#I was genuinely terrified of grimace as a child

[cyanwyrmy]

Damn :(

I have done the twitter meme! Does Grimace comfort me? Still deciding…

[luveline]

if you felt comfortable would you write the KBU au with steve and reader during/just after the birth of avery? 🥺

kisses before dinner —you and steve have a baby. mom!reader, 1.1k

Just like that, Steve's a dad. 

He wonders if he's supposed to feel different, and he does in little ways. Exhausted, worried, and unbearably happy —the kind of happiness to make your ribs hurt— Steve is feeling a hundred layers of emotion right now, but it isn't his emotion that takes centre stage, it's yours. 

You've been stiff with panic since your contractions started, and while that panic turned to happy tears the moment they laid her on your chest, you're looking at the baby like you're terrified of her, stiffness returned. Genuine fear. 

"Come on," he says softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "She's not half as ugly as we worried."

She's beautiful. Steve's legs hurt after all these hours of standing by your side, and he can't bear to look away from the baby's face, her face, and it doesn't matter. You're his priority. He juggles these two things as he assumes he'll be juggling them for the rest of his life, happily if clumsily. 

"Please smile, honey," he says. 

You relax almost imperceptibly with his murmuring. "I am smiling." 

"You're grimacing. Ten dollar word." He crouches and steps back enough for you to see his face clearly. "Are you happy? Like, truthfully?" he asks, knowing 'truthfully' isn't a word he says. Accusing the new mother of his child of lying feels a bit dick-ish, though.

"Of course I'm happy." 

"It's okay if you're not happy. I'm not happy if you're not happy, I'm–" 

"Steve." Your smile is sad in a way, but your eyes aren't half as scared as they were. "I am happy, I'm just worried. No more trial run… I'm a mom." 

"You're a mom." He doesn't mean to say it with the world's cheesiest smile. "I didn't know they made 'em like you, I would've started chasing moms years ago." 

You laugh. He's always loved your laugh because it's yours, and it couldn't come at a better time, not even when you were pushing. None of them sounded as happy as this one. "I'm a mom," you say, still laughing. 

"I know." He leans in to dash a kiss against your cheek. You perk up at the attention, so he does it twice more. 

“This is gonna be so fun,” you say. 

His heart rears to explode. Steve puts one hand on yours under the weight of the baby and the other behind your shoulder. “Just don't let me drop her,” you say.

“My hand’s already there.” 

“Okay. I love you. Are you sure?” 

“Don't freak out.” He thinks so many things in that moment but the loudest is, aw, my girl. “You're good, babe, I love you. This is gonna be fun, just like you said. We're gonna love it.” 

Steve sits on the side of the bed and holds you like that for a while. You relax at the support and watch the baby's little face in sleep. She has the most dainty face Steve has ever seen in person. She's so, so small. He kinda thought she'd be bigger considering the whole nine month gestation period and all your aches and pains, but she's perfect. He could fit her in two hands. 

“Avery,” you say. 

You picked it out together ages ago. Seeing her now cements it. “Avery,” he repeats happily, failing to resist the urge to touch her face again. 

You need time to recover and thankfully, the nurses and doctors haven't rushed the process. You're clean but in pain, and Steve gets to hold the baby by himself while you change. 

“Can I help?” he asks, watching you wince. You barely want to stand. 

“No, just hold her.” 

“She won't break if we put her down. She's safer in the bassinet anyways,” he says. 

Your eyes spark with panic as he goes to stand, so he sits, and he chews his cheek raw while you struggle into fresh clothes. 

A knock on the door startles you both. “Hello? Y/N? Steve?” Robin's scratchy voice echoes through the door. Her excitement is unmissable. 

“Yeah, Rob!” 

She opens the door carefully but enters the room less so. There's so much stuff hanging from the crooks of her elbows she can hardly carry it. “Hey! Oh my god, hey! Is that her? Of course it's her. Is she okay? She's okay, are you okay?” She turns her gaze on you. “Holy shit, do you need help?” 

You've only got a couple of buttons to do and the waistband of your pants to cinch, but Robin immediately drops all of her things to help you finish. 

Steve shares his first private smile with his very first daughter. “She's not always like this,” he murmurs. 

“How are you feeling?” Robin asks. She sounds treacherously concerned and overwhelmingly happy. 

“Maybe she is,” he adds. 

“I'm okay, Robin,” you say, reaching for her hand. “It hurts worse than people say. But it's over now.” 

“Thank Jesus!” Robin finishes her buttoning and ties a deft bow with your drawstrings. “Come on, mom, let's get you back to bed. Jesus, Steve, you couldn't have helped her?” She's mostly kidding. 

Steve lifts Avery. “She put me on baby duty.” 

Robin almost trips over her bags trying to get to him. “Steve,” she says, as though this one word should be enough for him, planting herself by his side. It's been a long time since he bothered trying to put boundaries between them, he doesn't even want them, he's proud as he can be as he lowers the baby to give his best friend ample view of her. While she looks, he lifts his gaze to you where you limp back to the bed. 

“Oh,” he says, “Rob, are you ready to hold her? Meet your niece. Arms out.” 

Robin stammers but holds her arms out. Steve transfers Avery in her swaddle carefully as careful can be. “Hold her head, okay? Lean back.” 

“Wait, you made this look easy. Steve–” 

Your eyes are wide as he stands and turns away from the bed. “Steve,” you say. 

“No more saying my name in this room, it's banned,” he says, putting his hands under your arms to make sure you're steady where you stand. You stop walking, pain in the line of your mouth. “Come on, honey. Let's get you back to bed.” 

Your eyes shine with tears, but you don't cry. You use his arms to push back up onto the bed and shuffle slowly into position before you put your arms out. He leans in for a hug. 

“Oh, Steve,” you say with a laugh, all soft and warm, having found the only exception to his new rule, “I wanted the baby back, honey.” 

“I know,” he sighs. 

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Homelander being obsessed with his sister HC IV

Warnings: heavy siblingxsibling implications, Homelander being such a narcissist that he falls in "love" with his own sibling, dubcon, noncon, manipulation, stalking, basically all the horrible parts of HL come out to play, MC has blonde hair and blue eyes like HL, different plot than 'All I Ever Wanted, All I Ever Needed', kidnapping,

I II III V

With you and Homelander demolishing the top floor of Vought Tower with your fighting, the rest of the floors are forced to evacuate.

You're younger and smaller than Homelander. Worse was your inexperience with fighting against another supe of his pedigree.

I imagine that somehow you manage to escape and get away but it's only a matter of time before Homelander sniffs you out. But both of you are battered from the fight, each tired.

He doesn't try to fight you. instead he sits down next to you, heaving out a sigh. You're scared, you won't lie. At any moment HL could just turn to you and grab you.

"I'm just. . . terrified to lose you again." HL finally admits. You've heard how he was raised. That isolating loneliness along with the terrible trials they put him through must have really fucked him up. You couldn't even fathom what he'd went through.

That was still no excuse for him kidnapping you. He understood what he had down in keeping you against your will. How else would he be sure he'd ever see you again?

There was obvious desperation in his voice, a tremor in his blue eyes as he has a death grip on your hand. He was just a child. An overgrown, murderous child that had never experienced genuine love and affection.

Don't get me wrong, you are fucking furious. You were kept against your will. You felt like his goddamn canary in a gilded cage. You'd never felt so powerless in your entire life. You hated that feeling. Was that how civilians felt around you?

All that time left alone in his apartment gave you a lot to think about. You'd rolled the situation over and over in your head. Analyzing all that you knew and all that you were still learning.

Both of you spend hours there, just talking. More than you had during your entire captivity. It was difficult for Homelander to be honest about his feelings. He told you all the fucked up shit he'd done. You tell him your own fears and he really listens.

By no means though have you forgiven him. You point that out but say "I suppose the only way you can ever get my forgiveness is if you prove to me that you're truly sorry."

You knew, in his twisted little head, that he loved you. More than anyone has. Maybe a little too much with the way he looked at you sometimes or certain things that would slip from his mouth every now and then.

If you wanted him to prove himself to you, that meant that you were willing to see him again.

You set boundaries, though a few of them you noticed him grimace at. If he wanted you in his life, willingly, he had to abide by them.

You were not going to be anyone's prisoner ever again. No matter how nicely they treated you

He wasn't going to like not having you easily accessible. This was how healthy and normal relationships worked. If there was any chance of getting you to trust him again, he'd have to go along with it.

At least it would give him the opportunity to see you and perhaps have you warmed up to him once more.

[monsoon-of-art]

Donut Hole - Chapter 15

Two Time

I'm out on the block again (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) So hopped up that I can't pretend (Ooh) Two time! (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Stay friends Problem that you can't defend (Oh) Hands up, feel okay (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Whose heart could I break today? Two time! (Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba) Stay friends Problem that you can't defend

[Big long chapter for you guys to snack on!] [ao3 Link!]

The two clan leaders met on the path to Jubilife.

“Good morning, Irida.”

“There is little good about it.”

Adaman smirked a little at this. “Oh, Sinnoh forbid you had to wake up early-”

“There was an accident at my settlement.” she said, the coldness in her voice immediately made Adaman regret his joking quip.

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware. Is it an overstep to ask what happened?”

“Yes. Yes it would be.”

They may have been working together to quell the nobles with the Galaxy Team, but things were still…frosty.

But Adaman wasn’t one to give up. “Just as well.” he said, arms crossed over his chest, his tone casual. “We’ve had issues as well. Currently half of our settlement is buried under mud from a landslide.”

“But it’s not the season for landslides?” Irida said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“I know. There was…an incident.” he explained. “That's why I’m here, to seek the aid of the Galaxy team. My people can’t handle the frenzied nobles and the aftermath of a landslide.”

Irida was silent for a moment. “...there was a fire. A very bad one. I am here to discuss options-”

“It was the boy, wasn’t it?”

She shot him a surprised look. “How did you-?!”

Adaman shook his head. “Call it a hunch. And between you me, that kid was behind the landslide. He’s been running my poor people ragged. He ruined Iscan’s tent, and he even bit Arezu.”

“He bit her?” she repeated, “I suppose we’re lucky he only caused a fire.”

“That you know of. He’s still in the Icelands, right? Pray your precious mentor can handle him!”

“Well he handled Palina, Lian, and I-” she shook her head. “We are getting off topic. My people need to rebuild, and my Wardens cannot afford any more of their time. He already rattled Ingo something fierce. He won’t tell us what Berry said to him, but it’s clearly bothering him-”

“Well. Then we are here for the same reason.” Adaman drawled. “That kid needs help. And we don’t have the time -”

“- or space -”

“- to do anything about it. But Jubilife should be able to help, right? I’d hate to ask, but this seems like their…thing. They took Dawn in, what’s one more wayward child, right?”

Irida grimaced. “Argh. Dawn. Should we tell her?”

He waved her off. “Nah. Poor girl has so much on her plate already. She doesn’t have to worry about some…feral kid.”

As the two approached the gates, who else but Dawn ran out to greet them. Despite themselves, both Adaman and Irida smiled.

Despite the circumstances of their previous meetings, both of them had grown quite fond of the girl. 

She was a sweet little thing, kind and quiet. Every warden she had previous interactions with spoke highly of her (aside from Melli). And her way with pokemon, while terrifying, was equally as endearing. She really did love them.

“Irida! Adaman! It’s so good to see you!” she chirped upon seeing them, running up and around them like an energetic shinx. “I caught the most AMAZING pokemon yesterday! You have to see him!”

“Oh, I would love to under normal circumstances.” Adaman said, sounding genuinely disappointed. The last time she wanted to show them ‘an amazing pokemon’, it was the Alpha Sliggoo from the mirelands. “However, we must meet with the Commander. Time is short-”

“Oh, come now, Adaman. I am sure your Almighty Sinnoh won’t mind you spending a few moments to entertain her. Besides, I was told to offer well wishes from Ingo.” scolded Irida. “We would love to see your Pokemon, Dawn.”

Dawn’s grin split ear to ear. “I found him on the Coastlands yesterday, and he’s beeeeautiful!”

(Irida was almost positive it would be a Gastrdon. Adaman had his bets on a Drapion.)

Dawn presented the two with a buizel, slightly smaller than average. But the main thing was the color; this particular buizel was a pale yellow, its collar a brilliant white.

“Look! Look! It has different colors!” she squealed, hugging the pokemon tight. “He’s one-in-a-million! He’s absolutely perfect, and we’re going to be best of friends!”

“Wow, I’ve never seen a buizel like that!” Adaman said, looking it up and down. “And I bet you’ll take good care of it.”

“Back home, my bestest friend in the whole world had a buizel.” Dawn said, voice barely above a whisper.

Adaman and Irida shared a look. Dawn rarely, if ever, spoke about her time before Hisui. 

“Yeah?” Irida asked, more than a little curious. “What was he like?”

The dam burst, and Dawn began happily telling the pair everything. 

“Well, we were neighbors, and we went to school together! From the very beginning!” she began, swinging the buizel in her arms like a stuffed toy, practically bouncing in place. “None of the other kids liked him because he talked and talked, but I liked hearing him talk!”

(Irida and Adaman wanted to interject and ask questions, but there was no stopping her now.)

“And we’d go on adventures! We traveled really far! He was always a step ahead of me, but he’d always make sure to wait! And when my bike broke, he’d let me sit behind him on his bike and he’d take me places! We’d share food! He loved- he-he loved-”

The joy in her voice was quickly souring. She had stopped bouncing. Adaman and Irida had noticed the shift, and even the buizel in her arms seemed to be aware.

“H-He loved pecha berries. An-And whenever we’d eat, I-I’d give him my berries. We-We got our pokemon together. W-We were side…side by side…always…always… and…a-and I miss hiimmmmmm…”

Dawn melted into a blubbery, weeping, whining mess, crying into the buizel’s fur. Immediately, Adaman and Irida knelt by her side, trying to comfort her.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, no need for tears now.” Irida cooed, petting the girl’s hair. 

Adaman put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m certain you’ll see him again, Dawn. It sounds like you were the best of friends, and I doubt that Almighty Sinnoh would tear you two apart.”

Dawn wiped at her face, still holding the confused buizel in one arm. “I-I named this buizel after him, a-after an inside joke, where we’d call a buizel ‘Barry’ and I-I’d call my friend ‘Human-Barry’, h-he never thought it was funny-”

“Dawn.” Irida said, an anxious tremor in her voice. “What was your friend’s name again?”

“Barry.” she repeated. “His name is Barry.”

“And…what did he look like?” Irida continued, suddenly looking very pale.

Dawn sniffled a little, the strangeness of the question seemingly distracting her from her sadness. “He…he was slightly taller than me. And blonde, with hair that tended to spike up, no matter how hard he tried. And he loved his green scarf, because he thought it made him look like his dad-”

“His father. What was his father’s name?” Irida continued the questioning, slipping into her ‘leader’ tone of voice.

“Uhm. Palmer?” Dawn squirmed, leaning closer to Adaman. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Irida, back off a little.”

She did so, hesitantly, flitting back like a spooked starly. “I-I apologize, Dawn. This must be hard for you.” She grabbed Adaman’s arm, starting to pull him away. “W-We really must be going now-”

He spun around, confused. “But what about Kamado-”

“I. Need. To Talk. To You. Remember?” Irida said through grit teeth, glancing at Dawn. “Alone.”

Irida dragged him away, giving poor, confused Dawn a polite wave as she did so.

Once a decent distance - out of Dawn’s earshot anyway - Adaman yanked his arm out of Irida’s grip. “Look, is all this really necessary-”

“The Boy that has caused so much havoc. He appeared out of nowhere, with clothing not native to Hisui, with the innate ability to tame pokemon?” Irida hissed through grit teeth. “Sound familiar?”

Adaman blinked. “...Ingo?”

