#Link isn’t going to make too much of a fuss

[orphicsun]

Rosemary (e.w): Part One

"𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬."

content / warnings: jackson ellie / fem newcomer reader, loser! ellie, the majority of tlou has not happened (joel and jesse are still alive), mentions of joel (will be in part 2), mentions of cat, jesse and dina are romantically involved, near-death situations (patrol gone wrong), mild violence, slight angst with comfort, lots of swearing, eventual smut (in part 2).

word count: 4.4k

link to part two ( status: unfinished)

Description: Newcomers come and go through Jackson, and Ellie doesn’t pay any of them much thought. However, she catches a glimpse of you. You’re the exact opposite of her, soft and sweet like cotton candy (if that were a thing in Jackson). Now she feels 14 all over again, palms clammy and freckled face hot when you’re around. When you’re not, she buries her face into her pillow and hopelessly pines. Jesse and Dina just won’t let her fumble, though.

Ellie locks the stable door behind her, the creaking of the hinges accompanying her huff. As usual, Ellie is quite sweaty and admittedly cranky after a patrol that lasted longer than it should’ve.

She and Jesse spent hours clearing out a portion of the town North of Jackson, only to find the ammunition cabinets empty and the pantries bare. To come back almost empty-handed leaves Ellie in a particularly sour mood, and now she is in no state to deal with another social interaction for the day. No offense to her best friend Jesse, but he can be annoyingly talkative on the longest days. 

“Hey, have you heard about the new group who just arrived?” Jesse’s voice snaps Ellie out of her own thoughts, and she shrugs. She walks alongside Jesse back to the weaponry to store their pistols. 

“Yeah. What about them?” Ellie has never understood why everyone makes a big fuss out of new arrivals. Jackson gets plenty of travelers. Besides, folks stay and folks go. She won’t be surprised if the entire group is headed South by tomorrow morning.

Jackson isn’t for everyone. It’s mainly for the type of people Ellie is–fine with the harsher, okay with hours of stressful patrols, and usually content to kick infected ass. Also secluded, far from larger settlements that remind her too much of a QZ. 

“There’s a girl. Maria is sayin’ she’s around our age, too.” Jesse informs her.

Ellie snorts at that, shaking her head. “So?” She opens the door to the weaponry, unloading her pistol and storing the gun on the wall alongside his. 

Jesse gives her a ‘what do you mean, so?’ look, and almost laughs at her attitude. He knows that she is more reserved when it comes to new people. Really, people in general. For the longest time, the circle was Jesse, Dina, and Ellie. Like a holy trinity that Cat occasionally popped into before departing when she and Ellie broke up. Ellie has never needed more social interaction than her friends, Joel and Tommy, and maybe a girlfriend. The only problem is that she has the social skills of an incel when it comes to women, save for the fact that most incels were taken out on breakout day. 

“We had new people just last month. What’s so special about these?” 

Jesse rolls his eyes as they walk out of the weaponry, holding the door open for Ellie despite her bitterness. “I was just informing you, jeez. What’s with the pissy mood?”

Ellie sighs, pausing outside of the building. “My bad. Just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, and patrol didn’t help.”

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “Were you up on that PlayStation you’ve got in your mancave?”

“For the last time, it’s not a man cave,” she speaks with light disapproval in her tone.

Jesse laughs at his friend’s attitude, enjoying teasing her. “Right. Well, you go home and get some damn rest. I’m tired of dealing with your cranky ass on patrol.” He pats her shoulder, giving her a small wave before walking towards his house.

Ellie sighs and mumbles a “whatever” before turning in the other direction and heading for the small garage she has behind Joel’s house, looking forward to sleeping until she is forced to get up in the morning. 

-

Patrol is early, earlier than usual. Luckily, Ellie got plenty of sleep the night before. In her straight jeans and (against Dina’s advice to not risk hypothermia) canvas sneakers, everything is ready, and she feels lighter this morning. Not in a particularly grumpy mood, she walks down the streets to find Jesse. She is a tad bit confused–usually, Jesse is knocking at her door on patrol mornings. She grumbles under her breath at the thought that he is probably at the Tipsy Bison on some cheesy breakfast date with Dina. As much as she loves the two, she hates third-wheeling. Things are already awkward as it is. 

Ellie gets stuck in her mind as always, until a particular view cuts the thought train. There you are, in a pen filled with baby sheep, giggling and petting behind their ears. It’s an overwhelmingly sweet sight, something Ellie would usually find herself thinking of with disgust. Too sweet, like a tooth-rotting confection. But that’s not the case here, no. 

Ellie has seen plenty of pretty girls in Jackson. What is it that makes her hands clammy, and causes her face to redden in pure embarrassment? Her cheeks are so hot you could fry eggs on them. She’s embarrassed to be herself next to a pretty girl. You’re sweet and soft, and you remind her of peaches or a fluffy cake. But really, the thing that truly gets her isn’t the sheep or the way you smile at them in a way that makes even Ellie feel safe around you. It’s that outfit. 

Something she would find in a damn magazine for girls. Ellie would find herself thinking that wearing cute, feminine outfits is just dumb. In this world, where anything can happen, why wouldn’t you go for the practical? Why lace yourself up with soft frills and pink hues? You can’t run in a skirt. But looking at you, how the fabric seems to be made for you, she finds herself wondering how soft it is (and how soft to the touch you are). 

You’re the type of girl Ellie could see herself writing shitty journal entries about, your initial next to hers. You’re the type of girl she imagined tasting when she practices kissing her hand. You’re everything she needs in a daydream she could never confess to anyone else.

And then, the moment is over just before she could introduce herself to you. 

“Earth to Ellie? Whatcha staring at?” Jesse asks from behind her, causing Ellie to quickly turn around. 

“Nothing. Let’s just go.” Ellie’s voice doesn’t hide her defensiveness, and Jesse notices your figure a little bit away. He has a knowing smirk on his face, and Ellie groans. “C’mon, I’m not-”

“Didn’t say anything,” he points out with a surrender. 

The patrol goes normally. Kill infected, raid for supplies, endure Jesse’s dirty jokes. The only difference is, Ellie feels the need to ask about you on the way home.

Mounted on horses, Ellie decides to speak up. “Hey..do you know anything about that new girl?” 

Jesse shrugs casually. “She’s good friends with Dina already.” Ellie nods. Dina is the most social out of the trio, so it makes sense. 

“Is she nice?” Ellie asks, taking a small glance at Jesse. 

“Why? Interested in her or something?” Jesse replies, slightly smiling. It’s clear that he enjoys the fact that he knows how to get to her. 

Of course, she scoffs, raising her defenses. “No! Why do you think that?”

He laughs, eyes roving over her face. “Well, your cheeks are red. That’s the first sign. Secondly, you keep interrogating me over this chick.” 

Ellie sighs and looks down at Shimmer’s mane, trying to focus on something other than Jesse’s stupid face so that she can admit it. “Yeah, maybe I think she’s pretty cute. But she’s probably straight, so it doesn’t matter,” she mumbles quietly. 

“You’re such a pessimist, Ellie. You don’t know what she is.” He reminds Ellie, tone laced with tough love. 

“Yeah, well, how am I supposed to?” She asks though she doesn’t expect an actual answer. 

Jesse almost laughs at that. “By asking her?”

“What?! I can’t just ask if she likes girls! What if she gets offended?” 

“Dude, chill. I mean, just talk to her. Don’t you have a gaydar or somethin’?” He quips, making her crinkle her nose in protest.

“Yeah, right. All gays can just sense each other.” Ellie says with a half-hearted glare.

Jesse sighs. “Look, why don’t you just ask her to that summer festival thing? You know, the one with the dance?”

Her eyes widen at that. “A dance? That sounds like a nightmare.” 

“You are a lost cause,” he says as he rolls his eyes. 

It was around 7 p.m. when Ellie and Jesse made it to the gates. Ellie sighs outside of the Tipsy Bison. 

“Do I have to come in with you?” Ellie asks while already knowing the answer. 

“Yes! I need one of those cheesesteaks for dinner, and you could use some grub other than whatever is in that pathetic fridge of yours.” Jesse says, giving Ellie a smirk that suddenly sends her stomach feeling uneasy. He knows something she doesn’t. The only other time Ellie was given that look was the day before Jesse put a corn snake in her garage house as a “prank” for her 17th birthday. Still, Jesse is right. All she has in that mini fridge of hers are leftovers and a pack of instant rice. Her stomach growls in contrast to her protests.

“Ladies first,” Jesse teases, holding the door open for her.

Ellie sighs, feeling a bit cranky as usual at the end of the patrol, but walks into the building. She finds herself immediately freezing at the sight of you there beside Dina, laughing at an inside joke and munching on cheese fries. 

“Oh my god, fuck me.” Ellie curses under her breath. She can already feel the heat rising to her cheeks, pink mixing within the freckled surface. She just hopes that you won’t notice. 

“Don’t be a wimp, go say hi.” Jesse orders lightly behind Ellie, pointing to the area where you’re seated. Ellie swallows, and her boots feel almost like bricks on her feet. Jesse rolls his eyes, practically dragging her over to Dina and you. 

You seem to look up from your meal, eyes scanning over her. She feels like she is being evaluated. God, you must be thinking about how awkward she looks. She can feel her hands get all sweaty like they did when she first laid eyes on you, and her hands shake. She tugs her jacket sleeves down and nearly expects the worst. 

“Hi!” You smile, and you tell Ellie your name. All of the anxiety bubbles into a mix of dread and something giddy. Dread, because she can’t function properly around the one girl who makes her nervous as fuck. Giddiness, because you’re so sweet and lovely and pretty and kissable-

“Hi.” She manages to croak out, struggling to make eye contact. Fuck, how do I look at her? Do I focus on one of her eyes or can I blink and look away? I could wink. Oh, hell no. Don’t do that, Ellie. Instead tries to force an extremely nervous smile onto her face. “Name’s Ellie.”

“I know.” You simply say, still smiling slightly before stabbing a couple of fries with a plastic fork. There is some awkward silence before Dina fucks up Ellie’s momentum with the most nerve-wracking conversion starter. 

“Ellie here has a tattoo.” She brags to you, gesturing to Ellie’s arm. Your eyes light up, and you turn towards her. 

“Really?! I’ve always wanted one, but my parents would kill me.” You say excitedly. “Can I see?” 

Ellie quickly nods, a little flustered with the attention thrown onto her. She shimmies her jacket off, leaving her in a pale blue sweater. Pulling the sleeve up to her elbow, she shows you the moth and fern inked into her skin. You scooch to the edge of the booth, closer to her, and she swears she can smell your perfume. Something sweet like vanilla, perhaps? It just reminds her of cake and whipped frosting. Her mind is suddenly less focused on your eyes roving over her arm, and more on wondering how you taste. She realizes how shitty that is and quickly tries to back out of her thoughts, but she looks down to find you looking up at her expectantly. 

“Ellie here zones out 24/7, don’t mind her,” Jesse informs you, trying to push the sudden agenda he and Dina have going on. Ellie is practically burning right now. The air in the room feels limited, and the clashing of dishes in the background that she suddenly can’t seem to tune out isn’t helping. Ellie suddenly clears her throat, pulling away and putting her jacket back on. 

“Woah, where are you going?” Dina asks, not paying attention to the obvious nerves emitting from her friend. 

“Gonna go home and take a shower,” is all Ellie can find herself saying before making a beeline for the door. 

The air is humid, but it isn’t much different from what Ellie felt inside. Ellie sighs, leaning against the wall. She really fucked tonight up. You were so sweet and inviting, and all she could do was tremble like a leaf and say a few boring words. Not only that, but you probably think that she is rude now, just walking out right after meeting you. She just hopes your feelings aren’t hurt in any way. 

-

The universe officially hates Ellie Williams. 

There, in bold letters, are the patrol assignments for the week. The paper is pinned to the corkboard outside of the town hall. This morning, with you? Ellie can’t tell if she wants to cry or laugh. Either way, she is dreading today. 

“Hey, partner!” You greet her, clearly in a cheerful mood. She wants to kiss the corner of your lips on both sides just to feel your smile against her lips, but she is way too much of a pussy for that. Plus, you could be straight. You’re probably straight. 

Ellie has to process how fast you found her, but when she wraps her head around it and finally can think of a coherent thought, it’s a confused one. 

“Uh, hey..aren’t you new here?” She asks, scratching the corner of her mouth. 

“Yeah. Tommy said you would be helping me out with our patrol today?” You told her, watching Ellie’s face grow from confused to almost panicked. “I can find a new partner if you don’t-”

“No!” She basically shouts at you, visibly cringing when people nearby stop to look at her. “I just mean, it’s fine. I just haven’t trained anyone in a long time.” 

“Right. Well, we better head out then, huh? I was warned that the trail Maria gave us is one of the longer ones.” You say, looking at Ellie for a response. 

Ellie doesn’t know what it is about you, but you make a conversation feel like a trip down to the first ring of hell. Even thinking that may be rude, and she curses her thoughts, but you’re pretty and kind. Ellie is a sweaty, awkward loser. She knows it must probably be hell for you to have to talk to her, too. 

She swallows, nodding. “West trails go on for a while, but it’s fine. We’ll make it back to Jackson before night.” 

You smile and nod in response, seemingly unbothered by her odd behavior as you follow her to the stables. 

One thing about horse riding is that it is one of the most calming activities Ellie has available for her. Even when Jesse or Dina yaps her ears off, she finds peace on the back of a horse. After a long, stressful patrol, Ellie can always have a bit of respite with Shimmer. A girl with plenty of nerves can surely calm herself with the feel of coarse hair, accompanied by a comforting neigh. However, on this particular patrol, nothing about the horse ride along the Western trails is peaceful, or even tolerable. 

Your soft chest is pressed up against her back. Even through the thickness of her hoodie, she can feel your rapid heartbeat. Her mind wanders–not to filth, but pure curiosity for you. If she were to confess, you’d surely find her obsession with you to be weird and possibly creepy. She just can’t help but wonder what makes your heart race so fast, though.

Are you not used to riding horses? It could be possible that in past experiences, you just had to walk from place to place. That doesn’t make sense, though. You have a family, don’t you? Your parents came with you, and there is no way you all just walked from the middle of nowhere to Jackson with just–

Ellie’s internal rambling ceases when she feels your arms, currently wrapped around her waist, squeeze her. Suddenly is she so conscious of the fact that your palm must be able to feel her stomach expand and falter with each breath she takes? That means you know how uneven her breathing is. You probably don’t ramble in your head about Ellie’s stupid lungs, though. 

“Sorry. I’m just trying not to fall off of this huge thing.” You say, and Ellie can hear the hint of fear in your voice. It makes her heart jump, and a strange feeling of protectiveness enters her system. She stops herself from showing it though, not wanting to scare you away from her.

“This huge thing?” She questions, never hearing that term used for a horse before. 

“Yeah, yeah!” You laugh softly, the sound music to her ears. “I just have an irrational fear of falling off of horses, okay?”

“Fair. I’m just, uh.” Ellie trails off, trying to find her train of thought as it keeps slipping through her grasp. “I’m used to horses, bein’ here in Jackson for a while.” 

Your hands are warm, resting against her stomach. She can feel the heat through the fabric of her shirt. 

Through the nerves bubbling up in her stomach like the usual acid, she finds the courage to take one hand off of Shimmer’s reins. It finds your hand, giving you a comforting squeeze. She is half-expecting you to be uncomfortable with her action, but to her surprise, you let out a soft sigh. 

Like music to her ears. 

-

Ellie is still tying Shimmer up as you scope out the area. Her hands are sweaty from the contact with yours, and her heart is beating through her chest so fast it almost hurts. 

The sudden croak stops her in her tracks, her head turning towards you. You’re stepping back and nearly tripping over yourself to scramble away from a clicker, the gross-looking creature emerging from a hole in the fence you were just studying. 

“Shit!” Ellie grits through her teeth, her feet carrying her fast. 

Ellie has always been on a sort of adrenaline through every patrol she goes on. She has good instincts. She works well under pressure. For some, thinking so impulsively can be fatal. For Ellie, it’s just natural–how she was raised. 

Ellie fights for reasons other than survival, however. Her own life isn’t always plugged into the equation along with the actions she takes. However, her mind flashes with a thought: what if I died right now? Would she be able to defend herself?

And suddenly, her life means everything. The fight becomes more intense. 

Her hand harshly grips the creature’s jaw, tilting it upward to plunge her switchblade into its throat. It lets out a blood-curdling yell and falters. She lets its body drop and rushes toward you without another thought to the corpse a few feet away. 

You’re on the ground, tears brimming your sweet eyes. The adrenaline rush still courses through her body as her eyes scan your body for any sign of a bite. 

Not again, please. Not after what happened. 

A relieved gasp leaves her when she realizes you’re safe. She looks over your face, and her chest aches when she sees the fear in your eyes. 

“You’re okay. It’s all okay, it’s dead.” 

You only nod in response, not trusting your voice at the moment. Ellie doesn’t mind. She crouches in front of you, fingers stroking through your hair, coaxing you to calm down. The only sounds left in the area are your quiet sniffles and the wind blowing through the trees behind you. 

During the ride back to Jackson, you clutch onto Ellie just as tightly as the first time. 

-

The summer festival. The small group that plans social events in Jackson hosts one every year in July. Ellie has always preferred winter when she could layer up her body and subtly admire Wyoming mountain ranges on lookouts. Summer is hot and filled with mosquitos, but Dina and Jesse love the summer festival, so Ellie goes every year. 

The summer festival always left Ellie overwhelmed. She gets sweaty in her flannel, couples love to swap spit in the lines for face paint, and little kids get especially loud after sugary treats. The worst part? They include a dance along with it. The majority of Jackson dancing with each other accompanied by hot weather is as much of a nightmare as it seems. It isn’t Ellie’s ideal Friday night, especially when she could be at home strumming her guitar, or even just asleep. 

“She’s going to the festival with us, by the way.” Jesse grins, leaning against Ellie’s front door. 

“Oh, great,” Ellie says, a failed attempt at sarcasm. In all actuality, her pulse races when she pictures dancing with you.

Jesse laughs. “Dude, don’t act like you haven’t been daydreaming about her every day since that patrol.” 

“Sure.” Ellie rolls her eyes. “It’s not like I’m in love with her or anything. I just think she’s cute.” Even admitting that causes embarrassment to plague her cheeks, however.

“That is exactly how it starts, smart one.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ellie asks, voice thick with exasperation. 

“It starts with a ‘oh, she’s just cute.’ And then before you know it, you’ll be wearing matching ugly Christmas sweaters with her every year, just like me and Dina.” Jesse says.

“Oh, for god’s sake. I’m not whipped like you are. I just think she’s pretty, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know her.” She explains. 

“And she wouldn’t mind getting to know you, either.” 

“Oh my god, will you stop talking in riddles for five minutes?” Ellie groans, lightly smacking his shoulder. “Can’t you just..say what you mean?”

“I mean that she’s been gushing about you ever since you saved her. Something about a patrol and you comforting her. She has this crush on you, it’s adorable.” Jesse tells her, a grin on his face. 

Ellie’s heart skips a beat. So you like her, too?

“Like I said before, you gotta ask her to be your plus one,” Jesse suggests. 

The thought of spending her night with you instead of being the festival’s wallflower seems appealing. Even more appealing than just staying in like a recluse. Still, her nerves nag at her. 

“Are you sure I should? Isn’t she already going with us?” Ellie asks with uncertainty in her tone. 

“Yeah, but you want to make it clear you at least want something to do with her, right? If you don’t talk to her, she’ll think it’s just a friendly thing.” 

“True,” Ellie mumbles. 

“So do it. Go talk to her.” Jesse urges. 

“Jeez, okay. I don’t have to right away.” 

-

Joel has always conveyed the importance of gift-giving. He is a man who isn’t the best with his words. He bottles it up so easily and explodes just the same. Ellie has the same habit, so she uses that advice–gift-giving. 

Joel himself has given plenty of gifts and services. He’d gifted Ellie with her first guitar. He made sure she didn’t go without a nice meal when she holed herself up in her room after her and Cat’s breakup. That voice is simply lodged in her head after the amount of times she has had to hear him say it. 

“How are you doin’, kiddo?” 

Gifts come in all shapes and sizes. Some gifts are the ones you think thoroughly about before you offer them. Some are unintentionally impactful, the type you keep with you for years after, even if the person who gave it to you doesn’t realize what it means to you. 

Ellie likes to think gifts can be physical, too. You can give a kiss or a hug, and that proves the notion that certain gifts are special to certain people. You’d want to be given a kiss from someone you romantically love. 

Ellie thought it over before knocking on your door. She heard things about what people had given their love interests before the apocalypse. As Joel said, bouquets and candy were cheesy but it worked. Ellie doesn’t have a local grocery store, however, unless you count the one with its workers being infected and its interior neglected, surrounded by overgrowth. 

Ellie isn’t much of a baker, either. Her garage home’s oven is sparsely used, her microwave in favor; the previous night, her oven was used. Three times, actually. Two times resulted in charred, burnt remains of what was supposed to be a cake. The third time, Ellie put her dignity aside and went to Joel for help, and she reluctantly let him in on her intentions. 

So here she is, in her red flannel that doesn’t have any holes in it and a pair of boot-cut jeans, painfully styled with crusty Converse. She knocks at your door, a container with a vanilla cake in the other. 

Ellie’s eyes fill with hearts when your head peeks out. You open the door wider when you recognize her face, and your eyes naturally trail down to the item in her hands. 

Ellie clears her throat. “Uh, brought you something.” 

And of course, you’re already smiling ear to ear. “Yeah? What’d you bring me?” 

Something as sweet as you. That is what Ellie thinks, but instead, she gives the blunt, not unkind answer. “Cake.” 

Ellie holds out the container for you, and you accept it without hesitance. For just a split second, she feels the warmth of your fingertips as they brush against her rough, calloused ones. And then for another second, she lets herself dwell on her deepest thoughts–she wishes she could intertwine her fingers with yours and know what it’s like to be loved by the sun herself. 

“Also–” Ellie scratches her lip, trying not to sputter out her thoughts. “Since Dina and Jesse are going to be all over each other at the festival, I was thinking we could hang out. If you don’t mind.”

You beam as brightly as the sun. “Yeah! And thanks for the cake, Els.” 

Els. That name has her face hot and her hands clammy. She just stares at you for a moment, giving a nod and as polite a goodbye as she can manage before she heads back to her garage house to think of the fact that you just called her the cutest thing you could possibly call her. 

Els it is, then. Els is taking you to the summer festival tomorrow. 

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[skyloftian-nutcase]

Remember the Shafows of Twilight fic where Twilight got revealed as a wolf and were was an ask about how Ulli won't let Twilight on the couch without a bath? Can you write that?

The stakes were higher than ever. Link refused to lose. Glaring determinedly, he settled his elbow on the table as Rusl sat across from him, mirroring his position. Colin shifted, filled with nervous and excited energy, and then he started to count down.

Both men's arms shook with exertion the instant Colin finished counting. Uli watched from the kitchen, rocking Hama steadily. Of all the family, she looked somehow the most invested but least emotional about it. Her gaze was seemingly neutral, but her eyes wouldn't leave the table.

Colin gasped as Link started to push Rusl's arm closer to the table. Rusl's grip tightened, face pulling with effort. Link smiled, knowing he was going to win.

And then Rusl exhaled heavily through his nose, putting all his energy into one last effort, catching Link off guard and slamming his fist into the table. Colin yelled in surprise, hands thrown into the air for emphasis.

From the kitchen, Uli let out a breath she'd been holding, smiling in victory.

Link wilted at the table, a seeming cloud looming over him.

"Then it's settled," Rusl huffed, panting. "The wolf gets a bath."

Link groaned.

That evening, with extreme reluctance, Link dragged his feet to the sacred spring. He didn't bother mentioning that the spring would likely transform him back immediately. There was absolutely no need to share that information.

Uli, on the other hand, was humming cheerfully as Rusl followed her with supplies in hand. Colin, despite multiple protests, was expressly forbidden from coming along. Link had to save his dignity somehow.

"Ma," he pleaded for the millionth time. "I'm clean already. What's the point of this?"

"Honey, when you were showing Colin your wolf form we all could smell it," Uli replied as gently as she could, but the words still made his cheeks flush in embarrassment. "And your fur is matted and bloody. I... I just want to help you wash that journey off you."

Link didn’t really have a rebuttal for that, words stolen away with his breath. The tenderness woven in the words that his guardian spoke immediately eliminated any other protest he might have, and he sighed reluctantly.

Did he truly want to wash such a journey off him? Did he truly want to let go?

Midna…

She said goodbye. He supposed he should too.

He didn’t want to say goodbye. It didn’t feel like it’s as over.

But he couldn’t say no to his mother, so he grabbed the shadow crystal and let the dark magic break and reshape him. It was a familiar sensation by now, intensely painful but only for a moment, and far less so now that he was expecting it. When the wolf shook free of the shadows, he tentatively stepped towards Uli and Rusl.

Uli smiled, kneeling onto the ground at the shore, arm stretched out invitingly. Link took another small step, listening to Rusl chuckle, and he felt his ears peel back in mild annoyance.

This was ridiculous. He didn’t need a bath. It was silly.

It was downright terrifying. He didn’t want to lose everything from his journey. He didn’t want to wash it off himself.

He didn’t know how to move forward.

Uli cupped her hands, letting sacred water sprinkle over Link. It was warm, relaxing, and he felt his body shiver as the dark magic that changed him tried to recede.

“This might not be the best place for this,” Rusl noted. Link glanced at him, disappointed that the man was already picking up that the water would change him back, but he also noticed a distinct unease to his guardian’s posture.

Rusl didn’t want to be here either. Somehow, his amusement had changed to anxiety. Link could sense it; he could smell it.

In an attempt to cheer Rusl and perhaps give a little act of defiance to Uli’s proposal in the first place, Link flopped on his side, splashing directly into the water and soaking his mother. The warmth wrapped around him like a hug, minimizing the pain as he shifted back, and he smiled up at his guardians as Uli spluttered and Rusl immediately looked relieved.

Does he really think it’s a gift if he gets that nervous? Link wondered, watching his father step toward him.

