#maybe keeping tokens from family is good luck. a way of keeping your loved ones close in times of danger. and mayhaps it serves a secondary

[junietuesday]

you know how tulin has his parents’ feathers on his quiver? and you know how the great eagle bow has that scrap of blue fabric on it? what if……its bc revali considers the other champions his family

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

gods and the mortals they worship

A/N: honestly this idea started out due to the fact that scott and jack are gonna be housemates, and a friend and i were like "haha what if c!scott moved into Innit Hotel with jack" which turned into "haha what if c!scott was the god of mcc but he just seemed like a Dude to everyone else" which made my brain go brrr and think "haha what if god!scott and goddess!kristin met for tea" and then this fic happened. it got much angstier than i intended it to whoops

Warnings: implied/referenced temporary character death, grief/mourning, hugs, emotional hurt/comfort

Summary: Kristin, the goddess of death. Scott, the god of champions. Two deities that at first glance, have nothing to do with the other. But all the same, the two deities are close friends, meeting for tea and talking about the mortals they adore. However, some conversations painfully remind them of the mortality of their loved ones.

-

Kristin rather enjoyed it when a fellow deity joined her for tea. Not many would, XD was a little wary of her, being her opposite in a sense. And his sister Drista visited her often enough, but the young goddess was a bit on the rambunctious side, which was expected for the trickster. But the deity's whose visits pleased her the most were Scott's. The god of champions was always lovely to chat with, and she looked forward to each event he organized- always rooting for her husband's team, of course.

They met for tea weekly, but this visit... something seemed off about Scott. He seemed cheery enough, talking about how he had recently moved into the Innit Hotel with Jack and the other servers he was drifting between. But there was a melancholy expression on his face for a brief moment as he traced the flower pattern on his teacup, and a lost, faraway expression would come over his face from time to time. These were expressions Kristin recognized all too well- grief. She saw it in the faces of many mortals when she called their loved ones to her side- and it was unnerving to say the least to see such an expression on a god's face.

"Who are you mourning?" she asked, startling Scott slightly. The god's ever color-shifting eyes refused to meet her.

"The loss of my mcc team, of course," Scott countered with a half-hearted smirk. Kristin gave him an expression of disbelief, and the smirk melted away to something more downcast as he fiddled with something on a chain around his neck. A ring.

"Oh Scott," she said softly.

"Tried the married life thing. It was nice, for a bit. But it was a modified hardcore world, and it didn't end well. For him... or for me," Scott said, hand drifting to his throat with a grimace. Kristin set down her tea, placing a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder. Scott had a unique position as a god- he was one of the few who felt the sting of death. As he willingly lived among mortals most of the time, his godly power had to be diminished to do so. Which meant he could die- but it would never truly stick for him. Granted, death didn't really stick for most of the crowd he stuck around with. They would be reborn into other servers, maybe retaining impressions of the ones before- but Scott was the only one who truly remembered each server he had been on.

"I'm so sorry. Is he..." Kristin trailed off, unsure if she wanted to know if Scott's husband had been reborn into a different server.

"He's on another server with me now. Empires SMP. Calls himself the Codfather these days. I keep hoping he'll remember... but I don't know if I want him to," Scott said, eyes watery.

"Why not?" Kristin asked. If she was in a similar situation with Phil, she absolutely would want him to remember her.

"Because what kind of god can't even keep his husband alive?! I couldn't protect him before, who says I could do it now. Besides with my luck, by the time he'd remember me, I'd only lose him again. Why waste the effort on more heartbreak," Scott said, something vengeful in his tone. The aura around him tinged red, and Kristin drew her hand back with a jolt. Scott took notice of his surroundings, and with a sheepish smile his aura shifted to something more neutral and warm.

"That's why you're hiding in the Dream SMP with Jack, isn't it? You don't want to risk him remembering," Kristin asked softly. Scott let out a sigh.

"I'm not... hiding, exactly. Just lying low, somewhere where I don't have to pretend I'm not a god," Scott explained with a faraway glance.

“What if you were to tell this... Codfather," Kristin suggested. Scott wrinkled his nose in disgust in the name.

"Jimmy. His name is Jimmy," Scott corrected, sounding reverent as he murmured his name the second time. It was almost silly, a god worshipping the ground a mortal walked on- not that Kristin was one to talk. But then again, Phil wasn't exactly mortal.

"Then why don't you tell Jimmy the truth about who you are," Kristin prodded. Few knew the truth about Scott's godly status- Phil, most notably, and Wilbur. And now, she supposed, all who were on the Dream SMP. Otherwise, most knew Scott as someone who had a connection to the god of champions, and carried out his invitations to the games- not that Scott himself was the god in question.

"I... I don't know. Maybe it's safer for him if he never knows," Scott said with a sigh. Kristin squinted at him suspiciously.

"Scott, I've known you for centuries. Tell me the real reason you don't want to tell him," she said pointedly. Scott laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. With a deep breath, his expression settled into something more solemn.

"I don't want things to be different between us. I liked the way it was, on that modified hardcore world. We had a flower valley, with a pond and overgrowth and- and his silly insistence on wanting to protect me, like I was the fragile one, not him. I even experienced a brief afterlife with him, after we had lost all our lives on that world. And that... that was beautiful. But then things reset, and he was reincarnated. And how could I not follow him?" Scott said wistfully. His eyes shone with bittersweet tears, a fond smile on his face.

"You truly have the heart of a mortal, my friend," Kristin said with a soft smile. Scott chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well I certainly can't let anyone know that, think of my reputation," he joked. Kristin laughed.

"Oh please, we all know how much you cherish your champions," she teased.

"Don't tell a soul," Scott said in a mock-serious tone.

"Oh please, the only souls I know are dead ones," Kristin replied with a chuckle. Scott laughed too, but it fell short as his eyes landed on the flowers that decorated the teacups.

"I think the worst part is that he sees me as an enemy. I guess rightfully so, I pushed him away because I was afraid of letting him back in. I don't think I'll be able to look him in the eyes if we end up on the opposite sides of a battle," Scott said, voice fragile as the delicate teacups on the table before them.

"Maybe there's still time to make amends. You could extend some token of peace towards him?" Kristin suggested gently.

"Maybe. I just..." Scott trailed off.

"You just want to mope around in a world of constant hardship and destruction?" Kristin teased lightly, smirking. Scott laughed.

"I guess the Dream SMP isn't the greatest place to hide out," he said, still chuckling. Kristin was relieved to see her friend back to his more genuine smiley self, multicolored eyes glinting with amusement.

"Maybe not. Are Phil and Wilbur staying out of trouble?" Kristin asked, picking her tea back up to sip at. Scott laughed again.

"Staying out of trouble is asking a lot for your family. But I think Phil has forced Wilbur to make friends with Ranboo," he replied, picking up his tea as well.

"Oh? How did that go?" Kristin asked.

"Not sure, honestly. I think they opened a burger place? I've mostly been keeping to myself in the Innit Hotel," Scott said with a shrug.

"I'm sure Tommy loves that," Kristin said dryly.

"Oh yes, cussed me out until I threatened to not let him on mcc anymore. He changed his tune pretty quickly," Scott laughed.

"Doesn't Jack actually own the hotel now?" Kristin asked.

"Yes, but Tommy doesn't seem to know that," Scott answered with a sigh, shaking his head.

"I'm sure he'll get over it. Probably still a little jumbled from being brought back," Kristin muttered, unable to help looking miffed at that. She wasn't exactly fond of people being torn from her domain, especially by an overzealous mortal and the god who he eerily resembled. Although she couldn't exactly blame XD, the book had called him and he was forced to answer.

“Maybe life and death shouldn’t be toyed with anymore,” Scott said softly, after a few beats of silence. Kristin thought of Scott’s struggles with death and rebirth, then thought of her own family. Her husband who survived and lived, never dying- and her son, who fought and died, but ended up living.

“You wouldn’t see me complaining,” Kristin replied, voice coming out more melancholy than she meant it to. Scott looked to her with brows creased in sympathy.

“What a pair we make,” he said with a humorless laugh. Kristin laughed too, just as bleak as Scott’s own laugh.

“The goddess of death whose loved ones live, and the god of champions whose loved ones lose,” she said, voice forlorn. Scott set down his tea, dropping his gaze from Kristin’s.

“I do tend to be drawn towards the lost ones, don’t I?” he said with a weak smile.

“Nothing wrong with rooting for the underdog,” Kristin pointed out with a shrug. Scott looked at the flowers on the teacups, and his smile was a bit brighter this time around, less sad and bittersweet.

“I guess not. Maybe you’re right, maybe there is time to smooth things out with Jimmy,” Scott said, looking back up at Kristin.

“Good! Being mopey doesn’t suit you. And telling him the truth couldn’t hurt either,” Kristin insisted brightly. Scott rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“Okay Mumza, no need to get on my case. I said I’d try and smooth things over, not reveal that I’m an all-powerful god that was married to him once because I like playing mortal,” he replied, dragging out her nickname with a teasing grin. Kristin grinned back.

“I guess your situation is a little different than when I told Phil I was a goddess,” she said semi-sheepishly.

“Phil was also hopelessly head-over-heels for you when you told him. Jimmy is decidedly not,” Scott pointed out with a laugh.

“Oh Jimmy will come around eventually. If he knows what’s good for him,” Kristin said, sipping at her tea. Scott blinked at her in confusion.

“Are you threatening my ex-husband?” he asked, tone so adorably baffled that Kristin couldn’t help but laugh.

“All I meant was that he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Any man would be lucky to have captured your attention," she clarified with a teasing grin. Scott flushed in embarrassment, the aura around him tinging pink.

“You’re acting like an embarrassing mum trying to convince her son to get out there and start dating,” Scott huffed, trying to play off his flusteredness.

“You’re the one who called me ‘Mumza,’” Kristin pointed out, still grinning.

“This is rude, I’m being attacked and you’re twisting my words against me now-” Scott cut off with a laugh, unable to keep up the mock-offended act as his aura shifted back to being a neutral warm color. Scott finally looked the most himself that he had been all day- aura full of warmth, a smile on his face, and color-shifting eyes sparkling.

“Oh, whatever will you do?” Kristin teased. Scott shook his head, picking up his tea and finishing it off with one last sip before standing from the table.

“I think I’m gonna leave, actually. It’s about time I head out anyway,” Scott said. Kristin looked at how low her own tea had gotten, and sighed before standing with a gentle smile.

“Well as always, it was wonderful to have you. I hope everything works out,” she said softly, holding out her arms. Scott hugged her without hesitation, and Kristin got the feeling he was silently thanking her for her advice through the hug.

“See you next week?” Scott asked after he pulled away.

“I look forward to it,” Kristin replied. Scott smiled, giving a two-fingered salute before disappearing in a burst of color. The lightshow faded, leaving Kristin in her rather gloomy domain. The loneliness after a fellow deity left was always the worst, and the heavy conversation from before didn’t help matters much. Scott and Kristin were very similar beings for two deities that ruled over extremely different things- both of their hearts were too big, too smitten with mortals. Scott could at least compete alongside mortals if he so chose, but Kristin was in a plane of existence that her loved ones could only reach through tragedy. Perhaps Scott had it worse- Kristin could at least distance herself from mortals, while Scott stubbornly refused to. But all the same, Kristin was hopeful that things would work out for the god of champions. And maybe, things would work out for her family as well.

-

MCYT Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @hetapeep41 @space-ace123

[airgetlamhh]

Thoughts on Lostbelt 2

Longpost ahead.

So.

Lostbelt 2. Finally played it after so long, and this will contain spoilers.

To make sure everyone knows what they’re getting into, I’ll give the thesis statement right here: Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

The entire time I played through the story, I kept waiting for it to pick up. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor pacing, the deus ex machinas, the random things just happening for the convenience of the plot. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor characterization, the constant telling instead of showing, the moral myopia. It never did. 

From nearly the very start to finish, Lostbelt 2 is bad. 

We start off fairly fine! A desperate ploy to sneak through the Lostbelt to meet up with the allies we’ve learned about, the Wandering Sea, interrupted by a Lostbelt Servant attacking us with the intent of stealing the Paper Moon that allows us to perform Zero Sails. All of that is a decent setup!

And then we’re told how strong this Saber is. How incredible they are. How their swordplay surpasses anything else they’ve ever seen, how they desperately wish that Musashi was there, how no no, he didn’t use his sword, he only parried! Things that Sherlock Holmes observes, not Mashu, not the one who’s actually been fighting for two years now, so Mashu seems borderline useless. Holmes figures out it’s Sigurd because...he uses a sword in a Scandinavian Lostbelt, and he figured out that Holmes used magic because Holmes fire magic lasers at him. From this, Holmes is able to pinpoint Sigurd’s identity, and that’s just the setup for the rest of the chapter, really. 

To be specific, what I mean is that we will constantly be told how incredible someone is with very little evidence, and the plot will bend and warp to make certain things happen. 

The scene does exactly one good thing, which is the foreshadowing of Surtr. Coming into it knowing that aspect allowed me to appreciate little bits like Surtr talking about Heroic Spirits like he wasn’t one, and Surtr not being able to kill Mashu because Sigurd resisted it. But that’s about all that was good in the scene, and all it really does is set up a consistent thing of Surtr being one of the only good parts - until he isn’t, of course.

I’m going to shift here from specifics to characters, because otherwise I’d be rehashing the entire story and I don’t have the time or effort required for that. That being said, it is difficult to decide where to start, so I’ll go right to the very building blocks of the story, the themes. 

Lostbelt 2 is, very obviously, attempting to have a theme of different kinds of love throughout the story. Part of this is because it’s very much set up like an otome game that the author Hikaru Sakurai would write, with Ophelia in the center, but it’s a more general theme too, with Skadi and the others all building up towards it. Now, love is an absolutely wonderful thing to build your themes around, exploring and examining it can be great for stories. Beasts themselves do that, examining different varieties of genuine, but toxic love that allow them to be well-meaning monsters.

The problem is that Lostbelt 2 does not engage with these themes on anything but a surface level. Skadi represents maternal love, so she constantly talks about how everyone is her children and how she’s their mother. No examination of the desire to see her children grow, the pain she feels when they fight, the struggle of forcing herself to cling so tightly knowing that it’s suffocating them and going to kill them before they reach 26. 

Napoleon represents passionate love, so he flirts with every woman he sees. No examination of why he’s so passionate or what drives him to burn so brightly, beyond a token mention that for some reason when he’s summoned he’s driven to seek out a lover, another aspect of things happening to serve the plot. 

Sigurd and Brynhildr represent true, romantic love, so they act mushy the entire chapter from the moment the real Sigurd appears. Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked their scenes a lot and I’m happy that they chose that portrayal instead of the one I was afraid of where it was yandere jokes day in day out. But there’s no engagement with the fundamentals of their love, nothing that tests it, even the existing complications with Brynhildr’s tragic summoning are swept away with a single line of “I can resist them better now maybe because my saint graph is broken”, so ultimately there’s no conflict whatsoever. And sure, that’s nice, but it’s not very good if you’re trying to build your story around a theme of love. 

Next, Surtr, who represents obsessive, dangerous love. I honestly actually think Surtr’s done well, even if the love he happens to represent is the least positive one. Surtr is capable of only one thing, destruction, and when he fell for Ophelia in that moment where she saw him and he saw her, he decided that if he ever had the chance, he would repay her the only way he knew how: allowing her to watch as he destroyed everything. When he’s summoned, he acts basically like the possessive one in an otome game, constantly talking about how Ophelia is his woman, getting angry when Napoleon flirts with her, spending most of his time pushing things between them as far as they can go etc. etc. I’m not particularly a fan of how his desire to repay Ophelia battling against his singular purpose transformed him into a typical possessive bastard boyfriend, but it’s at least engaged with on a deeper level.

Finally, Ophelia. She’s the otome game protagonist here, born into an controlling family and finally freed, hiding a secret special power, beloved by almost all the men involved in the chapter while she’s harboring feelings for someone else, even has the typical friendship route with Mashu going on. Her love is a love that she doesn’t acknowledge, but that’s all it is. It’s never engaged with beyond the fact that she clearly loves Kirschtaria but insists she doesn’t, and her final scene as she dies is Mashu telling her that yes, she did love Kirschtaria. That’s all. 

For a theme of love that’s supposedly woven into the Lostbelt, it’s barely examined at all. It’s not well written, and in comparison to Lostbelt 1′s theme of what it means to live in a world where the strong devour the weak and how deeply it examined and engaged with that, it’s a genuine disappointment.

Now, to move onto the plot, it’s...in the abstract, it’s fine. Chaldea is intercepted and forced to fight in the Lostbelt and ends up dragged into the overarching ploy by Surtr to release himself and burn everything. That’s a perfectly fine story, but the problem is that when you get to the moment-to-moment stuff, it falls apart completely. 

Skadi is constantly talked up as this incredibly powerful true goddess, not merely a Divine Spirit, and we know she can see and hear our every move because of her snow. How does the story work around this borderline omniscience within her Lostbelt? Skadi just decides not to do anything about Chaldea with zero rhyme or reason. We need to sneak into the palace and avoid alerting the guards, except Skadi already knows exactly where we are, except that doesn’t matter because we need to sneak in for some reason. We get captured with no plan to escape, and it just so happens that not only was Skadi keeping a Divine Spirit amalgamation locked in the dungeons too, but that she can piggyback on you making a contract with Napoleon (pure dumb luck you hadn’t done it before) and force a connection with you too, and then cast spells to hide you while you escape. Skadi knows we’re trying to free Brynhildr, who is the sole threat to Sigurd and Skadi’s own Valkyries in the entire Lostbelt? She just decides to do nothing at all. 

So much of the plot happens because either Skadi makes terrible decisions to do nothing, even though she knows Chaldea is there to destroy her entire world, or it happens because random shit goes on that couldn’t have been planned for like Sitonai. Shit like Surtr suddenly becoming Fafnir and being able to use the Evil Dragon Phenomenon to brainwash Ophelia somehow, like Ophelia’s Mystic Eye being able to do anything the plot demands, even when it explicitly goes against its existing capabilities like rewinding time on Sigurd’s wounds, like Bryn and Surtr somehow being able to resist the effects of her eye with no buildup or explanation. It’s poorly written in terms of the exact events that happen, and that all culminates in Skadi’s one cool moment, where she declares she’s going to kill the seven billion we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand...and then right after, it reveals that Skadi was going easy on us and refused to use her runes of instant death for no reason even though she was fighting for the survival of her entire world. The moment to moment plot is not good, and neither is what comes next, the worldbuilding.

In Skadi’s Lostbelt, half the world is covered in Surtr’s flames, while the other half is blanketed in Skadi’s snow. Where the two areas meet are the only places where life can grow, and so Skadi set up villages there. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough food for everyone, so she enforces strict population control: if you are not the mother or father of a child by 15, you are sent away to be killed by the giants. If you are the mother or father of a child, you are sent away to be killed at 25 instead. Through this tragic method, Skadi enforces a limit of 100 villages with 100 people, a total population of 10000. This is all fine. 

But take a closer look at what we actually see, and this falls apart. First, the giants. The giants are immortal and never need to eat. They do nothing but sleep all day and attack any human that comes close to them. Later, it’s revealed that they’ll attack any heat source including Valkyries, except we know that’s not true. Giants never attack each other, they never attack and destroy any of the plant life around them, they never attack the Lostbelt tree seeds, they even fight alongside mass-produced Valkyries before it’s revealed that Skadi and the three originals can mind-control them! They exist only to destroy, but Skadi can control them with her masks and indeed uses them as labour, keeping them chained up in her castle to be brought out and controlled as needed, or using them to guard Brynhildr’s castle. 

Worst of all, the first time we meet anyone in the chapter, it’s Gerda, who is sneaking out of her village to go to the massive liveable area close to Village 23. This area happens to be the only place she can go to get medicinal herbs that she needs or one of the people in her village will die in childbirth. This area is also full of giants, who have not destroyed it despite being fertile and full of life and heat, and who are allowed to take this place that could be used to grow more food for humans who need it, and simply stay there doing nothing. 

Now, this is where I thought the game would engage with things. How Skadi, in professing her love for all her children, is actually being cruel and unfair. They certainly set it up in the conversations she has, where she casually mentions how humans must die for her coexistence to continue. Skadi chooses to keep the giants alive despite the fact that they are all braindead and can do nothing but kill and destroy the moment their masks are removed. She chooses to keep them alive even though it comes at the expense of the humans who must die when the giants never make that same sacrifice. She chooses to allow them fertile land even though they cannot farm nor do they need food, and in doing so deprive the humans of potentially living longer, having more supplies to do so. She makes these strange choices and then later reveals she can control the giants to do her bidding, and it all seems to fall into place. 

What we see from how she’s characterized early on is that the system is unfair and Skadi is unwilling to change, because it benefits her tremendously. Gerda’s village didn’t have enough herbs to save the children forced to breed by 15, and despite Skadi’s omniscience letting her know that Gerda had snuck out and was trying to save a life, she did nothing. There was no system in place to beg a Valkyrie to get these herbs, and no indication whatsoever that Skadi would use her powers to control the giants to save Gerda’s life. The picture painted is someone who cares about humanity not out of true care, but simply out of obligation. Those who disobey her rules, even for good reasons, are left to die by the engines of destruction she keeps alive.

That’s not the story it tells later on, though. Skadi, portrayed from the start as this all-powerful goddess with complete control over everything, is revealed to be far weaker than we thought, and far less monstrous. Ignore all the times she did control the giants, she actually can’t do it all that well. Ignore all the times she declared she would not allow anyone she loved to be killed, but chose not to act to tell her Valkyries or her giants or anything else to save either Chaldea or Gerda. Ignore the evidence we see on screen that there’s more land that’s simply taken over by the giants, Skadi can only make those initial 100 villages and can’t make any more. Skadi is not bad. Skadi did the best she could. Skadi is morally right. 

Please love Skadi, there’s no complicated moral quandary here, she’s just Good.

Comparisons to Lostbelt 1 are impossible to avoid. Both have the same basic cause, a calamity that was impossible to predict and impossible to avert. The stagnation that dooms a Lostbelt created by the kings in question in their desperation to survive. Ivan turned humanity into the Yaga and created a world of strength, where progress is impossible because everyone in his new world was too busy devouring each other to work together. Skadi created a world of weakness, where progress is impossible because she limited the population to avoid everyone dying out. There is, however, one crucial difference between the two. Not in terms of story, not in terms of characters, not in terms of themes. 

“Your existence itself has already become a grave sin.”

That one line, spoken to Ivan, is the biggest difference between how the story engages things. In both Lostbelts, Ivan and Skadi did horrible things and made horrible choices because they had to, for the sake of survival. Ivan twisted humanity into monsters that lost capacity for mercy or empathy, while Skadi forced brutal population control and careless death on humanity because of her refusal to allow the giants to be destroyed. Both of them did horrible things, but only one is held to account by the story.

What Ivan did was evil, and the story recognises it. It doesn’t accept the excuse that it was all necessary for survival, because that’s irrelevant. It’s evil regardless. This same sentiment should have been expressed with Skadi, but it’s not. Ivan is condemned, but Skadi is absolved. She had no choice. She did the best she could. After building her up as all-powerful, the end of the story instead destroys her agency and power in its haste to prevent any kind of responsibility falling on Skadi’s head. Even to the very end, where she declares that she’ll kill all seven billion lives we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand, she holds back and allows us to win, despite how it butchers her character.

The biggest irony in all this is that Ivan’s world was worse than hers in ways. There was no way for the blizzards to stop, no meat besides for the demonic beasts. Crops couldn’t grow, and instead of living in peace, the Yaga were constantly tormented and killed by the Oprichniki. There were no liveable areas like there are in Lostbelt 2, no merciful ruler that sees all, and controls the greatest threats, no peaceful villages where food can be grown. There’s far more justification for Ivan to claim he had no choice and that he did all he did for survival, because it’s hard to see what his choices were. But Skadi? Skadi intentionally does not act and intentionally allows suffering and pain to come to her children, both actively by not saving Gerda, and passively by allowing the giants to take land they don’t need. Despite this, Skadi is absolved, because the story desperately wants her to be a tragic waifu that you love.

There’s lots more I could talk about. How Sitonai was pointless and existed only for a pathetic FSN reference. How Gerda was a cowardly and manipulative piece of writing compared to Patxi. How Ophelia’s story of always being told what to do is resolved not by her taking the step to freedom herself, but being told to free herself by someone else. The constant repetition that plagues the chapter, the weirdly prevalent sexism that everyone gets in on when it comes to Ophelia’s love life, the nonsense of the final battle itself, the absolute nonsense of Skadi being Scáthach-Skadi. I could even talk about how I’d fix the chapter, because boy howdy there’s a lot there. 

There’s lots more I could talk about, but this is already very long, and I think it speaks for itself. Obviously asks are available if anyone wants me to examine them in more detail, but for now, I’ll finish off with one last reminder.

Lostbelt 2 is bad.  

[wesawbears]

My @geraskierholidayexchange gift for @keepcalmandexpectopatronum934. I hope you enjoy! This ended up being inspired by the movie Elf. Happy holidays!

--

In and out Jaskier, he told himself as he adjusted his new work uniform. This was just a temporary gig until he got back on his feet. Besides, it was performance experience, in a way. Perhaps not the kind he’d been expecting, but he’d learned long ago to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

Or a gift paycheck, as it were.

With a good luck jingle of his hat and a final tug on his elf ears to ensure they stayed in place, he headed inside to a Christmas wonderland.

More accurately, it was a mall toy store, but hey. Magic! Christmas spirit! Jaskier had never been fussy.

He looked around, glancing at the children milling about, exasperated parents trying to keep them from knocking everything off the shelves. Jaskier supposed he should be grateful, considering cleaning up their messes was now part of his job. Not seeing a manager around, he found the first employee he could see.

The man was tall, with snow white hair tucked up underneath an elf hat similar to Jaskier’s. He was hanging ornaments on a tree in the center of the store, likely ones that some of the running children had knocked over in their haste. He leaned down to pick up a stray ornament the man had missed, hoping to extend it as a token of goodwill toward his fellow employee. 

“I love the way you hang those ornaments. Truly an, uh, inspiring show of elfdom.”

The other man stared back at him like he was a space alien, which, okay, fair, that wasn’t one of Jaskier’s better introductions, but what was he supposed to say? 

“I’m working on this alone. Go away before Emhyr finds you and fires you.”

“Sorry. Just a bit turned around. I’m Jaskier.” He stuckout his hand, only to realize that his coworker had his hands full. 

“Geralt,” the other man said, not glancing away from the tree. 

“Nice to meet you! Do you happen to know where the manager might be then?”

As if on cue, another voice sounded behind him. “Geralt, those ornaments are supposed to be spaced apart at 3.8 in.”

“I can’t measure that in my head-”

“Figure it out.” the unfamiliar man turned to Jaskier. “You’re new. Follow me.”

Jaskier gave a last sympathetic glance back to Geralt, before following the manager to the back room.

Well, at least if he was working here for the season, he would have some eye candy while he did it.

--

It didn’t take long for Jaskier to learn Emhyr hated his fucking guts, and that he would undoubtedly be out of a job come January, but he didn’t mind too much. Being a hated employee ensured that he worked closing shift, which meant he got to work with Geralt. They’d fallen into somewhat of a routine over the last few weeks, cleaning while Jaskier changed the Christmas music to his carefully curated Spotify playlists, which Geralt steadfastly ignored. He’d learned that Geralt worked outdoors, so his job at the local nature preserve didn’t need him during the winter. He also knew that the only reason Emhyr hadn’t fired Geralt for his grumpy nature was that Geralt was Emhyr’s daughter Ciri’s godfather, in an arrangement far too complex for Jaskier to comprehend. In turn, he told Geralt about his performance aspirations, along with every other thought that came to his mind. Geralt didn’t say much, but he listened and made dry comments every so often and Jaskier was in love with him.

Jaskier had always fallen easily, it’s true, but that didn’t take away the flutter in his heart each time one of Geralt’s small smiles was sent his way, a wry laugh into a bottle of water as they waited for the time to switch to ten so they could lock up.

On one such night, the week before Christmas, Jaskier perched himself on the counter, watching Geralt finish cleaning the last of the displays. “Thank you, dearest. You know you’re so much better at organizing those than I am, and I’m pretty sure I’m one fuck up away from getting fired.”

Geralt snorted. “Emhyr won’t fire you. He still needs a warm body in the store and no one else will take night shift.”

“Except you. What is the deal with him anyway? He doesn’t seem the...toy store type. Seems more like a...retail baron to me.”

“He’s not. He’s a regional finance manager. They just couldn’t find anyone else to run the store this year. That’s why he’s being pissier than usual.”

