#i fed him just now after not feeding him for several hours

[otterandterrier]

my cat started throwing up again just as I'm even considering going on vacation, so that's just fucking fantastic

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT.

Grandma cat!reader. Who was a old women who got experimented on and turned into a smiling critter but like the caretaker of the smiling critters.

Often seen walking around with a scruffed smiling critter hanging from her mouth(somehow-) and overfeeding the smiling critters or children.

How would a saved dogday and (maybe) good catnap react to the player bringing them to readers containment room. (She was locked in before the Hour of Joy due to something and just stayed there)?

I just want to see them get some sort of parental love 🥹😖

- Marshmellow🤍

I swear ya'll are gonna make me cry with these requests /nm <3

.....

Dogday

In your old age, you didn't wanna retire from Playtime Co. and spend the remainder of your life laying around, waiting for your body and mind to deteriorate.

So instead you became one of the few willing volunteers for the Bigger Bodies Initiative, being turned into a Smiling Critter (which made you especially happy since your grandkids adored the toyline and cartoon show).

In the show, the gang mentioned a grandma character several times (albeit she was unseen) and with Catnap being recalled from all promo materials, Playtime Co. took creative liberties and made you the newest feline replacement, fitted with a cinnamon scent and pie necklace.

Your tagline was something like "The Smiling Critters take care of our orphans, but who takes care of them? Why, their Grandma [Y/n], of course! She's full of love and wisdom!"

True to that, you became the caretaker of the Critters and children, ensuring everyone's fed well and staying out of trouble.

The incident with Bron (Thomas/Experiment 1199) had scientists rethinking how they'd introduce willing experiments to those...well..less-than-willing.

So you had a supervised introduction to the SCs (with children also present to discourage them from reacting violently). You were even given a containment cell you could retreat to in case of emergencies.

Luckily, you never had to use that room--as they accepted you and began calling you "grandma" since day one.

Dogday, especially, got attached to you.

You called him "DD" and "Doggy-Dearie".

Being a bit taller than the rest of them allows you to pick them up by the scuff of their necks if they're being too rowdy (Kickin and Hoppy, especially).

Even so, you're very sweet to all of them, letting them snuggle up to you as you shared stories and made them food so they could keep up with the little ones.

All was well in the Playhouse up until the Hour of Joy of course.

But you were unaware of it since Catnap sabotaged your room's lock, keeping you trapped to lower the Smiling Critters' morale.

Dogday was 100% convinced you were dead.

However you survived long enough for the Employee's arrival years later, never knowing what happened to the factory..

After rescuing Dogday, they find your door and powered it up, allowing the two entry into the perfectly intact space within.

Your fur was matted and you looked sickly, but you still jump up upon seeing the state your dear "grandson" was in.

It devastated you.

"My word..Dog-Dearie.." Your heart shatters. "Your legs..where are they? Where is everyone?"

Something inside of him ultimately breaks as he realizes you were alive...and you were here all along.

"G-Grandma...! Oh...god..I-I thought you were--" He crawls away from the Employee and towards you, sobbing into your lap. "You were h-here..this whole time! I-I wanted to see you, but..C-Catnap..he.."

"Shh, shhh..I'm here now, my sweet pup. It's alright." You hush, stroking his ears and resting a paw on his back, before looking to the Employee. "You must be terribly confused..as am I.."

After explaining your role--and calming Dogday down--the two tell you about what's happened to the factory, and at first you can't believe it...

Until you all wander through the Playhouse and see the horrid state it's in, but they're confused as to why none of the mini Critters attack you.

Only then do you mention feeding them over the years through little vents and holes in the walls, keeping their hunger moderately satiated.

Dogday feels awful, and even more upset at Catnap for lying about your fate.

But still, you don't show any ill-will towards any of the Smiling Critters, even if one of them had betrayed you all.

Instead you just let Dogday cling to you as you escape together and try your best to keep up.

Catnap

Like the rest of the Smiling Critters, Catnap considered you family and often went to you for snacks and such.

Or if he needs a break from trying to put all the rowdy orphans to bed in Home Sweet Home. Only then is he given permission to see you.

He always liked curling up in your lap, purring while you stroke his fur and tell him a story (which is sometimes an event from your old human life, albeit you do accidentally confuse yourself since ofc you're not supposed to remember any details of your old life).

The Prototype sees this as a problem, as Theodore Catnap was getting a bit too comfortable with his life here and needed a reminder of his mission....and so he tells him the truth.

About how you not only worked at the factory until you reached retirement age...but you were also a willing participant in the experiments.

And suddenly, he couldn't look at you the same way anymore. Only with resentment.

It wasn't fair.

You got to lead a long and fulfilling life. Theodore barely got the chance to grow up and be a normal kid.

You had the procedure and associated risks explained to you clear as day. Theodore never had the luxury of being warned ahead of time before he was grabbed and put under the knife after recovering from the incident with the green grabpack hand.

All he wanted was to free the others, but he ended up becoming their warden instead.

He almost forgot all of that because of you.

He refuses your food now, and you worry for him when you see how skinny he becomes as the months pass.

But he's very cryptic in the way he talks to you, the other SCs, and the staff...so you didn't know for sure what you did to upset him so much.

"Catnap, dearie..you're skin and bones. Let me-"

"I know what you were, and what you've become...the Prototype told me so."

You don't know what to say. What could you say when he kept talking about this "Prototype" person?

Despite his hatred, the SCs were conditioned to love you regardless, and so before the Hour of Joy Catnap decided to sabotage the locks of your containment room.

That way, he wouldn't be tempted to kill you...and he'd spare you from the grief of what he ends up doing to the other SCs, including Dogday.

Years later, when the Employee finally knocks some sense into him after saving him from being sacrificed to the Prototype, he takes them to your room, believing you to be dead from starvation.

Instead, though, they break you out and he discovers you're very much alive.

And Catnap just breaks down, groveling and begging for your forgiveness.

You were the one who always tried to reach out and comfort him, giving him some relief from the misery of being trapped in this factory....and he pushed you away.

But you don't hate him for locking you up, realizing that he still cared about you after all this time. Even when the Prototype told him about your past.

He wanted to keep you safe.

That alone proves he had a heart, and you reassure him of that as he cuddles up to you for a little while.

Once he's calmer, you go with him, Dogday (assuming he was saved), and the Employee to meet with Poppy and Kissy--both of whom are relieved to see you alive

[molly-ghuleh]

DRACOPIA 🫵🏻 NOW‼️ Write some dracopia, you can choose if is going to be smut or fluff or both. The theme, can be about copia dealing with the fact that as he in love with the reader he can't suck her blood, and is painful.

Ohhhhhhhh you knew exactly what you were doing when you requested Dracopia..... and lucky for you I have so many thoughts about this man. So many. So many.

Written in the setting of the Ministry because if I went with a regency AU, I would have gotten far too carried away...

Warnings: sfw but a bit suggestive, blood, biting, vampirism (duh), passing out/fainting, confessions, dracopia is a sweetheart and doesn't want to hurt you

Reader is gender neutral.

Dracopia

The first time you meet him is after he's already been watching you for a while

He first saw you through his bedroom window, on a sunny day at the Abbey. You were walking along a path in the gardens and the sun shone off your hair so beautifully

He usually hates the sun but it was made for you.

You have a routine, he realizes. You take walks on nice days right after the lunch hour and always go the same way, around the hydrangea bushes and around the small duck pond

But he can only ever watch you from his window, for fear of getting burnt

So the first time you meet Copia is at night, when you can't sleep.

(I feel weird calling him Dracopia as his name okay fight me)

He's working at his desk with his office door open when you walk by on your way to the library for something to read

Huh... that's strange. There usually aren't any Siblings awake at this hour

He gets up from his desk to peer after you and realizes it's you and that now's his chance

He accompanies you to the library because he's a gentleman, he can't let a Sibling walk alone at night (he's enamoured with you and the sound of your voice)

Offers you a comfortable place in his office to read while he works

He likes to work at night so it's not often that he has company, much less the company of someone who smells so good

That becomes part of your routine, too. When you can't sleep, you know you're always welcome in his office and the two of you can sit in silence or chat. He wants to make sure you're comfortable

Once, you fall asleep on the loveseat against the wall. He doesn't want to disturb you but it would look strange if a groggy Sibling in their pajamas walked out of his office in the morning

So he gently picks you up and carries you back to your dormitory (which he's walked you back to several times, so he knows the route by heart)

Your head is tucked into his neck and the pulse of your arteries are so loud in his ears

Your scent is so much stronger like this

It would be so easy to turn his head and just...

No. He can't do that to you. Not without your informed consent

That's the night he realizes he's in love with you. With anyone else he would've just fed without another thought

But he cares so much for you that he can't imagine even pressing his lips against you without your explicit permission

Oh, to press his lips against you everywhere. To feel your skin against his, the strong thrum of your pulse on his lips, the soft sounds of pleasure you'd make as he takes you slow...

He knows it's wrong to think about you like this, while you're asleep in his arms.

But you smell so good, and he needs to know if he'll ever have a chance.

The next night he finds you and explains what he is, what he's done, what he has to do to survive

He expects you to run for the hills or cower away from him, but you don't

You're surprisingly... accepting?

You tell him that he's still the same man as before, and the only difference is that now you know why he's always awake at night

You ask him all sorts of questions. Has he killed anyone? If so, did they deserve it? How often does he need to feed? Do other blood sources work?

And he answers them all completely honestly because he wants you to know you can trust he'll never hurt you

You say that it must be extremely hard for him, to have watched his family, friends, everyone he loves die while he stayed living

(This makes him more emotional than he'd wanted to be, only because it's coming from you)

You ask him if he needs to feed now, and he nearly passes out, because yes, he would love to feed now but are you sure you know what you're asking?

Yes, you're sure

He's shaking when he takes you into his arms for the first time

"Let me kiss you, first"

He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, until he's certain that you understand he doesn't just want you because of your blood

His lips trail down to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and then he pauses, his fangs brushing against your skin, and then he bites

And oh, your blood is the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. He could get lost in you--your taste, your scent, the velvety feel of your warm blood on his tongue as he drinks from you.

It's quite erotic. Not just your blood, but holding you so close makes him excruciatingly hard against you and he can't help but rut into you a few times, making you groan with pleasure

But then you start to get light-headed and dizzy, and your vision darkens around the corners

Copia is so engrossed in you, so wrapped up in his instinct to feed that he barely picks up when you begin to grow limp in his arms

But when you do pass out, he stops immediately.

What has he done? How could he do this to you? You trusted him with your life source and he couldn't control himself

He quickly bandages the puncture wounds on your neck and tucks you into your bed, then leaves

You probably won't ever want to see him again, right? Not after what he's done.

The next night you find him in his office and demand to know what happened, because you woke up alone and cold and feeling weak

He explains everything to you, how he got carried away because you're the most delectable thing he's ever tasted in his many, many years of semi-life

He explains that he didn't mean to hurt you, that there's no excuse for what he did or how he took advantage of your kindness

And you forgive him anyway

He doesn't understand why. Why would you forgive him for something so awful

"Because I love you"

Copia cries and tells you he loves you too, that he isn't deserving of your affections, that he's a monster and you shouldn't waste your life with him

You aren't having any of that so you quiet him with a kiss

You offer to help him feed again a couple more times, but he always refuses because he's terrified of hurting you. He can get blood from other places

Sometimes wakes up in a cold sweat after dreaming of feeding from you, the taste of you still fresh in his mouth and the image of you limp and pale in his arms burned into the backs of his eyes

No, he can never feed from you again. Your blood is too precious to waste, because it's the thing keeping you alive and beside him

If you ask him to turn you, he's extremely hesitant to. He wants you to understand what you're asking, and will refuse to turn you until you give it some more thought. If you still make the same decision after a few months, and you're certain you want to spend eternity with him, he'll turn you.

If you cherish your mortality too much, he'll absolutely respect that and make sure you feel loved and happy and safe every second of your life.

[littlebluespoon]

Fork In The Road ~ Choices Ch 2

Here it is! Chapter 2! Apologies for the wait on this one, it was really taking a lot. I wanted to really make Johnny darker and more manipulative in this chapter so I hope it comes across.

