#it sounds incredibly shallow from what ive read

[rubiatinctorum]

i find out about booktok trends from tumblr recommending me posts where people are all complaining about the same new cash grab that everyone's after and honestly? it's probably better than getting the info firsthand

[burnedbyshoto]

caught

— You’re caught in a web after flying a little bit too recklessly and along comes your one and only savior who requests a little help from you too as the price of freeing you.

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pairing: naga!kirishima eijirou x fem fairy!reader

warnings: fairy!reader, naga!kirishima, smut, 18+, coercion, dubcon, hypnotism, oviposition, double penetration, begging, heat/rut, size diff

word count: 4,004

a/n: BAHAHA I wrote this in like 3 hours because I decided to instead watch some soul eater last night & I like it so far! ah, well, ive never actually read naga fics before, or oviposition,,, so fair warning, enjoy! also, read the damn warnings.

kinktober day 7 main kink: size difference

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The world was a magical one. 

The planet was crawling with mythological creatures steaming from the smallest of pixies to the largest Kraken. The world was full of mystery, wonder, and adventure. Fire breathing dragons and cursed powerful swords were hidden away from the few humans and elves to discover. As in any civilization, there were those who got along and those who didn’t.

Some species of creatures got along with everyone, there were others that were feared beyond reason, and a few that were loved for moments and feared for others. 

You were a fairy.

And you were tiny.

Standing no more than three apples high, you had iridescent wings that curled and shone in the glimmering light whenever you so much as moved. You were a good fairy, you always have been. You were often found assisting with a multitude of mythical creatures and humans on quests and as companions. Despite your small stature, you were fast, zipping, and gliding faster than most could ever dare to catch up with.

You loved your wings, loved flying, loved having the wind whistling through your ears while you dove between branches and branches, laughing while your pixie friends failed to keep up with you. Your mother had always fluttered her wings in annoyance and partial anger when you were younger and would often outspeed her, leaving her screaming your name while she desperately tried to keep up.

What could you say? You were a daring fairy, an adventurous one at that too.

But she always warned you, even back then, of the dangers of being a small, tiny, pretty fairy who flew at speeds much faster than you should be capable of.

The wind whipped against your face, stinging at your nose, chapping your lips, and whooshing through your ears as you grew faster and faster. The traces of magic falling from your wings creating a beautiful, sparkling trail behind you as you whooped out in excitement and thrill. 

“Slow down, y/n!” your friends screamed from what sounded like many trees behind you, and like the daring showoff you were, you cork spiraled around a set of hanging branches with a loud laugh.

But as you straightened out, ready to move onward, you realized that something, thick, heavy, and sticky had caught onto the tip of your wing, and you catapulted backward. 

A spider’s web.

Even in a world of fantasy and mystery, spiders existed to catch flying pests, and to some, you were just that.

Panic consumed you, white fire coursing through every magical vein in your body as you thrashed and shook in the webs. Your hands grabbed onto the sticky strands around your wings, a desperate attempt to free yourself only to find yourself even more tightly wound up in the damp, near-transparent threads. 

A pathetic whimper left your mouth, your head dropping to your chest as silent, hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Your wings fluttered weakly, looking nothing too far from the insects and flies you were so used to seeing caught up in these webs. You strained your ears, trying to listen to the few pixies you had been flying and playing with, but even with your immense speed advantageous over them, you knew that they should be near.

But nothing.

You sat there on the web for minutes that seemed to bleed into hours, silently waiting for your friends to come and save you… but it seemed for naught.

…

…

…

“Help…”

“Help…”

“Please help…”

You had been trapped for hours.

Each passing second both dooming you to a life as spider food for the Arachne that had still yet to return home. Or maybe possibly a snack for any large creature that may pass, or an undeserving elf or human plucking you free and demanding to use their powers on a quest you would never approve of. That, or maybe you’d die of hunger.

There was no stopping the growl in your stomach or the parched dryness of your throat for your desperate, pathetic cry of help.

But it seemed that when your friends not-your-friends anymore said this part of the forest was for the most part void of all pixie and fairy eating creatures, it seemed that it was just void of all creatures. Pouting, you felt another rush of frustrating tears well up in your eyes, your cheeks huffing and face steaming as soft chimes of bells erupted from you while you seemingly threw a temper tantrum, not one-second closer from freedom.

