#i just need to spend more time distracting myself and less time idly having thoughts and feelings until i'm over it

[backtodecembertv]

it's only been 2 weeks (it feels like so much longer because during those 2 weeks i graduated from college), but the feelings i still have for this man should be classified as a mental illness

[treysimp]

Violent Delights (Part 1)

GN!Reader/Yandere!Cater Diamond (Explicit)

Part 1 (This Part!) // Part 2 // Part 3 (Coming Soon)

Well, I tricked myself into another one lads. Pour one out for me thinking that I can control myself around anime boys. This might end up having at least a part two because I am a mess.

Tags: smut, yandere, masturbation, unhealthy behavior, obsessive behavior, reader's body not described nor are pronouns used.

Want more twst? Here's my masterlist!

It felt like fate, really. 

His life had been black and white, monotone and bleak. It was a constant game of hiding his feelings, and his intentions, masking every thought with a giggle and a smile. 

It was like a game, but not a fun one. The kind of game you get stuck playing to keep someone else distracted long enough to pass the time with less idle conversation. A distraction. Not an unwanted one, just bland, boring, and mostly useless.

That was until you burst into his life. 

At first glance, you did seem so normal. 

There was nothing that clearly set you apart from any other Night Raven student. You were cute of course, there was no denying that. However, as soon as Cater saw the ripple effect that your arrival had on the school as a whole, his idle interest turned into fascination.

Life was finally worth paying attention to. The lifeless day-to-day he had been trudging through his whole life had become a flurry of color and excitement. It was fascinating and exhilarating, and somehow you were always at the center of it. 

A person probably couldn't get into more trouble if they tried. You were constantly making enemies and friends. The poor magic-less Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm always seemed to tangle themselves into yet another carefully constructed web of lies, resentment and deceit on the daily. Your action ultimately unraveling even the most carefully designed plots.

Cater was thinking of you constantly. Wondering what you were doing, who you were talking to, wishing that you were talking to him instead. 

He found himself idly checking your MagiCam account for updates whenever he had nothing to do. His fingers would automatically type in your username to see if you had posted something new in the last five minutes. 

Whenever you add another gorgeous snapshot of you and your infectious smile, your sardonic sense of humor, he felt hypnotized. He would stare at the ways your eyes crinkle when you smiled, the way you knitted your brows in disapproval in candid shots, and how you covered your mouth with your hand to hide your laughter during a particularly chaotic moment. Heavenly, all of it was.

He was the first to admit that whatever these feelings could truly be called, they weren’t a good look. If someone else heard all of the thoughts that passed through his head they would wonder what was wrong with him. That was okay, he only needed you. He had decided to call these feelings ‘love’, regardless of what anyone else might think. It was romantic after all, like a fairy tale.  

Daily, he would regularly spend time obsessing about how he would ‘accidentally’ run into you today. Luckily for him, you spent a lot of time with his underclassmen, so you were in Heartslabyul often. Unluckily for him, you knew his underclassmen and they were the reason you visited so often. 

He restrained a frown when he would see one of tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber touch you, or call your name too familiarly, or look at you too long, or talk to you for more than a minute at a time. No one else knew that you two were soulmates yet, but that’s okay because he did. 

Cater had devoted his time memorizing your habits, likes and dislikes. It would be worth it when you had a bad day and he could surprise you with your favorite dessert, when you were sad he would know exactly why, and someday he would buy you every gift you had your eye on, just to prove that he knew you so well.

One day he noticed that you weren’t using your favorite pencil to write. Your pen strokes were less sure and steady and your brows knit into a frown of concentration. 

Thankfully he prepared for these kinds of eventualities. 

Cater silently walked behind your seated form, holding a pencil identical to your favorite in hand. Kneeling down to the ground and then pretending to pick the pencil back up with an audible clatter, he quietly cleared his throat to get your attention.

“Did you drop this, Prefect?” He asked, extending the pencil to you. You had lost this pencil the other day, left it somewhere probably. That was okay though, he was here for you.

Your eyes lit up when you saw your pencil, gently taking it from Cater's hand.

“Oh my gosh! I thought I had lost this! Thank you for picking it up.” Your smile was sweet and breathtaking. 

Cater felt himself reaching to stroke your cheek, but he was able to divert his hand to clap you on the shoulder at the last second instead. 

“Any time! You know I’ve got you!” Cater said with a wink. 

He took the opportunity of his hand being so near your head to mess up your hair and laugh at your grumbles of dissatisfaction and half-hearted attempts to swat his hand away. Despite all of this, you were still smiling.

“I know, Cater. Thank you.” 

Cater gave you a final ‘yeah, yeah’ while he walked away, covering his face with a sleeve to hide the flush that had spread from his nose to his ears. 

You were something else. It was too early to tell you that he loved you, but it was getting harder to resist every day. He just needed to bide his time for the perfect moment. 

You deserve no less.

Any time he was lucky enough to get a glimpse of you in the halls he felt like his breath was taken away, every other person and thing dimming from his view as if a spotlight had shone itself on you and you alone. His heart would beat like crazy the whole time, but he had to take the opportunity to talk to you. Missing a single second of your attention seemed unthinkable. 

Today you had done something different to your hair and something else was implacably off about you as well. It looked like you tried to look nice for someone. 

Shoving down the stab of fear and anger that thought elicited from him, he knew he needed to go say hi. Cater had no idea why you looked so gorgeous today, but you were truly perfect. He knew that you wouldn’t betray your future love like that, he was just overthinking it. Clearly, there was a reasonable explanation.  

Plastering on a smile, Cater ran up behind you, swinging an arm around your shoulders as he snapped as many pictures of your surprised face as he could manage. 

How could he help it? You were just so cute.

"Smile for the cam!" He giggled, taking the opportunity to quickly peck on your cheek for the photo op. He was going to save this one in particular.

You yelped but quickly settled back into laughter as you played along with him and mirrored his pose. After he stopped snapping pics, you turned towards him and poked him in the side. 

"Cater!" You admonished him, crossing your arms and lips forming into a pout "You scared me!"

"Aww, but you look so cute when you're scared! How can I resist?" He replied, scrolling through the tens of pictures he took and sorting them into 'good', 'okay', and 'delete'. 

Cater's bright gaze flicked back up to you with a wink, reveling in the way your own eyes slightly widened at his action. 

You slapped him on the arm, pursing your lips and smoothing your hair back into place. 

Cater arched a brow, maybe you were trying to look good for something after all. 

“You’re looking extra done up today, finally decided to confess to me?” He teased, praying in his heart that the answer was ‘yes’. 

He knew you would never admit that though. You were far too shy to make the first move on him, and that was another reason he trusted you so much. Even if another pretty face caught your eye, you wouldn’t be the one coming onto them. He just needed to look out for anyone that got the silly idea in their brain that they were allowed to come on to you. 

"You're such a tease." You said, sticking out your tongue at him and crossing your arms. “Crowley is forcing me to tour some VIPs on the campus later today, and he told me that if I ‘stopped looking like Cinderella’s cleaning rag’ he would add a good chunk of Thaumarks to my food budget for the month.” You said with a sigh, voice leaking out the bitterness you felt at being forced to play a chipper student that wasn’t forced to comply by circumstance. 

While Cater had felt a wash of relief in his heart upon hearing the very practical reason you dressed up, he also had lost his brain in a dreamy fugue upon peeking at the soft muscle of your tongue. Thinking about all the things you could do with said tongue made him bite his lip. You really had no idea what you did to him, huh?

"Is that so?" He said with a smirk, taking the opportunity to poke you in the ribs in the same spot you had jabbed him. "Then how about we go somewhere this weekend? Just you and me? It sounds like you need a break." 

"Oh, like a date?" You teased, slowly evolving your pokes into an all-out poking war as you and Cater giggled trying to dodge the movements of the other. “Are you confessing to me?” You threw back coyly, imitating the same intonation he had used just a moment earlier.

"If you want it to be a date, I guess I could consider telling you about my undying love." Cater said, not joking in the slightest.

You seemed to still for a moment in thought. After a split second of staring a bit too deeply into Cater’s glimmering green eyes, as if searching for something, you forced yourself to stare at a far away cobblestone instead as you answered with a wavering voice.

"Might as well?" You hadn’t meant it as a question, but it came out as one.

Cater all out squealed as he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. Just as quickly as he glommed himself onto you, he released you in a dizzyingly burst of conflicting energy, eyebrows furrowed at the face of his watch. He was suddenly reminded that he had a class to get to (sadly) and while he didn’t mind being late for class, he would feel bad if you got in trouble because he was distracting you. 

He had briefly reconsidered this thought process in the beginning as he wanted to offer to tutor you, but you were doing well in school on your own, and if you get detention all that did was take more time out of your day that he could be potentially spending with you. 

Even if it was just you, your little firstie-friends, and himself being quiet in the lounge, as long as you could be near him, it was worth it. Once again shaking that tangent from his mind, Cater grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before he began running down the hallway, yelling over his shoulder at you before he got too far.

"I'll text you the deets, 'kay? Come by my room later!" Cater hollers as he takes off at a full sprint for his next class.

You stood in the hallway feeling stunned. You could feel that your face was burning, your eyes felt defocused and glassy and you nervously wring your hands together, looking down at where Cater’s hand had touched yours just a second prior.

"...a real date?" You mumbled aloud, hugging your arms around yourself in flustered nervousness. He was just being friendly like he was with everyone... right?

Cater's heart was beating out of his chest. Not only was he able to touch you multiple times and in multiple places today, but you had also agreed to a date AND to visit his room. 

He had initially run off to go to class, but the incessant beating of his heart and burning of his body alerted him to another problem he had to address before anyone noticed.

Spotting the nearest lavatory, he stepped inside, intentionally slowing his gait and trying to catch his breath to be as inconspicuous as possible. Taking a beat, he saw no one and heard nothing. Perfect.

Slipping into an empty stall, he closed the latch as quickly as his shaking hands could allow. Biting his lip to the point it risked breaking skin, he unbuckled his belt and flipped his phone open. His gaze was met with the pictures he had just taken of the two of you in the hall. Your mouth was making a flattering little ‘O’ in surprise to the cheek kiss he had been able to plant on you. 

Your skin was so soft under his lips. You smelled like the earth after the rain and freshly bloomed lavender in the spring. 

Being so close to you was addicting. By the time you had escalated to playfully poking him, he had to consciously keep every muscle in his body coiled tight to keep from touching every inch of you he could.

He wondered how the rest of you would feel under his hands, what sounds you would make, and what words you would say. He imagined you saying his name, breathless between hurried kisses and shivering from need as he pulled every garment from your body.

Pulling himself out of his boxer briefs with a hiss, it was clear that he was painfully hard. Beginning to softly tease and stroke the skin of the head of his dick, Cater shivered slightly while imagining that it was you doing it. 

You would look shyly up your lashes as you repeatedly asked him ‘is that okay?’ or ‘does that feel good?' and he would nod in agreement while placing his hand over yours to make you go faster, grip tighter. 

Biting his lip as he scrolled through more photos he had taken of the two of you, he paused on one that had caught you with your shirt partially unbuttoned, clavicle exposed, looking so so perfect to sink his teeth into. 

He imagined gripping his hand around your neck to restrict your breathing as he dug bruises into your skin with his mouth, groaning at how good he was making you feel and how much you loved him. Loved him more than anyone. He felt the same, he loved you more than everyone, and everyone else needed to know that too before they got any funny ideas in their heads.

His hand had sped up to a messy beat. 

In a moment of desperation, he pulled the collar of his dress shirt into his mouth to stifle his moans. He felt the coil inside of him grow tighter and tighter, his legs shook, his arm cramped, and then relief came in a burst of bliss so strong that he was seeing stars behind his lids. 

It felt good, but he knew that it was nothing compared to you.

Wrinkling his nose as he wiped his release off of his hand, Cater threw the paper in the toilet and flushed. 

Slowly tucking his tender length back in his pants, he fixed his clothes and washed his hands, mentally making a list of what he needed to prepare for your visit tonight and your ‘date’ on the weekend.

He was going to do anything to have you. He was going to do everything it took to make those dreams a reality if it killed him.

This fic was inspired by the incredibly hot fanart below.

Please give @simpingseafood a like or a reblog (or a million compliments) if you are so inclined, they deserve it!

(Also I hope you don't mind me brain-rotting at length over your gorgeous concept!)

Thank you so much for reading! Love you, reader!

Requested tags: @readinganas, @yandere-kou, @buckketboy, @aikochan4859, @kumiko-desu @star-gods, @sarahyumiko2, @sappyisyourpappy, @rosalie-in-twisted-wonderland, @naniky, @kashasenpai, @the-mermaid-of-the-stars

And @ravenlutionary (because you seemed excited at the prospect haha)

[solomonish]

making funny faces during a boring zoom call with lucifer? 👀✨

Ficlet Requests! (CLOSED)

this one is a liiiiittle dumb but i could not get this vine out of my head while writing it so.....i hope you still like it LOL

but i’m soft for Lucifer being so stressed and being too tired to have his many fronts up and he is just SOFT and looking forward to spending some TIME OFF with you......

making funny faces behind the computer while the other one is in a boring Zoom meeting - Lucifer

“After today, I don’t want to hear anything about humans and their simple-minded political faces ever again.”

“Oh, believe me, I know the pain.”

Lucifer stopped glowering at the paper on his desk and looked up at you, appearing rather frazzled - for him, at least. “Perhaps that is a remark I should have kept to myself.”

You shrugged, holding back a smile. Lucifer was never this scattered, not unless he was truly at his wit’s end. “No? I’m agreeing with you.”

In his efforts to expand the reach of future exchange programs, Diavolo had opened talks within the human realm and assigned most of them to Lucifer. Though it meant less paperwork, which meant, to your relief, a week of forcing him to get a little bit more sleep, it also meant Lucifer had to spend countless hours of his day discussing a program that you already knew the people he would be talking to wouldn’t understand. You had taken to hanging out in his office, quietly doing your own work or reading and just providing him the comfort of company. The meetings were supposed to be confidential, but you supposed a little white lie was generous treatment coming from Lucifer himself.

Idly, you thought of how literal those “deals with the devil” politicians were always accused of making might have been, and you smirked to yourself.

“Something funny over there?” Lucifer asked, apparently not having returned to his work yet. He wouldn’t get the irony - or worse, he would and it would offend him. You shook your head.

“I’m just happy this is your last meeting.”

Lucifer sighed, one of those world-weary breaths that left your own chest aching. “Yes, that would make two of us.”

Eyes drawn to the laptop in front of him, he gave you the signal to keep quiet and fixed his hair. It wasn’t messy to begin with - at most, a few strands were misplaced from him running his fingers through them. As he fussed with himself, you moved to sit in one of the chairs opposite him. A moment before he clicked on his camera, he gave you one more smile - one that was tired, yes, but also soft, silently promising to thank you later on for your company while he suffered.

You could hear the voice on the other end and quickly realized that it was a language you couldn't speak, so instead you marveled at Lucifer as he fell into conversation with ease. Even if he was a powerful demon with all sorts of spells up his sleeve, it was still attractive to see the extent of his ability. You could tell there was no translation spell helping him out, and you rested your chin in your hand as you watched him. Briefly, Lucifer glanced at you, his quick gaze still oozing smugness, and you stuck out your tongue. Before he could catch himself, he huffed out a laugh.

The voice on the other end stopped mid-sentence before saying something that sounded like an accusation. Though the flat face he put on was expertly crafted, you could tell Lucifer was barely hiding his irritation. After excusing himself in a way that pleased the person on the line, Lucifer gave you a warning glance.

You took that as a challenge and sucked in your cheeks, giving him the best fish face in response.

He would've stared at you with a mixture of disappointment and confusion if he wasn't trying to keep his attention on the computer screen. Every time he glanced up at you, as if checking to see if his eyes were deceiving you, you pulled a different face. Lucifer was smart, though, and learned to just keep his eyes off of you to avoid any distractions. In order to steal his attention back, you picked up his tape dispenser.

You were purposely being obnoxiously loud with the tape as you peeled it off, sticking it to your face in an attempt to keep your nose pressed down. Every noise has Lucifer cringing, and you saw he had one hand over his mouth to hide his expression. Pleased with yourself, you kept wrapping your face up with tape until Lucifer, voice curt, finished up the meeting hastily. He fumbled with the touchpad, ensuring that he was actually done with the meeting, and then shut the laptop with a little more force than necessary. He turned his unamused gaze to you, taking in how ridiculous you looked with tape holding your nose down.

He didn’t even need to say anything. You were aware of how stupid the situation was, and before you knew it you were giggling at yourself. Even though he tried to say something haughty, he was doing a poor job of hiding how frustratingly adorable you looked, struggling to unwrap yourself from your own contraption. And when you winced and complained about the tape being too strong, he decided that was punishment enough for your antics.

[poiwritesnstuff]

Hair Pull

It’d been two months now since they’d started dating, so James liked to think he was past the dumb, moon-eyed phase in his new relationship with Lily. After years of chasing after her, he’d almost been too shocked to react when she finally stood still for him, like the moment when a mediocre Seeker falters when they've almost got their hand on the snitch. She'd turned him down for so long that he’d grown used to the pursuit, chasing the high of attaining the unattainable, so what was he supposed to do when she was suddenly his for the taking? He’d built up his fantasies for so long-- what if the real thing wasn’t as good as he thought, or they weren't actually perfect together like he'd always dreamed?

But then they started snogging and that shut him up right quick.

Especially when they were sitting in front of the fire in the Heads’ quarters, Lily on his lap at an ungodly hour, their essays cast aside in favor of each other. His glasses had fallen somewhere, but with her this close, he could see everything-- her long eyelashes fluttering as her gaze flitted over his face, the dark freckles that dotted her cheeks and the faint ones scattered beneath them, the little tip of her nose, and then her lips, pink and plump and begging to be kissed some more.

His grip on her waist tightened and he leaned up, closing his eyes as their lips touched again and the silk of her hair brushed his face. He felt her giggle as she smiled into the kiss, even as their teeth clacked awkwardly and they had to pull apart again to laugh properly. He dotted kisses along her jaw and down her neck, feeling her laughter turn to something else, something deeper and hotter as her hands moved around his shoulders to find something to hold onto. He could feel the little kisses she pressed against his temple, curling more into him, seeking more of him, so he nipped at her neck, a tiny little graze of his teeth followed by another and then a lick to soothe the pain away.

He felt her nails graze over his scalp, gently, and then her fingers curled into his hair and pulled. His mind went blank. He followed her grip and his head fell back, eyes open as stars swam before his eyes. Or maybe those were her eyes? She was flushed now, even redder than she was before, but smiling so sweetly. His whole body was buzzing like never before. Her lips curved wickedly and he felt her fingers tighten in his hair, and he was quite all right with that. She pulled again, harder now, and if he could think, he would’ve been embarrassed by the low moan that he let slip out.

Lily squirmed a little on his lap, and then ground against him more purposefully, experimenting with his body as he reflexively thrust up against her. It took James a moment to realize what had changed that Lily would notice, straddling him as she was. Before he could apologize, she yanked his head back and targeted his exposed neck, biting until he hissed in pain and then doing something with her tongue that drove him to distraction. 

She relented after a moment, drawing back to look at him. She might have been alarmed at the fading red marks she’d left on his neck, but his dazed grin was enough to put her somewhat at ease.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked.

“You can hurt me whenever you like.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, but it was kind and lovely and warm and she was really there with him, wasn’t she? He was almost worried this was another dream, but her fingers were still moving idly in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp and sending little shocks of pleasure throughout his body. His eyes closed as she continued the motion in silence, before finally speaking again. “I didn’t know you liked… well, I didn’t know what you like.”

“You,” he sighed. Her fingers stilled in his hair, and he opened his eyes again.

“Don’t tease,” she admonished. “I’m trying to do this right.”

She was so earnest, her lips turned down into a small pout, her gaze stern with a little anxiety behind it. He needed to kiss her again before he suffocated.

“Lily,” he said, cradling her head in his hands as he kissed her again. 

It was softer this time, more important somehow. All of the words he couldn’t say flowed out of him. He wanted to remember this, wanted to kiss it into permanence so that every time he started to fret about their future or their relationship or if his latest prank had put her off him entirely, at least they had this. Did it make any sense, knowing that he’d fallen in love with her before she’d ever even considered him? That he’d known there was no option but to spend the rest of his life with her in it, even if she never wanted to date him?

It was halfway through sixth year when he realized with a fright that they only had one more year before they went their separate ways forever. Evans hating him when they slept in the same tower was one thing, but Hogwarts would only be there for so long. If she didn’t have a reason to keep in touch after school, he would never see her again, and that somehow hurt more than the idea of never dating her at all. He couldn’t keep dicking around just to get a rise out of her, hoping one day she’d change her mind. He had to be her friend at least, and to be happy with that even if it was all she'd ever give him. 

Thankfully, the more he started acting like a friend, and not a hunter, the less she acted like harassed prey. James found he liked that. He liked Lily as a friend, as a flirt, as the girl who teased him and held his hand and bit her lip and pulled his hair and--

Lily squirmed again, pulling back slightly, and he chased her lips helplessly for a moment before he let her go.

She made a sort of odd noise, her expression torn between disappointment and relief. “What was that?”

“I don’t--” he murmured. Her face was blurry now, too far to be in focus. How was he supposed to explain all of his feelings without sounding like a psycho? She would either think he was joking and ignore his feelings, or know he was serious and reject him. He didn’t know which one would be worse. But he was all out of flippant remarks, and the longer he wrestled with his thoughts, the cooler the room became as Lily drew back. “I think it’s late.”

James hugged her close, burying his face in her neck and feeling her arms wrap around his shoulders. Eventually, they relaxed, pulses slowing as exhaustion took over. It was, if the clock was to be believed, nearly 3 in the morning.

“So, is there anything else I should know about your apparent preferences in bed?” Lily finally asked, stifling a yawn as they pulled apart.

“Why, Evans, you filthy pervert, I’m pure as the driven snow,” James responded, fumbling for his glasses and hoping they hadn’t broken. “Besides, I dunno what they’ve got up in your room but this isn’t a bed, it's a couch.”

“Shut up!” she laughed, shoving him away. The clock in the corner started to chime and they both groaned.

“I’ve half a mind to skip Transfiguration tomorrow. All the morning classes, actually. Let’s just sleep ‘til lunch,” James said even as he inspected the essays they’d been working on.

“You can go ahead and bring McGonagall’s wrath down on your head since she loves you so much, but I’ll just hate myself in the morning and take a nap during my free period instead,” Lily said, gathering her things. She took her parchment from him. “I hate that you’ve got neater handwriting than I do.”

“I keep telling you I’ll write your essays for you and you never listen. You always slope down the parchment and then you have to write it all tiny at the end. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“Nobody can stand it, but I can’t have you writing out my essays. They’ll take one look and think Remus is writing my work as well as yours.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Mmm, but it’s true.” She paused for a moment, as though assessing the situation, before she pulled him in for a kiss. James kissed her back, kept kissing for as long as she let him before they knew they had to part.

“I hate that we need sleep,” James said. He suddenly beamed as though he’d had a brilliant idea. “D’you know, I think I’d fancy being the giant squid. I heard it doesn’t have to sleep.”

“...you’re an idiot,” Lily said as she rolled her eyes, smiling so fondly that James felt the stupidity creeping over his brain again. She started walking to her room and called back, “Good night.”

“If you hate your couch, you can always sleep in my bed, you know,” James offered, hoping she’d look back again. She did.

“Good night, James,” she said pointedly before disappearing into her room.

“Night, Lil,” he said, smiling all the way until he fell asleep.

[akitokihojo]

Enchanted - Ever After

Soooooooo, today’s the one year anniversary of Enchanted, and when I realized this date was coming a month ago, this particular idea came to mind. I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about what happened after the story ended, so here we are. An additional epilogue to wrap everything up.

I hope you enjoy this. Thanks so much for reading, friends!

----------

Five years had come and gone in the blink of an eye. From royalty lessons - years’ worth crammed into exhausting months, to maintaining her apprenticeship with the apothecary, to politics, to appearances. From staying out of the way of the king entirely, to him warming up to her to the point where he would actually look in her general direction - because this was King Sesshomaru, of course, and his version of warmth was the consideration of not inching his chin upward in superiority. From growing fully acclimated to being addressed as a princess, to the appropriateness a princess is expected to uphold, to the wonderful, loving, and bountiful payout of spending the remainder of her life by Prince Inuyasha’s side.

Kagome softly grazed the very tips of her fingers over the small swell of her stomach, the scarlet dress she wore comfortably accommodating the bump. She’d groaned when they’d brought out the damned carriage for their journey, always having loved the freedom of horseback. She felt so doted on in a carriage, so helpless, and it grabbed a large amount of attention. Attention everyone preferred to avoid. Horseback meant she could explore as they traveled. Horseback meant she could keep up with the lot, and take up responsibility to help. But, life was growing, and to protect that life, riding alongside her partner in open nature was no longer an option. Inuyasha, on the other hand, was seemingly unbothered by the changes that came. Over the passing weeks, he let her sleep as her fatigue robbed her of her energy, he wiped her tears when her building emotions made her weep over a litter of kittens born in the stables - he laughed though; he isn’t that nice, he brought her food and snacks before she even spoke of hunger, and he was the one whom insisted upon the carriage if she were to join them. He accepted her meager complaints with a complaisant grin, his ember eyes appeared more vibrant than ever, and without request, prodding, or persuasion, Inuyasha willingly chose to ride with her in the carriage. So she wasn’t alone, he’d said. Where she went, he went, he’d said. Shut it and stop questioning me already, he’d said.

“My darling husband?” Kagome spoke gently, her voice just above a hush as she placed her palm flat at the top of her tummy.

“My beloved wife?” Inuyasha hummed in return, sitting across from her, golden gaze fluttering up to her face for a brief moment before they washed back down to the ankle of hers that he sweetly massaged, resting along his thigh. His large hands pushed the hem of her dress a little further up her shin as he rubbed the heat of his palms over them, smoothing over her soft flesh, and back to her foot where he gently and mindlessly kneaded.

“There’s a chance that my stomach will grow large. With that growth may come stretch marks. They may be light, they may be dark, I may get lucky and receive none, or they may appear unsightly. Will you still love my body then?” A part of her knew the answer, but the dominating and self conscious part wanted reassurance that her worries were nothing more than in her head.

Inuyasha fought the chuckled that welled in his throat, subsiding it with a simple huff as an honest smirk curved at his lips. His fingers stopped their massaging, eyes giving her his full attention while he deliberated on his answer.  “You must not be paying as close attention as I thought you were.” He said.

Kagome’s brows twitched inward in curious speculation.

Inuyasha whispered as he continued, “Those nights when I slowly remove your clothing, taking my damn time, doing as I please. Those nights when I lay you down, pinning you beneath me, kissing every inch of you until you’re squirming.” He proudly noted the way her cheeks deepened in color, the way her lips pressed tightly together in embarrassment as she clearly hoped no one outside of the carriage could hear him. Inuyasha sucked in a breath between his teeth, shrugging his brows as he looked away to find her shoe, gently slipping the flat back onto her foot and placing it along the floor before crossing the small gap to sit beside her. With a simple tug on her outer thigh, the prince moved his princess to face him better as he leaned closer to her ear. “Now, I definitely thought you knew what I was doing. You seem to like it. Then again, you seem to like any attention I give you - gentle or otherwise.”

All Kagome could muster was a breathy huff in reply, the heat of her face overwhelming, the heat of his breath furthermore, the heat of his palm soaking through the cloth of her dress distracting, and the heat of his words bringing her back to just the other night.

“I have a tendency, I find, to linger around your thighs. Your hips. Your ass.”

She giggled that time.

“Particularly, here.” Inuyasha admitted, his hand traveling upward to squeeze the fleshy area of hip and leg. “See, you have these stretch marks on both sides.” Another breath sucked between his teeth as he nudged her jaw out of his way, pressing a small kiss to the delicate skin just beneath. “I don’t think words would do my adoration of them justice. If you asked me to worship your stretch marks, I’d drop to my knees. If you told me to kiss them until the end of time, I’d consider myself the luckiest man to live with not a moment to waste. You have these stretch marks because your body and curves were specifically designed to torture me.” He rumbled, quickly maneuvering her legs to rest over his so he could curl his fingers over the thickness of her bottom. “How do you not realize that if you just so happen to develop stretch marks on your stomach from bearing my child, you would merely be giving me more to revere? I’m disappointed in you, Kagome. Everything you idiotically think is a blemish is gold in my eyes, and I thought I’d made that perfectly clear by now. Unless -“ He nipped her neck, and he could physically feel the way her body tensed so she wouldn’t make a noise. “Unless I need to refresh your memory? Or do you understand now?”

Voice higher than normal, shaken, betraying, Kagome responded with a hummed yes to convey her understanding. Inuyasha smiled against her neck, placing one last kiss there before pulling back with the most arrogant smirk she’d ever seen on his handsome face - and that was saying something. Carefully, he readjusted her sitting position, gliding his hand over the little swell of her abdomen as he kissed her cheek, and returned to his original side of the carriage. As if nothing had happened, Inuyasha gestured for her unattended to foot, slipping the flat off and massaging.

Kagome had to stare out the crack of the curtain of the window to distract herself, waiting for the blush that warmed her face to finally fade away as her flustered state took its sweet time dwindling.

“You know, a simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed.”

“No, it wouldn’t have!” Inuyasha laughed, shaking his head, his pride still obviously through the roof. 

“You’re an evil man.”

“I’m rubbing your feet, am I not?” His laugh faded to a light chuckle, delight painted in his smile, bringing her to laugh as well.

As the silence came forth, comfortable and balanced, Kagome pursed her lips, her mind still occupied. “But, when we get home, I wouldn’t mind -“

“I know.” Inuyasha nodded, a crooked angle to his grin as he stared out the crack in the curtain. “You’ll get it.”

Kagome giggled, playfully flicking her foot at him as he continued to knead away the tension.

The sound of the hooves of prancing horses surrounding them played into her contentment, the wheels of the carriage on the dirt road they traveled mostly smooth, rumbling, calming. There was the slight murmur of guards as they idly chatted with one another, an occasional call from birds they passed, and the distinct huff from the horse Miroku rode just outside the door.

