#That's she sorely being hoping for and doing that unprompted...

[ladeldee]

Here's a Tallulah to start the new year :]

[the-s1lly-corner]

tadc cast with a s/o who hates touch.

BUT when they finally get comfortable with the characters they get soooo touchy (as in hugs ,hand holding etc)

Sorry if i didnt make myself clear

And thank you for your work!! ;)

TADC cast x reader who's warming up to touch!

So sorry for taking so long to get to this anon <\3!! I recently went back to writing on mobile due to back pain from sitting at my computer and it's really done a number on my efficiency <\3

That said I hope you enjoy!

Side note does anyone know any tips on how to soothe sore throats? Preferably not with honey because honey naoes my throat swell and itch 😭😭

This post ended up being waaaaaay longer than I first intended so I hope yall are ready to eat up

LAST MINUTE NOTE I misread/misinterpreted this as "reader finally taking a step towards initiating affection for the first time" and not "they're already comfortable and LOVE touch" I am so so dumb but I already have this written <\3 I hope you enjoy this regardless anon 😭😭😭

CAINE:

I think Caine would struggle with the no touching thing especially since I see him being very affectionate both verbally and physically. That said I do think he eventually gets the hang of it and stops himself from throwing his arms around you for a hug... he amps up the verbal affirmations to make up for it though! He doesnt wanna make you unhappy so hes gonna respect your boundaries and take things slow!

As for when you start easing yourself into it, I think he would try to not make a big deal out of it, as not to risk embarrassing you. As someone who doesnt like touch as well as being hesitant to initiate it, I think I wouldnt want a big hoorah about it you know? But that's just me

He does subtly know hes proud of you for being able to take that step, even if you two are only holding hands via linking your pinkies together

POMNI:

I dont think pomni would be crazy about touch imo, she seems like the type to seize up when you touch her without warning. And I'm not saying that as something to be ashamed of because honestly me too. So I think this is one where you both need to have heavy communication in order to push past that and get used to touching one another ! Team work makes the dream work or however the saying goes

That said imagine you two grab each others hands bc something startles you/you both run from something (be it a prank from jax or an IHA or an abstracted) and you both just

Stare down at your interlocked hands. Experimentally squeezing each other before both relaxing into it

I think that would be a cute idea

RAGATHA:

Just like caine she is so so understanding. But unlike caine, she doesnt struggle all that much with trying go restrain from giving you physical affection. Ragatha naturally shows her love through quality time and gift giving, so she doesnt often feel the urge to wrap her arms around you, much less unprompted. Especially with your discomfort in mind

In the event that you come over to her, maybe lay your head on her shoulder while shes reading, I think she would stiffen up a little out of surprise, before gently leaning her heads against yours. Its nice, its quiet, and its comfortable. You two both peacefully exist like that for a while... good thing you guys probably dont have organs because ragathas heart would be pounding so fast, shes just so proud of you that the adrenaline kind of gets to her

JAX:

I think this might be the main one where there may be conflict.

Not because jax belittles your discomfort or tries to push the boundaries. No, I dont think he would, especially when you two get serious. Like would he probably poke you in the beginning before realizing it genuinely brings great discomfort? Yes. Would he stop when he finds out it's an issue for you? Also yes. Again, hes an asshole but I dont think he would be outright ab*sive

No, the reason why I think kay there may be conflict is because behind closed doors, jax can be very clingy and physically touchy, he would want to lay on top of you and hold you and that kind of stuff. That one ask with clingy jax hcs changed me

I think, if you ever try to initiate touch first he would say something kind of mean before he can stop himself. "About time" or something. Like he means it lightheartedly but like. He immediately regrets it, especially since that can just be so... eidkcmc.. when you're trying to come out of your shell in regards to something

Easily has the worst reaction, make him sleep on the metaphorical couch

I think he would do anything to fix that though, you're his lil bun afterall

KINGER:

Kinger is big on touch, he likes handholding and putting his hand on your shoulder. But ultimately he would respect you and not touch you.. honestly kinger can be the same way depending on the day. Either he hates touch and doesnt want anyone or anything touching him, or he needs to be held in order to keep his mind set straight. Poor guy. He just like me frfr.

Honestly gets a little spooked when you gently set your head on his lap, announcing you're going to take a nap while you two hang out in the pillow fort. Kind of gives a soft and surprised "oh!" Before going as still as a statue. Does he stay put? Does he run his hand through your hair? Does he keep up his bug ramble? Does he pipe down?

Ultimately he sits there quietly while you sleep

Expects that to be a one time thing, but he notices you're slowly becoming more physically affectionate. He outwardly shows his support and pride for you

ZOOBLE:

Another one who doesnt really like touch, but instead of it being a discomfort it's just a "I dont like it" thing you know? I mean what did you expect? Zooble doesnt interact much with people unless they're forced to, so it makes sense that touch isnt their thing. So this actually works out very well for you two.

Just like the pomni segment, you guys are going to have to do a lot of communication in regards to introducing stuff like cuddling and hand holding ect into the relationship and finding what works for you while keeping both parties satisfied. I think in the end zooble would be supportive, and even try to esse themselves into the whole thing. So you dont have to do it alone, you know?

GANGLE:

Honestly I think shes too shy and/or unconfident to initiate physical affection herself so the topic never really came up. Which... is a bit odd since it regards a comfort thing for you as well as gangle possibly thinking that you dont enjoy her company; assuming you never really tell her that touch brings you discomfort

But because we love healthy stuff here, let's assume you guys set down boundaries and stuff before getting together

I still think gangle would have some teeny tiny feeling that they arent the best for you. She knows its unfair to think that for both of you, but like. Its one of those nagging mean voices we all have/get at some point, you know?

Probably lets out a little squeak when you slowly wrap one of her arms around your hand and wrist. Kind of just stands there frozen. Too scared to speak up or move, fearing she would ruin the moment

Honestly I think gangle isnt used to touch (that isnt neutral or in passing), so this is going to be a little experience for her. You're both in this together now, basically

[hello-there]

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[earth-b0y]

[Word count: ~450]

The council's votes have been cast, and Liar is displeased. A frown tugs at her veiled lips, and her arms are crossed as she stares at Kri from the other side of the table for the third time, but there is no cake set out for either of them, nor for Death, who sits to Liar's right. If Death has any particular feelings on this turn of events, it doesn't show on her face. She's perfectly still, and her pale, milky eyes are focused on a point in space between Kri and Liar.

"Well, it seems I've lost," Liar admits, sighing wistfully. "Majority rule is a pain sometimes, but who am I to argue with democracy? Congratulations, Kri, you're free. You may live as a civilian and die a normal, mortal death. How nice."

"And my soul? I can have that back now, right? No more magic bullshit?"

Liar's eyes flick down to the bolo charm around Kri's neck, and she makes a face like a child whose mother is denying them a piece of candy. "Aw, well, I suppose if you don't want to remain immortal for all eternity, then you don't have to, but don't come crying to me when you're shot or stabbed or eaten by a dog or something."

Kri doesn't respond. They remove the tie from around their neck, holding it out in front of him expectantly. Unprompted by Liar, Death reaches across the table to push the ivory slide back into Kri's palm, clasping her cold fingers around theirs.

For a moment, it feels as though someone had turned off a light switch, but then Kri comes to, and Death's hand slips away from his, back into her lap. He is still holding the bone charm.

"Your soul... is yours. You may keep... the bone charm... if you would like. Tamlin took... an interest in it... did they not?" Death whispers, raspy, yet soothing, like the sound of white noise or waves crashing upon the shore.

"Yeah, they did... thanks," Kri says, stuffing the bolo tie into their pocket.

Liar's chair scrapes against the floor as she stands up, and Death does the same, "If that's all, then, we'll be going!" Liar announces, sing-songy and falsely sweet. "Have a wonderful day, Kri. I do hope you'll stick around for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night! It would be a shame for you to miss the chance to have one last feast with us and your friends."

Kri doesn't let the woman's tone get to him. Eleven being a sore loser doesn't take away his victory, and so, he grins as the two exit the tea room, because free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, he's free at last.

[mjm5655]

The noise was faint, almost drowned by the rest of the chaos that represented Kamurocho - but it was there. Frowning, Melissa decided to investigate the source of weird thuds, particularly when they seemed to come from the trunk of a parked car at a small alleyway between two buildings at Tenkaichi Street.

The former hostess had an umbrella in hands, which was reversed and turned into an improvised weapon for a worst-case scenario; approaching slowly, the woman eventually got to the vehicle (it was even rocking; there had to be someone or something inside!) and found the button to open the trunk - perhaps it was a model that no one could open from inside?

And as soon as the lock was released, Melissa was gifted with the sight of no one other but Majima Goro, the look of delight on his face falling apart the moment he recognized his former employee. The brunette dropped the umbrella, disbelief washing all over her features. She had... Just saved him, right?

Why was Majima looking like she had killed his puppy or something worse?

"Uh, Majima-san. I heard the noise, I thought someone..." Melissa shook her head, still confused at whatever was going on, "You... Didn't need help? You... Wanted to be inside the car trunk?" A pause, where the woman bit her lip before continuing, "I can, uh... Close it again, if you wish."

unprompted asks // accepting ! // @stingslikeabee

this ... actually wasn't a good idea at all, whilst it might have been fun to just surprise kiryu-chan coming out of the trunk of a car, he didn't quite realise how stuffy & cramped it would be in here ... or how long he would be waiting ... seriously, what was taking kiryu-chan ? he had told nishida to drop hints at his locations, & where he could be hiding, but kiryu-chan didn't seem to be anywhere around.

damn, he was going to be sore, at six foot one, & not exactly small, majima tried to adjust himself into a different position, he had been in the same odd position for a while now. he had only hoped to been in this trunk for an hour at most, how many hours had it been now ? he took out his phone, which he noticed was at an awfully low battery level ... it had been three whole hours !?

where was the man ? was he just not interested in hunting majima down ? the fuck did he have to do to get a fight around here now ?

just as he was regretting his choice of actions, he heard someone outside the car ... so he had finally came, majima smiled as he was going to jump out of this trunk so fast, the man wouldn't know what hit him. when kiryu-chan finally managed to open the trunk, light finally started to seep in, but what he saw as definitely not kiryu-chan. the body was slim, & curvy, like a woman's would be ... kiryu-chan was built like a fucking truck. fuck, the wrong person found him !

as it kept opening, he saw more & more of the person until he finally saw who it was ... melissa ? what was she planning to do with that umbrella that she was holding as if she was about to stab whoever was in the trunk ... which she promptly dropped as he could see the realization upon her face.

whilst majima was glad to see his old friend, he couldn't help but feel slightly defeated ... let down ... it wasn't kiryu-chan, did he really not care about him ?

❝ nah, don't. ❞

majima finally tossed his legs over, & got out, doing the biggest stretch he had ever done ... come to think of it, this would have never worked out as he was fucking aching after being in a cramped space for so long, kiryu-chan would have had a really easy time dealing with him in a fight if it was kiryu-chan who had managed to find him.

❝ was a bit o' a dumb idea anyway, fucker never found me. ❞

lighting up a cigarette quickly, he contemplated on where to go now, he could really use a drink, or even a trip to the batting center to get his sore muscles working again. he wasn't even in the mood to have much chit-chat with melissa, usually he would have, but it was just the fact he felt so rejected by kiryu-chan at the moment, he'll rather go hit a bunch of home runs. take out the bit of anger that was creeping up inside of him.

❝ thanks fer gettin' me outta there, i can't stop to talk with ya, maybe another time, i'll rather just have a go at some balls right now. bit frustrated i was duped. ❞

[faewildscalling]

Can you do gratsu for the "send me a ship" thing?

Of course. I love them! Sorry for your wait Sweetie. I had some migraines and they make light and sound my enemies including my phone screen but I'm recovered for the most part. Hope you like these!

GRATSU

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Gray but not often cause he is shy about showing affection. Plus he is a little taller than Natsu. And I like the HC of the taller partner giving soft kisses like that to the shorter one.

Gets jealous the most

Both are extremely jealous. Natsu struggles more with it than Gray but that's usually because girls seem to approach Gray more than him.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

Gray because Natsu would be to one to get fucked up enough to need to be picked up.

Takes care of on sick days

Gray once again because Ur taught him how to. Natsu doesn't know how to take care of someone when sick. He would try for Gray though and he would probably ask Lucy or Mira to tell him what to do.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

Both cause our boys are competitive and would be racing each other to the water and coming up with crazy challenges to do together.

Gives unprompted massages

Natsu for sure. He likes to show his love through actions, so once Lucy taught him how to massage after a hard mission when they both were sore. He then started doing it for Gray. Gray really enjoys it but he made the mistake of learning from Erza. So after the first time, Natsu had to teach him the correct way.

Drives/rides shotgun

Gray because we all know Natsu would be passed out in the back with Motion sickness. Poor Dragon slayer!

Brings the other lunch at work

Gray because Ur taught him how to cook. Natsu tends to just burn things or destroy the kitchen in a fire. Which is why Mira or Lucy are usually the ones to feed him when Gray isn't around.

Has the better parental relationship

Both because while neither one has strong memories of their birth parents, they do have a huge amount of love and respect for their foster Parents that taught them magic and took care of them for as long as possible.

Tries to start role-playing in bed

I feel like Natsu would have heard about it while eavesdropping on a spicy conversation Lucy was having with the other girls and wanted to try it out. He surprised Gray but he went with it anyway.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

Okay Natsu and that's canon cause we have seen Natsu and Gray both dance. Natsu is the goofy one and Gray is surprisingly skilled at it.

Still cries watching Titanic

Natsu but he won't admit it to anyone but Gray and maybe Lucy since she's his best friend and was probably the one to show him the movie in the first place.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Natsu cause he is secretly into that stuff but doesn't express it often. He likes being sappy but only for Gray. Who goes along with it cause it's rare for Natsu to do stuff like that with him.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

Natsu because he would find the perfect gift and make sure he had enough money for it. Gray tries to usually get Natsu a special souvenir from a job cause Natsu likes to collect things like that.

Makes the other eat breakfast

Natsu because he always thinks with his stomach. Gray doesn't usually think of food in the mornings and so he is usually dragged to the guild for breakfast by his over excited boyfriend.

Remembers anniversaries

Both boys remember the anniversaries of losing their parental figure/Teacher. So something as important to them both as their anniversary would be definitely be remembered and probably planned out way ahead of time.

Brings up having kids

I feel like Natsu would one day want his own family and a kid to teach his magic too. Gray would like it as well but Natsu is usually more straightforward on issues like this. So he would bring it up to his boyfriend first.

[sunsbled-archive]

@solaoccasum​​    /    unprompted    /    lumine & basile

Basile's shirt swallows Lumine's frame but she can't help but feel warm and safe in it regardless. It's why she's been lounging around in it all day. She doesn't ever wanna take it off.

it’s not the weary sigh that announces his presence, he assumes, but rather the telltale squeak of the door   - he really ought to oil the hinges -    and the  clink of his sword unceremoniously being dropped at the side,       hitting the  shitty little vase he made a year ago  when  antoine  convinced  him  pottery  would be a fun hobby.         it wasn’t, but he keeps it anyways because it’s a  nice reminder of easier days. plus it’s nice to look at things and reminisce of those times when days like today happened. stressful, tiring and most of all draining. he’s frustrated, really. somehow it still surprised him that so many people had the audacity  to  not  only badmouth his friend but to also shove their workload his way simply because he offered a helping hand - and they decided to take his whole arm, figuratively at least. he’s not all that surprised to find the light in the room on, to see the lamp at the nightstand lit. it’s not as late but he assumes that lumine has decided to have a day of leisure. good.  she deserves a break more than anyone - plus he’d have complained about her not taking a break if she hadn’t, anyway - and he’s glad that she’s had a good day. at least he hopes. his eyes are shut close, frown burning his face while his hand tries to smooth a strand of his hair that sticks out like a sore  thumb. trying to look after some kids on the way back ended with him having to jump into a river to get one of them out after they’d been careless and he’s still dropping a few stray bits of water onto the floor beneath him. he offers a ‘ hey ’ and there’s a particular weight to his tone, like he’s holding back a sigh.

except the exhaustion on his face disappears the moment he opens his visible eye, greeted by the sight of his soulmate lounging about in his shirt. it doesn’t help that the lamps light casts and surrounds her like it wants to make sure he doesn’t forget just how beautiful she is. as if he’d ever do that. his mouth goes dry and he lets out a surprised noise, strangled as if he’s trying not to seem to joyful at the sight. it’s cute, really. she looks almost small in his shirt and it has  his chest swell  with  pride  knowing  that  he  isn’t  as tiny as the world makes  him feel sometimes. or as he felt whenever standing next to someone as huge as antoine.           he’s smiling - that dopey one he only gets when he’s entirely  content -   and  takes  a  few  steps  towards  the  little wardrobe near the bed,  easing himself  out  of his jacket and clothes until he’s left in his pants and the sleeveless shirt he wears under all those layers. and then he takes another two steps and lets himself fall backwards onto the bed, craning his head to look at lumine before he croons out a soft ❛ i like your new clothes. ❜  while stretching. the movement takes some strain off his spine,      which is probably for the best,  before he shifts himself to lay on his stomach, propping his head up with a hand so he can properly look  at  the  traveler with all that unfiltered love and affection  he has stored up in his heart,  doing sommersaults in his chest as if hearts were supposed to do that.              ❛ did you finally get your well deserved break? ❜ he queries with a hum,   his other hand coming up to seek out hers,   seeking the comforting warmth.  he fights the urge to shake his head to get rid off the remains of water on his head - he isn’t a dog, after all, even with the way he lays there and looks at her as if he was a puppy seeking attention -  and instead shuffles himself up the bed a little until he can rest his head against her. his face is resting down  on the mattress, fatigue taking over when he fights to stay awake.  rest can wait,  he’d much rather talk to his beloved for now.             his voice is muffled, though.

