splaying out around her lap as she crossed her legs and used her free hand to pat the grass beside her. Her words on soulmates were conversation and she seemingly welcomed Calum’s response—whether or not she agreed with it. Calum knelt down, settled at her side and felt the earth beneath him, the dampness of dirt and the dew collected on blades, he didn’t mind, not when Alena shifted to face him full on and tilted her head to the side; golden glows finding her silver scar.

“What if you did meet them?” Calum inquired with a raised eyebrow and pure intrigue carrying his words. “Would you deny them?”

She pondered that for a moment and Calum was glad to see she was receptive to his criticism of her thoughts. She blew out a breath. “No, I suppose not. But coincidence is quite convincing.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“What if you truly believed you found the one but it was all coincidence in timing and placement? Are we truly that quick to be persuaded? Are we that desperate for a validated love that all it takes is marks in the same places? What if the one you found was coincidence and the one for you was still out there?”

Calum had never considered her elaboration but her words cut deep and left swirling uncertainties ghosting through his thoughts; he was sure they would haunt him for nights to come. The line on his leg tingled and his chest warmed to that of a small inferno; something inside of him told him that she was wrong.

“Wouldn’t you just know? Don’t you think you’d be able to feel something and know it’s true?”

Calum was asking her on account of wondering for himself. He didn’t quite understand the mysterious workings of the universe or the powers that may be. Alena paused and Calum could see the way she collected her thoughts and wished he could understand the way her mind worked. He caught the flicker of brown and hazel eyes, the way they darted from him to the flowers and back again, the slight narrowing as she contemplated.

“Perhaps that feeling is drowned out by the power of persuasion and thinking you know. Maybe I’m an idealist and want to believe I fell in love because I fell in love; not because some unknown power told me that I should.”

Calum was finally understanding and thought that he maybe even agreed, but there was still something inside of him that lingered with deflating hope and broken and splintered shards of optimism.

“What if you could have both?” He asked and inched just a touch closer. She responded in kind and the distance between them became so minimal Calum could feel the warmth of her collide with him. “What if you could fall in love first and then be reassured by that unknown power?”

“That sounds”—she turned away from him and lost herself in the field of flowers—“unrealistic. Too good to be true.”

Calum let the conversation go in that moment. Let the breeze drifting past take it away from them and instead focused on the tendrils of hair that became one with the wind and the way the scent of her carried through the air. The flower tucked behind her ear held on, folded with the breeze but stayed in place and only lost a petal. Calum nearly reached out to save it between delicate fingertips but kept his hands down. Their walk out to the field and questions turned to conversation hadn’t taken up much of the day—Calum was grateful for that and for their deal—though time felt endless and too fast all in the same breath.

“Any other plans for the day?” Calum asked, voice suddenly soft and implying it was okay for her to believe the way she did. “Anywhere else you’d like to show me?”

“Actually, yes,” she responded and Calum swore she lifted herself to the tops of her toes as she got up and spun around and away from him. She didn’t explain, didn’t wait or look back for him as she began to take off; merely trusted that he was following and so he did.

The field broke away into a tree line, mossy grounds took place of dew filled grass and sunlight filtered in through branches that dominated the sky. Foliage fell from branches and littered the grounds in muted greens that blended in with the path they walked. Wind carried through the trees and saccharine and petals followed after them. The walk was shorter than their first and soon enough Calum heard running water, Alena stopped and kneeled down, beckoned him over with a sideways glance and small motion of her hand.

The stream was small and wildflowers that thrived with water littered the edges. Alena looked peaceful as her fingertips grazed over the cool water, Calum settled beside her and followed suit; felt the coolness on his skin and reveled in the simplicity of the act. Never had he a moment alone when by the water. It was either crowded ships or lines of guards that ran up and down the shoreline. Being alone with her and the small stream was born of dreams and fantasies Calum never usually allowed himself to linger on for too long. He got a bit lost in the notion as he built worlds around such a simple desire. It was a flick of water that splashed across his cheek that brought him back to reality.

“Gotcha,” Alena laughed and sent another small splash of water towards him.

Her daring moves and unabashed nature around him was welcomed; but her warfare of water could not go without a fight. Calum splashed some her way, enjoyed the small gasp that left her followed by another laugh and flick of water. They became fixed on splashing each other and with only one arm available for the fight Alena quickly surrendered, lone hand raised to the sky—a metaphorical white flag waving in the wind. Calum took mercy and dropped himself away from the stream where a line of sunlight filtered in through a break in the branches. His skin was cool from the water but he was warming quickly. She joined him silently and wiped water from her eyes and inspected her now soaking wet sling.

“I didn’t think about that,” Calum mumbled as he moved closer to try and be of some assistance to the issue. She waved him off.

“I started it. It’s alright if I don’t move it. I can let it dry in the sun.” She was gentle and careful in removing her sling, practiced movements guiding the way, let the soaked cloth drop from it’s support as her arm very slowly eased back down to her side. She laid it beside her in the face of the light.

An identical line of bruising ran up her forearm and Calum was winded for a moment. But doubts began to plague him in the form of coincidence. With her words on soulmates he wasn’t sure what to believe, he wasn’t sure she’d want to know—she wanted to fall in love for love not for the notion that something told her she should. Calum stayed quiet as they laid back in the grass, enjoyed the lack of noise—the contrast to his usual daily life was striking and inviting.

The day bled on in swirls of clouds as their refuge away from the city went undisturbed. Calum knew Ashton would be looking for him but also covering for him with the court and whatever duties he was supposed to be filling for the day. There was another invitation to somewhere he didn’t want to go that laid ahead for the night. As much as he always wished to skip out on such occasions a sense of duty always brought him around. Evening was approaching and though Calum knew he should make another appearance before the moon was out and highlighted his absence that much more he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to Alena.

“You’ve shown me your world, how about I get to show you mine now?” He asked, head turning, grass rustling with the motion.

They were still laid out in the grass, reveling in the quiet and making idle conversation. It was much less than that of the possibilities of soulmates but stories from childhood filled the air and time between them. Calum laughed at the tales she told, yearned for a life like it, and wished hollowed and echoing palace walls might someday be replaced with those of a home. That a marriage wouldn’t just be a union for power but a commitment with a soulmate.

“You want me to see your world?” She asked with an arched eyebrow and crooked smile. She sat up slowly, reached for her sling and stopped short. “Only if you help me first.”

“Anything for you,” he quipped and moved to take the now dried and warm cloth in his hands.

She shifted, slowly brought her arm back into place and let him wrap it into position and tie it in place. His eyes may have taken in the bruise that once stained his skin and committed it to memory. His touch may have lingered for a just a moment longer than necessary and she may have pressed closer into the smooth feeling of his fingertips on her exposed skin, he may have felt the gentle beat of her heart as he pulled away. But it didn’t matter. Her views on soulmates and his duties to his kingdom negated any possibilities that might have played through his mind.

He brought her back to the lavish accommodations her city provided. Watched the wonder in her eyes and realized she’d never been through the doors or seen the marble intricacies. One of his hands found the small of her back and the other pointed up at the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. She peered up and shook her head in disbelief.

“Your world costs a lot more than mine,” Alena muttered.

“My world made ours collide,” he offered and when she looked at him in confusion he went on, “if it weren’t for an invitation I couldn’t refuse I never would have been at the ballet. You never would have found me loitering at your exit.”

“Then thank the crown for that,” she responded in awe as she took in surroundings she had never seen before. For a moment Calum envisioned what wonder and awe might capture her at the view of the ocean from his lands. Wondered if she might try to drown him in splashes playfully and completely forget and disregard his title.

“Calum,” his advisor's voice rang through the space, it was high pitched and grating—his name always followed by an order or as his advisor put it; a suggestion. At times he felt less an advisor and more a keeper. “You have a dinner to attend.”

“Yes, Charles. I know, Charles,” Calum responded as he always did.

“I best be going,” Alena said in a breathy whisper. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Calum asked before she could so much as turn to leave.

“Perhaps you’ll catch me at the flower cart,” she said nonchalantly and spun on her heel; the grace of a ballerina carrying her movement. “Sometime in the morning.”

Calum grinned as he watched her walk away, waited for the doors to close behind her and wished he had the power to invite her to the dinner. But it wasn’t his. He was a visitor and even in his own kingdom he often felt he had no say, no rule, no true authority until a prince’s crown was replaced by that of a king’s. Ashton took up a silent presence beside Calum; stealth and the art of surprise bringing about his return.

“You enjoy her company,” Ashton stated. “I’ve never seen you so smitten.”

“I do. It’s too bad nothing will ever come of it. My parents and the court would never allow it.”

“Perhaps they would if you tell them she’s your soulmate,” Charles’ nasally voice was finally a welcome sound that punctuated a sentence that made Calum crane his neck and shoot a look of confusion his way. Charles hadn’t seen the bruise. Charles pointed to the corner of his eye; right where a silver crescent accented hazel on Alena. “You had the same when you were just three years old. Scared the living daylights out of your mother. She thought something happened and it was yours; but it faded by morning and all signs pointed towards your soulmate.”

“I don’t think that it’s enough,” Calum said around a sigh and waved off their curiosity; an explanation of coincidence and finding love by falling didn’t seem so easy to explain or understand within regal halls and limited time.

He left for for the dinner, found himself surrounded by the royals that ruled Alena’s kingdom and felt a sinking and sneaking suspicion start to shroud him. This was no usual diplomatic gathering. The presence of a princess and sneaking glances built assumptions in Calum’s mind that he would place his crown on being true. A royal set up.

***

Dreams of moonlit scars and fading bruises graced Calum all through the night. When he woke a lingering ache burned through his chest and before he even realized what he was doing or where he was going he found sunlight on cobblestone streets and an abandoned flower cart. Alena was nowhere to be seen and the ache that built from a lonely night and morning only intensified. Ashton had followed but kept a more respectable distance this time. He now knew that Calum was chasing a question born of tales as old as the earth itself. Was she truly his soulmate? Was it coincidence? Could falling be achieved nonetheless?

“Good morning.” Her voice was soft but strong as it sprung up behind him and had him turning quickly to face her.