“That...makes more sense. But he gets to see your smiling face, so, you know, a jolly time.”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “Yeah. He’s thrilled to see me. I’m sure my work ethic is what’s keeping him from spiking my eggnog at Christmas this year.”

“Has he...is that a legitimate worry?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. Probably not.”

“That family dynamic will never make sense to me.”

Geralt sighed and leaned against the counter. “We make it work. For Ciri.”

“Is she excited for Christmas?”

“She is. Between here and spending time with her, I can’t get away from it.”

Jaskier frowned. “You don’t like Christmas?”

Geralt shrugged. “It just...wasn’t a big deal for me growing up.”

“That’s so sad!” Jaskier loved Christmas. Though he didn’t really spend time with his family anymore, he had fond memories of the annual Christmas party- the music, the desserts, the presents. Just the general feeling that all was right with the world.

“It’s fine. It’s just another day.”

“How are you making me even sadder?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Dramatic.”

“Of course,” Jaskier answered with a small flourish. “Geralt! I have an idea!”

“Careful. Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”

Jaskier huffed. “I’ll show you the magic of Christmas! I”ll be like...your Christmas elf! Your spirit advisor.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“You are so mean to me. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Geralt shot him an incredulous look, but acquiesced. “What would...that...entail?”

“First rule of Christmas from your official spirit advisor: Christmas is about surprises.”

“I hate surprises.”

“That’s the spirit!”

--

They decided to hold their Christmas adventure two days later, since Emhyr had told them their services weren’t needed due to a school group volunteering to work as “Santa’s Elves” that day. They met up at the mall at 3, when they usually started work. Jaskier was decked (the halls) out in a very shiny Christmas sweater, while Geralt was in his finest funeral blacks. He had dressed warmly though, as requested, so Jaskier wasn’t going to complain too much.

“Ready, star pupil?”

“No. But I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You do not.”

“Hmm.”

They headed out into the cold. The mall was just a short walk away from the rest of town, and Jaskier figured they could look at the lights on the way there. “My mom and sisters and I would always go walk around and try to pick our favorite lights every year. I thought we could try that. As an easy intro activity.”

Geralt glanced around, furrow in his brow. “They all look the same.”

“They do not! It’s like you’re not even trying.”

“Then show me what you see, spirit advisor.”

“Fine,” Jaskier huffed. “Those ones, over there. They look like icicles on the trees. I like them because they sparkle off the snow and from far away, they just...ooze Christmas.”

“Hmm.”

“But I also like the more colorful ones. You can’t tell me that seeing lights everywhere doesn’t leave you feeling the least bit festive?”

“They’re just...bright.”

“Fine, sir humbug. Be difficult.”

They made their way into town, Jaskier showing him different lights, and Geralt remaining unmoved. He felt it was truly a lot cause when Geralt made a noise next to him. “Those ones.”

“Which ones?”

“There. Next to the coffee shop.”

There was a small display, only the barest flash of lights that looked like holly and ivy. They were much more subdued than anything Jaskier picked out, but he couldn’t bring himself to dull Geralt’s small bit of enthusiasm. “They’re lovely. See, you’re getting the hang of it!”

“I’m also getting cold.”

“There’s just no pleasing you. Well, I suppose we could stop for a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier led them inside, ordering a large hot chocolate for himself, while Geralt ordered a black coffee.

“Geralt! Come on, you have to get something at least a little Christmas-y.”

“Fine. One pump of peppermint.”

“Oh for the love of God.”

He allowed Geralt his approximation of holiday cheer and sat at one of the tables. He watched smugly as Geralt took a sip and held back a grimace at his concoction.

“How is it?”

“People put peppermint in coffee all the time. How do they like this?”

“Well, usually there’s also chocolate…”

“Too sweet.”

“Unfortunate,” Jaskier said, taking a large sip of his hot chocolate.

“Jaskier...I...appreciate you doing this for me, but I think I’m just not meant for-”

“For Christmas? For nice things?”

“It’s just not my thing.”

Jaskier pursed his lips. “Well, be that as it may, I am your spirit advisor, and I did promise. At least allow me to try one more thing.”

Geralt nodded. Bolstered by his reaction, Jaskier pulled a small box out of his jacket.

“What’s that?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a very good Christmas demonstration without a present, would it?”

“I don’t have anything for you.”

Jaskier waved his hand. “Seeing your face as you open this is gift enough. Open it!”

Geralt took the box wearily and unwrapped it carefully. Jaskier had half expected him to tear the wrapping paper apart, but instead he carefully untucked and smoothed out every edge. Inside was a small ornament, in the shape of a lion’s paw. Geralt stared at it quietly and Jaskier felt himself fidget.

“I know you call Ciri your little lion cub sometimes. I overheard you on the phone with her, and, you know, maybe I overstepped…” 

“Jaskier. Thank you. It’s...perfect.”

He looked up and saw Geralt with a soft smile, only this time it was only for Jaskier and he felt his heart melt. “You’re very, very welcome, Geralt,” he said, reaching out to clasp their hands together.

Geralt looked at their joined hands and slowly brought them to his lips. He kissed the back of Jaskier’s hand and he felt himself flush like a maiden in a period piece. Gracious, it was warm in here.

“Geralt…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his hand away. “I shouldn’t have…”

“You missed.”

The furrow in his brow was back. “What?”

Jaskier smiled. “You missed. Let me show you.”

He leaned forward and kissed Geralt softly, letting him take the lead and move forward to capture Jaskier’s lips fully. It was a bit minty and the angle was wrong, but Jaskier felt his heart swell anyway. It was perfectly Geralt.

They pulled away, and Jaskier smiled at the uncharacteristic flush across Geralt’s cheeks.

“Well,” he broke the silence, “I suppose my work here is done.”

“How’s that?”

“Nothing says Christmas like a Christmas kiss.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Jaskier laughed and stood. “You should know I always am, darling. Now, come on! We don’t want to miss the ice skating rink…”

[ot5ismyhome]

10. Healing

I'm so sorry for posting very late. I had exams. Lol It's still going on now but I wanted to post something. Hope you like this chapter.

To read the story from beginning click here.

*****

As therapy progressed Wanda started regaining control of her life. One day, she decided to go back to her office. At the entrance, she was met by Davis who nodded his head sympathetically at her. She was hoping not to run into anyone else she knew. She didn’t want any more sympathetic nods. Fortunately, she didn’t see anyone. She got in the elevator and was about to press the button for her floor when a woman with loads of files in her hand rushed in. Seeing Wanda, she gave a grin. To be polite, Wanda returned her smile. Daisy recognised Wanda as soon as she saw, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to make her relive that night.

“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before” Daisy said trying to keep it casual.

“No. I just... took a break. I’m Wanda, and you?”

“Daisy Johnson of your secret hacking division.”

Wanda raised her eyebrow at the funny introduction by the other woman.

Daisy laughed, “I’m intern at Comms”

“Great. How do you like it here?”

“Boring. So many rules and protocols.” After a pause, Daisy added, “Which department are you from?”

“I’m Mr. Rogers’ assistant.” Wanda smiled.

“When will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut, Daisy?” she spoke to herself. “Well. Then, I have a reason to come to the top floor” she winked at Wanda. Wanda was taken back and didn’t know how to react. The lift opened and Daisy got out, “See you later.”

The elevator continued to Steve’s floor. Wanda got out and made her way to her office. It looked different but it felt familiar. The office has been cleaned and some things have been moved. She checked the shelves and all her things were still there. As she settled into her office, she felt a wave of familiarity wash over her. She was in a known surrounding. Small steps at a time she said to herself.

On her way to the conference room, she bumped into the new Head of Communication, Billy Koenig. They made some small talk and went on their ways. Things have changed around her Wanda thought.

By afternoon, Howard came to visit her. Seeing him after a long time made her lose it. It reminded of the time when everything wasn’t messed up. She started trembling and crying. She was able to let everything out. The familiar presence by her side was warm welcome. He held her and consoled her till her tears subsided. When Wanda calmed down bit Howard had offered to take her home then but she declined. 

“Then come over to my lab.”

“That sounds fine.”

They both went down to his lab. They talked the rest of the day. Wanda felt better at the end of the day. 

…..

Five months later

“I can’t come to the movies tonight. You guys go on. Maybe we can hang out some other time” said Carol. She was Steve’s chief advisor on Foreign Relations.

“Date night?” asked Piper.

“Yeah. I planned something sweet for my wife. I don’t want to postpone it”

“That’s cool. Other’s on board?” asked Daisy.

“Yeah,” said Davis. “And Carol, when is your wife due?”

“Two months from now”

“Decided on the name?” asked Piper. 

“Yeah. Monica” Carol beamed.

“That’s cute,” said Wanda.

“What about you Piper? When are you planning to pop the big question? When are you planning on expanding the family?” Daisy teased.

“Guys. Guys, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I like how things are going with Becca. I’m not thinking much into the future right now.”

“What about you, Daisy? Met any new person.” asked Wanda.

Daisy laughed. “I don’t have much luck in the dating front. You know, one time …” Daisy started narrating a funny story. The group laughed and joked till they had to get back to work.

One months later

It was the last therapy session for Wanda. Andrew was satisfied with her improvement throughout the session. He asked her to keep in touch if any need arises contact him for any problem. Wanda thanked him and got up from the sofa.

“What plans do you have for today?”

“I’m moving into a new house.”

“Glad to hear that. Good luck, Wanda.”

“Thanks, Andrew.”

As usual Andrew walked Wanda to the entrance before preparing for his next client. Wanda walked to her car and started it. She drove to her old apartment but paused at the entrance. She hadn’t gone back there for a long time. She didn’t want to go back. She feared it would open the closed wounds. She stood at the corner of the road, staring at the building. Steve’s car caught her eyes. She reminded herself that he was there for her and she doesn’t have to go through this alone.

Wanda climbed the familiar stairs and reached her old apartment. She went in to see Steve already packing everything. Seeing her he gave a small smile. She joined him.

“You don’t have to pack by yourself. You could have waited till I came back.”

“Who said I did by myself? The others are also here.”

Hearing the conversation, Natasha peeped out of her bedroom and gave a smile. Wanda smiled back. She went into the kitchen and saw Tony and Howard working together. She was surprised as she stood in the doorway and looked at the father-son duo. Sensing her presence both turned towards her. She gave a small smile and went back to the living room and joined Steve.

“Sorry guys. I’m late” they heard a voice by the door. They turned to see Coulson standing there with a smile.

“Hey, Coulson” Wanda greeted him. “It’s been long. How’s work going on?”

“It’s classified,” he replied with a smile. He joined the others to help them pack.

All the stuff in every room was packed except Pietro’s, Wanda opened the door and stepped in. She let out the breath she was accidently holding. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see it was Steve. He was there to assure her that she doesn’t have to mourn alone. He was there to share her grief. Together they started packing his stuff. After they were done, the movers loaded it into the truck. The house felt different without the things. She went back to Pietro’s room to look at it one last time. Even though she stood alone she could feel her brother’s warm presence. She embraced herself and took one final look at the room. She walked out of the room and joined the others. They set out for the new place.

It was a cosy condo in the outskirts of Brooklyn near Steve’s place. Steve had suggested it to her when she asked him. She liked the place when she saw it first. When she took the tour of the place, she fell in love with it. It was fully furnished. The house looked elegant but not too extravagant for Wanda’s taste. They reached the new place and waited for the movers. After unloading the boxes, Natasha went out to pick up Bucky who was planning to join them for dinner. On the way back, they bought some take outs and drinks. The dinner was filled with quirky conversations and crappy jokes.

“I have an announcement. I’m going to Wakanda next month” Howard announced with pride.

“For how long?” Wanda asked.

“For about six months.”

“You know, Howard. You have to run these things by your employer first.”

“I forgot you were here. I thought you and Bucky were doing laundry” Howard snorted.

Steve and Bucky became red. The others burst out laughing.

Wanda thought about the first time they had hung out together. Everything was very different now. She thought they were just normal group of friends. Now she knew most of the group were vampires. Coulson is the Director of S.T.A.K.E. And she was ‘I’ now. But she knew she will be alright. As long as she had her friends by her side.

…..

Two months later

It was a bright sunny day and the sun’s rays danced on the graveyard grass. The tomb stones shone in the light. The leaves rustled in the mild summer breeze. Wanda walked to the empty grave with flowers in her hand. Thompson accompanied her. They laid the flowers on the empty grave. Thompson walked away for some time to give her alone time with her brother. After she had talked, they sat near the grave and recollected the memories of Pietro as a token of celebrating his life. By afternoon, they decided to leave.

“I will wait in the car,” Wanda said, slightly gripping his shoulders for support.

Thompson nodded.

After visiting Pietro's grave both of them drove to a nearby café. They ordered a coffee each and settled in an empty table.

“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you before. I was-”

“Hey, it’s okay. I understand. We both were not in a good place. No bad feelings” Wanda reassured him.

Thompson gave a weak smile.

“How’s work?”

Thompson opened his mouth to talk but Wanda intervened again.

“Oh wait!” she said “It’s classified” she said mimicking Coulson.

Both of them chuckled. “That wasn’t a very good impression of Coulson but I will let it pass” he laughed.

“We should do this often. Meet and catch up with each other” Thompson offered.

“That would be nice,” Wanda smiled.

*****

Chapter 11

[herenortherenearnorfar]

I’m waiting on a proofread on my long fic but here’s some bonus Maha content!

“To raise you is a gift,” your nana tells you in the secret language. The language that is shared between just you, your parents, and the trees. (There are two languages for you three and your garden, they just use the first one more.) “You are a treasure we have been entrusted with and we were grateful from the first moment we saw you.”

A little older you learn what she meant. You were a gift, you were given. A servant with no other family died and the king handed her baby off to the inhuman creatures who resided with him, to raise as their own.

“Are you glad my mother died?” you ask at six.

Your atha looks horrified. “No! How could we be glad?”

“Because you got me.” It seems an easy enough equation. Her death was their gain. They like kids a lot, they’re always delighted when they get to help a baby, but parents keep them away from their children. If they let parents die they might have even more children to take care of.

“Every child deserves a family,” he says gravely, kneeling in the dark red dirt of the garden. “Their own family. You were deprived of one and we were allowed to step in to help, but there’s nothing to be happy about. That parting was a sorrow.”

“So you didn’t want me?” That servant woman, dead of a concussion when you were just three months old, is a story to you. A specter who gave you your small hands and round eyes. Her imagined death stings less than the concept that the two most important people in your life wouldn’t have always fought for you. That there’s a world where you’re a servant’s daughter and they’re the tall, gleaming eyed guests all children are warned away from, and they don’t hold you tight and tell you secret stories of their forest homelands.

“We didn’t know how dearly we loved you until you were in our arms,” atha reassures you, “Then once you were there it was like we couldn’t have known life without you.”

Your parents always know exactly what to say.

One day the three of you will leave this land, the place where you were born. Your nana and atha have stayed here a long time, dwelling among humans instead of their own kin. They couldn’t find their kin, when they went looking. Some of the places they used to live had changed or disappeared over the centuries and others had been abandoned, there was no trace of the people of their youth.

So they tarried a while with the king. But it’s been a century and they want to go home. They tell you stories, in their language, about a wet green wood full of tall folk just like them. Nighttime people, fading people. In their language, edhwellen, cwendi kind, elves.

There’s a king there too, named Oropher, and a lovely court, though your parents never frequented it much. Were older than it and above its turnings.

(Your parents are older than lots of things. Once your mother said she remembered a time before the sun.)

Instead they kept to the trees, and made their home among the wild things. They were healers and menders of broken things, just like have been for your whole life, and they lived in a pretty house inside a big tree.

“Bigger around than a tower, taller than the sky, Maha,” your atha says.

They left a son there too. Grown up and busy with his own adventures, he’s a guard in the court of that far western king. They miss him dearly, you can tell, and are quick to tell you about how much he would love know that he has a little sister.

They plan to go home some day but when you’re four they must have some sort of conversation behind your back because they start insisting that they will, if you want, stay. “This is your home, you can live here if you want. We do not mean to leave immediately, you can grow up and make your own choices.”

But you want to go. They’ve convinced you already with their tales of traveling and fairy kings and loving big brothers. (None of the children here play with you. You’re either an upjumped servant’s daughter or ward of two frighteningly high ranked royal intimates, and always the child of unpredictable magical forces.)

“Oh,” your nana says, looking at your atha over your head after you finish demanding your chance at the home they’ve always promised. “Maybe when you’re older then. Thirty—“ another look and she amends, “Twenty. Then we’ll go.”

Your parents make it clear to you from an early age not to bandy about your leaving plans with strangers. It’s easy enough to obey that order, you just don’t talk about it in human language.

When you’re eight you learn that the last time your parents were too loud about wanting to walk away the king panicked and gave them a baby— gave them you.

There are some things you’ll miss when you leave home forever. As you grow you start cataloguing them. You’ll miss the garden and all the plants there, who whisper to you and sing songs in the night. There are different plants in the west, nana and atha have told you, so you make sure to spend time with all your favorites while you can.

The herbs are your special friends, though they’re so quiet you can barely hear their little voices. Maybe that’s better when you need to rip them up to make medicine. You shower affection on the brahmi, the basil, the pennywort, and the pink lotuses in their marble pool.

You’ll miss the servants, especially the kitchen servants who are especially fond of you because your mother was one of them. A pot fell on her head when she was trying to fetch it from the wall, you’re told her death was quick but the guilt still clearly lingers enough for them to give you fruit and halva when you visit.

There’s the king too, who is always coming to talk to your parents. Even if he thought you were an anchor, he’s jolly and gentle and as desperate for your nana and atha’s attention as you are. They have been around since his grandfather’s reign, are as much a part of the kingdom as the hills and the palace. A good luck charm, the blessing of the nighttime people.

His wives are nice too, they give you dates— you are a child blessed with fruit— and sometimes let you hold their babies. Most people don’t do that, they’re too afraid that you might have become enough of a nighttime person to want to steal babies for your own. There are still stories about that, especially from villages near the rivers and the woods. Children will go missing and they’ll say the nighttime people took them.

Desperate for news of the family they left years ago (maybe before there was a sun) either your nana or your atha goes to investigate every one of those stories. They always come back disappointed— the edhwellen didn’t take the children— and they never quite want to tell you where the children went if they were stolen or given away.

You’ll miss the animals, the peacocks in the courtyards, the elephants sometimes brought to market to lift heavy goods or wear armor and make war, the tiger skins to show how brave and wealthy this land is. Atha says there are no tigers there, just bears.

The last thing about the palace that you’ll miss is the language. Of the three languages of your childhood, it’s the first and loudest. Everyone speaks the human language. For a while you don’t even realize that you might lose it, surely there are humans near the Greenwood? Then parents explain that just like there are many elf languages (they speak two) there are many human languages too. No one in the west speaks your mother tongue.

When you leave it will be lost to you forever. Except your parents, of course, but they don’t count, they’re practically a part of you at this age.

“Maybe I do want to come back,” you say thoughtful and five. “When I’m really old. A zillion years old. It would be sad to be old and not have all your languages with you.”

“We can come back,” nana promises.

At six you realize that humans die and that you’re human. Your parents are not.

“In our Greenwood,” you ask as your parents curl around you, lulling you to sleep. It’s always your Greenwood. “Will I be the only person who’ll get old?”

“I don’t know,” atha says, “there weren’t many humans there when we last lived there. That was a long time ago though.”

Nana strokes your hair. It’s baby short, not like their long, glossy black curls. They have prettier hair than anyone else in the palace. “Do you not want to be the only person who’ll get old?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, uncertain with sleep. Really you don’t want to get old at all, but that discussion has already been had. Your parents are miracle workers in some regards but they can’t give you their immortality the way you were given to them. (“Though we would in a heartbeat,” nana swore, “if that was what you desired.”)

More hair stroking. “We’ll still love you, no matter how old you get.” That reassurance is enough, though you still have a few weeks nightmares about your parents getting a new baby to replace you when you’re an old lady.

Atha teaches you to write in Sindarin as best he knows how, while Nana complains that back in her day no one wrote anything down. No one teaches you to write in the language of your birth, you’re not sure your parents know how, but you sit in the younger queen’s courtyard while the four year old prince is with his tutor and pick it up by osmosis. The curly letters of this script are like the ones atha showed you, digging a stick into the ground. Different sorts of curl, different sorts of connection.

You write stories you remember in the dirt in the garden, digging down with you stick till the pale pink tile beneath the earth shines through. You label all the plants you know phonetically and delight in knowledge.

When you’re eight there are dignitaries from a visiting kingdom at court. You crowd with other titleless, jobless busybodies— noble children, bored wives, more privileged servants— and strain to see the visitors. The bring gifts, people in chains.

There are scandalized whispers from the grownups.

“A small token of our friendship,” says the unctuous ambassador, before beginning another litany of compliments for the king. “May we forever remain allies in the face of enemies.”

You learn later that this token of appreciation is considered in poor taste. It is acceptable to keep war prisoners and ask labor of them, but to drag them away from the place of their defeat, treat them as trade goods, deny their families the chance to ransom them? The king cannot, in good conscience, accept the alliance from your desperate neighbor.

You’re glad. Anyone willing to use people as gifts is not a good friend. Even your mother, who bore you and loved you for three months, though she was a debt servant was still a person.

You don’t ask why they’re so hungry for allies, so ready to trade anything. Maybe you should have but three months later they’re conquered by some big western kingdom, sprawling, hungry, bannered by a black hand on a white background, and it doesn’t matter anymore.

There are two languages of the nighttime people that your parents teach you. The first you learn very well. It’s called Sindarin and it’s spoken in your Greenwood. You like it, its bumps and grumbles. A language for old trees talking.

The other one is Windan. There are echoes of it in Sindarin, pale traces like seeing shared features in two cousins. When your parents struggle to find a word in one they’ll reach for the other, so the two blend together in your mind. Windan is the language of the night. Long ago a people who loved the stars more than anything else lived in the forests south of your home. Your parents lived there. And even further East, past mountains and wilds, is the place where all language began.

Nana and atha left to explore. Their hearts are wild, the rest of their kind scorned them for it. Even when they settled in a green wood where the stars are strange they still loved to wander, to make friends with dwarves and pale northern men.

They sing their night songs to the stars; you learn simply by listening, till you can sing along. This is ageless and it feels like it could last forever. Somewhere in the woods you hope the rest of the nighttime people are listening too.

Your mother was indentured by debt but none of that transfers to a baby. It’s the law, supported by custom, children are free, you checked.

There is a mass of armies stationed along your border. You’re nine and these petty human affairs don’t concern you much. This kingdom has always been a place for leaving. The queens are worried but the servants are not, and the servants seem eminently more sensible than the queens (though those bejeweled, bangled ladies are kind).

You are not worried until the king comes to your parents, terrified, and says, “They asked for you. In the letter, they asked for you.”

Together, your parents take him in, make him warm spiced tea, and ask him gentle questions. There’s a reason he loves them, it’s not just because they were the last thing he had of his grandfather when he was a little king.

Very nicely, they ask you to stay in the garden. “Sing to the stars for us, Maha,” they say. Silly since it’s barely twilight, the only star that’s out is the evening star (which nana says isn’t a star at all, it’s a person).

Instead on singing you eavesdrop, and hear nothing that makes any sense. There’s a big darkness, your parents say, which is obvious, it’s almost night time, and they’ve never felt anything like this before, only heard of it. There is a great darkness and they warn the king to be careful, because they are going to have to go. They offer to take the little princes, the baby princess. This evil does not respect the old laws of war, they caution.

“Go,” the king says, “Be safe. But a king cannot run where his people cannot follow.”

“That I can respect,” atha says sadly. “Live well. Do not fear to look this evil in the eye. I hear it has been struck down before.”

Nana opens the door sharply, she has a very quiet step, and doesn’t even look disappointed to find you listening. “Come along,” she orders. “We have to leave tonight.”

You are nine and deep among the dry red hills. There are villages here, herders and farmers of plants that need little rain. Nana and atha have steered away from them. “We can’t bring trouble down where we were once welcomed,” they caution.

Luckily they are good at finding water, good at knowing what plants are good to eat. Even here, without the tree-talk to guide them, they understand their surroundings.

It’s hard to go from a palace to the woods, sleeping in the dirt and eating tubers instead of pomegranates. But every day your parents’ faces grow more grim. It’s as if they’ve seen great horrors every night in their dreams. You can’t complain, you can’t.

At night, on a hill where you can see the beginnings of the wet lowlands on the horizon, you are caught. It happens before you can wake up. One minute you’re asleep between your parents, the next you’re in the arms of a monster with a metal shell, being ripped away from safety and love.

You scream and scream until one of the soldiers in their shiny bronze breastplates hits you. Then you just cry, as quietly as you can.

No one lets you see your parents. A few of the soldiers, in the lacquered pangolin scale of your own kingdom, feed you. Above your head they whisper, “They really do steal children.”

Amid the humans are monsters, monsters you recognize from your childhood bedtime stories. Goblins, imps made to look like edhwellen, tricksy and bad where the nighttime people are true, loathing song and starlight and water. That would set off another round of screaming if you thought you could get away with it.

It’s impossible to ride in your clothes, a swoop of folded and pleated cloth. No one has ever thought you’d who’d need trousers. So one of the soldiers just scoops you up and carries you, like a sack of rice. It must help that you are small; your parents, so tall and strong, would be harder to carry.

There are heads above the gate of the city where you grew up. One of them wears a kingly turban, perhaps to identify it as it decays. It’s been days since you left the palace and in the hot sun the face is already a little bloated.

The soldiers give you to the palace guard, who know you, look at you with pity, put you in a nice little room and do not tell you anything. Neither do the kitchen servants, though they give you extra fruit.

Eventually you are brought out of your room by the king’s younger brother. He lives far away, visits as often as he can, and has only spoken to your parents a few times. The last time you saw him was at his wedding, just a two years ago. When you’re older you’ll realize how young he is, at nine he seems as much a grownup as anyone else.

“Where are my nana and atha?” you cry, used to getting what you want, used to being the spoilt elf-child. The new king’s face wrinkles up, then he realizes what you call your parents and his worried expression goes slack with sympathy.

He kneels down, as if to make himself less imposing in his finery. “Ah, child. I’m sorry, they’re dead.”

The only thing you feel is disbelief. Your parents are immortal.

You open your mouth again, to demand more answers, but he’s a king with places to be. He takes a small wooden chest from one of his guards and hands it to you. “Here, hold this and follow me.”

Terrified of more violence, more awful and unbelievable bad news, you obey. Trotting after them you peek inside the box to see the gleam of gold.

In the main room there’s a man in the king’s seat.

No, you amend. Not a man. Men don’t look like this. He’s like your parents refined. His hair gleams thrice as bright as your nana’s did, his eyes smoulder where theirs’ gently gleamed. There is a spectrum of devastating glory, from regular people, to the famed beauties and prettiest dancers, to nana and atha, to the monster in front of you.

He is speaking with a cringing man next to him. Without turning his head, he pauses his conversation.

“I take it you have found no evidence of what I seek?” he speaks your language effortlessly, though he doesn’t look like he came from your home. He looks like… he looks like a little bit of everything. The way nana and atha did. Like you can catch wisps of familiarity in his features but when you strain to catch it the sense of sameness is gone.

“No, my lord,” the poor king admits. “It is as was initially said, there’s nothing in the forests.”

“Well, if none of the Firstborn are here I have no reason to stay. What a disappointment.”

You are quaking, desperate, beginning to think that maybe your parents aren’t invincible after all, and in the midst of that uncertain grief the new king pushes you forward. “My lord, I have their foster daughter! Take her, as a gift, for your kindness.”

The compression of flame doesn’t even look at you. “A human orphan. How generous. I’ll make arrangements for us to take our leave.”

Your parents will never hug you again. They will never whisper to you in a secret tongue, tell you the names of plants and their uses, show you how to soothe a graft on a tree or a recently set bone, tell you stories about the lake where the world began.

They’ll never see their house inside a big tree again.

They’ll never see their son and explain where they went, why they spent so many years away. There will never be a joyous reunion in a bright green wood with you squished small between your family.

They’ll never see you die, never get to mourn you. Once you wished so hard for that outcome and now it feels like the worst thing in the world.

In the aftermath, when you’re not sure where you are supposed to go or who you are supposed to go to, a man with a long grey beard and a dark robe comes up to you.

“Seldë,” he says seriously, which you don’t understand. Then he tries again, in accented Sindarin. “Little girl.”

You clutch the wooden chest, containing a small treasure of gold in jewelry, a last gift before you were given away again, tighter to your chest. “Yes?”

