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okay-j-hannah · 2 months

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Part 8: The Favor

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 2 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining and depressed, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good}, amnesia, finger picking, AGAIN ANGSTY AS HELL

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: Don't worry

100% recommend listening to rain sounds when you get to the end part where it's a thunderstorm.

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Part 8: The Favor {You Are Here}

“No, I’m sorry, who are you?” The look on your face sends a wave of hurt down Stiles. “How do you know my name?”

He’s gripping the steering wheel of the jeep, cruising with Scott and Allison in the car. Lydia had gone missing about twenty minutes ago, the police at the hospital taking witness statements and rallying an APB.

With you indisposed, the trio decide to take matters into their own hands. That doesn’t mean Stiles is free of the hurt. You really have no idea who he is.

“Alright, but if Lydia’s turning, would they actually kill her?”

Allison is fretful, “I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything. Okay, all they say is, ‘We’ll talk after Kate’s funeral when the others get here.’”

“What others?” Stiles looks in the rearview mirror.

“They won’t tell me that, either.”

Stiles sighs, “Okay, your family’s got some serious communication issues to work on.” He yells at Scott whose head is out the window, “Scott, are we going the right way?”

Scott sniffs the rushing air and says, “Take the next right!”

“This is really turning into a real shit night.”

Allison is chewing on her fingers, “(Y/N) really doesn’t remember us?”

“She’s lost her memory from the last few months,” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “She remembers last summer but doesn’t remember starting her job at the hospital. That means her memory stops around October of last year.”

“God…” Allison mumbles, “Did they say if her memory would come back?”

Stiles digs his thumb into the ridges of the wheel, “They called it retrograde amnesia, and there’s a chance the memory loss could come back if they treat the underlying cause. But the cause was an anoxic brain, and they just needed to oxygenate her body to fix that. I don’t…” he slams a hand against the wheel as Scott slides back into the car. “This is what happened to…”

“Happened to…?” Allison presses, but it was Scott who answers.

“His mom,” Scott’s voice was quiet and full of sympathy. “There were days she didn’t know who Stiles was.”

Allison looks mortified, “Stiles, I am so…”

“How close are we?” Stiles cuts in, jaw set.

Scott points toward the woods, “It’s coming from that direction. We’re definitely closer – the scent is stronger.”

“There’s no way she’s a werewolf, right?” Allison says in a shaky voice, an attempt to get past the topic of you. Clearly this expedition to save Lydia was a way to distract Stiles. “You said her bite didn’t heal.”

“I know,” Scott frowns, not-so-subtly looking over at his friend to gauge the hurt he was feeling. “Maybe it was a late reaction?”

“I don’t think so,” Stiles muses, tone a little rigid, “This has got to be something else. Peter made it clear that she either turns or she’s dead.”

Scott directs the jeep further into the woods, “Maybe we should try to get ahold of Derek?”

“I’m done being on speaking terms with psychotic alpha werewolves,” Stiles goes off road into the trees and leaf-strewn ground. “I want that guy out of here by the next full moon.”

“Do you think he’ll leave town now that he’s gotten his revenge?” Allison muses, eyeing the back of Stiles’ head just as much as Scott was looking. “He avenged his sister, right?”

Scott shrugs, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to create a pack of his own.”

“And he can do that somewhere else,” Stiles scoffs, bouncing along with the jeep, “Go back to wherever he was the last six years.”

“(Y/N) wasn’t bitten, right?” Allison asks quietly.

Stiles is quick with the answer, “No, just… she was just thrown around a bit. No teeth action.”

“With all the supernatural stuff happening to us… hearing about (Y/N)’s heart problems just seems so – human, don’t you think?”

Scott gives his girlfriend a warning look, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I think her memory will…”

“Can we drop the whole (Y/N)-amnesia thing?!” Stiles grumbles.

Allison is swift in her retort, “She’s my friend too, Stiles. I’m allowed to be worried about her just as much as you!”

“Let’s not do this right now,” Scott says in a louder voice. “Lydia’s scent is coming from there.”

Stiles parks the jeep, leading the way into the moonlit forest and the house far in the distance. The Hale House. He’s still grumpy as he asks, “She came here? You sure?”

Scott stands back with Allison, hands nearly touching, “Yeah, this is where the scent leads.”

They keep walking, “Alright, but has Lydia ever been here?”

Allison shakes her head, “Not with me. I don’t think with (Y/N) either.” She talks with Scott in hushed tones, “Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek.”

“You mean, looking for an Alpha.”

“Wolves need a pack, right?” she asks, “Would she have been drawn to an Alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?”

“Yeah, we’re stronger in packs.” They watch Stiles wander around the tree line, inspecting the area as he goes. “Like literally stronger, faster, better in every way.”

They could see the breaths coming from their mouths, it was so cold. Allison pulls her beanie over her ears, “That’s the same for an Alpha?”

Scott nods as something tightens around his ankle and lifts him into the air. Allison muffles a scream and backs away, watching her boyfriend be pulled toward a tree.

Stiles makes a funny choking sound, squatting on the ground and holding a black wire between his fingers, “Sorry, buddy.”

“Stiles, next time you see a tripwire… don’t trip it.”

Allison smiles, cheeks rosy from the cold, “Let’s get….”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Scott flails in the air, waving them off, “Someone’s coming. Hide!”

The pair of them jump into action, Stiles grabbing Allison’s arm to pull her back towards the woods. No sooner had their footsteps soften on the leaves as they hide behind a tree, did a group of hunters appear from the backside of the house.

“Oh, shit,” Allison mumbles into Stiles’ shoulder, “They probably thought about Derek too.”

“I can’t hear anything they’re saying,” Stiles bemoans, “This is stupid.”

Allison clutches his arm, “It’s going to be okay.”

In a quick motion, Stiles slams his head into the tree. Considering they were already pressed into it, the hit wasn’t that hard. “Things are anything but okay.”

~~~

The boys huddle into the locker rooms as Coach yells for them. Isaac fumbles with his equipment, joining the back of the pack.

“Quicker!” Finstock yells, “Danny, put a shirt on.” The coach prattles on, “Stilinski, that means you! Let’s go, gather round. Listen up.”

Isaac searches the office wall behind Finstock, looking for you. You were always near the Coach during team meetings, usually holding an energy drink or pointing out things Finstock failed to mention to the team.

But you are nowhere to be seen.

“Police are asking for help on a missing child advisory. It’s a sick girl, roaming around, totally naked.”

Isaac remembers how the Sheriff questioned him about the same advisory that morning when he reported the strange grave robbery at the cemetery.

“Now, it’s supposed to get below 40 degrees tonight. I don’t know about you, but the last time it was that cold, and I was running around naked… I lost a testicle to exposure. Now, I don’t want the same thing happening to some innocent girl. So police are organizing search parties for tonight.” The Coach brandishes a piece of paper and Isaac can visualize the rolling of your eyes at the poor delivery of the speech.

Finstock tapes the paper to his office window, “Sign up, find the missing girl, you get an automatic ‘A’ in my classes.” He smiles at the instantaneous cheers, but Isaac is of the few standing still.

He holds his duffel bag and looks for you again. There was no way you’d let Coach give students straight A’s like that. You were his voice of reason – the only way classes came out coherently and fairly graded.

A swarm of players rush past him, but Isaac lets his eyes roam until he finds Stiles and Scott. He knew you were friendly with those two, more so than him at least. He walks over to the boys at the shower entrance.

“Um… hey…” he says awkwardly, holding the strap of his bag with two tight hands.

Scott looks taken aback, but is friendly anyways, “Hey, Isaac.”

Stiles is a little more blunt, “What do you want?”

“I uh… I wanted to ask where (Y/N) was,” he wrings his hands, “Usually she’s at these team meetings.” He notices the way Stiles looks to the ground, letting Scott speak first.

“She’s still at the hospital,” he says calmly, “She won’t be back for a while.”

Isaac knits his brow, “Oh, is she okay?” Again, he notices how Stiles scoffs at his shoes.

“Yeah,” Scott says with a lackluster tone, “She’ll be fine. Did you need her for something? We can give her a message.”

“Just… I haven’t seen her in class and – we miss her.” He has a hard time looking them in the eye, “And maybe that Coach is running rampant without her.” His lips upturn ever-so-slightly, “She’ll want to know her assisting is very much appreciated.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles cuts in front of Scott’s laughter. “I didn’t realize you and (Y/N) were close?”

Isaac wipes the smile from his face. “We’re not. Not outside of class at least.” He grinds his teeth, “She’s great. She’s always been kind to me. I’d hate if something happened and I didn’t know about it.”

That seems to appease Stiles, a flash of guilt washing over his face. “Right.”

~~~

The days seem to darken. Even with the promise of spring right around the corner, the world seems dusky, like the sun was a dimmer set low. Stiles’ lens was filtered with gray, shadowing his perspective with melancholia.

He spends his afternoons chasing the supernatural with Scott. But his nights he spends alone – quiet – in his room. He sits at his desk, spinning from side to side to look at the bulletin boards on the walls.

The one directly in front of him was all about you. He had covered it up with a blanket when you slept over that one time. A family picture and a selfie he got from your social media are pinned in the middle. Countless strings are between the picture of you and little bits of information.

A few green strings lead to fun facts like:

Watches true crime

Likes to read

Works at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital

Born in Palo Alto, California

Fireman Tom

Front Desk Westbrook

Atrioventricular canal defect

A yellow string leads from the fact about a congenital heart defect. It spreads to multiple pictures, article clippings, and website screenshots on the heart problem.

“Children born with this condition have a hole in the wall between the heart’s chambers. They also have problems with the valves that control blood flow in the heart.

Atrioventricular canal defect allows extra blood to flow to the lungs. The extra blood forces the heart to work too hard, causing the heart muscle to grow larger.”

“Ventricular tachycardia is a type of irregular heartbeat, called an arrhythmia. It starts in the lower chambers of the heart, called the ventricles. A healthy heart typically beats about 60 to 100 times a minute at rest. In ventricular tachycardia, the heart beats faster, usually 100 or more beats a minute.

Sometimes the rapid heartbeat stops the heart chambers from properly filling with blood. The heart may not be able to pump enough blood to the body. If this happens, you may feel short of breath or lightheaded. Some people lose consciousness.”

He has a red string leading to an unknown section about the 3-inch incision on your chest. After hearing you mention that it was a device inserted near your heart, he did some more research. It might have been an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator, or an ICD.

Those devices detect irregular heartbeats and deliver electric shocks to hopefully restore a regular heart rhythm.

Other blue strings lead to theories he has about why your CHD correction wasn’t permanent, as well as solutions to your persistent tachycardia.

The other side of the board has a few other green strings that lead to a picture of you, Lydia, and Allison. Another is the name ‘Andrew’ written sloppily and then crossed out repeatedly with a ballpoint pen. A few short strings lead to the various situationships in your past and some notes on their kissing techniques.

Overall, Stiles was proud of the research he had conducted on you. But staring at it wasn’t making him feel any better. He was exhausting himself over retrograde amnesia, failing to put those details on your bulletin board.

He was hoping it would correct itself before he had to.

He barely registers that his dad enters the room. “Hey, kid,” he says, void of his sheriff uniform. “How you holding up?”

Stiles shrugs and it pulls a sigh out of Noah. “Listen, I’m glad we were able to find that Martin girl tonight. We should consider that a real victory.” Stiles just nods and Noah continues, “I uh… what in god’s name is that?”

He looks over Stiles’ bulletin board. “Research,” Stiles mumbles.

Noah sounds hesitant, “Right. Um… should I be concerned about this?” He searches his son’s vacant expression, “Like, are you peeping into her windows and stealing things from her underwear drawer?”

“What?” that snaps some life into Stiles, “No! No, dad, it’s not like that. It was a little inside joke from when we first started hanging out. Then it kind of turned into me trying to figure out what her heart problem was.”

Noah looks to the side with the medical research, “You know… uh, the Westbrooks called.”

“And?” Stiles looks up with dull brown eyes.

“And the doctor says (Y/N) should be exposed to things that might trigger her memory back. Stuff that she doesn’t remember.”

Stiles bites at the inside of his cheek, “Like me?”

Noah takes a deep breath, folding his arms. The reserved Stiles before him was disconcerting. “Having you visit might help.” The Sheriff tries to find something helpful to say – his wife was always better at these things. “They’ve had Scott sit with her and she remembers the few times they ran into each other during her early hospital days; back when she was still getting surgeries.”

“I don’t know how I… how do I sit there and…” Stiles leaves his hands limp in his lap. “How am I supposed to help? Pretend that I don’t know anything about her? Act like we’re meeting for the first time?”

“Maybe,” Noah grimaces, “I’d start with keeping this bulletin board to yourself. It might scare her into getting a restraining order.”

Stiles cracks the smallest smile, “How long is she going to be at the hospital?”

“About two or three days,” the Sheriff scratches the scruff on his chin, “They’ll probably keep her from school for even longer.”

“She’ll need to keep up on homework,” Stiles sighs, “She’d hate to miss out on so many assignments.” His small smile grows, “Of course she’s already done with her end of term projects.”

Noah smiles, “Even that biology one you guys were supposed to do together?”

Stiles shrugs, “Honestly, I don’t have a clue.”

They both share a laugh before Noah beckons him, “You should go. I’ll tell Tom you’re on your way.” He looks at his son, nostalgia flooding him.

Little Stiles jumping across waiting room seats. Little Stiles following the nurses around. Little Stiles foraging for snacks in the vending machines. Little Stiles afraid to talk to his mother who didn’t recognize him.

Little Stiles that cried in the hallway while he was busy with a police dispatch.

“Hey, it’ll…” Noah tries, “… it’ll be okay.”

Stiles looks drained, but he smiles at his father’s attempt. “Thanks dad.”

It was a long drive to the hospital. It felt like the world around him was moving in slow motion. It was like his jeep was gliding on the road with no traction. It didn’t help that he let the ringing in his ears be the only source of sound.

There was a tightness in his chest that wasn’t as warm as before. It was accompanied by an anxious knot in his stomach. Hospitals were bad enough. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his mother while he sits with you.

Knots in his shoulders, he walks into the hospital with shuffling steps. He vaguely remembers running into Melissa. He barely notices how the Westbrooks dismiss themselves to grab lunch.

He’s in your doorway and watching the line of confusion grow between your brows. The look of someone meeting a stranger.

And he’s suddenly eight years old again.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he says with a growing lump in his throat.

You fidget with the blanket laying over your legs. Your eyes are uncertain, “Hello. Um… are my parents…?”

“They’re grabbing lunch,” he says, hands in his pockets, “Is it okay if I visit for a bit? The doctor said it might trigger your memory.”

You look reluctant and it pains him. “I guess it’s worth a shot,” you watch him pull a chair over, “I don’t think you told me your name before.”

He tries to swallow past the lump, “Stiles.”

“Stiles,” you say quietly, as if you had never said the name before. “Stiles what?”

“Stilinski.”

Your eyes brighten, “You’re a Stilinski?”

He snorts, “Yeah, my dad’s the sheriff.”

“Woah,” you smile, “Your dad has been to my house a few times.”

Stiles nods, reminiscent of your first conversation together searching the woods for Scott all those weeks ago. “And you’re front desk Westbrook’s daughter.”

That makes you giggle, “I like that nickname.” It grows quiet for a few seconds while you consider his deflated figure. His eyes are downcast and his hands are stuffed in his pockets; you can see his leg starting to bounce. “Are we really good friends?”

His muted brown eyes turn to your brighter ones. “Yeah, we are.”

You nod, “For how long?”

“Since January when the school came back from winter break.”

You give a side smile, “So I did manage to start public school.”

He licks his lips, “Yep. And being a medical assistant here and being a teacher’s assistant to Coach.”

“That’s amazing,” you remark, “I didn’t realize… I’ve been dreaming about doing those things for years, but the fact I did… and I don’t even remember.”

Stiles frowns deep, “You haven’t gotten any of your memory back?”

You shake your head, “I get these flashes sometimes and I can’t tell if they’re dreams or not. Like… blue spray paint on my arms.”

Stiles’ face brightens with hope, “That’s – that’s real! That’s not a dream. We had a spray paint fight when we were fixing my jeep.”

Your eyes snap to his. A strange guilty feeling enters your stomach. It was bad enough disappointing people simply because you couldn’t remember them. Seeing the hope on his face makes you fill with pressure. You two must’ve had a pretty significant friendship.

“What other things have we done together?”

Stiles takes a tight breath, “Well… we’ve had dinner together. You’re an excellent cook. We painted my jeep and took Scott to get drunk on the preserve. We did a few school projects together and hang out at lacrosse practice. I took care of you when you were sick,” he suddenly looks you right in the eye, “I was there when you broke up with Andrew.”

Your eyebrows go up, but you don’t interrupt him.

“I was there when you got those claw marks on your shoulder – and other times you felt in danger,” he swallows hard, “We went to the winter formal together.”

“I went to a school dance?” you breathe out quietly. “Was it amazing? I’ve always wanted to go to a school dance.”

Stiles rubs his suddenly clammy hands down his pants, “It was. You looked great.” At seeing the light shining in your eyes, he continues. “You wore a dress that had these sparkling stars on it. The… y-you let the scars on your chest show. You were… you looked beautiful.”

“Did we slow dance?”

“Yeah, we did,” he sighs, chest aching. “It was the only dancing you could do that didn’t mess with your heart.”

You feel a drop of insecurity enter, “How much do you know about my heart?”

“I know about the heart defect and the tachycardia,” he rubs at his face. He could really take advantage of the situation here and learn more about your condition. But as quick as the thought came, it left. He wasn’t going to manipulate you like that. “I know you had a device put in last summer.”

“And that’s it?” you ask quietly. “I didn’t tell you more?”

“You always felt like it wasn’t the right time,” he shrugs, “But I suppose you might feel differently once your memory comes back.”

You brush your hair away, “I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

A sadness creeps into him. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry. I hate seeing the disappointment,” you gesture to his slumped figure, “I really am trying.”

“I believe you,” Stiles says with a little more vigor.

Your eyes are a little wide as you say, “My mom told me you were the one to find me and bring me here.”

Stiles bows his head, visions of your bloodied figure going purple from the lack of oxygen. “Like I said… it’s not your fault.”

“And you’re saying it’s yours?” It was an honest question, but you said it with such sarcasm that it takes you aback to see the seriousness on his face. He really believes it was his fault. “From what I hear, you saved me Stiles.”

“Not all of you,” he winces a smile, leaning back in the chair, “If I had been sooner… maybe your heart wouldn’t have given out in the parking garage.”

“You don’t know that,” you say quietly. You may not recognize the boy, but it upset you to think he was blaming himself for your condition. “Regardless of whatever retort you can think of… you brought me to help. If you hadn’t done that then I would’ve been dead for sure.”

He doesn’t see the point in arguing with a version of you that doesn’t even know him. “Maybe. How has your heart been since being here?”

“Fine,” you say quickly, “I’m ready to get back home.”

“Ollie misses you,” he smirks.

You gush, “Oh my god, you know Oliver! He’s my handsome little man.”

“That he is…” Stiles laughs, “Very handsome.” He plays with his fingers, leg still bouncing from the rising anxiety in his stomach. “Is this helping with your amnesia at all?”

Your shoulders rise in a shrug, “I’m not sure. Nothing has come to me yet. But I do like talking to you.” You have a sweet smile on your face, “You mentioned I was dating someone named Andrew?”

“Just for like two weeks,” he says hotly.

You don’t notice, “I told myself I wouldn’t ser…”

“…seriously date anyone,” Stiles finishes, “That’s why you broke up. He was looking for something long term with you.”