A new bundle of flowers laid within a woven basket she carried with her free hand. Yellow and blue were the colors that graced the morning and cart, petals overflowing and spilling everywhere. They reminded Calum of sunrise over the ocean on mornings when nothing particular called him away from himself. He greeted her with a smile and offered a hand in helping with the basket and placing new flora around the cart. She was gracious and grateful as she accepted the help. Her dress that morning was white; a soft cotton that clung to her and fell below her knee, showed scuffed shoes and had small stitch work of petals at the hem, cuffed sleeves and a draped bow neckline before buttons finished down the dress. Calum grinned as he took in the sight and decided everything about it screamed Alena.

“Up for another adventure today?” He asked and watched as her concentration of arranging flowers broke, hazel and brown eyes finding his with a playful narrowing. “You didn’t get to see much of my world yesterday.”

“Are you trying to impress me with fancy places and expensive pleasures only a prince can afford?” She quipped with a sarcastic smile and went on, “I can’t be bought you know.”

“I’m always trying to impress you. Never because of my title,” he replied in a murmur and let his eyes dart around the growing crowd.

It was earlier than the previous morning. Less people lingered and filled the city but there was still a bite of anxiety about his world being spoken so candidly and so freely. He still wanted to blend into the crowd. Alena picked up on his shifting gaze and awkward plea to keep his secret.

“I understand,” she said and leaned over the cart to whisper words only he could hear. “But if you’re looking to keep your status a secret your clothes are an easy tell.”

Calum looked down at his outfit curiously. It was as simple as his admittedly extravagant wardrobe allowed. A lace up shirt and slacks, dark shoes and a leather cap to keep the sun from him. He cocked his head to the side and waited for further elaboration but Alena pulled back and got lost in the job in front of her.

“We can leave in a moment,” she said and just like the day before Calum spotted her father just up the way.

He wondered about him, about her comment from the first night and how her parents were the reason she was in the ballet. The man looked kind but any chance to further investigate the situation was cut short when Alena rounded the cart and on instinct Calum offered her arm to walk along. Calum thought about what her father might think; if he cared his daughter was walking off with a near stranger or if Alena had an explanation that quelled any uncertainties that may have aroused from their situation.

It’d only been two days but Calum felt she wasn’t a stranger. Matching scars and coincidence set aside there was something inside Calum that told him all he needed to know. A lingering ache in his chest when he was away from her, a warmth that danced across his skin at contact with her, an easy feeling of the world coming together with clashing colors.

They began walking and Calum realized his world was much closer to hers than he first thought. At least in the sense of where his world allowed him to stay within the confines of her city. He couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled within him ever since the dinner last night. The prospect of it made his skin crawl though he had anticipated a marriage set up for most of his life. He had seen his older sister already face the consequences of what royal bloodlines entailed. She had run away from it; found her soulmate within their kingdom and fled the night before her wedding to a prince she didn’t know, didn’t love, didn’t have a soul purpose of finding and being with.

Alena was a calming presence by his side, her soft hold on his offered arm shot warmth and ease through Calum’s bones. Just enough so to drown out the impending doom of diplomacy that lingered and swayed with the weight of worlds and power above his head. He brought her back to his accommodations, slowed down within the halls to watch her wonder and disbelief gather on her face; to see the light from chandeliers sparkle within deep brown and hazel.

They snuck through the halls with Ashton trailing them at a respectable distance; once within his own private quarters they were afforded another piece of time that was completely alone.

“My place of holding for the time being,” Calum said as an introduction to the space.

Alena walked the perimeter of the room in silence; stopped to cast a gaze out the window that overlooked the entire city line. A gentle and poised hand lightly touched the grand drapes that shrouded the window. Alena was backlit by the glow of the morning; a perfect silhouette in the new light. As she paused to take in the view Calum paused to take her in, search for more identifiable marks that might grace her skin. A silver scar and line of bruising feeling like it wasn’t convincing enough to bypass coincidence, to prove to her or the court; though they were enough to convince Calum.

“This is more than I could ever show you,” she said in a low voice that edged on the verge of resignation.

Calum wandered to her, stopped short just behind her and for the first time truly looked out to the city below. It was vast and made him feel smaller. All of the power he supposedly held felt insignicant. If a royal set up was truly in the works then more power would be gained and the smaller Calum would feel. He looked back at Alena, all of those insecurities and doubts washing away into multicolored ease. She was soft and subtle as she peered at him in curiosity. It was easy to find silence and solace with her. Just a gaze was enough to settle him but Calum saw her own anxieties in a bitten lip as she gazed across the room once more.

“All of the glitz and glamor wears off,” Calum explained and tried to bite back a forlorn sigh but it escaped him in a small and quiet huff. “You could show me much more than this.”

Calum pointed down a line in the city, was thankful that her eyes followed and settled on a path that led away from it all. A small grin lifted the corners of her mouth and a shine in her eyes told Calum his explanation was well received. Their day in the field and under the cover of leaves and branches meant much more than a lavish and luxe lifestyle Calum didn’t sign up for—one that he resented at times.

“And I’m sure you could show me much more beyond that,” he concluded and felt her behind him, the sway of her hip bringing her to brush against him. “Now tell me, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

“It’s very fine fabric, it’s not what we wear in the city but what we make for people above us. It’s easy to see”—she explained and didn’t hesitate to turn and grip the shoulder material of his shirt—“even easier to feel.”

Her hold didn’t drop and Calum was reminded of their first night together. A lost scroll pinned to his chest and her hand keeping it there. He arched an eyebrow and blew out a small laugh.

“I see you still have a habit of not letting me go,” he quipped in a whisper and reveled in the way she didn’t pull back, only smirked and stood on the tops of her toes to bring them to a more even eye level. “Might you reconsider attending that royal gathering?”

The words left Calum before he could stop them. The invitation was clear and hung in the minimal space between them. The knowledge of a scar gracing his eye pushed him to do it, his parents arrival into her city for the ball harbored questions and possible solutions, the prospect of marrying someone who didn’t light fires inside him or bare the same scars fueled his desire to fight back.

“I’m not sure,” she said in an airy and playful tone. “Is Thomas inviting me or is it Calum this time? Should I drop by or am I properly invited?”

“I’d like you to go with me, Calum, properly.”

“Then I suppose I can reconsider. For Calum.”

“It’s the night after next,” Calum reminded, knowing she merely glanced at the scroll when he offered it to her the first time.

Alena didn’t say anything, didn’t move or break eye contact that held so easily it felt like breathing. Calum was caught up in the moment and the thought of seeing Alena nearly drowned out all the troubles that might arise from his brash invitation. With new knowledge of a possible arragngment with this kingdom, a princess who eyed him and his crown, and two courts that would make decisions in tandem with each other Calum felt the need to shrink back and flee from her touch. But her eyes brought him in, pulled him under and kept him breathing underwater.

A subtle smile shone through the silence and slow movements filled every minuscule edge and gap between them. The world spun in slow motion, Calum’s arm and corner of his eye tingled with remembrance he couldn’t actually recall but he reveled in the feel of her lips against his. It lit him up form the inside out, a small inferno turning into a wildfire that spread heat and certainty through his body, to his heart and rippling through his soul.

The city out the window became a blur when eyes fluttered back open and modesty tinged cheeks pink. Her hand had not fallen from the shoulder of his shirt but her fingers loosened and splayed out, edged the fabric away from his skin on accident and eyes fluttered to Calum’s own silver scar. It was much less noticeable than the one that settled on Alena’s skin. Forgettable to even Calum, but her eyes took it in for all the jagged line was worth. Calum held his breath as a whirlwind of thoughts plagued him. It was the first of his own marks she had ever witnessed.

“What is this?” She asked, a tone of allure and disbelief swept into the whirlwind surrounding Calum. “How’d you get it?”

Her questioning was nearly identical to Calum’s in the field. Her curiosity screamed and simmered between them. Calum bit his lip as she left a gentle trail of fingertips under his collarbone. He didn’t flinch, kept his breath held as she wandered his skin and waited for his answer.

“It used to be much worse,” Calum started, thankful the wound had healed and the placement was not any lower, not life threatening the way his parents and the entire kingdom surrounding him made it out to be. “It was just an accident. A few years ago. Tip of a blade pressed a little too hard.”

Alena’s eyes were insightful and her touch fell away from him; his breath coming back in a rush. He watched her step away, felt the distance that she enforced and heard the sounds of the city like static filling the air between them.

“I had the same, for a day,” she admitted and her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed and a small shake of her head told Calum she was trying to reason with her stance on soulmates.

“Coincidence,” Calum said though he didn’t believe it for a moment. “It’s pretty powerful you know.”

The shake of her head turned to a nod and her hand found the strap of her sling. She gripped it with white knuckle force as her beliefs began collapsing around her. Watching new belief be born was slow and painful and beautiful and every contradiction under the sun and moon. Calum cleared his throat and pulled the fine fabric of his slacks near his knee, bending just slightly to roll his pant leg up.

“What about this one?” He inquired and watched as her eyes swept from ankle to knee.

She sucked in a breath and Calum heard the way it caught in her throat. Belief came hard and fast in that moment, crumbling walls that sheltered her from knowing a world with love finally fell.

“I should go,” she announced out of nowhere; the spell she was under breaking just like her old beliefs, the twirl of her dress guided her away from Calum who was quick to right himself and chase after her. “I need to think.”

“Alena,” Calum tried and felt the fire inside him start to snuff out as she pushed open the wooden door and made her way into the hall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and lit just one flicker of hope in Calum’s heart. “I’m sorry.”

Those two words bid Calum a sorrowful goodbye.

***

Alena left and Calum was thrust back into the role of a prince. Thrown back into the face of a princess who wore pink that was too bright, a smile that was too fake and selfish intentions on extravagant sleeves. Calum couldn’t help but compare her to Alena. Her eyes were dull in comparison to hazel and brown. Her hair was done up to perfection but left nothing to be desired if the breeze ever touched her. Soft skin cornering his eye ran fiery yet cold and held a dull ache in Alena’s absence and the princess’ presence. Just above his heart tingled and the line down his leg ached with pain he hadn’t felt in ages.

