#at least they had the decency to get back to me UNLIkE THE OTHER LETTING AGENCY

[sweetsbfreex]

who loves you

summary: a four month long situationship with Ari goes south when you see a text you shouldn't have

pairing: college!hockey player!ari x situationship/fwb!reader

warnings: none?

-

Fuck. You felt refreshed and blissed out as you sat up and stretched. Watching Ari’s bare, fit body disappear into his bathroom. 

It always surprised you how he showers without his phone because that meant he showered with no music. You couldn’t imagine taking a shower without music, how else would you fulfill your popstar dreams. But alas, Ari was different from a lot of the guys you’ve previously been with. 

You drop back against his bed, smiling at the ache between your legs. Ari was a lot of things and a sex god was definitely one of them. 

The incessant buzzing from a phone..his phone jerks you from your blissed out state.

Bzz-bzz

Ignore. 

Bzz-bzz

Ignore.

Bzz-bzz

Okay, what the hell?

You grab his phone beside you, it comes to life when you lift it. 

Joy ;)

—Meet you in the parking lot after? My place?

—I’ll wear the special panties with your number on them

You squint as more texts roll in. Special panties? Her place? The fucking winky emoji by her name?

What. The. Fuck. 

You stare in disbelief for who knows how long, feeling a little hurt and naive. 

“Why is my phone in your hand?”

Ari stands at the end of his bed. A towel wrapped around his hips as he runs another through his shoulder length hair. Your eyes can’t really help to worship the droplets over his chest. 

“Who’s Joy?” You push out the question. 

You can see something change in Ari as he walks over and takes his phone from your grasp. “None of your business, why are you snooping around”

You scoff, “I wasn’t snooping! It kept buzzing and I thought it was an emergency or something. Who’s Joy?” you question again, annoyed at the way he’s avoiding your question. 

“I don’t appreciate you looking through my phone. And she’s none of your fucking buisness, so drop it”

You stare up at him, subconsciously lifting his sheet to cover your bare chest. 

“You’re having sex with other people?” you accuse, and deep down you're confident you know the answer, but that naive part of you is hoping it’s all a misunderstanding. 

“And if I am? We’re just fucking around too. Are we not?”

Your breath stutters at his admission. Although the two of you have never stated terms of this…relationship, his actions have always spoken louder than words. Everyone thought the two of you were together. Even though he’s never formally asked you to be his girlfriend, you always had an inkling that he would at some point.

Your stomach flips thinking of his protectiveness over you, the way he’d always pay if he was there, and the way he goes out of his way to check up on you after his practices. Or the way you’re always there for him at every game, his number and name on your back as you cheer him on. 

Shit, even the sex was anything unlike a pair of friends. It always felt intimate between the two of you. Your toothbrush stood next to his in his bathroom, and yours, for Christ sakes. 

“Are you being serious right now?”

Ari shrugs. Fucking shrugs at your question.

“Y/n, I don’t understand why you’re upset. In no way have I ever committed myself to you.”

That stings. 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” You mutter, trying to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. 

“I don’t.” 

“Fuck you, Ari.” You seethe, dressing yourself with speed. “Have fun with Joy.” You tell him, buttoning your jeans, and gathering your shoes in your hand. Anything to get out of this humiliating scenario. 

You shove your way past Ari’s confused figure. Which stops you as he grabs your elbow, “I’m not understanding what the big deal is? You’re telling me you haven’t been sleeping around.” 

You remove your elbow from his grasp, “No. I haven’t. And if I did, I’d at least have the decency to let you know.” And with that, you’re out of the room. 

Ari stands there for at least a minute, disgruntled and confused with what the fuck just happened. He shakes his head trying to figure out whatever the fuck he was missing. 

-

“You’re a fucking idiot, a moron if you will. Maybe a dodo would fit better?—” Ransom laughs to himself as relaxes in his spot in the frats living room, snacking on his favorite biscuit cookies. 

“Ran,” Steve interrupts the way Ransom isn’t helping. Softly shaking his head in reprimandment. “Now isn’t the time.”

Ransom only shrugs, and looks back to the television. 

“I hate to say it, man. But Ransom is right, the only answer was in front of you the whole time.” Sam tosses in his opinion, clapping Ari on the back.

“Well what the fuck is it? Why is no one saying what I’m missing?”

“She likes you, Levinson.” Bucky answers, walking through the living room and out the door, his key to his motorcycle swirling around a finger. He didn’t need to know the full conversation to know what exactly was going on. He would’ve stayed to watch the aftermath, but he had a certain spicy redhead waiting for him at her apartment

Ari doesn’t mean to sound dramatic, but he quite literally feels the world tilt on its axis at the discovery. He’s admired you for a while, but never in his mind did he think he was the right guy for you. He’s seen the guys you’ve dated before and they were the complete opposite. 

Intelligent, brainy, in tons of clubs, they wouldn’t do stupid shit like fighting on ice skates because it’s fun. They were guys who any mother would love.

Fuck. He can’t believe this, there’s no way. 

“What—“ 

“Dude, you can’t be so blind, to not see how in love with you she basically is,” Ransom says around a mouth full of cookies. “The sex is probably great, but you think a chick like her is gonna wanna be around you without an ounce of admiration.” 

“I think what Ransom is trying to say is: there’s a lot of telling that y/n has feelings for you, and I’m pretty sure her getting offended that you’re sleeping with other people is a big one.” Steve says. 

“Fuck.” Ari groans, running his hand down his face and over his scruff.

“How would you feel if y/n told you she was screwing someone else?”  Sam asks. 

“Livid.” 

Sam snaps his finger pointing at the dark look already on Ari’s face. “There you go.” 

“Fuck. She’s not even answering my calls. What the hell am I supposed to do?” 

“Give her time to cool. If anything, maybe she’ll be at the game?” Steve offers.

“Maybe,” Ari mutters.

-

But you never picked up a single call and for some reason, even picked up that Ari thought of swinging by your apartment. You had texted him to leave you alone.

And then Saturday rolled around…

-

“How long have you been into hockey? I’d never take you up as a sports girl. Sorry that sounded terrible—“ 

“It’s okay, Jake.” You laugh. “Not until this year, you’re right I’m not really into sports at all. What about you?”

“I really got into it with my dad, we used to watch every game together if we could,” he smiles at the memories. 

“That’s really sweet,” you smile back, placing your hand over his. 

Jake Jensen is a computer science major you befriended over your French class last semester. But the both of you basically ran in the same social groups, leading to you guys staying friends. 

When talking about the upcoming game, you had let it slip that you passed the deadline to donate your ticket, and couldn’t find anyone to sell it to. Leaving you to go to the game alone or getting a strike. 

Jake was kind enough to let you join him. You would’ve joined Natasha and the others, but it felt too weird to you and you wanted no chance running into Ari. Especially since you weren’t wearing his jersey like you usually do. 

You haven’t spoken to him all week, minus the small text you sent, and you refused to. Even though he had tried non stop to run into you on campus. 

“Have you—“ Jake starts, but is interrupted by the commentators introducing the team. Everyone stood up and cheered at the sight of the school’s players. 

-

Ari skates out with a smile on his face, lifting a hand in the air as he waves and joins the line of his teammates. As he does so, he tries to find you, but it’s hard to distinguish you among the wave of people in the stadium. Especially since you weren’t seated in your undesignated-designated seat closer to the rink. 

But he shakes it off, putting himself in the right mindset for the game. 

-

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for our favorite time of the night: THE KISS CAM!” 

Some players skate and others like Ari, watch the Jumbotron during the brief break.

The first is an elderly couple, then a pair of random strangers who kiss under the playful pressure, two pairs of students, parents with their children who dramatically gag. That makes everyone chuckle, including himself.

They go around the stadium one last and he cannot fucking believe it. His hand becomes around his stick.

He can feel his teammates staring at him in sympathy. But Ari cannot look away from the Jumbotron. 

The first thing he notices is your flustered smile, that you came to the game sans his jersey, and the most noticeable of all is the dork sitting next to you with his arm behind your seat, looking just as bashful.

He’s livid. You’ve been avoiding him all week, probably doing who knows what with this guy. 

-

“You know what you gotta do,” teases the commentator. You laugh behind the back of your hand. Jake sits beside you just as flustered, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb.

In no way is he against kissing Y/n, but he also doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. 

“C’mon folks!”

You stare at Jake, shrugging a shoulder in question. Jake only smiles back before sitting up straighter. The both of you go to lean in. Your lips press softly against his until a loud smack of temper glass breaks it up. 

The two of you jolt away at the sound of a disgruntled voice. You look to see Ari, “hey!” His voice booms. “Back the fuck off my girl!” 

“What— who is he?” Jake’s eyebrows knit together as he points towards the enraged giant pointing a menacing finger towards him. 

“An asshole who doesn’t know what he wants.” You answer, shaking your head towards Ari before you place a kiss on Jake’s cheek. 

You watch as Ari stands behind the plexiglass. And even though you’re about eight rows back, you can see the confused and upset expression on his face. A pinch in his eyebrows and a pitiful glare in his eyes. 

“I’m really sorry about that, Jake.” 

“It’s nothing, don't worry.” He smiles, “Do you want popcorn or anything?”

“Sour patch kids, if that’s alright.”

“No problem.”

You look at anywhere but Ari during the rest of the brief intermission. 

-

Ari 🏒🦁

—Meet me outside the locker room

—Please?

You sigh as you grab your stuff. Just before the two of you reach outside the stadium, you gain Jake’s attention. 

“I’m really sorry to cut our hangout short, but I had a lot of fun. I just have to handle something really quickly.”

Jake tries not to show the disappointment on his face, “I’m gonna rightfully assume it has something to do with that ‘asshole who doesn’t know what he wants’?”

“Unfortunately,” you smile ruefully. 

“Okay,” he nods his head. “I hope everything goes well. I’ll see you around?” 

“Definitely,” you hug him before you make your way outside the doors of the locker rooms, with no trouble which you can guess is because of Ari. 

You smile awkwardly at the glances of Ari’s teammates. You hate that everyone has seen that happen and you assume most of his teammates know the intimate details of what’s gone down between you two. Which only adds another layer of unnecessary awkwardness. Time passes before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, looking up to see Steve at your side, a timid grin. 

“The locker is all cleared out, he’s in there waiting for you.” 

“Thanks, Steve.”

-

“Ari?” You walk in to him tying his sweatpants.

He turns around with a mournful look on his face. His sweatpants low enough that you can see the bands of his Calvin’s; he’s shirtless so his six pack is on display and glistening from his shower; his hair is disheveled, but the ends still curl at the ends; and he has a towel thrown over shoulder. 

You can ask any women how they could not be hung up on a guy as attractive as him. 

“Hey,” he sends a small smile, making his way towards you. 

“Wait—“ you interrupt, “We cannot have this conversation if you’re shirtless.”

He won’t argue, but he does as you’ve said and throws on some ratty t shirt in his locker. He sits on the bench in front of his locker, patting the spot next to you. 

You sit beside him, making sure to keep some distance between you two. 

“I see you’re not wearing your jersey?” 

The audacity of men will always surprise you.

“Your jersey and is that really the first thing you want to talk about?” 

“You’re right…” warily his hand grabs yours and when he sees you won’t retract from him, he brings it his plush lips. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. Seriously.”

“What you said Sunday was totally uncalled for and spiteful— and where do you get off announcing to practically the whole state that I'm your girl? And You embarrassed poor Jake for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothin’ and the douche will be fine.” He staggers at the fire in your eyes. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“That seems to be the only thing you can say,” you huff. You turn to him, needing to know the answer to this. “Are you really sleeping with other people?”

He notices how small your voice is as you ask. 

He sighs and looks down for a little, before tightening the grasp of your hand. “I was.” 

You stand up while trying to get Ari to let go of your hand. The last thing you want is for him to see the tears begging to fall. 

Ari stands with you in haste, bringing his other hand to palm your cheek as he looks down at you. Those piercing blue eyes saying so many things at once. “Was. I was. Listen, I haven’t slept with anyone else other than you since last month. It was a moment of weakness and you can’t be mad at me for it. We’ve never made anything official, baby.” 

“Do you even care about me? At all.” 

It feels vulnerable and desirous, but you’re unsure how you can continue without asking. 

“What? Did tonight not show you that?” 

You go to argue, but he cuts you off before you can start. 

Both his hands cup your face while his thumb draws circles on the apple of your cheekbones. 

“I love you.”

Your breath picks up at his admission. 

“It’s been months coming, but you gotta know since our first night together I haven’t slept with anyone other than Joy and that was only once. And I didn’t think I could tell you because.. I’m just not the guy you typically go for, Y/n. But I guess that was my own insecurities playing a part of that. I’m rambling and i probably sound like Steve after he takes one hit. But I promise I’ve admired you for so long and it has never been just sex to me. I don’t want my stupid mistake to get in the way of us trying correctly this time.” 

You swing your arm over the back of his neck and pull him in a kiss, your other hand fists his shirt. 

He lags at first before his brain catches up and he’s kissing you back harder. He tilts his head just a smidge like he always does and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head. You feel his other hand cup the side your body. His hand roams up and down before he’s slipping it behind you to squeeze your ass. You moan into him, pressing your body closer to him. 

Both your breaths pick up and you know you need a breather. So you pull away in a blur. 

“I love you too.”

He smiles at your admission. One of those adorable, rare smiles not many get to see from the broody man. 

You smack his arm and he grabs it with a questioning look. 

“But I’m still really pissed at you and I’m not letting you off easy.”

“Even if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” He snakes his brawny arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he ducks to kiss your cheek. 

“Even then,” you giggle, turning his head for a kiss. “And that’s a yes.” 

-

a/n: it's been so long, hi!!! sorry i disappeared

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback 💗

[whorekneecentral]

driver!reader x mark webber

“don't start something you won’t be able to finish” in reference to a dnf he had earlier that day.

yeah this fucks. // prompt: “don't start something you won’t be able to finish”

tw: bit of degrading 

The rain was not kind to anyone, the disaster that was today’s race left only 11 out of the 20 unscathed, amongst the 9 out was your teammate, Mark. The man already held some resentment towards you, coming in and become the golden girl, taking over what should have been his. 

