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calpops · 4 years

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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

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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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hlizr50 · 3 years

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Revelations

Chapter 1: This is Wrong

Hawke eavesdrops on the Duke's lessons with Poppy and realizes what is happening within the walls of castle Teerman

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Casteel… Hawke… stared at the door as it clicked closed, the Maiden having entered the Duke’s office.

“Penellaphe, I am so incredibly disappointed in you.” Duke Teerman always sounded so haughty and condescending.

Something didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you. I –“

The Duke cut her off, “Do you even know what you have done that has disappointed me?”

Was this why she and Tawny had been so apprehensive of the Duke’s summons? A scolding? A dressing down? It couldn’t have been just that, considering how Penellaphe had frozen before the door.

He took up a position not too close to seem suspicious to the two men standing guard. No matter. He was Atlantian, and even though he leaned against the wall a few feet from the door he could hear every word spoken in that office. He didn’t know what he should expect.

“I don’t. But I’m sure whatever it is, I’m at fault. You are never disappointed in me without cause.” Her words were measured. Careful. And careful wasn’t really her style.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t be disappointed for no reason at all. But this time I find myself blindsided by what I have been told.”

Hawke had been her guard for barely a day, but he found it hard to believe that Penellaphe would have committed a crime so egregious to blindside the Duke. Although, if her escapade to the Red Pearl was any indication maybe she had.

“Remove your veil, Penellaphe. You do not want to test my patience.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that we… we are not alone, and the Gods forbad me from showing my face.”

“The Gods will not find fault in today’s proceedings.”

They were not alone? His amber eyes narrowed slightly. Who else was there? Had he not experienced the meeting yesterday he would have also wondered why she was apparently hesitant to remove the veil. But he knew the Duke likely wanted to take the opportunity to comment on her scars.

“Lift your eyes.”

A pause.

“You grow more beautiful each time I see you.” Hawke grimaced. His insides roiled at the thought of the Duke looking at her with those deep, empty eyes.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

The Duke made a cluck with his tongue. “Such a shame. What do you think Bran?”

It was Lord Brandole Mazeen, then. Gods above, what was he doing in there? His lust and depravity were well-known throughout Castle Teerman. The maids were often warned not to earn his attention, good or bad.

“As you said, such a shame.” The Lord answered.

“The other scars are easy to hide, but this? There will come a time where there will be no veil to hide this unfortunate flaw.”

How many years had Penellaphe been here? How many times had the Teermans and their lackeys taken an opportunity to cut her with those words?

“Do you know what that new guard of hers said? He said she was beautiful. Half of her is truly stunning... You look so much like your mother.”

Hawke had said that. He meant it.

“You knew her?” Penellaphe gasped.

“I did. She was… special. You do realize that the guard wouldn’t have said otherwise. Wouldn’t have spoken the truth. I suppose it’s some small blessing. The damage to your face could have been far worse.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed. It was difficult to for him to keep his expression neutral as the Duke continued to berate her. So he kept his eyes down, studying the stone floor of the hallway. It had likely once been rough and uneven, but the years of scuffing boots had smoothed the cobbles to satin.

“You do have such pretty eyes… And a well-formed mouth. Most will find your body pleasing… For some men, those things will be enough.”

He didn’t like the way the Duke paused between his backhanded compliments. Was he looking at her? Touching her?

“Priestess Annalia came to see me this morning,” Duke Teerman paused, as if waiting for a response. “Do you not have anything to add?”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what Priestess Annalia would have to say. I saw her last a week ago in the second floor parlor and all seemed fine.” Penellaphe sounded confused.

“I’m sure it did, since you only spent half an hour there before leaving unexpectedly. I was advised you didn’t once pick up your embroidery set, nor did you engage in any conversation with the priestesses.”

So… this was the crime? She hadn’t completed any of her needlework? Penellaphe had sounded confused, and Hawke had to admit that he was, as well. With all honesty and due respect (which was none, if he was being honest), who the fuck cared?

“My mind was occupied with my upcoming Rite. I must have been daydreaming.”

“I’m sure you’re very excited about the Rite, and if this had been just one situation I would have easily overlooked your poor conduct. But I’ve learned that you were just in the atrium.”

“Yes, I was. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t go often, but –“ she was interrupted again.

“Spending time in the atrium is not the issue and you’re smart enough to know that. Don’t play coy with me. You were speaking with two of the ladies in wait. You know that is not allowed.”

She had barely spoken two sentences to them! Who had run so quickly to report her to the Duke for that? The ladies had been too busy trying to get Hawke’s attention. He grinned at that, recalling the spilled rhinestones and fainting young women. But Penellaphe, who was not to have any interaction with, well, anyone… she had been in the atrium before anyone was there. The ladies had chosen to sit at the same table. Was she just supposed to just stand up and leave?

“Do you have nothing to say?”

“Such a demure Maiden.” Lord Mazeen’s words dripped like acid against Hawke’s skin. He did not have to know the Lord well to know that he would get an inordinate amount of pleasure in killing him. He felt ill knowing that Penellaphe was alone in that room, with those two beasts.

“I’m sorry. I should have left when they entered, but I didn’t.” He didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone apologize so much in his life. What had happened to the woman from the Red Pearl? That Penellaphe was so full of heart and fire. The girl on the other side of that door was…

Defeated.

“And why not?” The Duke prodded.

“I was… curious. They were talking about the upcoming Rite.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that. You were always an active child with a curious mind that flicked from one thing to the next: something I’ve warned the Duchess you wouldn’t grow out of easily. Priestess Annalia has also informed me that she fears your relationship with your lady’s maid has become far too familiar.”

Good Gods, how many imaginary transgressions could there be? How was she not supposed to be familiar with someone who had literally been tasked to be at her side at all times?

“Tawny has been a wonderful lady’s maid, and if my kindness and gratefulness has been mistaken for anything else then I apologize.”

Hawke knew that had struck a nerve. Penellaphe and Tawny were close, and the Maiden was allowed so little in the way of… of anything that made life bearable.

“I know it may be hard to keep boundaries with someone you spend so much time with, but a Maiden does not seek intimacies of the heart or the mind with those who serve them. Not even those who are to become members of the court. You must never forget that you are not like them. You were chosen by the Gods at birth, and they are chosen at their Rite. You will never be equals. You will never be friends.”

He inwardly scoffed.

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. You were chosen at birth, Penellaphe. Only one other has ever been chosen by the Gods. It was why the Dark One sent the Craven after your family. It was why your parents were slaughtered. That hurts, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth. That should have been the only lesson you ever needed,” Duke Teerman had a talent for cutting words, Hawke noted. “But between your lack of awareness regarding overstepping boundaries, your lack of attention with Priestess Annalia, your blatant disregard today for what is expected of you, aaaaand the attitude you displayed yesterday toward me. What? You thought I wouldn’t address your behavior while we discussed Ryan’s replacement? You stared back at me as if you wished to do me physical harm.”

The Duke chuckled then. “The meeting would have ended vastly different if others had not been present, and we weren’t there to discuss Hawke replacing Ryan-“

“Rylan! His name is Rylan, not Ryan!”

There she was, that spirited woman that had so intrigued him.

“THERE it is! Not so demure now!” Lord Mazeen sounded… almost gleeful.

“You mean, his name was Rylan. And does it really matter? He was just a royal guard. He would have been honored that I even thought of him. Either way, you just proved that I must double my attempts to strengthen my commitment to make you more than ready for your Ascension. Apparently I’ve been too easy on you. Unfortunately, that means you require another lesson. Hopefully it will be your last, but somehow I doubt it.”

“Yes. Hopefully.”

Hawke sighed inwardly in relief. How long had been here listening to the Duke ramble on about imaginary transgressions and basic human interactions painted as crimes. They should be finished soon.

“I believe four lashes should suffice.”

He froze.

Lashes.

Hawke could barely breathe. This was no mere dressing down, no raised-voice scolding with some hurtful words.

“Are you sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you haven’t done enough.” Gods, Penellaphe’s fire roared to life at the worst possible moment.

“How does seven sound? I see that number agrees with you. What do you think, Bran?”

“I think that is sufficient.”

This was no “lesson”.

“You know where to go,” the Duke directed.

This was abuse.

“You’re not ready, Penellaphe. You should know better by this point.”

Hawke strained to hear. It was far too quiet. The Duke was waiting for something. Could he hear the soft rustle of fabric? His restraint was thinning by the second.

This was torture.

“This is for your own good. This is a necessary lesson, Penellaphe, to ensure that you take your preparations seriously and are committed to them, so you do not dishonor the Gods.”

This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Brace yourself, Penellaphe.”

He heard the faint whistle… then a crack… it had to be a cane that the Duke was using on her.

A cane. Sweet merciless, sleeping Gods.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Two. Was this the fitting punishment for not touching her embroidery set? For speaking a word to a lady in wait who needed to be put in her place?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Three. Was this the fitting punishment for daring to have a friend? For not cowering when the Duke had hoped to humiliate her the day before?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Four. His eyes were wide, but when he looked to the guards at the door they avoided his questioning glare, acting blissfully unaware.

This… this travesty…

It was as if…

As if this happened all the time.

Swoosh. CRACK

Five. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He was back there… in Carsadonia. In his cage. Made to bleed. Made to feed. Forced to take and be taken.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Six. The Blood Queen took pleasure from his pain. For decades. He couldn’t understand how any living being could be so monstrous.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Seven.

He let out an unsteady breath. It was over.

Penellaphe hadn’t made a sound.

How?

“I truly hope, Penellaphe, that this lesson… sinks in.”

His rage was white hot behind his eyes. He had to keep them closed. The guards would have been… disturbed… if they saw how they glowed with his ire.

Duke Teerman had signed his death warrant. And it was not going to be quick and painless.

Breathe. You have to breathe. You have to get ahold of yourself. This is not the time and place.

Hawke took a few measured breaths, and his heart began to slow. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what he’d just witnessed.

The door clicked and his head whipped up, amber gaze falling on the veiled woman who gingerly pulled the door closed behind her. She looked up and saw him, and Hawke could see her entire body tense. He just stared at her, willing her to meet his gaze behind the veil. He could tell that she avoided it. Penellaphe then straightened slowly and did her best to walk toward him, past him, as if nothing had happened.

But it had.

Her breathing was labored and he could tell that every step she took caused her pain. He followed her down the hall, cursing to himself when the effort became too much for her and she started whimpering softly with each pace. They made it to the narrow spiral staircase that would lead them down to the main floor. He opened the door for her to enter, and she dared not look at him as she passed.

She was already attempting the first step, grunting with effort to lower her body down through clenched teeth, when he closed the door behind him.

“Penellaphe,” his voice was low. Cold. Raw.

She continued to work on the next step, acting oblivious to his call.

“Penellaphe.”

She stopped.

“How long?”

“What?” she tried to sound surprised, but he could only hear the pain lacing the word.

“How long. How long has the Duke been doing this to you?”

Silence. It hung heavy over him. He felt like he was being smothered, waiting for an answer that he knew would likely ruin him. He could hear her pain-laden breaths sawing in and out. It had taken such effort for her to go down two steps. He watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep, calming breath.

“Since Ian returned to the Capitol.”

Gods, why weren’t they somewhere with something he could break? Blood red rage roared in his blood. Hawke could feel himself trembling.

“That’s… that’s been years,” he whispered.

“It has.”

And then she began struggling down the steps again. As if that were the end of the conversation.

It wasn’t. Not even fucking close.

He practically leapt the three steps down to stand in front of her. “Is that all you have to say? Poppy this is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t call me that. Only my friends call me that.”

“Am I not? Do your friends know about this? How have your friends helped you?” Hawke spat, clenching his quaking fists at his side. “From what I can tell, I’m the only person who seems to give a flying fuck about what just happened. Tell me how that doesn’t qualify me as your friend.”

“There’s nothing that can be done to help,” she whispered and turned her head to the side, suddenly finding the stone wall quite interesting. He uttered a curse and reached for the chains that held the veil on top of her head.

“Take this Gods-damned thing off,” he growled as he pulled it away. He couldn’t stand trying to speak with her without seeing into her eyes, seeing her face. She was a person. Her emotions and expressions mattered. But she barely even flinched, keeping her gaze fixed somewhere near his boots. Her face was flushed and her eyes lined silver.

“Look at me.” When she made no move he reached her hand to her. He lightly traced his fingers over her left cheek down to her jaw, pulling gently so her face was lifted to him. “Please, Penellaphe. Look at me.” Her emerald gaze met his, shining with pain and sorrow and shame.

“I… I used to try. I used to do everything I thought I could to fix whatever it is that I’d done that had disappointed him,” she blinked, allowing a couple stray tears fall. “But it was never enough. No matter what I did, no matter how demure I was, no matter the eggshells I walked on and the dedication I tried to show… I realized eventually that my dedication was never the point. It was never about what I did or didn’t do. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. He would find anything-“

“Like not doing your fucking cross-stitch?”

She sucked in a breath and pulled away from his fingers. “How much did you hear?” the fire-haired beauty clasped her hands in front of her heart. He held onto her gaze and her eyes roared at him with hurt.

“Everything.”

She shuddered and bowed her head. Her hands trembled as she brought them up to cover her face. Hawke could feel humiliation rolling from her in waves and saw the tension in her shoulders. She was weeping before him.

“He will find anything that could possibly be an offense. He’s punished me for walking too quickly and breathing too loudly. And I have come to realize that… he only does it because he wants to hurt and humiliate me. He knows that his words make me flinch and his touch make me want to peel the skin from my body. And he relishes that. And I hate that he has that kind of power over me.”

Hawke’s ire sharpened into something cooler, more calculating and thoughtful. He had come to Masadonia to kidnap and ransom the Maiden, a symbol to all of Solis. He’d come to send a message using their precious prize, a privileged brat that was no better than those soulless creatures who had raised her.

He took a measured breath and ran a hand over his face in realization.

She was... innocent. She was a pawn, a possession. She was a victim, kept in a cage just as he had been, albeit far more gilded. And even though there was an illusion of life and choice, she was guilted, berated, and beaten into submission.

And Gods, she was still brave and vivacious enough to risk the Duke’s ire. Reckless enough to step into a brothel and send all of Hawke’s expectations straight to hell.

There is nothing that can be done to help.

There was. He could take her away from this. He had planned to do that, in a way, but now? How could he deliver her back to the Ascended knowing that this is what her life would be? And how could he convince her of the truth? She was smart, and Hawke knew that she didn’t agree with everything the Ascended ordained. Her reactions at the council meeting had been proof of that.

He reached out to her again, taking her hands in his and pulling them away from her tear-streaked cheeks. He stroked his thumbs over her knuckles and spoke her name to draw her gaze.

“This is wrong. You hold no shame in this. He has done this to you, and that is evil and terrible and monstrous. Tell me you realize that, Penellaphe,” he urged. She nodded softly. He gave an encouraging quirk of his lips and continued. “He does these things to make you feel weak and powerless, and you are neither of those things. He knows that you are curious and full of life, and he is afraid that you will be able to see past his façade and into his own weakness if he cannot keep you squashed under his heel.”

Hawke let go of her hands and gingerly held her face between them, using his thumbs to wipe away any remaining dampness that fell there. He looked down for a moment, and then brought his eyes back up, a burning golden stare.

“I need you to make me a promise, Penellaphe. Can you do that?”

“A promise?” she whispered.

“Promise me. Promise me that you’ll trust your instincts. Question everything. You are fierce and intelligent, so think about what they do and what they say. Think about it… you are the most important person in the entire kingdom. They should be worshipping at your feet, not taking a cane to your back,” he was afraid he’d said too much; pushed too hard. Would she be suspicious? Would she balk at his request? Her gaze was green as springtime, and her eyes stared into his, trying to process what he was saying.

“Can you promise me that?”

The knight endured her gaze for a few tense moments, her face still in his palms. She closed her eyes after a sigh and placed her hands over his, dipping her chin.

“I promise, Hawke.”

Thank the Gods.

He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and the Maiden inhaled sharply. Chuckling, he let her go and reached down to the discarded veil.

“I will make you a promise, as well,” he extended his hand with the soft fabric. She moved to grab it and he clenched her hand with both of his. Startled, she looked to him again.

“He will never hurt you again.”

She smiled wistfully then, and he could read in her expression that, as much as she wanted that to be true, she didn’t believe that anyone had that power. Then she pulled the veil from his hand and attempted the next step in front of her.

It would take forever to make it down the stairs.

“I have an idea,” Hawke smirked. “I think it will help. But you have to trust me.”

“I… I don’t trust you. Not when you have that look in your eye,” she laughed lightly.

“Here, if I squat down can you climb on my back?” he turned around on the step in front of her. He knew he was still much taller than she was, even on a step below. “It may be painful to get there, but if you can wrap your arms around my shoulders and your legs around my waist we could make it down much more quickly. And hopefully without too much strain on your back.”

Hawke felt a hand on her shoulder, but she hesitated. “That would be… incredibly inappropriate. What if someone sees?”

“You’re hurt. If someone opens one of the doors we’ll hear it and have enough time for me to set you down and throw that Gods-forsaken sheet over your head,” he scoffed over her shoulder. “Now wrap your arms around my neck, and I’ll grab your legs when I stand up.”

He was surprised when she didn’t argue and her forearms crossed in front of him.

“Ready?” He asked, knowing the first time he lifted her up would probably cause her some pain.

“Yes.” Her grip tightened around him. She gasped into his shoulder as he stood straight, putting his hands under her thighs. He waited a moment, listening for her breath to even out as she adjusted to the soreness.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” Hawke gave her legs a light squeeze. She nodded against his shoulder, and he started gingerly making his way down the stairs. He thanked the Gods that he was Atlantian, strong and light on his feet. He knew he could practically glide down without causing her any additional discomfort.

They reached the bottom landing and he gently set her down, heart constricting when he saw her wince as she slowly lowered her arms to her sides.

“Here,” he grabbed the veil from her hand and placed it over her head. He studied the tiny chains that were supposed to hold it in place, and he had to admit that he wasn’t sure what to do with those. A giggle escaped from behind the veil.

“Give me that,” she grabbed the chains. “It’s not far to my room. We should be able to make it there without it falling off.”

Hawke grinned and pulled open the door. “After you, Milady.”

They walked down the corridor slowly and silently. He would look down at her from time to time, wondering how she could possibly have the strength to be so spirited and brave knowing the consequences that could await her. What would the Duke do if he’d known about her little trip to the Red Pearl? He frowned to himself and looked forward. That had been reckless, but he understood her need for life. For freedom. She had wanted to experience things that everyone else in the world took for granted. They said she was Chosen, privileged. But she was also alone.

Well, no she wasn’t. Not anymore.

As they stopped in front of her door he turned to her. “Are you alright? Is there anything you need?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Tawny gets an ointment from the healer. It will help, but I may not be… I may stay in my room for a while. But I heal pretty quickly, and this isn’t the worst I’ve had…”

The anger roiled through him as she trailed off. Of course it wasn’t. Of course seven lashes for not touching her embroidery set and her attitude hadn’t been the worst that he’d done to her.

“I… he…” he swallowed and took two deep breaths. “I’m going to calm myself so I don’t do anything reckless about what you just said.”

“I’m sorry,” she answered quietly.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Penellaphe. None of this is your fault. I am simply… staggered by his cruelty,” he managed a soft smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “Get some rest.” Hawke reached down and squeezed her hand before he opened the door and motioned for her to go in. He began to close the door behind her when she stopped.

“Hawke?”

“Yes?” he answered, looking for her eyes behind the veil.

“You can… please, call me Poppy,” she gave a shy grin and shuffled into the room. He pushed the door closed behind her and leaned his forehead against the wood.

He was shaking.

Breathe, Hawke. Breathe.

His ragged breaths seethed out from between his teeth. In for four counts, out for four. In… out… in… out...

After what seemed like ages of breathing exercises he pushed away from the door and stalked down the hall.

He needed to think. And talk to Kieran. He would be none-too-thrilled at the change of plans.

But plans would change.

Duke Teerman would die.

They would have to find another way to get his brother back.

Because nobody was going to hurt Poppy again.

#FBAA #fbaa fanfic #poppycas #ao3 #fanfiction #poppy x casteel #poppy balfour #what if

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yixxes · 4 years

Text

Anger Management | p.p.

Warnings: Cursing, altercation w a stranger, y/n has a bit of an attitude/anger problem

Word count: 1722

A/N: The reader is Bucky’s younger sister which is like not possible but it’s fine. Enjoy (:

“Oh, go fucking fuck yourself!”

“Hey!” Bucky gave you the look he always gave you when you stepped out of line and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t in the mood to be scolded but your brother obviously didn’t care. “Watch your mouth! The hell’s wrong with you?”

You spared him a two second scowl when he approached the couch, his curious frown trading in for realization and then quickly switching to disappointment. “Seriously? This is your problem?”

Your brows furrowed and your lips jutted out in an annoyed grimace. “This game is stupid, he’s been cheating for the past eight rounds!”

Sam raised his hands with an amused smile on his face that you found beyond annoying. “Hey, I didn’t do anything, but look, I’ll apologize: I’m sorry you picked up the controller before you knew you couldn’t play.”

“Here,” your brother shoved you over and sat in your place before you could enlighten Sam with your colorful vocab and snatched up the controller from your hands. “let me kick his ass for you.”

Sam cackled at Bucky’s confidence and readied up another round. “Yeah, let’s see how far you get with that one.”

“I was playing with that.” You grumbled.

“You’ll live.”

You watched how your brother tapped different buttons and chose certain patterns and inwardly noted how it contrasted to your inarticulate button mashing. It always worked when you played with Steve, why would it not work with...

Crap.

Of course Steve let you win! “That bastard!”

“Y/n,” Bucky warned you firmly and you hated how he kept the button pattern going even when he took his eyes off the screen to stare you down. “seriously, watch your mouth. Who are you even talking about?”

“Come on, kid, I’ll apologize for real if that’s what you want.”

“Not you,” you muttered to Sam. “Steve, he lets me win at this stupid game.” You turned to look at Steve who was on the other side of the couch, smiling guiltily at you.

“You’ll live.” Your brother said again, distracted. “Why don’t you go to the store, we need snacks.”

“Then go get them.”

Bucky paused the game with a sigh and turned to you after setting the controller down on the table. He fished his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out a few bills that he extended to you before nodding towards the hall that led to the door. Buck wasn’t asking and you weren’t trying him any further.

“Ugh.” You snatched the money and got up from the couch, but you weren’t clear to go yet.

“Stay away from people and don’t go fighting with strangers again.”

What a gross assumption. “That was literally only two ti-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go with her.” Peter came up and threw an arm around you. Your sisterly attitude towards your brother melted into a smile and butterflies.

“Good, hey, make sure she doesn’t speed.”

“Got it!” He called over his shoulder, already making his way to the door with your hand in his.

“I don’t get it.”

Peter frowned and got to explaining the joke to you. “Because the ham sandwich is ordering the beer, but the bartender says-”

You pushed a loaf of bread off of the shelf and let it fall into the basket. “Why would a ham sandwich be ordering anything, it’s a ham sandwich-”

“It’s a joke,” he said pointedly. His attitude at the fact that you didn’t laugh at his joke was funnier than the joke itself. “Why are you laughing? Do you get it now?”

“Yup. ‘s really funny, baby, will you grab the coffee grounds, I’m gonna go get a bag of chips,”

“Okay, wait for me by the chips, I’ll meet you there.”

You nodded and leaned up and forward to kiss his puckered lips and then went off towards the chip aisle with the cart. As much as you were opposed to this shopping trip at first, you really enjoyed doing stuff like this with Peter. Anywhere else, there were eyes on you at all times. With the two of you being the babies of the group and Bucky picking up the overprotective trait that older brothers usually had, your privacy and alone time with Peter typically ranged from scarce to nonexistent. Going on little snack runs with him where you could hold hands and kiss without scrutiny was nice. It even made you think about how maybe sometime down the line you and Peter would have a shared place of your own and trips like these would occur much more frequently and that definitely made you smile.

Your smile was short lived, though, when some man stopped his cart right in the way of yours and decided that right then and there was a perfect opportunity to take a look at his phone.

Breathe in through your nose, Bucky always instructed, and out through your mouth. It could’ve been an honest mistake. Maybe he didn’t see you there, you thought to yourself. So, with a polite but rigid smile, you spoke out to him. “’Scuse me, sir, I’m trying to get through.”

He turned to you with an annoyed expression, phone still in hand. He didn’t even look sorry. “And I’m trying to send a text. Some of you damn teenagers were never taught manners a day in your life.”

Manners!? You went over your words in your head and came up with zero reason why some middle aged prick was choosing to yank your chain like this. Your anger was already begging to be let out but you were trying hard to remember how condescending everybody had been back at the tower. They didn’t think you could make it back without blowing up on someone and you planned on proving them wrong.

“Your cart is in my way.” You returned firmly.

“And your patience is just that thin, isn’t it?”

You stared at that man for a few painful seconds. Was he trying to fuck with you? For all of the time that he wasted being a dick without cause, he could’ve moved his cart and been done with you. Paranoia struck and you took a glance around the immediate area. Maybe the guys were here, lurking around to see how long you could hold out, but after a look around you realized how ridiculous that thought was. The guys weren’t here and this wasn’t a test. This guy was a douche and you were letting it slide but you weren’t sure you should’ve been.

“Can you just move your freakin’ cart?” The ‘before I move it for you’ was as silent as the g in lasagna. What was he? 6′1, 6′2? You’d debunked and corrected taller, this would be a breeze.

You quickly shook that thought from your head. You weren’t fighting this grown man.

“Just go around!” He practically shouted.

“Go around where!? You’re blocking the-”

He yanked the front of you cart forward, pulled his back and pushed it into a display of croissants. “You’re welcome.” He said smugly. “Now will you please leave me alone?”

You blinked at the gaping empty space where your cart used to be and then looked up at him. To absolute hell with proving the guys wrong.

“Hey! I got the coffee grounds, did you grab the-”

“Screw you!” You screamed, reaching in his basket and grabbing the first thing that you laid your hand on and throwing it as far as you could.

“What the hell!?”

Peter swooped in after you had already thrown a second thing out of the stranger’s cart and started pulling you away from the scene.

“You need to learn a thing or two about respect, little girl!” The guy was yelling after you, red in the face, stupid phone still in his stupid hand and the other in a fist on his hip.

“Fuck off!” You screamed back, swiping a bag of cotton candy from an end stand, ready to chuck it at that man.

“Hey, hey,” Peter smacked a bag of cotton candy from your hand and continued lugging you away. “take a breath, take a breath. Let me handle this-”

“What’s going on here?” Naturally, the security guard stepped in at the perfect time. You looked like the crazy one, but in fact, it was the douchey middle aged man that started it and you were more than happy to explain that to security.

"Can I have a retake?”