“No! It-” Irida took a moment to stare vacantly into space, processing. “...maybe. Not what I was going for. We’ll put a pin in that.”

Adaman tried again. “You can’t be saying the Boy is the same as Dawn’s friend Barry. What if you’re wrong? Would you be willing to break a little girl’s heart by raising her hopes like that?”

“I’ve seen him. You haven’t. He’s a blonde little boy with spiky hair and a green scarf! Although granted, he looks as though he’s been dragged through dozens of mud puddles - You cannot deny these coincidences!”

“But what if they’re just that? Just coincidences?”

“What if they aren’t?!”

“What if they are?!” Adaman shook his head. “We are going in circles. What do you suggest?”

"We bring Barry to Jubilife. By any means necessary. If he is not Dawn's friend, then the Galaxy Team can take care of him at the least." Irida said. "We'll drag him here if needed."

"That I can agree on. Should we tell Kamado?"

Irida hesitated. Adaman didn't answer either. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two.

Adaman finally answered for her. "...so that's a no. Let's get Barry here first. And we'll explain along the way. I'll tell my Wardens. I still believe this to be nothing more than a series of unfortunate coincidences."

"And I believe you to be a fool."

---

When Barry finally woke, most of the egg pokemon were gone. A few chansey and happiny lingered, but the rest of the herd had left.

He awoke to a shrill noise, one that annoyed him initially, but after a moment caused alarm.

It was crying. 

Barry sprang to his feet, ignoring the confused noises of his team, the aching in his legs, and the cold starting to seep into his bones.

“Someone’s in trouble-!” he muttered as he darted across the frozen, snowy wastes. “Someone’s in trouble! Someone’s in trouble!”

The crying grew louder, enough for Barry to realize it wasn’t a baby or child crying. It was a pokemon cry, but that did very little to dissuade him.

Finally he crested a hill, seeing the source; a little snover, wailing and crying as it tried to pull its foot out of a snare trap.

Barry felt his blood start to boil.

What heartless, absolute dickhead of a person would set traps for pokemon like this? Didn’t they have pokeballs? Unless…Unless they were going to kill this snover.

He carefully approached. “Hey, hey buddy. I’m here to help!” he said, keeping his voice low and soft.

The snover whined, trying to squirm away. “It’s OK buddy, I’m gonna let you go now. But don’t freak out.” Barry reached into his pocket for his knife, leaning forward to cut the trap.

The pokemon whined louder, fearing the knife in his hands, but the snover seemed to settle when it noticed Barry was cutting the trap and not at it. It even allowed Barry to cut the twine wrapped around its foot.

“There! You’re free!”

Barry was caught off guard when the snover almost tackled the boy in a hug. But he returned it as best as he could, if a little awkward. “Yeah! You’re welcome buddy! You’re free!”

When he let go, the snover continued to stare up at him. And when he started to walk back, the snover started to follow.

“Oh, you are. Coming with me.” said Barry, seeing the snover waddling behind him with determination. “How does this keep happening to me?”

Barry - with snover in tow - returned to the dug out cave where his confused pokemon were waiting for him. “So uh. I found this guy.” he glanced at the snover. “...girl. Unsure. But I think they’re gonna stick around!”

His pokemon chittered amongst themselves, as if discussing their new companion. Barry turned to the snover. “Well? Got any neat tricks or anything?”

The snover paused, looking down at the ground, thoughtful. Then, around its midsection, small white berries began to form. Once they were the size of a strawberry, the snover plucked one and handed it to Barry.

Barry didn’t hesitate in popping the berry into his mouth. It had the texture of frozen yogurt, and it tasted mildly sweet.

“...I’m gonna call you Snacks.”

The now-named Snacks gave an appreciative croon. But then it glanced down at its foot, red and swollen from the snare trap. Barry also gave it a glance with a frown. “...I bet there’s oran berries around here.”

Rummaging in his bag, Barry said, “Alright team, slight detour while we look for oran berries for-”

He paused, realizing that Fern and Pest did not technically have pokeballs. That was very dangerous, especially now that Barry had no way to carry Fern if they were injured.

Returning to his bag, he pulled out one of the remaining great balls and pokeball. “Fern, you have seniority, so you get first pick. Which one do ya want?”

Fern trilled, shaking its head. “No, c’mon. You need a pokeball for emergencies. If you get hurt I can’t drag you to a pokemon center. I won’t even keep you in it, but you need one!”

With this reassurance, Fern relented. As its paw hovered over the great ball, Barry quickly snatched it back. “Actually I want Pest in the great ball. I want the colors to match. You’re kinda red, Fern!”

Giving the boy an annoyed glance, Fern picked up the pokeball, carefully turning it over in its hands. Satisfied, Fern tapped the pokeball to its forehead, allowing itself to be captured.

(Pest thought it was a game, dodging the pokeball for a time, but he too, allowed himself to be captured.)

Upholding his promise, Barry released the two as soon as they were registered to their respective pokeballs. “Alright! Let’s start looking for some berries, then we can get back to the mountain! Spread out, but don’t go too far!”

Mystery cawed and cawed, gesturing to something behind the boy.

Glancing over his shoulder, Barry saw a little sitrus berry, set in the snow just beyond the dug-out entrance. And beyond the sitrus berry was another. And another. And another. Dozens of sitrus berries in a neat little line, leading off to…somewhere.

“That’s…odd.”

Normally, Barry would be very suspicious. If anything, this looked like a trap from a cartoon. But this wasn’t a cartoon, and he sincerely hoped that Team Galactic didn’t think he was this stupid.

There was no chance this was one of Team Galatic’s tricks. No, it must’ve been the chanseys! Trying to lead him somewhere.

So Barry and his odd little companions followed the trail of berries. He made sure his pokemon got their fill in this unexpected berry feast before tucking them away in his bag for later.

If he squinted, Barry could see the trail of yellow and blue berries snaking through the snow, twisting around a group of enormous icy spires. Maybe that’s where the blissey and chansey normally lived?

He was finding it a bit harder to cling on to his ‘chansey’ theory, especially as the giant ice blocks loomed above them all…

Fern too, seemed to sense something he didn’t. It stuck to Barry’s side, eyes darting about. His other pokemon were still collecting berries without a care.

After crossing between two massive pillars, Fern froze. As if standing steps away from a threshold of some kind, Fern refused to take a step further.

“...buddy?” Barry whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Then, Barry made the unfortunate mistake - or perhaps very fortunate mistake - of looking behind them.

There was a Magmortar clearly stalking them. Following the trail of footsteps they had left in the snow, obviously trying not to be seen.

Barry felt his heart skip a beat.

This was a trap, wasn't it.

“Don’t take anymore berries.” Barry hissed, keeping the magmortar in the corner of his vision. “We need to leave.”

But to his horror, he could see another stalking figure just outside of the ice pillars; an Electivire prowling the outskirts, blocking him in. The only path he could take was deeper into the ice.

Vaguely, Barry recalled nature documentaries. Packs of Pyroar intentionally luring their prey into bottlenecks or blockades, where they had no chance of escape.

Was he the prey?

Was he going to die here?

Barry found himself reaching into his bag and clutching his knife.

Barry and his team found the end of the berry trail, leading into a large clearing in the ice. And at the end of the trail was a shirtless man and a young girl.

The man glanced at the girl. "I cannot believe that worked."

"I told you it would! My clairvoyance is never wrong!"

Instinctively, Barry pushed his pokemon behind him. "Who are you? Are you part of Team Galactic?"

The man burst into a bellowing laugh. Only then did Barry realize - to his bewilderment and slight disgust - the man's chest hair was trimmed into the circular symbol of the Galactic splinter group.

It was obvious he was part of Galactic.

 "If I wasn't so furious, I'd almost be tempted to go easy on you for that!" The man said after settling himself down some, but a very irritated grin was still on his face. "Proper introductions are in order. I am Gaeric, Warden of the Pearl Clan!"

"And my name is Sabi, of the Diamond clan."

"You are Berry! The strange, wayward child that sets settlements ablaze and causes landslides!" Gaeric crossed his arms over his chest. The irritated grin was gone, leaving only anger. "And you will go no further."

The electivire slowly stomped into the clearing, the magmortar entering opposite it. From behind, Barry recognized the familiar silhouette of a Rhyperior.

Cornered. Trapped. Prey.

"Here are your options!" Gaeric held up a hand. "You willing come with me to the Pearl Settlement, and you wait while we decide how to punish you for your crimes. Or…we drag you there by the ankles."

"Ooooh, tough choices!" Sabi chirped. "Which will you pick, hmmm?"

Barry glanced between the three pokemon trudging through the snow to reach him. It felt like hundreds of battle strategies and movesets and possibilities raced through his mind at impossible speeds.

(He remembered fighting side by side with Her. He had begged her to come to the Fight Area, and she had gotten lost trying to find the ferry in snowpoint. Oh, oh how he had teased her for that. “I thought it was my job to get lost!” he said between fits of giggling.)

(Then, Flint and Volkner had challenged the two to a battle. With Her by Barry’s side, he knew the two of them would never lose. Flint sent out his magmortar and Volkner sent out his electivire, and-)

“Pest! String shot on the electivire, it’s fastest, so we gotta slow it down. Then, keep it distracted! Keep it confused! String shot, confusion, quiver dance! Go!” he barked, Pest launching itself off his head to follow the orders.

“Mystery! You take on the magmortar! Dodge the blasts, get in what hits you can! Haze to keep yourself hidden!” With a loud squawk, Mystery took flight, circling the fire type pokemon from above.

Finally, Barry turned to face the rhyperior behind him. “Jen! You’re on the rhyperior! It’s slow and bulky, so skirt around it until there’s an opening! No necessary risks, got it?!”

Fern shifted, ready to join the others in combat, but Barry grabbed its arm. “Not yet. Stay here. I doubt that’s all the pokemon they have…”

And his assumption was correct.

Gaeric groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling loudly. “I knew you would do something stupid like this. Fine. If you want to fight so bad, I’ll give you a fight!”

Behind him floated in a glalie and froslass, both of them looking to the man for orders. “Freeze the boy! We’ll drag him to the settlement as an ice cube if we must!”

“Fern, take care of the ice types! I’ll protect Snacks!”

And Fern was all-too-happy to spring into action; the glalie, the froslass, and Fern circling one another in a strange, combative dance, none of them wanting to take the first shot.

Sabi frowned as she looked at all the battles before her, “You’re being so rough to my friends! That’s not how playing works! You’re being so mean!” she said with a whine.

With their Pokemon engaged in combat, Barry began to slowly move away from the battlefield, Snacks shuffling awkwardly behind him. He was looking for a potential exit, an escape plan. But it looked like they were trapped by ice and the trio of ‘friends’.

His hand was still in his bag, gripping the knife’s handle so tight it felt like he was about to lose circulation in his fingers. He was completely trapped. Cornered. Cornered. Cornered.

Gaeric, as if sensing Barry intent to escape, began making his way closer. Barry started to tremble, pressing himself against the pillar of ice behind him. Snacks let out a mournful croon, wrapping its arms around Barry’s legs.

But the man stopped. He stopped a few yards away, arms crossed. He had a strange look on his face that Barry couldn’t identify; the irritation and anger was still there…but just underneath was something softer.

“You’re not leaving.” Gaeric finally said. “I know you flee at the first chance you get. It’s not happening.”

Barry pulled out his knife, holding it with a shaking hand. “S-Stay back! I'm warning you!"

“Who taught you how to hold a knife?" Gaeric asked with an unimpressed frown. “Look at that stance! You know what-” he resumed his stride, gesturing at Barry. “Give me that. Give me the knife.”

“W-WHAT?” Barry squealed, pressing himself even more against the ice.

He didn’t actually want to have to use the knife. Barry was hoping he could bluff his way out of this, and clearly he could not.

Gaeric grabbed the boy’s wrist, the same hand currently holding the knife. “Alright. Give me the knife. You’re going to hurt someone.”

“AH- LET GO OF ME!” Barry shouted, scrambling to pull himself away. But the larger man was as solid as a boulder. 

“Give me the knife!”

“NO!”

“Just give me the knife!”

A near in-human noise clawed out of Barry’s throat as he squirmed and writhed in Gaeric’s grip. He tugged and pulled, his free hand clawing at Gaeric’s wrist.

Gaeric stood there, looking at Barry as if the boy had transformed into a feral shinx before his very eyes. “You are freaking me out. Listen, you’re not going to win this fight. Look-”

He pulled the boy over, twisting him around to show the battlefield. Pest was still keeping the electivire distracted, Mystery was dodging the magmortar attacks, Jen was still keeping the rhyperior occupied.

Fern was currently locked in battle with his glalie, attempting to land a punch on the floating ice type. What Fern didn’t notice, though, was froslass creeping behind it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with your deformed Gardevoir…Gallade…thing. But whatever it is, I know it won’t be able to take a shadow ball in the back.”

“FERN!” Barry screamed, still trying to tear his wrist from Gaeric’s grip. “FERN BEHIND YOU!”

The warning came just moments too late. Fern was just barely able to spin around and raise an arm to try and protect itself from the attack. 

The shadow ball was a direct hit.

Fern was engulfed in an explosion of purple, ghostly energy.

But when the smoke cleared, Fern was still standing. Shaking, clearly injured, but still standing.

Gaeric’s jaw dropped. “What in Sinnoh’s name IS that thing?!”

“That’s my FRIEND, you ASSHOLE!” Barry practically screamed, continuing his writhing struggles.

Snacks was crying behind him. Pest and Mystery were clearly growing tired. Jen was barely dodging attacks. Fern was outnumbered.

His pokemon needed him. His pokemon needed him! 

“NOW LET! ME! GO!”

Barry kicked him. Kicked him hard. Right between his legs.

The surprised and pained squeak from the man was almost satisfying. But more importantly, as Gaeric slumped to the ground, he let go of Barry's wrist.

His glalie and froslass, alerted by their master’s distress, abandoned combat with Fern. 

“FERN!” Barry shouted, trying - and failing - to pick up Snacks. (Since when were snovers so heavy?) “GO HELP JEN!”

A bit slow from the shadow ball, Fern eventually staggered over to the rhyperior.

“Hey! That’s no fair! And no fun!” Sabi yelled from…somewhere. Barry had kind of lost track of her in the fight. But he finally noticed her on top of one of the pillars with a giant bird. “You’re cheating!”

And said giant bird looked mean. There was no way his team could take that thing on, not now.

“I’m fine with that!” Barry yelled back. “Take out the rhyperior!”

The rhyperior wasn’t sure which target to focus on with Fern joining the fray, and this confusion was enough for Jen to land a well-placed water pulse and for Fern to hit with a close combat immediately after.

The enormous rock pokemon staggered, falling onto its back. It wiggled pitifully, like a stuck ledyba.

It wasn’t fainted. But it was an opening.

“LEAVING NOW! LEAVING NOW!” Barry called to his team. He grabbed his very last pokeball, tapping it against Snacks’ head to capture it. “Sorry bud, you’re real slow. Fern, Jen, you too-” and he recalled them for good measure.

He could hear Pest and Mystery start to fly after him. But he could also hear the screech and wingbeats of the giant bird under Sabi’s command.

Barry risked glancing over his shoulder. The giant bird was gaining on them, any moment it’d swoop down and crush Mystery and Pest between its talons-

That was, until Mystery spun right around and smacked it with assurance. The giant bird, either taken by surprise or genuinely hurt, let out a loud squawk and gave up chasing them entirely. It flew back to Sabi, metaphorically tucking its tail between its legs like a frightened poochyena.

“HA! YOUR STUPID BIRD CAN’T HANDLE US!” He shouted, Mystery letting out a loud caw in agreement.

“YOU ATTACKED LORD BRAVIARY?!” the girl squealed, Braviary pitifully crooning and nudging its head into her chest. “You’re going to be in sooooooooooo much trouble!!”