AO3 Link

TW: 18+ MDNI, abuse, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, cold showers, punishments, chains, restraints, force feeding

~~~~~

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The room you were in had no windows, the only light source was a ceiling lamp that had been turned out after Johnny had left the room which mean there was no reason for you to stumble around trying to find the switch. But you tried anyway, bumping into walls and tripping over raised floorboards. Your hands scrambling in the dark to find something, anything to touch, to hold onto and ground yourself with so that the feeling of falling through an abyss would dissipate. But it was not to be. You sat in that room, falling into anxious despair with your arms hugged tightly around you just so you had something to feel. It could have been hours, could have been days or it could have only been minutes and you would have never known.

The bright light startles you, burns your eyes and as you’re distracted by it the sound of the locks goes unnoticed by your ears. However the whistle that comes next doesn’t,

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes lass?” He stands in the doorway, surrounded by the light in a mockery of a halo, carrying a bowl in one hand and chains in the other. Your choices. You were out of time. The choice had to be made now,

“Johnny? I’m sorry, I- I shoulda asked fir-first about the book” you choked back a few sobs and held back the flood of anxiety driven ‘what if’ scenarios your mind had dreamed up in the dark

“Hey, hey, did nae worry about tha’ lass,” he croons, leaving the chains by the door and coming to a crouch in front of you, “Here, let’s get you settled first eh?” He reaches his hand out towards you and smiles softly when you hesitantly extend a hand towards his.

“There we go, that wisnae hard, was it?” He sits next to you as if you were a scared puppy that he was trying to coax out of a corner. He doesn’t offer you the bowl though, instead he scoops some food onto a spoon and offers that to you, “I ken I’m no the best chef but I can manage some cereal,” when you reach a hand towards the spoon he pulls it back, “Ah, ah.” He chastises you and waits until you lower your hand before offering you the spoonful again.

You suffer through being fed like a toddler in silence. It’s a decision that comes mostly from confusion as you expected him to be angrier. He was practically frothing at the mouth as he chased you through the woods yet he seems content sitting here with you. Of course he doesn’t miss the way your eyes stare at the chains that had been left by the door. The fear in you not quite able to be forgotten due to their threatening presence, 

“Did nae worry, they’re jus’ incase ye dinnae want tae eat. Finish up and we can get tae chatting.” 

The last few mouthfuls of cereal taste like ash because you don’t know whats coming next.

The empty bowl gets tossed to the side, banging against the wall. You flinch from the noise and Johnny rushes to comfort you, engulfing you in his arms as you feel the heat that radiates from him,

“Sorry Bonnie, didnae mean tae scare ye,” He’s soft as he tucks you into his chest, his chin resting on your head, “It’s alright now. Yer gonna be good for me, aren’t you Bonnie? Ma good little wife, can come home to ye in ma bed and not in that daft wee hut that’s fallin’ apart.” He whispers the words in your ear, holding you as if you might disappear at any moment.

Slowly, the heat from his body warms yours. Your legs regaining feeling last, though you wish they hadn’t. In your panic you had run several miles through the forest and your muscles were suffering from it as well as the soles of your feet. They’d been cut to shreds on the forest floor and the cold was the only reason you hadn’t felt it until now. 

Johnny had dismissed your small whines of pain assuming you were protesting about his hold on you so you found what voice you did have to get his attention,

“J-Johnny?” he watches as you pause to turn in his arms and look up at him almost in disbelief, “How?” you had whispered the word. Almost like you didn’t want to say it but you were staring at man who had turned into a wolf. You had watched him do it. Several times. While the supernatural was something you were used to reading about, after all it was what paid your bills, it was something you never expected to witness. It was fiction, something to fuel the darkest fantasies you kept locked away in your mind. It wasn’t real. Except it was and Johnny was living proof of that. 

“You’d be surprised at whats real Bonnie. Come on,” he lifts you into his arms, one arm under your legs and the other supporting your back, “Let’s get ye cleaned up huh?”

---

Out the room. Up the stairs. Front door. By pass it. Up more stairs. Two flights. Four closed doors. Bathroom.��

You had never actually been in Johnny’s farmhouse. He always came to your little hut, as he called it, usually on his way in or out of the gates as your house was set just aways from them. Said it made more sense for him to come to you but it meant you’d only seen the large house a few times and had never seen the inside. It wasn’t as you imagined.

A military man his whole life, you expected minimalism. Very few comforts or possessions but from the small glimpses you caught on your way through, it was anything but. Definitely farmyard but all the wood was stained darker so it felt like a winters cabin. The décor a navy blue with grey accents and a large fireplace filled with photos. Considering how little he was in it, it felt lived in and looked like a home, not a house.

The bathroom was bright in comparison. White tiles with black grout and silver chrome fittings. Everything in the room reflected the bright LED lights and left you squinting your eyes as Johnny placed you on the counter surrounding the sink and turned his attention to the massive sunken in to the ground bathtub that took up most of the space. Large enough to fit four, the tub was more spa jacuzzi than bathtub with its jets and benches. As Johnny got the water running he took to smelling different products he had, 

“Wanted to get you what ye usually use but ah figured if ye smelt like me, ah wouldnae be as jumpy.” You could smell the apple scent from across the room, it was crisp and sweet, exactly what Johnny smelt like whenever you got close enough to catch a hint.

“Lets get ye outta those dirty clothes shall we?” he pulls at the bottom of your top and clicks his tongue in displeasure when you don’t move with him, “Come oan, arms up now. Lets not make this difficult eh?” He waits a moment, letting you decide and when you don’t choose, he makes the decision for you,

“Fine then. If that’s how you want to do it,” he gets his hands under your legs and hoists you up, holding you close to his chest.

“This coulda been nice for ye, relaxing even. I want ye tae remember that ye chose this.” He wasn’t walking towards the bath and it wasn’t until you were in it that you saw the shower. Four glass walls, with a door that opened outwards. A door that Johnny was holding closed,

“We could have had a nice day, you could have been warm and fed and I could have eased ye into this. I need ye to understand that you chose exactly how this goes.” 

The cold takes your breath away. The water hitting the top of your head with such force that you can’t keep it up. You reach for the door but it won’t move, held closed by Johnny’s bodyweight, so you’re forced to endure the freezing cascade of water. You watch the water turn a murky brown and flow down the drain, your lungs just gulping air in short bursts as black tendrils swirl in your vision. It feels like it goes on forever but as quick as it started, the torrent stops and you’re left shivering in the cubicle as Johnny uses his foot to keep the door closed while reaching for a towel,

“Ye gonna make good choices now Bonnie?” He waits for your small nod, although it was probably more shivering than nod, before he opens the door, “Lets get ye outta they wet clothes now.” 

He reaches for your t-shirt and this time you comply, more concerned about hypothermia than Johnny seeing you naked, raising your arms and letting him pull it off. You manage to disguise a flinch as more shivers when he reaches for the button on your jeans, stepping out of them when he taps the back of your calves,

“There we are,” He croons as he wraps the large, warm towel around you like someone would a child, “Lets get ye dry and warm now.”  You follow as he guides you to a bedroom at the end of the hall. 

The cold keeps you distracted as Johnny flits about, drying you with the towel, dressing you in a cotton nightgown and sitting you down at a large vanity. You look at the large mirror in front of you but you don’t see. The exhaustion hits you hard, your eyes closing as Johnny takes his time brushing through and drying your hair,

“I know, we’ll get tae bed soon lass but I don’t want ye catching a chill.” He methodically sections and dries your hair, taking more care than you ever have to ensure its dry and knot free. Every time the brush snags at a knot he runs a hand over your scalp and places a kiss atop your head in a silent apology for hurting you. 

His actions were confusing and in the pits of exhaustion you couldn’t make sense of anything, choosing to sit silently as he worked. You could hear him muttering away behind you, counting every pass he does with the brush and once he reaches 100 he picks up another section and starts again.

“Gotta get all these knots out luvie, dinnae wanna have te shave ye now,” he jests throwing you a wink through the mirror, “Once we’re done here ye can go tae bed, awright?” He stops and stares at you as if waiting for an answer but when none comes he resumes brushing your hair, hitting your head with the brush a little harder than he had been and you can’t hear him counting anymore.

The hair brush gets set on the vanity and you get another kiss right on the top of your head, this one longer than the others had been and Johnny rests his cheek on your head too, looking at you through the mirror,

“Yer beautiful lass, ye do ken that right? Ah just wanna eat ye up.” Another quick kiss to the top of your head and he’s pulling you up and towards the bed. Johnny directs you into the bed and pulls back the covers, exposing the soft sheets and a chain. 

Just in case Johnny reassures you as he clamps the cuff around your ankle and secures it. So you’re warm enough he tells you as he tucks the hot water bottle in beside you. So you’re not scared he says when he turns on the small plug in lamp. So you know you’re loved he explains as he tucks the covers around you and kisses your lips.

“Get a good rest and hopefully in the morning ye can make some better choices luvie. Night night, sleep tight and dinnae let the bed bugs bite.” He sings as he turns out the light and closes the door behind him. The sound of an electronic door lock chiming echoes in the room. You’re frozen in the bed, not willing to make a sound in case it brings him back in but not willing to sleep in case he sneaks back in.

The only option you have is to lie there. Thinking about the choices that got you here and the choices that lay before you. Contemplating every option, using a pillow to smother the sobs that come with the panic attacks when you think about the worst options and daydreaming about the best ones. Praying that the choices you make keep you alive until you can see a way out. Johnny never sticks around for long after all.

[kairiscorner]

Hi bhie 🧍‍♀️

(Are you tired of my gabri shit yet)

No? Great, Im gonna req something then :)))

Gabri x spiderperson reader

Imagining them coming home from a long mission, like really exhausted from work, or spider duties. They’re probably really scarred/bruised

Seeing his partner in such a state, Gabri goes into househusband mode KAJSJWJDIJSKDJSKSKSKSK

Taking care of their wounds, patching them up, doing cleaning and cooking for them 😭

Can you tell which character im obsessed with atm

is it miguel

gabriel o'hara x wounded!spider person!reader

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

"nena, what happened to you?!"

gabriel rushed over to your fatigued, scarred, and injured self. he was heaving and panicking internally, and externally, as he guided you to the sofa and sat you down–rushing over to the bathroom and, in his anxious haste, made several containers and toiletries clatter. your wounds weren't that grave, you sought immediate medical aid the minute you got back to HQ before you came home to gabri, but your dearest was always so easy to shake up and worry, he can never sit still and be calm when he sees even a single new blemish or fracture on your otherwise perfect skin.

you tried telling gabriel you were fine, the scars would heal up and would, hopefully, go away soon. gabriel shook his head and kept repeating to you in spanglish that your wounds didn't look very good... he wanted to be assured that you would most definitely be okay, not just told that you were, but confirmed to himself that you would be okay. you let gabriel tend to your worse wounds, with him looking up at you with concerned doe eyes in between him bandaging you up. "ay, mi vida... i know you're very strong, capable, smart and all, but... i can't help but worry sometimes." he muttered as he finished bandaging you up. you told gabri that this wasn't anything new, you would walk it off fine–even better now that he's taken care of your other wounds.

gabriel smiled at you and kissed your cheek, deciding to make your evening a little better with a good batch of treats you loved. he was a decent chef, but a better baker, in your opinion–he was hellbent on making you the best damned treats you would ever taste in your whole life. after an hour or two, gabriel finally finished the batch of treats he made for you–flour, icing, and some other ingredients coating his face and arms; they adorned his smiling expression with a bit of literal sweetness behind them as he giggled in slight embarrassment at how messy he looked.

"dig in, cariño, you've had a long day... you deserve this much." he tells you as he hands you a piece. he expected you to take it from his hands and dig in, but you bit off a piece as he held it out to you and smiled a little wider as his eyes widened and he got all... flustered at your bold, unexpected move. "only if you'll feed me, gabri." you said with a grin as he chuckled and smiled even wider like a dork, taking you up on your offer and fed you from his own, clean and sweet hands with a smile.

tags !! @hearts4gabri @ophanimgold

[scribomaniac]

forward, always: chapter 2

Sakura’s prediction was right; Izuna made for a terrible patient. 

He wasn’t the worst, thankfully. That honor went to the one and only Hatake Kakashi. The number of times she’d had to track that man down after he’d absconded from the hospital just to make sure he hadn’t undone all her hard work had been countless. 

At least Izuna stayed in one place.

Izuna had been on bed rest for a full month now, and awake for three of them. While his injuries still caused him to rest for several hours throughout the day, when he was awake he made sure that everyone knew it.

“I’m sorry Izuna,” Sakura told him for the twentieth time that morning as she spoon fed him the blandest of broths. “But your body isn’t ready for anything more than this.” 

And it wouldn’t be for some time, but she didn’t want to tell him that just yet. 

“I don’t think you’re very sorry at all,” Izuna sniffed. As soon as he was able to keep conscious for more than an hour at a time, Madara had ordered servants to bring an abundance of pillows to use to prop Izuna up into a sitting position. Madara had argued that it’d help with Izuna’s pride, allowing for him to feel less like an invalid, and Sakura had agreed because the position didn’t pull at his healing wound and would make feeding and bathing him easier. 

“Regardless,” Sakura said as she held a spoon full of soup near his mouth. 

With a petulant sneer on his face, Izuna opened his mouth and accepted his fate. 

“Are you sure she’s not Senju, sent here to poison me with disgusting broth?” Izuna threw an arm over his eyes and slumped back further into his cushions. 

Madara laughed. It was deep and soft and made Sakura’s stomach turn warm. As elusive as it was, Sakura found herself loving Madara’s laugh. It seemed to come out the most when in the presence of his little brother. 

“I’m sure,” he assured Izuna with a small smile on his face.

“Well” Izuna sighed, letting his arm drop and coming out of hiding. “You’ll be an Uchiha soon enough.” He looked between his brother and Sakura. “How was the announcement received, anyway?” 

“It was accepted by the elders,” Madara told him. “Our first meeting with the chief priest will be in a fortnight.”

Izuna hummed. “A clan head wedding and an alliance with the Senju. You sure have thrown a lot at them recently.” His dark eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “Are you sure that this venture, or whatever you’re calling it, with Hashirama is a good idea?”

The day after Hashirama’s visit, Madara had summoned his council of elders to inform them of their plans for a truce and joint creation of a village. Sakura had expected more push back from the war torn elders, from the men who’d fought against the Senju for the entirety of their lives, but a surprising majority of them supported the idea. Hashirama’s prowess cast a long shadow, and it seemed that even now, before he creates and takes on the title of Hokage, the man was revered as the God of Shinobi. Many within the clan preferred to be on Hashirama’s side, rather than against it, even if that meant swallowing generations worth of strife and pride. 

Of course, there were still a good number of Uchiha who didn’t believe that the Senju would keep their word, none louder than Izuna, but with the popular opinion working against them, and no one daring to outright challenge Madara’s leadership, they could do little more than grumble their grievances.

Madara looked at Sakura first before responding, “I think it is worth a try.”

Izuna sighed. “If you say so.” His eyes drooped to a close and his breathing evened out, and soon he was asleep. 

Fussing with his blanket and making sure to cover Izuna’s shoulders to ward off any chill, Sakura then gathered up the half empty bowl of broth and nodded for Madara to follow her out of the room. 