❛ ‘missed you the whole day. i also missed my shirt, good to know it’s here. ❜

[undercover-stories]

Take My Hand (Say You Need Me Still)

A Daredevil Fic (Matt/Foggy, Girl!Foggy. Pre-Slash)

Summary  : Look, getting shot is just the New York experience. You haven’t lived  unless you’ve been held at gunpoint at least once. And if you save  someone doing it? Hey, bonus!

First Chapter: AO3

 “I had to exist without you”,

*

*

*

Foggy had whispered those words as if in a trance. Face turned towards the sky as if speaking to no one in particular. Her words had been unprompted. They had been simply been enjoying each other’s company that day after a long work week and a chance to relax at a barbeque courtesy of Luke and Claire.

It was a month after Fisk and 7 before the incident at the police station. Matt remembers the both of them lying on a mattress futon and a pile of duvets on the roof of Colleens Dojo. Foggys tone had been soft but Matt was so focused on her that it was enough to drown out the other sounds around them. Luke and Danny laughing where they were manning the barbeque grill. Misty and Karen comparing notes on Jessica’s recent client which she didn’t appreciate but didn’t seem to mind enough to make them stop as she nursed her Jack Daniels on the edge of their conversation. Misty talking sports of all things with Colleen who was wholly and very competitively invested in the New York Yankees.

But they had all turned into peripheral noise to Matt. He had pushed himself up. Fully turned his body towards her. Something Matt didn’t really have to do since there was no visual component in his interactions with the people around him but Foggy had always appreciated the gesture. A sign of assurance from her best friend that his attention was completely and undividedly on her. For her. She’s always been proud of herself for being able garner that kind of reaction from him.

But at that moment Foggy herself had seemed distracted. Even without being able to see it, Matt could tell that her eyes weren’t directed at him. She felt distant. Sounded distant. A mirror of what Matt had been feeling ever since he came back.

He hadn’t really understood why at the time. After all he’d gotten everything he ever wanted. Even more. His firm, his partner, his identity and most importantly his friends. Not just Karen and Foggy. His best friend had made sure of that when she dragged him to Jessica’s place and sat outside her office slash apartment door while Jess tore Matt a new one over what he’d done and proceeded to throw him out with a door slam so hard the glass panel shook.

That night Jessica called his burner later telling him to meet her on a roof top (What is it with roof tops?) because she needed his ears and to quote her “You owe me. Your ass better be here in an hour”.

Matt was there before the hour was up with 20 minutes to spare.

“Fucking Boy scout”, Jess had muttered under her breath but Matt smiled and tossed her a brand-new grey scarf.

“It’s the cheapest one at Walmarts”, he had said but the softness of the material and the tag said otherwise.

Matt hadn’t needed prompting to show up on Luke’s apartment door next and meeting Danny at the Dojo where the millionaire had proceeded to wipe the floor with him in hand to hand.

“I let you win”, Matt had panted, trying to catch his breath.

“Keep telling yourself that”, Danny sniped back, though there was no heat in his words, as he threw him a water bottle.

Matt woke up the next day sore, bruised and unable to wipe the grin off his face when he showed up at the office that morning to an array of extremely expensive looking bouquets congratulating their re-opening and heavily perfumed because Danny Rand is a passive aggressive dick.

But it also came with a 6 digit cheque from Rand Industries so none of them were about to complain. “A gift, from Rand Industries to the Firm of Nelson and Murdock. To hopefully new and better beginnings” was written on the envelope it came with.

Matt wished it had been as easy with Foggy. Not that either of them had given any resistance in efforts of reconciliation. But there were no ‘How To’s’ they could follow telling them exactly how to do that. No guidebooks detailing the steps needed to take to rebuild a bond that had gone through so much. The awkward bubble between them seemed to only grow more and more, stretched thin and fragile and so vulnerable to the slightest touch.

Until that night when after a few bottles of beers and a feeling of relaxed contentment that only came with a full stomach, Foggy whispered her confession as if asking for contrition.

Her words, though morose, held no acrimonious judgment. But the vestige of pain in them was bare and it had twisted Matt’s insides to hear it. It was such a simple phrase but it held so much and he knew instantly that it had been something she’d been keeping quiet. Out of shame, thinking that it was something she didn’t have a right to feel. Afraid that it might make Matt more distant.

But it was an admittance that Matt had realized he needed to hear. An honest fearless truth that was not spoken to condemn but instead a plea for him to understand where she stood. For him to know she was still bearing pain that she herself found difficult to admit. So afraid that Matt would recoil from her for it. But how could he. How could he punish such fearlessness when he knows how much he had taken from Foggy?

Both of them had made mistakes, but Foggy had been so patient. Matt had already taken and asked so much from Foggy who still tried his best to welcome him back with open arms. But Foggy had never been one to tip toe around Matt about anything. A habit that could be aggravating at times but it was always a cost he had been willing to pay for the intimacy that was brought forward from it.

And this was Foggy begging Matt to have that chance for intimacy again. As if she didn’t deserve to ask for it and it was a failure on Matts part that Foggy would harbour such hesitation.

Even through all his secrets and fear, Foggys openness about where she stood in regards to Matt had always been a beacon for him. A guide to teach him how to be a friend. Lessons he’d been deprived off the second his dad died. Matt had cast out the hope of ever achieving such a relationship. Already given up early on at the thought that he could ever receive the kind of easiness that Foggy offered and it was a miracle for him that she did. A miracle that they had met in Columbia and a miracle that through all Foggys annoying habits, that he’d been open to give her a chance. A choice that he would never have made if Foggy had been anything less than who she was. She in of itself was a miracle to him and Matt was deeply torn that he had made Foggy ever feel otherwise.

 “I had only ever wanted a friend”

Foggys words from the night of their huge fight came back to him and while it might have been said in less than stellar circumstances, he knows even then that it had rung with truth. Foggy had never asked for anything more. How could he have failed to give her something so simple.

After a while Foggy finally turns her face towards Matt. He tastes salt in the air but doesn’t move to address it because he needs to focus right now. To really listen and conscientious, to what Foggy was trying to say. A lack in communication had after all been their downfall. Too much resentment over kept secrets and rancorous unspoken anger.

But there’s none of that hanging in between them now. Instead, Matt heard what wasn’t spoken loud and clear.

 “Don’t leave. Don’t make me go through that again. Stay. Here, with me”

Matt doesn’t think there’s anything he can say that could live up as an answer to that so instead he creeps his hand forward to grasp Foggys in a sincere hope that his own words would ring with the same vulnerable truth that Foggy had offered.

  “I’ll try”

*

Things had gotten better afterward. The honesty Foggy openly shows was an invitation for Matt to do the same. Not a demand and Matt will forever be grateful for that. But even so Matt still walks on eggshells at first. Not knowing what he was allowed to reveal. What was welcomed and what was not. Foggy like always, had put Matt at ease the way she always could.

It starts with an open invite to a home cooked dinner where Foggy made it clear that she wanted to know more about Matt’s abilities.

 “If you want that last brownie you’re gonna have to impress me Murdock and for extra motivation, it’s a corner piece”

 Matt had laughed, “I’m not sure what you’re asking here Nelson. I’m not sure I want to. The last time you gave me a dare I ended up doing the chicken dance in the college cafeteria”

 “Boohoo, you deserved it after that stunt you pulled with the waffle incident. I’ve still got the burn marks to prove it. Now enough excuses and man up Murdock”

The banter might have sounded harsh to a stranger’s ears but it held such a familiarity that Matt rejoiced every second and every word. But despite all that he was still so scared to ruin what they were trying to rebuilt. Scared to run Foggy off with ‘too much’.

Foggy had again, nudged him into it gingerly and with such patience that Matt hadn’t found it in him to deny her.

She asked him to talk about what he could taste in the food she’s cooked. At first Matt was afraid to criticize but Foggy had started doing so herself. Once after a dinner Chicken Paprikash of all things, she asked if Matt sensed the yoghurt that used was close to getting bad. Matt tentatively had noted that it wasn’t rancid but it was definitely way past its prime days. Foggy wasn’t annoyed, instead she breaks the tension and laughing, jabbing about how horrible some parts about Matts senses must be. About the embarrassing things he’s had to endure.

To Matt’s surprise, the topic of his abilities became a favourite thing to talk about whenever they spent time together.

 “Are you saying everytime I found you staring into space in your room it was because you got contact high from your stoner neighbour 5 rooms away from your dorm?”

 Matt had groaned and dropped his forehead onto his folded arms in embarrassment. It was enough of an answer Foggy needed.

 “Oh my God, you turned them in! Matthew Michael Murdock you tattle tale”

 “It wouldn’t be such a problem if they didn’t get stoned every night. It was barely a secret anyway. The corridor reeked from it and personally I think I did a public service”

 “Did you snitch on me bringing snacks into the library too?”

 “No Foggy, that was all the crumbs you didn’t bother cleaning off your dress everytime we passed the librarian. She could probably smell the Cheeto dust on your fingers a mile away”

 “I knew it! You threw away my Cheetos stash didn’t you!”                              

 “They’re like cheese dust bombs! They were more chemicals than actual food. I did you a favour”

 “And here I was thinking Tanya was stealing them from my bag during civics”

 “The girl who sat beside you? Oh, she stole food from you all the time. You left your bag unzipped, it was inevitable”

 “And you never told me?!?!”

 “Most of the things you had in there were junk food. It’s no wonder you were on a sugar high all the time”

 “In my defence, Redbull and Twinkies are a perfectly good way to combat law school stress”

 “Oh god the Twinkies!”

 “Don’t you dare go after Twinkies!”

Just like that the tension brought from the elephant in the room that was Matts powers was broken. Foggy made a game out of Matt trying to guess all the ingredients she’s used on nights that she cooked. Matt had initially protested on the unfairness of it all but eventually stepped up to the challenge cause he’s a competitive bastard and Foggy knows it.

 “How am I supposed to know what kind of nuts you used in the Pad Thai??? I can barely afford anything other than ground nuts”

 “Excuses. You haven’t suggested anything else either”

 “I know you used Italian basil instead of Thai”

 “Whats the difference?”

 “Thai basil has a sharper taste”

 “And more expensive”

 “Authenticity is important. We don’t want to get sued for cultural appropriation and all”

 “Oh look at me, I’m Matt Murdock and I can only eat fancy organic Thai Basil”

 “It doesn’t matter, I won. Now give me my brownie Nelson!”

 “Bite me Murdock!”

Matt won 9 times out of 10. The game was rigged and they both knew it but they usually ended up splitting the last piece of whatever dessert they had for the night anyway so it was never really about winning. Not for either of them anyway. On nights when there were no sugary delicacies waiting for them after their meal, if Matt won, he got to pick what they did after dinner. Watch a show, listen to an audio-book, play games before he had to leave for the night for patrol. Foggy never complained except for an over exaggerated whine or two at Matts predictability.

It’s fun, intimate. They don’t just focus on the fun stuff either. Matt had wanted to get even more intimate. He was tired of carrying all his secrets and for once he was the one who took the leap to trust that foggy wouldn’t run.

So, one night Matt finds himself stumbling into Foggys apartment after patrol. It was closer and he had a concussion. He was surprised when Foggy didn’t freak out like he expected and actually knew how to handle the situation. Like she’d prepared for it. She got some lessons from Claire who owed her for helping Luke. She doesn’t talk about when she started doing it or why. Matt didn’t know if he was ready to hear the answer either.

 “You know, I could always keep my window unlocked. If you ever… ya know, need to come over”

 “I don’t want to wake you”

 “I always sleep late anyway and besides; I’d rather know you have somewhere to go if you need to then........”, Foggy trails off but Matt doesnt need to be a psychic to know where her thoughts had went.

 “I don’t want to make thing’s hard for you", he says back and they both know he didnt just mean waking her up late.

 “Matt, I want to.”, Foggy had said, firmly as she smoothed the Arnica cream over his newest bruise.

Her heart had beaten with a steady thud of truth, truth, truth.

It was comforting to know that Foggy wasn’t soaked in fear and disapproval the way she used to be before, and he did come over sometimes. Once or twice a week to get his ribs bandaged properly when they were bruised or some cuts stitched. Matt can tell Foggy’s nervous and queasy about the stitching but she soldiers on anyway and it reminds him of Maggie telling him how she had done the same for his dad when they were together and the similitude makes a roll of warmth coil around his insides like a soothing balm. It feels right.

He realizes when he gets home as is drifting off to sleep, that it’s not something he’s ever had with Elektra either.

 “Foggy, I need to tell you something”

 “Hmmm?”

 “About midland circle”

 “Matt-”

 “I need you to know, why I stayed. Why I didn’t try to come back.”

 “Matt, you don’t-“

 “Foggy please. I need to do this”

 “Ok Matty. Fire away"

 “It wasn’t about you, or Karen. Maybe that’s hard to believe. I’m not gonna lie and say it wasn’t selfish of me because it was. I hurt you. You gave me the suit and you trusted me and I let you down. But you have to know Foggy, it wasn’t because of you”

 Matt had ducked his head in shame

 “Truth is I wasn’t thinking about anything else at that moment. I’m impulsive, we both know that. You’ve always known that. I was so overwhelmed by the fact that she was alive that I-“

 He gulped.

 “Did I tell you how she died? The first time?”

 “No”

 “It was because of me. She took a knife to the chest for me and she died in my arms and it was my fault Foggy. It was my fault. The worst part is, she’d told me beforehand that she wanted to stay with me. She wanted to try and she died in my arms because of me. I heard her heartbeat stop and it was because of me and I couldn’t… I couldn’t move Foggy."

 He remembers feeling his eyes water, struggling to keep them from flowing into streams down his cheeks. But he couldn’t stop the way his voice choked.

 “And I heard her heart beat that day when I found out she was alive. The way she moved, the familiar scent of her and how warm she was whennever she was close. She was so alive and I was desperate to save her this time. When she refused to leave Midland, I couldn’t leave her behind. I couldn’t leave her alone. I couldn’t let her die because I couldn’t save her for the second time. I couldn’t foggy. Everything was falling apart around us but I held her and she was so alive. I couldn’t let that go. I’m sorry Foggy. I’m sorry I hurt you. But I can’t be sorry for staying with her”

 “Matt I’m not angry”

 He’d perked up at that.

 “I mean I was initially. Went through all 5 stages of grief. Thought a lot about beating you up if I ever saw you again. Blamed myself for letting you go. For not giving you a stronger reason to stay-”

 “Foggy-”

 “I understand why you did it now. But back then all I could think about was how you’d left me. You broke your promise and you left us and I kept having nightmares of how you were probably still alive and had just fucked off to god knows where with her. It took me too long to realize I’d rather you were alive then dead even if you had”

 “You had a right to say no when I asked for help. I stole your wallet. I took advantage of you the second I saw you again. It was a dick move on my part”

 “Oh, trust me, it definitely was and I’m not gonna let you forget that for a very long time. You owe me so many favors. But I got you back Matt. I’d asked for only one thing ever since I lost you and I got you back. How could I turn my back on that? You’re so good Matt. I know you don’t believe it but you are. Even if I was pissed, I knew you were doing things for a good reason. I knew it was because you were helping people and I’m a damned lowlife if I even thought of turning my back on that. I’m not angry at you Matt. You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not gonna stomp off again if we get into another huge fight. But I can promise I’ll always try to come back. Maybe it’s not right for me to ask you to trust that. I know enough about your past to know that’s not an easy thing for you to do……...”

 “You’re the one person I trust the most, Foggy”

 “Karen-”

 “- is a good friend. But she hasn’t stuck around and followed me into making stupid decisions for the past ten years of my life. If there’s anything I regret, it’s not trusting you with my secrets. For hurting you with them. If there’s anything I’d redo it would be that”

 “We don’t know if I would’ve been open to accepting that back then. Heck, I don’t even know what I would’ve done if you did tell me. You had good reason to worry”

 “After everything, I should’ve taken the chance. There’s no one I trust more in this a world than you Foggy. Maybe that’s hard to believe considering how many promises I’ve broken. But I’m going to do everything I can to keep this one"

 “…… Thank you, Matt”

It had taken everything in him to admit it, but after all they’d been through. After all Foggy had given him. Foggy had earned the right to it. That part of him. He expects to feel fragile and small afterwards but instead he feels lighted. Just like before, it felt right. This was the path they were destined to be on. The path they both have worked hard for. Foggy had returned his vulnerable revelation by sidling up to him. Intertwining their fingers and leaning to the side to place a soft peck on his temple. Matt couldn’t find it in him to pull away. They stayed that way in silent comfort until they’d both nodded off. Her head fitted to the crook of his neck and Matt’s own resting on hers.