“Well, now you have an actual reason for a bath in both forms,” Rusl noted, and Link recognized that hew as now covered in mud.

Well… that backfired.

Uli tutted, rising, as Link spluttered for a comeback. Rusl tackled the protesting teenager. After a brief wrestling match, Link found himself in Rusl’s embrace, shivering from the breeze but warm against his guardian’s chest. Somehow, in the time they’d been playing, Uli had grabbed a large tub—the one they usually used for bathing anyway—and was filling it with water.

“Ma, I’m all clean now,” Link said quickly, looking himself over. He was soaking wet, but the mud was certainly gone.

“This is for your other form,” Uli insisted. “I got the water from upstream.”

“Does that make it less sacred…?” Rusl wondered quietly.

“Ordona hasn’t sat in it yet, I guess,” Link grumbled, growing irritated again.

“If we build a fire we can warm it up,” Uli noted with a smile.

Her face was too gentle to keep arguing with her, and Link sighed, leaning heavily against Rusl. He glanced up at him, catching his father’s attention, and Rusl held him a little tighter as if to ask what’s wrong?

“When I… you were…” Link swallowed, trying to find the words. He didn’t want to upset Rusl - things were tenuous enough after the night he’d discovered his ability.

“Link,” Rusl said quietly, gently. “I… we both are still trying to move on from that night. Your transformation doesn’t scare me. I know it’s you. You know that.”

“But—”

“My worries have nothing to do with you being a wolf,” Rusl interrupted. “Sometimes fathers just worry. I love you. Now come on, your mother’s waiting.”

Link sighed, not pushing the matter, but Rusl didn’t let him go as he guided him out of the water. Despite wanting to get it over with at this point, Uli made him wait until she was satisfied with the water temperature, dragging his embarrassment and anxiety out further.

Rusl distracted him with talk of sword fighting and tales from the Resistance, and eventually Link finally settled, nearly forgetting why they were at the spring in the first place.

Until Uli said the water was ready.

“Ma, do I have to?”

“Oh, Link, come on now, it isn’t that bad!”

Uli’s voice was growing more disappointed rather than exasperated, and Link felt a twinge of guilt. Sighing, he transformed once more. Rusl, with his back to the spring, gently nudged him forward, and Link grumbled, feeling it rumble in his chest like a growl before it shaped into a pathetic little howl of protest as it left his muzzle.

His parents laughed. They laughed at his plight.

Ears peeled, tail tucked, Link climbed carefully into the basin with Rusl’s help. As soon as the warm water started to seep into his coat, he swallowed, hesitantly relaxing into it. It… certainly felt nice. He resigned himself to his fate as Uli’s hands ran through his fur, gentle, careful, detangling as she went. He saw the tools stacked on a rock, gathered by Rusl over several trips to Castle Town, and he huffed again.

Link closed his eyes as Uli’s hands moved towards his face and muzzle. He closed his eyes, and for a moment time washed over him, hearing his mother’s screams on his first return to the village after transforming, feeling the steel of Rusl’s blade in his gut as he rested. He shriveled into himself a little, and Uli paused before carefully massaging along his nose, between his eyes, behind his ears. She started humming gently, a familiar tune he’d heard most of his life, and Link hated how his lupine form couldn’t hide his emotions like usual, hated how a little whine escaped his throat.

Uli leaned down and kissed his forehead, hugging him, careless of the soap suds she was getting on her. She didn’t speak, and he was thankful for it, as he felt his predicament couldn’t get much more humiliating, but somehow it soothed him anyway. As his mother continued, he dared to open his eyes, glancing at Rusl, who was watching him with a gentle smile. When they made eye contact, his guardian came in closer, cupping his muzzle with his hands and gently rubbing across the fur on his cheeks with his thumbs.

Link shivered a little, helpless and hating that fact. But he felt safe in their care, and… that was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. Link had no need to worry about whether he actually felt safe - he would make a situation safe. Usually, he was the one people went to for safety. But here, in this quiet little moment, he relaxed.

He relaxed. He hadn’t done that since he’d gone fishing with Midna months ago, long before things had grown overwhelming and constant, before they’d managed to find most of the mirror shards, before urgency had kicked in over everything else.

With every new rinse, the stench of blood and dirt lessened. With every gentle caress, anxieties and tight muscles that hadn’t eased since fighting Ganondorf started to release.

Link stepped out of the tub, feeling utterly exhausted and rejuvenated, and he glanced at his guardians. They smiled back.

And then he got the sudden urge to get all this water off him. So he did.

He shook his coat vigorously, making Rusl and Uli yelp. If he could smirk in his wolf form, he would.

”Just for that, I’m using the puppy perfume,” Uli chided.

Link howled in protest, making a beeline for the woods, and Rusl grabbed him before he could flee. His ire was evident in each and every howl and yelp, in the way he wiggled so vigorously he covered his father in fur. Rusl only laughed, but he did finally concede, “Maybe we can avoid the puppy perfume, dear.”

With that threat rescinded, Link relaxed, held awkwardly in Rusl’s arms before grumbling and wiggling again. Put me down.

Rusl walked to the spring, grip tightening a little, before gently lowering him into the blessed waters. Link felt the dark magic recede, and he sighed, rising a little woozily, muscles still fairly relaxed, held steady by his guardian’s strong hands.

“There, see?” Rusl said with a smile, guiding Link out of the water. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“I didn’t get a chance to brush your coat,” Uli noted a little disappointedly.

“You already bathed me,” Link pointed out exasperatedly. “I don’t need pampering.”

“Your fur’s going to be all matted, hon.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Leave it be, dear,” Rusl defended Link gently. “I think we could all benefit from a break.”

With that, Uli immediately switched tactics, insisting Link come home with them and rest. Link wanted to argue—it wasn’t like getting a bath was traumatic, not in the slightest, just embarrassing; it wasn’t like he hadn’t just had some kind of release from his journey, as she’d promised… it wasn’t like he was shivering and vulnerable all of a sudden, wanting to hold desperately on to that feeling of safety he’d just gotten back—but there was no argument in the world that would work against her.

Link let his parents guide him back to their house, and he found himself settled in front of the fire with a warm glass of milk. Colin was at his side in an instant, smiling and leaning against him. He paused, sniffing, making Link throw him a bewildered look.

“I thought you’d smell like the shampoo or something,” Colin said thoughtfully. “That form really does hide stuff.”

Link knew Colin meant it innocently, but given what Uli had said earlier, it really hit harder than it should. He shook the feeling off, elbowing his little brother. “Well, I’m glad. I don’t want to smell like roses.”

But what if he no longer held Midna’s scent in his fur either? His heart lurched a moment, chest feeling like he’d been punched, and his eyes widened a moment.

And then Rusl and Uli settled beside him with blankets and leftover biscuits from breakfast. And though Link still missed his friend so desperately, he knew he wasn’t at least completely alone.

And… perhaps washing some of the stains of his journey away had been a good idea after all.

[galactic-magick]

Marshmallow Winter: Jayce Talis x Reader

Summary: Jayce makes sure you stay warm on a winter day.

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff and non-sexual stripping

Author's Notes: Brief break from my Viktor brainrot for you guessed it, Jayce brainrot!! This is my first time writing for Jayce, hope you enjoy :)

-

“Jayce, I’m literally just walking down the street!”

You sigh dramatically as he fusses over your heavy winter coat, making sure every single button is done. He has you wearing so many layers you can barely move your limbs, and your head and neck are covered in a thick hat and scarf that’s making you sweat.

“It’s freezing outside!” he emphasizes for the twentieth time today. Now he’s covering your hands with two pairs of mittens, barely fitting the second pair over the other.

You know he’s doing this out of love, bundling you up like this. You’re no stranger to his fear of winter and the cold, knowing it nearly killed his mother. Usually, he doesn’t like for you to go out at all when it’s chilly, instead opting to keep you in his arms by the fire under at least three blankets. You only convinced him to let you step outside because you’re almost completely out of groceries, and the store isn’t too far down the road. He insisted on coming with you as well, fastening his own coat after he finishes helping with your obnoxiously fuzzy ensemble.

“Jayce, honey, how are we supposed to buy things if we can’t even move?” you laugh. “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you look cute!” he smirks. “You’re like a puffy marshmallow.”

You roll your eyes, your lip pushing out in a pout, “Can we get those at the store? Marshmallows?”

“Possibly,” he opens the door, a gust of wind chill hitting your face. He links his arm with yours, squeezing it close to him. “If you promise to keep all this on.”

Your exhale is visible in the air, and the crunch of your boots in the snow is quite loud when you start walking. Jayce moves very fast, and you have to waddle in your thick snowpants to keep up with his stride. You’re sweating already, but you don’t complain. If you’re lucky, this outing won’t take too long.

The shopping trip goes as well as you thought it would, both of you grabbing things from the shelves and immediately dropping them from your slippery gloved hands. The cashier gets a kick out of your antics, laughing at the two of you wobbling through the aisles and barely managing to get everything on your list.

The walk home is equally hectic, food falling in the snow every few feet and face-planting along with it when you bend down to pick it up. Any embarrassment you had faded a long time ago, and you’re uncontrollably laughing together by the time you reach the house.

Jayce puts the bags in the kitchen, then returns to help you get everything off. Normally your thoughts would be in a much dirtier place, him stripping you layer by layer, but you’re too overwhelmed by the relief to focus on that right now. You’re so hot and sweaty you could take an ice bath.

“I’ll start on dinner, okay beautiful?” he says, kissing your forehead, not seeming to care about the sweat. You smile, following him shortly after. He’s making your favorite, one of his mom’s recipes you loved the first time he brought you to meet her. She loves you, so much so you two seriously considered just moving in with her. You ended up getting your own place though, mainly because Jayce needed to be closer to the lab. You still visit her often, and she drops by just as much, usually unannounced.

Jayce hoists you up onto the counter, handing you your hard-earned bag of marshmallows.

“Make sure you save some for hot chocolate later.” he pokes you playfully.

“But I earned the whole bag.” you tease.

“You won’t share?” he looks up at you with those puppy eyes you can never deny.

“Fine.” you pop a marshmallow in his mouth. “I guess I can share.”

The second you finish dinner, Jayce throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the couch, nearly suffocating you with cuddles. The dishes be damned, he’s going to hold you for the rest of the night.

“Jayce—too tight—“ you wiggle in his grip, sliding away for a split second before he’s wrapped around you again.

“No.” he nuzzles his nose in your neck, kissing up it and along your jaw. “I need you close. Please.”

You can never say no to his adorably desperate begging.

You get comfortable on top of him as he tucks a blanket over your silhouettes, smoothing his hands down your back and squeezing your waist. Your fingers go to his hair, running them through it before traveling down to his cheeks and jaw, swishing your thumbs back and forth on the prickly texture of his growing beard. Ever since you’ve told him you like it, he tries to let it grow whenever he can. During weeks like this where the weather is too bad to justify going to the lab, he lets it go its course for your enjoyment.

He keeps you trapped in his arms until you remind him he promised you hot chocolate, and even then he pulls you back at every attempt you make to get off of him. He grumbles nonsense into your neck, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your sweater.

“I’ll be quick, I’m just going to get it started on the stove.” you kiss him as some form of a plea, but he doesn’t budge.

“Can’t we just do it together?” he asks, loosening his grip only to get a better view of your face.

“I mean, you can come too, WHOA—“

He stands up with you still clinging to him, carrying you to the kitchen. You tighten your arms and legs around him, despite knowing he’d never drop you. You learned very early on in your relationship that he’s more than strong enough.

You help him dump all the ingredients in the pot, allowing it to mix and simmer for a while. It’s a miracle he didn’t knock it over while carrying you.

“Jayce, sweetie, it would be a lot easier to see what you’re doing if you put me down.”

“You doubt my hot chocolate making skills?” he squeezes a handful of your ass and you playfully slap him. “How dare you.”

He pours the liquid into a couple mugs—topping them with marshmallows of course—and hands them both to you, returning his focus to carefully bringing you back to the couch. He keeps one arm firm around your waist, his other hand holding his mug.

He sips it, smiling at his work.in

“Do you still dare to doubt my skills?”

“Never.” you shake your head, kicking your feet and sipping the drink happily.

You both watch the fire, crackling loudly and blazing a beautiful orange. It’s snowing heavily outside, the windows covered in white. Jayce will surely stay home tomorrow as well, and he’ll almost certainly want to cuddle you all day once again.

You set your mug down on the coffee table when you’re done, snuggling into him and tugging at his sweater.

His head falls back in a chuckle—you know him too well. As much as he values layers of clothes and warmth in the winter, he can never say no to skin-to-skin contact.

You slip off each other’s sweaters and press your body back to him, his fingers massaging your flesh.

“Thank you for putting up with me.” he whispers, gazing into your adoring eyes.

You kiss his chocolate-stained lips.

“You’re my favorite person to put up with, hun.”

[amethystarachnid]

Hi! I absolutely love your work sooo much (especially “LAZY DAY” with Tony) 🥹💕 If it’s okay, could you write a fluff story of Tony and shy fem reader?

This is just an example... She tends to hold back from telling Tony how she really feels, even when she needs him, because she doesn't want to be a bother (even though he’d love to be there for her). One day, she came home feeling down after a long, exhausting day at work without saying a word. But Tony, always so tuned in to her, noticed right away and cheered her up with sweet words, lots of praise, and warm hugs ❤️

Sorry if this is a weird request, and I’m just a beginner in English! Thank you so much for your amazing work 🥰

SAFE ARMS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff, tiny bit of angst but more comfort

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ Summary: you aren't used to ask for help, always scared to be a bother for the people around you, but your boyfriend, Tony Stark himself, is ready to change that.

ᯓ★ TW(s): reader is insecure but nothing that need a tw

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sun is just beginning to peek through the blinds when you wake up, casting soft, golden beams across Tony’s penthouse. Everything here is sleek, modern, and feels like it belongs in a world you’re still getting used to. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that this is your home now, not just some temporary stay in Tony Stark’s glamorous life.

You turn in bed, expecting to find him beside you. But the sheets are cold, and you know what that means: he’s already up, probably buried in his lab, tinkering with some new piece of tech or fussing over another upgrade to one of his suits. The thought brings a small smile to your face, but it also settles a familiar ache in your chest.

Living with Tony is both exciting and intimidating. He’s never made you feel anything less than wanted here, even if his world feels overwhelming. Even though he’s Tony Stark—a genius, a billionaire, Iron Man—he’s somehow managed to make you feel like you belong in his universe. And yet, there’s a shyness that sticks to you, holding you back from fully opening up. It's not that you don’t trust him; it’s just… well, you’re afraid of being too much, of being a burden, of pulling him away from things that feel so much bigger than you.

You tell yourself that this is the reason you don’t go looking for him right now. After all, he’s probably working on something important; he wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Right?

With a small sigh, you roll out of bed, pulling one of his oversized hoodies around your shoulders. The familiar smell of him, a mix of his cologne and the faint metallic tang of his workshop, wraps around you like a comforting hug. It helps, a little.

Your bare feet make almost no sound as you pad through the penthouse, moving toward the kitchen. A small army of coffee machines stands proudly on the countertop—Tony has never been subtle about his obsession with caffeine. You pick the espresso machine, going through the motions of making yourself a cup and trying not to think about how empty the kitchen feels without him here.

You sip your coffee in silence, leaning against the counter, your thoughts drifting back to last night. Tony had been working late, as usual, and by the time he came to bed, you’d already been half asleep. You hadn’t even really said goodnight. It’s a small thing, but it gnaws at you now, the missed chance to tell him how much he means to you.

As you finish your coffee, you hear a faint hum from downstairs—the familiar, low buzz of Tony’s lab. You can almost picture him there, leaning over one of his projects, brow furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of his tech casting a blue light over his face.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re halfway to the lab, hugging his hoodie close. You stop just before the entrance, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t want to bother him. What if he’s in the middle of something crucial?

You turn, ready to head back upstairs, but then you hear his voice.

“You know, you can come in, right?” His tone is light, teasing. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s smirking.

You feel your cheeks heat up. Caught. But the way he says it makes you feel a little bolder, like maybe it’s okay to want his company.

Stepping into the lab, you find him exactly as you imagined, bent over a small arc reactor, wires and tools scattered around him. He glances up as you walk in, and his smirk softens into a warm smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, setting his tools down and straightening up. “Come to help me save the world?”

You chuckle, hugging yourself a little tighter. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Lucky for you, I do,” he teases, stepping closer. He reaches out, a gentle hand tilting your chin up so he can look at you fully. “But, honestly, I’d much rather spend my morning with you.”

His eyes are soft, a little tired, but the way he looks at you never fails to make your heart race. Even after all this time together, it’s hard to believe someone like him could look at you like that, like you’re the most important person in the world.

“Don’t you have… things to do?” You gesture toward the scattered tools, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his touch.

“Plenty,” he says, shrugging as if it’s the least important thing. “But I can make time. For you? Always.”

You swallow, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. He says things like that all the time, so casually, but you know he means them. And yet, you can’t quite shake the nagging feeling that you don’t deserve it, that you’re just a distraction from the incredible work he does every day.

Tony watches you, his expression softening even more as he picks up on your hesitation. He’s always been able to read you so easily, seeing right through the walls you try to keep up.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand moving to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You want to tell him, to explain all the things you keep buried—the doubts, the fears, the overwhelming feeling that you’re somehow out of place here, with him. But the words stick in your throat, too heavy to push out.

“It’s nothing,” you say instead, forcing a smile. “I just… didn’t want to bother you.”

His brow furrows, and he studies you in that intense way he has, like he’s trying to decipher a complicated equation. “Bother me?” he repeats, a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. “You could never bother me, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I just… you’re always so busy,” you say, your voice quieter than you’d like. “And I know what you do is important. I don’t want to distract you.”

He sighs, his hand dropping from your cheek to take your hand instead, his fingers wrapping around yours warmly. “You’re not a distraction,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “If anything, you’re what keeps me grounded. Reminds me why I do all this in the first place.”

You look down at your joined hands, your heart aching with how much you want to believe him. But that small voice in the back of your mind—the one that insists you don’t belong in his world—won’t quite quiet.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and you finally meet his gaze. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something that reassures you that, despite all his bravado, he really means every word.

“Besides,” he says, breaking the silence with a soft smile, “I could use a little distraction now and then. Keeps things interesting.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. He grins, clearly pleased with himself for coaxing a laugh out of you, and pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead. “This is exactly what I mean. I need this. I need you.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly undoes you. You lean into him, letting his warmth seep into you, and feel some of the tension begin to melt away. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re allowed to want him, to need him. It’s not something you’re used to, but he makes it feel… okay.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words feeling inadequate but all you can manage. He seems to understand, his hold on you tightening slightly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice soft. “You don’t have to thank me, you know. I like being here for you.”

As you stand there, wrapped in his arms, you feel a familiar swell of warmth and contentment. It’s easy to forget about the doubts when you’re here with him, when he holds you like you’re his whole world. You want to stay like this forever, to keep him close and hold onto this feeling.

After a few moments, he pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a gentle smile. “How about we get some breakfast?” he suggests, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Unless you’re in the mood for some early-morning science experiments.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

He nods, taking your hand in his and leading you toward the kitchen. You don’t miss the way he keeps his hand on yours, his thumb tracing soft patterns along your skin, as if he’s reminding you that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.

In the kitchen, he moves around easily, gathering ingredients, cracking jokes about his questionable cooking skills, though you know he’s actually a pretty decent cook when he puts his mind to it. You watch him, a soft smile playing on your lips as he makes his way through the routine with a surprising amount of focus.

As you sit together, sipping coffee and sharing bites of scrambled eggs, the silence between you is comfortable. And for once, you don’t feel like you need to say anything more. His presence alone is enough to chase away any lingering doubts, even if only for a little while.

You walk through the front door, shoulders slumped, heels clicking softly against the floor as you make your way into the penthouse. The apartment is dimly lit, a golden glow spilling from the tall floor lamps that line the hallway, giving the whole space a quiet, warm ambience. But tonight, the usual comfort it offers feels far away, unreachable. Work had been a marathon of stress—a heavy, seemingly unending to-do list combined with a particularly harsh round of feedback from your boss. All you want is to disappear into bed and leave this day behind.

As you move into the living room, your tired eyes scan the familiar space, hoping Tony’s already in his lab or engrossed in some project. It’s not that you don’t want to see him. You do, more than anything. But you feel raw, your emotions precariously close to spilling over, and you don’t want to worry him with this heavy weight you’re carrying. You tell yourself it’s better if you deal with it alone.

But, like always, Tony surprises you.

You’re barely three steps in when you hear him. “Hey, gorgeous.” His voice is low, gentle, and immediately makes you stop in your tracks. You look over, and there he is, standing by the kitchen island, casually leaning against it with his usual effortless charm, a small smile tugging at his lips.

His gaze softens as he takes in your appearance. You’re not exactly hiding how tired you are, and the moment he sees the weariness etched on your face, his expression shifts. His smile fades, replaced by a look of concern.

He’s in front of you before you even realize it, his hands reaching out to rest gently on your shoulders. “Tough day?” he asks softly, his thumb stroking comfortingly along your arm.

You nod, swallowing down the lump that’s been building in your throat. “Something like that,” you manage, trying to force a small smile, but it barely reaches your eyes.

Tony’s brows knit together, and he studies you intently for a moment, taking in every detail, every sign of exhaustion, of stress. He knows you well enough to see through the act, to recognize the way your shoulders slump just a little more than usual, the slight downturn of your mouth that you’re trying to hide.

Without a word, he slips one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and with his other hand, he cradles the back of your head, holding you to his chest. His scent—clean, with that hint of metal and machinery that always lingers around him—fills your senses, and you let out a shuddering breath, finally allowing yourself to relax, if only a little.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a warm rumble against your ear. “You’re home now. You don’t have to keep it together here.”

The words are simple, but the way he says them, so soft and sincere, chips away at the wall you’ve built around yourself today. Your shoulders sag, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning fully into him, letting his strength hold you up.

Tony’s hand rubs soothing circles along your back, and you can feel him swaying slightly, as though he’s rocking you, trying to melt away the tension that clings to you.

“You know, I was going to ask about your day,” he says, his tone light, almost playful. “But something tells me it wasn’t exactly a five-star experience.”

A humorless laugh escapes you, and you nod against his chest. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Thought so.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands moving to cup your face. His thumbs brush away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen, and his eyes meet yours, full of a warmth that feels like it’s wrapping around you, even more comforting than the physical closeness.

“Listen,” he says, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that he reserves only for you, “you know you’re incredible, right? Like… undeniably, unbeatably, ridiculously amazing.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little, even as your lips twitch into a tiny smile. “Tony…”

“No, no, don’t ‘Tony’ me,” he interrupts, grinning slightly. “I’m serious. They’re lucky to have you. They’re damn lucky. And if they can’t see that, then they clearly don’t know what they’re doing.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache in the best way, and you feel another tear slip down your cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. It’s all you can manage, but the gratitude in those two words is enough to make him lean forward and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Come here.” He guides you over to the couch, still holding you close. He sits down first, then pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as if he can shield you from all the worries of the world. “Now, I want you to tell me everything, but first… let’s get you a little more comfortable, okay?”

With a gentle tug, he pulls a soft throw blanket around your shoulders, tucking it securely around you. You settle against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, and let out a long, shaky breath.

For a few minutes, you don’t say anything. Tony doesn’t push, doesn’t try to make you talk. He simply holds you, his fingers running soothingly through your hair, tracing little patterns along your shoulder. Slowly, bit by bit, the tension that’s been coiled tightly within you begins to unwind.

Finally, you begin to tell him about your day, about the endless meetings and the impossible deadlines and the feeling that no matter how much you give, it’s never quite enough. You tell him about the criticism, the way it felt like a blow to the chest, and how you’d spent the rest of the day doubting yourself, questioning if you were really cut out for this job.

He listens, his face a mixture of empathy and frustration, his hand never stopping its comforting rhythm. When you finish, he’s quiet for a moment, his gaze intense as he processes everything you’ve told him.

“Alright, first of all,” he begins, his voice firm but gentle, “none of this—none of it—means you’re anything less than extraordinary. I know it’s hard to see that right now, but you need to know it. You’re one of the most capable, hardworking, and downright brilliant people I know, and anyone who says otherwise clearly doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and Tony wipes it away, his thumb lingering on your skin. “I mean it,” he continues, his tone softening. “You’re allowed to have bad days, but don’t ever think that one rough day—or even a hundred—defines who you are. You’re incredible, and you don’t have to prove that to anyone.”

You can’t help the small, shaky smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, Tony. I… I needed to hear that.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

You chuckle, feeling the weight on your chest ease a little more. He shifts slightly, so you’re facing him, his hands still cradling your face as he looks at you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“I need you to know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “that you’re not alone in this. You have me, always. And I’ll be here, on the days that feel impossible and the days that feel amazing and every single day in between. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, okay?”

The tears come more freely now, but this time, they’re mixed with relief, with gratitude, with the overwhelming feeling of being truly seen, truly loved. “Thank you,” you whisper again, your voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” he replies, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, as if he’s pouring all the reassurance, all the comfort, all the love he has for you into that one, tender moment. You sink into it, feeling your worries and doubts melt away, if only for a little while.

When he pulls back, he studies your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “How about a little pampering tonight?” he suggests, his tone warm, playful. “You’ve had a rough day, and I happen to have a few ideas for how to make it better.”

A small laugh escapes you, and you nod, leaning your forehead against his. “That sounds… perfect.”

He grins, kissing the tip of your nose before he stands, carefully lifting you in his arms. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to his shoulders as he carries you into the bathroom. He sets you down gently, and you watch as he begins filling the large, luxurious bathtub with warm water, adding your favorite bath oils, the ones that smell like lavender and vanilla.

When he’s done, he turns to you, his eyes warm and gentle. “Go on,” he says, nodding toward the tub. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

You smile, the weight on your chest almost completely lifted now, and slip into the warm, soothing water. As you sink down, feeling the stress and tension dissolve, you can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming gratitude for him, for his love, for the way he always seems to know exactly what you need.