It was impossible not to notice the flick of an ear atop Inuyasha’s head as his attention was grasped. Had she not already been looking at him - discreetly admiring him, really - the heavy twitch of the appendage would have caught her eye, anyway. His brows furrowed slightly, amber eyes staring at nothing as he focused on his heightened senses before assertively striking the top of the carriage wall with the side of his fist. All conversation outside died, traffic slowing until they stopped completely just seconds later.

“What’s wrong?” Kagome asked, sitting up straight to take her foot back but Inuyasha held onto her, making sure to place her flat back on her heel before gently planting it on the floor.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Could be nothing.” Inuyasha suggested, pushing the door open as he stepped out, hopping down to the dirt road. His tone changed as he spoke to the knights around, lowering to the authoritative level the prince only carried when giving orders. “Report.”

“Koga’s already checking it out, Your Highness.” Miroku responded, gesturing to the beautifully freckled and rider-less horse whose reins were held firmly by another knight. Swinging his leg from over his steed, he dismounted to stand level with the prince.

“What was that?”

“Sounded like a child. Maybe it’s lost.” Sango mentioned as she joined the two.

Inuyasha instantaneously tensed, his nose scrunching before he twisted around to face his maternal-instinct-ridden wife, his finger pointed at her sternly as she was just about to climb out. “No.”

“What!?” Kagome responded defensively.

“No.” Inuyasha chuckled.

“But -“

“No.”

“I want to help!”

“Nothing’s even been confirmed yet! Sit!”

Kagome dropped her butt to sit in the entry, feet propped on the top step as she crossed her arms with a pouty huff.

“I heard something else.” He mentioned, turning his attention back to his aides and the two other guards that stood by. “Something quick. Maybe large; it’s hard to tell.” The prince leaned closer to quietly whisper the rest to those involved so as not to upset Kagome. “But, I smell blood.”

“Probably why Koga rushed off so quickly.” Miroku nodded understandingly.

“Maybe he should have backup just in case.” Sango offered.

“No. Not yet. His instincts are sharp; he wouldn’t have gone on his own if he didn’t feel like he could handle it. He’ll signal if he needs somebody.”

“And, if he doesn’t?” Sango countered.

“He’s got five minutes.” Inuyasha sighed.

The prince was fully prepared to follow Koga’s scent into the forest if his allotted time had run out, leaving the rest to protect his princess if anything happened. His sword was already along his hip, his senses were attuned to his surroundings, and as he leaned against the side of the carriage, his shoulder resting against Kagome’s thigh, he counted down the minutes. No signal was sent as of yet, and his golden eyes were trained in the direction he’d gone. 

He’d heard walking coming through an unmarked trail in the woods, the smell of blood growing more prominent, but as it all came closer, Inuyasha could easily tell it wasn’t a large amount. It was there, but no one was bleeding out, nor were they about to see a gruesome scene. 

Koga emerged onto the path carrying a small boy, little arms wrapped around his shoulders as the wolf demon knight rubbed his back soothingly. The child was clearly demon, the tiny feet appearing at the bottom of his pants padded like paws, and the tail poking through bushy, slightly frazzled, and speaking of his anxiety.

“Little guy got snagged by a hunting trap.” Koga mentioned as Inuyasha stood up straight, alert. “His leg’s hurt.”

With a deep sigh, Kagome carefully maneuvered her way down the steps, adjusting her scarlet dress as she reached the ground, and walked toward Koga cautiously. The last thing she wanted was to approach quickly and startle the little boy further. She stopped with room to spare, curving toward Koga’s side so she could see the child’s face as he peeked from the crook of Koga’s neck.

“Hi there.” Kagome smiled warmly, her brown eyes meeting his green. “My name’s Kagome. What’s yours?”

He didn’t respond, his small hands not yet releasing their grip on the guard’s coat.

“He hasn’t spoken.” Koga mentioned. “I tried getting his name earlier.”

“Oh, well that’s alright.” She sweetly assured. “You must be frightened. I promise you, not a soul here will hurt you. We only mean to help. And, I’ve got a few things with me that might make your leg feel better. Would it be okay if I took a quick look?”

The young boy apprehensively nodded, and Kagome carefully pulled up the dirtied leg of his pants, eyeing the wound that marred the flesh above his ankle. It wasn’t severe, it wasn’t broken, so she imagined it must have been a rope snare that caught him. Rope that was coarse, tattered, and tightened at a bad angle to inflict this sort of damage. Something definitely meant for an animal.

“You poor thing.” Kagome breathed. “May I bandage it for you?”

With less hesitation this time, he nodded again.

“Would you like to come with me, or would you be more comfortable with Koga holding you while I did it?”

He reached for her, finally releasing his grip on the knight, and she’d be a rotten liar if she denied that her heart sputtered heavily within her chest at the adorable action. He nestled into her arms, resting his chin on her shoulder as he gripped the back of her neck, his copper hair tickling her cheek but nothing she minded in the least as she carried him back toward the carriage. The guards were kind enough to give them space as she made her way toward the back, seeking out the small case with her supplies.

“I’ve got it.” Inuyasha offered, gently pushing her hand aside so he could un-wedge it from between the other luggage they’d brought along.

Kagome grinned, happily accepting his help as she sauntered back to the entry of the carriage, softly setting the young boy down on the bottom step where she sat on her knees before him, pulling the length of her dress out from beneath her.

“Your High-“

“Hush.” She kindly silenced a guard, having already expected someone to speak up.

“Would you like my jacket to kneel on?” He offered again.

“Absolutely not.” She declined with the hint of humor on her tongue, shaking her head.

“You should know well by now that a forest nymph doesn’t mind getting a little dirty.” Her husband said, setting the case down beside her as he softly patted the top of her head. She thanked him as he stepped back, opening it up to seek out the ointment she’d need.

As she went to push the pants up the little boy’s leg to reveal the injured flesh, she noticed the wide, curious eyes that were set on her, his lips parted in silent awe.

“What? Are you okay?” Kagome hastily inquired. He only widened his eyes further bringing her to nervously giggle. “What?”

In the smallest whisper, the boy asked, “Are you a princess?”

Kagome sighed heavily, relieved, hanging her head as she chuckled. She let the question sit for a moment as she breathed in, leveling her eyes with him once more as she smiled. “Only by marriage.”

“Which means, yes.” Inuyasha spoke as he crouched down beside her, his tone husky but the amusement evident. “She is a princess.”

The tiniest of gasps was heard from the child as he then evaluated the man next to her, his short, tousled, light hair, his attire that dressed him much like the guards but with an air of authority, his very close proximity of the one already announced as a royal that no commoner in their right mind would ever be in. Unless they were royalty, as well.

“This is my husband, Inuyasha.” Kagome introduced.

“Wow.” The kid speculated, green eyes bright, and his voice finally being heard. “I’ve never met royals before. Are you from around here? Do you have a large castle? Why aren’t you wearing crowns? Do you have a different crown for every day of the week? No, of course not, because you aren’t wearing one right now. Unless they’re just too heavy. They must be heavy. Are they heavy?”

The both of them laughed lightly, Kagome’s long, dark hair swinging to the front of her shoulders as she tried to hide her humor by ducking her head; especially since Inuyasha’s initial expression in reaction was slightly taken aback, slightly dumbfounded - most likely due to the sudden, talkative nature the boy presented.

“Well?” He prodded, earnestly waiting for an answer to each question.

“Oh, uh -“ The prince scrunched his nose, deliberating on where to begin, hoping he remembered it all. “We’re from a kingdom quite a ways away. We only wear our crowns on special occasions. We’ve only got one each and they’re honestly pretty light, but that’s just the way ours are designed. My brother’s is ridiculously heavy; it’s almost stupid. And, uh -“

“Oh, the castle.” Kagome reminded.

“Ah, yes. Um, yeah, I guess it’s pretty big.” He shrugged modestly. “I’ve seen smaller - I’ve seen larger.”

“But, then what are you doing here?” The young boy inquired, his expression twisted in confusion.

“We’re actually just passing through.” Kagome answered, finally getting to work and pushing his pants out of her way.

“Yes, and it was intended to be done discreetly. So, if you don’t mind, can this meeting be our little secret?” Inuyasha asked, cocking a brow.

“I’ve been told I’m horrible at keeping secrets.” He admitted without remorse. Kagome laughed as Inuyasha pinched his lips into a flat line.

“Wonderful. Something we should have covered first, I suppose.” He sarcastically stated, raising to a stand as he swiped his hands through his hair, heading to wait with the knights.

“Well, since you’re so chatty now, would you mind telling me your name?” Kagome asked, soaking a cotton pad in a cleansing salve. “I think it’s only fair since you know so much about us.”

“It’s Shippo, Your Highness.”

“Please, just call me Kagome.”

“I wont get into trouble?” He questioned softly.

“Believe me, there are very few people who I insist respectfully address me as royalty, and they’re usually complete jerks who deserve to be taken down a peg or two.” She smirked. “Otherwise, I just prefer my name. Especially if we’re friends. This may sting a little, Shippo. Are you ready?”

The little boy nodded, apprehension returning to crease at his brow, but he took it bravely, hardly flinching as Kagome carefully cleaned his wound and the stained blood around it, gently blowing to calm whatever burn lingered. She applied ointment next, using a generous amount to coat the wound nicely before she wrapped it securely in bandages.

“There you are.” Kagome smiled sweetly, allowing him to lift his ankle to assess the wrappings. “I would recommend you stay off of it for a couple of days. And, keep it clean. You don’t want an infection.”

“Don’t worry, Kagome!” He beamed appreciatively as he lowered his pant leg. “The lady of our house takes real good care of us when we get hurt!”

“Speaking of which, where do you live? What were you doing in the forest?”

“Exploring. I didn’t see the trap. I - um - went further than I’m allowed to go,” Shippo admitted sheepishly. “But I live in the town a little ways behind those woods.”

“Someone must be awfully worried about you.” Kagome sighed, ruffling his copper hair. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She heard a long, steady inhale from behind, and knew full and well exactly who it came from. In addition, she knew exactly what that breath meant. She knew the exact expression Inuyasha was wearing. She knew the exact, tense body language he was presenting and attempting to ease with sympathy. And, she knew exactly what he was about to say as she rose to stand, turning to meet his gaze.

“Kagome, you have to stay here. Miroku and I will take him home.” He said, ember eyes vibrant with the sun peeking through the roaming clouds.

“No.” She tried.

“Yes.” He countered steadily.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.” Kagome whined that time, her shoulders slumping as she gave into her inadvertent pout. Inuyasha chuckled, moving forward to lovingly cup her cheeks in his hands.

“You know better. If we haven’t checked out a place beforehand, you can’t go. Your safety is the most important thing to me, my love.”

“You only call me that when you’re trying to avoid being in trouble.” Kagome moped, leaning into his hold.

“Is it working?” Inuyasha grinned.

“No.”

“How about this: If we deem it safe enough, I’ll come back to get you and we’ll find something to eat there.”

Kagome perked up, brown eyes alight at the thought of food, nodding in agreement as her prince chuckled again.

“Thought so.” Inuyasha remarked, kissing her forehead. With a shrug, he went to remove his coat, which was what usually tipped off the masses of him having a high status, handing it over to Kagome. From the side, Miroku began to do the same, the both of them removing their swords as well - leaving them with just the knives concealed within their boots. Now, they looked almost ordinary, donned in black Bastian shirts tucked into their white pants, and black boots. 

“Wait, was eating soon not already the plan?” Kagome quirked as he gave her belly a little rub before stepping over to pick up Shippo.

“Ready to go?”

“Was - was that not the plan?” She tried again as amusement caused his grin to grow wide - though he clearly attempted to hide it.

“I’ll be back, princess.” He said, avoiding her audacious glare. “Let’s go, Miroku.”

“Coming.” The aide snickered, jogging over, giving Kagome’s belly a playful rub, then hastily catching up to the prince as her expression was redirected toward him.

“Goodbye, Kagome! Thank you for bandaging me up!” Shippo called, waving from his new seat atop Inuyasha’s shoulders.

She gave a meager wave to the boy, breathing out defeatedly as Koga and Sango approached at her sides.

“There’s a quarter demon child growing inside of me, and he made eating seem conditional.” Kagome said.

“I’m going to be surprised if he survives this.” Koga mentioned forwardly.

“Me too.” She agreed as Sango laughed.

—

“So, did I hear correctly? Your name is Shippo?” Inuyasha asked, securely holding the boy by his thighs so as to not agitate his injury. The child’s small hands were lightly placed on the sides of the prince’s head, just below his ears.

“You did.” He confirmed brightly.

“Well, Shippo, am I going in the right direction? You’ll have to lead us.” The prince said, though it wasn’t all that true. Once they'd passed a certain point of shrubbery in the forest, he’d begun to smell the life of a town nearby. He just wanted to give the boy the authority, knowing it usually boosted a child’s confidence, and he figured there was no harm in which since Shippo had had a bit of a rough time earlier.

“I think so.” Shippo said, almost unsurely. He hadn’t been this far out alone before, but he could detect the scent of dinners being made in homes a little further off, so he relied on that sense. “Maybe a little to the left passed that tree.”

Inuyasha chuckled softly, doing as he said.

“Why did you guys take off your jackets and swords? If you told the princess you’re worried about unexpected danger, isn’t heading off without your swords kind of, I don’t know, the opposite of what you should do?”

Miroku laughed, “If a knight only relied on his weapon, he’d be useless.”

“Aside from that,” Inuyasha spoke. “I mentioned we’d wanted to stay under the radar. The more casual we look, the better.”

“No one around here has a carriage. Not like yours, at least. If you thought your clothes were the only dead giveaway, think again.” Shippo slighted.

“No one around here will see the carriage.” Inuyasha retorted.

“Oh, good point.”

“Think you can hold onto this secret of ours? At least until we leave?”

“How long will that be?” Shippo inquired innocently.

“How long can you go?” Inuyasha laughed.

“Five minutes?” He asked more than stated.

“So much for bringing Kagome through for food.” Miroku chuckled, causing Inuyasha to grimace nervously at his fate.

“Oh! When I left to explore, Kikyo was making banana bread! It should be done by now; I’m sure she’d be more than happy to send you off with some! The princess will love it!”

Inuyasha and Miroku both perked, slowly turning to look at each other with peculiar, suspicious expressions. Slowly, the two began shaking their heads to dismiss the incredulous idea, silently mouthing, “No” back and forth to each other from the total disbelief.

“Is - uh - is Kikyo your mother?” Miroku asked.

“No, I don’t have a mother.” Shippo shook his head. “Kikyo’s the lady of the house. She brings in those who have been orphaned and takes good care of us! There’s five children living there right now. I’m the only boy, so that obviously makes me the man of the house.”

“And, has Kikyo always been part of your town?” Inuyasha questioned.

“I don’t know, I’m only six.” The boy shrugged, his attention diverting as he slightly bounced atop the prince’s shoulders. “Oh, I know where we are! Take a left at that broken tree and we’ll be able to see everything!”

Sure enough, just down the slope of the hill they stood on came the sight of a small, homely town. The streets were paved with cobblestone, houses in stable structure, closely knit together with little fenced yards, expanding out into the distant countryside where farmers grew their crops. It seemed to be a thriving community; wholesome and beautiful.

Carefully, they made their way down, and Inuyasha gave a gentle reminder to Shippo to keep their secret to the best of his abilities. The boy gave an enthusiastic nod, gesturing that he’d zipped his mouth shut, which all but disappeared the moment a woman waved to the young child and he shouted a boisterous greeting back at her.

“Who are your friends? I’ve never seen you lot around here.” She mentioned with a grin. Inuyasha sucked in an anticipating breath, holding it as he tensed, and he could tell Shippo easily almost slipped his tongue.

“Oh, this is -“ He froze, correcting himself. “Actually, I don’t know who they are. They just helped me get back here. I had a bit of an accident.”

“I’m Miroku.” Inuyasha’s aide friendly offered with a slight bow of his head, keeping the suspicion from the woman to a minimum. He pointed to Inuyasha with his thumb, “This is my friend, Koga. We were passing through when we found the little guy and thought it best to see him home.”

Inuyasha almost deadpanned, catching himself before it was made obvious. For the past six years, whenever they played incognito, which really wasn’t all that often, that was the name he was forced to go by. He honestly shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever live that moment in his life down. Miroku gave him a smug grin, waving goodbye to the lady as she commented on their kindness and let them be on their way.

“Take a right at that street and it’ll be the third house on the left. With the vegetable garden out front.” Shippo guided as they carried on.

The smell of food was alight in the district, fires burning in stoves, vegetables being diced. They passed a little bar on their way and Inuyasha crinkled his nose at the harsh aroma of hard liquor fuming through the cracks of the door, the sound of clinking glasses and intoxicated laughter meeting his sensitive ears. The town seemed, for the most part, safe from what he could tell; lively, the streets still inhabiting plenty of people as they walked with groceries or finished up their days. A group of teen girls stared, whispering to each other in a small huddle, and as the two men turned their heads, noticing them, the girls shyly waved, giggling madly and ducking their heads to hide their blushes.

“Ah, I’ve still got it.” Miroku remarked proudly, waving back at them.

“Got what?” Shippo asked, naive.

“Charm, good looks -“

“A big ego.” Inuyasha interjected, chuckling.

“Yikes.” Miroku responded semi-dramatically, laughing.

The fence outside Shippo’s house was modest and homemade, each wooden post sized differently, uneven, and some standing just slightly crooked, all of which was secured together with some sturdy rope to divide their property from their neighbors’. Inuyasha couldn’t help but smile at the humble allure of it all. From the outside, the house seemed quaint and spacious. He couldn’t give fair judgement just yet, but he sensed, overall, orphans had a good home, a good opportunity here.

“Just go on in; it’s open.” Shippo welcomed, resting his chin atop Inuyasha’s head.

Respectfully, Inuyasha gave a couple sturdy knocks before twisting the doorknob to walk through. The scent of baking bread from outside was wonderful, but his nose was delighted at how powerful the aroma became just in the entryway. Along with that, there was food cooking. Plenty of it. There was slight chatter from distant rooms, rustic decor, and beneath it all lingered a very, very faint yet familiar scent.

Small feet pattered along the floor in their direction, a young girl looking to be about ten years old appearing in the open doorway at the far, left corner of the entry room, a well-used apron tied around her waist to protect her overdress. A small smile on her lips welcomed them, her eyes traveling over them as she quietly inspected the two strangers before her expression faltered at the sight of Shippo on Inuyasha’s shoulders.

“Shippo, there you are. Where have you been? You know you’re not supposed to be gone for so long, no less on your own. Kikyo was about to head out searching for you.” She spoke, half lecturing - half concerned.

“I didn’t mean to.” Shippo defended. “I - uh - had a bit of an accident. But, some new friends helped me and brought me back.”

Inuyasha raised the small boy over his head, carefully holding him in his arms as he kneeled down before the girl. “He actually got snagged in a hunting trap. Poor guy didn’t see the damned thing, and his leg got caught. We got him fixed up, but he needs to stay off of it for a little while.”

Her eyes widened in shock, a worried expression taking over as she looked at the small boy. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“A little, but I’m perfectly fine. I hardly cried.” Shippo boasted with a prideful shrug, bringing Inuyasha and Miroku to glance at each other with muffled amusement.

“Yeah, sure, I believe that.” The girl rolled her eyes. “Lucky these men were around to help. Thank you so much,” She said, turning her attention to Inuyasha. “He wasn’t too much trouble, was he?”

“I get hurt and I’m the one that’s trouble.” Shippo mumbled beneath his breath.

“Not at all.” Inuyasha chuckled. “We were happy to help.”

“Accidents happen all the time. It’s good that we were around when it occurred.” Miroku added. “Who knows how long he would have been stuck there until someone found him.”

“We can’t thank you enough.” She smiled, moving to take Shippo from Inuyasha’s gentle hold. “Can I get you something in return? A glass of water for your journey back from where you came from? Food? I’m afraid dinner isn’t done yet, but we have baked goods. I made cookies from scratch!”

“Don’t eat those.” Shippo murmured, shaking his head at the prince.

“Don’t listen to him.”

“No, don’t worry about it. You owe us nothing.” He grinned crookedly, still kneeling before her. There was a tingle in his stomach, his senses, his mind still focusing on that tiny, recognizable scent. There was no way he could leave here until he investigated it, and the thought had that nervous jitter unraveling his abdomen all at once. “If - if it’s not too much to ask, may I meet this Kikyo? Just to let her know, myself, what happened.”

“Of course.” The girl smiled happily, leading them off. “She’s in the kitchen. This way.”

Inuyasha regarded his aide with an anxious twitch at the corner of his lips, knowing Miroku would read his body language perfectly clear. The knight, in turn, responded with a slight shrug of his brow communicating his anticipation, and then followed behind the prince.

“Shippo’s back!” The little girl announced as they entered the decently-sized kitchen, carrying him around the counter to personally present the child to Kikyo. 

Her back was to the men, her long, straight, black hair secured in a low ponytail, standing at the far counter as she immediately stopped chopping potatoes to acknowledge the children beside her. As she turned, concerned expression deep, crouching down to inspect the little boy’s condition, Inuyasha took in her profile, smiling warmly and sighing out in relief. After all these years, it was so good to finally know she was okay. Healthy. Alive.

“What in the world happened?” Kikyo asked exasperatedly.

“Heh,” Shippo had never looked more nervous. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

Kikyo snickered in return, “Don’t give me a reason to be mad, okay?” She countered, grinning daringly while cocking her head to the side as she waited for an explanation. Same, old attitude.

“Well - um - long story short, I was out exploring and got my leg stuck in a hunting trap. I was rescued, bandaged, and escorted home by - um - them.” Shippo sheepishly pointed to Inuyasha and Miroku.

Kikyo’s gaze followed the boy’s direction, instantly landing on the men in the kitchen entryway. Silver hair and dog ears, a dark, Bastian shirt revealing a portion of chest where a gold chain just barely peeked through, amber eyes that regarded her kindly, a casual manner to his posture as he leaned against the wall frame, and a familiar guard who overlooked the scene next to him. Her chest grew heavy, at first sending her nerves alight but then the weight turning into something wonderful and nostalgic, as it dawned on her who the boy’s rescuers were. Her lips slowly parted but her breath was held captive, and she couldn’t stop herself from rising to a stand, facing the prince fully, finally sighing out as she smiled at him.

“Well, well. Look who it is.” Kikyo all but whispered.

“It’s been a while.” Inuyasha greeted, giving a little cock of his head.

“It certainly has.”

“Do you know each other?” The little girl holding Shippo asked, expression muddled with perplexity.

With an unsettled and breathy chuckle, Kikyo looked down at her from the side. “We’ve met once before.”

“Wait,” Shippo started, almost assertively, the hint of surprise on his tongue. “Kikyo, you know him?”

“I do.” She replied with amusement.

“You know who he is!?”

She bent down, facing him, hands braced on her knees as she smiled. “Do you know who he is?”

“Do you!?” The boy’s green eyes almost popped out of his head, his voice cracking from shock.

“I’ll tell you what,” Kikyo laughed, almost hanging her head in defeat. “If you two go upstairs and remain there until I call you down for dinner, before bed I’ll tell you a story of a girl he and I used to know. It’ll be so thrilling you’ll hardly be able to tell if it’s real or not.”

“But, who is he?” The girl asked her.

“What fun is it if I spoil anything now?” Kikyo countered. The two children gasped, jaws dropping as the girl scampered to take them from the kitchen in excitement. “And, keep the others from coming down too, please! No interruptions or no story!” 

They listened as little feet stomped up the stairs, disappearing around the bend and bringing everything to a quiet. Miroku gave a kind nod to Kikyo, a pleasant curve to his lips as he tapped Inuyasha’s arm with the back of his hand. “I’m going to check out the surrounding area. Make sure we’re clear. I’ll be outside.”

The prince nodded, dismissing him as he and Kikyo were left alone. Steadily, she removed her apron, wiping her hands clean with it before bunching it up and leaving it on the nearby counter. Her overdress, a deep, plum color that contrasted nicely against her pale skin, was mostly clean aside from a couple flour stains on the bodice.

“Did you - are you traveling…” Kikyo inhaled anxiously, a barely noticeable tremble in her breath. “Is it just the two of you?”

“No one I’m with will disturb your peace, I promise. I would never stick around to compromise that.” The prince assured, standing up straight. “It’s good to see you, Kikyo.”

Her smile won over as she let down her guard, walking over to Inuyasha and pulling him into a tight hug, his arms wrapping tight around her waist. “I can’t believe it! I never thought I’d see you again!”

“Me neither! I’m just glad to know you’ve made a life for yourself! Is it everything you wanted?”

“Yes.” She breathed, and he could catch the hint of satisfaction on her tongue. Kikyo released him, stepping back and meeting his eyes. “I never had much of a plan. My only goal was to get away, start fresh, be common. I’ll admit, it was tricky in the beginning and for quite some time after that. But, I figured it out. I found a purpose. I make ends meet just like every other townsperson, and I care for little ones who deserve a fighting chance in this world. So, yes. It is. It’s hard, but it’s worth it.”

“You’ve been safe?”

“Turns out, I can fend for myself quite nicely. And, I still have the knife your aide gave me all those years ago.”

“I hope you’ve never had to use it.”

“Actually no, but I did punch a guy straight in the nose one time. I felt like you’d have been proud of me if you’d seen the bloody mess.” She stated with a humble shrug.

Inuyasha laughed, nodding in agreement. “I’m honestly surprised you aren’t going by an alias. When Shippo mentioned your name, Miroku and I almost didn’t believe it could have been you.”

“I told you long ago, prince. I would run until my face was unrecognizable and my name meant nothing. Here, Kikyo is my only identity.”

His smile was warm. Grateful even. Her brown eyes shined of a joy he’d never seen before; never had an opportunity to see before. He was genuinely happy for her.

“And, what of my horse?” He inquired playfully.

“Did you mean my horse?” Kikyo giggled. “She’s out back in her stable. You may see her when we’re done talking. You must catch me up! What are you doing all the way out here in the first place?”

“Business. Had to show face at a coronation since my brother has been preoccupied. We were actually on our way home.”

“Preoccupied? No, never mind. That’s none of my business. My father,” She hesitated. “Do you know what’s become of him? Is he okay?”

The prince sucked in a tedious breath, hardly able to hide the way he pinched his lips into a straight line, golden eyes falling downward.

“Oh,” She said with bated breath. “He’s who’s preoccupying King Sesshomaru.”

“We don’t have to talk about that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Kikyo insisted. “It’s not like I don’t know who my father is. Is he - has he gotten worse?”

“We’ve almost gone to war already.” Inuyasha admitted, his voice dropping to a gruff level, almost wanting to protect her from this news. Truth was, King Onigumo needed to be removed from the thrown, and unless he did an abrupt about face and learned benevolence, with the way things were headed, it may potentially happen. By force. It was something Sesshomaru and Kagura were working tirelessly to avoid, and Onigumo gave way here and there - he wasn’t completely obstinate. The last threat for violence was over a year ago, and things have calmed down considerably since. Nonetheless, Sesshomaru’s patience was running thin.

“Figures.” She eventually said, shaking her head in reply. Kikyo was mindful to subtly change the subject, understanding that he was right and they shouldn’t talk about this sort of thing. She sighed out, “And you, prince? Are you happy?”

“You have no idea.” He smirked.

Her eyes drifted over him, taking in his same, tousled hair, his healthy glow, his broad physique, the way he somehow seemed more muscular than before, and stopped at the silver ring on his left hand. Stunted, Kikyo’s gaze shot back up to his for a moment before she stepped forward and grasped his hand, carefully analyzing the band on his ring finger.

Inuyasha’s smile grew wide, chuckling when she stared at him with an expectant look.

“Is it…”

“Would you like to meet her?”

—

Inuyasha came out of the shrubbery with Miroku on his heel, the pleasant sound of content and eating horses meeting his ears. He glanced around, his strong instincts always wanting to lay eyes on his wife before allowing him to move forward, and when he didn’t immediately spot her, a frown marred his lips. Two knights stood to the side, always ready for whatever, and Koga rested carelessly on top of the carriage, hardly regarding the prince’s return. Without even opening his eyes, he pointed with his thumb in the direction on the opposite side of the carriage. Miroku stayed behind, allowing the prince to venture forward in search of his person.

He stepped off the road and into more woodland, following the sweet scent he recognized as home until he saw her sitting in a small clearing, her back resting along a tree trunk. Sango, always near her, turned to see him, acknowledging him silently before dismissing herself and leaving them in privacy. Just as he preferred.

“There you are.” He hummed, approaching before her, and as she opened her eyes to see him, the most beautiful smile appeared on her face. Inuyasha sighed out deeply as he dropped down, sitting beside her, and she leaned into his arm, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“You ask that so often.” Kagome giggled, nestling closer.

“To be fair, it changes frequently.” He joked, flinching slightly as she playfully swatted his chest.

“I’m fine, butt head.”

“No nausea?”

“Not lately.”

“Tired?”

“Always.”

“Hungry?”

“Always.”

“Annoyed?”

“Getting there.”

Inuyasha laughed, kissing the top of her head as she gently caressed her fingers over the material of the pants on his thigh.

“You were gone for a while.” Kagome spoke softly. “Was it far?”

“Not really,” Inuyasha responded just as gently, enjoying the attention he was receiving. “I had stopped to talk to someone. I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Somehow, her voice became even quieter, hushed as ever but still conveying her honesty. “If it’s for you, I’d wait forever.”

Inuyasha’s core warmed wonderfully, bringing him to kiss her head again in adoration. He wanted to bask in her sentiment, fully comforted by her fingers roaming over his thigh and her body heat soaking through his shirt. He’d never have his fill of this woman. 

“There’s a couple things I wanted to run over with you, if that’s alright.”

“Oh?” Kagome perked, sitting up to look at him, her hand traveling up to his forearm to graze.

“Yes. Shippo mentioned a lady of the house to you, do you recall?”

“Mhm.” She hummed with a single nod.

“Well, turns out he’s an orphan. The lady of the house is the caretaker of a small orphanage of sorts. She’s who I was talking to.” Inuyasha explained, observing as Kagome’s expression slightly faltered.

She was aware Rin came from a horrible orphanage. In the recent years, she’s been a personal witness to her health struggles from the environment she was saved from, and has seen firsthand how the fear and stress of it all weighs on her parents, on her uncle. How during a very bad episode, Kagome found Inuyasha in a room hidden away in a library, his face buried in his hands. 