So you had to get your pictures taken by security. You single-handedly landed yourself and Peter on this ridiculous list of people that couldn’t return to the store without adult supervision which was absolutely ridiculous. Even more ridiculous, the man told you that you couldn’t retake your picture.

“Fine.” You didn’t plan on coming back to this hot mess of a store anyways.

Starting the car, you were more than happy to be in the safety of your vehicle, but you remembered that the two of you came out for a reason... and you left without a single one of those reasons.

You ended up driving to another store that was just up the street and got back to the tower about an hour and a half after you left it.

“Where’d you go for the snacks, Australia?”

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s sarcastic comment and set the one bag that Peter let you carry down on the table. While Peter set the rest down, you walked passed Tony (whose smile was far too big for your liking) and sat down on the couch.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

Peter lied like a rug. “Good. We got a bargain on the coffee grounds, two for-”

“I got us banned from the store unless we have adult supervision.” You were dejected. This never would’ve happened had you just let that man be stupid by himself.

Bucky hit pause on the game and looked over at you like he was beyond ready to scold you. “You what?”

“Ten.” Peter finished like he hadn’t even stopped. “There was a coupon that we actually found on the floor, luckily it wasn’t expired-”

“Kid, will you be quiet!?” Bucky’s mean mug could scare almost anybody into silence. You watched your boyfriend shrink into himself before your brother turned back to you. “This explanation better be good.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #mcu imagine #mcu #avengers #avengers imagine

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trufflerabbit13 · 4 years

Text

A Dove’s Ripped Wings: Chapter 4 | The King and The Dove

Chapter 4:

prologue / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 /

Word count: 5.5 K

🏐 🏐 THIRD PERSON P.O.V.🏐 🏐

A finger presses into the doorbell of the house, the sound echoing through the building. The person who pressed the doorbell, Sugawara, had a closed-eyed smile on his face, humming to himself as he stood in front of the door. Behind him, Daichi stood in his black jersey, a look of unease on his face, refusing to come closer to the door.

The captain of the boys' Karasuno volleyball club nearly flinched as the door slowly opened. However, his shoulder relaxed as a silver-haired female opened it.

However, the smile dropped off Sugawara's face as he and Daichi both winced as they took a look at the female who stared at them coolly. Usually, Chiaki had a soft smile on her face, having the look of gentleness coating around her. But today, her usually placid personality seemed to be replaced with a mild hostility as she glared at the two males in front of her house.

"You two actually came," Chiaki icily comments as she fully opened the door, placing her hand on her hip, her chin slightly lifted as if she was looking down at them.

Both Sugawara and Daichi gulped, suddenly feeling a bead of sweat go down their back, although the morning breeze was reasonably cool.

"G-Good morning, Aki-chan," Sugawara greeted, his face twitching a bit as he forced himself to smile.

Chiaki doesn't respond, just staring at them, a silence falling over them. At every second that passes, the boys become even more uncomfortable, stifling the urge to run away at the dark aura that leaks out of the female in front of them.

Eventually, a sigh leaves Chiaki's lips, her shoulders slumping, and the displeasure that hovered over her seemed to disperse. The silver-haired female grabs the purse behind her and closes the door.

At that moment, Daichi realizes that the female was wearing outdoor clothes that consists of simple jeans and a white cropped shirt instead of her pajamas. Even her hair is styled to her usual braid, although it was seven in the morning. Sugawara also notices this as well, both males suddenly feeling touched as they realized that their female friend had actually gotten ready to meet up with them although she didn't want to.

A smile spreads across both males' faces, which Chiaki decides to ignore as she sees them looking at her. Refusing to make eye contact, she follows after them, although she was inwardly upset. Sugawara and Daichi share eye contact, it takes everything in their power to hold in an amused snicker when they feel a tug at the back of their jacket. Chiaki pouts but holds onto the end of their coat as she realizes they walked a bit too fast.

"Chiaki-san, are you mad at us?" Sugawara stretched out her full name, even using the honorifics as he teasingly asked. He moved his head to peek behind in, but before he could, Chiaki let go of his jackets and forced him to look forward.

"Shut up, don't look back, Suga-senpai. I'm angry," Chiaki grumbles. However, little did she know that she barely sounded angry, which made Daichi snort a laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his hand to mask it.

It seemed like Chiaki's mood seemed to get better as they arrived on campus, the silver-haired female still having a tight grip on her older friends' jackets, forcing them to walk in front of her without looking back.

Going to the gym, a small crowd was already formed outside, waiting for Daichi to open the door. However, a palpable tension could be felt between the first years, Kageyama and Hinata glaring at a tall glassed male.

"Captain good morning!" Hinata was the first to notice the presence of his senpais, beaming brightly as he waved his arm over his head in greeting.

"Ōu, good morning. Wait, a second, let me open the gym for us," Daichi greeted, going through his bag looking for the gym key. As he does this, Chiaki gets revealed standing behind Sugawara and Daichi, all of their eyes zoning on her.

Tanaka seemed to freeze, his cheeks flushing. "A-Aki-san!"

Chiaki smiles lightly, making the male with shaved hair release a choke like sound, his face melting into a blessed look getting acknowledged. Chiaki quickly moves away from the two third-years she was behind, trotting her way to Kageyama.

"Ōus," the dark-haired male greets her. Next to him, the orange-haired boy seemed to grow flustered, not knowing how to react as the female approached them. S-She's so pretty! And s-shes coming our way...!

"Mm, morning Tobi-kun," Chiaki nearly coos as she dived headfirst into his chest, hugging the younger boy while the mouth of the others fell open, a silent scream leaving their lips. Everyone seemed to fall into more chaos as the boy casually hugged her back, not looking too taken aback as she squeezed him.

Hinata openly pointed his index finger at the taller boy accusingly, "y-you! I lost all respect for you, Kageyama! Who cares if you're an awesome setter! Let the pretty senpai go, you indecent, shameless guy!" The boy with bright hair stuttered, jumping up and down.

Beside him, Tanaka bit into a handkerchief as he cried, "h-how dare he casually hugs Aki-senpai, our years' goddess! Kageyama.... Kageyama, I will not forgive you!"

At the commotion, Chiaki pulls away from the younger boy she hugged. She eyed Hinata for a moment, making the said boy quickly shut up and flinch away, his cheeks flushing a bright pink under her attention. "I-I..."

"I saw you last year playing Tobi-kun. What's your name?" Chiaki questioned, letting go of Kageyama as she looked at the shorter boy with a kind smile. The female ignores the heated look given to her by the boy beside her, already being able to tell Kageyama wanted to question the statement she just made. It seemed like she forgot to mention that she had seen his game last year against Yukigaoka.

Hinata straightened his back and saluted, "H-Hinata Shōyō, year one, class one, ma'am!"

Chiaki hummed, immediately taking a liking to the boy's bright but genuine smile, "Hinata-kun, ne? I was very impressed by your spirit and jumping ability last year. If you polish your skills, I have a feeling you can get far," Hinata didn't notice the gleam that entered the silver-haired female's eyes, already distracted, feeling touched at what she said.

On the other hand, Kageyama seemed shocked by her words, his eyes widening a fraction before narrowing on the shorter boy who was bouncing on the heel of his feet in excitement.

"I'm Ibato Chiaki, a second-year student in class five. It's nice to meet you, Hinata-kun," Chiaki smiled and couldn't help but reach forward, her hand sinking on top of Hinata's head and patting him. Oh, it's surprisingly soft. She thinks as she touches the messy locks, not seeing how the boy seemed to blow a fuse, going scarlet.

Sugawara sweatdropped as a shaky laugh left his mouth, witnessing the destruction capability Chiaki had with a simple touch. Silently, he thought about how fearful she was without even trying.

By this time, Daichi had opened the gym, the boys preparing the match as they set up the net. Others began to warm up, making sure their muscles were loose enough for the game. Silently, Chiaki watched. However, at one point, she noticed the blond-haired boy who was taller than all of them eyeing her from across the gym. He seemed to realize she had seen him as well. She didn't expect him to flash a condescending smile that immediately rubbed her in the wrong way.

She kept her face neutrally friendly as he slowly approached her with his hands in his black shorts. "Heh, I never would have thought the Dove would be at a school like ours that's not really well known. Nee, what are you doing here? The media were looking for you, Ibato-san. Or would you rather me call you by your court name?"

Chiaki isn't going to lie. She never would have imagined the boy in front of her to pick a fight straight off the bat. He didn't even bother hiding his intentions, staring down at her with his amber eyes. At the same time, she could pick up the similar scent of mischief and manipulativeness her older brother Taiga carried on this boy. Wicked and scheming. And a bit like her too.

"Hm, really? One of my brothers is an alumnus from Karasuno, so I knew it was a fairly good school for someone like me. What is your name, are you a first-year?" The silver-haired female questioned, smiling and not looking a bit bothered by the taunt the taller boy had sent her.

This seemed to be not the response the blond was hoping for, his mouth tilting down, his eyes flashing with disappointment Chiaki didn't miss.

"Tsukishima Kei, first year," Tsukishima mumbled, looking away from her. Hearing the name, a familiar face popped up in her mind, recalling an individual's name from her memories.

She hummed, her lips twitching into a smile as she let out a thoughtful sound, "Tsukishima? I knew a Tsukishima who went to Karasuno. He was part of the volleyball club when my brother was the assistant coach for a couple of years. Tsukishima Akiteru-san if I remember correctly. He wasn't playing in official matches but practiced a lot," Chiaki comments, watching the male stiffen in front of her. Ah, hit a sensitive topic. Bingo, I guess.

Chiaki wasn't lying. When Minato went to Karasuno, nearly every day, she'd run over from her own VBC practice to come to watch her brother practice as she sat on the coach's lap. Everyone on the volleyball club knew her as Minato's baby sister, who loves volleyball, and in return, she knew all of their names. Even when Minato graduated high school, she visited when she had time seeing as he became the coach assistant.

Minato had returned to Karasuno a year after graduating at the request of Coach Ukai, helping him until year 2010 when he moved to Tokyo because of a new job offer. And with her keen memory, she can distinctly remember Tsukishima Akiteru, a boy who wasn't part of the starters or bench but a player who practiced very hard although he couldn't stand on the courts.

Tsukishima felt a shiver run down his back as he saw the glint in Chiaki's eyes, the female smiling at him. Which idiot started calling her the Dove? More like a snake... Tsukishima thinks, looking away from Chiaki.

Chiaki holds herself back from snickering and making her way to Sugawara and Shimizu, leaving behind the tense blond male. The silver-haired male greeted her with a beam, the boy throwing a friendly arm over her shoulder testingly. When Chiaki doesn't brush away, not even seeming to be taken aback, Sugawara mentally confirms his suspicion of Chiaki not being as aloof as he first thought. He had first had his suspicions when he started to eat lunch with her and Daichi. But when he saw the interaction she had with Kageyama, he really began to think about it. Aki-chan is a dere-dere hiding under a kuu-dere mask! The silver-haired male thinks as he grins.

Shimizu watches this with an eyebrow raised, before pinching Sugawara's hand, making the said boy flinch and look at the glassed manager in shock and hurt. The female ignores him and nods in greeting at the younger girl. Chiaki smiles too, being acquainted with the third-year beauty through Sugawara and Daichi. She met Shimizu when the VBC manager came looking for Daichi to give him some paperwork for the club when Chiaki was eating lunch with him.

"Alright!" At Daichi's loud voice, everyone's attention went to the third-year captain, "let's get started! I'll be joining Tsukishima's group so-"

The male can't finish his statement as Hinata speaks up, looking flustered, "eh?! You're playing too, captain?!"

This makes a laugh leave Daichi's lips as he waved a hand to calm down the bright-haired boy who was growing panicked. "It's fine! As far as offensive power, Tanaka's much better than me!"

This makes Chiaki curious, her eyes moving over the six people who were going to play. It also makes the silver-haired teen realize she has never seen her friends play volleyball while knowing them for over a year. But she can only blame herself, knowing she had always declined the invitation sent to her by Daichi and Sugawara.

Somebody coughs, and Chiaki and the other's eyes automatically go to the tall glassed blond. "Now, who should we crus-I mean block first? The short one or Tanaka-san?" The male makes a motion of covering his mouth with his hand, but he was nowhere close to whispering, "oh, and I really want to see the King lose."

Chiaki hums and looks at the female who stands next to her, "Shimizu-san, is Tsukishima-kun a middle blocker?"

The black-haired female seemed surprised Chiaki spoke to her but nodded, her hands holding a clipboard for note-taking during the game.

The information makes Chiaki think about her own brother, Taiga, another middle blocker. I wonder if being sardonic and taunting is part of being a middle blocker...? While Taiga was never like that to her, she had witnessed her brown-haired brother mock and rile the opponent team multiple times with a sweet smile on his face. While that personality was mainly for when he was on the courts, he could be quite manipulative outside it too.

Kouga wasn't like that. He let his twin brother handle the taunting and breaking down the mentality of the opponent. Instead, he was a powerful middle blocker that took advantage of his leg's strength, following his twin's instruction and plans.

Chiaki hums as she slowly approaches Kageyama, quietly grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He flinches, surprised at the touch, but immediately, a feel of nostalgia washes over him. It was a subtle action the older female always took when they were in middle school before a match. Kageyama wasn't the only person on the receiving end of Chiaki's magic touch. It was actually well known between Kitagawa Daiichi's volleyball team.

Before a game, the female would go around both her team and the boys, squeezing each of their hands twice, as if it was a good luck charm. And secretly, it was rumored to be exactly that. Someone even said that they once missed the opportunity, going to the restroom during Chiaki's ritual. And when the game began, they claimed they didn't feel like they were playing their best. Kageyama could remember even Oikawa not refusing Chiaki's hand squeeze, although he openly didn't get along with her.

"Good luck, Tobi-kun. I know you can do it," Chiaki calmly whispered before taking her place beside Shimizu, deciding to help with the scorekeeping.

Chiaki released a low hum that could barely be heard, her keen eyes narrowed on the court. She watches as Hinata is blocked again by Tsukishima. The way Hinata was able to jump was impressive for his height. However, Chiaki couldn't deny Tsukishima did his job as a middle blocker with his height. And from where she's at, she could see that the blond also seemed to have a talent of riling his opponent with condescending comments that irritated them.

Chiaki's eyes moved to her older friend on the court, watching as Daichi was able to receive Kageyama's spike without much trouble. She's nodding to herself, impressed at his ability. Daichi isn't bad either, and that makes her smile with pride even if it wasn't her achievement.

"C'mon, your highness! Shouldn't you start getting serious soon?" Tsukishima taunts, smiling down at the dark-haired setter who's unusually silent. This makes Hinata scowl, glaring at the taller blond.

"What the heck with you! You've been an ass like this since we met! What's with calling Kageyama the King or whatever!" Hinata snaps, stomping his way up to the net to get closer to Tsukishima.

In response, Tsukishima smirks, pointing a mocking finger at Kageyama, who watched. "Do you know the reason why this guy was called 'the King'?"

The silver-haired female's eyes shifted to Kageyama with worry. When reunited, Chiaki didn't bring up their past year. But rumors had reached Chiaki's ears as well. And a small part of her felt guilty.

Hinata has a look of confusion on his face as his eyes briefly shift to his teammate, who stays silent. "Isn't it because he's crazy good and the guys from the opponent teams are scared of him?"

This makes Tsukishima release a laugh that doesn't seem genuine. "There may be people who think that. But," the glassed male paused, his lips curving up as a dark smile takes over his expression, "rumor says, the nickname 'The King Of The Court' was given to him by his teammates. It means a selfish, egotistical king. A tyrannical dictator."

"Hey, why are you yapping instead of playing?"

Everyone was surprised by the feminine voice, their eyes turning to where the scoreboard was. Sugawara and Daichi felt their eyes widen as they took in Chiaki's expression. While she had a smile on her face, it made their soul shiver, and they, themselves didn't understand why.

Chiaki's eyes were zoned on the blond-haired male who seemed equally as taken aback that she spoke up, "all you're doing is bringing up the past. Tobi-kun has his faults too, but there's no denying it. His ability as a setter isn't questionable, he has raw talent. He's still at the learning stage where he can improve and change to help his teammates. Some people can hit his sets, and maybe his middle school teammates just weren't that."

Tsukishima snorted, seeming to recover from his shock as he sent a mocking smile to the female. "Oh, are you saying commoners like us don't have the ability to hit his sets? Perhaps, being The Dove, you're trying to stand up to your fellow genius? If that's the case, why don't you show us the quick strike? You can do it, right? Or," Tsukishima paused as his eyes moved down. His gaze shifts down, going to her knee covered by a black brace over her jeans. "The Dove can't jump anymore? Is the rumor of The Dove with ripped wings true, then?"

Chiaki stared at Tsukishima, a smile still on her face. She continued to stare, and with each passing second, the younger boy slowly became uncomfortable until he finally looked away. At this, Chiaki released a silent scoff, her expression breaking for a split second, actually showing her displeasure.

Daichi and Sugawara watched their friend in concern, being able to recognize the hurt that flashed in her eyes for a brief second. They would have missed it if they weren't looking at her.

Tsukishima seemed to gain the confidence again, seeming to know that he shouldn't keep mouthing off his senpai, turning his attention back to Kageyama, who stood with his hand clenched. "Anyhow, you can't use your quick-strike anymore because that decisive match where you were benched left you scared, right?"

It seemed Tanaka also had enough, his sharp gaze glaring at the blond, his eyebrows furrowing together in annoyance. "You've been mouthing off for a while now, you bastard. Even bad-mouthing Aki-san, you have the ner-"

"Tanaka," a single call from Daichi and a warning look from his captain made the male with shaved head shut up, his glare still sent towards Tsukishima, who smiled.

The awkward tension in the gym was stifling. However, one teen broke it.

"Yeah, that's right. Tossing the ball up only for no one to be there behind me frightens me down to my soul," Kageyama spoke. And Chiaki felt a small part of her heartbreak at the look on the younger boy's face.

"Eh? But that's the story of junior high, isn't it?"

A loud, clear voice questioned, making everyone's attention shift to a certain boy with bright orange hair. Chiaki blinked, Kageyama having a similar expression on his face as he looked at the smaller boy. "Since you toss the ball to me properly and all, that stuff doesn't really matter to me."

Chiaki felt her lips part in awe as Hinata pointed a finger at Tsukishima, not looking a bit bothered by anything he had heard in the last few minutes, "the problem is how we're gonna knock you down right now."

This makes many of them laugh or stifle a laugh. Even Kageyama seemed to be taken aback at Hinata's simplicity, the said male bounding to him energetically while pointing at the opponent blond.

"We're gonna win against Tsukishima and start club activities for real! And you'll be a setter fair and square! So then you can toss it to me! Is there anything else to it?" Hinata questioned, stepping closer to Kageyama, who staggered back and looked as if he didn't know how to respond to the ginger.

The game recommences, the ball getting tossed into the air. Chiaki's sharp eyes follow the ball as well as the players on the court, finding the areas of empty spaces, a habit she had because of her former status as a wing spiker. It must be the same for Kageyama, the male tossing the ball to his teammates who spiked. The silver-haired female doesn't show it but she's slightly surprised as Kageyama and Hinata are able to do quick sets, although they've only known each other for a few days.

"He's really amazing...." Sugawara comments as he comes next to her, standing beside her, their shoulders touching each other.

Chiaki nods in response, however as the game continues, she winces every time Hinata misses the ball, his palm hitting the air. She could barely look as Hinata and Kageyama argue with each other. However, her attention moves to the older boy beside her as he picked up the ball that rolled to his feet.

"Kageyama," at his name being called, the raven-haired boy looks at Sugawara, surprise written all over his face. "This is the same way you acted in junior high," Sugawara sighs, his lips pulling down into a frown. The teen looks like he's about to say something more, however, the silver-haired male flinches as Kageyama looks at him.

The said male doesn't seem to notice as he speaks to his senpai, a look of confusion and distraught on his face, "Hinata excels in mobility, reflexes, and speed. And in addition, he has jumping power... Doesn't that mean, if he gets used to it, he could even pull off a quick attack...?"

Chiaki crosses her arms over her chest as she cocks her head to the side while thinking. Kageyama isn't precisely wrong, but that was probably impossible to achieve in a single game.

"Hinata's weapon, that nimbleness of his... Don't you think it's being diminished by your toss?" With the third-year's words, a look of surprise appeared on Kageyama's face. The third-year continues, his eyebrows furrowing, "Hinata doesn't have any technique or experience. And your team was barely together because it was a group of talented players. But with your talent...."

Hinata, on the other hand, drops his shoulder in dejection at being called out for his lack of experience.

Sugawara looked flustered, waving his hand in front of him, seemingly trying to sort his words right. "How do I put this? More of Hinata's ability or character, or whatever we can call it. Uh-it'll be more like, erm.... It's like you'll somehow use him better? I-I'm, I'm a setter just like you, so I was amazed when I watched your match last year." Sugawara slowed down, holding the volleyball between his hands as he looked down at it, "you had sense and ball control better than anyone in the stadium. And above all, you calmly saw through the opposing blockers' movement and made decisions accordingly... Those were talents I don't have..." Sugawara sighed, the end coming out barely as a whisper.

Tanaka opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Daichi sent him a look with a shake of a head that made him quickly shut up.

"For you, who has technique, probably more than enough willingness. And above all, excellent eyes which can see everything around you, there is absolutely no way you can't see your comrades on the court with you!" Sugawara ends his words with a determined stare.

Immediately, Kageyama thinks about his senpai's words. Briefly, his eyes moved to Chiaki, and that action made him think about her words she had said to him on multiple occasions while they were still in middle school.

"Tobi-kun, you have keen eyesight like me. Take advantage of that and look at the court with a broad eye. As a setter, it's important to see which teammates you can use. Observance is a gift."

Kageyama's head snapped to the orange-haired male next to him, the said male looking absolutely lost, a look of question on his face.

"I-"

Hinata flinches, jerking away as Kageyama loomed over him, staring at him with his sharp eyes.

"Wha-?"

"I am jealous of your physical ability!"

"Hah?!" Hinata gasped, confused at the sudden compliment sent to him by the male he thought wasn't capable of doing such a thing.

Kageyama ignores Hinata's confusion as he continues, "that's why you, who have the ability but are horrible at volleyball, irritates me!" His comments anger Hinata, the smaller boy growing confused as he's complimented and dissed in the same sentence. "Since that's the case, I will pull out all of your ability. At your fastest speed, perform your highest jump, and I will get the ball to you!"

It takes only a second for Chiaki to realize what Kageyama was going to try to do. She blinks, subconsciously bringing her thumb to her mouth, nibbling on it thoughtfully. If he is able to do that.... His ability as a setter would really be mind-blowing. The silver-haired teen understood to pull off setting the ball to the spiker without any hints was only possible for someone with keen observation skills. If Kageyama was going to pull this off, he's going to have to be aware of the ball and spiker's location, along with calculating the height of where he would jump.

She can't help but lean forward in the seat she sat in, her pupils dilating as she watches everything. Chiaki sucks in a sharp breath from her mouth, the thin, nearly invisible hairs on her arms and neck standing up. The familiar sound of the volleyball smacking the palm is loud, and the ball hitting the ground was equally as deafening. The female doesn't even realize she had stood up, the foldable chair clattering back at her action. But no one is paying attention to that, staring at the ball that rolled on the floor with their mouth hanging.

"Alright!" Kageyama yells out, clenching his fist in front of him in glee.

Hinata looks shocked that he was able to hit the ball, staring at his own palm in disbelief, a broad smile on his face. "UWAAAHHHH!! I HIT IT! I HIT IT WITH THIS HAND!!!"

Losing strength in her legs, Chiaki sinks to the floor in a squat, the heel of her palm pressing into her eyes. Shimizu is immediately by her side, worried for her. But the glassed female is taken aback as she sees that although the upper part of the silver-haired girl's face wasn't visible, her lips are curled up into a wide grin. Shimizu nearly flinches when Chiaki finally pulls her hands away from her face.

Chiaki's usually soft, drooping eyes seemed to be sharper, taking a predatory gleam as she stared at the court, not being able to hide the excitement that bubbled inside of her. She was almost positive that if she had blinked, she would have missed the whole thing. And if she saw correctly, Hinata...

"O-Oi... Just now, Hinata had his eyes closed..." Daichi spoke up, his words making everyone excluding Chiaki yell out in disbelief.

"H-Hey you! Why the heck did you have your eyes closed?!" Kageyama yelled as he pointed a finger at Hinata, who flinched, getting snapped out of his excitement.

As the two argued, Chiaki slowly grabbed the chair that she had knocked over, silently sitting back on it. She doesn't notice the look of concern Sugawara and Shimizu sends her way, Chiaki staring at the court with an unreadable look on her face. Eventually, Daichi notices as well, realizing the female was staring at Hinata and Kageyama with an expression he couldn't accurately read. She barely moves from where she sits even as the game concludes with Hinata, Kageyama, and Tanaka's team coming out as victors.

"-senpai! Aki-senpai! Are you okay?"

Chiaki blinks as Kageyama peers into her face, the raven-haired boy looking into her eyes in concern, beads of sweat running down his cheek, getting collected by a towel that wraps around his neck.

Kageyama's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the female averted her eyes from him, tilting her head to the side, refusing to make eye contact with him. The older female had never done that to him before. Chiaki was a person who believed heavily in eye contact when speaking to another. But she had blatantly avoided looking at him, refusing to even acknowledge him.

"Aki-senpai, did you see us? Weren't we awesome with 'woosh!' and 'boom!' That was so fun!" Hinata pushed Kageyama aside as he leaped in the air in front of Chiaki, looking like an excited puppy with his flopping hair.

Seeing the small boy, Chiaki releases a little chuckle, a weak smile on her face, "yes Hinata-kun, that was very impressive. Next time, when you jump, try to lean your upper body a bit more forward. You jump high right now, but by improving your form, you'll go higher. And when you're receiving a spike, lower your hips a bit more and tuck your chin in, it'll be easier to control the ball."

Hinata blinks his large eyes, staring at Chiaki with his head tilted in confusion. "Aki-senpai, you awfully know a lot about volleyball? Are you also the manager like Shimizu-san?"

Chiaki freeze, feeling her mouth become dry as if someone stuffed cotton balls inside. Kageyama looks like he wants to strangle the shorter boy, his already sharp eyes narrowing.

But before Kageyama could do anything, a snicker makes all of their attention shift to the side.

Tsukishima has a water bottle in hand, his lip curling into a small smirk as he looks their way with an amused expression. "Of course, Hinata wouldn't know the Dove, huh? I'm not surprised, he didn't even know about the King."

The confusion Hinata feels deepens as he looks at Tsukishima, not noticing how Chiaki was stiff as a board next to him, her skin seeming to turn a bit pale. "The Dove? Is that another nickname?"

Tsukishima's smirk seems to deepen as he points a thumb at the silver-haired female who was slowly calming down, her lips forming a straight line.