After a while, you hear a soft knock on the door,

and you smile as Tony peeks in, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. “Thought you might want some company,” he says, his voice soft and tentative, as though he’s giving you the option to say no.

“Come on in,” you reply, your heart warming at the sight of him.

He sits on the edge of the tub, placing the tea within reach, and opens the book, reading softly to you as you soak. His voice is a comforting background, and you close your eyes, letting the words wash over you.

When you finally step out of the bath, he’s there, wrapping a towel around you and pulling you into his arms once more. “Feel a little better?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You nod, smiling up at him. “A lot better, actually. Thank you, Tony. For… everything.”

He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, his expression tender. “Anytime, sweetheart. You’re worth it. Every single bit.”

In that moment, you know that no matter how hard the days get, you’ll never have to face them alone. And that’s more than enough.

Over time, something shifts within you. At first, it’s subtle—a moment here and there where you catch yourself hesitating, wondering if you should share your thoughts, your concerns, the little pieces of your day that feel too insignificant to mention. But then you remember the way Tony looked at you that night, the way he held you close, told you you’d never be a bother to him, and slowly, that hesitance starts to fade.

The shift is gradual, like the way daylight slowly warms the early morning sky. You don’t wake up one day suddenly unburdened by your worries. Instead, it’s the little things, small instances where you catch yourself reaching out, sharing something with him that you might have once kept to yourself. And each time, his response is the same—warm, attentive, and never anything but patient. The more you share, the more you feel a weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying begin to lift.

One evening, after another long day, you’re sitting on the couch, thumbing absently through your phone, waiting for him to finish up in the lab. Normally, you’d keep to yourself, not wanting to intrude on his work time. But tonight, something is different. You remember the way he’d told you he wanted to know everything, even the little things, and you feel a gentle nudge inside yourself to let him in, to trust that he means it.

So, instead of waiting in silence, you pick up your phone and shoot him a quick message:

“Hey, I’m out here missing you. How’s it going in the lab?”

It’s a small step, but it feels significant. Not even a minute later, you hear his phone chime, followed by the sound of his quick footsteps coming down the hall. He appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a towel, a curious grin on his face.

“You missing me, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes alight with playful warmth. “Well, in that case, the lab can wait.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. He crosses the room and sits beside you, slipping an arm around your shoulders as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The fact that you reached out, that you asked for him instead of waiting in silence, feels like another small triumph, a step toward something better, something more open.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself testing this new sense of freedom more and more. At first, it’s little things—telling him about a frustrating conversation at work, venting about the coworker who talks too loudly on phone calls, or sharing a funny meme that you know will make him laugh. He listens, reacts, and responds with the same steady interest, the same comforting warmth, as if there’s nothing in the world he’d rather do than sit and hear you talk about your day.

Then, on a quiet Saturday night, you reach another milestone without even realizing it. You’re lying together on the couch, your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly traces patterns along your arm. You feel safe, calm, and in a moment of vulnerability, you decide to share a worry that’s been nagging at you.

“Tony,” you begin, hesitating as you search for the right words. He hums, a gentle sound of encouragement, his gaze steady on you as he waits for you to continue.

“I’ve been… worrying about my performance at work,” you admit softly. “I know I do a good job, but sometimes I feel like I’m not as capable as everyone thinks. Like, any day now, they’re going to figure out I’m a fraud.”

You’d never have admitted this before, would have held it tight, afraid that voicing it would make it real. But here, in his arms, under his reassuring gaze, you feel safe enough to let it out.

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve said too much, that maybe this is one of those things he doesn’t want to hear. But then, he shifts, sitting up slightly so he can look directly into your eyes.

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine surprise. “Y/N, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re incredibly talented—you’re doing a great job because you are great at what you do. Do you have any idea how impressive you are to me?”

You bite your lip, feeling the usual wave of doubt, but his words are grounding, steadying you. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze filled with a sincerity that makes your heart race.

“And even if you did stumble—because let’s be real, everyone does sometimes—you’d still be amazing. You’re allowed to have moments of doubt, but don’t let them make you forget how incredibly talented you are.” He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Besides, anyone who can put up with me is automatically a superhero in my book.”

His lightheartedness draws a laugh from you, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders. His faith in you is unwavering, and bit by bit, you find yourself starting to believe in it, too.

After that, opening up becomes a little easier. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, instead of bottling it up, you find yourself seeking him out, talking things through rather than sitting in silence. You start leaving little notes for him around the house—sticky notes on his desk, text messages while he’s working, small reminders of the way you feel, of your gratitude and love.

One evening, after an especially stressful day, you come home and immediately collapse onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. Tony’s head pops around the corner a moment later, a curious grin on his face.

“Rough day?” he asks, coming over to sit beside you, his hand immediately finding yours.

You nod, squeezing his hand. “One of those days where nothing went right,” you admit, sinking into the couch with a groan. Normally, you’d put on a brave face, act as though it didn’t bother you, but tonight, you feel safe enough to let him see the truth.

He chuckles softly, pulling you into his side. “Well, lucky for you, I have the perfect solution,” he announces, his voice filled with that familiar mischief.

Before you can ask what he means, he’s standing up, tugging you along with him into the kitchen. He moves around with practiced ease, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and pantry as he explains his plan.

“We’re making pizza from scratch,” he declares, rolling up his sleeves. “Trust me, nothing takes the edge off a bad day like smashing some dough around. Plus, I happen to know a certain someone who loves pizza.”

You laugh, feeling a flicker of excitement push back against the fatigue. Together, you roll out the dough, sprinkle on toppings, and laugh as flour ends up on both of your faces. It’s messy, fun, and by the time the pizza is in the oven, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about your bad day.

As the pizza bakes, you sit at the kitchen island, resting your head on your hand, watching him with a soft smile. The gratitude you feel in this moment is almost overwhelming, and for once, you don’t hold back.

“Thank you, Tony,” you say softly, reaching out to take his hand. “For… for all of this. For always being there.”

He looks at you, his expression shifting from playful to sincere in an instant. “Always,” he promises, giving your hand a squeeze. “And, hey, thanks for letting me be there. I love that you’re opening up to me more. It means a lot.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. It’s a reminder that this is a two-way street, that your openness matters to him as much as his support does to you.

The more time passes, the more natural it becomes. You talk about everything now—your fears, your hopes, your triumphs, and your failures. The walls you’d once held up so carefully have crumbled, replaced by a new sense of trust and security that you never thought possible.

One night, you find yourself lying in bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He’s already half-asleep, his breathing slow and even, but you reach over, slipping your hand into his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, Tony?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He stirs, squeezing your hand in return. “Yeah?”

There’s a long pause as you gather your thoughts, trying to find the words to express the depth of your gratitude. “I just… I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. For… helping me feel safe enough to be myself with you.”

He turns toward you, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that takes your breath away. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice gentle. “I love you for exactly who you are. And I’m just glad you’re letting me in.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. In his embrace, you feel a profound sense of belonging, a feeling of being loved and accepted completely, and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to believe it fully.

if you liked the story leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more! <3

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for VideoGeek; Kara gets to Earth on time and the Kents get a two-for-one special on free kids. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

“Ka-Lair,” Ma says again, low and soothing. She says some other words too. Kara doesn't understand them. 

She can't stop crying. 

She's not supposed to cry. Not in front of Kal. Kal has to see her smiling. Kal–Kal has to–

He has to. 

So she can't be crying right now. 

“Ka-Lair,” Ma repeats one more time. She reaches out. Puts a hand on the porch between them. 

Kara needs to stop crying. She's fine. She just needs to stop crying. She's fine because she has to be fine and she's not crying because Kal needs her to not be crying and she–and she–

And she's fine. 

She is. 

Ma says something else. Turns her hand upright in offering. 

Kara can't let go of Kal to take it. 

It's not safe to let go of Kal. 

He’s so little, and she knew he could fall. She knew it. How was she so stupid, to leave him alone and unwatched all the way across the porch? She knew better! She’d thought about it, and he’s so little! 

And she’d still turned away and taken her eyes off him, because she’d been so weak and pathetic as to need to be upset. 

Kal needs her not to be upset. Kal needs her to take care of him. 

Kal needs her, and she let him fall. 

Kara sobs harder, and Ma leans in and wraps her arms around her. She wants to shove away, but can’t do that to her. Can’t be ungrateful like that, when Ma and Pa have given them so much. 

But she doesn’t deserve it. She let Kal fall, and she’s being a problem and an inconvenience to Ma, and she’s being a problem. She can’t do that. This. Any of this. 

She needs to not be a problem. She needs to help out and not cause trouble and not inconvenience them and take care of Kal and never, ever take her eyes off him and–and–

And she needs to stop crying like this! 

Why can’t she just–just stop? 

Ma makes strange and quiet little hissing noises and hugs her tighter; strokes a hand back through her hair. The last person who did that was her mother, and now her mother isn’t the last person who did that. And her mother will never do it again. Will never . . . never . . . 

Why can’t she stop crying? 

Kal chimes in distress again, still trying to squirm out of her arms, and Kara unthinkingly tightens her grip to keep him there. He yelps in pain, and she jerks–lets him go quick, and he nearly tumbles out of her lap. Ma catches him against her chest, and Kara let him fall again, she let him fall she let him fall she let him fall–! 

“Ka-Lair,” Ma says, and makes more of those quiet little hissing noises as she keeps stroking through her hair, and now down Kal’s back too even as Kara yanks him back into her lap in a panic. Kal fusses, and then starts crying too, and it’s all her fault, Kara did this, she’s awful at this, she’s supposed to be taking care of him and keeping him happy and safe and instead she let him fall, twice, and made him cry! 

Ma keeps talking. Kara doesn’t understand any of the words, and even though she’s clearly trying to help, the flat, alien tones of her voice sound all wrong. There’s nothing soothing about those tones, and Kara doesn’t understand the words. 

She wants to go home. 

She wants home to still be there, even if she couldn’t go back to it. 

Everything’s gone. Everyone is gone. It’s just her and Kal and a pair of crystals in a couple of wrecked ships. 

That's all it'll ever be again. 

Krypton is dead. Their family is dead. They're all that's left, and there won't ever be another Kryptonian born. Won't ever be another Kryptonian at all. 

She'll never see her mother again.

[thecircularsystem]

Let’s try this (a THIRD time ffs) during my 30 minute lunch:

Responding to this post, not linking because clearly this user didn’t wanna interact lol.

My response is going to be much briefer and less informative this time because I have spent way too long trying to write this, so let’s just bullet point it:

The terms CDD systems use (I’m assuming you mean parts, system, and alter) have been shared for over 40 years at this point. In reference to plurality, the Natural Multiplicity Movement (as flawed as it was) came from the CDD community. They were one and the same before the mass divide of non-disordered plurality breaking off. I’m not saying it was without its problems, obviously, but the terms have always been shared.

Moreover, these terms have been shared with IFS since its inception. Yet I don’t see anyone making a fuss about singlets calling themselves parts or systems. The terminology was taken directly from the idea of parts working together, just like the modern usage of system.

The original usage of the term “system” wasn’t even community based; from what I saw, it was more so focused on the neurological aspect of neural pathways working together. If you want to be salty about people misusing terms, the entire community is using system in a non-medical way at this point.

Endogenic systems did create their own terminology. CDD systems co-opted the language. Collective, plural, fictive, factive, and headmate, just off the top of my head, were all coined by pro/endo systems, and many of them coined explicitly to avoid more medicalized language. Then CDD systems began using it, and anti-endo systems even yelled at endogenic systems for then using their own terminology, such as plural and fictive. If we want to be upset about terminology being “stolen,” then be upset at anti-endos as well.

Using the same terminology does not mean someone is saying they’re exactly the same. An individual who says they experience intrusive thoughts is not saying they’re OCD. An individual saying they’re hyperfixated does not mean they’re saying they have autism. An individual saying they’re a system does not mean they’re saying they have a CDD. They can make a comparison — “my system is similar to a CDD system” even — without implying they’re one-to-one.

To connect to the previous point — I see myself as similar to my singlet partner. I see myself as similar to my endogenic friends. I use the same terminology I’ve seen used for those with ADHD. I am not a singlet, endogenic, or a pwADHD. Yet I can relate to those experiences to some degree! When did people start getting mad that humans can relate to each other? /genq

Lastly; I’m pretty sure I’m working with a different definition of gaslighting here. Gaslighting, afaik, is when a person in a position of (real or perceived) power over another convinces their victim that the factual truth of an event is false, causing them to question their perception of things. Endogenic systems do not hold any power over me? Them using system terminology isn’t them challenging my perception? Genuinely so confused how this would be considered gaslighting.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, March 16, 2025

My posts

Silent Hill 2 update: The good news is that the tornadoes that swept through the Midwest and Deep South missed my house. The bad news is that my wifi was so unstable for a couple of days as a result that I couldn't upload the second commentary that is completely finished oh my god just let me upload it. Like I don't want to OBTAIN A DAMN ETHERNET CABLE AND GO PLUG INTO THE BASEMENT ROUTER BUT SO HELP ME IT IS COMING TO THAT.

In the meantime, have a preview clip of James flawlessly fighting his way to Wood Side Apartments, I don't know what else to tell you.

I'm having my third pain block procedure on Wednesday, so I'm either going to be getting a lot of things done before then, or you're not going to hear a word from me for several days. It's hard to say. 

Unrelated: Are these anxiety dreams familiar to you?

Reblogs of interest

Manul Monday: Meet Borys Beebopovich

Happy birthday to el chupacabra!

Happy anniversary "old as balls" gifset!

Enemies to glovers

"when you’re autistic and you learn how to smalltalk it literally feels like you started hacking real life" (it does tho)

"reminder that 30 isn’t old, it’s very normal to not accomplish everything in your 20s, and that it is never too late to learn that thing you’ve always wanted to learn. you’re always growing. that’s a good thing."

“If you’re challenging yourself in the way you should, there’s always a doubt about if you’re going to be able to pull it off."

Medieval Nubian Fashion Brought to Life

Four Horses, details from a 17th century Persian manuscript

Sculpture of a seated man with two dogs, Veracruz, Mexico, 400-800 A.D

Charles Darwin: The man, the myth, the mood

Werner Herzog is also a mood, just a much weirder one

Alaska's Passive-Aggressive Map of the United States

There is no law on the moon

"here’s your regular reminder that if you consistently, regularly get headaches, you are almost certainly having migraines, not regular headaches"

"The Lincoln Assassination is really just wild if you think about it for a moment"

"Devastating to have more evidence that done IS better than perfect"

A lovely answer to "What is everyone's fuss with Vincent Van Gogh?"

"Interesting…my mom claims cake is not for breakfast..."

I love picker wheel polls, but I don't know how to feel about switching lives with Loki

Art: "Saint Guinefort, 13th century folk saint and guardian of children. The ultimate Good Boy."

Art of birds being observed and their reactions

I've always loved this Marie Antoinette-inspired Dior

I love stories about interactive theater, but Shakespeare in particular yields great ones

I don't know what Chicken of the Woods is and I've only vaguely heard of Jerma, so I don't understand a word of this but I'm so happy for everyone involved

Thanks to this gifset, I remembered to recommend The Women when "What are some good movies from the 1930s" came up in conversation

"Student explaining to me (after getting 55) that when reading a novel ('Ulysses' in this case) he likes to skip 'passages and pages' so as 'to get his own idea, you know, about the book and not be influenced by the author'." And then you see which professor wrote this down

"every time i see something on the internet that makes me mad i just think to myself 'people in real life: hey man how’s it going'"

Beneficent Chain Posts: The Potato of Luck

This is either Three Cat Moon or a very unorthodox Animorph

Nom de plume

Video

Wet Beast Wednesday: A sopping wet muskrat

Types of cat engines

Mushroom playing keyboard (my dog did not like this at ALL)

Personal tag of the week

Ides of March. I wasn't able to reblog anything new, but fortunately I had my favorites queued up (well, the boops are new):

Southern Mark Antony talks at Caesar's funeral

Happy birthday, Chocolate Guy!

If Mark Antony was Gen Z

He'll only et two

“Oh, not you as well, Brutus!”

And here's a new one that slipped in under the wire: "i really wonder what Julius Caesar would think of a bunch of neurodivergent rats huddled in a circle chanting ides of march ides of march ides of march and then cheering loudly on the 2067th anniversary of his assassination?"

[notjustjavierpena]

The Making of Ellie - Part V: Happy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I've crawled out of my depression hole to give you the last epilogue-esque part of The Making of Ellie. Watch me disappear again now.

Summary: Joel's thoughts surrounding fatherhood and newborn Ellie.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, thoughts of fatherhood, mention of Sarah’s mother, breastfeeding

Word count: 1.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Happy

Ellie is the tiniest baby Joel has ever seen and with the loudest voice, Joel has ever heard. She seems to sport her mother’s temper from the moment that she is born, and he knows from the get-go that she will have Sarah’s ability to persuade him to do anything just by merely existing. She fits in both of his palms which is unfathomable even if he knows that he has big hands, fits on top of your belly too, her previous home, if she’s curled into a little ball, and you call him a goof whenever he utters ‘Bellie’ under his breath whilst admiring her sleeping on you. The first time he had said it, your soft laugh had made Ellie cry again yet not as fiercely, and Joel had argued that she liked the nickname. 

“We need to monitor her heart rate,” a nurse had said after the first few hours that the two of you had had Ellie alone. Joel was reluctant to hand her over at first, but when he got her back into his arms, her sporting a little blue monitor around her ankle, that same nurse had made him flush when she praised him for evening out her rapid pulse by doing skin-to-skin contact. 

It’s pretty much all he does now; holds her tiny body in his hands with his shirt off so he can feel his daughter properly, connect with her as you get much-needed rest in between feedings. 

He has also proclaimed that he can tell the difference between Ellie’s cries. You say that ‘it’s been two days’, but he is certain and confident in his abilities. This isn’t his first time at the rodeo. Ellie’s cries have different pitches when she’s in his or your arms compared to when she’s getting picked up by the nurses. He has to stop himself from interfering with their work, mostly by your request, but he still hovers around the hospital staff whenever they are in your room. 

“She’s too tiny, we need to keep an eye on her weight,” they say. By instinct, he wants to say that she is perfect just the way she is. She’ll get there. She’s strong. He can tell. 

“Silly man,” you say into a kiss when you notice his pacing as nurses bathe or weigh her, and Joel is absolutely fine with being just that. A silly, foolish man with a desperate need to look out for his three girls despite no danger lurking around the corner. But then again? Isn’t being a parent equal to living in fear of losing said child? Ellie has only been in the real world for two days, and he would burn the world down to the ground if it meant that she would be safer. 

Joel knows that he has been here before. Sarah, albeit not as tiny, made him feel the exact same things that he is going through right now but still, there’s a part of him that has forgotten just how nerve-wracking having an infant is and just how much it fucks with the perception of everything. Whilst being terrified, he loves Ellie so intensely that it makes his head swim and he looks at you nervously as you announce that you can go home soon. He doesn’t get how you can say it and be so calm. 

You go home a week after Ellie is born, with a pink little hat on her head that is still a bit too large for her despite it being the smallest size they had. He drives the car under the speed limit. He checks the roads several times before turning. 

Sarah and Tommy wait for you in the kitchen, coming to greet you at the front door, and Joel does the pat-on-the-back hug with his brother who immediately fusses over Ellie as much as himself. He mentions that he and Maria might have one too, and makes a joke about Joel beating him to fatherhood once again. 

“She’s tiny,” he also says as Ellie cries, rocking her in his arms whilst Sarah runs a hand over her baby sister’s head. She has removed the hat after claiming that it’s falling into Ellie’s eyes, and whereas Joel would have protested the act in the hospital, he finds that he absolutely trusts his oldest daughter. 

“Don’t say that,” she chimes in, and then like she has read his mind despite them being apart for a week, “She’s perfect.” 

Joel catches your eye across the room at that. You look at him with the gentlest smile, and despite all his efforts to appear as the strong protector for a whole week in the hospital with you and his newborn baby, he feels the facade crumbling and it allows him to feel safe, happy and relaxed. He cries then, excuses himself to breathe in the crisp air outside in the place where he realized his love for you a few years back. 

Later, when the house empties - Tommy leaving with the excuse of letting you be a family of four - and everyone goes to bed, he settles into a new routine with you. 

He assembled the bassinet a few weeks ago, and he holds you as the two of you stare down at the tiny life that you’ve made together. Ellie sleeps with her arms above her head and kicks her legs when she wakes up crying in the middle of the night.

He tells you that he’ll get her, lays her against his naked chest until she simply coos instead of screaming, “That’s it, baby girl. No need to use that tone with your father. No monsters here, Bellie.”

When she starts moving her hand to her mouth, smacking her lips, and looking around, he rubs your back and tells you that Ellie is hungry, “Lookin’ for ya.”

You sit up in bed, barely awake as you nurse his daughter back to sleep. He admires the scene and knows how lucky he is; in his 40s and experiencing the greatest gift of life that he’ll ever receive once more. He gets sentimental about it too, thinking of the intimacy of seeing Ellie getting fed by her mother when he never got to with Sarah’s. It wasn’t good with the chemo that never saved her. 

Joel has never been able to pinpoint what had shifted the moment that he had let you into his life but with the comfort of knowing that Sarah is sleeping soundly in her own room, and by listening to the soft noises of you and Ellie sleeping occupying the room that had been so used to the sound of nothing, he knows that before, he had been satisfied but now, he is happy.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[eridianfic]

✧heaven is a place I know✧

You come home after a long, long day of work to find a locked door and no key. You'd go to Leander... but it seems like he'd enjoy that far too much. Maybe Kuras will take pity on you?

Pairing: Kuras x Fem!MC Length: ~10,000 words Tags: fluff, hand holding, domesticity, bad cooking, eating, medicine, female mc, bedtime story

a/n: I wrote this for an art exchange in one of the touchstarved discords:) title references this song. Ao3 link here

It’s always nice to head back after a long day of work to privacy. You’re exhausted and smelly after hours of cleaning and frying fish for the vendor in the street and some time alone is just what you need. You’ve finally gotten your own place (too small to truly be called an apartment) but it’s yours all the same, and safe behind lock and key. In the past couple weeks you’ve been saving up money for the deposit by helping out local shopkeepers, running a few Bloodhound missions with Leander, and more days than not, gutting fish - entrails and bones twisted and morphed into shapes that feel inexplicably alien. Cleaning fish isn’t the most enjoyable work, but it pays your rent better than secrets and you get a meal out of it, too. Plus, you get to meet the people of Eridia. You hear what weather the grandmas forecast, rumors of infidelity, and sometimes, a snippet of something more: gossip about the Senobium, or the Abbess, about becoming a student… and you lean in, straining your ears to listen as closely as possible over the sound of fish frying in oil. Leander makes sure to drop by for lunch on days you work there, (had come by just today, in fact), grabbing a quick bite to eat and a side hug. He only reached for the embrace on days you’d escaped most of the fish guts. Though the best you could offer was a minimal amount of slime - even the gloves you dons at work each day over your bandages fail to prevent the scent of fish from seeping into your pores. But today, you’d been pretty tidy, so he squeezed you good and proper and left with fish in hand and a cheery, “See you around, I’ll be at the Wick later if you have time for a drink!” 

You had worked late, staying through the dinner rush of people hurrying to get a meal before darkness fell. You, too, had to be diligent about coming home to your room before dusk. You’d been lucky enough to survive your first (and second) brush with the Soulless and you planned on avoiding rolling the dice again. Third time’s the charm, and all that.

You’ve cherished the two weeks you’ve been living on your own. Staying at the Wick hadn’t been bad, exactly - not if you overlooked the raucous laughter that found its way into your room from the bar below, hardly diminished by the solid stone floor. Or tried to ignore the way your belongings would be in a slightly different location than you remembered leaving them last. Or if you brushed off the number of times a drunk couple would press against your locked door, fumbling at the handle for far too long and giggling until they would (at last) realize that their room was the one next to yours. Ok, maybe it had been pretty bad.

So you’d been all too eager to sign the lease that the disinterested landlord shoved at you after you saw the property. It was really only a room with a bed, fireplace, and washbasin, but it was all you could afford. At least until you were able to find more consistent work or decided to give up more of your secrets. Leander hadn’t let you move out without making a fuss. The conversation was still fresh in your mind.

“I’m still going to come by the Wick all the time,” you had said beseechingly, gesturing at the tavern around you.

“You’re sick of me already?” he’d pouted, face falling. “I can give you more space if you need it-” Despite your resolve to leave, guilt had nagged at your conscience. “It’s not that, I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help me out-”

“Are you confident that you are going to be safe? Allmother knows you didn’t even make it to Eridia in one piece. What if something happens before I can get there-”

“I managed on my own just fine for years before I met you, as long as I’m not out at night there’s nothing to worry about-”

“-So is it the Bloodhounds, then? If they’ve been crowding you, I’ll have a word with them, just let me know who-”

“No, they’ve been perfectly polite to me.” You had huffed out a breath, holding out your hand to stall the next question quick on his tongue. “Listen, I just… If I’m here, on your coin, it doesn’t feel like this is my home. It’s as if I’m just visiting for a while, like at any point I’ll have to leave… like everything could be pulled away from me.” 

Stability. Something that had been so hard to come by for you. Everything lately has been in so much flux. You hadn’t been able to say the rest to him - that if you stay in the bustling community of the Wet Wick, there’s a greater chance that your curse would become common knowledge. That you’d be cast out of the city, feared by the very same Bloodhounds who have been friendly to you.

Something in him had softened, and he relented at last, concern shining in his pale green eyes. “Fine. But don’t be a stranger. I’ll be keeping my eye on you. if you need anything, or if your new place turns out to be a moldy, rat infested corner of the city, you come right back, understand?”

“I looked it over when I got the key to the place and didn’t see any rats, Leander.” you had said reproachfully. “It’s cheap but it’s not that bad.”

“Well, that’s how they get you, right? The landlord goes through ahead of time and bangs some pans together, scares all the rats away quick right before you arrive, wipes the mold away-”

“I’ll be fine.” You’d given him a small smile. “Really. I’ll come back if there’s any big issues.” Despite his protestations, he had put up less of a fuss than you’d expected. Perhaps you’ve proven to him that you can hold your own - adapted to the city better than he expected.

