#suddenly she's all alone. the only semblance of someone who cared and knew her having suddenly abandoned her

[thebleedingeffect]

One of these days I gotta talk about Hylia because I have very particular feelings about her that fall beyond simple white and black lines. On one hand, I just do not think she's quite able to wrap her mind around mortality and she is far removed from normal scales of time and humanity. But on the other hand, I don't think she's as absent and objective as the golden goddesses as she does have a degree of understanding humanity thanks to her constant proximity to humans. She's capable of making human mistakes and has desires of her own, but I do not think she's able to wrap her mind properly around morality and more standard lenses of what's right and wrong.

She's like a fucked up mix of a chosen goddess and someone who has taken the rough shape of a human and as such, embodies both the worst and best parts of each.

[lokisprettygirl]

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read chapter 9 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 10

Summary : Melody's arrival leaves Eric with no choice but to reveal the gnarly truth of his past to you.

Warning: 18+, smut, more smut, dirty sexual thoughts, cum play, Description of self harm, dry humping, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

“Are you fine honey??” Laura's gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts so you looked at her.

“Yeah..just tired, family is draining” you chuckled, lying through your teeth seamlessly.

You were anything but fine at the moment. How could you be fine knowing your boyfriend or whatever Eric was to you currently had his super hot, super famous, super attractive ex- girlfriend in his apartment?

You weren't ready for it, none of you were but mostly you, it was a chapter closed like he had said but she was here now. Early morning when you two came back from the 7 hours ride back to Chicago you were the first one to see her as Eric was in a different cab.

Of course you recognised her, you had obsessed over their relationship so much that you'd have recognised her face in complete darkness. He had asked you to not go up alone so you were waiting outside the building but seeing her out there, looking nervous and scared made you believe that nothing good will come out of this situation, especially not for you.

“You're Melody Banks right?” You asked her so she gave you a shrug, probably thought you were a fan of something, perhaps you'd have been a bit struck if she was just a random popstar standing outside of your shitty apartment building in the shitty neighborhood but knowing her history with Eric, all you felt was dread and heaviness.

“You must be y/n” she said nonchalantly.

How did she know?

Before you could ask her that Eric came and the look on his face? Yeah that haunted you all day, the way his face just became so small and his eyes teared up, looking at his face you could just tell how intensely he had loved her when they were together.

He didn't say anything at first, he just walked past her and went inside so she followed behind him and so did you.

The ride to the 11th floor was as awkward as imaginable.

You stood between them both, not wanting to look at either side, not wanting to know what he was thinking.

Not wanting to know how quickly he'd dump you if she had come to reconcile suddenly after six years.

You were the first one to step out of the hellevator and Eric followed you.

“Eric”

Melody said his name which made him halt in his steps so he turned to look at her. His eyes burning with anger and rage.

“What the fuck is going on Mel? How come you even find me?”

He said to her, his voice filled with anger and that brought a semblance of comfort as you fiddled with your keys, trying to open the door of your apartment just so you could disappear. He was angry at her but you knew how potent his anger was, he only got upset when he cared about something or someone.

“I hired someone, it's not hard to find you with your name and pictures I had of us-” she mumbled shamelessly as she stared at him.

Eric couldn't make sense of it, how come he didn't realise he was being followed? Who else was following him?

Has he put you in danger already?

Pictures, she kept his pictures on her phone? Even after everything that went down? The way she lived her life now he didn't think he was in her memory, let alone in her phone. He didn't keep up with her career or her personal life, in the beginning he often listened to her songs, felt proud of her success and fame like she had always wanted but then it only brought him pain and immense hurt. Witnessing who she was dating, how happy she was without him in her life, it killed him even though he was already dead.

“I need to talk to you Eric..it's important” she said to him so he groaned before he turned to you and immediately grabbed your keys from your hands to open the door of your apartment, he wanted to make sure it was safe in there.

“I just need to deal with this okay?” He said to you as you followed him and stepped into the apartment . His voice was tender as it always was but you still felt your heart beating so fast you feared it would burst.

He was going to leave you. You just knew. You were a placeholder and she was Melody Banks.

He kissed your forehead before he left and closed the door behind him. And now It has been hours since then and you hadn't heard from him, you texted to make sure he was okay but he hadn't responded, he hadn't even seen it.

Eric was so torn, he didn't want to hurt you, not at all, but he also knew Melody didn't just find him because she suddenly regretted her decision to leave him behind. He needed a shower and some time alone to process this, when he came out she was sitting on the single bed, your bed that he had replaced with his own.. she had his drawings of yours in her hands, going through his stuff as if she still owned the rights.

“So it's true..you're with her” she said as she placed his drawing pad down on the bed and walked towards him. Of Course her informant must have filled her in, he knew very well how those private investigators worked.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked her, voice gruff and almost disinterested.

“I saw him, Vincent Roeg, he was following me” she told him, her voice trembled with fear.

That one statement shook the ground beneath his feet, his knees felt weak.

It wasn't possible, he had made sure of it, he had sent Vincent Roeg somewhere he'd never come back from.

“That's impossible” he said to her.

“I thought so too, but I saw him..I'm not making it up, I wouldn't have bothered you if I wasn't sure” she said to him as she reached closer and grabbed his hand in her own, her fingers trailed over the scar on his palm, he didn't know how to react, it felt wrong now, he used to live for her touches but it felt so completely wrong now..he didn't want her to touch him anymore, he only needed you to touch him.

Her appearance hadn't changed much, except for some new tattoos and some cosmetic procedures he didn't care to learn more about, he didn't miss the giant diamond ring on her finger though.

He pulled his hand away but then she got closer and hugged him, he was going to push her away but then she started crying and he didn't know what to do at that moment. He had loved this woman with every inch of his life once.

“I'm so sorry about everything, it's just nice seeing you again” she said between her tears so he sighed deeply, her touch and scent both evoked memories he didn't want to revisit.

“Does your fiance know where you are?” He asked her so she pulled away, the look on her face was that of a mouse caught in the cage. They had been keeping it a secret from the public eye but Eric was always observant, more observant than most people she knew.

“Look whoever you saw, it can't be Vincent Roeg, he's dead, I sent him to hell myself” he said to her as he began to pace back and forth in his bedroom.

“I knew you wouldn't believe me-” she said as she picked up her expensive Louis Vuitton bag and took out a picture to hand it to him.

His eyes widened as he saw the man in the picture, it was taken from a CCTV grainy footage but even then he could recognise that demon's face.

“It can't be-” his breathing got heavier as he realised the conundrum he was in. He had to speak with Kronos about this, whoever this Roeg lookalike was he had an agenda if he was following Melody, that meant that he knew about everything that had happened between them and Vincent.

It also made him realise that if he was trailing Melody then he must be trailing him as well.

The thought of you crossed his mind so he immediately grabbed his phone and called you but you didn't pick up and that only tensed him further.

“Do you love her?” He stopped fidgeting with his phone as she asked him the question which only irritated him further.

“Its none of your business”

“Does she know about us?” She asked him another question.

“She knows we dated, she doesn't know about the circus that my life has become” he snapped, it almost came out as a taunt.

“Just yours? Eric?” she crossed her arms as she glared at him.

“Yeah well I didn't ask for it”

“And I did? Do you think I wanted this?”

He sighed as her voice picked up a notch, matching his own. He remembered their arguments during the last few days of their failing relationship, they went around in circles, him feeling hurt that his sacrifice meant nothing to her and her telling him that she never asked him to sell his soul for her so he shouldn't blame her for this.

“What do you want?” He asked her truthfully, he didn't want to beat around the bush.

“I..i don't know. I don't feel safe anymore, everywhere I go I feel watched and that's saying something considering my profession. I didn't know where else to go Eric, nobody will understand, they'll think I'm finally going crazy because of all those drugs I used to take.. you're the only person who would know what to do”

He sighed again as she said that, all these years he was content knowing that she was safe now and that had come crashing down on him again, he was just starting to move on and be happy with you.

“I have to go..make sure she's safe” He said to her as he reached for the closet to put on a shirt.

“Stay here..” he said to her so she smiled and nodded.

After your shift ended you were surprised to see Eric outside considering you were imagining the worst possible situation in your head including him and his ex. Like picturing them making up and having sex on every surface of his apartment.

He had called you but you were busy with the orders at the time so you weren't able to pick up.

“Are you okay?” You asked him so he nodded. Usually he was very careful about being seen with you as it would jeopardize your safety. What happened now then? Did he not want to protect you anymore now that the love of his life– no why were your thoughts so horrible about him? He came to get you right? He wanted to keep you safe that's why he came.

“Ummm what's going on?” You asked him the moment you both entered the elevator so he placed his palms over his face.

How could he even begin to explain this to you? He didn't even know where to start and where to finish wording it in a way that won't end up making him look like a complete deranged lunatic.

“She's in trouble over something -”

That was barely an explanation of this whole fiasco and you weren't satisfied.

“And she found you because?”

“Because it's related to our ..past”

You took a deep breath as he said that, you were getting irritated by his shirt responses.

“Eric ..what's going on?”

“I just told you-”

“No that's not enough”

“Well that's all I'm willing to share okay?” You stared at him in disbelief as he said that before you let out a snicker and stepped out as the floor arrived. You could hear him groaning as he followed you.

“Don't be like that..i have got enough on my plate as it is” You heard his voice as you reached the door of your apartment so you turned to look at him.

“You have your ex in your apartment right now and you just want me to not care about it?” you asked him, you wouldn't let him make you feel as if you were the one overreacting here.

Melody was on the other side of his door, listening into the conversation, biting her nails in anticipation, she had moved on, of course she had. But Eric was important to her, she'd never forget what he had done for her but life with him wasn't pleasant once they woke up from the dead, he had changed, he became overly paranoid, controlling and the love between them wasn't enough for her to keep it going.

And she couldn't have gone her whole life living with someone who was just going to live Forever.

However seeing him today, watching him look at someone else the way he used to look at her, it irked her in ways she couldn't decipher, she was happily engaged to a man who brought her everything she needed so why did it affect her that Eric wasn't pining after her anymore and had moved on?

Eric knew he needed to do something about this situation before he'd end up driving you further into your doubts and insecurities so he walked towards you and cupped your cheeks before he leaned down to reach your lips so he could kiss you. It's been hours, he needed it more than anything, he needed your touch to keep himself from drowning.

Your eyes softened as you melted into his kiss and returned it with equal intensity, you were so afraid of losing him, it made you physically sick.

“It's just complicated.. it's not something I can explain baby” he murmured against your lips so you sighed.

Melody felt that pricking feeling in her heart that she could only relate with jealousy as she looked at you two from the peep hole at his door.

“Try it maybe?” You said to him and his eyes became teary, he didn't want to try, he didn't want to lose you.

You opened your door and dragged him into your apartment so he dreadingly walked onto the couch and sat down. He was trembling, his legs kept shaking, he didn't know what to say to you.

“Y/n you're not going to believe anything I'll say to you..”

“Why won't I believe you?” You asked as you sat down on the floor in front of him, placing your hand down on his knees to stop the tremors.

“Because it's .. going to change how you see everything”

“Nothing could change how I see you Eric”

That's not what he meant.

“Stay here” he said as he got up and walked into the kitchen, he came back with a knife and sat down. You gulped as the sense of dread filled you every being.

“Eric”

“Just relax” He said to you, his voice calm and soothing but how could you be relax? You knew he had self harm issues, you had seen those scars and knew what they meant even though he never really talked about them.“I don't want you to freak out okay?”

“Don't hurt yourself..” you mumbled, eyes tearing up already as you imagined the worst.

“I can't get hurt..that's the thing”

He brought the knife close to his forearm so you grabbed the handle in an attempt to stop whatever he was going to do but he was stronger and before you could say or do anything further he ran the tip over his skin, cutting himself deeply.

“Baby what are you doing -” you stood up as you saw blood seeping out but he grabbed your arm.

“Watch.. please” you were going to scream and yell at him but then you noticed the blood on his arm, it was Black? Why was it black?

What was happening?

You got your arm out of his grip and took a step back as you saw the deep gaping wound closing itself rapidly.

That was enough for you apparently. That's when you fainted.

You didn't remember passing out but you did pass out because an hour later you woke up with a worried looking Eric sitting on the edge of the bed staring at you. You sat up quickly as everything rushed back in your memory. Him cutting himself, the black tar like blood seeping from his body, his wound healing supernaturally fast.

“Eric?” You called out his name so he placed his hand on your cheek and caressed it gently, his eyes were teary. You looked at his arm and there was no wound where he had ran the knife, not even a scar.

“If you want to end this here, not want to do anything with a freak like me, I'd go..I'd never bother you again but if for some reason you're willing to look past it.. perhaps I can explain” he said to you and just the thought of him not being in your life made you feel so hollow, it made you feel so heartbroken you didn't even want to imagine not having him, that was the truth but you were also utterly confused right now, you didn't understand anything anymore, you knew he had skeletons in his past but this was different, this wasn't normal.

“Who are you?” You asked him and he looked down as his eyes welled up..he wanted to tell you that he was the same man you had known for the past half a year but he knew how terrified you must be right now.

“I am Eric..that's who I have always been, baby..but.. something bad happened six years ago. Me and Melody..we ..were..we were murdered” he said to you, there was no point keeping anything hidden from you anymore. He had to tell you the truth even if it made him look crazy, if you were going to be the one who left him then he wouldn't stop you either but he didn't want to be the one to hurt you.

“Murdered?” He nodded as you asked the stupid question that was on the tip of your tongue.

What did he even mean?

“She was involved with someone bad, someone who wasn't of this world anymore, someone who worshiped the devil and sent innocent souls to hell in exchange for eternal life. Vincent Roeg..that's who got us murdered ..we died” he said to you, his voice held the familiar nonchalance that bothered you now.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because that's the truth..”

“Then how come you are here, you're here with me, you're not dead” you said to him, voice riddling with genuine frustration.

“I'm dead baby. I have no soul anymore, gave it away to bring her back” he said as he finally looked you in the eye.

“What?”

You asked him incredulously. That's when he told you where he woke up after they were killed and how Kronos gave him the chance to avenge their deaths, how he had a moment of weakness when he found that she had hurt someone, and how he traded his soul for hers just so she'd live even if it meant he'd be gone forever, he couldn't bear the thought of being in a world that didn't have her.

“How come you are here then Eric?” You asked him softly as you scooted closer to him and cupped his cheeks. You just wanted to feel him, a part of you didn't believe anything he said, another knew he wasn't lying to you.

“Kronos..he took pity on me i suppose, seeing the love I had for her he was willing to send me back here, he told me that I'd have my own soul return to me when I'm loved truly and eternally by another. He had a condition though, as long as I was without a soul I'd be a mercenary of God, send those who don't belong here to hell..that's what I do..that's my job sweetheart”

Tears finally rolled down your cheeks as he said that, he seemed so broken, no wonder he never wanted to reveal what he did out there, you wouldn't have believed him, a part of you was still in shock, if you hadn't actually seen him healing so quickly the way he did you probably would have blamed his trauma for all of this.

“So you can't die? Or Get hurt?”

You asked him so he shook his head.

“Without a soul I'm merely an empty vessel, you saw my blood, it's not even red anymore because that would mean I'm truly alive. I exist now just to do god's bidding” he said softly so you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him. He was alive, you didn't care what he said, you had felt him all around you, you had felt his heart beating.

Something still didn't make sense to you though.

“What happened between you and Melody after you came back as this?” you asked as you pulled away slightly but still holding onto him.