“Can you read and write?” he asks.

You nod.

“In what languages?” After you tell him he looks pleased. “Good, good girl. I’ll take you then. We need more clever hands.”

“Can’t I stay?” you plead. The treasure chest might buy you a bit of safety. You could work in the kitchens, or live in a house all alone with a garden. Maybe they’d let you bury your parents under trees.

The old man frowns. “Why would you? You have a gift, we can use you. Come now, I’ll get you settled.”

You are told you should be grateful. You’re lucky to be in the favor of one of the more permanent appointments in this small court. There’s a bed, food, long days spent hunched over copying without leaf or tree or sunlight. You learn to write in ink rather than dirt, develop a good hand, are told you ought to appreciate your master’s patience. But shouldn’t they be glad to have you?

Aren’t you a gift?

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: this body yet survives, ch. 5

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Qǐrén, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jiāng Yànlí

Additional Tags: No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals

Summary: Wangji approaches the Jiang siblings with betrothal gifts, hoping for their approval. More of Wei Wuxian's self-esteem issues rear their ugly heads.

Notes: See end

Parts 1 & 2

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

AO3 link

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Wei Ying offered to help carry the baskets, or even the two cages containing a fat white-feathered wuguji rooster apiece, but Wangji refused to let him—it seemed improper to have him carry any part of the betrothal gifts. 

Fortunately, xiongzhang and the outer disciple were both able to help. Wangji could not recall the young man’s name, only that he was an average cultivator with merely adequate guqin skills. Wangji himself carried the cages.

On the way to the guest house Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli were staying in, Wei Ying stayed close, one hand grasping the edge of Wangji’s sleeve, the other holding the box with his forehead ribbon with a sort of reverence. He kept looking at it, his expression tinged with wonder and disbelief. 

Wangji knew it would take time for Wei Ying to process the events of today; he wondered if perhaps everything was moving too quickly—telling Wei Ying he wished to court him, the clarification of his acceptance to GusuLan as a disciple, and now formally delivering betrothal gifts to his siblings. Wei Ying was still recovering, after all, but it was too late to change course now.

If he stopped now, Wei Ying might interpret it as changing his mind, and that would be so much worse. Wangji did not want to give him any cause to doubt, not after all he had been through. If he could shield Wei Ying from everything that might hurt him, he would—but he also knew that way of thinking could turn him into his father. 

He would not cage Wei Ying, even to protect him. 

Jiang Yanli was writing outside in the early afternoon sunshine when they arrived, and Wangji could see her immediate understanding and joy at seeing the decorated baskets before she schooled her expression and called for Jiang Wanyin. 

He froze coming from the guest house, a stunned look on his face.

Wei Ying noticed and stopped short, his expression shifting to uncertainty. He didn’t know how his brother would react, Wangji realized. Wangji hovered next to him, not sure how to help. 

Fortunately, Jiang Yanli seemed to know what to do. She came to Wei Ying and tucked her arm into his, pulling him forward, then called Jiang Wanyin’s name with a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Quickly, the three siblings were seated at the table, Wei Ying in the middle. He still looked uncertain, almost overwhelmed, and Wangji longed to go to him and draw him into his arms. 

He was relieved when Xichen stepped forward, that xiongzhang would handle this part. Technically neither himself nor Wei Ying should be present for this, but on a similar note the Jiang siblings were the family of Wei Ying’s heart, not blood, so nothing about this was strictly traditional. They were both orphans, and thus no parents were involved in this betrothal process. 

Xichen directed the disciple to place the baskets he was carrying and set his own down as well. At his pointed look, Wangji placed the cages with the roosters on the table as well. 

“Wei Wuxian received his ribbon today,” Xichen began calmly. “As only family and cultivation partners may touch it, Wangji thought perhaps he could show Maiden Jiang how he ties his into his hair.”

Jiang Yanli looked delighted, and Wei Ying opened the box to show her the ribbon. 

“Oh, it has little embroidered clouds,” she exclaimed.

“An inner disciple’s ribbon,” the outer disciple said, sounding surprised.

“Wei-gongzi has contributed much to Gusu Lan already,” Xichen clarified. “Shufu and I made the decision.”

Jiang Yanli eyed his hair, clearly thinking ahead to the lesson, and she smiled. 

“Oh, is that a new guan?”

To Wangji’s delight, Wei Ying blushed.

“Mine broke this morning. This one belonged to Lan Zhan’s mother.”

“A love token?” Jiang Yanli asked, her smile widening. “It is lovely.”

“You have a whole bag of guan,” Jiang Wanyin muttered. 

Wei Ying froze, his eyes going distant. The Jiang siblings looked startled by his reaction.  

“The guan in his bag all had lotus on them,” Wangji stated. 

He offered nothing more, but they realized anyway if the grief on their faces told him anything. As Wei Ying has predicted, they were sad, but there was a determination there as well. 

“I’ll go through your bags for you,” Jiang Wanyin told him softly. “Get rid of anything with lotuses.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t realize, A-Xian.”

Wei Ying attempted a smile, but it was weak. 

Both of his siblings looked as though they felt guilty for not having realized, but Wangji had only noticed this morning, had connected his fugue with the fallen lotus guan scattered across the floor. 

“I didn’t tell you,” Wei Ying murmured. “How would you know?”

“Tell us what’s bothering you, you idiot. We can’t help otherwise.”

The smile turned more true, and sheepish.

“I’ll try.”

Xichen cleared his throat delicately and gestured to the baskets on the table, and he and Wangji bowed and took their seats across the table as the outer disciple started to unwrap the cloth covering them. 

“Regarding the love token…”

Inside the baskets was white tea from Gusu Lan’s stores, aged decades to develop its delicate flavor. Sweet osmanthus cakes stamped with dragon designs—no phoenix, as both he and Wei Ying were men. A pair of dragon candles. One of the baskets contained cuts of pork, obviously purchased in Caiyi; this gift implied Jiang Yanli was a maternal figure. Another basket contained an assortment of seafood to symbolize a long and happy marriage. Oranges and apples, dates, dried tangerine and melon slices, lotus seeds, candies symbolizing prosperity, good fortune, luck, peace, and offspring—perhaps the hope he and Wei Ying would adopt? Sprigs of pine for longevity. Carved jade in different hues—green dragons and turtles, red and purple birds, white clouds, a black bat, orange fish, blue butterflies, flowers in all colors, and other auspicious symbols—all to show Wei Ying’s worth. 

Gold had a value; jade was invaluable. 

“We have brought a betrothal gift for you, Wei-gongzi’s siblings, to seek your approval for him to be wed to Wangji.”

“I asked him if he would consent to be courted, and he agreed,” Wangji offered.

Instead of responding, Jiang Wanyin looked at Wei Ying with what seemed like anger at first glance but was actually disappointment and grief. 

“You’re not coming back to Lotus Cove,” he said. 

It wasn’t a question, and he clearly already knew the answer. Jiang Wanyin’s voice was resigned and rough, as though he had held out hope all this time while knowing it was unlikely. 

Wei Ying flinched, his face pinched with his own emotions. His throat worked soundlessly for a moment. 

“I can’t,” he finally said, his voice shaky. “I’m sorry, Jiang Cheng.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jiang Wanyin told him. “It’s not your fault. After what happened…”

“I promised I’d be your right hand man,” Wei Ying murmured. 

His hand was fisted in his sleeve, Wangji noticed, his knuckles as white as the robe, as he fought his emotions.

“But I can’t go back. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’m sorry.”

Jiang Wanyin took him by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

“It isn’t your fault!” he hissed as Wei Ying stared at him wide-eyed. “You have nothing to be sorry for, A-Xian!”

Instead of releasing him, he pulled his brother into an almost violent hug. Then they were both crying, as was Jiang Yanli, who put a hand on Wei Ying’s back. 

“It’s enough that you’re here,” she said. “That you’re alive.”

Wangji knew from her expression she was seeing Wei Ying wan and bloody in the mud.

“You will always be his siblings,” he said impulsively, trying to stave off those same memories. “That cannot be taken from you.”

“Yes,” Jiang Yanli whispered. “A-Xian is the brother of our hearts.”

Jiang Wanyin released Wei Ying and fixed Wangji with a calculating look, measuring him as though trying to decide if he was worthy of his brother. Wangji did not begrudge him that—he should do so. 

“You’ll protect him?”

Wangji nodded. 

“He lies. He’ll pretend he doesn’t need help or protecting when he really does. You’ll protect him from himself?”

Wangji nodded again, reflecting on the way Wei Ying has, how he often put himself last in sneaky ways. He would need to compensate with that in mind. 

Jiang Wanyin nodded back, looking very much like he was struggling to find words. 

“He’s afraid of dogs. Terrified of them. Even the tiniest puppies. You have to protect him from them. And he forgets to eat. Even before, he forgot when he was working. He gets too focused and forgets to eat and sometimes even sleep.”

Wangji realized abruptly that these instructions were Jiang Wanyin’s way of expressing his approval. It would be his responsibility to care for Wei Ying. 

Jiang Yanli expressed the importance of spice, of nutritious and delicious foods, of hugs and affection.

“Xianxian is three,” she said softly, tweaking Wei Ying’s nose between two knuckles and then dabbing at his tears with her sleeve. “He doesn’t say when he’s hurting. He keeps it inside, like with the lotuses. He fears becoming a burden.”

Wei Ying sat still between his siblings, his face flushed, clearly overwhelmed by their discussion of him and his needs.

“Wei Ying is never a burden,” Wangji said. “Wei Ying is a joy.”

His face flushed deeper, and he hid behind his sleeves.

“You can’t just say things like that, Lan Zhan.”

“Mm, can.”

“Lan Zhan!”

“Xianxian deserves to be spoiled,” Jiang Yanli said with a smile, nudging him playfully. 

Wei Ying peeked out to shoot her a tremulous smile, but otherwise kept his face hidden. Jiang Wanyin shoved him lightly. 

“I won’t be able to get away with staying here forever,” he said regretfully. “I’m the heir. Eventually I’ll be expected home.”

He fixed Wangji with a scowl. 

“But if I can be sure Wei Wuxian is protected before I have to leave, I’ll feel better.”

“He is a Gusu Lan disciple,” Xichen pointed out softly. “He will be protected even without the courtship and marriage.”

“Unlike in Yunmeng,” Jiang Wanyin muttered bitterly.

Though Wangji knew xiongzhang hadn’t meant it in that way from the way he winced, he didn’t disagree with the Jiang heir’s interpretation. As a disciple—as head disciple—Wei Ying should have been protected, even from the fury of Madam Yu. She should have faced consequences for attacking a disciple alone, not protected by Meishan Yu with Wei Ying dismissed as a mere servant, as though he was property to be done with as she pleased. 

These things still angered Wangji a year later, and probably always will. 

“A-Cheng,” Wei Ying said. “It wasn’t—”

“You should’ve been protected,” Jiang Wanyin interrupted. “A-die should’ve protected you. We failed you.”

“You didn’t,” he whispered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jiang Yanli reached out and took Wei Ying’s hand.

“A-Xian, we want to be sure it never happens again. A-Cheng and I couldn’t protect you well enough, and Father should have protected you from a-niang, and he failed to.”

“Shijie…”

Wei Ying ducked his head, and Wangji knew he was trying to avoid thinking poorly of the man who he’d been raised to consider an uncle. But there were other issues as well—in truth, Jiang Yanli was no longer his martial sister, but he had called her that since he was young and perhaps hadn’t fully realized. Or, more realistically, he didn’t know what to call her otherwise. 

“He could have officially adopted you, A-Xian,” she said gently. “He could have made you our brother officially. She wouldn’t have dared touch you then.”

“It isn’t too late,” Xichen interjected. “The three of you could become sworn siblings.”

The Jiang siblings froze, blinking at each other in surprise. They had not considered the option, but Wangji had not either. The act would send a clear message to the cultivation world at large, would serve as further protection for Wei Ying. 

“It would mean you still have a connection to Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Wanyin said after a moment.

Wei Ying looked flummoxed, surprised beyond words by the suggestion, and perhaps a bit torn. With his reaction to lotuses, his trauma, a connection might not be a good thing. 

“You could call me jiejie,” Jiang Yanli whispered, squeezing Wei Ying’s hands. “I’m not really your shijie anymore, but I’d really like to be your jiejie.”

That was apparently the final straw for Wei Ying, who let out a sob and buried himself in her arms. Jiang Wanyin managed a smile, putting a hand on his shoulder, but looked close to tears himself. Becoming sworn siblings would just make official the relationship they had had most of their lives, would solidify their connection to one another. 

“We can set up the ceremony for tomorrow,” Xichen said, smiling gently. “As Jin-furen and Jin-gongzi are visiting, they could serve as witnesses.”

Jiang Yanli glanced at Wei Ying in concern.

“Jin-furen?”

“We met her in Caiyi,” Wangji stated. “She has dissolved the sworn sisterhood and wished to commission Wei Ying.”

The news clearly comes as a surprise to the Jiang siblings—apparently in previous visits Jin Zixuan hadn’t mentioned it. 

“They are having tea with shufu presently, but likely intend to visit you,” Xichen added. 

The Jiang siblings were watching their brother with concern, and he managed a smile, straightening.

“I’m fine. Lan Zhan was with me. We rescued a turtle at the fish market and released it in the pond at the jingshi. And we got a book about turtles and poetry and oil for my hair and tanghulu.”

None of his rambling mentioned the Jin, and Wangji could hear exhaustion in his voice, despite how he tried to keep his tone light. From his siblings’ expressions, they could tell as well. 

“It was a long day for Wei Ying,” he said softly. 

A broken guan and slight breakdown, consenting to be courted, rescuing the turtle, shopping, encountering Jin-furen unexpectedly, receiving his ribbon and clarification that Cloud Recesses was now his home, and now this. Too much for him while he was still recovering, almost certainly. He wanted to take him somewhere quiet so he could rest, or to the meadow to bury him in soft rabbits. 

“You’re already protecting him,” Jiang Yanli commented approvingly. 

“We’ll need to establish chaperones,” Jiang Wanyin said, frowning.

They were agreeing to the betrothal, Wangji realized, and warmth spread from his chest in a way he usually only felt around Wei Ying. Joy. He was feeling joy. The siblings of Wei Ying’s heart had accepted their courtship. They would wed. 

Xiongzhang smiled and nudged him gently, clearly happy for him. 

“Wei Wuxian deserves no less,” Xichen agreed. “We want to make his worth very clear. Chaperones through the courtship period will be appropriate.”

Wei Ying looked embarrassed by this, as though he felt the fuss was too much for him. 

“A-Xian has faced enough questions over his worth. He is precious to us and will be treated as such.”

Jiang Yanli was watching Wei Ying, too, he noticed, and was speaking in part to him.

“A-Cheng and I will be happy to chaperone,” she finished.

“For times when you are indisposed, or if myself or shufu are unavailable, I’m sure we can have some of the outer disciples act in that capacity,” Xichen added. “They are often responsible for escorting guests.”

“Wei Ying may need rest before dinner, while you are visiting with Jin-furen and Jin-gongzi,” Wangji stated, watching him. “I would like to escort him to his quarters once Jiang-guniang has tied his ribbon.”

In truth, their lunch in Caiyi had been more of a second breakfast, too early to truly be lunch. There were still several hours left before dinner. 

“I’ll just take it off to rest, won’t I?” Wei Ying protested.

“And I will help you put it back on before dinner,” Jiang Yanli said. “I’m happy to.”

“Disciple Su can chaperone your return to Wei-gongzi’s quarters before he returns to his other duties,” Xichen said.

The disciple bowed. He had a somewhat petulant look on his face, but as Wangji recalled that seemed to just be his natural expression. 

“Yes, Lan-zongzhu.”

Jiang Yanli reached into the basket of osmanthus cakes and presented the disciple with one, bowing.

“Thank you for your help.”

He took the cake, blinking at her in a startled way, then quickly returned her bow and retreated. 

She moved around the table to study Lan Wangji’s hair, and he removed his ribbon and demonstrated how he wove it through his hair for her twice before she was satisfied she understood. 

Within minutes, Wei Ying was wearing his ribbon, the pale fabric making the skin of his face look less pallid, demonstrating how much healthier he looked in comparison to only weeks ago. He looked beautiful as a Gusu Lan disciple, with a proper ribbon—but he was always beautiful to Wangji, so perhaps he was biased. 

“It suits you,” Jiang Yanli told him softly. “The clouds almost look like wings from a distance. Perhaps the wings of a crane.”

Wei Ying blushed, and Wangji felt his ears heat. A pair of cranes alluded to a wish for a long married life. He had never considered the resemblance of the embroidery to wings, but he could see it now. 

“Or lucky roosters, like these,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, pointing at the cages. “I don’t know what we’ll do with them.”

Jiang Yanli brushed her thumb against the embroidery on the ribbon, smoothing what must have been a minute wrinkle. The gesture was almost motherly. 

“They’re for Xianxian’s wedding, to lead him to his husband. We’ll keep them until then, of course. They’re lovely.”

She sat beside him, and Wei Ying leaned his head against her shoulder, a beautiful smile gracing his lips. He looked radiant, if tired, filled with a joy Wangji felt as well. 

“Shufu and I will consult to select an auspicious date,” Xichen said. “I would be honored if you two would assist in the planning of the wedding.”

Jiang Yanli looked overjoyed, and Jiang Wanyin nodded, his expression of a man about to embark on an important mission.

“A-jie and I had ideas,” he said.

Wei Ying stared at him, open-mouthed in shock. 

“What, you thought we didn’t do that for you like you and I did for A-jie? Like I’m sure you two did for me?” Jiang Wanyin demanded. 

“Of course we made plans for you, A-Xian.”

“I didn’t expect to get married,” Wei Ying whispered. “I was going to help Yunmeng Jiang.”

Wangji was surprised by that, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been—Wei Ying was exactly the type to deny himself to do what he saw as duty. His siblings were looking at him in horror, as though just realizing that terrible truth.

“You were allowed to marry, you idiot,” Jiang Wanyin exploded, then took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Even if it meant marry out. You didn’t have to stay.”

“I did. I promised.”

Jiang Wanyin looked to his sister, clearly trying not to lose his temper. 

“Xianxian,” she whispered, looking like she felt helpless. “We would never want you to give up your future for Yunmeng Jiang. You always talked so much about Lan-er-gongzi, I always assumed…”

Wei Ying blushed and glanced Wangji’s way, then down at his lap. He was struck again by how exhausted he looked. 

“He did not know my regard for him,” Wangji realized aloud. 

Worse, Wei Ying had thought he’d been rejected, that he was despised. And, knowing him, he had probably justified to himself that he deserved it. 

He could see Xichen’s surprise, but his brother had always known how he felt, before he could even understand himself.

“He thought I disliked him,” he clarified for xiongzhang. 

A look of guilt passed over Jiang Wanyin’s face, and Wangji realized perhaps he had thought similarly, had said something to Wei Ying about it. But ultimately the fault lies with Wangji, for not expressing himself more clearly, not until it was almost too late. 

Xichen also looked somewhat guilty, as though he felt he should have done something himself, but Wangji wouldn’t let him blame himself.

“I will strive to be clearer. Wei Ying should know he is loved.”

Wei Ying made an almost strangled sound.

“Lan Zhan, my heart can’t take it,” he groaned, hiding his face dramatically again. “You’re too much!”

“As much as Wei Ying deserves. Wei Ying will acclimate.”

Jiang Yanli patted her brother’s shoulder, looking softly fond, but also concerned. Wangji wondered if she too realized that Wei Ying might disbelieve he was loved. Jiang Wanyin stayed quiet, but watchful, his jaw still clenched, his expression still stormy. 

“Xianxian will need to get used to it, I think. Lan-er-gongzi will need to use the courtship period to help him adjust.”

Wei Ying gave her a mock betrayed look, and she laughed gently and tweaked his nose. He blinked at her cross-eyed, looking like a sleepy kitten. 

“But I think perhaps you could use a nap.”

The lack of protest was enough of an indication, but Wei Ying swayed when he stood, steadied by his siblings. Jiang Yanli pulled out a handkerchief, then put some of the dates, dried tangerines and melon, candies, and an osmanthus cake on it before tying it into a pouch and pressing it into Wei Ying’s hands.

“A snack would do you good,” she said, leading him around the table to Wangji. “I’ll send A-Cheng for you when dinner is ready. Lan-zongzhu and Lan-er-gongzi are welcome as well.”

Wangji took Wei Ying’s arm in his own to help steady him and received a tired smile. Disciple Su frowned at him, as though scolding him for touching his betrothed, but he ignored him. Xichen smiled.

“I will discuss courtship etiquette and terms with Wei-gongzi later, Wangji. You are aware of them. I trust you to respect them.”

He nodded to his brother and led Wei Ying toward his quarters. 

Respecting courtship etiquette was the same as respecting Wei Ying, particularly to the rest of the cultivation world. Wangji was disappointed, in some ways, that he had been right; the trip to Caiyi was to be their last time spent together alone for some time to come, and part of it had not been.

But as Wei Ying leaned closer, starting to wilt, Wangji focused on him alone, ignoring the disciple accompanying them. He would ensure Wei Ying ate at least some of what Jiang Yanli had packed before leaving him to rest, and the disciple could simply wait as he did so. 

Wei Ying’s health came above all else.

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Lots of symbolism in this chapter. Different colors of jade have different meanings. Green, which is the most prized, is for friendship, harmony, and renewal. Red for energy, life, and love. Yellow for optimism, success, and generosity. Orange for ambition, vitality, and libido (lol, like WangXian need help in that department). Blue for loyalty, freedom, and faith. Purple for insight, peace, and devotion. Black for elegance, security, and pride.

There are a lot of meanings involved in carved jade specifically as well. The bat, for instance, would represent happiness and longevity. Butterflies are a symbol of love. Dragons, power, strength, and goodness, as well as masculinity. Fish represent wealth and abundance, and when paired, harmony and connubial bliss. Different birds have different meanings as well, though Lan Wangji doesn’t specify which ones there are, or which flowers are carved.

I am not as familiar with betrothal customs as I would like to be, but it seemed killing and cooking the roosters would be crass at best, at least before the wedding. Apparently some customs include putting the betrothal chickens under the marital bed for the wedding night. In essence, this betrothal is different in a lot of ways because they’re both grooms and both orphans. Because of Wei Wuxian’s lack of blood family, the decision to go to the Jiang siblings is more a courtesy and recognition of their relationship than anything.

“Gold has a price/value; jade is priceless/invaluable” is a Chinese saying that seemed apt for a betrothal gift. 

Wuguji are black-boned chickens, specifically silkies. They’re a smaller breed, but prized in cooking.

Also, I keep meaning and forgetting to thank my amazing beta, @missyriver, for all her help!

[milknette]

day 03 - time travel

this time we had, i will hold forever.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

BUNNYX warns him that he shouldn't stay for too long.

It's a simple mission, after all— get in, ensure Master Fu meets Marinette that day on the street, and him outside the school, and that the two of them receive their Miraculous. All he really has to do is maybe put up a roadblock or a stop sign, but he can't find it in himself to leave so soon.

Instead, Adrien Agreste walks toward the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

"What are you doing?" Bunnyx's voice rings in his ear— a telepathic talent she'd developed over years of training in costume (and one that he personally finds quite irritating).

"Calm down," he replies instead. "This is all part of the plan."

"No, Chat, the plan is that you get Master Fu to the bakery. Not you." She sighs, and her voice shifts to a softer tone. "Look, Adrien, I know you want to see her but you can't do this. It's too dangerous."

Adrien's eyes shift downward, and he takes a deep breath in. "I won't do anything," he says. "I swear. Besides, I know for a fact that she won't be there yet." He laughs softly to himself. "It's too early; she'll still be asleep."

"But we can't take that risk. What if her parents recognize you?"

"It's been almost fifteen years, Alix. I doubt they'll recognize me now. And at this point in time, I haven't even met them yet." Adrien tips his shades downward, and shifts the tie along his black trenchcoat. "I'm disguised, too. Trust me, I just need to order something to get this plan moving, okay?"

He hears her sigh, audibly exhausted, but she caves. "Fine," Bunnyx finally says. "Just be quick, alright? And no small talk either." Her voice quiets down. "This is important. Please don't do anything to jeopardize this."

"Thank you," Adrien replies. There's still a lot of things left unsaid, things that hang heavily in the air, but they choose to ignore it.

Now isn't the time.

He enters the bakery.

.

.

It's the smell that hits him first—

That unique blend of scents from freshly-baked goods and sweets that waft pleasantly across the room. Sure, the bakery still stands years into the future (something he's always been thankful), but there's something new and at the same time nostalgic about entering the place it was years before.

And he sees them: a small, tout, woman lightheartedly berating her husband, an almost-gigantic man who would've been intimidating if not for his kind smile and altogether too-sweet demeanour.

Adrien's mind flashes back to a few years later, with him bowing down to them, nervously asking for their blessing to have their daughter's hand in marriage.

Being held in the token Dupain-Cheng family hug.

His mind's distracted as a familiar voice rings through the store: "Well hello there, what can I get for you today?"

"Ah," he coughs. "I'll take anything you recommend. I'm not really in the mood for anything specific."

The small lady nods as she looks along the shelf of goods, before retrieving a single tray of macarons from the fridge. They're bright pink, and he recognizes them as soon as they enter his sight.

They're hers. She made them.

"Now these aren't actually our creations, but our daughter, who's extremely talented at great at baking, is—,"

"No need," he replies, quickly retrieving his wallet. "I'll take it."

(It takes a few minutes for him to retrieve bills that were still used in the period he was in, but he does have enough.)

"Great! Then I'll get that right out for you." She smiles brightly. "Will you be eating it on the way out?"

"Yes, thanks Miss Dupain-Cheng."

As soon as the statement escapes his mouth, they both pause in surprise— Adrien, even more so. "I mean, that is you, right? Since this is the Dupain-Cheng bakery…"

To his relief, the adult woman simply smiles at him. "You're right. I'm Sabine," she replies. "And this is a family-owned business. You've heard of us, then?"

Adrien scratches his head. "I've heard that your family makes the best sweets in all of Paris."

Sabine laughs. "Well, I don't know about that." She says easily, before winking. "But I'm glad someone seems to enjoy our food to that level."

He nods along absentmindedly. "So even your daughter bakes, then? That must be great."

"It is!" Sabine replies, softly humming along as she carefully reheats the macaron. "She helps out sometimes— that is, if she wakes up on time." The parent laughs to herself, suddenly looks at him, then wonders aloud. "Do you have kids?"

Adrien smiles back at her, though it's a little less genuine. "I wish I could've been so lucky, but no, unfortunately."

"Oh," Sabine replies, sympathetic. "Sorry if I was intruding."

"No, no," Adrien's quick to reply. "It's okay! I did want kids— me and my wife, but we were never blessed with them."

"Well," Sabine hums. "It's not too late to keep trying! Marinette… my daughter, she was a little surprise to our family. Our little miracle."

Hearing her name escape her mother's lips is a little too much to handle.

A flash of her father, oftentimes towering, hunched downward, head buried in his hands, never looking smaller than he'd ever been then. Her mother's aghast face, kneeling beside him, holding onto his frame like it was the end of the world.

(And maybe it was. He felt like it was. They all did.)

Adrien swallows down the sudden rush of emotion, and instead plasters on a happy expression. "I'd love to try again. It's everything we ever wanted."

"Then I wish both of you luck." Sabine smiles, kind, full of good intent, as she passes him two macarons— one ready-to-eat, and the other neatly tied into a box. "For your wife," she winks. "I hope you'll come again."

Adrien smiles, again, and whispers, "thanks," before immediately walking away.

Bunnyx was right, after all. It was too much.

.

.

After his visit at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, Adrien immediately makes his way to Master Fu.

The experience is a whole other mess of emotions— he wonders if it's because he's been thrown so far into the past, but the memory of their guardian sacrificing himself to save them becomes a fresh wound, and he actively has to shake off the feeling.

He doesn't introduce himself, of course; it's too risky, but he finds a way to catch the older man's attention.

With Marinette's macarons.

(Even now, she still finds a way to help him. It's a strange feeling, like she's right there, working with him to complete the mission together.)

As Master Fu steps outside his shop, Adrien strategically walks past, bumping into him as they both tumble into the ground; dropping the macaron box as near as he can to the guardian.

"I'm so sorry!"

"Please don't worry, it's okay." Master Fu's quick to respond— quite agile for his age, and easily picks himself back up. He bends down and picks up the box, offering it to the younger male. "Here, I believe this is yours?"

"Oh, thank you so much," Adrien replies, taking it into his hand. "The Dupain-Cheng's have the best sweets in town; it'd be a waste if they were ruined."