Your breathing turned sharper, heavier, and overall shallow. In a flash of fury, you thrummed your wings as fast as you could, trying your best to fly out of this entrapment. To your slight excitement, you managed to loosen the webs around your wings for just a moment, your smile bursting oh so prematurely onto your face before it all went wrong again. As if the web was alive as well, it seemed to suddenly stiffen and drag you back into its sticky confines only for you to be even more trapped onto the mass web.

Like a broken dam, the tears streaming down your face were stinging, plentiful, and unable to stop.

You mourned the end of your life like this, so pathetic, so absolutely stupid way to go: caught on a spiderweb.

“Now, now, little one, why are you crying?” came a voice so soft yet incredibly loud voice, and you stiffened straight despite having a potential savior. 

You couldn’t see them, and with how the web was wrapped around you, you couldn’t even dare to turn your head around to stare at them. You couldn’t look at him, sure, but you knew just through the tenor and low thunder of his voice that your potential savior or wolf in sheep’s clothing was undoubtedly a robust, powerful mythological creature. 

Despite the way his voice seemed to whisper in your ears, you heard the familiar noise of someone moving through the grounds of the forest. The fallen dead leaves that scattered on the floor crackling with his movement. You trembled although you didn’t make a noise, not even a small bell chime of your wings. 

“Are you in need of assistance, little one?” he continued to ponder as if blind to the was you oh so very not discreetly clammed up at the sudden sound of his voice. “If you so require it, I would be more than willing to assist you in your freedom. It pains me to see such a beautiful, full of potential little fairy go to waste.”

The tongue in your mouth felt pathetically dry, your chest rising and collapsing at incredible speeds for someone of your composition of size.

“Oh, are you fearful of me, little one?” he seemed to laugh, finding your fear to be humorous, comical, really. “Most individuals at least wait until they peer into my eyes to find themselves unwilling to move or speak.”

The web shook with the vibrations of his voice. And you whined at the back of your throat as that small fact merely confirmed the size of the male creature standing behind you. You found yourself fearful of that playful tone on his voice, but you also knew that as a tiny fairy, you were quite foolish in fear when found in predicaments such as this one. You had to trust the creature behind you should you wish to escape.

“W-Would you mind freeing me?” you asked, making an attempt to sound powerful and in control despite the tremor on your lower lip and the way your voice was near childish in comparison to his own. How you actually thought fairies sounded on the same pitch as to many creatures before was beyond you, for at the moment, you deemed yourself to be no greater than a child speaking to an old man. “I was trapped while racing, and well, these frisky spiderwebs are quite the worst at capturing things that don’t deserve to be captured.”

Oh? Is that so?” his voice chuckled. His body, without a doubt, moments from yours if the way the gentle breath of his laugh brushed against your neck had anything to say about it. “I’ve always been told that they’re especially good at capturing pests.”

You flustered. 

“Yet here we are!” you pathetically countered, your wings fluttering in your distress. “If you wouldn’t mind freeing me, I would greatly appreciate it!”

“But, of course,” he spoke with great pride, and you shuddered when warm, large finger seemed to easily scoop you out from the webs. Your wings fluttered when the tight restraints of the traps were done, but not entirely freed from your beautiful wings. “Relax your wings, little one, I know you’re antsy to move, but there are still a great number of leftover webs on those wings of yours. Relax, I promise you no harm as I take these webs off.”

You shivered as his warm, strong fingers worked the plenty of sticky strands of webs off of you as if they were nothing but flyaway thread used for clothing. Speaking of clothing, you peered down at the daisy and red dandelion seed dress you wore, your eyes wide with the hope that it hadn’t been ruined. You loved this outfit. But as you peered down at your cotton shoes, you froze when you finally took in the hand you were resting upon. 

It was huge.

Without a doubt, his palm was the size of your entire body, the fingers long and thick with intimidating claws that demanded a bit of concern.

“There, all done,” he hummed, and you shook your wings, looking at the thing iridescent wings that made you a fairy, and you felt him turn his hand around where you rested. Your eyes, already wide with the looming dread in your stomach, seemed to become saucers the size of the moon when you came face to face with a naga.