“I wasn't the Eric she fell in love with..i became crazy, paranoid, controlling. Just how i'm with you now but she couldn't take it, she had hopes and dreams and she couldn't have fulfilled them when I was holding her back, not wanting her to go anywhere without me, breathing on her neck all the time”

“So she left? She fucking left you after you gave up everything to bring her back?” Your jaw clenched in anger as you questioned him.

How selfish do you have to be to do that to someone you claimed to love?

“Do you even believe anything I'm telling you?” He asked you so you sighed deeply.

“I am trying Eric, it's just..too much. I have been an atheist all my life for god's sake” He couldn't help but chuckle as you said that.

“Wait..why is she back?” you asked him so he placed his head down on your shoulder, he had just revealed an absolute crazy truth about his life and you were still here, holding him, willing to love him, willing to believe in him.

“She saw Vincent Roeg again, or someone that looks like him..I'll figure it out”

Bold of her to run back to the man she had no qualms leaving when life was going her way. God you hated her now, you had no respect for her or her shitty music anymore.

“And how do you feel seeing her after so long?” you asked softly as you caressed his cheek.

“I don't know..I wish I did”

Not the answer you wanted to hear, you wanted him to tell you that she meant nothing to him, that you were important to him now but then how could you even be blind to the truth after everything he had told about his life.

He sold his soul for her, that's how much he loved her, you didn't think that sort of love is ever truly gone or replaced. He made peace with her absence but now she was here again and you feared you'd lose him to her.

“I have to go see Kronos about it..don't go anywhere okay? If that man followed her he must have followed me too and I can't put you in danger” You nodded as he said that so he got up from the bed, he was almost at the door when he turned around to look at you.

“Y/n i know it's too much to ask but can I send her here? I'd like for you two to stay together until I sort this out” he asked you nervously so you gave him a smile.

“You know I'll do anything for you Eric”

His eyes teared up as you said that so he approached you again, leaned down and cupped your cheeks to kiss you as softly as he could.

“Promise me you won't overthink this??” he murmured between the kiss so you nodded.

You were going to try but you knew it wouldn't be easy.

“Okay”

“I love you ..i really do, you don't know what you mean to me”

“Love you baby. .come back soon okay?” Your eyes moistened so he kissed your forehead.

He grabbed your hand in his own as you walked him to the door, he then knocked on his apartment and she immediately opened up, he explained to her that he wanted her to stay in your apartment while he was gone, she looked at you and you could see the look of displeasure on her face.

Fucking bitch.

She walked past you so you rolled your eyes, Eric gave you a small smile before he turned around to make his way to the elevator but you caught up to him and kissed him as passionately as you could. You no longer knew what was happening here but you weren't going to let go of him, even if there was a chance that he was making this all up and was completely insane you were going to get him the help he needed but you won't give up on him.

“You be a good girl now and you wait for me, yeah?” He said softly, making you grin like a schoolgirl.

As he left you came back to your apartment and locked the door, you then saw Melody looking at the pictures you had kept of Eric and you on the dresser in the living room.

Melody looked at those pictures with a sense of contempt, her life was perfect so she didn't understand why she felt so jealous of someone like you, but she did, watching Eric look so happy in those pictures brought back the memories of the time he only loved her and her alone. When she left she wanted him to move on, find peace again but now that he had she couldn't help but feel as if she was losing the claim she had on that sweet boy.

And she didn't know how to deal with that, all she knew was that there was still something unfinished between her and Eric. He loved her first.

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97 @fandomxo00 @a-differentbrandof-beans @mariaenchanted

[ranbitteeth]

hiii i love ur art and ur fics!!🫶🏽

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

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You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy— but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

And oh, how you missed her.

[yallthemwitches]

Not a Bang, But a Whimper

During their sixth year, Severus goes out after curfew to give information to Lily that he thinks will bring them back together. Unfortunately, he finds her already with someone else.

A companion piece to my other oneshot "Slipping Away" for Jily Week 2024, Day 7: Continuation Station (hosted by @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder) Ao3 Link Here

Curfew be damned. Severus ran down the corridor not caring how many portraits awoke from the wand’s light and his heaving breaths. He knew she would be there tonight and it was perhaps his only chance to get her alone to talk some sense into her. 

He was given the news from Avery just after dinner.  “The Dark Lord is recruiting.” Avery kept his eyes down and spoke in a quiet hiss. Even among a table of friends they couldn’t risk the information being leaked. 

Severus’ heartbeat caught. It was the first time in a long time he felt like he had a real sense of power. The Dark Lord could change the whole trajectory of his life—for once, he wouldn’t be counted out. 

“Who is he looking for?” Severus posed. “Can anyone join?” His mind flashed to Lily. For over a year now she had completely abandoned him but there wasn’t a moment that passed where he didn’t think of her. She too was someone who had been given a bad chance at life. Getting an opportunity to join alongside him would secure her in the wizarding world forever. 

“They will take anyone who is willing to give their loyalty,” Avery responded. “I’ve even heard he will take those of less pure blood…if they have something worthy to offer.”

It was all Severus could hope for. No one was more worthy than Lily despite her blood status. He could barely wait until that night when he knew she would be down in the potions room working on one of her little projects. She always did that on Saturday nights when she knew no one would be around to catch her. He went to his bedside table and took out a small crumpled photo he had carried with him since childhood. A small, meek version of himself stared up out of the photograph. Beside him, Lily held onto his hand, beaming. It was a version of them he wished he could go back to—perhaps seeing it she would feel the same. 

Now, he slowed his pace down to a walk and stopped at the statue of Ingrid the Horrid to catch his breath. Grasping onto the marble, he felt his heartbeat slow and started to make himself a little bit more presentable. 

A noise came from the end of the hall and Severus jolted behind the statue. The last thing he wanted was to be caught by Filch at a time like this–especially when he was so close to talking to her. After tonight, there would not be many more chances. She would never entertain him during the day, and the times to catch her alone at night were diminishing quickly.

Lily stepped out into the corridor with her wand lit. Her eyes shone bright in the shadows as she looked back and forth up the corridor.

“Hello?” She called out. She took some hesitant steps down the hall before swerving to look back behind her again. A small noise caught Severus’ attention just on the other end of the corridor, but he ignored it. 

Perhaps it was the nerves that made him not immediately show himself, but he kept watching her for a couple of minutes. She didn’t drop her defenses, clearly still sensing that someone was there. Like a well trained prefect she took small, deliberate steps regarding each side of the corridor, never dropping her wand in case she was about to be attacked.  After a moment she gave a frustrated sigh. He heard the noise again, this time closer.

“Alright, come out–I know it's you.” Snape’s stomach sank. He righted himself, trying to get even the smallest semblance of confidence before stepping out beyond the statue. Something else shifted in the darkness on the other side of the corridor. As though apparating, James Potter suddenly appeared out of the shadows. 

“Oh hello, Evans,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Nice evening isn’t it?”

Severus would have scoffed if he could have. Of course Potter would be cocky and self assured even when he was breaking school rules. 

Lily pursed her lips and he felt a burst of excitement. He knew that look from anywhere. There were very few things Severus enjoyed more in this world than seeing Lily tell off that arsehole. 

“Forget what time it is again, Potter?” She sounded cool, but there was something brewing underneath her tone.

Potter feigned a thoughtful look before clicking his tongue. 

“Hm must have—but then again, I should be asking you the same thing. Don’t you only patrol Tuesday nights?”

Lily froze up. Her wand trembled a little bit in her hand, creating a spattering of new shadows on the walls. 

“You memorized my prefect schedule,” she hissed.

Snape waited for the proverbial hammer to drop. It was one thing for Potter to be out breaking rules, but entirely another to be essentially stalking her. 

“I needed to see you again.”

There was a change in his voice that Severus had never heard before. It was softer. Certainly quieter than his usual boasting during the daytime. It seemed impossible to think, but James Potter seemed to be pleading.

“I’m just gonna say it,” he sighed, “I can’t stop thinking about you—about last night. I’m going mad.” 

This was hardly the first time Severus heard Potter make some sort of sweeping attempt at wooing her. That seemed like a complete waste of time on his part to come all the way out here to try again, but what happened last night? Were they seeing each other more often than he realized?

Lily didn’t draw back, nor did she make her usual face of disgust dedicated to Potter’s antics. Instead, her lips twitched into a small smile. “So what? You came here to try your luck again?”

“Well,” he hesitated, “ I guess…yes?” 

They shared a silence. Severus tried his best to push himself against the statue enough to get a better view of Lily’s face. Her brow furrowed in deep contemplation, but for what reason Severus couldn't understand. The scenario seemed so simple to him—Potter was essentially giving himself over to get detention or even better, hexed because of how brazen he was acting. Instead, Lily bit her bottom lip for a second then let out an exasperated sigh. 

James stepped towards her. “Lily—at least, tell me why you did it.”

It felt like a slap. Severus had never heard Potter use her first name before. He could feel his blood levels begin to rise. He knew he wasn’t exactly close to Lily anymore, but even from an outsider's perspective, it didn’t seem like the two were in any capacity to be on a first name basis and even if they were, he had no right to be soiling her name with his breath.

Lily fiddled with the ends of her hair. Her eyes blinked in rapid succession as she searched for some sort of response. 

After a beat, she whispered, “I don’t know.”

Potter took another step closer. He ran his hand again through his hair, but this time it was more out of exasperation than vanity. 

“How could you not know?” If Severus was confused about James’ tone before it was very clear now. Potter was unabashedly begging. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Lily sighed out. Her eyes were closed now in pain. 

Severus was not following. It was like they were speaking in riddles that only the two of them knew the solution. Clearly, there was a huge oversight on his part about Lily’s relationship with Potter because the Lily he knew would never entertain him for this long, nor would she let her first name come out of his arrogant mouth. 

James took another step closer to her. Now they weren’t more than a foot or two apart. Lily kept her eyes closed, looking as though she wished James would disappear entirely from the scene. Severus had the split thought of coming to help her. All it would take was one flick of his wand….

“But you did like it—” James’ voice sounded so small. Like a meek child asking for permission. “I mean, you were the one…I would never—”

Lily opened her eyes. A fire burned in her gaze, but it was different from the anger he saw pointed at Potter countless times. Something was smoldering within her. 

“Of course I liked it,” she scoffed, “and you don’t need to remind me that I was the one who initiated it.”

Potter looked like someone blew air right into his chest and his cheeks swelled with pink. He took the smallest step closer. 

“Lily—can I…touch you?”

The next few moments were a blur. It wasn’t Potter that closed the distance between them but Lily. All she had to do was lurch forward slightly for Potter’s arms to open. She grabbed onto the parts of his shirt that were bunched up around his waistline while he cradled her cheek and neck. Their faces hovered together with eyes hooded and unfocused. Severus felt a twinge of pain from his hand and realized he was grasping at the stone with all of his grip. 

“Are you still unsure,” James asked. His mouth was slightly open and dangerously close to hers now. As a response, she only pulled him closer, their chests now completely glued together. 

Severus held his breath. He wanted to close his eyes and make it all go away. How had he been so stupid? It was all making sense now. How Lily had stopped rowing with Potter on the grounds, how their friend groups had slowly started to intermingle, how when they partnered together right in front of him in Transfiguration Lily would even laugh at something idiotic that Potter said. He wished he had a time turner to take it all back. Find the moment where the kernel of Lily’s interest in Potter began and remove it from her entirely. Instead, he did nothing but continue to stare as his living nightmare unfolded in front of him. 

“I’m sure I want you to kiss me.” 

It was the death nail. Of course Potter didn’t need to be asked twice. Their lips molded together easily—it was clear they had done this before because there was no awkward hesitation, no issues with synchronicity. Their bodies were already well versed in each other and they profited from it. Lily’s hands moved to his neck, folding themselves into his messy hair which she had denounced more than a thousand times to him in the past. James' in turn were everywhere: sliding up and down her back, on her hips, caressing their way to commit every inch of her to memory. 

Severus leaned his forehead on the statue for support, fearing he might faint or worse vomit from the sight. He watched the couple snog for a few minutes, hardly breaking apart long enough to breath before reconnecting again. He wanted to run, but even if he did, he would know he left Lily there to do whatever ungodly thing Potter could cook up in his arrogant mind. 

They finally broke apart for a moment and Lily leaned her forehead against his to catch her breath. Their arms were still wrapped around the other and their chests beat like one. 

“Go out with me,” Potter gasped out, still trying to get his breath. He stared at her intently but Lily closed her eyes and sighed. 

“James—” The way she said his first name pierced Severus in the heart. How much more of this could he take before he was completely dead. At least then he would be taken out of his misery. 

“I can’t,” Lily finished. She opened her eyes and both her and Severus could see that Potter was pained by her response. 

“I don’t get it–” Potter started, he began to pull back but Lily grabbed hold of him tighter.

“I’m just—I’m not ready…for that,” she stammered out. “---but I don’t want this to stop either. I’m sorry, I know that’s so fucked….”

James blinked at her for a second, but then started to pepper soft kisses on her cheekbones and jaw. Lily tilted her head upwards and looked to be savoring the sensation. 

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you want,” James said, “Like I told you. I’m mad about you Lily. You know that.”

Lily smiled and James went back to roaming around her neck with his lips, finding a particular sensitive spot behind her ear. 

“Yea—I know,” Lily breathed out. She pulled James away from her neck so they could look at each other again. 

“You're dangerous for me too you know,” she laughed lightly at her own comment, “You have no idea what you do to me—christ that sounds so stupid.”James groaned with content.

“Merlin, Lily. That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.  He closed the gap between their mouths again. 

Severus finally let his legs give out underneath him. He didn’t even care if they heard him collapse to the ground. It all seemed pointless to him now. He thought about the future and how it wasn’t even an hour ago that the possibility of Lily and him being together again existed. With him, she could be safe, completely protected by the Dark Lord’s graces. Instead, here she was not only choosing to live as a target, but to do so with him. 

He didn’t dare turn back to look at them again, despite hearing their soft moans and the shifting of hands moving over clothing. It felt like ages before they finally separated again.

“I think it's past our bedtimes.” He could hear the desire in Lily’s voice. His stomach sank lower. 

“Hmm. Seems so,” James sounded completely chuffed.

 “If you promise to be good, you can walk with me back to the common room,” Lily teased.

He could hear their feet start moving and he turned around to witness them walking almost shoulder to shoulder. Potter’s hand snaked its way around her hip and he wiggled his fingers, causing her to give a little shriek and swat at his chest. 

“Evans,” Potter teased, “When am I not good?” He watched as they turned the corner together, leaving Severus in a now dark and silent corridor. He didn’t move to get up, opting to lean back against the statue for a couple more moments. The life Snape wanted had been so possible— what had he done to deserve this outcome. He took out the ruddy photo he had in his pocket again and dragged a finger over Lily’s small, childlike smile. Her eyes gleamed up from the page. It couldn’t be over—not yet, he told himself. Not until her eyes were gone from his life, would it be over. 

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Promised words and deeds

John Allerdyce x tva agent!reader

warning : emotional, hurt/comfort, revival, kissing, cuddling, fear

Summary : He had relied on the organization of time and now he was lying dead on a road, his neck broken in a universe that wasn't even likely his. But a soul in the Time Organization had promised him something, and she wouldn't let her own boss do nothing. Was there any hope for the flame tamer? Was there the peace he had always wanted in the end?

info : Soo something very angsty sad it just had to be he had experienced too much sadness not to use it. So have fun reading and have a nice day :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The TVA was an organization that only a handful of people knew about, an organization that was necessary to monitor the flow of the timelines, to correct them or to let them die.

An organization guided by duty and loyalty, each group, each team had a task to do precisely, all except for one team that was to take care of a very special universe under the supervision of Paradox.