"The Dupain-Chengs…." Master Fu hums, leaning over his cane as if in thought. "That's the bakery in Rue Gotlib, is it?"

"Yes, I love what they make there," Adrien continues, as if hooking in bait. "It tastes delicious—," then, as if in thought, he suddenly returns the box. "Please, try some."

"No, that's alright…"

"I insist," Adrien presses on. "Take it as my apology for bumping into you."

"Well, I'm not one to say no to a free meal," Master Fu laughs, then pops the macaron into his mouth in one gulp. His face lights up almost immediately. "That is lovely! And they're currently open?"

Adrien smiles. This was child's play. "Yes, just got these fresh off the oven earlier today." Then, he drops the hint. "These macarons are actually made by the family's daughter— she seems really sweet, and talented too."

"A daughter, hm?" Master Fu looks deep in thought, then nods to himself. "Then, maybe I should order a box for myself. Thank you, sir…"

"Just a friendly stranger passing by," Adrien finishes on for him. Master Fu nods in understanding. (If anything, he was the expert on secret identities, after all.)

"Maybe you'll allow me to treat you some time? I'm sure that macaron was meant for someone else."

"Maybe in the future," Adrien responds, still smiling at him. "And it's completely okay— I don't think she could've eaten them, anyway."

At that, he excuses himself, making up some half-baked excuse about having somewhere else to be.

Adrien doesn't really remember.

His heart feels heavy and it's becoming so much more than he can handle.

He doesn't belong here.

Not anymore.

.

.

The next, and final, task involves much less talking— simply needing to follow Master Fu around and ensure that the Miraculous end up in their hands.

Adrien's relieved to find that he doesn't have to do much to get his own Miraculous, seeing the guardian quickly end up at their school after finding out about Marinette.

He watches with slight awe as the younger him helps Master Fu without a moment's notice, with his expression souring as he's escorted back into the limousine.

Things were never easy back then. (They never got easier even after he was 'free'— but Marinette always had a way of making things seem much better than they were. She always knew what to say.)

As soon as the Younger Adrien leaves, Bunnyx's voice rings in his ear. "Good job, Chat. Now it's time to go."

"Wait."

"What do you mean wait, it's done. The Miraculous are in the right hands. You need to go."

"Wait."

His voice is soft, almost too quiet to be heard, but it's so set and determined that even Bunnyx pauses in her tracks.

Then: "I just want to see one thing."

"Adrien, you know I can't…"

"Please." He whispers it, but she can hear the crack in his voice. Hear the crack in his heart. "I just want to see her."

Bunnyx sighs.

"How long do you need?"

"Just give me the end of the day."

.

.

Adrien spends the rest of the afternoon walking around Paris.

It's strange, being somewhere so familiar yet unfamiliar, somewhere so new yet so nostalgic, all at the same time. He decides to stay away from the school and all the places he knows she'll be, simply because he's not ready.

Not yet.

Just a few more hours.

.

.

It's raining.

Adrien watches from outside, as the dark clouds serve well to cover his grown frame. Students are walking outside as the bell signals the end of classes for the day, and he waits.

He waits until they slowly fill out until only two people are left in the entire school building.

He's not sure if he's ready for this.

She walks out of the building.

He knows he's not ready for this.

Adrien almost slips over the concrete. It feels like the wind's knocked out of his lungs; seeing her all over again, he can't help but gasp for air. She was right there. Standing plainly like there wasn't anything wrong in the world.

Like she hadn't destroyed his own.

He has to stop himself from running to her. From confirming for himself that she isn't fake; not another figment of his imagination coming to haunt him after months of nightmares and night terrors.

Instead, he breathes in.

And he waits, as a Younger Him walks next to her.

Adrien's not close enough to hear their exchange, but it doesn't matter because he already knows those words by heart. Their first conversation forever carved into his memory as the first time he ever spoke with his soulmate.

He watches as his younger self extends his hand to give her umbrella, and how she reaches out to take it.

"You know, I felt something when our hands touched," Adrien begins, fully aware that Bunnyx was watching the whole spectacle from her burrow. "I just… I didn't know what it was yet. It was a new feeling… but I know my body knew before my mind did: that I had met my soulmate."

He laughs as the umbrella closes over Marinette's head.

"Apparently that was when she fell in love with me." Adrien continues, smiling forlornly. "Can you believe that? No normal person would fall in love with someone that quickly. We spoke less than a hundred words to each other. And we just met."

He pauses, watching as the Younger Him drives away, and as Tikki flies out from Marinette's bag to speak with her.

"But I think subconsciously, she knew too. That we were meant-to-be. That I loved her, and that she loved me. We just didn't know it at the time… not yet."

The tear rolls down Adrien's face before he can stop it.

Then they don't stop at all.

A torrent of tears, unstoppable. He can't breathe. He can't speak. He can't stand. He exhales deeply, and desperately tries to rub away the sadness. The grief. The loss.

Adrien only realizes he's no longer in the past when Bunnyx's arms wrap around his body.

He feels lost.

And Marinette's no longer there to guide him.

.

.

Adrien kneels down onto the soil, and sets down a bouquet of flowers.

He lights a candle— scented, sweet, and lays it on the grass.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

"I miss you."

Beloved friend, daughter, and wife.

"I love you."

Our Everyday Ladybug.

"I'll never forget you."

May she rest in peace.

"Goodbye."

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Some Hot Shot

Back to the Fresh Starts Series continuation. This piece is a rare one that isn’t episode based. This is more of a Background to the reader.

Warning: Most life situations. Mentions talks of death of a parent, death of a grandparent and touches very very light on a verbally abusive ex boy friend.

Enjoy, its a softer side of our Barba xx

Rafael walked in from work, mentally drained and overly tired. He could smell the amazing smell that was your cooking coming from the oven. As he walked into the kitchen, he seen a white pearl envelop sitting on the bench, on top of some other mail with your address written in fancy gold lettering.

"Hermosa" he yelled out

"One second" you walked out of the bathroom freshly showered in navy track pants and his grey Harvard t-shirt.

"Hey Rafi, I missed you today. Dinner shouldn’t be much longer" you said as you walked over to him.

"I missed you, so much" he hugged and kissed you Hello. "Just let me have a quick shower" you smiled at him and kissed his nose.

By the time he came out, you had just sat dinner on the table. You made a pasta bake, one of Sonny's recipes. He came and sat down and started to eat. He seen the pearl envelop sitting on table next to you,

"Mi Hermosa, what's that?" He nodded towards the it. You took a deep breath, how would you sell this to him.

You didn't have an overly big group of friends, but you had friends none the less. Your group wasn't unpopular but wasn't popular either. Your best Friend Gwen, who you still kept in contact with here and there, you guys were always together, joint at the hip your Mum's used to say.

But Gwen always wanted everything to be handed to her, you guessed that's pretty much what life did to her anyway, so she was used to that treatment. She always caught the eye of boys where ever you guys went. You were always the token friend who the guys that were hooking with her, their friends had to "deal" with.

That was life pretty much till the highest years of high school, until you met Jeff and Rodger. They were best friends in the same grade as you. You guys had never taken notice of them before, till they hit puberty and the game changed.

Of all the girls they could have picked, they picked you guys. Jeff was from old money, so of course Gwen made a bee line to him. Rodger was softer, kinder and down to earth, at the beginning anyway. He came from a long line of police officers from both sides, and that was his goal, which was yours also. That was really the only thing you guys had in common. His home life was good. He lived together with his grandparents, his parents and little brother. Because his Mum and Dad's were both officers for the next town over, his grandparents were the main care givers, but when his parents were around they were amazing.

Your future goals became your relationship goals. While Gwen and Jeff were just skipping through life, not really worried about the future because of Jeff's family money, you and Rodger worked hard. You were both accepted into the academy straight out of high school. Moving there off campus and into a small studio apartment, just enough for you both for the time you guys would be there. Everything was going great.  You both wanted to move to the big city, you of course wanted to be a Detective and Rodger wanted to work his way up to Chief.

After being there about 2 months, Rodger got a phone call to say his Grandfather had a heart attack and didn't make it. That was start of everything falling apart. He was very close to his Grandfather, it broke him in half. You both went home for the funeral and then went back pretty much straight away.

Rodger started skipping classes and staying in bed all day. You tried to get him help but he didn't want it. Then he started to take things out on you. Not physically, but verbally. If you passed you got in trouble, if you stayed up studying you got in trouble, anything you did you got in trouble. He got 3 warnings to pick up his game, which he took no notice of. He was kicked out and sent home. Lucky they had an empty dorm you could move into after he left.

You did long distance for the remaining of your study, if that’s what you would really call it, talking maybe once a week if that. He didn't come to your graduation, and when he saw you after your first shift in your police uniform he broke up with you, he couldn't handle it.

Gwen was still with Jeff, it was hard to be away from Rodger and still be friends with Gwen. Before you knew it he turned bitter and twisted towards you, so you started to keep your distance. You did what you had to do to study and pass and then put in for the job at SVU. Which you got and you started your new life. You moved to New York for the love of your career, but you found the love of your life and amazing group of co-workers that were now your best friends. Rafael knew all about this relationship as did the squad. Gwen also knew about Rafael.

"Well--you know my friend-my best friend Gwen from back home?" He nodded at you. "She is getting married in a couple of months, and we have been invited-- I have also been asked to be her maid of honour" Rafael looked at you sensing you had more to say. "I have to go up the weekend before for her hen’s night and then stay that week till the wedding. And I wanted you to come with me for the week. We can stay with my Mum and I can show you around town." You paused and could see him thinking it over. "There is just one thing I'm not happy about, but there is nothing I can do about it" he raised one eye brow at you "Rodger is best man, so-- he will be my partner"

He put his fork down on his plate and sat back in his chair.

"I'll have to ask the DA for the time off, but I would love to come. It will be great to see where your roots began, and see your Mum again." he said with a smile.

"You don't mind about Rodger?"

"What's there to mind? Your with me now, if you can stand up to my ex the way you did, I'm sure I can too if I need too" Rafael winked at you.

You got up from your seat, walked over and sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"And anyway way Hermosa, why would be I worried about someone that doesn't wear suspenders.” His famous smirk came to his face.

****

You spoke to Liv the next day and she approved your week, Sonny was going to cover for you. Rafael put in the dates with DA and it was approved by the end of week. You booked your bus tickets there and back, your Mum was going to pick you guys up for the bus station and drive you home.

"I need to get fit" you sighed as you took a bite of pizza.

"Why? You look fine" Nick scoffed back

"You know what it's like when you go home for the first time in a while, you have to look your best"

"Start running with me before work" Amanda smiled at you.

You took Amanda's suggestion and that's what you started to do. Every morning you guys would meet up, run then be home in time to shower and head back in with Rafael for work. He didn't quite understand why you were doing it, he loved you just the way you were, but it made you feel good and way your body had started to change shape he found it hard to keep his hands off you, even at work.

Gwen told you to pick your own dress, but she told you the colour she wanted. Amanda offered to go with you one weekend to try on dresses, and she gave the tick of approval when you picked the one you could both agree on.

"Running has done wonders for your body, if that's even possible" Amanda rolled her eyes “You look stunning. I bet your ex is going to be pissed" she laughed as you giggled back walking out of the dress shop.

"I don't think he will be pissed at that. He is already pissed that I'm in SVU, once he founds out Rafael is the ADA. I’am worried, he is nasty" You rolled your eyes.

"And if I were him I would be worried about your smart ass mouth, you have balls girl and that boyfriend of yours when it comes to you Barba doesn't hold back. Good luck to him if he starts" Amanda raised her eye brows at you.

****

You guys had packed for the week on the Thursday night and you both finishing early on the Friday to get your bus.

Rafael hadn't seen your dress yet, but he was excited. Gwen had told you that Jeff had invited him to the buck’s night which was on the same night as the hens at a different bar. You both decided it wasn't the best idea, so he was going to stay home with your Mum and he would pick you up when the night was over.

Your mum was waiting for you both as the bus pulled up. You both got off and she couldn't contain her excitement. She walked over to Rafael first and gave him a big hug.

"It’s so nice to see you again Rafael"

"Like wise" he gave her a  big smile.

"Hello Sweet heart" your Mum gave you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Hey Mum, I've missed you"

"Same sweetheart. Get your bags and let’s go, I have some fried chicken to make, hope you’re hungry"

Your house wasn’t much, but it was home. It was just two bed room. It was just enough for you and your Mum. Your Dad passed away when you were 16 and your Mum had to work two jobs to pay it off.

Rafael walked in and felt warm and cosy straight away. There were photos of you everywhere at different stages of your life. But the one that made his heart swell was of a big one of you above the TV. It looked like your graduation. You were in your full police uniform looking down at a photo you held in your hands in a frame, a photo of your Dad. You saw Rafael standing there looking at it, so you walked over and put your chin on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"I wish you could have met him. He would have liked you" Rafael lent his head on yours, a small smile coming to his face.

"I'll start dinner, you guys freshen up" Your Mum shouted from the kitchen.

"Come Rafi, let's put our stuff in my room"

You took his hand in yours and led him down the hall. Your door was at the end. As he seen it he giggled to himself. It was just how you left it. It was covered in posters of your favourite bands and theatre shows. You tuned the knob and pushed it open.

It was an average size room. You had a built in to the right, with a white desk next to that, and then a book shelf next to that with every shelf filled with books and  some photo frames in front of the books that you had left behind. Either side of your bed was a bed side table, and on the left side wall, roof to floor with more posters.

Rafael put down his bag and walked over to the wall in awe.

"Wow, mi Hermosa, where did you get all these posters?"

"Mostly magazine" you smiled.

"Y/N can you come and set the table please?" your Mum yelled out.

"Come on Rafi, I'm starving”

****

"How do I look?" you walked into the living room to your Mum and Rafael sitting having a coffee together. Rafael’s eyes widened and his mouth slightly dropped open.

You had a dark purple dress on with short puffy sleeves, an elastic waist band, with a low scoop neck, which came down and rested just below the start of your breast. The dress flowed down to your mid thighs. Your heart necklace rested around your neck, diamond studs in your ears, black strappy sandals, light make up and your hair in big curls.

"Wow sweetie, you look pretty" your Mum smiled over at you.

"Beautiful mi Hermosa"

"I almost feel like you shouldn't be dressed like that going out when your boyfriend is at home with your Mum" your Mum and Rafael both laughed together.

"Ha Ha…. Rafi are you ready? I'm going to be late"

"Let us know when you’re ready and we will come and pick you up" Your Mum said as you kissed her on the cheek.

"Rafael dinner will be ready by the time you come back"

The ride to the bar was fun, you guys laughed and joked, and you pointed out different things as you drove past, telling him a couple of stories along the way.

"I' am going to miss you tonight Rafi"

"I'll miss you too" he grabbed your hand in his and kissed the back. "Don't drink too much OK" he laughed at you

"That's if I even drink at all" you huffed at him. Just then you guys had pulled up at the bar.

"You call me as soon as you want me to come and pick you up. Have a great night, I love you" he lent over and grabbed your face with both hands, pulling you to him and kissed you deeply.

"I love you Rafi" you opened the door and got out. You shut it waved at him and blew a kiss walking towards the door.

"Y/N" You heard from the back of the bar, you knew that voice, Gwen. She came running towards you and jumped on you wrapping her arms around your neck. You wrapped your arms around her waist.

"I've missed you so much. Welcome home"

"I've missed you too G" You said into her ear.

She let you go and grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the back, where there was a table set up along the back wall.

"Everyone can't wait to see you" Gwen smiled at you.

It was mostly her cousins that you had grown up with and Jeff's not so little anymore sister. Everyone was happy to see you, all getting up to kiss and hug you Hello. Dinner was severed and you all had a glass of wine served to you.

"So little Y/N, living in the big city working for SVU, that must be fun" said Nancy, one of Gwen's cousins sitting next to you.

"Yeah I love it actually. It can be hard, but it's the best move I ever made" you smiled back.

"Gwen told us you have a boyfriend" said Lucy with a smirk, another cousin.

"Yeah, his name is Rafael. Rafael Barba, he is the Assistant District Attorney"

"You never told me that. When you said his name was Rafael that didn't even click" Gwen sassed back at you, "He's a big deal. I have seen him on the TV, he is so handsome" Gwen giggled.

"Thank you" you smiled back

"So how did that happen? He's older then you right? He looks older" Gwen said. All eyes were on you waiting for an answer.

"Age is just a number" you answered back and went on to tell them how it happened and how you guys got together.

"Rodger is going to be pissed when he hears about this" Jeff's little sister Wendy laughed, “He hasn't been in a relationship since your break up. My Daddy gave him a job at the bank and helped straighten him out a little, but he drinks like a fish in his down time. But in fairness, he may not have been in a relationship since you, but he has been in a LOT of women" they all started to laugh around the table. You smiled slightly and took a sip of your wine.

The night was fun you guys laughed and danced and had a great time. You saw a few faces around that you knew and had some small talk. You didn't drink anymore after dinner.

It was 1 am and Gwen was off with the fairies. Mostly everyone had left, it was just you, Gwen and Wendy. Wendy wasn't a big drinker so she was good. But Gwen couldn't even stand straight. You sat her down on a chair,

"I’ll message Rafael and get them to come and pick us up, my Mum will drive you guys home" Wendy nodded.

You messaged Rafael and he replied straight away that they were on the way. It was only 10 minutes from your place too the bar. You waited 5 minutes and then helped Gwen stand. You put an arm around your neck and one around her waist and led her out, Wendy following close behind. When Rafael and your mum pulled up, he could see Gwen laying on you, he got out and opened the back door.

"Do you need help Hermosa?"

"I'm good thanks Rafi, that's Wendy by the way" you nodded towards her

"Hey Rafael, nice to meet you" she held out her hand to shake his.

"Nice to meet you Wendy" he smiled.

You sat Gwen on the seat and pushed her back and shut the door, you walked around and slid into the middle and Wendy got in next to you, Rafael back in the front.

"Hey Mrs Y/L/N, thanks for taking us home" Wendy said from the back seat.

"Hi Wendy, No problems" your Mum smiled.

On the drive to Wendy's, which Gwen was staying there the night, she moved her body towards yours and wrapped her arms around your neck. The smell of the alcohol from her breath made your stomach churn.

"Why did you leave me? You are my best friend and you just up and left. You never call—you never message, you’re always busy with work and that handsome boyfriend. I bet he's good in bed. I wouldn't mind a go! Let's swap for a night before Saturday, you can have Jeff and I'll have Rafael" Gwen slurred while Wendy was laughing loud.

"Gwen, my Mum is here, and so is Rafael" you gave her a warning tone "And I don't like to share you know that, he's mine. Your drunk, go to sleep"

TBC

[punkscowardschampions]

Amber & Cosmo

Amber: [Okay so my vibe is that she leaves the necklace for him after they’ve done the shopping trip like here’s an old sentimental thing to say thanks for helping me get a new thing and after she’s used Dash’s room to study like also thanks for that, but we’re leaving the envelope under his door/propped against it because he very much didn’t want her to go in his room again lol so he can find it when he gets back from his dad’s]

Cosmo: Does a token mean the ghost likes me?

Amber: I guess you must have managed not to anger the spirits for a while

Amber: impressive

Cosmo: My room also remains intact so, must be true

Amber: I won’t tease you by pretending there are things missing, that’d be too 👶🏽

Cosmo: I don’t have as much shit as he does, I’d notice before I worked out who this necklace is really from

Cosmo: If only there was some subtle hint, like

Amber: If only someone had filled the envelope with ⭐️ to the point it was difficult to close

Cosmo: Your dad is gonna think someone’s been really good

Amber: He knows you have, giving me somewhere quiet to study, though he’d take them all back if I’d told him about 👗 shopping

Cosmo: I’m glad to hear you enjoyed the quiet

Cosmo: and people donate things with tags on all the time, he won’t find out, yeah

Cosmo: You could keep it here but the undeniable ego boost he’d get from thinking he can’t even remember the girl who left it is not happening on my watch

Amber: You really do spend time in a better postcode if you think anyone’s gonna believe a dress like that was donated, it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned

Amber: while I own it anyway, it won’t be long before it gets borrowed… but you’re right, that inevitable 💔 for me is better than the maybe of having to overhear to him brag

Cosmo: It’s a good dress

Cosmo: I definitely weren’t saying it wasn’t

Cosmo: You legit have to share everything?

Amber: I know it is, you’d have made a face if I looked stupid

Amber: You put something down, it gets picked up by whoever wants it, there’s nowhere to hide anything

Cosmo: Put it in your school bag

Cosmo: Sounds weird but I bet no one is looking in there for anything

Amber: Less people are wise to that as somewhere to rummage through, it’s definitely worth a try

Cosmo: Now you’ve got no stash, anyway, right

Cosmo: When’d you leave here?

Amber: When did you get back? I tried to time it to just before

Cosmo: You must’ve done a good job

Cosmo: Maybe an hour but I’ve only just come upstairs, I had to talk to my ma first

Amber: I had to finish reading a chapter I’ll need for tomorrow and it wasn’t going in, but I couldn’t let myself be discovered this soon, not by anyone but you

Amber: how was the rest of your weekend?

Cosmo: Your secret is safe with me 👻 girl

Cosmo: We won our Sunday match, so that was good

Cosmo: then we had sunday lunch with my dad’s new girlfriend and her family, that was alright too

Amber: 😁 CONGRATULATIONS!

Amber: did you play 4-2-3-1?

Cosmo: Was that the chapter you were reading up on?

Cosmo: Otherwise, impressive

Amber: But did you? Because according to my research it’s ⭐️

Amber: A LOT of the tactics and why they apparently revolutionized football went over my head, but I remember that formation is really popular because it’s flexible and balances the defensive and attacking aspects

Cosmo: You should talk to our manager

Cosmo: because we didn’t

Cosmo: you really do like learning new things

Amber: Are you unbanning me from matches or practice?

Cosmo: I can’t say I’m just unbanning you from the changing room can I

Amber: maybe check with the rest of the team first

Cosmo: 😂

Cosmo: I didn’t ban you, anyway

Cosmo: I didn’t know you were genuinely interested

Amber: in anything other than how you all look in shorts, you mean

Amber: which part of my first impression made you think I was starved of male attention? Because I’d like to strike it from the record

Cosmo: It was the opposite, if we wanna be honest

Amber: We always wanna be honest

Cosmo: Sometimes there’s no need

Amber: If you didn’t have fun at lunch with your dad’s new girlfriend, that’s a kind lie, but this wouldn’t be

Cosmo: It’s not kind to offer up my opinion when it don’t matter

Amber: it matters enough to you to have formed one

Cosmo: What, you don’t have any opinions on me?

Cosmo: It’s what people do, you can’t help it

Amber: Not about your sex life, because it’s none of my buisiness, and mine wouldn’t be yours if Dash hadn’t gotten you involved in it

Cosmo: Well exactly, you can only base it on what you know

Amber: and you know I slept with your brother once, it isn’t enough to base anything on, because you also know he lied to me

Cosmo: Honestly, forget about it, I shouldn’t have said anything

Amber: All that’s gonna achieve is you carry on thinking the same

Cosmo: It doesn’t matter, you have nothing to prove

Amber: no, I don’t

Cosmo: Sorry

Amber: I can tell you are, it’s okay

Cosmo: I’m not like that

Amber: that’s obvious too, I don’t need crystals or cards to read people

Cosmo: I don’t care or judge you, it’s just what I thought

Cosmo: it wasn’t 👎 or 👍

Amber: Because of the reputation your brother and the commune has or because of me?

Cosmo: I guess it’s mostly because of him

Amber: if I’d met you first you could’ve warned me and neither of us would have to feel like this

Cosmo: I wouldn’t have done that

Cosmo: realistically

Cosmo: you look like his type, even if you actually aren’t

Amber: He obviously thought I was too

Cosmo: I mean the last thing I want is a lecture on polyamory or whatever

Cosmo: and equally the last thing that type appreciates is the warning so

Amber: I’d be the last girl to give you one, my parents’ failed attempts at it are the main reason we move

Cosmo: That’s shit

Cosmo: Whatever your parents love life looks like, shouldn’t affect your life at all

Amber: it’s not a deliberate act of sabotage on their part though, and when I was younger travelling had more upsides than downs, I didn’t really prioritize school and I still don’t know what I wanna do when it’s over anyway

Cosmo: It’s still wrong, whether they meant it or not is irrelevant

Cosmo: Where’d you get the necklace?

Amber: You can't get your wallet out again and offer to buy me another this time, boy

Amber: besides, I want you to have it for what it represents now, not what it used to

Cosmo: Thanks, I appreciate it

Cosmo: I should’ve got you something more than ☕️🥐

Amber: You’ve given me a room of your house

Amber: and secrets, I never get to have those

Cosmo: It’s not any trouble to me

Cosmo: and I’d take anyone over him so

Amber: Oh thanks 😂

Amber: after I’d set you up with the perfect opportunity to give me a compliment…

Cosmo: Can’t catch me out that easy, like

Cosmo: Try harder

Amber: You’re gonna regret saying that

Cosmo: 😏

Cosmo: You ain’t scary and I ain’t, remember

Amber: That’s for your manager to decide when we’ve talked tactics, maybe he’ll think I’m really intimidating

Cosmo: Maybe I’d pay to 👂 & 👀 that

Amber: I won’t ban you from the changing room while it’s happening, don’t worry

Cosmo: I reckon everyone’s thankful for that

Amber: that many pairs of 👂 and 👀 would probably be intimidating for a girl who didn’t live with what feels like 100s

Cosmo: I dunno how you put up with it

Amber: I’ve never lived different

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: but you can still be annoyed by it

Cosmo: I’ve always had a brother and I still know he’s a dick

Amber: You don’t think I’ve vented to you enough about what annoys me?

Cosmo: You said that one, let the record show

Amber: Because you’re too well mannered to go there

Cosmo: Steady on

Cosmo: Just ‘cos you want a compliment of your own

Amber: so give me one

Amber: 🥺!

Cosmo: Don’t pout at me

Amber: [a pouty selfie ofc]

Cosmo: Dirty tactics

Amber: that's why they didn't work on you

Amber: you like good clean fun

Cosmo: Maybe

Cosmo: not giving a 👍 or 👎

Amber: Unless we're talking about the offside rule, I think I can cope without any tips

Amber: there wasn't a need for a ? now that I've gained a good understanding of what you like

Cosmo: Good’s pushing it

Cosmo: the offside rule you’ll have more luck with

Amber: pushing it if you've stretched the truth when we talked about what you're into, sure

Cosmo: As many questions as you ask, you reckon we’ve covered it all? 🤔

Amber: Because you want me to be wrong for the sake of it or because I really am and there's more you want me to know…

Amber: why are you suggesting we haven't covered it?

Cosmo: I’m suggesting we don’t know each other

Cosmo: not that we need to or have more to cover, like

Amber: You know too much to suggest you don't

Cosmo: Alright, James Bond

Cosmo: I don’t know anything THAT criminal

Amber: I don't do anything that criminal

Cosmo: Now it sounds like you definitely do

Amber: 😂 too bad for you that you don't wanna find out either way

Cosmo: 😏 gutting, yeah

Amber: It would be if you didn't have a head too full of ⚽️ to think about me

Cosmo: You’ll never get one of my mates with that attitude

Amber: I don’t need an in with them, I’ve got one with the manager

Cosmo: An in to…

Cosmo: free 🍊?

Amber: 🎫!

Cosmo: You can come, I’ll get you in

Amber: Your dad though

Cosmo: He can’t come next friendly

Cosmo: plus you’ve got no in with him, there’s not a box

Amber: it’d honestly be hard to concentrate surrounded by 🥂🤵🍾

Cosmo: It’s not the premier league, it’s not that fancy, I swear

Amber: thank god, I’d like to be invited back some other time

Cosmo: That sounds so sarcastic but I’m pretty sure you mean it 😅

Amber: See, I told you, you know me

Cosmo: Maybe my head isn’t all ⚽️

Amber: shh no, I’ll be back on a ban

Cosmo: Only if you piss of your manager friend

Amber: ruining the focus of his ⭐ player would

Cosmo: Alright, I’ll compliment you now

Cosmo: just to get you to stop, obviously

Cosmo: Talking to you hasn’t been awful

Amber: That isn't gonna be enough to stop me, but thanks

Cosmo: I might have to pout in a minute then

Amber: Don't even try it, you've maybe got me beat in any race but that's a contest I know I can win

Cosmo: Just say you don’t wanna see my face

Amber: I barely tried to get you to not try, admit you're a bad loser and you'll cry when I take 🥇

Cosmo: Is reverse-psychology hippie approved?