Nagas, half-snake half-human, were a few creatures in this world that were both loved and hated by others — your kind included.

His scales were black, glinting red under the setting copper sun, and he was absolutely massive. You had seen nagas only a handful of times, three to be honest, but each other those times, you knew that they were hardly more massive than humans. But this male naga before you was enormous as he was solid. Rippling muscles on every exposed part of his human body and his snake bottom were large, thick, full of rippling coiling muscles that could probably strangle anyone who attempted to fight him. He had full, spikey red hair, scars on his arms, and one splitting his eyebrow. His red, slitted eyes seemed vast, cunning, and terrifying while he lifted you up to eye level. And his smile, oh his smile. Jagged, sharp teeth with lips pulled into a cunning, just a bit too sweet smile.

Naga, for the most part, were peaceful creatures. They were strong fighters, fierce protectors, all due to the fact that they were just so much larger than their co-inhabititors of the world, but they were peaceful. They slithered about most of the year, helping those who came and went, but there were moments in the year where they were of concern.

During the late spring, early summer, they were hit with their heats and ruts. Powerful naga soon filled with the lusting, overwhelming desire to shove their fertile eggs into anything that would hold them. Nagas, who mated with nagas, were known to have wrestled as their mating dance, almost wiping out many towns in their horny, hot desires, and you froze suddenly feeling the thick waves of heat coming off the naga before you.

“W-Well, thank you!” you stammered, your body bowing lowly for the naga before you whose splitting smile was becoming stamped in your brain. “I appreciate you freeing me, but I must go now. Supper is waiting for me!”

“What’s your name, little one?” the naga instead asked, his clawed finger caressing your cheek so softly, so accurately, you nearly thought he was set on taking off your head. “I would like to know the name of the beautiful fairy I saved today.”

There was power in knowing names in this world, fairy names especially, so you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach on account to this, or the way fear stimulated every cell in your body. 

“I-I can’t um, I can’t tell you,” you whimpered when his thick, large finger hooked underneath your chin to raise your head.

“Ah, it’s okay, little one, I promise I won’t do you wrong,” he promised, the lure in his voice — an advantage that nagas held in their times of heat. His voice was a warm blanket, smoothly pulling your eyes closed, making your wings flutter in your lulling excitement. “You can trust me.”

“Trust… you?” you spoke, mimicking his words, feeling like you were swimming in a warm, gooey honey trap. You bit down on your lower lip, heat rushing to your face as you stared upon his still cunning, sly grin as he traced his massive finger down from your wet, pouty lower lip to your hip. “I don’t… I can’t stay for longer?”

“Is that a question on your tone, little one?” he asked, his forked tongue flicking through his pointed teeth. “Can’t you stay? I have a favor to ask of you.”

A heavy, pitchy moan broke through your mouth as the tip of his claw dragged from your navel to your suddenly blistering core. Were you always this wet? How did you get so wet?

“But I…” you struggled to think, your eyes shut tightly, face twisting as you tried to figure out where you were needed right now. “I need to go… somewhere?”

“Somewhere?” he asked, voice light, buttery smooth. “I thought you were coming with me?”

“I… was?”

“Yes, little one, look at me,” he kissed the air, and you found your eyes pressing open, your jaw dropping when his piercing red eyes hypnotizing you. “Open those pretty little legs for me, I want to see if you’re fit enough to be my dam, my mate.”

Why that sent bubbling gasps from your tongue and sent your legs apart was beyond you, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. He had called you his mate… his dam.

His finger shoved between your legs, gently rubbing the massive finger that was probably nearly your height between your legs, catching onto your clit, sending resonating, shaking mewls from your throat. You collapsed forward, hips rutting back against his finger, your tiny fingers holding onto his knuckles, your eyes fluttering in this euphoria.

It felt so good.

So good, so good, “please more!”

You sobbed at the feeling of his finger coming up to allow more friction between you and your throbbing cunt, the bone of his knuckle-dragging so deliciously, so roughly against your throbbing clit that you started to feel weak in your knees.