"That's one of the nicknames she had. The Dove, U-17's number one female wing spiker in Japan. She's known to be the decade's female prodigy that was born in a family of volleyball players. But her serves and spikes gained her fame as the ace of her team."

At the information Hinata learns, his brown eyes sparkled as he looked up at Chiaki, not being able to notice the distress in her eyes.

Chiaki felt sick.

🏐 🏐 EXTRA 🏐 🏐

"Oi, something doesn't feel right," Taiga and Kouga chorused at the same time as they sat at the dining table, eating a late breakfast with their mother. They looked at each other and nodded. This uneasy feeling they felt at the same time was the proof they were right.

Minako stared at the twins in bewilderment, frozen in mid-bite, her rice that was held up by her chopsticks falling back into her bowl. Immediately she places the utensil down on the table, looking at her two sons, a bit off-put by them synching up almost too perfectly.

The twins had their eyebrows furrowed, their messy bed hair sticking up in weird places.

"Something upset Chi-chan," Taiga grumbles, placing his chopsticks down as he brings his hand to his chin, rubbing at it thoughtfully.

Kouga hummed in agreement, his grey eyes narrowing, "I think so too." The young man cracked his knuckles, rotating his neck as another crack echoed through the room. "Who do you think I have to beat up, Tai?"

"I don't know, but I'll make sure you don't get arrested, Kou."

Minako watched her sons with a blank look, a sigh leaving her lips. Secretly, she wondered if the twins had a built in signal inside their body that detected whenever Chiaki was distressed. If they said they did, she somehow wouldn't be surprised seeing how protective they were. Hiroto, why are you not here to help me control our sons? Or at least Minato, he's not irrational and has a firm leash on the twins...

🏐 🏐 Meanwhile 🏐 🏐

"Achoo!"

Yamaguchi flinched as the tall male sneezed beside him. The freckled male became increasingly worried as Tsukishima paled, shivering in place, "Tsukki! Are you okay?! Are you catching a cold, do you want my jacket?" Yamaguchi questioned in panic, shifting around his friend in worry.

Tsukishima released another shiver, "you're loud, Yamaguchi. I'm fine, I just felt unusually cold right now," the blonde grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in unease.

🏐 🏐A/n 🏐 🏐

Hi, below is the first character stats for the twins! Do you like their character design? I hope you do! Honestly, Taiga reminds me of Tsukishima a bit, but I swear he's super gentlemanly to girls!

Please don't forget to comment, vote, and spread a word of this fic! I would love ADRW to get more love from the readers. And don't hesitate to ask questions, I may or may not answer depending on if it's a spoiler. Also, I've decided this fanfic will go all the way up to the olympics, and of course without a lot of time skips, so we'll get to see Chiaki in college as well!

Thanks for reading and I'll see you next time!

Next update chapter 5| I Hate Volleyball coming on 09/18/2020!

-Ember

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ansgar-martinsson · 4 years

Text

The Best Intentions - Part 2

The Best Intentions

Part 2

Ansgar crossed his legs beneath him and leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking in protest. Considering, he folded his hands in his lap, tented his thumbs and rubbed them slowly together. In spite of his seemingly calm exterior, within his mind was churning… burning, a combination of annoyance and anger and what… fear? Yes, of course, fear.

His reputation was one of perfection. Not a single client unsatisfied. Not a single claim on a single contractor’s bond. If there’s a problem… he fixes it. Yet, here was a woman who, as she put it, was pleading for someone to do something about the condition of the building that he… that his company built.

Resolved, he bent forward, elbows on knees, and stared hard at the girl. With every ounce of sincerity he could muster, he said, “You won’t have to wait any longer, Froken Lindberg. I am…,” he paused, “mortified, to say the least that you had to go to the lengths you did just to get an audience with someone at my company who could remedy the situation.”

“Well,” she countered, her voice wavering, “you should be.”

Ansgar let forth with a bark of laughter. Not condescending laughter, mind you, but true and honest surprise. He smiled, that time the grin reaching his eyes. “Yes, I should be,” he affirmed. And with that, he stood, removed his suit jacket and crossed to the closet. He shrugged into his blue logoed Carhartt coat, flung his tool belt over his shoulder, and fished out an aluminum clipboard case.

“What are you….?”

He whirled. “We’re leaving, Froken Lindberg,” he clipped. “Now.”

“Yes,” she stood, clutching her papers to her chest, “but… where are we going?”

Ansgar brightened. “To the Opera House, where else? I need to see this sprinkler system for myself, I think. I am an engineer, you know. I have some experience with fire protection design. Maybe I can sort this today for you… and,” he shrugged, “you know, perhaps get the Prima Donna off your back.”

“To avoid the riff-raff,” Ansgar nodded with his eyes glued to the door that led to the lobby, “out there, we’ll go out this way.” A tilt of his head signaled behind him.

That was the moment she saw it, the same moment that he lifted his hand to the wall behind his desk. He palmed with a swipe to reveal an invisible door. The seam blended in so nicely with the built-in bookcase that Joline missed it. A reader lit up in recognition of his touch or fingerprints or body temperature, Jo couldn’t know, and the door popped open with a click.

Jo raised her eyebrows at him and the hidden gadget. “Such technology, such toys.”

Ansgar huffed a deep sound of proud amusement. “Correction. All the technology. All the toys.” And with another dip of his head, he directed her through.

“Mischief managed.”

“Pardon?”

Jo grinned inwardly. “Something my nephews told me. From their favorite book. This—“ She pushed her hands out in front of her into a long marble corridor, gesturing before her. Uniform doors led off to other offices or conference rooms, she guessed, but the hallway seemed part of a typical office building. “This feels very, ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good.’ Making a secluded break from… well, whatever you got going on back there.”

“Ah, the riff-raff, the circus… The press can be a blessing and a curse,” he took the lead down the bland corridor. “I use them when absolutely necessary and avoid them at all cost at all other times.”

“And you needed them today? Why?”

His shoulders adjusted under his jacket in a wave of… disgust? Stress? “The vultures smell blood. They’re chasing a story, an exclusive.” As soon as the press release published online of his return as acting CEO in an internet blast, the swarm came flocking in.

“And what’s that? The story? The exclusive?”

Ansgar effectively ducked and avoided her question by pointing with two very straight and very long fingers to his right through another door. “To the carpark, and my car. You’ll show me the improvements that need doing at the theatre, and we’ll come back here to schedule the work.”

Where he led with a steady assured gait, Joline followed. Out of necessity, more than anything else. She met him stride for stride, nearly, thanks to the three inch Louboutins. “Your lobby and lounge, so much like the opera house,” she commented to draw attention away from her unintentional pry. “Patrons and tourists parade through to gawk at the structure. Is that your stamp then?”

As they entered the covered garage, Ansgar fished his key fob from his pocket and clicked the button for his car. His brand new red Tesla Roadster chirped in response, and he nearly purred at the familiar sound. “I’ll assume responsibility for that, Froken Lindberg,” he replied proudly.

One of her eyebrow arched skyward. “Well,” she countered, “despite all the technical issues,” she intoned to knock him down a peg or two, “ticket sales are up. Season subscriptions increased six, close to seven, percent over last year. Audiences are responding to the slated new season, the season I put together.”

“I’ve been away. Missed most of the current series, I’m afraid,” Ansgar closed the door with a quiet ‘click’ after ensuring his guest comfortably in her seat. He strode quickly around the back, opened his own door and folded himself within. Continuing, he said, “I didn’t give up my series ticket, though. Seat A10 is still mine.”

“Hm,” the woman huffed. She crossed her legs, and Ansgar wondered if she was purposefully or subconsciously showing him the crimson underside of her shoes. “I hate empty seats.”

Ansgar shrugged. “It’s paid for, what do you care?” He hand-over-handed the wheel, expertly winding the roadster between the cement abutments and into the daylight of the open garage door.

“It’s not all about the money, Herr Martinsson,” she retorted. “You of all people should know – for everyone involved, it’s more about the audience, and their response.”

Ansgar held in a chuckle. He knew perfectly well.

***

Ansgar tipped his head back, following the line of the woman’s pointed finger. “There?” Ansgar, standing atop a folding aluminum scaffold, pointed as well.

“That’s where it went off the first time.” She called up to him.

“Got it.” Ansgar nodded sagely, glancing down at her. He pulled his hard hat off and looked up again as he pushed his hand through his hair. “I actually think I see the problem, Froken Lindberg; and you would not believe how simple it - and the solution - actually is.”

Her eyes went wide. “You do?”

He nodded again, looking down at her. “I do. And when I find out who erred here, heads are going to roll, I assure you. However,” he paused, “I think you, too, may be putting some folks on the chopping block here.”

“What… what’s the problem?”

“Kick off your shoes and come up here.” He reached down. “Take my hand.”

He was somewhat surprised that she did, actually… toe out of the Louboutins, take his hand. Her hand felt warm and smoothly calloused in his. The hands of a woman who, literally, had her fingers in every aspect of an operation. She gripped him tightly, pleasantly, as he heaved her up - moving his hand to her shoulder as he steadied her on the scaffold. “Good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied, quickly, gripping one of the iron supports. “What’s the problem?”

“There,” he shone the beam of his torch at one of the pendent heads. See the colour of that glass bulb in there?”

She nodded. “It’s green.”

“It should be purple or better yet, black,” he explained. “That head you have there is only rated for temperatures of up to about ninety three degrees. A purple bulb is rated for about 182 degrees, black about 227. These heads are the wrong rating for this type of environment, you see?. All these hot stage lights… the ambient air around the heads gets too hot, bursts the bulbs and….”

“Sploosh,” she demonstrated, her fingers flaring out.

“Sploosh. Precisely.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, “but… why would I be upset at my own employees? Where’s our fault if your sprinkler guy put in the wrong heads?”

Ansgar pointed. “There,” he pointed with the beam of his flashlight, that time on the finished underside of the house right loge. “You’ve a set of properly rated heads sticking down there, all right and good for the designed use, but – it also looks as if there have been some modifications of the original design.”

She squinted. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ask your lighting designer what I’m talking about. She’s bracketed in a brand new lighting pipe there, clamped some eight-inch non-LED fresnels upon it, and did so in a space not originally meant for lighting to be in the first place.” He looked down at her, his lips twisted, a shrug in his shoulders. “First of all, one should never ever hang incandescent lights directly beneath a sprinkler head no matter what the rating – and second of all… isn’t it against fire code to hang lights of a certain temperature so close to a seating area?”

Jo peered up into the face of her inspector, reading between the words he spoke, between the lines of his narrative. “These modifications…,” she pointed over her shoulder to the new problem, “they’re dangerous?”

Ansgar nodded, “Without the proper clearance. There’s code for safety.”

“And if I’m to understand you correctly,” she led, feeling the unease sink into her stomach, “this was deliberate?”

“It appears that way.” He landed the statement as delicately as he could, but it appeared that someone tread the path of sabotage.

The woman popped down off the scaffolding to step downstage where she’d left her file. “The first incident report came after last season.” She shifted through her pages, trying to locate the very report she referred. She’d studied them many times over in the months since the trouble began. Checklist after checklist signed off by a designer and two techs invalidated by one engineer review.

If only someone from Martinsson Construction had come sooner…

Despite the skirt she wore, she plopped down to spread the papers out in front of her. “Work orders, they came through but stated that there was nothing wrong.” She slid the signed sheet along the stage floor towards Ansgar. “’These things happen…’ they said. ‘Accidents’ this one contractor told me. That’s why I came to you… well, Weissing.”

It wasn’t panic she felt. It wasn’t fear or hysteria. It was annoyance. Disbelief. Perhaps a little anger thrown in, but she’d never let anyone see that. Instead she put her head into solving this plague on her tenure as house manager. Fix it. Fix it for good and move forward. “How long to sort all this?”

The engineer still had his head stuck up in the mess of lighting, sorting out just how to fix it, what safety measures he could employ to see this didn’t happen again. He called down, his voice raised for the distance. “Not long. An afternoon, at best.”

“Herr Martinsson, who would have the most to gain for doing this?” She stopped shuffling to look upstage where he stood when hee’d climbed down from the scaffolding some minutes later. The very image of aristocratic bad boy. Starched white shirt beneath a work jacket, topped with a hard hat. The leather and metal work belt slung around his slim waist appealed to her for reasons far beyond her understanding. The contrast between the expensively tailored, highly groomed man and the hands-on worker made for a gorgeous picture.

“I can’t answer that, Froken, not without knowing the key players.” He picked up some of her pages to look at some of the names, to see if he recognized the names of contractors that missed the obvious. The sodding theifs.

She sat in silence rolling the problem over in her head. Could it be a lack of education or knowledge in her trusted employees? Or was it a case of foul intentions? She didn’t want to believe it of her people. When she reigned her thoughts in from solving the problem, she glanced up again.

A furrowed brow knitted over his long nose, he chewed the corner of his lip as he concentrated on the work orders and the checklists. His hand worked at the base of his neck, tracing a v shape below is Adam’s apple. A strangely attractive self-soothing gesture as his focus zeroed in.

“May I—“ she intruded on his reading. She laughed at herself and her predicament of being trapped on the floor. “May I please borrow a hand? I…uh…got myself into a spot of trouble.” She gestured at her seated position on the floor and reached up for him. “I’m in danger of showing my talent for very unladylike positions.” She continued laughing at herself and the challenges she put herself in.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he offered his hand to heave her up off the floor.

“Thank you. I forget… I’m always back here for with the tech guys, building, moving, lifting. This,” she ran her hands along her skirt, “this doesn’t do me any favors.” She tipped her head back looking up into the fly loft. “How long can I impose on you, Herr Martinsson? May I ask you to survey some other problem areas?”

#the best intentions ansgar-martinsson joline lindberg scarjo rp original character rp

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kpophours · 4 years

Text

An Outstanding Transformation

➵ A.C.E: (Ravenclaw) Sehyoon x fem. (Slytherin) reader / one shot, Hogwarts AU / fluff

➵ warnings: (a teeny tiny bit) sexual suggestiveness

➵ word count: 2.4k

➵ series: Donghun, Sehyoon, Yuchan

"You should be thankful to be partnered with him. He's basically a genius.", Jiwoo says, twirling her blond locks around one finger and staring out of the window.

"He's weird.", you mumble, scrunching up your face in concentration while looking down at your parchment.

"He is. I mean, how could he not? He's best friends with Byeongkwan.", your best friend admits, grinning slightly.

"Don't talk about Byeongkwan like that. He's a genius. An evil genius, but a genius nevertheless.", you retort, feeling a bit protective of your classmate.

"I know, I know - you have a soft spot for him.", Jiwoo teases, plucking the quill out of your hand and trying to tickle your nose with it.

"I do not...", you mumble, quickly snatching it back again, "I don't have a weak spot for anyone, so please leave me alone before I hex you. I really need to study."

Jiwoo huffs. "But why? Sehyoon will wing that Transformation project with or without you, so why even bother?", she whines, poking you with her wand and making you yelp.

"Well, I'm not going to rely on a weird Ravenclaw - especially not when I can do it better myself. Also, I’m actually still working on my History of Magic essay right now and haven’t even thought about Transfiguration yet. That will have to wait until tomorrow."

"You know, sometimes you're really weird for a Slytherin. He could do all the work and you could just relax, why get competitive about it and do it yourself?"

You throw the blonde an exasperated look. "Because I don't trust him. No one is that intelligent. Especially not someone that... weird. And quiet. And... Well, I don't like the way he looks." At this, Jiwoo blinks a few times, before bursting into laughter, which makes several students glare at you.

Right, you're still at the library - hopefully Mrs. Pince didn't hear you or you're in for a good scolding.

"Hush, be quiet now.", you hiss at Jiwoo, ducking your head and pretending to edit your more than poorly researched essay.

"I'm just saying, with his blond dyed hair? He could pass as a Malfoy, so he could actually pass as a member of our house.", Jiwoo whispers back, before quickly getting up and - finally - leaving you alone.

In the end, it's Sehyoon who asks you out on a study date. You guess it’s nice that he’s actually trying to act like a research partner. Nice is just not really your thing, most of your friends call you "honest" - but the right way to describe you might be "blunt". In the end, you still agree to meet the quiet Ravenclaw in the library.

You're actually quite early, but he's already seated in front of one of the big arch windows; books, parchment, quills and ink pots littering the table in front of him. He's immersed into a book, his eyes almost flying over the pages - no one is able to read that quickly and actually absorb any of the content, you think.

"Hi.", you say, sliding onto the chair opposite the blond Ravenclaw and propping your chin on one hand. He looks up, startled by your sudden appearance - then, he breaks into a smile. Your heart stops for a second, before it starts pounding against your rib cage.

"Oh, hello! It’s great that you could make it today.", he answers, his brown eyes sparkling in the bright sunlight.

"Uh, well, we are research partners, so...", you retort a bit bitingly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, ignoring your still fast beating heart. You guess you have to agree with Jiwoo... Sehyoon is more than handsome, but it's not only his looks... It's more his whole aura. You would never admit it out loud, but maybe you're a teeny tiny bit intimidated by him and his intelligence.

“That we are indeed. So, have you thought about what kind of Transformation we should attempt to present to the class? I was thinking about turning the water of the Great Lake into chocolate milk.”.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say so many words to anyone before as he’s usually one of the more quiet ones, even in class. You blink a few times at him, actually taken aback - he suddenly doesn’t seem so shy anymore.

“I… uh. Well... Okay? Let’s just… do that?”, you agree a bit dumbfounded - you actually haven’t even thought about this project yet, still too absorbed into your History of Magic essay. So, going with his idea seems to be the polite way, even though his plan sounds a bit… ambitious, to say the least.

Sehyoon snorts, quickly pressing one hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. “I am kidding, we are definitely not going to transform the Great Lake into chocolate milk! I don’t think most of the magical beings - or normal ones, come to think of it - in there would survive that. Too much blood on our hands. Maybe you, as a Slytherin, don’t mind that too much, but as a Ravenclaw, I do prefer to have a clean slate.” His eyes are glimmering mischievously and his lips twitch, but you already have a retort ready: “You’re best friends with Byeongkwan, it’s absolutely impossible for you to have a clean slate.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a smile and he cocks his head to one side. “Touché. Well, back to our project, now - do you have an idea?”

You lean back, interlacing your fingers and biting down on your lip. “Not really, no. I’m still writing my History of Magic essay, so I had no time to think about Transfiguration yet.”

“Mhm.” He actually looks a bit disappointed, picking up his quill and writing something down, “That’s okay. I have a few ideas - we can talk about all of them and then agree on one, if that’s okay with you?”

You sigh inwardly, but nod.

It seems like you’re in for a long afternoon.

“You’re going to transform into one another?!”, Jiwoo cocks one eyebrow, obviously trying (and failing) to stifle her laugh. You kick her shin under the Slytherin table, trying not to look too smug about the painful expression crossing her face. “No need to get violent.”, she grumbles, picking up her discarded fork and shooting you a dark look. You smile innocently, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

“But that transformation might actually be a good idea, then you’ll finally know how broad this glorious body of his really is.”, your best friend suddenly says, looking very pleased with herself when you choke on your drink. You cough, windpipe feeling painfully tight all of the sudden, tears springing into your eyes.

“You really can’t be left alone for more than two seconds with one another, huh?”, an amused voice from beside you says, before someone gently smacks your back to help you free your windpipe.

“Thanks, Donghun.”, you say when you’re finally able to breathe again, loosening the green tie around your neck a bit.

“No problem. What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing.” - “About Sehyoon.”, Jiwoo and you say simultaneously, making you glare at her. Donghun raises one eyebrow, his silver piercing catching the light of the many candles floating above you.

“You choked because of Sehyoon?”

“Not yet.”, Jiwoo answers, grinning proudly at her innuendo.

You turn your eyes towards the enchanted ceiling, sighing exasperated and pinching the bridge of your nose. “Donghun, please remind me again that I’m not allowed to use any of the Unforgivable Curses.”

“You’re not allowed to use any of the Unforgivable Curses, but if you should use one now, I’d provide you with an alibi.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and nod. “Thanks. Not exactly the kind of answer I wanted to hear, but better than nothing, I guess. So, today won’t be the day I murder my best friend.”

Jiwoo giggles, not the slightest bit disturbed, happily continuing to munch on her carrots. “You love me too much and would never actually kill or torture me. You’re always all talk, no action. And just so you know, you can admit to actually wanting to know how broad Sehyoon is. There’s no shame in that - it’s all in the name of science, right?”

You helplessly look at Donghun, who just shrugs. “I won’t comment on that. And I need to go now.”, he grins, gaze sliding towards the giant double doors where a very special Gryffindor just walked through, “I’ll see you later at the common room. Oh - wait, one last thing before I leave: Sehyoon actually asked me to switch seats with him so you’d get partnered with him. Thought that might be of interest to you.” With that, he slides out of the chair, quickly making his way towards his girlfriend, who greets him with a bright smile.

“Well. That is definitely interesting to know.”, Jiwoo remarks, lip twitching.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Today. Is not. The day. I murder. My best friend.”, you repeat calmly, before shooting her a death glare.

She just continues to grin at you.

Working together with Sehyoon proves to be… easier than anticipated. Transfiguration has never been your strong suit, you’re more of a Potions genius - which explains your close friend- and partnership with Donghun - so the meetings with the quiet Ravenclaw actually help you improve a lot.

You’re continuing to meet every afternoon that week, quickly managing to make progress. Sehyoon is never condescending and also not one to show off, he’s actually always very patient, calm and collected - even when you accidentally transform his blond hair into bright green one time (which, might you add, kind of looks amazing on him).

You soon notice that you were completely wrong about him - he really is that intelligent. And he’s not even that quiet, once you get to know him better, you notice he’s actually very funny, often muttering witty remarks under his breath and breaking out into that breathtaking smile of his, when you can’t help but giggle at his antics.

It’s Friday evening and you’re the last students in the library again, only a few minutes are left until Mrs. Pince is going to close up.

“I think we’re really going to wing that presentation on Monday.”, you say confidently, while beginning to sort the ridiculous amount of books you used today back on their shelves. Sehyoon just nods, keeping quiet. You frown at his reaction, pouting a bit and trying to distract yourself by sliding another book on one of the top shelves. It somehow manages to slip out of your hand though and almost hits your head, but Sehyoon - standing directly behind you - thankfully manages to catch it just in time.

Your head spins from the adrenaline and you turn around to him, wanting to thank him - but his face is suddenly very close to yours and you actually forget to breathe. You see tiny flecks of Gold in his eyes, hidden in the depths of their beautiful, brown color.

Anyone who says brown eyes aren’t beautiful or multi-colored must never have actually looked into any, you think - because you’re certain you could get lost in these ones.

“I…”, you begin, but don’t even know how to finish the sentence.

“Mhm?”, Sehyoon just makes, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“Do… You... uh…” You still don’t actually know what you want to say, your head emptying itself of every single thought when the blond Ravenclaw smiles at you.

“Yes?”

You take a deep breath, clearing your throat. “I was thinking… Maybe… uh, we could visit Hogsmeade together? Tomorrow? If you want to? It’s totally fine if not, I just thought, that maybe, because-” You’re stumbling over your own words, heart pounding so loudly in your chest that you almost miss his quiet chuckle. He pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, cocking his head to one side.

“I would love that. The first butterbeer is on me.”, Sehyoon answers softly, his eyes twinkling happily.

You release the breath you’ve been holding, smiling up at him. “Oh, good - great, yeah, that… sounds good.”

“Exactly, we will be able to talk some more about the Transformation project.”, he says, leaning back a bit.

You bite the inside of your cheek, disappointment flooding you. “Oh, uh, that’s… true, I guess.”, you mumble, quickly flashing him a fake smile.

He snorts at your expression, suddenly taking your hand in his. “And maybe about many more things. Because there’s still so much I want to know about you - and isn’t that kind of my task and purpose as a Ravenclaw? To gather as much information as possible about anything - or anyone.”, he says, his lip twitching.

Your heart, currently pounding twice as fast thanks to him holding your hand, skips another beat at this, but you can’t help but roll your eyes at him. “I think there’s still much to learn for you. Especially about the art of flirting.”

Sehyoon actually laughs out loud at this, tugging you closer to his warm, broad body. “Well, I’m an adept student and I’m willing to let you grade me.”, he whispers, leaning closer to you again, his lips almost touching yours.

“What are you doing?! This is a library, not... not an establishment for... for these kind of things! Out with you, both!”, Mrs. Pince’s shrill voice bounces through the (thankfully) empty library, making you both jump.

“So sorry, Mrs. Pince, it won’t happen again - but we are standing in front of the love potion section! So can you really blame us?”, Sehyoon quickly retorts, obviously suppressing his laughter and already tugging on your hand to practically drag you out of the library and into the dimly lit hallway.

There, you can’t help but begin to giggle, your hand still securely in his.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”, he asks quietly, after you’ve both calmed down a bit.

You can’t help but smile at him, nodding enthusiastically. “You will. But only because I really want an Outstanding on the Transformation project.”

He grins and actually has the audacity to wink at you, making you even more weak-kneed. “Oh, that I can manage.”

… as you find out on Monday, he’s right about that.

You actually do get an Outstanding on your project.

That same day, he gets a (mental) Outstanding from you on your first kiss.

Incidentally, that is also the day he starts being an outstanding boyfriend to you.

[masterlist] | [requests]

#A.C.E #A.C.E fanfiction #A.C.E fanfic #A.C.E one shot #A.C.E fluff #A.C.E Sehyoon #A.C.E Wow #A.C.E Wow fanfic #A.C.E Wow fanfiction #Sehyoon fluff #Sehyoon fanfic #Sehyoon one shot #A.C.E Hogwarts au #A.C.E Hogwarts #Ravenclaw Sehyoon #Kim Sehyoon

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darkmindsotome · 4 years

Text

Risque Rouge pt10

Tagging: @umbralaperture @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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Chapter 10

Her inner mantra ran on repeat in her mind reminding her that she was a professional performer. It was fighting what felt like a futile battle to overpower the nerves inside her that were making her feel like her body was locking up as if it were a rusty machine.

“Genevieve?” Comte stood at the head of the table holding out his hand to her as he called for her again. His soothing voice didn’t drown out her inner monologue, it laced with it as naturally as if it simply belonged there and had always been part of her.

Aware of the number of eyes still on her she tried her best to ignore the looks of curiosity as she walked past them to join le Comte. As soon as she was close enough, she placed her hand in his and found the warmth she had missed since his departure from her room. He guided her to a chair that was on his right. It gave her a clear view of the other men who were all in alignment on the opposite side but also meant she was once more in a position closest to him.

Somewhere in the back of her muddled mind, she wondered if this was something he had planned to make sure she felt more at ease or if there was another calculation involved she was still to be informed of.

“There we are.” Comte spoke as he gently pushed her chair under her. “You look wonderful in that dress, far greater than I could have imagined.”

Comte watched as she shuddered at his quiet voice issuing her a well-deserved compliment. He felt a little childish taking delight in such a thing but he maintained his composed smile and returned to his own seat. Taking that to be the signal the other men sat back down as well.