Your P2 finish was the cherry on top, Mark has had enough of you for today. Locked away in his driver’s room where he planned to stay until he was needed for press. 

You thought the man at least had the decency to show up for your podium and yet, he didn’t. 

Majority of the time, you two put on a show worthy of an Oscar; smiles, hugs, sweet words about what doting teammates you are and yet behind the closed garage doors, you hated each other, barely spoke and when you did, it was nothing but harsh and pure hatred towards each other. 

Mark thought you were self centred, cared only about winning and had a total disregard to others. You thought the same about him, also he was old, grumpy and needed a good fuck to get the stick out of his ass. 

You had a few kind words for your teammate, smiling at the others as you walked to his driver’s room. You pushed the door open without knocking, letting it slam shut behind you. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” You asked, arms folded as you looked at him. 

Mark looked over at you, the towel around his waist as he was in the middle of changing. “Why are you in here?” 

“What’s your problem? I know you don’t like me but I thought you at least had the decency to show up. Apparently you’re an even worse human than you are driver.” 

“You know what, y/n?” Mark huffed, “you don’t care about anything other than your wants and your needs, nothing matters more than winning to you.” 

“Fuck you, Mark.” You spat, rolling your eyes at the older man. 

He continues. “You’re full of yourself.” 

“Yeah I am, and you need to get fucked to get over yourself.” You were inches from his face now, the two of you spilling all the horrible things that has been piling up all season; the tension building by the second. 

“Yeah? Maybe you should do that then. Since you seem to know what’s best for everyone.” His eyes fixed on yours. 

“Maybe I will.” You push him to sit down, getting on top of him. 

Mark is taken back for a minute, looking at you, trying to gather his thoughts. 

He wasn’t going to give into you, he knows that’s what you’re playing that. You did nothing but fuck with his head and as much as he wanted to fuck you, he can’t bring himself to lose this argument. 

“Don’t start something you won’t be able to finish.” He says, his eyes meet yours once again. 

Your hand’s on his jaw, “Unlike you, I can actually finish.” Your words were a dig at his DNF and something in Mark flipped. He pushed you off him, letting you fall back on the couch.

He gives you a light shove off his lap, letting you land on the couch. Mark pushes and pulls you by the hips, propping you up on your elbows. Your shorts and panties were tossed on the floor. You’re laying on your back and Mark has got your legs up in the air, pulled together and held in place by his arms before he pushes into you. 

He can already feel you clench around him and he pushes in a little more, letting you take all of him. 

He lets your legs rest over his shoulders rather than be up in the air. He leans over you a bit, pushing your legs back. “God fuck! Mark-”

“Those two shouldn't be in the same statement,” your teammate teases you, your nails digging into his arm, his words annoying you before he leans down to kiss you. “Take it so well.” He mumbles against your lips before lifting off your legs a bit.

His hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing against the soft flesh.

A little whimper slips past your lips, your hand wrapping around his wrist. “You only act up because you want me to fuck you, don’t you? Little slut can’t handle not getting fucked, can’t she?” He coos, taunting you.

[randomwriteronline]

The sounds of cooing and raucous voices sputtering out something akin to words was a good sign, they both thought as they approached the room. A few healers were standing around the doorway, watching in curiously and giggling to themselves at the poor attempts at language coming through the thin barrier dividing them from the beings who were not their patients.

Whenua stood beside them, his short hunched stature causing him to go mostly unnoticed; he crossed his arms behind his back, made a show of trying to peek through the curtains, and finally whispered in a conspiratorial tone: "What are we laughing about?"

One Ice Agori jumped so high that they nearly cracked their skull on the ceiling.

The onslaught of hurried embarrassed apologies that followed wasn't that loud, but there were enough beings talking at the same time as they scrambled against the wall to completely cover the vocal progress coming from the adjacent room, clumsily backing away from the two Turaga in a burst of sudden bashfulness.

Try as she might, Nokama could not hold back a quiet chuckle as her brother scattered the healers away with an imperious wave of his hand, so very unlike him.

He maintained his act as he side-eyed her: "Well?" he hissed with a self-importance that would have once fit Matau perfectly, only making her giggle harder: "What is there that you find to be so funny? Is it me? Ah! It is, isn't it? Have you no respect for your elders? Such irriverence! Why, you young ones, growing ever cockier by the year! When I was your age, young lady, we- we would- we had-"

At that point they were both too overwhelmed by their own laughing fits for the charade to continue - bent over their knees and sustaining each other from the shoulders as their frames rattled and rattled with the sound of pocketfulls of spare change.

"Oh!" a squeak reached them. "Would you look who's here!"

Their racket had not gone unnoticed, evidently.

The two Turaga hurriedly calmed down once more before entering the room. They had to keep at least some semblance of decency and intrigue about themselves.

Their one-hundred-percent dignified appearance from behind that thin excuse of a curtain was met by the lopsided smirk of an Agori with a heavy metallic sheen to her skin and the both excited and curious gazes of a pair of suddenly quiet beings.

"Ulagha!" one of them beamed, smiling so brightly that his entire face seemed to lit up.

"Raise your tongue!" Krahka chided him: "You need to block the air at least a little bit if you want any of that to make sense! And roll the arr further down your throat!"

He huffed, wiggling in his seat but still grinning as he repeated, slower, following her instructions: "Tu - rrra - ga!"

"Hello!" Nokama replied just as giddy.

"Ayam Poha - tu! Toa ov Tohn!" he continued - and instantly his face scrunched up in displeasure at his mispronunciation, the arms he'd thrown triumphantly in the air retracting immediately while his nose curled up and he tried again, phonemes tangling in his mouth: "Ton. Tohn. T- thon, thon, thon, thon! Thon!"

"Easy now, easy-"

"BONES!" he cursed out loud: "BONES! STONE! STONE! STONE! Ayam Poau- Po - ha - tu, To-a ov Sss-tone! Stone!"

"There you go!" Whenua hollered back.

With a victorious shriek the Toa pumped his fists: "Toa ov STONE!"

"Of," Krahka corrected.

"STONE!"

"Of stone."

"TOA OV STONE!"

"Alright, we'll fix that later."

"Aycan peak! Ps- sk- spkspk- seek- pek- sep- BONES! Ssspeak!"

Nokama beamed, eyes alight with pride: "You can indeed!" she laughed exuberantly as she streched out her arms towards him. Pohatu slammed his head in her palms much like a Hapaka pup, perhaps even a bit more forcefully than she would have liked, and let her sway it left and right while gently squeezing his cheeks between her fingers. "How lovely to hear you again!"

His laugh was as thunderous as she remembered, filling the entire room effortlessly.

"He's not that good," Krahka huffed. She didn't get all these compliments when she figured out speech in a handful of minutes...

Her student stuck out his tongue at her.

She stuck it right back at him.

If she'd still been a teacher, the Ga-Turaga would have felt compelled to break up their bickering; having trained herself on the most inane of her brothers' arguments, however, she simply turned away from their childish display to put all of her attention on the one being who still had not uttered as much as a sigh.

"And you, Kopaka?" she grinned at him. "Would you like to share your progress with us, too?"

The Toa treated her to as blank yet least annoyed a gaze as he could.

His lips moved forward, as if to send her a kiss: then he whistled.

Whenua widened his eyes: "No," he whispered.

Kopaka looked straight at him and whistled twice again, adding an inquisitive inflection to the sound.

"No," the Turaga repeated. His finger pointed right at the organic being's chest; his gaze had turned dead serious. "Do not do this to me. Speak."

Another whistle.

Whenua smacked his hand on his leg: "No!" he wailed in a state of total despair, "I will not take this! We do not need another one who speaks solely in bird! I know you can speak - Pohatu, tell him to speak! Tell your brother to speak!"

But Pohatu only grinned as wide as he could and shook in his seat, legs tangled and swinging - not even trying to hide his amusement.

The Turaga turned to his old friend: "Krahka! Tell him to speak!"

"But he is speaking," she replied innocently as she batted her lashes, "Just not your language."

Watching him grip onto the cot for dear life as he whined and sobbed dramatically loudly while letting himself sink to the floor, this close to biting a chunk out of the mattress in frustration, was certainly something. What exactly that was was hard to tell, but the other four beings could agree that it was at least very funny.

When Whenua finally pulled himself up, he looked like he had been through the trials of the Hordika again.

"Kopaka," he began, pointing his finger at the Toa of Ice once more. "Listen to me very carefully. You cannot do this to me. I've stomached Nuju speaking only bird for a thousand years, I physically cannot handle a second one like that. You will kill me. You will kill your brother's Turaga. Do you think Onua would appreciate that? I know you can speak. Now take a deep breath, and say something. Normally. With words."

Teridax had awaited thousands of decades to see his plan come to fruition - millions of days, billions of hours, trillions of seconds, all for a moment of glory that barely lasted but a fraction of the anticipation and planning behind its very achievement.

The pause before Kopaka's answer was somehow more excruciating.

Might have been his dead stare in the Turaga's eyes.

Or the fact that he followed his instructions to the letter, likely for the sake of torturing him further.

His lips parted first to take a deep, deep breath, filling his chest.

They parted again to then exhale all that air - very slowly.

Parting a third time, he inhaled shortly.

And finally, mouth protracted to whistle, he said, deadpan: "No."

Whenua sunk back to the floor with a loud whimper.

Two seconds later he sprung back to his feet: "You PIRAKA!" he shrieked, and menacingly swung his fist down on the cot several times as the Toa picked himself up and leisurely walked on the mattress to hide behind his brother, who was convulsing uncontrollably as he laughed harder than his stomach could take, "You Vatuka! You Makika-faced fiend! So much for being made by Artakha - get back here, you spawn of Karzhani! You make me believe you can only--!"

"He couldn't even speak avian," his sister cackled for the sake of increasing his brother's relief and anger at the same time, "My Rau couldn't even translate him! He was just whistling!"

"WHAT!"

Pohatu kept rocking back and forth wheezing hysterically to the point where he was about to start crying.

"You shut up, you overly meaty Vako!" Whenua yelled again.

The Toa tried to answer to the insult with something in tone as best as his still clumsy speaking capabilities could allow him to - instead coughing up a storm as he choked on a breath when he attempted to stop his crazed giggling a little too quickly, needing his brother to (extraordinarily gracelessly, to be quite honest) slam his open palm a few times on his back like he was trying to shatter his spine to smithereens in order to dislodge whatever disgusting thing was stuck in his throat.

At last he sucked in a huge breath, mouth opening wide in a grin as the sound of a creaking window escaped it: "Aploghy tim-one tim-too tim-thrr earh-tauraga tim-one tim-too."

"Oh!"

"Ah - yes," Krahka bit her lip, face scrounched up in an almost pained grimace: "That. I was going to mention that."

"Lang stone-pattern same-not, be?" Nokama whirred, hoping her memory was simply a little faulty. The words came out of her like the intermittent clicking laments of a floppy disk drive allowing its contents to be downloaded slowly.

"Smaae-not, bee," Pohatu confirmed - not without struggling to imitate something at least close to the correct noise a few times.

Kopaka rolled his tongue deeper down his throat in something akin to a purr: "Frrreim-uorrrk an- anao- amu- anolam- anomelie," he tried to explain, modulating squeaks by imposing his dull greyish teeth and tongue against his lower lip to try and correct his pronounciation - though much of it was beyond his control.

His frustration was mitigated slightly by Nokama's humid palm laying on his hand. He focused on the texture of the protodermis on his skin before he started scowling too hard.

The Turaga turned to their friend, speechless but with eyes open wide, completely baffled.

Krahka could only shrug: "They're not built for it."

"What do you mean, not built for it?" Nokama sputtered before she could hold herself back: "It's our language! Our first dialect! All Matoran are made with an immediate knowledge of it - what do you mean, not...?"

"Framework lang compat-not," the Rahi repeated: her Agori-like face morphed into a mixture of mechanical features, reminiscent at once of both all the former inhabitants of the Great Spirit Robot and none of them, so that she could illustrate the problem as they moved in an unnatural manner as she continued speaking in screeching whirrs, clicks, buzzes, clangs, clunks, and so on. "Unit mec-not lang maker lang part-plural present-not. When: lang maker-yes lang part number-plural mod-not. Ice-toa stone-toa find-yes number-plural rrr-lang part click-lang plus maker-yes part-part-part iiii-lang-dif minus lang part-dif number-plural mod-not."*

The information did very little to comfort the Ga-Turaga. She looked awfully beside herself.

"But you do understand it still - you did understand all that with no problem, right?" Whenua turned back to the Toa as he gently clunked: "Comp-yes, be? Comp-correct-yes, be?"

"Com-ies arth-turrga, bee," Pohatu reassured him.

The other winced a little, but he smiled: "And you can still say a few words," he reassured Nokama, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. "Pronounciation leaves a lot to be desired, but based on how you spoke earlier it's safe to say that's not your forte."

The Toa of Stone dropped his shoulders with a cartoonish pout.

"Corec," Kopaka coughed.

His brother shot him a glare that wouldn't have been out of place on Nuju's face during one of his worst days.

The other Toa smirked with a smugness worthy of Onewa.

It was very short-lived, as he instantly dropped it and paled when Pohatu pointed at his nose with a brand new vengeance in his own dastardly grin as he only said: "Sayit."

Krahka tilted her head.

Then she grinned too.

Horrifyingly, because of the completely mechanical face.

Pohatu pressed harder on Kopaka's nose: "Sayit."

The Toa bit down on his lip and scowled.

"Sayit!"

"Come on, Kopaka," Krahka drawled with a honey-sweet tone, "Don't you want to show them how good you are?"

He shot her a look that could have killed her if she'd been any weaker a being and tried to stand up to walk out of the situation as he'd enjoyed being able to do in these past few days; he was instantly grasped and manhandled until he was essentially dangled before the Turaga, trying as hard as he could to hold himself back by clawing onto the cot with his dull fingers: "Sayit!!" his brother insisted with a wail, shaking him up and down like a jammed up pepper grinder.