“Call me Kirishima,” he growled, his finger flipping underneath you so that the pad of his finger could now press onto your clit, gathering your dripping slick as he does so. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Ei,” you spluttered, eyes barely open to watch the way his slitted pupils were dilated with his lust, the smell he was emitting without a doubt one of an alpha male plunging further within his rut. “This feels so good, please give meeeEE ahhh, oh god, give me more!”

Kirishima growled out a peal of chilling laughter, one that had your wings fluttering in their heavy, lucid attempt to fly and kiss the man that could swallow your entire body as if you were nothing more than a potato chip to him. You keened, one of your hands shakily removing themselves from his finger, stretching out to him.

“Kiss me, please kiss me,” you beg, your heaving breathes almost in synch with your wildly bucking hips.

“You want a kiss?” he hummed, bringing your tiny body close enough to tease you, but not near enough for you to plant a desperate, small kiss to his smooth, curling large lips. “Promise me two things.”

“Anything,” you promised, watching as his forked tongue flashed between his teeth, his eyes flashing with his shaking control on the situation. Your cheeks scorched at the sight of him wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. The dam in you jittering at the knowledge that he was a good mate, a good person by holding back, trying to keep his control before giving in. But you wanted him as deep as you were. You wanted to feel his finger intruding your clenching, spasming walls, to try and take on his undoubtedly huge cock.

You wanted to try it.

You wanted him.

“Anything you want, I will give you!” you shriek with promise, your clit feeling numb from the overstimulation and lack of release as you could not reach it without penetration. 

“Your name,” Kirishima growled, his lips dangerously close. “And promise to carry my — our children.”

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” you frantically claim, knowing you would do it all just for his lips against yours, and finally, he was close enough, his bottom lip nearly the size of your entire face as you kissed him again and again.

His lips were pursed, allowing your frantic kisses to have lain all over his awaiting soft lips. You shuddered at the electric sensation coursing through you with every second, and your wings fluttered in your excitement, bringing you up into the air, lifting you off his palm.

“Your name?” he commanded, the hand you abandoned running a taloned finger down the spine of your back, pleasantly, orgasmically feeling as he reached the spot between your sensitive wings. You loved the feeling and keened against his mouth. 

“Y/l/n y/n!”

“And you will have my children?”

“Yes!”

A possessive, all encompassing cross between a growl and a hiss slipped through his lips, and you looked down with your lust dipped eyes to see the two, twisted cocks he was rutting into his free hand. You cried at the fact that it wasn’t your cunt the sharp, near hook looking tip of his cock wasn’t ramming into. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” Kirishima snarked, his eyes bright and humorous as he caught you by your wings. You moaned loudly at the lusting pull of your wings that you could feel pulsing into your core. “You’re not ready for my cock or eggs just yet.”

“But I wanna…” you cry, fingers stretching out toward the two writhing cocks that seemed to call your name. “I wanna try!”

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, his hand that was not occupied with his massive cocks releasing your wings and gently stroking your face. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you can try in a bit. I just don’t want my little one splitting in half before she’s been made useful!”

Your pouting and mouthwatering person turned to face Kirishima again, whose once red eyes were completely black in his rutting lust. 

“Split in half?” you echoed, a slight pain pinching your pussy, the thought of being split in two for those cocks not quite as horrendous as it should be. “Will I be?”

“Not if you stretch yourself out first,” Kirishima corrected, entirely missing your slight hope to be torn in half by his cock. “I want to see you fuck yourself on my finger at first. Do that, and I’ll let you sit on my cock and birth my eggs.”

A chill ran down your back, and you nodded, suddenly more than willing to throw yourself onto anything he would give you to prove yourself. And with his free hand, he presented his long ring finger whose talon was missing, most likely gone from some sort of battle.

But it didn’t matter. It was enough for you to prove yourself. 

Fluttering over to his finger, you dropped the small panties you owned onto his exposed palm before placing your sopping cunt right above his extended finger. You lowered yourself onto the tip, spreading your essence slick against his skin, your eyes unabashedly half-lidded as you watched the muscles in his arm pick up speed as you made eye contact with the excited naga. 

And with a twirl of your hips and a moan that vibrated straight through your chest, you sank onto his finger. 