“Thank you, Comte.” Evie ended up blushing at the direct compliment and busied herself with placing her napkin on her lap.

“If all you did was bring us here in order to show off, it could have waited.”

Evie looked up finding a pair of violet eyes giving both her and le Comte an irritated and annoyed glare. Unlike the other men at the table who were simply smiling or looking relaxed this violet-eyed man with white hair simply looked irritated and impatient to leave.

“Ignore him Cara mia, he’s not interested in anything that doesn’t have eighty-eight keys and made out of mahogany.” Leo chuckled at his own joke shrugging off a silent reprimand from Comte who gave him a look known to most children as a parent telling them to behave themselves.

“Pardon?” Her curiosity got the better of her nerves as she pressed for clarification as to why that was somehow humorous.

“Mozart is a composer. Which I suppose leads us nicely into introductions.” Comte expertly navigated the conversation back to the matter of hand and away from the troublesome man to his left who seemed to delight in inventing problems for him. “The gentleman at the far end of the table is Mozart, he tends to keep mostly to himself in the music room.”

“Not that I expect you to be interested in such things but I would prefer it if you could avoid unnecessary noise around my room.” Mozart spoke in a way that was abrupt and slightly condescending.

“You could stand to be a little more friendly.” Leo chided which had the effect of making Mozart almost bristle.

“I refrained from telling her to avoid the room and myself completely that is friendly enough.” Mozart gave a defiant glare for what he felt was an uncalled-for reprimand.

Evie watched the casual back and forth between the two men and wondered if this kind of exchange was commonplace. The two men appeared to be complete opposites. Leo was easy going, friendly and looked a little slovenly. Mozart appeared to be ordered in both his appearance and his movements. He certainly had the attitude of someone passionate in one field and lacking social skills as a result of their dedicated focus.

“A pleasure to meet you… I think.” Evie gave a polite greeting and maintained eye contact with the prickly musician. Mozart held her gaze for a moment before averting his eyes and falling silent.

“Comte tells us you are from outside of the city?” A friendly man with messy short blonde hair struck up a conversation next.

It was almost as if he had sensed the unsure clouds in the atmosphere and was trying to push them back with pure sunshine. The piercing blue eyes were as clear as a summer sky but a hundred times brighter. Evie felt herself feeling like her mood was lighter simply by looking at him.

“Montmartre, it isn’t really that far.” She attempted to amend his question so it sounded a little less like she had been discovered in another country. It was a thought that, had her inwardly laughing as it was fairly obvious that if she had been found somewhere further abroad, she would not stand out in this crowd.

Since arriving she had already met several people who not only spoke with different accents but also reverted to the occasional phrase from their native homelands. She was thankful for once that the broad spectrum of people that found their way to the performing house had at least made her aware of the world beyond the capitol’s limits.

“It must be very nice there.” He smiled and it was like looking directly at a stage light. Evie found herself returning his bright and carefree display naturally as if they were old friends. “Oh! I’m so sorry that’s very rude of me. My name is Vincent, I’m a painter. My brother isn’t here at the minute otherwise I’m sure he’d be happy to meet such a pretty young lady.”

“Thank you, Vincent.” Evie was back to feeling a little uncomfortable at yet another direct compliment. It wasn’t that she was not used to the praise per se, it was more along the lines that these felt more genuine and less like a platitude dealt out like candy after a performance. She also noticed whilst they made her feel a little unsure it was nothing when compared to the comments from a certain someone.

“You should see if Vincent would paint you Cara mia.” Leo piped up with a deadpan expression.

Evie looked wide-eyed at Leo after his suggestion completely, unsure as to how to respond. There were plenty of artistic patrons at the performing house requesting the chance to paint the girls that graced the stage but she had never been approached which was probably thanks in large part to Uncle and his overprotective nature.

Comte glanced at his old friend and was met with a defiant look that was full of curiosity. It was all too clear Leo was enjoying himself and it reminded him of their chance meeting in the hallway previously. Comte suppressed a sigh along with a groan. He would have loved to have shown both expressions, even if it was only to release some of the frustration he was feeling as it grew inside him knowing that Leo was playing games.

“Oh yes! I would love to if you had to the time to sit for me.” Vincent enthusiastically latched on to the idea, giving her a look that was rather difficult to refuse. It was not dissimilar to being stared at by a puppy whilst eating and feeling the desire to cave to its plea and hand over some scraps.

“A painting of me? I’m… erm…” She fumbled her words trying to figure out her reply. It wasn’t that she hated the idea of sitting for a painting, more that she had no idea of what it really meant to be a model. She felt mildly stupid after giving herself a pep talk about how she was a professional performer and then allowing herself to become plagued by a fear of failure.

“Pfft, you just imagined yourself modelling au naturel didn’t you?” Leo’s laughter broke the awkwardness making the situation feel completely outlandish.

“Excuse me!?” Evie cried out her face went pale as she registered what Leo was suggesting and wondering exactly how on earth he would think that she had even thought of that as a possibility to begin with.

She wasn’t the only one to be a little scandalised by the notion. Mozart scoffed muttering something incoherent and looked even more irritated than before. There was a very silent man focusing intently on his tableware that had turned as red as an apple. Comte was doing a rather fine job of glaring at Leo without actually changing his placid expression and Vincent was fidgeting in his seat apologetically even though none of this was actually his fault.

“There really is no need to worry I would never propose such a thing to a young lady, I would be happy to paint you as you are now. The dress is very beautiful on you.” Vincent was looking rather like an uncomfortable child which made Evie feel sorry for him. She was almost certain that Leo was joking and that it was probably done in order to tease her so she did feel responsible for poor Vincent becoming collateral damage.

“Genevieve you already know Leo. We appear to be blessed under a rare star today as it is unusual for him to attend a meal at the table whether I request it or not.” Comte interjected doing little to hide his exasperation.

“I simply felt like it might be fun for a change.” Leo replied smiling like a cat that got the cream.

“Quite! Which brings us to the last of the introductions, Isaac is a physicist.” Comte seemed to work a lot of feeling into the last word he directed at Leo before moving on to introduce the very silent man.

It was a little amusing watching the two men having this kind of interaction. It reminded her a little of the way siblings fought without actually coming to blows. It spoke volumes of the level of closeness they had between them and also had a slightly unexpected result of her feeling a little jealous.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isaac.” As she addressed him the red-headed man who was still staring intently at the tableware as if it was about to grow legs and wander off looked in her direction.

“Is it?” Isaac fixed her with a calculating gaze as if he were trying to figure out a scientific formula.

“Yes?” Evie tentatively responded to his question that had caught her completely off guard.

“You don’t sound very sure.” Isaac didn’t sound particularly angry or irritated as he replied. His voice sounded almost bored as it was so monotone. She wondered if he was tired or just not used to socialising. It would perhaps have been a bit easier to strike up a conversation with him if she had an idea about what he was interested in.

Given how quiet he was it was difficult to get an idea of what he was like. The way he became lost in thought and focused on things was probably part of the curiosity needed to be whatever a physicist was. She lamented a lack of knowledge that spread further than what she needed to know for performing.

Evie had been given books and a few of the performers had also helped her when she was growing up with understanding things. That was the extent and limitations of her education, just enough to not be completely clueless, but never enough to be able to hold an in-depth conversation on something outside of her remit.

She opened her mouth to reply and quickly forgot what she was about to say when one of the windows to the room was opened from the outside and a pair of feet covered in strange white socks and wooden sandals appeared.

“What’s this? Is my little Apple-kun making friends?” A tall man dressed in what looked like a robe of some sort pulled himself free of the window and corrected his attire. He ran one hand through his black hair as he tucked the other inside his robe at his waist.

Evie wasn’t sure if it was the strange choice of clothing or the way in which they entered the room but she remembered a time when one of the performers managed to lock themselves out of the building during a costume change and how they were too embarrassed to enter through another door.

“I forget how many times I’ve asked you not to call me that.” Isaac complained grumpily and made it very obvious that he desired nothing more than to ignore the new arrival by returning his attentions to the table and began staring so hard at the table cloth it was a wonder it didn’t catch fire.

“Probably the same amount of times Sebas has asked him to use the door.” Leo chuckled. He looked delighted that the room once more balanced on a fine line between chaos and control. It was the same kind of delight Evie thought you might see in someone attending a circus and being told the show was about to start.

She took the opportunity to look at her host and found that he was wearing a smile that looked a little forced. She wished she could be more helpful and defuse some of whatever was troubling him but it was rather difficult to help someone when you didn’t even know where to begin.

As if sensing her looking at him Comte turned his head to return her gaze. She had a troubled look on her face that struck him as rather adorable. It didn’t take a great mind to imagine that the reason for her expression stemmed from a desire to be helpful. She was an extraordinarily kind-hearted young lady. He had seen it during his visits to the performing house but also felt it in every tear she shed that night after that unfortunate experience.

“Dazai sensei…” Sebastian spoke clearly in a firm tone that was acknowledged by the new arrival and promptly ignored with a display of obliviousness that boarded on obtuse.

Evie watched as such a simple manoeuvre was executed so masterfully. It could not help but succeed in its desired intention of avoiding being scolded whilst also laying down just enough groundwork to prevent any further discussion on the matter by making it appear to be completely pointless because the man they were trying to correct continued to be unaware of any wrongdoing.

She felt a little bad for imagining the new man was this sneaky but also couldn’t ignore her own instincts. Evie made a mental note that just because these men happened to be guests of le Comte she would still have to keep her eyes open.

“Oh dear, I appear to have arrived late.” The black-haired man looked around at the gathering his eyes looking at the spread of food on the table that was yet to be touched before looking in Evie’s direction as if he had only just noticed her. “And who is?”

“This is Genevieve. Genevieve, Dazai is a writer.” Comte helped supply yet another name to a new face as he slipped a pocket watch from his waistcoat and checking the time.

“A writer? Anything I am likely to have read?” Evie’s prior warning to herself fell rather spectacularly to the wayside as her enthusiasm for books took over.

“That depends Toshiko-san can you read kanji?” Dazai took their seat next to Isaac much to the other man’s thinly masked irritation. His yellow eyes crinkled in mirth as he smiled at her and she was unsure if he was delighted by Isaac’s reaction or her own.

“Kanji?” Evie ignored Dazai’s use of the wrong name, assuming he was either playing a game of misdirection or was simply terrible with names and focused more on the unfamiliar word.

In all fairness she was not exactly familiar with a lot of the foreign words these men used but they were usually a little easier to figure out a basic idea about what they meant from the context of the conversation. She was once more reminded of why she had tried to warn herself of the tricky nature of some people as she sat there in confusion.

“He is referring to written Japanese Mademoiselle.” Sebastian assisted in clearing up the matter as he placed a cup of milk tea next to her and returned to his tea set to pour another for le Comte. She had not noticed him until he had spoken to her but a quick look at the other men seated at the table showed he had been busy serving them all while she was distracted.

“Oh, erm, no I am sorry to say I can’t.” Evie lowered her eyes feeling embarrassed as if he was drawing attention to her lack of knowledge. It was probably a completely unintentional result that had everything to do with her growing sense of inferiority but it did not change her current mood.

“Dazai we are here for introductions and luncheon, could you refrain from making my newest guest uncomfortable?” Comte found her hand on the table and placed his over it giving it a pat as he did so. Her eyes followed the flow of his hand to his arm right the way up until she was once more looking into his eyes forgetting some of her tension looking at his smile. “Genevieve the roast beef is deliciously tender and I highly recommend the quiche. Sebastian, you’ve outdone yourself once more.”

“Thank you, Monsieur le Comte.” Sebastian gave a small bow that seemed to indicate that luncheon was to commence.

---

The heavy door was like one used on a well-protected wine cellar or a catacomb and when they pulled it the noise of happy chaos surrounded them like the smoke from their cigarettes. Of all the places to meet they had no idea why it had to be in such a location. As they descended the staircase they were hit with the smell of several scents at once that reminded them of just how myopic the world of cattle could be. Simple creatures that were little more than slaves to their baser instincts.

There was a long bar set up with bottles of various liquors that was also well stocked with people in various stages of inebriation balanced on tall stools. A burst of laughter drew their attention to a gaggle of women fawning over two men. One looked more than happy for the attention the other appeared to be glaring at the females for daring to get in the way of them and their drink. There was a scent of strong perfumes and rich foods that made their stomach turn.

Pursuits of pleasure beyond what was necessary held no interest to them at all. Everyone had a past and theirs had taught them the dangers in chasing that level of desire. It was a path fuelled by lust that led to a life fraught with judgement and persecution. It was not an experience they wished to relive no matter how sweet the call back to the darker side of temptation was.

Ignoring the small group of inebriated pleasure seekers, they looked around the room for their associate and found them propping up a corner of the bar in the furthest corner. If they had been accused of being a person of mystery when it came to descriptions beyond their general appearance then this man was the perfect spectre.

Everything about them was a calculated addition in an unwritten formula that produced the perfect average, non-descript person that quite literally fades into a crowd.

“You kept me waiting.” Their master spoke loud enough for them to hear whilst hunched over the edge of the bar one hand holding his glass over its rim as he rocked it watching the amber liquid inside move like a wave on the ocean.

“I’m sorry I was following up on a promising lead and forgot the time.” Slipping on to a stool next to the bored-looking man they were then presented with a matching glass of amber liquid.

“I trust you got more out of your avenue of interest than a full stomach?” The man let a dry chuckle escape them as they picked up their glass and drained its contents in one go.

Momentarily lost in awe they found themselves watching the man thinking that this is exactly what made them a master in their craft. In a matter of seconds, it was as if all secrets had been laid bare and had already been calculated into a plan of action in order to move forward. It meant that conversations flowed easily but also left a rather unpalatable taste in the mouth knowing you were serving a purpose but also superfluous to requirements.

“Enough.” They adjusted their suit unsure if the comment was made from an observation out their appearance or a lingering scent. “It appears our mutual interest has taken on another.”

“Interesting but hardly something that will be a major Achille’s heel.” The master signalled the bartender and received another dram of whiskey.

Alcohol did little for them as a rule, but there were still aspects of it they could enjoy even as a vampire. The dryness, the scent, the subtle changes in flavours from the multiple types of brewing and distillation. They watched their master take another sip of their new drink and imagined the variations of alcohols, ages, locations, treatments were not dissimilar to blood and found their own mouth-watering at the idea.

“That is where you might be wrong. This one is a female.” They passed on the information they knew and took a sip of their own drink. The liquid felt thin as it slipped over their tongue and ran down their throat.

“Female? Well, now that is interesting, very interesting indeed.” A smile came to their master’s lips as he placed his empty glass down and turned to him. “What are your plans now?”

“To follow orders naturally. I was sent to observe and inform, I shall continue…”

“No.” The master cut off his lackey before he could finish.

“Then what would you have me do, Lord Amos?”

Ideas were forming in the gloom of his mind that shifted shadows into place like pieces on a board. Part of what made him the best, that kept him employed and sought after was his ability to think freely. To make calculated guesses that could be reported back and acted upon later. This was one of those times and he wasn’t a master for nothing.

“Await my orders like a good little pawn, I shall have to consult with the other party and see what actions they wish to take now.” Amos placed some coins on the bar that would cover the cost of drinks for most of its occupants and then pulled on a hooded leather jacket. “You did well, Latour. I’ll be in touch.”

---

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eene-fangirl · 5 years

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Titanic: Never Let Me Ed Chapter 5 (An Ed, Edd n Eddy/Titanic Crossover)

Here is chapter 5 of @nintendogal55 and I’s collaborated story of Ed, Edd n Eddy, and Titanic. This chapter is the first class dinner scene. Enjoy!

If you would like to read the other chapters here is the link to the masterpost.

Although Eddy shimmered a bright smile of confidence his heart was pounding as he entered the first class promenade. This is it. He was really doing this. The realization that he was in first class just hit him. Eddy knew that he had agreed to sit in on a pointless higher class dinner only to be mocked.

All the diamonds, chandeliers, and rich folk standing upright. Eddy would bet a dollar to all those who needed to ice their backs at the end of the day. Then he’d be rich.

Nazz would be along shortly. And Edd, too. Eddy was looking forward to seeing the expression of his face once Edd saw him all dolled up in a tux and his blue hair slicked back. Especially that woman he was with.

First class passengers were starting to trickle in from the grand staircase. Walking around, Eddy was bored in a matter of seconds. Was this all they did? Talk about money, spend it on expensive galore, and stick their noses up? Whatever happened to living life? Or fun?

Upon hearing familiar voices, Eddy saw who he believed to be Edd’s parents. And Cleopatra sporting the most elegant dress with her breasts half hanging out. Eddy grimaced. Her face was caked in makeup. And her hair looked as if it resembled a beehive.

To Eddy’s surprise, they walked right past him. As Nazz said, he fits right into this playful persona. Make that boring.

“Eddy?”

It was Edd. He had faltered on the staircase staring at Eddy in shock. Eddy stared up at him as his heart tingled in the warm pits of his stomach. His face was so... adorable. The hair that stuck out from underneath his hat had been slicked back. And his tux fit around his body so perfectly.

Finally, they were face to face, staring at one another. Why did Edd’s eyes always look at him so gently?

“Eddy... you look so...”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Eddy winked. “Try to relax...”

Edd chuckled. Before he stepped off the last step Eddy offered his hand out. Now Edd’s heart warmed. Someone was offering to aid him? Sure, it was only Eddy’s witty sense of humor but the gesture made Edd’s cheeks flush. He smiled from ear to ear.

Taking his smooth hand, Eddy helped him step down. It was still so strange how Eddy was shorter then he was. That was okay. He could make out Eddy’s dazzling blue eyes staring up at him.

And then Eddy pecked his hand.

“Oh my!” Edd blushed. He couldn’t help but smile at the affectionate gesture.

“What, it’s the first class, ain’t it?” Eddy then leaned in closer. “You oughta see what the French do!”

“Oh, Eddy, you really are quite the character!”

“I deserve my own show, don’t I?” Eddy said presenting himself as if he were one of those performers Edd would see on the stage.

“Only, did you mean a peck on both cheeks? Perhaps you should demonstrate,” Edd answered slyly.

As they laughed Edd noticed a few onlookers. He just noticed that he was still holding Eddy’s hand. One man turned his nose up and then resumed his chat with other first-class men.

“Um, perhaps we should end this?” Edd suggested to Eddy uncomfortably. Eddy frowned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Then, Edd changed his tone. “Mother and Father should see you!”

As they walked over Eddy still continued to imitate the first class passengers standing up straight and pointing his chin upwards. Edd had to admit that this was needed energy to give this boring atmosphere some fun.

“Victoria,” Edd politely caught the woman’s attention. If she didn’t keep her chin so elevated her skin would sag into a double chin. Maybe even a triple! “You remember Mr. Eddy McGee from last night?”

The woman’s eyes beamed in both shock and disgust. Then she acted delighted forcing one of the darkest smiles. “Mr. McGee! You’ve cleaned up well!”

“You could almost pass as a gentleman,” Edd’s father added with a snark.

As Edd’s heart burned in anger Eddy only snickered. “Much obliged. I think you could, too.”

Edd’s father wasn’t sure how to react. Victoria was sneering at Eddy, a hint of jealousy in her eyes. Before she could say anything another passenger caught her attention.

This was the best time for Edd to introduce some notable members of the first class.

“There’s the Countess of Rothes, you were introduced to her earlier,” Edd pointed nonchalantly. Then Edd motioned to a tall dapper man with a mustache. “And that’s John Jacob Astor... the richest man on the ship.”

“No kidding?” Eddy commented.

“And beside him is his wife, Madeline.”

Eddy’s eyes went wide. “Her? She looks like she could be his daughter!”

Edd leaned in closer. “Also in delicate condition.”

“Scandalous,” Eddy whispered back.

Edd chuckled and then pointed over to another couple. “Over there is Sir Cosmo and Lucile, Lady Duff Gordon. She creates quite the line of lingerie.”

Eddy licked his lips suggestively. “Hmm, her husband must enjoy that.”

“And that’s Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert.”

“And he didn’t take his wife?” Eddy asked surprised.

“Nor the children,” Edd added.

Eddy scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever happened to actually enjoy life? In my society people actually, love,” Eddy remarked.

“Oh. I wish I could experience that.” Edd confessed, rubbing his arm. He looked towards Victoria once more. Eddy inwardly hated the woman. How could she belittle Edd? Why if he were a woman he’d give Edd the world.

Was that even normal to think?

Right then Nazz showed up. “Hi, Eddy, how has everything been?” she asked.

“I fit in like a needle in a haystack,” Eddy answered straightening himself up.

She smiled at Eddy, even straightening his tie. If Eddy didn’t think about it he’d sworn Edd looked jealous.

Then, they were approached by the Astors.

“J.J., Madeliene, this is Mr. Eddy McGee.” Edd introduced.

��Good to meet you, Eddy,” Astor greeted kindly. “Are you of the Boston McGee’s?”

Eddy shook his head. “Nah, the Peach Creek McGee’s.”

Astor blinked, confused. “Ah.”

Then they all went in for dinner. The men escorted the women in. Victoria forcefully took Edd by the elbow.

“Escort me in?” Nazz asked Eddy holding out her elbow. Eddy went ahead and walked inside the big room. An orchestra was already playing. It was soft, slow music, the kind that would put you to sleep. Dining tables filled the room. Quite the contrast from third class. Couldn’t anyone be alone? Large groups of first-class passengers must eat together to compete to find out who had the richest life. Eddy could only imagine the conversations that went on every night.

They all sat at a gigantic table. Unfortunately, Eddy sat across from Edd. At least he could see him. With Victoria’s eyes searing into his soul. What did she have against him?

Now, this was a test. Edd continued to watch Eddy. He even gestured for the man to place his napkin in his lap. Noting the amount of silverware, and having to sit up straight, along with the casual talk Eddy never faltered once. He was always quick in action. It was like he had done this before.

“Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. McGee,” Edd’s mother asked in a condescending tone. “I hear they are quite good on this ship.”

Eddy smiled. “Best I’ve seen. Hardly any rats.”

“Mr. McGee is joining us from the third class. He was of assistance to my fiance last night,” Victoria noted staring at Edd half in disappointment.

Edd nodded in agreement also hoping that he wouldn’t have to go into the story. Even after that whole escapade Victoria never cornered him once on the reason why he was on the third class deck. The woman believed anything. Still, she was a sharp woman. Nothing could get passed her.

“It turns out that Mr. McGee is quite the fine artist,” Edd announced trying to change the subject. Eddy stared at him cautiously. Edd nodded in understanding. “He kindly showed me some of his work today.”

Victoria gave a small laugh. “Eddward and I differ in our opinions of fine art.” She then looked towards Eddy, somewhat apologetic. “Not to impede on your work.”

“None taken,” Eddy remarked. In his mind, he stuck his tongue out at the woman.

Eddy turned up his nose at some of the food served. People actually ate this? As the other complimented Mr. Andrews for his splendid work on the Titanic Eddy ate as much as his taste buds could handle.

“No caviar for me, thanks,” Eddy said to the waiter. “Never did appeal to the eye.”

“And where exactly do you live, Mr. McGee?” Eddy father asked, turning up his dark brow.

Edd noticed Eddy falter a bit, but the man sat up straight and smiled. “Well, right now my address is RMS Titanic. After that, it’s America's good word.”

“You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?” Victoria asked snidely.

Edd grimaced at the woman. Victoria turned to him shooting him a warning look. Although Edd slinked away he never took his annoyed eyes away from her.

“Well, yes, ma’am, I do,” Eddy answered her as respectfully as he could “... it’s a big world. You gotta see it all before yer days are up and yer dug up in the dirt. My Dad...” Eddy began. He looked sadly into his dinner plate. That was the first instance Edd noted Eddy looking sad. It made his heart fall. “... he wanted to see the world... but he died.” He took another short pause. Everyone at the table was stone quiet. They weren’t sure on how to react, especially Madeleine Astor. Was she supposed to feel sorry for a man of lower status than she was?

Eddy then took a piece of bread and started to munch down on while still continuing to talk. “Don’t wait on your ass. That’s the best part about wakin’ up in the morning. You never know what’ll happen next. Or who I’ll meet. Take life as it comes at you,” he lifted his glass of champagne mainly in Edd’s direction. “To make each day count. And here I am with you fine people!”

“Well said, Eddy,” Nazz followed suit. Mr. Andrews also did the same.

“Here, here!” Colonel Gracie shouted.

“To make it count,” Edd toasted lifting his glass in Eddy’s direction.

“How is that you have means to travel?” Victoria asked still not finished.

“I work my way around. Tramp steamers and such. I grapple at art, too. I won my ticket for Titanic in a lucky hand of poker.” He then looked towards Edd once more. “A very lucky hand.”

The dinner went by and dessert was served. After, some of the men were retiring to the smoking room. And the women stayed at the table in conversation. Edd wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t smoke. And Victoria preferred him to stay since she let him wander off on his own today.

Still, he stood up to stretch his legs as did Eddy.

“Do they all retire to a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe?” Eddy whispered to Edd.

“Basically.”

“Are you going to join us, Mr. McGee. I’m sure you have some insightful views on politics. And business.” Edd’s father asked. The other men giggled and whispered.

“I don’t think it would interest the boy,” Victoria pointed out. Now the women at the table were giggling.

Eddy shook his head. “Nah, not my style.”

“Must you go?” Edd asked. Looking deep into Edd’s eyes they were begging him to stay. It was such an awful sight. They were reminiscent from last night only not as in pain. However, Edd looked more hopeful.

“Time for me to return to the rats,” Eddy joked. “Mr. Eddward Vincent-Blake,” he took his hand. “It was an experience.”

And then Eddy exited the dining room, his hands stuffed inside his pockets.

Watching him leave, Edd found a piece of paper crumpled in his hands.

‘Make it count. Meet me at the clock on the shiny stairs.’

Edd turned back to Victoria. She was chatting away with their other women.

Exiting the dining room, and walking up the grand staircase, Eddy’s back faced him. Then he turned around, smiled, and held out his hand.

“Wanna go to a real party?”

#ed edd n eddy #EEnE #eene fanfiction #EddEddy #Titanic #Jack and Rose

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ask-serious-sans · 6 years

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PTA Reader (Platonic!Reader and PTA Sans) Part 1

Summary: A PTA meeting where Linda thinks attempts to befriend someone is the highest form of treason, Helen challenges you to 1v1 on Club Penguin, and Betty gets dunked on.