“I don’t care what pedigree or whatever that thing is! You’re lucky I didn’t fine you two!”

With the electivire breaking the silk slowing it down and the magmortar helping the rhyperior back onto its feet, Barry knew it was time to leave.

He ran back into the frozen wastes, Pest and Mystery flying just behind, hoping that Gaeric and Sabi were too slow to give chase.

Luckily for him, they didn’t bother giving chase at all.

Sabi and Lord Braviary made their way to Gaeric, curled up on his side, on the ground. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.” she said with a shrug.

Gaeric laid there for a moment before asking, “...Sabi. How much of that fight could you see…with your foresight?”

“Hmmmmm, I saw most of it. Attacking Lord Braviary was a surprise-”

“So you knew. He’d kick me in the dick. And you said. Nothing?”

“Yeah! It was sooo funny!”

He groaned again, “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

---

[Finally!! Dawn Speaks!!! And the Leaders know…….] [And a team update! Now featuring Snacks!]

[betbeton]

𓆸 Crush Crush Crush !

Various HQ Men × Reader

Admitting you had a crush on your HQ husband when you were in school

· GN Reader ·

· Twitter Request ·

· A/N - Catching up requests and toying with the idea of writing some obey me pieces ·

・❥・Masterlist

⪧ Sugawara Koushi

The moment your mutual friend made an off handed comment about your embarrassing year ten crush on Suga the smug little snot was on the edge of his seat. As he prodded them for more information on your little puppy love phase you sunk further and further into the hard plastic cafe seat. Hoping and praying to whatever higher power would listen that the ground would open up and swallow you whole . . . or your gremlin of a husband, you weren't picky. It was sixty minutes, a whole hour, of listening to your friend spill your dark embarrassing teenage secrets to your partner. Sixty minutes until you were left alone with the light haired goblin as a smug little teasing grin curled his lips upwards.

The urge to stuff the ice left melting in the bottom of your cup into his infuriatingly adorable face was immense, and it only grew as he spoke.

"So you had a crush on me when we were younger? How embarrassing!"

If looks could kill Sugawara would be dead several times over. Your own cute face twisted into a grimace as you huffed and grumbled out your reply.

"We're married."

This was something the gremlin of a man you married wouldn't let you live down for the foreseeable future.

⪧ Kita Shinsuke

To say he was shocked, when Atsumu let that little fact about you loose, would have been an understatement. Sure you two had spoken on several occasions since you were tutoring the twins back in the day, but he would have never guessed you had harbored feelings for him. Once the genuine surprise passed a warm feeling worked its way into his very bones, the knowledge that his beloved life partner held romantic feelings for him for so long made him truly feel like the luckiest man in the world. It was second only to the day you had proposed to him and began making the ever stale jokes about him being stuck with you forever. Due to his lack of any outward response to the admission Atsumu had made the bottle blonde began to spill more of your secrets, which lead to a tussle akin to two toddlers arguing on your living room floor. As you two settled your little fight with Atsumu in a headlock between your thighs Kita finally broke the tense air.

"I am glad you have felt the same as me all these years. It's a shame we didn't confess sooner, we could have been together longer by now."

A small chuckle rumbled in his chest as you gawked at him while fruitlessly trying to suffocate Atsumu. Embarrassment warming your body as you yelled out a reply.

"You can't just say things like that!"

⪧ Oikawa Tooru

This absolute brat found out about your embarrassing little puppy crush on him when he was rifling through a storage bin in the closet trying to find his old volleyball tapes. He would swear to every deity above that he hadn't meant to snoop through your journal, but the fact he had thrown it on the floor and loudly proclaimed to the empty closet 'Oh no! There's my name guess now I have to read it!'. You found him about an hour after this incident laying on his stomach kicking his feet in the air as he giggled like a school child. When the closet door clicked open his head turned with a terrified expression marring his face, it quickly turned into a cheeky teasing grin once he realized you were gazing at him in utter confusion. Rolling to lay sideways in the small closet he laid there as if he was in a cheesy romance movie.

"So babe, you had a crush on me in highschool? Why didn't you confess? We could've been a power couple!"

The only response he received was you removing your house shoe and throwing it at his smug face. Slamming the closet door shut once you had enacted a small form of childish revenge you rubbed at your face trying to dispel your embarrassment as he dramatically demanded an explanation from within the closet.

[spacecowboysfrommars]

Unfinished Drabble

I worked on this a few weeks ago and realised that I'll probably never get around to finishing it, but I like it too much to delete, so I'm posting it here. Enjoy a half-finished, mostly fluffy (if you ignore the last part) drabble.

After about twenty minutes of scrolling through a niche food blog that MJ uses for their date nights in the city, Peter manages to find a hole-in-the-wall spot for him and Tony to have lunch at. 

“This it?” Tony asks, pulling into the parking lot of Anderson’s Breakfast and Lunch with the cherry-red Ferrari (his most luxurious car) that he likes to parade around for Peter’s embarrassment. As long as he isn’t being picked up from school with it, Peter really doesn't mind it all that much. 

“Uh-huh.” The parking lot is full of holes, dragging the car down near the Earth before they right themselves. The seventeen-year-old smiles sheepishly when Tony shoots him an unimpressed look. He always pretends to care more about his extensive car collection a lot more than he actually does. “Careful, Mr. Stark.” 

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, kid.” Tony grumbles as they park.  

“You forget to put on your seatbelt at least once a week.” 

“God, when did you become such an evil, miserable child?” Tony sighs dramatically, setting a hand over his chest like his poor heart is breaking. Peter grins wickedly and rolls his eyes. “Remember when I was the light of your life? Your childhood hero? Your biggest inspiration-”  

“Old age is messing with your memory.” 

“I’m telling May that you speak to me like this.” 

“Go ahead. She encourages it.” 

They’re celebrating Peter finishing his first semester’s exams; only one more semester of high-school before he’s (hopefully) off to M.I.T in the fall. He’s as excited as he is terrified to leave Queens come September. Tony has been around to calm him from every spiral thus far, but he’s worried that as he months fly by, it won’t be enough anymore. 

Peter forcibly pushes those thoughts away. Leaving for Cambridge is still over seven months away. Right now, he’s still here with Tony, about to devour all the greasy brunch food that his stomach allows. There’s nowhere that he would rather be. 

The hostess’ (a teenager that can’t be much older than Peter, with snowy blonde hair and skin so pale that it practically sparkles in the sterile restaurant lighting) jaw drops when Tony Stark walks in. She shivers and stutters while she gropes for their menus, stumbling a little as she leads them to their table. Tony thanks her with a genuine smile (Peter whispers a thank you too, but he sincerely doubts that she notices in her starstruck haze).  

“This isn’t one of those vegan places that your girlfriend likes, right?” Tony asks worriedly, after they sit down. He sets his sunglasses on the table, something that Peter knows isn’t a meaningless gesture. This is him being open, being vulnerable, like his therapist suggests, which he knows from Tony’s various complaints.  

“You have a weird vendetta against veganism.” Peter picks up the syrup-sticky menu, grimacing. “And no, it’s not.” 

“I would like to see you try to be vegan, Mr. I-Need-Six-Thousand-Calories-A-Day-To-Function.”  

Peter was horrified when he first discovered how deeply his enhanced metabolism affects his calorie intake, mainly because there was no way that May would be able to afford to feed him as much as he needed. Despite Peter’s adamant protests when Tony found out, he sends a generous chunk of cash every week to make up for it.  

“I bet I could do it.” The seventeen-year-old insists.  

“Your favorite food is spaghetti and meatballs.” 

The bickering dies down as the pair get engrossed in their menus. The waitress comes back around, still trembling ever-so-slightly, to take their orders. Peter orders a BLT and a fried egg over avocado toast (something MJ recently got him hooked on), and beams when Tony orders French Toast and fruit. 

“Hey,” Peter starts joyously, after the waitress has left. “You’re finally trying normal breakfast food, instead of all that fancy stuff.” 

“What are you talking about?” Tony stretches an arm leisurely over the cushion of the book, full attention on Peter. In two-and-a-half years of knowing him, he’s still not entirely used to hanging out with his childhood-idol-turned-father-figure almost every day.  

“Normal people don’t eat raspberry pain au chocolate.” 

“Chocolat.” Tony corrects him, laying the French pronunciation on thick.  

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, because how could they not, when they are together practically every day. Over the years, the weekend internship has shifted into Peter staying at least a night or two during the week, on top of whole weekend, on top of all his holidays from school, on top of just for a few hours when May is working late and he doesn’t want to be alone at the apartment.  

They talk about Peter’s new STEM classes and what he did on patrol last night and where he’s planning on taking MJ for Valentine’s Day. 

“I could pull some strings and get you two a nice dinner reservation.” Tony shrugs, like it’s something he does for people every day. Peter toys with the sleeve of the M.I.T hoodie that he stole from the billionaire’s closet last summer, when he was going away to Europe.  

“Thank you, but...” He clears his throat. “I don’t think Em will like a fancy dinner. I was thinking of taking her to this used record and bookstore in Flushing that she really likes.” 

Tony doesn’t look offended, reaching down for his wallet instead. “I can still lend you a couple bucks. Is three hundred good?” 

Peter clearly chose the wrong moment to take a sip of his water. He nearly does a spit-take. “Three hundred dollars?” 

The man rolls his eyes, throwing the bills at Peter. “No, three hundred pennies. Yes, three hundred dollars, Peter Piper. We live in the most expensive state in the country.” 

“It’s a used bookstore, Mr. Stark.”  

“The word used isn’t in my vocabulary.” 

Peter snorts just as the waitress sets down their plates. The teenager falls silent, nearly choking in his haste to take the first bite of the BLT set down in front of him. He closes his eyes and sighs happily, ignoring Tony semi-amused look from across the table. Tiny places always taste better. 

He’s nearly done with his avocado toast when he feels it.  

It being something cold slipping down his neck. The hairs on his arm stand up, rising to attention as the air seems to shift around him. Something twists in his stomach, burning his insides like acid. Something… something is wrong.  

Tony notices it almost immediately. “Pete? What’s wrong?”  

He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is dead air. Every impulse buried deep inside of his brain is screaming at him to get away, begging him to protect himself. Protect himself from what? The air gets hotter and hotter until he’s sizzling from the inside.  

A thumb is suddenly rubbing small circles into his wrist. It brings Peter back momentarily, enough to catch a glimpse of Tony’s hand clasped over his own gently, before every other feeling outweighs it. He feels dizzy, Tony’s voice muffled and foggy in the far background. “Hey, hey, buddy, are you having an overload?”  

Tony stands, probably about to make a mad dash for the car to grab Peter’s ear defenders and his sensory sunglasses, but Peter’s senses sharpen at the exact moment the man slides from the booth. Peter gets up just as quick and throws himself at Tony, around the torso. “Wait!” 

They hit the ground just as the windows shatter from the force of the explosion. 

- 

When Peter comes to, he’s sitting up. 

The contradiction makes his head spin. His lips feel stuck shut, so he breathes stuffy air in through his nostrils as he attempts to move. Peter realizes, quickly, that his arms are pinned firmly behind his back, feet planted in front of him but flat and unmovable.  

“He’s awake.” There’s a gruff voice near his ear, grating against his sensitive hearing. Peter feels himself wince as broad, rough fingers grab his face and force it left, squeezing his jaw. He doesn’t open his eyes as hot, rancid breath blows in his face.  

“It’s your fault if he punches you out.” Tony’s familiar voice is across the room, too far for comfort. “He’s cranky when you wake him up.” 

[diademreigned]

It was storming, rain pouring down as a young Lyna struggled to find her way to safe area. Sin Eaters lingering all around. The girl was scared beyond belief, as she felt her body shaking rather it was from the cold or the fear she didn’t know.

Tears fell down sides of her face, as the Viera recalled the memory of her parents. Blood everywhere, as she could only watch helpless as the monsters devoured her parents. They weren’t worthy in the eyes of the sin eaters to be converted into one. Not that Lyna wanted her own parents become such a thing either.

The girl covered her ears as she ran around a corner only to smack right into The Exarch. She stared up at him as lighting struck and the girl clung to his robes. She was frightened and felt utterly alone in a world on the brink of oblivion.

The Exarch took one look at the skies, and if one could see his expression, it would've been of a grimace. Despite the light that radiated from the heavens, there was slight evidence of the crackle of lightning striking or the pelting of rain that drowned the entirety of Lakeland.

The sounds of people screaming in horror and fear as they raced for the Crystarium. Those who simply were doing their jobs of walking from one location to the next, now sprinting for cover. It was the storm that was the most worrying, as the Exarch had deployed guards across the gates to ensure the safety of his people.

"Get everyone inside the gates and barricade the way. None come in and none go out. That is an order!"

"Yessir!"

"Right away sir!" The salute was met with a courteous bow before all had departed. Now . . . to make sure there was nobody cowering in corners and sections of the market areas. He knew of some of the younger ones, the children, often secluding themselves in hiding. The many frightened parents just trying to find their children who hadn't ventured far, but have hidden securely.

He had rounded the corner from since walking down the stairs, hand resting on the edge, before he felt something hit against his leg. His head shot downwards to locate the source, just as another clap of thunder tore through the heavens. It was a young Viera child, lost and most obviously terrified. She clung to his robes with the intensity for that of a parent, attempting to shield herself from the storm.

"Do not fear little one," the Exarch knelt down, so that he was officially eye level to the other. "Nothing but a mere stormy weather is all. You, however should not be outside in the regard. Are you alone?"

He made the effort to look up and around, but there was no one else in sight. No parents racing around frantically. No names being shouted, nor guards searching for him to relay any information of worried or concerned parents.

She was truthfully alone. . .

Something in his heart wrenched, and he slowly lifted a hand to rest against her head, between her ears. "Let's get you out of this weather. I pray you're not injured. What is it I may refer to you as?"

Lyna, she whimpered, Lyna was her name.

"Very well. It's okay Lyna, everything will be all right. You'll be safe, I will ensure that. Come with me. . ." He moved to stand, but as a stroke of thunder reigned again, she had gripped at his arm, nearly sending him back down. His arm was around her in an instant as though he was a father, bringing her closer as she was already crushing herself to his chest. A hoist, then. "I suppose this ought to be better, no?"

He may have been under the hood, but she could see that genuine smile peek passed it as he turned and moved toward the direction of the Ocular.

"As you may have guessed, I'm who they all refer as The Exarch. But you may call me -"

She'd be safe now. Very safe. Beforehand he had taken note of her trembling and shivering at each wake of destruction the skies of the area had given, but now, with nothing but the sounds of rain hitting rooftops and metal sections, drenching stacks of hay and leaving puddles in their midst, she had gone a relaxed calm.

He'd take good care of her. . . Something in his heart told him he had to.