Once they were a safe enough distance to speak freely and at a normal volume, Madara took the dishes from Sakura’s hands and set them off to the side. “It makes my heart sore to see Izuna in such good spirits.”

Sakura hummed, “He’s always a bit more energetic when you visit. He’s recovering faster than I had anticipated, too. We should be able to start his physical therapy in less than a month.” There was bound to be a set back or two, but Izuna was well out of the woods at this point and they could cross that bridge when they came to it.  

“There’s more to it, too,” Madara said before placing a brief kiss on her forehead. The action was becoming one of his favorites. “I think he’s excited for the future, just as I am.”

Wrapping her arms around Madara’s waist to keep him close, she smiled widely up at him. “The truce with the Senjus is truly remarkable, Madara. Everyone should be excited for it.”

Madara chuckled and shook his head. He brought his own arms around her shoulders a bit hesitantly, still unused to Sakura’s easy affections. “That’s part of it, I’m sure, but I think what he’s most excited for is our wedding. He’s always wanted a sister, you know.”

That drew a loud laugh from Sakura’s lips. “No way,” she shook her head. “He’s been ready to be rid of me ever since waking up.” Before that, even, considering their very first interaction included Izuna trying to strangle her. “He just tolerates me because of his love for you.”

“Trust me, Sakura,” Madara said with a smirk, “Izuna likes you. You’ll understand when you see him with the elders. He tolerates no one for my sake.”

Giving his waist a squeeze, Sakura relented, “If you say so.” Pulling back slightly, she asked, “Are you still meeting with Hashirama later today?”

Madara nodded. “We’re still mapping out the boundaries for the village. There’s a clan with a massive forest that we’d like to invite to join us. We plan to go out and start negotiations with them today.”

That must be the Nara clan, Sakura figured. The Nara forest with its sacred deer were an important addition for the future of Konoha. Not only would that clan bring their intelligence and specialized jutsus, but the forest would serve as a nearly impregnable defense along the eastern boundary of the village. 

Madara and Hashirama would be successful in their negotiations, Sakura knew, but she was nervous all the same. The textbooks never went into detail about how long it took for the village’s two founders to convince other clans to believe in their dream, or what arrangements were made to ensure cohesion. The textbooks merely said it happened, leaving Sakura feeling like a half baked prophet. 

Instead of focusing on things outside of her control, Sakura asked,“Will you be home for dinner?” 

Wincing, Madara gave her an apologetic look. “I’m not expecting to be, no. Hashirama is readying overnight provisions for us.”

So she really should have been asking if he’d be home for breakfast. Sakura shrugged, knowing it couldn’t be helped. At least she had her own itinerary planned for once, which would help keep her busy. 

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning then.” Something resembling relief passed across his face at her words. “I’ve got a busy day planned for myself, actually. I was planning on going to the market and then perhaps to the Apothecary. It’s time I start learning the lay of the place.”

Since coming to Madara’s aid, Sakura had mostly been sequestered away in the main house. Now though, with Izuna in a more stable position and the news of their engagement spread, Sakura felt the need to make her presence known and get to know the people she was marrying into. If she was to become their matriarch—and wasn’t that just a shock and a half for a civilian born girl—she needed to know them and be known by them.

“I understand,” Madara nodded slowly. Whatever relief Sakura had found in his facial expression had been replaced with apprehension. “I’ll have Saburo escort you.” Madara stepped out of Sakura’s hold to walk out onto the engawa. Raising his arm, he waited for only the briefest of moments before one of his hawks landed on his extended arm, ready to receive a new message from its master. 

“Thank you,” Sakura said before Madara could get a message out, “but that's unnecessary, I won’t need an escort.”

A deep frown of displeasure cut its way across Madara’s mouth. “I think it’s best if you do. I insist.” He reached out with his free hand and grabbed her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His tone was firm though, it was the voice he used when he commanded attendants and spoke with his elders. It left no room for argument. 

Sakura hadn’t heard that tone directed at her since those first early weeks attending the lord’s wife. 

Stepping closer to him, Sakura felt her own frown marring her face. “I don’t understand,” she admitted. Speaking quietly, she continued, “Surely there’s no danger within your clan’s territory, and I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. You know this.” 

Madara might not yet know the extent of her fighting prowess, but he had seen the distance she’d thrown that assassin. That had to count for something, surely. 

A pit of dread formed at the bottom of Sakura’s stomach. Did Madara think her weak? Would he, like all of Team Seven before him, only see the petite medic that needed to be coddled and protected at all costs? Sakura had trained for so long, fought so hard, for so many years, only to be forever cast aside as useless by those she wanted to protect. Always the one left behind. 

Madara let loose a long sigh before leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes he told her, just as quietly, “Even within these walls I cannot guarantee your safety, and as my betrothed you now have a target on your back.” Pulling back enough to look her in the eyes, Madara squeezed her arm again as he said, “I would feel more at ease if I knew someone was with you, watching your back.”

The pit unfurled, releasing Sakura’s from its claws of insecurity and doubt. Madara wasn’t trying to push her off to the side, he just wanted to give her support. Understanding now Madara’s motivations, Sakura felt a soft smile curl across her lips. Placing a hand on his cheek, she reached up and gently pressed her lips to his. A warmth spread throughout her chest as she felt him kiss her back. They hadn’t shared many kisses since Sakura’s accidental proposal to Madara a month ago, but when they did it never failed to make Sakura’s heart flutter wildly. Pulling back, she nodded once, “Okay.” 

Not long after the messenger hawk left did Madara follow. Sakura wished him luck and told him to be safe and then she was alone. Knowing this Saburo man was on his way, Sakura did a final check on Izuna–still sleeping–informed the staff that she’d be stepping out for a while, and changed into a new yukata; one that didn’t have dribbles of broth staining it. 

An attendant informed Sakura of Saburo’s arrival, and she went to meet him in the genkan. “Oh,” Sakura stopped, surprised by the familiar face. “It’s you.”

Before her stood the ninja Madara sent to find her when Izuna was first injured, the one who had pushed himself far beyond his limits to get her to Izuna before he died. His loyalty and determination had impressed Sakura back then, even if she was more focused on other things at the time. No wonder he was the one Madara chose to be her escort. 

“Hello again, Sakura-sama,” he greeted with a small smile. “I apologize for not properly introducing myself to you during our last meeting.” He gave her a much smaller bow than during their first interaction as he said, “I am Uchiha Saburo and I am at your service.”

Sakura waved off his formalities with an awkward smile. “Thank you, Saburo-san, but please, call me Sakura.”

Small smile still in place, Saburo kindly told her, “You’re to marry the clan head, Sakura-sama. Calling you by anything else would be impertinent.”

She shouldn’t have expected anything less, given the time they were living in, but Sakura still found herself disappointed by his response, though she didn’t know exactly why.

They made their way to the market first, where Sakura was able to look through carts filled with pottery, books, plants, and foods. The Uchiha market was nowhere near as large as the one she’d grown up with in Konoha, and wasn’t even the size of some markets she’d passed on her travels, but it did the job well enough. The carts were mostly run by women who happily chatted and called out to their clansmen, enticing them to buy this or that. 

Saburo soon turned into quite the tour guide, informing Sakura on who to buy the freshest fish from, who was willing to bargain and who wasn’t, and who had a knack for being able to sell you just the thing you weren’t looking for. 

There was a chill in the marketplace though, and no matter how hard she tried, Sakura just couldn’t shake the feeling of frost spreading up along her spine. It grew with every narrowed gaze she met. And every conversation that halted as soon as she walked up made the chill bite a bit harder into her back. 

After making a few small purchases, Sakura and Saburo made their way to their next destination. 

The Uchiha Apothecary was nothing to write home about. Hashirama hadn’t been kidding when he said the Uchiha were not healers. The Apothecary was a small structure, barely larger than the apartment Naruto had grown up in. Honestly, calling it a shack would be more apt. Most of the space was taken up by jugs filled with liquids of many colors, overgrown plants, crates filled with dried roots or finely crushed powders, and jars filled with herbs and spices. Behind the large counter was a doorway that must’ve led into another room. Sakura could only assume it was where medicines were made and the occasional surgery took place. 

Since no one had yet come to greet her, Sakura took her time inspecting the many wares littered about. It seemed that most of the medicines available were anti-inflammatory in nature, and she wondered if that was due to the strain the Sharingan placed on the optic nerves. Perhaps Madara would one day allow her to look at his eyes. She’d only ever examined Kakashi’s eye, and that had been an implant. A pure version of the Sharingan might prove to be a little more difficult, but Sakura was sure that she’d be able to do a better job helping any irritation or degradation than turmeric or hangekobokuto. 

She wondered if Madara trusted her enough yet to help him with something so intimate and integral to himself. If he didn’t, Sakura knew in her gut, he would come to do so soon. It was only a matter of time.

A man appeared from the back room. His eyes narrowed as he fully took Sakura in, his mouth convulsing strangely. “Ah, you must be Haruno-sama. Welcome.”

Saburo took a step closer to Sakura, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“How may I help you?” The clerk asked, his mouth settling into a thin, frail looking smile. 

“Actually, I was hoping it could be the other way around,” Sakura began to explain as she stepped closer to the clerk and the counter he was standing behind. “Before coming to the Uchiha clan, I traveled as a healer. It’s my profession, you see. I was hoping I could be of some use to you here.” Again, the man’s mouth began to twitch in a very peculiar fashion. Sakura dismissed it for now. “Perhaps I could help with the creation of teas and tonics? Or perhaps some salves? I was also thinking–”

“That is very kind of you, Haruno-sama,” the clerk finally interrupted, ”But I do not believe your services would be of much use here.”

Sakura didn’t miss the emphasis on her surname. She had figured that some clan members would have certain feelings about an all but nameless outsider marrying into the clan. It was almost unheard of in this time period. But she had thought, perhaps naively, that some clan members would have appreciated the skills she was bringing to the table, not to mention the fact that she had saved the life of their current heir. 

Wanting to give the clerk the benefit of the doubt, Sakura tried a more direct line of questioning. “Not of use or not wanted?”

“What does it matter? When the end result is the same. Now, unless you’d like to purchase anything, I should be getting back to work.”

It was more shocking than Sakura cared to admit, having a fellow healer deny her services based on nothing but petty spite. She really had been spoiled by a post-Tsunade Konoha, where people had been taught to recognize help as help, regardless of how it was presented. 

“Sakura-sama’s healing prowess is the reason Izuna-sama is still alive. ” Saburo cut in, his voice hard as steel as he tried to defend Sakura. “She is betrothed to our clan head and will soon become the Uchiha matriarch. You will do well to remember that.”

The clerk narrowed his eyes, but he simply replied, “As you say.”

“Let me see your surgery room,” Sakura said. “If you will not allow me to work directly, then at least let me do this.” It wouldn’t be much, but if Sakura could survey their supplies and levels of sanitation, she could give her input and help make small but necessary changes that would then help future injured clansmen. 

“That really is unnecessary, Haruno-sama.” The clerk shook his head, as one did with an unruly child. “We Uchiha are strong. We rarely ever have need for such procedures.”

The door behind them opened with a bang, and a young boy no older than ten was dragged in by two other boys. “Help!” 

Blood gushed down the smallest boy's leg. 

Not waiting for permission–or even thinking to ask for it–Sakura sprung into action. “Bring him back here,” she ordered.

The two boys, to their credit, didn’t hesitate and did as they were told. Sakura led them into the back room and was horrified to find the state of the surgery room. The floor was covered with soil from plants they were repotting. There was no surgical table in sight nor any instruments that Sakura could easily see. A couple of men were eating their lunch in the corner of the room, eyes wide with fear at the bloody mess that was brought in. 

“Saburo, find some fabric and start tearing it into rags for me. Place him here,” she pointed to the space on the floor that she had covered with a thread-bare sheet. It wasn’t anywhere near Sakura’s standards, but it would have to do. “Sir,” she addressed the clerk, “I’ll need you to boil some water and bring it here. Hurry now.” She turned her attention to the boy before her, noticing how pale his face was. Using a chakra scalpel to cut away his pant leg, she asked, “What happened?”

“Training accident,” one of the boys told her. 

“I’m sorry Izanagi,” the other boy said, his voice thick with grief and guilt. His eyes were glossy and now that his friend–Izanagi–was in the hands of healers, his mouth pulled back into a terrible grimace. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“With kunai or chakra?” Sakura asked the one boy who wasn’t turning into a watery mess. She cut through his pant leg and surveyed the damage. There was a lot of blood covering Izanagi’s pale skin, making it hard for Sakura to see the wound clearly. 

Bringing her the boiled water, the clerk saw the wound and hissed. “I’m afraid the leg will have to be amputated.” He turned to one of his fellow apothecaries and said, “Bring me the opium and a bit.” He looked back down at the leg and sighed, “This won’t be pretty.”

Sakura ignored the men behind her, instead keeping her gaze on Izanagi’s friend as she waited for his response to her question. 

“Kunai,” he told her. “Will he really lose his leg?”

“He will be fine.” Saburo brought her the torn fabric, which she immediately dipped into the boiling water. “Saburo, make sure those men stay out of my way.” 

“Yes, Sakura-sama.”

The apothecaries argued and moaned their displeasure, but Sakura blocked them and their nonsense out of her head. She used the now sterile rags to wash away most of the blood and saw that the kunai had nicked Izanagi’s femoral artery. He was lucky the cut was so small, any deeper and he would’ve already bled out. As it was, Sakura had to work fast. 

Pushing her chakra into his veins, Sakura encouraged the cells of the artery to sew itself back together. Once that was done, she split her focus on replicating his red blood cells to replace what he’d lost, and checking for any signs of blood poisoning or tetanus. There was a small build up of bacteria around the wound that took time to burn away, but once she felt certain the blood and veins were clear, she sealed up the skin and pulled her hands away. 

Looking at the boy who hadn’t stopped apologizing since bringing Izanagi into the Apothecary, Sakura asked him, “What’s your name?”

Tracks of tears tore their way through the dirt on his face. Snot leaked from his nose and hiccups escaped from his throat. Unable to take his eyes off of his friend, he told her, “Uchiha Taro.”

“Well Taro, I’m very happy to tell you that Izanagi is going to make a full recovery.”

That finally got the young boy to tear his eyes away and focus on Sakura. “Really?” He sniffed. “He’s not going to die–or–or lose his leg?”

“No,” Sakura gave him a soft smile and reached out to wipe the tears from his face with her sleeve. “He’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

After writing out a list of post-care instructions for Taro to take home with Izanagi, Sakura told them not to hesitate to come fetch her from the main house if his condition worsened or if anything else were to happen. Saburo helped place the now sleeping Izanagi on the tallest boy’s back and then he and Sakura took their leave. 

“That was very kind of you,” Saburo said when they were halfway home. “To save that boy even after how the clerk treated you.”

Sakura shrugged. “I meant what I said back there. I want to be of use to the clan. One rude person isn’t going to deter me from achieving that goal.”

Saburo’s answering hum sounded almost like a chuckle. “What a wonder you are, Sakura-sama.” 

Brows furrowing, Sakura asked, “What do you mean?”

Smiling wider than she had seen him do before, Saburo shook his head. “It’s nothing. We’re just lucky to have you, is all.”

---------