You walked down the hallway of the combined elementary and middle school your younger sibling attended, glancing at your watch. 5:58. You had two minutes to locate the room where a PTA meeting was being held that evening. Usually, your mother attended these meetings, but today she had to work late and had sent you in her place. You weren't entirely sure what to expect from the meeting; your mother never seemed to have anything positive to say about them, but she always attended them anyway. Finding the correctly labelled classroom, you opened the door with a bit of hesitation, glancing inside. A group of parents rather larger than you had expected stood inside, as well as a fair number teachers, and a skeleton. This didn't surprise you as much as it might once have, considering your younger sibling had mentioned being friends with a few of their new monster classmates, and anyway, you'd heard all about the monsters' recent release from their imprisonment under Mount Ebott which had been all over the news since its occurrence. One of the parents looked up from a stack of papers that you really hoped wasn't a list of things that would be discussed at the meeting, because if so you would probably be here til midnight. Actually, your mother generally got back from these meetings at around that time, so this did not bode well. "Look, sweetie, students aren't allowed in here. This is a very important meeting, for adults. If your parents brought you here thinking there would be daycare provided, they were mistaken." You knew you were short, and yes, sometimes you were mistaken for a high school student, but really? She thought you were in middle school? "Actually, I'm in college," you explained, smirking slightly at the shocked expression on the lady who had spoken's face. "And I'm here in place of my mother. She has to work late today." The response was in about as condescending of a tone as you had expected. "If you're in college you're still technically a student and can't be here." "My mother spoke with the principal about it and she said it was fine," you comment, trying not to sound as annoyed by the excuses as you actually were. One of the teachers spoke up, probably wanting to get the meeting started as soon as possible. "Yes, the principal did mention that older siblings could attend these meetings as long as there is an adequate reason for it. Now that that is settled, can we proceed with the meeting?" Looking just as irritated, the lady continued, "Well, if you really are the sibling of one of the students attending this school, who are they?" Wow, you hadn't been expecting an interrogation. Inwardly sighing, you stated your younger sibling's name and grade, half expecting the lady to pull out a full list of every student currently attending the school and start searching through it for the name. She didn't, but what she did instead almost made you wish she had. "Oh, right. That other kid who's closer friends with the monster children than their fellow humans." If you'd been drinking water, you would have done a spit-take. "Well, if the human kids act anywhere near as condescending as you have been, I understand the reasoning behind it." you retort before you could stop yourself. For a second afterward, you felt embarrassed- perhaps you'd taken it too far?- especially under the glare of the lady, who you by now were pretty certain was the one named Linda. Your mother often mentioned the self-proclaimed leader of the PTA, and it generally was not due to anything positive she might have said. Fortunately, your embarrassment was interrupted by an amused laugh. That was enough to give you the confidence to approach the table everyone was seated around. Many of the parents were looking at you with disdain, so you avoided any empty seats next to them and instead sat beside the skeleton, who no one else seemed to be making an effort to sit next to. The skeleton was smiling, and even if it was a permanent, unmoving one, it was still more comforting than the expressions on most of the humans' faces. Though, you noticed a few of the humans were trying- with varying degrees of success- to hide smiles. Perhaps some of them were secretly just as annoyed with Linda as you were. "Anyway, as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted," Linda continued, with a very obvious glare in your direction, to which you responded with an innocent smile that only irritated her more, "Today we need to discuss several important matters. We will start with the new lunch plan I mentioned in the last meeting..." An hour into the meeting, which had thus far been spent discussing the pros and cons of various changes to the school that different parents had addressed, with no actual decisions being made- or any real debate, for that matter, as any time someone tried to bring up an opposing point, a trio of parents whose names you had by now learned were Linda, Helen, and Betty immediately rejected it without giving the opposition a chance to explain their reasoning- you noticed the skeleton seemed close to falling asleep. Honestly, you weren't far behind, and if your mother wasn't counting on you to fill her in on what she missed in the meeting, you probably would be. The entire meeting seemed rigged by the trio of parents; no one else was given much of a chance to speak, and everything the three said sounded rehearsed. Now you knew why your mother always returned from these meetings seeming so frustrated. Listening to these three talking for upwards of twenty minutes at a time without pause was more exhausting than sitting through four hour physics lectures. "Now, we should discuss the upcoming bake sale," Linda said, interrupting your thoughts. 'Well, at least I'll get to hear about delicious stuff like cookies and brownies for awhile,' you thought, attempting to remain optimistic. "First of all, we have compiled a list of everyone who has offered to bring something for the bake sale," Linda continued, nodding at Helen to pass around a sheet of paper. The parents and teachers read over the list before passing it along with a nod, at least until the list reached the skeleton. Now fully awake, he looked over the list several times before looking up from it, an annoyed expression on his face. "Excuse me, but you left off Muffet's spider doughnuts." "We didn't leave anything off. We told you last week that we will not be serving monster snacks at our bake sale." "Muffet and Frisk have been working for hours to create a version that's designed specifically for human consumption! You said that as long as it was safe for humans to eat, Muffet could participate in the bake sale." the skeleton stated. "Well, we changed our mind." Betty spoke up, "Too bad." The skeleton looked beyond annoyed, but didn't seem to have any way to counter the statement. You found yourself feeling bad for him; based on what he'd said, it had sounded like it meant a lot to him, Muffet, and Frisk. "These spider doughnuts," you spoke up almost without thinking about it, "are they doughnuts, decorated to look like a spiderweb?" "Yeah," the skeleton replied, seeming a bit surprised by your curiosity. Then again, it didn't seem too far-fetched to guess none of the others at these meetings had bothered to show any interest in the spider doughnuts. "I think those sound great! You'd probably get a lot of business, kids love creative stuff like that. I mean, anyone can whip up a batch of cookies or something, but decorating doughnuts? I've never heard of anything like that at a bake sale. Plus, it's October, so making them look like spider webs? That's a great touch." You say, noticing Linda, Helen, and Betty's scowls in your direction hardening with every word you said. "I hardly think your opinions are in any way necessary for this discussion," Betty said in a scathing tone. She'd probably been planning to bring cookies. "Actually," you say with an innocent smile, "I'm a student! Who knows better than another student what students would look for in a bake sale?" Linda, Helen, and Betty looked furious with this statement, the skeleton seemed impressed by it. "Kid's got a good point," he commented. "You-you...." Linda stammered out, looking irritated you'd been able to use her own argument against her. "Fine! You can bring your spider doughnuts!" You grinned, the expressions on the trio's faces more than making up for the awkwardness of speaking up as the lone teenager in a room full of adults. Linda hurriedly moved on to the next topic of the meeting after that, something about complaints about a piece of playground equipment potentially being dangerous, and you sat back to listen. Another half-hour or so passed without incident, until Helen spoke up, bringing up a new topic. "I am sure you are all aware of the planned field trip to the Museum of National History," she stated. You smiled; your sibling had been talking about that for weeks, they were incredibly excited for it. The smile dropped immediately when Betty spoke up a moment later. "Well, we're cancelling it. We believe the funds would be better used for other purposes." "Such as what?" demanded one of the parents who had seemed more friendly than the others throughout the meeting, frowning slightly. They sounded almost as annoyed as you felt. "For one thing, new uniforms for the softball team," Linda stated. "New uniforms? They just got new uniforms at the beginning of the year!" the lady pointed out. "Besides, you've already cancelled the fifth grade field trip in favor of one of your sports teams, and my daughter was really looking forward to going to the aquarium!" "Now, now," Linda said, trying to sound reassuring, "The uniforms are only part of the reason, and I'm sure you'll agree that this is for the best-" "I have to agree with Alicia," a man spoke up. "You can't keep cancelling field trips like this. The sports teams have plenty of funding already, and there's no reason to change uniforms halfway through the season." "Look, we've already made this decision, it's not up for debate," Betty commented. The two who had spoken up stopped arguing, looking irritated but apparently accustomed to accepting Linda, Helen, and Betty's decisions, no matter how unfair. But you weren't. "What do you mean, 'it's not up for debate'? Is this not the Parent Teacher Association, where parents and teachers alike discuss all potential changes before making a decision as a whole? What makes the three of you so special, that your opinions drown out those of everyone else?" "Listen, child. You're new here, so you don't understand how things work," Betty began with a fierce glare that was so well practiced you figured it was how she'd gotten her way so many times in the past. "Forcing everyone else to go along with what you want isn't an association, it's a dictatorship!" you continue, not letting her glare faze you.... or at least, not letting her know if it did. Several of the more friendly looking parents were glancing between each other, their expressions a mixture of surprise and agreement. The skeleton beside you was grinning, a more genuine grin than the permanent one etched on his face. Linda, Helen, and Betty seemed ever so slightly worried, their control over the meeting seemed to be slipping. However, they reacted by intensifying their glares. "Look," Betty said in a tone that clearly stated arguing was not an option. You had to feel bad for whoever her kid was. Unless they were just like her, since then she'd probably be approving of them rather than scaring them into submission. "You are not a parent or a teacher, in fact you are a child, so you should leave this discussion to the adults who are actually supposed to be here." "It's not like you let the adults who are actually supposed to be here have much of a say in the discussion either," you note, just to show her you weren't intimidated. Or at least, not intimidated enough to back down. "You do kinda act like you own the place," spoke up the man from earlier hesitantly, followed by a few whispered agreements from Alicia and a few others. "Silence!" Betty hissed, and the whispering ceased. "Look, the talking Halloween decoration was bad enough, we don't need some self-righteous teenager telling us what to do-" Your blood boiled at this, not as much at the comment about you but more at the insult directed at the skeleton. After all, from what you'd heard of the monsters, they were nice individuals, and this one hadn't done anything to make you question that opinion. Besides, you disliked bullying in general, and such blatant disrespect to another individual annoyed you. "If you're going to insult me, fine, but leave those who haven't even said anything in this conversation out of your tirade. It's extremely unprofessional." The skeleton snickered, whether at your comment or the look on Betty's face you weren't sure, but either way it gave you the confidence not to back down under her fury. "I am the adult here, who are you to tell me about professionalism, you little brat?" Betty asked. "You're right, this is pretty ridiculous," the skeleton spoke up, and you couldn't help but feel a bit hurt, after all you had just been trying to stand up for him, until he continued, "It's a real shame when adults need to learn something from children." At that, you grinned, a quiet laugh escaping your throat. It was kind of a relief to have someone on your side, particularly since Linda, Helen, and Betty were all glaring daggers in your direction. "The PTA was running just fine before you monsters showed up," Linda stated with a glare at the skeleton. "Ever since you... things... showed up, we've had so many issues to deal with-" "Let me guess, the majority of those 'issues' are simply you three having a problem with anyone other than humans attending this school and being annoyed when you don't get your way about it?" you interrupted, frowning at Linda's comment. "Pretty much," the skeleton said at the same time as Linda all-but-shouted some incoherent babble about how the monsters 'ruined everything'. "Well, I'll have you know that the monsters have been a horrible influence on my son," Linda stated after calming down. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. "Frank has been playing with monster children after school recently, and even wanted to invite some to his birthday party!" You blinked, waiting for her to continue. When she said nothing else, you stared at her in disbelief. "So what you're saying is... They're being a horrible influence... By befriending him?" "Yes!" Linda replied. "They're trying to turn him against his own kind!" "I'm pretty sure they're not doing that," you state in a deadpan tone. "How would you know? Maybe they turned you against us humans too! Why else would you stand up for them?" Helen spoke up. "No one's turned me against anyone," you say, exasperated. "I just don't like hearing people insult others when they haven't even done anything." "Haven't even done anything? I know you weren't at any of the previous meetings but I'll have you know that they were plagued with puns, all because of Sans!" Helen argued. "Sans?" "Sup." Oh, that must be the skeleton's name. "So, you guys are mad at him because he makes puns?" you asked, surprised. That was their big reason for insulting him? "You have no idea how many puns he makes!" Linda replied. "So many puns," Helen shuddered. "A skele-ton of them," Sans added. A snicker escaped you at the pun. "Anyway," Linda attempted to regain control of the meeting with a glare at Sans, "The field trip is cancelled, and with that decided we can move on to the next topic-" "Woah woah woah," you piped up, "From my count, it's three of you who want the field trip cancelled and at least three who don't. Probably more, if you didn't just intimidate everyone else into keeping their opinions to themselves. What happened to majority rules?" "What, you want to put this up to a vote?" Linda scoffed. "Yeah, I do. Isn't that how these things are supposed to go?" you reply. "Fine. We'll have a vote." Linda said, before casting a glare around the room. "All in favor of not cancelling the field trip, raise your hands. But I suggest you consider it carefully." You raised your hand, even if you doubted they would count it. Some of the more vocal parents, and most of the few teachers present, also raised their hand. Sans also raised his hand, looking as though he was only barely keeping himself from saying several hand or bone related puns. You probably would have encouraged him to do so if this wasn't such a tense moment. A few of the parents' hands wavered under the glares of Linda, Helen, and Betty, but they remained up. "Hmm," Linda said with an expression of displeasure. "Ten of you, huh?" Then she smirked. "No matter... There's a lot more than ten of you who don't have your hands up." "Please, if not for yourselves... Stand up for the kids," you say. A few more parents and the rest of the teachers rose their hands, a bit hesitantly, but though they shrunk under the withering glares of the angry trio, they kept their hands up. Linda sighed. "Fifteen. But there's sixteen more of us," she announced triumphantly. You felt your hope fade a bit at this. Despite all your efforts, were they still going to win? It felt like you'd let your sibling down. "Now, all in favor of cancelling the field trip, raise your hands." She, Helen, and Betty's hands were all up in an instant. You could only watch as several other parents raised their hands, succumbing to the pressure of the trio's glares. Linda began to count the raised hands with a smirk, though it disappeared quickly when she finished. "Thirteen?!?" Your eyes widened in shock and excitement as you noticed three of the parents who hadn't raised their hands before kept them lowered now. "Raise your hands," Betty instructed them with gritted teeth. All three stared back defiantly. She repeated herself, a glare forming on her face, but the three remained still. "Well, I suppose that ended in a tie. Guess we'll have to make the official decision next week," Linda stated finally, when it became clear the three were only embarrassing themselves in their fruitless attempts to sway the parents' minds. You frowned, knowing they were trying to put it off since you wouldn't be there next week to stand up to them. "A tie? Last time I checked, fifteen was larger than thirteen." "As someone with a degree in mathematics, I can confirm this," the fifth grade Math teacher agreed. Linda, Helen, and Betty scowled, realizing they had lost. All three glared at you in a way that clearly said 'I despise you,' but you were too relieved to care at the moment. "Wow, you managed to get the glare that's usually reserved for me," Sans commented. "Pretty impressive for a first timer, kiddo." You weren't sure whether earning the undying hatred of three PTA moms was really something to be impressed about, but you decided to just smile and accept it. After all, you figured that would annoy the three more, anyway. "Fight me 1v1 in Club Penguin," Helen said to you in the most serious tone you could imagine anyone saying that exact statement in. "I-what?" You replied, honestly confused. Did she really just challenge you to 1v1... In Club Penguin? "You heard me! Or are you too chicken?" Helen said in the same totally dignified tone of a nine year old making a similar statement. "Alright, you're on," you say, because at this point... Why the heck not? Linda grinned, "Ha! Now you're done for! Helen is the best at that game!" "You're about to get owned, noob!" Betty added. '...Right....' You decided to just let them continue with the smack-talk as two computers were set up for what, if Linda, Helen, and Betty's comments were anything to go by, was going to be the battle of the century. Once everything was ready, you and Helen took your places at either of the computers. Linda and Betty had taken up a position on either side of Helen, who suddenly had a bandanna wrapped around her forehead. Well, they certainly take things seriously... Less than a minute later, you and Helen were locked in a fight for your lives... based upon two penguin avatars sledding down a mountain. Honestly, you weren't sure what your life had become at this point- this seemed more like something that would happen at a party where everyone's drunk rather than a PTA meeting- but you strangely enough were enjoying it quite a bit. Currently, you and Helen were tied, and despite Linda and Betty's efforts to distract you, you were able to ignore them well enough to keep up with Helen. Helen managed to get a slight lead over you as you missed a jump trying to avoid one of the obstacles, but then your avatar went over a patch of ice and suddenly you were way in the lead. "What./WHAT?" you and Helen said simultaneously, you in confusion and Helen in anger. When you crossed the finish line first about ten seconds later, you were still confused, and Helen was still angry. Despite your confusion, you still accepted the high five Sans offered. "How dare you attempt to take my title of Penguin Champion?!?!" Helen demanded, looking furious- and possibly a bit embarrassed?- as she stared you down, awaiting your answer. "You guys take this waaaaay too seriously," was your response. Clearly, it was not the response Helen wanted, as her glare intensified. "Hey, you're the one who asked for this," you remind her, shrugging. "That's enough, we're moving on now. No more wasting our time, child." Linda stated, trying to regain control over the meeting. "You guys are literally the ones who asked for it," you can't help but point out, feeling a bit annoyed they're trying to pin the blame for that little distraction on you. Linda huffed, but changed the subject rather than continue the argument, something for which you were grateful. It was now approaching nine thirty pm, and you had classes tomorrow. "Now we need to discuss some safety regulations for a few sports teams..." Sans seemed to have fallen asleep after hearing only that sentence, and you couldn't really blame him. Yes, safety regulations were important, but listening to a list of regulations wasn't exactly the most fascinating thing in the world. You'd almost prefer a rematch with Helen. Almost. Because you figured you would need at least five people to hold her back if you somehow managed to beat her in a race again. When the meeting finally drew to a close around eleven pm- and hour of which had been spent listening to Linda read through an entire handbook of regulations- you were relieved. That had certainly been something, you had to admit. And even if it had gotten a bit crazy at some points, you were glad you had attended the meeting. When you arrived back at your house, your mother looked at you apprehensively. "So, how did it go?" she asked, as if expecting you to burst into a rant of how infuriating everything had been. "Not bad. Think I can go again next time?"

#undertale fanfiction #pta sans #platonic reader #linda helen and betty get dunked on in a pta meeting

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lyricalt · 6 years

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[ovw] House Rules (1/??)

Rating: T Characters: Jesse McCree, Gabriel Reyes. (More cast to come.) Summary: An AU where McCree joins Blackwatch after Genji. Everything is mostly the same, just a little bit worse.

Thank you, Eddi, for suggesting the AU and then when I said “I don’t think much would change”, responded with a single DM that kind of destroyed me? Anyway, to quote her, she wanted something like “[…] seasoned blackwatch agent genji under orders to whip an older but no less bratty deadlock mccree into shape”. She also asked me if it was hot or not. Maybe..? Maybe.

Happy (early) birthday, Eddi. Fiend.

Notes:

Ages are the same, only Genji has seniority over McCree as an agent.

Genji was recruited to Blackwatch at 20. He is now 25. (edit: with Retribution canon released, I’m throwing up my hands and following Blizzard’s example with being super vague about dates. Genji is still 25. McCree is 27.)

I’ll try to update once a week, or more. I have written… a lot of it. I’ll move it over to AO3 once I’ve got… hopefully… more chapters.

[part 1 | [part 2] | [part 3]

It was McCree’s own fault that he ended up in Blackwatch. Twenty-seven years old and thinking he was all subtle cleverness when he demanded to see whoever was in charge, and in came Commander Gabriel Reyes without a smile.

“You wanted to see me?” asked the Blackwatch Commander. He sat across from McCree, the little room bright with white walls and a soft light that wasn’t too harsh on the eyes. It felt more like an office than a cell for prisoners.

McCree shifted his hands, chained to the table where he rested them. Of course, most offices didn’t have furniture with metal fixtures and bolts, and a door made from both steel and hardlight. He took stock of Reyes, making a judgement call to keep his face as serious as possible. It wasn’t going to be like bargaining with the other lowlife gangs where McCree could get away with a cocky grin and a hand to his gun. Reyes didn’t look the type to respond well to humor.

“I’d like to make a deal,” said McCree, confident but not desperate. Like he knew what was what, and that his offer wasn’t just some panicked grab for freedom.

Reyes snorted, expression still unsmiling but there was a spark of amusement in the way his eyes crinkled. “You’re in no position to do that.”

“Whoops. ‘Scuse me, guess I worded it wrong. Believe me, I know I’m in no position to make any demands, but I figured I throw out an offer anyway,” McCree said, ducking his head a little. Made him look contrite and embarrassed for the most part, and in a way, he partially was—though he kept other tics to show for it.

“I see. Well, since I’ve got so much time on my hands,” Reyes said, voice a slight drawl to indicate that he did not, in fact, have a whole lot of time on his hands. “Let’s hear it.”

McCree inwardly winced, knowing somehow there were going to be repercussions for him if he ended up wasting Reyes’ time. But repercussions didn’t mean shit when he was already cornered and bookended. He had been too high up on the Deadlock chain of command to get off scot free, and too old to go anywhere but prison. He thought of Joel, who was seventeen when the raid caught them, and after asking around found out the boy was going to be tried as a minor. McCree felt a little relieved at that; Joel hadn’t killed anyone, was only a runner boy when it came down to it.

It was a shame now that McCree hadn’t been in the same boat; he had killed at least a dozen of Overwatch’s agents during the raid before a stray bullet had caught him in the chest and he’d blacked out with a sudden sharp pain between his eyes. As for the rest of Deadlock, McCree assumed most of them were dead or half a step away to rotting in prison like him.

He leaned forward, ignoring the way the tacky bandages shifted across the wound over his chest.

“I’ll be honest, if this doesn’t work out, you can count that I’ll go to court, guilty as charged. I ain’t stupid enough to think I’ll get away with anything,” McCree said. He threw Reyes a considering look, calm settling in his bones. He wasn’t as good with his words as he was with his gun, but the leveled feeling was the same. “And I’ll serve my time for that good long while, for everything I’m convicted of. Quiet and meek as a mouse.”

Commander Reyes’ eyes narrowed. “You have information.”

“Sure I do. I’ll tell you everything related to my trial, of course. I know what I’m guilty of. I’ll cooperate.”

“You have no choice but to cooperate with us, but I appreciate the willingness.”

McCree figured Reyes for a smart man. The commander knew how to negotiate between the lines and it showed in the way he was conscious of allowing McCree to speak obliquely. He trusted the white room to be monitored, though he wasn’t sure what kind of hold Reyes had over the bureaucratic end of Overwatch—and McCree did believe Overwatch had a hand in with Blackwatch. And Blackwatch, he knew, was just as legal as Deadlock, only with a bit more funding and friends in the right places.

“I do love to be useful,” McCree demurred.

No legal organization would fight the way Blackwatch did during the raid. His heart ticked upwards, remembering how they painted the Deadlock walls red with blood.

Reyes didn’t answer him right away, but neither did it look like he was contemplating it very much.

Unable to help himself, McCree raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re just wastin’ your own time here.”

Reyes didn’t seem pleased by his comment but he wasn’t baited. “I’m just wondering how useful you’d be.”

McCree let out a short breath. He’d been holding it, and Reyes’ gaze flickered, ever observant. Damn.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you an example right here, right now,” he said, pushing forward. No use holding back now. “I happen to know that Deadlock had a planned shipment with Los Muertos sometime later this week. ‘Course, they’ll know that Deadlock’s outta the business by now, but play your cards right and you might be able to catch some of ‘em hanging ‘round their safehouses nearby.”

Reyes’ started to look a little more attentive, which McCree thought was already excessive. The man had eyes like a hawk.

“Locations,” Reyes said, with all the ease of a commander used to giving orders. It certainly hadn’t been a question.

So McCree gave them.

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said, once Reyes got up from his seat.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Reyes said, and left McCree to wait in his cell once more.

It was two weeks before McCree saw Reyes again. By then McCree was bored out of his mind and halfway to being stir crazy. Prison was going to be a downright bastard of a time if he couldn’t bargain his way into Blackwatch.

“So? How’d it go?” McCree asked, bored enough to have the suicidal impulse of acting cheeky. He was back in the white room. Same table but no cuffs. He took it as a good sign.

“You are useful,” Reyes said, sounding so surprised that McCree could only assume he was being condescending. He dropped a tablet in front of McCree, reports and images projecting into the air between them.

There were pictures of bodies, lists of inventory, and a roster that seemed to imply casualties on the Los Muertos’ side—plus a few names that rang familiar in McCree’s mind, though he could’ve sworn they had belonged to other gangs. This was more than a few safehouses, more than what McCree had told Reyes two weeks ago.

“No bullshit this time. I’m gonna speak plainly,” Reyes said. “Your information was very good. We were able to extrapolate a few more locations from other sources, using your information as a guide.”

McCree shrugged. “Figured you guys might. And?”

“Ruthless, aren’t you?”

“Useful,” McCree corrected with emphasis.

For some reason, Reyes didn’t look too satisfied by the answer, only more wary. “You think you can keep being useful?”

“Even more so, if you good folks are recruiting.”

“We might be,” Reyes replied blandly. “You got any terms? I want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

“Wouldn’t dream of making demands,” McCree murmured politely. “I’d be happy to just not rot in prison.”

To his surprise, Reyes stood up from his chair.

“I thought so,” Reyes said. He motioned to someone outside the cell, and the hardlight door flickered for a second, allowing a duffle bag to be tossed into the room. Reyes picked it up and let the whole thing drop into McCree’s lap. “Get up. Put on the jacket.”

McCree clutched at the bag, unable to move. “What?”

“The jacket’s in the bag,” Reyes said patiently.

McCree unzipped the duffle bag and pulled out the jacket, the Blackwatch symbol pressed to one sleeve. He stared.

“I thought… maybe this would’ve taken another week,” he tried, glancing back up.

Reyes scoffed. “I was planning to recruit you two weeks ago when we first met, but you started talking all on your own. Didn’t think you’d be an informant at the time.”

McCree could feel his blood run cold, hands gripping over the Blackwatch uniform. His new uniform.

“I like your initiative though,” Reyes added, though it was like pouring salt on the wound. “And you are very good with a gun.”

The shock was wearing off. McCree knew he ought to be grateful, but instead he was angry. He glared at Reyes. “So I’m in? Just like that?”

“Well, you didn’t have any terms, and I did ask. Lack of negotiations tends to speed things up,” Reyes said. To his credit, he didn’t laugh or look too smug about it.

McCree opened his mouth, wordless, and then snapped it shut. It wouldn’t do any good to state his terms now. He’d been so focused on trying to not go to prison, he hadn’t thought beyond getting into Blackwatch. And it had been that easy, at the high cost of his pride.

Reyes must have noticed his furious silence. With something that sounded suspiciously like sympathy, he added, “Word of advice; next time, don’t try to mess around so much with Overwatch. You’re a gambling man, yeah? So go ahead and play your cards right, but you should know by now the house always wins.”

More silence. Reyes waited.

McCree pulled the jacket over his shoulders.

[part 1 | [part 2] | [part 3]

#jesse mccree #gabriel reyes #blackwatch #overwatch #fic: house rules

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beautifulramblingbrains · 7 years

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Deception - Chapter 4

Fandom: Divergent. Pairing: Eric/OC Rating: M

With a Father in power and a past based on rumors, a story of deception entails.

Find the third chapter here.

A/N: Sorry this took awhile. As always, reblogs and comments are truly appreciated, thank you!