[lesbiankoby]

[prods child elven circle mage herald w/ inquisitor cassandra] a chief source of conflict i think is that solas unquestionably captures the heralds heart like— instantly. they’re young and impressionable and terrified and solas is an elven mage in a position of… relative authority whose knowledge (seemingly) saved their life. and he’s kind to them! solas is capable of kindness, when he’s not in a snit, and child-herald is eager to please and also like, ten, most of his less flattering character traits are going to go right over their head. this isn’t great for later spoiler reasons but on his part solas is definitely painfully grimacing whenever he’s not deliberately ignoring both his future plans and his complicity in this kids life getting destroyed.

cassandra (for all intents and purposes the actual protagonist) does not realize just how badly she’s alienated the child until… after haven, probably. the herald is stiffly polite and categorizes most of inquisition leadership as people who can hurt them whenever they want (which they can) and probably will if they step out of line (they won’t and the herald even as a child holds more power then they’d assume, but…) and like. earning this child’s trust ultimately involves a lot of soul searching on cassandra’s part and reexamination of her biases! especially wrt concerns her own lover might have not felt comfortable sharing with her, which is like, a slap to the fucking face if anything is. like the realization the herald doesn’t like her is… hard to deal with. the child herald really isn’t “political” one way or another (they were swept up with a group of “loyal” mages and never saw much of the actual rebellion) but they are, a survivalist who is justifiably terrified of most chantry authority. they won’t directly tell this to anyone but it’s sort of obvious they’ve been hurt in the past if you’re looking for it (and cassandra… wasn’t!).

behind solas (who got their first) vivienne is a dark horse adult figure in the child’s life as like, someone who is simultaneously willing to utilize the child in whatever capacity she can get away with but also has a genuine stake in their welfare! vivienne legitimately cares about mage children. like this is an advantageous situation for her personally but she’s invested in setting the herald up for success. ultimately, the herald perceives vivienne as both a familiar type of person and a comforting one. cassandra does NOT particularly trust viviennes motivations and that’s why her and solas are juggling the heralds education between them instead of vivienne taking it over entirely (the herald themself could probably be motivated to actually express an opinion and object to solas being shut out too, for this, if only this).

and the heralds like…. ultimate loyalties (and whether or not they fall with solas above all else because they’re a child and love him like a father) is the background tension of it all lol. given he’s trying to spoiler spoiler spoiler the world.

[emcscared-whumps]

WiJ 2022 - 18: "Make Me" (1/9)

WiJ 2022 Navigation Post

This is the bitch that refused to let me write Rebellion before it. Point your finger and blame this piece lol

Next

CONTENT and WARNINGS: mer/shifter whumpee (in hooman form!), uhh... I genuinely don't know what you call it when some asshole falsely accuses someone of the Thirsty Gaze(TM) when he wasn't, the asshole knows it, and the asshole uses it as an excuse to beat the shit out of Pete, the... vague sexual allusions are vague, it's fine >.> , vaguer allusions of abuse mother to (adult) child

wc: ~0.6k

Pete’s nerves nibbled at his mind and body; the clouds were getting heavy that afternoon. A storm was the last thing he wanted to be caught in. For someone like him, being in a storm with little more than a bike was a death sentence. And today, he had special cargo.

Buried in Pete’s satchel, wrapped in a spare towel, was a savoury, puff pastry swirl, and a few small tarts. They were still warm, but much longer in this blustery ride, and it would be a waste—pastries were never as good re-heated.

They were from a reputable bakery, one he always passed on the way home. He always eyed each mouth-watering morsel, but every time, he had to say no. Their goods cost more than he usually allowed himself—one gorgeous, dainty pastry from the display case cost the same as a sizable pie from his regular stop. Given his… dietary requirements, he more often than not had to put his needs above is wants, but given the miserable week, both weather and otherwise, Pete decided to give in.

He’d scraped together as much of his meagre spare change as he could to boost up this week’s allowance to afford him such a luxury. He knew he’d never be allowed more. He was lucky to even have one after what happened. But what was the point of saving left-overs, if not for this?

The wheels of the bicycle clicked as Pete stopped pedalling, spying his usual shelter to rest and eat before continuing on the rest of his journey home.

It didn’t seem like much, with only one wall full wall, but the small shelter on the edge of town had offered him ample shelter from rain-laden clouds on many occasions. With weather as extreme and moody as Devonhurst’s, it was a requirement to place these around the long stretches of road and parks where there was no other shelter. No doubt, with the fixed tables, chairs, and electric hearth, it had saved countless lives, including his own.

His good leg ached from the strain of taking the load. Sighing, he came to a stop and dismounted, unhooking his cane from its holder. This shelter had a tree, and was near to the cliffside. When he could bear to look at the ocean it was a mesmerising, though terrifying sight. Today, he turned his back to it, focusing on moving his bike inside. He grimaced as his leg continued its protest in unison with the throb of his injured foot.

Finally, he could have his prize.

Rich, savoury flavours danced across his tongue with hints of herbs cutting through, followed by citrus, berry. He’d save the chocolate for later. They were well worth the trouble, and coupled with dinner, he’d have a full belly for the first time in weeks.

Pete sighed again, allowing himself a second to relax before he continued back ho—to Kate’s terrace.

The rustle of grass and clothing signalled the presence of a stranger. He sat bolt upright, twisting to see a woman enter the shelter.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bitch?” she said, malice lacing her tone.

Pete stood too quickly, sending a sharp wave of agony from his foot shooting up his leg. His breath caught in his chest, heart-rate picking up. He would’ve dropped his cane and the baggie if not for his frightened, white-knuckled grip. “Exc-c—wh-what?” he stammered. The package crinkled as he clutched it close to his chest.

“You think I’m a piece of meat, huh? Quit gawkin’ ya pathetic tadger.”

“I—I wasn’t, it-t—p-please, miss—” his hands and voice shook, and his mouth dried. “Please g-go away.” She stepped toward him, prompting Pete to falter backward, “Make me.”

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If you read and enjoyed this, please consider a reblog ^-^

Taglist:

@whumpmasinjuly

@dang-i-like-whump

@whump-cravings

If you would like to be added or removed from my taglist (general prompts or canon), please feel free to dm/let me know :)

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 23: Fathers and Their Archaic Ways

Masterlist

November 1769

Brian cautiously approaches where Da is applying the finishing touches on the maternity ward that they have been building together. Brian would've joined him sooner, but he had kept his distance as he knew they both needed to cool off. That's what happens when you have a big argument.

Da looks up. "Brian..."

Brian grimaces. "Hello..."

His eyes flicker to the red mark on Da's cheek, but he can see a bruise is already forming. He winces, running his fingers over his red knuckles.

"I'm sorry." Da says quietly.

"This disaster isn't all your fault." Brian admits. "I expected more from you than I should have, given the time you were raised in."

Da looks affronted by that. "Bein' raised in my time doesn't mean ye don't know right from wrong or how to behave."

Brian sighs, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "No, fine, I admit that. But I just want to ask you something."

"Wha'?"

"Do you know where Lizzie was when Ellen was attacked?" Brian asks.

"She said she saw Mackenzie take her away." Jamie replies.

"That's not what I asked you." Brian retorts.

"She said she saw Mackenzie take her away." Da replies. "She thought he'd taken her off to ravish her."

Brian scoffs. "Lizzie is a child; I doubt she knows much. You should've asked me at least. Bonnet raping her happened days later while I was caring for Lizzie. I found Ellen, I comforted her and picked her up."

Da's face contort into one of confusion. "Then why didn't ye defend her honour? Why didn't ye go find him and—"

"Because I was respecting her wishes! She was barely holding it together and she was desperately focusing on finding you and Mama. And I– I couldn't face the fact that I had let her down." Brian crumbles then, letting out a sob. He feels his Da reaching for him and wrapping an arm around him, keeping him upright.

"You nearly killed him, Da." Brian whispers. "Roger may be dead now because of you. I'd be lying if I said Ellen could forgive that."

"I ken tha' now." Da admits. "I acted irrationally but I dinna want ye, yer Ma or Ellen to be involved. She'd already told me she wanted 'im dead, the man who raped her." Ellen had not shared the sentiment with Brian but that she feels that way does not surprise him. "And I didna want te involve her in murder."

"Saying you wanted someone to die was a far cry from actually commissioning their death." Brian shakes his head, wiping his cheeks and stepping away from him. "That isn't the problem. Not really."

"What is?"

"You. Right after she told you that she'd asked Roger to her bed that you called her a liar." He points out to him. "You condemned her the moment you heard that she'd been with a man of her own free will. She wept in your lap like a lost child and still you stopped believing in her once she told you she was no longer a virgin."

"No, I was confused. Lizzie said it was yon Mackenzie who ravished her and then Ellen said she bedded him by choice." Da shakes his head. "It was that I thought she had lied to me." Brian can see he's genuinely distressed about it.

Brian makes a sound between a scoff, a snort and a chuckle, "Why did you think she lied to you? Why all of us didn't tell you?" He asks.

"Brian, what she did is nae how a woman behaves—"

"This is exactly why." Brian cuts him off. "You let your archaic beliefs cloud your judgement. You put them in front of being there for your daughter who's been through a traumatic experience and is terrified about what's happening to the man she loves. I doubt you would've treated me like this if you found out a slept with a woman without marrying her. No, you would've laughed and made a joke about me becoming a man but because Ellen's the one that's done it, she's the whore?"

Da goes quiet, looking down shamefully. "Yer right. I shouldn't have called her a whore."

"Yeah, you made a mistake there," Brian takes pity on him as he looks at his devastated face, "but you can still make it up to her."

Da's head snaps up. "How?"

"By bringing Roger back." Brian tells him. The face Da pulls is kind of funny. "Look, she loves him, Da. They were planning on marrying; they had done the whole hand fast before she found out he'd been lying to her.Trust me. I'm not happy with him myself but we need to do this for El."

Da nods in agreement.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[sammysvanfeet]

Boston Calling || Chapter Seven

Jake x Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Word count: 3.4k

*WARNINGS*: angst!!!!!, poor mental health,

Chapter 8

I didn’t power my phone on for days after I had the revelation regarding my feelings about Jake. I didn’t hang out with Josh, I didn’t talk to my mother, I didn’t confide in my therapist, and maybe worst of all… I didn’t go to any of my classes. Instead, I lay face down on the soft fabric of my couch in pajamas that I hadn’t changed out of. I hadn’t showered or brushed my teeth, I had been sustaining myself on shitty takeout but made no effort to clean the mess that was accumulating around me. The crippling weight of my feelings for Jake was all consuming. I had had flippant relationships in the past but never anything serious. I always thought I was the kind of girl who was independent, separate from anyone else. Whether that was due to my forced isolation as a child or a trauma response was anyone’s guess. The idea of caring about another human was foreign to me. It terrified me. Jake was not a safe bet and I knew I would shatter if anyone else left me now. The fact that I had been keeping this secret from my only friend didn’t go wasted on me. If Josh found out I was lying to him, I could very well lose him too. I hadn’t cried today but dwelling on these things caused a fresh flow of tears to escape from me, pooling onto the green velvet below me.

Startling me from my spiral of self-pity, a knock at my door garnered my attention. Obviously in no condition to have company, I laid still and ignored it. Whoever was knocking was persistent, they kept going and going, eventually resorting to yelling at me through the door.

“Y/N! I know you’re in there! Open the door now or I’m calling the police to do a welfare check on you.” The voice said, taking me a minute to figure out who it was.

“Wait… Danny?” I croaked, bewildered.

“So you are alive. Are you gonna open the door or what?” He questioned.

“Danny, now is not a good time.” I still didn’t move from my spot. “And besides, I don’t think I could move even if I tried.”

“Listen, I can promise that I do not care what you look like. It’s just me… and I am here as your friend, so please let me in so I know that you’re safe.” He implored.

He sounded so dejected, I battled internally whether or not to give in. He said he considered me a friend, and that alone swayed my decision. Ultimately, I rolled onto my side and off the couch and trudged to the front door, swinging it open expectedly. I was shocked to see not only Danny, but Josh and Sammy too.

“What the fuck, Danny? You lied?” I felt betrayed.

His expression softened, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. They didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Do you know how worried we’ve been about you, Y/N?” Josh rambled, entering the apartment without an invitation.

Sam looked at me and grimaced, “I’m sorry to say it, but you’ve looked better.”

“Gee, thanks.” I responded, void of emotion.

All three boys made their way to my living room, eyeing the surroundings. Dried tears and drool soiled the couch, empty takeout containers were all over the coffee table and several bottles of wine and empty cigarette packets were scattered on the floor. I could tell they thought I was at rock bottom.

“It smells like someone died in here.” Sammy blurted out, causing Josh to elbow his ribs. “Oww…”

“Y/N, I don’t know what is going on, but you’re scaring us. We are here for you. Please, just let us in… let me in.” Josh’s voice broke with his plea. “You’ve been MIA, Jake said you haven’t been to class, what is going on?”

I perched on the arm of the couch, not wanting to get close to them in my filthy state. “What else did Jake say?” I asked matter of factly.

The looks the boys exchanged were not lost on me.

“Honestly, not much. He’s been even more of a dick than usual, staying out all night and showing up to class hungover. I don’t know if it’s the stress of the internship or if something else has happened, but he’s not himself right now either.” Josh sounded genuinely pained for his twin brother.

I scoffed lowly, if anyone had the right to not act ‘themselves’ right now, it was me. At least, that’s what I was attempting to convince myself.

“Y/N… you need to give me some context as to what is going on. Forget about Jake right now. I need to know what is happening with you. I’ve called, texted, waited up at the library for you and all you’ve given me is radio silence. Sam and Danny tried to reach out to you, too.”

I glanced at the younger two boys and they nodded sadly. I could feel the tears pooling in my eyes.

“And you’re not attending your classes! That’s not like you and you know it. You are one of the most diligent students I know, you’re not a flake, you show up and you work hard.” Danny added.

“We love you.” Sam said, his voice cracking slightly. He looked crestfallen. “We want to help you, we want you to be okay.”

That’s all it took for the dam to break completely, I choked out a sob and collapsed in on myself, surprised my eyes had any tears left to cry. All three boys jumped up and into action, unsure of what to do to soothe me. Sam froze, Danny just stared with wide eyes and Josh patted my back saying “there, there” as if he were legitimately at a loss for words. Josh always has something to say.

“It’s just…” I started, between sniffles, “I’ve never had anyone care about me like this, I’ve never had anyone choose to stay when things got hard.”

“We’re your fucking family now, Y/N. We’ve basically adopted you as the newest Kiszka sibling.” Josh said, with a smile.

I’m not sure I wanted to be a Kiszka sibling, given my dynamic with Jake. My face probably gave away the aversion to that sentiment because Danny chimed in, “Or a Wagner!”

I started to giggle, it started out small but then the laughter was bubbling out of me and the boys joined in. Josh smoothed my hair down, Sammy rubbed comforting circles on my knee and Danny kept me laughing with his outlandish jokes. Eventually we calmed down, I felt a lot lighter but I mentally steeled myself for the amount of damage control I was going to have to do now. The three of them stayed for a little longer, they even helped discard the trash that was scattered around, shushing me when I tried to apologize.

As Danny and Sam were making their departure, Josh lingered in my apartment a little while longer.

“Listen, Y/N.” Josh sounded serious. “Whatever has happened between you and Jake… you both need to sort it out. We are all going to be in each other’s lives no matter what, but it’s not healthy for either of you to keep going on like this.”

I didn’t want to cry again, but the soft look on Josh’s face was almost enough to bring me to tears. It was almost enough to distract me from the fact that he seemed to know I had been keeping a secret from him.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He smiled, only slightly before he uttered, “My own twin didn’t either. I expected more from him, though.”

I pulled him into a crushing hug, speaking directly into his ear. “I love you too, Josh. You’re my best friend and I will never keep anything from you again. I’ll talk to Jake, we can make things civil between us. Just please tell me I’m not gonna lose you.” I choked up at the end.

“Never, mama.” He responded, before placing a chaste kiss to my cheek and heading out the door.

✦✦✦

After the boys left, I was alone in my thoughts… and stench. Feeling slightly more motivated than I had all week, I spent the rest of the day deep cleaning the apartment and pampering myself in a luxurious bubble bath. After soaking to the point where the water got cold, I finally pulled myself out of the tub, dreading what I had to do next. I dressed robotically before climbing into my freshly changed sheets and powering up my phone.

27 missed calls, 12 voicemails, 43 unread messages, hundreds of emails.

To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Not sure what to tackle first, I went to clear out my call log, expecting almost all of them to be from my mother. To my surprise only 4 of them were from my mother, 6 were from Josh, 1 was from David, 3 from Sammy, 2 from Danny and 11 from… Jake. I felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Jake had tried to call me the most.