Sakura sighed as she pushed aside the medical scroll she was currently reading. Madara had gifted it to her earlier that day. He said he’d found it while out on his latest mission with Hashirama to what would eventually become Kusa. It had been the first of Madara’s gifts that Sakura had received in person, and she hadn’t been able to control the lovesick grin that had taken control of her lips. 

The scroll was small and didn’t contain information that Sakura didn’t already know, but that wasn’t the point. Madara and Hashirama had been out on a mission, busy with their goal of creating peace treaties and alliances and convincing established clans to join the village, but even with all that on his plate, he still found time to think of her. It had made Sakura deliriously happy. 

It was a novel sensation, being a priority. With Naruto, that had always been Sasuke. With Kakashi, his ghosts. Sasuke, his vengeance. Even her beloved teacher, Tsunade, prioritized the village and hospital over her. It was all understandable, of course. She didn’t begrudge any of them for it or think herself deserving of being placed first in their minds or hearts, but it was a very nice thing to experience all the same. 

Sometimes Sakura found herself wondering if she should be concerned about how easy it was to be with Madara. First by becoming his friend while working together, then becoming something more as betrotheds, and bit by bit, undeniable and as gentle as a river’s current, an unrivaled fondness was growing in her chest for the man that she had no doubt would one day soon bloom into love. Occasionally she would still have a nightmare or two of the war, of the Madara from her time with the resurrection cracks on his face and the darkness in his eyes. But even when she awoke covered in sweat and a scream caught in her throat, she could separate that Madara from her Madara. Perhaps Sakura should be more concerned with how her brain was compartmentalizing everything she had lived through, but instead she chose not to look too closely at it. 

Looking around her room, she sighed again and focused her mind on what was truly bothering her; the Uchiha clan. It had been almost a week since she had healed Izanagi’s leg and still the majority of clansmen were as standoffish and frosty to her as ever. There were exceptions, of course, the attendants in the house were as friendly as they could be, and Saburo had become quite relaxed around her–and Izanagi and his friends had come to give her proper thanks just yesterday, but overall the clan was still very much anti-Sakura. 

They were all, of course, polite when she bought things from the market or when she accompanied Madara and the use of small talk was required, but almost everyone treated her with a level of detachment that made Sakura wonder if they’d ever properly accept her. The idea of acceptance irked something deep within her. Not since she was twelve years old and chasing after Sasuke did she care about things like acceptance and fitting in. Or, well, she did a little, but not to that extent. She was an exemplary medic and an amazing kunoichi, dammit! She wasn’t about to let some snobby clan make her feel inferior just because she didn’t share some of their DNA. 

Giving herself a firm nod, Sakura decided it was time to fall back on her old strategy. She had been too excited, too naive, and too optimistic after agreeing to marry Madara. Based on his warm welcome into his life, she had made the incorrect assumption that the rest of the clan would follow suit. She needed a new approach to win over the Uchiha, and why fix something that wasn’t broken. Instead of returning to the Apothecary, or trying to engage anyone from the market in conversation, Sakura would let them come to her. 

As a traveling medic, she had needed to look like someone not trying to look for work, and with the clan now, she needed to look like someone not trying to gain their approval. 

There was a knock at the door, followed by someone calling, “Sakura-sama.” The door opened a moment later, revealing Uchiha Miyoko, Sakura’s new handmaid. Madara had insisted upon hiring her, stating that it was expected for a person of her position. It felt silly, but the girl was only a few years younger than Sakura herself and was kind enough, if a bit shy. Miyoko actually reminded her of Hinata a bit back when they were younger.

“Sakura-sama,” Miyoko bowed in greeting. Just like with Saburo, Miyoko refused to drop the title. “Izuna-sama is awake and asking for you. I’ve told the cook to begin warming up his dinner. Should I have him start on yours as well?”

“Thank you, Miyoko. I’ll join Izuna in a moment. As for dinner,” Sakura trailed off, wondering. Madara hadn’t been sure when he’d return this evening as he and Madara had business that would take up the majority of the day. She’d prefer to wait and eat with him, but there was a chance that he would eat with Hashirama if they worked late enough. “If it’s not too much trouble, have the cook wait an hour before starting my dinner.”

Miyoko nodded, “Of course, miss. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No, Miyoko, thank you. I should be able to fend for myself the rest of the night.”

Sakura grabbed a handful of new books she’d picked up the other day in the market and headed towards Izuna’s room. She found him propped up against his pillows, a scowl on his face as he glared up at the ceiling, his hands folded over his belly. 

“Should we continue with The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter ? Or would you prefer we try something else? Miyoko told me good things about The Woman of the Snow when she saw it.”

Izuna’s scowl deepened, “Who’s Miyoko?”

Sakura placed the books beside Izuna for him to browse while she gathered the necessary medical supplies. “My handmaid, you’ve seen her. She’s been here for nearly two weeks now.” 

Izuna merely grunted.

Turning back towards her patient, Sakura waved her hand towards him, silently telling Izuna to disrobe. “How’s the pain today? Same as this morning?”

As Sakura inspected his wound, she asked several more questions. Izuna answered them easily enough, even if boredom leached into his tone. Eventually someone brought Izuna’s broth, which he glared at as if it had insulted his ancestors. They started reading The Woman in the Snow , which, based on the relaxed state of his mouth, Izuna was enjoying much more than the story of Kaguya-hime.

Sakura’s dinner came, causing Izuna to beg her for a bite. He reached out with hands like a toddler and laughed good naturedly when Sakura slapped them away. 

“So cruel to your brother,” he teased, grabbing the fabric over his heart as if he’d been pierced there. “I’ll die of a broken heart.”

Rolling her eyes, Sakura tried–and failed–not to smile at his antics. “Well we can’t have that now can we? How about this–you tell me your favorite meal, and I’ll make sure it’s the first thing you eat when you’re able.”

Appeased, Izuna agreed and they chose another story for Sakura to read aloud. They were halfway through the book, both their dishes having long been cleared away, when Madara returned. 

“Brother!” Izuna smiled, brighter than anything Sakura had seen before. His eyes were half-lidded and his words slurred a bit with the early signs of exhaustion. Still, he gained a second wind with the presence of his favorite person. “You’ve returned from the viper’s nest.”

Madara chuckled and came to sit on Izuna’s other side. Brushing back his brother’s bangs, Madara said, “I hope you weren’t too much trouble for Sakura today.”

“I was a delight, thank you very much. Isn’t that right?” He turned his dark eyes to Sakura.

“He was,” Sakura agreed. Then, because she couldn’t see a reason not to, she teased, “It was a lovely change of pace.”

Izuna scoffed but didn’t argue. 

“Did you eat dinner yet?” Sakura asked Madara, her eyes quickly evaluating him for any noticeable scratches or scrapes. Besides looking a little sweaty and dirty, he looked perfectly fine. “I can make something for you.” The cook had left for the evening, but Sakura knew there’d be enough ingredients in the kitchen leftover for a simple soup.

Madara shook his head. “I already ate, but thank you.”

“What all was decided on today, then?” Izuna asked as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Go on and tell us.”

Sitting up straighter, almost preening with excitement, Madara told them, “I do have some exciting news, actually. We finally decided on a name.” A small, almost shy smile snuck onto his lips. “Konohagakure.”

“Village Hidden in the Leaves,” Izuna hummed as he tested the name on his lips. “I like it.”

Madara continued on with his tales of the day, expressing his relief over the fact that the Nara clan had officially accepted their offer to join the village, and that several other clans planned to join as well, some moving from as far as the islands of modern day Mist. They were mostly busy building the village’s infrastructure. With Hashirama’s Wood Release, it sped the process up tremendously, but he was only one man and they needed to house many people. Tobirama had been a pebble in his shoe all day, arguing about this and that, such as where to place each clan or how many houses would be needed for the civilians that were bound to seek refuge. Almost nothing could be agreed upon between the two men. 

Izuna’s eyes fluttered closed at some point during Madara’s story, his grunts of acknowledgement and snide remarks about the Senju trailing off into soft snores. Watching the steady rise and fall of Izuna’s chest, Sakura decided to call it a night for the younger Uchiha and began to remove some of his pillow so he’d lay flat on his futon. Madara followed her out on silent feet.

“Would you join me for a walk?” Madara asked, his eyes warm and wholly focused on her. He held out a hand to her in offering. 

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Sakura easily accepted his hand. “I’d love to.”

---------

It was a few days later when Miyoko found Sakura alone in the kitchen as she crushed roots and herbs down to almost nothing. Izuna was resting in his room and Madara was off with Hashirama once again, leaving Sakura with an abundance of time on her hands. With that time, she had created a little Apothecary of her own. So far she had filled nearly fifty jars with different types of medicinal powders, made several blends of healing teas, and started converting an empty storehouse into a greenhouse so she could grow her own plants. 

Madara had gifted her with a new set of knives, each one sharper than the other, after his last overnight adventure. Sakura wasn’t sure if he was doing this out of a sense of guilt for having to leave her so often, or if he just took pleasure in seeing the goofy grin that never failed to appear on her face whenever he surprised her. Regardless, Sakura had been sure to show him her appreciation with an assault of kisses. 

The knives laid off to the side, stored in a leather knife roll, just next to an opened journal. Another project idea Sakura had the other night was to record as much of her medical knowledge as she could. While she couldn’t document all of her knowledge–not yet, anyway–she figured it could one day be of help to someone, somewhere. If not, then at least it gave her something to do. 

Miyoko cleared her throat gently to catch Sakura’s attention. Looking up at her handmaid, she asked, “Yes, Miyoko? What is it?” 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sakura-sama. It’s only–I was hoping you could look at my uncle’s back, if it isn’t too much trouble,” the young girl said, her cheeks pink as she avoided Sakura’s gaze. “He’s a farmer, you see, and his livelihood depends on his ability to work. Only recently,” she trailed off, “recently he’s been struggling.”

“Of course,” Sakura replied easily. “Would he be alright with me examining him? I wouldn’t want to create more strain on his body with my presence.” She thought of how stiff the apothecary always became, whenever he saw her in the market. If Miyoko’s uncle had a similar response to her, then she’d be doing more harm than good. 

Looking more than a little confused, the girl shook her head. “Oh no, miss! I’m sure he’d be grateful for someone of your caliber looking after him. Only,” she bit her lip, “I don’t have much to pay you with. I’ve got a few coins put away, and I’m sure that over time I could–”

“The price is negotiable.” Sakura replied automatically. Shaking her head, she amended, “Besides, there’s no need, Miyoko.” She bit her lip, wanting to say that by marrying Madara, her healing gifts were at the disposal of the clan, but she wasn’t sure if a statement like that would be well received. Instead, she went with, “Consider it repayment for helping me all these past few weeks while I’ve stayed here.”

“Oh no, Sakura-sama, I insist.” Miyoko shook her head quite aggressively. “Taking care of you is my job and Madara-sama pays me well to do so. It wouldn’t be right to treat that as a tradable favor.”

Sakura sighed softly. Uchiha’s and their pride. “Perhaps an invitation to dinner, then? Along with your uncle if he’s feeling up to it.”

“Dinner, Sakura-san?” 

“Dinner,” Sakura nodded. “Most nights I eat with Madara or Izuna, or both. Or neither.” She shrugged, trying not to think about the seeds of loneliness that had buried themselves deep within her bones and that ached more now when she had people to laugh and enjoy time with than when she had no one at her side. The sensation had left Sakura more confused than anything else, and she did her best to push those feelings away.

Trying to appeal to Miyoko’s humor, she added, “It’d be a nice change of pace to eat with someone who didn’t scowl the entire meal.”

Miyoko let out a laugh, though it was a quiet thing that didn’t last long. “Well I’m not sure my uncle will make for better company, but we’d be happy to host you. Would tonight work?”

Sakura nodded, “Tonight’s just fine. We can leave after I’ve helped Izuna and changed his bandages.” 

Izuna had been drowsier than usual today. There was no sign of infection or other maladies, making Sakura suspect he’d been over exerting himself when she wasn’t looking and causing his body to require more rest to make up for it. She’d talk to him about it tomorrow when he was hopefully more coherent. 

After a few more hours of work, and calling on Saburo to meet her for a quick escort through the market and to Miyoko’s home, the two women made it safely to their destination well before sunset with their arms full of groceries. 

“Uncle!” Miyoko called out. After shuffling off her shoes, she made her way to the kitchen with her groceries. “I’ve brought someone to look at your back!”

Sakura followed along quietly, observing the household discreetly. It was the first time she’d been allowed into another Uchiha’s house. It was much different than Madara’s mansion, though that was to be expected when comparing the dwellings of the clan head versus a common farmer. The layout wasn’t very much different than other homes she’d been invited to while traveling, though this one was decorated with copious amounts of Uchiha fans and looked worn and tried in a way that implied many generations of Miyoko’s family had lived here before her uncle. 

The small kitchen was attached to the dining room, and Miyoko puttered around, pulling up pots and pans to start on their dinner. She took a teapot down from where it was hanging on a hook and filled it with water for their tea. 

“Uncle?” Miyoko called again once the water was over the fire. She walked further into the back of the home, past the small bathing room and into the bedroom where her uncle laid on his futon with a frown on his face.

“Mah, Miyoko,” the older man grumbled, “I told you not to bother. My back will be as good as new with a few more days of rest.” He eyed Sakura as she walked in behind his niece. “What’s this? A witch?”

“Uncle!” Miyoko chastised as she began to close his windows for privacy. “Show some respect. This is Sakura-sama, renowned medic and Madara-sama’s betrothed.”

“ You’re the one that surly cousin of ours has decided to spend his life with?” He snorted. “What did you do in your past life to deserve that?” Then, he eyed her from head to toe and said, “It’ll sure be interesting to see how dominant the Uchiha genes are against yours. Can you imagine, Miyoko? An Uchiha with pink hair? Hah!”

Miyoko winced and threw Sakura an apologetic grimace. “Uncle, Sakura-sama has been kind enough to examine you. The least you could do is hold your tongue.”

Miyoko’s uncle waved a hand at her lazily. “Oh, Miyoko, I only tease. You know that. Besides, if Sakura-sama here is serious about marrying into our family, she should know what she’s getting into.”

Doing her best to keep her hands from balling into fists and giving the old man a good whack on the head, Sakura plastered a professional smile onto her face. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

Miyoko excused herself to start making dinner as Sakura listened to her patient tell her of occasional back pain that could vary between a mild irritant and debilitating pain that sometimes caused one of his legs to stop working. After a quick push of chakra into his body, Sakura determined his problem to be a herniated disk. 

Helping him pull down his yukata to his waist and roll over onto his stomach, Sakura placed her hand on the base of his spine and began the process of pushing the affected disk back into place and healing the exterior casing that had cracked. 

“So, Sakura-sama,” he began as silence had settled in the room, “is that hair color of yours hereditary, or a mutation?”

Tutting, Sakura asked, “Worried I might pollute your clan’s genes?”

“Mah,” he shrugged, “we need new genes every now and then to survive. We know that. Consider me curious.” He paused, but Sakura waited, something telling her he had more to say. “Your coloring is very beautiful, Sakura-sama. Pink isn’t a color I’m used to seeing. Now red, that’s a color I see all the time, almost as much as black.” 

He chuckled a humorless laugh, and Sakura felt it rattle through her head. He was being much nicer to her now. She wondered if it was because he was on his stomach, not looking at her, or because of her chakra stealing his pain away. Maybe it was a secret third thing. 

Feeling a little less antagonized, Sakura felt some tension leave her shoulders as she told him, “It’s genetic, from my father’s side, though his was paler than mine.” She was about to tell him she was finished with his back, but then paused. “I’m sorry, I never caught your name. Miyoko only referred to you as uncle.”