It truly did feel like his splitting you in half. You recognized immediately at the way your walls nearly couldn’t keep up with how he opened you up. His finger was already giant within your spongey, tight walls. The heat and the callouses of his appendage unreplicable as you silently screamed, your walls spasming tightly around him, an orgasm taking you out without warning. You heaved, exhaustion ticking your brain as the soft bounces you made to further his finger up your cunt making you whine. He was huge, his finger huge. But you liked the fullness it brought you, the way you struggled not to send yourself flying off his finger like some rocket while you continued to fuck yourself against him.

You could do it, you could do it.

Soft wet noises filled the air as Kirishima’s aggressive stroking of his leaking cocks, and the way his finger seemed to be so loud in your tight cavern filled the forest.

More, give him more.

Pressing the collar of your outfit down, your legs wrapped around his finger as you continued to fuck yourself up and down his finger while your hands groped and pinched at your breasts, your eyes rolling back in your horny excitement. You could feel your orgasm growing again. You could tell by the clenching quivering of your spongey, velvet walls against his finger that you were close yet again.

“Fuck, little one, you’re taking my finger so well,” Kirishima sang in his praise, his snake tail coiling and thrashing wildly beneath the both of you, and you longed to feel the snake scales beneath your blazing core too. “Are you ready for my cock? I’m so close, so close. You made me like this, little one, so fucking hot, so sexy, fuck.”

You mewl loudly, your body well aware of the lewd scene he was creating with the way he wrangled his twin cocks in his hand. Your head dropped backward, a high pitched wail shooting through you when his finger moved within you, and you nodded your head as quickly as you could. Your legs relaxing around him as Kirishima quickly picked you off his finger, and without even three seconds of being empty again, two sharp, writhing cocks slammed within your cunt.

You staggered against his hold, body convulsing at the feeling of his snake cock flicking and twirling within your womb, stimulating the puffy, wet walls that were erratically beating, as the both of you came with loud, joint moans.

White filled your vision as your wet juices splattered down his cock, and the weirdest, almost constipating feeling filled you as solid, cold, and round objects filled your womb. Making the drool in your mouth dribble down the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four eggs.

Four eggs for you to grow, four kids you would have with Kirishima, and you sobbed in elation.

“I can feel them, Ei!” you sobbed, content with the babies he just gave you, already expanding your tiny little stomach to the optimal length it could reach. “Our babies!”

Kirishima chuckled, removing your from his cock and placing your pregnant little tiny body onto his shoulder, a sign that he would protect you through anything and everything.

“I can’t wait until they hatch, little one.”

And with that, he nuzzled against your face. And you vibrated in your happiness, more than willing to take on the world as Kirishima continued forward in the world. There was no looking back now.

[mattelektras]

ur morrison comment made me curious

i hate them too, like sm sm, but what would u call their trademarks?? i havent read much bc i just get a hives reaction to their stuff and put it down very fast lmao

how long you got

side note i did not realise grant morrison uses they/them so. they were originally misgendered throughout this but i think i’ve corrected it all now

cannot write in a straight line. we have to go the scenic route to get through any story, to get to any point which i think is just. grant morrison liking the sound of their own voice

final crisis for example. omega beams kill you in the present.... send you into the past... something about turning batman into a bomb..... i dont have the qualifications for this

writes women like theyve been personally wronged by every single woman ever. emma's promiscuous and makes scott cheat. jean is a jealous girlfriend, they're both catty and shallow. over scott summers of all people. i love him i do but i am not causing a fight over that man

and talia..... talia who they must hate most of all. retconned her into being a rapist who uses a child to get to bruce. it was all about sex and manipulation and she couldnt possibly have actually loved the guy and the kid she has with him. they are almost SOLELY responsible for the devolution in talia’s character and everything that’s happened with her since

wrote jason todd as some kind of emo anarchist kinda guy which was just shallow he was annoying as fuck. he was just. batman with guns. there was no point to any of it. all of batman incorporated has always been a disaster

wrote superman in all star superman, and imo, in general, the worst thing you can do when writing a superman book is to make him all powerful and god like etc and thats EXACTLY what morrison did. which took away the likeability and relatability from one of the most likeable and relatable characters there is