The prince’s brows furrowed minutely, his body slowly and steadily turning more to face his wife. “You’re upset.”

“Is it a good place?” She quietly asked, expression twisting in concern.

He soothed her, a small sigh leaving his mouth, gently stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Yes. It is, yes. It’s stable, it’s not crowded at all, and everyone’s well-nourished. I swear. That’s not what I intended to make you think about. You’re too compassionate for your own good, did you know that?”

“Oh, like you didn’t immediately worry about the same thing when you found out he was an orphan?” Kagome challenged, her mood lightening a bit after receiving his reassurance.

“No, you’re right. It’s impossible not to, I guess, from our perspective.” Inuyasha said. “He really is in good care. Turns out, the lady is an old friend. And, if you’re up for a little walk, I’d like for you to meet her.”

A smile began to grow on her face as her brows expressed her piquing interest. “Who?”

“Kikyo.” 

Inuyasha watched Kagome’s bemusement deepen, her face twisting dramatically as she processed the two syllables he’d spoken.

“Yes, you heard me right.” He confirmed.

“Kikyo?” She echoed.

“Yes.”

“The Kikyo?”

“The only one I, personally, know.”

“The runaway princess?”

“That’s the one.”

“The Kikyo who called you a nit-witted mongrel?”

“Hah, that was a good one.” He laughed, forgetting he’d told her nearly every detail of how they’d fought to dismember the marriage arrangement. “How do you remember that?”

“I remember everything.” She stated simply. “But -“

“Yes!”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“Alright, well we should get going.” Kagome said with a nonchalant shrug, shifting slightly to her side to push herself up to a standing with her hand.

Inuyasha jumped up, grabbing her arms to help. “Wait, so you’re okay with this? You’re alright with a little walk?”

“First of all, you’re too protective for your own good, did you know that?” She teased. “Second, I’m not that far along. I can still see my toes and everything. I’m perfectly fine with walking.”

Inuyasha pressed his mouth shut to stifle his laughter. “And, what about meeting her?”

“Oh, well you never asked me about that before. You told me you wanted me to meet her, and knowing you, she’s probably already expecting me. But, now that you’re asking, I don’t mind.” Kagome shrugged again, a smug grin on her face that only served to egg Inuyasha on. 

“Oh, you don’t mind?” He echoed casually, stepping inward as his hands glided over her waist.

“I don’t mind.” She repeated.

“Not one bit?”

“Well,” Kagome clicked her tongue, pursing her lips as she pretended to put more thought into it, her palms smoothing over Inuyasha’s chest to wrap around his shoulders. “I can honestly say it’s always been high on my list to meet your ex-fiancee. Now that I have the opportunity, how could I possibly pass it up?”

“Why you cheeky, little - are you jealous?”

“Me?”

“Mhm.”

“Jealous?”

Inuyasha chuckled, leaning down to brush her jawline with a sweet kiss, knowing all too well that she was joking with him, and as he felt her smile push at her cheeks, he traveled down to nip at her neck.

“Not if you keep doing that.” She breathed.

“If I keep doing this,” Inuyasha spoke huskily against her skin, pausing his sentence to pepper more kisses. “We’ll never get there.”

Kagome giggled, waiting patiently for Inuyasha’s lips to make their way to her own, his kiss soft, grounding, heart-sputtering.

“But really, Kagome.”

She rubbed their noses together, giving him one last, delicate kiss. “Lead the way.”

As they reached the bottom of the hill, Kagome was a laughing mess, her flats practically having held no traction as she slid every two steps the entire way down, causing Inuyasha to be a nervous train wreck attempting to keep her up. She slipped to her butt, his grip on her hands the only thing preventing her from crashing down hard, and he crouched down in front of her, heaving a heated and defeated huff. The prince grabbed her cheeks between his palms, bringing her to giggle harder as his frustrated expression worsened.

“You’re going to be the death of me, woman!”

“This isn’t my fault at all!” Kagome feebly argued.

“I don’t see why you didn’t just carry her down.” Koga mentioned, both Miroku and Sango staring humorously at his sides.

“She won’t let me carry her anymore!” Inuyasha defended, standing and holding his hand out for her, lifting her to her feet.

“It’s not comfortable with a belly.” Kagome explained, pointing to her swell. “And, I hate being carried like some dainty thing.”

“You’re being carried back up.” Inuyasha declared, making her snort with another laugh.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

“Come on, the sun is setting.” Miroku urged kindly. They’d left the two other knights to watch over their belongings, but had to bring Koga in case anything out of the ordinary occurred. The detailed reminder was unnecessary, especially since he knew Kagome wasn’t fond of being doted on, but just like the prince, as princess, she was to be protected well. As princess with child, she was almost never to be left alone. Worst case scenario, some bandits stumbled upon their carriage out on the road, understood it meant royals were about, and hid in the trees until they returned. If they were wandering back through the woods in the dark, their defense was lower than normal. Granted, Koga and Inuyasha would sense anyone around, but it still made things a degree more difficult. Realistically, the chances of any of that happening were slim, but not altogether impossible. Hence the reason they were well-guarded, and all scenarios were to be considered. Not to mention, the prince was naturally protective of her, the instinct kicking into high gear the moment he found out she was pregnant, and his orders were very clear from day one. Kagome is never to be put in a compromising position.

Inuyasha entwined his fingers with his princess’s, keeping her close to his frame as he led her and the others through the town, the warm hues of the sky complimenting the colors of the homes nicely. There were still people out; not as many as before, but the life had yet to fully filter indoors. Unsurprisingly, heads were turning. It was one thing when two strangers were walking through, but now there were five - one of which who didn’t really have the option to strip off a layer of clothing to appear more casual. Being of common blood, though, Kagome had a tendency to not even tense in situations like these, hardly paying it any mind.

He gave three curt knocks to the door, waiting respectfully as he heard two little feet running toward them from inside. The child seemed small, the doorknob jiggling roughly back and forth a few times before actually succeeding in opening to reveal that his assumption was right on the money. She was shorter than where the knob sat, and it was clear to see she’d struggled to twist it open with how tiny her hands were. Her eyes, though, were alight with wonder, the hollow of her throat emphasized with the steady gasp she sucked in.

The girl backed out of their way to let them enter, her sights trained on them as her cheeks beamed with color. As the group walked through, Sango shutting the door behind them, they all spotted a line of four other children peaking through the wooden railing of the staircase bannister. Their expressions matched the little girl’s, and both Kagome and Inuyasha laughed lightly.

“I suppose our five minutes were up long ago, huh?” Inuyasha asked, spotting Shippo in the middle of them.

“I did my best, your highness. Really, I did.” He said, unconvincingly. 

“How’s your leg feeling?” Kagome inquired, notching her head to see him through the crack in the railing.

“Never better!”

“I believe I told you all to wash up. Not gawk and stare.” A woman playfully chided, cocking a brow as she watched them all scurry upstairs to do as she said, giggling madly all the way. The oldest of the bunch had picked Shippo up so he wouldn’t get hurt, scampering away behind the rest.

Her gaze transferred to the group in the entry, a welcoming smile resting on her face. “Are you all hungry? There’s plenty of food.” She offered, leading the way into the kitchen.

At first, Kagome could admit she was highly intimidated by the woman before her. By Kikyo. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her fair skin tone unblemished, her hair long and silky and dark as night, her posture still poised and fit to hold a crown steady atop her head. She, for one, was born into royalty. She knew the ins and outs of being a proper princess, of how to balance what was expected of her, and surely how to be graceful. The entire way, she wondered if Kikyo would secretly judge her on her etiquette if she stammered or acted informally in the least, having been raised to know better as opposed to the merciless educating Kagome was married into. Now, she could see Kikyo, the runaway princess, was no one to worry about. And, the offer of sustenance helped ease her mind drastically - no less since the heavenly smell of the home was almost making the poor princess drool.

“Oh, I like her already.” Kagome whispered to Inuyasha, rubbing her belly soothingly as it rumbled. He chuckled, gripping her hand tighter as he turned to plant a quick kiss on her temple before guiding her forward. 

Miroku and Koga stayed by the door - precautionary purposes, of course - but Sango followed behind the royals, leaving space but keeping watch. Just as before, Kikyo removed the apron she’d put back on, wiping her hands clean on it before bunching it up and dropping it on the counter, smoothing out any wrinkles in her dress.

“You must be Kagome.” She deduced, her tone level and kind. “I’m Kikyo.”

“The ex-fiancee.” Inuyasha teased.

“Ew.” Kikyo reacted automatically with a cringe. Inuyasha wheezed a laugh, flinching as Kagome lightly jabbed him in the side.

“Don’t mind him.” Kagome dismissed. “I’m sure you remember how funny he thinks he is. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

She chuckled, bowing her head in amusement as she stepped forward to shake the princess’s hand.

“I hope you never run into royalty outside of this, Kikyo, because your manners are awful.” Inuyasha mentioned, eyes alight with humor. Both of the women looked at him, confused until it clicked for Kikyo, her expression shifting to slight astonishment. “I believe you owe us a curtsey.”

“Not on your life.” She responded.

“Please don’t.” Kagome shook her head profusely.

“At least remember if you ever meet one who cares.” Inuyasha contended.

“A woman bows to no man.” She said with a challenging smirk before gesturing to the food-filled counters. “Now eat something and shut it.”

“We can’t stay long, but I would actually like to say hello to my horse first, if you don’t mind.” Inuyasha retorted, bringing the back of Kagome’s hand to his mouth to kiss before letting go and crossing to the back door of the house at the far end of the kitchen.

“My horse!” Kikyo reminded him as he ran out.

“Everything smells amazing.” Kagome commented, looking around at the incredible amount of pastries and goodies around.

“Thank you. We sell baked goods for an income, but we always make more than necessary. Please, help yourself.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head again. “I couldn’t.”

“You can and you will.” Kikyo insisted. “Go for the chocolate chip first. You’ll love them.”

“Well, who am I to argue?” Kagome gave in with a meek shrug, happily bouncing over to the cookies to grab the large chocolate chip on top.

“Why aren’t your guards coming in? It’s fairly safe here; there’s no need to be formal.”

Kagome let out a groan, her head dropping back as Sango giggled in the doorframe, used to her dramatic gripes about the situation. “Because my dear husband put them on high alert for the next six months, so now wherever we go, they’re like this.”

“Six months?” Kikyo questioned, brows furrowing.

“Well,” Sango spoke. “Six months left, at least. And, really, it’ll only get worse after that.”

“Don’t remind me.” She rolled her eyes, taking a bite of the delicious treat in her hand. 

Before Kikyo could ask anything further, the five children flocked in, all of them quiet for the most part but body language screaming of how excited they actually were. Kikyo had made sure to speak to the kids beforehand, forbidding a bombardment of questions she knew they would no doubt ask, threatening to take story time away - and each of them refused to risk that, wanting to hear the tale of how the lady of the house knew a prince.

“All clean?” She asked, her smile quite motherly.

“Yes!” They each answered, four out of five holding up their hands for her to see while the eldest held onto Shippo.

“Alright, you know the drill.” The eldest looked at the smallest girl behind her, the one who’d opened the door for them, gesturing out the other end of the kitchen where Kagome assumed the dining room was, taking she and Shippo to the table. The others got out the bowls, and plates, the utensils most likely already set out, waiting in an uniformed line for Kikyo to serve them hearty stew from the pot on the stove with a side of bread.

Inuyasha came back in not too long later, a pleased grin on his mouth, and Kagome could easily read he was ecstatic to have seen his old mare again. Ember eyes immediately landed on her, bringing a comforting heat to wash through her body, and he crossed the kitchen as the last child took food out to the dining room. His large palm instinctively glided over her belly, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, welcoming himself back to her side.

Kikyo no longer needed to ask a thing. The dress concealed her baby bump well, and she’d admit, if nothing had been said to tip her curiosity, and if the rubbing palm didn’t smooth out the creases in Kagome’s dress to reveal the adorable swell, she would have never noticed she was pregnant. It was peaceful, seeing the prince so happy when all she had the opportunity to know from him was sarcasm and angst. It was wonderful to know her friend had gotten the life he’d so desperately wanted. Deserved. Kikyo breathed complacently, filling extra bowls with food to hand to her guests.

—

The silver hair she stroked was soft, thick, the tips of her fingers massaging her husband’s scalp as he rested his head on her chest. They were back in their carriage, strolling through the darkness to make up for a little lost time before finding a place to sleep for the night. Instead of the couple sitting on opposite sides, Inuyasha had wanted to hold her, waiting until they’d gotten moving again before he curled his finger and urged her toward him. Happily, Kagome obliged. Kagome would always oblige. She’d sat beside him, but her legs went over his lap, her back resting against the carriage wall as his arms wrapped around her waist, nestling his head just below her chin. Whenever he did that, he always released the most satisfied sighs, and his body was always wonderfully hot, the heat gracing her flesh by soaking through both of their clothing.

“Sometimes, like today,” He spoke softly, his voice low and husky, doing something to her that she couldn’t put words to. “I’m reminded of how different life could have turned out.”

“You don’t have to think about that, though.” Kagome soothed, kissing his head as her fingers gently stroked one of his ears from base to tip.

“No. It’s important that I do.”

“Why?”

“Because, Kagome,” She could have sworn she felt his face grow hotter against the bare skin of her chest, but the proof couldn’t be seen with how they cuddled. “I almost didn’t have you.”

“But, you do.” She whispered in a simple manner.

“And, I’m grateful.”

“Oh, are you?” Kagome half teased.

“You just like hearing it.” He chuckled lightly.

“So,” She breathed, nuzzling her nose into his hair. “You’re happy?”

Inuyasha sucked in a tedious inhale, one of his hands bracing him to sit up slightly as the other traveled up to caress her cheek. His amber eyes met her gorgeous brown, the light from the moon and stars filtering through a crack in the curtains and bringing an enchanting glow to her features. He felt his own expression soften as he broke, completely enraptured, leaning in to lightly press his lips to hers. Kagome melted into his kiss, and he could feel her own conviction, causing his lungs to tremble as he curved his fingers around the nape of her neck, solidifying their position for just a moment longer. As he slowly broke away, he relished in the heat of her sigh, rubbing his forehead to her own as he gave his answer in a gentle nod. Without another word, he carefully curled back into her, his arms once more around her waist and head resting safely along her chest, listening contentedly to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

[something-tofightfor]

Tipping Point - 9

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader; Reader x Noah (…)

Word Count: 7386

Rating: M (language.)

Summary: The rain might have ruined the end of the game, but it’s also giving Benjamin a chance to sit and talk with you ... but will either of you actually say what’s on your minds? And then, back at the hotel, Eric’s got an agenda of his own  - which forces Benjamin’s hand - and some brutal honesty on his part. 

Author’s Note:  *spoiler alert* This chapter ABSOLUTELY contains spoilers from Gold Digger. If you haven’t seen it, and don’t want to know about Benjamin’s backstory in detail, I wouldn’t read any further. It could NOT be avoided. (We’re getting to my favorite parts of this story so far, so....)

By the time you reached cover, both of you were soaked, clothes clinging to your skin and hair plastered to your heads. That came out of nowhere. You joined a large group of people, stepping in far enough to ensure that the rain didn’t continue to dampen you, but didn’t make it more than a few feet beneath the overhang before you stopped due to the crowd. “Benjamin, I’m so sorry, I should have noticed.” Don’t worry about it. He eyed you, noticing that you were standing closer to him than was probably necessary. “We’ll wait it out for a little while, but we have to -” Towels. We have towels. He opened the plastic bag, careful not to rip it, and handed you the towel, still folded. 

 “Here.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and using one corner of the dry material to wipe it. “We can put our phones in the plastic, that way…” You laughed, but reached for your own phone, following suit. Both devices went into the bag and then back into your purse, you still holding the towel in one hand. “That’s sorted then, I guess we -” But he was distracted by you unfolding the towel and lifting your hands, using it to dry his face off - followed by moving it up to his hair, where you rubbed it quickly through his soaked locks. What? He was frozen, unable to react as your hands moved toward the back of his head. He said your name, almost whispering it, but you ignored him, continuing the movement of your hands through his hair, the material keeping your fingers from actually touching him. What is she doing? Satisfied that he was dry enough, you let the towel fall onto his shoulder, but didn’t lower your hand. Instead, your fingertips touched his cheek, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone. “What are you doing?” He swallowed, forcing himself not to lean into your touch. “You -” 

 “Benjamin.” You closed your eyes, the backs of your fingers resting against his skin. “I’m not -” You paused, and he watched as you squeezed your eyes shut more tightly. “This… I...” This can’t happen. This can’t… A sudden gust of wind caused people to step backwards as it drove the rain inward, someone bumping into you and forcing you to stumble forward. Benjamin’s hands both shot out to steady you, landing on your hips, the chilled material of your shorts beneath his palms as yours fell to his shoulders, gripping them for balance without pause. He said your name again and you looked up at him, the expression in your eyes unreadable. The two of you stood like that for long seconds, Benjamin unsure of what to say, but unwilling to move even though he knew that it was what he needed to do. If we stand here, it won’t...

 “I don’t like him. Noah, I mean.” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, and he watched as your eyebrows went up, lips parting slightly. “I don’t like the way he’s treating you, the way he … that he won’t…” Say you’re his. Say that he wants  to be with you. “You deserve someone that will -”

 “What do I deserve, Benjamin?” You laughed, sniffling and rolling your eyes without letting go of him. “Someone that will what?” He watched as a large drop of water rolled down the side of your face, collecting on your chin, and without thinking he moved one hand from your hip and brought it up to your face, wiping it away with his knuckle. I’m going to kill Eric. This is unfair. He used his thumb to tilt your face up further, taking a deep breath. 

 “Someone that cares about you enough to be with you completely.” You scoffed. “Someone that does the right thing.” Like I need to right now. With regret, Benjamin flexed his fingers once against your hip again and then pulled his hand away, dropping the one from your chin, too. “Noah might be Eric’s friend, but you know that you’re not happy with how things are.” And you shouldn’t be. “But that doesn’t mean...Don’t do this. Not now. Not like this.” He was pleading with you, both in his tone and the look in his eyes, though he was unwilling to gesture between the two of you with his hand and confirm anything. Please. You stared up at him and then you moved one hand to grab the end of the towel that hung over his shoulder, using it to wipe your own face and neck, wringing out your hair after taking a step back. That almost crossed a line. He scrubbed at his face with one hand, taking a deep breath. But she… she moved first, she… He needed to think of something else, and so Benjamin looked around, glancing back over your shoulder at the open space behind you before he said your name again, hoping that his voice was steadier. “It looks like it’s going to rain for a while.” 

 “Yeah.” You refused to meet his eyes, agreeing with him halfheartedly. “You’re probably right.” Why does she sound so disappointed? “We can walk further in, there might be somewhere to sit to wait, and -” Benjamin reached out, taking your hand in his and linking his fingers between yours. “What -”

 “I meant what I said.” You looked confused and Benjamin tugged you closer to him, still holding your hand. “About doing the right thing.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “But I didn’t just mean Noah, I meant … me, too.” 

 “I don’t understand.” I know you don’t. And I shouldn’t be saying this. 

 “You might not be his girlfriend, but you’re still with him, and I can’t… I can’t let myself…” He fumbled over his words, wishing desperately that you weren’t in the middle of a crowd so that he could have the conversation with you that he wanted to have. “No matter how much I…” You’re just out of a relationship, Benjamin, and you’re saying these things to a woman you barely know? Someone’s that’s dating someone else? “I’m not that kind of man.” The crowd around you was loud, but he was focused only on your face, waiting for your response.

 “I know you’re not, Benjamin.” You finally smiled at him, and to his surprise, you pulled your hand from his and wrapped both arms around his body, hugging him tightly. He hugged you back, turning his head to press his cheek against the top of your head. “And I appreciate that.” The embrace lasted longer than he thought it would, but when you straightened up, you looked determined - and slightly less sad. “Come on, we’re going to get you a new shirt.” 

--- 

 Twenty minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the ground in front of one of the team shops, both of you wearing new White Sox shirts. Though his jeans and your shorts were still wet, he felt better with the top half of his body dry, both pieces of wet material along with one towel in the plastic bag that the new shirts had been in. He’d dried off partially in the bathroom before changing his shirt, and then stood in front of the mirrors for almost too long, staring at his reflection. I shouldn’t have said that to her. I shouldn’t have touched her. I shouldn’t have… “But you did.” He spoke out loud, getting a few looks from other men in the room, but he didn’t care. This isn’t you, Benjamin. 

 It was still raining when he met you outside of the bathrooms, and when you checked the Uber app, you’d seen that it was extraordinarily expensive for a ride back to the hotel. Since it was still early, you’d decided to wait a little longer, riding out the storm under the cover of the upper levels of the stadium. “This probably isn’t the way you wanted to spend the night, is it?” You sighed from next to him, shoulder pressed against his. “Wet and cold on the cement in a -”

 “I can’t think of a better way to spend my night, actually.” He grinned at you, turning his head. “Does this happen often? The rainouts?” 

 “Delay.” You corrected him, laughing. “Not a rainout yet, it’s just delayed. And yes, this happens a ton.” You went quiet, and Benjamin was relieved that it wasn’t an awkward silence. Maybe we didn’t ruin this. 

 “Well I don’t mind it. Much.” It was his turn to laugh, Benjamin leaning his head back against the wall behind him. “Do you think Eric knew it was going to rain when he -”

 “No.” You cleared your throat. “Eric didn’t know anything except that he was trying to get you and me alone, and give us time to… talk.” Wait, she knew it too? “What do you think he wanted, or expected from this?” I don’t know. “He -”

 “I told you before, Eric’s your brother and he’s going to be on your side no matter what.” Benjamin looked away, watching as people hurried past, some of them still dry, others as soaked as the two of you had been. “I think… he’s trying to make you understand that from his point of view?” Benjamin groaned. “He can see that you’re not… not as happy as you could be, that Noah’s not... “ Not what, Benjamin? 

 “But why not just say something? Why stick me with -”

 “Because you like me. Because we’re friends. Because… I’m a perfect example that settling for enough doesn’t end well.” He realized the truth of his words only as he said them, head drooping downward. “Because he’s hoping that since I’m not your brother, you’ll listen to me.” 

 You shifted, turning to face him, one of your fingers idly running along the stitching on the heel of his boot. 

 “And what is it you think he’d like to tell me?” He was focused on the movement of your finger, imaging that he could feel it tracing over his ankle bone and up his heel and then back down, though you weren’t using any pressure. “What would you tell me, Benjamin?” He looked up at your use of his name. “Aside from what both of you have already said?” So many things. 

 “If you’re unhappy, you shouldn’t keep yourself in a situation that…” He wrinkled his nose. “Perpetuates that unhappiness. You met me at Christmas, you saw how miserable I was.” 

 “But you loved Julia, you, had every right to be miserable over the fail-” You stopped, lifting your hand from his foot and covering your mouth with it. “Oh, Benjamin, I didn’t mean that.” You looked worried, but he only shrugged. 

 “You’re right. I did love her. But for too long, I … I let myself believe that I was at fault for things being wrong, that it was all my doing.” He lifted his hand to the back of his head, scratching it. “This - your relationship - is nothing like that. You’ve just started seeing him, it’s not… love, not yet.” Or is it? But as he watched you shake your head back and forth, he knew that your initial instincts about dating Noah had been the right ones, and he’d been the one to lead you toward it. He said your name, calling your attention back to him. “I encouraged you to date him in the first place, and … I didn’t know you well then, but I knew enough to know that I wanted you to find someone that made you happy. That could give you the kind of relationship that I wanted to have with …” He paused. Not with Julia, I don’t think I ever thought we could be truly happy, not after Ted and the fire and her children. “With someone, even though part of me knew it wasn’t possible with my wife any longer.” He sighed, tilting his head back and softly hitting it against the cement behind him. “I was in no position to give anyone relationship advice, but I guess I still had some hope, and …”

 “Benjamin Greene, the hopeless romantic.” You laughed, fingers tightening around his ankle again and then loosening, though you didn’t remove your hand. “Do you still believe that? Have hope that people can be truly happy, even after what you’ve gone through?” This isn’t about me, this is about you. “Or are we just supposed to -” You stopped as someone came over the loudspeaker, announcing that the game had been postponed to a later date. “Ah, damn.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “Now we have to leave.” 

 “I can get the car, it doesn’t matter the cost, we need to get out of these wet clothes, so getting back to our rooms is…” He stopped at the disappointment on your face, waiting until you nodded. Bracing himself with both hands, Benjamin unfolded his legs and stood, careful not to kick you and then bent down, holding both hands out to you to help you up. “I’ll just need my phone back, and -” His voice failed him as he felt your hands within his again, you allowing him to pull you to your feet slowly, drawing you closer to him without even realizing that he was doing it. I cannot do this. I cannot let her… “As much as I like my new shirt,” he finally said, glancing down. “I’d like to change into dry pants, and I’m sure that you -” 

 “You’re a good man, Benjamin.” Without saying anything else, you stepped even closer, pulling your hands from his and wrapping them around his neck. Then, you rose onto your toes, lips landing against his cheek, just beneath his eye. “A good, honest man.” No one’s ever said that before. You pulled away from him completely, digging into your purse and handing him his phone, the smile returning to your face. “Use Lyft. It’ll be cheaper.” You knew that all along, didn’t you?

 --- 

 Getting dropped off at the hotel, you and Benjamin rode the elevator up, and though he’d never admit it to you, he was cold. All I want are dry pants, and… “Wait a minute.” He stopped in front of his room door, key in hand. “The door, the…” Eric, seriously? He looked at the screen of his phone, but there was no notifications. “He…”

 “Is that the ‘do not disturb’ sign?” You laughed. “Because of course it would be.” Eric what are you trying to pull? “Wait a minute, he texted me.” You stared at the screen of your phone, hissing out your brother’s name. “Oh, that dick.” You looked up at him, lips pressed together in a thin line. “He got an extra key for my room from the desk, and moved your bag there, Benjamin.” Excuse me? “His text says, and I quote, ‘Tell Benjamin that I’m sorry but I needed the room tonight.’” Sure, like you just planned this while we were out. 

 “Alright, well, at least let me change before I go down and see if there’s an available -”

 “What?” You were frowning. “An available what?”

 “Look, you planned on spending the weekend with Noah, and I’m assuming there’s only one bed in your room, so that’s obviously not going to work for us.” Since I am not, in fact, Noah. “So if you’ll let me change, I’ll see if there’s a room here I can book, and if not I’ll try another hotel.”

 “Not necessary.” You gestured with one hand. “Come on.” Confused, he followed you, waiting until you used your key to open the door, immediately turning the temperature dial up. “Sorry it’s so cold in here, I figured I’d be coming back gross after sitting in the humidity all night, so…” There are two beds. Why are there two… “When I booked the rooms, it was much cheaper to get double queens.” Benjamin saw his bag sitting on the bed that was still untouched, and because he was unable to stop himself, his eyes moved to the second bed, and the way the blankets and sheets were balled up atop it. 

 “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t feel comfortable…” Sleeping in the same room you slept in with another man last night. “I’ll just change, and -”

 “Noah didn’t sleep here last night, Benjamin.” You were standing next to your suitcase, having already flipped it open. “He came up and we talked for a few minutes, but… he didn’t have any clothes with him. I should have noticed, but I was… distracted when we were in Wrigley, and…” He didn’t. I didn’t even think… “He never planned on spending this weekend with me.” You opened your mouth again, but then stopped. “No, you know what? Not now.” You pointed. “Get changed. There’s plenty of towels in the bathroom, if you need them.” 

 “No, you go first, I -” 

 “I’ll change out here.” You grinned. “No big deal.” That’s the last thing I need to think about. “Go. It can’t be comfortable to have on all that denim when it’s damp.” It isn’t. He pulled clothes out of his bag and stepped into the bathroom, quickly stripping and using one of the still-folded towels to dry his legs before pulling pajama pants on, the soft material of his t shirt settling into place a few seconds later. This is a bad idea. I need to get another room, I can’t sleep here, this isn’t right. But the truth was that Benjamin didn’t want to sleep in a different room, and there wasn’t as much wrong with the situation as there could have been. We’re both technically single. Both… 

 He gripped the edge of the counter, head hanging down. It still cannot happen. Nothing can happen, not until… not unless… Benjamin brushed his teeth before calling out to make sure you were dressed, and when you assured him you were, he stepped back into the room. “You look much drier.” He laughed at that, settling down onto the bed after moving his bag onto the chair next to it. 

 “I am. And I’m warmer, too.” You crossed the room to ensure that the door was locked, and though he’d seen them all day, he was focused on your legs, bare beneath the cotton shorts you were wearing. “You?” 

 “I didn’t put the sign on our door handle, Benjamin.” You leaned against the edge of the wall that separated the entryway  from the rest of the room. “I hope that’s alright with you.” Of course it is. Why wouldn’t… “We never finished our conversation from before, and I know that.” You stepped back through the room again, pulling the window open, the sound of the rain falling onto the city growing louder. “About whether or not you still think that there’s a chance for happiness. For you, for … everyone.” Laying down atop your bed, you stretched, rolling onto your side and propping your chin up with one hand. 

 He leaned back against the headboard, hands in his lap. How do I answer that? “I think…” He started and then stopped, choosing his words carefully as he turned to face you, back still against the pillows behind him. “Everyone’s happiness looks different.” Benjamin thought about Kieran and  his mother, about the time he’d spent behind bars, the time he’d had to think about the choices he made. Allie’s face popped into his head, the way she’d callously turned down his affections at the end, the way she’d broken his heart by telling him there was someone else, even though part of him already knew it. He thought of Julia, of the ways  that they’d connected - quickly, easily, overlooking the hard parts to focus on the things that didn’t seem so big or bad. “And the things that you hope will make you happy? The things you’re told should make you happy?  They might not be the ones you get right away.” You watched him, not saying anything. “They may not be the ones you ever get, and in the end, you have to decide what’s most important to you.” He swallowed hard. “There are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, and a lot of them… a lot of them aren’t things I’m proud of, but they’re the things that make me… well, me.” 

 “Benjamin, everyone’s got a past. Everyone has things that they’ve done, that they aren’t proud of.” You moved your head back and forth slowly, never taking your eyes off of him. “Your life was very different from mine, and the last couple of years have been…” You sighed. “A test for you. You dated someone before Julia, right?”