Cosmo: Seems a bit passive-aggressive to me

Amber: You thinking I'm a ⭐ hippie would mean I have to change my mind about how well you know me

Cosmo: I don’t

Cosmo: and that’s a free accidental compliment for you

Amber: it’s really sweet of you

Amber: [an adorably happy selfie]

Cosmo: Be a gracious winner, will you

Amber: after your 🥺📷 before it’d feel hollow

Cosmo: I can’t compete with that

Amber: because your competitiveness disappears off the pitch?

Cosmo: Not that

Amber: camera shy?

Cosmo: Come on

Amber: compliment shy then

Cosmo: I’m not shy

Cosmo: You know what you look like

Amber: But you can compete with me

Cosmo: Maybe it’s reward enough

Amber: or it’s been too long since anyone told you what you look like

Cosmo: You think I’m starved of female attention?

Cosmo: Interesting

Amber: the right kind, maybe

Cosmo: Maybe

Cosmo: the ‘wrong’ kind gas you up just as much

Amber: it doesn’t feel the same though

Cosmo: true

Amber: When’s the friendly?

Cosmo: [a weekday moment, I think they’re midweek vibes usually, thus making sense why your dad could be busy]

Amber: 😁 I’ll be there!

Cosmo: Me too

Cosmo: Once more and it’ll be a habit

Amber: it won’t cost you anything that time, not sure it even counts

Cosmo: So you’re saying we can have one more time

Amber: I am

Cosmo: Swimming?

Cosmo: It’s the other thing on your list

Amber: it’s something we have in common, a like, because I don’t know how you feel about dancing

Cosmo: I can

Cosmo: I don’t have to lurk by the bar

Amber: how many drinks do you need before you do?

Cosmo: I said I don’t much

Amber: okay, I believe you, you’re not shy and you must like it

Cosmo: Probably not how you like it, or as much

Cosmo: but I don’t feel cringe

Amber: and I won’t have to either, which I would if I was forcing you onto the dance floor against your will

Cosmo: So, what would you prefer?

Amber: If you picked, it’s not ALL about me

Cosmo: Meet me [some beach] at [a crazy early time, potentially before school if we are in school rn]

Amber: [I totally think we should say we are because it fits for the awkward date timeline and I think I mentioned school earlier in the convo because of it being Sunday eve rn]

Amber: I don’t know it but I’ll find it

Cosmo: I forgot you’re new

Cosmo: I can pick you up again, if you’d rather

Amber: that’d give us more time there

Cosmo: The phonebox then

Amber: I don’t mind if it becomes a habitual meeting place

Cosmo: We could both get quite the rep if it did

Amber: no worse than the one I already have

Cosmo: I don’t even think that’s debatable, soz

Cosmo: however sex-positive you wanna be

Cosmo: and footballers involvement with sex workers is long and checkered so yeah, not a good look for me most of all

Amber: okay fine, slightly worse

Cosmo: 😆

Amber: you turn the wrong things into contests, you know

Cosmo: If you were a lad you’d have to think about those things too

Cosmo: especially a lad with things to lose

Amber: I have to think about things that are more likely to actually happen, because I’m not a boy and you are

Amber: reputation is nothing on the threat scale

Cosmo: That works until you’re getting into a car with, and have met up with me on multiple occasions

Cosmo: despite the fact I’m a total stranger, so I doubt the sincerity of your fear

Amber: I never said I made good decisions, or that I was scared of you

Cosmo: I know you don’t

Amber: Hypothetically, I have more to lose, that’s all, because you could easily kill me, especially if you keep holding what I did with your brother over my head

Cosmo: Yeah, that’s what I mean

Cosmo: it’s not more likely I’m a serial killer

Amber: If you don’t like the way I interpret what you say, say it differently

Cosmo: I’ve not expressed any intention to hurt you

Cosmo: I said scandal would kill my career, which is true

Amber: I know, and I’ve said before that I’m not gonna get you involved in anything scandalous

Cosmo: then we’re fine

Amber: we can meet somewhere else if it’s gonna be not fine for you

Cosmo: It won’t be

Cosmo: it’s just that people like you always act like reputation means nothing

Cosmo: It’s everything and it’s a lot of work to maintain a good one

Amber: People like me have it decided for them, I’m not gonna give power to bullshit that isn’t even true

Cosmo: No, that means you’ve not ever tried and you never will

Cosmo: no one is gifted a good reputation, you earn it, you prove yourself

Cosmo: you sit back and cry about your lack of privilege, if you wanted it, you’d go and get it

Amber: Tried to what, change people’s innate bias? Obviously not because it’s inevitable they think those things about me, you said it and you did it

Amber: I look like your brother’s type, you’re waiting for a lecture on polyamory, all that free love bullshit, I shouldn’t have to prove what I’m not like

Cosmo: Why shouldn’t you?

Cosmo: And why wouldn’t you

Cosmo: Who do you think you are that you’re exempt, proving yourself is the only worthwhile thing you could spend your time doing

Cosmo: Not holding yourself back by what people automatically think by never challenging that and acting like that’s their bad

Amber: It is their bad if they don’t challenge it by bothering to get to know people individually

Cosmo: That’s stupid, and unrealistic

Cosmo: You aren’t special

Cosmo: If you don’t offer something to the world no one is ever going to give a shit about you, that is the actual reality we operate in

Cosmo: you’re setting yourself up for more complaining and disappointment by expecting anything different

Amber: I could be special to someone, if we both look deeper than the surface and get to know each other, who I am is what I have to offer the world, that’s the reality

Cosmo: Maybe

Cosmo: You’re gonna meet a handful of people in your life, and you’ll stick with one of them, ‘til it falls apart and then you pick another one

Cosmo: If that’s what you want

Amber: Why wouldn’t I want that?

Cosmo: Loads of reasons

Amber: such as…?

Cosmo: Both aforementioned, you really think out of all the people in the world, you’re going to find the right one

Cosmo: no

Cosmo: and it will end, usually badly

Amber: I think it’s possible and lots of impossible things happen daily anyway

Cosmo: Good luck then, seriously

Amber: that implies I’m just hoping and won’t actually do anything to make sure it doesn’t end badly or the person is right for me

Cosmo: Most people try on both fronts

Cosmo: the numbers don’t lie

Amber: odds get beaten and then the numbers don’t matter

Cosmo: I said good luck and I meant it, for real

Amber: and what you're really saying is drop it now, right?

Cosmo: No but what more do we really need to say on it

Cosmo: go ahead if you’ve got something

Amber: Cynical

Cosmo: I’m realistic

Amber: I'm realistic, you point out the downside

Cosmo: The downside is realistic

Amber: 😂 as is admitting the existence of a plausible upside

Cosmo: I know there is

Cosmo: I’m on the path to mine

Amber: I can't wait to see you play

Cosmo: I’ll try not to disappoint you

Amber: Not gonna happen, we're both realists

Cosmo: Not another thing in common 😏

Amber: We’re not up to 9, you can relax

Cosmo: Tah, like

Cosmo: So, what’s on the agenda for you now?

Amber: feeding the 5000 with my share of meal prep for the week, putting the 🐓 to bed, counting plastic babies ready for my mama's morning drop in session… because I don’t know why but they go missing quicker than 🌿 in this place and there’s never enough for the number of parents who come, maybe it’s 👽

Amber: and finishing the homework I didn't at yours

Amber: What are you gonna be doing?

Cosmo: Well, none of that is anything I would’ve guessed 😅

Cosmo: Maybe the meal prep

Cosmo: I have to do that too, help my ma

Amber: I’m surprised you didn’t guess about the animals, and honestly shocked if you’ve never had any 🐐 visit you

Cosmo: You haven’t looked out the window you’re coming in?

Cosmo: we’ve got our own here, I’d not notice yours from my nans

Amber: I thought you’d be able to tell them apart

Cosmo: Why did you think that? 😂

Amber: you’re pretty observant, I don’t know

Cosmo: Yeah but, hardly on my radar

Amber: but you could tell me apart from the other girls here before I was on your radar

Cosmo: You aren’t a goat

Cosmo: neither of us can count that as a compliment

Amber: I’m gonna, they nearly knock me over all the time, it’s annoying

Cosmo: More annoying than the other girls?

Amber: that’s girl dependent, some of them for sure

Cosmo: I get you

Cosmo: I’ve seen plenty come and go

Amber: Am I the first you’ve spoken to?

Cosmo: Are there still Cavantes there?

Cosmo: Because I have some tenuous connection to them, some of them have spoken to me before

Amber: [list any that could be because I’ve forgotten which Caleb children exist and when lol]

Cosmo: Yeah, those ones [the ones around your age range]

Cosmo: most of them suck

Amber: I can’t argue with you, as much as I know you like it

Cosmo: Nah, you don’t have to pretend they ain’t, is all I’m saying

Cosmo: they’re not family or anything I care about

Amber: I probably wouldn’t have, I don’t have your manners

Cosmo: Yeah, fair enough

Cosmo: Why’d you ask?

Amber: more curiosity, I guess

Cosmo: Not wanting to be ⭐️?

Amber: you don’t believe I’m special, we covered that

Cosmo: I don’t think anyone is

Amber: What about yourself?

Cosmo: You think I’m that dickhead

Cosmo: No one but me

Cosmo: no, obviously not

Amber: I think you must have self belief to do what you’re doing

Cosmo: I believe in hardwork

Cosmo: and luck

Amber: but hard work isn’t all it takes, or anyone could be a ⚽️⭐️

Cosmo: right, that’s the luck

Cosmo: I’ve not earnt it, but if it happens I have to work hard to not waste it

Amber: Why haven’t you earned it? You’ve been working hard since you were a kid

Cosmo: I didn’t earn having a dad who already got his shot

Amber: that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve yours, you’re not your dad

Cosmo: It means I’ve had help loads of people don’t get

Cosmo: that doesn’t make me less deserving any more than it makes them more because they’re the ‘underdog’

Amber: right, but you also have talent lots of people don’t have

Cosmo: Lots of people do too

Amber: okay, but special isn’t a bad word, it’s allowed

Cosmo: I just think it’s bullshit

Amber: it’s just praise

Cosmo: I don’t need it

Amber: doesn’t everyone, sometimes?

Cosmo: Maybe, I really don’t know

Cosmo: achievements works fine for me

Amber: so you’re fine and gonna be fine

Cosmo: What are you saying?

Amber: nothing, what do you want me to be saying?

Cosmo: Just that

Amber: 😶

Cosmo: Go search for the 👶s and 🐓s

Cosmo: and don’t forget your towel

Amber: You’d let me share, no question

Cosmo: I’ve told you the changing room isn’t like that, babe

Amber: I’ll bring my own when I meet you at the gym, your friends don’t have to pout

Cosmo: It’s like you have met them already

Amber: you’ve told me plenty about them, I feel like I’ve got the picture

Cosmo: You think that about me as well

Amber: are you asking me or telling me what you think I think?

Cosmo: You’ve said as much, so I’m just reiterating

Amber: I definitely don’t have your full picture

Cosmo: 🖼

Amber: 👨🏽‍🎨

Cosmo: Is that you or me?

Amber: you still creating yourself, meet me at the phonebox in maybe 70 years and you can give me the full picture

Cosmo: But you’re done already?

Cosmo: bit rude

Amber: I'll never be done but you don't wanna know me like that, boy

Cosmo: Maybe

Amber: you'll remember to keep the date with me when we're old?

Cosmo: If I’m still around, sure

Amber: 👴🏽💪🏽

Amber: you again, absolutely not what I’m gonna be looking like in the future

Cosmo: A serious downgrade 😅

Cosmo: I can’t imagine being that old though

Amber: if you still won’t send me selfies I’ll have no idea what to expect

Cosmo: You’ll have time to get better at stalking

Amber: or asking you politely to do what I want

Cosmo: If you show that much perseverance, I’ll definitely reward it, like

Amber: I'll stay in touch wherever I am in the world, until technology gets too complicated for me and my grandkids refuse to help me flirt with faces from the past

Cosmo: 🤣

Cosmo: they sound ungrateful already

Amber: They're cynics too, it makes sense they would be, where's their granddad in all this? He can't be that special to me if I'm talking about you as the one who got away

Cosmo: Maybe a lifetime of every day does that to a relationship

Cosmo: I’m sure he was special once upon a time

Amber: Are you saying I wouldn't be fun to spend every day with?!

Amber: I won't keep haunting you then

Cosmo: Your husbands the dead one, not you

Amber: you called me a 👻 first, before I had a husband

Cosmo: I also said it wasn’t horrible hanging out with you

Amber: talking to me wasn't, is what you said, but now I know you like hanging out with me too

Cosmo: Damn it 😏

Amber: You kinda gave yourself away on that on the shopping trip anyway, I wasn't looking in the mirror or at 👗 for the FULL hour, I saw you 😏

Cosmo: I weren’t looking at you in the mirror or at you in the dress the whole time either, just FYI

Amber: but we did pick the best, didn’t we? ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️?

Amber: hiding dresses in my school bag can’t become a habit, I need some space for 📚

Cosmo: I’d say 9 going out dresses was excessive but I’m sure the girls I know would think the exact opposite

Amber: I assume they have the wardrobe space I don’t and 🥂🤵🍾 places to go

Cosmo: That’s the goal, anyways

Amber: I only need one if it’s the right one

Cosmo: And it is

Amber: promise it’s not a kind lie?

Cosmo: Cross my heart

Amber: okay, I’ll remove the tags

Cosmo: Remember to recycle for the karma to get back in your favour, yeah

Amber: I could use it to make a really tiny sign supporting you, since you hate praise so much

Cosmo: I don’t hate praise

Amber: that isn’t the impression you’ve given me so far, but maybe you just hate it from me

Cosmo: Maybe I only like it when I’ve earnt it

Amber: When have I tried to give you anything you haven’t earned?

Cosmo: You and me probably have different ideas of when praise has been earnt and when it’s premature

Amber: I don't see why we would, it's quite clear cut when praise has been earned or not, isn't it?

Cosmo: Nah, it’s definitely not

Cosmo: I’m not gonna tell you you’ve been over-praised and start something but I’m sure your parents are quicker with the ⭐️ than most

Amber: You're sure because…?

Cosmo: how you are, it’s quite obvious

Amber: Oh because I have an understanding of my self worth, I'm happy that's obvious

Cosmo: See, you even said that dead cocky

Amber: You're making an assumption, I could've had lots of really supportive friends or boyfriends, or spent every day looking into the mirror giving myself praise

Cosmo: I’m not wrong though

Cosmo: and parental relationships trump those by far in terms of shaping development so double not wrong

Amber: Not wrong just very smug about being right

Cosmo: You’ve taken it as an insult, I didn’t say it as one

Amber: When has cocky ever been used as flattery?

Cosmo: First time for everything… ?

Cosmo: I only called you cocky once you got on the defensive

Amber: if I'm on the defensive it's because the negative traits you think I have are piling up

Cosmo: I didn’t say it was negative, for the 2nd time

Amber: I don't believe you any more than I did the first time

Cosmo: Well I can’t change that now

Amber: My attention's on dolls and chickens anyway

Cosmo: 👍

Amber: You really can't change it, can you?

Cosmo: What do you mean?

Amber: how you are, how these conversations always go

Cosmo: Were you expecting me to?

Cosmo: Sorry to disappoint

Amber: You're not, or the apology would be realer

Cosmo: Because who are you to ask me to change myself

Cosmo: what the fuck

Amber: Who am I to ask you to think before you speak? The person you're talking to

Cosmo: I don’t need to listen to this

Amber: and I don't need you making me feel bad about myself every time we talk because you think I need to be humbled or whatever this is

Cosmo: Why are you still talking to me then

Amber: Because there's a side to you that doesn't make me feel like that

Cosmo: You deserve better than that

Cosmo: and I don’t want to be someone who makes anyone feel like shit

Amber: So try not to be

Cosmo: It’s not that easy

Cosmo: not with you, I don’t know why

Amber: change isn't easy ever, that's where trying comes in, and why I said it instead of telling you to just do it with a please tacked on so it seems less demanding

Cosmo: Or we could admit we’re a poor match

Cosmo: Wouldn’t that be easier for us both, and more sensible as well

Amber: No, you already admitted you like talking to and hanging out with me, which means we can do this

Amber: everything isn't wrong because we've identified a problem area

Cosmo: If you feel like shit I feel like shit

Amber: You're not your brother, it's not that bad between us

Cosmo: It’s not a comparison I need so close to hand

Amber: it's not a comparison

Amber: you sound like you're this close to offering to give me my necklace back when that's the opposite of what you should be doing

Cosmo: Alright

Cosmo: [my vibe is time to go to the phonebox and leave his necklace for her because clearly we shouldn’t see each other rn but that is the opposite]

Cosmo: left something for you

Amber: Where?

Cosmo: Come on

Amber: No, if you say the phonebox it means you’re not coming

Cosmo: I’ve just left

Cosmo: If you want it, it’s there

Amber: This feels like a breakup

Cosmo: It can’t be a breakup

Cosmo: just go to the phonebox, I obviously weren’t coming in

Amber: [do go and get that gal]

Amber: It's not your good luck charm, right? I don’t want it to be my fault you lose your friendly

Cosmo: It isn’t, you’re fine

Cosmo: I don’t have one and I wouldn’t gift you my own bad luck

Amber: thanks for not being upset enough at me to wanna hex me

Cosmo: I definitely haven’t chatted to enough girls there to know where to start

Cosmo: My dad got it for me, when I got my contract and my number

Amber: you’re sure you want me to have it?

Cosmo: I didn’t leave it for the next person who needs to call breakdown services to find

Cosmo: ‘course I do

Amber: I know, but you don’t have to give me anything to try and make up for what I said

Cosmo: I’m not, it’s not like that

Cosmo: You said you didn’t want yours back

Amber: and I don’t, I’m just checking you won’t want yours back when you have time to think about it

Cosmo: put it on and show me?

Amber: oh okay, if it looks stupid you want it back

Amber: [but do obviously]

Cosmo: Yeah, you can keep it

Cosmo: I’m sure

Amber: Are you gonna wear yours?

Cosmo: [send your first selfie back boy]

Amber: you do know how to 🤳🏽!

Cosmo: click and points not beyond my capabilities, yeah

Amber: your secret’s safe with me

Amber: and I won’t be expecting them all the time from now on, you can relax again

Cosmo: I’m sorry

Cosmo: for talking to you like that

Amber: I am too, for pushing you, I can usually communicate better than this

Cosmo: Me too

Cosmo: believe it or not

Cosmo: that’s what I meant, this isn’t how I usually interact with anyone, seriously

Amber: Neither do I and if it was always like that I’d drop it, but yesterday shopping, it wasn’t, I did something I never do but I didn’t once feel 👽

Amber: I have school friends I’ve known for months now that can’t put me that at ease

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: I’m not going to say you’re imagining it or something

Cosmo: If we really were just incompatible, I’d have found a polite way to tell you by now

Amber: of course you would 😂

Amber: be my friend, please

Cosmo: I can hear the 🥺

Cosmo: You don’t have to ask nice

Cosmo: We can be friends

Amber: I thought I’d give you a break from seeing them

Cosmo: I thought that might be punishment

Amber: I don’t want to

Cosmo: That’s a relief

Cosmo: I know how tough you are

Amber: No you don’t, boy

Cosmo: You can prove it another time

Amber: at the beach?

Cosmo: It will be cold

Amber: I was convinced the necklace meant we weren’t going

Cosmo: No, I just didn’t want to see you RIGHT now

Cosmo: no offence, obviously

Cosmo: it’s just a lot, isn’t it

Cosmo: but we both still like swimming

Amber: I’ve liked it since I was a 👶🏽 you’re not having it in the breakup

Cosmo: 😏 Alright, ‘cos you can’t be claiming your new found love for the game/my income

Cosmo: I’ll have to cope

Amber: give me enough time to work out the offside rule before your next goodbye

Cosmo: It’s not that hard to get your head ‘round, just hard remembering it as you play

Cosmo: I’ll explain it before I go

Amber: if I didn’t have homework to finish I’d let you try now

Cosmo: Can’t say I’ll miss having to do mine

Amber: Do you have to do ⚽️ homework too like dribbling and headers?

Cosmo: I think we just call that training 😂

Cosmo: but yeah you’re in deep shit if you don’t show for that

Amber: pretend I knew that and didn’t make myself look stupid

Cosmo: It’s not stupid, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it put like that though

Cosmo: keeping up your skills and fitness is like homework, when you think about it, but I guess that delegitimizes it being ‘work’

Cosmo: Do teachers call their marking homework? Maybe

Amber: my dad calls it marking but he’s not like my teachers at [whatever the school is called]

Amber: some of them would definitely try and be relatable like that

Cosmo: Ugh, yeah, I can hear that, like

Cosmo: they also get holidays that only school kids get as well though, which they don’t like attention being brought to

Amber: 😂 maybe I’ll draw attention to it when they ask me a question I don’t know the answer to

Cosmo: I didn’t recommend it 😶

Cosmo: can tell your dad though if he gets an attitude about the weed

Amber: He’s forgiven me, I promised to help him do lesson plans and get his students to follow them, they’re all acting like they break up for summer next week

Cosmo: Teacher’s pet makes sense 🍎

Cosmo: glad you sorted it though

Amber: it’s kinda put me off 🌿 maybe my body will be a temple by summer

Cosmo: I know it’s like, meant to be the same as a glass of wine to take the edge off

Cosmo: and I know it could be

Cosmo: but what the fuck is my brother ‘taking the edge’ off of, all day, every day

Cosmo: I don’t care how benign, how ‘harmless’ but how is that any different from drinking or doing any other drug all day?

Amber: I’m not someone he’ll accept an intervention from, but he needs to hear it from somewhere, because you’re right, it’s too much

Cosmo: People have tried

Cosmo: You know how he is

Amber: and he’s not the only one, we both know being here all the time, surrounded by like minded people validates it as though it’s just another part of the daily routine

Cosmo: Yep

Cosmo: I can’t be bothered with him, I really can’t

Cosmo: it’s just infuriating

Amber: What does your dad say? It seems like something he’d have an opinion on…

Cosmo: Yeah he don’t like it

Cosmo: no one would care if he did it as well as doing anything fucking else with his days

Cosmo: he’s just living up to that lazy black boy stereotype, so dad doesn’t love that, of course

Amber: infuriating is a good choice to describe him and how intent he is on wasting his time

Cosmo: Fuck him

Cosmo: he’ll have to grow up eventually

Amber: And he’ll have to stop fucking other people over when I deny him as many easy ways to do it as I can, that’s what punishment from me looks like, FYI

Cosmo: Noted

Cosmo: and suitably impressed, once I see the results, like

Amber: I’ll try not to disappoint you the first time you’ve admitted you could be impressed by me

Cosmo: Shh

Cosmo: Sounds like something a loser would say, not a winner

Amber: 😶

Cosmo: 😁

[fipindustries]

advice for my younger self

listening to that playlist i shared earlier today really got me in the mindframe of me back in my first years of college when i was barely starting to learn what it was to be an adult. and thinking about that i thought of some thing i would ike to say to that person, some bits of basic wisdom that without getting too specific or too monumental would have made a big difference. things that i know i wouldnt have figured out on my own until it was too late.

 this is not about specific mistakes i made but more general attitudes that i should have carried with me back then. most of this is going to be very particular and make sense only to me but if you are interested keep reading.

1) you dont have to complete your carrer in five years, you can take six or seven or ten years to do it, your parents would have assisted you all the same

1.a) as for studying, for christ sake dont just read the textbooks, if you are giving a big test and specifically if its a big oral lesson, write it down before hand, prepare a speech, write a monologue, practisce it, memorize it. prepare specifically what you are going to say when you are in front of the teachers, dont try to just “learn” it and hope that you’ll be able to recall it during the test

1.b) you dont have to take every single course in the semester, you can pick two or three you are really interested in, let the others by the wayside, pick them up later, use the free time to really study properly or get a simple part time job if you can, i know its sounds scary and like its a lot of responsability and like it diverges wildly from the plan you have for your life but trust me, its a lot easier than it sounds

2) dont be afraid of mental illness. is not as scary as it looks form the outside in. you are not gonna go insane, you are not going to get lost in a false world of delusion where you can never know what is real and what isnt. reality asserts itself, things calm down, it goes away. you get through it and you realize is not that bad from the other side. mental illness is a lot more common than you think, a lot more widespread than you think and a lot more manageable that you think. is not the end of the world and is not the end of your world either.

2.a) dont be afraid of the therapist, you will actually enjoy it a lot. it doesnt mean there is something terribly wrong or broken with you. its not shameful. they are smart and trained and they are glad to hear you talk. they are not going to force you into anything you dont want, they are not going to turn you into someone else, they are not going to send you to a mad house. their primary goal is that you be comfortable and at peace with yourself. go to a therapist.

3) keep your eyes open for any boardgame clubs. ask around, i know for a fact there is at least one in every city you’ve lived, maybe not yet at the time of you reading this but there will be. if you find them, join. they are the best thing that has ever happened to you.

4) if you happen to have sexual partners (and im not saying you definetly will) make sure they have a good time. ask what they want and do it for them. make sure they cum, seriously. stay with them. spend time together. cuddle in bed. they are having sex with you so the least you can do is have sex with them as well.

4.a) and by that same token, if you are in a relationship dont doubt to ask for sex too! be open about that, be forthcomming, but do be respectful. and if they say no or that they dont like to do that you should probably end the relationship, you are not going to be happy with them.

4.b) dont be afraid to try on womens clothes, you have my blessing, explore your femmenine side, try on make up. try on the fake boobies. do silly frilly pinky femmenine stuff. i know it’s just a weird fetish for you but if you have a partner be open with them about this and if they are supportive or want to help you explore this take full advantage. and dont worry, its not some dirty disgusting terrible secret that must be hidden from everyone. your friends and family are going to be ok with it if it ever comes out but dont feel is some dark secret that you must confess either, its your bussiness and for you to figure out at your own pace (also, hey, weird tip, i know it will sound absolutely nonesensical to you but did you know there are a lot of trans women who are trans without expiriencing dysphoria, just a fun fact i wanted to share with you :) )

5) dont be afraid of SJWs, they are not going to take away your games, they are not going to ruin cartoons or art or books or movies. masterpieces will still come out, well written, well drawn, well programmed and well animated masterpieces that you will love. you will be amazed at how easy is to ignore those people and how irrelevant they actually are once you stop following them on tumblr and once you stop going to twitter. 

5.a) if you think politics is stupid or cancerous now, wait until 2016, ok?

5.b) learn to apologize and own up to your mistakes. if a friend or an acquaintance is telling you that you are being an asshole online dont get defensive, just drop it and move on. dont make a huge deal out of it and dont engage in long protracted discussions online. just dont, you will embitter yourself, this is particularly salient because to this day you are having problems with this one, though not as frequently as you used to.

6) this one is more superficial i think because overall you did well on your own without advice from the future but... trust in your art. you will will amaze yourself with the things you will create. you ARE going to get a LOT better at what you do and you will learn a lot of things you never thought you would be able to master. you are going to become an amazing artist (that doesnt necesarily mean a financially succesful one or  a widely known one but you will be good at it and, trust me, that is what matters)

7) i know you’ve heard this one a million times but this one is cheating because i am from the future and i know this for a fact, you will be ok. things will work out, you will, time and again, find the way to fall on your feet, your family and friends will be there to catch you. you have a safety net, you are very lucky in that regard, dont take it for granted but it is there. you are not gonna end up homeless in the streets or raped in a dark alley or expelled on in prison or in a mental hospital, so relax and stop being so scared. you have ten very weird years ahead of you so good luck with that.

ps: you are going to meet a girl named zoe, she’s great, she’s the best. dont go live to hear apartment if you dont have a stable job and able to pay your own rent. and if you do make sure you moved out of it by february of 2020. if fact if at all possible, try not to be in cordoba by 2020. you are going to be fine as long as you are careful, you are not gonna die, i repeat YOU ARE NOT GONNA DIE. but do be extremely careful. thats it, godspeed.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Refuse to be a Named Character pt 2

Happy Halloween everyone! Here is part 2 of the nameless side character story. I was so amazed at the response to it, thank you to everyone who commented or sent me messages. It really made my day. This story will probably be 4-5 parts. If all goes well part 3 should go up tomorrow! 

Part 1 linked here. 

Enjoy!

_____________________________

“So are you Chloe’s twin sister? You two look so alike!” 

Graham, the story’s hero, smiled handsomely at me, closing the distance between us.