A man who liked to hear himself talk, but most of all her boss who had made a promise to her beloved, a deal that involved John Allerdyce working as a spy to keep Cassandra in that damned void…to the point where everything broke down and the tva agent had to watch all that precision and rules end in chaos.

,,What about John!" she had shouted at her superior as he was still nursing his broken nose and looking stressed at the flickering and flashing screens, he didn't seem to hear her plea to do something to finally pull him out of the void after Wolverine had knocked him unconscious.

They had left John there for too long, it had been years since they had said goodbye, since she herself had sought him out, a lost mutant who would otherwise have strayed from his path, it was he who showed her for the first time how beautiful something without rules could be and all this freedom, this love and possibilities.

It was all a devilish creatures blown paradox who had her in his hands and wanted to do something good for John for the first time, which is why he had gone instead of her to be your pawn.

But this sacrifice now seemed to end with a blow as she saw her beloved lying unconscious on the floor, ,,Paradox! Get him out!" she called out again, rising from her seat at the desk and rushing to the larger main console, seeing the older man only now turn his gaze to her and make a puzzled expression, his hands suddenly gripping her shoulders before he shook her.

,,Are you completely stupid! If we intervene now, she'll understand what we've done!" he shouted back as they heard a flicker and bede looked at the screen in shock and worry as Cassandra had actually found some semblance of kindness when it came to her life and actually let Wolverine and Deadpool go.

It was all just a matter of time but the fear that tightened around her heart turned to panic as she realized that John was now alone ,,She's going to kill him" went through her mind and she tore herself away from the man before punching him in the nose again ignoring the yelp and grabbing the timepad that was taken from her for "reasons" so she wouldn't do anything.

She still heard the ban, heard the guards who wanted to capture her, who wanted to prevent her from doing what John had told her for the first time and disappeared into the bright golden portal.

Moments, fractions of seconds could be like years when it came to someone you loved, someone you would defend with your life. John back after the battle between the X-Men and the Brotherhood of Mutants was an outcast among outcasts, a wanderer who wanted to give up on his path as a villain.

She knew and he knew that he was tired of killing that he wanted to go back to the people who could truly be like a family but it wasn't meant to be and so they met, those bright eyes looking at her with interest he demonstrated his power to her and she was assigned to take care of him.

It was almost cute how he seemed puzzled by the technology as if there were hundreds of years between them, his compliments and flirting attempts as much as she tried to ignore it set her heart on fire and the hand-holding hid soon after work became kissing and more.

He was a love, a real love for them both and it could have been something if it wasn't too late this damn deal and this universe, the timeline had turned against them both.

When she had stepped through the portal nothing had happened she was in her office in the place where she had last seen him, still seeing the blood on the floor where the fight had taken place she still seemed to see him in front of her that grin she knew he had every right to freak out she blamed herself as well as Paradox that all this had happened.

The hit wouldn't kill him but Cassandra that crazy psychopath would, it was just a question she didn't want to get answered at the moment.

But he would only have to wait a moment, a moment that had passed and her gaze still saw the portal of magic, there he was there she would have to endure a moment of uncertainty and death and she would try to free herself from Cassandra's clutches all in a moment as she stepped through her own portal. She wanted to feel his warmth again, to know he was with her and to rekindle his hope, his flame of hope together in a shared future.

But the second time through the portal, arriving at the subway entrance, the underpass with the steel bars, the smoke and the bald woman who walked past her in the blink of an eye, neither noticing nor killing her, left nothing but death.

A man lying motionless on the floor she had heard the crack within a heartbeat knew what had happened as tears filled her eyes she rushed to her John and knelt beside him on the floor, ,,John…it's me-I'll-I'll bring you back" she sobbed tears blurring her vision as she shakily reached for her small device she knew she didn't have forever as she carefully lifted him with it.

It was only a moment but he was clinging to life, she was clinging to his heart and he was clinging to hers. she would not lose him even if she had a dead man in front of her. The promise of the future and life would both be hers while her apologies and tears fell on mute ears.

His body that slowly extinguished the warmth of life, the fire as she looked into his fearful expression, wishing she could warm him, wishing he could hear her as she took him back with her to the tva, directly to the center for emergency medical care.

The moment of his last life his breath was decided when she took him to her known of the ward knew it was against the rules but with her attention, the greater threat and a threat he was taken care of immediately, a matter of simplicity but it would take some time a horror as he slowly came back to consciousness while she could only be beside him.

She held his hand in state as his condition slowly improved, staying with him for hours until the doctor told her she could now take him with her, breaking the rules by stealing someone from the organization to testify against Paradox afterwards and then disappearing from her time with John, but it was all worth it when he woke up.

When she rushed out of the hospital with John her evidence had long since gone to the right places but none of this mattered when they found themselves in the apartment the agents had been given as a hideout in alternate universes it would serve as home and a new beginning she continued to hold his hand as he lay in the dark bedding his breathing calm the only sign he was alive.

She knew that at some point he would wake up, that he would be able to feel his fire again and that he would not only experience justice but also peace, ,,I'm sorry-I'm sorry I didn't act sooner," the guilt she gave herself finally burst out of her as she grabbed his hand again and kissed it, feeling the light warmth of life clinging to him.

Tears threatened to well up in her eyes again, the cracking of his neck and everything he had to suffer, all of which would not have been done sooner.

Laying her head on his stomach she tried to cuddle up to him lightly tiredness was slowly pulling at her she had barely slept the coffee was keeping her body awake but not her mind ,,I'll stay with you John" she mumbled before giving her eyes a little rest listening to his calm heartbeat before drifting off into a light sleep.

A sleep filled with memories of the past with John, of beautiful loving moments that meant everything to her and that she had looked at again and again.

His warmth seemed so close and his voice called her, he reached out his hand to her and held her close, finally lying in his arms again, it was the only thing they both wanted.

Until she saw the shadow in her dream, the dark shadow spreading over her, the fingers reaching out to destroy her, she saw those crazy eyes, the mutant who could kill her if she wanted to, the destroyer who had already killed him.

Fear flooded her body and her fingers automatically clung to John unconsciously that when she felt a hand on her head her eyes opened and she looked into a soft painful smile, ,,Hello Flame" she heard his voice slightly scratchy from the use but his warmth was back his hand caressing her head, he held her and didn't let go as she fell into his embrace.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as murmured words of apology and love left her and she felt his hand run down her back, ,,John I'm-I'm sorry I should have-" she began to stammer between tears and relief as he placed his hand on her cheek, wiped away some of the tears and pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

She saw his own devastation, the slight tears in his eyes as he realized it was past time he realized he was safe and didn't have to be afraid, ,,You saved me…it's over, isn't it?" he dared to ask, sniffling and blinking to get the tears away as she nodded hastily, hearing the relieved exhale as he dropped into the pillows and pulled her back to him.

Practically sitting on his lap, he had his arms wrapped around her again and she heard his heartbeat quicken and life was truly back with him, a quiet moment between them as she listened to John's almost relieved breathing while she was simply relieved to have him back.

The fear she had of not having his death recalled vanished, ,,We can finally have our own future," she said, feeling his hand on her cheek again as he placed a kiss on her head and reached out his other hand to feel for a source of heat until a heart flamed in his hand.

A heart like the one he had made when they parted, a heart of flames that would burn away the past to make room for a new beginning together in love in their own self-created timeline.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@thefandomqueen2882 , @oceansrose2002 , @girlypieee , @paintmekala , @gingersnaps-obsessed12 , @arisja3701

[xmads-omensx]

Hi! I was hoping to request something with Ricky Olson x fem reader? I was thinking something inspired by the song Lips of an Angel by Hinder?

Word Count: 1,261

Pairing: Ricky Olson X Reader

CW: swearing, break up, angst?

Tags: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @rumoured-whispers @kait16xo @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @death-ofpeace-ofmind @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request! I'm so sorry that this took so long to get done for you. I hope you enjoy! <3

I had called Ricky late one night.

I knew he was with his new girlfriend, but I needed to speak to him.

The phone rang and rang and rang until I almost gave up, when he picked up, whispering a quiet “hello” as he spoke.

“Ricky?” I asked, wanting to ensure that it was him who I was talking to.

“Yeah.” He replied softly. He sounded hurried.

“Hey.” I whispered, suddenly forgetting why I called him.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He hurried.

“Just wanna talk to you…” I continued.

“Y/N, I can’t. Jessica is here.” Ricky whispered.

Jessica was his new girlfriend. She was perfect in every sense of the word. Kind, loyal, caring, intelligent. She was the ideal partner for anyone, but I didn’t like her with Ricky.

We had been broken up for about six months at this point and I missed him every single day. There wasn’t a moment when my mind didn’t flash back to him.

He had moved on and I had no choice but to put on a façade of happiness for him. He was, after  all, with someone who loved him and treated him how he deserved. She made him happy.

“I’m sorry Ricky, I just had to call.” I responded after a moment in a similarly quiet tone.

“…Okay?” He replied.

“I just need to know that you’re happy. With her. Does she make you happy?” I asked, desperate for him to answer with a no.

He didn’t answer for a moment, as if he was pondering the question.

“Y/N….” He trailed off. “Yes. She makes me happy.”

My heart sank. Some dark and twisted part of my brain wanted him to tell me that she made him miserable and that he wanted to leave her. But he was happy. With someone else.

“Are you happy?” He asked. It shocked me. I didn’t expect him to ask that, let alone care.

I didn’t answer. He didn’t need to know that I wasn’t happy. That I was, in fact, miserable without him. Every day I woke up anticipating his tattooed arms to wrap around me and pull me close into his chest, kissing the back of my neck and whispering a soft “good morning” to me.

The nights were bad too.

Home-cooked meals for two swiftly became microwaved meals for one. I ate alone at the dining table, still in the seat I always sat in, looking at the spot that Ricky used to occupy.

I went to bed alone. The sheets cold as I pulled them around myself to grasp for some semblance of comfort. No gentle, loving “goodnight” as I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. Nothing.

“I’m fine.” I replied, my voice catching slightly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Ricky responded.

“I um..” I wasn’t sure how to respond to him.

He always saw right through me, even if it was over the phone. He knew I wasn’t happy, but there was nothing that either of us could do to fix it. Only time would tell.

“Y/N, are you happy?” He asked again. My heart hammered in my chest, finally being able to speak to him again.

“No.” I mumbled.

“I have to go.” He whispered.

“Why did you answer the call?” I asked, needing to keep him on the line for as long as I could.

“Y/N I have to go.” He repeated.

“Answer the question and you never have to speak to me again.” I hurried, trying to keep him here longer, even just for a moment.

“Jessica is here.” He began. “But she isn’t you. Sure, she makes me happy, but all I want is to go back to the day we broke up and make sure that it never happened. I miss you. I miss everything about you and our relationship. The way you held me, the way you said my name, the way you touched me, the way you kissed me, hell I missed the way we fucked.”

The last part took me by surprise.

“Ricky…” I began.

“No matter what she does, she will never be you.” He finished, still whispering.

“If I asked you to come back to me, would you?” I asked, hope coursing through my veins.

“Yes.” He whispered.

“Ricky…” I began, hoping with every fibre of my being that he would catch on and come home to me.

“But I cant. She makes me happy. She’s the stability that I need right now. I can’t just come crawling home to you because you aren’t happy.” He said with a harsh tone.

My heart stung with his words. After all, he was right. Jessica did nothing to condone me stealing her boyfriend from her in the dead of night.

“Yeah…” I trailed off.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said. “I truly hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

“Don’t go!” I cried out in a final act of desperation.

“What is it?” He asked with an eager tone which he tried to mask with frustration.

“How are you? What have you been up to?” I asked after an awkward pause.

“I’m good. I’ve been working on stuff in the studio; writing, recording… you remember how it is.” He responded, which surprised me.

“Good. That’s good.” I replied.

“How about you?” He asked.

He already knew that I wasn’t happy, so there wasn’t much point lying to him anymore since he would see right through my lies.

The truth was that I had spent the majority of my time over the last six months wallowing in self-pity in my bedroom, just waiting for this sense of defeat to vanish so that I could move forward with my life and onto something else. Something better.

Maybe I could get a hobby? Or a cat? A dog maybe?

“You still there?” Ricky spoke again, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“Yeah um…” I began, unsure of what to say. “I got a cat.”

Fuck now I’m going to have to get a fucking cat.

“Oh nice. What’s it called?” He asked, sounding genuinely interested in what I had to say about my non-existent cat.

“He is called…. Nick.” I said, panic filling my voice.

“Nick? Cool. Nice. I love it when pets have human names.” Ricky chuckled.

I knew he did. We always talked about getting a dog and calling him Shawn.

“Yeah.” I laughed softly.

The call became silent after that. A sense of finality falling over me. It was like in that moment, it all ended. Granted, our relationship had been over for a while, but still, this phone call felt final. Like he was gone. I could never speak to the man that I loved ever again.

“Ricky?” I asked.

“Yeah?” He responded.

“I really do hope you’re happy.” I whispered, as if the words themselves terrified me.

“I hope you’re happy too.” He replied in a whisper.

The line went dead.

I had hung up.

In that moment, I said goodbye to the man who I had once planned a future with, the man who I bought my first house with, the man who I wanted to start a family with, the man who I was so deeply in love with that my own parents had become worried that I would become too attached to.

I had lost the love of my life.

He would grow old with Jessica, whilst I lived alone with a fictional cat.

Maybe I would get that cat.

Start a new life. Move on.

I mean, that was the healthy thing to do.

Right?

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

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In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

[ironwoodprotectionsquad]

As you all are (hopefully) aware, I hate the idea of James dying, I loath it with every fiber of my entire being. I would do just about anything to make it not happen if I could. However, IF CRWBY insists James HAS to die, he deserves to die fighting not lowering his gun and giving up. So if I was asked how would I write James’s death I would have it happen in Volume 7 during the Watts vs Ironwood fight.

(More below the cut because this gets rambely and turns into a bit of a rewrite for End of volume 7 and some of 8 oops. I was trying to keep certain key things as close as possible to the show.)

So hear me out. The fight can generally go t same as it did in the show with James and Watts pointing their guns at each other and James lowering his weapon. Instead of Watts shoving him into the trap though, he thought James would come alone so Tyrian has been waiting and ambushes and kills James before he can do anything to stop him. And to add to the chaos, Watts managed to hack the tower to broadcast James’s death across Atlas and Mantel which would add to the fear and negativity bringing another wave of Grimm to attack.

In the middle of the chaos, Qrow, Clover and Robyn stare at the screen in shock, unable to believe James is dead and they, and all of Atlas and Mantel, had to watch it happen right in front of them, with them all helpless to do anything to save him. Qrow is in chaos, seconds from falling apart and so beyond angry. The anger quickly wins out and all he can think to do is tear apart the monsters that took James from him and Clover is in a very similar state. Robyn stays behind to help Mantel as Clover and Qrow race to the tower. 

Meanwhile Ruby is having a crisis of her own. James is dead and he was the one with a plan, the one who knew what to do and he was gone now and everything was already falling apart. Just when Ruby finally realized she could trust him and really work with him he was killed and Ruby can’t help but wonder if maybe it was her fault. What if she trusted him sooner? What if she had been honest from the start? He might not have been so stressed from just learning everything before dealing with Watts. People where scared and crying and the army is struggling to keep up the fight, all mourning the loss of not only their general but the man who taught them and guided them for so long. If someone like James who trained and was the best of them, what chance did they have of wining the war?

Qrow and Clover make it to the tower before Watts can finish doing what he’s doing so they start fighting Watts and Tyrian. Qrow is pure rage as he attacks Tyrian who keeps laughing maniacally and mocking Qrow over James’s death, making cracks about “how good was he really? It wasn’t hard to kill him.” And Qrow can barely think straight from his rage which is what Tyrian wants so he’s able to disarm Qrow and Clovers aura breaks. However Clover is able to knock Tyrian out as he takes a moment to mock Qrow some more as he tries to kill him.