"No!" he growled back quietly as his cheeks grew darker.

Pohatu leaned down to the baffled Turaga with a conspiratorial smirk: "Ee kip sain da vecas ee nos ee can mes i'ap," he stage-whispered, completely forgoing any lesson he might have been given on proper phonology in favor of fluid if only vaguely comprehensible communication.

"Can-NOT!" his brother corrected.

"Aysay da!"

"NO! Ee- Yu, say-d, can!"

"He's right, you said 'can', not can't." their teacher intervened: "You're really bad with plosives."

He very maturely replied by blowing her the loudest raspberry he could and resuming shaking his poor frazzled brother by the shoulders whilst gargling some sort of inarticulate howl.

The sheer tenacity with which Kopaka was holding onto that terrible mattress was probably only matched by a Bohrok's drive to clean.

Krahka's hyena-like cackle briefly interrupted his concentration so he could shoot her another positively deadly glare - which meant that he was taken completely aback when he was finally ensnared from beneath the armpits in a grapple, lifted halfway in the air, and launched together with his brother as the both screamed back onto the bed.

The Rahi kept laughing as the two tussled like a pair of angry manuls, needing to bend down on her knees before her lungs collapsed and she fell to the floor.

She waved at the worried friends to reassure them: "Let them, let them - pups like them need to play!"

"I think they're trying to bite each other," Nokama objected.

"That's a common play-pattern," her brother intervened too quickly.

While he nursed the shoulder she'd punched, the Ga-Turaga turned back to the still cackling beast: "What is this even about? What would elicit a reaction like this?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" Krahka howled back, overwhelmed by a fit of giggles for a few more seconds before she could return to a semblance of composure: "Your little Ice Toa is a big ol' show-off, is all! He decided he was good enough to recite a rhyme from memory as his first real attempt at speech, and he-"

"SHAT!" came from the mess of organic matter, promptly followed by a "SAYIT!" followed in turn by a loud frustrated shriek.

"And he did bad. Like really bad."

"SHAT!"

"SAYIT!!"

"NO!"

A loud, almost metallic sound rang out for a second, and then Pohatu yowled as he rolled on his back with his faulty leg that didn't seem to want to heal in his hands, accusing a certain degree of pain to the limb through variations of ahia-ahio-ohiohi-ahiuiah.

Kopaka pointed a finger at him as though he could have stabbed him with it, hissing: "Yu, de-serv, it."

His brother briefly stopped nursing his calf to slam a hand on his bicep in what would have more clearly been the first half of a crass gesture if he hadn't been laying face up in the spit image of a stuck dermis turtle.

"I could give you a penalty for that!" Whenua warned him.

To which the Toa of Stone rightfully protested, squashing his brother's face in his hands: "An ee don ghe uan?"

"By the tail of the Rahi Nui, you are abysmal at talking," Krahka sighed. "And you could do it from the second you were awake..."

"Shat ap, ayam jas fas."

"There is not a single right phoneme in that sentence."

"Ayam jas fas!"

The sound of their bickering did not bother the Onu-Turaga as he mused over the barely comprehensible complaint his brother's Toa had brought to his attention.

He turned to his sister: "What is it that you used to teach in Metru Nui, again?" he asked, "Was it hystory? Or language?"

"A bit of both," she replied, the hint of a twinkle in her eye telling him that she must have caught on to what he was thinking: "Though literature was also on my curriculum."

Whenua made a big show of humming and thinking, even playing with the chin of his mask like he'd once seen some Ko-Metru scholars do when they were so deep in their mostly useless ponderings that they wouldn't even notice where they were going until they smacked their faces against a wall, before litting his pale green gaze finally settle on Kopaka's dark face.

The organic Toa was giving him a look that promised frigid anguish if he even just thought of putting his idea in motion.

"Does your leg hurt very badly, Pohatu?" the Turaga asked with not a single hint of fear towards the silent threat at him, since he knew it was all hot air anyways.

A disgruntled wail was answer enough.

"Then a penalty for Kopaka is indeed in order. I'm certain you're curious about that rhyme they mentioned he could recite, sister?"

Kopaka hissed through gritted teeth: "No."

"You don't get a say in this," Whenua shut him down immediately.

"No!"

"Why, dear brother, I am curious," Nokama replied.

"No!!"

She laughed a little more gently as she noticed the Toa's embarrassed darkening cheeks as he sunk his nails into the mattress, and waved at him reassuringly: "Oh, come now, I've heard all sorts of terrible recitals in my time from Matoran who should have had a much better grasp on their tongue than you do right now, it'll be nothing special! Here - come closer, say it into my audio receptor. That way nobody else will hear. Is that alright with you?"

For a second, considering the way he trembled in his seat and the perfectly immoble seething squint of his eyes, her interlocutor seemed moments away from grasping her mask and disassembling her entire body like a puppy tussling with a porcelain doll.

Then, blushing so furiously that his face might as well have been made of coal, he did lean very close to the Turaga (avoiding eye contact at all costs) and complied.

His lips moved imperceptibly for a few seconds, making almost no sound at all.

He was so quiet in fact that Nokama had to interrupt him and ask, as sweetly as possible: "Could you repeat that a little louder, please? I can't hear a thing."

Head sinking into his shoulders from embarrassment, hearing Krahka's mocking giggles behind him, and feeling Pohatu's eyes pierce holes into his back, the stoic Toa of Ice thought the loudest most terrible curse that could come to his mind in the hopes that it would automatically transfer into their brains and raised his voice just enough for the Turaga to actually make out the words.

If he had gotten a limb cut off it would probably have been so much less painful than this.

The second Nokama pulled away and joined hands in front of her mouth to carefully choose her words he was frankly ready to just spontaneously shatter into a quadrillion pieces.

He did crumble a little when she placed a kind palm on his arm.

"It was a commendable effort, and I praise you for trying your best in your current conditions," she started, so immensely sweet in an attempt to soften the blow that was inevitably coming (she stopped briefly to shut up Krahka's new batch of chuckles with the most killer glare in the repertoire of any being of Water) before finally taking a long breath and admitting: "But that was really, really bad."

Kopaka curled into a ball, lowered himself to the floor, and scuttled under the cot and across the room in pure shame.

Pohatu nearly choked again as he laughed as loud as he could.

He choked for real when his brother landed a whole elbow in his stomach with a pounce that would have hurled the both of them right off the bed if the Rahi present hadn't shifted just in time to contain them - though that could not stop him from contuining to howl his hilarity, all while getting pelted in as many furious slaps across his face and body as the Ice Toa's hands could withstand before they caught on fire.

--

*Organic beings don't have anything to produce most of these sounds with, and even when they can only a few can be modulated. They did discover a variety of purrs and tongue-clicks - and that they can do those weird lip-teeth-tongue squeals - but they can't articulate much else.

[autistic-creature-appears]

Thanks for the save - Sonadow Prime (ONESHOT)

A/N: Anything will bold, italics, and underlines is an A/N. 

Literally screeching at the show it feeds my sonadow brainrot sm!!

This was more of writing practice than anything (and I felt bad for not giving yall stuff for a long time)

Sonic

By the time I registered the fact that missiles were headed toward me, it was too late. I closed my eyes, waiting for the explosion that would surely launch me far away from my current position.

But it never came.

I opened my eyes and saw Shadow carrying me. I heard him say the words "Probably gonna regret that," over my shoulder. 

"Aw, I heart you too, Shadow," I replied.

While it was really just a teasing joke thrown his way, there was a bit more... depth to the phrase too. 

We got back to the fight.

--

Shadow

I was fighting the "child-like" member of the Chaos Council when my guard fell and he grabbed me. I felt the robot's crushing grip more and more each second. I couldn't move. He pointed something I can only think to be a missile launcher at my face, preparing to shoot me dead. 

In that instant, I heard Sonic call out to me. I turned my head and saw him running toward the robot and me. In a split second, he was here, attacking the robot. I fell to the floor.

I wanted to get up and help, but I was incredibly tired. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Sonic's battle with the two Chaos Council members. He was moving much faster than he normally does, I noted.

--

I sorta forgot how the episode ended or what happened after these scenes, so forgive me-- Just think of this as an alternate ending. (although it wouldve been that anyway)

3rd-person POV

After Nine left Sonic by himself, Shadow walked over to provide some comfort. After all, depression gets in the way of efficiency, so he wanted to do away with that problem. At least, that's what he told himself. He knew deep down that he didn't like seeing Sonic sad. The sight of Sonic being hurt sent pangs piercing through his heart, and he didn't know why. But he knew the cause of it. 

Sonic's sadness.

"..."

He wasn't good at comforting others. Hell, he usually made them feel worse. 

So he decided to distract Sonic from Nine's betrayal.

"...Thanks for saving me earlier." Shadow noticed the rotation of Sonic's ears in his direction.

"You're... thanking me...?" 

Shadow understood the confusion, at least partially. He wasn't one to thank others. At most, he would dismiss it, or reply with anger instead. Still, it sort of hurt to think that Sonic wasn't capable of thinking Shadow had the decency to thank people once in a while.

"What else would 'Thanks for saving me earlier' mean?" 

Sonic chuckled, with a bit of nervousness lining his reply. "N-Nothing, it's just unlike you, Shadow."

"I still have the decency to appreciate actions too, you know." 

"Since when did I say you couldn't?" 

Shadow was slightly taken aback by Sonic's response, but managed to regain his composure enough to give a response of his own.

"Hm. You didn't." 

"Exactly, Shads." Sonic teased. "Stop assuming things about me and how I feel about you."

"Shads? Since when have I ever been called Shads?"

"Since now, obviously, you goofball!" Sonic stuck his tongue out easily. 

Shadow chuckled, "Of course."

A moment of uninterrupted silence unfolded, as the two hedgehogs sat together. Until it was then interrupted.

Sonic looked at Shadow. "Since we're on the topic of thanking people..."

Shadow's ears perked up just a bit.

"Thanks for the save earlier, when the missiles were headed for me."

"Well, I couldn't just let you die, now could I?"

Sonic laughed a bit at that. Shadow noted how joyful his laugh sounded, full of happiness and with a charming ring to it. 

"Well, yeah, but you could've also continued fighting and finished off Dr. Deep. I probably would've survived anyway." Sonic added under his breath, "Although maybe not in fighting condition..."

Another moment of silence hung between them.

"I don't like it when you're hurt."

Sonic looked mildly surprised at Shadow's statement, but he managed to reply with a tease anyway.

"Ah, so do our fights not count?" 

Shadow smirked back.

"I should've said 'I don't like it when someone that isn't me hurts you.' " 

Sonic laughed again, this time much more than before. Shadow let out a few laughs of his own.

"I like spending time with you, Shadow."

"Me too, Sonic."

--

Aight so if i remember correctly, Shadow actually isn't fighting Dr Deep when he saves Sonic, he's hiding from the Chaos Council (they think he died). But this is a fanfiction so I do whatever I want. Hell, I could've made Obama appear out of nowhere and recite the vaporeon copypasta (although I'd never live it down if I wrote that)

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Welcome home!

Having thirteen children instead of one was difficult, but so rewarding. Iruma was your ray of sunlight in the dark abyss of hell, and you literally sold your sold to a demon just to take care of him the way he deserves. Worth it.

And when he started making friends and doing normal teenager stuff, you couldn't help but cry. You were so relieved that he was able to have sleepovers and get a proper education. Course being in demon school as a human wasn't easy and you were proud of how he kept climbing and pushing forward when the old him would have tried to keep quiet and hide.

Somehow, along the way, though, you started to notice that your small family grew. Before you knew it, you had thirteen children asking for advice or seeking comfort. You had thirteen trouble makers causing chaos and you being a good parent/guardian, unlike some *cue cursing under breath*. You actually attended every family teacher meeting, addressed all concerns about schooling, and ensured that they were being properly fed and taken care of.

Somehow, you were the one expected to sign all permission slips, and you were the first one that got called if anything went wrong. And you gladly took each responsibility without hesitation. The fact that you and Opera went and remodeled a room for each child because you had said firmly. "They each need the option of having privacy. The house is big enough."

Sullivan was happy to pay as well as claim more grandchildren. Course, they didn't all live with you all the time, much to the entire households disappointment. But it was soothing knowing you had a full house. There were some circumstances where you just took one of your kids and decided with them that they were not going back.

For instance, when Kalego-San described Jazz's living conditions. Sure, he had casually brought it up, and yes, it was 8 o'clock at night. But you'd be damned if one of your babies had to live like a slave for anyone. After telling Opera to get a carriage ready, you quickly informed both iruma and Sullivan that jazz was coming home to stay before leaving to get him.

That would be when you had the displeasure of meeting your baby's disgusting older brother. Who happened to be having sex in the living room for anyone to see much to your misfortune after you had kicked open the door.

At first, he learned and tried to get you to join him, but after decking him in the jaw and having Opera keep an eye on him for you. You made your way deeper into the house, eyeing all the knickknacks. "Jazz!" You called out carefully stepped over more junk. "Jazzy!" You called out again.

You heard some shuffling and turned to see a door open to reveal the one you were looking for with bags already packed. "Iruma already texted me. I'm all packed." The excitement to leave this place made your heart ache for a moment before you opened your arms to him.

"Let's go home, Jazzy." He had rushed in bags and all nearly making you both fall over, but that was fine. Your baby was coming home.

Or when Soi had runaway from home, you had been the person he ran to. You gave a hell raising call about how stupid it was for his father to attempt to force the families ways down his throat and that if he kept being stupid, he would lose Soi forever. Which was a shame cause he was a great kid.

Soi had ended up crying and rambling to you all night as you gently rocked him in your arms and planted kisses on his head. He just wanted to be heard. You and Soi's mother had agreed that Soi should stay with you until he decided what to do. At least someone in the family had some decency.

There were other instances such as lied staying over cause he fought with his sister. Alice who was avoiding their mother, who was on an evil cycle. Clara wants a play date. The door was always welcome to her. Even if she didn't want to play, you would remind her happily with a kiss to the cheek.