Tags: @murmelinchen @beltz2016 @tak3th3sh0t @singingpeople@frecklefaceb @equalstrashflavoredtrash @pathybo @tobiasbebrave @xxrubyredrosexx @maan2442 @ariwolff14 @kenzieam @lauraaan182 @red-diary

After jogging with Laura for a good half an hour, Kate had slowed to a pace where she could catch up on the latest gossip, but only having to find herself lingering back to Erudite earlier that day and hearing nothing her friend was actually telling her.

Dauntless is directly ahead of them as they slip through the patrol units crossing their paths, along with groups of civilians every so often until they reach the main steps. Laura’s linked arm through hers pulls Kate forward. Whether it be from their run or the fact her thoughts were lost and a strain Kate couldn’t get rid of, she feels exhausted, her feet almost stumbling to keep up.

“There’s a group of us going and you should totally come too.” Laura stops her before they move up the steps, “Like, really. And some lame excuse why you can’t won’t be accepted.”

“I’ll think about it.” Kate pleads internally that Laura will drop this subject quickly, she was zero percent interested. “Maybe I’ll skip this one and go to the next after I’m a little more settled. The last thing I’d want is to turn up to work looking like Harvey most days.”

“Oh, that doofus…” Laura rolls her eyes. “And didn’t I just say, lame excuses won’t be-” A heavy hand lands on Laura’s shoulder, and slowly she turns, her words lost as she cranes her neck up to Eric standing behind her. “Oh.”

“Kate, what a coincidence.” He sets his hands behind his back, letting a foul-play smile linger for the sake of Laura.

“Hi...” Kate frowns at him. “Eric…” They had plenty of time together in the day so she fears whatever is the reason for him to go to such lengths to find her out of hours had to be bad.

“I’m Laura,” her friend blurts out, beaming a grin that had plenty of young Dauntless men usually swooning for. However, Eric barely bats an eye, his sights firmly set on Kate.

“Yeah…” he drifts off from Laura’s unnecessary introduction. “Can I speak with you for a minute, Kate?”

Kate crosses her arms, shrugging slightly. “I was just heading home.”

“It won’t take long.”

“I’m Laura from the last-”

Eric’s eyes snap to Laura, uninterested at the most. “Yes, I know who you are. Give us a minute.” He seems to purse his lips, fighting his own inner words. “...Please.”

Laura’s bubble seems to burst as she blinks multiple times. “Oh, yes, sure. I’ll text you later.” She waves, turning back on the last step of the entrance for one last look before scooting quickly inside.

As Eric checks she’s gone, Kate slips her fingers through her ponytail, checking for flyaways, and then wipes the corners of her mouth before he turns back around, smiling innocently when he does. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” A group of people jog past and he traces them until they are out of earshot. “Messaging felt impersonal and from experience I knew where you’d be-”

“So, you’re following me now?” she asks suggestively. “I thought you’d have better things to do.”

Eric’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, his mouth twitching upward. “Better things to do?”

“You know, being a Leader, your own physical fitness, appetite...demands. It makes for a very busy man, usually.”

“What can I say? I’m good at timekeeping.” His teeth show with his smile and Kate can’t help but coyly grin back.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You do that…” Eric breathes in deeply, his posture loosening. “...Your dad might be held up tonight and Lorraine’s not fixing dinner.”

“Oh, right.” Kate bites her lip, trying to look at anything other than him as a flush begins creeping up her back before the thought hits her. “Are you here because my dad ordered you?” She meets his eyes now, the familiar gray she’d gotten used to falling into, so much so, that they never took her by surprise anymore. It was something much more fulfilling; something comfortable, something far greater, something easier that didn’t make her pause for a moment but for a lengthy time, and quite happily.

“To make sure you ate something?” He gives her an incredulous look that wrinkles his brow. “No. I’m pretty certain you’re not that incapable.”

Kate steps closer to his unmoving form, shifting from one hip to the other nervously. “So, are you asking me to have dinner with you?”

“As in a quick sandwich from the canteen before I walk you home, I suppose,” he shrugs. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Ah, there might be a problem, I’m kind of busy…”

“No, you’re not.” He shakes his head, chuckling at the flirty way she twists on her heel.

“I haven’t got my points card.”

“I’m sure I can buy you a sandwich.”

“So, you are asking me to have dinner with you?”

“You’re not going to stop until I say yes...” Kate grins as she steps past him, bumping his shoulder to coax him to follow her. “That’s manipulation.”

“I must be learning?”

She’s up two steps when he decides to follow her, biting his cheek as his eyes slip to her ass. Those small, black shorts should be illegal.

“...It’s not that I don’t like tomato. I like it cooked in stuff but raw it’s just too bitter and overpowering.” Kate takes another bite of her sandwich, chewing quickly. “Did we really need these fries, though?” Her voice almost echoes in the dimly lit and mostly vacant canteen. They sit opposite each other on the end of one of the long generic tables

Eric’s devoured his within a few minutes, swallowing his last piece and watching the loathingly-slow way she maps out her next bite. “You could’ve told the kitchen staff that before they made it.”

“It said chicken and salad, I thought it meant just lettuce.” Finally looking up to him, he still seems tense, shoulders broad as he sits leaning on his arms. Kate stops eating, smiling as the thought hits her. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Do you have to kill me with a plate afterward?”

Kate snorts. “Depends on whether you can keep this embarrassing secret of mine.”

“Depends on how funny it is.”

Kate throws a piece of leftover lettuce at him. “I’m being serious here!”

“I’m ninety-five percent serious most days.”

“I’m just going to come out and say it anyway and if you laugh it is definitely death by dishes.” Eric gestures for her to continue. “This is the first time a guy has treated me to… dinner.” She smiles, “Even if it’s just a sandwich.”

“Honored. But I hate to break it to you, your dating life, or lack thereof, is hardly a secret.”

Kate groans, whispering to herself, “Why do I suck at secrets?” And Eric tries to suppress a laugh at her genuine concern.

“Since we are having an honest moment, it’s not the only reason why I came to find you.” Kate lifts her head, her frown of self-disgust warping to suspicion. He leans further across the table, keeping his voice low, “I’m not going to tell you, though.”

“But-”

“No,” he exhales and leans back with a smug smile. “It’s a secret. Once told it’s not a secret anymore, and you suck at secrets anyway.”

Her mouth drops open and she picks up the left and cooling fries on the table, launching one at him. “Now you are potentially being a jackass. And that… there…” she looks him up and down, stumbling over her words while trying to remain annoyed at his pleased face. “...is the opposite of honesty.”

“Compared to others, I’m honest with you… Most of the time.” She rolls her eyes at him. “You want honesty?”

There’s something sharp about his tone but she glides over it. “It’s a huge thing for me. Try me.”

“This is honestly nowhere near considered ‘dinner with a guy’.” He breaks into a condescending laugh. “It’s just a sandwich with your superior.” Kate shakes her head at his audacity, suddenly feeling mocked in his shift in attitude and scoots her chair out to leave, but he’s too quick. Throwing his leg out underneath the table, he drags the chair back by the toe of his boot until she freezes, her palms flat on the surface of the table. “And as your superior, I can tell you, after this course, you will be an officer, and I’ll still be a Leader, fulfilling our duties.”

“Okay, Eric.” Though she felt she had suddenly turned white. “I-I don’t understand where you are going with-”

He scrunches his face up and exclaims angrily, “God, why are you so thick sometimes? In fact, you seem blind or deaf to whatever I try to say or do, palming off with ‘It’s fine,’ ‘It’s okay,’ when it’s not.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me what you want.” She opens her mouth but nothing comes out, blinking around the room for a form of relief as he doesn’t once look away. “What you honestly want,” he interrupts her as she flails on the spot.

Kate’s heart in thrumming in her chest, the blood pulsing in her ears. For the first time, someone had offered her an option; to truly choose something she wanted personally, not to make do, and it was overwhelming. She knew the hidden meaning behind his words. It was obvious now that their conversation earlier had been following him all day, and Eric did what he does best, he waited until his duties were over and got straight to the point. She wonders if Mick being busy wasn’t entirely a coincidence.

But it leaves her mulling over something far more significant, that she had once or twice created in her mind, and that on its own left a bitter taste in her mouth. Could she watch Eric eventually be with someone else for the rest of her time at Dauntless? Could she intentionally go against her father’s wishes?

And as per usual, she is never good with moments like this that she has to inwardly swallow down the sudden urge to cry.

“Kate?” Eric prompts her, studying her closely for however long she had sat motionless.

On a slow exhale, she moves a clammy and unsteady hand across the surface of the table and touches Eric’s fingertips. He instantly reciprocates, his larger fingers moving across hers, pulling her into the warmth of his palm and for a second her eyes close.

Suddenly she pulls away, wiping her cheek as she stands and walks with caught breath as quickly as she possibly could; her mind completely torn in two. She’s barely made it through the canteen doors, hearing him call her name, and when she doesn’t respond, he pulls her back by her wrist. It’s a poor attempt at anything she’s learned but easily twists from his grasp, hitting outwards as he grabs her upper arms. “Stop this! Stop!” She’s merely thrashing, pushing at his chest, her words hissed.

“If you wanted me to stop, you could stop me.”

“You’re a Leader. You’re supposed to like other girls, bothered girls, available girls!” she stresses.

Eric steadies her head with a hand engulfing the side of her neck, careless by her clammy skin or loose hairs pulled free from her ponytail, and locks her eyes with his. “You are available, as far as I know.”

“This-this is trouble.”

“It’s too late.”

“My dad…” Her lips tremble and he strokes her lower with his thumb.

“I’m going to tell him.” He pushes his body more against hers and she has to step back until they stand in the darkest part of the long cavernous hallway. “I’ll tell him.” His breath fans her face, and she wished he would kiss her now - a fleeting thought, closing her eyes as if to subconsciously urge him.

“Oh. My. God!” An all too familiar voice on the verge of laughing suddenly prises the two apart

“Rose!” Kate pushes Eric further away and he turns haughtily, wiping a hand across his chin in annoyance before facing Kate’s half-sister. A second later Regina shows up with another girl behind Rose. And all three of the girls seem to know instantly what was happening, snickering between themselves.

“I caught them kissing!” Rose’s voice booms, it seems, through the entire vicinity.

“That's a lie!” Kate tries desperately to recover the situation but Rose merely flicks her hair.

“Whatever, but if you think for a second I’m not going to tell dad - oh, you can forget it!” She begins giggling like a shorn duck. “This is just too good. Mom is going to love this. And you two are going to be in so much trouble.”

“Kate, leave it. We’ll find Mick now.” Eric pulls on her shoulder. But Kate can’t, watching Rose fish out her phone from her purse and put it to her ear. From, what felt like, a long state of limbo, things had jacked up way too fast for her to comprehend.

“Dad, I just bumped into Kate and Eric-” With those words, Kate sobs into her hand, shrugging Eric off, and shamefully heading back to the apartment.

Though Kate wouldn’t stop and managed to get inside her home, shutting the door on him, Eric waits outside as the minutes turn into twenty. He chews his lip, arms crossed, at the very least his jaw ticks in irritation. After a moment he tries knocking again, leaning into his arms stretched up on the doorway. He pauses, his eyes traveling to the side as he straightens.

“Well, well, well…” Mick takes purposefully casual steps down the quiet hall, coming to a slow stop with his palms showing. “The shit has hit the fan.”

“Rose is exaggerating. What she saw was-”

“You kissing Kate, apparently.”

“We weren’t. We were talking.” Eric can’t help the spite in his voice, his teeth locked as he takes a step closer towards Mick.

Mick sighs, pouting his bottom lip. “I don’t care what you were doing because whatever it was, was against everything we have ever been through. I warned you-”

Eric takes the little distance left between them, squaring up, their eyes level. “Do you know what, I am fucking sick and tired of your bullshit. I’m trying to decide at what point loyalty is perverted into stupidity.”

“Funnily enough, I was just thinking the same thing.” Mick’s eyes darken. “You have two seconds to walk away and we can forget about all this rumor mishap.”

“Who is Kate to Jeanine?” Eric’s sudden question plunders Mick’s anger, his face hinting to one of surprise, his shoulders somewhat shrinking back as his confidence drains right in front of him. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask her myself.”

“I told you not to take her there,” Mick hisses through his teeth, trying to keep his voice from traveling. “I told you right at the beginning!”

“You once told me that assurances are the only thing we can rely on. Your example was people and bargaining, throwing rewards to save face. Mine comes from knowledge, what is truthful, something that doesn’t stand on a pillar of shit waiting for the legs to be swiped out from underneath it.”

Mick scoffs, his eyes rolling closed for a brief moment. “You really are a knock off the old block.”

Eric stares at him resolutely with the same frown now beginning to set permanently whenever around this dated old man. “No. I’m not.” He shifts from one leg to the other. “And your deception proves it... Who. Is. She?” Eric finally demands.

“She’s her aunt. She ain’t her mom if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s a deadbeat aunt that’s had me hoping for a successful assassination attempt for as long as I can remember.” He laughs to himself. “I think I may even have a calendar somewhere marking off the days.”

“Why doesn’t Kate know she’s her aunt?”

“It’s better this way, believe me.” When Mick scratches his beard, the sound makes Eric almost recoil. “Kate’s mom and Jeanine were monstrous opposites. And that is why she can’t know. She idolizes a woman who has been dead and buried for a fucking long time. To the point, I believe, she would trace exactly in her mother’s footsteps if I didn’t keep her on the straight and narrow...” Mick realizes he is saying too much, catching himself with a sharp intake of breath, a dazed look forming on his face the longer Eric stares at him. “...This is far beyond your comprehension.”

“I understand just fine. You’re fucking insane...” Eric barks a laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose before lifting his head back up to Mick’s airy expression. “You had me fooled. At one point I saw a leader worthy of heading Dauntless. Now all I see is an obsessed old man, fighting to stay lost in his past while using Kate to do so.”

“We’ll see who has the last laugh. After all,” Mick shrugs, “she’s a daddy’s girl.”

“Has me almost wondering whether you get off on that, Mick.”

“Well, I certainly know you do.” Eric steps forward, bracing his arm, but Mick throws his hands out to the side, chuckling lowly. “Go ahead. Look, I’ll even make it easy for you, I’ll close my eyes…” Mick then puts his hands behind his back. “No hands… Give it your best shot, son. You were taught by the best and I expect nothing less.”

Mick waits on the spot, his head almost tilted up to mock Eric further. Eric sniffs to himself, wiping his face quickly, and Mick opens an eye to peek at him. “Ah, I knew you’d be a sissy.”

Eric tilts his neck slowly to one side on a long inhale of breath, then launches himself forward, fisting the front of Mick’s jacket as he slams him up against the nearest wall. He pushes his fists deep into the old man’s chest, crushing him further, trying to keep at least one line of reasonable thought in his mind why he shouldn’t fracture each individual and brittle rib of Mick.

The vein is back on the side of his head, his breath no more than a drawn snarl.

“Pussy.”

Bringing his knee up swiftly, Eric aims for the fleshy part of Mick’s stomach, hearing the grunt on impact.

“Ah!” Mick spittles the hall, cradling himself as he stumbles. “There is that delightful…” he hocks and spits, leaning up against the wall. “...Dauntless side I have so greatly missed.” He scoffs, groaning as he straightens, “Erudite must’ve practically thrown you out!”

“Go and play happy families while you can, Mick, before everything turns to shit around you.” It takes every fiber of Eric’s being to turn and walk away, but he stops short, his breath still staggered in his blinding anger; the effort to keep his feet from finding their way back to snap Mick’s irritable face from his aged body. “And if it isn’t obvious, Kate and I-”

“You’d have to kill me first,” he spits out as a threat, though he’s still struggling from Eric’s attack. And he meant it.

For what reason, Eric couldn’t quite decipher, although he had multiple suggestive ideas in his head about Kate’s mother and what possibilities Mick could assume as dangerous if Kate was on Eric’s side. Perhaps it was the untimely threat to Mick’s position. Eric knew he’d leveled easily with Mick through training, and even as a leader now, he was pushed by the others onto areas Mick usually oversaw. With Kate by his side, with her measured mind and practicality, unafraid to put her hand into work where others probably wouldn’t, they could end up being the preferred power couple.

Suddenly he liked the idea far more than before when now doused in measurable spite.

“That can be arranged.” Lifting his cheeks and performing a mocking head bow, he leaves. If Mick wanted to be petty, he had no problems in rallying. After all, Mick said he had been taught by the best.

Mick finds that Kate had locked herself in her room. Well, not so much locked as he had banished the girls from having locks on their bedroom doors years ago. But on the act of decency, and a far better solution, he thought, he wasn’t going to pull the mad father act and push his way into her room

Instead, he takes a step back, inches from the white wood she is hiding behind, and thinks, hard.

Every few minutes he hears the betraying sniffs from her side. There was only ever a few incidents when Mick had ever seen his poetically different daughter cry, and that is how he knew he was in the advantage already.

But weirdly, in this moment, he suddenly peters out on long distant memories of her mother. There was no denying that Kate was the spitting image of her; the dark brown wispy hair just below her shoulder, the dark green eyes, the shape of her brow, down to the slight descent of her nose. Though, Kate’s eyes were unknowing, not at all defying, unlike her mother’s. And at least, for that, he is grateful.

Mick sucks on his bottom lip, sighing to himself before bringing himself closer to the gap in the door. “I know my girl is in there.”

“Please, just go away.” Her voice breaks, and he hears something being moved from inside.

“I’m not angry.” His voice is soft and guiding, though his expression is pained when he says it. “It’s just me and you right now.” When she doesn’t reply he breathes in deeply. “At least let me do the fatherly act if anything at all. I’m coming in now.” Slowly he tilts the door handle, opening the door to her sitting braced on the bed, her eyes still puffy and she can’t seem to look up at him.

“Rose is lying.”

“Yes, yes.” He slips down next to her, the bed dipping, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I know. Eric told me everything.”

“He did?” She looks up, incredibly relieved, or maybe it was hopeful.

“He did. We had a little chat. We worked some stuff out. I learned some new things.” He talks flippantly, as if he hadn’t been out in the hall moments earlier insulting Eric’s entire being; letting Eric’s slight of tongue finish with an obliged arrangement of his death. “This is my fault. I take full responsibility for this mess. I put you two together and invited him into my home, of course a sense of attachment was going to happen.”

“Sense of… attachment?” Kate’s fine eyebrows dip, a bewildered look rising on her face.

“Yeah, I mean, I know he had been looking out for you for a while, on my orders. I got the gist that he’s just being overprotective.” He shrugs nonchalantly, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye as she drops her head to her lap, twisting her fingers together. “That’s just part of the job.”

“You’re saying he is only doing it because he has to? That I’ve had special treatment?”

“I wouldn’t say special treatment. But he has been monitoring you, so to speak.” It’s like the nail in the coffin and he could almost smile if it wasn’t such a critical situation.

“But he said-”

Mick stops her by turning towards her, stroking her arm as any loving parent would. “Darling, he’s a man under my orders, who needs guidance. He was outside just now and we had this conversation. He knows it’s a mistake.” She’s still lost in thought, and he had seconds to stop her troubled mind. Mick flinches, hissing as he turns his body straight again. It instantly has her change from confused to concerned.

“Dad?”

“I let him give me one in the gut for our problems; to let him cool his anger a little. He’s always had a knack for violent episodes when he doesn’t get his way. Let’s remember, we are talking about a boy in leadership here, not some wall-mount you pass by outside in the courtyard. After all, I’m grooming him as much as I can to replace me as soon as I retire.” He stands up and stretches with a hand on his hip, favoring his stomach as obviously as he could. “He’s a smart boy. I’m not begrudging him. I love him like he is my own. But I love you more, and you are convenient for him.” Kate’s lips are parted, struggling with such brutal honesty. “He will try to push further, use anything to his advantage, even you, in order to get to this position much faster.”

“Eric wouldn’t… He said-”

“Funny you pass in the same week he comes to terms with his long-lost feelings for you, isn’t it?” Mick leans over her and plants a kiss on the top of her head. “Just think about it.”

He offers her a grieving smile as he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him, and all Kate could do was stare at the place where he last stood.

She wonders whether Eric would be that type of guy. That maybe she had misread him from the moment she had met him. That he obviously had helped her through to the position she was in today, only to get his own advantage out of it.

Her stomach twists sickeningly, a white cold flush spreading through her limbs as her hands tremble. The realization hits her more than anything, that he, Eric Coulter, was totally capable, and it’s not like she made it hard for him. She’d stupidly lingered on every small look or attentive behavior and tricked herself into believing that someone like him would be interested in her for anything other than advancement. He’d even spelled it out to her right at the beginning but all she had concentrated on was the fact he’d called her pretty. She was stupid. A stupid little girl.

The trinket next to her bed she was fiddling with moments before her father came into the room sits positioned on top of the crumpled photo of her mother. She gazes down at it with a hardened stare, the tears welling in her eyes, just as she snaps.

She slaps the painted green, no bigger than her palm, music box across the room. It just misses her full-length mirror and hits the wall, cracking the forever broken lid open.

She regrets it immediately once the reality seeps in, and a small chime from a note inside has her dashing across the room. Cursing, she grabs the music box, suddenly reluctant as an oily liquid seeps from the barest of cracks. She pushes up the lid further, as the softest and simplest song begins to play...

The room is dark. The bed is huge compared to the small girl as she cowers against the wall, just below the window, wedging herself as far back as possible, but just enough to see the passing of feet from the brightly lit doorway.

She watches, sometimes having to peer under the bed to get the full view, as hardened heels pace just outside.

She is cold and hugs her knees tightly, trying to stop herself from whimpering. It doesn’t help at all that her favorite dress is tattered and torn. Her shoes, dolly shoes usually bright red, also had blemishes and she eyes them sadly; they are the ones she loved to run in, the ones that made her run faster.

From outside the room, something slams and she is torn from her musings. A woman’s voice carries over. “She’s been in there all evening. She won’t come out. I even offered her candy.” The woman sounds tired and her words are too quick to be kind. And she didn’t offer her candy, the woman had put her up at the table after pulling her by the arm, dropping sugary treats in front of her without a word. That’s when she had run in her fast red shoes and dove by the side of the bed in a room she didn’t know, trying to hide under it whenever the woman tried to grab a hold of her again. “She’s feral, and she is already causing problems.”

“Try and be a little more sympathetic, eh? She just saw her mom-”

“Whatever! We have twin babies next door and I don’t want this waking them up!”

Babies? The little girl likes babies. She remembers a young woman letting her help dress one back at home. She couldn’t remember the baby’s name, ever, so she gave it a name herself - Dandelion.

She pulls herself into a tighter ball when a large shadow blocks all the light. They are whispering far too quietly for her to understand. In fact, she doesn’t even care, she just wants to go home.

The large shadow treads lightly into the room, suddenly appearing at the foot of the bed. “Hey, there,” he whispers. He has a funny beard, half disappearing by the light. “Katie-Lynn, you wanna come out now?”

Slowly, the little girl shakes her head, still tucked up in her ball of protection.

“I thought not. Everything’s a little strange, huh, doll?” He smiles now and it’s a nice smile that she suddenly relaxes just ever so slightly to, dropping her legs to pick up her head, looking at him through her lashes. She sniffs, feeling the urge to cry, but she is too terrified to. “Mommy’s had to go away for a while.”

“Mommy?”

His eyes brighten at her voice, “Yes, so you’re going to stay here with us.”

“Mommy said, that I… I shouldn’t speak to strangers.”

“Oh, Katie-Lynn, we’re not strangers, we’re family. Me and your mommy are very good friends.” He smiles again. “I got you a little something.”

“My mommy’s friend?” Her tinged brown hair bobs in tangled curls as she gets to her knees.

“You wanna see?” Katie-Lynn also likes presents, so slowly she nods, standing up as he plonks himself on the end of the bed. She grips her dress as she warily steps closer, trying to see what he’s hiding. “Here, come look.” She accepts him picking her up and putting her on his knee. He holds her like she has seen the other Daddy’s do, but she is still trying to peer to the hand hiding her present.

He hands her a small box. It’s green. She preferred red, but it doesn’t matter. Eagerly, she takes it from him, turning it over and over, even shaking it, and eventually opens the lid to a song playing.

“Katie-Lynn,” he murmurs behind her.

“Yes?” She turns around, blinking up at him as he smoothes her hair away from his beard. “What is your name?”

“It’s Mick. But you can call me daddy if you like?”

“Daddy?” Her brows furrow and she looks down at the box again to play with it, humming along. “I don’t have a daddy.”

“You do now.” She ponders his words for a moment. She’d never had one before but he seemed nice enough. “What do you think? You think you could call me daddy?”

She shrugs. “Okay.”

“Can I call you Kate? I like that much better.”

She doesn’t understand why he wants to call her Kate but bringing the trinket high above her head and swooping it down with the music, she nods absentmindedly.

His hold tightens around her and he chuckles, murmuring, “My sweet little Kate.”

#deception #chapter 4 #eric coulter #divergent #insurgent #fanfiction #eric divergent fanfiction #beautifulramblingbrains #eric

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messrprongs · 7 years

Text

Pretend boyfriend (AU: Lily/James)

In which Lily blurts out she is dating James Potter. And she would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for that meddling James.

Not for the first time during their ten minute interaction, Petunia wrinkles her nose in distaste. Lily is unsure what her sister disapproves of now since the salon holds an endless list of possibilities. Only mildly interested, Lily follows her stony gaze to the stylist working next to her station.

There it is, Lily thinks and, for some reason, she struggles to suppress a smirk. Of course her sister would hold purple hair in contempt, no matter how gorgeous it looked on the person wearing it.

“Anyway,” her sister continues, eyes back on her. Lily notes how the derision in her demeanor does not soften a bit as she looks at her. “It's going to be a very tasteful ceremony. Very elegant.” She says this with a pointed, meaningful edge in her voice.

Lily almost rolls her eyes. She abstains, sure Petunia will see her through the mirror at her station. “Tasteful, elegant,”she repeats with a nod. Uptight. Obnoxious. “Got it.”

Petunia is unimpressed. “Do you?” she asks impatiently. “Because most of our guests are very distinguished clients from Vernon’s firm and I will not tolerate anything that might embarrass us.”

Lily wants to inform her that marrying someone like Vernon Dursley was embarrassment enough, but she bites back the retort. Her eyes fall on the clock and she realizes her next appointment will be in soon. Lily's stomach lurches briefly at the realization.

She decides to offer a reply that promises to shorten the conversation. On most days, this entails agreeing with her sister and withholding all the snark from her replies.

“I'll be as proper as ever,” Lily says, but even to her ears, the words sound sarcastic. So much for withholding snark.

Petunia notices too and her lips press together tightly. “None of your radical expressions when you talk to my guests,” she starts sternly. She says this far too loudly, attempting to make her point over the sound of chatter from other clients and blow dryers.

Anger begins to flare up in the pit of Lily's stomach. “Right,” Lily says tartly, interrupting what promised to be a long list of forbidden behaviors. “Is there anything else you needed, because I have to get back to work.”