when they write batman, they take all the negative things about bruce and smother the good things to death with them. he's cruel instead of disciplined, he doesnt trust anyone instead of just having a very close circle, hes a lot more violent and is straight up the worst parent out there. he's just an all powerful, never loses, egomaniac w no redeeming qualities. its very frank miller imo. very much the im the goddamn batman brand

they write wonder woman earth one which... given everything ive said about how they write women... really ISNT a book for them to have any business writing. hippolyta stole sperm from hercules to impregnate herself w diana which is. maybe not rape literally but INCREDIBLY uncomfortable to read and definitely a violation of the sexual nature?? imo??? i dont know how to explain it. the amazons are much more of a dictatorship and a lot of the first vol is like. an orgy but we're calling it feminism?? its a very outdated take on what they think feminism is

a lot of people who do like grant morrison think that theyre very intelligent because everyone else just doesnt UNDERSTAND the points theyre trying to make because theyre just on another level and they have so many nfts and SO much bitcoin that we couldnt possibly understand

[otonymous]

Fever Dreams (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: Gavin lets you in on the contents of his wet dreams… Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: mentions of IV lines, hospitals, minor injuries, brief mentions of trauma, Eli’s sense of impending doom, vaginal intercourse, profanity, masturbation Word Count: ~3K words (~15 mins of sweet, sweet hospital lovemaking 🤣) Author’s Notes: Close your eyes.  Imagine that Gavin is by your side — muscles flexed and lips so close they practically brush against the shell of your ear when he whispers the following:

“I hope you enjoy this fic, which was based on and inspired by Gavin’s Whispers/Biting The Ear (咬耳) ASMR from the CN server, beautifully translated by the incredibly talented and gracious @cheri-translates​.” 🤣

In all seriousness, I’m extending a massive THANK YOU to the sweet @cheri-translates​ for providing me with the awesome goods that literally left me breathless!  This fic would not have been possible without you! 💕 With that being said, hope you all enjoy it and happy reading! 🥰

👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

It was easy to forget at times; that Gavin was made of flesh and bone like everyone else.

That lionhearted though he was, the man wasn’t invincible, no matter what he would have you believe: hiding winces behind smiles and brushing off bruises blooming blue like they were nothing at all.

It was little wonder then that when the phone rang that night, it was Eli’s voice on the other line.  And as you stood before the bathroom mirror, wrapped in nothing but a towel and watching the colour drain from your face, the stilted manner of his speech made it increasingly clear he was unused to delivering bad news.

“I’m gonna kill him when I see him,” Gavin swears under his breath, the hand with the IV drip attached pulling into a tight fist by his side.

Now you understood why.

“They’re making a fuss over nothing, keeping me in hospital for observation.  It’s just a few scratches.”

Amber eyes train in your direction, the earnestness in their tender depths melting the edge of the anger you felt at always being the last to know anytime your lover got hurt.  And when he tries to smile despite the bulky bandage plastered on his left cheek, your resistance falters.

“ ‘They’re making a fuss over nothing.’  I bet you’d say that even if you were missing a limb, Gavin Bai.”  

Suddenly exhausted by the anxiety that made you rush to the Special Task Force hospital upon receiving Eli’s call, you slump into the chair at his bedside, still annoyed but relived to find that he was well enough to laugh at your sarcasm.

“Hmm, I must be in a lot of trouble if you’re calling me by name like that.”  

Smirk spreading on that handsome face, his eyes take on a mischievous twinkle that makes him altogether impossible to resist.  You couldn’t help but think of that rough and tumble high school senior who threw furtive glances in your direction every time he walked past in the halls, lip cut and face bruised.  

“Come.  It’s too late to go home now and you can’t sleep on the chair like that.  Join me on the bed.”

Voice breaking through your reverie, Gavin holds out the hand that wasn’t hooked to the drip — large, strong and inviting.  You hesitate, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you look towards the door.  

“I-I really shouldn’t.  We’re in a hospital and there won’t be enough room for the two of us.  You, especially, need a good night’s sleep, being injured—”

Three dull pats sound in quick succession to interrupt you.  Turning your head, you see Gavin scooting to one side of the bed, hand beckoning towards the newly vacated space.  “The beds here are larger than the ones in your average hospital.  STF perk, I guess.  But if you insist on refusing then…I guess I’ll just have to accompany you in sleeping sitting up—”

Relenting with a click of the tongue, you snatch the pillow from his grasp just as he begins propping it up behind his back, sliding it beneath his head as you gingerly crawl in next to him.