Before dealing with the unread texts, I promptly went to my voicemail to listen to the messages. The first was from my mother, her shrill voice screaming down the phone about how disappointed she is… I couldn’t even finish the message before deleting it. The next one started off quiet, a barely-there shaky breath evident in the background. It went on for a few seconds before it ended. I looked at the name of the sender: Jake. Every other voicemail was from Jake. My hands quaked as I went to play the next voicemail. This time it sounded like Jake was at another frat party, or a bar.

“Y/N!” He slurred. The time stamp was past 1am, I gathered he was intoxicated. “I’m with Sarah right now. Are you jealoussss? Is that why you threw a temper tantrum at the studio?” The voicemail ended after that.

The next one came the morning after, it was Sunday.

“Nothing happened between us.” He rushed out. “Between me and anyone, not since you. Please call me back.” His voice broke at the end. Then the message was over.

“I don’t know what you want from me!” The next one began, his voice octaves too loud. “You were the one who acted like it didn’t happen right after you left that bathroom. You were there with me, in that moment. You felt it too!” He let out a ragged sigh, I pictured him running his hands through his long locks in exasperation. “Please tell me you felt it, too.”

The following calls must have come after I was a no-show in Sound Engineering.

“So now you’re skipping class to avoid me, too? God, even I’m surprised you would think someone like me was worth jeopardizing your education. What is it? You can’t stand me? You act so high and mighty but now you’re acting like a… like… like a little bitch! Suck it up! Come talk to me face to face, stop using this as an excuse to wallow in pity.” That one was probably the harshest of them all.

The following calls were all drunken jumbled words. “I miss you… I can’t stand you… please tell me you’re okay… I’m going to come check on you… I never want to see you again.”

It was the final one that drove the dagger into your heart, though.

“If not for me, please talk to Josh. He cares about you more than even I’d like to admit. He’s worried sick, he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and insert himself into your life if you don’t want him there but he’s hurt. He wants to help you. Please, if anyone in this world deserves the relief of hearing you’re alive… let it be Josh.”

When I was finally done having an emotional breakdown over Jake’s messages, I ended up checking my email to desperately explain to my professors that I had been sick, hoping to God they would let me makeup what I missed. Luckily, my academic performance thus far had been stellar which earned me some brownie points with my professors. I did, however, agree not to miss any more classes for the rest of the semester. The pressure was going to be on.

Finally, I opened my messages, briefly reading the desperate texts from all of those here in Boston who loved me, whom I did not deserve. I also read the scathing texts from my mother, putting that off for now. I texted ‘thank you’s’ and ‘I’m sorry’s’ to Josh, Sam and Danny. Then, I opened Jake’s thread, already anticipating what was going to be in there based off of his voicemails. My heart absolutely broke reading the drunken, desperate, alternating messages of both animosity and adoration. I felt deeply for Jake, that much was for sure, but my hot and cold behavior had hurt him even more than I had realized. Under the guise of protecting my heart, I had used Jake and bruised him. I had written him off as a player. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that under his cold exterior, he was a human who would actually care for me.

The realization hit me all at once, like a freight train. I felt crushed and winded, desperate to be able to breathe. I had felt the same way when my father passed, as I desperately clutched his ring-clad hand, squeezing as tight as I could, as if I could make him stay. As the life slowly left his body, I felt a piece of me leave too. All I had now was his collection of silver. All I had of my sister was a dress. All I had of Jake were the fading finger-tip sized bruises on my thighs.

I was frenetic, pacing back and forth the length of my room now, replaying every little interaction in my mind. Had I got Jake all wrong? Had I fucked up this up before it could begin? I felt frantic, trying to conjure a plan grand enough to convey my remorse. Should I call him and hope he answers? Should I send him a gift basket? Should I show up at his apartment with wine?

I cracked my knuckles in exasperation, a nervous habit of mine, feeling the empty lengths of my fingers. I charged over to my jewelry box, digging through with haste. Finally I felt it, fishing the silver metal out. I turned it over in my hands, admiring the intricacy of the filigree. This was my favorite one of my father’s. He always noticed how I admired it and promised it would be mine someday. If only I had known that day would come sooner than expected.

“I miss you.” I whispered to the empty room, twisting the trinket around mindfully before slipping it on my thumb for courage. “You would know what to do.”

My dad reminded me of Josh in many ways. My sister would have loved his sense of style; but my dad would have loved his grandiose personality, his humor, his generosity. That’s when I realized, it couldn’t be anymore obvious, the one person who knew Jake better than anyone else was his own twin. I snatched my phone back up, seeing Josh had responded with a ‘<3’. I tapped his name and waited for the phone to ring.

“Is everything okay?” Josh sounded out of breath.

“Hi, yes, sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you busy?” I apologized.

“No, not at all. I was just beating Sam’s ass at Xbox.” He quipped.

I could hear Sam yelling in defense in the background, Josh must have traveled to a different room because the noises were muffled now.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Josh questioned, tenderly.

“If you could give Jake anything in the world, what would it be?” I asked, in trepidation.

Josh didn’t answer right away.

“Uhhh…” He sounded stumped. “Chelsea boots, necklaces, a new pair of jeans.” He chuckled at the last part.

“No, Josh. It has to be something sentimental. It has to convey how apologetic I am. This has to be an olive branch between us.” I implored, hoping he would realize how serious I was.

“Wow.” He breathed. “I don’t know the last time anyone has wanted to do something that thoughtful for Jake.”

Hearing that wounded me, but made me want to offer him something worthy.

“If you want it to be meaningful, it has to be relevant to you. Think of a moment you shared where you were amicable, maybe even happy in one another’s presence.” Josh disclosed.

I thought back to the first time I felt joy in Jake’s presence. Back when we were on the highway driving to Albany, roof off, music blasting and just together in that moment. He sang ‘Sunshine Of Your Love’ by Cream. I had never heard of it at the time, but secretly since that moment every night before bed I fell asleep to that very song.

I grabbed my phone and searched up the album name: ‘Disraeli Gears.” Next, I pulled up a map and searched for the nearest record stores to campus, mentally noting a few names and locations. I headed out to the bus stop, realizing I wasn’t usually around this time of day, I was supposed to be in class right now. I rode the bus into town and wandered through several record stores before I found what I was in search of. The exact Cream record I wanted to find. I felt stupid for a moment, of course Jake probably owned this, but this was the best gesture I could think to offer him by way of apology. I marched to the checkout, paying a lot more than I had thought from my own savings. It was important that my mother had not tarnished this gift. I then headed to a gift store, purchasing an apology card and a beautiful gift bag, simple and elegant, a solid matte dark blue color, hoping all of this effort would lead Jake to forgive me. All in all it looked heartfelt, not extravagant or over-the-top, it looked thoughtful.

I bussed up to Josh and Jake’s apartment. I wasn’t sure if it would be awkward if Josh was there, but I had to see Jake as soon as I could. I hoped Jake didn’t have class this afternoon. The ride was endless, many students making stops at their residences after their taxing days of classes. Finally I pulled onto the street of row houses and exited the vehicle, rushing up the front steps and up several tortuous staircases. I approached 4B in a rush, hitting my fist on the door urgently. I stood there for what felt like a lifetime, almost convinced that the apartment was empty, until I heard the telltale sound of laughter. I knocked again, even more urgently.

The door swung open swifty and I was met with a familiar face.

“Wait, are you the girl from the studio?” She chuckled as if it were the most hilarious thing ever, before looking me up and down, eyes locking in to the gift in my hand. “What’s the occasion?”

“Sarah? What are you doing here?” I meekly responded, avoiding her question.

“The boys invited me! They’re a blast to hang with!” She proclaimed proudly, as if they were her very best friends in the world.

“I… I don’t understand.” All this time I was suffering and they were replacing me?

She looked at me quizzically, before Josh sidled up and snaked his hand onto her shoulder. He moved to look at me, almost as if he were in slow motion, evidently intoxicated with something more than alcohol.

“Y/N! Have you met Sarah? Isn’t she awesome.” He boasted, not reading the atmosphere between us at that moment.

At a loss of what to say, and utterly spent from the rollercoaster of emotions I had felt in the past week, I weakly thrust the gift bag into Josh’s hands.

“It’s for Jake.” I said in a hushed tone, before scurrying down the stairs and out into the freezing cold city.

TAG LIST

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[fuckthisshitimin]

The Open Coven

“When Edalyn said she would send me someone, I did not expect you.”

His smile is crooked and his brows furrowed, his shoulders down, bent froward. If it wasn’t for the annoying voice that greeted her in a weak “Hello”, she wouldn’t have recognized The Golden Guard. She squints at him, arms crossed, and taps her fingers on her arm rhythmically, examining him.

The arrogance that kept his back straight when she had known him seems to have vanished, his posture is weak, and she is sure if he had a tail it would be between his legs, hiding and trembling. He bends forward even more, and she notices something, a mass deforming his white cape. It chirps. And he holds on to it.

He said nothing but hello, and she sighs, turning her heels inside.

“Fine,” she says, “come on inside, it has been a long way from Bonesborough.”

She waits, holding the door open, and lets out another frustrated sigh as she turns his head to him. He visibly shudders under her gaze, and her jaws clench. He closes his eyes, as hardly as he can, waiting for… for what, exactly? He looks terrified of her, and her guts churn. She would have expected it to be satisfying. This brat made her life a hell for years. He never respected her authority, least of all feared her, not since he was eight. She had wanted to get that respect back. To prove him wrong. Prove him that she was stronger, the alpha. But he looks so pitiful, the whole thing feels wrong. It clutches to her lungs like guilt, but for once, she didn’t do anything.

“Do you want to sleep outside?”

“You’re not going to send me back?”

“What, are you a damaged package?”

He opens his eyes instantly, looking up at her like she hit him. She shouldn’t attempt to use her sister’s humor, she thinks. For sure, that kid is damaged. But Edalyn sent him so that Lilith could try to put the pieces back together. She can’t believe she’ll be trying to resurrect this abject arrogance of his. She rolls her eyes.

“I do not know what exactly Edalyn told you — she probably forgot to tell you anything, I would guess, so we will have to start over.” She breathes in, joining her hands together in a greeting that looks like a prayer. “This is the Open Coven. It has the vocation to help witches in need, especially powerless ones like the both of us. If anything, it is a safe place to learn and hide from the Emperor. I am not going to turn down my first recruit, no matter how much you annoy me.”

“I… I’ve done terrible things.”

“Did you, of your own volution, decide to hurt and betray the only person that genuinely cared about you?”

He opens his mouth, lowers his eyes like he’s about to say something. He bites his lips, hold onto whatever is under his cape tighter, and she almost grabs his arm to tell him to let go of his grip before he smothers the poor thing but he does so on his own, and soon a red bird flies out of his cape, settling on his shoulder. Edalyn did not mention a palisman. Oh, well, she should have expected it.

“I know, but he…”

She frowns before realizing The Golden Guard is talking to the bird. Whatever they are saying, they look upset. The boy pinches his lips once again, and looks back at her.

“No. I haven’t.”

“Then I’ve done worse than you. Now come on inside before you make roots and block this door forever.”

He obeys and she closes the door behind him. He stands awkwardly in the room, and she shows him the door to the living room, gesturing him to sit on the couch. He obeys, awfully silent and she grimaces. She will have to have a long, long, conversation with her sister. Lilith has no idea what this child has going on, but he looks like he could burst into tears or sand any second.

“Tea or coffee?”

He jumps slightly, and she thinks maybe excitants aren’t the best idea, but he almost smiles when he says, “Coffee,” and she will not take that from him. She is quick to walk to and back the kitchen, coffee pot and mugs in hands. She puts them down on the coffee table, and as he grabs his mug, his shoulders seem to relax a bit. She braces herself. She can be the bigger person. She tries to smile at him, for the first time.

“I assume you do not go by Golden Guard anymore, but my sister failed to tell me your name. Unsurprisingly.”

She thinks she can spot the shadow of a smile ghosting over his lips for a second. Did she just find someone she could complain about Edalyn to? When he looks at her again, she sees a tiny bit of strength shining in his eyes. A bit of who he is, it’s not proud yet, but it exists, and that is enough for a first day.

“I’m Hunter.”

[hanayumi]

snowdrop

(childe x fem reader)

he never liked to depend on others; you were the exception.

tags: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, slight NSFW at the end

word count: 2.05k

warning: spoilers for childe’s backstory

a/n: a lengthier fic to accompany this drabble <3 this trope is *chef’s kiss*

e i g h t

“You okay?”

Your saviour has azure eyes that glisten like gemstones, peering at you with such concern twisting his handsome features. He has one hand on your scalded knee, grimacing when you flinch at the pain. A younger you stutters and mumbles incoherent words—words that get snagged in your throat when this older boy’s gaze is pinning you down like a hawk, eyeing your every reaction as genuine worry laces his voice.

It’s hard to choke out a coherent reply when you’re feeling the shame welling up from your own foolishness, fat globs of tears rolling like pearls down your cheeks flushed from the cold. Your mother once grit her teeth and said that though you’re bright-eyed and spry, you often bite off more than you can chew—especially when the concept of ‘danger’ hasn’t fully registered in your mind yet. Snezhnaya is harsh and the winters are unforgiving to kids like you, who have no qualms in chasing your every whim with childlike enthusiasm bleeding from your every pore.

If you could, you’d tell her she was right.

Today it was a little green finch; a jumpy and timid little thing that was in way over its head, too, because when you heard its frantic warbles coming from the snowy underbrush your stomach instantly flipped.

It wouldn’t survive ten minutes outside its nest.

You made it to the top branch, with the little escapee cradled in your palm. It was surprisingly easy considering the last time you tried to climb a tree, you ended up on your back with a throbbing pain rippling through your every bone (which then plagued you for weeks like a bloodsucking leech), but you felt particularly determined today and a precious life was in danger and you had to get it home no matter what and—

Snap!

Oh.

In a split second you saw the world overturning, blurring into brown and white as you tumbled down, friction from the rough bark tearing apart little cuts on your soft skin as a terrified screech parted your lips. Thankfully there was a neat pile of snow to cushion your fall. But the damage was already done—a sharp stinging in your legs and elbows, the particularly deep gash on your knee bringing forth beads of red oozing out of raw pink flesh along with fresh tears brimming at your lashes. God, why am I so stupid?

The little finch was clasped between your palms (thank goodness), its tiny heartbeat thumping erratically against its fleshy cage. Something sharp cut through your chest whenever you tried to inhale. It hurt. You were halfway through a sob when heavy footfalls reached your ears, trudging their way hurriedly towards your direction. Puffy eyes lifted to meet the gaze of a complete stranger. His coat looked fluffy and warm; his hands were held out in alarm and he looked more panic-stricken than you were with that goofy expression.

You sniffle. He crouches down and brushes his thumb against your cheek. “Don’t cry anymore, okay? I’ll help you get the little guy back in the tree, and then we can go find my dad. He’ll know how to treat your wounds.”

The blurry photograph of your eyes widen, bottom lip trembling slightly as you whisper out a, ‘really?’ He nods frantically, flashing you a wide smile as he offers his palm to you. Disoriented and chirping away, the little bird is handed over to him with great care. He rises to his full height, towering over you as you watch him contemplate the sprawling branches overhead. Relief spreads throughout your chest when he lifts himself up, branch after branch with only one arm, like it’s no sweat and he’s done it millions of times before.

A minute later he finally hops down, sapphire irises catching your gaze with an ever-growing grin on his lips. You follow where his finger is pointing above, where the hatchling sits cozily amongst its siblings. Snow falls from the branches as the mother bird arrives home right on time with food for her babies; you can’t help but smile back. One arm secures itself behind your back and one under your legs, lifting you up from the ground which by now has droplets of red staining the pure white.

His breath coils and wafts in a steady cloud, the scent of mint clinging to his ginger mop of hair. Freshly-fallen snow crunches beneath his boots. You want to tell him thank you, but your heart is beating out your chest from how close he’s holding you. His fingers press up against your skin, but carefully so, as if he knows not to apply pressure on your wounds.