“I’ll be your uncle soon enough, I don’t mind if you start calling me that now. If you really need to know, though, it’s Masaru.”

Sakura smiled. He was showing her kindness, in his own way, and she’d accept what she could get. Pulling her hands back, she nodded and said, “Well, you’re as good as new Masaru-ojisan.”

Pushing himself to lean up on one arm, Masaru stuck out his tongue as he moved this way and that, testing Sakura’s words. Nodding his approval, he sat up properly and readjusted his yukata. “So,” he clapped his hands together, “what’s for dinner?”

---------

“Where to today, Sakura-sama?” Saburo asked. In his hands was a small bag filled with sunflower seeds that he was practically inhaling. “Back to the market?”

Sakura shook her head. “No, today we’re heading out towards the fields to forage for some plants that I’ll need to make antidotes.” 

Saburo stopped in his tracks, his hand paused on his journey towards his mouth with the seeds still pinched between his fingers. “The fields?” He asked, a line forming between his brows. “Outside of the compound, you mean?” 

“Yes,” Sakura answered with a raised brow. 

“Have you asked Madara-sama for his permission?”

A vein in Saura’s forehead twitched with irritation and she had to take a deep breath before responding. “Madara is my betrothed, not my master. I don’t need his permission.”

“That’s not what I meant, Sakura-sama,” Saburo shook his head vigorously, his eyes growing wide. “I just meant that it might not be safe and Madara-sama might not like you going outside the walls alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

“Yes,” Saburo said slowly, “and that’s fine for when we’re in the village, but–”

“I’m going with or without you,” Sakura cut him off, already continuing on her path. “You can either come with me and keep me company or run back to Madara to get his permission.” Sakura knew her capabilities and wasn’t in the mood to try and prove herself to Saburo. It was one thing for Madara to request she have him around to watch her back, it was something else entirely to have a baby sitter. She wasn’t some delicate flower that needed to be sheltered and hidden away. She’d lived alone for almost two years before coming to live with the Uchiha and she’d survived just fine, thank you very much. 

The sound of Saburo’s footsteps hurrying behind her reached her ears and soon enough he was walking astride her once again. His bag of seeds had been hidden away, his posture and gaze had turned sharper. Sakura almost wanted to tell him to relax, that he’d be safe with her, but she doubted he’d appreciate it at the moment. 

“We need to be quick,” he told her, the furrow of his brows deepening. “Even with the truce between Senju and Uchiha, there’s no telling who we may run into. Anyone with a grudge against the Uchiha may decide to take their revenge out on us.”

Barely suppressing a sigh, Sakura agreed. “It shouldn’t take me more than an hour to find what I need.”

“And you’re sure the market won’t have these plants? Or the Apothecary?”

“I’m sure.” She’d already checked. 

Saburo groaned, but seemed to accept his fate and continued on at Sakura’s side in silence. 

Miyoko had been the one to tell her about this field when she’d caught Sakura grumbling under her breath about the lack of supplies against poisons. The best item she could find within the whole compound was charcoal, and that could only do so much. If they found themselves up against a poison expert like Sasori, they’d be devastated. Miyoko had suggested Sakura take a look at the plants in this field to see if it had what she needed. If it didn’t, then she’d have to wait months for the finalizations of Konoha to try and buy ingredients from other clans–if they were even willing to sell them–and patience was never one of Sakura’s strengths. 

Once they arrived, Sakura slid the bamboo basket off her back and waded through the tall grasses in search of her treasures. Saburo stalked off, telling her he’d monitor the perimeter, and Sakura had hummed in acknowledgment. This field would be a modest start when it came to antidotes. There was plenty of jewel weed and dock plant littered about which were always helpful with rashes, and she could cut some bark off of some trees to make tea with, but soon she’d need to do more. 

Fire Country was home to a great many dangerous creatures, all that could be used to create terrible weapons. She’d need to milk certain snakes and spiders and collect slime from several frogs and toads to feel properly prepared. In a pinch, Sakura could always extract the poison from a victim’s bloodstream and use a sample to reverse engineer an antidote, but that process was timely and chakra draining. Having pre-made antidotes was a much more sustainable method. 

She’d filled her basket halfway when she felt it; eyes on the back of her head. Spinning around with her hands already raised and curled into fists, Sakura found herself staring across the field at Senju Tobirama. 

Swearing up a storm in her head, Sakura tried to keep her voice level as she asked, “Where’s Saburo?”

Tilting his head to the side, Tobirama’s red eyes narrowed. “If you mean your guard, he’s fine. I’ve stuck him in a genjutsu and will release him when I’m finished here.”

Knowing she’d already be dead if that was what he wanted–she was good, but she wasn’t Nidaime good–she asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to meet you, to see if you were all they said you were.” He took a step closer, his eyes pinning her in place. “My brother speaks very highly of you, you know. The miracle worker who saved Uchiha Izuna from death’s door and the woman who thawed Uchiha Madara’s frozen heart. You seem too good to be true.”

It took every ounce of Sakura’s control not to take a step back for every step forward Tobirama took towards her. She knew that if she fled he’d only catch her, and she wasn’t sure what would happen then. Still, she wouldn’t stand there helpless either. Shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, Sakura readied herself to dodge. Drawing chakra into her hands, she also prepared to reap devastation across this bit of land in an attempt to survive. 

“I’ve heard many interesting things about you, Haruno Sakura. It would appear you’re second to none in your field and yet you come from no known clan.” He stopped only a few feet away from her. “You’re a good person, you help whoever you can, whenever you can for little or no money. So I find myself asking, why is this bright and wonderful woman, with no political affiliations, marrying into such a horrible clan?”

“Excuse me?” Trepidation gave way to anger at his question, leading Sakura to speak without thinking. “What business is it of yours?”

Senju Tobirama was a man Sakura had grown up admiring. Second Hokage of Konoha, he was credited with the creation of hundreds of jutsus, Konoha’s ANBU, the ninja academy, and even the chuunin exams. He set the example that other hidden villages followed when it came to running themselves. He was a giant among shinobi, and yet here he was, asking Sakura why she was marrying Madara. It didn’t make any sense. 

His eyes flashed–with what, Sakura didn’t know–and he looked her over from top to bottom. “Has Madara told you yet, about the Curse of Hatred that plagues the Uchiha clan?”

A shiver ran straight down Sakura’s spine. She’d heard that phrase only once before, during the war against the Madara in the future. She hadn’t fully understood it at the time, and now she was ready to dismiss it immediately. Curses didn’t exist. 

“To activate their kekkei genkai they must experience extremely painful traumas,” Tobirama explained, taking her silence as a no. “The power of the Sharingan eventually consumes them, leading them to do anything within their power to show off their superiority. If you marry into this clan, it will surely claim you as a victim as well. You should save yourself while you still can.”

Sakura scoffed, causing Tobirama to blink in surprise. “Save myself from what? Superstitions?” Feeling emboldened by her anger and more confident that Tobirama wouldn’t kill her, Sakura placed her hands on her hips and raised a single brow. “All that just sounds like the most anti-Uchiha propaganda I’ve ever heard. Don’t you think this is just a symptom of your own prejudice?”

“It’s true,” Tobirama persisted, his jaw tightening. “All Uchiha are bound by the same fate. I’ve never met a single clansman who could prove otherwise.”

Sakura thought about all the Uchihas she’d met in her lifetime. All Sharingan users she knew had activated it through trauma, yes, and Sasuke and Itachi both fell victim to paths of vengeance, but if Sakura had to guess, that had more to do with the actual trauma they’d lived through than any supposed curse. Madara and Izuna were just as sane as anyone else she’d ever met. Masaru was cranky with age, but sweet in his own way, and Miyoko could barely raise her voice at her uncle, much less assert her superiority over another person. 

“Well,” Sakura said dryly, “I imagine it’s hard to get to know a person when you’re only ever meeting them on the battlefield.” Pausing to wet her lips, Sakura considered her words for only a moment before adding, “I’ve heard of you too, Senju Tobirama. You’re a genius, there’s no denying that. In fact, I doubt there’s a mind alive in the world right now that could compare to yours.”

Tobirama’s jaw slackened just enough to lose the tight tendon of tension that was pulsating against the skin. His brows furrowed with what Sakura could only imagine was confusion. 

“But you have a lot to learn when it comes to human nature and empathy.” Sakura continued, unable to stop the sharing of her thoughts. “I think that if you were to try and put yourself in Madara’s shoes, to think as he does for just a short amount of time, you’d realize that the two of you have much more in common than you’d ever thought possible.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Tobirama said immediately and without any hesitation. “I know all I need to know about Uchiha Madara and his clan. There is nothing more for me to learn.”

It was no wonder that the Uchiha felt ostracized by Konoha, if this was how their leadership spoke about them. 

Sakura could see that there was no arguing with him. He was too stubborn and set in his ways to think any differently. For now, at least. Perhaps as the two men continued working together towards the common goal of Konoha, and with the addition of Izuna this time around, opinions could be changed. 

Tobirama left not long after that, and Saburo arrived almost right after with wide, panicked eyes and a heaving chest. He’d demanded that they return to the Uchiha compound, and Sakura agreed, not wanting to press her luck. Saburo stayed by her side until Madara returned home, at which time he fell into a deep bow to his patriarch and begged forgiveness. 

Madara’s eyes bled red as Saburo told him how he was trapped in a genjutsu and didn’t realize anything was amiss until Tobirama had already left. Madara dismissed him with a wave of his hand and Saburo didn’t waste any time fleeing the house.

“I’ll kill him” Madara hissed, the tomoes in his eyes spinning rapidly. “He’s tested my patience one too many times.” Swiftly, he prowled the halls, grabbing weapons and armor as he went. 

Sakura trailed behind, grabbing at his sleeve in an attempt to slow him down. “Madara, please, just wait. It’s okay–”

“Nothing about this is ok!” He growled, turning to bare his teeth at her. “And what were you thinking? Leaving the compound like that without my permission?”

“ Permission? ” Sakura squawked. He was treating her like some prisoner! And over what? A conversation? “Madara, you need to calm down. I’m fine–”

“ You could have died! ” He roared. Then, quick as lightning, she was pulled against Madara’s chest. His arms held her as close as possible without crushing her. Tremors rippled through his body, bleeding into her own, as his body tried to wrestle with his blinding rage and unadulterated fear.

Hiding his face into the crook of her neck, his voice was barely more than a broken whisper as he said again, “You could have died . And there was nothing I could have done to stop it. I’ve lost so many loved ones already, Sakura,” he admitted with a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can stand to lose another one.”

Raising her hands to embrace him back, Sakura hugged him tight. Tears pooled behind her eyes at his confession. She hadn’t meant to scare him. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. And what made it worse was that she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to comfort him now that they were here. She couldn’t promise him nothing would ever happen to her. That would ring empty and false. What could she apologize for? Not for leaving, her pride wouldn’t allow for that. 

All she could do was hold onto him as tightly as he was holding onto her and whisper, “I’m here. I’m still here,” into his ear. 

He nodded against her neck. They were pressed so close she could hear the thickness of his swallow. Sakura rubbed a hand up and down his back, her fingers following along the ridges of his spine, hoping Madara found the motion soothing. They stayed like that until his shaking subsided, and then stayed like that for a while longer. 

If there was a curse on the Uchiha clan, it wasn’t one of hate, but of love. Life in the warring states period wasn’t easy for anyone. Madara’s fear of losing his loved ones was one founded in reality. Sakura would have to be more mindful of that in the future. She wouldn’t budge on her autonomy or independence, but she could do a better job keeping Madara apprised of her movements, especially now that she knew she’d caught the attention of Senju Tobirama. 

“Come,” Sakura eventually said, pulling away so she could clasp his hand in hers. She pulled him towards Izuna’s room, hoping that having two of his precious people within arms reach of each other might help calm his nerves. “Let me see to Izuna, and then we can spend the remainder of the day with each other.”

She intertwined their fingers for extra measure and was glad to see a small smile appear on his face as his eyes returned to black. 

Giving her hand a squeeze, Madara leaned in to kiss Sakura’s forehead. “I would like that very much.”

[5eraphim]

this thought has been rotting my brain for about a week now and I've just worked up the courage to request this, feel free to delete this if you don't want to write btw.

Yandere medic had kidnapped the reader a while ago, and medic got home after a long day and the reader just sort of walks up to medic and hugs him, completely unprompted.

Idk I need something fluffy in my life.

(I am so bad at writing fluff- but it is funny the one fluff request I've gotten is for Medic of all people 💀 Hope you enjoy!)

Title: Night Light

Character: Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M (MINORS DNI- GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: yandere, possessive behavior, mind break, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship, implied NSFW, kidnapping, touch starved reader, cuddles, reader is gender neutral, implied dehumanization/slight infantilization

Word Count: 1.9K

MASTERLIST

TIP JAR

"When you grow accustom to something, when it becomes part of your everyday life, you notice when it suddenly vanishes.

If only my heart were made of stone."

Cormac McCarthy, The Road

Time had never passed as slowly during your captivity as that evening. He was late coming home, not a rarity, though you couldn't shake the feeling something about tonight was different. A certain air of restlessness only heightened your agitation. Minutes passed like hours while you were rooted at the window waiting for the harsh white headlights to cue Medic's return home.

As you waited, poised right by the bedroom's window, you paced back and forth, wearing a thin blanket from the bed as a shawl across your shoulders, wringing the ends with your hands nervously. As though it was physically impossible to still yourself. 

Never before had the 10 x 10 bedroom you were confined to while Medic was out of the house felt as claustrophobic as it did now. You weren't allowed out of this room when Medic wasn't home, it wasn't much, but you still got a shiver down your spine remembering how he left you chained to a radiator in the basement after your first escape attempt. At first, Medic wanted to trust you, giving you access to roam the top floor of his house while he was gone, though that lasted less than a week after you'd tried to run away, shattering a window and nearly severing a vein when you tried to pull yourself through.

After that, you were taught the hard way any comfort in this house was to be earned, and your petty act of rebellion or insolence would only result in punishment. Being chained up in the basement was the worst, but there were other ways Medic would force you to obey his commands and diminish any dignity you held onto. If you wanted clothes, you would have to wear what he provided for you, assuming he felt generous enough to supply any. If you wanted to eat, you'd be lucky if he let you eat at the table with him; it was marginally less degrading than when he fed you while you sat on his lap, though this wasn't nearly as bad as when he would force you to feed from a bowl on the floor at his feet. If you didn't want to sleep on the cold floor, not only were you forced to share his bed, but be obedient and not give him a reason to kick you out. 

Nowadays, you aren't so resilient. You knew Medic was a sick bastard, and you knew if you kept testing him, there was a good chance your luck would eventually run out, and he'd do something severe. Even if the obedience was faked, Medic appeared appeased. He remarked on how much easier it was to hold you when you weren't struggling or how beautiful you looked when you smiled for him. You wanted to believe you were only doing this for your safety, that you truly hated Medic with your entire heart, and that you'd die before ever loving him back. But as the days began to pile up and your resistance slipped away, Medic grew genuinely kinder. You couldn't help but feel some inexplicable yearning for Medic. When he was gone, you were always alone, the feeling as dismal as it was inevitable. And while you might still fear him, when Medic was home, you felt a bittersweet acceptance of your situation. 