 “Allie. Yeah, we… I thought we were going to get married, but she had other plans.” You frowned. “That hurt. And for a while, I was just… I figured that that was it for me, and that I’d better get used to being alone, because it’s what I deserved. I went on dates here and there, but nothing really… I didn’t feel anything real, you know?” He licked his lips, scooting down onto the mattress so he was mirroring your position, on his side and facing you. “And then, by chance, I met Julia, and it was like a whirlwind.” That’s putting it lightly. He’d spilled some of the details to you since the night you’d met, so he didn’t want to rehash everything. “And I was happy, a lot of the time. We had our problems, and her kids were miserable most of the time, but I loved her. Very much. And then I asked her to marry me, and she said yes, so I thought ‘well this is all that matters, it’s going to be alright’ but it wasn’t. Not even close.” You knew that part, too, about how close the wedding had come to being called off. But not why.

 “Can I ask you something else?” You sat up, leaning toward him. “You don’t have to answer, but… you got an annulment, not a divorce. And I’ve looked into it more. There are only a few things that would qualify you for that.” She looked into it more? “How did you… you let her come out on top, but how, Benjamin? What was -”

 “I lied to her.” He sat up, too, long fingers gripping at his thighs after he’d crossed his legs, trying to keep them from shaking. “Well, that’s what everyone thinks. She knew what… she knew everything, before we got married. That’s why it almost didn’t happen, because she found out and then didn’t believe me when I explained.” He paused and you were quiet, waiting. “But since we were only married for a little while, and she never really told anyone, it was easy to… to lie to them, to let her…” You moved quickly, pushing off of the bed and climbing into his with him, your arms going around his upper body as you knelt next to him, head leaning against his shoulder. “I destroyed my reputation to give her the easy way out and to take the blame for everything, and it shouldn’t surprise me because I spent -”

 “Oh, Benjamin.” He reached up, gripping your arm just above the elbow and closed his eyes. “That’s… you…” Turning his head, he buried his nose in the hair on the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. She couldn’t possibly care this much.

 “D’you know something?” He felt a tear running down his cheek, even as he continued to speak, words slightly muffled. “That was the easiest lie in the world to tell.” It was the first time he’d admitted that to himself. It feels… “Because it meant that she - that Julia, no matter what she says to anyone or tells herself,  knows what I did for her, even though I had no obligation to do it.” I’m always doing things for people at the expense of my own...His eyes widened. That’s what I’m doing right now, too. “For me,” he continued, heart pounding in his chest - harder with each word. “For me, I think my happiness needs to be about considering myself first for once, and what I need, and what I want, and not what’s best for everyone else around me.” 

 “You can do that now.” You straightened up, squeezing his arm again before you moved back to your bed, still sitting up and watching him. “You’ve got a fresh start, Benjamin. And I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re a good man. You deserve to be happy. And you deserve to do what makes you happy, too.” But I can’t, not right now, not... “You know something?” You laid back, this time staring up at the ceiling. “When I first saw Noah in that parking lot? After not seeing him for a couple years?” You scoffed. “I knew what he was like in college, knew from Eric’s stories, but I was still… I thought, ‘oh, maybe it’s been long enough, he’s ready for something more serious’, right?” Benjamin nodded. “And we get along, really well. Always have. But even though I like him, there’s been something missing the whole time. And I think that’s why I’ve been so… alright with letting it be casual?” What? “I know it’s not really going anywhere, and I know that if I pressure him to commit to me, it’ll be over, so I’ve just been…” You paused, looking over at him. “Going along with it.” She’s settling. “We have fun together, and it’s enough, so I don’t really need anything more. I’m not happy, but I’m not unhappy, either, if that makes sense to you...” But do you want more? 

 “So why not tell Eric? He wouldn’t have been as upset if he knew that both of you were looking at this the same way.” You stayed quiet again, thinking. “You’re his sister, yeah, but he’s been seeing women in London with no intent of seriously dating them, so why not…” 

 “Because as soon as he found out that Noah and I aren’t a “couple”,” you continued, using your fingers to make air quotes, “... he immediately went into ‘big brother’ mode and tried to set me up with another of his friends.” He did, didn’t he. Benjamin laughed at that, one hand raised to cover his face. 

 “To be fair, he invited me here before he knew anything.” You laughed too, Benjamin continuing. “And I’m not sure if this qualifies as trying to set us up, since…” Benjamin took a deep breath. “Since we’ve both kind of done that on our own already.” It was more honest than he’d intended to be with you, and though you didn’t respond verbally, Benjamin saw your fingers curl slightly against your stomach, where both hands were resting. “You know, when I met you, it was just nice to have someone to talk to that I could relax around.” You still stayed quiet, eyes on the ceiling. “But then when we started messaging? The more I got to know you? When we started video chatting?” He looked over at you, still sitting up, legs crossed beneath him. “I realized that I like you, and yet I …”

 “But you’ve been so supportive of me and Noah, Benjamin.” You finally spoke, turning your head to look at him. “It -”

 “Because I was still technically married when you told me about him, and I live an ocean away from you.” He shrugged. “What good is it going to do if I say something? You’ve got a guy here, right here in front of you that you can see and go out with and spend time with, and if it makes you happy, why complicate it instead of encouraging it?” The words poured out of him, Benjamin unable to stop them. “And.” He laughed. “And we spoke once in person, for a few hours. I’m nearly 40, recently divorced and have more -”

 “I don’t care about any of that, Benjamin.” You were staring at him, your eyes wide, fingers clutching the edge of the pillow beneath your head.  “Talking to you makes me happy. Being your friend makes me happy. Spending these last few weeks with you has made me happy.” She’s unhappy with him, but I make her… You closed your eyes, and Benjamin felt his chest getting tight again. None of this matters, she’s still… and I’m leaving. Talking about this isn’t going to help anything. “Eric wanted you to come here because he wanted you to have your rebound with an American… someone you’d never have to worry about again, if that’s what you wanted. He just wanted you to forget about what you’ve been through and what you’ve been worrying about.” You laughed again, but the sound was very bitter. “He told me this when I asked him why he was so adamant that you come home with him. And then thinking of you with some random woman? Meeting one at a bar? Going home with her, or even… even just… dammit, Benjamin.” You stopped. “I care about you, and even if that’s all it ever is, I…” All it ever is? What’s the other option? “You deserve happiness. No matter what anyone else says or what you believe, and I hope you find it, but I know goddamn well that you weren’t ever going to be happy with Julia, even from what little you’ve told me.” No, I wasn’t. Not completely. 

 “We’ve gotten off topic.” He chuckled, uncrossing his legs and laying back, hands behind his head. “W-”

 “What did you expect?” You reached over, twisting the knob on the lamp between the beds and turning the light off. “We’re alone together in the middle of the night, and I almost kissed you twice earlier.” You almost kissed me? I… “There’s a lot for us to talk about.” Though he couldn’t see you clearly, he heard you shifting, the sound of blankets rustling. “And a lot more that neither of us are saying.” Benjamin thought for a few minutes and then said  your name, waiting. “Yeah?” 

 “I wouldn’t have let you.” He licked his lips, fumbling over his words. “Kiss me, I mean.” You laughed at that, the sound loud in the darkness, and all Benjamin wanted was to climb into bed with you, wrapping you in his arms. “It’s not… not right, not now.” Not while you’re still… whatever with Noah. 

 “I know.” You were quiet after that, and Benjamin pulled the blankets up and over himself, trying to get comfortable. The bed’s fine, but she’s right… she’s right there, and I can’t… “Goodnight, Benjamin Greene.” 

 --- 

 When he opened his eyes, the first thing that Benjamin saw was that he’d rolled over to face you while he slept, his body moving to the edge of the bed. Trying to stay quiet since it was still dark beyond the partially closed curtain, Benjamin took a deep breath, bringing his right arm back onto the mattress. If I get any closer to the edge, I’ll fall off. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Benjamin studied what he could see of your face, features relaxed as you slept. Neither of you had spoken again after you’d said goodnight to him, and after only a few minutes, Benjamin heard your breaths lengthen, though he was still wide awake. 

 The day - despite Julia’s accusation - had been the best he’d had since before Christmas, and Benjamin knew you were a large part of the reason. And she said… she… He thought back to your words, adjusting his legs beneath the comforter and finding a cool spot on the pillow. She wanted to kiss me. She didn’t want me to meet someone while I’m here. It was more than he’d ever expected to hear from you, but Benjamin didn’t know what it do with the information. I’m leaving at the end of the week, this changes nothing. “You’re staring, Benjamin.” Startled by the sound of your voice from the next bed, he inhaled, eyes going wide. “Go back to sleep.” You paused, and he heard you shifting, head rising to adjust your pillow. “Don’t make this weird.” 

 He laughed and then you did too, and Benjamin’s heart thumped again in his chest. This feels… “I’m sorry, I just woke up and -” He cleared his throat, sighing. “Won’t happen again.” He heard you mumble a single word - damn  - as a reply, but he could tell you were on the verge of sleep again. Pulling the blanket over his head to hide the light, he checked his phone, surprised to see a message from Eric on the screen, sent nearly two hours before. What do you want? 

 You two needed a push, and tonight was it. There was a second message, sent a few minutes after the first. Don’t give me shit, you know it’s true. Though he didn’t disagree with Eric - and it seemed that you didn’t, either - he didn’t know what the man was trying to accomplish. It’s not as if I’d take her to bed the minute we admitted… He shook his head, darkening the screen. Doesn’t matter. It’s only four. Get back to sleep, Benjamin. With one last look at you before he rolled onto his opposite side, Benjamin closed his eyes, preparing for the tossing and turning he’d grown accustomed to over the previous months - but instead, he was sleeping within ten minutes. 

 The next time he woke, the room was bright and you were laying on your back, phone held above your face. “Morning, Benjamin.” You looked at him briefly. “Did you get the ‘middle of the night pep talk’ text from Eric, too?” 

 “I did.” He pushed the blanket down and stretched, raising his hands above his head and arching his back. “Didn’t answer, though.”

 “I halfway expected him to be standing in the corner of our room this morning.” Our room? He blinked rapidly and you continued. “Just to see if his plan worked and we were in the same bed.” Benjamin ran a hand over his face to stifle his groan and he imagined the way it would feel to wake up with you in his arms - Eric or no Eric standing guard. I can’t think like that. “But apparently he and Michelle already went down for breakfast, so if he was here, he didn’t get what he wanted.” 

 “Most brothers wouldn’t want to see their kid sisters in bed with anyone.” Benjamin sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “You think he’d -” He focused on your face, trying to memorize the way you looked with lines from your pillow faint on your cheek, the tangle of your hair from the movement of your head, the brightness of your eyes. “You think he’d really check on something like that?” 

 “He’s never pulled a stunt like this before, so I honestly have no clue, Benjamin.” You took a deep breath. “Just a warning, I tagged you in more pictures from last night.” You sat up, facing him. “It’s very clear that it was just the two of us at that game.” He nodded. “Benjamin, we … we said a lot of things to each other yesterday, right?” It’s too early for this. 

 “We did.” He chewed on his lip. “And you said that there was more unsaid, too.” You let out a short laugh, closing your eyes. 

 “So much more. But you’re right, this isn’t the time.” You opened your eyes again, staring at him, and for the first time, Benjamin saw genuine sadness in them. “I wanted to take you to Millenium Park today, but it’s supposed to rain all afternoon.” Damn. “So we’ll probably just head back after we eat, because this city in the rain isn’t… it’s not the greatest.” 

 “Last night wasn’t -”

 “That’s not the city, that’s just the South Side.” You waved your hand. “But that’s not the…” You went quiet, and Benjamin’s gut told him that whatever you said next, he wasn’t going to like. “Benjamin, I invited Noah over tonight because…” You met his eyes, the sadness replaced with hesitation. “I’m going to ask him what he has against committing to me.” His heart felt like it was a lead weight, sinking into the very bottom of his stomach, but Benjamin only nodded, waiting. She’s not done. “And if he says that he was just waiting to know how he felt, or… that it was my friendship with you, that he needed to see…” He left you with another man for a weekend, that says enough, I think. “Then it was a test, this whole thing.” He straightened up, still staying quiet. “And it means that he never really trusted me, and just wanted…” 

 “Hey.” Benjamin reached out, taking one of your hands in his. “Look, there’s no reason for you to explain your actions to me, because you’re… we’re… we’re not…” Damn. “You said last night that you weren’t … that something was missing?” You nodded. “What if it’s just that commitment that you want? What if you just want him to stand there and say “I really want to be with you”, and the fact that he hasn’t done that yet is what’s holding you back?” Why are you saying this? He’s not the right … “He could very well say that, and you could… you might realize that it’s all you need.” It would crush me. He had the realization as he finished speaking. Absolutely crush me. He looked down and realized that you’d added your other hand atop his, both hands holding onto him tightly. 

 “Or I’ll realize that it’s exactly what I don’t want.” You spoke quietly, and Benjamin looked back at you. “Because I want something else.” Please don’t do this. It would have been easy for him to stand, using his legs to propel him toward you, pushing you back onto the bed and kissing you hard, like he’d wanted to do for longer than he liked to admit. It would have been easier still for him to tell you not to even bother with Noah, because from the way you were looking at him, and the words you were saying, it was clear that part of you wanted that to happen. “Someo-”

 “Don’t.” He flexed his fingers, shaking his head. “If you say that, something that we’d both regret later will happen now, and that isn’t…” Benjamin closed his eyes, fighting to keep his emotions in check. “You owe it to him, to yourself to see if it’s right for you. Whatever you do, don’t do it for someone else. Do it for you.” Benjamin pressed his lips together, drawing a deep breath in through his nose. “He might be terrible at commitment, but he doesn’t have secrets, not like me.” Rip it off. “No one does, and what I’ve kept to myself is -”

 “Secrets?” You pulled one hand back, settling it on your knee. “You act like you’re a goddamn criminal, Benjamin, like you’ve -” You have no idea how right you are. “Like whatever you could possibly tell me would make me feel any differently about you than I have for the last five fucking months.” She’s mad, I’ve never heard that… He pulled his hand away from yours, standing and striding past your bed and to the window, pushing the curtains open. “You’re right, I owe it to myself to see what he says and see how I feel about it, but we both know damn well that I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else.” You’d stood as you spoke, standing behind him but keeping your distance. “And I’m not imagining the way you -”

 “Would you still feel that way knowing that Benjamin Greene isn’t even my real name?” He turned to face you, holding his shoulders straight and his head high, though he felt more defeated with each word. “That I was born Sean White, to a mother that didn’t care for me and a father that didn’t stick around? That it got so bad that my brother and I had to nick things from shops just to eat?” He took a step toward you, feeling the tears gathering in his eyes as he told the story for the second time to a woman he cared about. This time it’s not to save a relationship, it’s to prevent one. “That I spent the better part of a decade in prison for murder to cover for my brother because Kieran was an adult and I wasn’t, and he just hit him once?” Benjamin held his hands up, one of them moving to the back of his neck. “That no matter what I do, what I change my name to, who I become, that inside I’ll always be that boy that tried to do what was best and still managed to fuck it all up, because that’s how I’ll always see myself? On record as a boy who killed a man and then changed my identity to hide it just so I could have a life?” 

 He could see the barest outline of your reflection in the glass, heard your breath hitch as he spilled his story to you. It’s easier now, to tell it. He continued to grip the back of his neck, the room silent. “I like Greene better.” Your voice was steady. “Suits you.” You didn’t say anything else, and then Benjamin felt your arms go around him from behind, wrapping tightly around his torso, your cheek pressed between his shoulders. “I’d like to hear the full story, Benjamin.” You sighed, and he felt himself freeze. What? “Look at me.” He turned to face you, heart pounding, though it slowed slightly when he saw the small smile on your face. “To be clear, you in fact did not kill someone?” With a shake of his head, Benjamin answered your question, nearly dizzy with the revelation he’d just made to you - and your reaction to it. “Alright.” 

 His hands hung at his sides, yours still around his waist. “You just… believe me? Just like that?” He thought of Julia’s reaction - running, anger, fear - the way she’d been unwilling to even listen at first, backing away from him each time he’d gotten closer. She did have that article, though. I have to consider that. You nodded again. “But -”

 “Close your eyes.” He watched you suspiciously but you rolled your eyes, letting your shoulders drop. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, I promise.” Against his better judgement, Benjamin closed them, waiting. What is she doing? Your hands dropped and you braced yourself against his hips, fingers settling against the elastic of his waistband. “I don’t know why you’re trying to sabotage this.” He felt your grip on him tighten, and the next thing he knew you were speaking into his ear, lips close to the skin. “But I’m not going to let you.” His hands went to your sides, Benjamin’s breath catching as he realized how close you were to him. “You trusted me enough to tell me this story.” Your breath was warm and Benjamin felt your cheek brush against his as you leaned in further. “Trust me enough to know that I know what I’m doing and how I’m thinking.” You let out a breath, and Benjamin thought that you were going to pull away, but instead he felt you kiss the side of his face, lips landing just in front of the ear you’d been speaking into. “And why I’m doing it.” 

 You finally pulled back from him, and Benjamin was entirely overwhelmed, but felt himself nodding. “You’ve got to do what makes you happy.” He forced the words out. “Y-”

 “You should follow your own advice.” You laughed, stepping back from him. “And I can tell you for sure that you trying to convince me that I don’t feel something for you?” You tilted your head to the side. “That’s not making you happy, that’s just you doing what you’ve done before and hoping for a different outcome.” It is. “Now.” You raised on eyebrow, looking him up and down. “As fashionable as those pajama pants are? You’re not going to want to wear them home on the train.” 

--- 

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[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Ahkmemrah prepares for his marriage to Nouke. A week after sending his brother to the cells, the pharaoh’s guilt sees him visiting Kah in search of salvation.  

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 2715

Warnings: just some good ole angst

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: This is one of the shortest chapters of this whole story, maybe the shortest. However, I feel like there’s still a great deal of importance to the scenes, especially the ones between Kah and Ahk. Also, thanks for all the love last chapter! The comments, and tags and like and reblogs are like candy to me! 🍬 ☺️Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible.

Over the course of several days, the pharaoh's daily routine was exceedingly more arduous than the one he was accustomed to. Those long hours were a blur of official greetings and ostentatious dinners meant to welcome the important dignitaries who had traveled from afar to partake in the union of their king and soon to be queen. Merenkahre insisted on a week to properly allow all the guest to make their journeys and get settled; then on the seventh day, all of Waset would honor their new queen.

Truthfully, when his father asked for a week's time to prepare for a grand festival, Ahkmenrah agreed readily, entirely too wrapped up in the notion of marrying Nouke to realize how long seven days would actually be. Those days moved so sluggishly. A week was absolutely too long to be away from her, but duty often eclipsed what his heart desired.

However, duty also lent him distraction from his yearning heart. Families began arriving two days after the pharaoh proclaimed his desire to wed the servant girl Anuksumn. Boats lined the shores of the Nile, crowding the market harbor as families—along with their entourage—made their way to the palace with enough fan fair to rival that of the pharaohs.’ Despite their raw pomposity, Ahkmenrah showered them each with unyielding kindness as he welcomed them to stay in his home—as was expected of a king.

The ruse of playing host grew old after only one evening of official dinners and introductions; proving to be all work and no play. The stories his guests told during their feasts lacked zeal. Mostly, everyone spoke of their own accomplishments and their supposed generosity to the cities they governed. A few guests were genuine—able to steer topics away from themselves. Apart from those cherished few, every man, woman and even child invited to celebrate the impending nuptials held themselves above all others. And while no one dared to speak outwardly with such hubris, Ahk could read each of them as clearly as the hieroglyphs scribed onto the walls.

Somehow, he mustered a smile and played his role perfectly all the while wishing to be miles from the noise of the palace, tangled together with Nouke under the stars.

After the second evening of myriad stories of uninspiring nature during dinner, Ahkmenrah snuck beyond the walls of his royal sanctuary and returned to Nouke’s farm with news he’d promised to bring.

“It is all very official and exhausting,” Ahk tutted with a mild scowl. Just thinking about what awaited him at the palace bled into the serenity of laying with Nouke in his arms, nestled among the cushions, their garments left in a forgotten heap nearby.

“Trust that I cannot wait to bring you home once and for all. However, I am also not ready to share you yet.” He smoothed the hair away from her face as she looked at him from where she laid on his chest. “I want to enjoy having you all to myself a while longer.”

Nouke smirked and kissed him softly.

“Mmm, I’ve never thought of you as a greedy man…” she teased as she traced the outline of his lips with her fingertips.

Ahk grinned and kissed the pad of each rough digit before speaking, “You will find that I am exceptionally greedy when it comes to you. I want you to be only mine, now and forever.”

“Now and forever,” she agreed with a breathy murmur.

Her eyes stayed fixated on his until she drew him into an affirming kiss that built lazily in a slow, sensuous expression of worship before passion swept them away for a second time.

What she gave, he took—her name a low hum tumbling from his lips. What he gave, she took—holding him close enough for their hearts to beat in perfect synchronization. They made love in a symphony of wanton expressions whispered into the night air with breathless praise until they reached that glorious peak together. And when morning came with the harsh break of day—golden light pulling them from the depths of their slumber—it was too soon.

He left his bride to be with a kiss and the promise it would only be a few more days until they could spend their lives together.

It was that night he’d spent tangled with the woman he loved—his best friend—that Ahkmenrah held in his mind the days that followed. He clung to images of Nouke like a valuable life source; granting him the energy to masquerade through every dinner and introduction that remained.

***

“I have made the arrangements for you to collect your bride tomorrow at mid-day,” Merenkahre said from his usual seat at the council table.

Ahkmenrah blinked out of his thoughts, suppressing a yawn, doing his best to fend off his exhaustion a while longer, and grinned.

“After which,” his father continued. “You and your desired bride will be wedded with an audience of your advisors and guests of your choosing. Festivities will then commence before twilight.”

The pharaoh's sudden influx of enthusiasm was difficult to keep from his features when he nodded, not wanting his excitement to mar his kingly composure.

“Perfect,” he said.

Idly, his eyes skirted around the table, mentally noting which of his advisors he wanted in attendance until his sweeping glance stopped on the empty chair reserved for the Consul of Montu. A pang of guilt bit into Ahkmenrah with enough potency to taint both his enthusiasm and his resolve the longer he stared at the barren spot.

The presence of the vacant seat was suddenly crushing with guilt, and a frown fought to twist onto his features. Almost a week had passed since banishing Kahmunrah to the cells with only his name and no titles. And not one of those days went by without Ahkmenrah brooding over the punishment he’d bestowed upon his brother.

Even with ample distractions at hand, his mind could not surrender how they parted. The scene in his memory stirred a sense of betrayal—his betrayal to Kahmunrah. Ahkmenrah never wanted to be a ruler who dealt with his problems by burying them in a cell to be forgotten. Or worse yet, a king who executed and silenced his problems. How Kah would have preferred I run things.

The council meeting finished quickly when the pharaoh could find no other topics to discuss suddenly too laden with grief to proceed effectively. With the men gone, the walls of the council chamber became a meditative space for him to ponder.

The day that would follow was to be one of the happiest of his life, and yet, Ahk felt that joy abruptly strangled; his guilt and the anger he held on to, like beasts he needed to slay.

The fury in his soul for what had been done to Nouke and Setshepsut remained deep and unsated, tormenting Ahkmenrah with unease. Wrath could devour a good man if it was left to fester. Already the infection was spreading. Ahk’s torrid heart wanted Kahmunrah to know punishment for the things he’d done, and still, the pharaoh’s mind screamed and begged for him to let the past be covered in sand—forgotten.

With right and wrong poised so precariously in his head; he wasn’t sure which side of the scale to leap onto.

Minutes passed, the oversaturated colors of sunset vanquished by the black of night when Ahkmenrah finally relinquished a slow, weighted breath. He rubbed his temples hoping the added pressure would deter the ache beginning to swell in his skull as his frenzying thoughts became too much to fathom.

Letting go of his anger and forgiving his brother was the only way to ensure growth could come from all that transpired. Holding onto resentment would only permit stagnation. Ahkmenrah had no choice but to face his brother.

***

Of all the buildings located on the palace grounds, the cellblock was not constructed with intricate detail or grandeur of any kind. The stone structure was far from the central palace, a narrow edifice with almost no windows and lit mostly by mounted torches along the length of the corridor. It had been years since the pharaoh found himself in the dismal confines of the cellblock. He’d visited last with his father during one of his lessons, and Ahkmenrah liked those walls even less now than he did then.

The sting of guilt surfaced again as he took in the bleak accommodation once more. How could I have condemned my brother to live in such squaller?

The man on guard, stationed just outside the doorway, greeted the pharaoh with a shocked expression and hasty bow.

“My king!” The man did his best to chase away his shock, but his confusion was still obvious in the glow of the torch he held. “What business brings his majesty here?”

“My brother,” Ahk stated cooly. “I wish to speak to him.”

The man nodded and directed him to which of the long line of cells housed his brother.

Ahkmenrah counted his steps as he went, focusing on the numbers to distract himself from the dismal interior and the shame it all provoked. In the darkness, his brother was only a silhouette, perched on the back half-wall of his cell, and Ahk could feel the tendrils of Kah’s bitterness reaching vengefully through the bars.

“And so, the mighty pharaoh descends from on high to look upon the lowly and condemned.” Kahmunrah’s voice was cold, dripping with resentment. “What do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Surely my sentencing is not through already.”

The urge to recant a snide comment—to fight fire with fire—swelled on the tip of Ahkmenrah’s tongue, but he swallowed it. He refused to let any word passed his lips without having thoroughly thought it over first.

“Or have you come to gloat?” Kah gibed when Ahk struggled to piece a rational sentence together. “I overheard the guards talking about your impending nuptials to that servant girl I exiled. Congratulations."

A frown worked onto the pharaoh’s face taking note of the unabashed hate in his brother’s tone—a knife in his belly.

“It pains me you think I would come and rub my good fortune in your face. Have you ever known me to be so arrogant?”

Kahmunrah stood and moved into the singular beam of torchlight flickering through the bars of his cell. Without his usual golden raiment and accessories, Ahkmenrah had difficulty recognizing the man before him. His threadbare garments were a stark contrast to gold and gems, and they caused another wave of guilt to beat against Ahk.

“No,” Kahmunrah finally responded, looking as though the truth was akin to poison on his tongue. “You are the golden son—kind and humble.”

Kah spat at his brother’s feet, “Weak. You are weak for a king.”

Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and let out a long meditative exhale to carry away the influx of anger. Venom soaked words would only kindle the flame of hate. Not acting on impulse was an arduous task, but Ahk had come to purge the contempt out of his system as calmly as he could.

“If you are attempting to provoke me, brother; I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Kah’s lips curled into a sneer, “Just as I said, weak.”

Ahk shook his head with disbelief, “Is it not tiring to hold onto all of that anger?”

The pharaoh’s own wrath was exhausting to carry day to day. How Kahmunrah managed to live all of his life in a perpetual state of ire was a feat to be admired, or respected at least.

“My anger is all I have thanks to you.”

Something cold and abject worked through Ahk with a chill. The truth of his brother’s words biting into him with such force, Ahkmenrah’s sure footing faltered and he leaned against the stone wall behind him for aid.

“Yes,” the pharaoh husked out. Even his whisper echoed eerily in the long corridor to haunt him.

It took him a minute or two to find his strength again, incrementally able to hold himself with the sturdy wall to brace against. Ahk’s focus was on his brother, looming threateningly just past the bars of his cage. Ahkmenrah found he could not look into his eyes—his guilt beginning to swallow him completely.

“I did not want this for you, my brother. Do you not know that? I gain no pleasure from seeing you like this. In fact, I have felt nothing but guilt for days.”

“Good.”

Ahkmenrah sighed and swallowed the lump in the back of his throat, and willed himself to meet Kahmunrah’s glower.

“I’m sorry..." Ahk said. “I am sorry you were denied what you thought was rightfully yours. I’m sorry for what I have done to you.”

He paused long enough to blink away the tears beginning to brim his eyes before he continued. “But…you left me with little choice. And for that too, I am sorry.”

Kahmunrah’s black eyes never turned away, nor did his expression of cold hatred ebb. It was staggering to see such emptiness behind living eyes, and their piercing leer did little to allay the lingering guilt. Still, Ahkmenrah continued.

“Do you want to know what else?" he sighed. “I forgive you…I must.”

Slowly, the heavy veil of the pharaoh’s anger started to slip away. The gravity of his words would be lost on Kahmunrah, but the salvation Ahk felt releasing years of tension almost made up for his brother’s apathy.

“I do not want to live my life as you have: harboring grudges and wishing ill upon others. And it is my hope, one day, you could do the same. I want that for you.”

Ahkmenrah half shrugged and his eyes dropped their focus to the shadowed void behind Kah as he considered his brother’s previous observation.

“Maybe that does make me weak…” The pharaoh’s voice faded as the remaining pieces of his anger crumbled and drifted away.

All at once, his mind was overrun with a thousand thoughts that made the ache in his head begin to pulse again. The silence that filled the narrow cell block was sullen and heavy, but Ahk used it to sift through the teeming thoughts in his head quietly.

Kahmunrah sulked back to the shadows of his cell, this time sitting on the ground, his back propped against the wall. Ahk sagged against the wall behind him as well, folding under the weight of his thoughts until he sat, mirroring his brother.

“I want so much for us to be brothers…” Ahk confessed softly.

A single, mirthless chuckle cracked Kah’s silence.

“Well,” he stated in a low voice, devoid of sympathy. “Take a lesson from someone who knows all about disappointment, little brother. And learn that we do not always get what we want.”

A sad smile ghosted over Ahk’s lips as a solitary tear spilled down his cheek. It was foolish to hope his brother would ever change, but Ahkmenrah would never give up.

With a deep breath to build his strength, Ahkmenrah stood feeling, more or less, lighter. All the poison was at last purged from his system, but a hint of disappointment remained as he realized how ruthlessly his brother continued to cling to the bitterness inside.

Sleep beckoned the pharaoh with a yawn, the promise of rest alluring for his frenzied mind. However, one thought dug its hooks too deep in the forefront of his mind to go without seeking an answer. The question alone made Ahk’s stomach churn, but he was much too exhausted to fight his curiosity.