And so, you had moved your meagre belongings inside and taken the first long breath since moving to Eridia. You had a place where you felt truly safe. For a beautiful, independent, cozy two weeks.

But it’s on the other side of the door. You stall in front of it, feet aching from your long day at the fish stall, pulling your coin purse out of the front of your shirt and fumbling in it for your key. The key. The key that should be tucked right here in your coin purse - safe from foxes with wandering hands. But, as you jam your fingers into the lint filled corners of your bag with increasing desperation, it’s just not there. You check every possible place you can think of, hands fumbling through pockets and folds of fabric time and time again. There’s nothing there. Nothing but your coin purse (with a few grimy coins inside) and a handkerchief, slightly disgusting from where you’ve used it to wipe your brow as you bent over the hot oil. 

You stand on your own doorstep, mind spinning. Maybe it fell out, somehow? You couldn’t remember anyone getting close to you today, no one of consequence. I better retrace my steps. 

The conditions weren’t in your favor. The evening was late, sun low on the horizon. It bathed the city in a warm light, turning the buildings a rosy color. Flowers sat open in the setting sun, clinging to buildings and draping from hanging planters, fragrance wafting on the balmy evening breeze. It would have been quite a romantic view if you had any time to look at it.

Instead, your eyes were firmly planted on the ground, scanning for your key between cobblestones and the contents of upended chamber pots. As the light falls, your hope does too. Dread weighs heavy and sick in your gut. It’s not safe to be outside. You need to find a place to hide out, and quickly.

The Wet Wick is a little ways away from your winding path back to the fish stall. Should I go there and meet up with Leander? He said he’d be there tonight. But honestly - a part of you rankles at returning to Leander so soon after putting up such a fuss about being independent. And you might still find your key. 

But there’s no key on your route. Nothing but dirty stones beneath your feet. You stand, forlorn in front of the now abandoned fish stall, and the sun starts to slip behind the rooftops of those rosy (now crimson) buildings. It’s about time you made up your mind. You run the rest of the way to the doorstep of Kuras’ clinic. The line has finally dispersed. No one in poor health can afford to wait out in the open when Soulless might drop by and turn their poor health into no health at all. You knock on the door with uncertainty, realizing you aren’t sure if Kuras is at the clinic this late. Does he live here…?

To your relief, the door opens and Kuras is before you, golden eyes wide in surprise. You lean back a little on your heels as he appears. He’s wearing his doctor’s uniform and the light from the room behind him illuminates the soft curls around his face like a halo. Though you’ve seen him a few times by now, you can never prepare yourself for how handsome he is. It’s like jumping into a cold pool - even if you try to prepare yourself for the chill, the plunge will have your heart pounding and skin tingling just the same. 

“...Good evening.” You flush as he takes in your harried expression, your rumpled clothes, the anxiety that you fail to conceal behind your bright smile. “...Are you well?”

“Yes! Well - I’m well enough, I suppose, only - I seem to have misplaced the key to my place. It’s not that far from here, and it was getting dark, so… I thought I’d see if you were in. I’m rather invested in keeping my arms attached, didn’t want to waste your hard work.”

“I would hope your investment in your health would be centred around the importance of your own wellbeing, not on my behalf,” he chastises, ushering you into the clinic with a wave of his hand. “But if it’s what encourages you to prioritize your safety, I’ll accept it for the time being.”

As you look around the room, you realize that you’ve never actually been in the front room of Kuras’ clinic. Well - that’s not entirely true. You might have been carried through it when you were a breath away from death. But you’ve only seen the room you woke up in, and the hallway that led out to the back door. 

This part of the clinic is minimalist but inviting. It’s a small room, with wooden chairs set along the wall and a vase of small white flowers sitting on an end table in the corner. A light, fresh herbal scent fills the air. The chairs are unpadded, the floor is stone and the rug at the center of the room is a rich brown. You try not to think about the practicalities of such a spartan design, how often there might be various fluids spilled here. A door across from you leads to what you assume is the rest of the clinic. Candles flicker in sconces along the walls.

You wrap your arms around yourself, nerves still frayed from your walk here at dusk. “Do you run this whole place by yourself?” 

“Mostly. There are a few who will lend me their aid from time to time. But it is primarily a solitary pursuit.”

Despite the inviting warmth of his personality, it’s awkward as you regard each other. You haven’t been in such close proximity to Kuras since he saved your life. It’s messing with your head a little bit that he’s standing right in front of you, close enough to touch, with all of his attention trained on you. He looks down at you, concern drawing his mouth into a line. “You’ve misplaced your key?”

“Yes - I could have sworn I had it with me when I saw Leander at work this afternoon. It must have slipped out of my coin purse somewhere along my walk home. I retraced my steps looking for it but it was getting dark and I -”

There’s an intensity to his expression as you speak, brows furrowed as he considers you, but it only lingers for a moment before he’s raising his hand towards you in a calming gesture. “Worry not. My clinic is meant to be a refuge for anyone who needs one. You are welcome to stay until the morning.” He looks at you with mock sternness. “Besides, as you’ve stated yourself - I didn’t heal you just for my work to be destroyed so soon.” You laugh at that, jittery. “I intend to cherish it, trust me. Thank you so much for allowing me to stay here. I wasn’t sure if you lived here, or maybe, if you’d be attending to patients at this hour… I can just sleep wherever you have space - the floor is fine, honestly, I don’t really need all that much. I’m just thankful to not be outside at the moment.”

He turns to face the doorway at the back of the room, hand raised to his face in contemplation. “I have no empty cots available at the moment, as I have some patients who are recovering here overnight. Nothing too severe - but they require a night’s rest before they will be well again. Come. We’ll find an option more hospitable than the floor.”

He leads you through the threshold to a hallway lined with doors that you assume lead to rooms with recovering patients, and up a staircase at the end of the hallway, pausing to unlock a large wooden door.

You step into the room after Kuras. It’s a wide, open space that’s somewhere between a storage room and an apartment. There are open shelves along the wall that contain ceramic and glass containers, each marked with an old, browning label written in a spidery scrawl. Other sections of the walls have unmarked wooden cupboards that reach the ceiling. Tightly bundled medicinal herbs hang above the high arched windows across from you. Bookshelves intersperse the storage shelves, leather bound tomes sitting side by side with colorful, flimsy paperbacks. The right side of the room has two closed doors. The floor is covered by an ornate cherry colored rug, light pink magnolia flowers with winding branches twisting around the perimeter. There’s a long couch in front of the windows, mahogany arms curling down into a scroll shape.

A worn leather armchair sits at an angle across from it, crescent-shaped eyeglasses resting on its arm. A table with a chair at either end is placed near some of the shelves, written papers atop it stacked next to pitchers of water. Colorful glass lanterns hanging from the walls illuminate the space. A lit fireplace, with hooks inside for hanging cooking pots on, stands on the left side of the room, adding to the glow. You hadn’t prepared yourself for how intimate it would feel to see such a personal space. You slip off your shoes and stand hesitatingly behind him, unsure if the heat of the room is emitting from him or the fire. There’s an urge within you to examine everything in the room - but it’d probably be poor manners to scrutinise anything too closely.

“I originally demarcated this section of the clinic as a personal space where I could keep supplies or rest on the rare occasion I happened to have a patient here late at night. However,” he continues with a wry smile, “with the poor health of Eridian citizens…that soon became most evenings.” I wonder where his house is, then, if he has one?

Kuras regards the furnishings critically before gesturing at the couch before you. “I believe this is the best solution to your problem.” He meets your eyes, lips curving into a smirk. “Of course, should you find it too uncomfortable, I have a bed in the other room.”

You inhale sharply and cough, eyes darting away from his amused gaze only to trail unbidden down the long line of his body. Images flash through your mind. The warmth of Kuras’ chest pressed against your back as he cradles you in his arms. His hand, firm and warm, spanning the curve of your hip. Both of you, sleeping soundly, beneath a ridiculously downy comforter. “Th-The couch seems really comfortable, I’m sure it’ll be perfectly fine,” you say, wheezing. 

He raises his eyebrows, expression still playful. “Do not mistake my intentions. I would rest elsewhere if you were in my bed. I do not require much sleep, and I have a few tasks that will occupy me for much of the night.” 

As you become more familiar with him, you’re increasingly certain that misunderstandings like the one you just had are precisely his intention. In his bed. Fuck. You’d been worried about the Soulless… but maybe you should have been worried about him.

As you stand close together in the room, you are suddenly reminded of the fact that you probably reek of fish. “I’m so sorry, but is there any way I could freshen up a little? I’d planned on doing it when I got home, but, well… I didn’t get the opportunity.”

“My apologies, of course. I’ll get you a change of clothes for the night as well, as you weren’t able to bring anything yourself.” He hurries right back down the stairs, and you’re charmed by how sincerely he’s looking after you. Perhaps he’d do the same for all of those under his care - but it feels special to be attended to like this. 

He returns and presses a bundle of loose clothing into your hands, along with a washcloth and a pitcher of steaming water, and leads you to one of the closed doors on the right side of the room. His bathroom. There’s a basin atop a table with a mirror behind it, with drawers and a small bar of herbal scented soap in a ceramic dish. Beneath a pointed window lies a low, long clawfoot bathtub, and a hamper off to the side. The wash basin stands far higher than comfortable for you (around chest level), and only your eyes and forehead are visible at the bottom of the mirror. You shut the door and dip the washcloth into the steaming water, sighing happily as you press it against your skin. You’re finally starting to relax. Frankly, you’re starving, but at least your stress and fear from your difficult day melt away with the oil and sweat. The bread, cheese and fruit you had waiting for you in your (locked) apartment will just have to be tomorrow's dinner instead of the meal for tonight. Carefully, you clean the grime from your skin with the hot water and soap, leaving it flushed and shining. You strip out of your clothes and into the baggy, comfortable sleepwear he’s provided for you. Am I going to end up naked every time I’m here? 

Though you’ve finished getting ready, your curiosity is piqued by the intimate domesticity of being in such a personal space. Moving quietly, you slide open one of the drawers in the wash basin stand. There’s a stack of neatly folded washcloths, a tooth brush, and a small vial at the back, filled with an amber liquid. You falter for a moment before grasping it, examining it closely. A faint smell is emitting from it - golden and resinous, warm and rich. A perfume oil. Your fingers shake a little as you hastily put it back into place, pressing the drawer closed. You stare blankly out of the window above the bathtub, mind whirling. Who does he wear that for? Special occasions, dates… Fleetingly, you think about how the scent would bloom on his skin - how it would smell with your face pressed into his neck, his hair wild around you. How it might linger on you after he left, or in your sheets the next morning - You frown, trying to collect yourself, but your gaze has slid down to the bathtub and it’s as if you can see him before you, water glistening on his bare skin, hair dark and clinging damply to his face, gaze burning as hot as the water as he beckons you closer -

Tearing your eyes away from the tub, you glare at yourself in the base of the mirror. You point your finger accusingly at your reflection. Pull it together. You give yourself one last steely look before gathering your clothes in your arms and yanking the door open abruptly. “All done.”

He looks up from where he’s seated in the worn armchair, book in hand with the pair of semicircle glasses perched on his nose. “Better?”

“Yeah, I definitely feel refreshed. The hot water was nice, thank you.” And it’s definitely the only reason why your skin is flushed. Your stomach twinges again, voicing a complaint, but you do your best to ignore it. It’s too uncomfortable to ask him to make you a meal. You take a seat on the couch across from him, legs dangling above the floor. “You don’t have to look after me, I’ll be fine on my own if you need to go check on patients or do anything else…”

“Sporadically I work from daybreak to daybreak, when my rooms are filled with those near death.” He closes the book in his hand and sets it on the low table by his side, crossing one long leg over the other. “But tonight is not one of those nights. The most serious malady downstairs is a difficult case of influenza. I will spend the evening here, with you.”

You nod, happiness creeping through you like a tendril of smoke. “So do you mainly see people who are struggling with serious illnesses? Or maybe…acute cases of dismemberment? Or are there people that come by just for checkups every so often?”

He fixes you with a pointed look. “Are you inquiring because you’d like one?”

“I-I don’t mean to impose, I’m fine! I was just curious, really.”

“Hmmm.” He contemplates you for a moment, looking at you over the top of his glasses. A catlike smile plays around the edge of his lips. “In my expert opinion, I believe I should examine you further. I would like to be certain you’re not suffering any further complications from the Soulless attack. Do my due diligence, and conduct a thorough checkup.”

Despite the teasing lilt to his voice he picks up a notebook and pen from the table at his side, scrutinizing you with a professional demeanor. “Do you have any conditions that run in your family?” His eyes shift towards your arms and you blanch a little, blindsided.

“Not that I’m aware of. Truthfully… I’ve never known my family. So, I suppose I could have a lot of conditions that will suddenly appear when I’m forty that have been passed down through generations.” You grip one hand with another, bandages taut against your knuckles, unwilling to discuss your curse. Not yet. Even though he’s seen your hands already. But he doesn’t linger or press for more information, passing on to the next question with a smoothness that can only occur after years of habit. “Have you noticed any recent changes in your appetite, weight, or sleep patterns?” You heave out a sigh. “I have. Appetite and weight are fine but I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve had nightmares for a while now but they’re so much worse lately. I keep finding myself in the wastes. Bleeding out in the mud, with no one but Soulless around.” It’s more honest of an answer than you had expected to give. You don’t tell him about the other parts. How you feel the Soulless tug and rip at your limp body. Or see the faces of each person you’ve met since arriving in Eridia twist, one by one, into madness. He tilts his head slightly, gazing at you evenly. You find it refreshing that he lets things go - accepts what you’ll tell him without peppering you with questions or discomfort coloring his face. “It’s fairly common to experience nightmares after such a traumatic event. I have a few items that may be able to aid your sleep, if you would be so inclined.” “Sure. It’d be nice to not wake up flailing around every day.”

“Let’s start with a medicinal tea, and if it doesn’t diminish their frequency or intensity, we can discuss alternatives.” He jots down a note, nodding to himself. “How has your arm recovered? Any changes in functionality?”

“No, it’s been right as rain ever since you stuck it back on.” He lifts one eyebrow at your response, sly smile returning. “Would you allow me to examine it briefly?”

“A-Alright-” And before you know it, he removes his glasses and approaches you, kneeling down on the rug at your feet. His hands, warm as the water he had brought you to wash up with, trail feather-light over the tidy stitches at your elbow. He’s incredibly close to you and it’s so difficult to look at him, his presence as stark and blinding as the sun. His fingers knead the line of stitches gently, pressing into the give of your skin. Every part of you feels hot from embarrassment and the inescapable focus of his unadulterated attention. “Hmmm. Healed perfectly.” His voice is lower now, soft as velvet in your ear, and you realize he had no doubt in the quality of his work or in your arm’s healing. That he chose to do this not because of a doctor’s duty but rather due to his interest in you, desire and curiosity merely laying atop the facade of a checkup. The realization sends heat pooling into your stomach, treacle-thick and aching. He slides his hand to the edge of your bandages and your arm jerks, years of instinct filling you with alarm -

“Shhhhhh.” He calms you like you’re a spooked horse, motions slow and gentle. Kuras smooths the top of the bandages, fingers burning like a brand against the edge of cursed skin, straightening one where it’s twisted. There’s a reverence in how he touches you. And a thrill inside as you realize that he can touch your skin without fear, that he must have done so when he healed you the first time; when he gathered your lost limb with his own and rejoined it to you. Your eyes dart between the angled lines of his furrowed brow and where his long fingers rest on your arm.

“Flex your fingers for me.” His breath puffs faintly on the side of your face. You ball your hand into a fist and then open it, fingers stretched wide. “Good.” Praise, from him.Your breath shudders as you exhale. Good. It makes you ache for more, yearn to hear it again, to do what he asks. To be so very good for him. Kuras’ hand glides down the rough lines of your bandages to your palm, thumb rubbing small circles in the center of it. The rest of his hand wraps around the back of yours, cradling it in his own. Your heart pounds and you pray he can’t feel it, that the bandages offer you some kind of protection from his observation - Allmother, his hands are so big-

“Any issues you’ve noticed with your heart or lungs?” Your hand feels so hot in his, trapped between the weight of his grasp and focused attention.

“N-No, um, everything has been normal-”

Kuras tuts at you, impeccably calm. “I find myself doubting your judgement.” Your heart pounds traitorously within the firm press of his hand. He slips it up your arm to lay on the side of your neck, where your heart beats furiously in your throat. His other hand rests on the sofa next to your hip, caging you in. “I need no medical instruments to detect that your heart beats so much faster than is normal. Or to notice how your breath comes so quickly from between your lips.”

You freeze, hyper aware of the blood rushing in your ears as it thunders by. And how your breath stutters with each teasing word.

His thumb traces the edge of your jaw, and you look at him desperately. Desire burns in you as hotly as the sensation of his fingertips on your skin. His face is level with yours, eyes dark despite their golden hue. Heat emits from him in waves, sweeping over you. You can see the delicate way his bangs fall on his skin, the way his eyelashes lower as his gaze falls to your lips. “Unless you would tell me that these are not chronic conditions, but rather very recent developments…?” 

Your hand rises of its own will and holds onto his wrist like a lifeline, unsure if you want to hold him still or tug him closer. Your voice is soft and breathy, throat dry. “...Recent. I seem to be suffering from the most sudden affliction.”

You look at his lips, the way they turn up so gently, and gather your courage, leaning forwards toward him, brush softly against the curve of his nose -

Grrrr.

Your stomach growls obnoxiously, shattering the moment. No, at a time like this?! You laugh awkwardly and pull away, cheeks red.

Kuras, truthfully, looks horrified. 

His hand falls away from your face and he lurches to his feet in alarm. “My most sincere apologies!” He runs a hand through his hair hurriedly. “I-I have been a dreadful host. You must have not had the opportunity to eat any dinner.”

Your shame is quickly overtaken by your amusement. Wow, this is the first time you’ve seen him… embarrassed?

He turns on his heel and strides quickly to the cupboards on the other side of the room. You watch as he opens them, one by one with increasing speed, pausing intermittently to peer at the top shelves, or to extend his arm into the dark recesses. Even though most of the shelves are obscured from your view by the broad span of his back, the slivers you can see appear completely barren. You rise and come to stand by his side. If he’s going to make you something to eat, it’s only polite that you’d offer to help. But it's increasingly difficult to not feel apprehensive as you stare down at the eclectic assortment of items he’s setting on the counter. As he finds each one, he places it next to you with marked relief, brushing dust off it before burrowing back into the cupboards, head barely visible. You can hardly believe your eyes. It appears that the menu for the evening consists of only the most matured items: a jar of jam, label so worn and faded that it’s nearly impossible to tell what type; a clear glass container of some pickled vegetable, green faded through time into a murky brown; a singular apple, skin slightly wrinkled, and lastly, a much newer, pumpkin-sized sack, with “Nutrient Fortified Oats,” printed boldly across the burlap material. 

The doors clatter as he closes each open cabinet and comes to stand by your side. Any remaining hope that he’d find something more palatable quickly vanishes. So… that’s it, huh. “If I knew you were this low on groceries, I’d have brought you some fish earlier. Missing key or not,” you remark, craning your neck to smile up at him. He frowns, looking down at the pile, his hands clasped behind his back. “It has been quite some time since I’ve been to the market.” You raise your eyebrows. Eons, maybe. Kuras hums contemplatively. “I thought I had some asparagus hidden away, but I haven’t been able to locate it.” You peer at the murky mystery vegetable, lifting it up to get a better look at it in the lantern light. “I think… this may be the asparagus,” you say, squinting.

He stoops to take a closer look at it. “Ah, that it is!” he declares brightly.

“Though, um, asparagus is not a vegetable that I’m overly fond of,” you hazard, looking at the jar with trepidation. Some of the stalks inside appear to have lost their shape, partially dissolving into the brine. You actually enjoy asparagus, on occasion. But you desperately would like to avoid eating this kind. “I think oatmeal sounds perfect.” It’s certainly a safer option than trying either of the items in the jars.

“A wise choice. It’s quite heartening - I prepare it for patients who have been at my clinic overnight. It seems to give them the strength to go on their way.” He retrieves a gigantic pot from next to the fireplace and hesitates. “How much would you like?”

You look at the huge pot with wide eyes and then back at him. It’s almost big enough that you could sit in it. “Oh, um, just a bowl amount would be fine…” As he starts to pour the entire pitcher full of water into the pot, you ask hesitantly, “...are you having some too?”

“No, I’ve already eaten.”

You watch silently as he adds a second pitcher of water into the pot. He tosses in a couple cups of oats and hefts the huge pot onto a hook in the fireplace, suspending it above the flames. It appears more as if he’s making an oat-based tea than it does oatmeal. He hangs a kettle on a hook next to it. Frankly, the pot contains probably about eight times as much water as you would have used yourself. But it’s his kitchen, and he’s already done you the tremendous favour of allowing you to spend the night. So you bite your tongue and think longingly about the meal you have waiting for you in your apartment. The two of you take a seat at the dining room table. “The oatmeal takes a good while to cook,” he says, handing you the slightly withered apple. That’s probably an understatement, if he normally boils it in this much water. 

You take an apprehensive bite. It’s not too bad. It hasn’t gone mealy, and still has a tart brightness to it. "I saw you were reading a book earlier." You lean forwards, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. "What's it about?"

"It is a story about uncovering a criminal."

"A mystery novel?"

"Of a sort." He looks down where his hands rest along the edge of the table. You can hear the gentle sound his ring makes as he presses his hand against it. "It's one I have read countless times before."

"Is it a favourite of yours?"

"Not exactly. But it is one I find myself returning to, from time to time."

"Sounds like it's worth hearing about." You take another bite of the apple, leaning back in your chair.

He smiles a little at that, inclining his head in admission. "There is a kingdom ruled by a wise king, who is well liked and increases the prosperity of all. As he reaches the very beginning of old age - an age where he might still have some twenty years ahead of him - he falls ill. It begins as a cough that grows worse by the day. The entire castle can hear him as he coughs through the night. But one day, he falls into a dreamless sleep that no one can wake him from and eventually wastes away.”

He continues, voice measured and gaze focused far off in the distance. “The land mourns - but none as much as his firstborn son. He had hoped to learn more from his father before it was his turn to rule over the kingdom. As a testimony to the wisdom of his father, the young prince keeps all of his father's advisors and court, to guide him as the new king. Of note, there is the lead of the palace guard, a few lords of the lands within the kingdom, a royal physician, a royal magician, and the head of the palace staff. The years pass peacefully once more as the new king has much of the good sense that his father possessed. The lands are so bountiful that he selects members of the court to send to neighboring kingdoms as envoys to form alliances. He sends much of the court, including the court's magician. The new king marries and has a beautiful daughter."

The kettle whistles, and he rises, pouring the boiling water into a teacup and adding a bundle of herbs. “For your nightmares,” he says gently, placing it before you. 

You sniff it warily, but all you find is the friendly and familiar smell of camomile. "This story doesn't seem like much of a mystery yet," you muse, taking a sip and settling back in your chair as you prepare to hear the rest. The tea settles warmly in your stomach.

"The base of the mystery is there already," Kuras remarks, with a twinkle in his eye. "The new king is cautioned by his queen that he trusts too easily, for she had come from a land where betrayal was common. He begins to doubt the death of his father and the sudden way in which he fell ill. He watches the remaining courtiers more closely and asks those whom he had sent away to return, out of fear that they might be swayed by gilded promises to turn against him. His daughter grows into a young girl. The magician had kept a small garden before he left as an envoy, in which he grew various plants for potions and natural remedies. He had always kept it well tended and forbade others from entering, stating they would trample the flowers. But in his absence, it begins to grow unruly. New plants spring forth from the earth, the plants in the garden diversifying without his watchful eye to weed out newcomers. One day, the princess is found in this overgrown garden - in the same, unending sleep that the king's father died from. Perhaps poisoned when she was out of view."

"Is there an assassin in the court? Or maybe someone from one of the neighboring lands?"

"The king suspects as much. He brings each member of the court into the throne room and interrogates them. It seems as if the same person who killed the king has laid in wait all these years. Lord Lautier is the leader of the largest section of the lands in the kingdom, and the king suspects tyranny. He was a lord when the former king passed. He threatens and pleads with him to tell him how to wake the princess, but Lord Lautier has no answers for him. So the king casts him into the dungeons in disgust. Next, he speaks with the head of guards, fearing a coup, but the man is earnest and forthcoming. Still, he sends him to the dungeon out of mistrust. The king even begins to suspect the queen. Perhaps she had so often spoken of treachery because of a guilty heart. And so, she too is locked away. Each person has words that appear earnest at first glance, but for the king, they ring false. His paranoia follows him like a shadow. He begs the court physician to heal his daughter, and the physician tries remedy after remedy, but nothing wakes her. He brings in every healer he can find in his desperation - but no matter what potion, spell, or medicine - the princess remains asleep. The magician is the last to arrive at the castle from his duties as an envoy. When he hears word of the sleeping princess, he grows pale and rushes to his quarters, crafting a potion. It works - it wakes the princess. The king promises the magician whatever he wants in return, but he will not accept a reward."

Kuras pauses, hearing the dull rumble of boiling water. He lifts a ladle from the wall and scoops the oatmeal into a large wooden bowl, setting it before you with a spoon. It looks abysmal. The oats float, unmoored and swollen, in the cloudy hot water. It’s more something that you could drink than eat. You dip your spoon into the, well, oat broth, and gingerly place it in your mouth. Oh, you think grimly, he didn’t season it at all. Or… maybe he did, but it got diluted by the water? 

You swallow quickly and try to find another question to ask about the story. You need to buy time so you can decide how you’re going to get away with only eating a tiny portion of the food when you were so hungry earlier. I bet his patients could get better even faster if he wasn’t feeding them such a depressing meal. "So, who tried to assassinate the princess?"

"The king's fear turns to anger now that his daughter is safe. He will not rest until he discovers how his daughter became afflicted. He goes nearly mad with rage, ordering torture upon the imprisoned members of the court. One day, as he interrogates the court physician, convinced that perhaps he had not truly tried to heal his daughter, the physician speaks. How strange is it, he says, that the magician was able to cure his daughter when no other could? The king's gratitude turns to suspicion, and he orders the magician to be jailed like so many of the others. But before the magician is taken away in chains, he confesses." 