I grunted in response, otherwise ignoring him as I reluctantly led his group into my small home. One young woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, clutched an infected wound at her side with a groan as she walked. I helped her to my bed, uncovering the wound and gathering medical supplies to treat her with. I kept my face nonchalant, projecting a calm air, but on the inside I was bitterly complaining.

Stupid hero. Stupid plot. Even in the middle of the forest they manage to find me? Just what does a poor girl have to do to avoid these harbingers of doom?!

Unaware of my inner raging, Chloe had already stepped forward a bright smile on her face. 

“Sister! I was so worried about you!” She reached out, and ignoring my efforts to step away, managed to pull me in for a tight hug. I struggled briefly, feeling uncomfortable. “I thought you were dead!”

I was happy that Chloe was still alive. Despite the bitter way we parted, I had never wanted anything bad to happen to her. But that didn’t mean I was pleased with her bringing the story’s plot right into my backyard.

I pulled away from her grasp. “I’m still very much alive.”

“Why did you never mention you had a sister, Chloe?” Graham’s face was mildly confused as he stared at her. Chloe froze, and I smiled to myself as I settled back next to the injured girl. Chloe obviously hadn’t talked about me, as she didn’t want Graham to know she had abandoned me, but how was she supposed to explain it now?

Her answer was apparently to cry loudly. 

“I thought she was dead! I was so sad, I just couldn’t talk about it!” She sniffed back further tears, looking pitifully up at the story’s hero. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything. I just didn’t dare hope…”

I tried to hold back my laughter, and it came out in a suppressed snort. Chloe glared daggers at me for a moment, before turning back to Graham with a sad expression once more. He reached out to pat her shoulder, handing her a handkerchief to dry her tears.

“It’s okay, Chloe, I’m happy you were able to find her again.”  His smile was so bright it was almost blinding. 

Shuddering, I turned my attention to the wound in front of me. I carefully cleaned the dirt and dried blood, mixing herbs to stop bleeding and prevent infection to pack in her wounds. The actions reminded me of doing a similar task for Luke years ago. Smiling idly at the thought of him, I briefly touched the bracelet at my wrist.

I hope he’s doing well. His last letter said he was fine… but I would feel better if I could see him. Even though we only spent a few months together, I missed talking to him. 

As I sat there, lost in thought, I slowly noticed that the room was silent. Glancing over, I caught sight of Graham’s face. His friendly smile was gone, replaced by a serious expression. His gaze was fixed on my bracelet. I felt uneasy, and tugged my rolled up sleeves down to cover my wrist, but even after his view was blocked, I felt his eyes still watching intently.

“Where were you and Chloe before you escaped?” His voice was quiet, but I felt a chill run down my spine.

I kept my attention back on his injured companion, wrapping the wounds while I answered. “At the household of one of the minor Lords.”

 “…” The silence dragged on, causing a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, but eventually he turned away, starting a different conversation as if he had never asked in the first place. The tension drained from the room, and I felt myself relax slowly.

_____________________________

Later that evening, I sat out on my porch, my weapons close at hand, staring up at the sky. I was drained. I had spent so much time living in solitude since Blade left (not that she had been one for social interaction even when she lived here), that the now full house with all the chatter and noise was giving me a headache. I rubbed my forehead, looking at the stars, feeling lost. There was a sense of foreboding, of an inevitable fate bearing down on me that I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried. 

“Do you need to talk?” At the sound of Graham’s voice I groaned quietly, turning towards him, feeling slightly ill at the sight of the overly-sweet smile he wore.

“No.”

He seemed undeterred by my unfriendly tone and expression. “It’s okay, I just want to help you. Everyone here has been through terrible things, but we’re stronger now that we’ve banded together.” His voice was earnest, his eyes kind, as he sat down beside me. 

I inched away from him. “That’s nice.” 

“You could join us, you know.” His smile widened. “Be with your sister again. And the others? We’re much closer than mere companions. We’re a family, you know? And you can be a part of our family.”

It sounded so simple when he spoke. As if I would be happy and welcomed with opened arms. I glanced at him, idly wondering if he had given a similar speech to all the other young women in his group. If they had joined out of loneliness, a desire to belong, slowly falling in love with the man who had welcomed them so gently. All of them thinking they were special to him, when he only saw them as tools to be used to achieve his goals. And he wanted me to join them?

Even the thought was suffocating. “I prefer to be alone.” 

“No one wants to be alone.” He sighed quietly. “I was once like you. Not trusting anyone, thinking the world was against me. If it weren’t for your sister Chloe finding me… believing in me… I don’t know where I’d be.”

 “…” I stared up at the stars, not caring enough to answer.

“We could really use your help, to be honest.” He laughed, a self-deprecating gesture. “To tell you the truth, I’m not just a simple traveler…. I’m a prince.”

Was I supposed to be impressed? I tried not to roll my eyes.  Stop trying to drag me into the plot!

Graham stared intently at me, and seemed disconcerted at my lack of reaction. “Did Chloe tell you already?”

“No.”

“Oh…. Well, maybe you understand then. Being a prince in Armaria isn’t all that special. I’m just one of many sons that lecherous old fart has. The real challenge, the real test… it’s the throne.”

Graham stood up, obviously filled with restless energy, and began pacing back and forth as he continued.

“There’s three tests that one must pass to be named the sole heir to the throne. First is simple, you must possess the token of affection passed from the king to the mother of the son in question. For those women who bore my father multiple sons… well she has to choose who she thinks is the strongest.” He paused, looking down on me as if wishing to gauge my reaction to these words. 

I shrugged, bored at hearing again the exposition from a book I didn’t even like. Graham finally frowned at this, tugging at a something at his collar before holding it before my eyes. It was a beautiful strand of pearls, with a  small golden amulet hanging from it. “This is my token, handed to me by my mother before she died. It will stay with me until I’ve successfully reached the throne… after which I will give it to my one true love as an engagement token.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Congratulations, who is the lucky girl?” 

“… I’m not sure yet.” He hesitated before he spoke. “I’ve yet to fall in love… but I feel that it could change soon.” His words felt loaded with meaning, and he was smiling charmingly at me again.

It honestly made me feel sick. I had never liked Graham’s character even in the book. For all that he seemed nice and friendly, he was too… disingenuous. Too willing to tell his companions what they wanted to hear. To easy to abandon them to their horrible deaths. The fact that everyone praised him as a hero while he did so made it all the more chilling.

Even Lucien the villain is better than him. I thought suddenly. He might be a violent killer, but at least he’s open and honest about it. This “hero” makes me want to keep a hand on my wallet and sleep with one eye open!

“Well, good luck with that.” I answered him unenthusiastically. I hoped sincerely that he didn’t choose Chloe. Whichever “true love” he eventually picked would have a difficult time with this dishonest man. 

Graham laughed at my answer. “How rare to see a girl like you who doesn’t covet anything.”

“I covet plenty of things.” Safety. Silence. Separation from the plot. “Just nothing you can give.”

“All the more reason to have someone like you at my side.” He sat down again. “The second task is much more dangerous, you see. One must travel to the Northern Desert. The place is crawling with dangerous animals and large lawless bandit gangs. Each gang leader has a Tarif, a small amulet that serves as a symbol of their undying loyalty. To reach the third and final test, a prince must be able to acquire one of these Tarifs and bring it back to the Western City.”

Seeing he was finally done, I shook my head. “It’s seems like you already have a good group here. You should be just fine without me.”

“We need someone who can track. And it wouldn’t hurt if she could hold her own in a fight too. “ Graham sighed. “Lula, the girl you just patched up, was supposed to help with tracking the bandit gang, but now… there’s no way she would survive out there while recovering from an injury. We need you.”

I smiled at him, and he seemed to relax for a moment, obviously feeling confident that I would agree.

“No.” Standing up, I turned to walk away, only to have my arm grabbed and held back. I turned coldly towards Graham, who refused to let go.

“Don’t you want to be a part of something bigger? Something greater?”

Like this awful plot that kills off the majority of its main characters? “Nope.”

“You would be a part of the small group of people who placed the future king on his throne! Forever remembered in legends!”

“Not interested.”

His eyes widened at my calm answer, a faint trace of panic visible in his eyes. “What about your sister?! Don’t you want her to be safe? Shouldn’t you stay by her side as she faces danger?” 

I shrugged, still trying and failing to pull my arm back. “My sister has made her own choices, as I’ve made mine. You and Chloe are different from me, going out to face danger and accomplish wonderful things.” I smiled, but it felt more like a grimace. “I prefer to stay at home. Some people are just not meant for greatness or adventure.”

“…” Graham continued to stare at me, and as the silence stretched out I became more and more uncomfortable, but I refused to show it, looking back up at the stars. 

“You never told me your name.” When he finally spoke again, his voice was strangely serious. I glanced over, surprised to see a look in his eye I couldn’t quite understand. Fortunately he finally released his grip on my arm, allowing me to put some distance between us.

“There’s no need to. I’ve never been important enough to have one.” I laughed briefly, shouldering my weapons and walking out towards the forest. “I’m going out to patrol. Goodnight, Your Highness. Good luck with winning the throne.”

Graham didn’t answer me. He just silently watched, his gaze boring into my back as I left him behind.

_____________________________

 I thought that would be the end of it. At least, I hoped it would. After all, I had turned down the prince multiple times; he had to give up at some point, right?

But when I woke up the next morning, it was to Chloe’s desperate tears.

“You have to come with us.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, her face pale, her hands wringing together in front of her. She looked so different from the confident girl she had been back in our world, the one who had left me behind with only an angry glance.

“I made myself very clear to your hero last night. I’m not going.” I got up, washing my face from the cold water in the basin by my bed, trying to wake myself up faster.

“You don’t understand! Graham says that if you don’t come along, he’ll leave me behind!”

“Good.” I smiled. “You remember how many of his companions died in the Northern Desert? Chopped to pieces, shot with arrows, poisoned… Better if you can meet up with him in the Western City. Then at least if you die there it will only be a quick stab in the back.”

Chloe stepped back, her face drawn. “How can you be so cruel? I can’t abandon Graham and my friends now!”

“Then follow after them. No need for me to go.”

“But…” 

I shook my head, feeling frustrated. “Chloe, I’m living a happy life out here in the forest, away from the plot. I don’t want to risk my life for Graham. Don’t ask me to.”

Chloe sank down to the floor, staring up at me. “Please. I need you.” She hesitated, then reached out, her hand pulling on my pant leg. “This… this hasn’t been going well. I thought if I found Graham first, was his main support, he would see me as special. That I would be the heroine. But…”

“He still gathered everyone, treating everyone the same.” I completed her sentence after she hesitated for a long moment.

“Graham really needs someone who can track. If I convince you to come… He might look at me differently.” She sounded miserable. I tried my best not to care.

“It won’t change what kind of person he is, Chloe.”

“Please. This is my only chance.” She pulled herself to her knees, kneeling in front of me. “I’m begging you. If you do this, I will never ask for you again. You can come back here and live the rest of your life as a no-name background character. But please. You’re the only one I can rely on. The only family I have left. “

“…” I wasn’t an idiot. I knew she was using me. Chloe had always been selfish, always needing me to be the one to give in, to let her have her way. She  had left me behind, never looking for me, and only now wanted to claim that she missed me, that she needed me.

Part of me wanted to laugh in her face. To ignore her and watch her struggle without me. To have her realize that she couldn’t always have her way.

But I couldn’t. Because deep down, no matter how angry or bitter my feelings toward her had become, she was right about one thing:

She was all the family I had left, in our world and in this one.

Just one more time. I promised myself silently. One last time I’ll give in, give her what she wants. Then I’ll hide away so deeply that she’ll never find me again.

“I’ll come along for the second task only. After that you and your plot are on your own.” My voice sounded tired as I finally answered her.

Chloe jumped up, excited “THANK YOU…”

“On two conditions.” I interrupted with a grim smile. “First, I want your word that after this, you will never try to involve me in this madness again.”

“Of course!” Chloe promised without hesitation. “What’s the second condition?”

“Forget my name from our previous world. In this place, in this life, I’m not someone important enough to have a name.”

“Really?” She looked shocked. “Do you really think that by not having a name you’ll be safe? That’s pretty silly…”

“Silly or not, it’s my choice. I’m not a main character, Chloe. I’m the nameless woods guide who will help your group for a chapter. After that I fade from the story, never to be heard from again. Got it?”

“Got it.”

I watched her agree with a smug grin, feeling sad. 

I already regret this.

It’s just a short interaction with the plot, right? … What could go wrong? 

I groaned at my own thoughts, leaving to pack my bags.

_____________________________

I sat down next to the campfire, feeling tired, although more emotionally than physically. The long day of riding on horses was tough, but nothing I hadn’t experienced before while searching for game. In fact, that had ended up being the least of my worries. The problem was the stupid hero of this story, who wouldn’t leave me alone.

Graham was annoying.

Despite his initial happiness at my agreement to help out their group, he seemed dissatisfied with my desire to not be too close to them. Which led to him trying to get me to open up.

It was giving me a headache.

At first he kept trying to have “heart to heart” talks, asking personal questions, trying to guess my feelings and motivations. When that didn’t work he began dropping “private” details about himself, acting as if I was his only confidant. (Which wasn’t very interesting, as I knew most of the things he spoke of from the book already). When I continued to ignore him he began challenging me to contests of skill, from knife throwing to archery to even smaller things like cooking. Perhaps he thought that if he could develop a rivalry with me, we would become friends?

At first I beat him quickly, trying to shut him up, but that only seemed to make him want to challenge me again. The last few times I lost on purpose, hoping he’d lose interest, but now he seemed to want to spend time “teaching me” about the skill I’d lost in. There was no way to win, so I’d gone back to ignoring his challenges.

I poked at the fire, imaging his smiling face instead of the charred wood, feeling bitter.

Doesn’t he have a whole harem to manage? Why does the hero have so much free time to bother with a nameless side character?

“We arrive at the desert tomorrow.”

Speak of the devil. 

I looked up at Graham who had sat across from me, and frowned. “Should we expect trouble?”

“Perhaps. I’m not the only Prince after all.” He shook his head. “The King passed on six personal tokens to his various women, so there will potentially be five other opponents besides us in the desert.”

“How many Tarifs are there?” I tried to remember what I had read in the book, but couldn’t.

“Three. So only half of us will go the Western City to face the final test.”

“I see.” I didn’t ask any further questions, trying to ignore the feeling of being stared at.

“Thank you for helping out scare away those bandits, earlier today.” Graham spoke up again. “You’re an amazing shot with a bow.”

I shrugged. “Be pretty difficult to be a good hunter if I couldn’t shoot.” I had aimed to miss near their heads, and fortunately the small group of armed men had run off without a fight.

“Either way, I’m glad you’re here.” Graham smiled again, making me want to sigh.

“…” I’m not glad to be here, though.

“Won’t you tell me your name?” He asked quietly, after I stayed silent for a long few moments.

“Don’t have one.”

“We can’t just not call you anything. Can I come up with a name for you?” 

His persistence was irritating. I found myself missing the days with Luke back on the ninth lord’s estate. We had spoken every day for months, but he had never pushed me to give him a name, or make one up. I felt somehow, that he understood me, my desire to stay out of the spotlight in this terrifying world. 

I moved to touch the bracelet hidden under my sleeve, but stopped myself in time. “No thank you. I prefer to not have one.”

Graham sat back, rolling his eyes. “You’re very frustrating.”

I smiled for the first time since he sat down. “Likewise.”

_____________________________

We arrived at the desert the next morning. A large ravine separated the Eastern Woods from Northern Desert,  with only a few bridges serving as possible crossing points. I grew more nervous as we neared the largest bridge, remembering in the story how Graham’s party had been ambushed here.

Fortunately Chloe had already tipped off the group. Everyone had their hands on their weapons, ready to fight at a moments notice. We slowly crossed over the bridge, and a relieved sigh broke out over the group as we touched ground on the other side. I, on the other hand, felt more uneasy, looking at the large rocks around us, many of which were large enough to hide enemies. 

THUD

An arrow whizzed by my face, striking the young woman next to me in the chest. I jumped back, looking for cover, cursing under my breath.

Of course this horrible plot won’t go smoothly.  

“Prince Graham.” A sinister voice called out. “I’m so glad you could make it.” A young man stepped out from behind one of the large rocks, his bright green eyes almost seeming to glow in the bright sunlight shining down. His handsome features were marred by the look of vicious pleasure on his face. He glanced at the girl who had been killed behind me and laughed quietly, making me dislike him even more.

“Corran.” Graham spat out the name, and I nodded with understanding.

Prince Corran, a secondary villain from the Deadly Crown series. He was less capable than his villainous half-brother Lucien, but still managed to kill off quite a few main characters before being annihilated by Lucien in the end.

“Do you really think you can get the crown, brother?” Corran smiled, looking around our group. “Maybe if you spent less time finding girls to fall in love with, and gathered actual warriors…”

THUD.

My arrow struck his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. I cursed, my aim had been slightly off as I shot as soon as I looked around my cover.

“WHO DARES STRIKE THEIR FUTURE KING?” Corran struggled to his feet, his pale face angry.

I stayed silent behind cover. Who would be stupid enough to step out to take credit after sneak attacking the villain…

“I did it!” Chloe clutched her own bow, stepping out with a smile. “That’s what you get for underestimating Prince Graham! HE’s the true future king, no a pretender like you!”

I groaned quietly, preparing to shoot again.  

“…” Corran’s smile widened. “Very well. I had initially planned to leave some of you alive…” He whistled, and ten men stood out from cover, weapons drawn. “But since you have a death wish, I should be kind and grant it for you!”

With loud screams, they rushed forward, I fired shot after shot, disabling a handful, but as they reached our group, it was difficult to shoot without friendly fire. Fortunately several of the young women in Graham’s team were excellent swordswomen, but they were outnumbered.

I drew my sword, feeling frustrated. What happened in the book again? How did Graham escape? I struggled to remember, even as I moved closer to the fight, my heart beating nervously in my chest.

Oh wait…

As it struck me, I heard terrified screams from Corran’s men.

It wasn’t that someone showed up to help Graham…

The sounds of fighting grew louder.

Wasn’t it just that an even bigger villain showed up?

Fighting his way through the group, a strangely familiar figure cut through Corrans’ men, his blade moving faster than the eye could follow. With his help the tide turned, and soon there was only Corran left, injured and enraged.

“WHY DID YOU INTERFERE?!” His screams were answered by silence from the man who stood in front of him.

I stared at his back, feeling a growing unease. Even without seeing his face, I felt I knew him… My hand reached over, touching the beads at my wrist. 

But it can’t be him… why would he be here? Unless… A terrifying thought, one I had always avoided, came back at full force. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I must be imagining things.

“If you destroy your token, I will spare your life.” The man’s quiet response caught everyone by surprise.

“You lie!” Corran scoffed. “There’s no way you’d let a threat like me live!”

The man shrugged. “Without your token, you can’t compete for the throne. Why would I need your life?”

Corran stared at him, silently struggling. I remembered from the book that he was a proud man. The idea of giving up probably sat poorly with him. But was it worth his life?

The answer it seemed, was no 

“Very well.” He finally, reluctantly spoke up.  He reached into his pocket, bringing out a golden ring. “I will destroy…”

An arrow bloomed in his throat, blood tracing a path down to soak the collar of his shirt. A startled expression frozen on his face, Corran’s body fell to the ground, the soft impact seeming unbearably loud in the shocked silence.

I stared over at Graham, who still held up his bow with a bright smile. Seeing the gazes of the crowd turn towards him, he shrugged. “I’m avenging our fallen teammate, Alara.”

Poor Alara. I shuddered as I thought of the girl who had died at the beginning of the fight. She was one of Graham’s most trusted companions. But she was a main character, and this terrible plot wouldn’t let her go.

The dark haired man who had rushed to our aid stared at the dead body of Corran for a moment, before turning to walk away without another word.

“WAIT!” Graham called out after him. “Are you really going to just help us and leave without saying a word?”

The man kept walking.

“Not even to say hello to your fiancé?”

He froze in his tracks. My breath stopped for a moment as he turned around to face us, praying silently that what I suspected wasn’t true. 

At the sight of his familiar face, I let out the air I had held in, feeling lightheaded. 

“What do you want, Graham?” He didn’t look angry or annoyed. If anything he seemed… nervous.

“Not much, brother.” Graham smiled, stepping closer. “Just thought it might be nice for you two to talk after so long apart. Even if she’s technically helping out your competition.” 

“I appreciate the concern.” The young man’s smile was forced as he moved away from Graham, stopping in front of me. I studied him silently as he drew near. He was different than I remembered, he had grown taller, his face more mature and filled out. But his eyes… the blue so dark they seemed almost black… they were unchanged.  A brief flash of guilt shone from them as he looked straight at me, and a helpless smile tugged at his lips.

“Hello again.” His voice was barely over a whisper, but I felt my heart beat faster.

“Hello Luke.” I paused for a moment, feeling tired. “Or I guess I should call you Lucien?” 

He didn’t deny it, and I felt a pain in my chest.

He was my first friend in this world, one of my closest friends in either to be honest. 

But he was also the story’s villain. The violent murderer who slaughtered everyone who opposed him? Whose parts in the book I often skipped because the descriptions made me sick to my stomach?

That villain was Luke?

I hate this story.

I looked up at the one person I had trusted in this world, feeling lost. 

“I think we need to talk.”

[tansypoisoning]

Preview 3 (/4?)

I’m still trying to figure out a lot of the things for the plot of (Un)Conditional (can you tell I almost never plan out a series before I start it?) so I’m working two disparate parts at the same time. I’m not sure if I’ll have any Thanksgiving Dinners in the story because I’m afraid they’ll be boring/unecessary and I’m kind of worried about writing a time-skip.

I appreciate any advices on writing Mr.Blanc’s dialogue too :)

Warnings: Daddy kink

You hadn’t been to many dinner parties, so perhaps your frame of reference wasn’t the best, but you could say with confidence that the bash at Harlan Thrombey’s mansion was the absolute worst one you’d been invited to.

The interrogation continued at the dining table: they wanted to know about what College you’d graduated from, where did you live before moving to Massachusetts, what did your parents do, if you had any siblings. Being questioned this thoroughly was never fun, but it was made even worse by the fact that one of your favorite authors was right there and you couldn’t seem to find a chance to ask him anything about his books.

Worse than being asked those questions was not being asked anything. When you were silent the room was either silent save for the sound of people chewing or taken over by the rest of the Thrombey’s. It was better when it was just your disgusting collective mouth noises. You learned that Joni owned a business that sold mainly t-shirts with inspirational clothes, crystals, and snake oil and that she had some troubling views on vaccines. You learned that Linda owned a real estate business that seemed to be the most important thing in her life right now, and that her husband had done something to really piss her off, her fingers dancing dangerously close to the carving knife whenever he would speak. You learned that Walt’s family was racist, and given some of their comments, you concluded they were racists of the “extremely” variety.

Aside from a few token eye-rolls and jabs here and there, everyone was acting like this was all normal, like they were just poking fun at each other’s favorite football teams. Was this normal for most other families and you had just lucked out with yours? No, there was no way this was normal. What the fuck were those people doing?

Or rather, what the fuck were you doing? You were still taking part in this farce, weren’t you?

You got to meet Ransom’s great-grandmother at least, although you weren’t sure she even realized you existed. You didn’t mention Harlan looked good for his age. The opportunity didn’t present itself, and even if it had you probably wouldn't have said anything.

The night ended with Jodi drunkenly swaying in front of the fireplace to Nina Simone’s rendition of “Born Under a Bad Sign” while balancing a wine glass and trying to get a sour-faced Donna to join her, Walt and Linda moving to the porch to smoke, Harlan sitting in a corner talking animatedly with Marta, while in the opposite end of the room Ransom and Jacob leaned against a wall having a hushed conversation, and with you stuck on a couch in between Richard and Wanetta. You were sure the three of you looked the picture of depression. Fran was, wisely, nowhere to be found.

It was hard to hide how ecstatic you felt when Ransom announced you two would be leaving. You said goodbye to all of them, and most were satisfied just nodding in response or at most shaking hands. Joni, however, hugged you when you announced your departure.

You and Ransom got into his car in silence. It was only when Harlan’s house was out of sight that you let out a sigh of relief.

That got his attention. “Were they everything you were hoping for?”

“I thought you were being hyperbolic when you said your family was a mess.”

“Hyperbolic? Me?” He snickered.

“Are they always this bad?”

The humor vanished from his face. For a moment you thought he was going to go off on you for criticizing his family.

“They’re not so bad...” He said, and you turned to him in disbelief. “There’s enough material for twenty comedy of manners novels, at least.”

You couldn't help but smile. This would all be so much easier if Ransom was just some dumb hot guy.

“Like I have the time to write anything. Maybe you should give it a go. Become this century’s Jane Austen.”

“Like I have the patience to write anything,” he retorted. The smile on his face was more endearing than it had any right to be “But I’m willing to pay you to ghostwrite for me.”

“If you can pay me more than my actual job I’ll take it.” You covered your face with your hands as you chuckled. He hadn’t earned that chuckle; you wouldn't show it to him.

The conversation died down organically, and maybe you should’ve just left it that way, enjoyed the comfortable silence. You probably should have, because you didn’t.

“Marta said they were good people.”

He scoffed. “Marta’s fucking a moron.”

“She’s hot.”

“She’s gotta be something.”

When you went too long without answering, Ransom turned to you with a shameless grin “Are you jealous?”

“What would be the point in being jealous? This is an open thing.”

“You are jealous,” He snickered, then was silent for a moment. He drummed his fingers against the wheel and sighed before speaking again “I’m not interested in her, trust me.”

Maybe he was being honest, but asking you to trust him was too much.

“Wouldn’t matter if you were.” You made a point to shrug. He gave no indication he had even heard you.

Ransom turned the radio on at some point, and the music helped to alleviate the tension permeating the air. For the rest of the trip, the only soundtrack was the rumble of the engine and the droning of the top 40.

Ransom parked on the street off to the side of your blocky apartment building and you got out. You were slamming the door shut when you noticed he had climbed off the car as well. No words were spoken as he followed you through the sidewalk and across the minuscule lawn, just a patch of grass with a few topiary bushes sprinkled here and there. You couldn't really feel his breath on your neck, but you imagined you could, and all the hairs in your body stood at attention.

You took the stairs up. It was a deliberate decision; you only lived on the third floor and the elevator would ruin the mood. As you climbed the steps, you wondered if Ransom was looking at your ass. You didn’t know that he was, but you also didn’t know that he wasn’t, and that had a torrent of blood rushing to your head.

Reality was a little foggy when you reached your door. You unlocked it, let yourself and Ransom in, and he was on you as soon as you had closed it again.

Ransom held your head in both hands, effectively keeping you from looking away. You could’ve closed your eyes, but you didn’t.

“You’ve been so good today.” His voice was slow and sweet like molasses as he spoke against your mouth. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him if only he’d let you “I think you deserve a reward.”

You nodded dumbly, loving the way his soft lips felt as your brushed against them. He slapped one of your cheeks just hard enough to rouse you from your trance.

“Yeah?” He asked “Then you better ask nicely.”

A whine slipped past your lips. You weren’t complaining – no, this was foreplay.

“Please,” you begged “Please, can I have my reward, daddy?”

He answered with a cocky smile that was all Ransom, then parted from you.

“Strip,” he commanded as he appraised your body, now a few steps away.

You pulled your shirt above your head, then moved to your slacks, stepping out of them in a way that you hoped was alluring. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but his gaze was zeroed in on you and you took that as a good sign. He also wasn’t complaining, and he wasn’t too polite to be gentle in his feedback.

Next were your bra and panties, and then you were bared to him. Ransom examined you with the same clinical look for a while longer. He really had a gift for affecting your self-image.

“Hands behind your back, shoulders against the door,” he said “And keep your hands there. If I see them move you’re not cumming.”

You knew he meant it; once you’d neglected his instructions and he’d edged you all night long, then tied your hands on the bed post and went to sleep while you writhed on your bed and rubbed your thighs together trying to get off. By the time the sun rose, you were begging him for an orgasm.

You did as he said and waited. The waiting was part of the game, and it always meant he wanted more than to just get off. You preferred him like this, even though it meant you couldn't touch yourself without his explicit permission.

Ransom stalked in your direction, shoulders pushed back, and you felt even smaller. The cheap plywood door vibrated with your own tremors and made a loud rickety noise. He had such long legs; he should’ve gotten to you in no time, yet it was an eternity before his feet landed in front of you.

He held your jaw with one hand, tilted your head up. He observed you so closely you could smell his toothpaste. Mint. Your apartment was cold, but with him hovering so close, you felt warm. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against your cheek and his nose on your temple.