“I dread thinking you may have had a hand in what happened all those years ago regarding the disappearance of my tablet. Framing Nouke’s family to be rid of them—to hurt me.”

He paused, feeling his stomach slosh again, “The assassin even….”

That night flashed so vividly in his mind; the man over him with a knife drawn ready to take his life. Ready to kill a boy of fifteen who’d known no enemies apart from one... Ahkmenrah glanced into the black of Kahmunrah’s cage. No response came from its depths, the deafening stillness causing a chill to prickle over the pharaoh’s skin. And as he left, Ahkmenrah could not decide if Kahmunrah’s silence filled him with more confirmation or fear.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Fifteen: Together Again

[musesandmagick]

Heretical Hypotheticals

in collaboration with @the-siren-saga

Hybrid Perpetual was in bliss, and it was deeply distracting.

Life at the Cathedral was mind-numbing in its simplicity. Wake up. Join the others in the Inner Circle for daily devotions. Practice etiquette, poise, entertaining– whatever her Lord and Master wished her to know. Get used to the lack of privacy. Get used to being scrutinized. Get used to never being good enough.

Occasionally, allow herself to love it.

Now, of course, she had a new duty that she'd been doing for the past few weeks– babysitting Marchosias's pet, who he'd unfortunately begun to tire of.

She'd expected something like a raíosa, or even something more exotic and fearsome such as a Nachtryr. Maybe even one of those fluffy little mewing animals that were often exported from the Seeds– what were they called again? Ca'ats? No, that wasn't it. Instead, the "pet" in question was… an Arkn woman named Laurien– or Moss Rose, as he called her. This fact made her a little sick when she first encountered her, a fact that she'd endeavored to hide as well as she could from Marchosias Aversen's prying telepathy. The Arkn was pleasant enough company, she guessed– a little naive and innocent, and reluctant to talk about anything but how much she loved her captor, but she could hardly be blamed for either of those things. And honestly, with the way she was being cast aside, Moss Rose needed a friend.

On this particular day, she took the Arkn mage out to one of the Cathedral's pleasure gardens, intent on making sure she knew that even with the way she was being thrown away, she still had someone. She seemed unfazed by her Master’s waning attention, skipping and babbling about her love for Him as always, but a trained eye could see the way her smile never reached her eyes; her skip wasn’t quite so high.

“Do you think He’s building up to something?” She wondered, pausing in her step to beam at her friend, purple beads shining in her hair as it settled, “Perhaps He has a secret! Oh! Do you think I have a new wardrobe on the way? O-or a shiny new collar! No, he did that too recently…”

Pausing to frown for a moment, she fell silent; something glazing over in her eyes as her fingers brushed the glittering band at her throat -- but it was gone as soon as it came, the smile plastered firmly back in place. “Whatever it is, I’m certain it will be grand! Our Lord never disappoints!”

"I'm not sure what He has planned," Hybrid Perpetual said, a bit distantly. I think he's just bored, she thought to herself, but didn't dare say it out loud. "You seem a bit less bubbly than usual, Laur– I mean, Moss Rose. Has everything been well? I'd like to think of myself as your friend. You don't have to hide anything from me."

She covered Laurien's small, delicate hand with her own in a gesture of comfort, and it's so much like what her Lord does, so much like what Shanna used to do. It's a gesture so simple, but it seems to implore– Let me in. Trust me. I have your best interests at heart.

Lauri glanced between Hybrid and her hand, her expression wavering for a single, heart-stopping moment. Her lips parted softly, ready to say something, but she seemed to catch herself a moment before; shaking her head with another smile and quickly tugging her hand back. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Our Lord would never-.. No, I’m just being silly. I’ve been told I’m clingy, you know? And with our Lord so… busy…”

She shrugged as if it were nothing, but her eyes glittered with unspoken worries.

Hybrid Perpetual didn't like this. It was true that the act she wore was often no better than Laurien's own single-minded devotion. It was true that sometimes, on occasion, she even let herself mean it. Even let herself sink, the way that Laurien had sunk, into an obsession from which she'd only just recovered. But this was different. His control over Laurien seemed, as with so many of them, to be absolute.

How am I supposed to wake up someone who doesn't know she's sleeping?

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she said with a sad smile, trying to slip back into the mindset of a devoted follower to make sure her words didn't come off as heretical. "And it doesn't make you disloyal to be a little upset, I promise. If the lack of His presence didn't sadden us, what joy would we find in His return?"

That had better be the right thing to say. I don't want to make things worse.

“I… suppose you’re right.” The frown touched her brow again; a slight squeeze of her brow like she was trying to shake off a headache. “I just. I-I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

She slowly rested herself down on a pristine white wall in front of rose bushes that framed her like the caged thing she was. A petal loosened itself to tangle in her hair and she plucked it out absently, handling the delicate bloom with absent eyes. “He used to give me everything. I felt like His princess; his perfect petal framed by His light.” As if to punctuate the point, she lifted the petal to the sky, the light glinting in her eyes like the sky itself were mirrored there. “And now… He still gives me such kind words, such lovely things, but it isn’t the same. D’you know what I mean?”

The petal fell from her fingertips and danced to the ground, her smile a little sad if still dreamlike as she looked back to Hybrid, “I’m probably being silly. He’s a busy God after all; how can I expect Him to be with me all the time? But it just… feels like He’s not there anymore, even when He is with me.”

Without saying a word, Hybrid Perpetual listened attentively to Laurien's struggles. The current 'counselor,' Montezuma, didn't know how to listen at all– not unless you were Tea, at least– and honestly, nobody else in the Society did either. So when Hybrid Perpetual put her own thoughts and interests aside for a moment and focused her attention completely on Laurien's pain, it came as quite a surprise.

It was only when she was finished, and not a moment before, that Hybrid Perpetual said anything at all.

"I know exactly what you mean," she hummed, looking at her with sympathy, but strangely, without pity. "Laurien–" she used her real name now– "when's the last time anyone ever just held you? Not in a possessive or greedy way, but just… because you're a person who deserves comfort?"

This is teetering on the edge of heresy. Be careful.

Laurien met her gaze for a long moment, confusion flickering there, “I-.. My Lord, he…” Swallowing heavily, she stared down at her own idly swinging feet; almost guilty. “I’m not sure. Why does it matter?”

With a quizzical tilt of her head, Hybrid Perpetual smiled thinly. "Thought so," she said with a slightly bittersweet tone. "It doesn't really matter, but… may I?"

As if she honestly hadn’t seen that coming, Lauri’s head snapped up again, eyes wide. There were conflicting questions in her mind, flickering through her ever-transparent gaze for a long silence, followed by the shortest, most sheepish nod imaginable. The guilt still hung in every breath she took as she sat there, not moving to go for the hug nor to move away; just waiting.

Hybrid Perpetual embraced her– not moving to take anything from her, not demanding any form of reciprocation. There were no overtones of expectation in the way she held Laurien close. It was just comfort, freely given. "Something is coming," she whispered. "I'm not sure what it is, or what will happen, but I want you to know that I do consider you a friend. Good luck."

As soon as the word ‘friend’ left her lips Laurien pulled away. Her expression had shifted, eyes still sparkling but the dazed smile back on her lips -- if a tad more forced this time. “You can’t tell Our Lord that. He’s-.. You can’t tell Him anything I said. Promise?”

Her smile grew wider, her panicked words and the soft-calm tone she spoke them with a chilling contrast.

"He won't know a thing." Hybrid Perpetual's smile seemed to be that of a mindlessly content worshipper, but there was an air of inscrutability from it. She, unlike most in this place, knew how to hide things. It was somewhat disconcerting.

The word "friend" was a dangerous thing in the Society of the Purple Rose. Most of the time, one used it to refer to those people who His Holiness had ordained that one should be spending time with. To use it in a more personal way– to say this person is home to me, to say we find comfort in each other– that was heretical. It was an insult to the idea of the Society as one flesh, one body, looking towards its Master as the brightest possible light. But Hybrid Perpetual… that's what she'd just done. She called Laurien a friend, in the sense of "person I have chosen to care about."

Why had she done that?

[perspective-series]

Pet Perspective (2/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: tiny people being treated as pets (duh), shock collars, unwanted touching

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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 Virgil set down the cage on his desk, opening it up as he plopped down into his seat. “So, princey, welcome to your new home.” He motioned around his bedroom.

“Lovely.” Roman deadpanned, refusing to step out and looking around at the mess. “Couldn’t even make it decent for my arrival?”

 Virgil looked back at his mess before shrugging. “Eh, it’s been worse. Besides, might as well leave it like how you’ll always see it.” Virgil said with a smirk.

Roman gagged at the thought. “I shouldn’t be surprised someone as unkempt as you lives in a sty.”

 “Uh huh and tell me, where did you live before you found your way into the shelter?” Virgil asked, knowing the types of places escaped borrowers lived.

“...None of your business.” Roman refused to say, turning away dramatically to cross his arms.

 “Right, well, something tells me you have no right to judge how I live.” Virgil said with a smirk. He then reached out his hand and scooped the borrower up with no warning, bring him out into the open.

“H-hey!” Roman protested, although truly by now he should have been expecting it.

 Virgil paused at the feeling. “Huh.” He had never held a borrower before. It was...interesting. He had intended to put Roman down but now he didn’t much feel like it. So he adjusted his grip instead and leaned back in his chair to look at him. “So, you gonna tell me your name now?”

“I don’t see why I should.” Roman glared back at him. He pressed his hands against the grip around his middle but didn’t struggle, knowing it was pointless.

 “How about because it’ll be annoying having to call you a number of other things, instead of your actual name?” Virgil said with a raised eyebrow.

“That sounds like a you problem, Virgil.” Roman smirked, for once glad to know a human’s name if only so he could flaunt it. 

 Virgil narrowed his eyes at the borrower before he suddenly got an idea. He reached over to his bag and pulled out the documents he had been given along with his new pet. He smirked down at the tiny and waved them around. “Well, either you tell me yourself or I just take a peek at this and get it myself.”

“Hey, that’s private!” Roman protested, knowing he had quite the file on hand after spending so much time in and out of the shelter. That folder contained a large collection of info on his past owners, escape attempts, personal records, and just a general rundown of what the shelter workers thought of him. It certainly wouldn’t help his escape plans if Virgil knew all his old ones.

 Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Well, maybe I won’t look at it if you gave me your name.” 

“How do I know you won’t look at it anyways?” Roman argued. “Then I’ll just look foolish.”

 Virgil looked from the borrower to the file before shrugging. “I’ll burn it. Right in front of you.”

Roman’s eyes widened in shock. “Seriously? Just for my name?”

 “Yeah, why not.” Virgil said with another shrug. He could always call the shelter for another file anyway if he wanted to. “So, we have a deal?”

Roman considered this. It was certainly worth a shot, considering one way or another Virgil was going to find out. Besides, at least this way he could see if the human kept his word.

“My name is Roman.” Roman revealed.

 “Finally.” Virgil sighed with relief. “Roman, huh? Cool.” It suited him. He looked at the file, welp, time to keep his end of the bargain. He set Roman down on the desk and grabbed a lighter he kept in his room. He lit the edge of it, watching as it caught fire.

Roman gasped, shocked when he actually watched the file go up in flames.

 Virgil threw it in his trash and stomped on it once it was halfway burnt. When the fire went out, he turned back to Roman. “There we go, all burnt. Just like I said.”

“I- wow, I did not think you would commit.” Roman admitted, looking impressed.

 “I would say I always commit to things, but I would be lying.” Virgil said. “Anyway, now that we have that out of the way…” Virgil reached out again and scooped Roman up once more.

“...now what?” Roman asked, nervous at how the human’s sentence had trailed off.

 Virgil tilted his head and smirked. He then proceeded to poke Roman in the side, gently.

Instantly Roman groaned, realizing this one was a teaser. He should have known.

 Virgil chuckled at that. “What?” He poked him again, this time on the other side. “Something wrong?”

“Yes, I get it, ha ha ha.” Roman instinctively flinched. “You’re a human who likes to assert his dominance by trying to poke a reaction out of me.”

 “Not so much that, I just find your reactions amusing.” Instead of poking him this time, he started petting his head.

“I’m glad my suffering brings you joy.” Roman made a pouty face, scrunching up his shoulders. “Must it be the hair?”

 “Now that you said that? Yes.” Virgil chuckled, messing it up even more before bringing his hand away. He was now going to make sure he messed with Roman’s hair every chance he got. 

“Rude!” Roman made an offended princely noise, reaching up to try and salvage his hair.

 Virgil let out another small chuckle, leaning back in the chair again. He hummed as he looked over Roman. “We’ll have to get you some new clothes once we go shopping tomorrow.” Virgil said, more to himself than Roman. “And a collar.” Virgil added.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Roman looked down at his outfit, particularly fond of this one. The collar was to be expected, as it always came with each new Owner. That didn’t make it any less humiliating of an accessory.

 “It’s just...not practical.” Virgil said. “And it was clearly made for a doll, which you aren’t.”

Roman winced, the notion of being a doll bringing up bad memories. This outfit had been the only thing of any worth to come out of that dark time.

“Well, I hardly see why practicality matters.” Roman shrugged, hesitant to part with them. “After all, it’s not like humans let us borrowers do much anyways.”

 “Maybe not, but like, those can’t be very warm. Or comfortable for that matter. We can get you some t-shirts, jeans, maybe a couple of jackets. That sort of thing.” Virgil listed off. It would be pretty expensive but him and Pat had been saving up for just this reason.

Roman had to admit, it did sound comfortable. Most of his old owners weren’t so willingly generous. He squinted. “What’s the catch?”

 Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Uh, just don’t rip them or anything?” He didn’t need to be buying Roman even more clothes so soon.

“Well of course I wouldn’t rip them.” Roman wasn’t stupid. Good borrower clothes were hard to come by, and every borrower knew to take good care of useful items. “But why are you buying me all that?” Humans were known to buy clothes for their borrowers to style them, and taking another look at Virgil he groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re going to turn me goth as well.”

 “Heh, trust me princey, you couldn’t pull this off.” Virgil chuckled. “Nah, I’ll just let you choose what you want. I’m not good at the whole clothes shopping thing anyway.” Virgil reached over and messed up Roman’s hair again.

Roman blinked, so surprised by this statement that for once he didn’t tell Virgil off for ruffling his hair. He had never gotten to choose clothing for himself before.

“Ah...well, in any case, I still want to keep this as well.” Roman declared, grabbing his sash firmly in one hand and using the other to idly fix his hair.

 Virgil sighed. “Fine. I won’t make you get rid of it.” Though Virgil didn’t understand why Roman wanted to keep it, he wouldn’t say anything. He set Roman back down on the desk. “Alright, I’m going to help Patton with dinner. So, back in you go.” Virgil said, motioning towards the cage.

“Yes yes, I’m going.” Roman waved him off, knowing his place as he stepped into the cage.

 Virgil smirked and closed the cage door before standing and stretching. “Be back soon.” He said, and then went down to the kitchen to see if Patton needed any help.

 He went down the stairs and noticed Patton seemed to already be halfway done with cooking. “Oh, whoops. Sorry Pat, I got distracted by Roman. I would have come to help you sooner.” 

 “It’s okay kiddo!” Patton said with a grin. Before blinking. “Wait, Roman? Oh! Did he tell you his name?” Patton asked and Virgil answered with a nod. “That’s great!”

 “Yeah, what about you? Did yours say his yet?” Patton deflated a little at the question and sighed as he turned back to stirring the pot. 

 “No, not yet. He said he won’t because something about leverage. I don’t really get it.” Patton admitted sadly. Virgil wrinkled his nose.

 “What? Well that’s stupid.” Virgil leaned against the counter. “You know, you could always check the file the pet shop had on him.”

 “I know...but I want him to tell me himself.” Patton stared down at the food. “If he doesn’t tell me by tomorrow, I’ll look though. Cause I need to put it on his collar.” Virgil nodded.

 “That sounds like a good plan. Anyway, what can I do to help?” Virgil asked and Patton thought for a moment. 

 “Um...oh! Can you set out the pet food? I almost forgot about that.” Good thing they had bought that before the actual borrowers. Virgil nodded and got to work putting them on paper plates, since they had yet to get anything else for their borrowers. Patton finished up their food and served it up.

 “I’m going to go get Roman.” Virgil said as he walked up the stairs but Patton wasn’t too far behind. 

 “I’ll get my borrower!” He said and then entered his room. “Hey kiddo! Dinner time!” He said and opened up the cage.

“I’m not hungry.” Logan tensed, not liking the lack of food before him and the open door. That could only mean one thing.

 “Come on kiddo, you gotta eat.” Patton reached in and wrapped his hand around the borrower’s middle, pulling him out.

Logan felt his limbs lock up, that overwhelming feeling of being touched once again dominating his senses. Logan loathed this sensation, but he could do nothing to tell the human off.

 “There we go.” Patton smiled, petting the borrower on the head.

Logan cringed, wanting so terribly to refuse the touch. But, Logan had to accept this- it was his life now, and a human could do as they pleased with a borrower.

 Patton headed downstairs, borrower in hand.

 Virgil walked into his own room and opened the cage, giving no warning as he grabbed Roman from within.

“Excuse you!” Roman huffed, giving a small grunt when he was lifted. “A little warning next time.”

 Virgil chuckled. “Sorry.” He said unapologetically. “But it’s dinner time.” Virgil started down the stairs.

“So I gathered.” Roman grumbled. “What are we having?” It better not be tiny feed.

 “Well, we’re having spaghetti.” Virgil answered and set Roman down on the table next to his food. “And you two are having tiny feed.” Virgil took a seat, as did Patton after he set Logan down next to his own portion.

 “Dig in you two!” Patton exclaimed.

Logan wrinkled his nose, disgusted at the grey slop that was recommended tiny feed. He thought one of the perks of getting bought was better food than the pet store, but if anything this looked worse.

“I am not hungry.” Logan repeated, turning up his nose.

“Nor am I.” Roman made a gagging sound effect. “Certainly not for that.”

 “What? But it’s good for you! It has all the nutrients a borrower needs.” Patton exclaimed.

 “Yeah and we paid good money for it.” Virgil added.

“It tastes disgusting.” Roman blanched, picking up a handful and watching it gloop to the plate. “You cannot honestly look at this and tell me it looks appetizing.”

 Virgil looked at his and scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Uh, no yeah, it looks horrible. I just thought borrowers had different tastes.”

“You thought incorrectly.” Logan informed him.

 “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.” Patton said and then dipped his finger in it to give it a taste. He gagged almost immediately.

 “Whoa, you okay Pat?” Virgil asked and Patton nodded as he coughed out the taste. He drank some water.

 “...Let me get you guys some spaghetti.” Patton said, standing up to do just that. Virgil raised an eyebrow.

 “Wow, that bad huh?” Patton just nodded as he set the plates down and through the pet food out.

Roman grinned in his triumph, and Logan gave Roman a similar smile of gratitude, content the other borrower had managed to persuade the humans.

“Much better.” Roman inhaled a heavenly waft, coming closer and tearing off a chunk. 

Logan observed the way the humans were eating it. It seemed they possessed utensils that made the task easier. “Do you have any borrower utensils?” Logan requested.

 Both humans paused in their eating, looking at each other. “Uh, not yet, but that’s why we’re going shopping tomorrow.” Patton answered. “Why? Is it too hard to eat? I can make you something easier?”

 Virgil looked to Roman but he seemed perfectly fine in eating with his hands. He shrugged and went back to eating.

“It is a bit... unclean.” Logan admitted, watching Roman nearly spill on himself.

Roman didn’t seem to mind, used to having to make do. In fact, he rolled his eyes at the posh nature of a store-bought borrower. Typical.

“I’ll show you unclean.” Roman smirked, flinging the tip of his spaghetti noodle backwards so that some sauce went flying in Logan’s direction.

Logan yelped, caught off guard when some sauce hit him in the arm.

 “Whoa, hey! None of that now.” Patton said. He grabbed a napkin to help wipe the sauce up.

 Virgil, on the other hand, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nice aim.”

 Patton glared at him. “Virgil! You aren’t supposed to be encouraging this kind of behavior.”

“Thank you.” Roman looked quite pleased with himself.

Logan glared at Roman but put his arm out, helping Patton reach to wipe away the sauce. Thankfully it had not gotten on his sleeve to leave a stain.

 Patton finished cleaning him up. “Would you rather have a sandwich? I can make you one, no trouble at all.”

 Virgil rolled his eyes, not understanding why the borrower couldn’t just eat.

“That would be satisfactory, yes.” Logan nodded.

“Ooh, satisfactory, that’s a ten dollar word.” Roman mocked, continuing to eat his fill. As if a sandwich was as good as a warm meal.

 “Roman, stop that.” Patton said, turning to make a sandwich.

 Virgil chuckled again. “No, Roman, keep going, this is great.” Patton turned to give a look towards Virgil again.“What exactly is your problem?” Logan asked, turning to frown at Roman. He had been under the impression their shared scenario should make them allies.

“I just think you’re being a bit picky.” Roman shrugged, lowering his voice and pretending to be nonchalant. “But I suppose you must be one of the brainwashed ones who wants a gilded cage and a silver spoon.”

“...hardly.” Logan retorted. “You lack any sufficient knowledge of me.”

 “Here we go!” Patton set down the tiny sized sandwich in front of his borrower. “That should be less messy for ya.”

“Thank you.” Logan remembered his manners, now eating his own meal.

 Virgil rolled his eyes but finished eating, putting his plate in the sink. “You done?” He asked Roman.

Roman nodded, looking down at his hands. “Do you have a napkin?”

“Imagine that, a flaw in your plan.” Logan snarked.

Roman glared at him, and considered using Logan as a napkin.

 “Uh, yeah, here.” Virgil grabbed one and handed it over to Roman.

 “We’ll try to get the two of you proper utensils tomorrow.” Patton said, knowing it was probably hard to eat with your hands.

“Excellent, many gratitudes.” Logan nodded.

“And I thank you like a normal person.” Roman teased, wiping off his hands.

 Virgil chuckled and scooped Roman up. “Alright, come on. Before Patton and his borrower get mad.”

 “Virgil…” Patton warned.

“Sounds marvelous.” Roman agreed, giving Patton a hesitant glance. While dinner had been fun, he certainly might have made some enemies as well.

 “Goodnight Pat.” Virgil said as he headed up the stairs, knowing he was going to spend the rest of the evening in his room. He set Roman back down on the desk, before sitting down as well and pulling out his phone to check tumblr.

“What now?” Roman asked, stretching his arms above his head.

 Virgil glanced at him and shrugged. “I don’t know.” Virgil put his phone down and thought for a moment. “What’s with you and the other borrower? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was hilarious, but why?”

“I don’t think you’d understand.” Roman tried to drop the issue, not realizing his little jests had made such a spectacle.

 “Try me.” Virgil said, leaning in closer.

Roman paused, realizing he was on the verge of sharing his inner feelings with an owner. “No.” Roman said firmly, his gaze set.

 Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Come on, I wanna understand this beef you two seem to have, despite having just met.” It was a bit strange, when he thought about it.

“Why should I tell you?” Roman scoffed.

 “Uh, because I asked?” Virgil tilted his head.

“Well I don’t owe you answers.” Roman stuck up his nose. Though he loved a good bout of drama, exchanging pleasantries with owners was never wise; they’d just use that information against you.

 “Ugh, fine. Don’t tell me then.” Virgil turned back to his phone.

Roman glanced at Virgil, torn between his desire to annoy Virgil and to spill the tea. “What, you’re not going to weasel it out of me?” Roman said finally.

 Virgil continued to scroll through his phone, not even glancing towards the borrower.

“Hey.” Roman’s jaw dropped, offended. “Don’t ignore me while I’m ignoring you!”

 Virgil kept himself from smirking, just continued to scroll through his phone. He was glad his plan seemed to be working though.

“Alright, fine.” Roman spat, turning away and crossing his arms. “I’m ignoring you ignoring me ignoring you! So there, I win.”

 Oh, Virgil was definitely the one winning. He shifted a little, leaning back in his chair. Eyes still on his phone.

Roman could only keep up the charade for so long before he broke, desperate for attention.

“Are you just going to play on that stupid phone all day?” Roman groaned. “Why did you even get me if you don’t want me?”

 At that, Virgil finally glanced up. “No.” He turned back to his phone. “I’m gonna play on my stupid phone all night.” He said with a growing smirk.

“Well, great, this is going to be fun.” Roman grumbled, slouching against some books stacked nearby. 

 Virgil ignored him, actually getting pretty into what he was scrolling through.

Roman glanced around, taking note of his surroundings. Usually, it would be much later in his stay when Roman could make a break for it, but...well, it never hurt to test the waters. 

[paradise-of-guilty-pleasures]

Shattered Reflections {21}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 20. Boys’ Night A/N:

More Helsa heavy chapters to come

21. Nonchalant

The girls' night concluded after plenty more sisterly bonding after their tea party. The parlor which had been in a state of disarray, because of the construction of the pillow fort, was reverted back to its original state. It was put together rather quickly thanks to the help of Kristoff who had returned before bedtime like promised. Elsa was in charge of the last chore, returning the borrowed pillows and blankets, they'd offered to help her with that task, but assured them it was best if she did it herself since she knew exactly where to return the items. Elsa said she'd head to bed after finishing her errand so they all wished each other good night and were off in opposite directions. 

 Elsa had returned the other items rather quickly and now she hesitantly stood outside Hans' door firmly hugging the pillow across her chest. Maybe it had been a bad idea to take his pillow in the first place. She was starting to hope that room would be vacant once again, though she knew that would likely not be the case this time. Something about having her hair down made her extra anxious (even though Anna said it made her seem more relaxed), Kristoff had seen it of course, but that didn't bother her, he was already like a brother. She knew she couldn't stall forever; she had left a note after all. She held her breath as she opened the door. 

 When she entered she saw the next best thing she could hope for, which was Hans already laying down in bed asleep, in a rather strange position but in bed nonetheless. The breath finally escaped her lungs in relief, one less thing to worry about she thought. Now all she had to drop off the pillow by the bedside.

Hans was not a heavy sleeper. He had twelve brothers, he couldn't afford to be. But he was also a man of deception, so he remained still, and measured his breathing as she neared, listening. Footsteps too light to be a guard, so it had to be Elsa, only confirmed by the slight chill in the room. He opened an eye carefully, under his arm, with just enough gap to see her by. 

 "I never thought I'd live to see your hair down." He murmured, before he could stop himself. Maybe he'd had more than he thought, but surely it would have worn off by then. Sleep dulling his senses, perhaps? "I suppose now I can die happy." he added, entirely as a joke. He'd already alerted her that he was awake, may as well toss subtlety out the window and make it humor instead. He was good at that. Somehow referencing his depression and making a joke all at once seemed to be sort of a trend for him.

His voice resonating in the silence had completely startled her. She let out a yelp and before her mind could fully process his words, her body practically moved on it's own, tossing the pillow at his face out of pure reflex. 

 Elsa let out a nervous laugh. 

 "Oh, you're awake," her voice higher pitched than usual. "I'm so sorry!" she panically stated, realizing the pillow left her grasp. Good thing she'd thrown the pillow at him instead of ice, though it was possible the pillow was at the very least slightly frosted over.

Hans laughed at the pillow throw, downright giggly at the sudden pillow fight.

  "Well I can't say I didn't deserve that." He admitted through his fit of laughter. Maybe it was the drinking, or the evening before, but he found it easy to laugh that night. "No need to apologize, I startled you, and I should've known better. Perhaps I should be grateful you didn't hit me with a snowball." He proposed sweetly. He nonchalantly shifted down to reclaim the pillow (which had bounced off of him and flopped off the bed) and got back up to put it behind his head, though cringed a little. His wound was still a little sore. 

 "Today was a lovely day on my part, I hope yours was as well." He hummed, laying back again as nonchalant as ever. If not moreso. He had never been one to sit or lay while others stood, but her being there so frequently and him being so injured so often (and the drinking didn't help here), he didn't seem to mind it this time. Or maybe it was just to illustrate to her that she wasn't a bother to him.

Elsa's face was florid from the embarrassment of being caught by surprise, and with her mind finally settling and registering what Hans had murmured surely didn't help diminish the bloom of her cheeks. She definitely took notice that Hans seemed a bit more laid-back than usual (both figuratively and literally), but it was more than his posture that cued her in, the subtle difference of his laughter had also caught her attention. 

 "Yeah, so-," she caught herself from apologizing again. "I don't know if I can say the same about my day as a whole, being busy and all, but my evening was indeed a lovely one, spending some much needed time with Anna," she affirmed with a smile. She hadn't noticed but she was fidgeting with her hair. Holding and sliding a long lock of her hair in between the first three fingers of her alternating hands in a repetitive motion. Elsa normally didn't wear her hair down so it made sense that she'd subconsciously want to touch it in one of her anxious mannerisms. "I just came by to return your pillow like promised."

"Promised?" He hummed, seeming somewhat bewildered. "Ah, was that that scratching?" He reached behind his head and looked for whatever he had felt, before uncovering the paper. "I admit, I was tired and didn't think to care what I landed on. Rest assured, the pillow wasn't particularly missed." He assured, with an amused look. He almost seemed like a different person when he was smiling, to when he was sad. But he could change between the two so very quickly. 

 "I meant what I said, you know. Your hair is beautiful when it's down. It always is, but especially when it's down." He occupied himself reading the note, then idly folding it. He seemed to be doing it to some purpose, but not really for something grand. Just a thing to play with. He didn't know why he was telling her that, but it seemed so simple now. So easy. He would undoubtedly hate himself for saying it later, but why not take the chance while he didn't feel bad about it? 

 "The Captain of the Guard and I were drinking, don't pay me too much mind, I'm sure I'll make even more a fool of myself. But I suppose that's my official title these days." He hummed. He finished toying with the note over the course of a few moments, and presented her with the result: A little paper frog. Not perfectly folded, a bit wrinkled from being slept on and from his own failed folds (as he only half-remembered how it was supposed to be done), but it still had a little bit of spring in its feet, and could sort of haphazardly hop when pressed down to the table (even if it might typically fall on its back). Simple and silly.

"I-Uh...Thank you," she acknowledged rather shyly, the crimson continued to suffuse her cheeks at his repeated words of praise. So he'd been out drinking, that would explain a lot, inebriation (as well as drowsiness) were surely the reasoning behind his more mellow mood. Having a more airy Hans was far better than a somber one, even if it caused some awkwardness. She definitely wouldn't be able to easily ignore him even if it was just tipsy babbling. Elsa smiled at the paper frog, it was a cute little craft. She tried pressing down on it herself. 