With both Watts and Tyrian seemingly taken care of, Qrow allows himself a moment to completely break down beside James’s body, apologizing and begging him to come back. Clover himself is numb as he goes to cuff Tyrian only for him to suddenly jerk up and grab Qrows weapon and stab Clover with it. Like in the show, Tyrian mocks Qrow and says this is all his fault with leaves Qrow to stunned to do anything besides let Tyrian run off laughing because he’s right. Qrow let his guard down, didn’t keep his semblance in check like he should have, he let it scream out in pain with him when he knew Clovers aura had broken and he had no protection.

Back in Atlas, the council frantically elects someone to take James’s place to in a desperate attempt to restore some semblance of order and hope back. This new general can be and act like V8 James or hell even worse because he’s a new character and therefore one could do whatever the fuck to him. I like the idea of him being a selfish power hungry asshole who actually only cares for the elite. Once he’s given power he immediately starts calling some of the troops back to Atlas despite Mantel needing every fighter they can get to deal with the swarm of Grimm, the new general doesn’t care he claims Atlas needs some protection in case the Grimm come their to attack as well. He calls RWBY and the Ace Ops to his office to introduce himself and give new orders since he knows these where people James trusted and he wants to make sure they know James is gone and he’s in charge now.

At the tower Qrow is arrested because his weapon is covered in blood and they think he killed Clover which Qrow doesn’t deny because he blames himself. Wattss briefcase and Watts are both also taken with the briefcase being brought to the new general.

When he was elected the council likely briefed him on the maidens and relics (I’m pretending James told them about that as well) so HES ordered Winter to get the maiden powers to defend and protect Atlas. This upsets Ruby because she knows James was prioritizing keeping the maiden safe for now so Salem couldn’t get to her and the general informs Ruby that he’s in charge now and this is his plan, use the maiden to bring peace to Atlas and Ruby asks “what about Mantel?” And he says that they have Penny. Ruby points out that Mantel is taking the brunt of Grimm attacks and should be protected from the Grimm better and the general asks why because everything important is in Atlas and that should be what’s protected. This of course leads to a massive fight between everyone.

Like in the episode Salem appears and seeing James is gone knows Watts managed to kill him and mocks them with how “replaceable” James was and the Ace Ops are both terrified and enraged. The new general, not fully understanding Salem’s power is cocky and thinks he’s better then James and can therefore beat her.

Salem is amuses by his cockiness and says she will enjoy beating him when she arrives in Atlas. This could go a few ways and be interesting with either the general deciding to stand his ground and fight Salem but pull all soldiers to defend Atlas and leave Mantel completely unprotected or Ruby convinced him of the danger and he decides to use the staff to move Atlas and again leave Mantel vulnerable. Either way this would cause the rift between RWBY and the general and so they would again be ordered to be arrested with the Ace Ops uncertain in the fight because they don’t trust this new general but also they feel they have to follow orders even if they don’t like them.

Later on the general takes due process for himself, much to the anger of the Ace Ops and Winter who say they don’t belong to him and the general icily reminds them James won’t need them any longer and uses them to make the dumb Gungun so Emerald can have her cool moment whatever. He could also use them to kill both Camilla and Sleet who tried to argue with him about his plan whichever we go with so he kills them both so he doesn’t have to answer to anyone.

As in the show Penny gets the maiden powers so the general scolds Winter and demands to know if this really is James’s best? And starts talking about “no wonder he could never get anything done if his best is so weak and useless.” He then orders all troops to leave Mantel to defend Atlas because this is the plan he comes up with or he can’t get into the vault. He also orders the arrest of Robyn since she is also technically a council member and she is caught and arrested and is once again with Qrow he is consumed with grief and self hatred. Robyn has to remind him it’s not his fault what happened to James or Clover. James knee the danger but went alone anyways because he cared about ensuring Mantel was safe and Clover chose to go with Qrow to ensure James’s death was avenged and it’s again not Qrows fault because he chose to go. Then Qrow snaps and tells her about his semblance and how it is actually his semblances fault because it always is. Then instead of being an annoying bitch and comparing his semblance to hers she talks about how Clover knee about his semblance and still went with him and didn’t care about it.

Qrow doesn’t really believe her but he also realizes Mantel is in danger and discovers Salem is coming (how is up to you) so he lets his semblance out and it causes their cells to open so they can escape and go to Mantel to try and help. Honestly from here the volume can go pretty similarly with some minor changes of Ruby and co doing what they do because this new general doesn’t care about keeping people safe he only cares about power for himself. Winter and the Ace Ops hate this guy but work with him because they think it’s what James would want until they realize James did not want this guy to ever get into power because James saw how power hungry he was OR Winter and the Ace Ops realize that James is gone but they can’t keep trying to do what he would want because he isn’t here anymore and they don’t really know what he would do so they have to act for themselves because it’s what he would want and later still realize James didn’t want this guy in power because he saw he was power hungry and didn’t trust him with any sort of power.

This is kind of rambly and all over the place but I just kind of wanted to get the basic idea out their. Having someone go to the extreme and do horrible things is fine but it has to make sense for the character, it doesn’t make sense for James to do all of this and since he’s been slotted to be killed off why not make it actually have an impact on people and use that opportunity to then bring in the character they twisted James into instead so it actually makes sense and works. I’d love to hear your thoughts and ideas (and if you guys would like a part two with more details and the little things in volume 8 that might change as such).

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 2 (Nessian AU)

A/N: DO inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Abuse and Swearing

1957 words | Part 1 | Read on AO3

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Cassian was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. He waited for the day he would forget the woman’s face. He waited for the day he could close his eyes without seeing her blue-grey eyes blazing in anger. He waited for the day he wouldn’t burn his bacon because he was thinking about her.

He had mused, how the face of a stranger was branded into his mind vividly. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered if they’ve known each other before or have seen each other somewhere, anywhere before the day in the mall—even if on photographs or at an event or at another shopping mall. Still, he desperately wanted to forget about her. He wanted to forget that she ever existed. He wanted to forget their encounter in the mall that day. He wanted to forget everything about her, even though deep down, he knew what he wanted was far from forgetting her.

But he couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t afford to think about her at all times. He was getting distracted at work. His part-time job as a martial-arts instructor and as a sommelier was in a precarious position if it went on like this. He nearly tore one of his student’s muscles in his centre and got at least 5 orders wrong at the restaurant he was working at.

On a Saturday noon, Cassian decided the best way to clear his head was to dive into a war book or reread Secrets Of The Sommeliers for probably the millionth time.

* * *

Nesta flinched at the sudden ping of the oven timer. Again. She’d been thinking about him again. This was the fourth time in the whole week when she burned her cheese sandwich and she was getting so tired of this. She urgently needed a way to stop thinking about him. To stop seeing his insufferable grin whenever she closed her eyes. To stop thinking about him at almost all times.

It struck her as odd, the fact they didn’t even know each other’s names but she kept seeing his face as if they’ve known each other before. She gasped. What if they had known each other before? What if they were probably neighbours from Nesta’s old house or classmates or maybe they went to the same college. Nesta shook her head.

But why should she care? No, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what his name is or if he even has a name. She doesn’t care if she’s had the misfortune of seeing him before or if that was the first she’s seeing him. Or so she kept telling herself. She couldn’t afford to have him occupy her thoughts. She had better things to do. But all these excuses weren't enough to stop her from still thinking about him.

Nesta looked at her clock. It was a Saturday, almost noon. Maybe reading a spicy book or two will help.

* * *

Cassian loved the House of Wind library and bookstore. They had a variety of books in almost any genre. He'll admit though, that some of the librarians here are better left alone. He was lucky he came here often and therefore knew a handful of the merrier librarians. He made a beeline for his favourite section, books related to wine, best books for sommeliers.

On his way to the shelves he had committed to memory, he realised that there was a big poster about their annual Free Premium Membership Fest where 20 fortunate, early birds would get their membership card updated to premium with a number of privileges. Cassian's whole being was elevated. He missed the last fest they held and had been waiting for the next fest. He wondered how he could forget such an important thing. Oh. Right. Of course. A certain lady was occupying his thoughts. He sighed. He forgot about that too.

He was quite disappointed when he reached the counter. The fest started yesterday and the computer stated that there was only one person left till 20. What truly disappointed him was that Clotho wasn't at the counter as she usually was. Maybe she'll be in the—

“If you're done staring at the computer maybe you could deign to move so it can really serve its purpose of being a public property?” Cass froze. He'd know that voice anywhere. This was the voice taunting him at all times. “And if you have coffee in your hands, I'd suggest you turn slowly.”

He smirked. So she knew who she was talking to.

“Well, looks like the damage would be lesser this time since your clothes aren't white,” he observed.

“I figured black would hide stains caused by ogling, clumsy people better than white,” she said. “Now, if you could move, I want to register for the Membership Fest.”

“Register? What do you mean by ‘I want to register for the Membership Fest’?”

“A register, you know,” she teased, “Something like a form where you fill your details if you want to join something?” She smirked at his glare.

“Well,” he said, “if there is a register let me fill it first.”

“Because your ego is bigger?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he dead-panned. “I came here first.”

“Here as in the counter or the library? Because I’m pretty sure I stepped into this library first.”

Cassian quickly checked the database where the information of all members appeared. He turned back to her with a self-satisfied smirk. “The database shows otherwise, sweetheart.”

She scowled. “I don’t believe you. You might’ve tampered with the information.”

He moved slightly to the side to give her a better view. Her scowled deepened.

She rounded on him. “You,” seethed. “You did—”

“Hello,” a new, shy voice said.

“Hey, Gwyn,” they both said in symphony.

A look of surprise crossed over her features before it faded away. When the woman turned to Gwyn, she wore a huge smile. “Oh, look, she smiles,” he muttered, earning him a glare.

“Is the fest still on?” Cassian asked.

Gwyneth Berdara, one of the joyful librarians here, said, “Unfortunately, not. We just got our 20th member.”

Cassian’s face fell. He noticed the same of the woman too. Gwyn, always the optimistic one, said cheerfully, “Maybe we could reserve one for the both of you next year?”

They both murmured their assent before Gwyn offered her farewell and went back to the staffroom.

The woman turned back to him. “This is all your fault,” she hissed and stalked out of the library, leaving Cassian more confused than ever.

* * *

Nesta went to the library to find solace or at least a semblance of it. Seeing the man there, however, left Nesta more rattled than she would care to admit. Rattled, and angry. Angry at the universe for giving them these unfortunate encounters. Angry at him for following her wherever she went. Angry at herself for feeling such futile emotions. Angry at her body for reacting to him.

She was also upset that she didn’t get a free premium member cr

Nesta was so occupied with her thoughts and emotions that she didn’t realise she was taking the wrong route. She wasn’t familiar with this part of Velaris. She also didn’t realise she was being followed. It was distinct, the sound of hushed breathing, of the soft thuds of footfalls. The footsteps sounded heavier which most probably meant it was a man. She couldn’t really be sure, though. This was a person who was not experienced in stalking but was trying hard enough.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t panic but couldn’t help the bout of fear that crashed through her. Nesta tried to stay calm. She tried to make sure she didn't quicken her pace. She tried, cauldron, she really did. But her fear was slowly overpowering her senses. She felt the urge to run away from her stalker.

But that wouldn’t be wise. Running away from her stalker isn’t a good choice. It wasn’t smart. Who’s to know he wasn’t armed? What if he was faster than her? What if her stalker was faster than her? He might be stronger too. He could over power her and cage her in. She didn’t even know what his motive was.

Then, Nesta made a ridiculously huge, dumb mistake. She turned to an abandoned alley. At least it looked abandoned. She let out a frustrated breath. Running away was at least better than getting stuck in an alley. So much for ‘that wouldn't be wise’. She looked around, trying to get a sense of where she was or if there were any means of escape, however meager it might be.

Suddenly, she was slammed to the alley wall. The rough cold stone was unforgiving and unyielding under her cheek. Her windpipe was closed off and she was struggling to get some air in. She fought to get free but her captor —a man, as she guessed— was too strong. Somehow, his hands felt familiar to her. As if she were long acquainted with this person’s touch.

“What do you want?” she gasped out.

He chuckled, the sound grating through her very bones.

“My little Nesta,” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting the shell of her ear. “Ever the stubborn one.”

That voice. It was one that she couldn’t forget as hard as she tried. Tomas Mandray, her ex-boyfriend, was someone not easily forgotten.

“Tomas,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to be nice. Not now, not after how he treated her. “What the fuck do you want? Let me go.”

“I see you haven’t changed at all.”

“I can say the same of you.”

“Mhm. You broke up with me and then you called the police. Got me stuck behind bars for two fucking months.”

“Good riddance,” she muttered.

He slammed her head against the wall. Hard. Blinding pain shot through her. He yanked her hair so hard she was afraid chunks of it came out. Her head only throbbed harder.

“Manners were never your cup of tea,” he hissed.

“You were not that kind either. You were an empowering, possessive bastard and I don’t regret watching you grovel to the police for freedom for one fucking moment and I won’t ever.”

He growled and slammed her head against the wall again. She cried out and was pretty sure she heard something crack. She felt the metallic tang of blood on her lips, streaming from her nose freely.

“Oh, you will. You’ll regret everything. Every. Single. Thing. For your whole god-damned life. I’ll make sure of it, bitch,” he promised.

He tightened his grip on her hair that sent another wave of agony through her. She caught the glint of something in the fading sunlight. A knife. Of course he had a knife.

He had a knife while she was a mess, kneeling on an alley, completely at the mercy of one of the people who hated her the most. Pathetic. So, so, pathetic. She hated herself for whimpering. She hated herself for being this weak. She hated that she had gotten panicked enough that she turned to an alley, where no one would know.

Here, in this unknown alley, with the person she hated the most, Nesta Archeron was going to die. She was going to die a death as unknown as the place she was in. Maybe even without her sisters knowing. Shit. Her sisters. If only she showed all her love to sweet Elain and brave Feyre, if only she even went to meet her brother-in-laws, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, maybe things would’ve been different. She closed her eyes, fighting the emotion in her throat. I’m sorry Elain, Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, I’m so, so sorry, was the last thing in her head before she felt acute pain and succumbed to the dragging talons of oblivion.

taglist:

@im-someone-i-guess @shadowsinger07 @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele

[jam-is-my-food]

never gonna give you up (a scythe astley fic)

when scythe curie was just a junior scythe, the beloved scythe rick astley—the only scythe who was ever allowed to communicate with the thunderhead—self-gleaned. marie will never forget her childhood idol—but he may be closer than she thinks.

takes place mid-thunderhead; spoilers for thunderhead.

word count: 1,295

dedicated to @i-love-side-characters for her incredible 5am drabble. thank you akki. truly a service to humankind.

Takes place in the middle of the scene in Thunderhead where Goddard reveals that he is still kiCkiN' at conclave. This is very crack. And a fix-it fic. I hope you enjoy.

“I wish to nominate Honorable Scythe Robert Goddard for High Blade of MidMerica.”

Silence for a moment … then a few chuckles, but they weren’t derisive. They were nervous.

“Brahms,” said Xenocrates slowly, “in case you’ve forgotten, Scythe Goddard has been dead for over a year now.”

And then the heavy bronze doors of the conclave chamber slowly began to open.

Scythe Curie drew in a sharp breath, willing her heart rate to slow. This was ridiculous, clearly some sort of diversion tactic planned by the new order. To even react in the slightest was preposterous; her body was showing its age, another reminder she needed to turn a corner soon.