“That’s my girl.”

Gavin’s whisper is electric in your ear, low and seductive in a way that made you question the innocence of his motives, wondering if he was already aware of the sensations his body pressed to the side of yours was eliciting.  His lips curve in a smile on your forehead, breath dancing hot across skin.  And when he reaches for you, the sight mesmerizes: long, tapered fingers smoothing slow along the strands of your hair.

“Eli must’ve called while you were still in the shower.  You didn’t even have time to dry your hair, did you?  Look at how wet it is.”

And though you were on the verge of telling him that it wasn’t only your hair that was wet, you thought better of it.  There was a heaviness in his tone, weighed down by the concern that inevitably arose every time Gavin thought you weren’t taking care of yourself: encouraging you with bites of the BBQ pork rice he brought in takeout containers whenever you skipped meals during late nights at the office, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you shook from the cold — having decided on form over function in a lightweight but pretty new dress worn especially to impress on date nights.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost dry anyway.”

“Hmm.”  Faint displeasure taints his acknowledgment, but you close your eyes to the furrow in his brows, unable to focus on anything other than the touch of his fingers on your skin — calloused tips tracing the line of your jaw to traipse over the chin until finally coming to rest on your lower lip.  He is so close you can feel the tail end of your exhalation being drawn into Gavin’s next breath when he says:

“I know I really scared you this time.  I’m sorry.  I was careless, but it won’t happen again.  Please don’t be mad, okay?”

Eyes opening to the sight of his, you study the specks of gold embossed in amber, beautifully familiar.  See your reflection in the dark pupils holding your face in loving regard.  Felt your heart chill at the thought of Gavin one day not returning home.  And when the sting of tears arrives to redden the tip of your nose, you turn away, unwilling to add to his burdens with your own.

“All I ask…is that you be open with me.  I know you want to protect me, Gavin.  You don’t want me to worry.  But it’s much worse to have to guess about whether or not you’re lying just to be kind.  I’m a grown woman and your partner, so please don’t handle me with kid gloves.  Let me take care of you too, sometimes.”

Staring at the patterns on the curtain drawn around the bed, you listen for the rhythm of his breath — slow and even in the ensuing silence and punctuated only by the intermittent beeps of machinery, the weight of your concerns slowly sinking in before he finally relents.

“Okay.  I won’t keep anything from you anymore.  I promise.  So please…could you let me just…”  

A hand wraps around your waist, grip firm yet gentle as he pulls you close beneath the thin sheet.  You feel his mouth on the nape of your neck, Gavin’s kisses falling hot and insistent between muffled words.

“…hold you, like this?”

Nodding, you bite your lip, barely suppressing a moan to feel his fingers crawl beneath your shirt; warming themselves on the soft skin of your belly, tracing circles about the navel.

“Seven days.  It’s been…hmm…seven days since I’ve last held you.  It’s too long.”

The last statement is breathed into the curve of your neck and shoulder, your boyfriend inhaling deeply as he buries his face into the space, the embrace around you tightening as if touch alone could communicate all the longing he wasn’t quite able to put into words.

“It was a difficult mission.  I couldn’t sleep.  And anytime I did, I would dream of you.  Always of you.  Want to know what we did?”

Cotton-mouthed, you resort to nodding again.

“Then be a good girl and turn around first.  I want…need to see you…that’s good.  In my dreams, we’d be together, just like this.  I’d have you in my arms, so close I could feel every inch of your body…how hot it is…just like now.  No, don’t move away.  I like it. I’ve got a fever, but I’m also feeling chilled.  I want your heat.”

Those amber eyes are dark now, half-lidded and veiled with lust — proof that Gavin’s increasingly shallow breathing was not an exaggeration.  It was a look you recognized; the expression his handsome face wore the moment he saw you again after a mission had kept him away for too long.  It typically resulted in entire weekends spent in bed, limbs entwined as Gavin made love to you over and over again.

Until you were boneless and spent.  

Until your lover was satisfied that he was thoroughly reacquainted with every curve of your body.