You twirl your spoon in your bowl, watching as the oats spin. The room is pleasantly warm (from Kuras just as much as the fire), and drowsiness is seeping into your bones. You take another bite, hiding your grimace with a gulp of the herbal tea. "So the magician was a traitor the whole time?"

"Years ago, when the aging king fell ill, the magician had done his best to find a remedy that might ease his sleep and allow him to heal from his sickness. He read ancient texts and cultivated a flower that would aid in rest. But in his inexperience, and the king's weakened state, the undiluted flower was far too potent, and the king could not be woken. When he died, the magician lost his king, as well as his honesty. If anyone learned of his potion, he knew he would be executed. The palace grieved in the years after - but none so much as the magician. He did trial after trial and came up with a remedy to this endless sleep - though it was too late. He banished the plant from his garden and swore to never tell a soul what he had done. To live a life in service to the new king as his penance. When he was sent to a neighboring kingdom, in his absence, those soporific flowers bloomed once more. Some seeds had lain dormant in the soil despite the magician’s efforts to eradicate them. And the princess, fancying herself a florist, found them after they bloomed and inhaled their pollen. At last, the magician had a chance to use his remedy and alleviate his guilt. But in doing so, he exposed his original sin."

You glance at your tea before glaring at him in mock suspicion. “I hope that is a fictional flower. I may have nightmares but I’m quite fond of my ability to wake up. There are some unsettling parallels that are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore -” 

Kuras laughs in surprise, holding his hands out in supplication. “A mere coincidence, I assure you.” You yawn, waving his sentence away. “I’ll believe you, I suppose. No point in the alternative. I’m already sleepy, so if you’ve doomed me to eternal slumber, I’m probably already beyond saving. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” You mull over the conclusion to the story, listening to the soft crackle of the fire. "Was the magician executed, as he had feared?"

Kuras steeples his fingers together and regards you with a long, searching look."Yes."

You slouch in your chair, pulling your knees to your chest. "But the magician didn't mean to harm anyone. I mean, he was only trying to help the king, and then he spent the rest of his years trying to make it right. Wouldn't you have pardoned him?"

Kuras sighs. "Does his remedy for the princess erase his former mistake? Can his guilt and shame bring the king back to life? What of the members of the court who were imprisoned and tortured - does the magician hold no blame for their treatment, when he could have ended it by breaking his silence earlier?" 

You shake your head slowly, eyes fixed on the way his mouth twists as he speaks.

He continues, voice firm. "I do not believe atonement can be merely crossed off a list. There is no endpoint where one's good deed has nullified the initial transgression. Perhaps… the magician is right to live in service to the king as penance, just as the king is right to take his life." 

It doesn’t entirely feel like the two of you are only talking about the story now. “Hmmm,” you yawn, drumming your fingers against the surface of the table next to your (mostly still full) bowl of slop. “I think good deeds can eventually outweigh the original crime, if there’s enough of them. Sure, it might not erase the initial mistake. But people learn a lot from messing up and it can motivate them to go out and do great things. I guess intention and effort matter to me, when I consider… when I consider whether someone should be forgiven.” 

You rub your hand over your face, sleepiness weighing down your eyes. Despite Kuras’ promise that your tea isn’t going to put you into an eternal rest, you find yourself doubting him. There’s a desperate craving to find some warm cozy corner to curl up in that has spontaneously appeared. “It sounds like I’ll have to read the story myself. To see if I agree with you.”

Kuras seems, in that moment, older than he appears. As fixed and enduring as a wizened tree, burls formed by years of growth around one wound. His golden eyes are fixed, once more, on that distant point far beyond you. “Absolution,” he murmurs, nearly lost in the crackle of the fire. “Who can give it, save for those whom were wronged? And in their absence…” 

But the moment is lost, and the man you recognise is back before you, levity glinting in his eyes.”Yes, I’ll lend it to you. Let me know whether your opinion is altered upon completion.” He rises and crosses to your end of the table, frowning at your nearly untouched meal in disapproval. “Eating well is the foundation of health,” he chides, taking your full bowl away just the same. 

Your drowsiness is becoming impossible to ignore, weighing you down like you’ve been submerged in sand. “That’s why your cupboards are empty,” you mumble, laying your head across your folded arms on the surface of the table. “You eat up everything and make a h-huge monstrous breakfast or something so you can be the strongest.”

He breathes out a huff of laughter as he sets your bowl down on the counter. You continue dreamily, exhaustion making you bold. “It’s why you’re the picture of good health. Shiny hair and skin that’s so glowy and also - it’s the reason you’re never cold, I bet.”

You hear his steps pause over your shoulder, close behind you. “It appears that it’s time for you to turn in,” he says, amusement as warm in his voice as the coals in the fireplace. “And maybe next time we’ll steep the tea for a little less time, hmm?”

You close your eyes, head feeling as heavy as a boulder where it rests on your arms. It’s childish but you can’t resist. “Don’t wanna move. Bring me a blanket and I’m comfy cozy riiiiight here.” 

He gives an exasperated sigh. One of his arms slides beneath your knees where they rest on the edge of your seat and his other cradles your back. He lifts you high into the air like you weigh nothing, and you hum happily, pressing your face into the warmth of his chest. The room sways gently with his steps as he carries you across the room to the couch. “Mmm. I could sleep juuuust like this.” 

He laughs and you can feel the deep rumble of it, sense the soft exhale of breath against your forehead as your hair stirs. 

“You’ll be thankful in the morning that you slept laying down.” He places you down on the couch so gently that the transition blends together, the strong support of his arms transforming seamlessly into the plush give of the cushions. 

You keep your eyes closed and roll onto your side, facing the front door. Everything feels so heavy and comfortable. You hear the soft sound of his footsteps as he crosses the room. “Are you leaving?” you ask plaintively.

The sound of his voice is immediately reassuring. “I’ll return in just a moment.” 

He’s true to his word. There’s the soft click of a door opening and closing before you feel the gentle weight of a blanket being draped around you. “Head up,” he says quietly, sliding his palm against your head to lift it and place a pillow beneath it. You nuzzle into the surface. It smells like him. Like that fragrance you found in the bathroom. Though your eyes are closed, you can feel him, standing before you. Hesitating. 

Then he’s stooping, brushing the hair back from your face where it’s fallen across it. He presses a kiss to your temple, featherlight and gone in a heartbeat. 

“Stay with me?” you murmur. You’d kick yourself in the morning for being so clingy, if you’d remember it. But for now, you yearn for his companionship. It’s been so very long since you’ve had someone with you while you slept. So long since you’ve felt safe enough in someone’s company to sleep with them there.

“I have some paperwork to attend to.”

And there’s a small part of your heart that wilts at that, mourns the end of your night, where morning will come and end this time together, but it feels unfair to ask again. You pout a little, turning your face down into the pillow. You hear the soft rustle of pages, his footsteps padding across the carpet, a light metallic scrape, and then - the firm weight of his back against your knees. You crack open a bleary eye in surprise. Kuras is seated on the floor in front of the couch, peering through his glasses at paperwork balanced on his knees before him. He leans against the front of the couch, pressing against your legs. He glances to the side, meeting your eyes. “Go to sleep,” he scolds you affectionately.

That pang in your heart dissipates, replaced with blossoming joy. Joy that he chooses, still, to be with you. Chooses to stay despite the childishness of your request. “You work really hard,” you mumble. You almost miss his reply as you spin into sleep. 

“I must.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The soft sound of clanking metal wakes you, and as you blink your eyes open, it almost feels as if no time has passed at all. The sky through the windows is speckled with stars and the room is still dark and lantern-lit. But a new fire has been started in the fireplace, wood not yet blackened. And Kuras is there, bowed before it, ladle stirring the pot hung once more over the flames. He looks the same as he did when you fell asleep, and you wonder if he slept at all. 

As you stretch, he looks over. “Any nightmares?”

“None,” you yawn, cracking your neck. It’s the most refreshed you’ve been in months. “I guess the tea works!” 

“I am glad to hear it,” he says sincerely. “I’ll parcel some out for you to keep at home.” 

To your surprise, your clothes are folded neatly over the arm of the couch. “How long have you been up?” you say groggily, sniffing them when his back is turned. There’s no fish scent to them, only a faint scent that you’re starting to associate with him. 

“I rise before the sun so I can prepare the clinic for the arrival of patients,” he replies, taking a seat in the armchair nearby. “I’ve already seen my overnight patients this morning, they should be well enough to leave in a few hours. Breakfast is ready if you would like some.”

You head to the bathroom to change back into your clothes but stop in your tracks when you pass the fireplace and see the same murky, oat water from the night before in the pot. Oh no. He must have fed some of this to his patients already. You waver on the threshold of the bathroom.

“I’m good without breakfast today, Kuras. But thank you so much for thinking of me.” “Any coffee or tea?” Normally, you’d have tea or coffee to push back your exhaustion from your lack of quality sleep. Today, you don’t need it. Still, it seems wise to allow him to give you something - lest you have to eat leftover oatmeal. “Whichever is great!” you call back, shutting the door behind you.

When you return, he offers you a steaming cup of coffee, the scent wafting through the air. “It’s good you woke up when you did. I would like to accompany you to the Wet Wick in a few moments when dawn has broken. Leander and his Bloodhounds have a certain… luck for finding lost things in the city. It would serve us well to see if your key has been turned in. And if we leave shortly, I should be able to return to the clinic before any patients arrive.” 

Despite the casualness of his words, his voice is controlled and stiff. There’s something so stern about him, so commanding, that you finish your coffee quickly, gather your belongings (with the addition of the tea and the book he’s lent you), and fall in step behind him without a word like a meek schoolchild. He walks so quickly to the Wet Wick that you have to break into a jog every few steps to keep up. Despite the fast pace, it’s enjoyable walking with him. When you’re by yourself, you have to be constantly watching for the few landmarks you know. Not to mention dodging wheelbarrows and carts in the streets, puddles full of the contents of chamber pots, and vines that seem to grow out of the gutter with the sole intention of tripping you. 

With Kuras at the helm, you can simply trail behind him as a passenger, taking in the flowers, the beautiful stonework on the buildings, and the incredibly enjoyable way his broad shoulders narrow into his waist and muscular thighs. Yes, you’ve always been fond of sightseeing.

The Wick in the morning feels innately wrong, like a vampire came along and sucked all the life out of it. All the dust and grime show up in the harsh light of the rising sun. The many tables and chairs are deserted and the room is unsettlingly silent, save for the soft sound of birdsong. The innkeeper stands behind the bar, her face puffy with sleep, bent over a ledger. As she sees the two of you approach, she nods, and heads upstairs - no doubt to get Leander.

You stand by Kuras’ side, fidgeting. It’s awfully strange to be here so early. When you’d lived here there had normally been a few people playing cards or eating breakfast by the time you got up. Leander thuds down the stairs hurriedly. He looks even more exhausted than usual, hair tousled. Kuras, meanwhile, is the picture of composure, hands clasped behind his back. “Good morning, Leander.” 

“Kuras! I didn’t expect you to be here so early.. and look who you’ve brought along! Thank goodness, I was so worried!”

Kuras frowns at him, and there’s an intensity to his gaze you’ve rarely glimpsed before. “Why is it that you were worried?”

“Because I found her key, of course!! Where in the world did you spend the night?” His eyes move from Kuras’ to yours, and he grabs you by the shoulders, scanning every inch of you. “I’m so happy you’re safe.” He pulls you, bodily, into a hug. You pat his back. You hadn’t meant to worry him. 

“She was with me.” Leander stiffens, brow creasing as he pulls back. 

You nod, smiling awkwardly. “Yes, Kuras was kind enough to extend his hospitality while I was locked out of my place. I made it to his door just in time.”

“You spent the night with him?” Leander pauses, examining you for what, you aren’t sure - before continuing. “In Kuras’ clinic? That’s no place to sleep! You’ll be lucky if you didn’t catch anything, spending time around all those sick people.” He runs his hand through his hair raggedly, distraught. “The Wick was open all night, you know you always have a room here, don’t you? I didn’t sleep a wink, I was so worried about you!”

Your eyes widen, guilt growing. Maybe you should have just come to the Wick instead. Did he really stay up all night out of concern?

Kuras’ hand falls to your shoulder, steadying you. It feels unsettlingly like you’re caught in a battle between the two of them. “The key, Leander,” Kuras grinds out, patience wearing thin. 

“Of course, I’ve kept it right here on me. I wanted to make sure it was safe and didn’t get lost again.” He pulls it from his pocket and hands it to you, eyes sympathetic.  

Kuras feels as resolute as a stone pillar by your side. “Yes, quite fortunate that luck was on your side and you were able to find it. Let us hope that, after today, luck directs itself towards keeping keys firmly where they belong.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Leander replies tersely, mouth downturned. “I’d prefer if she didn’t have to rely on luck to keep track of the key, too. If she lost it from her coin purse, where can she keep it where it won’t fall out?” He turns to you, hand on his hip. “It’s not safe to live on your own if you’re going to end up on the wrong side of a locked door with no way to open it.”

You clench the key tightly in your hand. “I’ll keep track of it.” Your coin purse. The one that’s tucked down the front of your shirt, imperceptible except for a thin cord around your neck. How did he know where you kept your key? Nervously, you brush your bandaged hands over the numerous pockets around your waist. There’s some in your pants and cloak - even in the top of your boots.

Leander looks at you skeptically. “As long as you remember that the Wick is open at all hours. Besides,” he says, gesturing at Kuras. “He’s not at the clinic every evening. It’s risky if you’re counting on him being there.”

“Yes, there are a few rare evenings when I’m not at the clinic.” Kuras nods at him, voice colder than usual. “I will show her my primary residence so she’ll be able to locate me in moments of crisis.”

“... And I’ll keep an eye on my key,” you say nervously, trying to dispel the tension. “That way everything will be fine.” You glance between the two of them. “I lived through the night, ok? I’m thankful that both of you are so generous and want to look after me.”

Your mind shifts again to your coin purse. Leander’s the only one who had gotten close to you yesterday. When he hugged you at the fish stall. Your stomach churns. “Well… I had better drop this off at home and then head to work,” you say, raising Kuras’ book in your hand. “Thanks again to the both of you. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble or worry.” 

“It was no trouble at all,” Kuras says smoothly, warmth returning again to his voice. “And please do drop by later to let me know what you think of the story, when you’ve finished it.”

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Leander says, searching your face. 

You smile back at him, but you’re not certain it reaches your eyes. “Of course.”

Your feet follow the route back to your apartment mindlessly, key in hand and thoughts spinning. It’s mystifying how your key found its way outside of your coin purse. Perhaps Leander had seen the outline of the bag beneath your shirt, or deduced that you wouldn’t keep it in your pocket. There’s a layer of guilt that lays across your thoughts like grease. He’s been so nice to you, and had looked so intensely relieved when he saw you were safe and sound. It feels unreasonable to suspect him of any misdeed. Swiftly, you drop the key into the top of your boot and kick your leg until it rests solidly against the sole of your foot. You’ll try this hiding spot for now. Until your doubts fade. At least the sharp discomfort of it beneath you will be a reminder of the fact that it’s there. You’re thankful, now, that you thought to visit Kuras’ clinic instead of going to the Wet Wick. Like Leander clearly had wanted.

You’ll have to read the book Kuras lent you quickly. The memory of his warm touch, the tenderness with which he treated you, and the heat that lingered in his gaze… yes, you desperately want to see him again. You want to learn why it is that he’s so inexplicably harsh when it comes to redemption. You want to smell that warm, resinous scent that clung to his pillow again. And, if he’ll let you, you want to teach him how to make his patients something other than disgusting oatmeal.

[nerdieforpedro]

We need to be on the same page

Chapter 6 of Weddings 101 with Dieter Series

Dieter Bravo x Maya (plus size OFC)

This blog and fic are for readers 18+ MDNI

Summary: The fallout from the pictures begins and Dieter’s PR leader Vanessa is here to help, we think. Zack is just trying to stay employed. Dieter and Maya make a critical decision. Oscar might actually be useful.

Word Count: 3836

Warnings: naked people, a bad Beyoncé joke, messing with your assistant, some angst, no Cheetos or tequila were harmed in his chapter, sexual tension? or she might not be that into you dude, plotting, being an asshole sister in law, anxiety, I might have a good use for Oscar finally

Notes: This took me a while because I don’t like having loose ends and I wanted to build the drama! Not that there isn’t enough. 😆 With this chapter, this fic is my longest one to date, I'm proud of all the different directions it goes into. I have even more plans for them. 🫡

Main Masterlist/ Dieter Bravo Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Today was one of the days that Zack did not look forward to. He was at the villa at ten in the morning. The photos were everywhere, Vanessa had blown up his phone for information and face-timed him from the jet. He needed to warn both Dieter and Maya that she was coming. Maybe it would be good… “No, I'm lying to myself. Vanessa will question everything. Will I even have a job? She seemed mad though Mr. Bravo’s happy. Doesn’t that count for something? It’s not with drugs.” Walking up to the front door, he was going to use his key when he heard some giggling. “I just…I’ve seen Dieter naked. It’s kinda a requirement of the job. Just not Ms. Maya, she’s a nice lady.” He decided to knock loudly on the door, the giggles ceased and he heard footsteps heavy toward the door. 

“Who’s banging on my door this damn early?! You better get out of here!”

“Dee at least ask who it is.”

“I don’t care, it could be the president, pope or, no Beyonce could come in.”

“I am not meeting Beyonce in my robe. My hair is a mess, my face is puffy, I haven’t showered yet…that’s not who it is!”

“I mean, if she shows up on this door, she’s gonna have to be okay with my bare ass, balls and your robe with your cute puffy face. It’s just us. You don’t need one. I’m just going to take it back off to eat you for-.”

“MR. BRAVO IT’S ME ZACK! YOUR ASSISTANT!” He screamed, he didn’t need to hear Dieter removing anything off of Maya or eating her in any capacity, they can do that after he leaves later. Never any filter with this damn man, he just needs to remind himself of his loans. This is for your loans. This job is getting you out of debt.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?” Dieter opens the door as Maya yells at him not to. She grabs the throw blanket off the couch and wraps it around Dieter's waist. Zack appreciates that someone has some sense of when to be naked and when not to be. 

“Good morning Ms. Maya. Hi Dieter.” The assistant enthusiasm only was on display for Maya who gave him a smile and a hello. Dieter sucked his teeth. 

“Hey! Why do you greet her like that? I’m your employer! Be happy to see me, dammit!” Bravo fussed and took a hold of the blanket that Maya had been holding. He needed to pull it up so he wouldn’t step on it. 

Zack set his messenger bag on the couch and made a mental note of which throw blanket that was. It would need to be washed later after being thrown on Vanessa first. Maybe in her face. 

“Have either of you turned on the TV or looked at your phones? I did try calling both of you, but I assume-” Zack trailed off. He took a good look at them both. Dieter had scratches on his shoulders and chest peppered with bruises. His neck has several hickeys and so did Maya’s. She on the other hand appeared to have bruises that resembled fingers maybe? Zack didn’t want to think too much about it. “You both were otherwise occupied.” He sat down in the overstuffed chair. Dieter sat in the middle of the couch with Maya on one end, he draped part of the blanket over her legs since her robe hit mid-thigh.

Maya shakes her head. “No. We haven’t. Is there something Dieter should be concerned about?”

“It’s something both of you should be concerned about Ms. Maya.” Zack sighs and pulls out his iPad. On it, he loads up Google and type in Dieter’s name. The first ten links are to various sites that have pictures and speculations about Maya and Dieter, their relationship, who she is, what he’s doing with her and all sorts of nonsense. Thankfully, the negative comments are at a minimum, most were wondering if Dieter was making a turn for the better after his two week long marriage to Anika. 

Dieter thought he’d been careful. The boutique had been cleared, he thought. The jet he hadn’t been concerned about much of anything except getting her to ride with him so that one’s on him. The restaurant was supposed to only have VIPs, others who wouldn’t care about him being there with someone. Outside of the wedding venue could have been anyone. He hadn’t been thinking on that one either, well other than spending time with Maya that is. Now he’s involved her without her full consent. “Dammit…” He turned to say something to her, anything, but she’d gotten up and walked upstairs. He stood to go after her but Zack called after Dieter.

“Sir, if you’re going to have a conversation with any meaning, at least put underwear on. Also Vanessa just texted and she’s an hour out. No word on what the plan is yet. Don’t say anything stupid to Ms. Maya. She’s…” The assistant’s voice trailed off as Dieter stood next to his chair naked with his hands on his hips.

“She’s what Zack? Maya is funny, wonderful, gorgeous and so damn soft. I better not catch you looking at-“

“Mr. Bravo. I was going to say she’s a normal person like me who’s likely freaked out about suddenly having her picture everywhere and her life questioned by people she doesn’t know. Also I don’t see her that way. I don’t see you or anyone that way. I don’t form attachments like that at least not right away and it needs to be the right person.”

“That’s right, you’re Demi-sexual right? I keep forgetting that.”

Zack massages his temples, his boss has gotten sidetracked. “Task at hand sir. Ms. Maya is freaking out. Reassure her with pants on.” He knew to keep it short so Bravo wouldn’t lose focus again.

“Right, I’m off. Tell Nessa we’ll be down shortly.” Making his way up the stairs, he quickly went into his room, tossed on some boxers and took a deep breath. “Taking advantage of this would be wrong…right?” Daisy nips at his toes. “Hey girl, you gave us some privacy last night? Thanks.” He picks her up and scratches behind her ears. “I want her to stay with us Daisy. I know she has her own stuff, but couldn’t it be part of mine? We could have our stuff.” The goat licks a bite mark on his neck, “Maya’s a bit rough with me Daisy. It’s been a long while since I’ve been handled like that.” The low chuckle at the memory had him curious when the next time would be, if there would be a next time.

In Maya’s room:

“Oh my god, oh my god….nononono…” Panic was taking over, what did this all mean? Is she going to need to change jobs? Her name? What do people even do in this situation? Is she just going to be some quiz show question? That’s not how Maya wants to be on Jeopardy. Pacing in her room, she hears her phone vibrate.

Maya picked up her phone and saw twenty missed calls, ten of which were from Elyssa. Her mother congratulated her for snagging not only a nice man but a rich one. Her little brother Michael said to call him, he needs to talk to this man who has her out all over the place. Her two older brothers said the same thing but told her that they won’t recognize him as a brother in law unless he passes a few tests. There were increasingly frantic texts from the bride demanding to know the following:

Why she brought a celebrity to her wedding?

Why she was trying to sabotage her?

Is it because the entire time she’s dated Michael, Maya’s always been alone?

Did you go into debt paying him to come with you? 

Or is this how you were able to afford coming out to the wedding in the first place?

“What the hell are they all talking about about Dieter is not…he’s…well. Maybe…” Her conviction is wavering but she can’t stay with Dee. She has work, a life, but the last few days have been nothing short of wonderful. “And last night was…”

“I thought between last night and this morning things were great, superb even. Am I wrong?” Strolling in her room wearing a pair of navy boxer briefs that hung just below the swell of his tummy, Dieter crossed his arms watching Maya stop her pacing. She looked up at him, feeling embarrassed, frustrated, pissed and if she was honest with herself, happy. Unable to meet his gaze, she kept her eyes on her phone, re-reading Elyssa’s texts. Dieter peered over her shoulder and clicked his tongue. “She really has nothing better to do then text you that? That woman is insufferable. I’d feel bad for your little brother if it didn’t sound like he was threatening me too. Doesn’t he know I have a goat?” 

Wrapping his arms around her, Maya her initial laugh turned into a sigh and leaned back against Bravo’s chest. “They’re just worried, though they don’t need to be.”

“Is that what you call it? I’d say they’re over-protective. And Elyssa is being a bitch with those questions. Anyway, forget all that, sit down.” Dieter tugs her over to the bed and has Maya sit across his lap with her legs to one side. She tried to stand up, but she still got his strong arms wrapped around her. “We need to talk cariño (sweetheart.)”

“I know. I’ll go to the hotel. Things should blow over right?” Still looking at her phone, thumbing through her Instagram. There are mostly curious comments, a few mean and racist ones, a couple others were congratulatory. Bravo takes her phone and tosses it on the bed. “Dee, what the hell?” Finally, she’s looking at him, with surprise and fear on her face.

“I know you’re scared Almond Joy. I also know you never asked for any of this, to be associated which a guy who’s known for fucking up everything he touches except for easels, scripts and KitKats.” A kiss to her shoulder has her stiffen, then relax. “I also…don’t want you to leave.” Maya’s watching his eyes again. They look the same as last night, burrowing within her. 

“I can’t. You know I can’t. I’m not like you Dieter.” Shutting her lids tight is the only way not to be drawn in by his cocoa pools. Putting an arm around his shoulder, her hand lands on his back where she’s scratched him. 

“I know you’re not Maya. That’s part of what makes you so majestic. The trust you have in me, the fun, some other things you might still have in you.” Her fingers pinched his cheek. 

“Be serious! I’m not built for that type of scrutiny Dee and we’re not even toget-“

“But what if we were? Together? I mean it’s pretty muddled but you snap me back in to focus. We can just date. I’m not saying you have to stay here, we just see each other when we can. Video calls and I’ll come see where you live and-“

“You’ll tell me it’s beneath me and I need to be somewhere else because I only live once or something right?” The quick peck to his lips paused his thoughts. “Is that what our relationship becomes? Calls and visits? I…” Maya laments, she just has to say it, but she can’t. “Just let me go. I can’t…” Slipping out of Dieter’s arms, she steps away from him only to be in front of the same mirror from last night. Where he showed her how beautiful he believes her to be. Her hands are in her face again. She’s frightened but he’s thinks it’s not only the prospect of being on display for people.

Instead of approaching her from behind Bravo stands in front of her, “Ahora relájate y deja que cuide de ti (Relax now and let me take care of you).” Dieter places his hands on hers and moves them, she allows him to without a fuss. Her eyes are closed and there are tears at the edges, his lips wipe them away. “Let me. I’m not saying you’ll be a kept woman. You know that’s not what I mean. Just be honest with me, like you were last night. Tell me what you want.”