But then in strode the incinerated scythe, and Marie knew even the frailest of bodies wasn’t capable of a hallucination so horrible.

Rumors began to trickle through the room. Gasps. Whispers. Cheers. The man who could not be Scythe Goddard moved down the center aisle, gait looser than Marie remembered. The worries of becoming High Blade, of being placed in the position only because of her past actions, slipped suddenly into the furthest thing on Curie’s mind. This was impossible. She was supposed to be watching out for Scythe Nietzsche, and Nietzsche didn’t have the votes. This could not be.

And yet it was. They had entered the worst of all possible worlds.

Entering the chamber in Goddard’s wake was a familiar figure in bright green. Scythe Rand was alive, too? Eyes now looked to the open bronze doors, expecting that Scythes Chomsky and Volta might also return from the dead today, but that was not who next entered the chamber.

No, this was another figure. A figure even more impossible.

In the years before Curie was born, the world was chock-full of turmoil. Although the Thunderhead had revealed itself some time ago, humans were still clinging on to government and power. The scythedom, only in its founding years, was still mistrusted. And black market revivals for those who had been gleaned—a problem all but forgotten to history now—were all the rage.

It had been becoming a bigger and bigger issue, from what Marie knew; the Thunderhead believed it was under the scythedom’s jurisdiction to deal with, while the fledgling scythedom was relying on the Thunderhead to solve it. What was essentially breathing life back into the gleaned single-handedly rendered the entire scythedom useless. And though the Thunderhead was beginning to engineer safe space travel solutions, it needed a backup in case of failure.

So the first (and, to date, only) scythe-Thunderhead ambassador was chosen.

Marie had idolized Scythe Astley throughout her childhood. Apprenticed under Scythe Sappho herself, Astley—whose Patron Historic was a largely-forgotten mortal-age musician—was a man not only of the scythedom and the Thunderhead but of the people. And not in the phony, self-serving way of the current new order, but honestly, genuinely. After helping the Thunderhead and founding scythes engineer a solution to the black-market problem—which, once they’d found a means of communication, was relatively simple; the Thunderhead would shut down all operations and the scythedom glean anyone who dared involve themself—he stayed wildly well-known. The Thunderhead continued to speak to him and only him, and once he self-gleaned refused to choose another ambassador. The scythedom and the Thunderhead would remain separate entities, it declared, this time for good. Nobody could replace Astley, one of the few truly-beloved scythes.

Scythe Curie could remember the day he self-gleaned. It felt tragic, doubly so knowing now that the scythedom had so thoroughly shoved his memory under the rug. Prominent scythes didn’t want anyone new to know conversing with the Thunderhead was anything short of impossible, and somehow he had just been … forgotten.

But Marie remembered him. His love of ice cream. His iconic robe, fashioned to look as though it were a suit. His studded, intricately-designed dark leather dress shoes.

The same shoes that were tapping their way through the conclave chamber now.

It couldn’t be.

“Astley!” Marie breathed, words sticking in her throat. She saw Anastasia shoot her a confused glance, completely unaware as to the identity of this new key player. She’d never told her about Scythe Astley.

Around the room, similar gasps of shock were passing around. Many scythes, however, were like Anastasia; they ignored this new man and focused their attentions back on Goddard—who looked positively furious at being overshadowed. “What is this?” he shouted, a vein in his neck pulsing.

“I might ask you the same thing,” Scythe Astley responded smoothly. He reached his hand into a pocket and pulled out a large pin with his own face on it. Scythe Astley isn’t ghastly! it read in garishly cartoonish print.

And now Goddard’s face had truly paled. “Scythe Astley? But—but you self-gleaned, years ago!”

“Yeah, no I didn’t.” Astley smirked, drawing his fingers through his impeccably styled ginger hair. “Anyway, you’re one to talk.”

The entire scythedom tittered. Xenocrates, having lost all semblance at control in the room, slowly backed away.

“Who’s this?” Anastasia hissed to Curie, and the Granddame of Death saw her moment.

“Everyone!” she shouted, voice commanding. “This man is Honorable Ambassador-Scythe Rick Astley, apprentice to founding scythe Sappho herself. Show him the respect he deserves.”

“Thank you, Scythe Curie,” Astley said, and Marie blushed as though she were a little girl again. He knew her name!

He stood tall, and the entire scythedom—even Goddard—found themselves bending to accommodate him. “It’s true. I, Scythe Rick Astley, did not truly self-glean. I meant it when I said I was never gonna give you up. No, I’ve simply been waiting for the perfect time to rejoin the scythedom—and that time has come today.”

Astley looked around the conclave chamber thoughtfully, before continuing on. “You see, I and I alone have access to the Thunderhead. I am the single exception to the schism between organizations. With me and the Thunderhead by your sides, I can solemnly swear we’re never gonna let you down.”

He smiled kindly, before giving a disapproving stink-eye. “The Thunderhead and I pronounce Robert Goddard illegible for the position of High Blade, so don’t even try it. We have some problems with that man.”

Scythe Goddard sank to his knees, distraught. “Scythe Astley? You don’t like me? What have I done?”

Astley ignored him, instead moving on to Curie herself. “Therefore, by process of elimination plus nobody cares about that other contestant, I hereby pronounce Honorable Scythe Marie Curie High Blade of MidMerica.”

Marie let in a shocked gasp, tears coming to her eyes. Rick Astley believed in her. “Is this true?”

“I don’t know what’s going on so I guess,” Xenocrates called from the back. “Ima go hop on over to Endura now anyway. I will live a happy and fulfilling life as Grandslayer and hopefully learn to become more than competent. Scythe Goddard will never come for a vacation.”

“Sounds good!” everyone called.

Rowan Damisch and Scythe Volta tiptoed in from the back. The mere presence of the near-god Astley had brought Volta back to life and caused Rowan to escape his bonds. Speaking of, he caught Anastasia’s eye and they started making out passionately. Scythe Curie decided to forgive him because if he was truly bad he too would have been smited by the wrath of Scythe Astley.

“Thank you, Rick,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” he cried, and then repeated, “I’m never gonna give you up!” There was cheering from the crowd, all divisions in the scythedom forgotten. Someone started singing his theme song, the popular mortal-age ditty of his Patron Historic. It was very catchy. He tapped his dress shoes some more.

All was good. At long last, Curie felt herself truly relax. The scythedom was in good hands.

“Now who wants to go grab some ice cream?”

[hb-writes]

There’s Room Enough

Carlisle continued with his reading even as a fifth sigh pushed through his daughter’s lips in only twice as many minutes. He guessed Mia wasn’t quite aware she was doing it. It was the type of thing that often revealed more about her internal states than she willingly disclosed, just like the preoccupied glances out the window and the distinctly cadenced fidgeting Carlisle suspected had little to do with her English homework.

The Shakespeare Mia insisted on sifting through barely registered in her mind, but she still elected for it over actually speaking to her father. She hadn’t fought his guiding hand when they dispersed from the front entryway, giving Bella and Edward their due privacy, but Mia wasn’t interested in a conversation. She had said barely a word to him for the hour since she settled, solitarily occupying the bench seat in front of the wall of windows. It was the furthest spot in the office from her father’s desk, and while they usually occupied the space together while reading, Mia had made it clear she preferred to sit alone.

Carlisle was a patient man, an accommodating father who preferred not to push his children to speak before they were ready, but he was beginning to wonder if his daughter might finally outlast his inclination towards restraint of this particular type. It was only because Mia hadn’t actually done anything wrong that he had waited this long already, her attitude and words though unexpected, no more reprehensible than the turns of phrase that often left Rosalie’s mouth.

Mia glanced up from her book and was surprised to find her father studying his own book rather than her. She was certain she had felt his eyes on her from across the room, could almost hear his questions and concerns falling into the very space between them. She supposed that could have easily all been in her head though, her own line of thinking taking on the guise of her father.

“Are you upset with me?” Mia had been pondering the question since the night before. She knew he wasn’t quite what one would call angry with her. She had never known her father to be an angry sort, but he had to have some feeling on the matter, some opinion he was withholding. 

Carlisle turned to his daughter and shook his head, placing the marker in his book before setting it aside. “Concerned is perhaps a more appropriate word.”  

Mia closed her book as well, crossing her legs as she turned to face him. “Not angry though? So, I’m not in trouble?”

Carlisle gave her a small smile. “Do you think you should be?”

Mia glanced out the window a moment before turning back to him. “Not really, but you brought me here so I thought maybe…”

“You’re not in any trouble. And you could have gone with your mother or one of the others if you liked,” Carlisle offered, “but you said you had work to do.”

Mia tapped her fingers on her legs. “And I couldn’t just go back to my own room because…?”

Carlisle smiled. In all truth, that had little to do with the little outbursts she had spent the last day or so mulling over. He simply thought Mia had spent more than enough of the weekend ruminating over things from behind the closed door of her bedroom. Knowing she was upset, he had allowed her a certain measure of self-pity, taken in the form of overthinking beneath her downy covers, only pulled from the act when Alice forced the girl up and into the shower an hour before Edward and Bella’s arrival.

“Would you find it too stereotypical for a father to believe his adolescent daughter has been spending far too much time alone in her room?”

“You can be alarmingly stereotypical,” Mia conceded, unable to hide the bit of smile his words compelled.

She had a moment, or two, of thinking that the whole situation was a bit stereotypical, despite the oddity of it all, because it essentially boiled down to a bit of uncertain jealousy on her part, a seemingly inconsequential twinge of the shameful feeling growing swiftly over the span of just a few days. And as confusing it was for everyone else to watch, the swell of emotions confused Mia a great deal more.

She knew that the thoughts clouding her mind edged towards illogical, knew that the arguments of her subconscious were essentially baseless. She should have pushed the thoughts aside rather than dwelling with her guards up, willfully blocking Edward and Jasper’s abilities, and keeping her parents and other siblings more traditionally in the dark as well.

And although Mia had expressed that she shouldn’t be in trouble, not for the late-night shouting match with her brother or the cool performance she offered him and Bella in the entryway just before, she could admit to herself that she did feel guilty, and the complicated nature of situation made it difficult to sort out on her own.

“I’m not sorry for saying it,” Mia said as if her father had been privy to the monologue in her head. “He needed to hear it.”

Carlisle allowed a small nod of his head. He thought, perhaps, his daughter may have been correct about that. Edward had needed to be made aware of the sentiment behind his sister's words, had needed to hear how she was feeling and understand the depth of those feelings, but Mia’s methods were not the ones he would have chosen, and it was not how he had expected his daughter to deliver the message either.

“Amel—” Carlisle began only to be cut off, the girl spurred to action by the uttering of her full name.

“No, dad, he—" 

Mia stopped short at meeting her father’s gentle eyes. Though he was about to voice her full name—something he did not do exclusively as a method of restoring order or in seeking compliance, but just as often as a sentimental sort of thing—there was no sign of fight in him, just his genuine patient curiosity. 

Mia knew her father didn’t deserve her fire and she sighed, willing herself back towards some semblance of calm as she mumbled an apology.

Carlisle pushed out of his chair and came to his daughter’s side, settling on the bench with her. "You’re hurting. And your brother’s actions, whether intentional or not, have played a role in that. You let him know in the only way you believed he would hear it.”

Mia leaned into her father, grateful for the assessment she felt wholly unworthy of. Although she had been desperate for Edward to understand, to simply take a moment and actually listen, she hadn’t chosen the particular words for that reason. Mia chose them because she knew she could tap into his guilt through them, hurt him as he was hurting her. She meant to inflict damage.

Carlisle sensed a shift in his daughter at his words and pulled her into his chest as the first whimper escaped her lips. He wasn’t entirely surprised to find that Mia’s opinion on her brother’s attachment had changed. Her sudden jealous anger had puzzled him only until he considered the differences the girl likely assigned to her brother’s seemingly unrequited and then suddenly, very much reciprocated feelings. There was significant uncertainty in it. While all the others had previous experience welcoming someone new to their family, the experience of expanding their circle, most recently for her, Mia had no such understanding.

“Love isn’t finite, Mia.”

It was never difficult for Carlisle to welcome someone new, the love and care coming freely and not at all diminishing what he felt for the others. It could probably be assumed that was the case, but Carlisle knew his daughter’s mind, knew the doubt would creep in without concrete proof, or at least a hardy argument provided to fight against her doubts. Carlisle knew that someday the new love between Bella and Edward would settle and become more manageable for them all. He knew that even should the settling take some time, Edward, though distracted, would care for Mia and their family no less in the interim. But Mia had yet to recognize that, had yet to know it.

She pulled herself from his chest and pushed the heel of her palms into her eyes, willing the tears to stop. “I know, but—”

“Your brother is distracted,” he conceded. “You know, when you came to us we were all a bit distracted too, each of us a bit more focused on being with you than anyone else.”

“I was a baby. It’s different.”

“A little different, yes, but the rationale holds. Everyone created a bit more room to accommodate you, and none of us cared for any of the others any less because of it.”

Mia sat back, settling her chin on her knees as her father continued.

“If what you’re thinking is true, I would have very little care that could be set aside for Edward by now, after welcoming your mother and siblings, and especially after welcoming you.” Carlisle pushed the hair from Mia’s eyes. “Do you understand my meaning?”

Mia glanced up at him. “That there is enough room for both of us?” she mumbled.

Carlisle nodded. “Yes, room enough for you and Bella and anyone else our family should choose to care for.”

Mia nodded a few times, the gesture meant more for herself than for Carlisle. It was a charming and comforting thought, that one’s capacity for love was infinite and could be expanded at will. And Mia knew her father’s words were true. She knew her father loved his children, all of them the same amount. She knew his love had never been diminished by any subsequent additions, herself included.

Without a word, Mia went to collect her father’s book from his desk and handed it off, quickly getting comfortable beside him once again and Carlisle placed his arm around his daughter as she got settled.

Mia didn't speak, but the words were in the air between them, suggested by the girl retrieving his book and settling against him. She was already reading her own book, but Mia’s actions spoke to her father, the translation so clear as she made room for his lesson in her mind and his body beside her on the bench.

I love you, Dad. There’s room enough.

--

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

[razieltwelve]

Sticks and Stones (Final Rose)

Diana was playing in the park with Claire, Averia, and Strangles when the strangest thing happened. Strangles was just slithering on the ground having fun when one of the other kids threw a rock at him.

“Hey!” Diana darted forward and slapped the rock away. “Don’t throw rocks at my snake!”

The other kid, a little girl, just laughed. She was older than Diana and bigger too. She was even older and bigger than her sister and Claire. “Or what?” The girl threw another rock and then another. Strangles huddled behind Diana and hissed. “What are you going to do?”

Diana took a deep breath to calm down. “You shouldn’t throw rocks at animals, especially other people’s pets. You might hurt them.”

“So?”

“It’s bad!”

“Who cares.” The girl laughed and threw another rock. She threw this one a lot harder, and it hit the ground only inches from Strangles. “What are you going to do about it?”

Diana’s eyes narrowed. She could feel Strangles’s fear. He was scared. Her pet snake was scared because some stupid person wouldn’t stop throwing rocks at him. What if he got hit? He might get hurt, maybe even die. The image of Strangles laying on the ground with a smashed in skull because of a rock filled her mind, and she saw red.

“Or I’ll make you sorry.”

“You?” The girl sneered. She ignored one of her friends who had come over and was frantically trying to pull her away. “You’re just some stupid, little twerp with a stupid snake that-”

Diana’s Aura surged. In the span of a heartbeat, her Aura signature went from being several times that of a little girl to several thousand times that of a normal civilian. 