Matt had woken up first the next morning to Foggys head on his lap. A soft and unladylike snore whistling pass her lips and he remembers how it had annoyed him to no end through their first year of law school, on nights when Foggy had fallen asleep from exhaustion on Matt’s bed after a night of unending studying with him in his room. But after a while it had become a familiar comfort, accompanied by the beating thrum in her chest. An unexpected lullaby especially on nights when both of them were overwhelmed. Matt had a single room and Foggys roommate was never around, preferring to stay at her boyfriend’s place most nights. They switched between each other’s room every other night, more and more often but it never felt invasive.

Matt hopes Foggy knows how important her presence had been for him at the time.

He hadn’t attempted to wake her up that morning from her peaceful slumber even as his legs felt numb from the weight. Instead, and he stupidly hadn’t realized why he’d done it at the time, he found himself gliding his knuckles on her cheek, realizing in that moment how long it had been since they’d been this close. How much he had missed it. Touch starved in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while since they met.

This progress, this newly attained intimacy doesn’t stop. There is a relief in being able to talk to his best friend again about every part of him that he had always feared she wouldn’t accept. Not just about the heavy, things either. Even the small, minute, careless details.

To Foggys credit, she bares herself raw the same way he does.

 “How did you get so good at cooking?”

 “I take offence to that. I was always a talented cook”

 “Pancakes and grilled cheese sandwiches maybe.”

 “Hardy har. And you can boil an egg, good for you.”

 “Seriously, curry noodles? I didn’t think you even knew where the spice section was”

 “It was… it was actually after Midland. I couldn’t sleep sometimes and I’d stay up watching cooking channels and I gave in and just started actually making them myself. I started small but I got used to handling things after a while. It was actually… therapeutic”

 “Foggy…. I-“

 “Matt stop, seriously. I meant what I said. I’d rather have a life with you and all the adrenaline fueled bullshit, then a quiet life without you. Always. So, don’t worry, ok? We’re good. I promise”, Foggy had ended her little speech by reaching out to tap her fingers in a comforting rhythm on his knuckles and Matt had asked himself for the hundredth time since he got back, what he’d done to deserve such loyalty.

 “Also you’re washing the dishes and paying for lunch tomorrow”

 Matt had let out a burst of laughter, “Haven’t I been paying for lunch anyway?”

 “And you’ll keep paying for lunch until further notice. Besides, you’re getting a free home-cooked dinner almost every other night so I’m not going to hear a peep out of you”

 He’d raised his hands in a mollifying gesture, “No arguments here”

 “And none of that healthy stuff too”

 “Damn"

The catholic part of him that latched on to guilt too close, wasn’t satisfied. Not even close. He’d done too much, made too many mistakes. He didn’t deserve what Foggy and even Karen for that matter, were giving him. A step onto green grass that promised him sanity in exchange for something as simple as him pulling down his walls for them. To not push them away. And if that’s what Foggy asked for then Matt was going to teach himself to give it to her, even as he he itched from old habits to pull back behind said walls.

It takes 6 months for them to go through all the unsaid baggage that had been floating in the water like leftovers from crash created by their past mistakes. But at the end of it all, Foggy poked her head into his office again and told him to hurry up if he wanted her to do any actual cooking.

 “I feel like I’m being sabotaged”,

 “You don’t need me to do that”

 “Well, that’s not very helpful”

 “I mean, I didn’t tell you to try make dinner rolls from scratch, did I?”, Matt had said with a tone of faux pettiness.

 “That was not my fault! I didn’t know cats could smell the yeast all the way from the alley! Ruined a perfectly batch of dough. I spent 20 minutes kneading!”

 “I told you to close the window. Fair is fair, I didn’t know cats liked yeast either, I’ll give you that. So, what’s on the menu tonight?”

 “Well, you made Italian last week and I’ve been exchanging gossip with Mrs Yong for a while now….”

 “Getting tips from your Vietnamese neighbour is cheating”

 “Do you want to eat or not?”

 “I’m guessing Pad Thai?”

 “Couldn’t afford your oh so expensive cashews that you just have to have. Its Pho!! We are having Pho tonight! I spent 6 hours simmering a potful when I was going through the Jenner case last week and now, I’ve got enough frozen pho in my freezer to serve 8! I mean, I did have enough for 8. It’s more like 3 now. Maybe 3 and a half”

 “Is that what you were passing to Karen and Mrs Adli yesterday?”

 “Karen needs to eat more if she keeps spending her nights consorting with Jessica Jones. God knows what diet Jones is on. I gave Karen extra to pass to her so hopefully she’ll see it as incentive to keep giving us tips. We definitely can’t afford her”

 “I’m sure you can charm a few more favours out of her. And Mrs Adli?”

 “Oh yeah, her kids sick were with the flu and from what Mrs Yong told me, Pho has magical healing powers that can beat chicken soup any day”

 “You didn’t eat the rest, did you?”

“Boo hoo, shame on you. Unlike you, I know how to bribe our friends. I gave some to Claire and Brett. He looked like I was trying to poison him”  

 “To be fair you did once”

 “I was 5! He wanted to play Mommies and Daddies and I might have been overzealous about preparing dinner”

 “You know if he finds out you told me he’ll have you thrown in Rykers himself”

 “Which is why if you want any of that Pho yourself, you’ll keep yourself quiet you dick”

The air between them had turned so light and easy. Every morning Matt woke up beaming with joy at the simple thought of being able to just be with her so close throughout his day and every night he was lulled to sleep by the memories left from it.

There were no more walls. No more fear or doubt. Not with her. Not anymore.

  “I went to see Maggie today.”  

“Yeah? How is she? I haven’t met her yet”  

“She’s fine. She wanted to wish me Happy Birthday”  

“That sounds nice”  

 “Yeah……. She gave me her ring. The one my dad gave her. It was one of the few things she had from my dad and she wanted me to have it”

 Foggy had stayed silent for a moment before responding, “That was nice of her”

 “Yeah. It’s nothing fancy. Doesn’t have a diamond or anything. It’s just a smooth gold band. But she said my dad saved up for months to get it. It sounds just like him. She wanted to talk with me a bit longer but I just…. Couldn’t. I think I hurt her feelings when I left”

 “You don’t owe her anything Matt.”

 “It was rude”

 “Matt, hey, I need you to listen ok. I need you to listen to my heart. Are you listening?”

 Matt remembered how his throat had tightened so he had just nodded to the question.

 “I love you Matt. You’re my best friend. I will always love you. But you need to know, hey, listen buddy. You need to know that you never have to earn that from me. Not from me, not from Maggie, not from Stick, not from anybody”

 “I could’ve tried harder”

 “You shouldn’t have had to. You were just a kid”

 “Didn’t stop them from leaving”

 “And it was their fault, not yours. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

 “I’d asked them to make it stop.”

 “What?”

 “It was after Midland. There were two guys, trying to hijack a car. I couldn’t beat them so I asked them to make it stop. To just.. end it.... end me. It was so pathetic Foggy-”

 Mat hadn’t realized she’d moved from her seat until her arms were around him. Her grasp was gentle but Matt got the feeling that hell or heaven couldn’t tear her away no matter how hard they tried.

 She was on her knees beside him where he was sitting on the couch. One hand pulling his body to her chest and the other caressing the side of his head. Nose buried in his hair, whispering softly, “No Matty, no. Never. God, you’re so good Matt. So brave. So strong. It’s ok to not be sometimes. I’m here. I promise. I’m right here”

 For some reason, Matt had let out a startled laugh but he had felt something wet streaming down his face and suddenly he was choking on sobs. His own arms folded around her middle and he lets go. Lets himself sink into her, head buried into her shoulder, not thinking even for a second that it would be enough to cover up how loudly he was crying. But Foggy hadn’t said a word. Once upon a time he might have felt indignant at the idea of being so vulnerable with someone like that. He hadn’t been this open since Elektra and look how that turned out. Elektra herself had been different. He loved her. He still loves her. Loves how comfortable he felt in her presences. Unguarded and free.

 But unguarded and comfortable was different than allowing himself to feel and appear weak. To let someone see the broken and jagged pieces that made him who he was and not be afraid to be judged for it. Elektra never made him feel like home. At least not the kind of home his dad had given him as a kid. Safe. At ease.

 Loved.

  They fell asleep that night like that. Lying on the couch, Foggys arms wrapped around him tights and close. His head tucked in the dip of her clavicles. Curled into her and knowing with absolute certainty that she wouldn’t ever let him go.

Matt woke up the next morning to the smell of pancakes and the annoying tap of Foggys fingers on his cheeks.

 “Wake up sleepyhead. The pancakes are getting cold and I don’t want to hear you whining about it”

 For a second Matt had refused to open his eyes even as the corner of his lips were pulled up.

 “Five more minutes mom”

 “Very funny. Catch me making you breakfast again you ungrateful prick”

 Matt had let out a disgruntled groan but relented to push himself up with an over exaggerated stretch.

 “You owe me groceries for this”, Foggy sing songs, pushing a plate stacked with pancakes, dripping with an unhealthy amount of syrup just the way Matt liked it. It’s one of his most unhealthiest guilty pleasures but fuck him if every bite didn’t have him melt with sinful pleasure.

 “It’s the least you could do with how you had half my ass hanging off the couch last night”, Foggy continues as she digged into her own stack.

 “It’s not my fault your apartment is so warm. I was practically cooking”, Matt had clapped back but was half-hearted and said through a juvenile muffled mouthful of his breakfast.

 “Price of being the little spoon my friend”

 Matt indulged her with an eye roll but he’s much too distracted with his breakfast to keep up the banter. Foggy sneakily pushes the extra plate pancakes forward followed by the bottle of organic syrup that was way too obscenely expensive for her budget but so very worth it to see Matt light up animatedly with a child-like glee at the taste of it on his delicate taste buds.

 They had continued their banter a bit more over a steaming cup of coffee and all the while Matt realizes in that moment that he felt truly and incandescently happy with his life and where he was then compared to how where he was just six months before and a large part of it was because of Foggy.  Karens acceptance of him had been great. But foggy knew him more than anyone. It’s Foggy that despite their decade long friendship, he’d disappointed and hurt and let down over and over and the fact that Foggy was still there, a constant unerring affirmation of his worth. That if there was someone in his life that could love and stick around the way foggy had then life was definitely worth living no matter what it threw at him. Foggy who’d given something no one else had. Not even Elektra.  

Matt truly and utterly realize that Foggy at that moment, after so much time and effort on both their parts, truly knew him better now, more than anyone ever did. And with it Foggy had given him something he hasn’t felt since his dad died

And its not just the happiness. It’s a deep rooted and affection of what they have. Of what they’ve built through it all. . It’s a fondness. Its an appreciation. It’s a love that has driven right down to his core, so deep that its become part of his being. Its… wait… oh…. OH….. oh shit.

[doctors-star]

“Yeah, I can see how hiding behind a rock is a much better strategy.” for Cowboys??

Sometimes, Ainsel feels that they and Edelweiss are coming to some kind of understanding. That, perhaps, Edelweiss is the type of horse with whom it was possible to have some kind of normal relationship, and generally not the sort of creature to possess too-clever eyes and be prone to depositing Ainsel without memories somewhere they shouldn’t be.

These times are infrequent, and they do not ever last.

Rarely, though, has Ainsel taken quite so strongly against the concept of horses altogether, Edelweiss or otherwise. Normally, their lack of particular equine affinity is not an issue, given that they never need to travel that fast, but in consequence they never did learn how to sit or stand when Edelweiss’ legs are really pumping, apparently delighted at this taste of freedom and the wind in her mane; Ainsel is being galloped across the desert like a bag of jumbled bones with their head tucked in behind Edelweiss’ ear and their fingers wrapped white around the pommel, clinging on for dear life. The sand is kicking up on the wind and spitting against any exposed skin, so their eyes are more like slits and are streaming wildly and all they can really see of the desert and sky is a blur of orange and blue.

The jolting is going to shake their kneecaps right out of their legs. Their spine will be compressed by six inches by the time they get off. Ainsel hates horses, just now.

And then, without any input from Ainsel, Edelweiss is slowing to a gentle trot and then a lazy stop. Ainsel puts their head up a little to push the horse on further, because they have someone to urgently find and no delay can be had - but then they blink, and their sandblasted, watery vision coalesces into the very face of the man they had ridden out to find. When the ringing in their ears from being so thoroughly shaken dissipates too, they can hear Will murmuring to Edelweiss and petting her nose as he casts worried glances at her rider. Ainsel winces; what a clattering they must have made, to pull Will unprompted from his observations.

Ainsel unpeels their fingers from the pommel and attempts to straighten up. The pain is immediate and terrible, lancing up and down their shaken spine, and they list worryingly to one side; they slide into a pair of wiry arms, so they assume Will is rescuing them, but it’s hard to tell, what with the white-out of pain. They end up on the floor, Will being altogether too small to lift anyone over the age of eight, with Williams crouched near their head and looking worried. “Howdy,” Ainsel grits out politely. Will’s frown worsens.

“Alright, who’s done what now,” he says, eyes tracking the length of them as they stretch slowly and awkwardly to catalogue the points of greatest pain. For all that Will Williams is not a doctor, he certainly is getting better at doctoring. He’s less agitated every time: last time Finn had sliced his leg open on a splintered fence, Will had been more annoyed than worried; and these days, he even wraps aching joints and teaches folks how to clean cuts and sores and he went out to see Noel’s husband - God rest him - whenever she asked, even though he couldn’t do anything, until he let her down gently a few weeks before the end. Ainsel is abruptly reminded, with new urgency, of how much they appreciate having not-a-doctor Will Williams around to doctor them all.

“It’s good to have you around,” Ainsel wheezes, their brain-to-mouth filter shaken about a bit by relentless horse riding; Will looks slightly horrified.

“Oh lord,” he says, “are you dyin’?”

Ainsel shakes their head and sits up on their elbows. Will’s palm slides behind the ball of his shoulder to support the motion, warm and steady. “Naw - no-one’s in trouble, promise.”

“Uh huh,” Will says, sounding deeply unconvinced. “And this bat out of hell impression you’ve got going, what’s that in aid of?”

Ainsel makes a face, which Will picks up on immediately. It had been too much to hope that he wouldn’t, of course, and this is all the point anyhow: Ainsel is here to tell Will as early as possible something he may not want to hear, but will eventually find out regardless. He may as well hear it on his own terms.

They had been walking Noel to the hotel for an hour of coffee and polite conversation, for the duration of which they may both pretend that they only know similarly polite and calm individuals. It is...therapeutic. They sometimes bring Will, who can be relied upon for good behaviour, but he’d usually rather be out by the creek or in the prairie grass or in the shade of a cactus pretending he doesn’t know any humans at all; it is, therefore, a surprise to see him standing with his back to them in an expensive pine-green suit at the front desk. Ainsel notes all these details only in hindsight: the broader shoulders, the bowler hat, the set of his stance which is not quite right - like Will, only a good bit older, mirrored and two steps to the left. At the time, though, they had simply seen Will, and not thought a thing of it that Noel should raise the hand not tucked into Ainsel’s elbow and say “Mister Williams! Will you come sit with - oh, I do apologise; I thought you were an acquaintance of ours.”

The man smiles with disproportionate pleasure at being misidentified, leaning forward on his toes in his road-dusty brogues. There is a suitcase at his feet and he is holding his hat to his chest deferentially, but he is still standing in the hotel with a confidence and appearance of belonging that Will has never possessed - possibly ever, but certainly not in a genteel environment like this one. He wears a day’s stubble well, flecked with slightly premature grey, on a jaw which is squarer than Will’s, but just as fine-boned and angular; his voice, when he speaks, sounds like Will when he’s at his most anxious - all old-money, old-country, cold and tall and prickly like the pines in whose snow-capped shadows Will grew up.

“Not at all; perhaps you can help me. You see, I am indeed a Mister Williams - Thomas Williams, ma’am, at your service - and I am seeking a relative of mine who may just be this acquaintance of yours.” Noel makes the appropriate interested noises, but Ainsel goes abruptly cold as though they had broken and tumbled through the surface of a frozen lake, instantaneous and gasping for air. They have this sense of déja vu when looking at Thomas Williams, more than the ordinary familiarity of seeing Will in him - and then they remember. They have seen Will’s big brother before, in the card that had shown them Will’s youth; they barely need to glance at their palm to know that the cards have found their way into their free hand once more, and that the top card is the card that might be the Tower, and might be the Queen of Spades.

“Has something happened?” Ainsel says, interrupting the polite and non-committal conversation Noel is maintaining with the stranger about the quality of the road into Danser Town and the inconvenience of not having a railway out here yet, at every opportunity steering him away from asking her any question about Will’s presence or existence that she might actually have to answer.

Thomas Williams blinks, wrongfooted, but rallies quickly. “I’m afraid my mother has recently died,” he says, and Noel murmurs condolences; Ainsel just watches him. “She and my - cousin were never as close as one might like, but…” Williams casts about, looking away with a shadow over his brow, and Ainsel realises his grief is real and painful - though whether it is for the lost parent, or the lost opportunity to reconcile, they cannot say.

Ainsel nods and tucks the cards back into their pocket, turning solicitously to Noel. “I’m afraid I gotta go; will you be alright-?”