 "It must have been nice to finally spend some time outside, instead of being confined to this room," she said. A slight shiver crossed her body as memory of her own confinement momentarily re-emerged, she quickly shook her head and got rid of it. "Hopefully your wounds didn't give you too much trouble today." Elsa showed concern about him like always, he had regained a lot of his mobility, but he wasn't completely out of the woods just yet he still had a bit of healing to do. "It sounds like you're already getting along quite well with the Captain, that's good to hear," she commented. Hans and the Captain would have together for a while with the training regimen, it was good that they were already becoming chummy enough to warrant going out for drinks.

"My wound hurt a little, but only because I did something stupid, as men are wont to do. I took it easy after that, rest assured. Training the men got more physical than I had intended, I think I'll try to stick to paperwork for a few more weeks, much as it pains me." He hummed. "I got to see Sitron at the stables, after drinks. I ran into Kristoff and Olaf, and Sven, and we had a fine time." He had to pause to remember the reindeer's name. "Sitron seems cared for, but he needs more riding time. If it's alright with you, I may take more time out with him." And there was the crux of it, 'if it's alright with you'. It wasn't bars or locks keeping him where he was, but her wants.

"Oh?" Hans' forthcoming was surprising, yes, but him willing to refrain from being stubborn and allowing himself to heal, was even more so. Maybe he finally discerned that if he was to remain patient for a little while longer, he'd be able to heal up much faster and no longer have to be shut up in his chamber for most the day. Elsa smiled at the fact that he was going to try to take it easy, for the time being, well at least as easy as Hans would allow himself to be. "Of course, I don't see why not. I'm sure Sitron misses you and he could really use the exercise," Elsa affirmed giving him a warm smile. Hans knew how to best care for him and she surely wasn't going to keep a man from his horse.

Hans smiled a bit at that. "He did. We were both excited to see each-other. I'm afraid I distracted all of us from our outing to go see my horse, and groom him. Sitron has always been a friend to me, and I do look out for my friends and allies." He hummed. "And, whatever we are." He glanced at her, a curious look in his eyes. "I still find it difficult to discern, to be honest. I don't think of you as an enemy. I never have. But I'm not sure you would appreciate me calling you a friend, either. Especially not while Anna still hates me -as she rightfully ought to, I suppose-. If anything, hers is the most sensible reaction I've seen from me. The guards murmured a bit, but I won them over quickly. Captain Johannes told me some still have doubts and that they haven't forgotten, I'll believe it when I see it." He felt it easier to talk to her that evening. It didn't feel like it was because of the alcohol, but maybe it was. It just felt like... he wanted to talk about it. It didn't feel like a bunch of secrets, it felt like things she must have already surmised. Like friends discussing a nuisance of one's day, not dissecting his character.

Elsa glimpsed back at him. She let a titter escape as she combed her hair atop her head with one of her fingers. "Yeah, it really is hard to know where exactly we stand, given the odd circumstances." Elsa concurred. "You know, I was also wondering about that myself, being able to consider you a friend, I mean. I wasn't sure if I could call you that, and not because of Anna or that I don't want us to be friends, I was just uncertain," Elsa expressed and paused biting her bottom lip a bit. "Because to tell you the truth, I don't have many friends, and I don't know if I can count Anna since she's my sister, so as you can imagine I'm not very good when it comes to that sort of thing," Elsa explained. "The Ice Queen, still having trouble warming up, big surprise. Thirteen years of isolation surely didn't help in that regard,"she huffed. "Though Anna seemed to have gotten the hang of it unlike me, but then again she's always been amiable, social and striving to connect with people," she recognized. She paused once again getting lost down memory lane. 

 "It's silly but, I didn't have a companion like Sitron or Sven, instead for the longest time, since I couldn't interact with Anna, I had a Sir Jorgenbjorgen, he was a little stuffed puffin doll I would talk to," she reminisced. "Had I known sooner that I had the ability to bring my creations to life, I might have tried to make myself a friend," Elsa considered, lost deeper in her thoughts. There was one last pause before she noticed. "Oh, sorry, I'm getting carried away." Elsa realized she had gotten a bit too caught up in the friend talk, maybe she was being too chatty herself, but since they were already opening up to each other, might as well just say what was on her mind, just because it felt right to do so. "Anyway, I don't know what else we could deem ourselves if not friends." She didn't address how others might feel about Hans, because it was pretty obvious how she felt herself, if she was considering him her friend.

Hans looked up at her, with perhaps a bit of hope in his eyes. "Do get carried away more, it's easier to converse when both sides are chatty." He pointed out with a little smile. "Friends, then?" He asked, almost wary. She may have been isolated for years, but Hans was familiar with backstabbing and attempts to be perfect. Elsa may have been slow-melting ice, but Hans was more of a doe, listening for trouble and leaping away at the first movement, even if it was from a future friend. "I like that your puffin was a sir. That's cute." He hummed. "I had my journals, why wouldn't you have a doll? I had to be wary of echoes, you had to be wary of living things. I can't imagine being afraid to touch life. I suppose we were both prisoners in our bedrooms in different ways. You to hide from yourself, and protect others; me to hide from others and protect myself. At least I could wander out, most times." He seemed less than comfortable thinking about it, not quite frowning, but not looking happy. "I'm glad you can still love your castle and kingdom. I can't." He would visit home if someone was dying; but he had no further desire to. He doubted they kept his things in his room. He was only a prince in name so he could visit the dying, because they knew his father wouldn't live long. "Ah, there I go, turning grim after we were having such a lovely day before. I didn't mean to bring us down." His tone was lighter and apologetic, to make up for his gloominess. Even though it may not have been him starting the gloom, he blamed himself and his mercurial moods.

"Yes, Friends," Elsa replied with smiling eyes. It felt good to finally have a bit more clarity on the relationship between them. "I'm sure it was my doing this time, I have a knack of turning things sour without wanting to," She assured, remembering how well the conversation with Anna went before the fun finally started. "Let's see if I can just as easily divert it back to being lovely again," Elsa affirmed, taking a moment to ponder. "Oh, I know! Aren't you the least bit curious as to know what the pressing matter that required me to borrow your pillow?" She asked. It was going to be a bit embarrassing to admit, but it got the conversation to revert back into something more pleasant. It didn't really matter.

Hans looked up at her curiously, and grinned playfully. "Missed me that much?" He proposed, with mock flattery and a playful smile. She looked ready to go to bed, with her hair down. He had to be careful not to think too much about that all at once. "Alright, I'll bite, why borrow my pillow?" He had guesses (after all, how many reasons could there be?) but he participated for the sake of the conversation. The longer it lasted, the more time he spent in her presence, and could admire her beauty while he thought she wouldn't notice.

She giggled a bit. Even though Hans himself was joking it technically wasn't far from the truth, she had indeed wished to see him, though she wouldn't actually admit it and she hadn't playfully denied it either. "Well, how else would we construct Arendelle's most extravagant pillow fort? " Elsa laughed followed by a sigh. "Childish I know, and most unbecoming of a Queen, but I must admit it was rather fun, doing things with Anna we never got the chance to do growing up."

Hans smiled a little, especially in his eyes, where crow's feet would form well before any other wrinkles made themselves prominent with age. "Now if we can't spend our adulthood being childish, whatever did we grow up for?" He joked easily. "We're both rather giggly tonight. I quite like it. And I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one with a penchant for childish behavior. Olaf got me to smile earlier with bad puns, and the time at the pub-- well I think the Captain thinks of me as the obnoxious young recruit more than a trainer to his troops, but he reminds me of the Captain of my ship, in spite of being much younger. I wouldn't have it any other way." He hummed. He sounded as if the day had overall been quite positive, even if -for a time- he had been quite melancholy. It seemed that was his natural state of being, and happy any time someone got him out of it.

"It is rather nice," Elsa agreed as a grin crossed her face. The two of them sharing a moment in good spirits was very pleasant. "I may not be able to indulge in acting childish often, but I won't deny it's enjoyable to do so," she laughed a bit more, the laughter sure seemed to be contagious tonight."I'm glad you were able to have a nice night out."

"Hmm, why not? Perhaps you simply need to take more time to be a child." He suggested, gesturing to the little paper frog he had made. "I learned to make those in Japan, then promptly forgot. With a little struggling I can get them almost like they're supposed to look. And that's one of the easy ones. Some people can make flapping birds,dogs, cats, all out of folded paper. It's a mystery to me, I guess I just don't have the mind for it. But I like the little hopping frog fold. Simple and cute."

Elsa smiled at the frog, poking it once again. "I don't think it would make the right impression if I was regarded as 'Elsa the Childish Ice Queen of Arendelle'," she jokingly remarked with a snort. "Actually, I've already planned to make more time, I promised Anna to try doing more fun things we didn't get to do together."

"Hmm, I try on titles and attitudes like most try shoes. Something different for any occasion, no need to let one define you. Why bother? Of course, I'm hardly the picture of mental health." He remained casual, leaning back, though he propped himself up a little more to converse with her. Maybe he just preferred there to be a power imbalance. It made him less of a threat. Especially with his sword still on the bureau. "My moods change faster than the tides, as does my personality and my behavior, if I could do anything else as fast, I'd be a much more productive human being. But it means I have the freedom to be a different person to everyone I meet, if I choose to be. I'd say it doesn't change who I am at heart, but I'm not convinced there's a layer deeper than that. I'm still a mirror, I am whatever others want or need me to be, and that's why I get all the titles. My favorite so far was Admiral, but my second-favorite is Fool. I suppose it's the only one I gave myself." He mused. He didn't really have a singular purpose to mention it, he just found it intriguing. "At any rate, you can have more time to be a child, and not be defined as childish. Even kings and queens must laugh."

Elsa didn't care too much what people thought of her, but then again she was a Queen and a big sister, two titles she felt didn't allow freedom to be carefree, responsibility seemed to have been engraved as a part of her personality from a young age. She might have seemed serious and resolute in remaining regal, but she didn't really mind being like that, actually she preferred it, it was essentially how she was in character, she could never be abundantly energetic like Anna that was way too draining. 

 "Adaptability isn't necessarily a bad attribute, sounds exhilarating having that freedom explore the infinite possibilities, instead of being set in stone." There was a part of Elsa wished she wasn't bound by the expectations (that she'd mostly placed on her own shoulders) and she could have the freedom to be that flexible. "I guess you're right, even I deserve some fun," she answered. 

 Elsa then pursed her lips and pondered. 

 "Do you think I'm too serious? I know I can be a bit of a stickler," she wondered. All this talk made it sound like she was normally no fun at all, and maybe that was true, she was rather duty driven. Perhaps what she was really trying to ask was what was his impression of her.

Hans considered her question a bit. "Seriousness is a necessary evil, especially as a royal. You need to be able to be serious when the time calls for it. But we can't stop enjoying life, else there's no reason to have it. I adventure and enjoy wordplay, that's how I enjoy life. You're dutiful, but I think you're serious for work, and very human otherwise. You laugh and smile and tease. Some military men seem like they hold onto their frowns and barked orders like a man holds to a life raft. Those types of men tend not to like me, because I refuse to take them seriously." Hans smiled to himself, ever the young rogue. "People like that tend to demand respect they haven't earned with me, or expect me to follow them because I'm young. Ah, but alas, I suppose I am a follower again. My highest rank now is 'Queen's Fool'." He smiled a little to himself just the same. As far as it was from 'prince', he still had an inordinate fondness for the title. At least in part because nobody really hired fools anymore. "Very human, hm?" she repeated in a murmur. She smiled, that really was a compliment to her, since she often tended to forget that. "That's quite the title, the highest ranking Fool in the land, a very rare achievement indeed, I can see why you are quite fond of it," Elsa playfully teased.

Hans laughed a little, smiling at her. "Well I can't think of a better kingdom to be a fool in. Careful, I might start asking for pay. Though, if I keep playing cards with the men I'm training, I might need one anyway." He laughed. "I wonder how the history books will write about me. 'The fool who trained the Queen's Guards, a failed treasoner and prince of a foreign land', I like the reverse-ordering. I'm sure they'll gloss over the admiralty, history books always seem to miss the important bits." He chuckled and shook his head. "Of course it's only by the treason I'd have made it in, anyway." He shrugged. "Glad it didn't work out, though. In spite of all my pains and injuries, I am glad life has brought me to where I am. I just wish it had taken a somewhat different path to get here."

Elsa smiled and laughed along with him, up until the treason talk. "I'm glad you're here too," she reassured softly. "It might not have been the preferable path, but life might not have granted the same possibilities any other way."

  "There're so many good things that might not have happened had we not gone down the paths we’d chosen."

"Just so." Hans hummed. She brought him a sense of peace, even though he felt somewhat trapped there in his room. Even healed, he tended not to explore the small space. 

 "Not the preferable path, indeed. If I'd have known about your powers, maybe we could have been friends. I certainly would have been a lot more careful." He thought about it a moment, then waved the thought off. "Best not to think about 'what ifs', they only lead to sadness, I find."

He seemed to be right, the unattainable 'what ifs' did indeed only tended to bring sorrow of how things might have been. She was melancholy for a moment as she let out a sigh. Then a strange concept crossed her mind.

  "That seems to be true, but what if," Elsa giggled a little at the way she started that statement. "Instead of thinking of the impossible 'what ifs' of the past, we think of the potential 'what ifs' of the present and the future." She suggested. "I think those are far less gloomy since they are still probable prospects." 

 "Like what if I did officially grant you the title of fool?" That part was of course just another joke, but certainly not out of the realm of possibility.

Hans chuckled. "Embarrassing, truly, yet charming. I imagine my family would never understand that I'd sooner be a fool in Arendelle than a prince in the Isles." He admitted idly. "Well then, what if my work here somehow encouraged the Isles to give back my titles? Then I would be a fool admiral and a fool prince. What a combination. One confusing hierarchy of titles. My mother would hate it, therefore I'm for it." He chuckled dryly.

Elsa wasn't sure if she should ask the next question, but the 'what if' of returning titles made her curious. After a brief hesitation she decided to ask. 

 "What if you were given the opportunity to sail again, would you?" She wondered, wringing her hands. Her crimson nails contrasting her porcelain skin. It was a bittersweet question even for a hypothetical, since she wouldn't want him to leave, yet she knew how much he loved the sea and adventure and was rather curious to find out if he would. She'd asked him a similar question before about why he'd returned to Arendelle instead of sailing away. She wondered if his answer would differ, given other circumstances, such as regaining his admiralty.

He thought about it a bit. "Of course, I do love adventure; but I must return to a friendly port now and then to rest and restock and call home. I would sooner that be here than the Isles, if Arendelle would have me. I daresay the Isles has no need for me now, if I'm no longer an Admiral, and not counted in the line of succession. I have nowhere I must be but where Her Majesty assigns me." He gestured to Elsa, not toward home. His mother was Queen Consort and had no true say in the running of the government.

His answer had put her mind at ease. Elsa smiled a bit. "But of course, if you are indeed considering yourself my fool it's only logical that Arendelle would be your home," she affirmed. It felt a little strange to call him her fool in the possessive especially out loud, but she was in fact the Queen and he was her fool. It did embarrass her a little to have said after the fact, even if it was only meant to be playful banter.

Hans smiled a little at the thought. He was welcomed there, even if it was only as a jester in her court. "I could always be considered the Guard Trainer or whatever official title that would be. In the Isles, we had the Swordmaster, who taught us boys to swing a sword, but that was a bit of a different job." He admitted, considering the thought.

Oh, right his real official title, she had practically forgotten about that and it made her fluster a bit more. 

 "Yes, definitely," she nodded."I'm not quite sure of the official name yet either, but we'll figure it out soon enough." She assured him. 

 "Hmm, what about Combat Consultant? It has a nice ring to it, but I don't know. Do you have any other ideas?" Elsa suggested and asked him for his input. "Oh, and before I forget since we're on the topic of training. Kristoff might be the one watching over us while you're training me." She informed him.

"Oh that does have a nice ring. 'Consultant' sounds a bit like desk work, though. There must be a term for the one who trains the guards, that isn't 'captain'. I'd hate to dethrone the captain we have, after all." He chuckled at the thought. He would absolutely tease the Captain about it if it happened, but he thought it might make a bit of a sore spot. "Ah, we'll figure it out." He shrugged. 

 "That's fine with me, Kristoff is a nice young man, dutiful and level-headed. Hell, he can join, if he likes. Give you someone to vent to when you both get tired of hearing me quote 'A Treatise on The Swordsmen of the Southern Isles' at you. It's not a common book, probably doesn't exist outside of the Isles. If it does exist in your library I'll be surprised, but feel free to read it in advance, if you do have it. It's a written explanation of the 'implied sword-culture' of the Isles, and goes into detail about why we give up swords, what it means, all sorts of minutia you might not care about. And some things that might actually help swordplay, occasionally." He chuckled a little. It was clearly a favorite read of his. One of those books, not read for entertainment, but guidance; as a man reads a bible.

"Yeah, we'll figure it out later,"she concurred. Elsa really didn't want to step on anyone's toes, by making Hans the new captain, so she hoped to come up with a suitable solution without having to resort to that. "Oh dear, are you going to make me regret acquiescing before we even begin?" She giggled. "I'll be sure to check the library, I doubt we have a copy, but you never know."

He chuckled a little and shrugged. "I have a fondness for my country's 'sword culture'. It's one of the few parts of it I like. But that's mostly fluff. Cultural details that won't necessarily apply to you, though you may gain an appreciation for how and when I carry mine. It's perhaps the political equivalent of a lady's fan-language, or perhaps that's an odd English trend. I never bothered to learn whether ladies truly bother with communicating with coquettish fanning. It seems a bit silly to me. I'd say I'm more straightforward than that, but you and I both know that's a lie." He laughed dryly. He was a man who chose his words carefully, most times. Still, he seemed to be learning how to be more casual with her-- for good or ill.

"I would actually like to try to understand that fondness, as well as the significance behind the swords, it honestly sounds like an interesting topic, besides I don't mind a history lesson," Elsa smilingly nodded. It was true, Hans seemed to take his sword culture seriously, and if it was something important to him she wanted to learn more about it to know why, believing that it might give her a better idea of who Hans was at heart. "As for fan-language I wouldn't know too much of that myself either, I never learned any of that, there was really no use for it, considering," Elsa did a quick demonstration of her magic, in the palm of her hand."Nor was I ever interested in that sort of thing, so it was for the best. I also think it's rather silly, though I'm fairly certain Anna knows how to do it, she's always liked things like that, and think I've seen her play around with a fan. Seems unnecessary complicated to me, just like a certain person I know," Elsa giggled, she was kidding of course, playing along with what he'd said before.

"All too complicated." He agreed with a smile. "If you can get a copy of the book out here, it's a thin one, if dense. If not, I'll likely cover most of it while I teach you, anyway. Just as soon as I can do that without injuring myself." He touched his old stab wound. It hardly needed bandages, but it was still scabbed and occasionally spotted blood. It would heal soon.

"I'll see if I can get my hands on one, though it might be better to just wait and hear it from you, your way with words is certainly a lot more vibrant than reading them from a book, that's for sure" she acknowledged. "Yes, please do heal up first, we wouldn't want to keep you trapped in here, because of yet another injury two is more than enough."

Hans chuckled a little. "Much as I've managed to enjoy my confinement, it will be nice to get out of this damned bed, at least." He admitted. "I don't mind being in a cell or a room, it's not being able to move around that bothers me. You never know how much you gesture when you talk until it hurts to move." It was strange, he still felt their relationship was nebulous. Friends, yes, and friendly. But... more, perhaps? Was it possible that they could be? Or was he just fond of her, and it was all one-sided? He could never admit it to ask, surely. "I'm at least dimly aware that Anna doesn't trust me, and I don't blame her in the slightest. Am I permitted to move about the castle, though? I'll accept any restrictions, or a no, but I am curious. I never bother to check outside my door for guards, I just assume they're posted." Because at heart, he thought of himself still as a treasoner. It had been as deeply ingrained into him as the scars across his back.

"Oh, there aren't any guards," she stated, shaking her head. "You're free to leave your room if you desire, though Anna probably wouldn't be too thrilled if she caught you roaming around. Hmm. I think this whole corridor is probably safe though, I'm sure she doesn't come this way at all, just to avoid bumping into you. There are some places that are likely to always be unoccupied because they mostly go unused, like the music room and ballroom for example. I think the only area of the castle that I would really consider off limits is the upstairs level, where our bedrooms are, I think Anna would be rather upset if she saw you around there, she'd likely see it as an invasion of her personal space. As for the other parts of the castle, are pretty much open to you, if you wish to visit, all I say is go at your own risk and can only suggest that you proceed with caution."

Hans nodded thoughtfully. "I'm uncertain how to feel about that." He admitted. "Ah, but I got stabbed defending the kingdom. The Captain tells me I should give myself some credit for that. Though I am about as eager to run into Anna as she is to run into me. I'm quite good at not being found when I don't want to be. She won't hear from me if I can help it, let alone see me." He had quite enough interaction with Anna for one lifetime. No man scared him, but he would sooner fight pirates than deal with Anna calling him useless again.

 "It didn't make sense to keep guards posted when you are no longer my prisoner," she expressed.

 Hans considered that thought. "I suppose not." He said, but didn't seem to quite believe the idea. "I suppose it would look bad if the man training your guards needed a guard presence, himself. So... if I'm to live in Arendelle, if I'm truly to be a citizen here, should I save for a home here? I imagine I probably won't be asked to stay here when Anna is so upset with me. And I don't exactly have family money anymore in the Isles. But I don't mind the idea of having a humble home here. As long as the people of Arendelle don't feel like lynching me in the night, anyway. Thankfully I seem to be winning people over easily enough." Though he wasn't sure if that was truly a good thing.

Elsa didn't know how to answer that, she hadn't really thought of him leaving the castle. She opened her mouth to speak but remained silent for a little while longer. 

 "I-Uh, I...I really don't mind having you stay here in the castle myself,"she began in a soft-spoken tone. "but I know that's not really fair to Anna. She really only seemed alright with letting you stay while you heal." She admitted with a sigh. "You could probably stay at the barracks for a time," she suggested. "And if you wished to build yourself a home in town in the future you're welcome to do so."

"Hmm, building a home." Hans mused, seeming new to the idea. "I wouldn't have the faintest idea how, what an intriguing thought." He remarked, sounding more excited by the prospect than anything. "I may have to get a uniform if I'm to work with the guard staff. Wouldn't be my first, though the least likely, I'd wager. Perhaps when I'm fully ready to train them? I always was in favor of living alongside the men I work with." He didn't mind that any. But perhaps most importantly, she wanted him there near her. That was a sweet idea. "I might have to save a long while. Perhaps I'll find a place near the fjords someday. Near the ships and the sea. Near the castle." For her, not for anything else. The only reason he had to put his feet on dry land anymore was to visit her, really. He could have left, could have returned to sea life. But then what? Just be a midshipman? A sailor with no rank or renown? He could have, perhaps, joined Arendelle's navy, but why, if not to stay at her heels? "I suppose I have more options than I've had in a while. I'll have to think about life and consider them."

[a-memory-of]

Ruran Vas was seated not too far from Ellere's home in the Mist. He had abandoned his armor, and one thin hand idly picked the other as he stared up at the sky. The fireworks had just begun, the fresh evening air breezing off the ocean ahead. A warm light occasionally flit at his chest, and a small glass bottle of mead rested beside him.

Ellere Valahan climbed the stairway near her home a few minutes into the nightly fireworks display. She had a book tucked under one arm, likely returning from reading down by the beach now that the sun had set. The figure did not catch her eye at first, and then she realized who it was. "Ruran? Goodness dear, what are you doing out here?" Ruran's head rose as the familiar voice reached his ears. He turned and looked over his shoulder, and his hand lifted in a small gesture of greeting. "I came to...see the fireworks," he murmured, glancing toward them. "And to think. And to...see you, afterwards." He peeked towards the book in her hand, then back up, but didn't say anything about it.

She rose a brow, but offered a smile, genuinely glad to see him despite her surprise. "Oh? In that order? Want me to head home and let you think first?" She teased, walking over to the railing where he was sitting.

"O-oh--n-no, of course not," he said while giving his head a small shake, ever serious, the tease going right over his head. He fidgeted in his spot. "Have you...been well..?"

Ellere laughed, shaking her head. Of course he would take her at her word. Moving closer, she leaned on the railing, setting the book down. "Well enough. Thankfully not too busy to catch up on some reading. Though the beach gets a little crowded this time of year, quite understandably." Ruran nodded. "That is why I am up here," he murmured in agreement, his brows furrowing. He then reached up to scritch at his shoulder, looking back to the fireworks. "I like to...use Moonfire Faire as a...day of remembrance, of sorts. ... A personal tradition of mine." Whether it was a healthy tradition or not, based on the alcohol beside him, who knew.

Ellere had likely noticed the alcohol, but she was not one to judge such things. "Ah," she hummed again, sliding up on the railing before swinging her legs around to the other side with him. "I suppose it does mark the nearing of... well. A time you would reflect on."

He extended a hand to help her up, but she had managed well enough on her own. He dared not mention the height. He nodded quietly. "It...it is, yes." His voice had lowered to a mumble, and he reached for the bottle beside him. He didn't take a swig of it yet, but it gave his hands something else to fidget with. "Each time I see the fireworks, I know another year has passed. I think of the past year and...how things have changed."

Ellere kept her eyes on him or the night sky and fireworks. She was well aware of the height, the pains of living on a hill as she did, but she was getting better ignoring it with a distraction and good conversation. "I would say they have changed for the better. Stumbling upon you up here rather than some lonely old lichyard like I did all those years ago is certainly an improvement." She paused, looking back at the lights in the sky, "Do you not think so?"

_____________________

With @weepingknight​

His brows knit as his gaze moved to the bottle. "An improvement, yes... I find myself thinking of my past less and less, and...more on present things." He side-glanced to her and back again. "Last year, you...hid messages for me. Surprised me with a picnic. You...helped me realize that there are better things than wallowing. ...Although I still do wallow, just a little." He gave the bottle a little wiggle for context.

She bumped her shoulder against his lightly, and clicked her tongue, "We all wallow a bit, dear. I certainly am not about to cast judgment on you for that. I might actually be more worried if you tried to tell me you were fine, considering." She reached up and rubbed his back for a moment, "And I am glad you remember that so fondly. We can always have more picnics."

Ruran let out a soft breath. "I would like that. While we--still have time." His shoulders subtly fell as the crestfallen thought washed over him. His eyes turned back to the bottle, then up at the fireworks. "To think that...this will likely be the last year I see this..."

Ellere felt her smile slip, and dropped her eyes to her lap. It was always a struggle to find words to say. Denying the fact it could be, or saying that it did not have to be were both risks to his already heavy heart. "...What would you do if if it was not?"

His eyes went distant as he thought. "... If not, then...my mission would not be complete. I would have to keep going..." It seemed he couldn't imagine a world where he wasn't duty-bound. "I cannot imagine that it would take me another year, though."

Her smile was sad, and she let out a breath through her nose. Hearing that he had no dreams left for himself was always difficult. "Would it be such a shame to keep going, I wonder...? I remember what you said in my kitchen that night, but I did not wish to believe you were so keen on embracing the end." Ruran swallowed thickly, and he tipped up his mask just enough for a sip from the bottle. He allowed the taste to linger on his tongue as he thought. "I am...not embracing it. Not exactly. I do not...think I ever was, no matter how much I tried to convince myself." His attention turned to the lights crackling in the sky. "But my mission is...much bigger than I am. My wants pale in comparison to the purpose I can offer the realm..."

Ellere hummed to herself, "It eases me to know that at least, perhaps, you are not tired of living. There was... a moment I thought I had lost you, already and too soon." She was wringing her fingers together. "When you talk like that, I do not have to wonder why such a purpose was given to you, and yet..."

"I apologize," his quiet voice began. "I was...so hurt, so bitter, that I...I allowed a darkness in my heart to fester." He frowned behind his mask. "You...helped me with that, too. I needed...time, and gentleness--you showed me both. I never...properly thanked you, before I disappeared again..." "You do not have to apologize, nor do you have to thank me. You know this," she sighed, glancing to him while fireworks reflected across her glasses. "I have asked you many times before to come to me when you are hurt, share it. I only wish I could shield you from it all."

He nodded solemnly. "I...--" He paused, uncertain which words to say. "There are none who...have done as much as you have, for me. Even when it is difficult, and I am...grateful for you." The stone flickered against his chest, and Ruran reached to put an arm around her. "You say I do not have to thank you, but I ought to. And I wish to."

Ellere's eyes widened a touch, and she dropped her eyes for a moment before braving to meet his again. "Just as you have. Though, I know you are far too stubborn to agree," she leaned against him in the half embrace. "You are a good man, Ruran Vas. I am... glad I was given the chance to know you."

"...A-and I you," was all he managed to speak before a touch of emotion caught the edge of his voice. He stifled it by clearing his throat. Ari'doram's light flit again. "You made my days lighter. N-no matter how far I wander, I...always find my way back here. We ought to...make the most of the days I have left..."

Ellere swallowed, then let her head slowly rest against his shoulder to watch the fireworks again. "A-Aye... I can agree to that. Any lingering wants? Places you want to see, or see again? I will do whatever I can to see it through."

"I want to...spend more time in the Shroud," he quietly considered, trying not to think of the future that lay too far ahead. "A-and I...would like to go to Ishgard again." He didn't say why. Hesitantly, he allowed his head to rest against hers.

"Ishgard? 'Tis been a long time since I have been so far north myself," she hummed, likely already making itineraries and arrangements in her head. "I am sure I can arrange that quaint cabin again. Though I shall not promise my fishing will have improved."

Ruran gently shook his head atop hers. "Your fishing was fine. You caught one, did you not?" His tone had lightened as he thought of it. "That cabin would...be very nice..."

"My face certainly did," she gave a light chuckle. Her hand turned, offering it to him. "Then you need only say when you are ready. I shall handle the rest. I promise that to you Ruran, whatever time the Twelve grace us with, I will strive to make it happy."

"...Thank you, Ellere," he murmured. His free hand took hers, and he laced their fingers together. "I shall let you know. For now, this...--sitting here, like this, with you... It is more than enough."