Petunia’s lip curls mockingly at the word work. Again, she glances at the hair salon with an expression of someone in the middle of a pigpen. Lily feels her cheeks flush, the urge to defend her career making itself known. It is the same reaction to Petunia’s constant jabs about Lily's profession as a hair stylist. This time, however, Lily successfully swallows down her words, thinking instead of how her next client would be there any minute now. Again, her heart swoops slightly.

Wordlessly, Petunia holds out an envelope to her. There is reluctance in the action, as though an invisible someone holds a gun to her head. “Your invitation will say you can bring a guest,” she says. A wicked glint lights her eyes as she adds, “A date, perhaps?” Petunia looks as though she is about to cackle. “Not that you'll need it.”

The words offend her more than they should. In reality, Lily is far more furious at herself than at her sister for letting the comment hurt her.

Lily's love life, or lack thereof, is another of Petunia’s favorite things to criticize about Lily. Lately, all Petunia can do is compare her own impending wedding to Lily's lack of serious romantic suitors. Her sister delights in telling everyone that will listen about how her life is falling into place now that she's marrying a man from a good family and with an impressive career. She delights even more in following this proclamation by pointing out how, meanwhile, her sister is nowhere near finding quite a catch, let alone the promise of a good marriage. And every time, Lily stifles the urge to correct her sister and inform her that a lack of suitors is not a problem Lily has to worry about and even if it was, there is more purpose to her life than a man. But, more often than not, Lily sagely chooses to say nothing. She is absolutely certain that fiercely recounting her many romantic conquests, no matter how short lived, will only spur Petunia on.

Lily can feel the words rising up to her throat even now, but she refrains. She didn't want to give her sister a live example of what she considered Lily’s “radical views.”

There is something about Petunia’s condescending smirk, though, that makes Lily say, “Maybe I will need it.”

The words had been out before Lily registered the intention of saying them. She quickly decides that the lie will be no problem. She would simply ask—no, beg — her mate Benjy Fenwick to go as her date.

“Really?” her sister sneers. “Who? Your friend? That lowly musician you took to mother’s birthday?”

Fuck. Lily had forgotten. Belatedly, she also realizes she has already taken Benjy to several of her family's events throughout the years. It had become clear to everyone in her family that he was simply her friend.

Lily tries to remain unfazed. “I'm seeing someone, ” she informs her as convincingly as she could. “That's who I'm taking.”

Petunia laughs derisively. “And who is that?”

Lily is unable to think of any names. She is aware of the long pause that stretches as she struggles to think of a bloody name. “James,” she blurts out, thinking of her next client. “His name is James Potter.”

By the unmoving expression on her face, Petunia doesn't recognize his name. “Since when?” she challenges.

“Since four months ago,” she returns, just as defiant. At least this isn’t a complete lie. Four months is the time she had known the real James Potter.

Unconvinced, Petunia opens her mouth, no doubt to pester Lily with more questions that would slowly expose her. However, before any words leave her, Hestia, the hair salon’s front desk attendant, is at their side.

“Lily,” she says apologetically, visibly sorry for the interruption. “James is here.”

With a stab of panic, Lily's eyes search for him in the waiting area. Sure enough, he is there, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs that looks far too small for his long frame. He is not looking at her, his attention fixed on his phone. He swipes his free hand through his hair and Lily is unable to suppress a smile. On his last visit, Lily had teasingly informed him of this nervous tick, but James had denied it quite passionately, saying he’s not a big enough prat to continuously run his hand through his hair. On the chair next to him, Lily can see a brown bag from a restaurant nearby. This time, she does smile. It had been James’s solemn duty to bring her lunch from his favorite places ever since she proclaimed there was “nothing good to eat” in the area.

Almost as if sensing her eyes on him, James looks up from his phone. When their eyes meet, he gives her a lopsided half smile. Her stomach dives again.

“Is it okay if he comes back here?” Hestia says, alerting Lily of her presence. She had forgotten she was still there, waiting. Hestia’s eyes fall on Petunia. Lily had almost forgotten about her sister, too. She feels little remorse about that.

It is Petunia who speaks, the false sweetness in her voice making Lily sick. “Yes, absolutely,” she tells Hestia without looking at her, as though she was a servant. “I’d love to meet him.”

Lily knows this is far from the truth. Petunia had never showed any interest in any aspect of Lily’s life. What Petunia would love to do is expose Lily and make her subject of even more relentless teasing.

Panic sweeps over her as Hestia nods at him and he walks over to her station. Lily takes in a deep, shaky breath, attempting to abate her dread.

Why did she have to say his name?

Their eyes meet again and this time, he flashes her a full smile, one that is so customary of him and so charming that Lily briefly forgets her idiocy.

Oh, she thinks stupidly. That’s why.

His step—usually confident— halters only slightly at the sight of Petunia. Lily is unsure if he’s momentarily disconcerted by the presence of someone new or by the almost maniacal smile on her sister’s face.

Lily’s throat is dry by the time James nears them. She musters the nerve to smile sweetly at him, hoping she is a far better actress than liar.

“Hey, you,” Lily says in what she hopes is a loving, flirtatious voice. She inwardly cringes at how the effect is ruined when her voice cracks slightly on the last word.

James raises his eyebrows.

Her heart is a raging storm in her chest as she walks up to meet him a safe distance away from Petunia. It threatens to beat itself out of her chest at the thought of what she is about to do. Before her nerve fails her, and with a quick mental fuck it, she lifts herself on her tiptoes and presses a kiss on his cheek.

He freezes.

“Please go with it,” she implores in a small whisper before pulling away from him.

James doesn’t move and for an awful moment, Lily fears he might have not heard her plea. In his silence, she begins to feel the weight of her action crush her. She kissed a client. Worst, she kissed her favorite client, James, who seemed so repulsed by it that he was rendered speechless.

The silence between them roars. Desperate, Lily looks around at anything except her sister, afraid of the spectacle she had just made. But no one is looking at them, all the other stylists too busy with their own work . She is about to open her mouth and spew out apologies that would be too rushed, too tangled to be comprehensible, but James regains his movement.

He smirks, the gesture making his already handsome face even more so. As Lily looks at him, she swears she can detect a small blush on his face, but she has no time to dwell on it.

“Hey, you,” he returns, leaning in to kiss her cheek in a much more casual and convincing manner than she had. He lifts the brown bag at her. “Brought you lunch.”

She could kiss him. Again.

Her smile is real as she looks at him gratefully. “You’re too good to me,” she tells him, and this too, she realizes, is not acting.

“Anything for you,” he returns without missing a beat. For good measure, he kisses her forehead and Lily's breath catches. “Did you make dessert?”

As part of their lunch arrangement on his visits, Lily offered to make her famous pastries. At least, famous to her friends, family, and now James.

She nods. “I made treacle tart this time,” she informs him.

James hums approvingly.

“Just for you,” she quips.

“I'll consider myself lucky, then.”

“That, you are.”

“The luckiest,” he agrees.

Except for the kisses and the sweet, melodious tone coating their voices, the exchange is not unlike their usual ones. At least their conversations didn't have to be faked.

He makes a show to look up at Petunia and feigns brief confusion. He is a damn good actor, she notes. Another thing to add to his already long list of talents. “Are you with a client?”

For the second time, Lily had forgotten her sister was there. This makes Lily feel the most ridiculous since the boyfriend act is for her benefit.

Petunia is watching them with discontent. Arms crossed tightly across her chest, she takes in James's appearance, starting with his disheveled hair, made wilder still by his hand, running predictably through it. Her eyes move down to his glasses, passing his ever present jovial smirk, and resting on his attire. He is wearing a faded band t-shirt, layered with a plaid shirt. An outfit that betrays nothing of his family's hair product empire and their insurmountable wealth, according to Google. They also happen to be the two articles of clothing Petunia despises the most.

“James, this is my sister, Petunia Evans,” Lily says, moving to stand next to James. “Petunia, this is James Potter.”

Lily feels James's arm move as he begins to extend it, but Lily places her own hand over his forearm, halting the movement. She is positive Petunia will not feign enough civility to shake his hand and Lily is unwilling to allow him to suffer that humiliation.

“So,” Petunia says instead of a greeting, “You’re Lily’s boyfriend.”

“That I am,” he says confidently.

Petunia does not look suspicious. Instead, she looks angered as her small eyes swivel to Lily briefly. “For how long?” she asks James, determined to find a flaw.

“Four months,” he replies without hesitation, throwing an arm around Lily. She attempts to quell the fluttering in her stomach.

Disappointment, defeat, and anger crash in her sister's expression.

“Best four months of my life, actually,” James adds, pressing another kiss on the top of Lily's forehead.

Heat blooms from Lily’s neck to her face. She braves a quick look at James to find he is already looking down at her, his smile disappears completely, replaced by a rare seriousness that is alien to him. Before she can stop herself, she opens her mouth to say something, though she is unsure what. She closes it and the movement draws his attention to her mouth. His eyes rest on her lips briefly and Lily feels as though caught in a spell.

“How did you meet?” Petunia’s shrill voice demands.

And just like that, the spell is broken.

James's eyebrows shoot up briefly, no doubt feeling as though he is part of an interrogation rather than an introduction. It would have been sweet, coming from any other pair of siblings. An older sister meeting her little sister’s boyfriend for the first time and asking question after question to make sure he was good enough for her. Lily feels a small pang at the thought. It had never been that way with Petunia.

“My family is in the hair styling business,” he says simply. Lily almost laughs at the understatement. “I was at this location on business and I was told Lily is the best hairstylist in the area. So I had to see it for myself.” He looks down at Lily briefly, his smile returning. “She is also lovelier than anyone I’ve ever met before so I had to pretend like I needed a haircut every two weeks as an excuse to see her.”

Lily does laugh at that.

Petunia, on the other hand, is unaffected. Lily can see her jaw working, the way it does when she was pensive.

Before her sister can think of any more questions to hurl at James, she asks, “Was there anything else?”

Petunia looks as though there are a million different questions she wants to ask, hoping one will reveal their lie. She opens her mouth but closes it immediately, scowl deepening. “No,” she says at last, pursing her lips with false dignity. “Just remember what I asked you for my wedding.” Her eyes fall on James and his plaid shirt. “It'll be a black tie wedding.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “We'll do our best,” she says sardonically.

“See that you do,” Petunia counters acridly as she turns to leave.

“It was a pleasure to finally meet the famous Tuney,” James says cheerfully, arm still around Lily's shoulder.

Petunia looks at him as though he had slapped her. She directs her glare at Lily who only smiles innocently at her. Lips pressed so tight that they appear ghostly white, she all but storms out of the salon.

James waits a full minute after Petunia disappears before he lets his arm fall. Lily tries not to miss its warmth.

“Thank you,” she begins, the words a blur as she tries to explain. “She was being so awful about bringing a date to her wedding and I just— ”

But James is shaking his head, putting up a hand to pause her. “Don't mention it, Evans,” he says, setting the sealed brown bag of food on the counter next to Lily’s station. “Believe me, I know what it's like to be pressured by family.” He wrinkles his nose. “Although, my mum is not that determined when she asks me about my love life.”

Lily grimaces. “Sorry about her,” she says with a sigh. “I reckon she knew I was lying and was trying to prove it.”

James laughs. “She looked furious,” he comments. “So I think we convinced her.” He finishes this statement with a wink that makes her face flush yet again.

There is a brief silence as he takes his usual seat in the styling chair. Lily lowers it as far as it goes before draping the black nylon cape over him.

“You’re an impressive liar,” she comments as she fastens it at the back of his neck.

James doesn’t reply. He is looking at her through the mirror, all traces of humor vanished from his face. “I didn’t lie.”

Despite his serious expression as he looks at her, Lily laughs uncertainly. James, however, does not join her in her amusement, as he typically does. Instead, he watches her for a long time, so long that Lily has to look away.

“Best four months of my life, actually,” he had said.

The memory of the words send a thrill through her.

Like before, she opens her mouth, but this time she does know what she wants to say. She wants to say that the last four months have been pretty good for her too. She wants to properly tell him that she looks forward to his appointments and their shared lunches. That his ridiculous jokes keep her grinning for two weeks, until she sees him again. That two weeks is entirely too long to go without seeing him.

But Lily does not feel brave enough to say it. Instead, she brushes through the chaos that is his hair.

“Evans?” he says quietly, his voice almost entirely lost in the sound of the blow dryers nearby.

“Hmm?” she allows, not looking up from his hair.

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to look up at him and meet his eyes through the mirror. When she does, he is grinning effortlessly at her. “You do realize now you have to take me to her wedding?”

“You don’t have to go,” she assures him quickly. “I can tell them you had somewhere else to be.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he tells her.

Again, Lily schools her features, masking the intoxicating rush his words send through her. He is entirely too good at doing that.

“I couldn’t ask you go through all that pretending again,” she insists. “And for an entire evening.”

James considers this, though his expression is far too exaggerated to be entirely genuine. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says finally. “I don’t want to go through all that pretending.”

Lily gives him a single nod, looking down at his hair again. She tries to dismiss the disappointment.

“That’s why I should go as your real date,” he says simply.

Her eyes fly up to meet his again and she is ready to detect hints of humor on his face. There are none. He is looking at her expectantly, shifting slightly in his chair. For a moment, she imagines his hand flying up to his hair as he waits.

This silence is the longest by far.

“No,” she says at last.

His expression dissolves into surprise, followed by apprehension and finally settling on disappointment.

“Er...right,” he begins, looking so completely unlike his usual confident self that Lily bites down a smirk. His face flushes with color as he struggles to find what to say next and it is so endearing to her that she is unable to contain a laugh.

James blinks.

“I refuse to spend our first date in the presence of my parents, my sister, and Vernon Dursley,” she explains, saying the last two words with unrestrained horror.

James’s shoulders drop, his relief palpable in the crooked smirk that dawns on his face and gives way to a laugh. “So you’re telling me I have to take you out many times before then?”

“Precisely,” she says quite seriously. “And you’ve only got three weeks to do it.”

“Well, then,” he says, matching her faux business-like tone. “We should get started right away. Tonight at eight?”

“Tonight at eight,” she repeats with a nod.

“You’re going to grow sick of seeing my face,” he warns her.

Lily breaks and laughs at that. Her eyes trace the edges of his defined jaw through the mirror. She is quite certain he is aware she is watching him so intently, but she doesn’t care.

Feeling elated, she says, “I highly doubt that, Potter.”

A/N: Yeah. There’s that. My first “Fake Dating” AU. Definitely won’t be the last. Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!

P.S. I discovered I hate writing in present tense. But momma didn’t raise a quitter.

Finally: I made a page for all my fics that I am weirdly proud of.

#James Potter #Lily Evans #Lily and James #Jily #AU #fake dating #my writing #hiiiii #i have time to write again #write well?#the world will never know

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archivedmusesbyr1x1 · 5 years

Text

Moving Day

Haleigh was a little nervous about Zach moving in her place. She never had a roommate before, and she definitely never had a “husband” either, so this was a little nerve wrecking. She had gotten the contract sent over a little while ago, with her new addition added. She didn’t know how he was going to take it, but it was there now. She made some finger sandwiches, and other little snacks for him when he got there. She didn’t know why she did that, but she did. She got his text that he was there, and she let the doorman know that he could let him up. She opened the door, when he got off the elevator, “You made it, welcome to your new home.” She smiled, and trying to show him the sweet side to her, like Zoey said to do.

The dreaded day has arrived for Zach. He couldn’t believe that he was actually going to move in to his ‘wife’s’ home. This was crazy. He didn’t do relationship, which included cohabitating with another woman. He was definitely going on a rollercoaster ride here, because just from the brief time he spent with her, he already couldn’t stand her. How the hell was he going to be able to live with her without wanting to tape her mouth shut? When he arrived, he spoke to the doorman and was told go straight up. He rode the elevator alone and when he got to the door, he took a deep breath before the door swung open. She greeted him with a smile and he could only give her a curt nod and a grunt, “It’s your home. I’m here temporarily.”

Haleigh sighed the second Zach made his flippant remark, and she already regretted having him move in with her. Why can’t I be more self sufficient, and not need daddy’s money. She sighed and closed the door behind him, “Is that bag all you brought? I mean, you do realize you are here for a year right?” She knew there was no way she could carry everything she needed in a bag that size for a weekend trip, let alone a whole year. “So do you want to see your new room first, or look at the contract?”

Zach had only had to step one foot in the door before he was annoyed. She was looking at him like he was crazy for only bringing one bag. “Do I look like a pretty boy to you? I don’t need a lot to live, Princess.” She shot back, rolling his eyes, contempt clearly visible on his face. “Whichever you want. I don’t really care either way.” He said, though it sounded like a bark.

Haleigh rolled her eyes at Zach, he was being so rude, “Look, I was only asking to see if more stuff was coming up, but whatever.” Out of all the hot guys in Vegas that night, why did she have to pick this asshole to mess around with, and now she was stuck with him. She needed some space, “How about this, I show you to your room, leave the contract with you, so you can read it over, and then you come find me when you are ready to talk.” She didn’t have time for his shit today. She was already walking towards his room before he even said a word.

“Nope.” Zach answered quickly because he didn’t feel like arguing with the brat and he knew that he would say something to really hurt her if he didn’t try to keep his response short and simple. “Whatever you say, Princess…” He probably shouldn’t be so entertained by her annoyance, but he was. It made him feel a little giddy inside. She did pay for him to stay here. What did she expect? For him to be nice? That was unlikely… She was already leaving him behind, so he figured she must be showing him to his room, so he followed.

Haleigh was not amused with Zach’s attitude, but she was paying him, so she got what she paid for. But he was in for a rude awakening when he read the contract, and it says he has to be nice to her, or she would deduct money from him every time he is an ass to her. She smiled inwardly at the thought of how he was going to flip when he saw that. She got to the guest room, and opened the door, “Here’s your room.” She shoved the contract in his chest, “And here’s the contract, I’ll be on the balcony when you are ready to talk.” She walked away, went to her wine wall, and grabbed a bottle of wine, “I am going to go through several bottles with him here, I can tell.” She said to herself as she made her way to her balcony.

Zach followed behind her, keeping all his snarky comments to himself. As he walked, he looked around him and had to admit that the place was beautiful. Whoever her dad was, he must be loaded because buying a penthouse in LA was not cheap. When he got inside the room, she shoved the contract against his chest and told him to look for her at the balcony when he was done with it. Once he was alone, he sat his bag down and started to read the contract. It was mostly about his payment, but when he read the terms, he flipped! “This woman must be crazy!” He growled and stormed out of the room in search of her. When he found her, he waved the contract around, “What the fuck is this? I’m not going to be nice to you. That’s crazy!”

Haleigh was on her second glass of wine when Zach came storming out, and she smiled, “You don’t agree to the terms of the contract?” She was ready for this showdown, One thing she knew and learned from her father was the art of negotiation, and how to get what she wanted from someone. She motioned for him to sit, “Well we can discuss it like civilized adults.” She smirked, and crossed her legs, “So, you don’t think you can be nice to me? And why is that?” She gave him the most serious face she could, but she also really wanted to know why he couldn’t even be nice to her for a million dollars.

Zach began pacing around like a caged animal. He didn’t like being told what to do. Especially not by some stuck up brat who’s had everything handed to her. He refused to do it. Even if it meant that he had to give up the million dollars. Fuck that, he wasn’t that desperate for money. She’d asked him to sit down, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sneered at her. “I don’t like people telling me what to do. You’re not the boss of me!” He growled, folding his arms. Then, an idea struck him and he smiled like a Cheshire Cat. “I don’t need you, Princess. You need me. I could walk away from here and everything would go back to normal. You on the other hand would lose everything.” He threw the contract at the table in front of her. “So unless you want to lose everything. I suggest you change this contract.”

Although Zach had a point, she did have a talk with her father, and they worked out the clause, that if the guy left her, then she was not at fault, but she had to be willing to stay in the relationship. As much as she did need him, she kinda had a out clause, but there was one catch, and he had to sign the contract to say he left her, but there was no way she was going to tell him that. “Well if you would have kept reading, you would have seen that if you decide to leave me, then you will forfeit your money, and I will still keep everything I have now. So the real question is, how bad do you want the money?” She smirked, “But what I don’t get is why you can’t be nice to me? I mean I have tried to be nice to you, but all you do is get snarky with me, and make snide little remarks. Is it because I accused you of drugging me? Because I apologized for that, and I meant it. Do I need to apologize again?”

Zach had already made his mind up and he wasn’t going to back down. There was no way he was going to let her bully him into complying. Once was enough. Having parents that didn’t give a shit about him and had abused him when he didn’t listen was the reason why he had a heart of stone. For ten years of his life, he lived like he was imprisoned, he couldn’t say anything or do anything. He never knew love until his mother finally dropped him off at his grandparents. His grandparents were understanding of his nature, he didn’t talk much because he didn’t want to hurt their feelings. From that day on, he swore that he would never let anyone control him again. “You really think I give a rats ass about your money?” He challenged with a laugh. “I have a business of my own. I don’t need your money and sure as hell don’t need to be nice to you. So go ahead and rip up that contract and run back to daddy’s money. See if I care.”

Haleigh was never one to back down, she was as stubborn as a mule, and she wasn’t going to give in now. “So if you are good on money, why did you agree to this? Why didn’t you just turn me down flat in Vegas?” She was a bit confused why he would even agree to something like this if he didn’t need the money. “I think there is something you want to do with the money, and sure you have a business, but it’s not giving you the money you need to make it better, or do what you wanted to do in the first place.”

Zach had to give it to the girl, she had gumption and was not one to back down easily. Too bad for her, he was just as stubborn, if not more. “It’s money. Who the hell would give up the chance at a million dollars? I guess you wouldn’t understand since everything is handed to you, Princess, but for normal mortals like myself, a million dollars can give us a lot of things.” She wanted to know what he wanted to do with the money, but he wasn’t going to tell her. They weren’t friends, he didn’t owe her any explanation. “It’s none of your business.” He said with a shrug.

Haleigh scoffed, “Apparently you are about too.” She rolled her eyes, he was just as stubborn as she was, and she actually hoped he decided to not be here, so she could go back to her life, and never see him again. She was getting annoyed at him being so condescending towards her, “Listen, I am sorry that you have a problem with my lifestyle, but I can’t help that I was born into a family that was rich, but that’s what happened. And yes, I had a lot of things handed to me, but it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate things, and people for their hard work. And I would appreciate if you would stop judging me, before you even get a chance to know me.” She poured another glass of wine when he refused to tell her what the money was for. “So why don’t you just sign the back sheet, and you can be on your way. It just says that you don’t want to agree to the terms, and are leaving.”

There was so much he wanted to do with the million dollars. He was going to expand his business and refurbish his grandparents home to its former glory. They had passed down the house to him because they trusted that he would take care of the place after they’re gone and he wanted to do that for them. But he couldn’t compromise who he was just for the sake of money. He wasn’t a cattle up for sale. Even so, he couldn’t expect such a spoiled person to understand his predicament. “I don’t care that you’re spoiled. If you want your dad to take care of you like a baby that’s on you. What I care about is you demanding I act a certain way. I’m not your slave, Princess. And before you argue, yes you are treating me like a slave. I’ll have to do your bidding for a year and if you’re happy with me maybe I’d get the money. What the hell kind of fucked up bullshit is that? You know, I thought women nowadays want independence, I guess you’re old fashioned and couldn’t care less as long as you get what you wanted, right?”

Haleigh was really trying not to lose her temper with Zach, but he was not making it easy on her. All she wanted was for them to make this uncomfortable situation bearable for the both of them, but he was not trying to work with her. She gasped at him saying she was treating him like a slave, and she was prepared to argue with him, but he stopped her, and continued making his point. As furious as she was about his accusations, she could understand what he was saying. She saw glimpses of her father in her behavior, and she hated it. Remind me to tell Zoey that her advice backfired. “Look, you may think you know me, and I may not have given you the best impression of me, but my intention was never to make you feel like a slave, just to try to make this situation easier for the both of us. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to be civil with me? This is a crazy situation already, why do we have to make it worse by snapping at each other all the time? Now I may be spoiled, I’m not ashamed to admit that, but I am a good person, and I do more good for a lot of people with what I’ve been blessed with. But you wouldn’t know, because you already made a assumption about me.” She sighed and shook her head, “Look, I don’t want to start this like this, so I will take that addition out of the contract, but I would hope that you would want to make a effort to make this work.”

Zach didn’t regret any of the things he said, he never liked to open his mouth for a reason; because what came out was always something that would grate at a person’s nerves. It was a defense mechanism on his part. He’d learned to curb that urge while living with his grandparents. Plus, he was generally a quiet person. There was something about the girl that irked him. He didn’t like that she was so willingly took, not even considering that maybe some independence might do her some good. He had no respect for people like that, and it was even more disappointing that he had accidentally married one. He pretended not to be interested in what she said, but in his silence he was actually listening. She wanted him to not snap at her and for them to be civil. He wasn’t sure he could do that, but maybe it was possible, if he remained silent. It wasn’t like he was a wordsmith anyway. “Alright then, I won’t snap at you. Anything else you wanna add to the contract, Princess?”

Haleigh wasn’t sure if anything she was saying was getting through to Zach, but she knew that there was nothing else that she could do, but deal with him. She needed to show her father that she could get through this, and not quit at everything. Although she knew that she didn’t always quit on things, her father thought differently. She looked over at him, and smiled, “I promise not to be too annoying.” She shook her head, “No, I have nothing to add, is there anything you want to add? I mean you have just as much say so in this as I do, so what is something that you want from me?” She gave him a small smile, and pushed over the bottle of wine, offering him some if he wanted it.

Zach had to ask her if she wanted to add anything in the contract in case the woman had any other crazy ideas. He had to cover his ass after all. When she promised that she was not going to be annoying, he snorted. “We’ll have to see about that.” Though he added a slight smirk at the end to not end up looking like a complete jackass. “Not really.” He reached for the bottle of wine she offered and poured him a glass. After taking a sip, he cringed. “You call this a drink? It’s disgusting.” He wasn’t a wine drinker to begin with, more of a Bourbon guy. Wine was too expensive for his palette he always joked. But in all honesty, he’d never enjoyed the drink, preferring hard liquor in its stead.

Haleigh smirked, “Yeah we’ll see.” She smiled when he said that the wine was disgusting, “Not a wine drinker I see? Well if you are into something stronger, the liquor is at the bar, and it is fully stocked with everything you could think of.” She liked all kinds of liquor, but wine was what she drank when she was trying to relax and calm down. “It’s not that bad, you just have to have a palette for for it.” She got up and headed to the bar, “What would you like to drink?”

Zach’s brows rose, his interest piqued when the woman mentioned a bar. “Not all of us have expensive taste.” He simply added, his gaze following her as she made her way to the bar. Damn, what did this woman not have? She had everything it seemed, even her own bar. If she wanted to, she could turn this area into a night club. “Get me a glass of your best Bourbon. You know what, bring the whole bottle over.” He needed it after this long ass day.