Noel pats their elbow and releases them, message received. Of course Noel will be alright; Ainsel has no idea if she knows what they know about Will’s relation to this stranger, but she sure has gathered that Ainsel is not eagerly bringing one party to the other. “You go, then. I’m sure this fine gentleman will keep me in good company,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes and turning her charm upon Mister Williams like a beam. He blinks in the face of it, and finds himself abandoning his luggage to offer her his arm and lead her to a table almost without noticing.

He certainly had been stunned enough to ignore Ainsel turning on a dime and taking off through the doors at a dead run.

Which leaves them here: lying on the dusty earth in the shadow of a rocky desert outcrop with Will Williams crouched by their head, and wishing that they had sent Tommy or Finn or Johnny out instead - how those bastards make galloping look easy, Ainsel may never know.

Ainsel takes a deep breath, fixes their gaze on Will, and says it firm and simple. “Your brother is here in Danser, and he’s the absolute fuckin’ spit of you, so I don’t reckon you can get away with him not knowing you’re here.”

Will, in an action which is either a credit to his propensity for forethought or reminiscent of a small furry prey animal, does not move for a good five seconds. Then he drops Ainsel’s shoulder and stands abruptly, marching six paces away and staring at the dirt. Ainsel watches in silence as Will chews the inside of his cheek intently. They can’t think what to say that might help: he seems nice is true, but seems is a big word that hides a multitude of sins; he said you were his cousin doesn’t quite accurately convey, the way Ainsel wants it to, that Thomas Williams doesn’t seem to know who he’s looking for at all (sister, brother, neither, both) but is keen to find that person nevertheless; I’m a little concerned that if we leave them alone too long, Noel will have married him for your inheritance by the time we get back doesn’t seem remotely useful, for all that it is honest.

“Did he say why?” Will says eventually, after a good minute of silence in which Ainsel regains their breath and manages to sit up properly and look around Will’s little camp. He usually comes back to town overnight, unless he’s seeking something nocturnal, but he always takes a bedroll and cookpot just in case he gets distracted and forgets to come home; he’s got it all, still packed, in a pile near his horse, and has only brought out a leather-bound notebook, a pencil and some charcoals which he has left on a flat rock pointing southwest where some animals, presumably, are being interesting. In rampant defiance of the gun safety and maintenance talks Finn has repeatedly given him, Will has left his rifle broken over a rock far out of reach with cartridges spilling out over the floor, where any young man with spurs on or sturdy horse in iron shoes might step on or near them and give everyone a terrible shock. Will can be so childlike about animals, sometimes - so focussed upon them and nothing else - that Ainsel reckons he needs protecting. So he shuffles over and puts the cartridges in a box, and carefully mulls over how to answer the question.

“He did,” Ainsel says eventually, voice taut and unwilling. Will sniffs, face twitching with it, but says nothing and doesn’t look his way. They sigh, and turn the box awkwardly between their fingers. “It’s your ma,” they settle on. “I’m afraid she’s, uh, passed. Recently.”

Will doesn’t move an inch. He tells them, sometimes, when he’s drunk on two whiskeys and tired of Danser Town’s shit, about his home country in the northeast; the great lakes in their vast and cosmic stillness, the endless plains of undisturbed snow, the deep dark woods of solemn, unmoving pines stretching out past the point of vanishing. He used to sit out for hours in the summer watching herons stand proudly on the banks of the lakes, being plagued by mosquitos but never minding it, for if he waited long enough a herd of deer might drink by his side, or a great, ageless moose, or perhaps even a bear seeking fish before his winter sleep. Will would sit, ever so still, and wait for the world to unfurl its shy beauty before him like a gift. Ainsel wonders if it’s something they all know to do in the north: if the mountains and lakes and forests impose a certain quiet stillness upon all its inhabitants like austere, frowning schoolmarms, or if this is something Will learned on his own on those occasions he could escape the family home in town.

In the winter, Will says, the trees shiver and pop. Water gets in them, see, and then it freezes, and the sap too; when it expands, it breaks down the pines’ firm, fibrous defenses and the trees start to explode.

“I’m sorry,” Ainsel offers.

Will nods, short and sharp, like he’s decided something. And then, without looking at Ainsel at all, he goes back to his notebook and squints at the horizon.

“...you ain’t gonna come back an’ see him?” Ainsel says cautiously.

“Thank you for telling me,” Will says, sounding more cool and moneyed than he ever has - the difference takes Ainsel aback a moment, for all that it is rather familiar. Will had sounded like that fresh off the train into town, and it hadn’t really occurred to them before how much his accent had mellowed into something more gentle, casual, and local to Danser. The switch back is a little like being struck. “You may go, now.”

Ainsel is not quick to anger. They have long accepted the vagaries of the universe, and others within it; their follies and irritations are something to which Ainsel is quite resigned. A thing has to be pretty damn offensive to rile them into anger.

So there is no small amount of alarm on Will’s face when Ainsel hauls themself off the floor, marches across the small clearing between the great desert rocks, fists their hand in Will’s shirtfront and presses him against the rock with a snarl. “Listen here, you sonuvabitch,” Ainsel says sternly, “I rode across the desert so fast all my damn bones are broke so’s you could know your brother was here on your own terms, and not ‘cause some helpful bastard in town’s brought him straight to ya. I ain’t askin’ for nothing from you, Will Williams, but I reckon I deserve some of your goddamn respect.” Will looks rather contrite. Ainsel thinks of the card vision, and the gentle man within who so cared for the child, and how eager Thomas Williams had been at the hotel to find someone who looked like him, and presses their advantage. “What’s more, I reckon you oughtta come speak to your brother, who’s grievin’ and who came out all this way lookin’ for you-”

Will’s dark eyes flash abruptly flinty, and Ainsel knows that they have misstepped. It’s still not enough warning: Will makes a fist and punches the soft inside of Ainsel’s elbow with his sharp knuckles, breaking the hold Ainsel has on his shirt, and while Ainsel is gasping with the shock of it he plants his hands flat on Ainsel’s chest and shoves hard enough to move them a good few paces. “You have no idea who he came out looking for,” Will hisses, pointing accusingly and stalking forward into Ainsel’s space, “but it sure as hell wasn’t me. He may be my brother, but I’m not his.”

“I reckon you are!” Ainsel blurts out, too busy thinking about how Thomas Williams had leaned forward on his toes to get nearer those people that might know Will to mind themself.

“The devil do you know about it all?” Will cries, throwing his hands in the air, and Ainsel recoils, wounded. “I don’t see how you can tell me what to do, as though you’ve no secrets you don’t want to address. You don’t - you don’t know me. None of you do. You-” this with a look of disdainful, injured pride and a dismissive gesture in their direction “-don’t even know yourself. So get out.”

Ainsel, for a moment, cannot breathe for the terrible hurt of it all. They have to shift one foot behind them a little to avoid stumbling backwards and folding like a broken chair to the floor. Will turns away to fuss with his drawing materials, and Ainsel works their jaw until sound comes out. “So that’s it, huh. You’re skipping town because you’re too fuckin’ yellow to see your own brother.”

Will shakes his head without turning around. “No,” he says, cool and measured, “I am going to stay here until he leaves and then return once he’s moved on, because he won’t search Danser twice and because I am-” he tilts his head thoughtfully, like a mockingbird “-too fucking yellow to see my own brother.”

“Yeah,” Ainsel mutters, turning back to Edelweiss and hauling their battered frame back into the saddle. “I can see how hiding behind a rock is a much better strategy.”

Will turns, glare spitting with fury, but Ainsel is already pulling Edelweiss around and nudging her into a steady trot back towards Danser. Edelweiss, having enjoyed her taste of speed and freedom, wants to run wild and joyous across the desert dust, to loop around the town into the prairie where the ranches are and cascade over the hill past the fenced-in stock animals and whinny her mocking laugh at them all, for she is free, free, wild and free - but Ainsel does not. They keep her reined tight until she snorts and huffs and tosses her great head and shows her tombstone teeth, but they allow her nothing. Ainsel is tired of runners, anyway.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

the friends we made along the way [1]

“A renowned adventurer, a wounded knight, her protégé, a fiery healer, an exasperated mage, an infamous thief, a squirrel whisperer, a double agent, a mysterious witch, a soft-spoken artist, and a perfectionist chef all go on an adventure to save the princess.

“It sounds like the opening of a bad joke, but no, rats are invading, the kingdom is in distress, and if this group of misfits don’t save the princess from the rat king, Grengresh, before he drains her magic and uses it against them… then they’re all pretty screwed.”

Y'all ever wake up and just write something completely unprompted that is 100% self-indulgent and that literally no one asked for?

Well, I do and here's the first part.

Read on AO3

[i] a dark and stormy night a rat scurried across the floor

The parchment remained bare, with only the exception of a wet ink dribble slowly spreading along the lower-left corner. 

Even with all the magic flowing in her veins, ready to ignite with a mere flick of her wrist, Violet still couldn’t make words pen themselves to the page. Somehow, writing a letter had become the hardest thing she’d done all day. 

First, she thought perhaps it was too stuffy within the bedroom, so she opened a window. The warm night air carried the scent of early spring-- blooming lilacs and cold soil from the gardens swirling with the early indications of rain, something lovely enough to clear her head, she thought. 

When that hadn’t worked, Violet paced about the room. With arms stretched high above her head, she then bent down to touch her toes. When that did nothing, she even spun around with as much grace as a land-stranded fish would. She thought if she could get the tension out of her shoulders, her focus would center. Then, she could write this letter. 

But, spinning around with nothing-- rather, no one to hold onto only reminded her of those long-gone days of dreaded dance lessons. 

Violet’s mouth twisted at the thought. The king thought it best she learn, as it’s something most princesses in other kingdoms excel at. 

Ben quickly realized Violet did better in other physical activities, such as archery, rather than dance. Then, once her magic grew stronger, there was absolutely no more time for dancing. At least, not that kind of dancing. 

Violet stilled, gaze stuck on the floor absently. 

Did Brody think about those days, as well? The days where after hours of archery practice, Brody took her sore hands in hers and spun them around as they laughed and embraced? Or was she too preoccupied with secret treasures hidden within abandoned caverns, with fighting off dangerous, mythical beings with the most renowned hunters? 

“You could come with me.”

A long, miserable sigh escaped as Violet plopped back down in her chair, knees brought to her chest for her chin to rest up as she stared out at the night sky, or rather, the disconsolate clouds that night sky hid behind. Judging by the dark color and the faintest rumbles of thunder, Violet predicted rain would fall over the lands of Erisonia quickly, within the hour. 

At least Ben would be pleased, Violet thought. King Ben had a thing about the rain. He saw it as a gift for their crops and gardens. While that may ring true for him, for Violet it brought bittersweet memories of that night two years ago-- the night Brody asked her to leave with her. 

Violet twirled her pen between her fingers, hesitating to dip back into the dark ink. More thunder grumbled in the distance as faint rain began to fall. Even so, Violet didn’t move to close the window. She welcomed the rain tonight. 

“You could come with me. With your magic and my grand sense of direction, we could travel the world together-- see everythin’ it’s got to offer.”

A bird with striking blue feathers fluttered in gracefully, perching itself on the window sill. It didn’t shy away when Violet reached out, instead drawn to her. The bird kept its balance on her fingers as she admired it. 

Two years, she thought. Two years since Brody left Erisonia in search of excitement, adventure, and treasure. Brody left everything and everyone behind--including Violet. Her leaving was premeditated, of course. Brody always knew she would become an adventurer one day, having let Violet know years in advance that one day she’d walk out of this kingdom in search of something greater. 

What had been a shock was that Brody wanted Violet at her side. 

At first, Violet thought it to be a joke, that surely Brody knew she could abandon Ben, the kingdom, and her other companions. 

“Why not? It’s not like we’ll never come back, and if King Ben needs ya, which knowin’ him, he will... then he’ll call.” 

Violet wanted to agree. As they stood close together, seeking shelter from the rain under the garden’s gazebo, Violet wanted to look Brody in the eye and agree. 

She wanted to go back to the castle that night and pack all her essential belonging, inform Ben that she would be leaving with Brody and that nothing would stop her, say her goodbyes to Clementine, Louis, and the other knights and companions she’s grown to love over her years, then get on Brody’s horse and ride out of the kingdom just as the sun began to rise. 

That’s not what happened, though. 

Violet made it clear that she couldn’t go-- her brother needed her by his side to run this kingdom, and the most selfish parts of her hoped that would be enough to keep Brody there with her.

But, her love’s mind was already made long before they had ever met. 

Brody, while hurt and anxious at their impending departure, didn’t push further. Instead, she took Violet’s hand in hers and pressed a long, delicate kiss against the inside of her wrist. A silent promise, they both knew. 

A promise that Brody would return for her.

She left that very next morning. 

They exchanged letters, but as time went on, Brody wrote less and less. Sometimes, Violet’s letters would be brought back as Brody wasn’t anywhere in the area she addressed anymore, and she’d have to wait weeks for her to write with apologies and a new contact address. 

Many rumors and stories began to surface about the girl, stories of the things she’s conquered. If they’re all to be believed, then there isn’t a doubt in Violet’s mind that Brody’s time was hardly wasted on letters to her. 

The bird chirped at her, fluffing up its feathers in a huff before taking flight. It moves about the room in a panic before soaring out the window. Something heavy takes hold of her gut, squeezing as she watched the bird disappear in the distance. A bright flash momentarily blinds her, and only seconds later, a deafening clap of thunder growls. The rain had gone from light to a downpour, so Violet finally closed the window to prevent her parchment from getting soaked. 

“Be safe,” she murmurs, thinking of the little blue bird who paid her a visit, then once more of Brody. 

Her empty letter mocks her, so she starts with something simple-- Brody’s name. 

Brody

Easy enough, but if only the rest of her words flowed so nicely. 

Sure, she could describe the mundane weather the past few weeks brought them, or update her on how much her archery had improved, or even detail the story of Ben accidentally firing off all the fireworks gifted to him from the kingdom of Richmond during his birthday celebration, setting the food court aflame and angering chef Omar, who then proceeded to chase Erisonia’s king around the yard with a ladle.

Violet grew tired of paint-by-number letters, but every time she sat in her chair ready to pen her feelings, it’s as if she forgot the entire language altogether. And as Violet sat there, watching rain droplets trickle down her window and listening to the angry thunder, it occurred to her that if the feelings for Brody hadn’t run so deep-- if Violet didn’t still love Brody as much as she did even after all this time-- then she could find the words, could write an easy letter inquiring of Brody’s adventures the way old friends did. 

It was that thought that terrified her.

Violet crossed Brody’s name out, then crumpled the paper. 

An erratic banging startled her, forcing a curse to pass her lips as she jerked her leg right into the hardwood of the desk.

“Violet! Vi, get up!” a familiar, muffled voice calls from the other side. Violet, that sunken feeling returning to her gut, hurried from the desk to across the bedroom and unlocked all three locks. Before she could even pull the handle, Louis forced himself in, knocking into her. 

Luckily, she was able to catch herself. Before she could open her mouth to chastise him for bothering her so late, Louis slammed the door shut, relocking it. He panted heavily, unable to catch his breath as he wheezed out her name. 

“Vi, thank God, you’re okay!” Louis wheezed out, turning to press his back against the door. “We gotta go! Grab your bow, pack up- gotta get to the tunnels!”

“What?” Violet interrupted. “No, what’s going on? What-” 

She noticed the blood caked along his forehead. The gash wasn’t too deep from what she could tell, still oozing fresh blood. Upon further inspection of his overall appearance, Louis was a mess. Blood smeared across his armor and stained the sword at his hip, his face somehow both flushed and pale all at once, and his dark eyes wide with a million thoughts. 

“Louis, what the hell happened to you?”

Louis ignored her question and checked the door once more. After a moment, he moved in closer to rest his hands on her shoulders, and that regretful look in his eye uneased her.

“Vi, Grengresh is here- there have to be about thirty rats, I-” Louis took another deep breath as tension overtook Violet’s form. “King Ben sent me and Clem to get you but- but we got jumped and she stayed behind with the others to make sure they don’t get here- They’re back for you and we- we need to go! Get you somewhere safe!”

The blood ran cold within her, but the magic flared. With teeth sunk deep into her lip, Violet searched for any indication on Louis’ features that this wasn’t real. At another clap of thunder, he flinched and peered behind his shoulder with a fearful grunt. That was more than enough for Violet. 

Grengresh-- or rather, King Grengresh, as the rats knew him-- was back for her. After his last unsuccessful attempt to steal her away in the dead of night many years ago, he came back with reinforcements. There had been word that more and more rats were showing up in the mountains, that Grengresh was forming an army, but--

Memories of that night come flooding back, paralyzing her where she stood. 

Claws digging into her thin arms, the hot, rotting breath along her neck that woke her, lips curling over fangs, and those horrifying yellow eyes staring delightfully down at her-- Grengresh’s tail whipping around to knock her down as she cried for help--

“Vi, hey,” Louis spoke, lightly shaking her shoulders. “I know. I know, but we need to move. The rats know where we are but he’s not going to get you again, we just need to- we need to get through the underground tunnels. C’mon.”