Mother’s gonna kill me.

Later when you’re snug in a cocoon of his blankets (courtesy of his little sister), sipping on warm, chocolatey fluid, he tells you his name with a gleeful shimmer in his eyes that makes your chest tighten.

Ajax—rolling like satin down your tongue.

t e n

“(Name)!” a voice calls from behind. Your blood turns to ice.

“Here,” his lips are tugged upwards in a disarming grin. “Happy birthday.”

“Is this… a flower?” You gape, cradling the fragile thing with sagging petals the colour of moonbeams in the palm of your hand.

A snowdrop.

It reminded him of you, he says. This time you do thank him, with a smile that makes his world shake. He doesn’t quite realise yet, but this would become one of many catalysts that would have him wrapped around your pinkie in the near future. And for you, it’s easy to forget that there’s bliss in utmost simplicity, where his little gift etches pinpricks of admiration in your heart. He’s older, more determined, but the two of you match well—like sugar and spice coming together.

You let his fingers interlace with yours, leading and guiding you to someplace unknown. You don’t know where you’re headed yet, and he tells you with a little chuckle that it’s a secret, but sparks are exploding like fireworks in your chest, and a sweeping warmth seeps through your every limb as you feel the wind rush past your hair, your little legs carrying you wherever he wished you to be.

Warmth from something other than your favourite hot cocoa and the crackling fireplace—the kind that only he can gift you.

f i f t e e n

When you were eight you used to think that death was such an abstract thing. It could take and it could give; it could stockpile and at times, it could control. You never gave it a second thought, because to you, death was over there and you were right here.

But it’s funny, now, at age fifteen, you’re starting to think—strange how everyone’s lives revolve so much around death, when you never really know when it’s your turn.

For a second you thought it was his.

Your mouth goes numb as you watch his figure materialise before you, like a ghost emerging from the shadows.

“Where were you?” —screamed until your throat went hoarse. There’s a hollow determination stagnant like a layer of oil over Ajax’s eyes that you can’t shake. A dark, menacing thing that tells you maybe you’re staring death square in the face, with its pallid gaze and pools of icy frost spanning for miles in a mockery of your childhood friend. Somehow you know, the boy you’ve loved since you were eight no longer exists.

“Who are you?” —whispered. Frigid winds pierced your skin when you caught him leaving in the dead of night, snow falling like ash from the sky.

He never stops you from trailing after him, even though now all he cares about seems to be how long he can train in the bitter cold; wits bared and arms and legs submerged in a layer of congealed frost.

You always watched, and you always waited. To hook your arm around his waist and hoist him up to trek the arduous journey home—just in case he made a misstep and got hurt—and he did.

“I need to head back,” he grates against your shoulder, trying to pull himself from your grasp but wincing as a sharp pain shoots up his spine. His teeth clench. You’re persistent and it’s annoying as hell. “Did you hear me? I said, I need to go back.”

You pause; carmine dribbles from the gash in his arm.

Something in you snaps like a string on a harp.

Your legs buckle, knees dropping to the ground and tongue faster than your mind. “Fine. Die here,” you snarl, voice raspy and unrecognisable. “See if I care! You wanna kill yourself like this, don’t you? Fine! Let’s stay here and freeze to death then!”

Your chests heaves, and every breath feels like it’s being wrung out from your very core; his heart catches in his throat when minuscule, almost unnoticeable droplets make tiny indents on snowy ground. You’re crying.

Guilt drives a knife twisting into his gut. Like a demon coming back to haunt where not even words could mend the rupture in your heart. The sanguine wound that he caused with his own two hands—

You fold into yourself, abandoning your grip just like he wanted. He watches your shoulders tremble, hiccups spilling from your lips as the tears just keep falling and falling.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper. It’s dead silent save for your crying and the barren branches of trees hang overhead, like vultures circling their prey.

Slowly, you’re not crying anymore. Just shaking. His hand comes to rest at your elbow, touch sending a jolt up your arm. Maybe he was so focused on pursuing a madman’s dream that he forgot that his dream once centred around you. Maybe he’d taken and taken from you until you were left broken and alone.

But you’d forgive him anything.

t w e n t y

He likes to hold you in the mornings.

Soft sunlight spills over your figure, plump skin under his fingertips when he awakes with you tucked into his chest. He likes how he’s close enough to watch your chest rise up and down, as his finger traces the purple and black love bites adorning the length of your neck to your shoulders. Like roses blooming under a golden sun.

A halo fans over your hair from the light pouring in through the window, though you’re still fast asleep with little snores that make him smile. You must be exhausted—initially a light sleeper; but on nights where he finds himself buried between your thighs, thumbs pressing hard enough into your hips to leave bruises and rutting into you deep enough for the tip of his cock to kiss your womb, you don’t stir until it’s late in the morning.

He wears you out easily. He knows. It’s threaded in his blood to be ravenous; insatiable. People say he’s always been that way. Eyes glowing sapphire with a gifted greed far beyond his years, like a riptide cutting course, smack in the middle of a deadly ocean. Eating up your every moan, squeal, and whimper as he ravages your body like he owns every inch of it.

He doesn’t know why you forgave him even after he shoved you away. Doesn’t know how many apologies he’ll have to whisper to you before the guilt finally releases its death grip on his conscience.

He doesn’t understand, can’t understand, why you’re still willing to give your entire body and soul to him, even as he used to ignore your cries from your room every night and you hadn’t dared look him in the eye ever since he came back with a thirst like a blackhole, eclipsing the sweet gentle boy he once was. Before he made it up to you you avoided speaking his name as if it were blistering and could scald, and now when you say it with such love he only feels warmth—and sometimes, unbearable guilt.

I love you. His kiss to your temple is so gentle that you don’t wake up.

Words are unnecessary. He’ll have his whole lifetime to atone for the suffering he’s put you through; enough time to cherish you with his whole being—and perhaps if you were willing, enough time to make you the mother of his children.

You’re more than just a person to lie next to, limbs entangled and heartbeats in sync. You’re his and he’s yours (no take-backs!). And perhaps if you squint, you’ll be able to tell that he’s already willing to live out this sweet dream with you.

Screw world domination.

[animeomegas]

Hi!!!, first, congratulations on 1000 followers!I wanted to ask you something, could you make a list of omegas that would have worse self esteem during pregnancy.if you can't don't worry, have a nice day and again congratulations.

(Hey, thank you so much for your congratulations!! Hmm, I’m sure I can make a little list~)

Warnings: Insecurities of all sorts, mentions of sex.

Insecure over appearance:

· Itachi – Itachi is worried about how skinny and sickly he is. He’s always been on the small side but pregnancy has stopped him being able to keep much food down, and so he just kept getting smaller and smaller. It’s a small insecurity at first, but he does find himself staring at his reflection and wondering if his mate finds him attractive. Itachi goes a long while without sex because of how sick he gets during pregnancy and after birth, and that feeds the insecurity that his alpha doesn’t find him attractive.

· Tamaki – He’s completely fine until he gets lost in a rabbit hole on some parenting and omega focused forums. He finds all these posts from other omegas about how their alphas don’t find them attractive anymore, and about how they’ve stopped having sex. Now, Tamaki is extremely sexually needy during his pregnancy, so he’s suddenly paralysed with fear. Has his alpha been forcing themselves this whole time? Have they just been doing it to please him without enjoying it themselves? He cries about it quite a bit until his alpha finds out and knocks a little bit of sense into him.

· Asmo – Asmo puts so much effort into his physical appearance. He’s very proud of it and he’s very reliant on his appearance to carry his self-esteem. So, a drastic change of any sort would be extremely distressing. He buys every cream and treatment imaginable to stop stretch marks, and acne etc. but things still change with his body. And because Asmo views his worth through looks, he assumes that his alpha does also. He tries to hide, to turn down sex, but of course, this alerts his alpha immediately to the fact that something is wrong. He never really gets over the insecurities while he’s still pregnant, but his alpha can minimise the effects with copious love and praise.

· Julian – He’s extremely insecure as it is, constantly questioning why his alpha finds him attractive at all but being pregnant adds enough layer on to the pre-existing insecurities. He always tries to reassure his alpha that they don’t have to touch him if they don’t want, that they should leave the room before he gets changed or when he’s bathing because they probably don’t want to see him like that. His insecurities run very deeply, just like Asmo’s, so they can’t be fixed, but they can be helped with lots of comfort and reassurance.

Insecure over abilities (e.g., being weak physically etc.):

· Sasuke – The fact that he can’t go on missions or train pisses him off. And as the months go by, he’s gaining weight and losing muscle definition and it freaks him out because he feels like he’s losing who he is which drops his self-esteem. Training has been a part of his life for as long as he can remember. Just design some softer workout routines for him with a mednin and remind him that he can still practice throwing kunai before he loses his goddamn mind.

· Bakugou – The physical condition of his body changing isn’t that big of a deal for him. He has a very small tummy, especially considering he’s pregnant with twins, and he knows he can bounce back after the birth because he’s super dedicated to his physical routine. What he’s not so confident about is the slipping control he has over his quirk. He has (had) an iron clad control, and the random explosions while pregnant are so embarrassing. Not to mention the disruption that his quirk causes in his nest. He has to replace so many cushions which makes his instincts go wild because significant changes to an omega’s nest while pregnant is distressing. If his friends tease him about the loss of control, he gets genuinely mad about because it’s something of a sore spot.

· Jumin – Jumin tries to keep his life while pregnant as close to his life before being pregnant as possible and in many ways, he nails it. He buys copies of his favourite suits and has them tailored every other week to fit his growing stomach. He buys non-alcoholic wine and drinks it with a grimace. He schedules lots of massages to keep the aches and pains away, so he feels normal. But there is one thing that isn’t so easy to keep normal: his emotions. Now, this fits into this category rather than the one below because Jumin gets insecure about how his emotional control impacts his ability to work. His emotions had never impacted his career before, but now he can’t help but tear up when he gets overstressed, he can’t work long hours without getting lonely and wanting to go home, he can’t take business trips because he doesn’t want to leave his nest for too long. It makes him feel a little like he’s lost himself because these things are things he’s been doing with ease for his entire life. He’s quite irritated by it and it damages his self esteem somewhat.

Insecure emotionally (e.g., unsure about being a good parent etc.):

· Tamaki –Tamaki also makes it onto this category. His insecurities are very specific, but he worries about being a bad role model socially for his pup. If his alpha is very socially adept, I’m not sure he would worry as much, because he knows that his pup can learn from their other parent, but if Tamaki’s alpha is also a little shy or prefers not being around people, then he gets really worried about it. Him being so shy and anxious has really impacted his life and he really doesn’t want it to impact his pup in the same way. He really worries that he’ll be a bad influence in that regard. (but the prospect of an extremely extroverted child is an equally terrifying concept in a different way haha.)

· Lucifer – He is very worried about being a good parent because all he can focus on is the past times when he wasn’t a good older brother. I mean, Satan hates him, and that’s as close to a father/child bond that Lucifer has, so surely that must mean he’s not cut out to be a father? He’s not good at emotions or reasonable punishments or showing affection or… well, point is he doesn’t think he has what it takes to be a good parent, when all he’s ever had is a shitty father himself, and all he’s ever been, is a shitty older brother that drove his family apart.

· Levi – Levi is insecure about most things that have to do with himself, so it’s not surprising that he gets very insecure about being a good parent which drops his self-esteem to an all time low. He can’t even watch any anime that focuses too much on parent/child relationships because he can’t help but compare himself every time, and he works himself up into a mini panic. It’s difficult to calm Levi’s insecurities but his partner can help him somewhat.

· Hawks – Keigo is very insecure about his abilities to protect his pup. His has this conspiracy theory that the hero commission will try to kidnap his child. They were furious when they found out he was pregnant during the peak of his career and they pushed him heavily towards abortion. Keigo leaked the pregnancy news to the public to force the commission’s hands, but he’s still so paranoid that they’ll stage a 'tragic accident' for his pup to force him back into hero work, or try and kidnap and raise his pup as they raised him. He doesn’t have any proof, per se, but he’s terrified that he can’t protect his pup so he really doesn’t like to leave his alpha’s presence. When he’s close to his due date, he’s too insecure with all his conspiracy theories clouding his mind to even let his alpha shower by themselves.

· V – Jihyun sort of convinces himself that he’s cursed when it comes to looking after people (Rika, Saeyoung, Saeran), so he’s very upset by the prospect that he’ll probably fail at raising his child too. He originally says that he wants to give the pup up for adoption to save them, but eventually you talk him around and start working through his problems. He just doesn’t thing he’ll be a good role model. The longer he waits to have children after the more traumatic events of his life, the less these issues crop up.

Miscellaneous:

· Aizawa – Shouta gets insecure when people pay too much attention to him being pregnant. He doesn’t like people giving up their seats for him on public transport, he doesn’t like his students and colleagues asking invasive questions, he doesn’t like those awful shop attendants that try to shoehorn him into buying baby supplies he doesn’t need. He wishes people would just treat him normally. (and he absolutely starts to activate his quirk every time someone tries to touch his tummy without asking first.) But yeah, all the eyes and attention makes him super uncomfortable and it makes him overanalyse everything he does which does impact his self esteem.

· Light – Light has a very specific insecurities while pregnant which revolve around the fear that he’s lowering himself by carrying a pup. All his life he’s had people tell him that because he’s an omega, he should give up on all his dreams and have pups and stay home instead. It really doesn’t sit well with him that he’s doing what all those awful people told him to do (at least it feels that way to him). He feels ashamed and he hates it. He avoids everything stereotypical while pregnant. He’ll kick you in the face if you try to rub his feet, he does everything in his power to avoid giving in to cravings, and he doesn’t make a nest. It all takes a serious toll on his health but it would take one hell of a stubborn alpha to get him to bend on any of that. It puts a strain on the relationship.

[ssson-of-sparda]

Fathers Do Cry (DMC Vergil one shot)

Summary: Vergil remembers his last Father's Day with Sparda and doesn't really realise how similar to him he has become.

Tags: Father's Day special / DADGIL! / Vergil acting like a dad to Nero

Author’s note: I woke up this morning suddenly inspired. Doesn't happen very often so enjoy ;) ps: I just love Dadgil!

***

His big blue eyes staring without blinking, the child was observing his father sitting by the fireplace in the parlour. Full of admiration, he was detailing all the features of his serious face, all the details of his confident posture and all the different luxurious fabrics that made his purple finery and as he did, he repeated to himself, wished, prayed, that someday, one day, he would grow up to be just like him.          “Aren’t you going to speak, Vergil?” The father’s powerful voice asked as he finally acknowledged the boy’s presence with a small amused smile, wondering what brilliant thoughts were occupying his eldest son’s sharp mind this time.            “I made this for you, father.” With a solemnity that didn’t suit a five-years-old but that somehow fitted Vergil’s young yet wise spirit and his will to be perfect son in the eyes of Sparda, the boy handed a paper sheet to his father.         “ And what would that be?” The man said as he took his son’s gift. “It’s father’s day so … I made you a poem… or tried to.” The adorable embarrassment tensing the child’s traits in funny grimaces made the father's smile wider but Vergil, suddenly too preoccupied with the blue paint stuck under his fingernails, didn’t notice it as he didn’t notice the paternal pride and the love shining in his eyes.               “I thought your mother wanted you and your brother to make a gift together this year.” “ You know Dante” Vergil sighed. “He has no artistic talent whatsoever. He wanted to make you a wooden sword to play with us.”    “ That’s actually a very good idea.”  Vergil frowned; suddenly worried that Sparda would not like his gift and preferred Dante’s – if he had made one of course. “Except when the sword looks like two twigs glued together. You should have seen this, father. It looked ri.di.cu.lous.” Sparda laughed at his son’s attitude, finding amusement in this sibling rivalry. “Why don’t you read me your poem then?”              “ I learnt it by heart actually. The paper is for you to remember this day by … and also because I wanted to illustrate it. Look.” Vergil approached his father, seized the poem from his big hands and climbed on his lap to show him the delicate aquarelle he had painted around the lines. “Impressive. Did your mother help you with this?” Vergil shook his head. “No, I did it on my own. I used a book I saw in that old man’s house I often go to as a reference.”       “ The old academic that lives down the hill? I thought you found him boring.” Vergil shook his head again, furiously this time and with a serious frown. “That’s Dante. Me, I really like him. He teaches me a lot of things. And he has lots of books. It’s incredible.”