Maya knows he’s giving her a huge opening. She’s been fighting what she wants. She told herself it’s just for now, and then it was until the wedding was over. But Dieter’s offering it to her, why can’t she just say it?! “I..I…want. I want to stay with you. Be silly, wake up with you and do more fun things. Like the beach, swimming, brunch, just a drive. I don’t want to worry anymore. I’d like…” Dieter places his forehead against Maya’s as her tears fall. He doesn’t wipe them away this time. Just lets her continue. “I’d like to be fussed over, just some. Not in a weird dominating way but like…a soft way. Like am I okay, do I need anything, does that feel good, would you like more, do you even like that, what do you want to do today, what are your favorite foods and colors…Ugh…that was way too much. I can’t-“

“No. You can Maya. Be greedy. Ask for my time. Tell me to give you all you want. I don’t know if I can but I can damn well try. Mi mujer perfecta (My perfect woman).” He kisses her forehead and cups her face with his large hands. Her eyes are red and puffy. “I’ll say it again. I don’t want you to go Kit Kat. Just stay and worry about yourself. Please.”

“I feel like I’m watching a romance film right now. My, my…It looks like we won’t need to manufacture a real relationship between the two of you.” A woman of about five feet seven inches with auburn hair and matching butterfly tattoos on each arm. She wore a sleeveless navy blue slim fit dress with black red bottom heels. Her red tote bag swayed with her steps toward the couple. “Sorry to interrupt darlings, such a sweet moment, but we need to go ahead and decide how we want the chips to fall.” She smiled, patting Maya’s shoulder, studying her wet face. This Maya is cute, she almost wants to pinch her cheek. That didn’t matter much, what would matter is what these two decided to do. “My name is Vanessa. I’m the leader of Dieter’s PR team. Meet me downstairs when you two are dressed, don’t take too long. There’s much to discuss.” The fixer disappeared out of the room and back down the stairs to Zack, it looks like there was a lot he left out in his updates.

Back downstairs, Zack was being questioned by Vanessa after she peeked in on Dieter and Maya. She found out that Dieter had invited Maya on his jet after her flight was canceled. Since then, they’d grown closer and outside of one small sniff of a seat (Zack left out that it was coke on Maya’s seat - told her it was ecstasy). He also told her about Oscar’s fights with Dieter and the goat bite. Vanessa said she was aware of that one not the guitar one though. She said that she would table the idea of using Oscar in that manner, instead, why was Maya coming to Hawaii in the first place. Zack then remembered it was for a wedding, though who knows what’s happening with it now. From what he’s gathered, the bride, Maya’s future sister in law sounds like an asshole and crazy. Vanessa was making notes in a small pad she removed from her tote. “A plan is brewing Zack. You’ll need to actually keep me informed instead of pieces of information.”

”Yes ma’am. It’s just…Ms. Maya is really nice and Dieter seems somewhat sane with her. As sane as he’s going to be. It’s nice. No woodwind or brass instruments so far this week. I don’t know what his deal with the instruments is either. So weird. Or crazy parties. And I haven’t seen any toys askew but they could have just cleaned up which is still pretty nice and-“” Zack paused. “Just see how they are with each other, you’ll see.” 

Soon Maya and Dieter came downstairs fully dressed, Maya in a simple pink dress, flowing with wide sleeves and skirt. She’d cleaned her face but it was slightly red around the eyes and ends of her ears. Dieter had on a pair of black shorts with a white tee and sunglasses on his head. They sat on the couch and held hands. Zack and Vanessa watched their body language, in addition to them holding hands, Maya was leaning onto his shoulder and their knees were touching. If…they were seen like this out and about and if someone for whatever reason did an interview with them, it would reflect well for Dieter. Despite actually marrying that woman Anika, their interactions (outside of what happened in their bedroom) reflected two people that weren’t comfortable with each other and were distant. 

“Have you two decided what you want to do? It’s not really ideal for the start of any relationship, but at the very least we’ll be able to sell you two as being in a legitimate relationship.” With her white manicured nail, she drew an imaginary circle around the pair. “The way your two sit in silence with each other is excellent. I take it, a decision has been made?” Vanessa placed her elbow on the top of her bent knee. 

Maya squeezed Dieter’s hand and nodded, letting him talk, “Yeah we have Nessa.”

Later that evening…

Oscar was not pleased, what he woke up to was mostly positive headlines about Dieter Bravo. How happy he looked, how content, was it because of the new woman in his life? Was it something else? Maybe he came to Hawaii to rest and recharge and that’s why he looks like he has not a care in the world.  Issac’s plan had severely backfired, worse yet, his assistant informed him that he’d received a call from Vanessa La Roux’s office. Oscar is aware of who she is and has only one dealing with her before and that ended poorly, where he had to take a sabbatical afterward. 

Hanri knocked on Oscar’s hotel room door, he’d done as his boss asked and felt horrible about it. He was dropping off his boss’ usual order of tequila and three bags of hot Cheetos that he likes to eat in the evening. He had been propositioned by Vanessa and happily agreed to get her in the hotel and a private meeting with Mr. Issac. After getting her in, he left her to it and headed back to his room with his money. Oscar heard the door and called for the young man to bring him his snack.

“Good evening Oscar. Hanri is otherwise occupied.” Vanessa tilted her head and smiled, setting a bottle of tequila and the bags of cheetos on the end of the actor’s bed. “We have quite a bit to discuss tonight. You’ll need to be sober for this. After we talk you can drown yourself in your choice of drink.” She pulled up a chair and sat across from Oscar who was naked except for a soft eggshell robe that was wrapped around him.

“I figured you’d pop up at some point you damn she-devil. I guess my fun’s over. How much do I need to pay you to leave your little goat lover alone this time?” He remarks as he sips his red wine, expecting an outrageous number from her. It’s not like he hadn’t paid Vanessa and Dieter’s team before. Oscar enjoyed pissing Bravo off by any means. Their business ran on public opinion and numbers - no matter if it was scores, awards, stars, money, age, you name it, it could have a number. 

“No, no, no Oscar. You don’t get to just pay me this time. If it was just messing with Dieter, that’s one thing, but-“ Vanessa stood and snatched a bag of cheetos, ripping it so they spilled on the floor. “-you’ve not only been stalking him. Something you said you’d never do again, you also leaked pictures of him and his girlfriend, who hadn’t settled on being in the public eye yet and now she has to. No cheetos for you.” Grabbing a fist full of Oscar’s hair, she tugged on it. “You’re going to follow Dieter and Maya to the wedding and you’re going to do exactly as I tell you. Then we can talk about money and I can use it to fund another studio for Dieter.”

Sucking his teeth, Oscar nods and takes a swig of his tequila, the fixer lets go of his hair and extends her hand. They grip hands and shake, sitting back down. “What do I have to do jefa (boss)?” He attempted to touch her knee but she slapped her hand away. “Ahaha, You’re really serious aren’t you? Well jefa, that just makes the reward that much hotter doesn’t it?” His snicker has Vanessa shift her weight from side to side.

Looking over her shoulder, she sneered. “That was only one time. Don’t test your luck Issac. I’ll be in touch.” She walks out leaving him to his late night snack. “You know you’re too old to be drinking like that, it was that same tequila that got you and Dieter on a lifetime ban from The Muppets.” 

Oscar smiled as he stood and walked up behind Vanessa. Not touching her, just leaning over her shoulder to meet her face a few inches away. “I don’t recall you saying that in the green room when I had my Count cape on, and that wasn’t just one time. Unless you count it as one within a certain time period.” She exhaled and continued toward the door and Oscar followed her, but gave her more space, holding the door open for her. “I’ll take your ever so thoughtful advice mi jefa.” He takes a bow as she walks out. 

On her way down to the car, Vanessa whips out her phone and texts Zack to tell Maya (as she’ll actually make sure Dieter’s on time) to ensure that they are at the dress rehearsal for the wedding on time tomorrow. Thankfully, it’s only some family stuff that Maya can skip and she mentioned after their talk that she would be having lunch with her mother. 

The stage is prepared except for a few pieces here and there. This wedding rehearsal will be a vivid experience for all those in attendance. Vanessa was counting on it for Dieter’s sake, it was her job after all.

The Trash Panda Possse 🦝: @megamindsecretlair @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@soft-persephone @saturn-rings-writes @readingiskeepingmegoing @harriedandharassed @yorksgirl @bishtrouille

@missladym1981

Chapter 5 Chapter 7

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 10: Stable

something is sparking between aureia and sidurgu, and they can't seem to see it. but rielle can. sidurgu x female warrior of light (pre-relationship), mentions of aymeric x wol. set during stormblood patches, but after the lvl 60-70 drk quests. rated: teen 2086 words ao3 link

“…when I said you could accompany us back to Ishgard, I didn’t mean for it to become a godsdamned holiday.”

“Resting at an inn is not a holiday.”

“And this isn’t a sight-seeing trip!”

“It’s fine, Sid! It’s one night! Is there something wrong with one night?”

“It’s dangerous, that’s what. For her, for you, for me.”

“Dangerous from whom, exactly? The Empire’s been all but routed from Gyr Abania. Besides, I don’t think many in patrons would consider confronting two dark knights head-on, and those that could would be drunk out of their minds. Please tell me you’re not afraid of a drunkard.”

“That’s not—godsdammit, you can be a right bloody bonehead when you want to be, you know that, eh?”

Rielle sighs and leans forward in her saddle, patting Filo’s neck. The chocobo chirrups, his head tugging on the reins as he leans into her hand, enjoying the feel as she pets his shiny black feathers. The day has stretched on and on, the road getting longer with every step, Baelsar’s Wall shadowing the horizon and somehow never getting closer, the dusty heat growing intolerable in the Gyr Abanian haze.

If she were younger—or travelling alone, let’s be honest—she would have pelted Sidurgu with the oh-so-tempting “are we there yet?” question, but for now she holds her tongue. Though Sidurgu has dragged her from one end of Coerthas to the other, even trekking into Gridania on the rare occasion, this is the furthest from Ishgard she has ever been. Her rear and legs may ache from too many hours in the saddle, but even with Sidurgu and Aureia’s endless bickering, she can’t remember a time she was this happy on the road.

She doesn’t want it to end.

She’s being selfish, she knows. Like a little kid—an actual little kid, thank you very much—asking for another five minutes at their favourite park, or clinging onto a favourite toy that has long since fallen apart. Sidurgu wanted them to return on their own, without company. He didn’t say as much—not aloud—but she saw it in his eyes when tending to his wounds. If he wasn’t stuck leaning against a rock, moaning and groaning and complaining about her fussing over him, he would have taken her and stalked down the road the moment Aureia’s back was turned. So, she struck at the opportune moment, piping up before he could say or do anything, and pointedly asked her—“You’ll come back with us to Ishgard, won’t you?”

She didn’t answer right away. There was a crease in her brow, a downcast turn to her eyes, and in that moment Rielle feared she would say no. But then she brightened, a warm smile spreading across her face, and she said—“I suppose I must. I’m going the same way, after all.”

That was yesterday. They walked for a time, Filo puffing and panting beneath Sidurgu’s weight before it became too much for the chocobo. The poor thing was the runt of his flock—Aureia’s told her the story many times—incapable of carrying an Elezen cavalier let alone a massive Au Ra in full plate armour and with a greatsword to boot.

And so they camped early, finding a spot beneath a single sprawling tree. Leaving Sidurgu to make the fire—he insisted, it was the one thing he could manage without aggravating his wounds—Rielle and Aureia hurried down the slope to the little rippling stream. Rielle wasn’t much help; she splashed in the water, giggling and free, scaring away the fish Aureia tried her best to catch. A waste, maybe, but neither Aureia nor Sidurgu told her off for it. She was too busy enjoying wading in the stream herself, and he… well. Rielle is certain he was looking at her a different way. Or maybe the same way he always has. Or maybe…

They had the last of their rations that night, laughing and smiling around the fire. It did not feel like a rationed meal.

And now today. Aureia suggested she ride Filo instead, leaving her and Sidurgu to walk ahead. Rielle was thrilled—still is, even though she is hurting all over now. She has never properly ridden a chocobo before, and Filo is such a pretty bird. The hands at the Holy Stables call him mean and difficult—he has a legendary grudge against one of the Scions, the Hyur with the white hair Aureia makes weird faces when he’s mentioned—but Rielle thinks differently. Difficult, no. Misunderstood? Maybe.  

She knows what that’s like.

But now the sun is slowly sinking toward the red-brown peaks, and they really are going to have to find somewhere to stay or camp. They’re approaching a crossroads—literally. Up the hill and over the ridge, there’s a little inn with a wide stable for chocobos and warm, soothing lights in the windows. The perfect place for a trio of weary travellers.  

But of course Aureia and Sidurgu can’t seem to make up their minds.

“Happy to be a bonehead, then, if it means someone here has the voice of reason,” Aureia says.

Sidurgu snorts, but Rielle knows better. Even when his back is turned, she can hear him trying not to smile—and his tail is curling. Sometimes she wonders if it’s the same sort of thing as those girls in the Forgotten Knight when they twist their hair around their finger while making eyes at Gibrillont. He only does it around her. Maybe he doesn’t even know it.

No matter how testy their bickering gets, he likes it. He used to bicker with Fray, too.

“You know those are incompatible,” he mutters. “Bonehead. Voice of reason. Not exactly the same thing.”

“What can I say? I’m full of contradictions. A right paradox, maybe.”

“Bloody hells, you can say that again. Here I was thinking you had put aside your greatsword for good when you all but kidnapped us on this little hol…”

“Hm? What was that?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, good. And here I thought you said holiday for a moment.”

He lets out a long sigh and passes a hand across his face. “Aureia…”

She flashes him a grin.

He glares at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Aureia, please. Don’t make me laugh. I’d rather not bleed through my bandages tonight.”

From their position several paces behind, Filo chirrups and throws a look over his shoulder, his dark, beady eyes staring at Rielle. She shrugs and pats his neck. “I know,” she whispers. “I think they’re both being boneheads. What do you think?”

Filo chirps again and shakes himself from side to side in fervent agreement.

“Yes, exactly.”

Aureia raises her arms, her hands brushing the hilt of her greatsword as she pulls her hair back and twists it into a knot. It’s different from the messy, uneven crop she sported when Rielle first met her, long enough to brush her shoulders. There’s a bit of red in it, too, which Rielle doesn’t remember. She didn’t have that when she first came to Ishgard.

“The inn is a good option, Sid,” she says. “Give Rielle a normal night for once instead of sleeping on the ground again.”

“I know that, I simply—”

He pauses, bowing his head to look at her. The difference in height between them would be quite funny, if only height wasn’t such a sore spot. Rielle huffs, making a face. Aureia may be half-Elezen, but she did not inherit their height. Is it a sore spot for her, too? Rielle hasn’t thought to ask her.  

“All right, out with it. Don’t think I don’t know you, Aureia, this isn’t about the inn or Rielle. You’re hanging onto something.”

“I… am I?”

“You don’t want to go back to Ishgard, do you.”

It isn’t a question. An accusation? Something else?

His voice has dropped low, not quite a whisper. Rielle rises a fraction out of the saddle and leans in, straining her ears to catch the conversation.

“Maybe. Yes. Perhaps.”

“Aur.” He rests a hand gently against her shoulder and their pace slows. Their boots scuff the road, a cloud of dirt puffing around their feet. “What’s going on?”

His voice is calm. Firm. Steady. The kind of voice he has after she has a bad nightmare, but not quite.  

“It’s nothing, it’s…” Aureia lets out a long, sad sigh. Rielle tugs sharply on the reigns and Filo hisses in protest, jerking to a stop some feet behind. “There’s someone I must meet with when I return.”

“I see.”

“And I would… rather not.”

A pause. “I suppose the Lord Speaker of the House of Lords and the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights is a difficult man to ignore.”

“He can be, yes. Especially when you’re…” She pauses again. “Fuck. Let’s not pretend I even know what we are anymore. He asked me to marry him and I couldn’t even say yes.”

“Would it be too much to say that I am glad of that?”

“Sid—”

“Damned if I even want to know what you are to him. And I know all too well—very well, in fact—that this is not my place and not my business, but I will say what must be said if no one else will. If you need to hear it. I do not like who you have become with him. I’m sure—Temple Knight aside—he is a pleasant man in his own right. And it would be unfair to accuse him of anything malignant, I know that is not his way. And I do believe you love him, or have loved him—”

“Sid…”

“Past or present, my point still stands. You have chased something with him. Something that has brought you joy, yes, but also great sorrow. From what I have seen, from what you have told me… I believe you must become someone else to remain with him. And I do not believe you will ever be happy becoming that person. If the pair of you were in different circumstances, if you were different people…”

“If he wasn’t the Lord Commander and I wasn’t the Warrior of Light?”

He meets her eyes, his horns casting a shadow across his face in the glare of the setting sun. “If he weren’t a politician and you weren’t the Alliance’s war hound.”

She inhales sharply. “You didn’t have to put it that way.”

“Someone bloody well should have. There are a dozen places you should be rather than wandering the Gyr Abanian wilderness with a surly dark knight and a teenaged girl. A dozen people who need you more than we do. So what other reason was there for all of this, Aureia? A soul crystal cracked? Or an excuse to run?”

A pause. “I don’t think I can talk about this now,” Aureia says quietly.

Sidurgu lets out a long breath. His hand slips from her shoulder. “I’m sorry, that was… harsher than I intended.”

“Don’t be. You were only saying what you thought. And what I’ve thought for some time. Sometimes I think you’re the only person who makes any damn sense.”

“Oh, so is that why you keep finding reasons to come and find me? You’ve long since outgrown the Forgotten Knight.”

Her hand brushes his. “That’s not the only reason.”

He smiles.

Rielle yelps and tips forward, clinging to the reigns.

Filo chirrups shrilly, wings spread wide as if to catch her. She clutches the reigns and pulls herself upright just in time, her cheeks flushing red as Aureia and Sidurgu turn around, both instinctively reaching for their weapons.

“Rielle!” he calls, releasing the hold on his greatsword’s grip. “Are you all right?”

She steadies herself. “Fine!”

“Don’t test the bird. I don’t want you getting thrown out of the saddle—”

“Don’t test your wounds, Sid, I don’t want them re-opening before tomorrow at the earliest if you can help it.” She smirks, proud of herself for the quip, and nudges Filo with her heels. He trots forward, giving the pair a smug look as he trots by. “Let’s go to that inn, shall we? If I deserve a bed for the night, then Filo deserves a stable, don’t you think?”

Sidurgu and Aureia exchange looks, both of them trying very hard not to laugh.

Grinning with triumph, Rielle tucks her hair behind her ears and leads them up the hill and down the path to the inn.  

[skyward-floored]

Ok, so like I said this was super self indulgent because I was just feeling overall bad (I still kind of am but we’re powering through it lol), so it probably isn’t all that interesting but oh well haha. I figure the timeline isn’t quite right, I feel like Volga first started interacting with Link after the Triforce was stolen by Ganondorf, but I couldn’t reconcile Power not knowing Ganon’s back but still interacting with Link’s family lol, so whatever I guess 🥲

Anyway, here you go <3

X

Link sat at the edge of camp, hugging himself.

He didn’t belong here anymore. He knew that. The war was over, and he had lingered long enough. He needed to seek out Lana and return home, having overstayed his welcome. He seemed and felt useless at this point – for heaven’s sake, his friend had been captured and poisoned and Link hadn’t been able to get to him in time. The Hero of Warriors’ own parents had saved him, and Link had arrived too late, only tracking down some of the traitors and eliminating them. It felt like a pitiful compensation in comparison to actually ensuring the captain had never been hurt in the first place.

Glancing back at the camp, he wondered if he should at least check on the princess, who had  been quite upset with the ordeal. He felt obligated to do so. He’d hardly spent any time around her, unsure what to make of the young woman. He’d had time to observe her, of course, but she was very busy with her duties and hardly was anywhere near him. She seemed a capable warrior, which made him feel… oddly proud. But it just… didn’t seem right, downright terrifying to speak with her, for her to even get a hint of who he actually was in relation to her. Of course, watching his successor struggle with being abandoned by his own parents had made Link only feel a hundred times guiltier about avoiding the princess, but…

He just needed to leave. The war was over. He was overstaying his welcome. Even Lana had left, departing almost immediately after Cia’s defeat. Link hadn’t followed her right then because he’d waited to see the others off first, the children he’d grown fond of. And he’d wanted to make sure the captain was okay.

But it had been several weeks now. He knew he was just stalling, overstaying his welcome, getting in the way, and clearly being useless.

Back to business as usual, he supposed.

Link hugged himself even more tightly, burying his face into his knees. The captain was recovering, safe in his parents’ care. He wanted to check on him one last time, but that would likely attract too much attention – the captain was basically fully recovered, if a little fatigued, and Link was certain Impa, at the very least, was hovering worriedly over her son. If Link left now there would be no fuss. The entourage was headed back to the castle anyway, preparing to celebrate their victory in the war. No one would know he left, and no one would care. It was best this way.

Sighing, he rose, feeling his body grow heavier with each step. It shouldn’t take too long to get to Lana, who likely had returned to either the Lost Woods or the Valley of Seers. That was roughly a week’s walk from here. It would give him time to himself.

The woods became darker as he went, and he lit a torch to guide his way.

Honestly, though, why was it so dark? The sun still had some rays left the last time he’d checked.

Link rubbed his cheek halfheartedly, barely registering the sting, feeling numb. He didn’t want to leave, to go back to…

He shook his head. He needed to get over it. The goddesses were merciful in granting him this purpose briefly, another war to be useful in, another means to protect Hyrule, one more rush of freedom and adrenaline, one last fight for a dying weapon.

Perhaps he should just end it in these woods. But he had to be sure no monsters had gone to his land, he had to be sure his queen and their heir were safe. He may be a terrible person, but he wasn’t a monster. Not… not yet, he didn’t think.

The next day it was even darker, and he couldn’t quite help but be a little grumpy at the lousy weather. Why had it gotten so bleak? It was as if nature itself were mourning with him.

Link rubbed his cheek again, fingers tracing over his old scar, and then he stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he moved his fingers into the firelight, eyes widening as he saw sticky blood shining on his hand.

His wound had been bothering him for weeks now, but it had been on and off, a lingering sensation compared to…

Wait… his scar… hadn’t stung this much before. And it had certainly never bled.

Link swallowed, feeling dread fill his stomach, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Whirling, he reached for his sword, but a hand grabbed him before he could get to it. Link struggled against the impossibly strong person, a dark silhouette towering over him in the dull light of the torch before Link dropped it entirely in his struggle.

The figure stepped forward, gold jewelry reflecting the flames, eyes glowing, red hair dull in the darkness, matching the blood on his fingers.

Link felt his heart freeze. “You—you—”

He’d—he couldn’t be here! He’d sealed him away! Hemisi, Zelda, Link, they’d all—

Link let out a strangled cry, trying desperately to free himself from the monster’s grip. A golden glow caught his eye, lighting up the area far more than his torch, and Ganondorf pulled him closer. Fear gripped at him, fear and dread and anger, an unquenchable outrage that despite everything he’d sacrificed this man was still here—

“Link,” Ganondorf rumbled quietly. His eyes looked Link over form top to bottom, and the young warrior felt the fear return tenfold, mind instantly recalling his capture during the war, the pain and torture and terror and betrayal. But the Gerudo king’s grip, while firm, didn’t lead to any blow or attack. Instead, he said softly, “You’ve lost weight, boy. What have they done to you?”

What have—how dare he—

The golden glow finally registered in Link’s mind, and he gasped. It couldn’t be it couldn’t be the others had it!!

“What did you do to them?!” He hissed, terrified and enraged, heart screaming to kill this man and check on the princess and her hero. How had—he’d only been gone for about a day, how—

“Still fighting against me, are you?” Ganondorf huffed, seeming amused rather than angered, which was such a far cry from the beast Link had seen last that it nearly felt like he was speaking to a different person entirely. “It’s too late, Link. And I won’t make the same mistake again, I promise you that.”

What mistake? What was he—how did he have the Triforce—were the captain and the princess—goddesses, was Link this foolish, this idiotic and neglectful in his duties, how had he messed up so horribly?!

Tears involuntarily stung in his eyes, fear and self loathing and an overwhelming hopelessness overcoming him. But he had to fight back, he had to, he would never just let such a monster rampage on Hyrule, he—

Ganondorf released his wrist, throwing him off balance, but he held the young hero’s face in his hands carefully, gently, oh so gently. “With the power of the goddesses on my side, no one can stop me… not even you, my child.”

Link didn’t know what to make of any of this, how to register what was happening, how he could even fight him with no Master Sword and the Triforce glowing on his enemy’s hand. But a chill started to surround him, seeping into his mind and heart and bones and making him shiver. He squeezed his eyes shut, crying openly, and he felt Ganondorf pull him closer, warm arms encircling him.

It’s okay, child. You’re safe with me, remember? We’re going to go home now. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t let anyone take you from me.

Why… how was he hearing… his voice… but…

“I’ll handle Hyrule,” Ganondorf whispered as Link shivered in his embrace. “All you have to do is rest, child. You look like you need it.”

But… but that didn’t seem right…

The ice wrapped around his heart, and Link gasped at the intensity of it, the pain. Ganondorf’s hand ran through his hair, pushing the ice away. But it left him strangely numb, and addled, and suddenly Link didn’t know where in the world he was anymore.

Glancing up, he just saw a familiar face watching him, and he clutched the man’s tunic, disoriented and terrified.