“I told you to leave my snake alone.” The words came out garbled as Diana stepped forward. A boiling sea of Aura erupted over her skin and washed over her body as she transformed. The air was suddenly thick and heavy. A monstrous weight pressed down on the area, and her tail lashed the air. “Now, I���m going to make you sorry.” The words were little more than a bestial snarl. She still had trouble talking after she transformed.

The girl tried to scream, but all she could do was gasp and fall to the ground. Diana reached forward and picked up the rock she’d dropped. Slowly, deliberately, she held it up, so the girl could see it. And then she crushed it into powder in one clawed hand.

Through the rage that clouded her vision, she could sense her sister and cousin running toward her. She stood up and idly wrapped her tail around the older girl. She lifted her into the air and tilted her head to one side. A slight tightening of her tail, and the girl would be a smear. Should she care? The girl wouldn’t have cared if she’d hurt Strangles. Strangles was one of Diana’s best friends, and the girl would have happily killed him before just going off to find someone else to throw rocks at. Maybe she should throw her like a rock. It would be funny to see how far she could throw her and how big of a mess she’d make when she hit the ground.

Her tail shifted, and then Strangles slithered forward and nudged her leg. She looked down at him, and he hissed. He wanted to go look for a frog at the creek. He wanted her to just leave the girl here and go with him. It was more fun looking for frogs if she was there.

Diana growled, a deep, ominous sound, and dropped the girl like a sack of potatoes. And then she turned and followed Strangles toward the creek.

X     X     X

Lightning glanced at the incident report and then at her daughter who was happily tinkering with some bits of machinery she’d salvaged from a scrapyard.

“Don’t be silly,” Diana chided Strangles. “You can’t just throw the carburettor in without checking it works first. Almost nobody throws away one that’s still good.”

The snake hissed. 

“Yeah. We can go back to the park again tomorrow. I don’t think that mean girl will be there.” Diana’s voice hardened ever so slightly. “Unless she’s stupid as well as mean.”

Strangles crawled into her lap, and Diana shook her head before smiling cheerfully.

“Don’t worry,” Diana said. “I’ll take good care of you. Nobody hurts my snake.”

It was easy to forget that Diana wasn’t simply just a smart, happy-go-luck child. Her Semblance made her capable of destruction on a scale that most civilians simply couldn’t comprehend. If she had lost control, that girl in the park wouldn’t be hurt. She’d be dead. 

She’d have to speak to Diana about this although she’d probably leave most of that to Fang. The other woman knew better than anyone else how to manage Ragnarok’s fury. Still... it made her wonder.

How many people would be monsters if they had the strength?

Diana had been perfectly content to just play in the park with her snake. All she wanted was to have fun with her sister, her cousin, and her pet. To throw rocks at someone’s else pet even after being asked to stop... what would someone like that do if they had the same sort of power Diana had?

She shook her head.

The world was full of hypotheticals. She needed to focus on the real.

The incident report was mandatory since Diana was classified as an individual with sufficient power to qualify as a possible security threat. She’d have to speak with the authorities about it as Diana’s parent. Her brows furrowed. How the authorities chose to approach that meeting would determine her own approach.

If they wanted to treat Diana like some kind of monster that had to be caged, then Lightning would simply have to remind them that there were plenty of other places that would be more than happy to welcome her family. Two of the most powerful huntresses in the world, plus their kids who were likely to follow in their footsteps? She could have citizenship in any kingdom in the world if she wanted. If anything, they’d just move to Oerba, not to mention the absolute hell Vanille would raise if someone tried to harm her favourite niece and number one minion.

In the more cold-hearted part of her that dealt strictly with cost-benefit analyses, she felt a twinge of amusement. She and Fang had generally played nice when it came to the authorities. But if push came to shove, they could demand the moon and likely get it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. 

[taichoh]

old friend

pairing: hitsukarin word count: 5298 (oopsies) warnings: none note: this is my self-indulgent fix-it fic because i can. technically post-canon, there's a hint of ichiruki but this is about my babies, who aren't babies anymore. :') ao3 link

Upon entering her adult years, Karin was coming to terms with her growing list of responsibilities, wishing she was just a kid again when the list was much smaller. Everyone can relate to missing things from their childhood, kicking a soccer ball around on a summer day, only having to stress about a simple book assignment instead of the plethora of things you’d worry about now, coming home to a full house even if it was chaos sometimes.. Most of the time. The house wasn’t quiet now, but it wasn’t as chaotic either. Karin missed it.

Ever since Ichigo decided to live the rest of his life in the Soul Society, things calmed down a bit. She was happy for him, he’d gotten a semblance of his life back after the Winter War, but it only took a couple years for him to crave a different life. She saw how morose her brother had gotten going day by day without a certain short black haired, newly appointed captain, and it only took him this long to realize some things everyone else could plainly see.

The Human World was boring anyway. She wouldn’t tell anyone yet, but she planned to follow in her brother’s footsteps. Karin wanted to wait much longer of course, for a multitude of reasons, one being she was stubborn and wanted to do what she set out to, fully prepared to hurdle any obstacles, and there were plenty.

But now she’s here, having finished school and now fully runs the family clinic with her sister. For a while their dad was with them, but after a very heartfelt conversation and a boatload of tissues, they all agreed that his time in this world was up as well. It was funny, how instead of his daughters, he was leaving the nest and going back home where he was welcomed, especially after the war. They missed him but Karin and Yuzu didn’t miss how much easier it was for their dad to smile whenever he visited. Still, with their brother and dad in a different world, reaching out wasn’t as easy as a phone call away, though Karin figured it wouldn’t be long before Urahara remedied that with yet another invention.

She still hangs out with old and new friends, but feigning disregard to Yuzu’s nagging about finding someone to settle down with was getting old. And so was she. Well not really, but she felt old. She was only in her 20s but she considered herself old when she found a gray hair in her hairbrush. It was most likely stress but regardless, the next thing would be wrinkles or joint pains and the stress from that is just gonna cause more grays to show up so really there’s no upside. She missed the days before puberty, and how much she didn’t care about her appearance. She doesn’t much these days either, but even Karin, with her confidence, had a list of insecurities that piled up over the years. It was part of being human she supposed. She missed when all she worried about was beating the stupid juniors at soccer, getting a scrape on her knee, grass stains, etc.. But she was skirting around the elephant in her room. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. She missed him. A lot. A huff escaped her as she stood at the sink in the bathroom connected to the clinic. She was watching the last of the suds from the soap disappear down the drain when she thought of him for what felt like the first time in ages. But it hadn’t been ages, she thought of him just a couple of days ago, when Yuzu mentioned yet again that she noticed how lonely Karin seemed. It was a bit harsh but Yuzu was right, and Karin knew she was just worried for her sister. “Have you talked to Hitsugaya recently?” The question caught her off guard and made her stop halfway from spooning more soup into her mouth. The answer was no. They hadn’t talked in quite a long time. She half expected to see him amidst the aftermath of the war, but she assumed he had a lot on his plate, so the idea was dismissed. “We barely talk to Ichigo or dad Yuzu, they’re all busy over there.” She knew it was bullshit the second it left her mouth. Acting nonchalant was getting harder and harder around Yuzu, because even though Karin is skilled at it, her sister was one of a handful of people that could break down those walls with a single push. The others are her brother and a boy with snow white hair and eyes you want to swim in, as much as she hates to admit it.

“But I remember you guys being pretty close, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you reaching out... I know you miss him.” It was so embarrassing being read so easily, and it was making her lose her appetite. “Yuzu he’s a captain, he’s got plenty on his plate as it is.” I’m sure I’m the last thing on his mind. “So is Rukia and she along with the rest of the gang visits us ! And from what we’ve heard from Ichigo and Dad, things have been going pretty smoothly.” Yuzu had a point. The last time they saw their family including Rukia was maybe a month ago. Karin was just getting in her head. She knew Toshiro probably wasn’t that busy but she also knew that he wasn’t the type to sit and do nothing. He was a busybody. When he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or visiting her, he was working. And when the time between his last visit continued to stretch, she figured he must have been as busy as can be. Or, maybe he forgot about me. “Toshiro would never forget you!” Yuzu shouted across from the table, making Karin jump and her cheeks flush. Did she say that last part out loud? “I can’t believe you would even entertain the idea! No one could forget you !” Even in an accusatory insulting tone, Karin knew Yuzu was being pragmatic. She always was. Karin groaned and hung her head over her dinner, not wanting to look at Yuzu’s disappointed glare. “I know,” she said dejectedly. “It’s just... A lot has changed. There was a war, we’ve graduated, Ichigo and Dad moved out. It’s been a while.” Karin couldn’t even remember the last time she saw him. It’s been years. Karin was a full fledged adult in her 20s. She wondered if he’d grown an inch or two by now. She missed whenever he’d roll his eyes at her height jokes. “Well I think it’s been long enough.” It seemed Yuzu was going to take matters into her own hands. Getting up from her seat, Yuzu started gathering their empty plates and explained her plan,“Ichigo, Rukia, and Dad are coming to dinner soon, so when they go back you are going with them.” This made Karin open her mouth to object but was immediately cut off, “And don’t use that excuse about leaving me alone. I can take care of myself, and I can call Jinta if I need to.” Karin sunk into her seat as she watched her sister clean up their dinner. Yuzu’s mind was made up, and Karin knew better than to argue with her. Every Kurosaki had the potential to be increasingly scary when they wanted to and that included Yuzu. Karin shivered at being at the mercy of her sister’s wrath hidden under that bubbly exterior.

So, it was happening. She was going to the Soul Society. To see Toshiro. After years of no contact. That’s fine. The more she thought about it the more her thoughts turned intrusive, and it was taking everything in her to not punch her reflection. That would end up with bloody knuckles and a broken mirror, so all Karin could do was take another breath, and leave the bathroom. Yuzu’s plan was panning out, as days from their conversation, their little family reconvened over dinner and it was time for them to go back home. Karin excused herself to go to the bathroom and grab her bag of necessities that Yuzu forced her to pack because apparently her trip was extended to a couple of days and not hours as Karin presumed. When it was announced, Yuzu simply explained she had some extra work to do so she would join next time, which everyone accepted much too easily. “You ready?” Ichigo asked as Karin rejoined them all on the main floor. Karin nodded and gave Yuzu a small smile which she mirrored and nodded as if to say ‘good luck’. The four of them filed onto the empty street and before she knew it they were walking through the Senkaimon. Isshin and Ichigo walked a couple steps behind Karin and Rukia as they walked the dark path that was the Dangai. Karin had only done this a handful of times, to visit her family but it still gave her chills everytime she made the trip. “So, you got anything planned?” Rukia’s voice broke her out of her reverie. She glanced over to see Rukia smirking, looking a little too proud for Karin’s liking. What she could be insinuating?

“Uh, not really.” Karin tried her best to seem nonchalant, but Rukia was getting better at reading Kurosaki’s much to Karin’s chagrin. Her only plan was to see Toshiro, but she’d probably visit some others. A simple little reunion. Part of her wanted to confide in Rukia, but she had a feeling Rukia would absolutely make sure this reunion happened. She gulped willing her anxieties to shut the hell up. “Ooh, I see, so Captain Hitsugaya has no idea you’re coming.” “How did you-” “Oh please, I’m not as dense as your brother,” Karin suddenly appreciated the distance between them and the two idiots behind them, who looked to be having their own conversation after she took a glance over her shoulder. “Plus Yuzu might have filled me in.” Her smug grin made Karin’s blush deepen but there was no hiding it.

“You can’t say anything!” Karin kept her voice low but still full of urgency, which Rukia took in earnest. “Of course Karin! I would never! Unless you wanted me to, and I won’t say anything if you feel the need to deck the Captain in the face, though I have a feeling you won’t want to-” “Why would I want to punch Toshiro?” Has he done something? What did he do? Does he have a girlfriend? What happened? Her mind was racing at Rukia’s admission and the urge to turn around and go back home popped into her head.

Rukia only sighed at Karin’s confusion, “Well according to Yuzu, it’s been a long time for you two. And he never reached out. When me and Ichigo parted ways when he lost his powers, I couldn’t reach out to him as much as I wanted to. And I wanted to. So badly,” Rukia’s voice turned solemn and Karin relaxed, suddenly thinking about how much she envied their relationship. They were so good together, and they’ve been through so much, yet they managed to traverse all those obstacles and found each other again.

Karin vaguely wondered if she’d ever have that kind of connection with someone. Suddenly Toshiro’s name was written all over her mind, but she was getting ahead of herself. Just because she’s had a crush on him for years and years doesn’t mean he feels the same. He could already be with someone for all she knew. Rukia was right, Karin might want to punch Toshiro after all.

“Anyway, he’s had all this time and he hasn’t visited! I’ll have you know things have been just fine in the Seireitei, so really there’s no excuse.” Rukia sounded like Yuzu, and they both had a point, but- “That could go both ways though.” Karin admitted, frowning and going to scratch the back of her neck. “Well I suppose, but I still think the Captain should’ve done something. He always visited you didn’t he?” “Yeah, but I’ve been to the Soul Society before, and I chose not to go see him or anything.” “Why not? That doesn’t seem like you.” Rukia was so right. It was not like Karin at all. If she was her younger self she’d kick down his door and demand him to abandon all paperwork for a game of soccer. But that was younger Karin, who barely considered her crush on the Captain of the Tenth. This was older Karin, now an adult who had to deal with her feelings. Ugh. “I know. I guess I didn’t want to bother him. He is a Captain and all. And now that I’m older I kind of understand that it’s a lot of responsibility.” Once again, she was spouting absolute bullshit and Rukia was prone to picking up on it after dealing with this family for so long. “I’m disappointed in you Karin,” She said with a hint of mockery, not meaning it wholeheartedly, but still being genuine, “It might not be my place to say, but I know I’m not the only one that noticed how much happier Captain Hitsugaya was in your company. Don’t forget I’m a Captain myself, does that mean you think my relationship with your brother hinders me in being one?” “Of course not! I never meant to-” Karin exclaimed, immediately sorry for her backwards thinking, but instead Rukia chuckled. “I know, I’m just saying. You’re right in that we have a lot of responsibilities as Captains, but you know Hitsugaya, he’ll take on more than he needs to, and you were always good at reminding him there was more to life than paperwork.” A couple moments passed as Rukia’s words sunk in. Karin considered herself an adult but she still had so much to learn. She was so grateful she had someone like Rukia to show a different perspective. Karin had to admit, she had definitely mastered the art of handling a Kurosaki. They’re family was so crazy and complicated and Rukia had no problem at all. In the back of her mind Karin reminded herself to kick her brother’s teeth in if he didn’t propose soon. There was a difference though. Ichigo and Rukia lived in the same world. Karin and Toshiro did not have that luxury. But that thought was for another time. Just focus on one thing at a time. Soon Karin was squinting when a bright light washed over the group as they entered the Soul Society. The sky above them was blue with only a couple of clouds hanging, a gentle breeze wrapped itself around Karin, and she felt oddly relaxed. She regrets not visiting more often, this could easily become her second home.