He let go of her, moving over to the closet where she kept her bow and quiver with specially handcrafted arrows. 

“Ben-” Violet choked out. “What about Ben?”

“With Clementine,” Louis answered, and his voice trembled with obvious unease. “They’re buying us time, but there’s only so much--”

“We can’t just leave them,” Violet took the bow and quiver of arrows from him, gripping them tightly. Small sparks left her fingertips, running along the bow. “We- we should help. This isn’t like last time. I’m not a kid anymore and with my magic--”

“I know, trust me, I tried to stay behind. I said the same thing but we can’t let him get ahold of you, Vi. Clem made that perfectly clear,” Louis told her. “Look, I don’t doubt you, but you know what’ll happen and I- I can’t-” he wiped at the blood dribbling down his brow, unfocused, “-they’re strong. With Clementine leading them, the rats have no chance, but we will have no chance if they take you away.” 

Something deep swelled inside of her, some sort of toxic concoction of fear, rage, and bravery that fueled the magic to spark in her palms, illuminating up her arms as she secured the quiver on her back. This caught Louis’ attention. 

“Violet, please, we have to move. Open the passageway and we can-”

The hardwood floors beneath them rumbled as an explosion vibrated through the castle. Violet’s breath caught in her throat, unable to move at the sound of crumbling walls and faint cries. 

“Oh no,” Louis panicked, unsheathed his sword, and rushed back to the door. “No, no, no, Clem-”

He froze only when the voice that haunted Violet’s nightmares drawled close from behind the door. 

“Oh, sweet princess~” Grengresh chuckles in a scratchy, singsong voice. “I can smell you hiding in there.”

The sparks grew brighter, vibrating with her accelerated and angry pulse as Violet glared at the door. 

“Even now your sweat carries your fear, sweet princess… and the boy, your protector, he cannot hide the terror and anguish. How is your heart, boy?” 

Louis gripped the handle of his sword tight, dark eyes wide. 

“How is your heart? Heavy, no doubt!” Grengresh sneers. “To leave a lover to her doom with not even a kiss goodbye- Oh, how is your heart, boy?”

The other rats joined in, laughing as they continued to claw the door. 

From beside her, Louis cursed weakly, head hung low as tears threatened to spill over. With no time to crumble under the rat king’s cruel mockery, he grabbed Violet’s free hand and winced as her magic burned him. He tried desperately to pull her back towards the wall where the secret passage was to open through her magic. 

But Violet couldn’t think of such things-- all thoughts of escape were long gone. Now, all Violet could think of was getting her hands around Grengresh’s thick, furry throat. 

“You could make this so easy for us,” Grengresh continued. 

Enthusiastic scratching tore at the door, loud and frantic. They would be through soon, and the irrational, furious side of Violet longed for Grengrash to appear for when she got her hands on him-- 

“Come with me and no more of your people have to die tonight. Not that you have many left… your poor, poor brother is going to have such a mess to clean up, and so many new knights to hire… well, assuming he’s not already dead, of course.”

Violet rushed the door, but Louis’ arms wrapped around her, jerking her back towards the other side of the room despite the sparks of magic shocking him. 

“No,” he begged in her ear. “Violet, please, we have to-”

“It’s not all bad though,” Grengresh continued, a heavy bang-- possibly from the full force of another rat’s weight-- punctuating his words. “My fellow rats have many limbs to snack upon for the ride home now!”

The other rats cackled with delight, and Violet saw nothing but white. 

The door flew off the hooks, bouncing off the bed and into the wall with a deafening sound. 

The rats were quick, but Violet was quicker, drawing her bow and charging an arrow. It flew and hit the first rat inside, now on the floor jerking about with the arrow sticking from its neck and blood staining its brown fur. 

"Vi, go! I'll-"

More rats of various colors and sizes-- five, perhaps-- all with bared teeth and nasty grins, swarmed them. Louis leaped ahead, his sword piercing a speckled rat with a broken fang who cried out and attempted to lash at him. Violet shot her charged arrows swifter than ever before-- if Brody could see her now-- and she managed to take down two more before a smaller white one tackled her to the ground. 

Drool spattered over her face at the rat nipped at the air inches from her face, only being restrained by her arm against its neck and legs kicking into its belly. Violet focused the liquid hot magic into her palm, shoving her fingers into the rat’s blood-red eyes, sending pulse after pulse into the rat’s brain. It cried out in agony before the skull shattered, and the rat fell limp over her. 

“Shit!”

Louis’ sword got stuck in the belly of a rat that pinned him against the wall. Its tail whipped around, cracking against the cement walls. Louis pushed, shoving the rat away. However, the rat gripped the sword, and with its final bits of strength, thrust its claws into his shoulder, piercing the armor. 

Louis staggered back and pushed the rat off him. The body fell, the sword sticking up for Louis to grab, but Grengresh himself got there first. The rat king’s pointed nails threatened to break the skin as he wrapped a hand around Louis’ throat, forcing him back against the wall. Another rat leaped forward and pinned the rest of his body down.

His gagging caught Violet’s attention, and in seconds she was back on her feet and lunging at Grengresh with fiery white magic swirling around her.

“Violet, no-!” Louis choked out. 

Violet was so close, but the other reminding rat intercepted, tacking her to the ground. Though she shocked him, the magic frying its insides, she couldn’t get away fast enough. Grengresh’s tail cracked along the back of her head, and Violet’s vision went in and out of the darkness. 

Grengresh smirked down at her, his yellow eyes wide and merry as he sunk his teeth deep into Louis’ shoulder, getting a tight grip before ripping away, breaking away a chunk of armor and flesh.  

Grengresh dropped him to the ground and whipped his hard tail across the back of his head. 

Louis laid there, unmoving.

“Louis! Fuck, shit- Louis!”

More rats surrounded Violet, clutched onto each of her limbs, and held her down as she struggled. Her magic, though weaker, still managed to hurt them until Grengresh’s tail slapped down on her stomach, knocking all the breath from her lungs. 

Something cold and heavy locked around her wrists, and within moments, the magic sparks fizzled out. What felt like lead weighed down her bones-- the cuffs, Violet realized much too late. They're enchanted!

“Get off!” she demanded. “Get the fuck off me!” 

“Now, now,” Grengresh cooed, amused. “That is not the language used by a princess.” 

Violet spat at him, her spit landing on the dark fur of his chest. 

“Unladylike,” Grengresh shook his head, sending his tail down against her stomach once more. “That won’t do.”

Violet coughed, hacked up what tasted like blood. Grengresh’s nose twitched high in the air. He hummed, eyeing the door.

“Help comes for you, sweet princess. Too bad they’re too late for you and the poor boy,” Grengresh said. “Don’t worry, you won’t be killed. You’re far too valuable for that.” 

Grengresh moved down on all fours now, creeping closer to her. Despite herself, Violet felt as though she were a child again, and the monster beneath her bed had come to take her away. But this time… this time Violet knew the guards wouldn’t make it in time, and Louis--

She glanced at his body, still unmoving. Blood pooled around him.

Even if her head were clear, she couldn’t describe aloud the pain she felt both within her, and along her skin. The metal cuffs soaked up all the magic she had, and with the bodies of the rats holding her down, everything burned. 

“Shredard,” Grengresh addressed the rat on Violet’s left, with dark eyes and pure black fur. “Give that concoction of yours a whirl.”

“Yes, sir,” Shredard said. 

Only a moment later, a cold cloth was placed over Violet’s nose and mouth.

No matter how hard she struggled, darkness took her. 

[madamewriterofwrongs]

15 from the july prompt list for buddie, please! 💕

Slowly making my way through these prompts, I promise!!

July Prompt List

15. “It has made me better, loving you.”

I’ll Always Be By Your Side

Hen spotted Buck sitting on the couch, head in a tattered paperback that looked more like he’d pulled it out of the garburator than purchased it at a second-hand store on some lazy Saturday afternoon. The years since marrying Eddie had calmed the whirlwind energy the blond used to carry with him. He was still reckless and more than a little naïve, but she found herself worrying about him less. Too much loneliness and poor decision making had made him cautious and grateful for the family he had.

She’d told him a few times (and she’d likely tell him again) how proud she was of how much he’d grown up since they’d met. As much as she loved to tease her boys, it was easy to see that they were better together.

Though, she really loved to tease her boys.

“Didn’t know you were into trashy romance novels written decades before you were born.” She hopped onto the cushion beside him, grinning at the way he jumped out of his skin, nearly throwing the book across the room.

“Seriously, Hen?” he glared, pulling the pen out of his mouth so he didn’t accidentally bite it in half; though his disapproval only lasted from one breath to the next, shifting into a secret smile. “It was on the communal shelf.”

She had a sneaking suspicion of who would have added the old historical romance to their little library, but she let it go for now.

“Where’s your better half?” She threw an arm over the back of the couch as he turned back to his book.

Buck’s dismissive shrug gave her pause. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you two were attached at the hip.” Her stomach dropped, shifting into concerned and protective Mother Hen. “Did something happen?”

“No.” Buck shook his head again, eyes locked on the book, pen back in his mouth. The only thing keeping her from fearing the worst, was the gentle way he sunk into her side, cuddling under her arm as he drifted back into his fantasy world.

Even still, Hen swept a cautious eye over her friend, taking in his relaxed brow and tired eyes. She meant it when she told him that they’d still be a family after they all parted ways (unlike her old crew, she actually liked his personality), but she always thought they’d have parted ways by now. Either she’d move on, or the boys would get transferred when they started their relationship, or Bobby would retire, or Chimney would vie for a promotion once he became a father. Some of them had tried to get away from the 118 – to build a different career or a life away from the everyday dangers – but they always came back to the house and to the people they called family.

Time had made them fond of each other, closer, more affectionate. After their fifth brush with death in as many years, the quartet were quicker to express their emotions around one another and take care of each other on and off the clock. Chimney liked to credit himself with setting Buck and Eddie up on their first date, but really, it was the constant reminder of how short life truly was, that had Eddie kissing his now-Husband while they were out for drinks one night.

Buck cuddling into one of them was no longer a surprise, more of a welcome excuse to show their affection. Instead of questioning him, she let her favourite young firefighter settle in, turning the volume low on the episode of The Young and the Restless she was hoping to get through before a call.

They were barely halfway though, when her relaxation was interrupted; not by a pounding alarm, but by her own traitorous thoughts wandering back to the man at her side. Buck looked fine, but this wasn’t the first time in the past few weeks that he and Eddie had been spending less time together.

When they weren’t on a call – and sometimes even then – they were separated. They weren’t acting differently; but from the day they’d met, Buck had been trailing after Eddie like a puppy. Eddie had been just as bad. Everyone assumed that once they’d gotten married, they’d only get worse. She hadn’t been seeing that lately.

It probably didn’t mean anything (she knew better than anyone that marriage changed the way people expressed their love) but she made a note to keep an eye on their interactions in the coming days. Maybe she’d mention something to Chimney, too – although he’d tell Maddie and she might ask Buck, and it wouldn’t do to stir up trouble if she was just being hypervigilant.

For now, she’d keep her concerns to herself.

-

She was right!

Hen mentally scolded herself for feeling vindicated. For the rest of the week, she watched the Diaz’s interactions with one another while they were at work and around the house. It was a strange dichotomy: the times they were next to each other, they had the dopey grins and intimate touches that she was used to; but more often than not, they were on opposite sides of the room, ignoring their spouse.

They no longer sought each other out – exchanging longing looks – the way they had for years.

Something was different about them.

Finding Eddie alone was easier than normal; ironically, he was sitting on the couch and reading a tattered paperback, the same way his husband had just last week. It wasn’t as easy to sneak up on him, though.

“What’s up, Hen?” She rolled her eyes when he called her out before she even reached his side.

“Can’t I just sit next to my favourite firefighter?”

Eddie peaked over the cover; an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Buck’s downstairs.” He shifted his feet for her to sit beside him, nonetheless. Where Buck had adopted a little of Eddie’s reserved attitude, Eddie had taken on his husband’s knack for unprompted gift giving. “Are you still good if Buck and I watch the kids this weekend? I don’t want you and Karen to worry; we’ll take great care of them.”

Hen shook her head, never doubting for a moment, that her idiots in shining armor were perfectly capable of caring for three young adults and two toddlers (Nia and Grace were still a little young to be playing with the Three Troublemakers).

“Yes, I have every faith in you two.” No time like the present to bring up a painfully awkward subject. “How are things between you and Buck, by the way?”

Eddie’s eye practically lit up at the mention of his husband – only serving to further concern Hen. “We’re great; he’s actually taking me bowling this weekend. I’d invite you to come but you really don’t want to see that side of him.”

He spoke with such sincerity, she was sorely tempted to ask. So, she gave in. “What side is that exactly?”

His eyes glazed over, almost haunted for a moment before he answered her. “There are some things in a marriage that are sacred and can’t be spoken of.”

“Putting a pin in that for later” she announced, eyes wide in confusion (and maybe a little terror – what the hell did he mean by that?). “I actually wanted to talk to you about Buck.”

“What about him?”

If there was one thing that could get either of them to focus on the task at hand, it was the mention of their spouse. Even so, the usually annoying gushing that would burst forth from their mouths, as they animatedly talked about whatever subject was vaguely related to their husband, had significantly dulled over the past weeks. The way Eddie placed the book in his lap to give Hen his full attention, was still a fraction of the usual enthusiasm he carried for Buck.

“Are things okay between you two?” she asked, cautiously.

Eddie’s expression could only be described as ‘lost’. He blinked at his friend a few times, shaking his head with a small frown. “We’re fine, why do you ask?”

Hen was seriously beginning to regret her decision to meddle. She should have known better – but her love for their happy family, and desire to keep it together, had made her think irrationally. Oh god, she’d pulled a Buck!

Like her favourite firefighter, she barrelled through.

“I’ve just noticed the two of you acting differently lately. You’re not as touchy, and you’re not in each other’s laps all the time.”

Eddie snorted. “You hate when I sit on Buck’s lap.”

“I know, but you guys are always around each other and the last few weeks, you seem to be keeping your distance.” She placed a gentle hand on his knee, the same calming way she soothed Buck – to the same effect. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

The former medic was silent a long while, brown eyes boring into Hen’s as if he could see the truth behind her quiet demeanor. But those eyes were sad. Eddie had always had sad eyes – as long as she’d known him – brought on from the history she only knew a fraction of. Being with Christopher and meeting Buck had brought happiness back into his life, but every once in a while, she saw the man he used to be.

She prepared herself for a speech or a dismissive remark as he walked away, something to prove she’d crossed a line. Instead, his sad eyes softened, and he placed the tattered old paperback into her hands.

It was small but fairly thick; the spine was so worn, it seemed held together by bits of string. The cover (what she could make of it) was a light red with two heterosexual lovers painted in a rather risqué embrace. No part of her was interested in reading this.

Okay, a small part of her was interested in reading this, but not enough to accept it as a recommendation from her co-worker. Hen opened her mouth to say as much, but her eye caught a bit of blue ink on a page that had nearly fallen out. Curiously, she opened the book and read the note she recognized to be written in Buck’s blocky handwriting.

Why wouldn’t she pick Roberto? He has way nicer abs.

Flipping through the remnants of the book revealed more commentary and corrections; other words circled or underlined, all from Buck’s pen.

Who says thineist? I don’t think that was ever a word.

You’d look good in a puffy pirate shirt. Just saying.

She’s just trying to get back to her family.

Okay I teared up at this part so be careful.

Remember that restaurant you took me to on our seventh date? You got so nervous because you were going to ask me to be your boyfriend that you knocked into the waitress and she spilled someone else’s wine down my shirt? This was the same wine.

That is not how you properly dispense CPR!!!

You’ll love this scene.

Hen hadn’t read all of the notes, she knew, but she understood enough. Without a word, she passed the book back to Eddie who took it with a knowing smile.

He held the book differently – irreverently – like something precious. In a way, she supposed it was to them. When he spoke, he still brushed his hands over the covers, turning it over and over despite her sneaking suspicion that he’d already memorized its shape.

“You know Buck and I haven’t always had the most luck with relationships.” Hen resisted the urge to snort at his understatement, allowing him to continue uninterrupted. “Finding someone that Christopher loved as much as I did (maybe more), was kind of a miracle. It took us a long time to settle into the fact that neither of us are going to leave the other; I think it took us even longer to figure out that we don’t need to be together to… be together.” Eddie’s smile was a secret he chose to share. “I’m never worried about us, because we’re here for each other, even when we’re apart.”

Eddie held the book in his lap, trying in vain to hide his blush, leaving Hen to watch over his head as Buck came up from behind. With a silence she didn’t know he possessed, Buck walked over to the pair, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek when he presented it without looking at his husband. Without a word, Buck walked over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, returning to the gym with a passing smile at Hen.

Such a simple moment, but she understood exactly what Eddie had been saying: They didn’t need to be constantly at each other’s side because there was a trust and a sixth sense between them.

“You guys really are unbearably sappy, aren’t you.” The words breathlessly left her mouth before she even thought to stop them. Eddie smiled anyways, opening up the book to the place he’d left off.

“Yeah, we are.”