Curious, you tilt your head to the side. “Was he cute?”

Stiles snorts, “Well… I guess. You had a crush on him.” He tries to stop his leg bouncing, “You have good taste too, he’s a good guy.”

“Is that why we went to the dance together?” you wonder, “Because I broke up with Andrew?”

“Technically we both went stag,” he says with a faux smile. A forced smile to keep you at ease. “But it was important to you to have the full experience – so I asked.”

You sigh, leaning against your pillows in thought, “You don’t realize how lucky you are to live such an average teenage life.” Stiles holds back his sarcastic laugh. What you said was so ironic. “I spent a lot of my life dreaming about the little things – silly things – like high school dances and playing sports and learning to drive.”

“Wait…” Stiles leans forward, “You don’t know how to drive?”

“No, I do,” you say defensively, “I have a license, technically.” You slump a little further, “But medically I’m not allowed to drive. The potential for fainting is a big red flag for driving. I don’t want to cause any accidents because my heart decided to give out on the road.”

Stiles has a wary smile on his face. “That’s okay, I drive you everywhere.”

“Is that with the jeep you mentioned?”

“Yep, my pride and joy,” he says, “It was my mom’s. She called him Roscoe.”

You remember how the Sheriff lost his wife. Something your parents told you after a few visits from him. You remember feeling sad that someone had died. Now you realize how sad it would be for a child to lose their mom as well.

“And we fixed him up one time?” You want to hear him talk more.

“Yeah, we put a new hood on him,” Stiles sighs out a smile. “You kept poking fun at how… how much duct tape and spray paint I have for him.”

You have a sweet smile on your face, “You want the car to last, I get it. Probably will be just duct tape by the time you turn him in.”

“Oh no,” Stiles waves his hands, “I’m going to keep this jeep for the rest of my life, even if it runs down. I’ll import custom parts to keep him fixed, I don’t care. I just need to find a way to make enough money to.”

You giggle and it strikes Stiles.

“What sort of job would that be?”

“I don’t know, maybe like an FBI agent or something.”

“FBI…” you nod, impressed, “That’d be cool.”

Stiles swallows, unsure of how to keep a conversation going with you. That was a feeling he wasn’t used to. It was so easy to talk to you before. He hates the awkward edge he feels brimming his smile.

“What about you?”

“Another one of those silly things I dream about,” you say sadly, “I don’t know what I’d do.”

His brow knits, “Spitball some ideas for me.”

You laugh again, “Maybe… a writer. Or maybe I’d open a cat rescue. Even better, what if I opened a cat café where you could read and buy books and pet cats.” The more you talk, the easier it was to spill your dreams. “I could be a nurse one day. Maybe work under a cardiothoracic surgeon. I could also just be a stay-at-home mom.”

Stiles feels that achy warmth in his chest more and more. “You want a family?”

“Of course,” you say as if it were the easiest decision in the world. “I always hated being an only child. It made being stuck at home so much worse. I’d want a bunch of kids.”

“How much is a bunch?”

You smirk, “I don’t know, like ten maybe.”

“Ten!?” Stiles jerks in his chair and it makes you laugh louder than before.

You wave a hand, “I’m kidding. I think four might be my max.”

Stiles wipes at his brow comically and your following giggle keeps that ache pulsing in his chest. “I think all those ideas are great. I think I’d even read a book written by you.”

“Are you not a big book reader?” you ask.

He winces, “If it’s not for research I don’t usually partake.”

“That’s a shame. There’s some really good fiction out there,” you smile. But there’s a sudden shift in your expression. “Have we had this conversation before?”

Stiles feels a tug at his heart, “No, actually. We don’t talk about the future much. Usually it’s whatever has happened in the past before we met – or what our friends are up to.”

You nod, a little reassured. “I would hate it if you just pretended like you didn’t already know this stuff about me.”

“When it comes to you, (Y/N),” he says confidently, “I’d say I’m scarily unfiltered. I say things to you that I don’t to anyone else. I don’t think I could pretend.” Even with his feelings for you – they came out in the littlest of ways without him voicing them directly.

That puts the smile back on your face, “It makes me sad not remembering you. It sounds like we got along really well.”

“We did,” he says quickly, “We do.”

You pull at the edge of your cotton blanket, “Our friends seem nice too – Allison and Lydia.”

“Nice might be a little kind for Lydia,” Stiles laughs, “Maybe a faux cold-hearted rich bitch is more appropriate.” He feels proud to rouse a look of shock on your face, “She’s all talk at school, but she has a good heart and is super smart. Just don’t get on her bad side.”

You chuckle, “And Scott sat with me a couple times. He looks different than what I remembered.”

“It’s been almost six months from where you memory ends,” he says, “That makes sense to me.”

“Do you…” you falter, “Do you think I will remember eventually?”

God, I hope so, he thinks. “I think you’ll get a few things back,” he says honestly, “I don’t know about everything. Amnesia is stupid like that.”

You frown, “Will you still – hang out with me?”

“Of course,” he says instantly, “If you want to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know it’s probably overwhelming.”

“It is,” you push back your hair again, “But I still want to try.”

~~~

The next week is full of anxiety. With spring right around the corner, March appears with sunny days and average temperatures. The promise of rain was on the way. It was nearing the next full moon and Stiles was full to the brim with nerves.

You still hadn’t come back to school, and he was finding it hard to come visit you. Meanwhile he and Scott try to tackle school one day at a time. Scott finds ways to see Allison while the overly watchful eyes of her grandfather become an increasing pressure.

The old man, Gerard, was still living at the Argent residence after his daughter’s funeral. His presence brought a newfound fear to the group.

He was the one at your door when you heard it knock.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he says with a smile. “I’m Mr. Argent, the new principal at Beacon Hill High.”

You blink a few times before awkwardly saying, “Right, um… hello.”

He raises his eyebrows, “May I come in?”

You look behind your shoulder for a moment before muttering, “Sure, we can sit here.” You gesture to the sitting room with the piano just beside the door. The older man nods his thanks and finds a seat in a comfy armchair.

You follow and sit on the loveseat opposite him. “How can I help you?”

“I’m just checking in on your progress since leaving the hospital. Many of your teachers have asked about you returning. I understand you experienced some memory loss the night of the school dance.”

“Yes,” you say, sitting on your hands, “I don’t remember any of it.”

He leans his elbows on his knees, looking at you seriously, “And you haven’t regained anything?”

“I get these flashes sometimes,” you mutter, looking towards the carpet beneath your toes. “But those seem like dreams to me. I don’t recognize them.” At his persistent look, you elaborate, “Like visiting the mall or a lacrosse field or the woods.”

He nods, “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have any intention of returning to public school?”

You swallow hard, “Well, um… seeing as I don’t remember any of it – I think it would be hard to pick up where I left off.”

“Our staff is willing to accommodate to your situation,” he finally leans back, “We’ll give you special permission to use more resources and have extension time on all assignments. We want to make sure you’re comfortable in returning.”

“That’s good to know,” you say, noticing Oliver enter the sitting room. He jumps onto the couch with you, “I’ll need to talk to my parents about it.”

Gerard gives another strange smile, “Of course. Are you getting any of your course work from friends at least?”

You grimace – does he mean the friends you don’t remember? “I’ve had a few homework things dropped off.”

“Some from my granddaughter, I believe,” he chuckles, “She’s always had a good heart, that one.”

“Who is your granddaughter?”

“Allison Argent,” he says.

You widen your eyes, “Oh, yes – Allison. She’s been helping me with some assignments. I didn’t realize her grandfather was the principal.”

“Like I said, my position is relatively new.” He claps his hands together, “Please reach out to the office if you plan on returning full time.”

Meanwhile, in the middle of town, Stiles and Allison are at a hardware store looking for something to help Scott with the upcoming full moon. Allison was intent on being involved this month, her first full moon since learning the truth of it all.

“You used handcuffs last time?”

“On the radiator, yeah,” Stiles grumbles, looking at the shelves stocked with tools. “And he still got out and almost killed (Y/N).”

Allison gasps softly, “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. If Derek hadn’t shown up, I think he would’ve…” he stops at the end of the aisle, “We need something that won’t break as easily. Heavy duty.”

“Like… chains?”

Stiles waggles a finger at her, “I like your thinking.” He checks the signs above each aisle for what they need. “We can chain him up somewhere until the moon sets.”

She follows, her intentions on more than just helping Scott with the full moon. “(Y/N)’s told me you haven’t been visiting her.”

It’s like she can see the tension knot in his shoulders. His sneakers squeak on the tile floor, “And you have been?”

“I’ve been helping her keep up to date on our school assignments.” She watches the hunch develop in his posture. It was like he was deflating before her eyes, “Don’t you remember the doctor said exposing her to things she…”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles says a little more coldly than before. “It’s just that…” He spots the chains and goes for them.

How does he tell Allison that seeing you might finally break his already tearing heart? He’s sure seeing the look in your eyes again – the polite look someone gives a stranger – would kill him. How does he explain the pain he feels knowing you don’t remember a single memorable thing you’ve done together? It was a new kind of rejection.

He prefers daydreaming about the you that knows him. The you that he feels more deeply about than anyone else before. The you that he now searches for in his sleep. It was now his favorite time of day.

Sleep meant he could dream about you. He could see you there, smelling of sparkling strawberries by the lake – looking like a sun warmed burst of color. He yearned for that peachy summer filter your presence brought to his life.

His days were dull without you. Like the world resorted to turning the brightness down because its sun had disappeared.

“I’ve been…”

“… distracting yourself?” Allison offers.

He grips a coiled pile of chains and pulls them over his shoulder, “Maybe. The full moon kind of takes priority the next couple of days.”

“Do you think (Y/N)’s in danger?”

“Not if this idea works,” he grumbles under the weight of the metal links. They walk towards the registers. “And with you helping it might make things easier.”

Allison pulls out some cash so they can split the cost. “First searching for Lydia, then looking into a new beta werewolf, now making plans for the full moon… you’re going to run out of distractions eventually.”

I’ll just sleep then, he thinks. You’ll be waiting for him there.

“Let’s tackle this first,” he says.

Allison sighs her frustration. “I wish there was a way we could just… reach in and pull the memories out, you know? Make her remember.”

Stiles drops the full weight of the chains on his foot, and he curses loudly, “Ah, fuck!” He bounces on his unhurt foot, panting as he has a stroke of brilliance.

Maybe there was a way to force your memories to the surface.

~~~

Scott is lying on your living room floor, Ollie hiding upstairs from the doggish presence. You’re sitting cross legged on the couch ottoman, listening to his woes.

“So you think the principal became the principal to spy on your secret relationship with Allison?”

“No, there’s got to be more to it than that,” Scott grumbles, arms splayed to either side. “He’s looking for something more. The Argents are… very loyal to their ideals. Once they set their minds to something – they accomplish it no matter what.”

“And by becoming principal, Mr. Argent is trying to accomplish… total domination over teenagers?”

Scott sighs out a laugh, sitting up, “Maybe. I’m sorry – I’m venting too much. It’s got to be super confusing for you.”

You shrug, “Just a little. I’m starting to piece things together.” You start to pick at your nails, a nervous habit you’ve been more partial to since the hospital. “Allison has been a big help. I think Lydia is still recovering from the attack, more than me at least.”

“And Stiles?”

You frown, “I haven’t seen him.”

Scott matches your frown, “He’s taken it pretty hard.”

“I thought as much,” you pick at your cuticles, “Why do you think that is?”

Sensing the touchy subject, Scott looks to the ground. “We all deal with hard stuff in our own way.”

“But he told me he still wanted to see me,” you say confusedly, “Even if I didn’t remember everything.”

“I think he holds a lot of guilt for the memory loss,” Scott defends, “He uh… he cares a lot.”

“I sort of got that from his last visit,” you wince, “I guess I wouldn’t want to be reminded of something I consider a failure.”

Scott furrows his brow, “You being alive isn’t a failure, (Y/N).”

“My amnesia is, though,” you sigh, “But it’s got me thinking… maybe there’s more to why he thinks of it as a failure.”

“What do you mean?”

You swallow, “I don’t know. It’s hard trying to figure this whole thing out. It’s like I’m trying to give a summary on a book I never read.”

“We’ve done that plenty of times in English class,” Scott smiles warily.

You chuckle at the joke. “I mean, I’m seeing the end of the movie without any plot. I don’t know what to make of anything I see. I hear of all these things I did, and it just feels like I’m out of the loop. I’m being told about someone I don’t even know.”

Scott nods at your words, happy to be your confidant. “It sounds hard.”

“And even with that, everyone is making an effort to stay connected to me. Everyone I don’t remember. Allison does homework with me, you vent to me about Allison, the hospital has put my work schedule on hold, the high school is making accommodations, even Lydia has texted me.” You grimace as you pull at the skin around your nail. Part of a cuticle tears away, “So why hasn’t Stiles? Why is he different?”

Scott bites his tongue. “This whole thing might mean something a little different for him.”

“In what way?”

“Just you,” he swallows, “You mean something different to him.”

“You mean, because he was the one who saved my life?”

Scott clenches his jaw, “Yeah, something like that.”

You suck on your finger. It stings where you tore the cuticle away. You taste blood on your tongue.

“We should do something,” Scott decides, “We should get the friends together and hang out.”

“And do what?” you ask, standing to find a band-aid.

Scott follows you to the hallway closet, “You have a firepit in the backyard. Maybe we roast some marshmallows?”

“You don’t think it might rain?” you wrap a plain brown band-aid around your finger. It almost surprises you to see two other fingers with the same bandage around the nail. “It’s been cloudy all week.”

“No, I think we’ve got a few more days before the weather gets real bad,” Scott waves a hand at you, “Would your parents be okay with it?”

“Sure,” you shrug, “My mom would probably be thrilled.”

Scott is already texting on his phone, “Perfect. I’ll let everyone know – do you have firewood?”

“Are you kidding?” you laugh, “My dad keeps the shed fully stocked. Marshmallows and everything.”

“It looks like Lydia is going to be at her dads place tonight,” Scott grimaces at his phone, “But Allison is available.”

You watch the dopey lovestruck smile grow on his face, “Won’t it… won’t it be terribly awkward for everyone? You guys have history to talk about while I… I don’t remember meeting any of you.”

Scott shifts his face into a serious expression, “That doesn’t mean we don’t want to still hang out with you.”

You fist your bandaged fingers into the pockets of your sweats. “I guess I can see it as a chance to get to know you guys better.”

“We could play like truth and dare, or answer get to know you questions,” Scott chuckles.

The next half hour has you creating a s’more station outside while Scott brings over a pile of firewood. He’s just exploring the depths of the shed when Allison appears, the sunset illuminating her in flattering light.

“Hey!” you say, glad to see her again, “I was just laying out the chocolate.”

Allison gives you a hug, eyeing her secret boyfriend carrying an armful of wood from the shed. “Perfect. Let me help with the camping chairs.” She hops over to kiss Scott before taking the covers off the chairs.

“Have you talked with Lydia recently?” you help move the seating around the firepit, “She was a little frazzled the last time I saw her.”

“She was a little shy coming back to school,” Allison admits, “But Lydia has always exuded a kind of confidence, even if she doesn’t especially feel it. The whole school was gawking at her, and she strut down the hallway like nothing happened.”

You nod, a smile of gratitude on your face, “I’m glad.” You notice how Allison deliberately set the chairs in two pairs across from each other, on either side of the firepit. She plans to sit by Scott, and across the fire, you sit by Stiles. “Is Stiles for sure coming?”

“He told me he would,” Scott throws a few more logs on their pile, “Just that he’d be late.”

As Scott was making a tent of wood in the firepit, a grumbling engine could be heard pulling in front of the house. You sit in your chair, matching cream colored sweatshirt and sweatpants on. You even had a green and blue flannel on over the sweatshirt for an added layer of warmth. It was something you just found in your closet.

Stiles appears walking around the house, hands in his pockets. His lips are in a thin line as he waves a hand in hello.

“How are you, Stiles?” Allison asks, ever the polite one.

He shrugs, eyes flitting between the remaining seats. He knows his best friend will want to sit beside his girlfriend. “I’m alright.”

Your eyebrows knit. Stiles doesn’t look very alright. He looks like he could collapse from exhaustion at any second.

“Hey, grab me some of that kindling, would you?” Scott says, kneeling beside the firepit and crumpling old newspapers into flammable balls.

Stiles leans down for a box of splintered wood and shaved bark. He gives the pieces for Scott to create a nest in the heart of the pit.

You fold your arms as the sun fully sets and the stars become more visible across the indigo sky. You observe the wrinkled nature of Stiles’ clothes – the dark rings beneath his eyes. He looks a little worse for wear.

“This is my first fire of the season,” Allison says, crossing her legs and admiring how Scott sets the kindling aflame, “I love having campfires.”

“Me too,” Scott says warmly, standing to go sit beside his girlfriend, “I’m a fiend for toasted marshmallows.”

“I like them a little on the burnt side,” she says in reply, enjoying how he easily slips his fingers between hers.

Stiles stands as the kindling burns more brightly, sending plumes of smoke into the air. His eyes find your form tightly wrapped in your chair. There’s a flicker of something sad in his gaze – guilt, pity, pain?

He walks around the pit and sits in the camping chair beside you. It was more like he collapsed in the chair, the legs scraping on the stones littering the ground.

“What about you?” you ask timidly.

Stiles looks at you with tired eyes, “Sorry?”

“How do you like your marshmallows roasted?”

His eyes are still sad, but something quirks in his lips, “Golden brown – although that’s dangerously close to burnt and that happens more often than I care to admit.”

“I don’t have patience for roasting marshmallows,” you say begrudgingly, “They’re never exactly what I want. I eat them too fast.”

Stiles swallows hard, moving his limbs slowly as if any faster would give him a headache. He spears two marshmallows on the end of a roasting stick. “And if you had patience for marshmallows – what would they look like?”

“I like them golden too,” you smile, “A little or a lot is fine with me. I just don’t like them burnt.”

“It gives them flavor!” Allison defies, “And it’s fun blowing them out when they catch fire.”

“Until they melt right off the stick,” Scott laughs, “And they burn in the pit like Anakin near the lava pools.”

You giggle, a strange flash of a dream crossing your mind. Yourself wearing a star wars t-shirt with a blue and green flannel. The same flannel you have on now. Was it a dream… or a memory? Was it like the strange memory of blue spray paint on your arms?

There was something stirring in your stomach. You could mistake it for anxiety or the painful churning of your insides – but something was trying to pry itself out of you. Watching Stiles rotate the roasting stick against the firepit was sending waves of familiarity through you.

The campfire reminds you of Stiles in a way. He reminds you of autumn and woods and campfire smoke. It makes you think of fallen leaves and flashlights and flannels.

Just as you remind Stiles of summertime – he reminds you of autumn.

“Did you hear about Isaac’s dad?” Allison suddenly speaks.

Scott sighs, “Yeah, he was taken out of lacrosse practice today to talk to the police.”

“I don’t think he has a strong case of his innocence,” Stiles mumbles.

“What happened to Isaac’s dad?” you ask, unsure of who Isaac even was.

Scott clears his throat, checking his marshmallow by pinching the soft white fluff. “He was murdered.”

Something cold and steely takes ahold of your limbs, “Oh my god, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah, it happened during the last rainstorm,” Scott continues, “I think they suspect Isaac.”

“Why would he kill his own father?” you ask with a slanted brow.

Allison prepares some graham crackers and chocolate, “I don’t think they had a very good relationship.”