“Well it’s about time!” Karin noticed the voice immediately and watched the beautiful woman with strawberry blonde hair walk up to them. “Lieutenant Matsumoto! What brings you here? We weren’t expecting a welcome party.” Rukia chimed in for Karin, who smiled at Rangiku. Just like it had been a while since she’d seen Toshiro, it had been a while for everyone else too. Rangiku and Karin managed to strike up a friendship when Karin was confronted by Toshiro’s second during one of their visits to the human world. Karin got that ‘don’t hurt him, or I

I’ll hurt you’ talk, which Karin quickly concurred and vowed to be a good friend to him. It shocked Karin to see her jaunty personality freeze over to solemnity, and immediately melt again after the serious words were said. She knew Rangiku wasn’t an idiot, she wasn’t a Lieutenant for nothing. Above all she was glad Toshiro had her. “I heard Karin was coming to visit so I wanted to come say hi!” And when she meant ‘hi’, that meant suffocating Karin in her bosom, and not for the first time. Though after learning first hand about Rangiku’s affectionate nature, she could understand how someone like Toshiro found it a tad aggravating. Karin smiled up at her as she pulled back from the hug, “It’s nice to see you again Rangiku.” “Likewise,” Rangiku smiled gently and stepped back, “So what does Karin Kurosaki have planned for this visit?” She seemed much too hopeful for some reason, and Karin had a feeling she knew what it entailed. Again, Rangiku wasn’t an idiot. But lying wasn’t Karin’s forte so she might as well be honest. “I was gonna visit Toshiro, if he isn’t busy.” She gulped. Rangiku’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, squealing and giving Karin another hug that once again suffocated her. Seems like that was exactly what she wanted to hear. “Oh wonderful! He’s not busy at all, and he’ll be overjoyed to see you! You really grew up didn’t you?” Rangiku’s narrowed gaze and lilted voice made Karin blush. Her tone was definitely suggestive but she wasn’t wrong. Karin had a small growth spurt amidst puberty, her hair got longer, still in a ponytail. “Who knew you’d grow up into such a beautiful woman?” She didn’t know how but her cheeks flushed even more. “Wait until the Captain sees you-” “Rangiku!” Karin exclaimed, throwing her hands up to cover her face, suddenly feeling self conscious. Not only at Rangiku’s boldness but the fact that Rangiku, who was one of the most beautiful women she’d met, just complimented her like that. Rangiku only laughed, brushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Come on let’s go!” Suddenly Karin was being dragged away to the 10th barracks no doubt, left to look over her shoulder to watch Rukia smirk and give a wave before turning to leave the gate as well. Rangiku let Karin catch her breath, and they walked in silence, until Karin had a thought, “I can’t help but wonder if Toshiro’s grown at all, like an inch maybe? He told me you guys aged differently here.” “Oh yes, we do! I haven’t done much aging in a looong time. Kind of a perk dontcha think? I’ve looked like this for ages,” Rangiku smiled brightly while flaunting and she had every right to, she knew she was beautiful. Karin would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t envious. As a human you have so little time compared to the time you have as a shinigami. Though the profession is dangerous, so there’s that to consider. Karin remembers when Toshiro explained the way of reincarnation and the way things worked for souls. A weight she didn’t realize she had was lifted from her shoulders that day. “And Toshiro?” Rangiku’s smile turned mischievous again but Karin was too busy looking ahead at the continuing street. “The Captain’s grown a tad, nothing too drastic.” “Oh.” Karin chuckled, that meant she’s probably still taller than him. “So I can still make height jokes.” She smiled smugly, looking forward to his disgruntled face, it was so cute when he got embarrassed. “Oh I’m sure,” was the last thing Rangiku said before they rounded the corner and they arrived at their destination. Karin’s stomach started doing somersaults, and while it had to do with the fact that she was incredibly nervous, she was also very excited. But the reality of their time apart is hitting her once again and she didn’t know how to feel about it. “Don’t be nervous.” Rangiku’s voice was suddenly softer, warmer, almost motherly. And once again, Karin was being read like a book by another shinigami. Damn, she needed to work on her poker face. All Karin could do was give her a small smile before she realized they were right outside of his office. All that stood between them was  a sliding door, and suddenly her hands were clammy.

One last gulp, “Okay,” was all Karin could say.

And Rangiku being Rangiku, gave Karin no time to think before she promptly shouted, “Oh Captaaain!” and slid the door open with gusto causing Karin to jump and for the captain seated at the desk to snap his head up in alarm. But it was not Toshiro. No, Toshiro was cute and albeit attractive according to Karin, and this man was not cute. He was downright gorgeous. He was devastatingly handsome. Nope, not Toshiro. This was an imposter.

But, amidst her gaping, Karin noticed his hair was white, like Toshiro’s, and his eyes were that cerulean color that made her weak in the knees, like Toshiro’s. He was sitting in Toshiro’s seat, wearing a white haori like Toshiro did, and they were definitely in the Squad 10 offices. So, it has be- “Toshiro?” Karin croaked. Her eyes blown wide, her feet still planted at the doorway, while Rangiku buzzed next to her watching the whole exchange.

“Karin?” Oh god, even his voice was an octave lower. His eyes mirrored hers in that they were wide with shock. He couldn’t believe she was here, in the Seireitei, in his office. He also couldn’t believe that was Karin. But the more he looked at her the more he saw the familiar features he made sure to memorize, along with some noticeable new ones.. She was beautiful, and he thought he had the term defined already with a picture of her. It was still her, but he needed to update his memory it seemed. Her hair was still jet black and in a ponytail, only it was longer and a lock laid over her shoulder, her eyes were still as captivating as always, a grey abyss he’d gladly succumb to if asked. And her body, she was definitely an adult. She definitely grew up, but, so did he. What must she think of his new look? He was too starstruck to notice her eyes darken and her brows drop down in anger. “I can’t believe you!” Her fury replaced her nerves and she was suddenly marching across the threshold, fists tight at her sides, “You are such,” She grabbed the nearest object to her which was a pillow from the couch in the middle of the room and lobbed it at his head which Toshiro barely dodged, “an asshole!” Another pillow, only this time he caught it with both hands, using it as a shield for the third pillow. Toshiro wasn’t unfamiliar with Karin’s wrath, however, that didn’t mean he was happy with being at the end of it. Speaking of, her aim has dramatically improved. Anyway- “Karin-” “It’s been years Toshiro-” “I’m sorry-” “You could’ve visited-” “I know I-” “And you went and grew up! Looking like a fucking model all of a sudden and not even telling me!” A model? “Let me explain-” “No you are going to listen to me!” Karin was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stood in the middle of the room staring him down. Toshiro fought against his instinct to shout back and promptly shut his mouth, his brows creased in regret. She was shaking with rage and she was on the precipice of breaking something, preferably his face, but- shit Rukia was right. Again. “You don’t get to sit there on your ass when you never bothered to visit after years Toshiro. Years! When Ichigo got back from the war I had to hear that you were okay from him because of course I worried. I thought we were friends, I thought we-” “We are friends!” Toshiro couldn’t take that disappointed look anymore, but she was wrong. They were friends. Friends. “I thought we were closer than that.” Karin finished her thought, her energy depleting, shoulders starting to sag. He didn’t know which was worse. Karin angry, or sad. He just didn’t like it when she was upset. And he was the cause of it. Seeing her hang her head made his heart ache, and not in the way it usually did when he looked at her.

Toshiro had all the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, but he was speechless. Part of him knew this day was bound to come around, he just wished he could’ve been prepared. But then again, expect the unexpected, especially with Karin. He couldn’t hate himself more than he did at this moment.

“I’m so sorry Karin,” His voice lifted her head and they locked eyes, his full of regret and hers, disappointment. “I-” This was harder than he thought, his chest hurt, his hands were stiff, and all he wanted was to see Karin happy, but he didn’t know how to make it happen, but she deserved an explanation. “I should’ve visited you. I wanted to. So badly. Even after things settled, I was so caught up in everything, I didn’t realize how long it’d been. I lost track of time. I’m sorry Karin. I was- I am an idiot. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel neglected and I went and did it anyway.”

Taking a hasty breath, he pushed himself to stand, rounding his desk and standing in front of her , only the usual roles were reversed and he was now looking down on her. No, it didn’t feel right. He towered over her and yet he felt as small as can be. Karin was still silent, ignoring his height for the moment, though she wasn’t entirely surprised given his changes. Changes she wished she could’ve witnessed sooner. Her eyes were glassy, tears on the brink of falling down her cheeks, but she willed them to stay. Until she watched Toshiro drop to his knees and bow before her, resting his head at her feet. She almost didn’t hear the tiny gasp that came from behind her, she’d completely forgot Rangiku was here, witnessing this all. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness Karin, but still, I’m so so sorry.” Karin was.. astonished to say the least. She expected an apology, but she didn’t expect this. Toshiro did many things, overwork himself, scowl, eat unhealthy amounts of amanatto, but he never did anything half-assed. Here was Toshiro Hitsugaya, a Captain of the 13 Court Guard Squads, bowing with his head at the feet of a simple human. Maybe not simple, but human nonetheless. Any bystander would argue that this was completely preposterous, but they wouldn’t know that Toshiro viewed Karin in the highest regard. He knew how much he royally fucked up, and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. “Look at me.” The closeness of her words startled Toshiro and he slowly lifted his head to see her knelt in front of him. Now it was his turn to be astonished. It wasn’t unlike Karin to be gentle when she wanted but Toshiro couldn’t understand why she would want to, he neglected their friendship for years and now she was smiling at him. Expect the unexpected. Toshiro held his breath. Karin huffed and her smile widened, “Don’t be so dramatic,” she didn’t stop herself from using her finger to brush his hair from his face. The gentlest touch, from hands that could do plenty of damage. She should’ve socked him, he knew he deserved it, he would’ve taken it. But instead, she was caressing his face. Not that he was complaining, it was just oddly uncharacteristic of her. She really had changed after all this time. They both did. Toshiro kicked himself for not witnessing it. “I forgive you, but don’t do it again.” She smacked his head, not enough to actually hurt, but enough to get the point across. He spoke too soon. This was definitely Karin though. Rubbing his head, he slowly sat up and back on his haunches, even while hunching, he was still looking down at her. It was so odd to him. But he’d have to get used to it it seems. At least there wouldn’t be any more height jokes. “Thank you, I don’t deserve it.” He said, watching Karin get to her feet and offer her hand to help him up. “Yes you do. You said sorry. That’s all I wanted. We’re adults now.” “You threw pillows at me.” “You deserved that. ” “...Yeah.” Toshiro sighed. A moment of silence passed until Karin spoke again. “I mean it, don’t do this again. I won’t be so forgiving.” “It won’t happen again. I promise.” Toshiro gave a gentle squeeze to her hand which he never let go. The simple action made her blush, looking down to their entwined hands and up his arm, which were much longer, and then to his broad shoulders, and finally back up to his face, much higher than she was used to. “And don’t grow anymore. You’re like a giant now. It’s gonna be annoying having to look up at you.” And as easy as that they were back to bickering, the tension filtered out of the room as easily as a simple breeze, and they were both thankful. “For what it’s worth, I’m not a fan either.” Toshiro noted, scowling at his new height and features which he still hasn’t gotten used to. All these years he complained about his height and now he realizes he should’ve been more careful with what he wished for. And on top of that, he was getting an increasing amount of attention which Rangiku pointed out was thanks to his sharpened features. Not his cup of tea. “I never said I wasn’t a fan.”

Karin’s words made blood rush to Toshiro’s face, did she just- Maybe it’s his cup of tea after all, if it’s Karin’s attention. That being said, he’d never wanted anyone’s attention more than hers, and now that he has it, he’s just a little alarmed. But in a good way, he thinks. And it made it easier to smile at her, even with a face redder than ever. But it was quickly replaced with a frown when he realized his Lieutenant just witnessed this entire scene with Karin, where she yelled, he bowed, she smiled, and he blushed. Her squeal made both Karin and him wince, looking over to see her jumping up and down with glee, then running over to pull them down into an uncomfortable hug. “I’m so happy for you too!” Rangiku was sniffling, squeezing the life out of them, and when she let them go they gave each other a confused glance before Toshiro spoke. “Why are you crying Matsumoto?” He asked, slightly worried and as well as confused. Karin looked softly at Rangiku, but still confused by her tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. You guys are just too cute together!”

Karin almost interjected to say that they weren’t together but what stopped her was another squeeze of her hand from Toshiro. A slow shake of his head told her to just let it go, and with further thought she realized convincing Matsumoto of anything was a difficult feat.

Later, after Toshiro escorted her to her family for dinner, dropping her off with the promise of seeing each other the next day, Karin thought about how even when walking through the Seireitei, they continued to hold hands. Toshiro paid it no mind it seemed, and while Karin wasn’t complaining, it still puzzled her.

Correcting his Lieutenant from time to time was normal for him, especially when it came to bold claims like this, but this time he refused. Did Toshiro reciprocate Karin’s feelings? Something about his behavior made her feel elated as well as nervous, they’d have to talk about it eventually. It would take some time for her to completely forgive him, but if what happened today was any consolation, everything would be okay.

They both can definitely sleep better tonight, and there was always tomorrow.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 6

Chapter 6, with French expressions probably untranslatable aha, sorry for that !

(Link for Chapter 7 here)

Chapter 6 : I selfishly wished he would notice me too

- So Andraste, let's talk seriously.

The eyes of Koori, the kitsune of the snowy lands I had met some time ago alongside Karenn, seemed to glow with a suddenly mischievous glow.

- How was it with the right arm of the Sparkling ? she asked me.

Frowning, I looked at her taken aback.

- What do you mean ?

I clearly wasn't sure what she was implying. Finally, I still had my little idea.

- Well you know, at the level ... of what obviously makes his reputation, she explained to me while miming clearly obscene gestures.

- Oh Koori, it's my brother we're talking about ! immediately rebelled Karenn, the youngest of the said concerned.

- So what ? Heard you were dating a while before you saved HQ, all that stuff.

She swept away this last point with a vague wave of her hand.

It’s true. Seven years in a crystal isn't that important, in the end.

- And I would like to know : is he really as good as they say ?

- Koori !

- C’mon, tell us everything !

The kitsune mimicked a pout while clapping her hands on the table. After a quick glance at her friend the young vampire, Koori turned to me again to rectify the situation.

- Well, tell me everything.

- That was seven years ago, Koori, I tried in vain.

- But we don't care. For you it was only a few days ago, right ? You must remember it well !

I arched an eyebrow.

- Yes I remember, but I'm not sure he would appreciate knowing that I talk about this.

- We don't care what he thinks, he's just a self-centered vampire anyway.

Faced with our dark eyes, she added :

- Without wanting to offend you.

- Koori, you don't want to give him up a bit ?

- If he tried harder to be nice, too ... Well anyway, you didn't answer my question, Andraste. Is Nevra a good shot ?

My cheeks suddenly turned a scarlet red in front of the curious looks that never let go of me. Even Karenn seemed curious about the answer. I let out a sigh of surrender.

- Ok. Let's say ... his reputation precedes him. Clearly.

- Aaaaah I'm disappointed ! I hoped to have something crunchy against him !

The young vampire rolled her eyes.

- Koori, this is still my brother you're talking about.

- Very well, very well. Besides, is it true that he has completely ignored you since you woke up ? Knowing full well that for you, you were still together a short time ago ...

Ouch, that hurt.

- Look, I don't really want to talk about it, there...

- It's incredible. Yes he's moved on, but he might try hard for you, anyway. I don't know, some semblance of empathy, maybe ?

- At the moment, I'm already trying to figure out what's wrong with my body. I will think of Nevra later, I have other priorities.

What a nasty liar. Every time I heard about him, my little heart sank a little more. And the rare times I ran into him ... each time I felt a little more alone. To endure the loss of a romantic relationship as intense as the one I had with him, it was clearly not my responsibility now. I was just trying not to think about it in order to be able to take everything that had been sweeping over me for several days a little better.

- Alright, if you don't want to talk about it...

A tray suddenly appeared right next to me.

- Hi girls !

Mathieu's big smile appeared in my field of vision.

- I told myself that your meal must be very sad without me, so here I am !

- Oh, all that was missing, sighed the kitsune.

- Stop trying to make me believe that you don’t appreciate my presence, I was not born last rain.