Ellere let her eyes close, despite the colorful show in the sky, and she merely took in the feeling. "'Tis more than enough for me, too..."

[food-advisor]

As an experienced stress Baker, I have never Felt much less Like Making Bread

In case you’re a millennial living through the coronavirus outbreak, possibilities are you’ve thought about making bread sooner or later inside the beyond few weeks.

 And, as someone who loves to bake and were given into sourdough just a few months before it has become the pandemic carb of choice, you’d think I’d be overjoyed that my newfound hobby is now Cool. However no, I’m sorry to mention I'm just in no mood for this doughy bullshit right now.

I’ve been a strain baker for the reason that university, whilst I used to be first brought to the term with the aid of a roommate who baked the ugliest and maximum delicious chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had. (She plated them too early so they all cooled into one gooey, chocolatey mountain. It became great.) starting with cupcakes—recall whilst cupcakes had been “in”?—I quickly learned that baking becomes a green manner to distract myself from the anxieties of the day, earn an experience of achievement, and emerge as with a delicious deal with all in one hobby.

Now not best changed into baking a manner for me to de-pressure, but it also has become a larger part of my identification and a brand new manner for me to connect to my buddies. I was a person who knew all of their favorite flavor mixtures and taken them cupcakes on their birthdays. I performed around with melting and, sure, tempering chocolate to make cookie decorations. I discovered that homemade pie crust, surprisingly, came quite effortlessly to me. On a college price range and without an electric mixer, I whipped cream by way of hand more than once.

After sampling a few friends’ homes made bread 12 months or so in the past, I found out that I used to be geared up to venture out of the world of candies. However, sourdough, as many human beings are now locating, is difficult—and rewarding—in an entirely exclusive manner. First off, it requires the use of a starter, that's a little microenvironment made from flour and water that permits yeast and micro organism to flourish. The aggregate of organisms is what helps the bread upward thrust and offers it that conventional tangy flavor. There's no shame in the use of some of a chum’s starter or asking a bakery for a chunk of theirs to get yours going, however, I determined to make my own. I wager I wanted a touch extra ownership of it? Truly, I suppose I wanted to be able to mention I did all of it myself.

Getting the starter going within the relax of an NYC October took a complete month of my life, but now my starter is a hearty little gal I’ve named Abigail. I’ve already given bits of Abigail out to a few other folks who are now baking delicious loaves (I assume; I can simplest enjoy them through Instagram now). My first loaves were now not quite, however they rose and that changed into thrilling enough. My next ones were consistently excellent and seem to get a little tangier with every try.

Did you know that freshly baked bread crackles while you take it out of the oven? I’m not positive why. I assume it has to do with the crust and matters expanding inside it. But whatever the purpose, it’s the maximum gratifying sound within the global after what is generally at the least a 24-hour sourdough-advent system. I might make myself wait for just long enough for the loaf to chill so that I should reduce into the middle of it, eager to get a have a look at the pattern of bubbles internal, after which show it off to my (now successfully long-distance) boyfriend within the other room earlier than we ate dinner together. I even talked to my therapist frequently approximately my sourdough adventures and as soon as showed him an image of a loaf I used to be mainly pleased with.

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All of this is to mention that pre-pandemic Sarah becomes living for sourdough and the long, sluggish demanding situations it delivered. The integration, resting, proofing, and baking processes are a touch distinctive for every loaf, and I thrived on the affected person experimentation, hassle-solving, and tinkering that sourdough calls for. My loaves have been by no means ideal and probably by no means maybe, however they had been usually delicious and worth the attempt. It was a reliable, meditative weekend task that took my thoughts off my Sunday (and, let’s be sincere, Saturday). Plus, baking bread introduced me to an adorable, specific community on Instagram—inclusive of a new live performance friend.

Considering all this, you’d suppose the #pandemicbread motion might have spoken without delay, particularly, loudly to me of everybody. However, the fact is that I haven’t baked bread of any type in weeks, and Abigail is sitting idly in my refrigerator. I want to bake—of course, I need to bake—but it simply isn’t occurring. The pressure I’m dealing with now could be special, manifestly, and it’s all-ingesting. This is not me being frightened about a final examination or a task at work—that is me looking for a way to cope, by some means, with the principles of our lives abruptly converting and the worry of humans I understand being hospitalized or demise. Sourdough simply can’t compete with the existential dread of residing via an actual, for-real pandemic.

But there are also the superficial blocks: whilst all I've is time, I'm able to stand the idea of spending a complete day making bread simplest for it to be not as proper as I want it to be. And the Instagrams, pricey God, the Instagrams! I will assist but compare my loaves to different humans’s—a few who simply began baking. The competition, completely fueled by me and my very own lame insecurities is simply inescapable.

What have I baked? I made some half of-hearted biscuits, sure. I made a few matzahs for Passover, which turned into, well, matzah. But I subsequently had to admit to myself that what I used to be virtually craving wasn’t a ~home made artisan sourdough boule~ but rather brownies. Greater fudge-y. From a box. Particularly, the ones my mom used to make. I’ve made and devoured complete bins thus far.

Sourdough and pressure baking may additionally have started as an unbiased, self-directed interest, however, I comprehend now how an awful lot I’ve come to depend upon it as a way to undoubtedly and authentically hook up with different humans. It’s so tacky I will barely carry myself to kind it, but it’s real: Baking for your self isn't half of as fun or enjoyable as baking with and for different humans. I love that stress baking offers me time to awareness some creative strength at something apart from work, however, I also love seeing the way my bakes in shape into different human beings’ lives because they invent area for me there too.

As first-rate as it becomes to spend all day baking bread, it turned into even nicer to peer the pleasure on my buddies’ faces once I introduced over a freshly baked loaf to go together with the excellent cheeses and wines they’d picked out for an evening of gossip, or to get a text from my boyfriend to mention that he was taking part in a slice of my bread along with his soup for lunch at work. Without the opportunity of these interactions, making bread doesn’t deliver me that experience of feat I crave. It simply jogs my memory of ways lonely and hopeless this moment sincerely feels.

If getting to know to make bread is a quarantine pastime that brings you joy, that is superb. Embrace it. Lean into it. Perhaps try making a starter of your very own! However, for now, I’m leaning inside the other path—toward nostalgia, simplicity, and comfort—and sticking with brownies. The fudgier, the better.

[arabellaflynn]

I am not handling any of this at all well. As previously mentioned, I am not at high physical risk from SARS-CoV-2. I have plenty of medical issues, but none of them are relevant to respiratory infections. I have also not been outside of the house for over a week. Either I haven't caught it and I'm fine, or I have caught it and I'm still fine. It has become increasingly clear that I am at high risk psychiatrically. I've already got a diagnosis of "anxiety disorder NOS", which as far as I can tell is med speak for "fuck if I know, have some Xanax". I have spent exactly 0% of my life receiving effective medical care for this, and that includes the percentage of my life I have spent receiving literally any medical care for this. Usually what happens is that I muddle through life by stubbornly doing things, self-medicating when there is nothing to do, and self-monitoring for points where personal stressors plus world events conspire to create a crisis. When my life falls apart and then the Human Cheez-It in charge of the country starts idly lobbing insults at the man who has spent his weekend idly lobbing missiles over Japan, I present to whatever ER I live nearest to at the time, make it clear that I am not in immediate danger but also that I cannot eat or sleep in a state of continual panic, and leave about eight hours later with a bottle of sedatives. I would go to Urgent Care, but they don't handle controlled substances in MA. I don't bother telling anybody, because what the fuck could they do about it? Drive maybe? The T will get me there fine. My main personal worry is, or was, money. Grocery shopping is a minefield. I can eat just about anything, do I really need that? And no, I never need that specific thing, it could always be something else, something cheaper. And I do so much math. How many calories per dollar? You can get up to about 500, but you have to live on cookies and ramen. In theory it would be cheaper to get 1700 calories per day in rice, but 1700 calories of rice is ten cups of rice, and I can neither cook nor eat that much while I am out of the house for 8-12 hours a day trying to work enough to eat things that are not rice. (Literally all of my work has been canceled right now. All of it. I am a gig worker who has no protection. I already do not earn enough to live.) So whatever it is, I put it back, because I don't really need to spend money on that particular food. It could always be something else, something cheaper, more responsible. And now going to the store might mean catching COVID-19, might mean giving it to someone else if I'm an asymptomatic carrier, might mean I buy something that someone else could need now that the fuckwickets are hoarding. I even have second thoughts about eating anything that's already in the house. I'm fine, I don't need to consume things or take up space. This is the tip of the iceberg. As anyone with an anxiety disorder will understand, this is not the first time in my life I have wanted very badly to not be present in whatever moment I'm forced to live through. Normally there is something to distract me. Either I have other shit to do, or there is a long list of "self-care" activities that will take up time regardless of whether they actually do anything for my mood, which they don't. My social energy is limited, but 'hey friend-person want to get lunch and talk about stupid shit' is also a viable option. When there is nothing, I size up how much time needs to vanish. Turn in my exam on Friday, won't get my grade until Monday, no work for the weekend? Great, Saturday and Sunday can go. Knocking myself out and just sleeping for two days is cheapest, but drugs can at least waste a long block of hours making music sound cool. Alcohol is stupidly expensive and tastes funny, but is widely available, and people look at you less oddly for being "bored and drunk". The older you get the more people frown at you for this, but also the older you get the less anyone keeps tabs on you, and the less it is any of their business. I have been alternating between flailing around on Facebook trying to pretend I don't care if anyone pays attention or not, and trying to sleep through this mess when nobody does. I have put myself on a goddamned timer. "Do you really need to bother [name] right now? Does it really have to be [name] specifically? Then post a meme or some shit, see if shouting into the void works. Do not bother [name] for at least 12 hours after the last time they answered you. If you get to 12, see if you can shut up for 24. If you're a priority they'll get around to it; if not they clearly have more important things to do." Because everyone does. I go through the same thing from Thanksgiving to January 2 every year. Other people have partners, kids, parents, loved ones to talk to. There are some top people in my life, but I am not the top person in theirs. Friends are low on the list. This is just how it works. Except I can look forward to normality returning annually after everyone gets over their New Year's hangover, and I can go back to pretending I have some significance to unspecified someone somewhere. I have no idea when "social distancing" will end. Nobody knows. It won't last forever. It can't. Humans are social creatures. Some of the people who don't die of COVID-19 will die of distance. Nobody will count them, because nobody will care -- they will be the disconnected, the isolated, the destitute, the broken. And hospitals will be busy with those who can't breathe. from Blogger https://ift.tt/2vDTuc3 via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 27

Warnings: Violence. Language.

I had put it for a week time of vacation from the office beginning three days from fight night. I wanted, more so needed, to spend hours upon hours at Temple Fitness racking up as much ring practice as possible, making time with my parents slim while they visited. I was barely maintaining weight, so lavish dinners were out of the question, and I had no intentions of slacking to attend a game, or other local sights with them, no matter how much I fought myself internally. However, with The Pilot being one less worry for a few days, I could work out early, notching several devoted hours under my belt, then cut out around late afternoon for some family time with Colt and my visiting parents.

Today, despite my steadfast arguments, they came in to observe how my routine played out with training. Tia was available for the day, so the crew and myself decided it’d be best apt for my now crucial preparations to let her play into the role of sparring partner. Stepping in with Colton was better suited for educational, phycological reasons seeing as he was the most seasoned member of my corner roster. But with Tia, a fellow female, things could get more physically involved, and squaring up with her would simulate more relative to the possibilities with my unfamiliar opponent.

“Well, were you surprised when you saw your parents? You had to suspect him doing all that.” Tia spoke while mirroring some of my stretches.

“I was absolutely clueless, T. I’m actually sorta glad they’re here, to be honest.”

“The fucker pestered me all week about ‘making sure I do this’ and ‘don’t forget to say that.’ He was wound tight, I know that.” she rolled her eyes with a puffing exhale.

I was warmed at the realization of how seemingly decent the usual ignitable pair had worked together to execute the planning without a hiccup. But, I strategically kept the sappy gushes inside my own private thoughts, knowing Tia would whine and baulk at the subject. Throughout training, Colton and she kept on their most polite behavior (well, ‘best behavior’ for those two thick-skulled, impetuous individuals, let’s say) and only nearly killed the other once. The tumultuous exchange was something vaguely involving the weight of gloves, and Colton wanting to trim the bout down to only 3 rounds. Cal snarled that the two of them should just have it out in the cage and settle things the only way they knew how, and end the ongoing ‘dick measuring contest’ as he put it, for everyone’s sanity.

“Well thanks, Tia. For helping him out and doing your part. I’m sure he’s grateful.” I assured her lightheartedly, turning back to face her as she followed me under the dipped open ring rope.

“He gave me 50 bucks, and he may’ve even said ‘thank you’ or somethin’. It’s whatever. I did it for you, LC. Not him. So, don’t start with those doe-y eyes.” She spat lightening defenses behind baring teeth.

Tia and I danced our usual relaxed waltz around each other when Willow gave the go-ahead, Colton standing arms crossed on the outside of the ropes, and my parents seated in cushioned stools from the therapists’ office. Riled grunts, and the forceful air whips of efforted swings fell upon listening ears as my partner tested me with slivered eyes. I kept my hands fastened meticulously near my nose to protect it from any unforeseen assaults and ducked quickly to try and take Tia’s legs. With my face now downward turned and arms opened to attack, my skull was only for a fleeting second left unprotected, leaving me to suffer the costs.

The bridge of my nose was met to Tia’s apparently very solid kneecap, and my teeth nearly gnashed my gummy-like tongue in half. A black explosion resembling an abstract firework filled my retinas, and suddenly I got the irresistible urge to nap. Unconsciousness threatened me, but by some luck I only teetered the line and never fully fell into its’ caress. Once the haze cleared and colors were recognizable again, a crimson flow dispersed like melted butter underneath my rested, near lifeless body.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, TIA?!! FUCK!! Have you lost your damn mind?!” Colton’s stinging shrieks echoed through the entire gym like a wild, murderous banshee.  

He verbally attacked Tia with persevering hysteria, spitting venomous strings of saliva into her detached, cold face. I couldn’t swear to it, but I was pretty certain those thumping veins on both sides of his neck were almost rupturing beneath his flesh. This was the wicked, sinful anguish that he always cautioned me was living inside him, and it had clawed it’s way to the light of day for the world to see.

“She’s gotta be more careful than that, Ritter. I was just trying to make her understand what could happen to her. She needs to understand that Katrina wants to hurt her, she’s gonna be out for blood. It was harsh, but I’m not sorry.” Tia shrugged haphazardly upon her explanation. Her words resonated just enough to piss me off to extreme measures, and make complete, and total sense.

I’m not even sure Colt comprehended her controversial explanation, nor the fact that she was even talking at all, as he hurled his weight in entirety to the ground beside me. He pulled off his t-shirt, doubling it as a rag to soak up some of the blood pool I was gurgling face down in. I sat up without assistance and felt undeniably woozy trying to hold up my head that now felt like the weight of a bowling ball. This instance was the closest I’d ever came to being knocked out, and I tried to process all the strange aftereffects while my fiercely concerned boyfriend gently moved my noggin around by the chin to observe the motion of my eyes.

“Livvy, baby? Hey, look at me, okay. Do you know where ya’ are? What’s my name, sweetheart?” He stroked repetitively on top of my head, clearing the hair from my eyes.

“I’m fine, Colt. Calm down, I don’t even think it’s broken,” I faked a smile hoping to lower the intensity of his brimming adrenaline.

Upon rising onto my own two very unsure feet, I fell dizzily into the wall of Colton’s warm-fleshed chest, and heard a gasping wince come from my perceiving left. Mom was standing at the foot of the ring, resting one hand there to balance her alarmed body, and the other squeezed over her mouth to try and kill the desire to sob. A collision with another player on the court, or the routine ‘floor burn’ to the knees had been common happenings throughout my childhood. But, seeing their flesh and blood, only child being unforgivingly rocked to the face by a bare, violent knee was a sight any parent would struggle with.

“Cal, grab the doc for me, will ya’?” Willow gestured a thumb to the direction of the Temples’ on-staff physician’s office down the hall. “Think we oughta go ahead and have her checked for concussion symptoms.”

“Ah, for fucks sake. Everybody needs to calm the hell down! She’s fine. Just give her a minute to get her bearings. You feel ok, Liv. Right?”

Was she trying to convince me, the other obviously concerned witnesses, or herself? My thoughts may have moved through my head at the speed of hot glue oozing stubbornly from the tip of a gun, but moving, nonetheless. I tried rationalizing with Tia’s abrupt, reckless attack, and the more I searched for some sense on the moment the angrier I grew. My match was one hand count of days away, and she thought reasonable to risk breaking my nose, or giving me an unnecessary concussion? It was irresponsible, thoughtless, and frankly downright asinine. Fury, combined with the pulsating echoes of pain from my throbbing nose, and the effort it took just to try and use simple brain power had me feeling like a smashed bug on the grill of a semi.

“Take me home, Colt. Please… I need a bath, and a bottle of anything to put me out for 36 hours.” I whined, erratically batting my eyelids trying to adjust to the seemingly now high voltage lighting of the room.

Any healing wounds I may have recognized up to this point between Colton and Tia was a very distant memory now. My fearless mate would shred anyone who he may have viewed as even a potential enemy, much less an individual he just witnessed almost knock me needlessly unconscious.

“We gotta have doc check ya’ out, Liv. He can probably get ‘chu somethin’ for the pain, too.” Colton answered softly, continuing his attempts to clean the crusting, web of blood all over my face and crane of my neck. “Then, I promise I’m gonna take you home and put you straight in the tub for a soak in some’a those fizzy things you always buyin’, ‘ight?”

The hurt of my swelling nose was too much of a distraction for me to completely bask in all the ways I knew my loyal man would be coddling me the upcoming days.

 Amidst the doctors’ perpetual astonishment, I passed his exam and questioning with flying colors, and he dismissed me that night with the green light to go about my evening as normal. Thankfully, despite my nose not being in fact broken, he instructed me to ice as much as I could physically stand and prescribed me a gentle painkiller for the soreness and headaches to come. Tia lingered idly in the training room until I packed up for the evening and let my panicked with concern mother hold my hand through the exit. I didn’t so much as bother her with a second look nor give her the satisfaction of a goodbye, still feeling grudgingly nauseous with her very inexistence.

The nose injury came with barely noticeable plum-shaded bruising in the corners of my eyes that covered easily with a thicker application of concealer. The swelling had ceased due to the repetitive regime of icing and anti-inflammatories, so I didn’t have to see the light of day looking like a complete ogre. Weigh-ins were the first excuse I had to force Colton to allow me out of the house after remaining under his watchful, loving eye, and the smothering care of my parents as well. I not dare complain or push aside their gracious concerns for me, so I politely smiled, thanked, and kissed the obvious appropriate party and focused on the fight.

The event of my weigh-in was no where closely related the ones I was used to writing about for work, and probably wouldn’t even be categorized as an event to begin with. There was no hype or advertising buzz floating around the streets for the fight between Kat and myself, so a big to-do with our weight checks seemed definitely unnecessary. Colton suggested a simple meeting at Temple Fitness with a well-respected referee from Pittsburgh, my team, and my opponents the Friday  evening before we were scheduled for a dance in the cage.

My parents arguably agreed to wait back at the house after I reasoned we’d only be gone for a couple hours, give or take. Mom insisted on concocting my favorite pot of always delicious jambalaya for a late dinner after my numbers had been approved for competition. My mouth seeped in anticipation with thoughts of the steaming pot as we made the turn into the gyms’ lot around 7:00 that evening.

“What the hell is she doin’ here, Liv. Did you tell ‘er to come?” Colton scowled and spat seeing Tia’s car parked near the street light in the parking lot. I felt his grip under my fingers stiffen at the mention of her name.

“She’s probably just here working out. Or, Willow mentioned it to her. Either way, just let it be, babe. Please? Let’s just do what we came here to do and get out calmly in one piece. Deal?”

His silence amongst bull like puffing from his nostrils alluded those weren’t exactly his intensions if Tia decided to make herself known tonight. A short-film of the two hotheads beating each other bloody looped in my mind.

“Ritter………” I pressured him sternly, demanding he agree to my terms.

“I hear you, baby. But, I’m tellin’ ya, if she starts that mouthy shit I ain’t promisin’ ya’ I can control myself.”

We parked, and I marched straight for the locker room for one last bathroom break before stepping up to the scales. I felt confident in the discipline I kept with my diet, and my dedicated hours on the weights, but now that the moment had arrived, self-doubt rolled in like a spring thunderstorm. I shed whatever bladder continents I had left, my windbreaker, and the capri sweats I was wearing before heading to join the waiting bodies.

The cranked temperature of the A/C caused me to shudder off a cold-chill as the spandex shorts and sports bra exposed me to the cool air. Amongst Willow, Colt, Cal and regretfully Tia were four unrecognizable faces. Everyone chatted informally, broken into a few swarming huddles except two. The two pouting bodies stood caddy-cornered from the other, wide-stances and hands crossed into their armpits. Tia and Colton were so much alike, and both too blindly obstinate to see it.

I went trembling with nerves to Colton’s side, as Willow quickly hastened to him as well.

“Bex wants us to take the first weigh if that’s alright with you guys?” She asked kindly and professionally. She had played a hugely important role in my fight-preparation, but upon his re-entering to the picture, let Colton somewhat run the show knowing I probably felt most comfortable in his molding hands.

“Up to you, Livvy baby. If you want her to step up first, just say the word and I’ll make it happen.” Colt turned to face me, warming my chilling arms with his enormous heater like hands.

“I mean, I guess it’s alright. I… I don’t mind.” I looked to smile crookedly at the murmuring bodies across the room.

Colton approached who I concluded to be the official he invited as the unbiased party in the matter and shook his hand kindly with a relaxed meeting. The two men nodded their heads with words I couldn’t make out and parted ways with Colton returning to my nervously tapping feet, and the ref stepping to Katrina and her coach.

“’Ight, it’s nothin’ to get all fuckin’ antsy about, baby girl. All you gonna do is step up on the scale, he’ll call out your official weight and we’re all done. Simple as that, okay? You were at 129 or so this mornin’, right? So nothin’ to worry that big ol’ head about.” He gestured with his hands, steadily explaining the cut-and-dry process to come.

My bare feet treaded lightly towards the smile of the friendly man planted next to the upright standing physicians scale. My shoulders tensed and appeared to coil higher into my stiff neck as every set of eyes in the room landed on me. Mimicking what I had seen Colton and many other competitors do, I pushed the airy content from my lungs, and stepped upon the scale one foot at a time. He tapped gently on the pointer, careful to ensure his reading would be accurate before announcing the crucial number.

“Looks like you’re set at 129.5, Miss Elliott. You guys wanna come take a look?” He offered a firsthand sight at the scale with me standing on it for Katrina, wanting no speculation of funny business on fight night. But, she passed the opportunity and instead began shedding any extra clothing weight she could.

“Way to go, LC. Even down at couple pounds since we started this shit. I see you, girl!” Tia was on my heels with empty praise, talking towards the back of my head since I refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

Colton stood at attention holding open my jacket and sweats, as Willow gave my shoulders a quick squeeze of support.

“What’s on the post weigh-in menu, Liv. All fighters got that craving while they’re training. Whatcha’ gonna reward yourself with, babe?” She smiled proudly.

“Oh, it’s gonna be somethin’ fulla’ carbs knowing this girl, Willow,” Tia butt in. Willow only looked with a blank, awkward glance, still very much sensing the tension within the Ritter-Elliott-Larkin camp.

“Tia, just fuck off, ‘ight. Liv may be too nice to say it, but we both know I sure as hell ain’t. She don’t wanna talk to ya’, and frankly, I don’t know why the fuck you’re even here.” Colton held off best he could, bless his heart. But her forced comments into our conversation only amped him further to unleash on her.

Tia’s smile turned to a sneer in an unapproving reaction to her once again mortal enemy’s comment, and eyeballed me searching for some sort of back-up, or teammate in the matter. Normally, I’d be the ‘Switzerland’ regarding matters of the heart between she and Colton. But, the desire to defend her right now just simply wasn’t present.

“Willow mentioned it to me. And if Liv doesn’t want me here, I think she’s grown and perfectly capable of telling me that herself. Asshole.”

“I don’t want you here.”

My quick snap admittance looked to hit her like a sack of bricks. The flesh tone of her face heated like the igniting of fiery embers and her nails seemed to pierce the inside of her palms between clenched, wrathful fists.

“I don’t want you here, and I think it’s best of you just stay out of my corner Saturday night, too. Willow and Colt can handle it just fine.”

Truly, I wasn’t as fitful with her as I let on, but for my mental sanity on fight night, I figured it best to just squander any possible altercations between she and Colton now. The two of them intently bickering outside the cage would only distract me, and I’d end up with double the damage that Tia caused. This time, Colton was genuinely lacking fault, so it indeed wouldn’t be fair to shove him from ringside.

“You don’t fuckin’ mean that, LC. This whole thing was my idea to begin with.” she protested with gritty objection.

“Hey Colt, you and your girl wanna come check the scale before she steps down?” The ref interjected.

“Yeah, that’s be great. C’mon, babe.”

I slid into my shoes, and disregarded Tia wholly.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 40

read chapter one

read on ao3

Alec listens as the phone rings once, twice, three times. He’s just set to hang up when he hears the call pick up.

“Alexander?” Magnus’s voice is curious, warm, and to Alec’s relief, alert.

“Hey, babe,” he says, smile widening. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

“There’s no bad time where you’re concerned, darling. As a matter of fact, I was just reading through a draft of an article set for publication in the fall.”

With a glance at the clock, Alec asks, “You’re working? It’s what, almost midnight there?”

“11:30,” Magnus confirms.

“I had no idea you kept such late hours,” Alec teases. “Shouldn’t you be in bed--”

“What, in my cap and nightgown reading through a treatise from a hundred years ago with the light frm a single candle? I’m sorry to spoil your delusion, Alexander, but a professor’s work is never done. This week’s been a little hectic and I need to get this to the journal by the middle of next week. This was the only pocket of time I had between now and then.”

Alec laughs a little. “Publish or perish?”

“Academia is mercenary,” is all Magnus says, in a prim tone before chuckling. Alec hears movement on the other end of the line as Magnus shifts in his chair before asking, “Now, what’s got you calling a doddering professor so late?”

Wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder, Alec reaches for his toiletry kit and shoves it in his suitcase. Zipping up the suitcase, he smiles a little as he replies, “I don’t know, really. I’m heading to the airport and I realized I hadn’t talked to you since Monday morning. Thought I’d call and see how things are in New York.”

“Well, I’m glad you called even if it’s been less than two days since we last spoke. What, texting wasn’t enough to tide you over?”

Magnus’s voice is light, teasing, but Alec’s response is mostly serious as he says, “I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I’m glad you weren’t asleep yet.”

“Me too, darling,” Magnus replies softly.

There’s a break as both Alec and Magnus remain silent for a minute, letting the line between them hum gently.

Finally, Magnus speaks again. “You said you’re on the way to the airport? Can I assume that means you’ll be back in New York soon?”

“You bet your ass it does,” Alec says, eliciting a laugh from Magnus. He swings his carry-on over his shoulder and starts wheeling his suitcase towards the door as there’s a knock on his door. Telling Magnus to hold on for a minute, he opens it to see a doorman waiting in the hallway with news that his car’s arrived. Handing over his suitcase, Alec lets the man go while he does one last sweep of his room, picking up the conversation.

“My flight’s in a couple of hours and if all goes well, I should land in New York a little before ten tonight.”

“How exciting,” Magnus says. “Would you want to do anything Thursday? I have class and office hours but I’m free after three?”

Groaning a little, Alec heads to the door, satisfied that he’s gathered all of his belongings. “Are you kidding,” he asks. “I wish I could see you right now, let alone wait until tomorrow afternoon.”

Magnus makes a little noise of sympathy and Alec hears typing on the other end of the line. “I definitely wouldn’t turn you away right now. I’d rather be with you than working on this article any day.”

“If only my flight didn’t land so late,” Alec sighs. “But, I guess I can make it another day before I see you.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Magnus replies dryly. “How was Tokyo anyway?”

Walking into the elevator as it opens, Alec pushes the button for the lobby and leans against the back wall. “It was amazing as always. I never get used to how different performing is here, though. It’s like a case of whiplash every time, I swear.”

“How it Japan different?”

“In The States and most other places, fans go crazy during concerts. They yell and scream and jump and just generally go crazy. Over here, though, fans are always quiet during my performance. It was a trip the first time I came to Japan, let me tell you.”

“Yes, I’d imagine that would be quite an adjustment compared to what you were used to.”

“It’s nice, though. They’re quiet because they want to make sure they hear everything and they want to be respectful. Gigs over here are always a little more relaxed, even when I’m playing arenas.”

“I’m glad you had a good time. How’s the rest of your trip doing?”

“Can’t complain,” Alec says easily. “The media have been a mix of friend and foe, so it’s the same old there. What about you,” Alec asks, concerned. “How are things on your end?”

Humming, Magnus takes a moment to think and Alec sweats a little as he enters the lobby. He’s having flashes of mobs and asshole paps and Magnus running as far away from Alec as possible.

“Really, it hasn’t been as difficult as I’d feared,” he finally says. Alec’s shoulders slump with relief as he continues, “There’ve been a few journalists who have tried to get the inside scoop but all around, things aren’t too bad. Columbia is mostly unscathed and they haven’t shown up at my door yet, so all things considered, I think we’re doing a-okay.”

“Thank Christ,” Alec says, heartfelt.

Magnus startles out a laugh at Alec’s vehemence. “It looks like our worries about the media have been largely blown out of proportion.” Magnus’s voice is sardonic as he adds, “Maybe we should thank that bastard reporter for blowing the story up after all.”

Scowling, Alec walks out to where his car is waiting, driver standing near the open back door. With a quick nod, Alec ducks into the back seat and settles as he grimly says, “Don’t worry, Aldertree’s getting his just desserts.”

There’s a pause on the line and Alec can almost picture the look on Magnus’s face, the curious tilt of his head as he runs over Alec’s words.

“If I didn’t know better,” Magnus says lightly, “I’d be scared for poor Aldertree.”

Alec snorts. “Let’s just say he won’t be lambasting any other unsuspecting people.”