Ashton stood diagonal to Calum at another invitation to a dinner he couldn’t refuse. He saw the very subtle humor that crossed his guard’s face at the boisterous princess who didn’t quite have a grasp on personal space or polite conversation. The dinner droned on but an escape eventually found Calum when the meal finally disappeared and an excuse of it being late fell from his lips. He excused himself as cordially as he could and dodged forms of affection from the princess he didn’t want from anyone but Alena. Ashton walked with Calum back to his quarters.

“She’ll make a lovely bride,” Ashton commented—his observational and reasoning skills unparalleled. He must have rationalized the reason for the trip as well. Calum whipped around toward him, his disdain cutting across his face without censorship. “Though Alena would be better suited.”

Calum’s eyes shot wide at Ashton’s words and his heart thudded painfully against his rib cage. Pulse points came alive at the picture of Alena as a bride. Heat coursed through him and simmered with desires.

“Try convincing my parents and the court of that.”

Ashton cleared his throat and gave Calum an inquisitive look.

“Why don’t you?”

“They’d never agree,” Calum mused with regret and a harbored anger that finally came out. “A princess outweighs a soulmate. Just as a prince outranked a soulmate.”

Ashton understood Calum’s words; had been there the night his sister made her escape to live on her own terms.

“They could have stopped her,” Ashton said with a shrug. “They let her go. Maybe they’ll do the same for you.”

“They let her go?”

Ashton smirked. “An entire royal guard against two desperately feeling people? Do you really think they made it out on their own? We were told to stand down, let them pass peacefully. They could have made her stay.”

Calum had never considered that; didn’t know how she made her escape or where she went. It startled him to realize she made it out not of her own volition but because they let her go. But there were differences in the problems they faced. His sister was to marry and inherit a different kingdom. He was to rule his birth land, to take the crown from his father and create heirs to keep the line of succession strong. To keep their blood in power.

“It’s different.”

“Possibly. But you’ll never know unless you try.”

***

Calum worried that he wouldn’t see Alena again. That his revealed truths had scared her away and her time to think was just an excuse to get away. She was not at the flower cart when the sun rose into the sky; a flicker of flame lighting up the city in an orange haze. Disappointment lingered within Calum, made stone walls around his heart as he stood across the street with a watchful eye scanning pink petals. Her father manned the cart, brought new life to the woodwork and took her place entirely.

Calum sighed and shook his head at Ashton. He rolled up his sleeves and wished a fine line of purple still graced his skin, wished he could remember a silver scar that accentuated his eye, wished he had a memory of her forever with him; not just for a fleeting moment. He turned on his heel, took a few small steps, heard Ashton following but stopped short. Honey hair and clashing eyes came in a whirlwind up the street. Alena ran to him, out of breath and hair in disarray; perfectly unkept, dress wrinkled and eyes painted with a sleepless night. Her sling hung a bit more slack than the previous days.

“Leaving so soon?” She asked around an attempt to catch her breath. “Before I could see you again?”

“Never,” Calum responded automatically and felt the aches that had harbored within him during her absence start to ease.

“Can we go somewhere… private?” She asked and let her eyes flicker over to Ashton and then around the bustling city. “I think we need to talk.”

Calum nodded and gestured for her to lead the way; wanted her to make the decision and find somewhere she was comfortable talking with him. He hoped all her thoughts that seemingly kept her up at night would match with his own thoughts the way bruises and scars mirrored the other’s. A sliver of hope made a home with him as he recalled the way she responded to the lines that plagued Calum and the crumbling disbelief that captured her eyes. While Ashton usually would have followed he stayed back; knowing his absence for this moment was more appreciated than fulfilling his royal guard duties. Calum was safe with Alena; the only danger he faced was the pain of a broken heart and scattered pieces of a soul left to search and wander.

Alena led him away from the city again, back towards the meadow that was overrun with flowers that Calum could never forget. She was subtle and demure under the sun, hazel blended in with stems and grass that stood lively with the petals. Alena reached for his hand with her free one, traced lifelines on his palms and stared at his fingers quizzically.

“You burn your fingers,” she inquired and though it may have been a question it was more of a statement.

“Cigarettes,” Calum murmured and watched as her eyes flickered from the pads of his fingertips to his eyes.

“You should quit.”

“I know.”

“You get blisters on your palms,” she said once more and tapped the middle of his palm. Her finger was light and tickled his skin, made his hand react and wish to capture hers and keep it there.

“Swords,” Calum offered the one word as a simple explanation that she nodded to.

Alena blew out a breath and Calum watched as her shoulders dropped and a grimace of pain cut through her eyes. She went silent and introspective at the new knowledge of what scarred her soulmate and appeared on her own skin for a moment in time. She never felt his pain, perhaps a tingle when the worst of them appeared, but never a burn or biting pang. Calum hadn't either. Not until after she graced his world with poise and tip toes, not until after she left and static filled the distance between them with uncertainty and longing aches. He wondered if she felt them too.

“I suppose ballet explains the bruises you get on your legs,” he stated with confidence and took in her nod and subtle bite of her lip for all they were worth.

Coincidence was drowned out by confirmation. By the timing and the feeling of matching incidents. Coincidence was powerless to the running tingles and heat that flooded all the spots they came to know as each other. They knew each other and the moments that graced their bodies, could remember the smallest of marks and moments and now they knew what they meant and what they were from. But questions still built walls around them in a meadow of silence save for the occasional chirp of a bird overhead or rustle of leaves from the wind. They both stood still, her fingertips still settled on his palm and seemingly not going anywhere.

“What does this mean for us?” She wondered aloud and lit Calum’s nerves back to life. Fire coursed through his veins and warmed him with a blush of possible scenarios. “You’re a prince. I’m no princess.”

Calum swallowed down a harsh lump in his throat, tried to ignore the tightness in his chest and the wind that was very fleeting in his lungs. He was breathless when he responded.

“You’re more than that”—he said as he brought their hands into a hold reminiscent of running away from a guard and to this very spot. Brought life back into shallow breaths and restored some peace that had been torn to shreds by a sleepless night of wonder. It was hard to believe that was only days ago. “You’re my soulmate.”

Alena paused again; seemingly collecting her thoughts as problems and complications faced them within a soothing summer breeze. The calm was eerie.

“Is that enough for you? For a kingdom?” She asked and furrowed her eyebrows.

“You are everything and more.”

Alena took his words and nodded. He hoped that there was enough room for belief in her heart that she truly understood and accepted the meaning of his words. Down to every last syllable.

“What do we do?” She asked and for the first time Calum saw that her confidence was well and truly shaken.

She didn’t have answers or ideas for the questions and problems that laid ahead. She had no quick quips or sharp tongue to guide them out of the storm that was brewing on their horizons. Calum shook his head, just as perplexed as she was. He had vague ideas built on idealistic expectations that had no concrete backing to them. He had snippets of knowledge of his sister’s escape and the circumstances that allowed it. His thoughts spiraled mercilessly around his mind. The root of the problems laid within royal halls and crowns that tilted on his head and shifted the path of his life. He decided that’s where they should start to mend the breaks and cracks in the interwoven life they wanted to share.

Calum brought Alena back to his world, determined to ensure they could properly collide and become one. Michael—a man of Calum’s court—was at the doors and Ashton was coming out of the shadows of a corridor when they entered. Michael held an air of control, he was always chivalrous yet not bowing in Calum’s presence. He held his own, gave and got respect for the attitude that followed him. Calum nodded at him, his arm around Alena in a light hold so as not to disturb the injury still resting in a sling.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” Michael said after clearing his throat and fishing into his pocket. “I would have done it earlier today but you’ve been quite evasive.”

Calum’s eyes wandered to the small box in Michael’s palm—his fingers were still partially closed around it but velvet peeked through and set Calum’s predictions of what it was on edge. Calum stiffened at Alena’s side, his arm fell from around her and slowly reached out to take the offering a man in his court was entrusted to keep, carry and deliver during the trip. Calum’s worst fears were confirmed when the small box laid within his grasp and his thumb flipped the lid open. A diamond ring laid within the cushioning and a princess in pink infiltrated his thoughts—made his heart plummet to the depths of his stomach and freeze in its once rhythmic beating.

“Why?” He asked though he already knew the answer and didn’t realize how much he didn’t want Alena to hear it. “Why now?”

“For the princess,” Michael said but his words held no volition or authority; Calum wondered if he even wanted to say them. “The courts expect a proposal and a union. Tomorrow. At the gathering; a rather public and royal affair. It will look good.”

Calum felt the shift of Alena under his hold and hoped with every part of his soul that she wouldn’t flee and give him a proper chance to explain. She stayed silent and Calum couldn’t tell if that was a sign made of good or bad or the worst. Ashton stayed as poised as he could but Calum noted the subtleties only years of being shadows together could have given him; his left eyebrow raised just slightly at the edge, his mouth twitched minutely and he shot Calum a look that only the prince could read. He was worried for Calum, rarely showing emotion other than determination and caution.

“I’ll speak with them in the morning,” Calum said decisively, shut the box and handed it back to a surprised Michael who barely caught the velvet as Calum walked away with Alena thankfully still at his side.

He brought them back to his quarters and held his breath the entire way. He had no clue if anyone of importance lingered in the halls or had heard what transpired in the grand entrance. There was a part of him that hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone and that no one other than the four of them had heard, but, there was another part that wished for confrontation then and there. To clear the air and speak his piece. But no one showed face and the only to follow their footsteps and conversation was Ashton. Alena wasn’t warming to his hovering presence but she accepted him as they made way down the halls and made sure the door was shut behind them to afford them a semblance of privacy.

“So this is goodbye,” she whispered as she turned to face Calum from the door. Her eyes were downcast, brown and hazel shining with unshed tears in which she held in only from a practiced lifetime of composure and poise.

Calum frantically shook his head, breath leaving him in scattered falls. Alena was still, back to the door and body language closed off behind the sling with a hand gripping the strap with white knuckle force. Calum moved to her, chased the taste he knew he couldn’t last a lifetime without and broke his vows of silence for his complete disdain for the crown.

“No,” he said and felt the fight inside of him swell with heat that flickered and coursed through his veins like the rising sun. “This isn’t goodbye. It doesn’t have to be. We can find a way to be together.”

Alena looked past Calum, out into the extravagant room with a view of a city he may be forced to marry into spilling light through open drapes. To the place that mirrored Calum’s quarters back in his own palace so well it sent shivers up his spine at the intrusive thought of an obnoxiously pink princess standing within instead of Alena.