After what felt like an eternity passed, you watched headlights drawing closer as you watched Medic's car pulling into the driveway. Your heart leaped into your throat as you listened to the sound of the door being unlatched. Springing from waiting by the window, you stood in front of the bedroom's door; your blanket-shawl slipped off your shoulders and fell onto the floor as you strained your ears to listen, vaguely able to hear Medic kicking off his boots, dropping off his white coat before finally making his way up the stairs. You could feel your heart beating in your ears as you listened to Medic unlocking the door while you stood frozen in place, waiting to see Medic at last. 

He pulled open the door and, for a moment, appeared surprised to see you standing there waiting for him. For a beat, the two of you stared at each other silently, unsure of what the other would do next, Medic opened his mouth to say something, but you were faster. Moving determined, though awkwardly, you extended your arms out before reaching for Medic, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him into a tight hug. For a moment, Medic was stunned and motionless with shock, feeling you pulling him closer to you with silent neediness.

"Please hold me back." Your voice came out breathy and hushed, the words tumbling out before you even realized what you were saying as you mumbled as close to his ear as you could, arms wrapping just a touch tighter around Medic's shoulders, as though you hadn't seen him in weeks. You couldn't see his face, more content to shut your eyes and burrow your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. Though silently, you knew you wanted more. A part of you wanted to tear the clothes right off of him and feel the heat of his body directly against your own skin. But for now, you were content to savor the moment as it was, hearing the faint sound of his heart beating in rhythm with every breath he took. 

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around your torso, returning the embrace with equal warmth. "I was surprised to see the light still on when I pulled in, were you staying up to see me again?" You nodded, head still buried in his chest. 

He always said you looked so cute when you nuzzled him like this, and he couldn't help but hum with satisfaction seeing you all needy. "Aw, were you worried I was spending time with someone else? Were you jealous?"

He was clearly trying to mess with you, but you couldn't help but raise your voice a little, responding, squeezing him tighter in your arms. "No! I was afraid, Medic!"

Pulling your arms from his shoulders, you let him hold you while you continued, feeling as though tears were about to fall at any moment.

"I missed you… I missed you a lot." You wanted to explain yourself, convert these intense and enigmatic emotions into words, to explain to Medic and yourself. 

He pulled away just enough to face you, "Why don't we go lay down for a moment? You look like you could use that." Nodding silently, you let him guide you to bed, pulling back the covers before tucking you into bed, allowing you to situate yourself before crawling in right next to you. The warm, almost calm look never once left his face as you writhed for a moment uneasily, trying to find a comfortable position beside him. Eventually, settling down to lay on your side, wrapping one arm over his chest and a leg just over his lap. Medic's arm stretched across your shoulders to pull you closer, his other hand under the blanket, rubbing his fingers along the thigh, you draped over him. At that moment, you felt almost as though you were back in the body of a child, curling up in your parent's bed after a nightmare. Even now, you continue to nuzzle your face against him. You had an entire day of loneliness to undo, but now that you could feel him so warm and close, all your stress and tension were melting away. Sighing, you pulled away, looking up at Medic with eyes half-lidded with admiration.

"What happened to you while I was gone?" He tried to force a chuckle as though he were joking, but the glimmer of curiosity in his eyes gave away his sincerity. 

Resting your cheek against his chest, staring blankly at the wall, you answered in a dull voice. "I don't know, and I can't explain it. But when you were late, I guess I just started to miss you, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop." 

As you spoke, your voice grew frailer. It hurt to think about the isolation, the loneliness, everything you'd endured stuck in a cloister confined to one bedroom. 

Medic made a noise of sympathy, "But you know I'd be back; you know I'd never abandon you, don't you?" 

Of course, you knew; the Medic told you many times before he'd die before leaving you. But Medic never knew how to stay dead; realistically, you knew he always managed to find his way back to you.

"Today, waiting for you to come home, it hurt. It hurt more than ever." Internally you felt a twinge of guilt; you just wanted to enjoy your time with Medic now that he was finally home; the last thing you wanted was to make him worry about you. But you weren't lying, and you felt that if you kept all your loneliness bottled up inside, you'd lose your mind altogether. 

He looked down, his brow creased slightly with worry. "Have you been feeling ill?" 

You shook your head, "Not sick, just worried."

Hearing this, Medic's cheeks reddened slightly. For the first time in ages, you'd managed to be the one to fluster him, and you had to admit, he looked bizarrely cute like this. His typical mania softened into something entirely different. Sure, you'd seen his softer side before, but you felt as though you'd never really appreciated it until now, and your heart ached with a lonely kind of affection. 

"Worried about me?" His head cocked to the side a little, unable to entirely process the words leaving his own mouth. You tugged at his shirt lightly, scrunching the fabric with your fingers.

"I worry because I care about you. I think I've felt this way for a while, waiting for you to come home… I don't know- but I feel like all these feelings are finally coming together. I love you, Medic." You could've sworn you felt Medic's heart beating a bit faster as you rambled, but you knew for sure you felt him gasping slightly hearing you say, "I love you."

It's not like he'd never heard those words from you before. But every time before now, it was prompted, whether as a response to his own "I love you" or via threat to hurt you if you didn't say it. Though that isn't to say you'd never thought this before. Though saying it out loud, at last, made it all finally feel real.

He leaned down to kiss the top of your head, mattering against your scalp, "I love you too, my love. I always have, I always will."

He continued, "You are the light of my life, and I swear, no matter how far I go- I will always find you."

For the first time all night, the tears you'd kept bottled up for so long began to fall. Though now you wept with joy, feeling a kind of levity in your heart you doubted you'd ever known before now. Medic stroked the back of your head as you wept into his chest, wetting his button-up with your tears. It was a comfort to assure yourself no matter how much time he spent away from you or how he punished you for disobedience in the past, he would always make up for the lost time when he found his way home. Not the building he lived in, but by your side, wrapping his arms around you, where he truly belonged.  

[dindjarinandlysakane]

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 9 - So what are you going to do to get the girl?

Din Djarin is happy on Nevarro. He has a home, a family, what more could he want? But when a woman turns up selling bread and cakes at his doorstep, how can he not fall in love? And how can he also stop her from getting hurt at the hands of her partner behind closed doors? Will the hero save the girl and get the girl? Warm and sweet fluff/romance/hurt/comfort fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 9

----

For the week that followed his argument with Lysa, Din had thrown himself into his work.

A distraction was always a good thing. He knew that. And taking two tricky bounty hunter jobs, one straight after the other on behalf of the New Republic, had certainly kept his mind and his body busy.

After six days of chasing after two separate criminals on the run, Din was completely spent. As was Grogu.

But as they had been heading back towards Nevarro, it turned out his prize N-1 Naboo Starfighter, wasn’t faring much better either.

The ship had felt clunky since Ryloth and so Din had been forced to make an unforeseen pit stop in Tatooine. At the Mos Eisley spaceport. And at the home and workplace of Peli Motto.

The familiar curly-haired woman of course had welcomed Din and Grogu with welcome arms, despite the late hour.

“It’s jus’ your fan belt,” she said placing her hands to her hips as she stepped back from examining Din’s ship. “You’ve obviously been going too hard on her for the last couple of days.”

Din who was stood beside his beloved ship, gave a sigh.

“Can you fix it tonight?” he asked in a heavy voice. “I just want to get back and sleep in my own bed.”

Din looked over to his green son who was sat on a small bench near to the wall beside them, his eyes closing tiredly.

They were both exhausted and all Din wanted was to get home and have a proper rest - in something that wasn't the pilot seat of his Starfighter at least!

“Of course, but it’ll cost ya,” said Peli Motto in a sing-song voice, cocking her head to one side, causing Din to give a groan.

She moved over to him, giving him a slap on the back.

“Pfft, I know you’re good for it, Mando, quit your whinin’.”

Din turned to her, shooting her a look, which she ignored, and instead began yelling at her droids to go fetch her the various parts she required to fix his ship.

There was a lot of hustle and bustle for several minutes as the droids sped this way and that.

Din took this as his opportunity to wander over to Grogu.

“Hey,” uttered the Mandalorian through his modulator, causing Grogu to blink his eyes open at the sound. “She’s gonna fix the ship and then we’ll be home soon. Okay?”

Grogu gave a nod, as Din sighed again and dropped down onto the bench beside his son.

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before Peli Motto reappeared with a small cup in her hand.

“Here,” she said, handing Grogu the tiny dish of bone broth. “You must be starving.”

Din gave a frown.

“I do feed him, you know-” he said with a huff.

But Peli Motto merely eyed him. “Not enough,” she replied scoldingly, cutting across his words. “A baby like him needs to be fed up…make him nice and strong.”

“He’s already strong,” retorted Din huffily.

At this Peli Motto placed her hands to both her hips once more, narrowing her eyes in his direction.

“Phew,” she said loudly. “What’s got your beskar in a twist today, Mando?”

Din sighed heavily. He wasn't in the mood to be questioned.

He was tired, dirty and all he wanted now was some rest.

Because the longer he was awake, the longer he had to dwell on what had happened between him and Lysa.

Maybe he was wrong for confronting her about Crix like that. But he had only done it because he cared.

And he did care.

The idea of Lysa getting hurt by a man that was supposed to love her…well, it boiled Din’s blood.

But he had tried to reason with Lysa. Tried to get her to admit what Crix had done…what he had surely done, right? Because those bruises were certainly not the result of an accident getting out of a speeder.

But that was not what Lysa had wanted obviously. And what more could Din do? She had made her choice and he needed to respect that now.

But that didn't mean he was happy with it.

Din had tried to distract himself with a bounty or two, and it had worked to an extent. But it was the in-between moments that thoughts of Lysa seeped through into the forefront of his mind. The long journeys where Grogu was asleep, with nothing but a vast expanse of space to occupy his thoughts. That was when he thought about her. What she was doing… if she was ok? If she was thinking about him, the same way he was thinking about her?

“Earth to Mando!” came a sudden voice snapping Din suddenly from his thoughts.

“Huh?” he replied looking up into Peli Motto’s face.

She gave an audible tut and rolled her eyes.

“I saaaaid, what’s on your mind,” the woman in an accusing tone. “Or should I say where's your mind, cause it’s certainly not here with us.”

“It's nothing. I’m fine,” sighed Din, interlacing his fingers before him. “I’m just….tired.”

He was tired. That was no lie.

But to his annoyance, Peli Motto raised both eyebrows, her lips twitching up into a knowing grin.

“Ah….a woman, huh?” she said with a nod, shooting Grogu a look.

Din instantly frowned behind his beskar helmet.

“What?” said the Mandalorian quickly. “No-...I-....how did you-”

But Peli Motto grinned widely, raising both hands either side of her head.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” she uttered in a purposeful voice. “I know that look.”

Grogu who now seemed very much awake, enjoying his bone broth and watching the conversion between Din and Peli Motto play out, looked up his father. The irony of Peli’s last sentence not lost on either of them, seeing as Din’s face was covered with a kilo of beskar.

Looking back up towards her, Din let out another exhausted huff.

Was he that transparent? Had his feelings for Lysa become almost imprinted onto him? Visible for those around him to see?

Din hoped not, as she had now made it very clear that she had not appreciated his interference and wanted him out of her life.

Din remained silent for a little while longer, before speaking slowly.

“There’s this girl…woman. A friend. Well…..maybe not even that,” he began, as Peli Motto folded her arms over her chest, listening intently. “But she’s….the man she’s with. It’s like he doesn't even seem to care about her.”

Din shook his head, the words had spilled from his mouth before he could stop himself.

But Peli merely gave a sniff.

“So what are you gonna do to get the girl?” she said starkly, causing Din’s face to flush behind his helmet.

At her words, Grogu too looked up at his father with interest.

“Me?” Din began, sounding a little exasperated, and initially going to argue that that was not his intention at all. But he softened slightly, letting an audible breath of air escape his lips. “A woman like her, wouldn't want someone like me.”

“Poppycock!” Peli Motto said sharply. “You might not be much of a talker but you’ve got lots going for ya.” She raised her hands, checking them off one digit at a time. “You’ve got a nice new home…a sexy ship…a cute kid….”

Din frowned again.

“She’s with someone…” he murmured.

Peli tutted.

“Well then you're gonna have to show her, that you’re a better match for her than he is,” she replied.

Behind his beskar Din chewed at his lip.

“How?” he breathed.

But at this, the curly-haired woman merely gave a huge roll of her eyes, bending at the knees and leaning back on her heels.

“Well I don’ know!” she said in a exasperated tone. “But you’ll think of something. You’re a Mandalorian. You’re used to thinkin’ on your feet.”

And with that she shook her head and headed off to check on the droids.

“No don't put that there!” she yelled across the workshop, as Mando gave a final sigh.

And so folding his arms over his own chest, Din Djarin rested his head back against the wall behind him, closing his eyes, just for a moment.

And for a second, Peli’s words sat in his mind starkly. ‘So what are you gonna do to get the girl?’

Right now Din wasn't so sure…but he let out a small smile despite himself, before he felt himself begin to relax into sleep….

….as a woman with golden hair and a kind smile slipped her way easily into his dreams as he did so…

[starlitangels]

His Mama’s Boy

More Mama AJ Shaw being a good mama for her baby Davey! She’s mine now, Erik 1.5k words

—

Crying in the nursery, also audible over the baby monitor, jolted AJ out of her sleep. She took a deep breath as she woke up and slipped out of bed. Gabe stirred, but didn’t wake. Creeping quietly, AJ slid his bathrobe on over her pajamas from where it had been discarded on the armchair in the corner of the master bedroom and went to the baby’s room.

She opened the robe to feed David, sitting in the rocking chair and pushing it gently with the ball of her foot.

“It’s okay, Davey baby,” she whispered. “Mama’s here. Mama’s got you.” She bounced him lightly, soothing the crying, while she fed him.

In the past several months since he’d been born, his eyes had cleared up and become obviously the same color as Gabe’s. Vibrant, deep green. In all honesty, apart from having AJ’s darker hair, Davey looked a lot like Gabe already. Including his wider nose.

AJ hummed while her son fed, running the backs of her fingers down his soft cheeks, kissing his forehead.

Once he was done, she draped a burp cloth over her shoulder and adjusted him before patting at his back, still humming softly to herself. Sleep clung to her eyelids and occasionally she paused to yawn, but the warmth of her baby boy in her arms was always enough to keep her awake.

He seemed to calm down a little after being fed and burped, but was still fussy and squirmy.

Instead of simply humming, AJ sang the lullaby her mother used to sing to her as a kid. Soft enough to not wake Gabe, but loud enough for Davey to hear her. She held him close, making sure his ear was close to her heartbeat to soothe him as she kept gently bouncing him and rocking the chair. His wriggling slowed and stopped as he fell back to sleep. AJ made sure he was bundled nice and warm before putting him back in his crib. She smoothed his wisps of thick, dark hair off his forehead and kissed it.

“Sleep well, Davey,” she whispered. “Daddy will see you in a couple hours when it’s his turn to give you a bottle.” She reached for his pacifier and wiggled it against his mouth. He opened it immediately and let her slide it in, sucking on it once it was secure.