“You could say that,” Stiles scratches at his neck, “Seeing as he comes to school with new bruises weekly.”

A small gasp escapes you, “That’s awful…”

“You’ve actually helped Isaac with it before,” Stiles says, “You’ve taken him to your house and cleaned him up after a fight.”

You find it hard to swallow, “I’m glad someone did. Has there ever been an investigation at the house for child abuse?”

“Not that I know of,” Stiles sighs, “Isaac has never wanted any trouble.”

“That doesn’t make any of it okay,” you say more to yourself, “Is he still being questioned?”

“I think my dad might take him into the station tomorrow for further questioning,” Stiles says.

You tilt your head towards him, “As in, Isaac is going to be arrested?”

“I’m not sure,” Stiles says quietly, “I wouldn’t be surprised seeing as he’s their biggest suspect with a damning motive.”

You don’t realize your fingers are searching for more tender skin to pick at around your nails. Scott puts his toasted marshmallow on a prepared cracker and proceeds to set another on fire. Allison giggles as she smashes one s’more down.

“I haven’t seen Isaac,” you say quizzically.

Scott presents the marshmallow aflame on his roasting stick for Allison to blow it out. “He’s been asking about you though.”

Stiles removes his marshmallows from the fire as well. “He says Coach has been unreliable and chaotic since you’ve left.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Because I’m his TA?”

“He may be your superior, but that man is hopeless without you,” Scott laughs, “I honestly don’t know how Coach has kept his job as long as he has.”

Stiles is preparing two s’mores beside you, layering a graham cracker and chocolate with golden brown marshmallows. You are picking at your unbandaged fingers terribly.

Scott and Allison are preoccupied with feeding each other sticky s’mores while you stare into the dancing flames of the fire. You wince at a sharp pain. Looking down you see your fingers have pried a sliver of skin from around a nail. It stings being exposed to the nighttime air and a blossom of blood speckles the tender skin beneath.

A large hand enters your vision – long fingers reaching for yours. He pulls your injured hand away and inspects the bandages on your fingertips. He places a readymade s’more in your palm. “What’s happened to Isaac isn’t your fault,” he says quietly, “Neither is Coach being manic – that’s nothing new.”

You watch his hand pull away, fisting in his lap as if regretful to touch you without your permission.

Taking a deep breath, you look at the perfectly cooked s’more, “Man, there weren’t even coals yet,” you say with mustered warmth. “This looks amazing.”

You catch him staring at your smile. The tiredness is evident in his look, but the fondness that warms his eyes is undeniable. He holds his hands together like he fears they’ll move for you if he didn’t.

The gooey marshmallow sticks to the sides of your face as you eat. It’s exactly how you like it, and you can’t help giggling at the sticky sweetness melting on the chocolate.

Stiles is watching you with something sad and sweet in his face.

“Thank you,” you say, cracker crumbs littering your lips. “You didn’t have to make me one.”

“I wanted to,” he says in return. “I wanted to see if that marshmallow would stay on the cracker or not.”

You snort with a full mouth. Bits of sticky fluff are on most of your fingers and stuck to your cheeks. You flick your fingers, seeing how some of the marshmallow was gripping the fraying fibers of your band aids.

“Oh, shoot,” you shake a hand free of crumbs. “I’ll be right back.”

As you rise from your chair, Stiles grips the arms of his – like he was about to stand with you. His eyes follow you all the way to the back door.

Scott clears his throat loudly and Allison nibbles the marshmallow from her fingers.

“What?” Stiles questions, still on the edge of his seat.

Scott wiggles his eyebrows, “You know what.”

Allison licks her lips and nods toward the house, “Take the chance.”

“Ah… god.” Stiles slips out of the chair, tripping on his way to the house. He opens the door and spies you starting to open new band aids at the kitchen counter.

“Oh!” you say sharply, “Hey – everything okay?”

“Um…” his throat was suddenly very dry, “I just – wanted to see if you needed help.” He walks to the counter and sees the pile of marshmallow coated band aids. “I know it can be hard to… wrap those on your fingers by yourself.”

You feel shy, hesitant to display your fingers, “That… that’d be nice, thank you.”

He ignores how your hands shake, unwrapping a band aid and picking a finger with raw skin around the fingernail. Some were scabbed over, and others were still wet with exposed, tender skin.

He’s soft in how he holds your hand, gently wrapping the band aid. “I’ve never seen you pick at your fingers before.”

“Me neither,” you say quietly, “I guess it’s just a new nervous habit.”

“What was making you nervous?” he asks just as quietly. He keeps his gaze on your hands, his own oddly cold against yours.

It leaves you free to look at his face without fear. You never noticed how thick his eyelashes were. You suspect they frame his bronze eyes well, especially when they were well rested. He also has a constellation of moles across his face.

You were tracing them with your eyes as you say, “I guess I was feeling guilty again for losing my memory. It sounds like people need me… the old me.”

I need you, Stiles thinks, upset at how the guilt was presenting itself in you. “But none of it is your fault.”

“That doesn’t stop the fact that lots of problems would be solved if I could just remember.”

“I’m sorry,” he says with hidden emotion, “I… I could’ve… if I had just stayed with you…”

Your brows knit as he applies a third bandage. “It’s not your fault either, Stiles. We’re both doing the best that we can.”

He clenches his jaw, “Maybe we should put band aids on all your fingers so you’re not tempted.”

You snort, “Thank you for helping me.”

Stiles smiles and again you’re struck by another one of his features. Stiles is cute, you think, he’s really cute. “You’re welcome,” he says.

He holds your hands for a second before lifting them to his lips. He kisses each of your bandages in a chaste, silly way. “Make-it-better kisses,” he says almost dreamily – remembering a past memory, “Your specialty.”

You’re stuck on the way his mouth hovered over each of your fingers. “You learned well, apparently.”

“You’re basically cured,” he smiles again, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Make-it-better kisses are a medical miracle, so they say.”

You nod slowly, “Maybe I just need a couple more of those to get my memory back.”

Stiles’ eyes blow wide, “Oh… oh my god – that’s not what I… I didn’t mean to insinuate – I mean, not that I’d be upset to do… ah, shit, I’m messing this up.”

Giggles are falling out of you faster than Stiles is running his mouth. “Stiles, I was meaning a forehead kiss. Help fix my brain.”

He lets out a loud sigh, “Of course – of course that’s what you meant.” He’s jerky and hesitant and terribly endearing as he leans over to place an awkward kiss to your temple.

~~~

The jeep stops with a jolt in front of the sheriff’s station. Through the blinds Stiles and Derek see a woman behind the counter.

Somewhere in the holding cells is Isaac, being held on suspicion of his father’s murder.

“Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father’s office,” Stiles says. He grits his teeth, “The problem is getting past front desk Westbrook.”

It was Angela on duty, filling out her part on police reports behind the counter.

“I’ll distract her,” Derek says nonchalantly.

Stiles freaks, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he grabs Derek’s leather jacket, “You? You’re not going in there.”

Derek looks at the hand on his jacket like it might be his next snack.

“I’m taking my hand off,” Stiles says quickly. “That is Angela Westbrook in there – you can’t just ‘distract her.’” He uses air quotation marks.

“Sure, I can.”

“She’s married!”

Derek shrugs, “And I’m charming.”

“You’re a criminal!”

“I was exonerated.”

Stiles licks his lips, “You’re still a person of interest, and trust me, Westbrook is the last person you want to mess with. She almost always hangs up when I try to call the station.”

“That’s because you’re a hyperactive, overexaggerated teenage boy and I’m…” he adjusts his collar, “A handsome innocent person of interest that looks really good in leather.”

The look of acceptance in Stiles’ face was laughable. He couldn’t deny any of those points. “Fine. Try and charm her and see what happens.”

They wait as another police officer appears to talk to Angela, looking like they were about to head home for the night. It’s the opportunity Stiles needs to talk to Derek about one more tiny favor.

“So with me helping with this whole Isaac fiasco… I was thinking maybe you could do something for me.”

Derek whips his head over, “Excuse me?”

“A favor for a favor.”

“You know I could just walk in, knock everyone out, and break into that lockbox, right? I don’t actually need you.”

Stiles lifts his hands in protest, “You do if you want to remain an innocent person of interest!”

Derek stares him down uncomfortably, “What favor?”

~~~

The new spring rain was finally here, starting with a light sprinkle. You are on the couch, your favorite forest green blanket over your socked feet. Oliver is snuggled on your lap, enjoying the way your stomach rocked him back and forth with your breaths.

Angela sits with you, warming her hands on a mug of tea she brewed for you. “Chamomile and lavender,” she says.

You sigh, “Good for stress.” You give her a knowing look, paired with a smile.

“And sleep,” she says, “I’ll probably pass out in about ten minutes.” She laughs and then clears her throat, “You know, there was something super strange that happened at the station the other day.”

“What was it?” you ask, excited that your mom wanted to share about her workdays again. She had been worried about putting stress on your heart by telling you those stories.

She looks worried now, “It was a little chaotic.”

“Please, mom,” you say, “We haven’t just talked in a while.”

Angela seems to agree, taking a big gulp of her tea. “Well, we had a boy in holding for a murder – no, I won’t tell you who. And Derek Hale came in to talk to me.”

“Hale,” you mutter, “Wasn’t that the name of the family whose house…”

“Burned down, yes,” Angela says, “And while he was there, the boy broke out of holding and an officer I’ve never seen before was knocked out on the ground.” She shakes her head, “I have no idea how any of that happened on my watch. The poor officer had an arrow in his leg and everything.”

“Oh my god, from what?” you ask with pursed lips.

Angela shrugs her shoulders, “The Sheriff is looking into it, but I’m not sure. His son was by the holding cells when he got there.”

“That Stiles guy?”

She nods, suddenly looking at you with warmth – a question in her eyes. “That’s right. He’s a good kid. A strange one, but good.”

“Did you…” you start to say, “Did Stiles and I hang out a lot?”

Angela swallows, “You did. He thought we couldn’t hear all the times he climbed the garden trellis,” she smirks, “But your father and I aren’t that dumb.”

You scoff in surprise, “He climbed the front of the house?”

“A couple times,” she replies, finishing her tea, “He’s not exactly the most graceful person. It’s easy to hear him struggle up the vines and fall through your window.”

You laugh, “And you never thought to stop it?”

“Your dad considered it,” she says, pausing to hear the rain fall heavier on the roof. “But we knew you kids were fine. He might be a bit of a troublemaker, but I know he wouldn’t do anything to put you intentionally in harm’s way.”

Squinting your eyes, you suddenly gasp, “Oh my god, you approve of him, don’t you?”

Angela shrugs again, “Maybe.”

“You’ve never liked any boys I’ve brought over.”

“I think your dad still needs a little convincing,” she says, “But Stiles will win him over eventually.”

“I didn’t realize…” you say, flinching as thunder crashes overhead.

Angela shivers, “Well, that’s my cue for a nap.” She stands and stretches, “Warm tea, cozy bed, and rain in the background? Don’t expect me to wake up anytime soon.”

You laugh, “I’ll be here reading. Thank you for the tea, mom.”

“No problem, sweetie. I wish I could start on that garden, but the recommended time frame is the end of April,” she rolls her eyes, “My herbs are suffering in their little pots!”

You smile as she retreats up the stairs. The rain was really coming down now, pelting the roof like a hail of bullets. You always loved the sound of rain. Maybe it was the cliché book reader in you, but the weather gave the perfect conditions for a reading session.

Ollie sleeps soundly on your lap as you pick up your latest read. It was strange coming home to see a bookmark in a book you didn’t remember. It still sits on your nightstand, hopefully to be picked up again should your memories return.

In the meantime, you begin to read a new fantasy trilogy.

The rain and thunder continue for another half hour, Oliver choosing to sleep on an overturned pillow beside you. He snuggles his face into his fluffy tail as you read. You were just starting to feel sleep tugging at your eyelids when a firm knock came on the front door.

You close your book, apprehensive as the last time someone knocked on the door, the new principal sat you down to question your current whereabouts.

But you find that it was someone new. A tall handsome man with light eyes stands on the porch, sprinkled with rain.

He wipes the water dripping into his eyes, “Hey, (Y/N).” He looks up at the ceiling as if listening for something, “Can I come in?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you ask, shocked that this handsome man knew you by name.

“I’m Derek,” he says, pushing his way in and standing beside the piano.

You follow by quietly closing the door, afraid to wake your mom. One of the men involved in the strange chaos that happened at the police station was currently in the sitting room.

“Like Derek Hale, Derek?”

“You remember me?” he asks with confusion in his brow.

You fold your arms, “I remember your name on one of my mom’s police reports years ago. About a house fire.”

He clamps his mouth shut and nods. “Listen, Stiles and Isaac have been talking about you – asking me for favors.”

You remember your friends talking about an Isaac. “Okay?”

“I told them it might not even work, but alphas are usually the ones best apt to do it.”

“Do what?” you ask, arms tightly wound and your feet rooted to the spot. You are starting to get a pit in your stomach. Thunder is roiling outside.

“Just… jog your memory a little bit.” He takes a step forward and you suddenly find the ability to move backward as far as the room would let you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say quickly, “I don’t even know you!”

Derek holds up his hands, “You need to calm down. Your heart is stuttering all over the place.”

“Yeah, it does that,” you say angrily, fear overtaking you, “Especially when strangers threaten to do something to jog my memory.”

“It’s just some minor memory manipulation,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “I haven’t really done it to extract memories out of someone else before, but it can be done.” He approaches your body pressed against the wall, “You need to hold still though – I don’t want to damage your spinal cord.”

You gape your mouth, “What the hell do you mean!?”

He takes ahold of your neck and you’re on the brink of a scream when he covers your mouth with his other hand. “I need you to stand still.” And he sinks his claws into the back of your neck.

You flinch and gasp behind his hand. Something sharp punctures the nape of your neck, heat trickling down from the top of your head to your spine. You feel a strange twinge of electricity and it makes you shiver.

A picture was filling your mind, crisp and warm as you close your eyes to see it better.

It was you in a pale yellow dress, bows in your hair, and your hand held tightly in Tom’s fingers. Judging by how you had to crane your neck to see his tall figure, you had to be about four years old.

Another warm image appears: dirty carrots being pulled from smelly earth. Your mom claps her soil stained gloves, proud of the garden you planted together. Little you was just as excited, taking a bite out of the carrot and grimacing at the gritty taste of dirt.

One memory flows in, a tinge of cold on the edge of this one. Like you found a cold spot in a pool of water. You were finishing a homework page your mom made on algebraic equations. A bitterness was in your chest at not being able to do it in an actual school.

Your mom appears to place a stapled packet of papers in front of you. You curiously pull the first page towards you and the top reads: ‘Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital – Job Application.’ You squeal and launch yourself into a hug with your mom.

The next memory that tries to surface isn’t as warm as the others. And it doesn’t flow in as easily. You start to get a headache as a cold image swims into view. A jeep driving through the woods.

“I don’t get out much.”

He laughs, “Then why the sudden change?”

“I felt like it.”

“Woman of many words,” he smirks.

You flinch, the memory crumbling into something new – just as cold and difficult to resurface as the other one. A movie was playing in the background and a steaming meal was on plates in front of you.

He was describing a different meal to you, “It was a masterpiece.”

“Sounds amazing,” you say, moving your plate, “Like a fancy kid’s meal.”

He laughs, “That’s what it was! When I was little the only thing I would eat was kraft mac and cheese with chicken nuggets. She was determined to make me a better version.”

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” you say softly, “She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” he says quietly, “She would’ve thought you were sweet.”

Pain pulses in your temples as floods of memories try to pry through your vision. It was like trying to yank sharp rocks through a rubber hose. But the next memory appears with a slight warmth.

Your chest was fluttering with desperate breaths.

“And what do you feel?” he asks.

“My heartbeat,” you say, tightening your fingers around his, “Your hand. And the cracking spray paint.” It was getting easier to breathe as you open your eyes to look at him.

You can see your initials drawn on his cheek with blue paint. He looks concerned as his thumb starts to rub along the inside of your knee.

Stiles, you think. That’s Stiles!

A burst of freedom surges through your head – like a lock being broken. You start to remember everything in between these colder memories. They start to warm with recognition.

Stiles is rambling, “… and I wasn’t sure how you felt about me being close when you weren’t in some kind of distress from your heart because so far the only times I’ve touched you has been when you were about to faint or your heart is racing or you just went through a traumatic ordeal, and seeing as being drunk and having a breakup bonfire with your friends is none of those things… I thought maybe you’d be mad at me for, you know… touching you.”

You smile as he gets even more adorably endearing, “I’m not mad, Stiles.”

He still looks ashamed, whispering, “Okay.”

“I would tell you if I didn’t like how you were touching me.”

He whips his head to you, his throat bobbing.

Your eyes start to prickle with tears. How did you not realize how much this boy was into you? The signs were all there.

“Get in the bed, Stilinski,” you mumble, already soothed by his woodsy honey scent. You breathe it in deeply, loving how he apologizes as he gets under the sheets. You relish in his awkward avoidance of your limbs, “It’s fine, Stiles,” you laugh, “We’re bound to touch being this close.”

He swallows hard, staring at the ceiling like avoiding your gaze would save him from the heat encompassing his heart. It was making his cheeks burn.

“Goodnight,” you mumble.

He bites the inside of his cheek, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Tears are filling your eyeline, a drop racing down your cheek as the distant, cold memories are fully back in focus. The pain in your head was growing, but it was worth it to remember all this. The fact you didn’t notice Stiles’ feelings sooner was putting a pool of guilt in your stomach. The poor boy was being so terribly obvious now that you saw the scenes again in your mind’s eye.

He smells like candy, you think.

Your lips fall into an easy pattern. He moves his hands to the small of your back to remove any more space between you. Your noses brush and press into cheeks as you kiss.

He hums deep in his throat, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He places two quick kisses along your jaw and lands on your neck, right beneath the bend in your jaw. Your head falls back as he leaves chaste kisses there too.

“Is this good?”

You laugh with your eyes still closed, tears actively falling down your face. It was good, you remember. So good you actually have a crisis in thinking you might’ve made a mistake. You were in denial of any feelings you had for him.

Even when Allison and Lydia questioned you before the dance.

Your mind swims to the desired memory that you had forgotten. Projected stars fill the space as the band plays a soft song. You hold onto Stiles in a beautiful starry dress. You’re hidden from him as you’re pressed together, swaying to the music.

You wonder if that’s part of the reason you two have courage to talk. Neither of you were looking.

“What else?” you ask with a puckered brow. A warmth you now know to be likeness enters your chest.

He grips your sides, “I like… being this close to you. And smelling that wonderful fruity stuff on you.”

You laugh, “You’ve said that before.”

He smiles, “I like you in this dress. I like that your scars are out. I like the fact you came without a date because I get to dance with you like this. And I like knowing you’re smiling right now without me needing to look because I can feel it against my cheek.” He pulls away to see proof of that smile. “I like you, (Y/N). Like a lot.”

Your cheeks start to feel itchy with salty tears, a quiet sob making your breath stutter.

“Like a lot a lot.”

Before watching the aftermath of that dance play out in your mind, you force yourself to the present. Claws rip out of your neck, and you wince, wiping at the tears that had dripped down your chin.

“How…” you sniffle, “How did you do that?”

Derek looks serious, searching for side effects in your crying, “It’s just something werewolves can do.”

“Never heard of that one before.” You cover another sniffle with a laugh, “Thank you,” you say, “Thank you.” You jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s frozen for about three seconds before placing his hands gingerly on your back, “You’re welcome.”