She exchanged a strange look with Karenn, before retorting, both obviously in agreement :

- You really have strange expressions, humans.

Mathieu and I laughed heartily and the conversation finally eased. I listened to the merry gang discussing with a distracted ear, lost in my thoughts from the questionnaire I had received earlier. I missed Nevra, that was a fact.

No, it was more than that. I felt like I was suffocating without his presence. Crossing him was literally torture for me, as I just couldn't stop loving someone overnight. I had to talk to him, but only when we were each ready to do so.

Eyes lost on my plate for several seconds, I raised them to try to get back into the conversation when I came across silver hair.

Having just sat alone at a table, Lance was about to start his meal when a group of young Obsidian recruits came to meet him, looking in admiration.

I could see the annoyance that marked his face despite the courteous smile he displayed. Lance wasn't that fond of this image of him. I had to admit that the leader of the Obsidian was really popular, here. Most people seemed to ignore him, if not fear him, but he still aroused admiration even among the most reluctant. Either people feared him or worshiped him. There wasn't much of a half measure and I knew it made him uncomfortable.

Simply because Lance will probably never forgive himself for his actions.

So at one time, he certainly loved to show admiration. Only now I was sure he hated it.

Trying to imagine the former Lance, the one he had been before Ashkore, drew a thin smile on my lips. What was he like at that time ? Probably conceited and proud that the world admires him. It was his style.

- Andraste, are you still with us ?

Karenn's voice immediately brought me back to reality.

- Uh yes, of course !

With her chin resting on one of her hands, she looked at me slyly.

- Why are you smiling in your corner ?

Caught in the act.

- Nothing, I was just thinking about something, I tried in vain to defend myself.

The conversation resumed and despite myself, I could not help but continue to glance from time to time in the direction of the dragon. It had been a while since I had seen him and even though it was on my own initiative, I had to admit that something deep inside me selfishly wished him to notice me too. As if he had heard the flow of my thoughts, Lance suddenly let his gaze fall directly on me, fixing his icy eyes on mine. An electric shock ran through me as our eyes remained firmly fixed on one another.

Neither of us wanted to let go first.

Several seconds passed until Mathieu's voice called out to me, breaking the link.

- Are you coming with us Andraste ?

I looked at him a little lost. Damn, what was he talking about ? Sensing my confusion, he explained to me:

- There is an evening that is organized for the return of the troops that have left for exploration. It's become kind of a ritual now.

- Oh, it's great that they do that !

- It was Huang Hua who instituted this. She thinks it motivates and brings HQ members together.

- Well let's go in that case !

We all got up together. My tray in hand, I walked towards the ladder to put it there.

I knew Lance hadn't taken his eyes off me once until I stepped out of the large room, and the thought made me ... exhilarate ?

(Chapter 7)

[phis-corner]

demon’s daughter

I decided to re-open the taglist for this fic because I am sometimes a pushover, so now you can either ask or comment to be on the fic’s taglist or the permanent taglist! 

Additionally, I have no consistent update schedule. My first draft is written by hand- I always like to stay two chapters ahead, so I posted this chapter when I finished copying chapter 5 into a Google Doc and proofreading.

Also, fun fact: I hate chocolate. My senses just do not like it at all. I also have a very sensitive tongue and can taste the barest hint of spiciness in foods, which also means I have zero spice tolerance whatsoever. As a Chinese-American with family in Sichuan, this means I get force-fed a lot of extremely spicy foods anyway.

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 [Chapter 3] Chapter 4

“Why are you letting them stay? He tried to kill Dick!” Timothy points at Damian, who glowers at him from across the cave as Alfred stitches Richard’s cuts.

Marinette sighs. “Akhi was not trying to murder Richard. If you paid more attention, you would notice that all of Richard’s wounds are carefully placed in non-lethal areas meant to slow him down instead of severely injuring him.”

Batman does not say a word. He hasn’t spoken since Richard called him to verify their claims.

“They were raised as assassins, Timmy. It’s normal that they’d feel threatened a lot, and act accordingly. They’re family now. Give them a chance.” Richard replies, and Marinette blinks. She did not expect to have Richard defend them so easily.

“Pardon me,” She pipes up. “But ‘they’ are currently present.”

“Right. Sorry.” Richard has the sense to look guilty. Timothy just glares.

Damian squeezes her hand three times, their signal for I would like to leave. Marinette sighs as she exits the Batcave. Being accepted into the family is… a work in progress.

.o0o.

Slade is put into Blackgate not long after with the information Ubu gave after being interrogated by the Bats. Damian and Marinette were not allowed to go. 

Too young, Richard had said. They had interpreted that as You cannot be trusted to keep him alive. He did make the right call though. Damian would have tried extremely hard had he gotten the chance.

Of course, the League did dispose of him not long after anyway, but it was the thought that counted.

Damian and Marinette spent their days in the Manor sparring, reading, or practicing their instruments. Richard, who seemed determined to bond with them, bought them both new sketchbooks, for Damian’s drawings and Marinette’s designs. She had discovered an affinity for clothing design while undercover on a mission, and had been designing ever since.

Cass (she insisted that they call her that instead of Cassandra,) was always happy to spar when asked, and although nobody ever defeated her, it was a welcomed challenge to fight someone who knew your every move, sometimes even before you did. Damian grudgingly admits she is a worthy sister, which makes Marinette smile and Cass beam.

Jason had his own home and only visited every once in a while, and Timothy was rarely seen. It didn’t help that Damian continued to make snarky comments whenever they did see him, but if Timothy was scarce, Father was practically nonexistent.

Since they came to the Manor, their father has said a total of two words to the both of them, and that was just their names when he exited his study as they passed by.

Marinette is determined to make her new family work, and so when she finds Timothy completely by accident, typing away on a laptop in one of the less-used rooms in the Manor, she takes a chance.

“You do know we are not trying to replace you, right?” She asks softly, sitting down in an armchair and deliberately not making eye contact with him. 

Timothy snorts. “But is that not what you’re doing? Bruce chose to take in everyone else. I had to blackmail him into letting me be Robin. And then the biological kids show up, born and raised like fucking royalty, so who would care about Tim Drake? The little kid whose parents didn’t even want him and his neighbor only adopted him because he knew his most well-kept secret.”

“We have more in common than you think.” Marinette says quietly.

“Yeah, right.” Timothy laughs bitterly. “The Princess of the League-”

“I wasn’t.” Marinette interrupts.

“Huh? But-”

“I wasn’t the Princess.” Marinette keeps her voice calm with considerable effort. “As soon as I was born, Ra’s gave me over to Lady Shiva. He declared me unworthy because I was a girl, and I was raised as the lowest-ranked assassin. I may have been Shiva’s protege, but that just meant she went even harder on me. I did not know even my last name until after my first death when I was five. I did not properly meet my brother until last year. Ra’s decided that I could be acknowledged, but maintained his stance on feminine inferiority.”

She chuckles hollowly. “You fear being replaced by your father figure’s biological children, Timothy. But your fear is unwarranted. Bruce Wayne chose to adopt you, because he is a good man with copious amounts of generosity. However, it evidently does not extend to his biological children. Talia dumped us at Batman’s feet and left without another word, without looking back. And Father? We may have been a complete surprise, but he has said two words in total to us since that first night- our names. You need not worry, Timothy. You shall not be replaced.”

Marinette stands, her message conveyed, and pauses in the doorway of the room. 

“Have a good afternoon, Timothy.”

The next day, Marinette and Damian watch on live television as their father is killed by Darkseid.

.o0o.

The funeral for Batman is somber. Everyone cries except for Marinette and Damian.

She thinks they should be crying, but Marinette simply didn’t know her father well enough to really mourn him. Damian squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back. The twins stand, faces carefully blank, shoulders straight and unmoving, like rocks in an ocean of tears.

Crime in Gotham runs rampant when they think Batman is gone, and so Richard becomes Batman out of necessity- and chooses her twin brother as his Robin.

Nobody else sees how it crushes Timothy, because Cass has left for Hong Kong, abandoning Batgirl and making her own identity as Black Bat. Jason is holed up in a safehouse somewhere, Richard and Damian are in their own little world as they prepare for their first patrol together, and Alfred needs time to mourn too.

So she finds herself knocking on the door to Timothy’s room, one hand holding a plate of sandwiches and a freshly brewed coffee because he hasn’t left his room since the funeral. Marinette quietly enters upon his muffled “Come in” and sets the plate down next to Timothy, whose eyes are red-rimmed and have even larger bags than normal, and yet he continues to work.

“I… noticed you have not come out to eat, so I brought some food and fresh coffee. Black.” She adds, after a moment of hesitation.

“Thanks.” Timothy mumbles, immediately going for the coffee. “Why are you doing this?”

Marinette shrugs. “Everyone else was caught up in their own situation and had issues to work through too. I am relatively unaffected by the circumstances and therefore my observation skills have not declined.” She says simply. “You should also eat. I will not stop you from drinking the coffee, but you cannot work on an empty stomach, either.”

He begrudgingly eats a sandwich, still typing away at his laptop all the while. Marinette notes the tension in his frame.

“Would you like to talk about it? I have read that venting is significantly better for one’s mental health than keeping it bottled up.” She offers.

Timothy suddenly slams the laptop shut, hard, but Marinette doesn’t flinch. The reaction was trained out of her a long time ago. 

“It’s not- it’s- my entire life, I’ve been trying to prove myself. Robin was- Robin was special. I wasn’t the first Robin, but it was a reminder that I was worth something to someone, that I could do good and be useful. And then Bruce dies, Dick becomes Batman, and he just names Damian as his Robin like my opinion on the matter meant nothing, booting me out of the position, without any semblance of an explanation and-” He breaks off into sobs.

The sight of somebody crying makes Marinette more than a little awkward, because what is she doing? She doesn’t know how to comfort a crying person, but she does know that Timothy was touch-starved as a child. However, she isn’t the most touchy-feely person on the planet either, so she just settles for rubbing his back as he lets it all out.

Once he’s run out of tears, she silently hands him the tissue box she plucked from his desk. 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are not worthless.” Marinette says sternly. “Nobody is worthless, and you are far from being anywhere near so. You are the cleverest and most intelligent of us all, a capable, quick-thinking strategist, and you have detective skills that rivaled Father’s. I believe Richard chose Damian as Robin because Robin is always supposed to be Batman’s sidekick. He is always taken under Batman’s wing because there are things he hasn’t learned, that Batman can teach him. Richard sees you as an equal, and therefore cannot keep you as his Robin because you have graduated the mantle. It is time you created a new identity and moved on. Do you have anything in mind?”

Timothy sniffs once. “Thank you. I really needed that. And as for the ideas,” He reaches over and pulls out a sketchbook, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got a few.”

.o0o.

They brainstorm ideas for almost three hours before Timothy falls asleep. Marinette easily carries his light frame to his bed and drapes a blanket over his shoulders before quietly exiting his room.

Thankfully, she managed to convince Timothy that the cowl was a terrible idea. Marinette returns to her own room for her sketchbook. Batman and Robin will have each other’s backs. But Red Hood works alone, leaving Red Robin with nobody to watch his back.

Timothy is Marinette’s brother too, and everyone else is headed into the field anyway. She, like Damian, also had the phrase ‘justice, not vengeance’ drilled into her head, and Richard had made sure to remind them daily to aim for non-lethal spots. Not that she planned on taking a life ever again anyway.

Marinette flips open her sketchbook to a bookmarked page and smiles. It seems that Starling would be making an appearance very soon.

.o0o.

It is almost time for Richard and Damian’s first patrol as Batman and Robin. Marinette heads downstairs to wish them well, but freezes at the sight of her twin in Timothy’s old suit.

“This is unacceptable!” She screeches, hurrying forward and looking pleadingly at Richard. “You cannot let akhi out into Gotham looking like a traffic light!”

Richard frowns, as does Damian. “But you never had a problem with Tim wearing it.”

“Tt. Timothy had little to no prior experience in combat before being trained as Robin. Damian has been trained to utilize the shadows in combat since birth. Wearing those bright colors will make him stand out and put him at a disadvantage.” Marinette tuts, already scribbling out a new design in her sketchbook.

“Then what do you suggest, ukhti?” Damian asks.

“I have a design in mind. The colors will stay, but the yellow and green will have to be significantly darker, and the red should be dulled as well. Sadly, you will have to wear that monstrosity tonight, but I can have the suit finished in time for patrol tomorrow, as will mine and Timothy’s new suits.” She replies, not glancing up from her book.

“What do you mean, Marinette?” Richard questions, and Marinette feels a tiny twinge of annoyance at how he handled telling Timothy about Robin.

“I mean that Timothy and I have crafted new identities as well. You did not expect him to just stop fighting crime, or for me to just sit at home while everyone else carried out Father’s mission, did you?”

Damian nods, a small smile pulling at his lips. “It will be nice to see you in the field too, ukhti.”

“What will your names be?” Richard prods curiously.

“I will not tell you just yet.” Marinette smirks. She shows her twin the finished design. “Does this look alright, akhi?”

“It looks wonderful, ukhti.” Damian replies. “Thank you.”

She sniffs. “Well, somebody had to fix the lack of fashion sense in this household eventually.”

.o0o.

Everyone else in the family may use capes, but Marinette decided that Richard’s Nightwing suit was by far the best because of its lack of one. Capes were long, heavy, a waste of fabric, and overall useless.

The Starling suit was primarily black, with a dark emerald mask covering the lower half of her face (because why carry a gas mask and rebreather when it can be built in?) with gloves and boots in the same color. A single silver star with curved sides was splayed on her chest, and a dark green utility belt rested on her waist. Her steel war fans had holsters strapped to her thighs.

All in all, the suit was built for the shadows. Marinette had learned to master slipping through the dark, unseen, and Gotham was the perfect place to utilize that. Starling would be nothing more than a ghost, a legend, if she had her way. After all, the less citizens knew, the less likely the information would hit the underworld, and that way, the vigilantes wouldn’t have all their cards out in the open.

Damian looks much better in his new suit as well, and Timothy is also grinning when he steps out of the male’s changing room. (A/N: the new 52 suit. I’m not letting him out of the Cave with that ugly cowl, or the traffic light costume with an extra R. Don’t even get me started on the Drake one.)

Richard, cowl still down, smiles as bright as the sun itself. “Good to see you, Robin. Tim, Marinette, can I ask your names?”

Timothy fastens his domino. “Red Robin.”

Marinette pulls her face mask up and curtsies with perfect posture. “Starling. I wish to work in the shadows, if that is alright.”

Richard puts on the cowl and becomes Batman. “You guys all look amazing.” He grins, and it is unsettling to see Batman smile. Oracle logs into the comms from the Clocktower.

“You all ready?”

They split the city in half. Red Robin and Starling take the North while Batman & Robin will cover the South. 

Starling trails Red Robin from afar, leaping from building to building and only using her grappling hook when the distance is too great to close by foot. They stop four muggings and two attempted assaults, all without Starling being spotted. The criminals think they hit their head on the alley walls or each other instead of her fist from behind.

It’s almost three in the morning when Batman calls it quits and they return to the Cave, changing out of their suits and showering. They are somehow all unharmed, so Alfred sends them up to bed.

Damian and Marinette brush their teeth before climbing into bed and flipping off the lights.

“Tonight was actually quite enjoyable.” Marinette remarks. “It is a nice feeling, to know that you are helping people.”

Damian hums sleepily. “It is good to know that we are continuing Father’s legacy.”

Marinette smiles. “Yes, I suppose so.” She burrows deeper into her blankets. “Sleep well, akhi.”

“The same goes for you, ukhti.”

For once, Marinette doesn’t have a nightmare.

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[calpops]

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

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

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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