Smiling gently, she straightened up and went back to the master bedroom, slipping out of Gabe’s robe and putting it back on the armchair. She circled the bed and climbed back in as gently as she could so she wouldn’t wake her mate.

The second she was settled, Gabe rolled over and wrapped an arm around her. He pulled her across the mattress until she was snuggled up close to him. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” she replied.

“Davey okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“He eat good?”

“He ate well, yes.”

“Heard you singing on the baby monitor.”

“It calms him down when he’s fussy. He doesn’t get fussy often, but when he does singing soothes him.”

Gabe hummed and buried his face in her neck and shoulder. “Why do you always take my robe with you when yours is right there?”

AJ nuzzled her nose into his soft hair. “His Core won’t activate for a long time, but he’s still a wolf. I want to make sure he knows both our scents together. So that he knows the smell of home. Of his Mama and Papa who love him and want to keep him safe.” She took a deep breath. “My dad was an alpha too. He didn’t get as much time at home as he wanted. If that happens to us, I just wanna make sure he knows you too since he’d be spending more time with me.”

Gabe grunted. “I’ll make time for both of you so he never sees me as absent. I love you both and I want to spend as much time with you and Davey as I possibly can.”

“I know, Gabe. And I hope it works out like that. I want to have you around as often as I can too.” She kissed his head. “I kinda like you and wanna keep you.”

He chuckled and kissed her collarbone. “You’re the best mate a man could ask for, AJ.”

“And you’re probably the only man who believes that,” she replied. “I cannot imagine any other man in this world, shifter or not, would wanna be my mate. My claws and teeth are too sharp for most of them.”

Gabe “Hmph”ed. “They’re all blind and stupid then. But I’m glad I got to be the lucky wolf.” He sighed. “Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll wake up next time Davey needs to be fed.”

AJ snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes with a sigh. Usually when she fell asleep, she’d found she preferred not to be touched, but she was so tired that Gabe’s steady warmth and firmness comforted her right into sleep. She took a deep breath and sighed long and slow as unconsciousness claimed her.

—

The smell of pancakes woke AJ up the next morning. downstairs, she could hear Gabe’s version of baby-talk. Which was essentially just him talking to Davey as though he was a full-grown person who understood everything Gabe was saying. “—told Marie a hundred times that I’m a grown man who’s older than she is by a good year but she still lectures me like she’s my mother. As if my own mother doesn’t lecture me enough,” he was saying. AJ grinned and got out of bed. Her purple bathrobe with its white polkadots was missing from it’s usual pile on the floor. Confused, she slid out of bed and went downstairs.

Gabe was standing in front of the griddle with Davey in a table-top bouncing bed off to the side on the counter. Gabe had put their son in a black onesie with Mama’s Boy in bold letters on the front and a pair of baby jeans.

Gabe had AJ’s bathrobe draped over his shoulders like a cape, but was otherwise in a Superman T-shirt and jeans. Apart from the blond hair, he fit the Superman build ridiculously well.

“Gabe, honey?” AJ asked.

“Yeah?”

AJ wrapped her arms around her mate from behind. “Why are there socks on Davey’s hands?”

Gabe fidgeted with the spatula in his hands. “I, uh… apparently didn’t swaddle him tight enough after I got up to feed him,” he said. “When I got up this morning he had a little scratch on his face where he’d scratched himself in his sleep. So I put socks on his hands to make sure he wouldn’t do it again while I made breakfast.”

AJ chuckled. “Fair enough,” she said. “So… why are you wearing my bathrobe?”

He shrugged. “So Davey knows both of our scents together or whatever sweet thing you said last night.”

That made AJ laugh. “You’re cute,” she said.

Letting him go, she went over to Davey so Gabe could focus on flipping the pancakes.

“Good morning, my sweet baby boy,” she greeted, kissing Davey’s forehead. He was busy realizing he had a tongue that could feel his lips but his eyes watched her intensely. She touched the pad of her thumb to the tiny, angry red scratch on his face. Closing her eyes, she focused on her magic.

There was a pulse of magic and the scratch on David’s face disappeared.

Gabe twisted to stare at her. “Since when do you know how to heal?”

She brushed her short hair out of her face. “Alpha’s daughter, remember? I took a couple healing classes when I was, like, twenty in order to better serve my pack; at the, uh, behest of my dad. And now I can use it to serve my mate, his pack, and my precious baby boy.” On those last three words, she kissed the spot on David’s face that had been scratched and brushed the tip of her nose back and forth across the tip of her son’s.”

Davey smiled.

AJ gasped quietly.

“What is it?”

“Gabe, he smiled at me.”

Gabe grinned. “Did he now? Good. I’ve been telling him he better smile at you first.” He took the pancakes off the griddle, unplugged it, and stepped over to wrap an arm around AJ’s waist. “Because his Mama works so hard to make sure her boy is happy and healthy so she should get the first smile.” He pressed a kiss to AJ’s temple. “Because his mama is the best mama a little wolf pup like him could ever ask for.”

AJ laughed and leaned against Gabe while watching Davey bob up and down in his bouncer. His big eyes flicked between both of his parents while he continued to explore the discovery of his tongue against his lips.

“Davey, has your dad been telling you to smile for me?” AJ asked with a big, dopey happy smile on her face.

Their son smiled again, this time spluttering a little in what almost sounded like laughter.

Gabe chuckled. “I think I picked the right onesie for him. He is definitely his Mama’s boy.”

—

Tag list: @zozo-01 @thegoldenlittlerose @shellssstuff (is this good enough David for you?)

[taz-ma-raz-skylar]

Taz for Nuit Magazine

TAZ SKYLAR

~Boiling Point is an amazing choral piece about the hi-strung competitive world of cooking. How was your experience surrounded such top-notch actors?

It was great to watch them work. Matthew McConaughey has a great quote, which is: “Be less impressed and more involved” and I just kept reminding myself of that. I was just focusing on being involved with the team and the process instead of constantly being impressed with who was in the room.

~What about the pressure of doing everything in one single take?

I do a lot of theatre, so that bit I was fine with. Just do whatever you can with what happens on each take. That’s all you can do. If it goes wrong, use it to your advantage and make something special out of it.

~What is your relationship with food and cooking?

My relationship with food and cooking is a nuanced one. I originally come from a Mediterranean country, so food is part of the culture in a very strong way. I always loved food and cooking. But through my early twenties I went through some pretty severe eating disorders. Anorexia and bulimia. And so I had to completely emotionally detach myself from food to get through it. For those who have had those disorders or even the ones going through it in some way now, you soon learn that it’s not something you can ever fully get rid of once you’ve had it… The best you can hope for is to manage it. And I do now. I’m proud of how far I’ve come in handling the demons that pushed me into the disorders in the first place. And now with Sanji I get to reconnect with food in a way that’s about finding the joy & pleasure in feeding others. Making sure that everyone is well fed. And finding new ways to even make the food I’ve been used to eating myself, taste and look better. Gordon Ramsay made a really good point in his masterclass which was, and I paraphrase, cooking is a skill that everyone should learn… it’s one of the only skills which you can literally use every day, three times a day (or more, depending on how often you eat). And I love how Anthony Bourdain put it too: “Everyone should at least know how to chop a fucking onion”.

~And now you are playing the legendary cook Sanji himself, in a live adaptation of the classic anime opera one piece. Feeling any pressure?

I wasn’t at first… Then I went through a few months leading up to the announcement where I did start to feel the pressure and the anticipation build up in a negative way. There was also just a lot to juggle. I was in Hamlet at The Young Vic whilst also doing two to three hours of Tae-Kwon-Do training a day + chef training after the show in the evenings and it was a lot to handle whilst also trying to keep my centre of gravity as a human… But now, I’ve reached a point where I’m just kinda like… “You’re just gonna do your fucking best bro” and whatever happens fucking happens. If I walk on to set thinking “how are people wanting me to play this” I’m bound to fail… If walk on to set thinking, “this role is mine now and I’m going to rip it to shreds and pour my heart and soul into it” I’m always going to be proud of it. Letting the pressure of expectations from the huge fan base mess with my head isn’t useful. Again the quote, “be less impressed and more involved”. I’m over it (the pressure that is), I’m just getting my head down and focusing on enjoying the training, the experience, the character, the source material, the new continent I’ve moved to for the shoot and the new family that’s just welcomed me in. The fanbase has been incredibly welcoming, don’t get me wrong… I have thousands of super sweet and lovely messages, filled with excitement for the show. And I’m immensely thankful for each and every one of them, but again – be less impressed and more involved… All I can focus on is what’s in front of me and all that’s in front of me is the task at hand.

~Sanji’s character is shaped by a very traumatic past, how do you relate to him?

Sanji’s a person who had to fend for himself from a young age and did so by becoming a master of his trade. Weirdly I’ve lived a similar life… I left home when I was fifteen and became an apprentice to surfboard builders. All of which resemble Sanji’s mentor Zeff in some way or another. And I learned to fend for myself through trial and error. This was all before I started acting and writing. His trauma and his reasons for leaving are the thing that drives his behaviour in adulthood… I have my own things I was running away from and which drive my own behaviour now… But we won’t go into those, that’s a whole other story.

~Trauma and its after effects seems to be a recurring theme in most of your work, especially your acclaimed play Warheads. Can you guide us through its impact on your artistic process?

It does seem to recur a lot. I don’t really have an answer. I think you can choose what to do with trauma (to a certain conscious degree). You can let it cripple you… Or you can turn it into the best thing about you. I think I just do my best tot turn it into something that pushes me, instead of holding me back.

~Do you think this has influenced your passion/attraction for extreme sports?

I don’t know if trauma is the reason I’m into extreme sports. But it probably has something to do with it. I have a very desensitised adrenalin response to most things. It takes me fifty jumps from a plane to have the feeling that most get from just one jump… All I know is that when I do get that buzz from a jump or that feeling of a flow state from something like surfing or climbing, my mind gets silenced and reset to it’s neutral position, giving me the base from which to re-evaluate problems and come up with solutions.

~Do acting and writing helping you cope with this?

Very much so. I haven’t had much time to write lately and I definitely miss it. Acting and writing, when it’s going well, are the only two non life threatening activities that also have the ability to silence my mind. When I’m in the zone, I can write for twelve or sixteen hours straight, without even thinking about it. I forget to eat. Same with acting… When you’re in a play and you’re having a great show, everything else around you stops.

~Where is Taz Skylar going next?

Emotionally, hopefully to a slightly more stoic place. Artistically, I wanna bleed on the jeans of my next character. Personal projects?There’s a couple of films I’ve written that I’m praying to god get a green light.

[kaiannae]

Life update (in lack of Starling update)

So, I think I would like to avoid another "going dark" episode like the one from the last two-three months. That one was because of war, and war is still very much present, but at the moment, my lack of writing is mostly due to other matters. CW Cat Medical Stuff: I have a cat. My mother is his human, but I take care of him and I love him very much. Unfortunately, he started feeling unwell two weeks ago on monday morning. He hid all sunday night, he wouldn't eat all day, he was not moving from his hidey hole, I was worried. I called the vet monday evening after confirming he was feeling worse and worse, and was instructed to give first aid painkillers and bring him the next morning. Since then, its been an ordeal of unclear diagnosis. Obvious infection without a source. My vet is very professional, but even after hospitalizing him for close care, going through multiple in-depth tests and giving him broad antibiotics, he wouldn't eat, while the tests were showing nothing but a sourceeless infection. Eventually I was sent with him to a vet hospital to do a specialized ultrasound. That too showed inconclusive results but there were enough findings to make my vet press for an abdominal operation. Its very lucky that they did, and very lucky that they insisted on doing it that same eveing. Turns out the poor thing had a gall bladder infection, which did not show in blood tests or ultrasound, and somewhere in the few hours between the last ultrasound and the operation the gall ate a hole in his stomach and it was leaking into his abdoman. The operation saved him in the nick of time, though it was touch and go for a couple of days. It is now the third day of him being back at home, he has a feeding tube and has to be tube fed 6 times a day. He also gets 9 types of meds, some of which need to be taken with food, some away from food, so I am his home nurse for the next two weeks at least, that assuming he'll keep improving. END CW Cat Medical Stuff. And as if to add insult to injury, I've been feeling ill since the begining of this week, and after testing negative at first, I am now positive for COVID and feeling it heavily. In fact, my mother now has COVID too and she needs care as well. So to summarise, I hardly have time to sleep, so investing myself in the angsty Bren and Fairy PoV enough to write is not really working right now. I must focus on taking care of parent and cat, and though I don't know how much the vet bill is yet (still pending on that) I do know its going to be in the several thousands, so I must focus on that as well. (Sadly, if you don't have pet insurance, any intensive care or test costs a fortune here.) So, please stay tuned as I try to restore some order to my life and calm things down a bit. The wizards are still very much on my mind, in fact, they are one of the things keeping me sane at the moment. If you like my writing and would like to tip me on Ko-fi, there's a link in the header of my page, or you can just search Kaiannae. (sadly I hardly uderstand Kofi, but I know the page works. I intended to make an actual content page there but never got the time with everything that's happened in the last few months.) It would all go towards bills and would be very much appreciated. Also, if you'd like to see or have an idea for a short oneshot you always wanted to see with the wizards, Starling AU or just Shadowgast, feel free to toss them in my direction. I might not be able to invest myself in my main writing right now, but I might be able to do a short thing as I wait for feeding times to post seperately for ya'll, especially night feeding times... Again, I apologize for the wait. Please stay tuned.

[renee-writer]

Teachers Chapter 46

AO3

“I know. I know that I am not the heartbeat you are used to hearing,” She coos to the baby, “but I promise James, that I will be here. When you are scared, happy, sad, joyful. No matter what, mama will be here for you.” She holds him against her chest as he takes his bottle.

 

They have been home for twelve hours. On the way from the hospital, they stopped at several stores. Now, their apartment is full of baby gear.

 

James had slept through shopping. He is wide awake now, staring at his new mama and daddy with wide eyes.

 

Jamie watches her feed their son. Their son! It is amazing. He feels like he is living in a dream. A very good dream that he doesn’t wish to awaken from.

 

Once again, they have to decide what to tell their families. With just a week more of classes, they are expected home soon. They have to be told something.

 

“I told Lamb there was no way we were going to adopt him.” The irony is thick. It was just a day ago.

 

“He will be excited. James is his first great-nephew.” Jamie is now holding the baby. He has spent very little time in the cot.

 

“Yes,” she smiles, “that is true.”

 

They decide to wait until after the social worker visits.

 

She arrives right on time. After their first night as new parents, both are exhausted. The apartment is together though. James is clean and fed. Jamie opens the door.

 

“Hi, I am Paula Weems with the Department of Family and Children Services.”

 

“Come in please. I am Jamie Fraser, my wife, Claire, and James.”

 

Claire holds the baby. She smiles at the lady.

 

“And you plan on returning to Scotland?” They sit in the living room. Paula Weems takes notes as the Frasers explain how they came to become James potential adoptive parents.

 

“Aye, our family is there. My family home. It was always the plan to return there.”

 

She nods at Jamie. “How will you handle the difference in race? Will James know about his black culture?”

 

“He will. We will read him books, provide toys that help him understand, we will have an open adoption with Kelli-Anne. He can learn of his bio dad from her. Our families are loving, accepting people. My own childhood was spent in many cultures. James will know his.” Claire kisses the soft curls of her son as she rocks him against her.

 