You’re on your tiptoes to reach him, but it’s the perfect height to hide your face in his chest, “He was so devastated when I didn’t remember.” You recall Stiles when he first saw you in the hospital, “He has to be so upset.”

“He’s miserable,” Derek says gruffly, pulling you away. “I need you to fix him. I didn’t think he was capable of being any more annoying.”

Your smile suddenly drops, “I never got the chance to tell him.” Your hands fly to your hair, completely ignoring the pain still pulsating in your temples. “I went to find Lydia before I…”

Derek raises his eyebrows, “Before you…”

You look at him with red eyes, “Derek this is so important. I need a ride. Please!”

~~~

The rain is in full force behind you, providing a backdrop to your panting silhouette. Just traveling from Derek’s car has you soaked in rainwater. The sleek black car drifts away under the cover of thunder.

You’re shaking terribly, water dripping from your hairline and down your face. The porch at least gives you some cover while you wait. It was ridiculous. You left the house in such a hurry, you hadn’t thought to change.

You wear comfy sage green pajamas, matching with little white daisies on them. A sunflower yellow knitted cardigan lays wet and heavy over your shoulders. One sleeve is dangling further down your arm than the other.

Anxiously you check that the police cruiser is absent from the driveway. Then you hear the door creak open.

Stiles is there in dark blue loungewear himself. It brings out the purple circles under his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” the dull expression in his face suddenly changes to one of deep concern, “What are you doing here? Did you walk in the rain?” He’s reaching for your cardigan, wishing to pull you into the shelter.

But he hesitates – not knowing if it was okay to touch you so forwardly. Not knowing if you’d find it a violation that a near stranger lays his hands on you.

It breaks your heart.

“I need to talk to you.”

He blinks, hand falling to his side, “Yeah, of course.” He opens the door further and ushers you in. “You must be freezing.” He jumps to find a towel to cover your shivering figure.

You’re pulling the wet cardigan off when he returns with a giant fluffy towel. He sees the straps of your pajama top and immediately averts his eyes, wrapping the towel around your shoulders. He rubs up and down your arms for about two seconds before catching himself again.

He takes three steps back, rubbing at his face harshly. “What do you want to talk about?”

You aren’t sure if the tears ever stopped since regaining your memories; it was too hard to discern what was from the rain and what was from you. But you look at Stiles now with a deep warmth in your chest.

It was so large and so warm it was constricting your lungs. Looking at him was making it hard to breathe. “Are you not sleeping?”

He clenches his jaw, “I try to sleep as much as possible. It’s probably not very restful sleep,” he runs a hand over his shaved head, “But… it’s nice to dream.”

You want to touch his face, touch the circles beneath his eyes. “There’s something I forgot to tell you. I completely forgot and then there just wasn’t any time to.” You hold the towel around your shoulders, taking a few steps toward him.

He looks scared, his throat bobbing as you approach.

“That night at the dance,” you start, “We were on the dance floor, and you were saying such wonderful things.” You shiver, “And I was afraid to admit the things I was feeling.”

Stiles’ eyes were growing wide. Wide and desperate. They were silently pleading with you. The very air surrounding you two seemed to be sucked out. A hitch is in your chest as you continue:

“I never got the chance to tell you… how I feel.”

His eyes were growing warm, tears lining his bottom lashes, “(Y/N)…”

“I like you too, Stiles,” you say with a proud smile. “I like you a lot.”

You watch the breath leave his lungs – like his chest had collapsed. He’s screwing up his face like he’s trying not to cry, but a tear falls anyway. “Really?”

You give a breathy laugh, voice choking on the emotion in your throat. “Really.” And you let the towel drop from your shoulders, launching yourself forward to crash your lips against his.

He stumbles back and grips your waist for support.

You stand in the entryway, holding his face and kissing him deeply. You tilt your head and make the kiss deeper; he follows a second behind you, still recovering. He’s shaking just as much as you are now.

Goosebumps erupt on your bare arms, and you pull away to look at him. Tears are smeared on both your cheeks.

“You remember?” he whispers softly, moving his hands to hold your face.

You run your hands down to his chest, “There’s this little trick with a werewolf and my spinal cord,” you shrug, unable to stop smiling. “It pulled everything back for me.”

He’s still trying not to cry, twisting his lips, “Thank god,” he gasps a sob. “Thank you god.” He pulls you in for another kiss, soft and tender this time. He wipes away the wet strands of hair framing your face.

You take a deep breath, tracing a finger up his chin to the soft skin beneath his eyes, “You really need to sleep.”

“I do,” he licks his lips, eyelashes sticking together with tears, “Just to see you.”

You take ahold of his wrists near your face, “You need real sleep.” You tug on his hands and lead the way upstairs. The rain continues to fall, accompanied by rumbling thunder. It gives you something to listen to as you enter Stiles’ bedroom.

You take a quick peek at the disarray: clothes strewn about the floor, old books open and stacked precariously on scrap paper, lacrosse equipment dirty with soil and grass piled in the hallway. The bed is scrambled like he was kicking in his sleep.

Pushing him to sit down on the mattress, you turn to move toward the dresser, but his hand clamps down on yours.

“Where are you going?”

You look back at the instant terror that envelops his face. “I’m just going to change out of my wet clothes.” You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’ll be right back.”

At the dresser, you find a pair of plaid pajama pants and a shirt with a Doctor Who logo. In the hallway bathroom you change and comb through your hair. You’re hanging your wet clothes on the shower rod when you hear stuttered breaths coming from Stiles’ bedroom.

In a few quick steps you’re back in the room and see Stiles struggling to maintain his breathing. His eyes are still wet with tears and he’s holding his chest like it hurt. His head snaps to you when you enter, and a micro change happens in his expression – the smallest amount of relief.

You’re at his side in an instant, running your hands over his chest and to his face, “Stiles, it’s okay. I’m here and I remember. This isn’t a dream. We’re okay – I’m here.”

He nods his head, but still struggles to draw breath. He is fully panicking.

You grab the covers and pull them over you, crawling onto the bed and laying yourself over his body. Like a weighted blanket. You take deep breaths and hope he can mimic the feeling as he feels it against his torso.

One of his hands goes to your back, holding you to him. With his other, you intertwine your fingers. You pull your hands under your chin, giving them a kiss. With your head nestled into his chest, your free hand raises to be up by his pillow. You’re able to reach his short hair, running your fingers over his head in a soothing motion.

A tangle of limbs, your body holding his down, he starts to calm. He holds onto you like his life depends on it. Like if he lets go you’ll float back into his restless dreams.

It feels like hours later you both fall asleep, holding each other.

And it was the best sleep either of you have had in weeks.

~~~

Research Websites

Atrioventricular Canal Defect

Ventricular Tachycardia

Implantable Cardioverter-defibrillators (ICDs)

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover @nataliambc @anehkael

#okayjhannah #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf stiles #fandomfantasia

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furiousgoldfish · 30 days

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My parents, as lots of abusive parents, are obsessed with money. It's very clear from their behaviour they're valuing money over human lives, their comments of "you're a burden on this family" and "this won't make you any money" demonstrated they value both their children, and their children's actions based on how much money they're losing/gaining for it.

This had me feeling inferior to money; I felt like I was not worth any money, that having cost them money meant I was irredeemable, being told I'd have to pay it all back made me panic, because I was also being told I was unsuitable to ever hold down a job, and any of my activities, hobbies, interests, felt empty and worthless because they were not currently bringing any income to parents.

The entire profess of growing up like this made me loathe money. I decided as a child, that I would never value money over people, or live in a way that prioritized it over anything, I couldn't bear to become as disgusting and hollow as they are. So I grew up into a person who hates money. Which then ensured I would always live in poverty (well, that and being too sick to work full time).

Hating money within capitalism makes for an awful experience of surviving, but at this point I can't help it anymore, I want to live without money. I can't stand being valued only for how much I can potentially earn. No matter how stressed I get having no money when I have to deal with health issues, hunger, lack of resources, and whatever parts of my life I get cut off (travel, experiences, safety) I still can't find a way to make peace with it. I feel that money is evil and I need to keep it away from me.

I've lowered the quality of my life a lot, but I think that's capitalism's fault and not mine. If money wasn't something everyone desperately need to have more of, if everything wasn't created as a competition over who gets more money, if money wasn't direly necessary for survival, if it was an optional thing for 'people who just wanted more stuff', I wouldn't be struggling, I'd be having a good time.

It just scares me too much. I've seen how money overpowers people's perception to the point where they don't care what they do as long as they get more money. I've seen them use the power of money to control others, to get their way, to blackmail, to force others to do as they want. I've seen them look at the world only in prospect of what brings them money, and to see monetary value in every object, human, animal, tree. It disgusts me. Looking at the world with eyes that only appraise how much something and someone can financially benefit you. Feels inhumane, grotesque, terrifying.

I understand I went into the other extreme where I refuse to acknowledge that money is a necessity and that I might deserve any because I'm still affected by the abuse, but again, I don't feel that I can change this about myself.

Did this happen to anyone else?

#abusive parents and money #money obsession #anti capitalism #anti money #child abuse #lacking resources

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yourstarvic · 3 months

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Summary: Starting a new job is always exciting. Especially with it's taking care of four hungry Jackals. So, here you are, working your way with their crazy antics but at least you get to meet your favorite player.

Pairing: MSBY Jackals x Manager!reader, no romantic pairs...(yet? Still thinking about it...Maybe do a poll? Let me know what ya'll think)

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You dragged your feet as you entered the training setter, the events from yesterday with Sakura drained your energy that you still haven’t recovered. A Sunday was meant to rest, get brunch, drink mimosas, and lounge around, but work had called you one more for a managers and coaches meeting. With fingers crossed and a prayer on your lips, you hoped for an early day.

“Good morning!” You smiled, walking into the conference where a few of the managers were already waiting.

“Good morning!” They all responded to you, smiling as bright as yours. Taking a seat next to one of the manager, they happily invited you to their conversation as you organized everything for the meeting.

“So,” Hana hummed, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “How was date night yesterday?”

“Wait, Hana-“

“I got called in,” you pouted with a cold tone. “And when I did get home for a date night, he wasn’t even there. He went out with some high school friends. Saying there was no point since I worked. And then we argued this morning.”

“Are you serious!”

“You got called in?”

“If it was planned, follow through! He could have waited!”

“I’m more tired than upset,” you sighed, placing your cheek on the table as you looked at them, hiding a yawn behind your hand. “It’s been a while since I had a day off.”

“Sorry,” Yuki winced at your strained voice. “But this meeting won’t take long, promise!”

“I hope so…”

Thankful the meeting went by quickly. Covering the next month's schedule and practice games, what each player needed to work out, and what each of you could do to help each other, you were happy that it went by so quickly. Now, having your afternoon and evening free you were going to spend the day exploring the city. “Any fun plans?” Hana asked, catching up to the right as you left the training center.

“I wanted my boyfriend to show me around Osaka,” you pouted, “but with the argument this morning, maybe another day. Sleep sounds so good right now.”

“Can I ask… Why were you arguing about?”

“I rather not talk about it-”

“Sorry!” She quickly apologized, feeling she had overstepped. “I didn’t mean to!-”

“It’s not that,” you quickly assured her, scratching your neck in embarrassment. “It's just something… Embarrassing.”

“I see,” she hummed, “

Waving at her as the two of you parted ways, you started to head back to the apartment that you shared with your boyfriend. You thought of ways how to talk to your boyfriend about the argument. Telling him about the advertisement yesterday, and he wasn’t happy with how close you were either Sakusa. You understood where he was coming from, but it was your job! And you didn’t have a say in it! And you’ll get to be on TV! It should be an exciting and proud moment…right?

Deciding to take a detour, you walked through a park that was near your apartment complex, wanting to clear your head before talking to your significant other. Enjoying the peacefulness, you sighed in contentment, seeing family and couples enjoying the day; casually walking, playing on the playgrounds, or a picnic underneath the cool shades of the tree. It was peaceful. At least, it was peaceful.

“One more!”

You know that voice.

“Just one more!”

Don’t look.

“One more-”

Making eye contact, you instantly flinched. Quickly turning away and started to take a step away. Yet the voice was quicker. Hearing the excitement in his voice made you feel guilty that you wanted to run away, “(L/n)-San!”

“Hey, Hinata!” You turned, smiling at the tangerine. Walking up to him, he happily ran towards you, excited to be seeing you outside of work. “What are you doing here?”

Beaming at you, he puffed out his chest with pride, “My sister visited me and I’m helping her out!” But he suddenly deflated, a scrunch of his nose as he mumbled, “And shittygama is also helping out and visiting.”

“Shittygama?” You question yourself, wondering how bad a person had to be for Hinata to make a foul face and give someone such a nickname. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” Quickly changing the topic, turning his mood.

“Yeah! Let me introduce you!”

Walking over to the sand volleyball court, you saw a young girl who looked just like Hinata, with an energetic smile and sparkling eyes. “This is my sister, Natsu!”

“Nice to meet you,” you greeted her, smiling wider as Hinata looked so proud of his little sister. “I’m (L/n) (Y/n), I’m a Manager for MSBY Jackals. I work with your brother.”

“Nice to meet you!”

“And this is,” Hinata forcefully said. Not wanting anything to do with the other person. “This is-”

“Kageyama Tobio!” You cut Hinata off. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the man in front of you in awe. There he was, his blue eyes staring at you in surprise when you burst his name out. His figure looming over that you crane your head up to have a good look at him. “I’m a huge fan! I’ve seen you play ever since you joined the Alders and when you first joined the Olympic team!” Excitement bubbled in your chest as you stared at him. The Kageyama Tobio! In front of you!

“Thank you,” he said quickly, nodding his head at you, his face not changing to any emotion.

“(L/n)!” Hinata whined pushing the setter away to stand between the two of you, “You can’t go around saying that to the enemy!”

“Don’t push me!” Kageyama angrily said, pushing Hinata’s head down.

The two started to bicker at each other. Fighting as young kids. Pulling on hair, tugging in shirts, pulling the other’s cheeks as they insulted each other. You stared at them for a few seconds, then turned to look at Natsu who only shook her head in disapproval, “How does Hinata-San know Kageyama?”

Turning to look at you, she tilted her head in confusion, “You don’t know?” Shaking your head at her, she turned to look at the duo, “They went to the same school.”

“I see,” you hummed, taking in the information. Until it registered in your head, “Kageyama went to the same school as Hinata?”

“You really don’t know!” Natsu exclaimed with wide eyes. This caught the two pro athlete's attention, seeing how very surprised you were when finding the news. “All through high school, they were known as the crazy duo! Especially during nationals!”

“You didn’t go to school here, right, (L/n)-San,” Hinata asked, pretending the fight he had with Kageyama never had happened.

You smile, feeling warmed that Hinata remembered a small detail about you. “I’m from the States and stayed till I graduated from University. I started being a fan of yours when a friend of mine showed me a video of you. Your sets are amazing and always dead on.”

“Oí! Stop changing the topic to him!”

The Alders setter, ignoring his old schoolmate, gratefully smiling at your euthanized smile, “Thank you for supporting me.”

“Weren’t you leaving!” Hinata showed his teeth to Kageyama, a suddenness of protectiveness overcoming him. You are his manager, the MSBY manager. You shouldn’t be having heart eyes over a mediocre setter who gives him great tosses. You should have heart eyes for your team! A team that you work with, not the enemy!

“And weren’t you the one that wanted him to stay?” Natsu pointed out, giggling at her brother’s antics.

“Who’s side are you on!”

“You’re not one of the greatest setters, but one of the great volleyball players in the generation,” You gushed, excitement bubbling through you.

“Come on Natsu!” Hinata grumbled, pushing Kageyama away from you, “We got to get going! Kageyama has to leave.”

“Stop pushing me!” Kageyama barked at the Jackal, digging his heels.

“Shut up! Manager thief!”

“Sorry about them,” Natsu laughed, seeing how successful her brother was in pushing the setter away from you. Still fangirling that you had just met Kageyama, you didn’t mind Hinata and his fight with each other. “They always fight over something.”

“I don’t mind,” You blissfully sighed. Looking over at the young girl, you noticed the ball in her hand. “Sorry that I interrupted your practice time.”

“More like Shoyo and Kageyama practice,” she pursed her lips, watching the two volleyball players arguing away from them. “I really wanted to hit some good sets in.”

“If you would like I could help,” You offered, a way to make up for the interruption.

“Really!” She was delighted over the request. “I would-”

“Natsu!” Hinata's voice yelled out, “Help me stop Kageyama! He’s trying to get away.”

“Maybe next time,” You giggled, seeing how quickly she deflated at her brother’s request.

Sighing in defeat, waved a farewell at you, “Next time! See you, (L/n)-San!”

Saying goodbye, you waved at her as she quickly ran after her brother and Kageyama before turning on your heel and skipping back home. The smile of the excitement of seeing your favorite volleyball play echoes in your head. Today was a great day, you happily thought. Quickly grabbing your phone out of your pocket, you quickly sent a text to a friend from college, telling him about meeting the famous young setter.

Prev - Masterlist - Bonus - Next

Notes: Sooooo what yall think 🫣 I had to out Kageyama in there ❤️ he’s my number two (after Sakusa ❤️) I hope yall enjoyed it! Don’t forget to take care of yourself and drink lots of water! 🔫❤️

Taglist: @usermins @walllflowerrrsss @nagi-core

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luchitohamilton · 1 year

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lewis being interview by margot laffite for canal+ at the qatar gp '23

I act like a kid all the time. I’m not embarrassed about it; I love having fun. So that’s why, you know, I’m always skydiving, surfing or I’m skiing or I’m riding my bike or whatever might be, that’s me being a kid. And that’s something I refuse to ever let go.

transcript below :-)

So Lewis. I don't want today to talk about the World champion, the Formula 1 driver, I would like to talk about Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, if you don’t mind. Can you describe the kind of kid you were at home and at school? What kind of kid were you?

[Smiling] Did you ever had a show called Dennis the Menace?

Oh yes of course.

You did?

Of that kind, yeah. Denis la Malice.

I was like Dennis the Menace 2.0. [laughs] I was climbing trees, I was just always riding my bike down the fastest hill. Naturally super competitive in everything that I did and, uhm, my dad helped me concentrate that energy into racing and that’s where stability came.

We know you were a huge fan of Ayrton Senna, but did you watch like every single F1 race, documentaries about F1?

No, when I was a kid I only watched documentaries on Ayrton Senna, read his books. Anything to do with Ayrton I would have it, whether it was a coffee mug or, not that I drink coffee as a kid, but I was watching Gran Prix from like since I was like 4 with my dad on the weekends. Yeah, Sunday sitting with my dad watching races was one of the best times, I remember.

If you could go back in time, where and when would it be?

It would probably be when I was living with my mum, before I was 8, so, yeah.

You are running the world so, how difficult is it to build friendships?

Yeah, it’s definitely not the easiest I would say. My two closest friends are from school, yeah, they are my brothers. Places where I’ve found good friendships are obviously on my job, and then when I’m doing music, when I’m working with musicians, it’s just like a different realm and there I’ve built some incredible relationships also.

What does being a grown up mean to you? Is it like tiresome to be more conscious of the impact you have on things and people, rather than the pleasant innocence of being a child?

When you play a game with some children, maybe your family, nieces and nephews, do you let them win?

No, I try to win! I just [laughs] and they are good, they are getting good, so I have to get my wins while I can. But, my dad never let me win anything when I was a kid. I think is good to learn how to lose anyways, so [laughs]

Are you always on time or sometimes you’re late?