“We hardly even know each other,” she said in an unconvincing whisper.

Calum stiffened; her words enough to cause a reaction that ran bone deep, coursed flickering fires through his resolves and livened them tenfold. He knew her. He knew the intricacies of her life without explanation—the bumps and bruises, the scars and silences that ran maps over her body and connected her soul to his. The only thing that separated them was time. Time they spent in different worlds. Time that forced them to make rash decisions. Time that might be stolen away from them.

“I know what I want. I know who I want to chase after it with,” Calum said and kept his eyes pinned on her, the concept of freedom making a home in his heart right beside clashing eyes and a scar that was crescent and silver just like the moon. “We know each other. Deep down. And if given the chance we can keep getting to know each other.”

Alena pursed her lips and Calum watched the crash of emotions that riddled her. A small breath left her lips. Her hand fell from her sling and invited him closer to her. Settled at the press of a blade that travelled the universe to find her. Her fingertips were light against the material of his shirt but he felt heat build under his skin. Fires came to life at the contact. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment and Calum welcomed her as she stepped into his embrace, cheek resting against a scar they shared and her injured arm awkwardly shifted into the fray. Calum yearned to be able to hold her properly one day, feared that one day might never come, that a pink princess would be given her place in his arms—but never his heart.

“It’s only been a few days. You’ll go tomorrow. You’ll find your princess, you’ll bring her home and make her a wife and a queen. I’ll stay here. And maybe someday you’ll come back to the ballet and we’ll find each other again, if only for a passing moment,” Alena said in a soft whisper that landed chills up Calum’s spine. Her breath was warm against his skin but the prospect of her words left him chilled. The thought of distance already made all of the places she touched with soul connections ache.

“I don’t want to be with a princess. You would just give up on us? Sacrifice all that our souls are meant to have? Each other?” Calum questioned with fire behind his words but he stayed calm in her embrace, enjoyed the feeling of her pressed against him; a taunting feeling that it would be short lived driving him to soak up every moment of it.

“That’s what soulmates do. They love you enough to make sacrifices. You were born to be a king,” she explained and Calum caught the note of sadness that captured her voice and shook her sentences apart.

He believed she would make that sacrifice. But it wasn’t one he was willing to watch or have her bare the pain of. He wondered if she felt the burning cool on scars and the reborn ache of pain lived long ago when they were apart. He couldn’t imagine being the cause to the pain or the distance that would enforce it.

“I was born to be with you,” he refused, the title of king much less meaningful than finding the one and fulfilling a lifetime with them.

They were lucky. As Alena had pointed out there was no certainty to finding each other; no promise scars didn’t come as coincidence and a lifetime could be spent with the wrong person. Calum was sure of who they were to each other and what he wanted. He couldn’t let that slip between his fingers or fade away into a royal city’s night sky.

“You can’t have both.”

“I don’t want both. I’ve never wanted to be king. I don’t want to rule anything but my own life. With a crown I never will; I’ll still be a puppet. There’s a line of succession. They don’t need me, they just need a body to sit on the throne and fill the gaps,” he explained in a rush and felt the wind get taken from his lungs. He was running on low to try and convince her. She pursed her lips in contemplation at his long held admission. He’d never truly voiced his disdain for the crown before. Not out loud. “Run away with me.”

“Where would we go?” She wondered aloud with just a a touch of wanderlust and curiosity biting through her words.

“Anywhere. We can find the world together.”

They’d already showed each other pieces of their respective worlds. An exit meant only for a performer and a force that made her a ballerina. A meadow with flowers and a stream that helped laughter and childhood stories echo around a forest. Marble hallways and golden chandeliers strung up so high only angels could touch them; disdain for a world that neither one chose.

“It’s not that simple. We can’t just up and leave our lives without regard. What of our families, the ballet, everything surrounding us? Do you really think they would just let you leave?”

Alena hadn’t said no, just given reasons to slow down and think. But Calum felt time to ponder was frivolous and slipping away from them. The ball was tomorrow night and his parents arrival in the morning would mark time that need not be wasted. If they were to escape, if they were to prove soulmates and find a way to stay, they needed to act fast. No matter what they did, time was not on their side.

“My sister did it. She fled. We could too,” Calum admitted and smiled at his sister’s bravery and determination to live a life she chose. He often wondered where she ended up but knew that it being anywhere other than a castle and a prop to a court would ensure her happiness. “Or we could try convincing them. You could be my queen.”

Alena lapsed into silence, hazel and brown filled with contemplation. Her cheeks warmed to a rosy pink and her breath staggered once before evening out in her consideration. The corners of her lips turned down and Calum could sense she was seeing a life she didn’t want pass by her eyes. He didn’t understand how they could be so connected; want the same things and yet be world’s apart in attaining them. She blinked slowly, hooded lids fluttering with eyelashes that casted shadows along her cheekbones. She let out a sigh and buried herself against him.

“Think on it for the night. No matter what we decide, we’re not ready yet.”

“Will you stay?” Calum asked and felt the painful pause of his heartbeat against the moment it took for her to decide.

“Yes. We should make the most of tonight. In case it’s our last.”

***

Morning came much too soon for Calum’s liking. He had barricaded himself and Alena in his quarters. Kept her hidden in the shadows when advisors and his people made appearances at his door. He wanted to keep knowledge of their world to a minimum; to those who already knew—Ashton, Charles and a sneaking suspicion within Michael. They spent one night together. Days earlier it would have been more than Calum could have ever hoped for. Now there was a resolve that was ready to fight for all the nights and bliss filled mornings that mirrored each other’s desires. Alena was still asleep when Calum rose. Her hair spilled across the pillow in a honey halo, marks that bit into her skin thumped wildly with tension on Calum’s as well. If it weren’t for fingertips grazing and feeling tingles on purple Calum wouldn’t know which truly belonged to him, which were created by his lips and which were kissed by her.

Calum strode to the window and looked out to the city, the usual bustle he became one with felt far away from his high perch. The vendors were out and he knew flowers would be gracing a cart; Alena’s father tending the petals with a kind hand. When lust had been satiated and breaths began to even out; Alena tucked into Calum’s hold in the most comfortable position her injury allowed, they began talking. Calum thought back to the night they first met and the explanation of parents being her reason for joining the ballet.

He had asked her about it under the protection and serenity of moonlight with bliss still on their lips. She told him it was for them, to keep the memory of her mother alive in every step she took across the stage her mother once claimed. It was never her dream but one she was happy to afford her aging father. He had told her he’d love to see her perform again—and when she let out a dry laugh he corrected himself and promised to pay attention this time; knowing there was no way he’d ever take his eyes off of her. Calum had never heard an explanation so selfless, usually surrounded by those who did only for themselves. He turned to look back at her still warm under the covers, silent and still and a picture of perfection Calum wanted to memorize. He could have stayed right there for days but a soft knock on the other side of the door broke him of his reverie.

He made his way over to the door quickly, hoping it wouldn’t jar Alena from her sleep. He opened it carefully, slowly, made sure no creaks sounded through the morning. Ashton stood on the other side. Calum raised an eyebrow as a silent question.

“The king and queen have arrived,” he explained and shot a look down the hall that made Calum react and flinch on instinct.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Calum said and shut the door; found clothes to put on and left Alena with one last look. When he was back in the hall he met Ashton’s eye and held his gaze to show the importance of his request. “Watch the door. Make sure no one goes in.”

Ashton nodded his understanding and Calum traipsed off down the hall in the direction Ashton’s eyes shot towards. He ran into Charles who directed him to the chambers the kingdom had graced his parents with. They weren’t expecting his hasty visit, were a bit shell shocked at their son’s promptness of their arrival. He was never one for punctuality unless it was led by the court and forced on his hands. Calum wasted no time with formalities—held onto hope that his parents would lend him their familial hearts and understand this was a matter of life and happiness. His sister’s escape instilled faith in him.

“I’ve met someone,” he stated and took in the slackened jaws and wide eyes at the bold claim.

“The princess?” His mother asked and bristled when Calum shook his head.

“My soulmate.”

Silence befell the chamber and somehow echoed around the high ceilings; played tricks within the shadows and settled heavily between the three. His father stood stoic and Calum could picture the crown that would be, could be, should be passed down sitting astray in a line of succession.

“We’ll talk to the court,” his father offered and it made Calum realize even as a king power would come with restriction and strings still attached to his every decision and movement. “Perhaps a different union can be arranged.”

Calum went breathless at the prospect. Recalled the flash of despair that captured Alena when she pictured a life on a throne by his side. Calum felt the same in regards to living a life under everyone else’s thumb. He had already endured it for years. Meeting Alena, running away into meadows and being afforded a fleeting taste of freedom told him what his heart truly desired.

“What if we don’t want the throne?” Calum asked in a rush and felt heat blaze through him, felt a pounding and throbbing that spanned from his ears to his temples. There was no time for his parents to answer as their advisor entered the room and a new discussion was born.

Calum phased in and out of the conversation that was about him and Alena. It was hard to pay attention even though the entirety of his future surrounded him in hushed whispers. He caught enough to know he didn’t like what he heard. The importance of uniting kingdoms, how the princess would be a lovely wife—that he scoffed at—and a learned queen to sit at his side. He left the room after refusing their words, making it apparent what he wanted and how willing he was to make it happen. His mother stopped him in the hall.

“Come to the ball tonight. We will figure something out, together,” she promised and while Calum was apt to believe her there was still doubt that made a home in his heart.

He offered a noncommittal shrug and made his way back to his quarters and Alena. Ashton stood with watchful eyes, back to the door and a professional stance of hands folded capturing him.

“Has anyone come around?” Calum asked.

“Michael passed by, he was looking for you; I told him you were with the king and queen. He still holds the ring.”

“He can keep it,” Calum mumbled and moved past Ashton as soon as he cleared the door and made room for him to slip through.

Calum stayed quiet though Alena was awake. She hadn’t moved from her comfortable embrace on the bed except to sit up and slip her dress back on. She was bleary eyed with tiredness born of a long and exhilarating night. Her hair fell in disarray that had Calum aching to run his fingers through. He approached the bed slowly, smiled on instinct when she smiled at him first. He kept words of the court inside, not wanting to worry her when his mind was already made up. Their chance to be together came before anything else, before minimal power afforded to him from crowns and thrones he had no interest in.