Sparda ruffled his son’s silver hair whose hairdo was always made in order to somehow mimic his, thinking what a promising young boy Vergil was. Maybe more promising than Dante to be honest – though he knew he shouldn’t think that.   But there was something that Vergil had that Dante lacked. Perhaps rationality beyond his age … or some kind of maturity … wisdom maybe? He couldn’t really pinpoint what it was exactly. All he knew is that it was something unique and special, just like his son, something that made Sparda certain that one day his eldest would grow up to be a great man, a man greater than him, a man worthy of the Yamato and capable of handling its burdening power.

“Can I recite my poem now?” Sparda smiled at the sparkle in Vergil’s eyes. “Sure.” The boy quickly took back his previous position in front his father, cleared his throat, put his hands behind his back and stuck out his chest.

Sparda listened to every word, fascinated and amazed by his little one’s talent and profoundly moved by all the love, all the meticulousness and the time he put in each line and in each word. “Oh Vergil. The world is not yet ready for someone like you.” The father said as he let a tear roll down his cheek. “Why are you crying, father?” Vergil worried. “Because fathers cry, my son.”

That day was the last time Vergil truly celebrated Father’s day for a few weeks later he had no father, no one to make poems to, no one to admire by the fireplace. Just a memory that he feared would sooner or later fade but that he would cling to dearly for as long as he could.

“Why don’t we bring flowers to Daddy’s statue in the park today?” Eva asked when Vergil was six, when Vergil was seven, when Vergil was eight only to be welcome by a heavy silence that was no longer hiding brilliant thoughts but a painful sadness. But each time he did as Eva suggested, maybe more for her than for him, maybe because he still loved and admired Sparda even if he had left him, maybe because he thought that his father might see him and smile from wherever he was now, the same way he had smiled when he had read him his poem on his last father’s day.

And that’s certainly why, more than three decades later, he was back in this park, on this very special day with a bouquet of purple peonies he had bought on his way here and a memory that never faded. A memory he could still recite.

"Whether the sun shines or the sky cries,                 Whether the day breaks or the night wakes,       My father always as a rampart stands Protecting my house with his bare hands.

He is strong, he is brave                 And the day he always saves.     A knight in cockroach armor     To scare my terror away."

Vergil scoffed at the lines, at the way they rolled off his tongue, finding them funny and childish and not worthy of a Blake or a Fielding at all unlike what he thought when he wrote them as a child. The over-confidence of youth probably.

“Did you just come up with that?” Vergil turned around to see Nero walking towards him with a smirk. A surprise but not a bad one. “Cause the rhyming sucks a little. I expected more of you.”                “ And I suppose you’re an expert in poetry now?”         “ I may read have read one of your books.” He said as he tapped the pocket of his marine blue coat hiding Vergil's most sacred book with pride. “You still have it I see.”     “Hey! It’s a real page turner! Can’t get my nose out of it.” Vergil had a crooked smile, understanding perfectly what his son meant.

Son? Even a year after this reveal he still couldn’t believe this boy before him, the one he had lived such a terrifying yet incredible adventure with, was his own flesh and blood.

A sigh almost escaped Vergil’s lips. How did he make such a fine young man? Someone so selfless, so generous, so loving when he was nothing like that.              “ What are you doing here, Nero?” He asked, trying not to think more about this.      “ Well it’s father’s day, no? So … I made you something… or tried to.” The embarrassed grimace Nero suddenly made made Vergil’s smile grew larger but Nero, too worried to keep the gift covered with the pieces of newspapers he had taped together, didn’t see it as he didn’t see the paternal pride and the love shining in his father’s blue eyes. The same paternal pride Sparda had displayed when Vergil was a little child with a small paper in his hands.  “Thank you Nero.” The man said as he gently took the present from his son's hands, wondering what it was even though the long shape didn’t leave much place for imagination.

He cautiously unwrapped the thing, already feeling a happiness he hadn’t felt in years warming his heart. And when he saw a katana-like wooden sword that purposely looked like Yamato he couldn’t help but smile and let a tiny drop of water blur his blue eyes. “It was Dante’s idea. Though he might have suggested gluing two sticks together.” Nero said as he scratched his head. “It looks amazing.” Vergil’s honesty was like a knife in Nero’s chest but in a good way. It was as if all the stress and all the stupid fear he had felt while making this toy sword had been stabbed away. He felt relieved, joyful even that his always so stern father was genuinely grateful and seemed to appreciate his gift. “That way, you won’t have to tear my arm apart again cause look, you have two now.” Nero tried to joke but his words just erased the smile on Vergil’s face.

“There is not a single day I don't regret what I did to you.” This was Vergil’s way to say he was sorry. Nero was certain of it. He didn’t need to know his father that well to know it. After all, he was somewhat the same. “Hey, it’s in the past. Plus it grew back, so no harm done.” He winked, trying to ease the atmosphere with a bad pun worthy of Dante even though there was a time he would have ripped Vergil’s chest open for what he had done. And a part of him knew he would never forget and maybe never fully forgive what happened.               But right now he was just happy to have a family, to have a father and to finally be able to celebrate a day he has so long hated.  “ This world doesn’t deserve you, son.” Vergil solemnly declared. He had never called Nero that way and that name felt strange yet beautiful to both of them. It made the son and the father smile in ways they never thought they would smile at each other. “ Damn, are you crying old man? I thought devils never cry.” Nero suddenly harrumphed when he finally noticed the water growing in his father's eyes.                   “ Well, fathers do cry." Vergil declared as he allowed a tear of joy and pride to fall along his pale cheek. The first in a very very long time but one he will never regret or brush away. "Father do cry.” He repeated with a glance at the statue of his father behind him.

[eliemo]

What Matters

Summary: It’s not that Virgil thought the dream would ever become a reality. It’s just that sometimes, it’s nice to see the flaws in his logic laid out plainly in front of him. 

Notes: past abuse mention, past violence mention, nightmares, sympathetic dark sides and light sides

Taglist:  @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames

Masterpost

Virgil stumbled into the hallway, shivering under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, breaths coming in panicked, shuddering gasps as tears blurred his vision. 

“It was an experiment, Virgil.” 

“It seems the others were onto something, after all.” 

Logan’s voice kept ringing in his ears (it wasn’t Logan’s voice, he knew that. He knew Logan would never say those things), cold and calculating, but smiling through the nightmare, relieved for things to finally return to how they were supposed to be. 

It was a dream. Just a stupid, stupid dream that his idiotic brain had decided to torture him with tonight. 

He’d never...had a dream like this before.

Virgil paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating with his arms wrapped around himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to decide what to do. 

He knew it was ok to get someone after a nightmare. The others had practically insisted after they had learned how frequently he had them. 

They all helped in their own way. Patton would chase away memories of the past, holding him close with promises that he was safe, that he would never be trapped again. 

Roman offered distractions from his fears, colorful stories and grand reassurances, the prince swearing to fight off anything that might threaten his safety. 

And Logan...Logan brought him back to reality. Logan calmed him down, grounded him, reminded him where and who he was. He pushed aside irrational fears and worries with his usual logic, his reasoning slowly putting Virgil’s racing mind at ease. 

Logan was who he should go to now, after his dreams had warped reality, made him question his own safety in the waking world. 

But...

A flash of pain, a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt and slamming him to the wall, hard enough to leave him wheezing. 

It hadn’t been Logan. Logan would never. He’d promised, and proved his good intentions time and time again. Virgil wouldn’t be where he was without the logical side’s help through his recovery. 

He trusted Logan. He loved him- he loved all of them more than he knew how to say. He owed them everything. So there was no reason his stupid brain should come up with something so horrific. 

The things he’d been told hadn’t even made sense. It was just exhausted, paranoid thoughts that had unfortunately come to life in an incredibly vivid nightmare. 

It was something he’d used to worry about, back when the others had first accepted him, Virgil’s terror and confusion convincing him that their kindness was fake, that they would turn around and hurt him too as soon as they were fed up. 

He knew better now. They showed him every day, over and over and over again, that he was safe. That they loved him as much as he loved them. That he wasn’t the only protector in the mindscape. 

That he didn’t deserve the pain. He never had. 

His mind played tricks on him all the time. Hell, sometimes it liked to torment him just as much as the Others used to. He should be used to dreams like this by now. It shouldn’t be leaving him so shaken. 

But the feeling had been so familiar, the dream so eerily vivid, digging up old, long buried fears. It had been confirmation that the Others had been right, that he’d deserved it all, that no one had ever actually wanted him to feel protected. 

It was so stupidly unrealistic. And so, so terrifying. 

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, held his breath to make as little noise as possible, and descended the stairs by himself. 

Besides, if he told someone about this particular nightmare, he’d only end up upsetting them. They didn’t deserve that. 

So that was how Virgil ended up pressed into the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and willing himself to stop his violent trembling. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, unfairly realistic dream. 

He didn’t turn on the television, despite knowing the sound would help distract him. His hands refused to move, still clutching tightly at the blanket around his shoulders. 

He stayed where he was, distantly aware the other sides would be up in just a few hours, staring blankly at the wall, letting the awful dream replay over and over again in his head.

The first rays of pale sunlight had begun filtering in through the mindscape’s windows by the time Virgil heard movement upstairs, the familiar creaking of someone moving through the halls. 

He didn’t move, despite how his back protested the way he’d been hunched over for quite a while now, watching warily as Janus made his way downstairs. 

Virgil wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or relieved, but he couldn’t help but smirk at the way Deceit did a double take when he saw the anxious side huddled up on the couch. 

He knew Janus had only recently learned what had happened to Virgil, the beatings always happening when his back was turned, and since Virgil hadn’t actually been the one to say anything, he had no idea how much Deceit knew. 

It still made him uneasy sometimes, the worried, guilt ridden looks he occasionally caught the snake watching him with, the glances he and Remus would share, the less than subtle attempts to give him his space.

Virgil seemed to be the only person Remus was actually careful around, the Duke sure to lower his volume and tone down his movements when the anxious side was in the room (which wasn’t saying much considering the energy Remus had, but Virgil appreciated it regardless), and ever since the panic attack in the kitchen, Virgil hadn’t seen his Morning Star anywhere in sight. 

It was a work in progress, Virgil still wary and unsure around him, but the two of them were gradually learning to coexist and understand each other. 

Janus was...a different story. 

A blind man could see the guilt Deceit was carrying onto, the denial, shock, and anger that never seemed to give him a moment's rest. 

Or maybe Virgil was just able to pick up on it because he’d gone through the exact same thing. He still was. 

Deceit, self proclaimed lord of the lies, hadn’t picked up on the violence and abuse the others had put Virgil through, never once allowing himself to pick up on the little white lies thrown around to keep Virgil helpless. 

And as much as he wanted to sometimes, Virgil couldn’t blame Janus. It wasn’t his fault- the others had known what they were doing, and they’d known Janus would put a stop to it the second he found out. Kicking Virgil around was a pastime they were far too invested in to lose. 

But there were days when pain and sickening fear from memories that wouldn’t leave him alone, when flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks became too much to handle, that Virgil wished, more than anything, that Janus had intervened. That he’d let himself look closer. That it all could have stopped sooner. 

And he knew Janus wished the same thing. It was probably why he was awake at five in the morning looking like death warmed over. 

Janus was still standing at the bottom of the stairs, and Virgil offered a shaky peace sign in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, grimacing when he realized that it absolutely looked and sounded like he’d been crying for the past hour and a half. Great. “You’re up early.” 

Janus seemed to visibly regain his composure, quickly straightening his back and offering a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look who’s talking.” 

“I’ve been up a while.” 

He saw Janus frown at that, fiddling with his sleeves, uncertain. “Are you...alright? Do you want coffee?” 

And yeah, that was as much of a heart to heart as either of them were going to have this early in the morning. Virgil wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk about how one of the most ridiculous nightmares he’d ever experienced had left him trembling and crying like a child afraid of the dark. 

“Fuck, yes please. Go get me caffeine.” 

It was enough to get a genuine smile this time, some of the tension seeping out of Deceit’s shoulders as he made his way to the kitchen. 

He was fine. He was home, he was safe, and things were good. The nightmare would fade, as dreams do, and in a little bit they would all eat breakfast together like a family. Like they always did. 

There was absolutely no reason he should still feel so scared. He should be looking forward to everyone waking up, not feeling like he was being led down to the gallows with every tick of the clock. 

Janus was back in just a few moments, two plastic mugs in his hands, and Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped at the sudden thought of what would happen if he spilled on the couch after he was handed his drink. 

Nothing. Nothing would happen and no one would be mad. God, he needed to get a hold of himself. 

Nothing was going to change. And yet…

“Janus?” he asked quickly, the other side stopping in his tracks. “Where...where are you going to be today?” 

He could feel Janus staring, but Virgil now kept his gaze firmly on the steaming coffee in his lap. 

“My room, most likely,” he said. “I have some things to attend to today.” 

“Could you-” God, this was stupid, this was so needlessly stupid. “Could you like...leave your door unlocked? Just- um...just in case?” 

“Just in case...what, Virgil?” 

“Y-you know.” And really, what was he supposed to answer with? Just in case he’d suddenly been granted the gift of prophetic dreams and he needed a place to hide when Logan started beating him? “Just...in case.” 

He risked a glance up, relieved when there was no ridicule or annoyance in Janus’s eyes, just gentle confusion like he was trying to silently pick apart Virgil’s thoughts. 

“Alright,” he said quietly. “My door isn't open if you need anything.” 

It was...new, Virgil realized, having these careful, honest conversations with Janus. He wasn’t about to drop all his defenses and retell the details of his nightmare, and Deceit knew that, but they were still miles better than they’d been just a week ago. 

“Thanks, Janus.” 

Janus made his way back upstairs, hopefully to get some more sleep, and Virgil settled back against the couch, significantly less shaky than before. It was just a stupid dream. He’d be ok. 

Virgil was aware he was being a complete asshole. 

He’d made the mistake of assuming the paranoid jumpiness from his dream would fade as soon as the mindscape came to life and everything continued on as normal. He hadn’t expected it to get worse. 

He was pretty sure Roman and Patton could tell something was up, but Virgil managed to plaster on a nervous smile and force himself to breathe easy as he was seated at the kitchen table, listening to Roman ramble as Patton started cooking breakfast. 

And then Logan was walking in, muttering a quiet greeting, and the panic had hit full force. 

Which was completely ridiculous, especially as Logan just offered him a warm, tired smile and made his way over to the pot of coffee. 

It was the same Logan he saw every morning- welcoming and safe, and a very large part of the progress Virgil had made over the months. 

Logan would never hurt him, nobody would...no one was going to…

“Come here, Virgil.” 

There were hands grabbing at him, nails digging into his skin, overpowering and so painfully familiar. 

“Virgil!” 

“Virgil?” Logan was looking at him now, brow pinched, and suddenly they were all staring at him and Virgil couldn’t breathe- when had it become so hard to breathe? 

He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor and nearly tipping over in his rush, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets to hide the way they were shaking.  

“I- uhm, I’ll be right back.” 

He didn’t have any other excuses. No good ones at least. But the panic was wrapping around him like a vice, cold, cruel hands squeezing his neck, and Logan was taking a cautious step towards him--

Virgil sank out without another word, his mind momentarily set back to the old, terrifying mindset, screaming at him to get out, to run and hide before someone grabbed him…

God, what was wrong with him? 