[mjm5655]

[ TENSION ]  one muse is patching up the other’s injuries which leads to intense eye contact,  lingering touches and them finally crashing their lips against each other’s. 

unprompted asks // accepting ! // @auburniivenus

they had just arrived back at his place after the awful ordeal with the shibata that they had both been through, orihime had bruises, & cuts all over her body. majima had brought out his first aid kit he had lying around, & was working quickly on patching up her wounds, he could hear the pained yelps of the other as he washed the gashes to keep them from being infected.

❝ it's okay, babe, ya been through a lot. ❞

he probably wasn't the most gentle when it came to taking care of someone in this way, but it wasn't like he trusted any of his underlings to do it ... he could consider getting her to a doctors quickly though, there was some gashes that were definitely going to take some time to heal, but there was really no time for that. to rush her down there in this state ; to then demand & hope that the doctor has free time there & then to give to them, he had to get her patched up first himself.

❝ those fuckers ... ❞

pressing down on a rather large gash on her leg where the chains had dug in, & keeping hold of it until he could see the bleeding had stopped, he reached over to his kit, & brought out a roll of bandages, wrapping it around her leg. he's only lucky this was all it was on her as if he had been any later, she would have probably lost an eye just like his ... it would have ruined her career for sure as majima was no stranger to how much the idol industry valued aesthetic.

orihime had slightly lowered her head, probably out of dizziness from majima patching her up. he was surprised how she hadn't fainted from the whole thing, she held up better to this kind of treatment than he thought she would.

❝ babe, ya wanna lie down ? ❞

cupping her face, there was even bruises & cuts upon it where she must have been slapped across the face. the shibata family will definitely pay for what they did, majima would make sure of it, shimano, his boss, will not be even able to hold him back. orihime was in no state to go to her work, & what's worse is that she had a bit of a gig coming up that she was looking forward to ; majima would have to call for her, he wasn't going to allow her, or her company to force her to work in this condition, she needed rest. hopefully they could delay it a bit easily.

staring into her eyes, lucky for the fact that there was still two of them to stare into, his lips moved onto hers as he had dealt with most of the worst gashes upon her body, kissing her, it wasn't long before she joined in, he could feel arms wrapping around him as he wrapped his around her ... gently as to not bother any of the soreness that she was currently feeling. it was not a heated kiss, but it did go on for quite some time before they broke it. both probably relieved to just being able to see the other, whilst majima knows it could have been worse with her losing an eye just like he did, it could have been even more so if she was killed. shibata's men were sick in the head, they would do anything to just get at majima, to bring him more misery than they already had.

deciding that it was time for orihime to have some rest, he laid her back down in the bed, tidying up his first aid kit again, & putting it away before he joined her in the bed, it was daytime, but he didn't care, he wasn't in the mood to let her out of his sight for today.

[fantastiqueparfait]

The Best Medicine

Fluff for White Day! Come get your fluff -- hot off the presses! As promised, a continuation of Fluff Prompt 26 (but you don’t need to have read that to follow along).

No warnings -- appropriate for general audiences.

Tagging: @dangerouspompadour​, @umacaking​, @lemonlushff​, @clearwillow​, @sarah-writes-stories​, @disgruntledbeast​, @superpixie42​, @meggz0rz (I thiiiink this is everyone who wanted tags; yell at me if I missed you)

Kagome knew it was all about to come crashing down. If she was honest with herself, she’d known since yesterday when her throat started to get a bit scratchy. Daring to hope, she’d written it off as the result of lots of talking combined with mild dehydration.

And then she woke up with a full-blown sore throat and mild congestion.

She checked the time – 7:00 AM. She would need to meet Inuyasha in an hour to head to the airport and he would flip out if he knew she was sick. He’d always been protective of her, and it certainly intensified when they started dating a few weeks ago.

He just won’t know, then, Kagome decided as she rolled out of bed to dig up a decongestant pill from her medicine cabinet and prepare a saltwater solution for her throat.

There’s no way I’m going to let him make me miss this for anything.

Not that she was worried he would. She knew he would never fly off to Los Angeles, leaving her home alone and sick – he always made sure to check on her when she’d fallen ill in the past, and that was long before they got together. Years, even.

Anyway, the wedding wasn’t for another week – they were just flying in early to help Sango and Miroku set things up. It was the least they could do as the best man and maid of honor. She’d kick this measly cold in a few days and be healthy in time for the wedding.

She just didn’t need Inuyasha breathing down her neck about it. She’d take the medication and power through.

Easy.

~~~~~~~~~

Kagome started to drag as she stood in the security line -- why was the wait so long? Where did all these people come from? It was the middle of the morning on a Saturday!

Things got worse as she pulled her suitcase through the terminal, struggling to keep up with Inuyasha as they made their way to the gate. Fatigue was setting in way sooner than it should have and her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

You just need to sit for a few moments, Kagome decided as she slumped into a chair in the waiting area, closing her eyes for a moment.

“You okay there?”

Kagome jumped as she opened her eyes to find Inuyasha’s face maybe an inch from her own.

“Y-yep, fine. Just resting!”

Was she sweating now? Had the walk from security been that exhausting?

Oh no.

“Resting, huh? Well, I’m going to go get coffee. You just… keep resting,” came the reply as he patted her head, not-so-subtly taking a second to rest his hand on her forehead. He winced slightly, undoubtedly feeling the heat radiating from her.

He knows, oh god; he KNOWS. Just keep your shit together; you’ll sleep on the plane and it’ll be fine.

Then you can let the warm weather do its thing and you’ll be good in no time.

~~~~~~~~

Kagome did sleep on the plane – the whole three-hour flight, in fact, wrapped in a blanket and Inuyasha’s sweatshirt -- and woke up feeling better.

Not that Inuyasha would hear her protests that she was on the mend.

Carrying all of the luggage (and looking completely ridiculous but ignoring any offers to help), he ushered her through the airport to a coffee stand for tea and into the rental car in near-record time.

“Dinner is cancelled,” he stated as Kagome settled into the passenger seat, her tea in hand.

“What? No, I’m feeling better! I can meet Sango and Miroku!”

“And get them sick the week of their wedding? Nope. We’re going to the hotel and you’re getting in bed.”

“But… it’s pool weather…” Kagome wanted to cry. It had been so cold at home and the thought of sitting by a pool in March (in March!!!) was one of the only things keeping her sane at work these days.

“Okay, if you’re getting teary over that, you’re definitely sick. I’ve seen you get slapped by your own client and not even cry.”

Kagome frowned, recalling that day. She was defending a repeat offender who had apparent… issues with being represented by a woman, and he slapped her, completely unprompted, midway through his competency hearing.

Kagome remembered being too shocked to cry (though she had later that night, once she was home and the day’s events sank in). She also remembered Inuyasha launching himself across the courtroom to get to her as the bailiffs descended.

It was the week before she and Inuyasha had gone out for that (fateful) pizza dinner. It was also the day she started reconsidering her career choice.

I don’t want to think about job stuff now, Kagome thought, unable to stop a few tears from falling. This is so embarrassing – I’m so off my game right now!

“Ugh, fine,” Inuyasha conceded. “If your fever breaks tomorrow, you can sit next to the pool.”

Kagome beamed.

“For ten minutes.”

She slumped down in her seat as they pulled out of the lot.

~~~~~~~

“You need to dry your hair.”

Kagome wanted to cry again. The burst of energy she’d experienced after the flight was short-lived. She made it through a shower okay, but it had been a struggle to get her pajamas on. She was so tired and bed was so close.

So close.

“I don’t need to; I’m sure I’m not going anywhere tomorrow. I’ll just pull it up,” she whined, grabbing a hair tie from the counter.

“You’ll stay sick if you sit with wet hair all night. It’ll make you too cold. Bad for your immune system.”

“That’s not real. What are you, my grandmother?”

“You’re sick, so I’m choosing not to hold that against you. Come on,” Inuyasha replied, pulling the towel from Kagome’s head and tossing it on the bathroom floor. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the desk in the corner of the hotel room, setting her gently in the chair.

“Stay there,” he told her as he walked back to the bathroom.

Kagome rested her head on the table, using her arms as a pillow. He wasn’t gone long, but she began to drift off nonetheless.

She was startled by the sound of a hairdryer but found herself quickly steadied by a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t jump – you’ll fall out of the chair.”

Am I just that small, or is his hand really that big?

Kagome found it hilarious. It was probably the fever.

“I’m just going to get it dry enough so you can get in bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

She started to drift off again as Inuyasha dried her hair, his firm but gentle grasp keeping her upright. Kagome couldn’t say that she’d ever expected to see this side of him – she was so sure that he would be frazzled by her illness throwing off the pre-wedding week with Sango and Miroku, but here he was, he was caring for her so patiently.

And he always had, hadn’t he? That dinner a few weeks ago, that time in the courtroom, and so many moments before then…

He adores you. He is soul-crushingly, disgustingly in love with you.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, yet at the same time she was completely unable to process it. It just stayed there at the front of her mind as Inuyasha finished drying her hair and helped her into the bed. It remained as he propped her up on a couple of pillows and tucked her in before heading back to the bathroom.

Kagome started to drift again. She thought she heard him mention something about stepping out as he set a glass of water on the nightstand and gave her a kiss on the forehead, but she wasn’t really sure.

~~~~~~~

Kagome wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The last thing she remembered was being tucked in and vaguely hearing the room door close, and here she was now, waking up to the feeling of the bed shifting as someone sat down on the other side and gently shook her shoulder.

“Do you think you can eat?” Inuyasha asked as she opened her eyes, frowning when she shook her head no. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” he chided gently.

Kagome sat up and reached for the glass of water only to have her hand moved away.

“Wait,” Inuyasha murmured before shoving a thermometer in her mouth. “You can drink water in a minute.”

Kagome wrinkled her nose in displeasure but didn’t fight it, instead focusing on the warm hand stroking her hair.

He’s babying you.

She couldn’t say she minded that much. She snuggled up to him as much as she could, given that she was still tucked in and he was sitting atop the covers.

Inuyasha frowned slightly as the thermometer beeped and he read the result.

“102? No wonder you were struggling. I’m honestly impressed you hid it as long as you did. Do you think you can eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Inuyasha frowned as Kagome shook her head.

“You need to eat. I picked up a pizza when I went out to get the thermometer,” he gestured to the desk where a small pizza box sat next to a plastic shopping bag.

“Pizza?” She wasn’t hungry, but she supposed she could try to eat a little to make him happy.

“Don’t get used to it. If we weren’t stuck in a hotel room, you’d be eating something actually good for you.”

Kagome wrinkled her nose and he tapped it teasingly in response.

“That said, I thought you might be willing to try to eat if it was something you liked… even if it isn’t all that healthy.”

Kagome still wasn’t sure. The thought of food wasn’t revolting to her; it just… wasn’t really motivating in any way.

“I’ll try to eat a slice,” she conceded. Inuyasha beamed as he got up to grab a box from the shopping bag as well as the pizza before sliding back onto the bed.

Kagome couldn’t help but smile at him as he put on a show of things to keep her spirits up. She liked this side of him – she knew she was perhaps one of only a few people would had ever seen it.

She wanted to protect it at all costs.

~~~~~~

“Come on, just a little more? You can’t go to bed having eaten a muffin and a half of a slice of pizza.”

“I had a coffee too,” Kagome grumbled.

“Black coffee has 0 calories. That doesn’t help your argument, counsel,” he took the remainder of the slice and held it toward her face. “Eat. I’ll feed you if I have to.”

Kagome sighed but made no effort to take the slice back.

“Fine, you leave me no choice then. Here comes the airplane, Ka-go-me.”

“Oh my god,” Kagome moaned.

It’s unfair! I can’t even fight back because my brain is all mush and my skin hurts.

“The airplane, Kagome! It’s circling the airport. The people are getting restless – they want to go home.” He held up the pizza to emphasize his point.

He’s mocking you, Kagome realized fuzzily. Still though, she didn’t feel attacked, just… aggressively cared for.

Still nice, even if it was excessively silly. And mushy. So mushy she was embarrassed.

“I’m an attorney. I don’t have to put up with being treated like this.” She grabbed the pizza from his hand and shoved half of it in her mouth, glaring at him as she chewed deliberately.

“I knew it.”

“What?” Kagome swallowed and took a bite of the remainder of the slice.

“I knew I could goad you into eating.”

“No you didn’t.”

“True, but the alternative was hand-feeding you -- which wouldn’t have been so bad either.”

“You need to stop talking to Miroku.”

Inuyasha blushed. Kagome squeezed his hand and tried to wink.

She thought she was successful, but she wasn’t sure.

~~~~~~~

Less than an hour later, Kagome found herself settled back into bed after a brief adventure to brush her teeth, snuggled up to Inuyasha’s shoulder.

“You should go to sleep,” he murmured.

“No, it’s only 8 PM. That’s too early.”

“You’re sick. There’s no such thing as ‘too early’.”

“I like this movie though,” Kagome countered sleepily.

“Fine,” Inuyasha replied, ruffling her hair. “We can watch.”

They stayed like that for another half hour, watching the movie silently as Kagome’s eyelids started to get heavier and heavier.

“Inuyasha?” She was barely awake by this point, but Kagome’s earlier realization just would not leave her alone.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, his face still buried in her hair. Kagome could have sworn she felt him grin as she drifted off.

[faewildscalling]

@tobethefairybest here! I would to request these for Mescana for the Headcanon asks 😍

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

Remembers anniversaries

Hey there Daphne. I'll definitely do those but I think I'm gonna do the whole list. Cause who doesn't want more mescana? Hope you don't mind and hope you like them.

Mescana

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Mest is taller so he loves to kiss her forehead whenever he can. She will lean up and give him nose kisses in retaliation. Cana likes their little game.

Gets jealous the most

Mest does because Cana can be quite the flirt when drunk. Plus he feels insecure with her beauty. Not realizing how handsome he himself is. She has to remind him sometimes.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

Cana is the bigger drunk, no doubt. So Mest would probably go with her as a DD or Lucy would call him to come pick her up.

Takes care of on sick days

Well in most my headcannons men turn into babies when sick. So Cana probably takes care of Mest when sick. She hardly gets sick. However, he takes care of her when she gets hangovers though.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

This screams Cana. She would pull him into the water laughing the whole way. Especially once she notices his blushing face.

'It isn't his fault that Cana looked so beautiful in her new swimsuit and the sun shining through her hair. Right? '

is the response he wanted to scream out. But that would make things worse. So he endures her teasing.

Gives unprompted massages

She does this when she notices that he looks stressed or sore. It was something she tried once after a job; that helped so much it became a regular thing.

Drives/rides shotgun

They both prefer to let Mest do the driving while Cana rides shotgun. She points out weird things along the way. Which he finds very entertaining.

Brings the other lunch at work

Cana does this by sneaking into the magic council building. He has asked her countless times to tell him how but she always refuses or distracts him. Usually that involves lots of kisses.

Has the better parental relationship

Cana because are we even gonna question it with Gildarts being so over the top once he knew who she was? He loves her so much and would fight for her. Mest feels the same way but his love is definitely different. I don't think we know of his family. So I can't say for him.

Tries to start role-playing in bed

Cana strikes me as the kinky one who would try this to spice things up or to surprise him. He was embarrassed and shy. She found it adorable, much to his dismay.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

Mest is because Cana has had time to perfect it over the years. He embarrasses her big time when it happens at the guildhall.

Still cries watching Titanic

Cana and if Mest dares to tell anyone she won't hesitate to punch him as hard as she can of the closest body part of his to her at the time of the news. She has made that very clear to him.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Mest cause he is a goofy hopeless romantic. Cana goes along with it to humor him and she thinks the cheesey costumes are kinda fun.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

Mest because he has a hard time not spoiling Cana. He wants to make up for the past, no matter how many times she has told him not to.

Makes the other eat breakfast

Mest cause sleepy Cana is practically a zombie till she has coffee. He has to make her sit and eat with coffee ready.

Remembers anniversaries

Cana is big on this because she would remember her moms passing and birthday and honor them. Dates are kinda important to her. Mest respects that and does his best to remember them too.

Brings up having kid

Mest does but only cause Cana was squealing over a guildmates new baby and she looked so adorable it just slipped out. Both got really embarrassed but talked it out anyway.

[willowaudreykeyes]

Oh fuck you didnt finish them yet.. then Janus or Thomas?

XD I’m about to start writing Roman’s soon, then Remus’ should be quick to follow. But I’ll happily share Janus’ backstory. I’ll uh... just copy and paste what I have in google docs😅

Be careful though please. His backstory involves child neglect and child abuse so only read if you can. Don’t force yourself.

Janus’ father left him and his mother three days after he was born; and an hour after the doctor said that his scales and one snake-like eye wouldn’t disappear.

All shapeshifters have some physical animal trait, such as fur or a tail, but Janus’ seemed to grow to more than any other shapeshifters has before. He’s met others with scales, but theirs were in a small patch or two. Janus’ scales covered the left side of his face, neck, down the left part of his torso and arm, and ended just before they reached his toes.

His mother made him hide his scales at every chance. She was used to being surrounded by others and gossip, so she had to bring him to weekend meetups. He was told to socialise, which he promptly ignored so that he could go write short stories in a corner. His mother’s friends often commented on his actions.

Eventually she made excuses to her friends to leave him behind, to both of their joy.

Her friends would still talk about him though, as he often got into fights with other children and they’d question her parenting.