“You’re still going to the ball tonight, right?” Calum asked as he recalled his mother’s soothing words and promise. If all was going to be figured out then Alena needed to be there. She was everything in the grand scheme of things.

“Is that a good idea?” She wondered, the words stung Calum but her tone held no bite. She was downcast as the previous day and the ring Calum had refused came back to her. “I don’t think my invitation and presence will be well received.”

“It will be,” Calum promised and knew that even if it was just from him she would always be welcome in his world—no matter where that world may end up being. “Please come, for me.”

Alena slid across the bed and came closer to Calum as she let out an anxious breath but nodded her intention anyway. Calum bit back words from the advisor and suggestion to keep the unity between kingdoms with a marriage. It wasn’t for Alena to worry about. After the ball it wouldn’t be for Calum either. Either his mother’s words would come to fruition or a daring plan in the back of his mind would lead them to where they wanted to be. Together.

***

Alena’s kingdom spared no cost in the royal gathering. What was supposed to be a smaller occasion became grand and overcrowded with mingling people who were all too stuffy and boring for Calum’s liking. Ashton lingered in the crowd and Calum waited on his heels for the arrival of Alena. He picked a spot with a good vantage point of the front doors and an easy exit out the back. Music filled the overly decorated glitz and glamor of the ballroom. The princess offered eyes that spoke her knowledge of what the courts wanted at Calum. She fluttered her eyelashes and danced around him in an attempt to be inconspicuous and yet eye catching all the same. Calum all but brushed her presence off and completely abandoned her when familiar eyes found his.

Alena was stunning in a simple dress—soft orange clinging to her skin like a subtle sunrise—hair falling loose around her shoulders and a nervous smile all greeted Calum. Her sling still supported her injured arm. Calum knew eyes had flocked to her upon her arrival but many men and women of all status flooded the ballroom and it wasn’t her lack of royal blood that drew eyes. It was the grace and beauty that was so intricately her that made heads turn. She was hesitant to accept his embrace but ended up in his arms, spinning to the music that droned on behind them. Calum felt her poise, the easiness that carried her steps around the dance floor and the natural ability to be one with the music even with an injury holding her back. Calum’s hold was gentle and her gaze was soft as she peered up at him from under her lashes.

“I’m glad you came,” he admitted in a breathless whisper. He didn’t care who heard but her presence made his words and tone much softer than usual.

He knew what challenges laid ahead, what obstacles danced beside them with narrowed eyes and pursed overly pink lips. Calum didn’t want to waste any time in fighting for their futures but the moment was too good to let go of; she was too close to be anywhere else but in his arms. He savored it a moment longer. The rest of the people blended into the crowd and became a murmur in the background. Eventually he found the will to lead her away from the crowd, up towards the resting place for a king and queen of another land that were too weary to mingle among people that were not yet united to them. His parents sat above the crowd with regal posture and eyes that watched everything, broke away from it all to take in the sight of their son with his soulmate on his arm.

“This is Alena,” he introduced timidly; tip toeing on the splintered hope of a promise his mother made in the morning. “My soulmate.”

“We gathered that,” his mother said softly and Calum saw the way she took in Alena. She tried not to stare at the scar that once graced her son’s skin but it was a shock of evidence that commanded her attention. “She’s lovely.”

The compliment felt sincere but flat and missing a roundabout excuse and reason that it didn’t matter who she was so long as it wasn’t a princess. His father eyed Alena less carefully, his broad shoulders straightened as he shook his head minutely.

“The courts still find it in the best interest of all if a proposal is given tonight,” his father’s words came crashing down—that reason falling hard and fast; it was one his mother had much too soft a heart to break the news of.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Alena said quietly but Calum heard the break of her words as she broke the hold he had on her and slipped away with quick steps back into the crowd.

“I’m going after her,” Calum proclaimed, eyes skirting the crowd to keep her in his sights as he stood his ground.

“The courts find a union with the princess important, perhaps your cousin might be a more suitable match. We cannot stop you should you go,” his father finished and restored that broken shard of a promise they had lent him.

“We only have enough men to guard us tonight,” his mother explained with a wry smile and a tilt of her head out to the crowd—permission to go after what he truly wanted laying within the subtle motion.

Calum expressed his gratitude with one last hug and took off, searched through the crowd and bypassed a princess who was prone to invading his personal space. She was crestfallen at his rejection but her facade of affection would be easily replaced for the next man that wore a crown she wanted to sit by. Calum made a beeline for a side exit; a beautiful arching and round door leading him outside stone walls. Alena lingered quietly—oblivious to Calum’s presence—back pressed to the stone and fingers lightly stroking just above her heart.

“You know, this is a prince’s exit only,” Calum declared in much the same tone Alena had taken the first night they met.

She twirled around, eyes blown wide and gleaming with moonlight and tears that Calum wouldn’t allow to fall. He moved to her, felt every essence of her that ever graced his skin start to warm and tingle beneath the surface. She was more than skin deep to him; she was innate and ran through his bloodstream, pumped his heart with purpose and prospects of a life he wanted to chase after.

“What’s wrong?” He asked though he knew exactly what she would say, he could feel it within his soul and all that he knew about her.

“You changed my perspective about soulmates. You made me start falling before I knew and then gave me hope with matching scars and took it all away because of a crown. It was all for naught.”

Calum let Alena speak her piece while he brushed her tears away before they could stain her cheeks. He shook his head at her words that held no bite, no fight, no determination as she felt all was lost within merging kingdoms. He let out a small breath and she turned away from his hold, let dark brown and hazel find the cracked cobblestones beneath them and stay haunted with remorse for the way that she fell—unguarded and with the belief that he might be there to catch her. He wanted to prove that he would be.

“Alena,” Calum began and tried to grab her attention from the ground up. She was still stoic in his hold, eyes downcast but flitting up to him for just a moment, just long enough to show him that she was listening and wanted his side of the story and all the answers and rebuttals he could provide. “I don’t want the crown. I don’t want a princess unless she’s a ballerina and florist and hard bargainer as well. I’m not staying, I’m not going back to my kingdom. The princess will find another heir and sit another throne. Without me. I want to be with you.”

“How?” She asked and the question was needing an answer to instill faith of falling back into her heart and soul.

He explained his parents' words as his slightly disbelieving gaze swept the night for guards of his own and of the princess’ court. He found no one but Alena and that was just the way the world wanted it. “We can leave, if you want to go. They won’t stop us.”

“I think I’ve realized I’d go just about anywhere with you,” she admitted around a blush and fumbling words. “I don’t think I can take the pain of being without you now that I’ve found you.”

Her words confirmed what Calum had been wondering, he surmised she must have felt the aches and tingles in all the places he felt them too. That distance was an injury they might live with forever. Her free hand finally reached up to grip at Calum’s shirt, just under his scar and at his heart. It was so much like the first night they met, but this time Calum was sure that she could feel his heartbeat—that it possibly matched hers—that she really was the one he was meant for.

“Please don’t let go of me,” Calum whispered as a request much more meaningful than fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“Never,” Alena replied with implications that would last a lifetime.

***

Calum sat among a crowd a world away from where he was born and raised. A world away from a crown and a marriage that wasn’t to who his heart and soul desired. Alena was radiant on stage. Calum found a new appreciation for the ballet when it was Alena his eyes couldn’t peel away from. When he truly could be one with the crowd and no one of importance other than a merchant that sold flowers and trinkets on cobblestone streets.

Using fine fabric and gems from Calum’s wardrobe had bought them passage across the open ocean, his parents' promise ensured they could flee without trouble. Goodbye’s were somber but filled with hope for the future. The king and queen understood. Alena’s father was kind and wished them well and asked them to write from wherever they ended up. They made that promise and kept it; found adventure in exploring the rest of the world and each other. They ended up finding a home in a country across the waters where princes were obsolete and royalty was hardly a murmur in the background of another world.

The ballet consumed Calum, all of the hard work Alena put into her art came alive on stage and Calum was grateful he was able to life a life that let him witness it every night. For once, the end came all too soon, though Calum was thankful that it meant Alena could be in his arms and not just in his sights. They met outside a performer’s door, orange flowers tucked into Calum’s hold and a plan in his mind.

“For you,” Calum greeted and passed the flowers to Alena like it was the first time—though it had become a well worn tradition through the time they had spent together.

Alena accepted them gracefully, didn’t hesitate to fall into Calum’s embrace of an arm thrown around her shoulders, and let him lead her on. He brought her to the ocean and lit up at eyes that were still mesmerized by waves they had sailed during their escape.

“I’m glad I found you,” Calum murmured into the night and watched as the moonlight rippled off the darkened sea.

“I’m glad I took a chance and let myself fall,” Alena admitted and Calum felt her words deep within him.

They fell back into the sand with flowers and hope in hand. Calum didn’t let his gaze wander to anywhere but brown and hazel and silver. Alena was demure under the moonlight and soft with grains of sand in honey hair. Calum grinned—wrapped up in the finality of searching souls finding each other, fighting for each other and making a home with one another. No matter where else they ended up, they would be at home so long as they other was by their side.

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sonicthehedgehoglover2 · 3 years ago

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For the rottmnt fics request: some angsty apritello??? Your choice of angst

Donnie stumbled into his laboratory, his hip nearly avoiding bumping into his metallic doorframe. The bright, fluorescent lighting within his lab beamed down on his sore and battered body, and it burned his tired eyes. He scrubbed at them with one filthy, bandaged hand and slumped against the wall, relishing in the cooling sensation that is presented to his overheated body. An overwhelming weight pressed against his back and, for the first time since he’d created his invention, his battle shell felt like it was suffocating him. His bruised fingers brushed the surface of his battle shell, scouring for the latches to release it from his back. Donnie’s digits slipped over and over again on the smooth metal, his usually calm temper igniting to life with each failed attempt.

“Here,” he jumped at the abrupt, soft voice that spoke up from behind him. Donnie craned his neck around, and he took note of April standing in the doorway of his lab. She smiled, weakly, at him; an expression that somehow seemed soft and sad at the same time. April strolled into the lab, and she extended her hands out to him. “Let me help you.”