“You’ve had a long day today, didn’t you? Work and then having to meet those awful people.” His voice was patronizing, almost like baby talk. You could only whisper a yes “Let me take your mind off it, baby girl. Let me fuck your brains out.”

You fought the urge to try and hold onto something and answered with a ‘uh huh’.

Still holding your jaw, Ransom pulled his body from yours. It was so cold, so sudden. “You know how this goes. Use your words.”

“Please, Daddy – I want you to fuck my brains out.”

Ransom smiled his heart-stopping smile, and his hand slid to your throat. He felt down your body with his thumb, first to the hollow spot in your neck, then your nipple. His other hand found your lower back just before you slid down to the ground.

His fingers trailed down your stomach with deliberate slowness. A tremor ran up your body when he reached your vulva, and you gasped as he parted your lips with his ring and index finger, using the middle digit to touch you just where you wanted most. You gasped as he found your clit.

When you took the phone call you’d expected to be met with the voice of one of your company’s client, so you didn’t even look at the caller ID as you picked it up.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Asked Ransom’s voice on the other end of the line. He’d called at the worst possible time too, while you were carrying a cardboard cup holder with your drink and a poorly balanced bagel, navigating a crowded coffee shop.

“Can you not? You know I have a nine to five job.”

“Aren’t you supposed to get a lunch break?” He sounded grossed out by the expression. It was just as likely he thought the idea that having a single, predetermined hour for lunch was offensive as he found the idea of free time for the working class ridiculous.

“I am on my lunch break, but I have to keep my phone free. You know, for clients?”

“I’m spending Thanksgiving at Harlan’s,” he ignored you “come over, I could use a plus one.”

“I can’t,” you said “I always spend Thanksgiving with my family.”

“Just ditch them.”

“No,” you said. You had always had trouble denying him, but not this time. This was the one childhood tradition you still upheld, and it meant a lot to your parents “I always spend Thanksgiving with my family. I’m not convincing them to reschedule for your convenience.”

He was silent for a moment “Great. Guess I’ll die of boredom.”

“I’m sure you’ll find ways to keep entertained.” You smiled; you wished you could kick yourself.

“Where do your parents live?”

You shook your head as if he could see you “We’re staying at my brother’s. He and his wife live in Albany.”

“That’s not far.”

Oh, no. You knew that tone.

“No. Why does it matter?” You asked, sure he would’ve heard the doubt in your voice.

“You could still make it to both parties.”

You wished you had a free hand to rub your temple; you could sense a headache coming. You were making your way to the entrance, but you had to stop to lean on one of the bar tables stacked with sugar packets and disposable spoons because his plan was literally too stupid to stand. “Ransom, I’m not going to go to your grandfather’s house then drive in the middle of night to fucking Albany.”

He sighed. “You’re going to start showing at some point. I’d like to squeeze in a few more meetings with my family before breaking the news.”

That was fair, you supposed. It still wasn’t like you were going to try making it for two dinners in different states in a single night.

“Well… I can’t make it to Thanksgiving.” Now recovered, you gathered your things and started making your way to the entrance again “If I gotta meet your family to keep up appearances, don’t you think it would be fair if you did the same for me?”

“Oh?” He was grinning, you could tell “What’s in it for me?”

Seriously, this jackass...

You held the phone in between your shoulders and cheek to reach for the door handle. “Ransom, you’re not-” your words ended in a yelp when someone bumped into you. It wasn’t just any bump – no, no, that would’ve been too lucky. The stranger practically barreled into you, sending your lunch and phone hurling into the air. Some of your drink conveniently landed on your white shirt before spilling on the ground.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, miss!” Said the man who had rammed into you as he bent over to pick up your phone.  “I am more distracted than a hound dog in a perfumery! Oh- Drat!”

He rose and you were met with strikingly blue eyes.

“Your phone’s screen didn’t happen to be already cracked, did it?” He said, extending your cellphone back to you. His southern drawl was so melodious it took you a moment to catch onto his implication.

“Not really.” You said as you took your device from him. Just as he’d said, the screen was cracked.

“Oh, lord-” He brought a hand to his graying hair. “Again, I am so sorry-” he then signaled to the barista that had come over to clean up the mess “Excuse me – I’ve knocked this poor woman’s lunch on accident. Would it be possible to get her another drink?”

The worker seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I gotta ask my manager...”

“Oh, no, please, don’t bother” The man waved his hand by the side of his head “If it’s a matter of money, I’ll pay for it. I’m sorry again, miss – what did you have?”

You found yourself blurting out your order before you could think too hard about it.

“Yes – and please, throw in a muffin in with the order; please can keep the change.” The man produced a wallet from his coat and pulled a fifty dollar note from it, handing it to the barista, who accepted the money with some confusion. “Thank you very much.”

You were still unsure of what to do, so you remained rooted in place while the man ran up to the counter, got you several napkins and ran back to hand them to you. You considered the possibility that he was trying to flirt with you, but if it were the case he at least wasn’t using the opportunity to dab at your wet shirt with paper towels.

[honeyhenry]

Traitor - b.b. (part 6 - FINAL)

A/N: this is the last proper part to this series, however I am keen to write an epilogue or little drabbles/hcs about this little universe so pleeeease feel free to request! I hope you enjoyed this series, I myself have loved writing it and it has challenged me greatly! Love you guys for all your support!

catch up here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

“I think it’s best you leave, James.”

He blinks. “what?”

“You heard me, James. Don’t make this harder. Don’t pretend that it’s not what you really want.”

His brow furrows, stepping forward towards you with a thousand questions on his lips. Before he can even attempt to speak - to disagree, to argue - you continue.

“You've been waiting for an excuse to go and here I am handing it to you on a plate. Obviously I didn’t want this to happen but you accusing me of this...it kills me...” your harsh façade fades and causes you to shrink back slightly, speaking the next words in a whisper; “you’re killing me, Buck.”

The soft nickname makes his heart ache, knowing that clearly you’ve been fighting this feeling for a while, and now you’re not ordering him to leave - you’re pleading.

“Doll-” he starts, and despite your wearied broken hope in him, you give him a pointed look that makes him think twice. “Sorry. Y/n...please hear me out...i swear it’s not what im trying to do. I’m not trying to get away from you, or Jamie-”

“How do i know its not what your subconscious is trying to do Bucky? I had to convince you that you deserved a relationship, and then that you would be such a great father and you have been the best...and here i was thinking i wouldn’t have to tell you all that again for the next one, but it seems your subconscious has come back to bite us. I can’t keep telling you how good you are at what you want, when it seems like you don’t even want it anymore. That you don’t want us anymore.”

If his heart was broken before, it’s now shattered into a million pieces right in front of you. He feels so vulnerable and in the worst possible way, the way that allows for you to slip through his fingers and leave. All because of his stupid insecurities, which ironically have now ended up being the cause fulfilling each thought fuelling his nightmares.

“I do! Baby i swear, i just panicked, about JJ, i freaked out and I should’ve never accused you...it hit a nerve, with you and Steve. It’s my worst nightmare and I swear...I swear me being like that and accusing you? It’ll never happen again. Doll please.” Bucky tries to reach for you, wanting to tilt your head towards him tenderly and let all be forgiven.

You’re not going to be so quick to forgive.

You want a fight. You just want him to fight for you.

“Yeah too right it won’t.” You turn to the kitchen and he follows as you wipe your hands on a towel before getting out some milk for JJ. The young child is always hungry, and so feeds from both your milk and some extra formula to keep him content and full. You know its Bucky’s altered genes that has given you such a little greedy guts, but he’s happy, healthy, and round as a squish, so you were content too. And it meant Bucky could feed him too, something he adored doing.

Facing the sink, you clean out a bottle. Your back is to Bucky now, and just as he's about to speak up again, you find yourself crying again. He silently moves over to you and ever so gently, touches your waist.

The muffled sob you let out makes his heart break, and he places his forehead on your shoulder sighing and holding in his own tears.You smell of baby powder and exhaustion, while he is a source of warmth and strength.

It’s almost as if he’s holding you together.

“Please baby, don’t tell me to go when I know you. I know you want to beg me to stay but you can’t because it’s me who fucked up and you’re the strongest person, the best person I know. I’ll make it all back up to you and more, everything you want, you deserve it all and more from me. I’m so sorry doll.”

As you both stay there, holding each other, navigating your emotions towards his apology to the whole situation, Bucky’s movements stutter, and you feel him tense up behind you.

He remembers your words from earlier.

“The next one” you had said, and he repeats it with a mumble before he experiences a moment of full realisation.

He completely stills in his movements. he knows you so well, even if there has been a momentary lapse in communication and contact up until this point. Bucky slides his hand from your waist to your stomach and feels a heavy guilt burdening his heart with the thought of you questioning his loyalty at any time but in particular such a time like this. His large hand covers your abdomen and he nuzzles his face into where your shoulder meets your neck, trying to get you to give in. This will do for now, he thinks.

“The next one will have a father who knows his worth in the family...doll I had no idea”

“You weren't supposed to. I only found out this morning...you threatened me James, how was I supposed to tell you?”

“You were going to let me leave while you had JJ to look after and another baby- OUR baby in your belly...honey please, talk to me.”

“I thought..maybe I’d tied you down too soon, or you weren't really that type after all. Sometimes when I’m convincing you, it’s for my benefit too. I love you Bucky but i think that means setting you free for what you’re destined for.”

He doesn't even miss a beat.

“Bullshit. You’re what I’m destined for, and I’m sorry i ever made you doubt that” he turns you gently so you’re facing him and he’s still just as close, lips right above yours, his eyes watering, praying you’ll take his sincerest of apologies as he bares his soul in the kitchen, the water heating up for JJ’s milk the only sound reverberating through the downstairs floor.

“I.....I really don’t want you to go, and it sounds selfish but i need you, Buck and i need you to trust me and be trusting in yourself for being the best man you can possibly be. For me and JJ, and now this little one too” you offer a small, somewhat hopeful smile as you place your hand on his as he softly rubs your stomach.

He swallows thickly, and replies with full honesty “I swear doll, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, and JJ, and little peanut Barnes here, too.” He looks up again, the two of you noticing how close your lips are and wow he wants nothing more than to kiss you. However he knows you better than to chance his luck right now, and so he asks his next question. “How far along?”

“Only 6 weeks, I haven't told anyone, and I’m not planning to yet, especially Steve and- yeah.”

Bucky nods, understanding.

“Good plan, darlin’”

He looks deep into your eyes as the milk machine finishes, glancing once again at your lips, and so you quickly take the chance to turn around before he can give in and ask for a kiss, or maybe even steal one if he’s fast. He’s got some making up to do, but you have a feeling you’ll be giving and receiving plenty of kisses later that night when Steve takes JJ for a spontaneous sleepover.

You fill up the milk bottle and head upstairs, followed by Bucky who gazes at you fondly every second that he’s physically able to.

You enter the nursery with the milk, all smiles looking at your handsome boy in Steve’s arms. JJ is properly giggling and he has Bucky’s sweet toothy smile that only the people currently in the room (plus very few others) have had the pleasure of truly seeing.

“Oh there’s my boy!” you exclaim “you smile just like your Daddy now that you’ve got those two big teeth coming through! Come here angel.”

Bucky looks to Steve as he hands over his precious Godson to you, and then looks back to you making yourself comfortable on the rocking chair feeding JJ his bottle.

Steve watches fondly at the small family during such an intimate time as feeding, grateful that the Barnes family allow him to stay. He finds hope that he will experience this very thing himself someday, with his own wife.

Bucky looks up at his friend, and offers a small smile, a token “thank you” as a comfortable silence fills the room, only halted by JJ’s rhythmic suckling and a splutter before the baby omits an almighty burp against you.

Steve smiles back at Bucky, just as all your laughter calms down, as if to say; ‘told you so - he’s definitely a Barnes.”

-

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[rotzaprachim]

in secret, between the shadow and the soul 1/2

Kanej, Inej-centric. Teen ish, marriage of convenience, 3000 words 

(About 6 years post Crooked Kingdom) 

Read here on ao3

The apothecary asks her how long it’s been since she’s been intimate with her husband, and Inej almost chokes, says no, she hasn’t been in a very long time. Honesty is always difficult in her carse- dealing with her own past, own demons is hard enough without having to watch other people attempt proper emotional responses on her behalf, and maybe the apothecary senses that because she doesn’t ask more.

----

“It’s legal more than anything. A question of economics,” Kaz said, and Inej nodded, because it's kerch and how could it be anything but? Certainly nothing as tawdry as emotion or desire, let alone love, could interfere with so large a life decision.

Only Kerch citizens can hold berths in the water, and its significantly easier to manage bank accounts and conduct major financial decisions of the kind Inej needs to make on the near daily when restocking her ships. There's one route faster than all the others to becoming a Kerch citizen.

Inej suggested it before Kaz did.

She isn’t ready for marriage, she said. She isn’t ready to be tied to a man, to be anything more or less than herself alone. The Kerch made the whole business easy by never referring to this thing they’re doing as a marriage, all the paperwork is about Economic Units, Civil Unions. There’s so many pages of jargon it made Inej’s eyes bleed. Future children held less inches of fine grey type than agreements on pigs and shipping company stocks, and were described in the same economic language.

Kaz went through the whole thing line by line until the shore she was going to call for an annulment before they’d even gotten the damned thing notarized, or else make herself a tastefully rich and very young widow.

“It’s a contract,” he said. “You should know all the details before you sign your life away.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Inej said, irritated by the last several pages about Property Division in the Event of Medium Sized or Larger Storms, Grisha Attacks, and General Flooding, “I’m not signing my life away.”

“When you get married, it might be difficult to annul if you’ve still got a legal Kerch-”

“When I get married?” she shoots back challengingly. “To who?”

“I don’t know. That fire-tongued revolutionary who writes you poetry and will make you a new world. The Kaelish tavern maid who always pours you a free beer in her bar while you sing about the plight of the repressed. Someone hopelessly moon-eyed and optimistic, who thinks the world shits rainbows and knows what you’re worth.”

“You, Kaz Brekker,” she finally sighed, “are a hell of a lot dumber than they say you are.”

---

She doesn’t tell her parents. She’s not ready for that conversation.

---

She doesn’t tell Nina. She’s not ready for that conversation either.

---

The whole thing was finished in a notary’s office in ten minutes.

Kaz’s gloves were off, more because they both need to be fingerprinted than anything else.

He swore a short, official oath of his loyalty to both her and the Kerch market, promising not to cheat in foreign ports and to provide for and any hypothetical children. She thought of the paid-off indenture and the ship and the found parents and berth twenty-two and and her room in the house in bought on the Zelverstraat and thought that maybe he’s better at doing that than he thinks he is.

She swore a shorter official oath about fidelity and staying true and all her children being her husband’s, because to do otherwise would be bad economics and make her a poor investment, a value-destroyer, on the family line. Because it’s Kerch and of course it is.

---

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her afterward in an attempt at being casual. They’d been sipping at warm lukewarm flagons of beer in one of the harbour’s more reputable establishments and looking out at the water for twenty minutes.

“I’m thinking,” she said slowly, tasting her words, “that Alys Van Eyck is a very, very lucky woman that we came around when we did.” She’s still thinking about the various punishments for women who pollute the family line, which even if motivated by economics over faith as such things would be in Fjerda, are not dissimilar in practice. She’s realising more and more the Kerch neuroticism over bastardry probably comes from having so many of the young men gone for half the year at sea.

Kaz guffawed, which was not a sound she was really used to him making. “You never fail to surprise me, Wraith.”

“How is the Vrouw Dazi”

Kaz shrugged. “Not useful to my purposes anymore. Wylan’s got her an Bajan set up in a little cottage outside Pijl with a tidy sum tied to not making too much noise.”

Sometimes she fantasized about breaking into that cottage and putting on a performance similar to the one that sent Pekka Rollins screaming from Ketterdam. She didn’t, because she didn’t subscribe to the idea of the sins of the father and thought Saartje Kazanja deserved a da with his mental pieces mostly intact. But saints take all, she wanted too.

“How’s Saartje?”

“I don’t know. Kid? Looks more like she could be ours than Jan Van Eyck’s, that’s for sure.

The tips of Kaz’s ears went red before he finished that sentence and he stared into the foam at the bottom of his glass, head turned decisively away from her.

“Fine, I think. In school now. No reason to keep tabs.”

They toasted her new Kerch citizenship. Inej swore she saw his hand shaking.

----

Her citizenship documents, stamped with a wax seal of three flying fish and a small Kerch flag came three days later, expedited by Kaz in ways she cannot begin to fathom. It’s only then she realised that they’re for the new Vrouw Rietveld, that she made her vows to Kasper Rietveld. It’s only logical- Rietveld can be the upstanding businessman who only exists on paper in a way Kaz Brekker cannot, all the better for her dowings, but it still feels like a piece of himself gifted to her.

She could forge Rietveld’s name for her own purposes too; they practiced on old betting slips that she then threw into the fire. Kerch women can legally make almost every kind of financial decision and dealing, less due to the Merchers’ Council’s upstanding opinion of the female gender than the portion of the year the men are at sea, the incredible odds they won’t come back.

(They’ve rather flipped that scenario.

“How much cross-stitch will you do do fill up the void of my absences, she chided him. “They say the old sailor’s wives used to knit lace from the white froth of the sea.” Nowadays Wealthy Kerch women waiting for their husbands to come home tended to stick to knitting hats and scarves for orphans. So saints-damned many hats and socks, and yet you could still scarcely move for the number of bare-headed, barefoot orphans come winter. It was one of Ketterdam’s greatest mysteries.

“Inej,” Kaz sayid, eyes closed, genuine concern cutting his voice. Ever more she was picking up a sailor’s sense of gallows humour.)

---

They exchanged rings at the registry. Inej’s was a simple band, no gemstones but she suspected it was solid gold. Inside was etched a wave pattern, an endless strip of open sea.

Wearing it on her finger meant something, soo she looped it onto a sturdy chain that she hid between her shirt and her beating heart. That seemed appropriate, doable. Young sailors often took the bracelets and handkerchiefs of their sweethearts out to sea as good luck tokens; Inej had a gold wedding band.

Kaz’s fingers brushed the chain in the warm dip between neck and collar as he said goodbye to her on the docks, and after she nodded infinitesimally, telling him to go on, finish this chapter of the story, he slowly pulled up the rest of the chain and found the band.

“I thought-” he said, but she looked him in the eyes, square as she could, and he halted. She doesn’t know what he thought.

“There was not and is not and will probably me a different man for me than you, Kaz Brekker.

He swallowed thickly and then slowly lifted her skin-warmed band to his lips, even though he did not believe in luck, had said he believed in nothing but her.

---

The Kerch don’t have seperate words for “husband’ and “man.”

---

“Mijn mann,” she says in response to the curious looks her crew gives her after the band slips free during repair work, and it doesn’t feel like anything more or less than the truth.

“Mijn mann,” she says tacitly when border authorities raise their eyebrows in suspicion at her Kerch passport.

“Mijn mann,” she begins her letters back to him. “Dearest Inej,” his come back, sometimes even “Loveliest Inej,” but he never uses a possessive pronoun form.

---

Having any kind of passport, official documentation, feels alien and strange. She comes from a people without a land, and for her entire childhood they Suli were denied any official documentation of Ravkan citizenship. That’s changing now, but many are still wary, and with very good reason to be.

---

The quick bureaucratic sketch to mark Vrouw Inej Rietveld as a Seetsen Van Det Kerchrepublik, looked absolutely nothing like the drawings on the three individual sets of national wanted posters that keep cropping up in seedy port cities. Absolutely none of the above get her nose right.

“I look white in this one,” she said, holding a particularly egregious example up to Aigerim, who commiserate mightily. “Look how fucking straight this nose is. No eyebrows.”

Hitting the nose furnishes very fun target practice for when her fingers itch to throw knives.

Inej wins a lot of games of darts in a lot of seamy seaside pubs tucked into a lot of different gritty port cities.

---

They dock in Pijl before Ketterdam to catch their breath and do repairs. Ketterdam’s a good place for business and to look for secrets and plan strategy but a shite location to re-sew a sail or patch up a wall, unless you like replacing your supplies every time they’re stolen. The prices of grain and barrels of water and apples are lower are lower closer to the fields as well, even if that involves bartering loudly in a Centraalmarket that smells like spilled cider and pig shit, straw crunching underfoot, rather than the hallowed halls of the Exchange.

It takes her three days to come down with the evil hybrid chest cold-stomache flu of her fucking life. Ameera shoves her back into bed with ginger tea and another blanket. The thing they don’t tell you about awesome pirate ships with awesome international crews is that you also get the full spectrum of awesome international germs.

By the fourth day, she’s putting on all three of her coats and stuffing a wad of kruge and her passport into a pocket to visit the clinic in town.

---

Other people seem to register this whole being-married business than Inej ever does. She just prefers the expedited customs lines.

The splotchy faced, matronly woman at the clinic sits her on a paper-covered table and reads through a list of questions on a clipboard. Nian loves the lab smell of pure alcohol, would probably dab it on as perfume if she could, but Inej only associates it with injury, with being patched and stitched up after a bad scrape, with the white-coated doctor who came in every two weeks to swab Tante Heleen’s girls for disease, with the brown bottle of the stuff she uses to clean blood and worse off of her knives.

“Family history of pulmonary infections?” the woman asks her. “Smoking, alcohol, jurda use?” Every question makes her squirm slightly, as if in the historyof her wheezing lunghs is some sin she’s committed and will only now find out about. Nejn, nejn, nejn. Inej forgot how much she hated being looked at.

No grisha in her family that she knows of- scribble scribble scribble- but a lot of bad eyesight.

“When was the last time you had intimate relations with your husband?” the woman asks bluntly, and that’s the question that knocks the air out from her. The woman’s thin yellow eyebrow quirks up, but Inej manages to disguise her gasp as a particularly bad fit of hacking. She knows its nothing but a bit of intrusive medical questioning, but words can have many meanings and the answers to questions can be both yes and no at the same time and a certain turn of phrase can punch like a fist and cut like a knife. So she just says “six months ago,” and gives the woman her answer for the write-up.

“Long time.”

“He’s a sailor. I cry as I wait for him to return to me.”

“Ghezen’s speed that he does.”

---

She isn’t quite sure the Kerch even believe in Ghezen as anything beyond a bit of window-dressing to their financial affairs and the punchlien to jokes. Not like she honours her saints, the small painted icon of Sankta Inej she also keeps next to her heart, her daily prayers in the dark comfort her her room. She stands with Merjan, one of her crewmates, at the grave of Sankta Mahari, Queen of Mercy and Patroness of the Lost as they read the ancient prayers together, their voices settling into the steadiness of bees. Our queen, protector of our people, give us mercy, pray for peace, pray for us, pray to bring light to the shadows of the things we have done.

Sankta Anastasia, Sankt Dmitri, Sankta Mahari, she whispers into her knuckles, her fingers moving along the prayer rope with the decisive snapping of wooden beats, pray for our safety in the storm and bring us to the shore.

---

If Inej has found her own name, written with a familar jagged hand, among the prayer-knots tied to the Zentzbridge in a plea of mercy from the sea, she will not mention it.

---

Ketterdam is ugly and bright and familiear. You can smell the rotting flesh and beer smell before you see the smoky smudge of the city on the horizon. The crew makes quick work of unfolding the grishaworked official three-flying-fish flag that gives them clearance to enter the harbour without having their decks searched by the council of tides and carefully docks at Berth 22. Considering that the berths are now being numbered out into the two-hundereds, its a plum location, but its also damn close to the action, meaning that she can already see the glimmer of plastic beads floating on the water, the dark smudges of drunkards bobbing along. A few of the crew memebrs are going to get their pockets picked right off the bat. Inej already has a slush fund tucked away for precisily this reason. She’s getting better at this, she hopes, being a leader. Predicting what will happena dn why and when. Being someone that other people- many younger and more vulnerable than her- can rely on.

“AIGERIM,” she screams as she buttons up her city coat, “only two of thsoe pink trinks with the paper umbrellas MAXIMUM. You hear me?”

“Yeah, boss.”

She sighs. She doesn’t want to be anyone’s boss. “If there’s anything like what happened with the canal and the Stadwatch last time happens again, I think I’ll find the decks need a good scrubbing.”

Aigerim gestures wildly. “Course, boss..”

She tries to take deep rbeaths to calm her nerves. Maybe she’s becoming a worried old crone forty years early, but she’s the one who survived this hellhole of a city. She’s the one who survived this far. In this world, twenty-three is a badge of honour.

---

He cuts a familar figure on the docks. THey each have their own webs now, know of each other’s doings three or four times removed, like recognising a faovrite drinking song on it’s third round of translation. The recognition of a familiar trick, hand, murder method. Kaz will read in a news paper of a mysterious storm that’s tripled the price of indigo and sweet-wood fans after a whole line of ships went missing off the Southern Pelagic Reefs and Inej will hear in a greasy Kaelish bar about the shocking downfall of an old Kerch trading family and they will each smile, privately, and admire the other’s handiwork.

But seeing him in person is something altogether different, and she still rushes over the slats of the quay, coat streaming behind her, stopping abruptly when she comes to him. They pause there for a second and then he lifts his arms and they wrap themselves together around each other, hesitantly but then warmly, firmly, sturdy as a sailor’s knot and with all the inevitability of the sea wearing stone to sand.

“I’ve missed you, Wraith,” he says into her hair and she shrugs into him, her head level with his chest. His chin rests neatly on her head now, if he leans down slighlty, and she swears that wasnt the case the first time they embraced, the first time she left Ketterdam. He denies that the Ice Court, Van Eyck, all that happened while he was a boy not finished with growing. Yet she herself’s tried on that first Wraith outfit- a costume of sorts, really, how different was it from the Scarab Queen’s glass-bead veil in the third act of the Komedie Brute- to find it no longer fit, that she couldn’t easily do up the buttons on the front. She has more of a woman’s set of curves to her hips and long, hard-earned muscles on her legs and thighs, and even if she is creating some new kind of legend it is under her own name now.

Sometimes, Ketterdam feels like that too-small jacket; it cannot fit the woman she’s becoming. So she sews herself a new coat from the fabric of the world.

“Mijn mann,” she says, because she likes the way his body flinches and then stills under her fingers with those words, sharp and unexpected as any knife. “I’ve missed you too.”

[sarah-writes-stories]

For You: Part 2

You can find Part 1 Here.

Written to participate in Inuyasha White Day 2020. Even though it was crazy, crazy, CRAZY late! Holy shit.

6,429 words.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

He really did have the shittiest luck.

Inuyasha scowled down at the event flyer he held in his hand, reading the words again. Apparently, the student council had decided on a ”White Day” theme for their senior class’s end-of-year graduation party.

Saturday, March 14th. Be there or be square.

But what about human? Could he also be human?

Because with his shitty luck there just so happened to be a new moon on White Day this year.

Dammit. Dammit. Fucking shit.

Glancing at the girl walking beside him, Inuyasha’s face grew grim. He was pretty sure that Kagome hadn’t put two and two together yet, not that he blamed her. They hadn’t been together long enough for her to have experienced another new moon since that very first evening they’d spent together.

Because Valentine’s Day had also been a new moon, almost one month ago.

Had it only been a month? It felt like a lot longer, what with them spending every day together since then. He wasn’t complaining though; just the opposite, in fact. The alternative would’ve been far, far worse.

Inuyasha hadn’t even realized how unsettled his soul had been over the past three years – forced as he was out of necessity to stay away from Kagome – until the moment he’d finally held her in his arms for the first time.

He couldn’t explain it. It was like she was a balm to him. Her presence instantly filling him with warmth and contentment until even the idea of being without her caused an ache to settle deep in his bones.

It was why he’d brought Kagome home with him after school on Valentine’s Day.

Tōga, to his credit, had sensed the shocking change in his son’s aura immediately. Where once it had seethed with gruff agitation to the point of belligerence, now it was suddenly calm. He’d thought to chalk it up to the momentary elation of finally being so close to his truemate… That is, until Inuyasha’s human change had come over him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Tōga’s attention had been drawn by the sound of Kagome gasping in awe. He’d winced in expectation of his son’s usual reaction…only to then watch Inuyasha smile at the girl in return, amused by her awestruck expression.

Inuyasha had been amused?

He’d smiled?

Over his human transformation?

The thing his son hated above all else?

And still, the boy’s aura remained calm!

It was then that Tōga knew that his son’s painfully unsettled usual state could no longer be explained away as the standard fluctuations of hormonal adolescence. No, these two weren’t even bound to one another yet, but they might as well have been. He could sense how Kagome’s soothing aura flowing over the jagged edges of his son’s soul, could sense how Inuyasha’s in return reached out to provide hers with strength and support.