He ended up locking himself in his bathroom, turning on the sink so the rushing water would drown out his rapid, panicked breathing, turning harshly away from his reflection in the mirror. 

He was fine, he was fine, he was...trying really hard not to plan out escape routes and hiding spots in his head. 

It was an old habit that had practically been second nature to him before living with the light sides, and even a few weeks after. It had helped him feel at ease, pinpointing places he could keep himself hidden and out of the way, even if it often proved to be pointless. 

It was how he’d ended up in the closet, covered in blood with shards of glass coating his skin, so deep in his panic he’d been convinced his family was hurting him. 

He couldn’t risk falling back into old habits. Not now, when he’d been making so much progress. Not over something as meaningless as a dream. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bathroom. Not when so many eyes would be on him the second he stepped back into the kitchen. 

So he took extra time to do his makeup, layering on black eyeshadow to cover up how utterly exhausted he looked from his restless night, and took another few moments to stare blankly at the wall when he still wasn’t quite ready to come out. 

When Patton came to check on him, Virgil blamed it on a bit of queasiness and promised to eat something later. 

The guilt became suffocating when he realized the panic didn’t return with Patton’s voice, but it definitely was back with a vengeance when he heard Logan walk down the hallway a few moments later. 

Logan didn’t deserve this. Everything the logical side had done for him, the endless patience, assistance, and careful compassion, and Virgil was right back to being a pathetic mess. 

So maybe that was why he didn’t bother to be subtle about trying to avoid Logan for the rest of the day. Besides, even if he did try to hide his uneasiness, the logical side was always able to pick up on the little things. It would just be a wasted effort. 

Virgil stayed cooped up in his room as much as he could, blasting music in his headphones to drown out any sounds. 

When he did leave (at Patton’s gentle insistence that he eat something for lunch) he was sure to never end up in the same room as Logan, quickly retreating or sinking out whenever the logical side walked in. He resolutely ignored the twisting guilt in his gut at Logan’s small frowns when Virigl would blurt out some half hearted, see-through excuse each time. 

He just needed a day or two. Just a little bit of time for the residual panic to fade and for things to go back to normal. It wasn’t logical, maybe, but...Logan would understand if he knew. 

Except he wouldn’t, and that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? 

Virgil was well aware how difficult he was to deal with, especially earlier on. Logan had sacrificed so much time and effort to teach him, and the others, how to gradually undo the mindset Virgil had been conditioned to have. 

All that work, all that trust, and Virgil was letting one night of nightmares influence him more than any of it. Logan...Logan would probably be furious with him. 

But not enough to hurt him. Never enough to hurt him. 

Virgil wasn’t...afraid of Logan. Despite proving the exact opposite every time he so much as caught a glimpse of the logical side today, Virgil was still coherent enough to know Logan wasn’t going to turn his back on a year’s worth of progress to strike him. 

It was just...instinct taking over. Besides, in the nightmare, Logan’s reasoning for needing to hurt Virgil hadn’t been completely unreasonable. 

Hell, before Logan had explained otherwise, Virgil had thought it was totally understandable that he needed to be hurt. He hated it, but it helped Thomas. That was a fact. 

And like Logan always said, numbers didn’t lie. If Virgil being in pain was beneficial, then Virgil would stay in pain. 

But Logan had been the first one to tell him that was false. He’d been the one to lay out the real facts and evidence to show how Virgil hurting would only worsen Thomas’s health, and his own. 

They’d all helped Virgil realize, for the first time, that he never should have been hurt. He’d never deserved it. Any of it. 

That was why he just needed to wait it out. He couldn’t talk this one out with the others, couldn’t face Logan just yet. It would just end up hurting him (that was what Virgil did best, after all) and Logan didn’t deserve that. 

Unfortunately, Virgil was starting to really wish he’d had the courage to ask for reassurance when the sky grew dark and the mindscape quieted, and he quickly realized he was far too on edge to go to bed. 

He was right back on the couch where he’d started the day, somehow even more jumpy and paranoid than he’d been that morning. He stared blankly at his phone, wondering if the dream would return if he fell asleep. 

Great. He’d probably be pulling an all-nighter. Maybe multiple if he couldn’t get a grip. Patton was going to kill him when he found out. 

“Virgil?” 

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed at the voice from the staircase, breath catching in his throat as he dug his nails into the couch cushions. He didn’t look up, even as he felt Logan’s eyes on him, completely frozen under the weight of his gaze. 

“Virgil,” Logan said again, steady and emotionless, impossible to read. “May I speak with you?” 

Virgil’s heart was beating in his now tightening chest, and he furiously told himself to calm down. But his body wasn’t cooperating with his mind, panic overpowering reason, and Virgil desperately searched for an excuse before Logan could realize how terrified he was. 

“I- um...I was just heading to bed, so--” 

“I only require a moment of your time,” Logan said. “As you usually sleep at a much later hour than this, I’m sure that won't be an issue.” 

Virgil took a shaky breath, wincing when he realized how obviously unsettled he must look. Logan didn’t sound angry, but...well, it was always so hard to tell. 

But there wasn’t a way out. He just hoped he could play it off long enough for Logan to give up. “Ok. Yeah, what’s...what’s up.” 

He tried not to think about how eerily similar this was to the nightmare. How Logan had calmly asked to speak with him. How he’d pulled out his notebook and presented neatly recorded data of Virgil’s health paralleled with Thomas’s. 

“It seems Thomas’s productivity has only decreased since we began treating you as an equal, Virgil.” 

“It seems the Others were right, your pain does make life easier.” 

“We will, of course, have to return to that method. You understand, I’m sure.” 

Virgil resisted the urge to flinch as Logan sat down at the other end of the couch, careful to keep his distance. 

He wrapped his arms around himself, shuddering under the phantom feeling of hands grabbing him, so tight it bruised his skin, both from nightmares and memories he could never let go of. 

“You’ve been avoiding me today.” 

Virgil did flinch this time, curling into a tighter ball. “N-no I haven’t.” 

Yeah, that was convincing. He could practically picture the exasperated eye roll Janus would give him if he were here. He kind of wished someone else would show up- anything to cause a distraction. 

Logan wasn’t here to hurt him. Logan would never hurt him. No one would hurt him. 

“I can...see my presence is causing you some distress,” Logan said, and Virgil felt like crying. “I do not wish to force you to speak with me, but I’ve clearly done something to trigger a reaction.”

He paused, obviously waiting for some kind of response or confirmation. Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, and Logan sighed before continuing. 

“It was never my intention to do anything to upset you. As is always the case, I only wish to identify the trigger so it does not happen again, and offer my sincere apologies. But I cannot do that if you won’t talk to me, Virgil.” 

God, why couldn’t Logan just be angry? He wouldn’t go back for anything in the world, but sometimes…

Sometimes it felt like being screamed at, punched and kicked and thrown around until he couldn’t move had been easier. At least then, he knew what to expect. 

Nobody had cared about him back then. And now...now Logan, Patton, Roman, Janus, and even Remus just wanted him to be ok. It scared him sometimes, how much he loved them. 

“It...it’s not that,” Virgil said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...fuck, you didn’t do anything Logan. You...you’re fine.” 

Logan was silent a moment before responding. “I find that hard to believe. You are currently under visible distress, which didn’t begin until after I made my presence known. This has happened every time I have walked into the room today. You skipped breakfast after I--”

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Virgil winced at his own outburst, now looking anywhere but at Logan. God, why was he always such an asshole? “I’m...sorry. I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to...it’s just me, ok? I’m being stupid like always and--” 

“You are not stupid,” Logan cut in, that stern but gentle tone he always used to talk Virgil out of a self deprecating spiral. “You tend to overthink and jump to often unrealistic conclusions, but as I have told you many times that does not change how intelligent and thoughtful you are.” 

Virgil shrugged, the praise just making him feel more guilty about what he was putting the logical side through. “I’m still being stupid, though.” 

“Falsehood. Something has frightened you, and clearly I am at the source. I only wish to assist.” 

Well. Now he was going to have to tell Logan. Even if he was upset afterwards, annoyance was far better than Logan walking around, weighed down by guilt and blaming himself for something he didn’t do. 

But apparently Virgil hesitated just a second too long, and Logan was suddenly speaking again. 

“Perhaps we can try a different approach,” he offered. “Could you...explain why you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?” 

Virgil took a shaky breath. “You’re...gonna be mad.” 

“At you?” Logan asked, and Virgil nodded. “I sincerely doubt that. Why do you believe I’m going to be angry?” 

Virgil hunched over himself, and suddenly everything came spilling out. “Because...because you’ve done so much. I owe you all everything and I still...I’m still letting myself panic over a stupid fucking dream. After everything! And you...you don't deserve that. I-I’m sorry for avoiding you I didn’t mean to- to make you think--” 

There was a hand on his shoulder, barely brushing the cloth of his hoodie, but Virgil still flinched back before he could stop himself, and Logan quickly pulled away. 

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “I- I’m not--” 

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said, sounding much more calm than Virgil would have expected. “There’s no shame in being affected by a particularly bad dream.” 

Virgil scoffed, glancing up just enough to see Logan’s worried frown. “Sure.” 

“I mean it, Virgil. Especially considering your past. I understand if a vivid nightmare was enough for you to revert back to an old mindset. Staying vigilant and avoiding threats is what kept you safe back then, isn’t it?”

Safe was a strong word- he had never really been safe before, but...avoidance had been a survival technique. If he thought someone was angry, the only thing he could do was stay out of their way and hide. 

“But it’s you,” he argued. “I...it was so stupid you- you were saying that they were right. When...when they said that hurting me helped Thomas, and then...and then you showed me all this- this fucking data or whatever that me being safe hurt everyone and I...y-you all said I had to go back to how it was and I…” 

He trailed off, face burning when a few traitorous tears slipped down his cheeks, and he furiously wiped them away with his sleeves, breathing deeply. 

“Virgil--” 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I’m...I know it’s dumb, ok? It’s just a stupid dream and you would never...I mean, if any of that was true you would have said something months ago, right?” 

For the first time, he looked up to meet Logan’s gaze, suddenly finding himself speechless at the sheer amount of emotion behind his glasses. Warm but worried, calculating and understanding. 

And then, slowly, he was standing from the couch. “Please wait here just a moment, Virgil. I believe there is something you should see.” 

And then just like that he was gone, hurrying up the stairs without another word. For just a second, Virgil considered retreating, and apologizing for this entire conversation tomorrow when he was more put together. 

But he didn’t need to make this any more unfair for Logan than it already was. Besides, the logical side was back in less than a minute, something held tight in his hand as he returned to his spot on the couch. 

“What’s that?” Virgil asked, hoping his voice didn’t betray just how sickeningly nervous he felt. 

Logan held it out to him, slow enough that Virgil didn’t flinch at the movement. He took it in his hands, realizing it was a plain black spiral notebook, and his heart clawed its way up to his throat. 

“What’s--?” 

“Flip through it, please,” Logan said calmly. “I believe you’ll find it interesting. And it may do something to set your mind at ease.” 

So far it was doing the exact opposite, but Virgil obeyed and slowly began turning the pages. 

It was clearly well-used, the some of the pages bent or wrinkled, but other than that it was still pristine and organized like everything that belonged to Logan. 

Some pages had hand drawn graphs or what looked like data tables, others had written entries in Logan’s writing. Virgil skimmed through them, catching glimpses of his name, and occasionally the other’s, all of the descriptions of events and conversations vaguely familiar. 

He had...absolutely no idea what the hell this was. 

And Logan apparently picked up on that, the logical side suddenly clearing his throat and scooting closer, still far enough away for the couch to not feel crowded. 

“It’s, uhm...well, you see when we had first learned of your past I wanted to ensure that we found the best methods to help you feel...safe. And at home. I suppose I should have told you, I completely understand if you’re--” 

“Wait a second,” Virgil said, the pieces falling together. “This is...you kept notes on me? On...my recovery?” 

It was Logan’s turn to avoid his gaze now, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized Logan looked nervous. 

“I apologize if it is invasive,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t my intention. It’s a bit of a habit, I suppose. I tend to take extensive notes on things I find...important. And finding the best way to help you was incredibly important to me, Virgil.” 

Virgil felt like crying again, but for an entirely different reason this time. “Lo, that’s...god, that’s so fucking sweet.” 

Logan’s head snapped up, eyes widening when he saw Virgil’s widening smile. “I- you believe so?” 

“Dude, are you kidding? I’ve never...sometimes I just...can’t believe how much you guys care.” 

Logan matched his smile, and carefully, slowly enough that Virgil could pull away, scooted closer to see the open notebook. 

“I’ve been sure to document all of your progress at least once a week, no matter how small. And there has been a lot of it, even if you don’t always think so.” 

“Logan--” 

“But the reason I wanted you to see this today,” he continued, reaching over to turn a few pages. “Is because I occasionally compare your progress to Thomas’s productivity and overall wellbeing.” 

Virgil had absolutely no idea what the graphs and symbols Logan was pointing at meant, but the other side was right there to explain it to him. 

“Your progress, as well as how safe you began to feel around us, directly parallels Thomas's increased mental health. You being safe and healthy makes him better, Virgil. You being happy makes us better.” 

And...yeah, there was absolutely no way for Virgil to stop himself from crying this time. He didn’t really have any intention to stop, anyway. It was a nice change of pace to cry from happiness for once. 

Logan, unfortunately didn’t seem to know the difference. “I am...so sorry, I didn’t mean to--” 

Virgil cut him off by pulling him into a hug, holding on tight and squeezing his eyes shut. Logan relaxed against him, and slowly moved to wrap his arms around Virgil’s back. 

“I was going to offer you space and time to recuperate,” Logan said, and Virgil tightened his grip. “I’m pleased to see you are considerably less afraid of me now.” 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Virgil said quickly, not yet ready to pull away. “I’m not...and I wasn’t, I promise I just...my stupid brain is always--” 

“Your brain is not stupid,” Logan chided, and Virgil dropped his arms when he pulled back. “It’s had to learn to keep you alive under very unfortunate circumstances. It’s a survivor.” 

Virgil snorted, despite the way his chest felt light at the words. “I mean...I guess so.” 

Logan leaned back against the couch, the notebook still open in between them, and he drummed his fingers against his thigh before speaking again. 

“Something I need you to understand,” he said. “Is that in the grand scheme of things, the contents of this notebook don’t matter.” 

“But it’s--” 

“We were correct in assuming that helping you would, in turn, help Thomas. But even if we were wrong, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if there were benefits, and it wouldn’t matter if keeping you safe negatively affected Thomas. You would never, ever be struck. You would never be beaten or grabbed or screamed at or threatened. No matter the situation. It would never be an option to us.” 

There it was again, like he’d heard so many times before but so, so much more intense tonight. The compassion, the dedication, the emotions Logan denied while feeling so strongly. 

Virgil blinked away a new wave of tears. “I...I don’t ever want to hurt Thomas.” 

“Then it is a good thing this is only hypothetical,” Logan said. “You very clearly do no such thing. I only wanted you to understand that no matter the circumstances, your place with us will never change. You will never have any reason to fear for your safety again.” 

Virgil didn’t know how Logan did it, how the side who claimed to be the most alienated when it came to emotional responses, always seemed to be able to make everything right. 

The jumpiness and awful paranoia had already almost completely faded, leaving behind a soft blanket of soft fatigue. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and Logan smiled. 

“Of course. I’ll remind you any time you need. Would you like to be alone, or would you like to stay with me tonight?” 

Virgil smiled, wiping his eyes again. “Can I stay? Please?” 

Logan reached out a hand, his own smile gentle and warm, and Virgil knew they’d both be passed out to some old space documentary like they usually did when Virgil had a bad dream. 

“Of course, Virgil.”