For some reason he couldn't quite grasp, something hot and heavy built within his chest, pressing down on his very lungs at April's offer. It molded into a large ball and spread across his torso, making his skin crawl at the prospect of April touching him - of helping him. Donnie immediately pulled away from her searching hands before they could touch his suddenly sensitive skin.

“It’s fine, April,” Donnie stated, firmly, coldly. “I can at least do one thing on my own.”

April pulled her hands back at Donnie’s tone, and she stepped back a couple of steps, her smile slipping away from her lips. Donnie never noticed the change in her demeanor and, instead, he chose to refocus his attention upon trying to unlock his invention from his back. His clumsy fingers continued to fumble on the lock mechanisms precisely ten more times - he knew because he counted every infuriating try within his mind. Eventually, his invention must’ve pitied him, and the latches popped open with a loud hiss. His battle shell slid down from his back, and it fell to the unforgiving ground with a clatter.

Any other time, Donnie would’ve been absolutely mortified at the literal idea of his precious invention even brushing against the ground. Now, however, he staggered away from his machine and left it in a pile of dejected metal on the floor, the state of his machine the last thing in his mind. Gracelessly, Donnie plopped himself before one of his many, many computer screens - yet, they all say the same thing over and over - and he wirelessly hooked his digital gauntlet up to the monitors. He forced his strained eyes to scan through all the rushing info on the screens before him, soaking in all that he possibly could as he’s been doing over the past couple of days.

While he drowned himself in his never-ending work, April found herself drifting over to Donnie’s forgotten battle shell, and she stooped down towards it. Gingerly, she gathered the shell-like machine into her hands with ease, the invention light with minimal weight to it, and her dark eyes scoured its surface. Her brown fingertips lightly traced along the newly formed scratches etched into the bright purple-and-black paint, feeling small scars that hadn’t been there before.

The corners of her lips were pulled downwards at the sight. The original Donnie that she knew would’ve never have let his favorite and most relied upon invention get in this bad of shape; it was a known fact that he’d always kept it in perfect condition.

A very loud frustrated shout suddenly drew April back to reality, and she looked up in time to witness the softshell tear his digital gauntlet from his heavily bandaged wrist. With a literal growl, the gauntlet bouncing twice with a tiny shattering noise. April pursed her lips in concern at the surprisingly emotional display from the usually calm softshell, and she gently placed the battle shell onto the scratched gray table beside her.

“What happened?” April asked, gently, her voice loud in the unnatural silence that had settled over her second home. She slowly approached the softshell, her previous failed attempt still fresh within her mind. “Did you find something?”

Donnie twisted his head around, and he fixed her with a hard red-tinged stare. What bothered April the most about the expression was that it wasn’t the usual look he’d throw one of his brothers when he thought they were being too rowdy; it was a borderline heated glare. And, it was directed at her of all people.

“Yes, April,” Donnie said, flatly. There was a line of something dangerous - angry - hidden within his tone. “I definitely found something important, and that is why I threw my device on the ground.”

April furrowed her brow at the sarcastic remark, a faint flicker of anger igniting within her chest. Before she could even think of voicing her thoughts, Donnie continued talking, oblivious. “Of course, there’s nothing here! All that time I spent trying to track down the Purple Dragons, and I’ve got nothing but this-!”

Donnie smacked his bandaged fist against the wall beside the computer monitors, ignoring the sharp burst of pain that accompanied the action. The corners of April’s lips turned downwards at what was displayed upon the multiple bright screens, dread trickling into the pit of her stomach. Nearly every screen showed chibi versions of the Purple Dragons grinning madly with their leader, Kendra, out front chanting the word, “loser,” over and over, her voice loud and piercing.

Donnie sighed, and he staggered away from the monitors, clenching his newly aggravated hand around the wrist. “I… don’t know what to do next.”

April eyed the small splotches of crimson blooming across Donnie’s hand. “It’ll be okay, Donnie.”

The soft encouragement didn’t have the desired effect that April thought it would. In fact, Donnie seemed to stiffen, his expression hardening into stone. “How, April? Tell me how. It’s been approximately-” he paused, crunching some sort of invisible numbers within his mind. “Forty-nine hours and twenty-one minutes, and I have absolutely nothing to show for it!”

“Then, we’ll figure something out,” April shoved a shaky smile upon her face. “We always do.”

Donnie laughed, weakly, bitterly. “We included my brothers, and we - I still don’t know where they are! They’re depending on me - their tech guy - to save them, and all I’ve done is waste time!” He stumbled over to his chair, and he practically fell into it, hiding his face into one of his hands. In a low voice, he murmured, “I’m supposed to be smarter than this.”

April’s brown eyes widened behind her signature red glasses, and she didn’t hesitate to make her way over to the sullen softshell. Carefully, she lowered herself before him, taking note of the way Donnie’s shoulders trembled, and she placed a delicate hand on his knee. Donnie shivered - whether from her touch or his own roiling emotions, April wasn’t sure - but he didn’t pull away.

“Donatello,” April started, her voice firm. “You are literally the smartest and techiest guy I’ve ever met. But that isn’t all you are. Any time I, or anyone else, has ever been in trouble, you’ve always known what to do. And, you always care even if you don’t show it all the time. Wherever your brothers are, they know you’re trying your hardest.” She brushed her fingers against Donnie’s closed bloody hand, coaxing him to unfurl it. “I know you’re trying your hardest. But, you have to realize that you’re not going through this on your own.”

April pulled Donnie’s hand from his face, the softshell permitting her, and held it. She smiled at his watery eyes and the wet patches around the eye-holes in his mask. “I’m still here,” she said.

Donnie froze and, for the first time, he found himself getting a good look at April. She seemed just as tired as him, small bags lining the skin under her eyes. Her pigtails were lopsided atop her head, and her glasses sported a crack along the outside of one of the lenses. A large bruise bloomed from underneath a bandaid on her left cheek; she got it after they fell into one of the Purple Dragon’s traps.

She was right.

Burning tears welled up in Donnie’s eyes, and they trailed their way down his face. To both of their surprises, Donnie nearly leaped forward, and he embraced her as tight as he could. He buried his face within the green fabric of her torn jacket, inhaling smoke and flowery laundry detergent. April paused, momentarily taken off-guard, and she wrapped her arms around his jerking shoulders.

“Thank you, April,” he sobbed.

“No problem,” she hummed. “That’s what family’s for.”

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #april o'neil #donnie #fic request #ask box #angst #ask box still open

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choco-mark · 5 years ago

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24 April ★ boyfriend!jaemin ft. neighbor!renjun

part of the Quarantine Diaries!!

“Babe,” you whispered quietly, noticing the naughtiness of your boyfriend’s hand slipping under your thin shirt. “Not here, come on—”

The two of you were currently on the rooftop of your apartment building, enjoying the view that you were getting until you felt Jaemin getting touchy, with his hands lingering on your waist and his lips on your neck, you knew that he wanted something, and that something was you.

“Why not?” His hand massaged one of your breasts, the other one pressing you against the railing slightly as he did so. “There’s no one here, babe, and no one’s gonna come here. And even if someone did, you wouldn’t hate that, would you?”

Jaemin moved south, his hand moving past the sweatpants that belonged to him, wriggling their way into your panties, right where your lovely package was waiting for him. He hummed against your ear as he let his finger trail up your slit, already feeling the slickness of your juices collecting.

You shuddered from the touch, your body falling limp to him as he drew deep circles into your clit, dragging his fingers slowly across the nerves as he watched your expressions. The grasp you had on the railing increased as you forgot about the entire public setting, collapsing against your boyfriend as he entered a finger into you.

“Look at you, baby,” he cooed against your skin, placing feathered kisses on the nape of your neck as he pumped his finger in and out, falling into your whimpers and moans. “My baby’s so pretty, dripping and ready for me. Aren’t you?”

You drew his free hand over your body with a shaky motion, trying to pull his fingers into your mouth but failing as he moved them down, working on your clit instead. “Don’t hold your sounds, baby girl, I want to hear you.” His hips caged around yours, pushing you against him and you leaned your head back into his chest, sighing deeply from the feeling. “That’s right, baby, keep doing that for me.”

Another finger went into you, stretching you out pleasurably as he went in deeper, your walls enclosing the flesh of his fingers so nicely. You leaned back again, opening your eyes for a brief moment to see a figure behind the two of you, watching the entire scene with a shocked face.

You clenched around your boyfriend’s fingers hard, maybe too hard because he hissed, noticing your expression and turning back. Your next door neighbor was standing right behind the two of you, maybe a good few feet away from you as he realized what was going on.

“Oh Renjun, fancy seeing you here,” Jaemin’s voice was laced with a type of excited sarcasm, and his fingers scissored your insides, making you bite your lip harshly. “How are you doing on this fine evening?”

“F-Fine,” he stuttered out, his eyes trailing to where Jaemin’s hand was down your shorts and then back up to his face. “I’ll just—um, leave.” He gulped visibly, turning around with some force of effort before your boyfriend called him back.

“Stay,” his voice was husky, making sure that he gave you an extra hard thrust just to let you know what he wanted. “You can watch. She likes it when people see her all ruined, isn’t that right, baby?” You gripped his arm tightly, not being able to focus on anything but his fingers inside of you.

He turned you around in your position, with your frontside now facing Renjun as he continued his pace from behind you, feeling your walls tighten around him everytime you caught a glimpse at your neighbor. Though you should’ve felt embarrassed from the way you were being displayed to the man that you would see in the lobby of your apartment every morning before work, you let out a loud moan instead, feeling your orgasm coming closer to you with every rising step.

“Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum all over my fingers for me? Yeah?” You nodded frantically, reaching to hold onto any part of him as your legs shook from the sensation, not being able to control your stance any longer. “Go ahead, baby, come on. Put on a good show for our audience here, hmm? Cum for him.”

#quarantine diaries #jaemin smut #renjun smut #nct dream smut #nct smut

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr | Also on AO3

Chapter 58: Jon Prime

Eleven months. Eleven months since Jon had come back in time, since he’d knocked on Tim’s door, since he’d had Martin in his arms again. Eleven months of regrouping, of planning, of worrying and fearing and hoping in equal measures. Eleven months, almost to the day, to the minute. All of it leading to this.

It was worth it for the look on Elias’s face when he spun around to face him.