She tried to make him ‘perfect’ so that she could have something to brag about. Forced him to read and do math several years above his grade. Taught him as much science, magick history and history as she could. Made him join a self-defence course. 

She often lied to the school and the government, saying that he was doing all of this unprompted and that she did two jobs to support him. The government gave her money for her ‘prodigy’ child. 

He was a top student, but his mother never praised him and it led to him becoming depressed. He continued to lash out at others and often lied about assignments to prolong them in order to have a few hours of peace. Eventually he began skipping classes and he shapeshifted into his mother to get out of more schooling.

Even started lying to his mother to make her happy and leave him alone. He still preferred writing short, often fictional stories but she called them a waste of time. A stack of books filled with these stories were hidden beneath the floorboards.

Janus was ten when she found out about his lying habit. She found the loose wood panel in his room and waited for him to get home from school before burning all of his books in front of him.

She was hysterical; saying that no matter what she did to ‘fix’ him, he was still a freak and it made her an outcast. He didn’t know how to reply. He went to wipe the tears off the scaled side of his face a moment before she grabbed him.

She rolled up his left pant leg, grabbed a fire-proof oven mitt and held his leg in the burning pile of books. He struggled until he managed to grab one of the books and threw it in her face, causing her to let him go.

He ran on pure adrenaline. He ran until he passed out by a road. He remembers waking once or twice to hearing other children and a woman before suddenly waking up in a huge bed.

One of the Princes had found him along the road while looking for bugs. He got his twin and mother from nearby, then stayed with Janus until he woke up.

The King and Queen heard his story and sent people out to find his mother. Two days later, she was found three towns away, murdered in an alleyway.

Janus wasn’t too upset when he heard as he never loved his mother, due to how she treated him. He was more afraid of being in an orphanage.

But as he recovered from his burns, he and Prince Remus became close friends. And at least friendly with Prince Roman as Janus was too tired and sore to try and scare them off like other kids.

Even after telling the King and Queen that he was a liar, that he was sarcastic, that he was useless because of his newly formed limp; they offered that he stayed as Remus and Roman’s advisor. They knew about his ‘prodigy’-like intelligence and said that he’d do fine.

Four years later, Janus and Remus were inseparable and he helped Roman out of tons of problems he had put himself into. Like the time he filled his bedroom filled with frogs after reading “The Princess And The Frog”.

He continued to learn for his own sake, and for the twins’ sake. He found that it was a better goal than to please someone who didn’t care about him when the Royal Family often showed their appreciation to even the smallest of acts.

He had been learning how to fight by himself until he convinced the Head Guard and a nearby talented thief to teach him. He became both the Princes Advisor, and their personal Guard.

He found out that the Royal Chef was planning on killing the King by gaining one of the maids favours (he had helped her find where her long-lost daughter was and got some info on the entire staff in return). 

He even managed to get a hold of rare plants and ingredients for Remus’ crazy ideas and the Royal Healers. He never told anyone how, but everyone quickly learns that he somehow talks and lies his way to get what he wants. The King finds this a good thing; as it’s often to protect the Twins.

When the King and Queen said that the Twins were going to go to King Cygnus Aurelian’s School of Magick; he was glad as their current teacher was a ditz in his opinion. 

Janus also disliked that Roman had begun to turn more pompous and less heroic and hoped that putting him with the ‘common folk’ would be good for him.

He was surprised when Remus settled in quickly; while he wasn’t surprised that Roman often complained about his lack of attention every day.

He one day watched an emo kid punch Roman in the face. He went to go sort it all out, but stopped as Roman began to say everything on his mind. He watched from afar as they looked after him.

When Roman began to change for the better, he immediately went digging into the kids’ backgrounds and quickly learnt that he was screwed. With all of their family backgrounds in mind, he made friends with them and told himself that he would help protect all of them.

Virgil asked if he would die for him or any of the others. Janus replied with “No. My gloves would get dirty” and immediately regretted it after he was thrown out of a window by a formless shadow. 

After he defended himself against a mad/sad/very emotional Virgil, and after Patton calmed him down, he quietly told him that he was often known to be a liar. After a moment, Virgil understood and they… mostly made up. Their occasional fights afterwards were never even close to as violent.

So yeah! That’s his backstory. Just ask if anything isn’t completely clear as I left out the more world-building stuff and just stuck to the backstory.

[kimabutch]

The One Who Will Remember Everything

The sun has set, risen, and set again by the time that Cicero stops, points to a fancy-looking house on a hill, and says something she can vaguely understand. Sasha barely nods back. Her legs have long since stopped hurting and are now simply numb, and her entire being is working to keep herself upright.

She doesn’t remember collapsing halfway up the hill, nor Cicero running for help to carry her the rest of the way.

--

Sasha’s gotten used to waking up with a start, ready to fight, but this time, she wakes slowly, becoming gradually conscious of the warm blankets wrapped around her and the sunlight behind her eyelids. It’s only when she starts vaguely listening for the familiar sounds of Hamid’s soft snores and hears birdsong instead that her eyes snap open. She’s lying on a colourful, soft bed in a large room, lit by several windows. Her clothes and shoes are still all on.

Instinctually, Sasha checks for all her daggers, counting them quickly. All there but the ice dagger, which — she looks down at her hand and the blue scars that jolt like lightning across her skin, and suddenly it all comes back like a punch to the stomach. Letting go of Azu. Grizzop’s limp body in her arms. Corpses, burned alive.

She closes her eyes and swallows dryly, unsure if she’s holding back puke or sobs, and unwilling to find out. She crawls out of the bed and feels every muscle in her body protest with soreness as she silently walks to the window. By the light of day, no longer wracked by exhaustion, Sasha sees clearly, for the first time, the endless green, rolling fields stretching into the horizon. There’s a weight on Sasha’s chest as she imagines herself standing in them, falling into their infinity, searching desperately for something to hold onto. She tears herself away from the window, her breath short, and leans against the wall, comforted somehow by its solidness.

Calming her breath and avoiding looking out the windows, Sasha makes her way along the wall to the doorway. Muffled voices come from the lower level, so she creeps down the stairs, instinctually stealthy, and wanders until she finds their source: a garden. From the doorway, she can see Cicero in a new toga, talking boisterously to an elderly man, who’s surprisingly calm in the face of Cicero’s forceful personality. Maybe it’s the effect of several successive potions of tongues that she took yesterday, or maybe it’s whatever allowed Bertie to speak French in Paris, but Sasha finds that she can understand their Latin near-perfectly.

“For now, you don’t need to worry,” the old man is saying. “The cow and chickens they left and my garden will be perfectly serviceable until Atticus returns.”

“But you’ve seen her — she’s all skin and bones! She carried me half the way here! She needs something substantial!” Cicero says.

“I assure you, I can take care of her. When she wakes up, I’ll make her a large dinner —”

“Cheers, mate,” Sasha says, coming up behind Cicero, “but I’ve lived on less before. I don’t need anything fancy.”

Cicero turns around in surprise. “Ah, excellent, you’re awake! Let me introduce you to Aulus, the delightful servant of my good friend, Atticus, in whose villa we are currently residing! Unfortunately, Atticus, his family, and his scribes were traveling in Rome when the destruction occurred, but Aulus will provide for us. I’m sure they will find their way back. They’re not as quick as us!”

“The news of Rome came to us a day before you arrived,” Aulus explains. “The rest of Atticus’s servants fled with most of the animals, but I chose to stay. We have large stores of food here, and many fields. We’ll be comfortable until Atticus returns, at which point we’ll make a decision about where to go.

“Yeah… when he returns… from Rome,” Sasha says, unsure whether it’s morally right to support their naive optimism. She doesn’t know that it’ll be four weeks until Aulus and Cicero give up hope. “How long was I asleep?”

“Two and a half days — you must be hungry,” Aulus says, heading towards the door. “What food do you prefer?”

“You, uh… you got any eels?”

Cicero beams. “A delicate palate — delightful!”

--

That evening, Aulus ushers her into the same second-floor bedroom, and Sasha finds herself lying awake on her back. Whenever she closes her eyes, she sees Hamid, Grizzop, and Azu, swears she can hear them calling her name — but whenever she opens them, she feels her gaze drawn to the window overlooking the fields. At the thought of the open space, her chest tightens. She sees herself walking through them, feels her vulnerability from all sides, knows that she’s being watched.

She slips out of bed and makes her way to Aulus’s bedroom, awkwardly knocking.

“Is there, like… a basement? A cellar? Just in case we, uh… if someone comes?”

--

On the fourth day, she wakes up to Cicero calling down to her from the top of the cellar.

“Aulus heard something in the stables! You’re very strong! I hope you can check!” His voice is as booming as always. Sasha unclenches her hand’s white-knuckled grip on her dagger and pulls herself up from the blankets that Aulus insisted she bring down to sleep on. She climbs up the ladder, Cicero chatting constantly.

The stables are a hundred metres or so away from the back entrance to the villa, and the path is thankfully shaded by a handful of trees. She sneaks from tree to tree towards the barn. It’s probably bandits, taking advantage of the chaos, like always. Barretts, the lot of them. She isn’t worried. Still, she stays quiet as she eases the door open and slips into a shadow. Listening for a moment, she can hear faint crying from… the ceiling? Fifteen years in Other London allow her eyes to adjust quickly to the dark, and it only takes a moment for her to spot, curled up with what looks to be riding equipment in the loft, a young boy.

He can’t be more than eight or nine years old. His dark black hair is grey with ash, and his tunic is torn and covered in dark patches — probably blood. Tears are leaving streaks down his dirty face.

Sasha freezes, stilling her breath. It’s the classic set up, which Barrett had occasionally used her for when he couldn’t find chubbier-faced kids. The crying child, poorly hidden, surrounded by a well-hidden gang, ready to take out their victim the moment they let their guard down. Works well on Upper London idiots, but not her.

Glancing around the room in the barn, Sasha takes stock of the places that the fuckers might hide, listening closely for any movement. In only a moment, she finds what she's been looking for: several large amphorae in a shadowy area of the room, behind which two or three small people might hide. She sneaks around to them, sure that she's kept herself well-hidden, and in one swift movement, launches an attack on — nothing. Air. Her knife, perfectly aimed to hit a bandit, loudly cracks an amphora, spilling grain out over the floor. Sasha braces for a second, waiting for the bandits that must be hidden somewhere else to start their attack, but all she hears is the sound of a young child who's trying his very best to stay quiet.

Maybe she was wrong.

Sasha climbs up the ladder to the loft, cringing with every creak of old wood. By the time that she peeks her head to the upper level, the boy is staring right at the ladder, holding with both hands a small knife, like you might use to cut tough meat. He points it towards her shakily, and suddenly she's sure that this isn't a set-up — you'd have to be a stupid gang leader to get someone like this as bait.

"Hey mate," she says in Latin. "Don't think you actually want to fight me. Nice knife, though." The boy tries to press even more of his body into the riding equipment, away from her. Without getting closer to him, Sasha swings on the end of the loft, pulling herself up to the ledge and sitting down, legs hanging off the edge. She sits in silence for a moment, suddenly very aware that she has no idea how to interact with small children, even those wielding weapons. What had she liked at that age?

"You wanna see some of mine? Sasha says. "Knives, I mean." Reaching into her studded leather coat, she pulls out a dagger. From the corner of her eye, she sees the boy flinch. "Hey, nah, it's okay, I won't hurt you, see?" she says, and offers it to him, holding it by the blade. He looks at her with confusion, but doesn't take the blade, so she lays it down carefully on the floor of the loft in front of him.

"Now this one," she says, pulling out her adamantine dagger and admiring its intricate patterns, "this one's my favourite. Well... one of my favourites." She lets him look at it from his place among the riding equipment and then, when she's sure he has his eyes on her, weaves it through her fingers so fast that it looks like water. She throws the dagger in the air, making an arch over her head, then a figure eight, then catching it on one finger, where it spins for a moment. When she looks back at the boy, he's transfixed. Sasha can't stop a small smile from coming to her face as she brings out a third and fourth dagger and continues on with her tricks.

Five minutes later, the boy has pulled up right to her side for a closer look at her fire dagger and the way its flames shift as she runs it over her arms, behind her back, through her fingers. He's holding his meat-knife in one hand and her old dagger in his other, but absent-mindedly, no longer on edge.

Putting out the dagger in one final flourish, she turns to the boy. "Do you wanna stay with me here? Just as long as you want, though," she says quickly. "I won't keep you here if you want to leave. But... we've got food, and a couple of... friends."

At "food," the boy perks up immediately. As if suddenly remembering that he's supposed to be cautious, he gives a shy nod.

"'Name's Sasha... Whosaskinus" Sasha says, and it occurs to her that this might be the first time she's given her name unprompted in her life.

The boy hesitates for a moment. "Maximus," he says. "Cause of my little brothers."

Fourteen years later, when Maximus helps a traveling pregnant woman give birth to a child, the boy will be called 'Little Maximus' in honour of him.

--

It’s Aulus who insists that Sasha take a bath and wash her clothes. They’ve been there ten days by that point, and Sasha’s yet to venture beyond the stables or the garden. She’s more help to Aulus inside, she says, trading her off-the-cuff Other London recipes for Aulus’s high-brow cooking, learning the names of the plants in the garden, and, at one point, climbing into the barn’s rafters to patch a leak. Aulus isn’t so bad: quick with a joke, less pompous than Cicero, and kind to her in a way that still feels a little foreign.

He lets her know, gently at first, that they do have heated baths that are quite pleasant, and wouldn’t she like to change from her leather coat into something more comfortable? And Sasha does like baths (despite her grumbling the first time Eldarion made her take one), and she doesn’t like picking bits of Rome dust in her belt or seeing the stain of black blood on her pants — but it feels so final, doesn’t it, taking her stuff off? As if she’s saying that she’s not leaving. And it’s not like Sasha actually has plans to leave or believes that she could really ever find her way back, but every time she takes off her studded leather jacket, she feels herself telling Hamid and Azu and Bi Ming that she’s not coming back for them.

Eventually, Aulus and Sasha come to complex negotiations, and Sasha agrees to let him wash her other clothes if she can keep the jacket nearby while she’s in the bath, and put it on again right after. She lays out her knives one by one right near the edge of the water, counting them before slipping in. The water is warm, as Aulus promised, and she feels all her muscles relaxing, despite herself. With an ache of nostalgia, she remembers Hamid’s apartment in London, and the bath she took there. It feels like years ago.

She’s dried off, dressed, and is figuring out how to arrange the daggers in her leather-over-tunic outfit when she sees Maximus’s head poking out from the doorway. He’s lightened up considerably in the past few days, and tends to stick around Sasha like glue.

“Oi, privacy!” she says, and Maximus’s face falls as he realizes she’s seen him.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to look, I was just going past and —” Maximus comes running up to her and motions for her to lean down. “You’ve got a bird on your back!” he whispers excitedly in her ear.

“Oh. That’s a scar. This… guy fell on me once and he had lots of bird statues on him.”

“What? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, I… guess so,” Sasha says, confused by his enthusiasm. Gesturing to the burn on her neck, she explains, “This one’s from when I set off a lot of bombs by accident. Bombs are like… they make big explosions. You’d like them.” Maximus looks impressed, so Sasha continues, showing him her cold hand, “This is from when my dagger exploded. It was an ice dagger, like my fire dagger but ice, and I was trying to stab a thing but it went wrong.” She pulls down the collar of her tunic slightly to reveal the autopsy scar on her chest. “And this is from when I died and this evil thing took all my bits out but Zolf put them back…”

“Who’s Zolf?” Maximus asks.

“Oh, he’s, uh… I guess he was a… friend, but he…” Sasha trails off, feeling suddenly untethered. When she sees Maximus staring at her in confusion, she rouses herself. “Go check if Cicero needs help with the cooking, okay? He’s learning, but he’s not good.”

As Maximus scampers off and Sasha finishes placing her daggers, she thinks about how she’s never been good at stories. She can’t make the words come out in the right order and the right time, not like Hamid can. She’s never needed to, not really, when she has her daggers. Can’t hide well if you’re talking all the time.

Now, though — she’s the only one who knows these stories, for the next thousands of years, maybe ever, Azu and Hamid don’t — no. But no one else can talk about the gargoyles in Paris and Cairo, or the time that they killed that snake-hair woman, or the time that Hamid made her eat at a million restaurants in Prague. It feels wrong for her to be the only one who knows about those things, as if they never happened.

But it feels wrong, too, for Sasha to talk about her friends. She doesn’t think she could ever find the words for how she felt that day in the pub that Zolf said he was leaving. Or when Azu had told Eldarion to back off, or the sound of Brock laughing wildly at a joke that she knew wasn’t funny, or Grizzop’s face when he saw her again in Rome, or how Bi Ming’s hands moved so expertly over the clocks he repaired, or the shake in Hamid’s voice whenever he was trying not to cry. They’re important, too, but they’re so important that she doesn’t think she could ever tell them right.

So she won’t, she thinks, as she buttons up her leather jacket.

--

“I’m sorry, you know. About what I said about your friend,” Cicero says as he and Sasha are weeding the garden one day about five weeks after they arrived at the villa. It’s taken almost this long for Cicero and Aulus to admit that Atticus won’t be coming back, and in the meantime, social classes have broken down and Cicero is trying his best to help out around the villa.