“Go to sleep,” Ganondorf commanded, and Link melted into his father figure’s hug, feeling safe for the first time in years as the darkness swallowed them both.

well first of all, don’t even worry about the timeline being off Skye, I still don’t have it all worked out for hdw anyway so it’s not a huge deal sbdjddbbs

second of all:

DSODDHGHDVDHDGSSBSJSVSH

NOOOOOOOO POWER AUGH

how dare you say this isn’t all that interesting it’s VERY INTERESTING AUGH POWER BABY NOOOOOOO GANONDORF HOW DARE YOU

That last line especially hit hard, “feeling safe for the first time in years as the darkness swallowed them both” HHHHHBDHDGSH OW. POWERRRRRRR 😭😭😭

[lipglossanon]

OMG MY TUMBLR KEEPS CRASHING WHILE IM TRYING TO TYPE THIS OUT RAAHHHH anyways, i saw this edit earlier of a re4r mod that like, adjusts the camera and so there’s this one clip where u can see leon just straight up manspreading and it was so hot HES SO HOT i just wna sit on his lap and cockwarm the shit outta him, you feel me?

and ofc this is gna turn into another thirst for stepbro leon bc why else wld i be here 🤭 i just imagine like, leon trying to study for college exams or smth and reader is laying on his bed, scrolling on her phone, bored out of her mind before suddenly feeling that familiar neediness springing up when she looks over at leon, sat at his desk, studying his books and notes, man spreading a lil in his chair and looking so studious, and asks, “leon..can you take a break? i need you” she says while pouting but only gets a, “no, sweetheart, i’m sorry, but finals are coming up” (this just reminded me that i have finals coming up too NOOOO💔💔💔) and ofc she’s whining and making somewhat of a fuss abt it but is just getting ignored by him which slightly annoys her before she tosses her phone aside and gets him, crawling under his arms and sitting in his lap. at this point, leon just lets her do it since she isn’t really doing much. right? WRONG. she starts to quietly whine in his ear, talking abt how much she needs him and it gets to the point that it’s annoying him that he eventually grabs her by her throat with a mean glare and a slight squeeze

“you wanna be a needy slut, huh? want my cock so bad?”

and she just nods eagerly, thinking she finally got her way as he pulls his pants down, pulls her shorts and panties down to just hang off her ankle before sliding his cock into her already soaking wet hole before cooing at her with mock sympathy, “there, happy?” but she’s just too cockdrunk to pick up on it as she nods and tries to move against him, but before she can even move so much as an inch, he’s holding her hips harshly and bruises are probably going to show up later

“you have my cock, now be a good girl and sit still, or you won’t get anything”

and she’s on the verge of crying out about how unfair he’s being before she sees the look in his eyes, as if daring her to disobey him before she meekly nods and tries her best to not move around as leon goes back to studying, thrusting up occasionally just to get a little reaction out of her before going completely still again

😵‍💫😵‍💫 brainrot, SORRY IF ITS NOT GOOD I AM NOT A WRITER😓😓 i was also having thoughts abt exec!leon fucking virgin!reader bc i can not get that one part of the fic outta my head..but that’s gna hv to wait for another time bc i hv a 5 page rough draft to write for my writing class tomorrow😀😀👍

-🪷

🪷 anon, never apologize for writing because you’re brain has beautiful thoughts 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 (and like a link to that mod vid—for scientific purposes of course 😌 😜 )

And you wanna know what’s insane?? I’m literally in the middle of writing a cockwarming fic for stepdad Leon 😱 so surprise I guess *jazz hands* 😜

But oof Stepbro Leon making her sit there while he studies for finals 🥴 🥴 I’m gonna have to take this and add it to my list (which is predominantly Stepbro Leon; he got everyone in a chokehold 🤤)

Haha no worries!! Thank you for sharing cause that’s so hot like it’s not even funny 🥵 🥵 and exec Leon is way more popular than I thought he’d be (very pleasantly surprised! 💜) and good luck with your rough draft!!! 💕

[doppotranslations]

Alcohol, Sakura and Kangaroo ~Cherry Blossom Evening Stroll~ - Part 1

===============================

Hypmic ARB in-game event story (Doppo, Hifumi, Jyuto), Rio, Rei, Hitoya

Recording Link: https://youtu.be/u9RnJaY2gfI (in case you wanna read along with the in-game voice lines and sound effects :D)

===============================

Chapter 1

[At the Police Station]

Jyuto: I deeply apologize…

Detective: Hey now… Iruma-san, you're going to have to assume responsibility for that case…

Jyuto: Be more careful in the future, for my sake as well......

Rio: ……

Jyuto: Well then, I’ll be off…...

[Outside]

Jyuto: *lights a cigarette* Phew… that whole debacle from before was solved thanks to Samatoki… Rio, why did it have to be in Shinjuku......?

Rio: How many times do I have to say it? I came here to look for a kangaroo.

Jyuto: …... what I meant was that I don’t get your reasoning at all, so why did you have to drag me into this? If I didn’t know you, I’d probably end up interrogating you too. Furthermore, what is it about this wallaby that would make it worth being taken in by the police for…... 

Rio: It’s not a wallaby, it’s a kangaroo.

Jyuto: *sighs* …... I don’t care which one it is…...

Rio: Getting accurate information about this is important.

Jyuto: If there really was a kangaroo in this city, there would immediately be a fuss about it. Don't you think so too?

Rio: In that case even I’d find out about it, wouldn’t I?

Jyuto: *sighs*...... That’s right…...

Rio: Though it’s true that I have brought you trouble. Jyuto, I apologize.

Jyuto: Don’t worry about it. What are friends for after all…... it was a cheap arrest too. After all, it was all thanks to that idiot Samatoki being used to getting people out of trouble.

Rio: Right.

Jyuto: Well, what do you say? Since we ended up in Shinjuku and all, shall we go drinking in this golden city?

Rio: Hm…... I would love to join you, but I must look for that kangaroo.

Jyuto: …...and if you happened to find it, what would you do?

Rio: That’s a weird thing to ask. I’d make a meal out of it, of course.

Jyuto: I see…

Rio: Kangaroos…... Their meat is easy to cook and delicious. There surely must be a stray kangaroo somewhere around Japan…...

Jyuto: …...just please don’t get arrested again.

Rio: Got it. Well then, I’ll be off.

Jyuto: Then…... guess I’ll be drinking alone, huh?

[At a Temple]

Doppo: (Aah…... The manager of the company I was doing business with today��... was so cruel…... What do you mean by “You look like you’re emanating an aura of misery so much so that it’s annoying. If you let me slap you, I’ll buy what you’re selling.” W-well,  it can't be helped. If it’s for the sake of my company, I’ll take the hit… but if it’s just one hit I promised, why do you have to go all in… What do you mean “I was only joking when I said I’d buy it!”...) Fuck……………………………………… Fuck fuck……………………………………… Fuck fuck fuck……………………………………… FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKING HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL!!

???: Wait…...

Doppo: THIS IS BULLSHIT! EVEN THOUGH HE SLAPPED ME!! THAT ASSHOLE STILL DIDN’T FUCKING GIVE ANYTHING IN RETURN!!! IT’S TOO MUCH, MAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!

???: You over there!

Doppo: HYAH, HYAAAH!!!

Jyuto: I was thinking some idiot was screaming around here, but it was just you, Kannonzaka-san.

Doppo: I-Iruma-san… A-are you by any chance here to arrest me for being so loud…? I was being a bother, wasn’t I?

Jyuto: I’m not really impressed by the screaming, but I’m not gonna arrest you either.

Doppo: I-I’m glad…

Jyuto: By the way, Kannonzaka-san.

Doppo: Yes?

Jyuto: You seem to be feeling pretty stressed about something, don’t you? So, how about I treat you to a drink.

Doppo: Sounds great! Let’s go!

Chapter 2

[At Hifumi’s host club]

Hifumi: …...Um? What the?

Host A: Old man! Quit being so arrogant! The table isn’t a foot stool!

Host B: What the hell do you want!?

Rei: Right, sorry for that. Looks like our precious prince charming here is pretty rotten.

Host C: Asshole…... are you messing with us…...?

Rei: *lights a cigarette* It’s pretty fun being a wild guy with a temper, you know?

Host A: Ah?

Rei: If you would give me the favor of getting involved, then I would say we’re about to have a pretty fun twist.

Host A: You bastard…...

Hifumi: That’s enough!

Host A: H-Hifumi-san!

Hifumi: You guys, what do you think you’re doing acting like that in the host club? As usual, you’re supposed to behave elegantly here.

Host A: M-my apologies!

Rei: Oh, at last mister number one showed his face, huh?

Hifumi: Huh? You’re Osaka’s… Why are you here?

Rei: I’m here to collect some debts.

Hifumi: Why are you doing that…?

Rei: It’s something I simply cannot turn down. You see, I am a pretty influential person of the nightlife in Kabuki.

Hifumi: …...really? You talk about needing to collect debts, but I don’t think there’s anything to collect from here, is there? 

Rei: That’s right…...

Hifumi: Then why did you come here?

Rei: See the chick in this photo? Ya get it now?

Hifumi: That woman…... Some time ago, she was a guest here and requested me…... What’s the matter with her?

Rei: She’s been messing around at this host club with borrowed money. And…...

Hifumi: She ran away because she couldn’t pay it back…...?

Rei: You got it. I came here to ask you if you know about the whereabouts of that hoe.

Hifumi: I know nothing about it…... And even if I did, I would not be able to share any information about my beloved clients.

Rei: Heh…... Well, since you say you don’t know anything, should I ask you what the truth is by force?

Hifumi: ……

Rei: Hahaha! Juuuust kidding! Lil’ old me only does such unreasonable things on special ocassions.

Hifumi: What do you plan to do if you find her…...?

Rei: Ummm. Let’s see… if she pays back the money it’s all good, but if she doesn’t…... ya dig?

Hifumi: !

Rei: Hey, don’t look at me like that! I don’t want to come face to face with a young woman that has a bright future about something like this either, you know. Though rules can’t be broken no matter how much you complain about it. Since you work at a place like this you get it, don’t you?

Hifumi: …...Yeah.

Rei: I mean, it would be good for you too if she paid up since she’s got a tab to pay for you, right?

Hifumi: …...I forbid my customers from putting their payments on a tab.

Rei: Heh...... that’s uncommon.

Hifumi: It’s because we don’t want problems like this with debt.

Rei: Nonsense. Well then, looks like I gotta bounce.

Hifumi: Wait a second…...

Rei: What’s up?

Hifumi: I simply cannot let this go by, having a woman I know be met with mean eyes. I will go too.

Rei: You’re coming to do what exactly?

Hifumi: Once we find her I shall scold her.

Rei: Scold…... huh? Haha, sounds fun. ‘s all good then. Come.

Hifumi: ……

Chapter 3

[Out in the city at night]

Hitoya: (*sighs*... The Supreme Court is so tiring…...) It’s still early, I could probably get a drink and go home...... (How about viewing the sakura trees while having a drink? Maybe I could find a nice place for that, huh.) Oh, right, Shinjuku Central Park is right around the corner. I’ll get going.

[At the park]

Hitoya: Woah…... this is pretty impressive, huh… Since I bought both a drink and something to eat, I can enjoy the evening in peace over here. *opens his drink* Gulp… gulp… gulp… Pwaah~. Having a drink after work is simply exceptional. (When I’m in Nagoya either Kuko or Jyushi always find a way to destroy my peace and quiet…... That’s why, I’ll make use of this alone time while I’m here.) …...This park seems to be pretty big and all, so I’ll go for a little walk around here.

[Somewhere else in the park]

Rio: According to the intel I gathered, that thing is lurking inside this park...… as expected…...

???: Gwooo… Gwooo… Gwooo…

Rio: Mm? That sound is…

Kangaroo: Gwooo… Gwooo… Gwooo…

Rio: Just as I thought, the information seems to not have been wrong… Goddamn…...

Kangaroo: !?

Rio: Kh…!

[Somewhere else in the park]

Hitoya: Gulp… Gulp… Canned beer around the sakura blossoms at night… This is just the best, isn’t it? A night like this would make even cheap alcohol feel luxurious.

Kangaroo: Gwooo… Gwooo… Gwooo…

Hitoya: Hm? What was that sound…?

Kangaroo: Gwooo gwooo gwooo!

Hitoya: Wha!? A k-kangaroo!!????? Why is there a kangaroo in a place like this…...

???: Mm!!

Hitoya: Huh…? *gets hit and everything turns black* Gwah!

???: Guh!

Hitoya: *gets up* That hurts, man…

Rio: …...I apologize. I was in a hurry.

Hitoya: Right…... huh, you’re from Yokohama Division?

Rio: And you’re from Nagoya Division…?

Hitoya: What are you doing in a place like this?

Rio: I was chasing a kangaroo.

Hitoya: Chasing a kangaroo, you say… The hell kinda joke is this?

Rio: Looks like it completely got away…I know this is an embarrassing request to make but…...

Hitoya: …What is it?

Rio: Could you do me the favor of helping me catch that thing?

Hitoya: Why me… is what I would normally say, but I bumped into you and got in the way and all, so fine. I’ll help out.

Rio: …Thank you!

Hitoya: Was that kangaroo your pet or something?

Rio: No, it’s my food.

Hitoya: ???????????????????????????

Chapter 4

[Out in the city at night]

Hifumi: Is this the place?

Rei: According to what I was told, yeah. 

Hifumi: *tries to go in*

Rei: Wait a second.

Hifumi: Why…?

Rei: Just to be sure you’ll have to stay here. We’re in this together, so in case she tries to run away you’ll have to do something about it.

Hifumi: Got it…

Rei: Good, I’ll get going then.

[Inside the club]

Hifumi’s Former Client: I’ll have another drink, please~

Host: Which one would you like?

Hifumi’s Former Client: Open the bottle of Golden Dom Perignon~

Host: Really? A glass of Golden Dom Perignon then…

Rei: That order is canceled.

Hifumi’s Former Client: Huh? Who the hell are you…?

Rei: Who I am? Let’s see…

Host: That’s right, what’s with this jerk…?

Rei: Sorry to be a disturbance, but this young lady’s and Romeo’s little affair will have to wait. ‘Cause you see… I am a scary old man.

Host: Do you want to have your ass kicked…?

Rei: Haha! I like being threatened, lil old me is happy to hear that, you know?

Host: Hey…!

Manager: S-stop that…

Host: What was that?

Manager: Don’t you go yelling at that man!

Host: Is there a reason for that? The way we earn money here is by selling lots of drinks, you know?

Manager: That’s enough…! That man is Amayado-san and is one of the people who works in the shadows in this neighborhood.

Host: I-...i-in the shadows…?

Manager: Keep bothering him and our store will surely be shut down…

Host: R-really…?

Rei: Huh? You’re not gonna kick my ass anymore?

Host: A-ahaha…

Manager: P-please… enjoy your stay…

Rei: Oh, really? I’ll make sure to take my time then. *turns to the girl* Yo, sorry to have kept you waiting.

Hifumi’s Former Client: W-what do you want…?

Rei: What do I want…? You see, the reason a scary old man like me came here is… something you should know about as well, right?

Hifumi’s Former Client: ……

Rei: Oi oi… Don’t make me look like the bad guy here. Got it?

Manager: H-he’s talking about…...

Rei: You’ve got a debt to pay, so if you give me the favor of paying up right away nothing bad is gonna happen.

Hifumi’s Former Client: !!! *gets up*

Rei: !!

Host: Uwah!

Hifumi’s Former Client: *runs away*

Rei: *sighs* …What a pain in the ass…...

Hifumi’s Former Client: *pants*

Hifumi: You…...

Hifumi’s Former Client: H-Hifumi…...!

Hifumi: Why…...

Hifumi’s Former Client: !! *runs away*

Hifumi: Agh…...

Rei: Hey! Stop zoning out and let’s chase her!

Hifumi: ...…right.

[elmaestrostan]

@protect-daniel-james

Now I’ve not listened to the audio with full understanding because my Spanish isn’t quite that level, but there’s some parts they’ve put into the accompanying article that are just lovely.

Unai Emery: "The management of egos begins in oneself"

We talked about soccer and cycling with Villarreal's coach

SER Ciclista we like to get to know our guests in depth. The one in this episode is one of the most international and award-winning soccer coaches of our football, Unai Emery. He has trained Lorca, U. D. Almería, Valencia C. F., Spartak of Moscow, Seville F. C., Paris Saint Germain, Arsenal F. C. and Villarreal C. F., with which this season he maintains a brilliant trajectory in the League and Champions League, after being proclaimed last season champion of the UEFA Europa League for the first time in its history.

Unai remembers his worst fall, like all our guests, and for him the memory is associated with "when my aita (father) bought me the first bike, I left the garage, and at 100 meters I crashed into a parked car... I still remember the scare, I would be 10 or twelve years old, I got up scared, and still my father was coming towards me making a fuss...".

He recognizes that "cycling is a very popular sport in Gipuzkoa, in the Basque Country... we love cycling very much, they immediately buy us a ball, a bicycle..." The Gipuzkoan coach is one more link to a family of athletes originally from Hondarribia, a town located on the border with France, hence he recognizes that "my favorite mountain is Jaizkibel, which I always have in my mind." There he uses the bike "to go to the beach or the sports center," or to this first-class port, which he always has in his mind "when I want to demand." Of course, he can't take too many risks on the two wheels "I'm on insurance for my profession, I have friends who make trips in groups, I take care of myself so I don't have accidents and I try to do the tours by stationary bike."

He remembers a funny anecdote, "in Valencia we made a 25 kms outing in pre-season, we went up to a monastery, and Joaquín was the 25 kms cursing me."

Emery's career is, and has been, very successful, but not without difficulties, "when things are easy the merit of doing them is small... In difficulties you have to look for motivations..." He has trained in different countries, where he has had the opportunity to practice languages such as French "which in Hondarribia is one more language," or English "I deepened the base and now it is my third language." With what he couldn't is with Russian, "I'm in a few words."

About the use of our favorite vehicle, remember that "in Paris it was difficult to see a bicycle, in London, if... Moscow is a very chaotic city and because of the climate, it's difficult..."

From the football philosophy of the current coach of Villarreal, a reference recalling a 6-1 defeat at the Camp Nou, "the defeats are overcome, once lived you have to take out the profitable things, it is a negative experience that I want to make positive." And about the management of a wardrobe, "the management of egos begins in oneself, if not managing them begins to affect other people around, clubs, institutions you have to try to dominate or control them."

As usual in our podcast, Unai Emery answers the questions of some guests. Iñaki Bea, a bench partner and then a player in charge, reminds him of those shared experiences, and gives him the ability to make reflections on the characteristics of the athlete, "you have to have innate minimum conditions, then the technical skills, the conditions ... and the ability to improve." Our guest shares a crew (group of friends) with Patxi Vila, a cyclist who made the same trip as him, from active athlete to coach in the Movistar Team, and has long conversations and confidences with him.

Pedro Reverte (former soccer player and now Technical Director of UCAM Murcia) witnessed that transition from player to coach "Unai took the team at the age of 32, being a player, in half table... we had doubts, he entered the locker room and his message was very direct, he set two objectives: the playoffs and the promotion; the team began to achieve results, we got into the playoff, and we got the promotion." From that time Emery remembers that fate wanted his team to play the promotion against the Real Unión de Irún, a team of which his brother is president, "as a coach he owed me to another region, another city, other friends..." and eliminated him.

I would share tandem with "all those who have worked with me," with a special memory of Leo López, with whom he got the promotion of Lorca, "who passed away two years ago." And I wouldn't do it with those who "I didn't have attune in the day to day in Moscow."

One of the destinations in his football career was Sevilla, where he spent three and a half years, and won three consecutive Europa League titles. From there, one of the most popular characters in Spanish football, Monchi, asks him what marked him in his time at the Nervión club. It is clear "the feeling of belonging to the colors, to a team, the fans... the environment helps you to improve competitiveness. Monchi and I did a good tandem, it helped me on a personal and professional level."

Imanol Idiakez is his second in Villarreal and asks him "who would he like to have in the Director's car if he had to play a Tour in a time trial on the last day." The answer is clear, "the assistants or presidents you may have had." His brother, Igor Emery, reminds him of one of his cycling myths, Marino Lejarreta the "Junco de Bérriz", "I saw him in Hondarribia, he always amazed me, it was humility personified." And the journalist of Cadena SER in Seville, Santi Ortega, puts on the table one of the most repeated phrases by the Gipuzkoan, "you have to enjoy the road," recognizing that "he was a currante, he earned the respect of many people." Unai says goodbye to our podcast with an emotional memory for Juan Carlos Unzué, "it's wonderful to hear him."

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Other Evans Girl [Part Eleven]

Fandom: Harry Potter [Marauder’s Era]

Pairing: Sirius Black x Original Female Character, Sirius Black x Daisy Evans, James Potter x Lily Evans

Characters: Sirius Black, Original Female Character, Daisy Evans, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon, Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix LeStrange, Walburga Black, Orion Black, Jasper Thicknesse, Barty Crouch Jr, Mulciber, Walden McNair

Word Count: 6377

Rating: Mature

Summary: Hogwarts is a safe haven, a home for many, but it’s often a place where heartache, love and complex emotions dwell and none know that better than the Marauders. Lily Evans just wants to make it out as a successful witch though the oncoming war and the ongoing advances of James Potter threaten that. Daisy Evans, her twin, has other goals. Join the Evans sisters as they make their way through Hogwarts, prepare for war and eventually find love.

LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST // LINK TO ALL PARTS

Daisy was warm, uncomfortably so, and she felt trapped under something soft yet cumbersome which was making it hard to breathe. She had to escape. As she pried open her eyes and tried to find out where she was she found that the room had a dreadfully high ceiling, but most rooms in the castle did so that wasn’t too telling, and the only light was from the lamps high up on the walls. A quick glance down at her chest revealed the source of her discomfort was several thick blankets that had been laid upon her and so in an attempt to get some relief she moved to pull them away but stopped as she felt a ripple of agony through her abdomen. She squealed and fell back in pain, trying to breathe through it. From somewhere near her she heard a squeak of chair legs moving against the stone floor and then the sound of footsteps and when Daisy managed to open her eyes she found Sirius hovering next to her bed watching her with concern.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly, his grey eyes searching hers. ‘Yeah,’ she said through gritted teeth as she tried to sit up, ‘just sore.’

He nodded and held a hand out so she could manoeuvre herself into a comfortable sitting position. Fortunately once she was she had pulled a couple of blankets down she felt better and managed to settle herself in her bed. She was sure she was in the hospital wing even though she couldn’t see much of the room given that her bed had been tucked away behind some hospital screens and though she couldn’t see any windows the lamplight indicated it was quite late. Sirius sat back down in a chair near the foot of her bed which sparked her interest but she said nothing about it and instead opted to ask, ‘what time is it?’ ‘A little after midnight,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it a little late for visiting?’ she chuckled. ‘This isn’t a private ward you know,’ he rebuffed and Daisy instantly blushed. Of course, he was just in the ward himself. Why would he be visiting her? ‘Oh yeah,’ she said, allowing her fingers to fiddle with an errant thread of the only blanket on her now. The fog was clearing now and flashes of events started to come back to her.

‘Remus. How’s Remus?’ she asked anxiously. ‘He’s fine. Worried about you but that’s about it. He got discharged yesterday morning,’ Sirius replied. ‘Yesterday?! How long was I out?’ she asked. ‘Nearly thirty hours,’ he said with a smirk, ‘you had us going there for a while.’ ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. However, before he could answer Madam Pomfrey appeared from behind the screens in a flurry. ‘Miss Evans, I thought I heard you up. You gave us quite a scare there girl,’ she said as she fussed around her, laying several cups on the table in front of her as the girl watched her. ‘Now, how are you feeling? Have you any pain? Nausea? Have you vomited?’ she asked in rapid succession only allowing enough time for Daisy to nod or shake her head. ‘Well, I need you to take these now. Mr Black, go and get Dumbledore. He’ll want to speak with Miss Evans right away and get Professor McGonagall whilst you’re there. No doubt she’ll want to hear her account as well,’ Sirius stood reluctantly watching Daisy warily as he went to follow the teacher’s orders. ‘Actually, Madam Pomfrey,’ the girl said instantly, feeling two sets of eyes on her, ‘can it wait till morning?’ ‘Daisy dear,’ Madam Pomfrey sighed. ‘I know it’s important but I really don’t feel up to it right now. I promise I will do it first thing,’ she said. Madam Pomfrey observed her for a moment before answering reluctantly, ‘fine. But first thing.’ ‘I promise,’ Daisy nodded. As the older witch turned to leave, collecting the now empty vials from which Daisy had downed several putrid potions, she turned to look at Sirius and said, ‘Mr Black? I take it you can tear yourself away from Miss Evans now you have seen she’s okay?’ Sirius did nothing but scowl not that it deterred the nurse as she added, ‘visiting is over.’ ‘Actually, can he stay?’ Daisy blurted out. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was guilt, curiosity, or something she couldn’t fathom in her befuddled state but she wanted Sirius to stay. Even Sirius seemed to be confused by her request though he couldn’t hide the smile on his face as Madam Pomfrey sighed. ‘Very well,’ she relented though the severity didn’t leave her voice as she said, ‘but just until morning. After that he will have to stick to the same visiting hours as everyone else. Even your poor sister had to leave.’

At her words Daisy’s heart twinged but she pushed it away watching as the nurse disappeared behind the screen, her soft footsteps making their way up the ward until they disappeared into her office, the door closing with a click. Once she was gone Daisy released the breath she’d been holding. She hadn’t yet thought about Lily. How was her twin feeling? Did she know what happened? Had she seen her? Sirius could see the questions whizzing behind her eyes and got up and perched on the end of her bed capturing her attention.

‘Go on,’ he said with an inviting smile, ‘hit me with the questions.’ ‘What happened?’ Daisy asked. ‘Do you want the official version or what actually happened?’ he smirked a glint in his grey eyes. ‘Why don’t you tell me what I have to tell Dumbledore first then we can tackle the truth?’ she bargained making Sirius’ smile turn to a grin. ‘Snivellus saw Remus leaving for the shrieking shack and convinced you to tag along. He suspected what Remus was and wanted to out him to the world. We were late to the feast and spotted you leaving which is why we followed you to haul your arse’s back because we know about Remus. He transformed with us inside because Snape refused to leave,’ Sirius stated simply. It was close enough to be the truth and the way he told it left no doubt in her mind that the teachers would lap it up. In fact the more she thought of it the more she realised why he was here. He wasn’t hovering over her bedside because he was worried, he was there to make sure she knew the story before she got put in front of any teachers.