In the entire time Jon had worked for the Institute, and especially since taking the Archivist position, he had never once seen Elias anything but calmly, coolly, smugly in control. Occasionally angry, although he’d more heard that than seen it when he listened to the tapes much later, but still, whatever emotions he might have been feeling, his bearing had always suggested that he held the upper hand and knew it. Now, though, there was none of that in his expression. For the first time Jon had ever seen, Elias Bouchard looked as though the situation had got away from him somewhat. His eyes—Jonah’s eyes—were wide with alarm, his jaw was slack, and even if he didn’t look afraid—yet—he was definitely at the very least taken aback. It was a start.

“Jon? What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You should be—” He stopped and inhaled sharply as he scanned Jon’s face, probably noticing the worm scars if not how much more grey was in his hair than his counterpart’s. “You’re not Jon.”

“Oh, but I am,” Jon replied. He was keeping his powers in check, but barely; he could feel the static building in his veins, thrumming and crackling like electricity through a power grid, and while he wanted to unleash it on the man before him, he couldn’t just yet. It was too much of a risk with Martin so close. “Just not the Jon you think I am.”

“What—no.” Jonah—there was no doubt it was Jonah Magnus regarding him now—turned pale. “You’re not—no. How can this be? Tell me!”

Jon tsked. “That was never your gift, Jonah. Compelling people. The Eye gave you the ability to pry, to pluck secrets out of heads and put secrets in…but you don’t get to ask for them, do you? You are no Archivist.”

There was definitely a part of him that was enjoying this more than he should. It wasn’t the power over Jonah he thrilled to—he’d never been the megalomaniac sort—but he definitely relished not being the one at a disadvantage for once. He’d spent years as little more than a pawn in Jonah’s game, and it was refreshing to be, if not a queen, at the very least a knight. It was satisfying more than anything.

But satisfaction wasn’t the goal. Victory was.

Jonah pulled himself together and drew himself up. Jon had to give him some credit—it obviously cost him a good deal of effort, both mental and physical. Martin had thrown him for a loop, probably several times, and then Jon had appeared from behind and totally disorientated him. Beyond that, Jon had seen, when he crept up behind him, the large dark stain surrounding the tear on the back of his usually immaculate charcoal suit. Melanie may have only pretended to actually try and kill him, but she’d certainly done a number on him anyway.

“Jon, I do not have time for these games,” he began.

“On the contrary. We have all the time in the world.” Jon took a half-step back and to the side, away from both the soft part in the wall that led, more or less, to the Institute and the tunnel where Sasha and Melanie had secreted themselves.

As he’d hoped, Jonah took the bait, taking a full step towards him and away from Martin. He had two inches on Jon and obviously intended to use them to the utmost effect in an attempt to intimidate and cow Jon. It was the same thing he’d done after the Apocalypse, when he’d stood over Jon and belittled him, making him shrink in on himself and bow under the weight of his own folly and shortcomings, highlighted all the places where it had been Jon’s decisions that led to that point.

Things were different now. Jon knew himself, he knew what his capabilities were as well as his limitations. And just as importantly, he had the evidence of his own eyes when he looked at Past Jon. Yes, Jon had made choices that led to the Apocalypse, but they’d been made with the limited information he had—information that had been limited because of Jonah. When he had all the data, he made much better decisions. Knowing, as they said, was half the battle.

In this case, perhaps, Knowing was all the battle.

Jon spared a quick glance for Martin. His smirk was almost a match for Jon’s own, and his eyes sparkled in a way Jon hadn’t seen in a long time. He stood tall and confident, shoulders squared and chin raised, and he still had a tight grip on the knife Melanie had pressed into his hand. He was also still far too close to Jon and Jonah, and not near enough to where he needed to be.

“Martin, get back. I don’t want you getting hurt,” he told him.

“Really, Jon, I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” Jonah said stiffly. “Whatever the issue is, we can settle it like gentlemen.”

“Ha!” Melanie’s disgusted laugh floated from the side. Jon looked over quickly to see her and Sasha crouched right in the entrance of the tunnel they’d found him in, arms linked tightly. Melanie’s other hand had a death grip on the rough stone of the tunnel’s arch. Jon knew exactly why. He’d heard the near-ethereal music, too, followed it down the tunnel, and realized the stone was ringing faintly with the tune from Denikin’s Calliophone, as though it were one of the pipes of the organ. If Sasha and Melanie hadn’t tumbled into him and told him they were ready for him, there was no telling how far he might have gone. Or how lost he might have been.

Something flickered over Martin’s face, but he did as Jon requested, taking three careful steps backwards until his heels hit the edge of the tower at the center of the Panopticon. He reached out with his free hand and steadied himself against it, then nodded once.

Jon stole another half-pace backwards, luring Jonah a little farther away from the others. “Settle this like gentlemen? You must be joking. What exactly do you think is going to happen? That you’re going to convince me to—to walk away from this? To just let it go?”

“You walked away from the Unknowing,” Jonah said tartly. “You left Tim alone to it with two people who, I am sure, could not possibly care less whether he lives or dies. And despite this—” He ran his eye over Jon’s face disdainfully. “—this getup, we both know that you walked away from Jane Prentiss and left Martin alone to her.”

Oh. That was a low blow. Jon stiffened, his rage nearly choking him. Despite knowing that it wasn’t true—that it hadn’t been true in either timeline—just the fact that Jonah would look him in the eye and even imply that he was the sort to abandon his people was enough to leave him momentarily speechless. And the fact that Jonah believed, or pretended to believe, that Jon would abandon Martin of all people…

He was about to explode, to start yelling, to reach out and strangle Jonah Magnus with his bare hands, when Martin started laughing. It was somewhere between the way he’d laughed when Jon had floated the idea of gouging their eyes out and running away together and the way he’d laughed when they’d been playing I Spy in the tombs. He sounded both incredulous and amused.

“You still have no idea, do you?” he said. “You still think you know what’s going on. This must really be embarrassing for you. Having to wait for an explanation.”

It was the last word that did it for Jon, grounding him and enabling him to recenter himself. Even if Martin’s voice hadn’t been enough, the reminder was. Once upon a time that no longer was, Jonah Magnus had forced Jon to monologue for him, forced him to recite his deeds and his plan before using him as a tool to trigger the end of the world. He had manipulated Jon at every turn, and then manipulated him once more at the end. And that was exactly what he was trying to do here. He was trying to goad Jon into doing something rash, into lashing out at him and tipping his hand too far.

He still thought he could win.

Jon didn’t take a deep breath; he wouldn’t give Jonah the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled him. But he did square his shoulders and let his lips curl into a sneer. “I know you can’t look into my head, Jonah. But can’t you guess? Even if your master won’t give you the answers, can’t you even attempt to figure them out on your own?”

Anger flashed in Jonah’s cold grey eyes, and Jon knew he’d scored another point. There would be no grading of this exam—it was strictly pass/fail—but the more he could build things up on his side, the easier it would be. He hoped. “Don’t prevaricate, Jon. This is hardly the time. Either tell me what you think you are doing, or allow me to get back to watching the people you should be watching.”

“The Jonathan Sims you employ is at the Unknowing,” Jon told him coldly. “Along with the Martin Blackwood you employ. I was that Jonathan Sims, once, but not now. I am from the future, Jonah Magnus. A future that is not and will never be.”

“If you are trying to make a joke—”

Jon ran the backs of two fingers over his cheek, indicating the worm scars. “Jane Prentiss, twenty-sixth July, 2016.” He touched his side. “The Distortion, otherwise known as Michael, second October, 2016.” He held out his right hand, palm outward, and notched another point in his credit when Jonah flinched, almost imperceptibly. “Jude Perry, twenty-fourth April, 2017.”

Jonah’s eyes widened—and then, not entirely to Jon’s surprise, a slow smile crossed his face. “The Corruption, the Spiral, the Desolation. And that scar at your throat—yes, I saw that. The Slaughter?”

“The Hunt. Daisy Tonner, twenty-eighth April, 2017.” Jon pulled aside the collar of Martin’s sweater—not the green one he’d worn since Martin wrapped him in it for comfort after he ended the world or the soft blue one that Martin wore more often than any other because Jon had complimented him on it without thinking long before either of them knew they would end up together, but the slightly lopsided red one that was Jon’s new favorite, because it was the one Martin had patiently worked on while Jon read statements to feed himself, the one that was proof he didn’t really need to be able to see to knit. “This is the Slaughter. Melanie King, twenty-fifth February, 2018.” He let the collar fall back into place and smoothed it out carefully. “The others don’t show.”

“But you have them all.” Jonah’s smile broadened. “It worked. The ritual was a success, and you came back…thinking you could stop me.”

“Well done, Jonah,” Jon said, in the same voice one might otherwise use with a child who had successfully tied his own shoes for the first time. “That’s all absolutely correct.”

“Oh, Jon.” Jonah’s voice took on an almost pitying tone. “And you thought telling me that would mean…what, exactly? You think it won’t work now? That you’ve warned your—counterpart, and now he can escape it? He has three marks already, at least.”

Behind Jonah’s shoulder, Martin silently held up his free hand, displaying all five fingers. Jon swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat as he realized Martin was right. Apart from the two he’d had before they arrived—the Web and the Eye—and being stabbed by and later traveling through the halls of the Distortion, Past Jon had been kidnapped and essentially tortured by the Stranger, and his encounter with Julia and Trevor in America was probably enough to give him a mark from the Hunt.

“And even if he escapes,” Jonah continued, oblivious to what was going on behind him, “there are still the others. Even knowing, it’s unavoidable, Jon. Fear comes for us all, in whatever guise it wishes, and the Institute is a lure many of them cannot resist. They will be marked, and when they are—”

“No,” Jon interrupted, and this time he let the static crackle through his voice. “They may be marked, Jonah Magnus, but it will not be to your advantage. This ends here.”

Jonah sneered, but Jon had already seen the flash of fear in his eyes. “You think you’ve learned enough to stop me? I have two hundred years of experience and Knowledge. What do you bring to the table? A few tricks? This cheap attempt at intimidation? You cannot overpower me, Jon. Not now when I can see my triumph within my grasp. Thwart me, and I will simply find another.”