No, I’m always late. The only time I’m ever on time is when I’m getting in the car to race. But like if I’m going for a flight, I’m always late. I don’t know, I like the limit, yeah. [jokingly] I like getting there around the limit, I like the rush.

What are your thoughts and feelings about Max Verstappen? The man he is, the kind of champion.

He’s done an exceptional job. I think the team has done an amazing job. Collectively they truly deserve the success. Max has been faultless this year, he’s not made any mistakes. I only hope that there’s a time when I’ll be able to put up a fight for him.

When you quit F1 would you still want race like Dakar or the 24 Hours of Le Mans?

I currently don't really have any, like, zero, like, feelings to do those things. I love motorbikes, I’ve always loved Moto GP, still love it today. I have 2 super bikes. I think I probably always just gonna take my bikes out. I won’t compete professionally in anything ever again. It takes 10,000 hours to be, you know, a master of something else. I wanna spend that 10,000 hours on being the best dad or something like that, you know, or running my businesses in the best way I can. Where all my energy and focus will go to. For now, I’ll continue to skydive, I’ll continue to surf, those are probably the, riding the bikes, surfing and skydiving, those are the 3 fun things that I’ll make sure I always do.

Merci Beaucoup, Lewis.

Merci.

It was a pleasure as always. Thank you.

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #ayrton senna #qatar gp 2023 #pal archivo #amazing interview tbh

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zerokrox-blog · 7 months

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Hello I have an oddly specific request for a fanfic.

Ok so picture it. Its an autumn morning, leaves orange and brown. The scent of pumpkin spice is in the air. Steve goes for his morning cup and blushes when he sees a handsome rocker with a cup of black coffee, chugging off a hangover from H-E-double stirrer sticks. The understaffed barista begs him to take the man his chocolate cake pop and Steve agrees. They talk and Eddie asks him on a 2nd date. (Him counting this as their first)

Lol like I said, oddly specific but hey, what can I say, I think it would be interesting.

OHMYGOD THIS IS SOOO CUTEEE!!!

Steve always went for a run every morning at the same time, around 6:30am so that he could go to his favorite coffee shop right as it opens. Steve loved the place, it was a small family-owned cafe with the best coffee in town. It opened up last year. He liked the staff, the decor everything about the place was perfect.

Steve hummed as he laced his shoes, grabbed his phone, he did some stretching first and set off on a run.

The crisp autumn air keeping him cool, and the leaves on their trees, in reds, golds and yellows made his heart sing in tune with his steps. He ran along the trail he normally did, through the park, and then down the main street, towards the coffee shop. He hummed along to his music and kept a steady pace.

As he drew closer to the store's location he slowed his run, keeping himself in a light job.

Once at the store, Steve, now walking, opened the door, calling out a cheerful, "hello!" as he moved inside.

He moved confidently closer to the front desk where his favorite worker, an older man named Even, turned to give him a bright smile.

"Steve! Hello! How was your run?"

Steve started to speak, but then came to a full stop. There was a something new today. Or rather a someone new. There was an absolutely gorgeous man on the left side of the front counter waiting for his coffee, Gareth another worker, was making for him. He seemed dead on his feet, face rather pale. Steve took him in, before awkwardly clearing his throat and went over to Even to put in his order.

Even gave him a Look. He lowered his voice, "he is a pretty man, huh? He is Gareth's friend."

Steve hummed, before breaking out in a bright smile when the man glanced at him, he then turned back to Even and asked for his usual. The man sat down at a table to drink his black coffee.

Once his order was ready, he moved to a table and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man's eyes follow him.

He sat down at the table beside the man, who turned towards him, and took a sip of his coffee. "My name is Eddie, what's your name?" the man's..Eddie's voice was stunning.

He finished his sip, "Steve, do you come here often?" He internally facepalmed at the unintended pick-up line he used.

Eddie smirked, "nah pretty boy, this is my first time here. But I needed a pick-me-up. Gareth is my friend and I knew I could get a good drink here."

Steve and Eddie ended chatting for a while as they finished their drink.

It was a good time, at some point Steve realized he was sharing a table with Eddie. They talked about everything. It took Steve almost an hour and half to realize that he was behind schedule. He worked from home, but it closer to nine, which was when he started.

He frowned at his phone, thinking.

Eddie noticed the look on his face. "can I get your number, so we can set up a second date?" he asked.

Steve stared at him, "a second date? what about the first one?"

Eddie laughed, "I'd say this was a pretty good first date, no? We talked and got to know each other."

Steve grinned back at him, warmth filling his chest, "yeah, this was a good first date. Here," he held out his phone, "put in your number and send yourself a text. I would love to set up a second date."

Eddie did so, a small smile on his face. At the front counter, Gareth and Even watched them. Gareth turned to Even, "we were right. They fit each other very well. But let's not say anything until they get more serious. I want to see if they can figure out that we set them on purpose." Even cackled, he had no intention of saying a word. Besides, "I better be best man at their wedding."

#zerowrites #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #ask me things #inbox open #fill my inbox #send asks #writing prompt

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ghysry · 6 days

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okay but i seriously have been mulling over this for ages and have not voiced it whatsoever but imagine instead of them idk DYING i wouldve killed to have a season where they band together to assassinate their dad lols and redo everything so they end up great and alive and in their own timeline where the apocalypse never happened and vanya got her violin first chair fairly with christmas dinners and celebrations together andUGH

Saw the first and second part of your ask (if I'm certain that's the first and second part) and I think it's a pretty good idea (+ Angst easily flocks to us🙏)

Tagsies: FIVE ANGST....No reader insert for this one folks.

Diego & Five sibling fluff at the very end guys trust trust me it's not heartbreaking at all

---------------------------------------------------

"Do you know who we are? Do you want to know who I am?"

It's a strange thing; his family. He doesn't know exactly what they are to him, well, no, he does - they're his family, the people he bared through the apocalypse for, the people he now rarely sees on Sundays. They agreed to it before, always meeting up on Sundays under the big old oak forest that replaced the daunting mansion they grew up in across different timelines. First, Viktor cancelled his plans sometimes, then always, then they rarely saw his face around anymore. Not that they blamed him, not really, all of them did it too. One by one, they'd cherry pick the best times to cancel their plans and make up varyingly worrying excuses on how they wouldn't make it to the outing this time, or next time, or ever.

Five likes to think he doesn't ask for a lot, he likes to think he doesn't ask for anything at all. Never once in his life, after the first time he asked for something, did he ever do it again. Because what he asked for was freedom, and when he first did he was thirteen. He came back to the present as a fifty-eight year old man stuck in a teen body, with a vow to never ever even think about asking for something, so when he felt the ever growing hole in his chest consume him whole and collapse into his chest when one by one his siblings kept cancelling, he kept his mouth shut and went to the big oak forest on his own. Sometimes he feels childish, because instead of growing up and compartmentalizing it like he always does, this time he solves it by curling up under a tree and trying to silence the world with a shut of both his eyes.

He also likes to think he blames his father for everything that happened. But he doesn't - not that he can't, he does have the ability to, and he should; that much he knows, but he won't. He carries the blame for everything that happened on his shoulders, and every little mistake goes straight into the ever growing black hole in his chest that has already consumed him. He can't blame his siblings, they act the way they act because of their father, but he can blame himself. He, of course, had the least problems out of all of them, just going through an apocalypse, being turned into a human weapon, hunting down and killing thousands of people..it doesn't phase him, not one bit. So why does this phase him?

Where'd all his siblings go?

It felt like they ran away from him. Blinked out of his life and got stuck in their own personal future where they have families to take care of and friends to meet up with, so he also buried himself in work, found a good job that accepted his face and appearance along with his skills, stopped visiting the oak tree, stopped curling underneath it, stopped asking where his siblings went; he was making progress. He thought. The good kind of progress where you're changing the world for good and all. He made friends, kind of. He'd rather stick to co-workers than calling them friends, but he talks to them and they talk to him so the world feels a little less lonely but it doesn't feel enough, either.

Now, surrounded by his siblings, he could stop asking where they went. The first thing he noticed was a scent in the longue they sat in, acorn, burns to smell, artificial. He's sure acorns don't smell like that, he's tried to eat plenty when he was in the apocalypse - it never worked. The only reason they were together again was because, against all conventional means, they needed to kill their dad and Five told them it would save the world. The wandering eyes convey a story, like they've definitely played this play before, heard this tune before, seen the show..they get it, no matter how many metaphors Klaus has to say to try and brighten up the room. Five is just glad they didn't bring any of their kids here, the look on his siblings faces was daunting.

Five, out of anyone, would know that his siblings, though they do blame their father, cannot kill him. No, the twitching in their hands and the sideways look they give to the plant in the corner trying to avoid the topic says so, it's loud, embarrassingly loud - so he comes to one conclusion. He kills the father, it ends. When he planned it out, it honestly felt better in his imagination, the bloodshed, finally killing the man who has plagued his siblings for so long, finally freeing them of their abuser, but for some reason it didn't. It just felt worse, and worse, and worse. Every time he looked down at his hands he'd see the blood, the blood of his father, the blood of the man who was supposed to raise his siblings,

Of the man who was supposed to raise him.

He sat on the edge of the chair this time, hair tussled with restlessness, eyes almost blurry from having stayed up so long, for so late, for how long? He doesn't remember, nor does he really care. He's been spiraling for days and he feels his insides turning out and his lungs expanding when he exhales - his hands are too still, too still, there's too much blood, too much, and there's someone behind him, and..

"Five?" Diego's voice rang out in his head, he takes a pause to acknowledge it, trying to figure out if it's actually his brother calling out to him or just a projection inside his head that feels too real. The hand on his shoulder and the jolt causing him to jump up only slightly, though, further proved his hypothesis - yeah, it's Diego. He doesn't respond, not yet at least, he has to try and come up with a reason as to why he's been staring at his feet and his hands for hours now, and why he jumped at the feeling of someone's hand on his shoulder. He doesn't feel real yet and it's troubling him, like a big cinder block has made it's way to the black hole in his chest but somehow, even with all his calculations about this kind of problem, the cinder block manages not to get sucked in, and instead of a hollow feeling, there's just something weighing on his chest and his ribs this time.

And Diego, instead of waiting for an answer, takes his time to slowly but surely wrap his arms around his brother. "It's okay, I know," does he? "I know." He does.

#tua #five hargreeves #tua s4 #the umbrella academy #tua spoilers #tua season 4 #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #Luther kargreeves #Viktor hargreeves #allison hargreeves

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saltygilmores · 2 months

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x9, A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving, Part 7-The Homoerotic Finale

Well, you're in luck Jess, a 6'4 walking trash can is about to make an appearance. Jess: Why should I run all over town to dump this? Luke: Put it in Taylor's bins. We get rid of the trash, It'll drive Taylor crazy, it's a win win. LOL, I love the low-low-low level pettiness.

Did I not just say in my last thingy that Lorelai and Rory would try to force their way into the diner if he attempted to close the restaurant on a holiday? (I did) At least Luke isn't making Jess serve the Gilmores a second time (without getting tipped I'm sure), he must thrilled to be on trash duty.

Wait for it... wait for it...

Can someone put a bell on her collar and implant this broad with a microchip or something, because she seems to have a habit of running off. This is her third Kiss and Run and second in a short period of time (and not her last). It's either Kiss and Run to Mommy or Kiss and Run to Dean. I love how Whatever he was about it. Immediately goes back to stuffing his trash.

AHHHH!! I know it's fun to clown on Dean but that's terrifying. Jess should be wetting his pants. (and Luke would be proud if Taylor found a piss puddle in front of his store. It's a win win).

He's so UNFLAPPABLE. My unflappable blorbo. Nothing flaps him. Starving on Thanksgiving in order to placate the Gilmores then having to get up seconds after sitting down to eat to serve them coffee without getting tipped, being DingDong Ditched (Rory=The DingDong), being threatened by a human pine tree in a smelly coat, braving the late November temperatures with no coat. After all of that? Still not flapped.

He's walking away because you stink like failure and Eau De Your Dad Should Have Pulled Out. Go home, Dean. I's Thanksgiving. The fuck are you doing wandering around town late night for no reason, you tumor. Haha! Joke's on him though. No one at his home misses him. Dean is clutching a Doose's apron on his hand. So like, get this. We saw Dean working in the morning or early afternoon. Sunset is quite early in late November on the east coast, as early as 4:30 pm. It was already fully dark at FND, and after spending a considerable amount of time there, the Ding Dongs stopped at Sookie's again, AND Luke is closing the diner for the night. Even if he was closing "early" for the holiday, I'm going to presume its at least 7pm. So either Taylor made his part time bag boy work a full time shift from morning to night on Thanksgiving Day (there aren't enough people living in The Hollow to keep Doose's that consistently busy on a national holiday?) or Dean clocked out in the afternoon and sat outside the store for hours past sunset waiting for Jess to walk outside.

You expect Dean to have heard of West Side Story. Culturally, he's still working his way through Barney and Friends.

Wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.

Joke's on you Jess, his family forgot he existed and locked him out and now he can't get back in and has to sleep on the street

Huhhhh? The full quote is "One of your boy scout references or a good farmer john joke! You want me to put my apron on and give you a little inspiration?" And again I repeat, HUHHH?? Did he stop by Sookie's place and get into the tequila or something? SAY SOMETHING THAT MAKES SENSE PLEASE. But also, whatever role playing you two do together in private is frankly none of my business.

Again...none of my business.

Eggsactly.

*swan song*COUGH*cough*KegMax*cough*cough*help i cant stop coughing*

Terrifying until you think about how Dean wants to tussle in front of a place called Nancy's Cottage.

That's not the flex you think it is.

Your insult is..calling him "The Glad Man" (Glad trash bags) because he is taking out the trash from his job? You mean Taylor doesn't also make you take out the trash at your part time minimum wage super market job? Is that not usually one of the primary duties of an employee at a small grocery store? You think Taylor is taking out his own garbage? Right now he's lounging on a raft in Maui sipping a mai tai, paid for with the proceeds from the last town fundraiser. What's my favorite nonsensical Dean insult? Is it Glad Man, or is it the one-two punch from "Rory's Dance" where Dean says to Tristan: "Are you trying to act tough, you're wearing a tie!" and "I’m not fighting you, it would be like fighting an accountant! I’ll call you when I need my taxes done!” He also said "I'll kill you" to Tristan in that scene, so you never know what you're going to get with Dean!

"Hey, Fellow Teenage Boy Who Is Also A Recent Transplant From Another State! Even though you actually have a blood relative native to this town and I don’t, this is MY turf! I control the turf between Nancy's Cottage and that store that sells porcelain unicorns! You got that?”

Lorelai to Rory two minutes later, probably: Dean was the perfect first boyfriend! No red flags at all! (psych! I don't have to imagine Lorelai saying that! She already said it at the beginining of the episode!)

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #3x9 #deep fried korean thanksgiving #dfkt #jess mariano #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #literati #anti dean forrester #luke danes #i swear if Jess doesn't get a tshirt printed that says THE GLAD MAN or FARMER JOHN on it

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sunvylovebug · 1 month

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Hanahaki Disease [Part 1/3] 花吐き

↬ Warnings: there are some mentions of blood but that's later, the protagonist doesn't seem to have much self esteem but I'm sure we can work on that. This is mostly comfort content with Xiao because I really love this guy a lot, maybe some angst though? …⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

↬ Gender Neutral!Reader and first person narration (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

↬ Author Note: English is not my first language, I posted this in 2022, I've corrected some things so I decided to post it again. Likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated <3 If you have any request for a fic let me know!

↬ Word Count: 730 Words

I knew what would happen once I found that person what I was destined to, it was known as Hanahaki Disease, a curse which happened to all the people of my clan. I remember that almost all of my family has been through it.

Once they meet the person with whom they share their soul, a strange infection appears in the lungs, specifically a sakura tree begins to grow in this space, and the only cure is... The love to be reciprocated. Technically it should always be reciprocated, however, I had known some exceptions to the case and I was very afraid from that day would come, I've seen painful deaths in my family due to this curse and I was afraid that the same would happen to me.

After all, I've never considered myself a special person, I don't stand out for anything in particular, music, arts, literature, sewing, nothing really.

I'm very average in everything and I don't feel it's worth being with me either, I'm just a hermit who hardly knows how to socialize with my family and a few other people, nothing out of the ordinary.

But my parents wanted it to be different, after many disputes I was forced to travel to Liyue because of an "errand" that I had to fulfill. I was terrified of the idea of leaving the comfort of my home, the few times I had to do it was cause some important clients had different needs that I had to attend personally, but I had never gone so far by myself...

I had to do it for them, for me, so I decided it, I accepted the proposal they were giving me and I traveled to Liyue to live with a friend. I knew her because she had helped us in the past and now she was a friend of my family, she was part of this city, full of unknown people and with laws that I didn't understand, the contracts were complicated for me at first but after some time I had adapted with her help.

Everything was going good and soon I received an order for which I'd have to leave the pink-haired girl's home for a few days, it was about a wedding dress, a girl who was staying at the Wangshu Inn would soon marry the man of her dreams and she wanted me to make her dress personally. I decided that I would stay there for a while, to make my job easier, so I said goodbye to my friend and went there... At least tried to.

The same day I was moving, I had some major delays, ended up out of town late at night, alone, didn't know how to fight and also a bit lost. I thought the situation couldn't get any worse but it did when some enemies appeared out of nowhere to attack me.

I ran as far as my legs could, hurting myself a lot on the way, then regretted having made that decision and thought I would die right there, however, a turquoise glow appeared and soon my enemies were on the ground just like me.

"Can you get up, human?" a voice spoke to me, somewhat cold, coming from the boy who had saved me.

"Uh... I-"

I felt a sharp pain in my chest, as if something had exploded near my heart, I grimaced and put a hand to the area trying to relieve the pain, which clearly did not work and only served to disconcert the golden-eyed boy. "You're hurt?"

I shook my head cause I couldn't speak, I felt like I was short of breath and my chest was tight… but the moment I felt his touch my heart eased. That boy had me in his strong arms and a second later we were in a completely different place, I was scared. Who is he?

"This is the Wangshu Inn, I think it's where you wanted to go. Didn't you? Treat your wounds and don't be that fool to be alone at night again, humans like you are... very fragile."

He turned around ready to leave, finally I was able to say something. "W-wait, m-may I know who you are?"

He looked at me before disappearing from my sight, his voice murmured something, something that stayed in the back of my mind the rest of the night. "Xiao."

Part Two

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lordeemailarchive · 1 year

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how I’ve been, revised

(20/09/2023) (Solar Institute Bulletin No. 22) (From London)

Aftershow quiet in Helsinki

Hey,

I just finished writing you a long letter, catching you up on how I’ve been. It ended neatly, tied with a little bow. I chose my words well, but I didn’t tell the truth. So I’m starting again, gonna type and not look back, and send what comes out.

I’m in London, have been since May. Things feel clear here. I haven’t seen many friends; mostly, I’m alone with my thoughts. I go swimming, I go to work, I walk home or take the train, I eat in my kitchen, I go to bed thinking about what I’m making. I’m starting to miss my friends and family, like a vitamin I’m deficient in. Soon I’ll be going back to New York, and then home.

I’m living with heartbreak again. It’s different but the same. I ache all the time, I forget why and then remember. I’m not trying to hide from the pain, I understand now that pain isn’t something to hide from, that there’s actually great beauty in moving with it. But sometimes I’m sick of being with myself. I eat chocolate to try and manipulate the endorphins, bring back the sweet happiness of Easter morning. I sit in the time machine and wait for it to move, but it hasn’t been invented yet.