‘Why not tell the truth?’ she asked meekly. Sirius barked a laugh and all of a sudden the image of that shaggy black dog came to her mind. ‘Because I doubt telling McGonagall and Dumbledore that me and my two friends learned to be illegal animagi to help out our werewolf pal would go down too well,’ he said. ‘Yeah sure,’ she nodded but her brain was too hyped up for her to let it go, ‘but don’t you think Severus will tell?’

‘He’s been surprisingly quiet,’ Sirius admitted, ‘of course I don’t know what he said when he was in with Dumbledore and that lot but as far as I know he’s kept his mouth shut about our indiscretions.’

‘Why though?’ she asked uneasily remembering the hatred in his eyes. Not even their safety had mattered to him if it meant getting one over on Potter.

‘I suppose he knows he doesn’t win anything by slinging more mud,’ Sirius shrugged, ‘whatever plan the pair of you concocted he still went in knowing he might have got you killed. And given the way your sister’s been I doubt he wants anyone asking more questions.’

‘Right,’ Daisy said, her heart twinging once more mostly at the thought of Lily but also because knowing he’d put her in harm’s way to hurt Remus like that hurt more than she expected it too. ‘Why didn’t you tell them I was trying to find out what Remus was too?’ she asked, dropping her gaze. ‘Were you?’ he asked watching her quietly. Daisy shook her head. She had had truly no idea what they had been up to and looking back on it now she wondered why she had been so intent in the first place. ‘I really had no idea about Remus. Honestly,’ she murmured. ‘I could tell by the look on your face,’ he chuckled. ‘Does he hate me?’ she asked, dropping her gaze as she fiddled with the bedclothes. ‘Why would he?’ Sirius asked, snapping her gaze back up. ‘He thinks I wanted to out him to the world. To get him expelled,’ she pressed. ‘You wanted us expelled,’ Sirius chuckled. Daisy shoved him lightly though she instantly regretted it as pain rippled through her. ‘I just wanted you in trouble. I was sick of being shit on by your followers when your lot got off scot-free,’ she said earnestly. ‘I admire the cunning,’ Sirius said, ‘we could use a gal like you.’ ‘You wish,’ she smirked. They fell quiet for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say now that their conversation had turned somewhat friendly, well friendlier than they’d ever been. Though as her nerves started to flood back in he found herself asking, ‘will he speak to me?’ ‘Remus?’ Sirius asked. ‘Yeah, and James and Peter,’ she said, ‘I wanna thank them.’ ‘What for the gaping wound in your abdomen for the fifty broken bones?’ he wagered but Daisy bristled past that revelation and replied, ‘for saving me. You didn’t have to. It was my mess.’ ‘Well you can always pay us back by keeping our secrets,’ Sirius said.

Again the idea that he was only here to make sure she wouldn’t talk came back to her mind. Though she supposed she couldn’t blame him and in a way there wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t keep their secrets. After all, it wasn’t as though Remus had asked for any of this and for once the boys seemed to be doing something well, rather noble, in her opinion. So feeling as though it was the right thing to do Daisy nodded though it was betrayed by a yawn. Sirius didn’t even seem to acknowledge her agreement and instead scooted off the bed and back to the chair in a seamless fashion mumbling, ‘you should sleep,’ as he picked up the book that he had left at the foot of the bed and opened it back up. Daisy wanted to protest, she wanted to find out everything but she couldn’t keep her eyes open. So without another word she nodded and lay back down trying to ignore the throbbing in all her joints and the warm ache throughout her stomach.

Morning came slowly after that as Daisy was disturbed throughout the night with an ache or pain arising somewhere new every time she moved, and when she woke properly Sirius was gone though she noticed the book at the end of her bed was still there which was enough to convince her she hadn’t hallucinated it. Yet before she had time to gather her thoughts Madam Pomfrey appeared with a breakfast tray and several medicines for her to take. She pottered around her bedside whilst Daisy ate, talking her through her injuries, of which there were a few, and the projected timeline for recovery. By the time she left Daisy’s tray was empty, the incident seemingly not having affected her appetite.

Full and less achy off the back of whatever Madam Pomfrey had given her she settled back into bed trying to wrap her head around her current state. Her little tumble and collision with a werewolf had left her with a broken ankle, leg, wrist and several ribs and if that wasn’t bad enough she had been sliced so deep in her stomach that Madam Pomfrey had barely been able to get blood replacements in her as fast as it was coming out. The witch had even told her they were five minutes away from taking her to St Mungoes instead, fearing the worst. Daisy shuddered at the thought though she didn’t have time to dwell on it though as she was greeted by a visitor. Or three. Daisy watched as Lily, Marlene and Alice burst through the screens in a frantic mob immediately coming to her bedside whilst flinging questions at her.

‘Oh my god thank god you’re awake!’ Alice said coming to sit on one side of her. ‘Thank god she’s alive!’ Marlene corrected, ‘we thought you had died for a moment there!’ ‘They wouldn’t let us see you,’ Alice said. ‘They were on about taking you to St Mungoes,’ Lily said with worry, ‘they even nearly brought mum and dad into school, that’s how bad it was.’ ‘Mum and Dad know?’ Daisy said, worry flooding her only second to guilt as she realised that in the same way Lily had slipped her mind so had her parents. . ‘Yeah, but Dumbledore smoothed it all over from what I can tell,’ Lily replied, ‘but he wouldn’t tell us anything.’ ‘Yeah no one knows what happened,’ Alice said. ‘I mean there’s speculation-’ Marlene said. ‘But not even Sev would tell us what happened,’ Lily said morosely. Daisy’s ears pricked up at the mention of the boy’s name. Of course, he hadn’t told her what happened. ‘Doesn’t want Lily to think ill of him,’ a little voice inside her said. ‘Maybe he can’t,’ Daisy reasoned. ‘Why?’ Lily started but her words were cut off by the sound of movement behind her as McGonagall and Dumbledore came through the parted screens.

McGonagall’s beady eyes watched the girls for a moment before she said, ‘Miss Evans, Miss McKinnon, Miss Fortescue. What are you doing here?’ ‘Visiting professor. Madam Pomfrey said we could for a minute,’ Marlene said. ‘I don’t doubt she did but it’s nearly time for lessons,’ McGonagall said, her words not an outright command but enough that it suggested they should vacate the ward at once. ‘There’s ten minutes yet,’ Lily said in a tone so unlike her it made everyone pause. After all it wasn’t every day Lily Evans refused the instructions of a teacher. ‘Ten minutes is just enough time for you to get to your lessons on time then, isn’t it?’ McGonagall said with an air of finality. That seemed to be enough to make whatever defiance Lily had been feeling to go and sensing defeat the three girls nodded and clambered off the bed and towards the screens. Though just before she left Lily paused, that fire an ember it seemed as she said firmly, ‘we’ll come back later.’

As she disappeared in search of the others McGonagall’s gaze fell on Daisy as did Dumbledore’s and she felt herself shrink back into the pillow, the story Sirius had told her swirling in her brain though she was sure she was going to mess it up. McGonagall cleared her throat and moved further up the side of the bed throwing Daisy a reassuring smile though it didn’t make the teen feel any better.

‘Miss Evans, I trust you understand why Professor Dumbledore and I have come to speak to you today,’ she said. Daisy nodded. ‘Yes Professor,’ Daisy replied in an almost whisper. ‘And you understand the severity of the situation?’ again Daisy nodded, ‘right then. Now, under… normal circumstances we would want to speak to you somewhere private but seeing as you’re confined to your bed this will have to do. We’re going to ask you about the events of the evening of Halloween first and foremost and then follow up with a few questions, okay?’ ‘Yeah,’ Daisy mumbled. ‘You may begin,’ Dumbledore said, his blue eyes watching her intently over his half-moon spectacles causing nerves to bubble inside her. ‘Well, on Halloween we came downstairs and saw Remus leaving the castle,’ Daisy started. ‘With myself?’ McGonagall asked. ‘Yes,’ Daisy said, ‘and we, Severus and I, wondered where he was going so we followed him and he went to the whomping willow….and then we followed him in there and we ended up in the shrieking shack. James, Sirius and Peter had seen us follow him so had followed us because they knew about Remus’…condition. They knew we were in trouble but it was too late. I got thrown down the stairs and they pulled us out and that’s all I know.’ ‘You had no idea that Mr Lupin was afflicted in the way that he is?’ Dumbledore said. ‘No Professor. Honestly, I think Sev, Snape, knew but he wanted me to come with him to back him up…I just thought they were up to no good,’ she said. ‘Well I hope you understand how meddling doesn’t often get you anywhere good,’ McGonagall said. Daisy nodded guiltily. ‘I hasten to add Miss Evans,’ McGonagall said, ‘that what you have found out about Mr Lupin is a very delicate matter. If it were to be known to the school then-’ ‘I wouldn’t say anything,’ Daisy interrupted, ‘I wouldn’t do that to Remus. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to get him-’ ‘That’s quite understood Miss Evans,’ Dumbledore said, stopping her ranting. Daisy smiled weakly and nodded at the headmaster. ‘Mr Snape also knows to keep the revelation to himself. We ask you to take the same action,’ McGonagall said. ‘Of course Professor,’ Daisy said. McGonagall nodded curtly as did Dumbledore before the pair said their goodbyes and left Daisy alone with her thoughts.

From what she could tell the whole school knew about her Halloween adventure and now she was forbidden to talk about what actually happened which made her groan. It was going to be torture.

✵✵✵

Daisy was exhausted. Throughout the day she had been visited by hordes of people some of which she was happy to see, like Marlene, Alice and Lily who had popped back at lunch, but the rest had been people she hadn’t even considered friends though she figured they were only trying to get intel from her. Yet the only people she truly wanted to speak to hadn’t been by and at that Daisy couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It was eight o’clock and she had yet to see James, Sirius, Remus or Peter appear at her bedside.

‘They’re happy you covered for them, why would they care now,’ the nagging voice in her brain whispered. It was an idea that had been popping up whenever the curtain had twitched and they’d failed to appear from behind it. It came back now as the screens moved though it was Lily this time and she was alone. Whilst it wasn’t who she had been waiting for she wasn’t disappointed and shuffled her legs out of the way so that Lily could perch on the end which she did so gently, her green eyes watching her sister with concern.

‘Hey Lil,’ Daisy said. ‘Hey, Lil?’ Lily said angrily, ‘that’s all you have to say to me?’ ‘What do you want me to say?’ Daisy asked the happiness upon seeing her sister quickly fading as she watched her face and realised this wasn’t like the previous visit. No, Lily was here to give her a piece of her mind. ‘I’ve been worried sick! I’ve hardly slept or eaten for the past two days because I’ve had no idea what’s been going on with you and now you’re greeting me like it’s fine-’ ‘Okay sorry!’ Daisy sighed, hoping that an apology would stop her from steaming ahead. Even with her revolving door of visitors she had managed to do some thinking and was racked with enough guilt about it all without her sister giving her a helping hand. ‘Sorry isn’t good enough! Mum and Dad were frantic! Everyone’s talking about you and Sev won’t tell me anything! All I know is that it has something to do with Potter and his cronies! Well, they’ve gone too far this time almost getting you killed-’ ‘They didn’t do anything. It was my own fault. And Sev’s,’ Daisy said suddenly feeling defensive of the boys even more so as Lily said, ‘how can you blame Sev?’ ‘Because he took me to the danger knowing it was unsafe and I followed him cluelessly! I shouldn’t have even got involved so it’s my fault for going!’ Daisy snapped. ‘Going where?!’ Lily said exasperatedly and at that Daisy faltered. She knew it wasn’t fair to keep her sister in the dark but this whole thing revolved around a secret that wasn’t hers to tell. ‘Look I can’t tell you the logistics of everything, don’t, Dumbledore has told me I can’t,’ she said seeing her sister’s attempt at interjecting, ‘but I can tell you this. If it weren’t for James Potter and Sirius Black I would be dead. And as much as you don’t like them I hope that you can forgive them at least that…because I have.’ ‘Oh so you’re best mates now?’ Lily scoffed. ‘No,’ Daisy said, ‘but I’ve realised that friendship isn’t lying to your friends to get them to do what you want. And that’s what Snape did-’ ‘So you’re not Sev’s friend now?’ Lily asked in disbelief. ‘I’m not the friend of people who would be so cruel to others,’ Daisy said, shivering at the gleeful way he had tried to get them to admit to what Remus was. At how he had known, even before they had gone down to the shrieking shack about what might occur there and he had been too blinded by hatred to see anything wrong with approaching the danger. ‘But you’ll be friends with Potter,’ Lily said. Daisy paused, was she friends with James? She wasn’t sure about that yet but as annoying as he had been the way they had acted to help her, to help Remus, there was no way she could hate him now. And if anything her petty grievances now seemed insignificant in the scheme of things. ‘He’s not as bad as you think trust me,’ Daisy said placing her hand on the back of Lily’s in the hopes she’d at least consider what she was saying. She knew it would be hard, especially without all the facts but she hoped she’d listen. Fortunately for Daisy it looked as though her sister was going to as she nodded curtly, whatever had been bubbling inside her to say disappearing behind her eyes.

‘Okay fine. I’m not saying I’m in love with the idea of you and Potter being pals from now…but if you say he and Black saved your life I suppose I can’t be angry at that,’ Lily conceded. ‘Thank you,’ Daisy said breathing a sigh of relief though she grew tense again as Lily dropped her gaze whatever she had been holding back evidently bubbling back to the surface as she asked, ‘can you really not be friends with Sev?’

Daisy stared at her, watching as she kept her eyes on the stone floor beneath her feet, something Daisy thanked god for as she was sure the look on her face was something to behold. Daisy’s mind went over James’ words. They disliked Snape but he loathed them so much so that he was willing to ruin Remus’ life. It was cold. Callous. And if he would stoop that low what else would he do? Not to mention even if Remus hadn’t had been a wolf he’d still brought her into a situation anticipating that she’d be in danger. In fact he’d probably been hoping Remus would hurt her after all that would only add to his cause right? Daisy shuddered to think.

‘I don’t think so,’ Daisy said unevenly. It wasn’t an outright refusal, she didn’t think her sister could cope with that blow just yet, but it was enough to know that things weren’t likely to get better. Fortunately Lily seemed to accept her decision without trying to convince her otherwise and she nodded though the disappointment was evident on her face. However, it wasn’t as though she could say anything anyway as before she could speak there was the sound of more people in the hospital wing, coming towards them in a loud and raucous manner. The boys. Lily rolled her eyes as they appeared from behind the screens, which had done nothing to fend off her visitors all day.

‘Hey you’re up,’ James said with a beaming smile which he offered to Lily as he said, ‘hey Evans.’ ‘Potter,’ Lily said as James perched on the end of the bed next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders which she immediately slid out from under moving towards Daisy. Peter had perched himself in one of the chairs at the end of her bed whilst Sirius hovered by her table though to her disappointment Remus was nowhere to be seen. ‘How are you feeling?’ Peter asked as he helped himself to the jellybeans that had been gifted to her and were now in a pile of presents on her table. ‘Alright,’ Daisy shrugged. ‘That’s good to hear,’ James said. ‘I think I’ll leave you be. You look like you’ve got enough visitors,’ Lily said talking over the end of James’ sentence. Daisy nodded, ‘see you tomorrow?’ ‘Yeah,’ she said leaning in to hug her sister as if reigning her superiority over the boys, ‘be sure to write to mum and dad. So they know you’re okay.’ ‘Will do,’ Daisy said, trying to ignore the guilt that niggled at her again, not only about her parents but about the fact she kind of wanted her sister to leave so that she could talk to the boys properly. Lily gave her a small smile and then left her makeshift bed area, pushing past Sirius as she went. James raised his eyebrows in awe.

‘Feisty one your sister,’ he said. ‘And she’s the restrained one,’ Daisy said unthinkingly. Sirius chuckled, making her blush. ‘Now that I’d like to see,’ James said. ‘I thought you already had? I mean isn’t that how I ended up with all this,’ she said gesturing to her various wounds and bandages. ‘And here is me thinking that was just sheer stupidity,’ James said. ‘A girl can have both,’ Daisy said. The group fell quiet for a moment before Daisy felt the urge to say something.

‘So…how are all the hordes of fans doing? You know, the girls that are so excited to hear of how gallantly brave you’ve all been saving my life and whatnot,’ Daisy said, her eyes on James who had put his arms on the bed, leaning back on them as if he was hanging out in his bedroom and not visiting a girl who had been near death's door not forty-eight hours ago in hospital. ‘Oh it’s been hard to walk through the halls right Pads,’ James mused. ‘Oh yeah, I’ve had to buy another quill I’ve signed so many autographs,’ Sirius chuckled. ‘I’ve taken to just giving out hugs. I think I’m on number six hundred and forty-eight,’ Peter added. Daisy giggled. ‘But for real?’ she asked, for once enjoying their banter much to her surprise. ‘It’s been okay. People talk, they always do, but no one knows what actually happened so it’s all good,’ James said reassuringly, his hand moving to pat her thigh over the cover for a second. ‘Good because you know I wasn’t trying to get Remus into trouble right?’ she said. ‘We know,’ Sirius said firmly. ‘Pads said you were worried about that. We know you didn’t know about his…furry little problem,’ James said. Daisy chuckled at his analogy.

‘So he’s not mad at me?’ Daisy said with hope, hope that was dashed as the boys shared a look she didn’t miss. It made her heart sink, ‘oh.’ ‘He doesn’t hate you,’ Sirius said coming towards her. His tone was sympathetic though Daisy didn’t believe his words. ‘No? Then why didn’t he come?’ she reasoned. She didn’t blame him of course, how could she? People with lycanthropy weren’t exactly accepted in the wizarding world and he thought she had wanted out him. ‘He’s concerned,’ Peter said. ‘Concerned that you’ll not like him now that you know what he is,’ James finished. ‘Especially given,’ Sirius gestured at Daisy’s abdomen which twinged as soon as she remembered the wounds that were there. ‘What? That’s ridiculous,’ she baulked. Her not like him? How could he think that? ‘That’s Moony,’ Sirius said. Daisy looked at him confused. ‘What Sirius means is that Remus has a tendency to think everyone will despise him because most of the time people’s perception towards people like him isn’t well…accepting,’ James said. ‘So he thinks that’s me?’ she said. ‘He thinks that’s everyone,’ James replied reaching out to put a reassuring hand on the back of hers, ‘it took two years for us to convince him that we could be trusted enough to know and that we don’t care about his condition.’ ‘That’s why you learned to be anamagi?’ she asked. ‘Maybe don’t shout it from the rooftops Dais,’ Sirius said glancing at the ajar curtain behind them, ‘but yeah.’ ‘That’s sweet,’ she said with an admiration that made the boys wince as if she had just insulted them. The looks on their faces made her giggle and upon hearing her elegant laughter James broke into a grin followed by Sirius and Peter and pretty soon they were all laughing for no reason.

‘Can’t you convince him to come and see me?’ she asked hopefully once they composed themselves. ‘I don’t think so,’ Peter said. ‘It’s just he feels so guilty about you getting hurt,’ James explained. ‘But it was my fault!’ Daisy argued. ‘Who’s at fault is of no issue now but Remus isn’t just going to accept it. He already thinks he’s bad enough this has just added fuel to the fire,’ Sirius said truthfully. Daisy pondered his words for a moment before she said. ‘Then I want to see him,’ she said adamantly. ‘I mean we can try and coax him to come,’ Peter said rubbing the back of his neck as she looked at him. ‘No, I mean tonight,’ she said. ‘Dais, I don’t think,’ Sirius said but she was already ignoring him and trying to get out of bed. She managed to get one foot on the floor before her leg gave way and James had to swoop in and stop her from falling. Sirius also rushed to help, propping her other side up as they pushed her back into a sitting position, each of them sat by her side and Peter hovering nearby just in case. It had been a stupid move she could tell that now from the way a ragged pain ripped through her chest and a throb came to her ankle that hadn’t been there before. She could also tell from the way the three of them were watching her with concern.

‘Daisy I think you should get back in bed,’ James said. Peter mumbled an agreement. ‘What happened to you lot being rule breakers?’ she said through panted breaths. ‘Yeah well there’s rule-breaking and letting you break another ankle,’ Sirius said tightly. ‘Look,’ she said looking at them pointedly, ‘I’m going to see Remus tonight whether the three of you help me or not. So you can either stand there and watch me army crawl along this cold stone floor, which I will, or you can figure out a way of helping me find Remus so I can speak to him.’

They shared another look before finally, James nodded. Sirius looked livid but didn’t say anything as they helped her to bed and started diving into how they would get her up to their dormitory without being spotted. If Daisy had worries about becoming their friends the boys didn’t know what to expect.

✵✵✵

Remus couldn’t sleep. In fact, he couldn’t do much of anything. If the full moon hadn’t taken it out of him then the news of what he’d done to Daisy had been enough to send him over the edge so much so that he’d marched straight to the headmaster’s office and demanded to be expelled. Dumbledore had refused much to his dismay. So he’d asked for detentions, another request denied. He’d even tried to punish himself by telling the boys they should no longer be friends with him only for them to assure him that there was no getting rid of them that easily and that he was their friend whether he liked it or not.

He didn’t deserve that, friends like them. He didn’t deserve to be here with students he was a risk to.

He didn’t deserve anything.

And the more the boys tried to convince him he did the worse he felt with the pangs only guilt only amplified when they’d told him they were headed to the hospital wing to visit Daisy. He had refused to go, fearing how the guilt that was already gnawing at him would likely engulf him the moment he saw her lying in that bed. When they left he had tried to read or do some homework but he couldn’t concentrate. So, he gave up and crawled into bed though it was still early, and now he couldn’t sleep.

He closed his eyes for the seventieth time and tried to drift off but it didn’t work yet before he could admit defeat he was forced to open them anyway as a clatter and a bang echoed around the draughty dormitory as the door swung open and four bodies fell inside in a heap.

‘You’re on my leg,’ groaned Peter from underneath Sirius. ‘Yeah well I’ve got James’ arse in my face,’ he replied. ‘Um guys a little help,’ came a distinctly more feminine voice from the pile. Whilst the boys clambered up and out from under the bits of the cloak that was still covering them Remus got up trying to figure out who was with them only to find Daisy sitting on the floor, her legs around Sirius’ waist from where he had carried her through Hogwarts, a wince on her face as Sirius started to move. Remus felt a surge of anguish course through him as his eyes fell on the casts she was sporting and the dark purple bruises that littered her face.

‘What are you doing?’ he said coming closer as Sirius turned to help Daisy up off the floor with Peter grabbing her other side so that they could pull her up between them. ‘We’ve brought you a visitor,’ James said, not bothering to help the other boys as they hobbled Daisy onto the trunk at the end of his bed so that she could perch on it. ‘I can see that, why?’ Remus said a bit too harshly. ‘Oh charming,’ Daisy said. ‘She wanted to see you,’ Sirius said as if it were self-explanatory. ‘I said I didn’t want to come!’ Remus protested. ‘And I think that that’s silly,’ Daisy replied. As Remus went to interject, no doubt to give her a spiel about not deserving her forgiveness or to insist she never put herself in his vicinity again she cut him off, announcing with a sternness that rivalled that of her twin’s, ‘look your friends have just carried my incapacitated self up and down several flights of stairs so I can get what I want to say off my chest. And instead of moping, you’re going to sit your arse down and listen to me okay?’

All four boys watched her in amazement.

‘Now would you just sit down…please,’ she said gesturing to the trunk opposite her. Remus hesitated, looking at his friends who were of no help at all, the three of them offering simple shrugs in return to his pleading eyes, before he conceded and followed her instructions. Once he was sat down James, Sirius and Peter took a seat on the beds nearest the door watching the interaction intently. ‘Right,’ Daisy said suddenly feeling self-conscious now that all eyes were on her, ‘well, first off I want to say I’m sorry. Sorry for interfering in your business. I had no idea about your…’ ‘Furry little problem,’ James interjected, making Daisy smile. ‘Yeah, that. I didn’t go to the shack that night to get you outed to the world even though that seems to have been Sev-Snape’s motive. But that’s not me okay?’ she said. Remus nodded, ‘I just thought you were up to no good and like I said to Sirius I wanted you lot to have a taste of your own medicine but it didn’t go to plan.’ ‘That’s an understatement,’ Remus mumbled causing a wave of guilt to flow through her. As bad as she felt he somehow looked worse. She may have had broken bones, cuts and bruises but Remus seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, the guilt of what had happened making the six foot something boy seem as small as she was. Which is why she had known she was right to come up here. ‘I know. That’s actually the other point I wanted to make,’ Daisy said, pausing to make sure he was looking at her before she continued, ‘I don’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. You can’t help being what you are but I sure as hell can help being an absolute idiot and searching out danger-’ ‘But you almost died!’ Remus said. ‘A little pain for a few weeks versus a lifetime of suffering? I know which affliction I’d pick,’ she said offering him a sad smile. ‘You really aren’t mad at me are you?’ he asked perplexed. ‘I’m madder at myself for being so stupid but no, I’m not mad at you,’ she said quietly. Remus watched her, trying to see if he could sniff out any whiff of her lying but there was nothing there. And his hope to have any one on his side in this matter dimmed as his eyes drifted past her to where the boys were sitting and Sirius mouthed, ‘told you.’

‘So what now?’ Remus asked Daisy trying to force the guilt inside him down now that he could see there was no winning. Daisy sighed, ‘we try to navigate all the attention together I hope? Because I’ve already promised I’m not going to say anything but from the number of visitors I’ve had today I think I might need reinforcements when it comes to fending them off myself.’ ‘Especially on that broken leg,’ James said. ‘We could just form a defence around her with us in front who’s gonna be paying attention to her?’ Sirius quipped. ‘Girls do dig scars right,’ James said gesturing to his lip which was half recovered though still busted from his fight with Snape. ‘You wish. I’ve had more boys checking up on me today than I ever had,’ Daisy ribbed making the boys laugh. ‘So that’s sorted then yeah?’ James said coming over to the trunk Daisy was still perched on. ‘Sorted?’ she asked. ‘We’re like friends now I guess?’ James said, his hazel eyes watching her closely. Daisy glanced at the four of them before she nodded slowly and said, ‘yeah I guess we are.’

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