“Very good. James is blessed to have such wonderful adoptive parents. From our end, we have no problem with the adoption. After the required three months  the adoption will be finalized and you can take James home. That is baring anything unexpected in your background checks. That isn’t expected as you have passed the ones the school did. Congratulations you guys.”

 

She shakes both their hands and leaves. They share a look of relief. Time to tell their families.

[vahalia-cress-ffxiv]

Feeding Feelings

Vahalia being gone and coming and going on a whim was nothing new to her character, business had brought her all over and she often would be gone from several hours to even days at the drop of a hat. This time, it had been personal.

It was very personal.

Weight had been lifted off her shoulders which made the trip worth it despite her heavily disliking of the hot air and sand; the cold nights were nothing new to an Ishgardian woman – they knew the cold well.

Six months was kind in many ways though the time that had passed also brought plenty of stressors as well. She hadn’t known that she and Hakan had been separated for that long until it passed from her mouth only days prior; everything had been bleeding together. Even now she had been losing track of time during her time away. What was claimed to be a couple of days in Thavnair had lasted nearly four. Perhaps too much time had been placed in to tending to her personal affairs.

Why not get them in order while she could?

She stopped in her trek back to the Cress estate from the plaza, finding it an adequate time to pause and reflect, there was no hurry to make it back and she felt a welcome reprieve in just being alone with her thoughts for a brief stint. In her hand the ticket from earlier was folded and tucked neatly into her glove to discard later.

Several steps had brought her to the stone wall and she casually gazed down into the cold mists below. From one extreme to another – the bonechilling winds of Ishgard to the sweltering heat of Thavnair and back. And while she had felt the weight of one problem rise away, it was soon replaced with another. Reciprocity was in short supply.

The state in which she had found Hakan was something she had expected; packed away in some dark corner of a venue with cigar in hand and entertaining the company around him. At the time when Vahalia approached, she didn’t care, held absolutely no courtesy for the men who filed out soon after her arrival, a simple nod from Hakan ushered them out without question.

He had made friends it seemed.

Business partners at best.

“I could say it's anything and no one I, nor you, can dispute that. The alchemists of Radz can’t at least. Besides--"

He told her.

Shortly after arriving Vahalia had noticed something….other-worldly it felt like crawling over Hakan in the darkness. No, it had been something else entirely. At first he explained it as a poison, almost of magickal make and that it had been laced into the blade of the Captain he had recently went to blows with. The same Captain Vahalia had the displeasure of meeting – The Captain of The Mirage. The Captain who was no more and fed to the bellies of Osric’s wolves.

Her carelessness had set a series of events into motion which unknowingly, Hakan had paid for. The both were stubborn through and through though it was he who was dying and yet, Vahalia had the nerve to express how his leaving had made her feel. Dead, empty, numb, hollow.

Had she not been those things before hand anyways? Surely she was aware. 

He did not return her affections beyond that of the physical – in his own way he looked at her like she was a painting worthy of a thousand words yet he never spoke them. How very Hakan of him.

What was she expecting?

Nothing.

Truth was, she had expected the typical, explosive fight to combust between the two at the single drop of a sentence or word. No, instead she had gotten what she needed from the event – closure. But it was anything but. Not closed….never closed.

She could never truely be done with him until either of the two died.

Taking him to the grave – thats how it would be.

Pursing her lips, Vahalia turned in the direction of home and began to embark once again, this time picking up the pace if only to get back and see that Valeria had been well cared for as she expected her to have been in her absence. There was business to tend to, a welcomed reprieve to distract her wandering thoughts from replaying everything in her head.

All she needed was a small reminder of who she was and her trip to Thavnair did that. 

[holidayvisa]

6 January 2024 - We woke up at 6:30 am. Dion fed me some oats and berries for breakfast, and we were in the car driving towards the Blue Mountains before 7 am. We arrived at the Mt. Wilson Fire Station just before 9 am and parked the car there. We packed our bags and walked to the road to start our first and likely most difficult part of our canyoning day - hitchhiking. We got to the road and stuck our thumbs out! After a surprisingly short amount of time, a pickup truck pulled over. There were two big pitbulls in the front seat. The man driving let the pitbulls out, and they were the cutest, nicest, friendliest, and happiest pitbulls! They were wagging their tails and just wanted pets from me and Dion. The driver of the pickup truck put the two pitbulls in the bed of the truck, and Dion and I squeezed into the single passenger seat of the pickup truck. During our drive with this generous driver, the guy told us how he'd smoked weed for 45 years, and he only got busted for the first time last year. They fined him $3000 and took away his driver's license for 6 months. But he's got his license back now! The driver drove us all the way to the start of our canyon! We started hiking around 9:30am and finished the hike in just before 11 am. The hike in had some gorgeous views out into the Blue Mountains.

Dion and I changed into our wetsuits and ate some lunch before beginning the canyon. This canyon had several technical downclimbs and A LOT of swims. SOOOOOOOOOO many swims. And some of the swims were quite long and cold. The wetsuits were absolutely necessary. The downclimbs were fun and interesting with cool moves to search for and figure out. There were countless waterfalls from small tributaries that made the canyon look like a fairytale world. Many of the long swims were in sections of the canyon were the canyon walls were 40+m tall, and very little light made it down to the bottom of the canyon. These sections were very spooky, swimming through dark water that I couldn't see down into, like some monster was going to come out of the depths and pull me down. I think Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker felt similarly in the trash compactor. There were sections where a whole bunch of debris had gotten jammed in a constriction, and Dion and I had to maneuver and climb through these jams. All the rocks were covered in bright green moss, making them super slippery to stand on or place a hand on. We saw a bunch of wildlife! We saw: 4 yabbies (crayfish), a couple lizards, one Blue Mountains tree frog, some fish, about ten thousand tadpoles, a couple of kookaburras, and one wallaby! The first yabby was kind of small, so I thought that was the norm, but the other three that we saw were probably 9 or 10 inches long!

We were out of the canyon around 4:30 pm, and we began the hike out back to the fire station where we'd left Dion's car. The hike out of the canyon had some beautiful views into the valley and canyon that we'd just come out of.

There were some really tall ferns, that looked like trees, rising about 10 m up from the ground.

We got back to Dion's car around 5:15 pm, so around an 8-hour day in total, including hitchhiking. Here's the track

On the way home from the Blue Mountains, Dion and I stopped at a Pub for dinner and devoured some pizza. Dion dropped me off at a train station in Sydney so I could train/bus back to Dee Why.

I'm grateful to Dion for feeding me, for driving, for having the motivation to do this canyon, and for his company. I had a great day exploring this cool place with Dion today. I'm grateful for the opportunity to experience Bell Creek Canyon and see all the wildlife that we were lucky enough to see. I'm grateful for delicious pizza at a pub in the Blueys.

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

It seems we really had picked up spiritual parasites or something. Because after Era had released the tension we've been holding onto for far too long, we really felt those psychological toxins like they were real on some nonphysical level of reality. He used our fire to burn them up and devour them. It was a bit like after a lifetime of being fed on, he said, “Hey, give that back.” Then he just took what they'd stolen back, and they were reduced to ashes. It wouldn't be the first time he technically just ate an entity, of course. He did that for a friend in real life before COVID, who had a quite nasty being attached and causing strife. He basically trapped the asshole in a disposable coffee cup, with the lid. And then it was magic blender time.

To be fair, we're an agnostic Christopagan at this point. We sometimes have to suspend our disbelief because we know ritual helps through, even if nothing else, at least the placebo effect. So we just roll with it, and Era was set on getting the asshole spirit gone asap. And yes, our friend in that situation felt better consistently afterwards. So whether anyone believes this or not, the real world effects can't be ignored.

The little parasites screamed the whole time he burned them to ashes that Saturday night. It was almost fun watching parasites realize this mortal host isn't going to just exorcise them and call it done. Though to be honest, I don't think I've ever heard of a living human outright devouring and digesting the nasties that attach to and feed on them. Let's call that part of being faekin/otherkin, plus that very bloody and absolutely terrifying childhood. And then I also come from a formerly strong line of hunters on Dad's side of the family. So we saw this as simply a case of eat or be eaten. And I really didn't want to allow them to go looking for someone or something else to feed on and hurt.

...Oh, right, we started getting into Soul Eater at one point after Mom died. That actually ñmight have had something to do with it. I wouldn't be shocked. Either way, we do this now when it comes to serious threats. But honestly, it's more of a last resort. We like to avoid it wherever possible, because it's really not a nice thing to do. It's actually sad for us, because that was another entity that existed. And now it's just gone, because it made itself too much of a threat within my vicinity.

And then suddenly, with the parasites gone, all the voices of paranoia we used to have to cope with were also just gone. Our mind has been so calm and quiet since Saturday night. We've finally managed to chill ourselves out and it feels amazing. Our attention span is starting to recover faster again. Because I spent a couple hours last night writing about the last few months in my little system journal. I wrote a lot of pages. And I had to stop and go to bed before I even got to the ask Era so excitedly wrote a whole several page essay for. It also got him to open up about our brainwashing on our Facebook account, where we have the most people we know from real life, including some family.

Honestly, we're too happy about the ask for words to really do it justice. When we finally figured out what we wanted this side blog to be, it was partially to help track our mental state. But we also hoped that if others found themselves here, that what we shared would also help them if they needed it. Getting that ask helped us in return because it made us realize exactly where we started versus where we are now. Hindsight is 20/20, after all.

Era spent about a day writing that essay. It was, in fact, several pages long in the Libre Office text document. None of us ever actually thought that posting about integrating through dronification would get very much interest or attention, since dronification is a very specific kind of kink. We knew it was an odd concept for healing to start with. Chalk it up to us always trying to think outside of the box, I guess. So honestly, we're kinda... I don't know the right word for it right now. But we feel so warm and fuzzy inside from it.

Remembering things is easy now, for those parts that are also the drone. It's really, actually not just completely shrouded in our mental fog anymore. We don't have to worry about amnesia between us. I was writing in the journal from more than just what I got after fusing with our introject of the original Lion-O (yeah, this is probably what prompted a lot of changes from my source). I was also writing from the book of memories we put back in order and rebound. It's really great to have everything we've gotten so far organized so neatly.

-Catra 🧨😻

[femme-malewife]

Okay so I was reminded about this and since I made a Yujiro trauma post already going over why he always blames himself for everything (so in essence diving into his trauma) I’m gonna go over why the anime sucked at expressing Aizou’s trauma.

Spoilers for the anime + the lipxlip movie + other novels

Okay, wow where do I begin...

The anime, I guess.

So the only time we really dived into Aizou’s trauma was in episode 4, but even then, all the anime did was scratch the surface. Is it true that Ken and Yuko dating around got him all stiffy and annoyed with his family? Yes.

But that isn’t his trauma.

When Aizou was young, he lived a normal life. Caring parents, older brother he sometimes fought, sometimes got along with, and just...generally a normal life.

But then, one day, his father cheated on his mother, which, according to Ken and Arisa’s novels, as well as the Romeo and Kono Sekai no Tanoshimikata novels, led to their parents fighting almost all hours of the day, everyday.

Ken would come home from school to find Aizou, who is starving and miserable thanks to his parents being too busy screaming at each other for hours at a time. They’d be so busy fighting that they would barely remember to even buy groceries.

So Aizou experienced severe neglect as a child. From not being fed, to not even being looked at by his parents, to having to rely on his brother, who’s only a year older than him, to feed him carbonara.

And when his parents divorced, his mother started to seriously drink, and it got to the point where even if Aizou was simply doing a thing he loved- like singing, his mother would throw alcohol cans- some still filled with alcohol, at him and scream at him to stop singing.

And that’s how his life was. It grew worse when Ken got to middle school and started dating around, because now Aizou was completely alone.

He says in the Romeo novel:

“It was the day that Kuro arrived that Aizou had the first conversation with his brother in a long time. He had been surprised seeing the kitten and talked to him. It was probably because of Kuro being there that it made it less painful to go home.”

He was completely alone, and the silence of the apartment hurt him about as much as all the screaming.

And, continuing on, throughout the years, Aizou lost contact with his dad and he ended up having to take care of his mother often. Even out in public, he’d find her drunk in the streets and, despite barely being in middle school, he had to help her a lot.

Another thing to note is that whenever she was drunk, she would hit him often. Shibasaki Yuko is a drunk mother who abandoned her kids and was verbally and physically abusive to Aizou.

And surely, it all gets better? After all, she was at his Yappa Saikyou concert, right?

Yeah no one knows where the fuck she came from.

Before Aizou enters high school, before his and Yujiro’s first live show, Yuko meets a French man, and the two decide to marry. She tries to force Aizou and Ken to agree to go to France with her, which they both refuse.

She does eventually come around, but she went to France and abandoned her kids in Japan, on the night of Aizou’s debut live.

The fact that they’re at his concert now, anime-onlys, is a huge deal, given Aizou had torn up the tickets meant for Yuko and Ken, and Yujiro had only invited his mother and she ended up not going because Koichiro was in the hospital.

So while yes, things are slowly getting better- not just for Aizou, but for Yujiro as well, they were still abused to hell and back growing up.

Both of them had to grow up way too fast.

Aizou had to learn at a young age how to take care of himself, and Yujiro abandoned everything to focus on a kabuki career. (Another grievance I have with Yujiro is when he gave Koichiro his ticket, Koichiro mentions not having time for friends and Yujiro only says “I know, I’ve always been watching you” but the entire point of his character arc in the Romeo novel/the movie is him not having had any friends before Aizou!! Yujiro had the same childhood as Koichiro but they totally brushed it off!)

I really wish the anime didn’t downplay their trauma.

And circling back to the anime, Aizou being uncomfortable around women is because of his mother, mostly. So the whole “compare Aizou’s trauma to dislike of food!” is actually very insensitive and honestly it downplays his trauma so much.

This is why Aizou and Yujiro find so much comfort in each other- because they’re the only ones who know and understand each other. They don’t undermine each other’s trauma and they help each other through it, no matter what.

Yujiro has seen Aizou’s mother hit him while being drunk, and Aizou has seen how stern and awful Yujiro’s father is.

And since their family is evidently getting better, there’s nothing to tell Hiyori or anyone else. Because there’s no point in saying “yeah I used to be abused”. It’s the healthiest for them to be able to get help without having to relive everything by dragging someone else into it. So they are both literally the only ones they can go to when their trauma is affecting them.

I gave the anime the benefit of doubt back when ep 4 aired, but there’s honestly no excuse at this point to glaze over their trauma like this.