But truthfully, you couldn't be happier. Your life was a thousand times better than it had ever been on earth! Watching as Elisabetta strutted through the doors with Lied and Kamui on her heels. Shaking your head, you called out. "Welcom home, sweetheart, hello baby bird, hey little man." They immediately swarmed you and began telling you of their day as you basked in the attention listening happily.

[kandyrezi]

Say, how would Ivlin, Rieta, and f!Kcalb react to realizing that their darling was checking out their ass when they bent down to pick something up?

(a/n: there's not enough love for okegom girls, so i'm always up to the task to rectify that. <3 i changed the prompt just a tad. warning for suggestive themes, but not much else.)

⌜ivlin.⌟

ivlin is no stranger to being ogled at. she doesn't much like being looked in such lewd manner by just anyone, but she will gladly indulge her darling if she knows she's already 'distracting' them enough.

during one of such instances, when she's leaning over the desk and pointing out things to you on a map she has laid out in front of you, but you're too focused on the v-shaped neckline of her military dress, exposing some of her cleavage. all her words just go into one ear and out of the other.

except for one sentence.

"did you hear what i just said?"

suffice to say, no.

her gaze is quite intense. "and why is that?"

she doesn't need to ask, because she's already well-aware. ivlin just wants to make you squirm, as she revels in the bit of control she has over you.

and so, when she notices you gawking, she'll start giving you more for show later on; making sure you feel her chest pressed against your back when she wraps her arms around you to hug you from behind, or wearing short skin-tight skirts, with similar low-cut tops - just to punish you later on in her chambers for looking at her inappropriately when you were supposed to be working.

⌜rieta.⌟

you were doing some rearrangements in the library located in the flame devil's mansion. you were a bit of a klutz, honestly, no wonder the books and manuscripts kept falling out of your hands.

rieta even scolded you, "you should be more careful with these. lady ivlin would be displeased at your careless handling of them."

"i know, i know, i'm just in a rush to get this job over and done with..." you sighed.

"be more slow and meticulous with them then. i'll help you out if you want me to."

smiling in gratitude, you went to pick up some of the books that had fallen down. you noticed rieta had as well. her back was turned towards you, as she looked through your stacked paperbacks and bent to pick them up. her maroon pants and a long skirt over them didn't hinder you from looking at her ass.

you kept working and continuing on where you left off, stacking everything in alphabetical order - when rieta was facing away from you, you took the chances to glance at her.

"i know you keep staring at me." she said, snapping you out of your trance, and looking at you with a certain 'knowing' gaze.

"hah, yeah... i just can't help it." you replied, no use in denying it when she caught on to you being unsubtle. she raised an eyebrow at you.

"yes, and particularly at my… rear end."

you smiled. "it is a very nice rear."

"you really are shameless." rieta said teasingly. you guess being a klutz had some mild advantages, at least.

⌜fem!kcalb.⌟

kcalb noticed her sister had unknowingly dropped her writing quill when transferring her paperwork. it'd be polite of her to take it and bring it back to her, and she carefully bent down to the floor to pick it up - unfortunately, her skirt had gotten stuck on the edge of the doorframe, and of course, you were walking behind her... and did you ever gain an eyeful of her lacy, black underwear clinging to her skin.

where she lacked in the chest department made up for her nice rear end. when you realized how intently you were staring, you looked away, blushing and beyond mortified at how disrespectful you were being. unlike someone like grora, you had some decency around here—

"...where were you staring at just now?"

you quaked. "n... nowhere, h-honestly, miss kcalb...!"

"really?"

"i, um..."

it was silent, being completely unable to come up with something coherent without being a liar.

she glared at you.

"...idiot. don't let me catch you doing it again."

she turned around and sauntered away from you without another word. your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, and you were sure your cheeks were still tinted red.

[charmixpower]

Season 5 wrap up. Season 5 and 4 comparison

As you all probably know by now I like s5 more than s4, for pretty obvious reasons if you've read my s4 thoughts

Things season 5 did better than season 4:

Sirenix and Harmonix make more logical sense than Believix. Forms from outside sources have not been done before and having be given by a higher power makes more sense than suddenly forms can be influenced by how much people on a particular planet believe in magic. It makes even more sense once you remember that Earth is in the Magical fucking Dimension and that Earth not having magic is a fluke

No seriously who the fuck discovered Believix in the magical dimension and HOW?

Lack of love and pet and other stupid jobs

The romance drama was less stupid. Like yes it's VERY stupid and I hate it, but Stella being mad because she thought Brandon was insulting her fashion design makes marginally more sense than what ever the fuck was going on with Mitzi. It's like that for all of them except Skloom, like it's marginally less stupid and brain numbing

Musa is snarky again!!!! God bless!!!! And Riven is acting like a natural continuation of his s2 self, extreme stupidity and inability to read social ques and all!! My babies are back!

Completely irrelevant plot central characters did not happen. At least fucking Krystal tried to heal Sky, that more that I can say about Andy's bitch ass

Does Roy count? I can remember like three scenes he was in, he is a minor character

Tritannus has an actual personality and with some minor tweaks could be genuinely compelling, I cannot say the same for the Wizards of no personality

No secondary antagonists that are objectively better than the main ones and make me want to tear my hair out because I want to see more of them, but it does forget that Diana exists during the lilo so there's that

The civilian outfits were better. There still bad but there not s4's civilian outfits sooo

The Selkies are plot relevant unlike some pets I can't be bothered to remember

The tone of the season was FAR more consistent. Like s4 fucking was so childish than nose dived into Nabu's death, but everything in s5 didn't feel like tonal whiplash

Less transformations. Two is still annoying but it's BETTER THAN FUCKING THREE

At least they had to fucking earn the extra transformations and there's no hand out faries

All the girls got something to do in s5, they all at least got one plotline or big moment. Name either of those things for s4 Flora. You can't because they don't exist

Is not still on fucking earth. Yes very earth centered but we get to see a bunch of fun new locations

The girls and specialists do not act like units with hiveminds

Season 5 actually expanded on how magic on earth would look and that's neat

Tritannus's powers are stupid but at least there explained

The relationship between Tritannus and Icy is more believable than anything between the Wizards of the Black circle, I'm so sorry

Actually let's the next form come without shitting on the previous one

Things season 4 did better than season 5:

NO YOU SONS OF BITCHES LET THEM BE ADULTS!!!!

At least s4 had the decency to say Nabu was just sleeping

No fairy on fairy violence :'((, those girlies in the rainbow mantel ep didn't even get to transform

The earth faries were majorly compelling and have a really interesting motivation, none of the s5 villains are like that

Icy has less stage presence than the FUCKING WIZARDS OF THE BLACK CIRCLE THIS IS FUCKING CRIME

Oh dear god why is Diaspro here why is the continuity in FLAMES

Convergence can do anything, part 2, but worst this time

Letting magical women be queens, Nereus < Tressa

The pendant thing is objectively stupider Sky's Andy drama in s4, it's less stupid than Rivusa nonsense in s4 tho

Diaspro was fucking ridiculous tho

I fully believe that s4 would give mutant main characters different character models

Why does s5 have so many filler episodes. The lilo AND a magic Christmas are you kidding me??

Flora's "no don't hurt it!" Thing has gotten so much worse

They literally made Stella a child I'm so furious

There are more completely meaningless side plots

Things they both fucked up on:

THEY MENTION THE ROXY BLOOM PARALLEL FUCKING AGAIN AND STILL DO JACK SHIT WITH IT

More mind control??? Really????? Really???? Are we being serious????

Extremely childish compared to previous seasons

Soft boy Helia

[forabeatofadrum]

Just Some Guy (2/9)

Notes: Welcome back to Matty's second year at Watford! This year, he and John will meet some new friends and I am happy to introduce them to you. They were all named by @raenestee. Thank you Raen!

AO3

--

Year 2

MATT

It’s time for another year at Watford and I already miss the summer. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind being at Watford, but I am not looking forward to classes, especially Greek.

At least John is here. He couldn’t hang out during the summer due to ‘not existing outside the main story beats’ or something. He said he’d look into it for next summer.

Look, I like John. He’s probably my best mate at the moment, but that’s because he’s my only mate. I don’t mind. I’ve met loads of people last year, but we never became friends. Now it’s time to change that. This is going to be my year!

Sports might not be it for me, though, but according to John there is a Watford Chess Club.

“I’m joining,” he says one day, “You should come along.”

“I don’t know how to play chess,” I say, “I didn’t even know you played chess.”

John shrugs.

“Learnt it over the summer ‘off-screen’,” he uses air quotes when he says that last word. I have no clue what he means. “I can teach you. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

To everyone’s surprise, I am amazing at chess. John teaches me all his tricks but after a week at chess club, I surpass him. Chess club is huge. It’s actually quite nice to be part of something. I recognise some other members from our year. We hang out at chess club, but also outside of it.

Friends. What a concept. I had friends before Watford, but living at an exclusive boarding school does put a damper on those friendships. I saw my mates during the summer, but it’s different.

We’re sitting on the Great Lawn, eating crisps and drinking soda.

“Did you all see Agatha Wellbelove at lacrosse?” Arnold says.

“Don’t start,” John says, “You have no chance.”

“No one does,” I grumble. I admit I like looking at Agatha Wellbelove too. I think every guy in our year does, except Ryan, who is gay.

As a result, Ryan rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.

“Please, let the poor girl live!”

“That’s because you have a little crush on the Chosen One!” Leslie teases.

“I do not!” Ryan sputters back.

Scott, his roommate, snorts. “Sure, mate.”

“You did seem to be interested during Magic Words,” Sam adds.

“Well, that’s because he was fighting that Pitch guy again!” Ryan says. He has a point. The Chosen One seems to have an ongoing rivalry with the Pitch Heir.

Politics, amirite?

Others agree with Ryan as well. You cannot ignore the Chosen One. If he’s not out there leaking magic, he’s fighting our classmate Tyrannus, or he’s doing some weird shit. The other day, the Humdrum sent counting sheep. I luckily wasn’t affected, but John was. The Chosen One broke the spell on his friend and Agatha Wellbelove and for some reason that broke the entire spell.

I’m glad he saved John, but apart from that, I do not really keep track of the Chosen One’s antics. That’s what I tell my friends when Sam asks me for my opinion on him.

“Honestly, I agree,” Luis says with a shrug, “Simon Snow can do all that saviour stuff. I just want to pass the upcoming Magickal History exam.”

I almost choke on a crisp.

Shit. I completely forgot about it.

--

“Aren’t we breaking the rules?” I whisper to John. The two of us are roaming the grounds past midnight.

“It’s common decency to stay in the dorms after a certain hour,” John answers with a mischievous grin, “But there is no hard rule. Look.”

He holds out his lantern in a certain direction and I see more people sneaking around. I wonder if we’re going to a party or something. John was very vague, or more vague than usual. He just insisted that we had to go outside.

“John, where are we going?”

“Shhhh,” John stops abruptly and he pushes me behind him. I look over his shoulder and I see the Chosen One. He looks like he’s been crying and he’s walking towards Mummers House.

“Do you think he’s okay?” I ask. Unlike Ryan, I do not really pay attention to the Chosen One outside of class, but he looks harrowed. It would be an asshole move to not worry about him.

John shrugs, which is odd. He’s usually so in tune with everyone.

“I think he’s going through some shit,” John answers.

“What could he be going through?” I ask, “He’s our hero.”

John raises an eyebrow, as if I said something stupid.

“He’s still a boy, Matt. I think he’s realising that being the hero is not all fun and games.”

We watch the Chosen One walk away and he does look awful and beat up. John is right. He’s my age. I can’t imagine having the weight of the world on my shoulders and being a twelve year old at the same time.

The Chosen One.

Simon Snow.

Maybe I should stop referring to him by his title and start thinking of him by his name. We will never be friends. We pass each other in the corridor of our rooms and we know each other from classes, but that’s it. Because of that, he’s always been this elusive entity in my life. The Chosen One, the Saviour of the Magickal World, the Mage’s Heir and all that jazz.

But when I see him like this, cheeks wet from the tears, shoulders hunched, I am reminded that he’s just Simon Snow.

I heard that he’s chasing two snakes for the Mage. What kind of snakes must they be? Simon Snow really looks terrible.

When he enters the building, John and I snap out of weird concentration. We look at each other and I shrug.

John shrugs too.

What else can we do?

“Well, let’s keep going,” John says and he starts walking. Really, what else can we do? “The others are waiting.”

“What?”

That distracts me from my Simon Snow sadness.

John and I walk to the drawbridge. My friends from chess club are there as well. Luis is holding ice cream.

“Gentlemen, let’s indulge!” he says.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask.

“My twelfth birthday.”

My eyes widen, but it’s clear I’m not the only one who didn’t know this fact. Leslie throws her arms around him.

“Luis! Oh my God, congrats!”

Luis hands out his treats and the eight of us have an impromptu party. The Chosen One- I mean, Simon Snow is long forgotten. How can I care about him when I have my own life with great friends? I am so glad I joined chess club.

--

I did it!

Well, I had to bitch and moan for it, but I did it! I convinced my parents to gift me one of those fancy smartphones for my birthday. Now I can surf the internet on my phone and send memes to John in the summer. John looked into his situation and he says he exists in the summer as long as I keep messaging him, or whatever that means.

I’m just glad I have an easier way to talk to all my new friends.

Another year has gone by and we’re at our last breakfast for the school year. We’re sat relatively close to Simon Snow, and it’s noticeable. His magic is leaking, as usual, and he’s pushing scones down his throat, it’s almost grotesque. He’s eating as if he’s expecting to go hungry in summer.

Huh.

Where does he go during the summer? He’s famously an orphan. He has no family to go to. But then I see his chatty friend sit down next to him. I assume he’s going to her place in the summer.

I push any thoughts about Simon Snow out of my mind. I don’t have to see him for weeks.

[vannahmontannah]

I thought she liked me. Maybe I was wrong or I didn’t try hard enough. Either way…I’m fucked! There’s no way I have a chance but I’ll try. Maybe there’s a chance. I just wanna talk to her at least. We’ve been cool for a minute so it shouldn’t be that bad.