My body is really inflamed, it’s trying to tell me something and I’m trying to support it but nothing seems to help and I get frustrated. My gut isn’t working properly, my skin is worse than ever, I’ve gotten sick half a dozen times. I realised earlier this year that listening to my body is hard for me, it’s something I never really learned how to do. I’ve been trying to teach myself that this year, but it’s been hard actually, pretty confronting, has made me fully aware of all the times I ignored it or didn’t give it what it needed, shamed it for a fight or flight response, took a handful of pills and pushed through. The little yellow pill I took every morning for thousands of mornings since I was 15, I stopped taking it 5 days ago. Gonna see how it goes.

I go online and look at everyone. Beautiful people sing to me. Everyone’s gotten really good at the same thing. I look at arched backs and wet flower mouths, the right bag, the right sunglasses. I wonder if it feels as good as it looks, it’s been so long since I chose the best picture from a hundred, lined it up like pulling an arrow taut in a bow, and let it go. Everyone looks very thin. Just thinking that makes me feel tired and far away. I’m not sure if it’s having an effect on anyone else. I keep spending money, wondering if what’s in the package will make me feel right, but I guess I buy the wrong things. I was gonna go to fashion week in Paris, had all these grand plans, but this week I txted my manager and pulled out. At the start of my career I promised myself I’d never be one of the people in the light smiling if it wasn’t real.

Earlier this year, I ate two handfuls of mushrooms, solid doses that tasted like green dirt. I got a lot of information about what my body had been through in our time so far, what it needed, where God was and where God wasn’t; I felt in my bones how destabilising it is to leave home and start a new life the way I did. I also saw that my body is completely magnificent, and that hating it is as futile as hating a tree; that I truly, truly love doing my job, and that my life is like a beautiful tapestry, and every inch of it is precious and has meaning.

It might seem funny or be easy to forget, but I make records because I need to. The songs are spells; a spell to let go of something, a spell to unlock a door. Every time I put something into words just as I see it, set it to the right music, a knot comes loose in me. But it hurts too, confronting the knots. I’ve made enough records to know that this feeling of my skin coming off is part of it. I know I’m gonna look back on this year with fondness and a bit of awe, knowing it was the year that locked everything into place, the year that transitioned me from my childhood working decade to the one that comes next — one that even through all this, I’m so excited for. It’s just hard when you’re in it.

So in this state, I went out on a short European festival tour. We built a cool new version of the show in a couple days. It was good to change gears and get out of my head. I put effort into the show, changing the setlist and arrangements, it was cool how you picked up on that, and it felt good dancing to the new versions with you, looking out at you, all sweaty with your friends, all on the same drugs. I felt the throb of history that’s under this music now, how each year makes these songs feel more like collectively written and sung pieces. I left my body and merged with yours and it was ecstasy. Then I went home to a business hotel and washed the glitter and smoke out of my hair.

Lauren took some beautiful pictures — sharing a few with you here.

Backstage in Portugal.

Cute Polaroid series of the 6pm, 8pm, and 10pm versions of me on a show day.

I’ve read some great books recently, including Drive Your Plow over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk, Speedboat by Renata Adler, Motherhood by Sheila Heti, Rough Translations by Molly Giles (brought into my life by sweet angel bookworm Chris Chang), Birds of America by Lorrie Moore; am waiting on my copies of ĀRIA by Jessica Hinerangi and Te Ana Ata: Menstruation In The Pre-Colonial Maori World by Ngāhuia Murphy. Was given Wawata - Moon Dreaming by Dr. Hinemoa Elder which I’m loving looking to as the Maramataka evolves.

It was Te Wiki o Te Reo Māori last week, I loved listening to this from London. This vid from Hemi showing the similarities between te reo Māori and ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi is so sick.

Been meaning to tell you about The Kindness Institute too, a mental health resource for Māori rangatahi that has recently lost government funding. Go check out the beautiful, necessary mahi they’re doing — I know the cost of living is cooked for Kiwis right now and pop stars asking people to donate sux, but if you work at a good sized company maybe you can wrangle a donation from your employers?! I’m gonna email my record company about it.

Other bits that have inspired lately:

Dieter Rams’ principle of “as little design as possible”. This fantastic interview with Thom Yorke. Maddie’s unbelievably beautiful Melo inspired tattoo.

Loving the beautiful new Troye songs and vids, Kelela’s Raven hitting right on the e-bike rides home, late to the magic of Frou Frou but glad I’m here, and the rest of my brain is M.T. Hadley, this great Te Whanganui-a-Tara based band Womb, and Talk Talk. And for those it concerns, have been pilled by parasocial big cousins Jason and Chris. My mum just sent me a Sylvia Plath poem that feels like it sums up the above, I’ll copy it here:

They thought death was worth it, but I Have a self to recover, a queen. Is she dead, is she sleeping? Where has she been, With her lion-red body, her wings of glass?

Now she is flying More terrible than she ever was, red Scar in the sky, red comet Over the engine that killed her— The mausoleum, the wax house.

Sylvia Plath, "Stings"

Hope you’re taking care of yourself. Don’t worry about me, I still laugh every day, it’s all moving, even when it goes slow. I’ve accepted the mission — I have a self to recover.

Speak soon, E X X X X X

(source: received this email)

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inukag-archive · 10 months

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Inuvember 2023 Part 1

In honor of @inuvember InuKag Day, the Archive Mods have put together a 30 item InuKag recommendation list: one InuKag fic per prompt. Since this list is longer than our usual, we've split it into two parts. Enjoy!

Day 1 Inuyasha

I Hate That Fucking Well by @kstewdeux (M)

Post-manga. Inuyasha POV. Inuyasha's inner thoughts and monologues. Rated M for fucking language

Day 2 Kagome

Cinnamon Hearts by @fandomobsessions016 (M)

"So, you may be wondering, what’s this story about anyway? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s about how this queen, almost lost her crown, her throne, but worst of all… it’s about how this queen almost lost her king…

Hindsight, of course, has perfect vision, but at the time I did not. I was a girl becoming a woman who fought bitterly against change that was inevitable. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to see what was right in front of me.

What I wanted more than anything was to keep Inuyasha.

High school forced my eyes open, tested our “unshakable” bond and made me confront my biggest fear. All because…

I caught feelings for my best friend.

I like-liked my king."

Day 3 Sango

Forever Home by KittyKatz (M)

How long had he roamed the earth in a form that was not his? Beaten, dirty and caged, he finds one last bit of fortune when she comes to rescue him from this place. But his road to redemption will not be easy. And he will find, that no matter how the world has changed, his old enemy remains. And this time, they plan to destroy him once and for all.

Day 4 Miroku

Under the Northern Lights by @lostinfantasyworlds (E)

Kagome Higurashi has her dream job, working as a photographer for the internationally well-known Yugen magazine. Her career whisks her all around the world, leaving her feeling lonely sometimes but mostly just incredibly grateful to be doing what she loves. When she gets assigned to Alaska for a month to photograph a series of celestial events, she runs into Inuyasha, a half-demon who lives on his own in the middle of nowhere. A mutual attraction draws them to each other, but Kagome's time there is limited. Will giving in to their desire lead to love or heartbreak?

Day 5 Shippo

Oh, But You're Good To Me by @witchygirl99 (E)

It’s a terrible photo, really. The action figure takes up the entire bottom of the screen and part of both of their faces. Shippo’s giggling though, eyes shut and crinkled in his mirth while Inuyasha looks at him. His expression is clearly fond. It’s the softest Inuyasha has ever, ever seen himself.

This is fatherhood, he thinks a little wildly.

He sends the photo to Kagome.

Inuyasha is a single father. Shippo is his adopted son. Kagome isn't supposed to be in the picture, but somehow, she returns anyways. A story about family, love, and all of its obstacles.

Day 6 Sesshomaru

Whispers in the Wind by @ruddcatha (G)

It has been 500 years since Kagome jumped back down the well to be with Inuyasha. A messenger waits to see her family, and is joined by a surprising guest.

Day 7 Rin

My Life Before You by @len-barboza (E) -- based on a story by Mizune-mei

No English language summary provided. Inuyasha había vivido la mayoría de su vida huyendo, un huérfano medio demonio considerado por la gente una aberración, rechazado por demonios y por humanos, pero quien pensaría que esa era una mejor vida, al menos un propósito lo movía; sobrevivir, que sucede con un hanyo con una vida longeva, en completa soledad.

Day 8 Kikyou

Stolen Soul by Kimberly-A (T)

COMPLETE Kikyo uses a spell to exchange bodies with Kagome, leaving Kagome stuck in the dead shell and Kikyo comfortably human. In the aftermath, Inu-Yasha faces difficult choices. InuKag, not very Kikyo-friendly.

Day 9 Koga

A New Moon, A New Start by @pinestripes (T)

Kouga visits the village near the Sacred Tree. On this particular evening, he finds that a certain half-demon is more on edge than usual.

Day 10 Kagura

The Portal Between Worlds by @neutronstarship (E)

Ten years ago, a portal transported Inuyasha from the demon realm to the human realm. Now a half-demon alone in a world he doesn't understand, he will do anything to get home. When Onigumo brings him a book with all the answers, Inuyasha pushes aside his misgivings and works with the man. He just wants to get home, after all.

Kagome just wants to make an extra buck (and find demons), much to Kikyo’s chagrin. That is why she published Demons Among Us! after all. But strange things start happening when she puts the book online. As if people are using it to open the portals that it hypothesized… When Kagura and Sango join the fray, the stakes grow higher as they try to find the source of the portals.

When Inuyasha encounters Kagome, fate is not what it seems. Not one, but two realms are in danger for their survival. What happens when the final portal opens and an unknowable terror is unleashed? Can the Demon Hunters save the world?

Day 11 Naraku

You Rescued Me by @keizfanfiction (E)

Maybe it was fate that he decided to take the back way home that night, but whatever the reason, Inuyasha was grateful for arriving just in the nick of time to rescue a waif of a woman who had clearly been through hell. He never would have imagined that she would end up rescuing him, too.

Day 12 Band of Seven

Delicate by @akitokihojo (T)

To trust someone, to let them in, what an unsettling ordeal. Kagome is easy and safe, and Inuyasha is difficult and guarded. She can put him at ease with a smile, simultaneously setting him on edge. It was nothing until it was something, creating absolute chaos and uncertainty within the both of them.

Day 13 Jinenji/ Shiori

How Does Your Garden Grow? by @dawnrider (M)

An Ingary-esque AU: Kagome, the newest generation of caretakers of the Higurashi House, finally starts to feel like her garden and business is thriving with the help of her friend Jinenji. Their routine is thrown off by the arrival of an injured visitor who does not want to be found...

Day 14 Toga

Taisho School of Acting: A Quick Guide by @jeremymarsh (G)

“Excuse me, what?” Kagome looked at her best friend with eyes as big as saucers, lips parted, and her mind replaying what he had said a moment before – trying to find a sense but to no avail. “You heard me.” Inuyasha scowled, looking down, arms crossed and lips pouting, just like he did every time he didn’t like the topic at hand. The problem was he had started it this time. “Yeah, I did.” Kagome shook her head and inhaled deeply before she continued. “And that’s why I’m asking you to repeat yourself since I’m having problems believing that certain sentences left your mouth.” “I said,” Inuyasha started through clenched teeth, still not meeting her gaze, “come to my family Christmas dinner this Sunday.” He stopped, ran a hand through his silver mane, closed his eyes, murmured something unintelligible and then added: “As my girlfriend.”

Where Inuyasha tries to fool his parents and miserably fails.

Day 15 Izayoi

The Silence of Daisies by Fierywenchxo (T)

Inuyasha shares with Kagome one of the biggest secrets he's ever kept. One-shot.

READ PART (2) HERE

#inukag archive #inukag fanfic #inuvember #long post #inuyasha fandom

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wakacreations · 2 months

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Author's Note:

My contribution to the Doni fandom. Thanks to @falcatamandarina for inspiring the piece.

Doni: I Will See You Again Soon!

Word Count: 1703

Summary:

Doni writes a letter to his father recapping of all that has happened to him so far.

Dad,

It's been awhile since I wrote to you. A lot has happened in just a short amount of time but I just wanted to let you know I'm safe and sound. I made it to Baldur’s Gate just like we promised to each other. The other tieflings from Elturel took me in as a part of their family. You know how I wished for a big brother or sister? I got both!

There is Rolan who is a famous wizard. Can you believe a tiefling could own a big tower? There is Lia who is the head of a team of flaming fists. She could beat all the fists in an archery match! I once saw her run after a thief on the roof tops and caught them midair. There is Cal who runs a fun orphanage. Everytime I visit the other kids he's planning a secret surprise. Last time the secret surprise was fireworks from Rolan’s tower and we got to eat some yummy food Cal made.

Alfira has been helping me learn how to sing again. I know how much you loved watching and hearing me sing back in Elturel. It's been hard because sometimes my voice doesn't want to come out when I want it to. Lakrissa has been cheering for me everytime during practice. I feel shy sometimes when she does it because I don't feel like I'm doing a good job. I know I can sing really good like you've told me. I just don't sing as good as I used to now. Alfira believes I'm still a good singer but it just takes time to sing like before. She said that I'm a better singer than Lakrissa. She once summoned a pack of worgs to come using her voice alone. I believed her because when Lakrissa started singing we heard howling in the distance. Our lessons had to end early that day. I got to eat some nice cinnamon rolls that Lakrissa paid for.

Sometimes I visited Dammon’s forge even when I'm not supposed to. He said that I should send him a letter first so he can finish his work early. I try to write to him ahead of time but I would forget. He would be too busy to talk but I liked watching him work on the forge. Mama K would take me on an outing if that was the case. I would help her with the groceries and we would go around visiting the new shops that just opened. I helped her pick out a new shirt for Dammon to wear. Mama K said he can always use some more. It'll eventually become a rag with how many shirts he goes through, she joked. Dammon has a lot of neat projects he's working on. A customer requested to make them a giant warhammer! The hammer was bigger than I was! Dammon, let me wrap the handle with leather. He gave me a lollipop for a job well done. He asked me if I would like to work at the desk while he worked on the forge. I told him I would love to but only when I visit.

So, Dad when you come to Baldur’s Gate I can treat you to a meal. I have two jobs that pay well. I work at Dammon’s and Rolan’s shops. Don't worry, they said I can stop working for the day when I get tired. I can come into work whenever I want to. I can go restock the shelves or work the desk for the day, it was up to me. You don't have to worry about me spending my earned money on you. Zevlor gives me an allowance and extra pocket money to spend on myself. I sometimes use that money to give him flowers. The Commander would always smile when I handed them to him. It's nice to see him smile because he used to not smile often but I think that's changing now. Tilses said Zevlor’s been making more friends and opening up to people. Hearing that makes me happy. I sometimes worry that he would be lonely in his garden.

He has a big garden with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. Zevlor even has those fancy hedges that look like little animals. He asked me what animal he should make. I watched him make a cute bunny. They were called “topiary artwork” , he said. Sometimes we would have a picnic in the garden for just the two of us. Other times, which is most of the time, Cal would bring the kids over to have lunch there.

Zevlor was the host for the outdoor parties whenever there was a celebration for a tiefling from Elturel. The last party was for Lia's promotion. Everyone was so happy it was nice. Even grumpy Rolan smiled. When I went inside to use the toilet, I heard Rolan crying alone. He said he was so proud of his sister and something about the suffering he endured was worth it. I didn't know what he meant by that. I did give him a hug after I found him again. He asked me why I was hugging him. I kept on hugging him. He didn't push me away but hugged back tighter. When he let go, I walked off. Lia noticed the hug and made a comment about if he was crying. Rolan said it was his allergies. His sister said that my hugs were tear worthy and wished that I would hug her too. I gave her the biggest of hugs and then everyone wanted a hug too.

Dad, I'm not as lonely as I used to be back in Elturel. I've been making more friends. Today, I got to play with Arabella, Umi and Xan. Arabella showed me the new powers she got from studying the weave. She said she wanted to be peepaw Wither's apprentice but he kept telling her no. So, Rolan and Gale became her wizard teachers instead. Gale told her she could enroll at Blackstaff Academy and he would put in a good word in for her should she accept.

Arabella said she didn't want to be far away from everyone again. "Who knows how rude those kids would be there anyways”, she told us. So, she is staying in Baldur’s Gate. Rolan and Gale had set up a portal that connects the two towers just for her lessons. They tried using a scrying eyes for their shared lessons but creating the portals was a better solution. They showed her the new set up for her lessons. The scrying eye would accidentally broadcast whatever the other was doing, Rolan explains to her why the sudden change. Arabella said she saw Rolan and Gale shiver but he didn't explain what they had seen through the eye.

Umi and Xan described what it was like to live at Wyrm's Rock Fortress with the Duke and Wyll. Umi said it was strange having so many people waiting for you to say something. You had servants that would bring you everything you needed. He felt bad asking them for anything. Umi didn't want to be a bother to them. Wyll said the staff liked him and always mentioned how adorable he was. Umi was happy he didn't need to learn how to wield a sword anymore. He got to learn how to ballroom dance instead. Wyll said the next best thing to dancing in battle would be dancing on the dance floor. Umi said I could join in their dance lessons with Wyll.

Xan explained how Sa'Varsh Lae'zel (his mother) was away on her campaign to tackle the crèche strongholds that still pledged allegiance to Vlaakith. His Sa'Varsh insisted he was to stay at the fortress till she summoned for him. In the meantime he should diligently complete his combat training and learn all he could about Faerun. He enjoyed speaking with the guards that patrolled the fortress. Seeing all the nobles that entered the premises bewildered him. All the flashy jewelry, layered furs and silks looked cumbersome to move. Xan made a face when he mentioned all the perfumes that assaulted his lungs that made him cough and the smells that made his nose hurt from sneezing. As part of his training Xan had insisted to Varsh Wyll he would join in their ballroom dancing lessons. He showed us the steps had learned with Umi from his training.

We spent the whole day playing at the park. We played hide and seek. Arabella and Xan were too good at it. Next game we played was Simon says. Xan was too good at that game. So, we decided to prank him. He got embarrassed when we asked him to say "Faerun" during the game. He wasn't too mad at us for embarrassing him since it was a part of the game. We asked him if there were any githyanki words for friends. He told us it was k’chakhi ra’stil (Wyll later told us that meant idiot ally or dumb friend). There was a patch of grass that had a lot of dandelions. Arabella said we should make flower crowns but she didn't know how. Umi shyly told us he knew how and taught us how to make them. I made you a picture to show you what it looked like.

I think I would train to be bard again, Dad. I missed singing so much. Who knows, maybe you'll be in the audience once again. I don't know if I will only become a bard. I'm still unsure if I want to learn how to be a ranger or a cleric. I'll one day travel around again to find you wherever you are Dad when I'm all grown up like you. I want to let you know I am happy with the life I live now but my life doesn't feel complete without you. I miss you dad. So, write to me when you have the time. I hope you've been receiving my letters even if you can't write to me back. I'll continue to write to you till I'm old and grey.

I'll write to you again soon! I love you dad.

-Doni

#bg3 #bg3fanart #baldursgate #bg3 art #my fanart #fanart #art #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanart #digitalart #tiefling #doni appreciate #doni #doni bg3 #wakacreations writes

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verai-marcel · 9 months

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Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 12 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

AO3 Link is here, my dear.

Word Count: 4,401

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Act I, Chapter 12 - The Grymforge

1479 DR, 13 Years Ago

Coughing up smoke and ash, you pushed yourself up from the ground. Fires were all around you, but they were being contained by magic users running around the area, casting water and ice spells. You blinked away the sleep in your eyes and spat out the remnants of whatever spell had been cast upon you.