“Oh, no.” Jon took another diagonal step, turning his shoulders as he did so; as he expected, Jonah followed him. “There will be no one else. Not from you. Never again.”

“How, exactly, do you intend to stop me?” Jonah demanded, drawing himself up.

Jon snorted. “I had considered taking you out the way you took out one of the others. I considered shooting you. Like you did to Gertrude.” He swallowed hard. “And Martin.”

“I never—ah.” Jonah’s unpleasant smile smeared across his face again. “Yes, I suppose that would be quite effective in slowing you down, wouldn’t it? If I were to—take him out, shall we say?” He slipped one hand under his jacket.

“You don’t have it with you,” Jon said with contempt. “I don’t even need the Eye to know that. If you had brought your gun, you wouldn’t have bothered trying to get into Martin’s head. Not once you were down here. After all…” He waved one hand around the room. “Who would be here to witness? Only the Eye.”

“Perhaps I think he’s too useful to kill,” Jonah said.

Jon curled one hand into a fist and fought back the anger and nausea the way Jonah’s voice curled around the word useful brought up. He had to keep it together. Had to keep this going. “I could have beaten you to death, too. Like you did Jurgen Leitner. And framed me for.”

Again he took a half-step back, rotating slightly this time, and again Jonah followed. Jon glanced at Sasha, her eyes glittering with excitement and interest even from that distance, and raised his eyebrows in silent question. She nodded once. Jon blinked his acknowledgment and swiftly returned his gaze to Jonah. He’d managed it right. He now had the tunnel to the Institute at his back and the Panopticon at his front. He was directly between the two access points for the Beholder. He had Jonah exactly where he wanted him.

“Jurgen Leitner?” Jonah repeated. “That pompous ass?”

Martin and Melanie’s snorts were nearly identical. Jon didn’t bother to repress his smirk. “He’s living in those tunnels, you know. Has been for years. He used to help Gertrude out, too. He was going to tell me some of those details you thought my counterpart didn’t know, and I wasn’t knowledgeable enough to shield my thoughts enough that you didn’t know I was talking to someone. You slipped in while I was out of my office, tormented him the same way you did Gertrude, and beat him to death with a length of pipe. Left the body there. Of course Daisy thought I’d done it.”

“It would have been quite difficult for me to use you if you were in prison.”

“Oh, you made it clear that you didn’t actually think I’d done it. But you certainly brought me to Daisy’s attention. Dangled me in front of her. You knew she would come after me eventually, knew it would mark me. You used her as much as you used the rest of us, long before she joined the Institute.” Jon met Jonah’s eyes. It was far easier than it had ever been before. “Never again, Jonah. I will never allow you to use anyone for your evil purpose again. You don’t deserve the power you want to wield.”

“You could join me, you know,” Jonah offered.

Jon almost choked. “What?”

“Join me,” Jonah said again, and if Jon thought for a minute that Elias Bouchard was the type, he’d have expected the next sentence to be something along the lines of Together we can rule the galaxy as father and son. “You’ve seen the world, Jon. The world we created, in your time. You know how very beautiful it can be. Rulers together of a forsaken world. Overseers of all. Imagine it. You could choose who lived and died. Control how much suffering was inflicted on those who suffered. You know what that fear feels like when it flows through you…imagine controlling it, drinking the whole world. I know you wouldn’t be here if you had had that power. You would never have wanted to leave it.” He spread his hands out invitingly towards Jon. “We would live forever. Imagine it, Jon. It would be so easy, and so rewarding. All you need to do…is say the words.”

Martin’s face went white as a sheet. Those freckles that hadn’t been bleached to pale shadows by the Lonely stood out clearer than Jon had seen them in ages, and his lips parted slightly. The naked fear in his sightless eyes was almost physically painful. He was scared, worse than he’d been in a long time.

And something seemed to tighten around Jon’s wrist.

Martin knew Jon better than anybody in the universe, maybe better than Jon even knew himself. He knew how close to the edge Jon had been at times, how close he’d come to succumbing to the Eye and becoming its conduit. How hard Jon had fought to keep from becoming like Jude Perry, like Mike Crew, like Jared Hopworth. And he knew just how hard Jon was tempted at times to give in, how much Jon wanted to know what would happen if he did. How tired he got sometimes of the constant daily struggle. He alone, out of anybody, knew that there was a part of Jon that wanted to say yes.

But not enough of one. Not nearly enough of one. There was no temptation in the world strong enough to lure him away from Martin, nothing in the universe he wanted more than to spend whatever time he was granted with the man he loved. Martin had promised to kill him if he ever came close to agreeing to what Jonah was proposing, and Jon had sworn to himself then and there that he would never force Martin to make that call. He knew that Martin would never be able to live with himself if he did. And Jon loved him too much to hurt him that way if there was any other option.

But Martin couldn’t see his face. For all he knew, Jon was seriously considering the offer. Jon would have to reassure him.

“If you think,” he said, “for one moment that I would agree to that knowing what it would mean, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought you were. And that, Jonah Magnus, is saying something.”

Martin drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment, then seemed to relax. Jonah’s smile melted away. He opened his mouth to say something. Jon didn’t give him the chance. “I have seen your ‘forsaken world’, and I have seen what it cost everyone who lived in it. I have felt the pain and suffering of those within it, and I know that there is no one, Watched or Watcher, who escaped that pain and suffering. Even those who thought they wanted it, in the end, found they did not. Even you would have learned that, sooner or later.” He narrowed his eyes at Jonah. “And I would sooner gouge my own eyes out, here and now, than share any kind of power with you.”

Jon again saw the cold, pale fury in Jonah’s eyes that he had last seen when Martin defied him after the Apocalypse, but this time it didn’t go away. “That can be arranged.”

“I don’t think so.” Jon felt the static building up again, and this time, he didn’t try to hold it back. “Your time has come.”

Power thrummed through his veins. It was the way he’d felt when facing down the Not-Them both times, when he’d struck down Jared Hopworth, when he’d caught hold of Helen’s lie, but somehow it was stronger. Again he felt that tightening around his wrist, and he could feel a power flowing through that as well, fueling him, giving him strength and courage.

“For two hundred years, you have sat atop your ivory tower and pretended to rule,” he said. The words came easily, leading Jon to wonder if he was saying them or the Ceaseless Watcher was. “You have set yourself up as a god among men, and you have believed yourself to be untouchable. You have manipulated and pulled and lured, and through it all, you have believed yourself to be endearing yourself to your master. But It Knows You, and it Knows that it is not fear you have feasted on all these years, merely power over others. You have desired only your own ends and served no one but yourself.”

He was aware of an echo to his voice, as though someone else was speaking the words with him. At first he thought it was just that, an echo, or maybe the Beholder resonating through him, but he recognized the second voice for what it was at about the same moment Jonah’s eyes widened, and the fear in them wasn’t fleeting. It was Gertrude Robinson’s voice joining Jon’s, maybe prompting him, maybe lending her power to his. Maybe it was just a manifestation of his power after all, enhancing Jonah’s fear.

Jon could taste that fear. It was exhilarating and intoxicating. Whatever was around his wrist seemed to tighten further, reminding him that it was there, reminding him of what he was trying to do. Keeping him grounded. In that instant, Jon recognized it as a manifestation of his bond to Martin, the one Annabelle Cane had enhanced, and it gave him a renewed sense of conviction.

“Two hundred years of pain and death and misery,” he continued, “and all of it spent running from your own fears. Know now that Fear has come for you, Jonah Magnus. You cannot escape it and you cannot run from it.”

“No—no—no,” Jonah gasped, backing away from Jon, or trying to. “J-Jon, please—”

“For our Tim,” Jon snarled, and Gertrude Robinson’s voice and all their combined power joined in with him. “For our Sasha, and for Gertrude Robinson, and for all the others you have killed and trapped and harmed. For my Martin. For every life you took, every dream you destroyed, every ounce of pain and fear you inflicted on others—let it all be turned back on you tenfold. Feel it all, and for the first time in your life, Jonah Magnus, you will truly Know.”

“Jon—please—I don’t want to die,” Jonah begged.

“Neither did they.” Jon raised his voice and felt his hair stand on end. “Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this miserable, pathetic, wretched thing!”

The light in the room flashed as though struck by lightning, but a brilliant, blazing green, coming from both directions and centered directly on Jonah Magnus, who began to scream. Jon felt the fear slam into him, filling him near to bursting, thrumming through his veins and body like he’d simultaneously grabbed hold of a live electrical wire and tried to drink from a fire hose like a straw. Either Elias Bouchard’s body was shrinking or Jon had grown, or perhaps he was merely floating above the floor, but whatever the case, he was now looking down on the man from above.

In the exact same instant, Martin lunged forward and, with a roar of satisfaction and an accuracy that Jon Knew would not have been possible without their bond, drove the knife with both hands into the heart of Jonah Magnus’s body.

Elias’s scream rose to a fever pitch, joined by more voices—six, if Jon was any judge: the screams of the other five men Jonah Magnus murdered to extend his life, and the scream of the original Jonah Magnus himself, a dry, dusty sort of scream, desperate and frightened and pained. The green light flared up and filled the room in a blinding, soundless explosion—

—and then, suddenly, it was gone, leaving a vacuum of silence and the ruins of a prison guard tower.

Jon’s feet hit the ground—so he had been floating after all—and he stumbled slightly. Where Elias Bouchard had been, there was nothing but a scorch mark on the stone, and Martin was half-kneeling in the center of the guard tower, knife still in hand, but nothing remaining of Jonah Magnus’s original body but a scattering of dust.

Martin blinked twice, dropped the knife, and got to his feet, turning unerringly in Jon’s direction. “Jon?” he called.

“Martin,” Jon choked out. He reached out his hands desperately for Martin, wanting to hold him close, to tell him they’d done it, that they were safe, that it was over, that it had worked. That Jonah Magnus was dead and would never harm anyone else again. That they had won.

That he loved him, so very, very much.

He made it no more than a couple of steps before his strength failed him and he pitched forward, gasping. Two strong arms caught him and pulled him close. The last thing Jon heard was Martin desperately, frantically screaming his name.

And then everything went black.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #smiting #intimidation tw #manipulation tw #belittling tw #stabbing tw #mention of murder (inc. brutal pipe murder)#we're so close to the end y'all #I can't believe it

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