I walked up to the street to my house from the store. I was ready to go in since it was cold outside. It was around 50 degrees. I hurried into my apartment and sat my things down on the couch. I sat down and went back to Instagram to see if she had updated her posts. I clicked on her story and she posted some beautiful pictures oh herself. I hearted them, not really realizing if I was being thirsty or not. I call it showing appreciation in my book! I replied to her story, letting her know I liked them.

I can see us getting closer in the future and hopefully be together, but of course the future can change. When it comes to women, some of them are simple and don’t ask for much. As for her, she doesn’t want much, but I’d love to give her more than what she expects. I can tell she hasn’t gotten much affection in the past and she just needs some love.

She replied to my story reply by hearting it. She then said thank you with blue hearts. At least she has the decency to reply unlike others. I said she’s welcome and asked her how her day went.

“How’s your day going?”

“It’s going good. Yours?”

“It’s fine for the most part. Got any plans for Vday?”

“You know I don’t”

“Me neither. Imma be alone this year”

“Same here”

I sat and was trying to think of a clever way to ask her out, but my brain froze. Should I be straight forward or be cool and ease my way in?

“What would u like to do if u had a Valentines?”

“I don’t know. Probably go out to eat, go to the movies, have a picnic, get flowers, have rose petals waiting on the floor of a hotel room. Just a few ideas. Probably even play video games or watch mystery movies”

“Mystery movies on Valentine’s Day?”

“Problem?”

“Lol nah I was just not expecting that. All of those ideas seem cool. I use to give my girl flowers”

“Lucky her”

“If you’re not doing anything, maybe we can hang out”

The message say delivered for about 40 minutes. At this point I was getting nervous and didn’t wanna end up as a screenshot on her Instagram stories. My phone vibrated a few minutes later.

“And do what?”

What you mean? We can do the shit you just said.

“We can go out and have fun somewhere. You can pick a place”

“I mean you’re the one who planned it 😭”

She’s right. I guess I can choose from the list she gave me. I’m not going to pick the hotel one since that I would be pushing it.

“We can have a picnic. Would you like that?”

“Sure. When?”

Oh! She agreed! Okay, just relax. Just be cool.

“I was hoping on Valentine’s Day. If that day isn’t good for you, I understand. I just wanted to do something nice. We can do it as friends”

I sound so lonely, but I don’t care.

“Yeah, that sounds cool. I have an idea of what food to bring”

“Okay. Tell me what food you want and I’ll get it and bring it”

“Good!”

Maybe she does like me? I don’t know. Right now, I’m still in the friendzone. Maybe after the picnic and all goes well, I can try and ask.

[radamazard]

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 1 - Abolish

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

Bell Hells Modern AU

“What the FUCK, Orym?! You can't just ban shit on the fly like that!”

Orym sighed at his friend’s combative outburst, more than used to Ashton’s usual brand of colourful language mixed with his signature rage. Perhaps for most things he’d be willing to let this go, to peacefully talk this out.

But considering the circumstances…

“You know I'm not one for hard enforcement. Normally I'd just let this go but, well…” Orym trailed off, his gaze drifting to the sizable crack in his coffee table. At least then Ashton had the decency to look guilty about it, unlike certain OTHER friends of his in this room.

Fearne, all sweet smiles and innocent doe eyes, met Orym’s gaze easily. There wasn't a trace of guilt to be found, though he honestly wasn't all that surprised by that. To expect shame from Fearne was like expecting your cat to feel bad about breaking grandma’s urn; it just wasn't going to happen.

He sighed heavily, tension high in his shoulders.

“I agree with Orym!” A chipper voice joined the conversation, and Orym swiveled his head just in time to watch Fresh Cut Grass wheel themself into his lounge room. “It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and I think punchin’ the table every time someone gets an Uno is… well, it's askin’ for something to break.”

“And I'd rather it NOT be my coffee table. Or someone's wrist. Again,” Orym not so gently reminded the pair.

“Hey! It was a fracture and it was damn well worth it!” replied Ashton. “I'd do it again to wipe that sweet little smile off your cheating ass face, Calloway!”

“It's only cheating if you catch me~” Fearne retorted with a light and breezy giggle. “But fiiiiine, we’ll just have to play by a different set of rules… Strip Uno~?”

Orym settled back on the couch, feeling as FCG dropped himself down beside him. He dropped his head against his ever smiling friend’s shoulder, and melted ever so slightly into their touch as he felt deft fingers slip into his hair.

“Thanks, Grass…” Orym muttered appreciatively, eyes growing heavy as a comfortable warmth enveloped him. He loved his friends dearly, more than almost anything in the world. That didn't stop them from being about as exhausting as a five hour triathlon when it came to such minor disputes though.

That's why it was nice to have someone like Fresh Cut Grass around, someone who would usually back him up when it came time to put his foot down and abolish some truly stupid home rules.

Who knew that game night could be such a dangerous battlefield?

“Don't mention it,” FCG chirped in reply. “Always happy to help a good friend!”

[soldiermom1973]

N7 Month, Day 5 - Interview

You can also read it on AO3, if you like.  Likes, comments, reblogs, and kudos are amazing! . . . . . . Allie heard her before she saw her. “But you served on the SR-1, didn't you? And now you're here at the dock while the Normandy's here.” Fucking Diana Allers, Allie fumed.  Every time the Normandy was docked, it didn't take the reporter long to find part of her crew to harass.  Allie just straight up ignored the woman.  She didn't know why the woman was so persistent on getting an interview with someone and had pretty much had her fill.  The last several times they docked, she told herself she would say something, but she never did – she figured if she just ignored this problem, it would go away on its own, unlike every other problem being dropped in her lap. “Ms. Allers, I'm sorry, I can't comment on anything.  I can put you in touch with an Alliance representative, though, who would be happy to help you out.” And now she was harassing Kaidan. Fuck, Allie thought, marching to where the young woman had Kaidan all but cornered. “But you actually served on the Normandy.  You can give me insight...  Oh, never mind, here's Commander Shepard.  Commander, I have some questions...” “Enough, Allers,” Allie said, putting herself between the reporter and Kaidan.  “I'm sick of you harassing my crew, trying to get an interview.  We don't have time for this shit.  You know damn well who to contact with your questions.” Allers held her hands up.  “Now, Commander, I'm not looking for just an interview.  I have a proposition for you.  All I've been doing with your crew is trying to talk to you about it.” “And there are appropriate channels for you to do that, too,” Allie retorted.  “Get lost.” Allie crossed her arms over her chest, silently daring the young woman to keep pressing her point.  Allers, to either her credit or stupidity, Allie wasn't sure which, was not swayed. “Commander, we're in the middle of a war.  You need support and good will on your side to get your mission accomplished.  I know you've been having trouble getting the other races to help humanity.  That's where I come in.  Let me embed on your ship, report directly from the front lines.  Show my viewers what the Alliance actually deals with day to day.  My show has millions of viewers.  Think of the people I can help you reach!” Allie laughed.  “Bullshit,” she said, shaking her head.  “You want on my ship because it's the Normandy.  Because of who we are.  Who I am.  I'm not stupid.  This is a bullet point on your resume.  Bragging rights.  Nothing more.” Allie heard Kaidan chuckle behind her and Allers at least had the decency to look offended.  “Commander, I assure you...” “Stop, just stop,” Allie said, dropping her arms.  “Here's my counter-offer – you leave my dock, stop harassing my people, and I won't disparage your reporting skills every chance I get.” Now the young woman looked angry.  “I have every right to be here.  You can't kick me out.” Allie took a couple of steps toward the reporter and leaned forward, dropping her voice to the low, quiet tone she used when she meant business.  “Let me clue you in on a few things.  First of all, this dock has been assigned to the Alliance and specifically my ship.  As a ranking Alliance officer and the person responsible for the comings and goings here, I absolutely have that right.  Additionally, this ultimately belongs to the Citadel and I have a feeling I can have C-Sec here in less than ten seconds and they will happily escort you off the dock and prevent you from coming back.  And if that's not enough, need I remind you I'm a Spectre and that would be reason alone for me to have you escorted away from here.” Allers narrowed her eyes at Allie's threats.  “You know, I can make things really difficult for you, Commander.  I don't think you understand what having me on your good side will do.” Allie laughed again and shook her head. “Your support?  Ms. Allers, I have dealt with the likes of al-Jilani and let me assure you, you are a minnow to her piranha. She and I just had a very encouraging discussion and I have a feeling I'll get a lot more support from her than I ever would from you.  Now get. Off. My Dock.” The young woman huffed, but motioned for her cam-drone to follow her.  Allie watched her leave and made a mental note to have Bailey lock her access to D-24.  She nearly forgot Kaidan was even there until he spoke. “Well, that was impressive.  I don't think I've ever seen you light someone up like that before,” he noted. “I'm sorry,” Allie said, taking a deep breath and running her fingers through her hair.  “I'm just so sick of her being here, pestering my crew and my friends and hearing her question you just set me off.” “Oh?  I couldn't tell,” Kaidan smirked. Allie chuckled and looked him over. “So, you're out of the hospital?” “Not quite.  They just let me loose sometimes to stretch my legs.  So I wander down here and admire the view,” he shrugged. Allie felt her face flush when he raised an eyebrow and grinned at her.  “Well, it's good to see you out and about.  Just don't overdo it, ok?  I need you back on the Normandy to help me kick the Reapers out of the Milky Way.” “Yes, ma'am.”  Kaidan snapped to attention and gave her a mock salute.  “So, have you eaten yet? I'm starving and was going to head for some lunch before that woman cornered me.” Allie checked the time on her 'tool. “Sure, I think I have time to grab some food,” she said.  “Lead the way, Major.” She followed him to the elevator, noting how he still favored his left side a little but seemed none the worse for wear and said a quick prayer that he survived his ordeal on Mars.

(A/N - So, I can't stand Diana Allers.  I had her on my ship once years ago just to see how annoying she was and haven't even talked to her since.   Allie is usually a lot more diplomatic when dealing with people, but when Kaidan's involved, all bets are off.  Also, the timing might be a little off - this happens before that third hospital visit (when Kaidan's up & moving), and I don't remember off-hand if the conversation with al-Jilani happens then or not.  But I'm tired and behind in my NaNo count and this is what it is.  I hope you liked it! )

[ace-malarky]

I meant to sit around and answer tags tonight except I got distracted and anyway I also p much preordered Samantha Shannon’s new book again because I forgot I did that already and it’s weird that Waterstones doesn’t like. it doesn’t say. on your orders page. What they are. like I have to click on them to see the titles of the books bc none of them have covers yet and wouldn’t it be easier just to have the titles there?

 Anyway I caught that one and may have preordered something else instead and no I don’t have space on my shelves or in my flat or whatever, but that’s a future Ace problem

[beels-burger-babe]

Of Jealousy and Friendship - Epilogue

*** Back due to popular demand, here is a little epilogue for what happened at school the next day after pt. 2 Enjoy! - B***

Summary: MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen.

TW: Discussions about scenting and non-consensual physical contact. PART ONE, PART TWO

The next day of school was...interesting to say the least. For starters, the brothers refused to leave your side. There was one of them lingering near you at all times. Some of them had the decency to try and be subtle. Satan would just happen to be studying in the same room as you, or Belphie was napping and was wondering if you could keep an eye on his things while he did. But then there were the others who were more than obvious. Mammon and Asmodeus both had to pried off of your arms by Lucifer to get them to actually go to their own classes. Leviathan, despite usually doing his classes at home in his room, actually attended school that day and insisted that he needed your help finding a few rooms here and there. The normally sweet and friendly Beel was glaring at any lower demon that so much as looked in your direction. And boy did they look. The moment you took a step into a classroom, you could see a number of lower demons flinch back at the combined strong sent of seven of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you. There were undoubtedly rumours about what you might have done in order to trick the brothers into favouring you; though you never heard any of them since no one dared to come within a ten-foot radius of you.

This bothered you a little at first. Being the center of attention, especially this kind of attention, was never fun to anybody. But by the end of the day, rather than being disheartened by it, you were just exhausted. Finally, the last class of the day had arrived; the one you had been dreading since the moment your alarm went off that morning - Magical Potions.

Beel shifted from foot to foot as the two of you lingered in the entrance. "Do you really have to go to this class? You could just skip and come get some snacks with me instead." You smiled sympathetically at Beel and patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Beel. Diavolo expects good things from his exchange students. I need to keep my grades high, or who knows what Lucifer will do as punishment." The redhead pouted. "Lucifer would understand, I think. All things considered." You snorted and began to walk into the classroom. "Go to your own class, Beel. You can come to get me afterwards, and walk me home with Mammon if you really want."

Beelzebub mumbled to himself, before turning and finally walking off. You entered the class, ignoring the few gasps and gaping stares that you got as you walked through the room, and took your seat. You had been setting up for another class of note-taking when the door opened once more. Standing in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes, was Cane. The moment your eyes met, the shocked expression on his face instantly dissipated and he flashed you a charming smile. You could feel a bubble of annoyance and anger begin to rise within you. The cocky demon swaggered over and plopped down into his seat beside you. "Hey, there Dare Devil. You didn't get in too much trouble last night with the big bad Avatars did you?" as he spoke he draped an arm on the back of your chair.

You eyed his exposed wrist and pushed his arm off of your chair. It seemed not even the obvious scenting that was supposed to tell him to back off would get him to take a hint. "No, I didn't. Though they did tell me a few interesting things last night." Cane chuckled and leaned into his palm as he smirked at you. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the reason why you smell like hell-incarnate?"

You scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him. "I'm sure you'd rather I smell like you. Considering you apparently did your best to make that happen yesterday." Cane tensed for a moment, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. Eventually, his expression fell into one of confusion as he frowned at you. "Are you talking about how I scented you? MC, do you really think I would do something like that without a good reason?" The frustration in you began to grow and grow inside you; somewhere across the school grounds, Satan sneezed. You weren't in the mood to have this talk now, and very much wished that your professor would hurry up and start the god damn class already. "I don't know you Cane. How am I supposed to know whether or not that's something you would do?" That stupid smug look on his face returned once more and you had to resist the urge to slap it off of him. "You seemed to know me well enough to go out with me yesterday. You didn't seem worried about whether or not I was too much of a stranger when we were dancing at the club and walking downtown late at night, where anything could've happened to a small little human like you," he chuckled as your face scrunched up in annoyance and leaned back into his chair. "I didn't scent you for any perverted reasons. I did it to keep you safe while we were out. I knew if you had my scent on you, you'd be less likely to get attacked, and I was right," he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Admittedly, I should've asked first, and that's on me. But I really just wanted to make sure that my new friend didn't get hurt." He was lying. He had to be. If that asshole seriously thought you were stupid enough to buy that lame excuse, he was extremely wrong. You opened your mouth to tell him as much but were interrupted by a familiar deep voice clearing their throat behind you. "That is the worse excuse I've ever heard, and I live with Mammon." Cane stiffened in front of you before he looked up to meet the glaring eyes of Lucifer, and smiled. "Lord Lucifer, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. I would never lie, especially not to a friend like MC." The classroom seemed to be on the edge of their seats as everyone quickly picked up on the showdown that was happening right in front of them. One lower demon of gluttony even pulled out a bag of popcorn. Lucifer tsked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do not insult mine and MC's intelligence like that. Sure scenting can be helpful to ward off other demons, but only if the scent is associated with a more powerful demon. Nobody would blink an eye at anything coated in your weak, disgusting scent." Cane scoffed and tilted his head. "Evidently you did last night. Don't think I didn't notice you and your brother's reactions." This gained a few gasps from your classmates. No one could believe that someone, that wasn't his brothers, was actually trying to stand up against Lucifer. The idea itself was insane. Even seeing it in front of their own eyes, most could hardly believe it, yourself included. Lucifer maintained his indifferent expression and raised an eyebrow at Cane. "You mistook our irritation and disbelief that someone would be so stupid as to even attempt scenting our charge for being even the slightest bit phased by you," he took a step closer to Cane, bending down to be eye level with him. "You should consider yourself lucky it was Asmodeus and myself that got to the two of you first. Should it have been one of my more reckless brothers, you would've been nothing but a pile of ribbons in our driveway," Lucifer's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as Cane gulped and took a step back. The Morningstar grinned dangerously. "MC is our charge. They are our family and our responsibility. Unlike you, we actually got their permission to be scented and bonded to them last night; meaning my brothers are more protective than ever. I would never stoop so low as to waste my energy on a pitiful excuse for a demon-like yourself. But I know for a fact, that Beelzebub eats demons like you as a snack on

days when he is particularly famished. Satan occasionally brings one home for his latest experiments. Belphegor has torn through an entire percentage of them when he hasn't gotten enough sleep. Asmodeus is surprisingly prone to temper tantrums and fits of jealousy. Leviathan drowns anyone that disrespects the things that he loves. And Mammon doesn't take too kindly to people touching things that he considers his." Cane's hands balled into fists, but even then, the tremble in them was still glaringly obvious. Lucifer remained unphased and unmoved by the reactions he was pulling from his victim; though anyone could sense the air of utter glee that was exuding off of him. "If I were you, Cane, I would sleep with one eye open." The teacher finally walked in and raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of them. "Lord Lucifer, is there a reason you are harassing my student?" Cane whimpered as Lucifer smirked at him before standing straight and turning to the teacher. "Not at all, professor. I am actually here to inform you that MC will no longer be enrolled in this class." You whipped your head up to look at him as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "The student council has realized it would be a much better decision to have the exchange students more knowledgable to the ways and customs of demons during their visit here, so MC will be enrolled in Devildom Culture Studies instead. We wouldn't want someone to take advantage of them just because they were taught our ways, now would we?" The last line was spoken coldly and pointedly as though to drive in his threats to Cane. The teacher sighed but seemed to know that there was no point arguing and instructed you to gather your things. You did so happily and quickly. As you left the classroom and walked through your halls with Lucifer, you bumped him gently with your hip. "Thanks, Lucifer. You really are the best." His chest puffed up the slightest bit in pride as he continued walking forward with his hand still on your shoulder. "There is nothing to thank me for MC. I was just doing my duty as Vice-President of the student council to ensure that the exchange students are happy and safe." But even as he said the words, you knew that wasn't the case. You were MC. The human that wormed their way into the hearts of the seven strongest demons in the Devildom. For that reason alone, you were untouchable to all others, and Lucifer and his brothers would ensure that for as long as they breathed. And whoever disagreed would have to be ready to face the consequences.

TAGLIST: @henry-and-the-seven-lords

@hopefulann

@vampwiire

@bunna-does-stuff

@obey-mes-treasure

@obeythebutler

[dhwty-writes]

The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom. 

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak. 

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?" 

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar." 

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

[citrinesparkles]

nudge

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 847 words. notes: jason todd: either 'that bastard' [affectionate] or 'my beloved' [derogatory]. not sure which, yet. warnings: possibly suggestive comments? maybe?

"hey." his book closed with a familiar whunk behind you, successfully pulling your attention away from what you were typing.

"yeah?" your fingers hovered over the keyboard, eyes trained on the blinking cursor above it.

"take a break." he nudged the part of your shoulder that peaked over the front of the couch, right next to his knee, with what was presumably the hardcover he had been reading.

"i'm almost done-" nudge- "so you should go back to your book-" another nudge- "and stop doing that."

nudge. "nah."

"why not?"

nudge. "because you've been typing for almost an hour now. the noise is distracting."

you sighed, carefully keeping your eyes on your computer screen and away from his distracting antics. to turn around would mean meeting those blue-green eyes, getting sucked into his orbit, and losing any and all hope of being productive. "so now you're returning the favor?"

"yeah. if i can't read the book-" double nudge- "at least i can annoy you with it."

"what are you, six?"

he nudged the book into your other shoulder. "depends. are you counting before the resurrection thing?"

"jason-" another nudge, directly onto your last nerve- "okay, seriously, if you don't stop bumping me with that i'm going to feed it to you."

nudge.

you groaned, shoving your laptop up onto the coffee table. "fine! fine."

he smiled innocently at you as you climbed up next to him, finally meeting his gaze. "fancy seeing you here."

"you're so full of shit, you know that?"

"yeah, maybe-" his book was discarded next to your laptop, warm hands finding your hips, rough thumbs resting on skin- "but i have your attention, so, y'know. i win."

you met his now-smug smile with a glare. one that did not seem terribly effective.

"so... since you're already here, can i get a kiss?"

"is that what all of this about?" you grumbled, leaning forwards anyway. "jay, you could have just asked and saved us both a lot of time."

"where would be the fun in that?" he murmured against your lips, tugging you towards him.

you rolled your eyes, but fell into his lap all the same.

you kissed him softly, hands travelling up. one slid into his hair, the other resting gingerly on the soft fabric covering his heart.

the steady beat under your fingers was almost dizzying. his warmth, a pleasant contrast to the chilly air of the room, spread through you and reinvigorated the affection that lived permanently in your chest.

the only thing that broke the spell was your lungs' rude demand for oxygen.

you pulled back, inhaling and taking note of the way his breathing wasn't disrupted at all, unlike yours.

damn him and his 'peak physical condition'.

as your lungs caught up, you let yourself get lost in the sight of him: the freshly ruffled hair, the way his eyes fluttered open to watch you with a special, quiet softness. the way a small scar dipped over his bottom lip, and another across his cheekbone, and a third- faint, easily missed- traced along the side of his jaw.

subtle signs of life lived, lost, and lived again.

his head fell back against the cushions, his grip on your hips faltering slightly. "what's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"nothing's wrong," you murmured. "i'm just... thinking."

"about?"

"you." you leaned back, dropping the hand in his hair to cup his jaw and the other down to loop your fingers through his, bringing them to your lips with a small laugh. "it's always you."

he cocked his head to the side, studying your eyes in a carefully casual way. "should i be worried?"

"i don't think so. it's all good things."

"not about how much you want to- what did you say? oh, right, feed that book to me?"

another laugh fell from you against your will, his responding smirk confirming your fear that the sound would encourage him. "don't get too cocky, handsome. that's still on the table."

he squeezed your hip. "you'd have to get to the table."

"one, you know i meant metaphorically-" he hummed, mumbling something about choosing your words more carefully, then- "and two, was that a threat?"

"casual observation, 's all. the only threat here was yours," he corrected.

you gasped quietly, mock offense lacing your tone. "how dare you! i had the decency to warn you of the consequences of your actions, and you call that a threat?"

"i have a lot of experience with threats, i know one when i hear it."

"is comparing me to the penguin really your idea of seduction?"

he physically recoiled, face scrunching up in adorable distaste. "seriously," he groaned through your laughter, "why would you ever put that image in my head?"

you shrugged. "payback for nudging me, i suppose."

"ugh." he shook his head vigorously. "consider me paid back."

"would killer croc have been a more pleasant example?" you asked innocently, fingers tracing his cheek as he groaned again.

"if i kiss you again, will you stop?"

"hm," you leaned forwards smugly, "one way to find out."

[eliemo]

Heart of Ice

Summary: Virgil quickly realizes the light sides had some kind of unspoken rule about touch. Which would be fine, if it didn't just apply to him.

TWs: Brief panic attack, touch starvation and mentions of its affects, self esteem issues, angst with a happy ending

Taglist:  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess (let me know if you want to be added)

Virgil got it. Really, he did.

He was the villain for a long time, an unwanted nuisance everyone hated, and understandably so. He would never hold any hostility against them, not when he knew he deserved it.

Now...maybe he wasn’t a villain. Still a nuisance for sure, but a tolerated one. He’d been getting closer with the other sides, Patton’s smiles more frequent and genuine, Logan taking a real interest in what he had to say, and Roman’s annoyance quickly turning to fond affection.

So maybe they were friends. Or they were getting there at least. Virgil knew he cared about them more than they would ever care about him, but that was ok. He wasn’t outright despised and that was more than he’d ever dreamed of.

Sure, their affection could just be to keep him from ducking out again since they’d found out how easily he could ruin Thomas by leaving, but...but he hoped it was more than that.

It was a mix of conflicting emotions and desires, Virgil never quite able to understand if anything was genuine or not.

But they didn’t hate him. That was the important thing. It would be selfish to want anything more when he was so utterly unlikable, right?

He needed to get over himself. It didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. It was completely understandable that they didn’t want to touch him.

But did they have to act like he was some kind of disease?

They were all touchy feely people. Roman and Patton hugged countless times a day, and even Logan would absentmindedly clap their shoulders or squeeze their hands in passing.  

Virgil watched them lean up against each other, lace their fingers together, pat each other's back in greeting and praise. It all came so naturally to them, clearly some kind of unspoken language in their little family.

And Virgil wanted that. He wanted it so badly it hurt. His chest squeezed whenever he saw Patton squeeze Logan’s hand, the loneliness crushing when Roman would pick Patton up in a crushing but safe hug.

Virgil...couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been touched. He’d grazed a shoulder in passing once or twice over the years, and he and Princey had accidentally held hands for half a second during a video, but other than that he came up blank.

And he’d definitely never had a hug. He knew that for sure. No one had offered one because...because why would they? Who would want to hug Virgil?

It was amazing enough that they were willing to be in the same room with him. All three of them were trying so hard to be friendly in the last few weeks since he’d told them his name and...it was incredible. It was like a dream.

But it was so unbearably obvious how careful they were not to touch him. Like he was something disgusting to be avoided. Like he would burn them, taint them beyond repair.

They would swerve out of his way when passing through a room to avoid brushing his shoulder, quickly pull their hands away if their fingers were about to brush his, carefully leaving as much empty space as possible if sitting beside him on the couch.

It went on for weeks, and it didn’t stop. No one commented on it, or bothered to avoid physical affection in front of him, and Virgil decided the best course of action was to try and ignore it.

If he brought it up, it would just turn into something awkward, and nothing would change. He’d rather just avoid the subject completely.

Virgil could handle that. He could ignore the ache in his chest and push down the thoughts of how desperately he just wanted a hug.

Everyone at least had the decency not to make it a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal.

Until...until it kind of was.

It had been a stressful few days for all of them, but obviously Virgil was taking the brunt of Thomas’s anxiety. They all knew that, and he appreciated how attentive and gentle they’d been with him lately.

Thomas was waiting on an important phone call, a confirmation that would give him a green light on his latest project they’d all been working non-stop on.

Virgil didn’t know the specific details of what they were waiting for, he’d lost himself to his panic immediately after hearing the words “important phone call” but he knew it was a yes or no answer, and that Thomas was incredibly anxious about it.

He and Patton were waiting in the mindscape’s kitchen, mugs of untouched hot chocolate sitting in front of them, Patton idly chatting to keep Virgil distracted.

And then Roman and Logan were suddenly rising up- the Prince with a dazzling grin on his face and Logan with a relieved sort of smile.

“He said yes!” Roman announced, and just like Virgil’s shoulders sagged, all the tension seeping out of his muscles. Thank god.

There were still more things to worry about now that the new project was actually underway. They would have to work out a new schedule, make sure they had enough time to perfect their scripts, and then of course there was the problem of nobody liking the finished product--

But that could wait. Right now...it was just nice to see everyone so happy.

Patton was already jumping up to give Roman a hug, reaching over to squeeze Logan’s hand, and Virgil quickly turned away before the ache in his chest, the feeling that longed for something similar could turn into the cold throbbing pain he occasionally grew familiar with.

He grabbed the mugs of now cooling hot chocolate to distract himself, smiling to himself as he tried to focus on the relief instead of the sorrow, and carried them over to the counter.

He set the mugs down, turned back around, and suddenly Patton was in front of him, pulling Virgil into the first hug he’d ever received in his life.

Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Patton was warm up against him, solid and comforting, arms wrapped around Virgil’s back like the softest thing in the world, and for just a second, for the first time, everything was perfect. Everything was ok, and the ache in his chest was gone.

It lasted less than two seconds, and suddenly Patton was pulling away like he’d actually been burned.

“I--”

Patton stopped whatever he’d been about to say, staring warily at a completely frozen, speechless Virgil. The warmth had seeped out of his body almost immediately, the ache returning with a vengeance, the want for touch even worse than before.