Haleigh smiled, and nodded, “Yeah, I don’t think everyone has to have the same taste, it would make the world a boring place.” She smiled and went to the bar, and grabbed the bottle of bourbon and a glass, but smiled when he said the bottle would be better. “Sounds good to me.” She gave him the bottle, and grabbed herself a bottle of tequila. “It has been that kind of day.” She smiled, and motioned back to the balcony, “Shall we head back out there? It’s actually a great place to drink.” She giggled.

After the day he’d had, Zach wasn’t opposed to indulging in a few glasses of bourbon. He wasn’t an alcoholic, but when he was have a bad day, he’d normally kicked back with a few glasses of bourbon. Thankfully, the girl had her own bar and was willing to share with him. He took the bottle from her and looked in the direction of the balcony. “Sure. Why not.” He stated with a shrug of his shoulders. As he followed her over, he couldn’t help but be floored by the view. He could see the whole city it felt like.

Haleigh went to the balcony with her bottle, and sat across the fire pit, and opened her bottle and took a gulp. “So, what do you think of the view? It’s my favorite place to relax, and watch the sunset.” She took another sip of her drink. “I want you to know that you have free reign to everything here in the house. So don’t hesitate to use anything here. I can give you the tour, or you can just wonder around on your own if you want.”

Zach was still taking in the view as he took his place next to the girl. Her question pulled him away from the stunning view and forced him to look at her. “It’s great. You could see everything from up here.” He said, unable to bring himself to be his snarky self. He poured himself a drink and took a huge gulp before answering her. “Nah, it’s fine. I can explore. I’m curious of one thing though. Don’t you get lonely living in this great big place all on your own?”

Haleigh smiled and nodded, “You can, it was the reason I picked this place. I like seeing the whole city from here.” She sat back, and nodded as he said he would explore, “Okay, have fun with that, but fyi my room is the last door at the end of the hall, so there is no need for you to explore that room.” She smiled and took another gulp of her drink. She was shocked by his question, and her smile faded a little, “Honestly, I used to be, but I got used to it. I mean I was always alone growing up, so this was just the next stage in my life I guess. It was a gift from daddy, so I would no longer be in his home with his new wife.” She lifted the bottle of tequila, and gulped down more.

Zach listened as the girl talked. He didn’t know why but for some reason hearing the sound of her voice didn’t grate at his nerves like it usually did. It must be the alcohol. “You chose well.” His brows quirked and he asked. “Why is that? Do you have a sex dungeon in there or something?” Rich people have the oddest things, so he figured she might be one of them. Who knows maybe she was a dominatrix… That could be the reason why she was so demanding too. He couldn’t comment on what she said next only because he could feel the pain in her voice and he knew what that was like, and he couldn’t bring himself to be a douche about it. “Well, this place is beautiful.” He simply said, trying to change the topic.

Haleigh laughed, and shook her head, “Nah not yet, I was going to turn your room into my sex dungeon, but now it has to wait.” She laughed, and took another sip of his drink. “You watch a little too much Fifty Shades of Gray.” She laughed again, and shook her head, “But really I just thought you would want to know which one is my room, so you won’t go in there, I didn’t think you would want to be in my room, but if you want to see it, go right ahead.” She shrugged her shoulders, and took another sip. “Thanks, I like it.” She sighed, “So tell me, what were you doing in Vegas that weekend?”

“If you’re gonna do that make sure I’ve moved out first.” Zach deadpanned and stared at the woman like she’d grown a new head. What she was saying completely went over his head. “Fifty what? I don’t know what you’re talking about…” He polished off his glass of Bourbon and poured another one. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’m not nosey. I’ll leave your room and the secrets inside it alone, alright?” He said, the right side of his mouth kicked up to form a smirk. Her next question had him shrugging, “I went with a few friends. It’s Vegas, right? What else do people do in Vegas, but gamble and drink?” He took a drink, “What about you?”

Haleigh giggled and shook her head, “I was joking, goodness.” She couldn’t believe that he actually thought she would have a sex dungeon in her house. She sighed, “The movie, Fifty Shades of Gray?” She could see that he had no idea what she was talking about, “Never mind, obviously you didn’t see the movies, or read the books.” She took another sip of her drink, “I have nothing to hide, but it’s all good.” She listened to him and nodded, “I went with a few friends as well, I was celebrating a breakup.”

“Just saying… I mean, I don’t know how kinky you are. You look like you could be a dominatrix.” Zach said, and wondered if maybe he might be right about her. She seemed nice and dainty, but those unassuming ones are the ones you should watch for. She could be a freak in bed for all he knew. “Still no idea.” He scrunched up his brows, clueless as to what she was referring to. “Is it about dominatrix?” He ventured to guess. “And you have nothing to worry about. Like I said I’m not nosey.” A brow arched and he couldn’t stop himself from making a smartass comment. “You went to Vegas to celebrate a breakup and ended up getting married instead? Yeesh…”

Haleigh giggled, “You really think I could be a dominatrix?” She smirked, sipped her drink and shrugged her shoulders, “Maybe…” She didn’t know why she felt the need to tease him, maybe it was the alcohol. She nodded, “Something like that, but the man was the dominate, and she was the submissive. It was pretty good, you should watch it. The media room is down the hall, and I have it in there, so feel free to watch it.” She smiled and poured another glass of tequila. She nodded and knew that she didn’t have to worry about Zach creeping around her room. She almost choked when he spoke about the irony of her weekend in Vegas, “Yeah, only my life…” She laughed and shook her head.

“You could be…” Zach answered shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, it’s the normal looking ones that always turns out to be the biggest freak.” He chuckled and took another sip. A laugh slipped by when she told him what the plot was all about. “That type of thing turns you on, I take it? Someone dominating you?” He wasn’t into that kinky shit, but if it floated her boat, who was he to judge. “I’ll pass. Thanks though.” When she acted all sheepish instead of biting his head off, he admitted that he was impressed by her reaction. At least, she knew that the whole situation was ironic. “So, this ex of yours, I take it was a bad breakup? See, this is why I don’t do relationships. People can be assholes.”

Haleigh laughed, “You are right about that, but I can promise you that I am not a dominatrix. I like sex, yes, but I am not into the whole dominant, submissive thing.” She shook her head, “That’s not my cup of tea. But I do like to be handled though, I hate boring sex.” She didn’t know why she was telling Zach all that, but all she could do was blame it on the alcohol. She shrugged her shoulders, and finished her drink, “Suit yourself, but you are free to use the media room whenever you want.” She knew that it was ironic that she got married after going to celebrate a breakup, but it was what it was, “Yeah it was pretty bad, he cheated on me with someone that was supposed to be my friend, so it was pretty bad. I just wanted to get him out of my system, and well…here you are.” She laughed, “Only in my world this happens.” She raised her glass to him, “You’re right about that, pure assholes.” She gulped down her drink.

Zach decided not to comment about her sexual preference only because it would make him feel awkward. They’d had sex the night they got married and if he was being honest with himself, he felt a little bad about it. He never took a woman while she was plastered out of her mind, even though he too wasn’t sober that night, he still felt bad about the incident. “I’ll check out the media room some time, thanks.” He said instead, tipping the glass a little before taking another drink. He was refilling his glass when he heard about her ruined relationship. “Like I said, that’s why I don’t do relationships. Someone always turns out to be the asshole. It never ends well ninety percent of the time, so why the hell bother? One night stand is the way to go. Although, tip to myself. Next time, don’t get so hammered and marry the girl.”

Haleigh sighed and took another drink, “Yeah relationships are not always easy, but I know that I like being with someone.” She was a relationship girl, and she didn’t see that changing, even if she did get hurt. “Something tells me that you’ve been hurt before. You don’t have to talk about it, I was just making an observation.” She laughed, “Yeah, marrying a one night stand may not be the way to go. Especially someone as spoiled as I am.” She smirked knowing that he thought she was a spoiled little Princess. “We can tend to make you move in with them, and stay married to them for a year.” She giggled and finished her drink.

“It might not be a bad idea for you to change your stance on things, especially after being cheated on.” Zach said, he didn’t know why, but he felt a little bad for the girl. For all her misgivings, she wasn’t exactly a bad person, spoiled out of her mind, yes, but definitely not a bad person. He froze at her next words, if she only knew, she would probably cry. He didn’t feel like going into it now, so he said, “Not me. I have friends who’s had bad breakups and let me tell you, it’s just not pretty. That’s why I’ve decided to keep things casual.” He took another drink. “It’s not too bad, I suppose. I mean, I am getting paid at the end of this, right?” He sent her a smile and raised his glass. “Let’s just hope we don’t end up killing each other before then.” He laughed.

“Maybe…” Haleigh said as she gulped down another drink, “I think I am definitely going to take a break from relationships for a while. Who knows, maybe I will be like you, and only do one night stands.” She giggled, and shook her head. She heard what Zach said about seeing other people in messy relationships, but it was a huge difference in seeing it an feeling it firsthand. And with the way he was talking, he had to have felt it, but she wasn’t going to push it. She laughed, and was glad he didn’t think it was too bad, “Yeah, you are definitely getting paid at the end of this.” She laughed again, “Yeah, I have no plans of killing you. It might be nice to have someone around in this big place of mine.” She smirked.

“That’s the way to go, honestly. No muss, no fuss. You pick someone up, have sex with them and leave. It doesn’t have to be messy, unless you end up with someone clingy. I’ve had my share of that.” Zach cringed when he thought about the few women who simply didn’t get the concept of one night stands. It always made him feel uncomfortable when that happened. “That’s good to know…” He smirked at her. “I was gonna say; this place is too big for just one person…” He tipped back another drink, “But I promise I’ll try to keep you entertained while I’m here. Who knows, maybe we’d become friends at the end of this.”

“I might have to try that, because me and relationships don’t seem to work lately.” She laughed hearing Zach had some clingy people in his life, “That can’t be fun, I mean a one night stand, should be just that. What is hard about that concept?” She shook his head, and poured another drink. The alcohol was definitely going to her head now, she could feel it, but she wasn’t going to stop drinking it. She nodded, “Yeah it is kind of big, but I like it. Maybe with you here it won’t seem so big.” She smiled, hearing that he thought they could possibly be friends, “I would like that, I mean I know we started kinda rocky, but it’s not how you start, but how you finish right?”

“That’s probably for the best anyway.” Zach said, honestly hoping that the girl would never again feel like she was trash. He might be harsh on her before, but he didn’t want to hurt her. “I don’t know. You need to tell them that… Some women think they can have their cake and eat it too. It’s such a turn off.” He shook his head and cringed yet again. “Well, I’ll try to be loud. It might help make you feel not as lonely.” He was kidding of course, he wasn’t the loud type, yet somehow, he wanted to make her laugh for some odd reason. “Exactly. I know I can be a jerk. Okay, I’m a jerk 99 percent of the time, but I’d like to tone it down a little. I mean, I have to live here for a year, I might as well be comfortable.”

Haleigh was actually agreeing with Zach, “I think you might be right about that, because it hurts too bad when you get hurt.” She laughed hearing that there were women out there that didn’t get the hint of what a one night stand meant, “I could imagine how much of a turn off that could be, probably like a clingy guy.” She rolled her eyes, “I can’t deal with someone that wants to be under me all the time.” She smirks, and nods, “Okay, but not too loud, you know a Princess needs her beauty sleep.” She chuckled and drank more of her drink. She laughed, “I think I can deal with you being a jerk at sometimes, if you can handle me being a spoiled little Princess every now and then.”

“Then, you need to learn to shut out those feelings. It’s doable, if you want it. Look at me for instance. I never get my heartbroken.” Zach said, hoping his words would help her some. “Oh I know. They think if they cling to me, I would change my mind. When in actuality, I always run the other direction.” He laughed, remembering one instance where he bolted out of a restaurant when a clingy girl tried to talk to him. He rolled his eyes playfully at her next remark. “Of course, I have to think of the Princess first. Can’t forget that…” He laughed, nodding after he’d polished off his drinks. “As long as we tone down our attitudes, I don’t see why we can’t get along.”

“Never?” Haleigh questioned, not thinking it was possible to go through this long and not ever get heartbroken, but maybe he was one of the lucky ones. “I wish I could say the same thing, but there alas, I am not lucky like you. I have experienced some heartbreak, and not just from boyfriends.” She thought about her relationship with her father, and it made her a little sad, but she was not going to say anything about it. She rolled her eyes thinking about clingy people, “That is the quickest way to make me run, is being all clingy, and never letting me breathe.” She shuddered, “I need my space, and time alone every now and then. But when I am with someone, I give them my time, I am a very affectionate person.” She smiled, “Yes, please remember the Princess, she needs her quiet times.” She was so glad that they seem to be getting along better than they started, and the more she talked to Zach, she saw that he wasn’t as big of a jerk as she initially thought. “I can tone down my attitude for sure. “ She smiled.

“Yup, never.” Technically, he had been heartbroken before, just not by a woman. His parents did that, but she didn’t know that and he wasn’t willing to talk about them with her. Besides, they were actually getting along for once, there’s no need for him to bring the mood. “Hence, the reason why I say go casual.” He stated and quirked a brow. “Who else broke your heart?” He was a little curious now, that was why he had to ask. “You and me both. The only time I would let a woman cling to me is during sex.” He admitted unabashedly. “I can see that about you, Princess. You’re probably like a cat, always touching and rubbing yourself on your boyfriend.” He joked, laughing at the image, although when he thought about it, it didn’t really look unappealing at all. She looked soft and there had to a reason why they had sex more than once that night in Vegas. “I will try my best, your highness.” He bowed just to exaggerate the tease. “That’s good then. See, we’re getting along already. I told you I can be nice…sometimes.”

Haleigh nodded, “Well consider yourself lucky then.” She finished off the last of her bottle, “Well then I will have to try that casual thing then, sounds like it worked for you.” She didn’t know why she even talked about her father, and now he was asking questions. She wasn’t trying to ruin the mood, since they were having a nice time, “No one important.” She decided to leave it at that, and quickly change the subject. “That is about the only time you should cling to anyone, I think. But yeah I am one of those girls that likes to touch my guy if we are watching a movie or talking, I am that touchy feely kind of girl.” She smiled, and felt the alcohol making her head rush. “Good…” She giggled, “And I will try not to be too loud when you are sleeping, although I tend to wake up pretty early sometimes.” She laughed, “No need to bow, I am above that.” She teased, and smiled, “I knew you could, it had to be something other than the alcohol that made me marry you.” She smiled.

The lightness in the conversation ceased for a moment. Zach could tell that she too wasn’t comfortable with opening up. Not that he blamed her, he was the same. He couldn’t fault her for wanting to keep things private since he was the same way. So instead of pushing her for answers, he simply ignored that part and went back to teasing her. “I know you would. Maybe I should be calling you Princess Kitty instead. But can you purr?” He laughed. Though, he was a little curious to see what she was like in bed. He knew he shouldn’t go there, but ye couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know why he ended up marrying her. “I don’t tend to sleep in. I like getting up early and getting a run in before I start my day. You have a gym in this place right?” A brow rose and he laughed at her response. “Oh, are you? Okay then I won’t bow. It hurts my back anyway.” He laughed a little louder. “Must be the sex. Not to brag but I have been told that I’m good in the sack.” He winked at her.

Haleigh was so glad that Zach didn’t push her on the issue with her dad, because she was not ready to talk about it. She liked that he went back to the lighthearted teasing, “Princess Kitty….has a nice ring to it, but I only purr when it is brought out of me.” She smirked and knew that this little flirting was something that came natural to her, but she would tamp it down if it made him uncomfortable. Although he was flirting with her too, so she didn’t think it was a problem. She was glad to hear he didn’t sleep late, because she was always up early to get her workout in. She gasped when he said he liked to run in the mornings, “Seriously? That’s why I get up early, I can’t miss a workout, or my day is hell.” She nodded, “Of course there is a gym here, two actually, I go to the one down the hall, not many people use that one.” She laughed hearing him talk about how good he was in the sack, and she didn’t doubt him, but she just wish she remembered. “I am sure you are fine, but I doubt it was the sex right off the bat.”

“Maybe I can make you purr…” Zach winked again and actually moved a little closer to her. He didn’t even know where he got his bravery from, it just poured out of him. “You workout too? Well, I hope you don’t mind me sweating on your gym floor. I tend to not wear a shirt when I run on the treadmill…” He smiled at her, though a little more seductively this time. “I hate working out on my own, so you might just have to share your gym with me.” He moved just a little closer to her, trying to be sly, since she was getting tipsy maybe she wouldn’t notice, right? “You think so? I don’t know. We could’ve had sex and went out to get married. I mean, who gets married without tasting the goodies first?”

Haleigh was a bit surprised by Zach’s response, it was shocking to hear him say that to he, but she had to admit, she liked it. She smiled, “Maybe you can, but it takes a lot of hard work to get that out of me.” She liked that they had gotten through their rough patch, and could let loose and flirt back and forth. She nodded at his question, “I do, everyday.” She would usually workout alone, but it was definitely more fun when she had someone with her. “I don’t mind if you go shirtless, just make sure to wipe off the equipment when you’re done, gym etiquette.” She smirked, and bit her lip at the thought of him being shirtless, running in front of her, and it sent impure thoughts all in her head. Jesus take the wheel! She thought, but smiled, “I would like a workout buddy, so feel free anytime.” She noticed him moving closer to her, and she liked it actually. She could feel her body getting hotter, “Who knows what happened that night, but wouldn’t it be weird to have sex, then get dressed and say, hey let’s get married, then come back and have sex again. Maybe you were just drawn to my kissable lips, that you couldn’t help yourself, and knew that my lips were the only lips you wanted to kiss for the rest of your life.” She teased, but there was a hint of seriousness in there.

“I don’t mind a little hard work?” Zach said, licking his lips. In fact the hard work he was talking about could be very pleasurable for the both of them. Just picturing it sent heat traveling up and down his body, his dick straining behind his dark jeans. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’m bit of a neat freak, so I clean up after myself. And since you don’t mind having a gym buddy, I will definitely share your gym with you.” He was still moving closet to her, yet she didn’t even make a move to try and put distance between them. He wanted to teased her a little bit more but when he heard her comment about her kissable lips, he lost his head and before he could stop himself, he was cupping her cheek and kissing her.

Haleigh couldn’t believe this was actually happening because she thought for sure he hated her, but here he was flirting with her. It had to be the alcohol, it was a common thread with them. “You seem like someone that puts in the hard work, and I like that.” Her voice was low and sensual, and she moved in closer to him this time. It was as if her body had a mind of it’s own, because she knew that she shouldn’t be flirting so hard with Zach, but she couldn’t help it, he was so sexy, and she wanted to know what made her marry him in the first place, it had to be something. She was excited about having him share the gym with him, and hearing he was a neat freak, made her smile. “Me too, so you will be the perfect gym buddy.” Her body was drawn to him, and she couldn’t stop moving towards him, and when he pulled her in for a kiss, she was done. She wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him deeply. He was a great kisser, and she wondered if it was the kiss that made her marry him. As much as she knew this was wrong, she certainly wasn’t going to stop it.

Zach knew that he shouldn’t be kissing the Princess, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been wondering why he ended up marrying her and if her kiss was any indication, he suddenly got the answer he sought. Princess definitely knew what to do with her mouth. Her lips were soft and although he could taste wine on her lips, he didn’t mind it at all. Feeling a little more bolder, he reached for her and moved her onto his lap, allowing her to straddle him. Having her core against his already hard dick felt like the sweetest torture, yet he knew he couldn’t allow himself to make another move. Not when she was tipsy, so all he did was kiss her.

The way he kissed her was unlike anyone ever before, and it had her body going crazy for him. It was if they had been together for a long time, and he knew just how to kiss her. She let out a little squeal when he moved her onto his lap, and she liked the feeling of his hard dick on her core, and she wanted more. She started moving her hips, and grinding against him, hoping that would elicit him to go even further. If it was the sex that had her marrying him, she wanted to feel it again, and see if she would feel the same way. “Mmm…..” She let out the slightest moan. He felt so good.

The kiss escalated and Zach swore his dick got even harder as Princess rocked against him. He took her mouth hungrily and without remorse or even thinking about the consequences. He wasn’t known for his restraint when it came to women. He took what he wanted without even batting a lash. Somehow, he knew this wasn’t right, especially when he heard her moan. He couldn’t take her without her being fully aware of the situation. Not again. He didn’t want that for her. So despite not wanting to, he pulled away from the kiss. “We need to stop, Princess. We’ve both had too much to drink and I don’t want to take you like this. I need you to be fully sober.” He said with his forehead pressed against hers and his breathing labored.

Everything about that kiss was perfect, it made her entire body tingle. Zach was doing things to her that no one has done to her ever, and she couldn’t understand how this was happening right now. She wanted Zach more and more with each passing second, but he pulled her back, and she let out a whine/ “But…” She wanted to say she was okay, and she would remember everything, but she knew that was a lie. She had a lot to drink, and she knew that she was not in the frame of mind to be coherent about anything. She rested her head against his forehead, “You’re right…and as much as I want to go further, and I do want to go further, we have done this before, next time we need to remember.” She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips, “But know, there will be a next time, with no alcohol involved.” She smirked, and ran her finger over his lips, before getting off of him. She stumbled a little, “Woah…see…not good. Do you mind helping me to my room Zach?”

Zach was fighting with his conscience, the good part was telling him to wait, while the other part, the part that controlled his dick wanted him to take her and fuck his conscience. He couldn’t do that however. He might be an asshole, but he did respect the Princess to know when to stop, although he had to admit she was making it hard for him with her cute little whine, and that slight kiss and how she had run her fingers along his lips. Still, he had more self control than that. “I promise there will definitely be a next time.” When she stood up and stumbled, he was quickly on her feet and had swept her off hers, lifting her up bridal style. “I’ll get you to bed, Princess. Just show me the way.” He said, smiling at her.

This was definitely more than what Haleigh bargained for, but she was not mad at all at the fact that not only had she realized that Zach was an amazing kisser, and that could have led to them getting married, but they seemed to have a certain connection. But she still needed to explore that a little more. She was flirting with him so hard, and she didn’t care, she was all about seeing just how far she could go with him. She smiled at his promise for a next time when they were sober, “I was hoping you would say that.” She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck when he picked her up, “Straight down the hall, one door away from your room.” She threw that in, to let him know how close they were to one another.

Zach hadn’t expected this to happen. He’d been hesitant to come live with the Princess, but now, things were actually looking up for him. Maybe spending a year with her wasn’t such a bad thing. He followed her instructions and a thought came to him then, he didn’t know her name. He liked calling her Princess, but knowing her given name would be nice. “I never asked and never paid attention, but what’s your name? I don’t mind calling you Princess all the time because you are one, but I’d like to know the name of the woman I married.”

Haleigh felt safe in Zach’s arms, and that was weird, seeing she hadn’t known him long at all. But all she knew was that she didn’t mind being right there in his arms. His question brought everything back to reality. She couldn’t believe she made out, slept with, and married a man that didn’t even know her name. She looked him in his eyes, “It’s Haleigh Wright.” She started to wiggle, so he could put her down, “I think I can manage it from here, thanks.” She felt some type of way that she moved him in, they fought, made up, and made out, before he even thought to ask her what her name was. But if she was being honest, if her father wouldn’t have asked for his name, she wouldn’t know his name.

Zach felt comfortable being around the woman, she had a welcoming air about her and even though he’d try to make things hard for her, she never seem to waiver. He found her stubbornness intriguing. “Haleigh Wright…” He tested out her name and right as that happened, she moved from his arms. He didn’t know why but suddenly it felt like she was uncomfortable. “What’s wrong? Was it something that I said?” He asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. They’d had a nice time, even kissed and now, she was acting like she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Haleigh was trying not to get attached to Zach so quickly, because she knew how she was, and if she liked a guy, she went all in. Right now, they were just getting to know each other, and although they had just made out, hearing he didn’t know her name did something to her. But then he said her name, and it sounded so good coming from his lips. She shook her head, “No you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just…” She sighed, “Does it bother you that we are married, had sex, made out a couple times, and now you are living here, and you didn’t even know my name?” She wondered if he even thought about that.

Zach didn’t know what was going on. One minute they were kissing and flirting and the next, he was being pushed aside. It frankly hurt, because he’d actually opened up to a woman for once in his life. It didn’t feel right to feel like this, but he just did. “It feels like I did.” He huffed underneath his breath. His brows were still scrunched up when she spoke, though her actions made a bit more sense now. “It did before, but I’m trying to make the best of the situation. You didn’t want me to snap at you all the time and I’m trying here… I’m sorry I never asked for your name. It just never crossed my mind until just now.”

Haleigh felt bad, she never meant to imply that something was wrong with Zach, or he did anything wrong. “I’m sorry, it just all hit me at once when you asked me my name. I mean, we are freaking married, and you had no idea what my name was. And to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have asked you your name, if my father hadn’t asked. That thought alone just slapped me across the face.” She put her hand on his chest, and looked up at him with sweet eyes, “Please don’t think it changed anything that we just did, I don’t regret that at all. And I do want to continue to get to know you, and I hope you want to know me too.”

Zach felt a little hurt by all this. He didn’t know why? But it just bothered him. ‘No, Zach, no feelings remember? Grow a pair and move on.’ His conscience seemed to chide. “It’s alright.” He said, shrugging his shoulders and bringing his walls back up. The whole situation was confusing the hell out of him and he hated it. It was best for him to keep his guard up. He needed to at this point. But then her next words and how sweet she’d gotten softened him. He didn’t know how she did it. How could one little smile change his stance so quickly? He let out a sigh and reached out to stroke her hair, before saying, “It’s been a long day, Princess. We should both get some sleep. Let’s talk when we’re both not drunk, hmm?”

Haleigh hoped that she didn’t ruin the progress they made, she could tell Zach was not one to deal with a lot of drama in his life, so he was not going to deal with her mess. She was relieved when he touched her face, and she relaxed a little. “It has, and sleep would be good,” She put her hand on top of his on her cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow for a workout?” She asked, but it was more of a statement, because she really hoped he would join her, She leaned up and gave his lips a sweet peck, “Goodnight Zach Morris.” She wanted to say his whole name, so she could get used to hearing it. She smiled and headed inside her room.

With alcohol in their system, he knew that talking was not an option. He was tired after the move and the little heart to heart with Haleigh. Sure, they didn’t talk about much. But in her own way, she had been able to pull out some personal information about him. He needed time to rest and to process everything, so sleep was definitely welcomed. When she spoke again, he swept his thumb over her cheek, smiling. “Most definitely. Bright and early at the gym.” He promised. “Goodnight, Haleigh Wright.” A smile played along his lips when she kissed him and it was still there when she closed the door behind her. As soon as he got to his room, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and headed to be, sleep came almost instantly.

#Zach x Haleigh

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