A man nearby who was casting water magic at the retreating flames noticed that you had awoken and came up to you. Kneeling down, he handed you a waterskin.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, and coughed up some more ash.

The man raised an eyebrow, then his expression turned kind. “My name is Cardin. May I examine you?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. You chugged some of the water. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

He shrugged. “If you say so. We found you under a Feign Death spell, a really strange one. Took us a while to undo it. Whoever cast must have really wanted to keep you hidden.”

Mother…

Your heart clenched, but you held yourself together. There would be time to cry later. “Are there any other survivors?”

The man shook his head. “Not around here.”

You suddenly gasped. Oh shit, the children. “Did you find any children?”

He shook his head again.

You shakily got to your feet, determination coursing through your veins. “I think I know where they are.”

Getting the children to safety was your first priority. After finding them at the end of the cavern pathway, you made sure each of them had been accounted for and taken into custody by the rescue team. Though you felt bad leaving them in the care of others, you knew that they would do better in a stable situation, not wandering around with you, wherever you would go. Although you were only fifteen, your parents had trained you to be independent. Besides, you didn’t want to go to the orphanage with the children. You could work. You could make a living.

But part of you wished you had a bit more time to be a child.

Mother… Father…

You sat down and leaned against the trunk of a dead tree, your mind in a haze as you watched the knights, clerics, and mages running around the ruins of your village, putting out fires and performing the rites of the dead. The emblem of the city of Neverwinter was all over their tabards and flags.

Perhaps I could work in the city?

You saw Cardin walk over to you. He waved as he came closer, sitting beside you against the tree. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged, shoving down your emotions. “I’ll live.”

He nodded. After a moment, he asked, “Do you have any family outside of the village?”

You shook your head.

“Do you have any skills? You’ll probably need to find a job to make your way.”

You sighed. Almost everyone’s dead, and he’s being practical. But he’s right, I don’t exactly have time to mourn. I can do that later. You searched your mind. What could you do? What skill did you have that few others did? “I can feel others’ emotions,” you replied.

You would later regret saying that.

He looked at you. “How so?”

You reached for his hand and held it.

confusion…disbelief…tired…

“You don’t believe me. And you’re tired.”

The man scoffed. “That much is obvious just from looking at me.”

pity…sadness…regret…

“You feel pity. You’re sad about something.” You leaned in and looked him in the eye. “You regret something.”

The man blinked. He pulled his hand out of your grasp. “Well. Guess you can feel something.”

“I can also make potions. That might be a more… transferable skill.”

Cardin laughed. “That’s true. Being an empath is a hard sell.” He pulled out a small piece of paper from his satchel and used magic to scribble down an address and a name before handing it to you. “You seem like you got a good head on your shoulders. If you go here, let the guards know you need work as an apothecary and that Cardin Everember sent you. I can get you on a ship from the port in the city if you choose to go.”

You nodded. Nice of this guy to give you a head start on getting your life in order. He patted your shoulder and went back to work, while you stared at the note.

“Waterdeep…”

***

1492 DR, Present Day

In the morning, you got your small traveling pack together along with a separate backpack of goods you wanted to trade. Waving goodbye to Halsin, you set off north with Gale to the Myconid Colony.

You traded with the various denizens of the colony and had a great time speaking with Blurg and Omeluum about the different species of fungi and plants in the Underdark. You had to admit that Omeluum’s appearance startled you at first, but as you spoke more with him, you became comfortable with his presence.

In fact, you were so engrossed in your conversation with them that you had forgotten that Gale was waiting patiently for you. Turning towards him, you saw him staring far away, his head tipped to one side, as if he was listening to something only he could hear.

You waited until he nodded and his gaze focused onto you. “Are you alright?” you asked.

“Yes, I just received a Sending spell from Shadowheart. She said they could use my expertise at the arcane tower southwest of here.”

So he needs to escort me back to the camp. “Okay, let’s head back then.” You turned to Blurg and Omeluum. “Thank you so much for your time, I’ve learned a lot.”

It has been educational, Omeluum said in your mind.

“Come find us in the Society of Brilliance in Baldur’s Gate, we would enjoy speaking with you again,” Blurg added.

You bowed and left with Gale, who set a rather rapid pace. I wonder if there’s something he’s not telling me.

Returning to camp, he barely made sure that Halsin was nearby before quickly leaving.

Oh, there is DEFINITELY something he isn’t telling me.

You decided that there was nothing that you could do about it now, so you turned to the pile of loot that was sitting on top of the travel chest. Alright, I suppose it’s sorting time.

Time passed, and without the sun, you found it difficult to tell how long the others had been gone. You had cleaned, prepared ingredients for quick cooking when they returned, and sorted all of the gathered loot into sell, keep, and discard. You wondered why they picked up some clearly rubbish items, but you guessed it was because some of them were hoarders and could not be stopped. You glanced at Gale’s tent, which had a few strange items piled in front of the tent flap, and surmised that at least some of the clutter was his fault.

With little else to do, you decided to renew the hot water rune in the water beneath the cliff, and also to explore a bit further along the shore. Walking down the path and around the rocky shoreline, you decided to go a bit further, wondering if there would be a better place to cast the rune. You turned a corner and found a small waterfall, just tall enough for a person to pass under.

You had a thought.

Taking off your outer clothes, you stepped into the cool water and circled around the waterfall, your arm in the air, your fingers passing through the water. You hummed the heating cantrip, drawing the lines in the air until it formed the rune.

Moment of truth.

You tentatively stepped into the waterfall.

It was hot and just the right amount of pressure. You felt that this rune drained you a bit more than normal, but it was worth it. You stood underneath the hot shower for a little while longer before you finally forced yourself to leave and get out of the water. Drying yourself off with a cantrip and pulling your clothes back on, you made your way back up the cliff and to the campfire.

You told Halsin about the hot shower, and he gladly partook, leaving you alone with Withers, Scratch, and Owly for a half hour. You played fetch with the animals until he returned, then took your turn in the shower properly. But even that wasn't enough to keep your mind from clouding over with fatigue.

You felt like a full day cycle had passed, but there was still no sign of the party. You couldn't wait any longer; you were getting too tired. So you prepped their tents, set up the wire trip alarm, and told Halsin that you were going to sleep.

***

A montage of scenes went by in your dreams, memories half-remembered, emotions doubly felt.

Serving your lord’s guests at a dinner party. A brush of a hand there, a light touch on a shoulder here. Gathering emotions like flowers for a bouquet, bringing them back to give to your lord. A warm smile. A pat on the head. The feeling of having done good, of being praised, addictive as silkroot.

Nobles, too arrogant for their own good, asking for more than just a dance. Getting too close, up in your face. Dodging hands, hiding from gazes that made you feel like property, like chattel.

Fellow servants and maids, butlers and guards, camaraderie built, then easily broken with a whispered word. Friendships made, friendships faded as people moved on.

Ten years passed. Nine of them in ignorance, one of them with knowledge you would have been happier, and yet more foolish, for not knowing.

Three more years passed in relative freedom. But the constant urge to look over your shoulder, the constant suspicion of anyone coming by your cottage, was starting to wear you down. Anxiety building, building, but never a release—

***

You felt like you had just barely gotten to sleep before the chime of the alarm bells woke you up. Getting up and heading towards the entrance of the campsite, you saw everyone looking muddied, bloodied, and exhausted.

“Oh gods above, what happened?”

“I want a bath and a long rest,” Astarion muttered.

Everyone else began to mumble and grumble all at once, but you got the gist. They had gone to the arcane tower, retrieved the herbs that Omeluum had asked for the day prior in hopes of getting the tadpole out of their head, but that didn’t work. So they had gone to the beach, defeated the duergar dwarves, and found a boat that took them to the Grymforge. There, they had gone through a lot of trouble to get a drow out of a cave-in so they could get a moonlantern that could push back the shadow curse, only to find it broken and useless.

“But everyone else has practically cleared out of there, so we’re free to wander in and take the elevator up to the Shadow Cursed Lands,” Gale concluded.

“What about the curse?” you asked.

Halsin answered for Gale. “Any kind of light will work, but none of it will be as effective as a moonlantern. And we won’t be able to enter the strongly cursed areas without one.”

“We’ll work it out,” Wyll said with more confidence than you thought he ought to have, given the circumstances.

You sighed. This journey was getting more dangerous all the time. But you had already pushed yourself this far. You would see this to the end, wherever, or whatever, that may be.

“Well, there is a hot water rune under the waterfall if you wish to shower, and I can make a meal quickly,” you announced to the group as you headed to the campfire. You heard some general mumbles of agreement as they all dispersed to their tents to change and take turns in the shower.

Setting up the pot and heating the water took hardly any time at all, and you threw in your pre-chopped ingredients and left it to cook while you went around to each tent, collecting their clothes to clean and mend.

With a pile of clothes & leather armor beside you, you started the tedious process of casting your cleaning and mending cantrips. You had seen the other magic users perform their cantrips in a very different way, with just a few words and some hand gestures, but also requiring some materials, like lodestone or phosphorous moss. But your method had always been purely songs.

You used to avoid using your magic where others could see while you were in Waterdeep, and even now, you tended to hide away in a corner to work, even though everyone here had already seen you and accepted your eclectic form of spells. Old habits, you supposed. You were never one to bring attention to yourself.

Focused on your work, you got through the pile, folding everything and organizing them into separate stacks to bring back to their respective tents. As you hummed through the last shirt, you realized it was Astarion's shirt, the one you had mended thoroughly all those nights ago.

You felt a soft smile on your lips, and you immediately bit your lip. Godsdammit. This… this isn’t that kind of feeling. I just care about him as a friend. He just needs a friend. I… I just want to be his friend. Right?

Nodding righteously, as if you had convinced yourself, you finished your work and distributed the stacks of clean & mended clothing back to their rightful owners.

Of course, you ended up saving Astarion’s things for last, laying his pile before his tent flap. You stared at the pile for a little bit too long before turning away.

…and running straight into his chest.

You staggered back a step and rubbed your nose. “How are you so sneaky?” you asked, your voice sounding a bit nasally.

“How are you so bad at situational awareness?” he asked in return.

“I’m not usually,” you countered. I just feel safe with everyone here.

He raised an eyebrow, but let the subject go as his gaze slid to the pile of freshly cleaned & mended clothes. “Excellent timing,” he said as he moved to pick them up.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled as you started to walk away, but you noticed his pained grunt and stiff and slow movements as he stood back up.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m sore from all the fighting today. Cure Wounds only does so much.”

“Do you want a massage?” Wait, why did I offer? He wouldn’t want that.

He blinked and looked at you for a moment before he smirked. “Darling, are you being coy?”

Your face heated up at his implication. “What, no! I simply meant a massage for your sore muscles!”

He laughed. “You’re so easy to tease, my dear.” Looking at you with his arms full of his clothes, it almost looked like he was wielding them as a shield. “If you think it’ll help, come in.”

You followed him into his tent. He set his pile of clothes aside and lay on his stomach on top of his bedroll.

“Where is the soreness the worst?”

“Everywhere.”

That didn’t help. You rolled your eyes as you knelt down beside him. Deciding to start from the top and work your way down, you pressed your thumbs into his shoulder muscles and began to massage in circles.

Gods, he has so many knots. Is this the first time he’s received a massage?

You realized that this probably was, and you felt a bit sad at the thought.

Astarion let out a soft breath and relaxed under your touch. You were grateful that his shirt was separating your bare hands from his skin so you could focus purely on his muscles. Which, quite honestly, was a distraction in of itself. But you concentrated on working out the knots, working down his back until you reached the waistline of his pants.

He suddenly tensed. It was subtle, but you felt it.

Quickly pulling your hands back, you debated your next move. His neck and head are bare. I don’t have my gloves, and I’m not sure I can mentally handle him right now if he’s not shielding.

“Are you done?”

“Do you want me to be? Otherwise, I could get your neck and head, if you want.” Why did I just offer the very thing I was wary of? I'm an idiot.

He was silent for a moment. “Sure.”

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for whatever emotion you might feel from touching his bare skin. The neck was a particularly sensitive place, and though your mother had taught you how to put up mental shields against others’ emotions, you were never good at it. I wish I had listened to her more when she was training me.

You scooted over to kneel at the head of his bedroll and leaned over him, putting your palms on either side of his neck. He feels content, although he seems muted, so I guess this is fine. You gently pressed forward, going down along his shoulders slightly before coming back up, your fingers stroking his neck muscles.

He groaned.

You immediately stopped, lifting your hands away. “Did I hurt you?”

“Keep going,” he said in a muffled voice, sounding annoyed that you had stopped.

You continued, doing the same thing as before a few more times before you started to use your thumbs on the muscles between his neck and shoulders, near his spine, gently rubbing circles, gradually moving up his neck. Eventually you switched to using your knuckles, running them up and down his neck.

“More,” he mumbled.

With your fingertips, you found the base of his skull, feeling for the little spaces and massaging small circles, around and around.

He moaned, and this time, you definitely didn’t mistake it for pain, since you could sense his pleasure.

You ran your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp until your knuckles cracked.

“Alright, I need to stop, my hands are getting sore.” How long have I been in here? I’m losing all sense of time in the Underdark.

Astarion sat up slowly and pouted at you. “So soon, my dear?”

“Yes, yes.” You rotated your wrists and wriggled your fingers, hearing your joints crack. “I need to go sleep, it’s been a long day. Are you taking first or second watch?”

“Second. Karlach is taking first.”

“Alright. Can you wake me when you’re done so I can start breakfast?”

“Of course.”

You smiled. “Thanks.” You started to lean forward, intending to wish him sweet dreams like you always did.

He pulled back.

Oh.

You just smiled to cover your surprise. “Well, have a good night,” you said quickly as you got up and left his tent, resisting the urge to run. You forced yourself to walk at a normal pace to your bedroll, managing not to panic. But the cracks around your heart were starting to make themselves known.

Of course. I shouldn’t have pushed. I should have let him come to me. I… I shouldn’t have expected anything.

It took a long while to fall asleep as regret ate at your thoughts, like crows at a carcass.

***

As soon as everyone was rested and camp was packed up and ready to go, you and your companions set off to Grymforge, taking the boat from the shoreline through the waterways of the Underdark, traversing through the now empty fortress, picking your way past all of the rocks and ruined walls to get to the elevator that would take you to the Shadow Cursed Lands. Halsin told you a bit about its history, and that to lift the curse, he would need to save Thaniel, the spirit of the land. He suspected that the spirit was trapped in the Shadowfell.

Wyll and Karlach were quick to agree to save the boy. Gale and Shadowheart seemed ambivalent, while Lae’zel and Astarion were downright irritated by the decision.

Meanwhile, the seal on your back tingled. You concentrated on it and thought of saving Thaniel, and it tingled more. You thought of not saving him, and the tingles went away.

I can’t believe that works. Hm. This may be a way to help decide what to do, as oblique as it may be.

“Don’t you think we should save him?” Karlach asked you suddenly.

Dammit, I was trying to stay out of the conversation.

“It may be the right way forward,” you said slowly.

“And why is that?” Astarion said with some disdain.

“...Just a hunch.”

He blinked and looked at you. He subtly pointed at the small of his own back, a signal that no one else saw.

You nodded imperceptibly back at him.

Astarion just shrugged. “Well, I guess it just means more enemies to kill along the way.”

By the time you all reached the elevator and headed up, you were starting to feel exhausted. Schlepping all the backpacks and gear while navigating all the difficult terrain was more tiring than usual.

As your group stepped out of the elevator and fanned out into the space to check for traps or enemies, you saw an old man appear nearby.

“Um…”

Gale looked at where you were pointing. “Elminster?”

***

Your head was whirling from the conversation between Gale and Elminster. The consequences. And the fact that he was willing to sacrifice himself so easily… You glanced over at Shadowheart, who looked more pained than usual. And you had the feeling it wasn’t due to the eternal injury on her hand.

I’ve been watching those two get closer…

You didn’t want to pry, and you had no concrete evidence, but if your guess was right, you figured those two would sort themselves out sooner or later.

After that set of news, the group decided to hole up here for the night before setting out once more. The shadow curse was just beyond the doorway, and this was likely the last night of relative safety before heading into unknown territory. Setting up camp quickly, you sat at the campfire alone while the others did their own thing. The sounds of the scraping of your spoon along the pot were accompanied by the clanging of swords where Wyll and Karlach practiced. Lae’zel, Halsin, and Shadowheart were meditating quietly, while Astarion and Gale were poring over their books.

Staring at the pot and wishing it would hurry up and boil, you hummed a song. Tongues of flame and wisps of water vapor, heating faster, bubbling and boiling…

In what felt like no time at all, your rather large pot of stew was letting out tendrils of steam. You looked at the stew more closely. It looked ready. It smelled ready.

After a few moments of trying to figure out how in the hells you had sped up the cooking, you realized that Gale had come up to the campfire and was staring at you suspiciously.

“Wha-what?”

“Do you know what you cast?”

“No, I was just… mumbling… a song… why do you look so confused?”

He pointed at the pot. “Your stew looks ready, and it’s only been a couple of minutes.”

“Oh, well, you wizards”—you gestured at Gale—“conjure things up all the time. Surely speeding up cooking isn’t that out of the ordinary.”

Gale furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, then shrugged. “That’s true. Well, I for one, am quite hungry. Let’s eat.”

Supper went by as normal, but you could catch Gale’s occasional curious glance in your direction.

Don’t look at me. I don’t know what in the hells I did either.

***

After cleaning up and packing up as much as possible to be ready to leave early tomorrow, everyone had gone to sleep. Usually whoever was taking watch would patrol the perimeter of camp, checking for enemies. But in this small foyer, there was hardly a need. So Astarion sat at the campfire, staring across at the occupied bedroll where the little hearth witch slept.

He spent some time ruminating on his previous interactions with her and discovered that he actually enjoyed spending time with her. From the first time he had teased her, to when she had tipped her head, exposing her lovely neck, to letting her touch his hair. He closed his eyes and remembered her soft caress. It was completely unlike what he had experienced with all those… targets… in the past. No, she was… different.

His impression of her had grown from mild irritation, to indifference, to amusement, and now to… whatever this was.

Whatever it is, it’s certainly novel.

But it was interfering with his plan.

I thought she’d be easy to seduce. But she’s dodged me at every turn.

He had tried flirting with Gale, but he seemed too dense to recognize it as such. He had started to sweet talk Shadowheart, but she was as prickly as a cactus. Besides, he had caught the way she and Gale looked at each other. He could recognize a losing battle from a mile away. Lae’zel would probably slice his head off if he tried anything more than a smile, seducing Wyll might have worked if his righteousness hadn’t irritated him right off the bat, and Karlach brushed off any attempts like water off a duck’s back. Halsin seemed distracted; it would be hard to keep the druid’s attention on him long enough to tempt him.

So it has to be her.

But she had thwarted his every attempt to lure her into his bed. Surely, she wasn’t that pure. She knew what he offered. He wasn’t so out of practice, was he? But there was a connection; of that, there was no doubt. He’d seen the craving in her eyes whenever he touched her. As if she wanted more, but didn’t want to admit it.

So he was determined to seduce her, using whatever means necessary. Anything to get her to fall for him. All he had to do was keep her favor, and he’d be safe. She wasn’t a fighter, but the others cared for her, more than they did for him. She had already defended him once and they had listened.

So why in the hells did I pull away from her last night?

Deep down, he knew the answer. He just didn’t want to admit it.