Logan and Roman were staring, eyes going from Patton to Virgil, tense and panicked like they were expecting some kind of violent reaction.

God, was touching him really that bad?

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quickly, glancing back at the others before turning back to Virgil, who quickly averted his gaze. “Sorry, Virge I wasn’t...I wasn’t thinking. I just got excited.”

“Right,” Virgil said, glad that at least his voice didn’t betray how it felt like his heart was crumbling. “I get it.”

“Virgil,” Patton said softly, and Virgil’s heart sank when he took a step back, putting even more space in between them. “I didn’t mean to, kiddo, I...it won’t happen again.”

Of course it wouldn’t. Virgil shouldn’t expect it to. They didn’t even want to brush shoulders with him, so why the hell would anyone ever hug him voluntarily?

“I know,” he said, already moving towards the doorway, grimacing when the others stepped away to give him extra space. He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter at how obvious all of it was. Come on, it wasn’t like he was infected. “It’s whatever.”

He stalked out of the kitchen, for the first time allowing himself to feel angry over this whole stupid thing. After weeks of tirelessly working to be better, after being accepted in every other way, they still wouldn’t…

He’d thought he was getting better. They’d called him family.

“Virgil?” Logan called, but Virgil ignored him, really not in the mood for any half-hearted excuses or lectures on why he should just be happy with what he got.

It was selfish to ask for more. He was greedy and awful and he would never really be one of them. He should know that by now and stop filling his head with fantasies that they might actually love him as much as they loved each other.

Virgil didn’t bother looking back to see if any of them looked even a little bit guilty. He pulled up his hood, hurried up the stairs, and locked himself in his room. It was probably where they wanted him, anyway.

Virgil collapsed at the end of his bed, head in his hands, well aware it probably looked like he was throwing a tantrum. They all probably hated him even more now.

But...but could they really blame him for being frustrated? Yeah, he didn’t expect them to be entirely comfortable around him, definitely not as physical as they were with each other, but he was really trying.

They didn’t need to make him feel like some walking virus.

Well. He’d gotten a hug, at least. His first and last real hug. He thought he might do anything to have that feeling again.

But no one wanted to hug Anxiety. Patton had said so himself- never again.

When Virgil allowed himself to be coaxed out of his room for dinner a few hours later, he noted with some sense of relief that the others seemed determined to pretend the incident in the kitchen never happened.

Good. While it didn’t undo how humiliated and disgusting he felt, the sooner they all forgot about it the sooner Virgil could continue ignoring how badly it hurt.

He shouldn't be upset. He needed to calm down and get over himself before he started causing issues.

He did, however, wonder if it was just his imagination that Roman’s chair seemed farther away from him today.

“So...movie night tonight, right?” Patton asked suddenly, voice chipper as he set down his fork. “I think we could all use some relaxation.”

“A splendid idea!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil managed not to flinch at the volume of his voice. “You’ll be joining us right, Marilyn Morose?”

Virgil startled when the attention suddenly turned to him, suspicion and hope waging war at the soft encouragement in Prince’s voice.

Was this...a guilt thing?

“I- I mean I guess,” he said. “Maybe. If you like, want me to.”

He’d always known they did movie nights at least once a week, all cuddled up together on the couch, but Virgil had never actually been invited to one until he revealed his name. He’d attended a couple of them now, and they were...nice. Even if he always ended up on the armchair.

“Of course we do!” Patton said. “We always do. You’re our family, kiddo!”

Well, they certainly had a funny way of showing that.

Virgil quickly backtracked, pushing away his own dark thoughts. That wasn’t fair to them. Aside from the lack of any physical touch, they had welcomed him almost completely. In every other way, he was treated like one of them.

Besides, he’d clearly done something to warrant the unspoken no-touching rule. It wasn’t their fault he was too stupid to figure out what it was.

“You are a large part of the reason Thomas succeeded today,” Logan added, and Virgil felt a bit breathless at the praise. “You stayed vigilant and cautious, and made sure there were no mistakes. I’m very grateful for your assistance.”

Virgil ducked his head, surprised when glancing at the other two showed only kind smiles and honest appreciation in their eyes. They were...actually being serious. He’d done something right.

“It...it wasn’t...I was just--”

“Doing your job,” Logan finished for him. “And doing it quite well, I might add. As you usually do.”

It wasn’t anywhere near as intense as the feeling Patton’s hug had brought, but...but it was close, warmth spreading over his chest. Virgil let himself relax, and offered a small smile in return.

“Ok,” he said, because he still was absolutely useless when it came to voicing his thoughts. “Thanks. Uh, you...you too.”

He might have missed it if he wasn’t always so attentive to people’s body language (sometimes overly so), but Logan’s hand was suddenly moving forward like he was going to pat Virgil on the arm.

It never made contact, of course. Logan caught himself in less than a second, the logical side sitting up ramrod straight and quickly pulling his hand back to his lap.

He offered an apologetic smile, Patton and Roman quickly clearing their throats and turning back to their dinner plates, and Virgil was forcibly reminded where he stood.

He’d done what he was supposed to do, keeping Thomas safe and helping him reach his goals, but that didn’t just magically change things.

Right. No touching. But he could survive off nothing but words of validation and verbal affirmation. That was just as good.

Except…

Except between the accidental hug and the rush of anticipation that came with Logan almost putting a hand over his own, Virgil had never felt the longing for any type of physical touch so strongly in his entire life.

He’d gotten used to having nothing, to being alone, just periodic glimpses of the warmth he would always be left out of. He’d adapted to it, learned to live with the cold ache in his chest, and moved on.

And now...

Now it kind of felt like he was dying. Like the cold loneliness was wrapping around him, all powerful and suffocating, his breaths coming faster and faster--

Patton stood to begin clearing the table, and Virgil was moving before he even really processed what he was doing.

“I got it,” he said. He was trembling slightly, and he was almost positive they could all hear it in his voice. “I can do the dishes. I’ll do them.”

It was a stupid, stupid thought that had crept into his brain, but right now- as desperate as it was- it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Patton blinked, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “I- well thank you, kiddo but that’s ok, I think I--”

“I can do it,” he insisted. “You can- You can go relax, I- I got it.”

That was what he needed to do, right? He couldn’t be left feeling this empty and cold all the time. He would never give up what he had with the others but being this close to them all the time had awoken something in him. Nobody ever touched him and he couldn’t keep going like this.

He’d done well today. He’d been good and Logan had almost, almost set aside whatever personal bias they all had to touch him. It had been so close.

So obviously...obviously he wasn’t good enough. Not quite. He was still just horrible enough that no one could bring themselves to close the distance between them.

But that was ok. He could do better. He could be better. And if that didn’t work, then...well, then verbal praise was the next best thing, right?

Unfortunately, he must look even worse than he felt because Roman was suddenly reaching for Virgil’s plate, pulling it out of his reach.

For a second, Virgil thought about reaching for it under the small flare of hope that their fingers might brush.

“I don’t believe that is the wisest idea,” Logan said. “You’re clearly agitated and distressed. I recommend you wait on the couch while we clean up tonight.”

Virgil shook his head, though logically he knew the dirty dishes would end up slipping right through his shaking fingers if he tried to clean up right now.

But he couldn’t take the thought of just sitting on the couch, a useless hindrance they would only grow to despise more and more.

“I- I want to help--”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Ever since you began regularly eating meals with us, there have been exactly three times you have not helped with the clean up. Two of those were because Thomas summoned you, and the other was due to your fatigue after a recent panic attack.”

“But I--”

“You have had a long day,” the logical side continued. “You’re exhausted, and you need to sit down before you end up hurting yourself. Nobody is going to be angry if you take a break today, Virgil. Please accompany me to the living room.”

And Virgil knew there was no way to argue with any of that. Not when Roman and Patton were nodding encouragingly. Not when Logan was motioning for him to follow and he thought maybe, maybe he would put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder to guide him into the living room.

He didn’t.

They both ended up on the couch, Logan counting out familiar breathing exercises to keep Virgil from hyperventilating. He did his best to focus on calming down, eyes cast stubbornly down to the ground.

There was a good couple inches of space between them, enough that Logan wouldn’t accidentally bump into him if he moved his arm too fast. Of course.

“I assume what happened earlier today has made you jumpy,” Logan said after a few moments. “I assure you, Patton really is sorry. Hugging you was never his intention, sometimes the others can just get...over excited when it comes to physical affection. Patton can’t always control himself.”

Virgil bit his lip, forcibly biting back tears that threatened to rise because this was really not helping. He understood that no one ever planned on hugging him, he didn’t need it shoved in his face all the time.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

Despite everything, Virgil had actually managed to calm down a bit by the time the others joined them for movie night, Roman plopping down on the other side of Logan, Patton shuffling around to find the remote and set down popcorn bowls.

Virgil knew trying to leave would only invite more worried frowns and gentle questions he didn’t know how to answer (besides, he didn’t particularly like the thought of being all alone up in his room right now), so he just took a shaky breath and willed himself to stay calm, shoving everything aside for the moment.

And then Patton moved to sit down with the others, and visibly hesitated at the end of the couch.

There was plenty of room for one more person. It wouldn’t even be particularly cramped, not with the way Roman was already invading most of Logan’s space.

But, of course, it was just enclosed enough that it ran the risk of Patton’s leg brushing Virgil’s when he sat down.

Virgil stood up before Patton even had the chance to open his mouth and stalked over to the empty armchair, not bothering to hide his irritation. He might not blame them for it, but that didn’t mean he had to act happy about being so repulsive to everyone. 

“Aw, you don’t have to do that kiddo,” Patton said. “You can stay on the couch, I don’t mind.”

“It’s whatever,” he said, and it was like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, the sudden distance separating Virgil from everyone else making him shudder, and his reply came out a lot more curt than he’d meant it to. “This is where you want me, right?”

Patton had lowered himself next to Logan and was peering at Virgil curiously, worried smile dropping to a slight frown. “You can sit wherever you want, kiddo. You know that.”

Virgil couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped. “Right. Just as long as it’s somewhere you won’t accidentally hug me again, right?”

The room was plunged into an uneasy silence. Great. He’d managed to make movie night awkward and the television hadn’t even been turned on yet.

“Kiddo, I--”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, guilt coiling in his gut. “It’s...sorry. I didn’t- I know you didn’t mean to. Just...long day.”

“We’ve all had a long day,” Roman snapped, sitting up from where he’d been leaning against Logan, and Virgil inadvertently found himself wondering how that would feel. “There’s no need to be rude to Patton, Negative Nancy.”

He was the one being rude? Him? After weeks of them treating Virgil like he was contagious and not even bothering to offer an explanation?

“Right,” he muttered. “I’m the asshole. Like always.”

“Virgil,” Logan spoke up, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, and Virgil deflated. “We...understand your uneasiness. But between the three of us, physical contact has become something of a habit. We have been careful not to extend that to you, but habits take time to grow out of. And mistakes will be made.”

And Virgil...Virgil was pretty sure if he didn’t get out of this room right now he was going to burst into tears. They’d never actually talked about this before. He’d never heard them acknowledge that it wasn’t just his overactive imagination.

“I get that,” he said, voice painfully strained. “I do, I’m...I’m not trying to fight I just- just...do you guys have to be so obvious about it?”

Virgil risked a glance up, all three of them staring at him now with some form of hesitant uncertainty.

Logan cleared his throat and echoed Virgil’s request. “Obvious?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You guys don’t...I don’t get why you’ve all decided touching me is somehow the worst fucking thing in the world. I know...I know you won't touch me and it’s not like I blame you- trust me, I’ve met myself- but...you could at least maybe try not to treat me like I’m carrying the goddamn plague!”

His outburst was met with silence, the other side’s expressions unreadable, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized his vision was becoming quickly clouded with tears.

He quickly started to backtrack. “I mean, I’m...sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to...it’s ok you guys. Really, it is. I get it, I’m...I’m Anxiety. Nobody wants...obviously you guys aren’t ever gonna--”

“Virgil,” Logan cut him off, and the logical side sounded...panicked? “I believe we may have had a very large misunderstanding. You...would you like us to engage in physical contact with you?”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, frantically blinking away tears. “I’m not...I’m not gonna make anyone...you don’t want to, and that’s fine. Really. I’m not mad, it’s ok.”

“Honey, no.” Patton sounded breathless when he spoke up, frantic. “That’s not it at all! We thought you didn’t want us touching you!”

Virgil froze, everything around him screeching to a stop, and for a moment he thought he must have misheard.

“I- you...what?” Why would they... how could they think that? He’d actually thought it was fairly obvious how badly he wanted it.

Roman stood up from the couch and crossed his arms. “Why on earth would we go out of our way to avoid touching you if it wasn’t to make you comfortable?”

Virgil blinked, suddenly completely lost. What the hell was going on? He’d thought they’d made their intentions pretty clear.

“I...why wouldn’t I want you guys to--?”

“Well, you certainly acted like it!” Roman snapped, and Virgil knew the Prince well enough by now to know he wasn’t angry, just stressed. “If you didn’t mind being touched, you wouldn’t act like we were trying to electrocute you every time we got too close!”

Patton reached up to put a hand on Roman’s arm, steadying him, but his gaze never left Virgil.

Virgil was starting to think this was all some kind of twisted dream his touch-starved mind had come up with, flipping everything around for the sole purpose of confusing him. This was...this was a joke, right? Some kind of excuse?

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ignoring how bad the tremble in his voice had gotten. “I didn’t...guys, it’s ok if you don’t want to touch me, I-I’m not gonna force you obviously, I just...never understood why it was a big deal. That’s all.”

Patton was shaking his head, hands moving to cover his mouth as Virgil spoke, and the moral side turned warily to Logan.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “We clearly could have...handled this differently. We’ve been purposely avoiding physical contact because based on your body language, we... I concluded that it made you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn't just you, Specs,” Roman said, his voice softer than when he’d been talking to Virgil. “We all clearly misunderstood. I- I still don’t quite...understand.”

The room was spinning, and Virgil did his best to blink away the dizziness washing over him, furiously wiping away a few stray tears that made their escape. He hoped no one noticed.