“What did you do, Alec?”

Alec searches Magnus’s tone for anything that betrays his annoyance or condemnation, thankfully finding nothing but amused exasperation. The truth is, Alec can be a little heavy handed when it comes to protecting those closest to him and while Jace and Izzy are mostly used to it, Magnus might be put off by the lengths he’s willing to go to punish people who get too close.

Still, Alec’s not sorry and his boyfriend has a right to know what’s going on.

“I don’t know why you said it like that,” he remarks idly. “I just had a meeting with him in London. He fucked up and I thought it only appropriate that he deal with the consequences.”

“And what were these consequences?”

“Well, I can’t be sure but I think I heard that the poor bastard lost his job. Word is Scotland Yard is pressing charges, too. Terrible thing, really.”

“Really,” Magnus echoes dryly and Alec raises a brow as he waits to hear the rest of Magnus’s thoughts.

It’s quiet for a few seconds before Magnus quietly breaks the silence. “Thank you, darling. While I never would’ve asked you to do something so. . . extra on my behalf, the gesture is appreciated.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can take care of yourself and you’re stronger than anything a press parasite can throw at you. That doesn’t mean that I’m not here for you, that I won’t back you up and try to keep you unscathed from the hell I’ve decided to throw myself into. I may have asked for this life but I won’t forget that you haven’t.”

“I think you’re forgetting a pertinent fact in that I didn’t fall into things with my eyes closed. Still, Aldertree was a nuisance and I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that things have blown up in his face.”

“He knew the risks when he published the article. It is what it is.”

Alec doesn’t try to keep the cold edge from his tone, though thankfully Magnus doesn’t comment on it.

Watching as the city goes by his window, Alec switches gears. “So, you’re revising an article? I thought you were writing a book.”

“Yes, and I’m also the chair of the department with a few classes to teach. What can I say? I like to keep busy.”

“And I thought my schedule was fit to bursting.”

“Of course,” Magnus says and Alec can hear the smile in his voice, “That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t take a break if I had you here to distract me.”

Grinning a little, Alec replies, “Oh? You want to play it like that?”

“I imagine you’d make hooky worth it, Alexander.”

There’s heat there but also overwhelming warmth and Alec wishes he didn’t have an eighteen hour flight ahead of him, that instead he could teleport and be at Magnus’s side in an instant.

“Damn it,” he says gruffly before his voice turns soft. “I can’t wait to see you. The past week’s felt twice as long without you.”

“You charmer, you,” Magnus replies. “I’m sure the next hours will go by in the blink of an eye. Just a little while longer, darling, and then if you don’t have any plans, we can spend the weekend together.”

“With dinner on Thursday, right?”

“Of course-- I’m just as eager to see you, I assure you, Alec. I can’t wait until the weekend.”

The car pulls up to the winding lane that will lead to the departure terminal and Alec sighs a little. “Well then, let’s hope this flight goes by quickly.” Looking down at his watch, Alec grimaces a little as he sees the time. “I’m sorry I kept you so long. Do you have to finish your work before you can call it a night?”

Humming, Magnus says, “You know, I think I might just go to bed, after all. I can squeeze in some time editing tomorrow before my first class. My day’s ending on a high note and I don’t want to ruin things by spending the next few hours working.”

“I’m a high note, huh?” It’s a throwaway phrase but Alec can’t deny the butterflies in his stomach at the reply.

“Of course, darling. You should know by now that I love talking to you.”

Smiling, Alec just says, “Well, I hope you know that talking to you is the best part of my day, too. I’m looking forward to doing it in person soon enough.”

“Have a safe flight, Alexander. Let me know when you land in New York.”

“Will do, babe. Have a good night, okay? And I hope you have a good day tomorrow.”

Magnus’s voice is warm as he replies, “Always, darling.”

They hang up in the next moment and then the driver’s opening his door. Alec collects his things and goes through expedited security, relaxing in the first class lounge until it’s time for his flight. Luckily, nobody bothers him and Alec eats a late lunch as he works on his laptop. There’s a few endorsement deals that Lydia’s emailed over and he gets caught up on work, going over his schedule as he waits for his flight to be called.

His single is due to drop Friday at midnight and Alec’s excited. They’re filming the music video for it a few days after and it’s a hundred tiny details that Alec needs to keep up with as his career propels forward to another era.

Everything goes smoothly and luckily, his flight to LAX is is uneventful. He passes the time trying to catch a few hours nap or reading a book. He even catches a movie that had come out last year, a fun teen rom-com.

His layover in LAX is only an hour and Alec feels exhaustion ride him hard as he makes the trek to his gate. He’s still running on Tokyo time and while it’s the early morning in L.A., it feels like the middle of the night for him. The past week’s been grueling as he’s performed and interviewed and generally worked like a dervish to complete damage control on both his relationship and his career and he’s looking forward to making it to his apartment and passing out for twelve hours.

He’s just ordered a red eye when something catches the corner of his eye. Sighing, he takes his time adding a few spoonfuls of sugar to the caffeinated nightmare in his hand before turning and almost walking into a reporter.

“Hey man, Kyle from TMZ. It’s great to see you.”

“Likewise,” Alec says dryly. He readjusts his bag on his shoulder before continuing onto his gate. His flight takes off in half an hour and he’ll should make it just as his group’s boarding.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve seen you on the West Coast. Does this mean you’re moving out this way?”

“I’m on my way back to New York.” With an internal sigh, Alec wishes that pap would just get to the point so he could continue on his way. He just wants to go home and he knows he’s looked better-- for his flight, he’s just wearing a pair of sweats and a singlet. Definitely not his finest outfit.

“Back to Magnus?”

Alec raises a brow at the presumptuous question, though he smiles a little at the thought. “If you want to phrase it like that, I guess so,” he agrees easily.

“So things are good between the two of you? No lover’s spats or fits of jealousy?”

“No,” Alec says wryly. “It’s going well, man.”

“Good for you, Alec, we’re happy to hear that. Word on the street is that you’re dropping new music. Can you tease that a little?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alec murmurs and takes sip of his coffee.

“Whatever you say, man. Have a good flight, yeah?”

He holds out a hand for Alec to fistbump, which he does without hesitation. “Thanks, you have a good day too.”

Kyle leaves him alone, off to his next story and Alec continues on his way. Thankfully, he’s right and the flight’s just started boarding as he walks up to the attendant stand. He sees a few people gasp and point at him but he walks right onto the flight without a scene and settles into his seat without issue.

He fucks around on his phone for awhile and reads a few articles that have cropped up about him in the past day or so. Thankfully, they’re recycling the same information and it has a positive slant, which is a nice surprise.

He likes a tweet from Simon about a gig he’s doing in Greenwich at the start of the week and a post from Izzy taken at Uptown where she’s sitting in a chair with Maia in her lap, both of them grinning into the camera with a caption, You brighten my day more than coffee. There’s even emojis tacked on at the end.

Soon enough, he’s turning his phone onto airplane mode and settling in for the next 5 hours. Sliding his earphones on, he starts a playlist and reads through the latest issue of a music magazine he’d picked up in the Narita Airport.

He reads it cover to cover but he’s a little restless, no matter that he’s mostly been up for the past thirty hours. He doesn’t have the concentration for a book and he’s tired of working, so Alec reaches for his songbook and wastes a little while making up silly songs. Most of them will never see the light of day, but Alec sees potential in one of them, a little upbeat song about time differences and missing someone.

They touch down in New York and Alec can’t stop yawning. It’s a little after ten in the at night and it seems absurd that it’s still Wednesday. He feels like it’s been at least a week since he left Tokyo.

Debarkation takes only a few minutes and then Alec’s heading off the plane, entering an empty gate. He rearranges the beanie on his head before shoving up the sleeves of the hoodie he’d thrown on halfway through his flight from L.A. Dave should be waiting for him outside and Alec feels like a zombie as he makes his way to baggage claim. He doesn’t always bother with it-- sometimes he has it couriered back to his apartment-- but he’s he figured what the hell, and resolves to spend the next twenty minutes standing with a couple hundred people waiting for the carousel to start.

While he waits, Alec takes his phone out and sees a few texts from Magnus.

There’s a picture of a desk covered with piles of paper with a dozen crying faces and then Magnus is sending a text that says, Can’t wait to see you soon :)

There might be a few heart emojis that make Alec melt, even if he knows that he should be above such things and his sleep deprivation makes it at least twice as difficult to send a message confirming he’s landed.

Officially back in New York.

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow (even if I wish it wasn’t so late so we could do something tonight)

It seems like he’s barely hit send when a reply’s coming through and it takes a few tries to understand the text but eventually it lands and Alec whips his head up, looking around and probably looking insane with it.

Be careful what you wish for, darling.

Running a hand over his jaw, Alec’s turned away from the carousel when everything in him seems to settle.

Magnus is leaning against a pillar a few dozen feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest and his ankles are crossed. He studies Alec with a raised brow, a little smile resting on the corner of his mouth.

Without thinking, Alec’s already crossing the empty space between them. He’s just an arm’s length away when he asks, “What are you doing here?” He knows that his voice betrays him, emotion heavy in the hoarse tones but he can’t help it. He’s surprised and exhausted and his defenses are obliterated.

Something tells him Magnus doesn’t mind, though.

Straightening from his pillar, Magnus closes the last little distance between them. One arm wraps low around Alec’s waist while the other hand cups his cheek, rough with two day stubble.

“I wanted to surprise you. I take it I was successful?”

“Yeah,” Alec murmurs, shifting closer until he can brush his nose against his boyfriend’s. “I was expecting Dave.”

Magnus shrugs a little. “It’s been over a week since I saw you and when you told me that tomorrow felt like an eternity when we’d be back in the same city, I texted him. He’s waiting outside.”

Alec smiles as he wraps his arms around Magnus’s shoulders, and buries his face in his neck. “I’m so glad to see you even if it is late.”

Alec makes a little noise, happy, as Magnus sweeps a thumb over the nape of his neck, slowly swaying them side to side as they wait for the carousel to start.

“I don’t think I can do anything tonight,” Alec says apologetically after a moment, his voice muffled. “I’m pretty beat, babe.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up to dancing till dawn, darling. If it’s alright with you, however, I thought maybe I could come back to your place and we could spend the night together-- just sleeping of course. I just want to be with you.”

Pulling back from the comfort of Magnus takes herculean strength but Alec manages it, though he grumbles as his hands shift down to rest at Magnus’s back. “Really,” he asks. “You came all the way here to pick me up at the airport just so we could sleep together?”

“And if I did,” Magnus asks, tone imperious though Alec thinks he detects a hint of defensiveness lurking underneath the surface.

“Then, I’d say thank you and I wish every arrival back to the city could be just as perfect.”

Magnus’s eyes light up and Alec leans down a little, kissing him in front of God knows who. For once, he doesn’t care-- and that’s becoming a trend concerning Magnus that Alec just can’t bring himself to worry about. At this point, everyone knows they’re together. Who cares if they share a little PDA in a mostly empty airport.

Besides, everyone was tired from that flight and are far more concerned with getting their luggage and escaping than what someone’s doing in a corner.

Pulling back after a moment, Alec opens his eyes to see Magnus already watching him with a calm, relaxed gaze.

It should be absurd how everything in Alec reaches toward Magnus. For fuck’s sake, they haven’t even said those three little words yet.

Telling himself to be happy in the here and now, Alec leans into the moment. His total focus is on Magnus which is why he jumps, startled, when the carousel starts and luggage starts moving on the conveyor.

Magnus laughs a little, wrapping a hand around his waist and starts toward the crowd of people who have jumped to attention.

“Do you just have the one suitcase?”

Alec makes an affirmative noise, nodding. “Yeah, as soon as we get it, we can head outside to the car.”

It takes a little bit and Alec’s started distantly wondering if his luggage isn’t lost after all when he sees the black suitcase with rainbow ribbon on the handle.

Most people have left-- surprisingly, he hasn’t seen any one glance his way-- and Alec doesn’t have a problem grabbing it just as it passes where they’re standing.

Magnus takes in the plain suitcase with decorative little ribbon and sends Alec a look. “Subtle,” he says and Alec laughs a little.

“Couldn’t resist,” he says easily.

Alec has one arm around Magnus’s shoulders, holding him close as they start toward the exit while he wheels his luggage next to him with the other. The August humidity is still oppressive even if it is so late and Alec disentangles from Magnus as he sees Dave step out of the car.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” his driver says with a laugh and reaches for his suitcase, lifting it into the trunk before turning and taking his carry-on, too.

Rolling his eyes, Alec hides a yawn behind his hand as he glares. “Yeah, yeah. That flight kicked my ass but forty five minutes is all that stands between me and sleep on a horizontal surface.”

“Forty five minutes, eh? I’ll see if I can take it down to forty for you, Mr. Lightwood.”

Grinning good naturedly, Alec just says, “Take your time, Dave. I’m looking forward to relaxing in the back. I’m in no rush, especially since you brought my boyfriend with you.”

Dave chuckles as they make their way to the front. “He texted and asked if he could tag along. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel but I figured it couldn’t hurt anything. Not with how hot you two have been in the news this week.”

Alec just hums as he ducks into the car, Magnus following. Dave starts the car a moment later and Alec feels like he’s melting as he relaxes against Magnus. His boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he leans in the corner, sweeping a hand through Alec’s hair.

“Fuck, that feels so good, babe,” Alec mutters against Magnus’s chest. All of a sudden, Alec’s exhaustion is overwhelming and he cuddles against his side. He hears Magnus laugh on a breath and feels him kiss the top of his head as if from a distance.

“Go ahead and sleep a little, darling. I’m not going anywhere.”

The next thing Alec knows, he’s being shaken awake.

“Wake up, Alexander,” Magnus whispers. “We’re here.”

“No,” he returns petulantly. “You’re comfy and I’m tired.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere, darling but I don’t think Dave relishes the thought of sitting out here all night.”

Alec rouses just to glare halfheartedly at Magnus. He shouldn’t have bothered though because Magnus is already halfway out of the car, completely unfazed by Alec’s ire.

By the time he’s out of the car, Magnus already has his suitcase and two bags with Davy calling out a cheery goodbye before leaving for them in front of Alec’s building. Alec makes an attempt to get his things back, but Magnus just tsks at him, finally relenting enough to give him his carry on shoulder bag.

“You’re dead on your feet, dear, and it’s not even eleven yet. I think I can take care of rolling a suitcase to and from an elevator.”

Alec just smiles at him in appreciation and as they start toward the door, Charles smiles at the two of them.

“Mr. Lightwood, Mr. Bane,” he greets warmly.

“Good evening, Charles,” Magnus returns. “How’s your night been?”

“All around rather quiet,” Charles says with a tinge of surprise. “Are you two in for the night, then?”

“Yeah,” Alec says hoarsely, shaking his head a little to wake up a bit more. “No parties for us tonight, Charles.”

“Very good then, sir. I hope you two have a good evening indoors, then.”

With a nod, Magnus and Alec make their way to the penthouse. Magnus leaves Alec’s things near the bedroom door.

Alec stares at the space for a moment, blinking. It was always good to be back, no matter if it had been a week or a year since he’d last been in his room. Running a hand through his hair, Alec looks over at Magnus.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower. Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want.”

Magnus sets his own overnight bag on the bed before he opens it and starts rummaging. “No worries, darling. I’m just going to get ready for bed myself. Is it alright if I join you in the bathroom? I need to wash my face and brush my teeth.”

“Of course,” Alec says, mouth tilting up at the corner. “As long as we’re clear that any attempt at hanky panky would be useless. I’d definitely fall asleep before things even got interesting.”

Magnus laughs a little. “I don’t think either one of us is up to any hanky panky tonight, Alexander.”

Alec grins but doesn’t say anything else, just heads to his ensuite with Magnus following close behind. Turning the water on, Alec strips with little fanfare and almost groans at his first step into the shower. It’s a wall of warmth and Alec feels both like he’s floating and sinking into the ground.

International flights were always brutal but Asia was just so damned far away that they always left him a little useless afterwards.

Alec mechanically washes his hair and the rest of his body, hazily aware of Magnus at the sink going through his own nighttime routine. It’s all painfully domestic, he reflects and the thought doesn’t send him into a panic. Instead, it’s like something settles in him and he feels nothing but steady.

He’s turning off the water a few minutes later and opens the glass door, reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist. He sees the appreciate look Magnus casts in the mirror and just returns an arch look back.

“No hanky panky,” he says seriously and he bites back a grin as he sees Magnus almost choke on his toothpaste as he laughs.

Alec’s bathroom has a double vanity and as he brushes his own teeth next to Magnus, he distantly thinks that he could get used to this. It’s nothing he’s ever really done before-- and truthfully, not something he ever thought he’d experience-- but it’s nice to just exist with another person, to go about your own routine while they complete theirs right next to you.

It’s soothing, reassuring.

Unfortunately, sleep drags at Alec and he barely manages to pull on a pair of underwear before he’s collapsing into bed, face first with a groan.

He feels Magnus slip in beside him and he’s clumsy as he crawls beneath the sheets, shifting until he can rest his head on Magnus’s shoulder. His thoughts are bleary as he kisses the bare skin beneath his lips, murmuring, “Night, babe. I’m so glad you surprised me,” in a voice that sounds far away.

He barely hears Magnus reply before he’s sinking under, lulled by his boyfriend’s warmth and the end of a grueling press tour.

[cloudbattrolls]

GLIESE: Break into a seadweller hive.

This is the log so far of a roleplay @anontrolls​ and I have done on discord until now!

Summary: Having lost a coat to an alleyway stabbing Lee needs help breaking into his old house to retrieve more of his belongings. Gliese volunteers, which seems like a perfectly fun idea... until they run into the hive occupant.

You did not sufficiently think this through. 

Your ancestor's hive is largely underwater, true to traditional seadweller fashion. Your block has always been in the dry portion (much to your old man's disapproval) simply for the ease of keeping certain types of material items when waterproofing is not required, but the main entrance is deep enough underwater that Gliese's ears would pop out of her skull before she ever made it. 

Also true to fashion, the windows to your room are pretty high up. There's no way to get up the smooth marble walls without a significant boost, and you don't realize this until you are squinting up at said windows. 

"Ah," you start eloquently, "How do you feel about... seeing how high you can throw me?"

--

If Karina ever hears about this, she’ll rip your ears off and feed them to you.

Fortunately, you have the good taste required to not give a shit what she thinks unless you have to. You rescued Pheres that one time and got away with it; why should this be any different? 

Part of you whispers that this is a much bigger deal than just grabbing a maroon, at least in the Empire’s eyes, and that maybe messing with a very prominent violet when there’s no fleet to protect you might not be the smartest thing you’ve ever done. 

But like hell were you going to let Lee do it himself. 

Since it’d be unwise to give your usual snort, you roll your eyes at him from behind your mask. Not black - what is this, some cheesy movie? - but dark blue, and equipped with emergency breathing devices just in case god forbid you have to get wet for a bit. 

“Great idea, what trash can did you fish it out of?” You reply idly, only realizing the pun too late and sighing. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a better one.” 

You put on your rocket boots, a pair with silencers attached. You experimented with them earlier, and it isn’t perfect - they’re too loud for that - but it keeps them from causing a giant racket. Smirking slightly, you gesture for him to come closer. 

“Into my loving arms, Lee, time’s wasting.”

--

"Hey," you grumble, "It's not as though I go breaking into places very often, darling, I'm hardly bristling with a repertoire of larcenous plans - and most trolls would consider that a good thing."

"- But nice pun," you tack on, and do precisely nothing to stifle the smarmy smile. 

Her suggestion, on the other hand, does a much better job of that. You actually have no idea what she's suggesting - what, do her boots bounce? - but you're practically contractually obligated to jump into 'loving arms' when invited. 

So you do! "Oh, sweetheart," you declare, pretending to swoon into Gliese, "I thought you'd never ask!"

--

“Ooh, ‘larcenous plans’, huh? I don’t have those either, but I do have lots of useful life skills beyond radiating sparkles and fluttering my eyelashes.”

You smirk as you say it, though it morphs into a scowl as he smiles with insufferable smarm. Dick. Lee’s so light for his size that you almost stumble because you expect more resistance than you get; he feels as thin as you did before you joined fleet. Not that you’re bulky now by any stretch of the imagination, but you have more muscle and less bone showing than you did a sweep ago.

“Bite me.” You reply, before hitting them at the right angle to the ground to turn them on and rising into the air at a slow pace, then faster as you click them together. 

You slow as you reach Lee’s window, hovering up and down a few feet back and forth outside it (the boots aren’t really made for staying static).

“All right, fishnugget, what’s the best way to get in here without tripping alarms, if there are any?”

--

"The sparkles are largely photoshop, actually-" you start, lifting a finger, and promptly yelp, clutching at Gliese haphazardly and significantly more frantically than you were before she started raising the two of you into the air.

"Only if you ask nicely," you still manage to squeeze out, because the joke was already on the tip of your tongue before you were airborne. You're a mite too frazzled now to make another, which is a shame, because there's probably something to be said about the fact that you've gone and wrapped your legs around her waist in fear of falling off.

The breeze ruffling your hair about your face (you have to spit some out your mouth at one point that you're fairly sure was actually Gliese's) stills somewhat after a few moments, and you squeeze a single eye open when Gliese asks her question.

"My block," you gasp, and gesture very vaguely in the appropriate direction. "Turned off the window alarm ages ago. Bad for daycaps and shenanigans. Oh, goodness."

Okay, eyes closed again.

--

You snicker in a tone too low for him or most trolls (except you and Kit) to hear.

Only for a second; you focus on his words and your face slides back into seriousness. “You wish.” is your last, kinda lame response to this biting comment. At least he’s holding on tightly, because you’d be real fucking pissed if you had to go catch him.

Well, that’s reassuring. He sounds like he’s going to pass out.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to hope Fuckface Senior hasn’t turned it on again.” You retort.

If only you had one of those fancy devices that can detect security sensors, but you don’t exactly have that kind of resource anymore; the separatists have some tech, but they’re a lot more careful with how they dole it out.

Still, it’s worth the risk; any other route would be a huge pain in the ass and slow to boot. You zoom up to its edge and, very carefully, lower the speed enough to get yourself and Lee in but not lose all your lift.

Your knees are bent rather uncomfortably and you had to tilt your neck to avoid bashing your horns, but the two of you are inside now and you stand back up, boots off. The damn mask is making your face sweaty, though.

“Get off me and let’s get this done.”

--

The lock might be disabled, but the window is still shut, and it takes a bit of scrabbling on your part to get the window open enough for you and Gliese to tumble through - and tumble is absolutely what you do, releasing your death-grip on Gliese and practically sliding to the ground before she's through with her sentence. 

"Mnh," you moan into the carpet, spreading your arms until you're sufficiently certain of your full-body contact with solid ground. "Can we take the long way out? I fancy a swim after that, my dear."

Glancing up, you... are rather surprised to see that not much has changed since you left. You're not even sure your ancestor bothered to come in here after booting you out. Your clothes are still in half-disarray from your haphazard packing, and your keyboard is still right there, folded up with its stand and entirely prepared for you to grab it and run.

But, well. So long as you're here...

You snatch a rather larger bag than is required for this endeavor out of your sylladex, and start stuffing it with clothes and the rest of your belongings.

No sense in leaving more of your things behind if you don't have to! It's not as though Hiro doesn't have the closet space.

Besides, it's a good distraction from watching Gliese out of the corner of your eye, wondering what she thinks of the one place you've ever really considered your own space. It's a weird sort of vulnerability, to have someone in here - even your, uh, recreational guests, you usually took to some other room. No need for a one-day stand to screw up your record collection.

--

“Sure, whatever.” You reply in a low tone, not really caring one way or the other. You can’t say swimming is your favorite activity - water’s so damn cold - but you came prepared. You just hope the pair of you have that luxury and don’t leave chased by security droids.

Place is quiet as a burial mound so far, though, not that you trust it. Your ears are pricked for the slightest sound that’s not the pair of you. The room itself is…pretty typical for a fish who spends most of his time being a social butterfly, you guess. You’re kind of surprised it’s not more glitzy. Soft snickering escapes when you see giant posters of himself.

“Wow, Lee, didn’t take you as the egotistical type. Guess you proved me wrong.”

Then you notice the vanity, and your brow furrows. Is that a quad? It’s none of your business, really, but you can’t help wondering. Lee didn’t strike you as the type to quad any lower than teal, but who knows.

“Nice records, though.” You admit. You loved antiques when you were a kid; you can tell he’s got some rare stuff in there.

--

You blink, staring at Gliese for a moment. 'Not egotistical.' It takes you a spot longer than it should to put together a response.

"Me?" you ask. "Not shallow enough to put posters of myself up? Goodness, darling, where have you been living?"

You perk up when she compliments your music collection, though. "Hey, thanks," you say, grinning, "I'd offer a listen, but, ah, as unlikely as it is, I'm not actually entirely certain the old man isn't home, and it's best not to risk the noise, I think. It's a pity I'm leaving most of them here, though - I suppose that means you're free to whatever catches your fancy. Leastways they won't be rotting in here or sold off."

The thought is frankly actually seriously depressing, and you go back to speedily sorting through your clothing to distract yourself. Sweeps spent collecting, and it's all gone to shit, now. And the records are the absolute least of it.

--

“Somewhere I’d barely heard of you before you became scandalous.” You retort, then regret it slightly. You grimace, flicking your ears.

“Not that I care about that. You’re fine, if a fucking dweeb, all that junk is ridiculous anyway.”

Nice save, Benral. He probably won’t be too hurt and if he is, whatever, it’s not your problem.

He looks so stupidly happy you half want to punch the dumb grin off his face. The two of you are breaking in, even if it’s technically his place. You have to stay on guard.

“Yeah, no. We need to get in and out.” You pause to listen. Nothing, you think, except the distant ocean. It’s weird how low-security the place is.

You look at Lee’s records, but only one stands out to you. Its label has a faded troll curled up in a blue rose.

“Huh. Flower Fellow.” You muse, then tentatively reach out. Should you, even if Lee said it’s all right? Well. He has a point about it rotting in here. The thought saddens you, for some stupid reason, and your expression darkens. You take it very carefully and put it in your sylladex.

“Thanks.” You say, a bit uncertainly. Ugh, you’re probably making too big of a deal out of this.

You watch him go through clothing, curious despite yourself.

“So you really like being a model? Or was that just for the cameras.”

--

You can feel the corners of your mouth turning down almost entirely against your will, and turn away from Gliese to fiddle with the sleeve of a dress shirt. Have you brought anything with you that matches this shade off off-white, or do you have to stick with your minimalist neutrals?

"Well," you murmur, "I appreciate the stamp of approval."

If not the accompanying declaration that the things you care about are ridiculous junk. 

Well, not all the things you care about. She's here helping you pick up your stuff, isn't she? And you've retrieved quite the collection already, even without considering your keyboard. It's time to start stuffing it into your sylladex.

Gliese seems to have the same idea, because you watch her pocket a record, as gingerly as you've ever seen her do anything. She glances back at you as she does, very nearly looking worried, and you grin encouragingly. You're happy she'll be able to take something from this for herself.

Her question, though, you're not sure how to answer with any level of expediency.

"Sort of?" you try. "I mean, it's like anything you do, really, isn't it? One likes certain aspects and dislikes others! I enjoy being a model, of course, and it certainly is the perfect occupation for someone whose primary skills in life pretty much amount to being pretty and - well, I'd say posing well, but half the time you're getting moved around like a doll anyways."

"That's the part that's always a little odd," you admit. "I'm sure it's the same for everyone else at the casting calls, too, but it's still somewhat disconcerting when people forget you're a person and not a figurine."

You once walked into a photoshoot, one you'd already been signed for, with a rather well-known photographer. You hadn't had time to change, yet, but she had just flung some - you don't even remember what it was, some sort of faux-leather thing patterned after snake scales, and told you to strip right there in front of the whole crew.

And when you'd gotten topless, laughing airily as your fingers stumbled over the buttons of your shirt, she finally looked at you for the second time as though just remembering you presence, and practically barked a laugh. 'No,' she said, 'That's not going to work.'

And she walked out the door.

And that was that. You were too stunned to cry about it. You didn't even get paid.

You are not going to tell Gliese that story.

--

Damn it. How do you fix this? Should you even try before you make it worse? Ugh. He’s clearly upset and you’re not sure why.

“I mean-“ you start and then stop, biting your lip. You hate this. “I mean...you’re fine, Lee, because you’re not...things people say can fucking hurt, but you’re better than all that. You’re...a good guy.”

Please let that be right. You look weak and stupid right now and it fucking sucks. You turn away from him so he doesn’t have to see your blue face.

But you listen with your long ears as you look at the rest of his stuff. It’s nice, though obviously it would be, he’s violet. It must have been hard to leave this all behind.

He’ll deal, you remind yourself. You did when you joined fleet. What he says makes you manage to turn back around, face curious and ears tilted quizzically.

“Like what? Do people push you around or something? Who’d even try that on a seadweller.” You say, snorting. Lee may be a weenie, but he’s still violet. Pushing him too far would still be a mistake for anyone lower than you.

--

You bite your lip to stifle a totally inappropriate smile. Gliese is really trying, and, okay, watching her drag the words out like she's navigating an eggshell obstacle course is a tad bit hilarious. It's like someone that just realized they've been insulting the sweets at a gala to the confectioner's face and is trying to save face.

You glance back out of the side of your eye, and she's turned away - but that doesn't stop you seeing that Gliese is blue to the tips of her ears.

Aw, you can't even be miffed anymore. You sidle over and elbow her gently.

"Don't hurt yourself," you tell her sweetly, and then dart away laughing, almost expecting her to jokingly swipe at you - but that's just the echo of Thistle's shadow in your mind.

Then she asks about the modeling thing, and you're back to trying to figure out what kind of go you're going to take on the subject. "Well, no," you admit, "It's hardly as though I get shoved around, or anything! There's simply a certain... perception, I suppose, or perhaps a lack thereof. The photographers and designers are...artistes-" You nearly snicker. "- And utterly beyond the concerns of such things as remembering who they're dressing or posing is not quite a mannequin, you know? As in, stylists pulling hair out, or photographers literally moving you around bodily, etcetera."

"- And not all of them, of course!" you're quick to qualify, because, well, yeah, you do (did?) actually have non-model friends in this industry.