------------------------

Act I, Chapter 12 End notes: Yup, I broke viewpoints again and added a small snippet of Astarion at the end. I thought it might help to get a sense of where he’s at, emotionally, in relation to Hearth Witch. Hopefully he came across as genuine, but let me know in the comments what you think! We’re off to Act 2 after this, and I’ll admit, there will probably be less chapters, since I actually sped through this part of the game.

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x f!reader #baldur's gate 3 #female reader #writing #bg3 spoilers #your hearth is my home

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luimagines · 6 months

Text

That Dragon au Part 9

Hallo hallo! It’s that time of the month again! :D

We catch a little more about what’s been happening on the sidelines.... Kinda

@cafecourage

Masterlist

First Chapter/ Previous Chapter/ Next Chapter

Chapter 9: Catching up?

When Wind sat up Enno was quick to help Warriors.

"Here, let me take something." They said, grabbing the pitcher and walking with him back to the spot. "I still don't see why you said this place was nothing much. I think it's very pretty here."

Warrior smiles. "We'll come back at some point then. I just meant that it was small. Hyrule field used to a beautiful place for a picnic-"

"But it's all destroyed here." Wind takes a sausage and bread for himself, sneaking over to steal the cheese and cut it up for all of Enno. "So this tiny park is the only thing they have until it grows back."

Enno shift awkwardly. They take a little bit of the food and drink for themselves to ignore it. That took a bit of a dark turn. "It reminds me of a park back home. I lived near a city that basically had a man made forest in the center of it. It was made to create jobs back after a war years ago."

"A man made forest?" Warrior takes his share, putting the extras in the middle for anyone to reach. "How does that even happen?"

Wind takes a big bite of his food. "When can we go visit your home, Enno?

"I- Hold on." Enno digs through their pouches to find their phone. Enno leans over to show him some photos as they explain. Warrior leans over while Wind practically throws himself onto their lap. "I don't think I have photos of that but I have pictures of something else. There was a place we called the 'highline'. It used to be a small train shipping rail between factories back when the area was still the meatpacking district. Because the city doesn't have that much nature they decided to make it into a park. I used to hang out there while waiting for my dad to get out of work when his office was there and I was still in school."

Only the trees and benches look familiar but they can tell that their world is very different to their own.

"Enno, which one's you?" Wind asks. "Who are these people?"

Warrior smiles and leans against them. "Looks nice."

"Uh… Some are tourists, some are just people going to work." Enno shrugged. "I was always doing homework, eating lunch, or writing while sitting here. It's a good people watching spot." Enno said, putting their phone down and turning it off. "I don't know if you guys will ever come around to my world but I would like to show you both around. The city is loud though."

Warrior shrugs. "A city is still a city. It can't be much louder than here on a festival day."

Wind frowns and pouts. "I'm not good in loud places.... Is there any way that it quiets down at all?"

"Probably, I can also help you muffle the noise. We have some things." Enno pats his head. They took a bite of their food, wondering what they could do to help Wind. "We could start around my home, then see if we can go into the city."

"Earmuffs, Kiddo." Warrior ruffles his hair right after. "Remember when you were here and saw snow for the first time? Those could work too."

"Maybe.." Wind hums, looking at the pictures some more. "It looks pretty warm there."

“It was taken in the summer. I might live on an island like you, but the difference is that for me it’s not a tropical one.” They lean on Warrior. “We get a lot of snow in the winter. But I really prefer summer and spring.”

Warrior grins, wrapping his arm around Enno’s shoulders, biting into his food. "Let's hope we get good weather when we visit then."

Wind appears to be thoughtful as he chews his food. "I like snow... but I don't like the cold."

“I agree. But it gets fairly cold there. If we were to visit I hope it would be spring or fall. Mostly because we have different things to offer, but also because the weather is just right.” Enno starts purring. They closed their eyes and rested again now that they ate. “It would be another family day out.”

Warrior slowly rubs his hand up and down their arm, resting there contently, watching the sun go down over the horizon. "Sounds perfect."

"I'd like that." Wind's head is placed on Enno’s lap, beginning to purr as well. Warrior runs his hands through the boy's hair, purring as well, feeling content and whole that this little family is within his arms.

"Just don't fall asleep yet." He warns you both. "We still have to go back to the castle."

“What are you gonna do about it?” Enno looked up at him with the most lazy smile. They still sat up. “Just kidding. We should head back soon.”

Warrior pouts from behind their back, wiping it from his face before they could see it. "Well I didn't mean now."

Wind snickers, having seen it all.

"Hush you."

“Well yeah,” Enno pinches Warrior’s cheek like he was a kid. “I don’t want to get too comfortable that I fall asleep.”

Warrior pulls away from the pinch, snapping his head to try and bite their fingers playfully. "I could carry you no problem if you did."

Wind rolls his eyes, pretending to gag. "Go be cute somewhere else."

“First you couldn’t, we bought a lot of stuff today.” Enno pulled their hand back and stuck out their fingers.

“Secondly-” Enno pulls Wind to hug him and just snuggle, fully teasing him at this point.. “We can’t compare to how cute our son is.”

"Hey!" Wind struggles in their grip, turning around to face Enno. He sticks his tongue out.

Warrior snorts. "He gets it from his father, clearly."

Warrior then nudges Enno’s shoulder. "And you underestimate my determination."

But he sighs and moves to stand. "But you're right. It's a bit of a walk back and we should be there before dark? We should go."

“If we must.” Enno follows him and gathers their stuff, making sure to dust off their stuffed animal. “Come on,Sailor.”

Wind hops up and joins them, picking up his stuff on the way. Warrior is left sitting on the ground.

Wind doesn't hesitate to grab Enno’s hand and begin to lead the way back.

Warrior smiles to himself, picking up what was left behind. He trails behind them both as Wind entertains Enno with stories of the three Links' time together. He feels whole.

Enno listens intently and lets Wind talk their ear off all the way back to the castle. Swinging their hands together.

"Are you going to sleep with us tonight? Or are you going to sleep in your room with Four?" They asked Wind.

"A..ha...." Wind’s grip on you tightens. "I shared a room with Time. ...Can... Can I stay one more night with you guys?"

"Oh- my bad," They bring Wind closer "I'm ok with it."

they turn back to Warriors. "Is it ok with you?"

Warrior nods. "I don't mind. My bed is big enough as it is."

Wind grins and sways his hands back and forth, still holding onto Enno. "I’d like that."

"I'm probably going to sort out my stuff before we sleep though." Enno says. They had only just remembered that they moved all of their stuff into Warrior's room. "We kinda just left it on the bed."

They entered the castle's walls and things weirdly felt calm... Enno didn't know why but that was enough to set them on edge.

"Well you look like you all had fun." Cia says, waiting for the three of them at the entrance. "I was wondering when you'd come back."

Warrior shifts into half dragon immediately and steps in front of both Enno and Wind. "I'm going to ask you to move now, Cia. Don't make this worse."

Wind frowns and grabs a few bags from Warrior, lessening his load. Wind's grip turns fierce in Enno’s hand as he stares down the threat.

Cia's face gives nothing away. "I just wanted to chat."

Enno’s face doesn’t really change. They just blink. “Ok. What’s up? I’ll cut back my slang just because I realize that maybe won’t be ok for me to say to you. You… might be offended. My bad.” They say casually, actually meaning it. “I’m not going to be alone with you though. That’s asking a bit too much for what’s been going on.”

"Not you." She waves her hand, opening her mouth to speak again.

Warrior lets out a deep and threatening growl.

Cia shuts up with a click of her teeth.

Warrior does that over the shoulder look. "Enno, Wind, go inside. Don't wait for me."

“Ok, but please both of you. Don’t burn down the place.” Enno takes some of the stuff Warrior was holding and walks past Cia, keeping up this is the ‘everyday’ kind of behavior. Heading to their room, Enno managed to remain fairly calm.

"Mm, yes, whatever, go now." Cia waves them away nonchalantly.

Warrior growls his claws sharpening subconsciously. "I won't be long."

“Soooo there goes my plan.” Enno said once the two of them were far away.

Wind pulls them along, happy to be away from the magic practicing woman. "Your plan?"

“Well I was hoping to have you give him the pocket watch.” Enno sighs a bit, worried about Cia and him being together. “I should probably find Impa, Zelda or Lana….” They said out loud, knowing that those two are going to be at each other’s throat.

Wind hums. "I'll figure it out. It's not like we're leaving him behind. There will be other chances."

Wind leads them through the castle with practiced ease. They find themselves in front of Warrior's bedroom soon enough and Wind opens the door.

They both hear a roar from outside the castle.

Enno flinched and ushered Wind inside, not really paying attention to Warrior’s room putting the stuff down.

“Stay and lock the door.” Enno closed the door and ran back, not trusting that those two should be alone anymore.

Wind runs after them and grabs their arm before they can go too far. "Don't Enno. If you get hurt, it'll crush him."

He looks up with pleading eyes. "Please...let's just go inside."

They stopped and looked down at him. “I am just going to go to get Zelda.”

They bent down and kissed Wind’s forehead. “Just give me five minutes, I will be back before you know it.” They said, taking Wind’s hand off. They smiled and slowly backed away. “Don’t worry. Five minutes.”

"I don't like this." Wind stays put. "I'm counting five minutes!"

Enno takes off running and finds Warrior. It's not hard to miss him.

He's turned full dragon and he's larger than they thought he would be. He already has a gash on his shoulder.

Enno bounces back to hide behind the corner. Seeing the gash made them angry to the point that they didn’t realize they had transformed half way. They wanted to catch Cia off guard but knew it would be difficult since they didn’t know how to control their magic. BUT THERE WAS A NEED TO SMITE HER.

Warrior shifts down halfway, holding his shoulder. He curses and turns to run into the castle. "I can't let her get to them."

He turns the corner and takes a deep breath and suddenly freezes. Warrior turns to look at Enno, shock all over his face. "Enno... what... why.... I thought you were with Wind."

“I was. You're hurt. Who is she after and I swear if you said Pinky I am going to start swinging.” They growled. “Either way you need to go to the medical center.” They take the arm that wasn’t hurt. “Come on.”

Warrior shakes his head, letting them lead him anyway. "I need to find Cia first. She was going after you. Pinky might be on the list but she's convinced that if she can either send you away or disfigure you, then we'll leave you both alone."

Warrior growls and whips his arm around to unleash a fairy. "I said I'd save this but I'm about to tear into her. I don't care what Lana or Zelda say anymore."

“Oh good. Fun even.” Enno was angry, running down the stairs two steps at a time. They didn’t know what they were going to do when they saw her but they had some choice words for her, not really caring anymore. They try to gather themselves though since it felt like they were getting close.

Warrior was able to keep up better once the fairy healed his wound. "Enno."

They keep running.

He called out to them again. "Enno?"

Still nothing.

A third time. "Enno. Enno!" He pulls them to a stop. "Where's Wind?"

“He is in your room. The door is locked.” They pull their wrist away “He is fine, Link.” They turn back and continue to stomp down the hallway. “I know I’ve known her for less time but I want to do something.”

They wanted to just shock some sense into her. Literally or mentally, hopefully both.

Warrior nods and follows them once more. "If she can't get to Wind, she'd probably go after Pinky as an easier target. She might still be in the medical bay."

He looks Enno up and down appreciatively as he sees their half form once more but he doesn't comment on it. "What are you planning?"

“Sadly it seems like we share something. Which is being able to know and slightly witness things that we really shouldn’t. I have a sinking feeling that, while I can’t talk to her out of it. I gotta somehow wear her down. Her behavior is almost like Ganon took control over her again.” Enno said, wanting to get there quickly as possible. “Well first I want to just spice up something.”

The door was slightly opened. There was shouting already from the inside. Enno peaked through to see what was going on in there. Cia’s back was to them, they felt sparks inside of their hands.

“Change of plan. Don’t kill me” They whisper, shooting through the door and tackling Cia down, acting like a human taser, hoping to just knock her out. They didn’t realize that their magic was a lot wilder than they thought.

Pinky opened her mouth to speak but she recoiled in fear from the sudden lighting in the room. It appears she was already crying. It's too bright and she was too busy covering her head, ears and eyes from the onslaught of information, sound and light.

Time, seemingly in Fierce Deity form, had thrown himself over Pinky to block the sudden barrage of magic, forming a barrier over the bed she was in.

Warrior dives in after Enno but is forced to take a step back from the sudden burst of magic. He's knocked off his feet, hitting his head on the door frame before he tries to get up again.

Cia screams and her staff goes flying through the room. She doesn't scream for very long before she falls unconscious.

Time shrinks back down to his hylian form and tries to calm Pinky by purring and shielding her from seeing the outcome of what’s happened. He wasn’t expecting Enno to just explode like that. He turns to see them rolled onto their back next to Cia. “Are you ok?”

They shakily gave a single one thumb up, magic disappearing quickly. They feel low and semi-nauseous again, both tired and awake. “She did this to me so it's just her actions catching up to her.” They pant, dropping my arm down. “Wat ‘bout you two?”

Pink stayed curled up for a moment, letting the silence drape over her. Slowly, she unfurls, the pain pulsing through her body. Her previous injuries have been irritated. It’s hard for her to move. "Is she gone?"

Pinky looked up and around. She opened her mouth to ask Time a question before she caught sight of Enno for the first time since the party. "Oh my god, what happened to you?"

Warrior shakes his head, rubbing the spot where he was hit, focusing on one person only.

"Enno!" He runs to them and drops to his knees beside them. "That... was frankly very impressive but stupid. Are you hurt? Are you ok?"

“I think we need to call a nurse to check on Pinky but for now we are both ok.” Time says holding her. “We should probably get her out.”

Enno sighed and turned to Warrior, “m low again.” They couldn’t even keep up the dragon form as they shrink back to their hylian body. Pinky’s comment then registers, “’m dragon now Cia’s fault idk why.”

They rolled over to their side, groaning.

Pinky whimpers as she moves, holding onto Time as she tries to get over her pain. "Is she dead?"

Time shakes his head. “Only knocked out. That's why I want her out of this room.” He honestly doesn’t know how more people aren’t alerted and it's this calm within the medical bay. “You fell on your back. How are you feeling?”

"It hurts." Pinky whispers, trying to sit up. It feels like electricity is blooming over her back while it's pulled taut against itself. She lies back down and curls up. "A lot. It hurts Link."

Time gives Warrior a questioning look before returning to Pinky once more. “Do you want me to put the cream on?” He whispers to her, trying to ease her to lay on her side instead.

Pinky bites her lip, the tears slipping out despite her efforts. "Yes please."

Pinky takes a shaky breath, trying to roll over. "God, I feel like I've been ripped open."

Warrior takes a deep breath, he checks Enno’s pulse and their temperature. He fishes in his belt for a magic potion and uncorks it for them. "Here Sweetheart. You scared me."

Enno drinks a bit of the potion, “I promised Wind I would be back in 5 minutes.” It’s probably been more than five minutes.They were slow in drinking the potion as they stared at Cia. “So what now?”

Warrior sighs and looks over. His hand comes up to where his injured shoulder once was. "I'll take her out, check her in. Enno, stay with Pinky until you drink it all, ok? Wind can wait a bit. Or he can come find us. He's a smart boy."

Enno didn’t like Warrior’s idea but they sigh once more. “Yeah yeah. I’ll head to your room soon though. We have to put things away.” They stumble up and walk over to Pinky and Time, sitting on the floor.

Warrior soothes Enno over first, completely sidestepping Cia.

He runs his hands through their hair and over their shoulder before kissing their forehead. "We'll head back together when she's taken care of ok? If you're feeling better after the potion that is. Don't drink it too fast. Don't move too much. If it doesn't get better we might have to check you in as well, ok?"

He stands and looks at Time. "Watch them, please."

Warrior then turns and picks Cia up effortlessly, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

He leaves.

Time nods, watching Warriors leave, he sees that Enno was already looking away and grabs the cream. “Afterwards, I can get someone to look at you. While it doesn’t look like it's too bad, we will still need to double check.” Time states, he hears Enno growl softly. “She will get punished for this. This is too far.”

“You don’t- she” Enno sighs, bonking the back of their head against the bed lightly, “Pinky would probably know what I mean, but Cia sounds like those fans that claim ownership of a character and attack people for even mentioning their names.”

Pinky hisses when Time applies the cream on her back. The area is the most sensitive as it has been the entire time. "Link please ...calmer."

Pinky tries to steady her breath and looks at Enno through her peripheral vision. "I vaguely know the people you're talking about. I avoided their circles on principle. I never met one of them. Until today, I guess... I thought she was gonna kill me."

“Sorry.” Time lightens up and does it more slowly “She wouldn’t have… not with me around.”

Time massages her back lightly, frowning at the amount of pain she must be in after that attack. It’s clear that her nerves were shot. Enno snickers in the background, taking a swig of the potion.

“Did you guys plan the wedding yet?” They asked. “You guys sound like an old married couple. Or at least Time sounds like a true husband.”

Pinky grips the sheets around her and tries to relax. "No plans, just engaged."

Time tries to help ease her out of it. He doesn’t turn to Enno but he answers what they’re no doubt wondering. “You probably can't tell since you're so young and not used to everything still. But I’ve marked her.”

"To dragon standards, I guess we’re married?" Pinky sighs, trying to get the last of the tension out of her shoulders. She gulps and slowly forces herself out of the fetal position. "What about you and Warrior? You both suddenly seem very close."

“Ahhhhhhhh, that's why. There was a vibe, now I know.” Enno turned to face the two of them, crossing their arms on the edge of the bed. “I’m still unsure? Like how it was explained we are dating, yet we have Wind who is our son, and calls us by mom and dad. So it's just a thing? Right now?”

"From what I've gathered, you two would technically be dating." Pinky snickers. "But between you and Wind, I think you both just leaned into it. You've been calling Wind your son for years. That carries over."

"Besides... Wind also knows Warrior for longer. He might just feel more comfortable with it now that you're here. Like a missing puzzle piece." She finally relaxes fully, trying to ignore the pulsing on her back. "What does Warrior think about it?"

“About Wind? Warrior is loving it- being called Dad all the time. About me? I don’t think Wind has ever acknowledged me as a parent in front of him. So like that's going to be a thing.” Enno downs the rest of the bottle and rests their head on the bed. “So like are you guys going to have two weddings?”

"...Why?" Pinky hums. She closes her eyes, trying to keep her emotions clear from her face. "It's not like we had a dragon one. It just happened."

“We will get there when we get there. All I want is for you to get better, my love.” Time stops putting on the cream and puts it back. “Two sounds equally fun but stressful. Even though it would even be easiest to have two in each world.”

“Sounds like you're a man with a mission.” Enno teased. “As long as I’m invited.”

"You're mandatory at both." Pinky huffs. "You better show up."

The door creaks open. Warrior raises an eyebrow and puts his hands up in mock surrender. "And what am I walking into?"

He laughs a bit to himself and reaches down to help Enno to their feet. "Can you stand?"

“I can. We were talking about marriage and weddings.” Enno lets him help them. “I’ll probably be back down here tomorrow. So I’ll see you then?”

“If the nurses don’t move her to a different room, yes.” Time sighs, rubbing circles on Pinky’s arm.

“Yeaaaah….” Enno looks around. “Well… good night, have fun with that.”

Pinky waves slowly. "Goodnight. Expect an interrogation when I'm better."

Warrior grimaces. "I'll get some supplies in the morning for her. I'm sorry I couldn't stop Cia in time."

Warrior wraps his arm around Enno’s waist, holding them close as he leads them through the castle. He takes a breath, a deep one and pauses in the middle of the empty hallway.

What a mess.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #link x oc #linked universe x oc #lu x oc #except not really #dragon au

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