“I thought you just...didn’t want to. Because it’s...you know. Me.”

“Oh, kiddo.”

“What did I do?” he asked, suddenly terrified as to how he could have misread the situation so horribly for so long. “To...to make you guys think that?”

Logan blinked, his brow furrowing as he scrutinized Virgil from behind his glasses, and all three of them looked oddly confused by the question.

“I...Virgil, it’s been fairly easy to pick up on for some time now. Even before we learned your name.”

Patton frowned, taking a small step forward. “You got...really tense whenever someone would go to touch you, kiddo. Like you thought it was gonna hurt.”

“Earlier on, one of us moving like we planned on touching you would result in a flinch,” Logan added. “Later, as we got closer, we noticed you going very still. Like you were afraid. It wasn’t hard to avoid touching you before learning your name, but now…”

“We had to be more careful,” Roman jumped in. “Clearly that...wasn’t what you wanted.”

God Virgil was so stupid. This whole time he’d thought...for once he hadn’t even done anything wrong. And now all he’d managed to do was make everyone stressed and confused. He’d fucked everything up without even realizing.

They’d...they’d tried to touch him before? Before even learning his name? If he’d just been normal he could have avoided years of that cold, longing feeling settling in his chest?

He wondered if things would change now. Probably not, Virgil reasoned with himself, his throat tightening at the thought. He blew it. They’d just be upset with him now.

“I am...I am so sorry,” Logan said, and Virgil was having a difficult time following what was being said. “After getting to know you and your behavior patterns, I had concluded that your aversion to touch stemmed from sensory issues that can often relate to anxiety. Clearly, I should have asked you for confirmation.”

Logan sounded genuinely guilty, while Roman and Patton were looking at him softly. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d been wrong. They didn’t hate him, he’d just stupidly misunderstood their intentions.

But it was all cleared up now. It didn’t matter. He could suck it up and move on, just as long as he could keep the annoyingly persistent tears at bay for a little bit longer.

“It’s ok,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and hunching over himself when his breath caught in his throat. “It’s...i-it’s fine.”

God, he was so pathetic. He was pathetic. Why would anyone ever want to touch him?

“Obviously it’s not, sweetie.” Patton was suddenly in front of him, kneeling in front of the armchair. “We didn’t mean to hurt you, Virge, but it’s ok to be upset with us.”

Virgil shook his head, voice refusing to cooperate with his racing mind. He quickly wiped at the fresh tears, refusing to fall apart over something so stupid.

The next moment happened in a frantic blur, but everything clicked into place when it was over.

Patton carefully reached forward, moving to rest his hand on the anxious side’s knee, and Virgil’s heart squeezed in desperation and hope for the gentle, grounding touch he’d never been able to experience before.

His body ended up reacting differently, completely against his will. He tensed up completely, wide eyes locking onto Patton’s hand, his breathing stopping completely.

Patton noticed, of course. His face fell at the reaction, and he quickly pulled his hand away.

Oh. Virgil supposed it did look like he was scared rather than desperate. “S-sorry. I--”

“Don’t be sorry, kiddo,” Patton said, but he sounded hesitant. Disappointed. “It just...seems like you’re uncomfortable.”

“It’s...it’s not that,” Virgil managed. His voice was horribly unsteady, but he needed them all to understand that it wasn’t them- he was just too useless to control his own reactions. “I didn’t even realize I...I just have never had it before so I don’t...I don’t know how to--”

“Wait a second,” Roman said, Virgil quickly snapping his mouth shut. “What do you mean you’ve never had it?”

They were all staring at him, probably baffled and annoyed by his inconsistent rambling, and Virgil curled tighter in on himself, his cheeks burning.

“I...I’ve never, uhm…” He suddenly didn’t want to say it, all too aware of how little it mattered. This conversation should have been over a long time ago. “I’ve never been...you know. I-I’ve never...done it.”

Great, now it just sounded like he was speaking nonsense. But the others seemed to have some idea of what he was talking about, judging by the looks they were suddenly throwing each other. Roman was the only one who eventually spoke up.

“You- are you just talking about touch?” The Prince demanded, and Virgil shrank back. “Virgil, you’ve never been touched? At all?”

Virgil shrugged, dropping his gaze to his lap. “I mean, yeah. Not...not really. Other than, um, other than Patton hugging me today.”

But he’d seen Patton hug the others, and he knew what he’d gotten could barely count as one. Not that he had any right to complain. He’d be lucky if they didn’t shun him for the rest of his life after today.

“I’m sorry,” he said when the silence stretched on far too long to mean anything good. “I know, guys. I know it isn’t a big deal, I’m really really sorry for making it one, I just--”

“Virgil.” Patton’s voice came out more choked, more anguished than Virgil had expected, and then…

And then there was a hand on his face, cupping his cheek and brushing away the falling tears, and Virgil couldn’t breathe in the best way possible.

Patton’s hand was warm, enough to startle Virgil out of his spiraling panic for the moment, but his breath still hitched when he met the moral side’s watering gaze.

“Virgil,” he said again. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

Virgil blinked, still partly convinced this was a dream, heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t find his voice, eyes glued to Patton’s, but he managed a tiny nod.

It all happened so fast- suddenly Patton’s hands were wrapped around his own, pulling him off the chair and onto wobbling legs, and then he was being pulled forward...

Oh. Oh.

He fell against Patton’s chest, his head resting in the crook of the moral side’s neck, Virgil’s legs threatening to give out beneath him when Patton wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

Virgil was sobbing before Patton even started rubbing circles on his back, rocking them both gently, hushing him softly.

He had no idea if he was doing this right, practically limp in Patton’s hold. His arms were just uselessly hanging there, hands wracked with violent tremors. But even if he did know what to do, he doubted he could force his body to move right now, only able to melt into the embrace as the living room filled with his miserable sobbing.

“Oh baby, it’s ok.” Patton was talking softly, his breath warm against Virgil’s ear, and he finally forced his hands to move up and clutch the other side’s shirt. “It’s ok, you’re ok. I’ve got you. We’ve all got you now. You’re alright.”

There was another hand cupping the back of his head, running fingers through his hair, and he caught a glimpse of Logan pressing up against them both. The movements of his fingers were slow and precise, burning Virgil’s freezing skin like the most pleasant fire, his words of reassurances lost to the sound of desperate cries.

And then Roman was there too, briefly meeting Virgil’s eyes with a sad but hopeful smile, suddenly moving around to join in and hug Virgil from behind.

He quickly realized that this, as overwhelming as it was for his first time, was the single best feeling in the entire world. He was certain that he would crash to the ground in a trembling heap if the others weren’t supporting his weight.

Virgil had never felt so warm. The brief hug in the kitchen had been nothing compared to this. He couldn’t stop shaking despite it, overwhelmed and so, so relieved, wanting nothing more than to melt into the embrace and never let go. He could stay here forever, wrapped up in safety and warmth, the rest of the cold, lonely world forgotten.

But eventually he cried himself out, sobs dying down to hiccuping gasps as he fought to get a hold of his breathing. Patton and Roman loosened their grip, Logan’s fingers slowing, but none of them pulled away just yet.

Virgil took in a shuddering breath. “I’m s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Patton said. “You don’t need to be sorry for a thing, kiddo.”

He clutched Patton’s shirt tighter, sucking in a breath when Roman moved to put a hand over his fist. “I- I thought y-you...you all--”

“We should have asked,” Patton said, pulling back enough to see Virgil’s face. “We should have realized you were hurting, honey. That’s our fault.”

“Not yours, Virge,” Roman agreed, leaning forward slightly to press his forehead against Virgil’s temple. “I can’t even imagine how isolated we must have made you feel. But that’s over now. We can fix this. We will fix this.”

“I do want to offer my sincere apologies,” Logan said. “We had all misread the behavior, but I was the one who enforced it after learning your name. I should never have jumped to conclusions so quickly.”

Virgil tried to shrug, but it quickly proved to be impossible with how tightly he was pressed against the others. He didn’t mind at all.

He wasn’t ready to let go yet, despite the way his stomach twisted at the guilt Logan didn’t deserve to be feeling, a dark part of his mind whispering that once he pulled away, the warmth would never come back.

“It’s ok,” he said, voice still raw and hoarse. “It was just a s-stupid misunderstanding, right? I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, I- I know it’s not a big deal. It’s just a hug.”

It was a lie and they all knew it. Silly as it was, it meant the world to him. He would do just about anything to make this feeling last forever.

“Virgil, no.”

Patton was moving away, and Virgil felt a rush of blinding panic before Logan suddenly took his place, holding Virgil’s face in his hands, eyes wide and intense. Patton didn’t go far, his hand moving to clutch Virgil’s arm, and Roman only tightened his hold.

“It is not stupid, Virgil,” Logan said, tilting Virgil's chin up. “Not at all. I can assure you, it was far from an overreaction.”

“Logan--”

“Physical touch is essential for one’s mental health. Especially for those who experience heightened anxiety. I should have known... depriving you of any physical contact your entire life has left you incredibly touch starved, likely only worsening any symptoms you would naturally experience.”

Usually, Virgil found it fascinating listening to Logan, the way he so naturally took on a teaching position, spouting off information like he was reading from an invisible book.

Now, the dread and panic were clawing at his throat, and Virgil swallowed, forcing himself to speak. “Am I...am I hurting Thomas?”

The terror was overwhelming, doing all it could to convince him that the others would hate him, that Thomas would want him gone for good. But it didn’t last long, Logan shaking his head with an unbearably gentle expression.

“I am not talking about Thomas’s mental state.” He reached forward to brush away some of Virgil’s hair, looking oddly relieved when Virgil leaned into the touch. “I’m talking about yours.”

“Oh.”

Roman finally dropped his arms, but just like Patton he didn’t go anywhere, his chest still brushing Virgil’s back while he reached for one of his hands. Patton took his other one, both running gentle patterns over his knuckles with their thumbs.

Virgil felt like he was going to melt right here and now. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Since it seems you're comfortable with touch,” Logan said, and Virgil almost wanted to laugh. He was a little bit more than comfortable. “I’m hopeful we can undo any damage that has been caused. Tonight is already a good start.”

And that...that sounded amazing. It sounded more than amazing. It was all he’d wanted this whole time, years of bitter, icy cold loneliness already paling in comparison to the warmth and love he’d felt in the last ten minutes.

But...

“I...thank you. Thank you so much, but...I-I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t--”

“Kiddo,” Patton said. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself from hugging you?”

“All of us,” Roman added. “I’ve lost track of how many close calls I’ve had. I thought it was good you didn’t seem to notice how badly I wanted to, but...apparently not. But we love you, Virge. We love you so much.”

“We do!” Patton squeezed his hand. “We really, really do. You’re not forcing us into anything, kiddo. You’re family.”

Virgil kind of wanted to pinch himself to make absolutely sure this wasn’t a dream. But there was absolutely no way he could make up something this good.

“Ok,” he said, still wincing at how weak his voice sounded. “That’s...that’s good because I...I don’t think I could go back. Uh, to how it was. After...after all this. I-if this was just a one time thing, I don’t know what I’d do. And I know that’s dumb, this is literally my fault, but--”

“None of that,” Logan said, firm but not unkind, and Virgil fell silent. “This is far from a one time thing. I believe you’ll start having a hard time getting away from the hugs now.”

Virgil laughed, not really caring when it came out as more of a strangled sob. “I think I’m ok with that.”

“It’s still early,” Patton said. “You kiddos think we should take this to the couch? We can still watch some movies if you’re up to it, Virgil.”

As soon as he nodded, Virgil felt arms wrap around him again, one under his knees and one behind his back, lifting him up from the ground.

“Princey!” He wrapped his arms around Roman’s shoulders by instinct and froze, suddenly terrified he would be yelled at. But, he reminded himself, Roman was literally holding Virgil in his arms. Nobody found Virgil repulsive. “I can walk, dork.”

Roman grinned down at him, taking them both back towards the couch. Virgil found he really didn’t mind being carried when it ended up with him put down in the middle of the couch, still curled up in Prince’s hold with his head against Roman’s chest.

The others joined soon after, Patton grabbing the popcorn and sitting on Roman’s other side with his legs propped up on Virgil’s lap. Logan sat directly next to Virgil, his hand squeezing the anxious side’s shoulder before dropping his head to rest on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil shuddered, tensing against his will at the rush of sensations, but no one pulled away when he didn’t quite know how to reciprocate.

“Just relax now,” Roman said softly, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s hair while Patton got the movie started. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Virgil wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, only vaguely aware of himself drifting in and out of consciousness, still held safely by the others on the couch, an old familiar Disney movie playing in the background.

He thought his position might have been changed, but he still felt the rise and fall of Roman’s chest beneath his head, someone’s hand running gently through his hair.

For the first time, he felt safe upon waking up and let himself keep his eyes shut, breathing deeply.

“Is he asleep?” he heard Patton ask, the hand in his hair slowing for just a moment. “He really wore himself out today.”

“Indeed,” Logan agreed from somewhere nearby. “Not to mention a common side effect of touch starvation is difficulty sleeping, nightmares, stress, a lower sense of self worth, dep--”

“But he’ll be ok now,” Patton said, thankfully cutting off Logan’s worryingly accurate description. “He’s got us, and he’s my kiddo. He never has to feel that way again.”

“It will take some time. And eventually we will have to have a talk about consent and boundaries- I don’t ever want him feeling overwhelmed. But you are accurate, Patton. He has us now. He will be alright.”

Virgil had to force himself not to smile, not quite ready for this to end for the night. He knew eventually he’d have to head back to his room, but the thought of being alone again, even just for the night, was--

“I don’t want him to wake up alone,” Roman whispered, like he could read Virgil’s mind. “Is it alright if we stay here tonight?”

“Of course, kiddo.”

“I am perfectly comfortable where I am.”

True to their word, none of them seemed inclined to leave the comfort of the couch, the movie’s volume eventually turned down to a faded hum.

Virgil sighed, relaxed and content, letting himself smile as he fell back into the first truly restful sleep he’d had in a long time, followed closely by warmth and love.