“What?” Sasha says.

Cicero continues, his voice unusually subdued. “Your goblin friend, in Rome. I said that it was his fault. It wasn’t. He was trying to do what’s right, and he protected both of us.”

Sasha pauses, fighting off the urge to run away from this awkward conversation. “It’s well, it’s… alright. He was… yeah, he was good. Yeah.”

“Still, I understand if you don’t want to stay because of me. I had always meant for us to stay here until Atticus came back and then reevaluate our options. But he hasn’t, and you’re under no obligation to remain.”

“Cheers, mate, glad to know that you’re okay with me being gone,” Sasha says. Cicero starts to protest, but she interrupts him. “Sorry, that was unfair. It means a lot that… it’s okay if I go. But I don’t really have anywhere to go, do I? And… I couldn’t do that to Maximus. I think… I want to be there for people… who need protection.”

“Oh. That’s good of you,” Cicero says.

“Yeah, I guess. ‘Swhat people did for me.” Sasha says, and continues pulling weeds.

--

Maximus is a smart kid, it turns out. Pretty observant.

Maximus knows that Sasha doesn’t much like being hugged. Knows that if you hug her from behind, she’ll reach for a knife but will stop when she realizes who it is, and if you hug her from the front, she’ll hug you back, but it’ll be all stiff, and sometimes she’ll look like she’s remembering something she won’t say.

But Vibia and Paulla, four- and seven-year-old sisters who arrived two months after Sasha and Cicero, don’t know that. When Paulla, mid-fight, shouts at Vibia about their parents’ deaths, Vibia runs to Sasha and clings to her tight before Sasha can realize what’s happening. Sasha finds herself awkwardly rubbing Vibia’s back, wondering what she’s supposed to do. She tries to remember a time in her life when it was okay to cry or when she might expect anyone to hold her if she did. She pulls the girl in closer as her eyes start to sting.

Maximus knows that Sasha doesn’t like going in the fields. She’ll go in the garden and she’ll teach him how to climb the biggest and best trees, swinging from their highest branches with a huge smile on her face, but she’ll never look out from the top at the rolling hills, which are now yellow with the winter. And she’ll almost never walk in the fields, except for that one time that Cicero accidentally let the cow go and Sasha was the quickest to go run after it. She came back from that looking annoyed and mildly sick, and locked herself in the cellar for hours.

But Vibia and Paulla don’t know about Sasha’s fear. Paulla loves playing in the fields and in the clearings, where she’s drawn the circles in the dirt for a game of ball. She explains that you need at least three people to play the game right, and Vibia is too small and Aulus is too old and Cicero is too stuffy, so she needs Sasha to play with her and Maximus. After weeks of Paulla’s begging and Maximus promising that they can go back inside after just one round, Sasha finally relents, trying to calm her breathing and not look around too much as she lets Paulla drag her by the hand to a clearing right beside a clump of trees. By the time that they’ve been playing for ten minutes, Sasha’s competitiveness has distracted her from the wide fields around them.

Maximus knows that Sasha will tell stories if he asks, but that she won’t talk much about the other people in the stories and goes quiet when he asks about them. He’s heard about the time that she crossed a great big sea in a little boat during a storm, but never about that guy who pulled her out of the water or why they were on the boat in the first place. He loves the one about the time she snuck into a bunch of buildings with giant monsters guarding them, but he always wants to know more about the person who blew up the main building with magic. Sasha always says she’ll tell him about that guy some other time. Eventually, he stops asking. 

But Vibia and Paulla don’t know about the people Sasha won’t mention. A month after they came to the villa, they’re sitting with Sasha on a couch. Paulla’s at her feet and Vibia’s running her fingers through Sasha’s hair, which she’d allowed Aulus to crop short using one of her knives. Vibia has always been fascinated by the shock of white in Sasha’s hair.

“You’re a girl, right?” Vibia says. Her sister shoots her a reproachful look, but says nothing.

“Uh… sure,” Sasha says. “Why?”

“‘Cause of your hair. And cause Max calls you Sasha Whosaskin-US. But if you’re a girl, it should be Whosaskin-A,” Vibia says proudly. From the room next door, Sasha hears Cicero laugh.

“I dunno what to tell you, mate,” Sasha says. “I just made it up one day.”

“You can make up your name?” Vibia says in shock, spinning herself down so she’s sitting on Sasha’s lap. “Did you have a different name before?”

“I had… yes. It was someone else’s name, but it wasn’t important. He wasn’t important. My other name is… I guess it’s important.”

“Who was the person who wasn’t —” Vibia starts, but Paulla cuts her off, recognizing the distance in Sasha’s voice.

“Who’s the most important person you know?” Paulla asks, in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

For a moment, Sasha considers talking about Apophis, but while she’s never asked the kids directly about how they ended up at the villa, she suspects dragons are a sore subject. “I knew this guy. He was a bit of a dick but he wasn’t a bad person, I guess. He sort of… paid me. And watched over me and my… friends. And this one time when I was… very sick, he went up to the most powerful person around and he told him to give over this thing to make me better and he said some… really nice things about me. And the powerful person did give us the thing and I got better. Though the guy, the important guy, he did say some awful things about me being sick, but I think he was mostly just really tired…”

Sasha looks up from her rambling and is surprised to see that Vibia and Paulla are wide-eyed, waiting on her every word. A flush of embarrassment runs through her — as does a feeling of deep relief, as if she’d be waiting for forever to talk about Wilde, to admit how much it meant that he’d cared about her, to bring his memory to this distant place. She hopes that wherever he is, he’s managed to get some rest.

“Also,” Sasha continues, “one time my friend punched him in the balls.”

--

One morning at breakfast, Aulus announces that they need to start preparing the fields for seeding. Sasha is surprised, because it’s as cold as it’s been for the past several months, but Tertia and Fausta nod sagely at Aulus’s decision. They’re a young couple who recently moved into the villa after their home was raided by some of the bandits. The robbers have increased in numbers in the area, but have left the villa alone since a couple of them met the end of Sasha’s knives. Aulus is relieved that Tertia and Fausta are here and can help with the farm, and even though he insists Sasha can stay in the villa, she knows that she should help, too. 

So that’s how Sasha finds herself surrounded on all sides by open fields, dizzied as she stares at the distance between her and the nearest clump of trees, leaning on the rake she’s been using to till. She doesn’t hear Maximus running up behind her and barely registers him asking if she’s okay, or his yells for someone to help. She’s trying to say that she’s alright by the time that Fausta has come to her side. 

“You need to get inside,” Fausta says over Sasha’s protests. “You’re no help like this.” 

“It’s the sun, I’m hot, I don’t need —” Sasha mutters, but Fausta cuts her off.

“Sasha Whosaskinus, it’s incredibly cold out here. You’re not overheating.” Fausta sees Sasha’s expression, and her voice softens, “It’s okay. There will be other days. You can do a bit every day.”

And that’s what she does, at first working to the fields closest to the villa and the trees and gradually going further and further into the farm. She suspects that Aulus is responsible for getting the kids to swarm around her, keeping her distracted, but she’ll never complain. 

A month later, when they’re watering the fields, Tertia nudges Sasha and directs her gaze towards Cicero, who’s working twenty feet away. He has, for some reason, decided to wear a nice toga even while doing manual labour, and it’s getting helplessly muddied. Cicero is now attempting to stealthily wash off his toga using the water intented for the plants, but, as he keeps dropping the toga, he's just making things much worse. As Sasha doubles over with laughter alongside Tertia, she barely notices the open space between them. 

--

It’s a warm day in late spring when Hostus goes missing. He’s a tall, skinny preteen boy whom Sasha found had been stealing their food and sleeping in an unused servant’s room for several days before anyone noticed. In the weeks since Sasha told him that he could stay without sneaking around everywhere, he’s still not quite learned to trust the other residents of the villa: he jumps at the smallest noise, and she once saw him pull a knife on Fausta when she got too close. Sasha feels like a bit of a hypocrite for chiding him.

After the boy misses both breakfast and lunch and it’s almost time for supper, Sasha searches for Hostus. He’s not in that clump of trees next to the clearing, where Hostus likes to climb and watch them play ball. He’s not in the old servant’s room, where he’d insisted on sleeping even after Aulus invited him to stay closer to everyone else. He’s not trying to scare the chickens in the barn. Sasha is almost ready to admit that Hostus has simply left in the way that she’s told all of the children they can when Sasha hears faint movement from the roof. She kicks herself for forgetting her old favourite place to hide from Eldarion.

Climbing through the window in the bedroom she’d stayed her first night, Sasha pulls herself up towards the roof a little less quickly than she might have six months ago: the manual labour has made her stronger and she still throws her knives every day, but she’s out of practice scaling buildings. When she reaches the top, it only takes a moment to spot Hostus curled up in a nook of the roof, knees tucked into his chest, looking down at the courtyard below. Neither Sasha nor Hostus speak as she approaches, but when he turns his head towards her, she can see his eyes are puffy and red, but his face is locked in an expression of anger. Sasha silently takes a seat a few feet away from him. Together, they watch the courtyard, where Cicero is unsuccessfully trying to repair a couch whose leg has fallen off.

A thought strikes Sasha as she remembers another rooftop in a far-away place and time, and she roots around on the roof for a pebble. She shows the stone to a confused Hostus before sending it flying at Cicero — it bounces off the top of the head with a satisfying sound. Cicero grabs his head, looking around wildly, not noticing the pair on the roof. Hostus smiles despite himself and accepts the next pebble that Sasha offers him. He’s not so good a shot as her, but together they manage to get five or six good hits in before Cicero starts carefully searching the skyline while making bombastic threats against his attackers, and Sasha and Hostus collapse with giggles on the other side of the roof.

For a while, they lie there, staring up at the sky. The late-afternoon skies are clear and the air is warm enough for Sasha to have her leather jacket open loosely over her toga.

“There was this one time I ran away,” Sasha says, surprising herself with the words coming out of her mouth, “and my friends came looking for me.”

“Must be nice, having friends like that,” Hostus says, and Sasha recognizes from herself the prickly tone, halfway between sarcasm and longing.

“Yeah, it was. Really was,” she says.

Hostus, thrown by her sincere response, falls quiet. After a moment, he sighs and sits up. “What were your friends like?” he asks. “Max says you’re good at stories.”

Sasha pulls herself up beside Hostus. From her position on the roof, she can see the endless rolling fields, budding with new growth under a slowly redenning sky. It strikes her that no part of her finds fear in this view anymore.

“There was Grizzop,” Sasha says, “and he was a goblin, but they weren’t bad like everyone says. He was brave and fast and funny, even when he was trying to be serious. He wanted to use every moment of his life to help people, and he did. I don’t think I got it back then, but… I think I do now.

“There was Azu. She was so big and she had this magical camel and one time, the time they came looking for me ‘cause I ran away, she got on the camel and put Grizzop on her shoulders and they went around town getting drunk and starting a fight.” Sasha laughs at the memory. “But she was kind. She didn’t always… understand things, she didn’t always know how to help, but she always tried so hard, even when you felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“There was Hamid. He was small, smaller than Grizzop even, and very posh, and he wanted so much to be a hero. He’d done things that hurt others and he wanted to make it better and… sometimes that meant that he was an idiot and hurt himself. He cared so much about things that he’d cry, but… it wasn’t a bad thing. He cared.”

Sasha pauses, trying to find the words. “And there was Zolf. He… he saved me for no reason, when I was running away from people who wanted to hurt me. He always just wanted to protect us. For us to… save ourselves while he died, but we never wanted to leave him. And he said he’d heal me when I got… sick, but then he left and he didn’t. And… I think I was mad at him for a while, ‘cause it hurt? But I reckon… I reckon he was hurting, too, and he needed to find something to heal him. Tell him he could protect himself, too.”

Hostus, who’s been staring at his feet, looks up at Sasha. “Did he ever find it?”

“The thing to heal him? I dunno. I never saw him again after he left. I hope he did.”

“Me too,” Hostus says quietly.

In the silence between them, Sasha can hear the sounds of the villa’s family below: Tertia and Fausta gently teasing Cicero about the mysterious pebbles on his head; Vibia helping Aulus prepare dinner; Paulla and Maximus playing knucklebones.

Sasha smiles and watches the sun set over her home.

[whatscallion]

fluff.

//- because i said i would write something for these fine people: @sebastiandragosteamea @stillgirlfrommars @cptsteven @sammiewilson

“I don’t like stakeouts.”

It was unwavering in finality, this particularly unprompted declaration of distaste. There hadn’t been anything spoken for about two hours, though it didn’t necessarily mean there hadn’t been any huffs of annoyance or frustration. All that could be done was defog the windshield and contemplate the negative tipping point of too many coffees.

“I know.”

The reply came on the wings of a sigh, though it was hardly in defeat. Instead, it was a deft reaction to common complaining, albeit not from this perpetrator. More often than not, the vociferous were often teamed with those less so, making for something of an imbalance of communication.

But of course, this was different.

“But we have to do it.” There was resignation in his voice, convincing himself of the truth of the matter, as well as the fact that things could be worse. James Buchanan Barnes could’ve been sitting beside Clint Barton again and smelling the leftovers of a soggy Subway sandwich permeating in the small confines of the car.

“You always did state the obvious when you were annoyed.” Humor laced into a tone generally as cold as the Soviet tundra from whence it came, but for now, it was enough to warm even the coldest New York night. There was a shift beside him, drawing his attention from the beyond the windshield to the bundled beauty he had the fortune of being tethered to.

Even crammed in a shitty Geo Metro ( where they even found a working one was beyond him ), Natalia Romanova was a study in all things femme fatale. It was painfully distracting and comforting at the same time. He could pride himself in knowing that she was more than aware of her effect on him. That sharp smirk painted in peach had him perking an eyebrow in a silent question.

She’d moved so she was more so facing him than the door they were supposed to be monitoring. Even in the lack of light at whatever ungodly hour it was, the crimson pf her hair still caught his eye more than it should.

After all these years, and he still looked at her like it was the first time. And she knew this.

Reaching over, she tapped his chin, and he suddenly became very aware of how he’d gone slackjawed at the sight of her. Fortunately enough, he was beyond being embarrassed or apologizing for something that would never change. With a boyish grin, James collected himself before glancing out the window with a sip of coffee.

“Have I told you that I appreciate you’re not six feet tall?” As if the randomness of the question wasn’t enough, immediate confusion had him nearly spitting out his coffee before looking back to the famed Slavic Shadow.

“Where are you going with this, ‘Talia?” While height wasn’t necessarily a sore subject, it was something of an annoyance when he still looked like a sidekick standing next to Steve. Okay, it was probably a little more than subtly annoying.

“If you were any taller, you’d look absolutely ridiculous in this car,” she spoke with a bubbling chuckling quick on the heels of her answer. “Could you imagine anyone else unfolding their way out of here?”

With the iced silence between them shattered, a rare sight was being seen: a genuine Nat with an awful sense of humor. It brought a quiet moment before a low, rumbling laugh came from James. The coffee was placed back in the cheap cupholder that was obviously not part of the factory model. There was no way he could pay attention to the mission at hand now, and he suspected she was falling prey to the same weakness.

Or so he hoped.

“You must be as bored as I am if you’re thinking about how small the car is, Nat.” Something unrecognizable darted across her eyes, emeralds muted in the midnight scenery. He’d like to think it was something that generally pertained to the two of them, but hope was often a dangerous thing when he was concerned. To hope was to tempt fate into giving the exact opposite.

Her rebuttal came by way of an exasperated sigh, as if it was supposed to be more than obvious, especially to him.

“Amongst other things, James.” That was misleading, and she’d meant for it to be that way. According to the confusion revisiting his face, Nat assumed she held a momentary victory before taking her prize: slipping over the miniscule center console to find a new seat in his lap, her back to the driver’s side door.

“Nat-”

“Shh.”

“No, Nat- the coffee.”

She hadn’t thought about the coffee that was now soaking through the floor of the car after she’d inadvertently hip checked the loose holder on her way to his personal bubble. Everything stood still as consequences were weighed, but once she turned her gaze from where her feet had once been to the glacial hues of the Winter Soldier, coffee stains seemed frivolous to think about.

“I’ll get you more,” she nearly whispered, an arm snaking around his shoulders while the other traced a warm fingertip along his jawline. “My treat.”

“Mm, I think I can settle for that.” Like he was hypnotized by each angle of her face, the stakeout was the last thing on his mind. For now, it was just him, Natalia - his Natalia - and this tiny car. He couldn’t help but ensnare her with his arms, digits digging into soft fabric as if she would disappear into the shadows if he let go. “Natalia, I don’t think we’re going to be getting much recon done with you in my lap.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“....No. You’re right. It wouldn’t be so bad. Never mind that this is about national security.”

“Guilt trips don’t work on me, Barnes. You’re stating the obvious again.”

“Hold on,” he said as he further closed the distance between them. Rather than capture that perfect pout with his lips, he instead pulled the lever beneath his seat, giving them a foot more of room against the steering wheel. “Better.”

“Is that all?”

“Nope.”

Within two minutes, the windows they’d ardently kept fog-free were now veiled with the results of heated breaths and a particular kind of strenuous activity.

Maybe James could get used to stakeouts.

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