It humbled and disturbed him to realize now that he had been the source of his own son’s silent suffering – could only guess at what it had been like for the poor girl as well – and all because he had made Inuyasha promise to stay away from her.

Well, that would end tonight.

Quickly a phone call had been made and Kagome’s family summoned.

And once Kagome had explained to her mother that the boy she’d been heartbrokenly pining over for the past three years was, in fact, her truemate – and once the realities of such a truth were discussed openly – it had been decided that the propriety of keeping the pair apart simply because they were technically still in high school was much less important than ensuring that they not hurt their children any longer.

It was Kagome’s grandfather who had been the hardest to convince, stating that he refused to allow his only granddaughter to be kidnapped by some youkai, never to be seen or heard from again. If each were to be allowed to always stay near the other, then they had to take turns staying at each other’s homes overnight… in separate rooms, of course.

That settled, the new arrangement had begun that very night.

It had been somewhat awkward at first, to be so deeply connected to someone that neither of them actually knew very much about. And so, little by little they’d started to get to know one another.

They’d gone on dates, staying up late into the night sharing their secrets, their fears, their hopes and dreams. They’d cuddled on the couch, learning to compromise and take turns picking which movie they would watch. They’d done homework and studied for finals together, encouraging each other to succeed. And they’d shared passionate make-out sessions, Inuyasha sneaking the two of them up onto the auditorium’s roof during lunch hours, so that they could be alone, just the two of them.

What had begun as an instinctual necessity had quickly bloomed into something much, much deeper…

Inuyasha and Kagome were well and truly in love.

Which brought Inuyasha back to today.

He’d already spoken with Kagome’s mother, already withdrawn a hefty sum from his savings account in order to buy the ring. After all, it was traditional on White Day for men to reciprocate any gifts they’d received by bestowing even greater tokens of affection in return.

And an engagement ring would definitely be the greatest token of all.

Inuyasha had even been willing to overlook the fact that it was going to be a new moon that night – all so that he could follow through on the White Day tradition – because he knew how much Kagome liked that kind of sentimental shit.

Only now their graduation party had also been scheduled for the same night and there was NO WAY he was going out to such a public event on his night of vulnerability, romantic plans be damned.

Sighing, he snuck another glance at Kagome out of the corner of his eye. He loved how animated she was – so different from him – walking along beside him, wondering aloud what they should wear to the event and whether they should match or complement one another in their choices of formalwear.

Because they were a “they” now.

She was his. His Kagome.

That thought alone made him smile.

But his smile quickly faded back to a frown as he reread the flyer one final time. He hated having to take this from her, but there was nothing for it.

“We’re not going.” He spoke gruffly, effectively cutting Kagome’s chatter off mid-sentence.

“Wha–What? Why?” She questioned, hurt creeping into her voice.

Inuyasha turned to face her, taking in her sad eyes, and felt compelled to explain in a voice soft enough so as not to carry.

“It’s my night. You know? My night. I can’t take you… Sorry.” He looked dejected, the shame of his failure to make his truemate happy leaving a bitter taste in the back of his throat. “You can go without me, if you want.”

Her own disappointment forgotten, Kagome jumped immediately to his defence…even if that defence was against himself.

“What?! No way! I’m the one who forgot, so I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have remembered. And if you can’t go then I don’t wanna go either.”

Inuyasha nodded, resigned to their mutual disappointment. They walked on in silence for a bit before Kagome stopped short, all but tripping herself on the sidewalk in her haste.

“What?” He questioned.

“I had an idea! What if we have our own White Day graduation party?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, what’s the fun part of a grad party? You get all dressed up and go to a fancy hotel, right? You party with your friends, you get a room…”

Kagome trailed off, belatedly realizing the implications of what she’d just said.

Inuyasha was less subtle about it. “Get a room?!” He squeaked.

She cringed a bit, “What I mean is, instead of going to the school’s grad party we could have our own. You and me. Maybe we could even invite Miroku and Sango as well. They know about your night already, don’t they?”

Inuyasha nodded, considering her suggestion. “So we’d get all dressed up, rent some hotel rooms, and have our own party?”

“Sure! Why not? I bet we could even get your dad to spring for a limo! I bet he would’ve anyway if we were going to the actual grad party, so why not, right? Just think about it. It would be fun!”

Inuyasha stayed quiet for a moment more. He’d been planning to give her the ring for White Day, and with this plan he still could. In fact, it might even be better. They’d have a whole hotel room to themselves.

“Sure. Okay, let’s do it.”

“Really?!” Kagome exclaimed, clearly more than a little surprised that he’d agreed so easily.

“Yeah, sure. Why not, right?”

“Oh, this is so great! Okay, why don’t you talk to your parents about booking the hotel and the limo and I’ll take care of convincing Miroku and Sango to skip the official party in favour of hanging out with us!”

Inuyasha nodded silently, suddenly feeling nervous.

This was really happening.

It was gonna happen.

He was going to get Kagome alone for White Day and ask her to be his wife, his truemate for life.

Even as Kagome continued to beam up at him with a radiant smile, Inuyasha couldn’t help but gulp as choking anxiety close like a fist around his throat,

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Inuyasha’s parents had, at first, not liked this plan at all.

His night of vulnerability was a secret his entire family had always tried to keep as private as possible. The old prejudices against hanyou may not have been as prevalent now as they once were, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Heck, even Sesshōmaru kept his mouth shut about it and his younger half-brother was not his favourite person in the world, to say the least.

Izayoi, especially, had been adamantly against the idea…That is, until Inuyasha had worked up the courage to tell his parents what his real plan for the weekend, to formally ask Kagome to become his mate. After that, his mother was quick to switch sides, helping Inuyasha to convince Tōga that this whole “private graduation party” thing was a good idea.

Outnumbered, Tōga had finally relented, renting the four friends a limo to take them to a rather fancy boutique hotel on the other side of town. It was one known in youkai circles for its discretion and was far enough away from the venue hosting the official grad event that Inuyasha was sure that no one he knew would see him in his human form and recognize him.

Still, when Saturday afternoon came around and it was time to get ready, Inuyasha couldn’t help but be intensely nervous about the whole thing.

Just thinking about going out on his human night on top of his plan to ask Kagome to be his wife was enough to have him sweating through the first dress shirt he tried to put on.

Groaning, he forcefully wrenched his thoughts away from either of those two topics…only to succeed in directing them instead to the time in between when the limo would drop them off and when it would return to pick them up the next morning.

The time when he and Kagome could be alone.

Just the two of them.

In a hotel room.

He gulped.

“Inuyasha!” Izayoi voice broke into his panicked mind. “Miroku’s here.”

He shook his head to clear it some before calling back, “Huh? Already?”

Peeking his head out the doorway, Inuyasha watched as his best friend appeared, mounting the stairs two at a time, a garment bag draped over one shoulder.

Miroku smirked as he brushed past Inuyasha into his room. “Bro, you are a mess. You’re gonna have to change that shirt.”

Inuyasha glared at his smirking friend, a faint flush staining his cheeks at being called out. “Fuck off. You know what I’m planning to ask Kagome. You don’t have to be such a fucking ass about it.”

“Inuyasha, my friend, I’ve got your back. Why do you think I’m here so early?”

Inuyasha gave Miroku a questioning look, “To torment me?”

“Far from it. I’m here to help you relax,” and instantly Inuyasha was on high alert, recognizing the glint of mischief in his friend’s eyes.

Silently, Miroku walked over to Inuyasha's closet, hanging his garment bag up on the back of the door. He unzipped it, reaching his hands inside and down towards the bottom corners of the bag.

“Ta-da!” With a flourish, Miroku produced two decent-sized bottles of sake that he’d had hidden in the bag.

Inuyasha’s eyes went wide. “Where the hell did you get those?!”

“Apparently Koga knows a guy who knows a guy who makes fake IDs and well, you know me…” Miroku trailed off with a shrug, pulling the fake ID from his back pocket and brandishing it in front of Inuyasha’s face.

Shock, followed by excitement, followed by disappointment played in quick succession across Inuyasha’s face before he finally hissed out a whispered, “Dude, we can’t drink that in here! My dad’s gonna smell it for sure!”

“Nuh-uh. I’ve been practising my ofuda,” Miroku whispered back, holding out one of the bottles. There was an ofuda wrapped tightly around the widest part. “It’s a barrier-like blessing and will block the smell from even youkai senses, see?”

Quickly, Miroku pulled the cap off the ceramic bottle and took a swig, not bothering to replace the cap when he was done. Inuyasha sniffed in Miroku’s direction. He couldn’t smell the alcohol coming from either the bottle or his friend.

A sly grin made its way onto Inuyasha’s face. “Miroku, you may be lecherous as fuck, but you’re also a goddamned genius.”

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Tonight was NOT turning out the way Kagome had been expecting.

To be honest, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting… Some fun, maybe? Maybe some romance? Maybe even some laughs with their friends, doing crazy stuff like racing around the halls of the posh hotel in the middle of the night?

Whatever she’d thought tonight was going to be, Kagome had never for a second pictured herself dressed to the nines and sitting around in a hotel room while her truemate and his best friend rolled around on the floor in fits of drunken laughter.

She cast a baleful eye at the two human males sprawled on the floor.

“So your parents actually fell for that?” Miroku gasped, attempting to catch his breath before letting out another blast of laughter.

“Yup!” Inuyasha answered, his best human version of an evil youkai grin spreading across his face.

All of their parents had agreed to this private grad party on the condition that when the two hotel rooms were booked one would be for the girls and one for the guys.

Apparently the guys found their parents’ naïveté rather hilarious.

Kagome and Sango shared a look of resigned disgust, both quickly losing patience with what the guys were insinuating so blatantly in front of them.

Perhaps they should have known that this was what would happen. After all, when the guys had arrived to pick them up, they’d been sporting a secret bottle of sake that they’d offered to share with the girls.

It had felt daring and exciting, and the girls had agreed, passing the bottle around, each taking a few swigs in the back of their privacy-screened limo.

Only it quickly became apparent that the guys were much more inebriated than the girls were and had already polished off most of the bottle on their own before leaving to pick them up.

And it had all gone downhill from there.

“Inuyasha, you’re drunk,” Kagome stated the obvious. “I thought we were going to have fun tonight! How about we go down to the hotel restaurant and get some food in you? You know, they have a dance floor down there, too…”

As she trailed off, Kagome thought she saw fear skitter through Inuyasha’s eyes, but it was only for a split-second and then it was gone, the hanyou grumbling out a dismissive, “And why would I wanna do that?”

Sango rolled her eyes at her drunk friend’s obvious stupidity. “Why would you want to have dinner and dance with your girlfriend during the grad party that you convinced us to have with you? Oh, I have no idea, Inuyasha. Really.”

She snorted before continuing. “Kagome’s right. You’re piss drunk, just like this other good-for-nothing over here,” Sango motioned with her head towards where Miroku was half sitting, half lying on the floor against the footboard of one of the two double beds in the room.

Inuyasha scoffed at Sango’s words, “I’m hanyou, remember? I can take my liquor. I’m not some puny human.”

“But tonight you are human, Inuyasha,” Kagome reasoned. “Don’t you think you should slow down?”

“Why?! Why should I?! This whole stupid night was your stupid idea! And now that we’re having fun you want me to stop?! Baka wench!”

When Kagome had suggested going down to the hotel restaurant – out in the open where someone might recognize him – it had spooked Inuyasha. Add to that the disappointed looks she’d been shooting him for the past half hour, and you had the recipe for one seriously sake-enhanced emotional spiral.

The vicious words tumbled from Inuyasha’s mouth before he even knew what he’d said, and certainly before he’d had a chance to think better of them.

Kagome gasped, flinching as though she’d been physically slapped. Hurt flooded her eyes… Not that she could bring herself to look at him when next she spoke.

“I thought tonight was going to be fun, and– and romantic! I mean, it’s White Day, Inuyasha! It wasn’t supposed to be an excuse for the two of you to get drunk off your asses. I thought… I thought…”

But, clearly, it didn’t matter what she thought, did it?

Kagome squeezed her eyes shut tight against the pain of that realization. She stood, attempting to gather the remainder of her dignity around her, refusing to let the hot tears that prickled the backs of her eyes fall.

“I’m going to my room.”

Sango and Miroku shared a look. They both knew what Inuyasha had originally been planning for this weekend and why he’d been nervous enough to land himself in this drunken predicament.

“Kagome, I don’t think–”

“Save it, Sango. I think Inuyasha’s made himself abundantly clear.” Kagome turned away from the others, leaving the room without a backwards glance.

Inuyasha couldn’t do much more than stare dumbly after his truemate.

Words failed him. He hadn’t been able to say anything in his defence, nothing in an attempt to make her stay.

And at the sound of the heavy hinges of the suite’s door clunking closed behind her, a painful weight settle in Inuyasha’s heart.

How had it all turned so quickly? One minute he was trying to work up the courage to ask Kagome to head over to the girls’ suite with him for some room service – all so he could talk to her alone and pop the question – and the next minute…

“Miroku, where’s that other bottle?”

“Inuyasha, isn’t it–”

An unforgiving snarl, aimed more at himself than anyone else, ripped from Inuyasha’s throat.

“I said GIVE ME THE OTHER BOTTLE!”

Miroku handed him the bottle with a wary eye. Ignoring the look, Inuyasha pulled out the stopper and took a long swig.

How could everything have gone so wrong? All he’d ever wanted was Kagome…to make her happy, to make her his.

Now he’d be lucky if she ever spoke to him again.

His soul felt raw, the bone-deep ache of not having Kagome nearby returning. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like, that hell he’d been in over the past three years.

He shouldn’t have forgotten so quickly, though, because now he feared it was a hell he would be doomed to know for the rest of his life.

Sunrise couldn’t come fast enough.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Knock, knock, knock.

Kagome had been dozing in the armchair that sat in the far corner of the girls’ suite when the sound of knocking startled her awake.

Knock, knock, knock.

No matter how she’d tried to convinced herself that she’d only been waiting up so that Sango could help her with the impossible-to-reach zipper on her dress, Kagome knew that, deep down, she’d been hoping that Inuyasha would come after her and apologize.

Knock, knock, knock.

Shaking herself from her doze, Kagome rose from her chair and moved to open the door.

“Okay, here we go. You’re gonna be staying here tonight, Inu.”

As soon as Kagome cracked the door open, Miroku pushed inside, half-guiding, half-dragging a very drunk and still-human Inuyasha into the suite behind him.

“Miroku, what the heck?! Where’s Sango?”

Miroku groaned under the strain of keeping his hanyou friend on his feet. “After you left, Inuyasha decided to drown his sorrows and Sango, feeling sorry for this idiot, let him convince her to have a drink with us. Well, several drinks actually… which my dearest is now paying for.”

Miroku made a mock retching motion to emphasize Sango’s plight and Kagome winced in sympathy.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine for the moment. I’m hoping the worst is out of her system, but I thought it best to bring Inuyasha over here before he passed out or got sick himself and then I had the two of them to deal with on my own rather than just one.”

Kagome gave both guys a hard look. “It would serve you right, Miroku! I wish you hadn’t bought any alcohol at all!”

“Kehhhh. I ain’t no lightweight.” Inuyasha slurred, clearly having difficulty focusing his eyes.

Miroku sighed, still quite drunk himself, “Yeah, I’ll admit it wasn’t my best idea, but will you take him? I need to get back to Sango. I don’t like leaving her alone like that.”

Rolling her eyes, Kagome conceded, “Fine. Go. I’ll take him.”

Miroku gave her a grateful half-smile before immediately dashing off back down the hall.

“Come on, Inu.“ she closed the suite door before tugging on Inuyasha’s hand, urging him to stagger the rest of the way into the room.

“Where’re we going?”

“Nowhere. We’re staying here tonight, Inu.”

“We are?” He glanced around, seemingly confused, before beginning to yank at the tie around his neck.

“Fuck, it’s hot. Why is it so hot in here?”

“I think it’s because you’re drunk. Remember that project from health class last year? It’s one of the common side effects of too much alcohol in the system.” She gave him a stern look before continuing. “You should really drink some water. I’ll go get some.”

Leaving Inuyasha with a still-confused look on his face, Kagome quickly ducked into the room’s ensuite, grabbing one of the wrapped drinking glasses on the counter and filling it with water.

When she emerged a few moments later she was not prepared for the sight that greeted her.

Inuyasha was standing in the middle of the hotel room, still with that slightly confused and more than a little unfocused look on his face… only now, he was 100-percent, totally and completely stark naked.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome squealed, barely keeping the glass of water from slipping out of her hand as she hastily spun back around.

She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to dispel the image of Inuyasha’s lean and perfectly muscled body standing before her in all its glory.

It didn’t work.

She tried again to speak, ”Inuyasha, what are you doing?”

“I told you, lady, it’s fucking hot!”

Slowly, Kagome half-turned back around, not daring to allow her eyes to drift past his neck. She gave him a confused and quizzical look, as though she expected him to say more.

“What?” He asked her roughly. Clearly, his drunken mind saw no problem with the current state of things.

”No-Nothing.” Kagome’s voice was breathless. Her eyes had slipped lower again. She couldn’t seem to help it.

Inuyasha is right, she thought. It’s definitely getting hot in here.

Gulping, she inched toward him, still trying to keep what she considered to be a safe distance. “Here. Drink this.”

Inuyasha eyed her and the glass she held out suspiciously, eyes still glazed over with an unfocused gleam.

“It’s just water. Look. See?” Kagome took a sip first then passed the glass back to Inuyasha. He took it and drained it quickly before passing it back to her.

As she set the empty glass on the bedside table her mind scrambled. She needed something else to occupy her thoughts, anything to keep her traitorous eyes from roaming over his hard body and–

Nope. Nope. Stop that right there, Kagome, she mentally berated herself.

Then a thought occurred to her. “Hey Inuyasha, could you… Could you help me unzip my dress?”

Inuyasha’s eyes went wide as he sputtered incredulously.

Kagome quickly scrambled to explain. “I just need help with the zipper, I swear! I can’t reach it!”

Inuyasha seemed unconvinced. He tried to scowl at her but his eyes crossed slightly in the attempt causing much of the effect to be lost.

“Forget it. Forget it!” She wasn’t sure exactly why he was so dead set against helping her, but she wasn’t going to argue with him in the state he was in.

“How about we just go to bed.”

That suggestion only seemed to make things worse. Inuyasha snarled…or at least, Kagome presumed the sound he was making would have been a snarl if he had been in his hanyou form.

“Look, lady, I think I’ve been pretty nice up to this point, but you need to fuck right the hell off. I have a girlfriend. I AIN’T SLEEPING WITH YOU!” His volume rose as he ground out each word until he was bellowing those last words so loudly that Kagome wondered if Miroku could hear him down the hall.

The very thought of it was completely mortifying! What the hell was his problem? Not that she necessarily wanted their first time to be when he was in his human form and totally wasted, but did he have to act so insulted by the very…?

Wait.

“Inuyasha, did you say…? Did you say that you have a girlfriend?” A tentative smirk beginning to curl the corners of her mouth.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he tipped his nose into the air before huffing out a very pointed, “Yes. I do!”

Well, what do you know… Inuyasha was so drunk he couldn’t even recognize her.

Kagome wasn’t sure whether she should be pissed that he would so casually strip naked in front of what he thought was a complete stranger or deliriously happy that even drunk off his ass he was completely loyal to her.

Not that she ever doubted him.

“Actually, she’s more than my girlfriend. Or at least, she’s gonna be.”

Still mulling over whether to be pissed or amused, Kagome hadn’t been expecting this new declaration. Her breath caught in her throat.

“What…? ’Gonna be’?” Her tone urged Inuyasha to continue before she began jumping to possibly life-changing conclusions.

”Uh-huh. Reallllly soon.”

At that, her heart skipped a beat before picking up speed and attempting to escape her chest. “Soon? How soon exactly, Inuyasha?”

Inuyasha continued casually, apparently oblivious to the way she now hung on his every word. “Oh, I’ve got a whole big plan…uh…planned. See, she gave me chocolates for Valentine’s Day.”

Kagome smiled softly at that. “Oh, she did, did she?”

“Uh-huh. And they were perfect.” He paused, a look coming over his face that made Kagome’s heart squeeze. “She’s perfect.”

“She is?” It was a half-whisper and all Kagome could manage. She was beginning to feel a little lightheaded from how fast her heart was beating.

“Of course she is. I only hope she likes the ring I picked. I wanted it to be perfect for her. I wanted tonight to be perfect. ‘Course I fucked it up.” Groaning dejectedly, Inuyasha plopped down on the floor, a look of utter defeat on his face. “Kami, I miss her.”

Kagome could only stare. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, attempting to speak around the large lump in her throat.

It was too much.

Too much.

The tears were already falling before she found her voice.

“Inuyasha, did…” She cut herself off with a sob. “Did you say ‘ring’?”

Sullenly, Inuyasha leaned his face in his right palm, elbow propped on his knee, still completely oblivious to the emotional havoc he was wreaking upon the girl in front him. “Yeah, that’s what I said. But it’s too late now. She hates me.”

Her heart felt full to overflowing with love for this man. She had to take a deep breath before she could reassure him. ”Oh, I’m sure she doesn’t hate you.”

“I hope so, ‘cause I love her so much I feel like I could puke.”

Kagome couldn’t stop herself from laughing at that. “Um, that might be the alcohol, actually.”

“Huh. Maybe.” He shrugged dismissively before slumping over sideways to sprawl on his stomach on the floor, bare ass on display.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome squeaked. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m tired! I’m going to sleep!” He huffed a bit, grumbling under his breath about “crazy wenches” as he balled his discarded formalwear into a makeshift pillow, arms crossing around the bundle to hold it in place.

Kagome just stood there for long moments, unable to do anything more than gape at the tempting expanse of skin on display: the breadth of his shoulders, the rippling muscles of his back, the trim waist that flared out to become the most delicious-looking ass she’d ever seen.

She stared, throat suddenly dry, until she just couldn’t take it any longer. Not knowing what else to do, she climbed up onto the bed, fancy dress and all.

Inuyasha had been planning on proposing to her.

She pulled the covers up over her head, squeezing her eyes shut tight in a  feeble attempt to calm her rampaging emotions. Of course, the moment her eyes closed the image of Inuyasha’s naked body reappeared in her mind’s eye.

“Argh!” She groaned, throwing the blankets off altogether in favour of simply clutching a pillow to herself tightly.

She was much too hot for blankets… And it was definitely going to be a long night.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Inuyasha felt it when his transformation took hold, ears retreating and relocating, fangs and claws elongating.

He sat up as the last of his hair faded from black to white. His head still felt slightly fuzzy and he shook it in an attempt to clear the fog.

His memories of the night before ended shortly after they’d made it up to the hotel room…

He remembered being incredibly nervous.

He remembered drinking a lot.

He remembered the hurt look in Kagome’s eyes and the crushing pain in his chest when she’d left.

And that was it.

So how did he get here? Laying on the floor of a different room…

And as naked as the day he was born!

Inuyasha yelped, cursing loudly as he clamoured to his feet. He grabbed up his boxer-briefs from the pile of clothing he’d been laying on, shoving one and then the other leg in and hastily pulling them up when he heard movement coming from the bed beside him.

He froze.

“Huh? Wha–?” Kagome sat up slowly, rubbing at her eye with a fist.

Inuyasha’s mind was racing. What had happened? How the heck did he get here and why was he naked and on the floor while Kagome was asleep on the bed, still in her dress by the looks of things?

His face must have betrayed some of the horror of his thoughts because a small amused smile curved Kagome’s lips when she spoke. “I take it you don’t remember what happened last night?”

Eyes wide, Inuyasha shook his head slowly before clearing his throat. “I uh… I remember…uh…the four of us in the other room. And I remember you were…angry with me.”

Kagome gave him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher. Was it…expectation maybe?

“Do you remember anything else?”

He cast his eyes around the room searching for some kind of clue, something to jog his memory.

“No…” He paused feeling more anxious the longer she looked at him like that. “Should I remember something, Kagome? How–? I mean, why was I naked?” That last word came out in a horrified whisper.

If something had happened between them and he’d hurt her, he would never forgive himself. What other explanation could there be for him sleeping on the floor rather than in the bed with her? And it was unnerving him that he still couldn’t read the look on her face. If he had done something – especially after the absolute mess he’d made of things last night – then, truemate or no truemate, he was sure she would never agree to be his wife now.

“Dammit, Kagome. Just– Just tell me what happened!”

Something in Kagome’s eyes softened when she registered the panic in his voice. “Don’t worry, Inu, nothing bad happened.”

The relief that washed through him at her words was a tangible thing. “Okay. Okay, good. Still, I need you to tell me what happened.”

”Well, Miroku brought you over here after Sango got sick.”

“Sango got sick?”

”Yeah.” She gave him a stern look. “Apparently you convinced her to drink with you!”

One hand came up to rub at his temples. “Shit. Okay. Okay, then what?”

“Well, you kept complaining that you were hot and when I went to get you a drink of water…”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened. “Don’t– Don’t fucking tell me I just stripped naked in front of you, Kagome!”

“Well…not exactly.” Her cheeks flushed at the memory of that first sight of his naked body.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you stripped in front of a stranger.”

“I did WHAT?!”

Kagome couldn’t help the guffaw that erupted from her as she laughed at his expense. He deserved it, after all. He had been the one to drink himself into a stupor.

Inuyasha’s scowl let her know how little he thought any of this was funny.

Finally able to take a deep breath, Kagome calmed her giggles enough to explain. “What I mean is, you thought I was a stranger. You didn’t recognize me but apparently, that didn’t matter because you still stripped naked while I was getting you a drink.”

Inuyasha’s cheeks bloomed in embarrassment. He sputtered for a moment before allowing the bluster of anger to cover it up. “Feh, it was only ‘cause I was a weak human. My goddamn nose is useless on new moon nights. There’s no way I’d ever not recognize you otherwise.“

He sighed heavily at first hoping that was it… But the look on Kagome’s face told him she still had more to say. “Okay, go on, what else happened.”

“Well, I tried to get you to help me with the zipper on my dress. I couldn’t reach it.”

“Is that why you were sleeping in it?”

”Yeah, you outright refused to help me. You were super insulted actually. Told me to F-off because you have a girlfriend.”

He couldn’t help his lopsided grin, “‘Course I did.”

And then that look was back in her eye. The one Inuyasha couldn’t quite read. “Actually, Inu, you said that I was more than your girlfriend.”

His grin quickly faded, eyes again going wide with nervousness as he suddenly remembered why he’d thought drinking last night was such a good idea.

“I– I did?”

“Yep. Apparently, you had a plan? You told me that you hoped…” She gulped, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap, willing herself to have the courage to continue. “You told me that you hoped I’d like the ring you’d picked out.”

Fear blanketed Inuyasha’s mind in paralysis. She wasn’t looking at him. Why wasn’t she looking at him?! “Ka-Kagome, I– I– I–”

“Yes.”

It took Inuyasha a full minute to realize that Kagome had spoken. It took him another minute to register what she’d said.

When he did, he felt his heart stop.

“Wha…? Kagome, what did you just say?”

She raised her eyes to look at him then, and until the day he died Inuyasha was sure he would never forget the look of love and hope he saw shining there.

“I said yes, Inuyasha.”

Faster than Kagome could blink, Inuyasha was in front of her. He scooped her up off the bed, crushing her to him, lips finding hers in a passionate kiss.

He prayed that she could feel the same hope and love in his kisses… And when her small hands came up to twine in the hair at the nape of his neck, he thought that maybe she could.

They were breathless when they finally broke apart. He nuzzled at the soft skin under Kagome’s ear as she trailed her hands down from his neck, over the smooth planes of his still-naked chest.

“You know, I tried so hard not to stare at you when you were…naked…but when you kiss me like that…”

Inuyasha inhaled sharply as her words trailed off suggestively. He couldn’t stop his tongue from darting out to taste the soft flesh of her throat, and she moaned softly in return, pressing her lips to his chest, right above his heart.

Kami, he loved this woman. And he wanted her… badly.

And then a thought occurred to him… She was his now. She had said yes.

When Inuyasha leaned away from Kagome’s embrace his evil youkai grin was back, only this time it was decidedly more wicked. He caught her chin in his fingers, urging her to look up at him.

“It’s only dawn. We still have a few hours until the limo comes back to pick us up. You think they’ll be upset with us if I bind you before the wedding?”

She smiled, hunger erupting in her eyes. “Maybe? But I don’t really care. Kiss me again, mate.”

And so he did.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Special shout-out goes to @hnnwnchstr​ for sending me this twitter post which inspired the whole story! Thanks, lady! This one’s for you!