You reach for him: trembling fingers tracing the line of his brow, thumb circling the apple of his cheek.  Gavin closes his eyes, exhalation shaky as he nuzzles into your palm to lay a kiss on that, too.

“Your touch feels cool on my skin.”

“Oh!  I’m sorry—”

“No.  Don’t be.”  Fingers curling about the wrist that pulled back, Gavin gently guides your hand towards his forehead.  “It’s nice.  I like it.  But…my back is warm too.  Do you think you could help me lower the temperature there?”

Swallowing, you start to inch your hands towards the open back of his hospital gown.  Gavin softly groans to feel your fingers running along the ridge of his shoulder blades, caressing defined muscles and faded scars you had committed to memory long ago.

“Is this all right?”

Now his turn to nod, Gavin’s head drops back, accentuating the bob of his prominent Adam’s apple in that strong, thick neck.

“I’m...ah…also feeling hot here.”

Large palms fall over the back of your hands, guiding them over his rib cage until they find themselves on the hard muscles of Gavin’s abdomen.  Thighs pressing together beneath your skirt, you trace that defined V-line — touch featherlight in a way that draws out a shudder, goosebumps blooming across the expanse of Gavin’s skin.

Suddenly, you freeze to hear footsteps approaching in the hallway beyond the door.  And just when you start to pull away, Gavin stops you with a whisper:

“Don’t worry.  The nurse has already been in to check on me tonight.  They won’t be back again, unless…unless they see that my heart rate has become unusually high.”

He winks.

“Besides, if they find you here, I’ll just say that, um…I’m afraid of sleeping by myself in the dark.”

That smirk again.  You wonder at what point your boyfriend had become so cheeky, knowing just the right things to say to get his way.

“Could you help me?  I’m burning up…right here.”

Lower and lower, he guides your hands, leaving them to their own devices when they reach the waistband of his boxers.  Barely breathing, you watch as the expression on his face transforms from anticipation to euphoria the moment you slip past the elastic, fingers circling his hardened length with a loose grip.

“Officer, you weren’t lying!”

Gaze already heavy with want, the chuckle Gavin lets out in response has never sounded so sexy.  “It’s because I’m running a fever.  Or perhaps…it’s because I’m thinking of you.  Do you think we should…make it even hotter?”

You wet your lips, feeling Gavin twitch in your hand at the sight; feel the vein pulsing on the underside of that thick shaft as he continues to swell in size.  Firming up your grip, you begin to stroke in earnest, trying to maintain your rhythm despite the distraction of your own throbbing pussy, despite the way you grew increasingly wet to envision him sliding into your depths, satin panties clinging to the lines of your folds.

Smoothing your thumb over the liquid arousal beading at the tip of his cock, you draw wide, slick circles over velvet skin — paying especial attention to the ridge just below the swollen head because you loved how Gavin sounded when caught in the throes of ecstasy.  It pleased you to pleasure him — the man who never thought twice about putting you before himself.

Always so strong, always fearless, you loved to watch him fall apart.  Over you.  Beneath you.  In you.  Held in the palm of your hand or folded to your embrace.  You could feel the tension leaving his body — worn out and battered — each time he returned to your side from a mission, the trauma of all the things he couldn’t talk about seeping from every pore as you sought to show him love with the swing of your hips, the kisses you showered upon his sweat-soaked face.  With the normalcy only the simplicity of a home-cooked meal could restore.  “I love you,” he’d smile and say, amber eyes blinking once, twice…as if Gavin couldn’t quite believe you were real.  “I really do.”

“This is the first time someone has stayed with me in the hospital, let alone shared my hospital bed.” Gavin’s voice is low, thick with emotion in between shuddering gasps elicited by each tug along his length.  “Who would’ve thought that...even at a time like this…I’d be lucky enough not to be alone.”

“I’d never let you be lonely,” you say with a sudden vehemence that surprises even you.  “Never again.”

He smiles, gentle eyes glistening when his large hand approaches to cup your face.  Gavin touches you as if holding something of infinite importance, “Angel” falling from his lips in a soft utterance.

“I don’t think I can sleep tonight.  I don’t want to.  What about you?  Will you…stay up with me?…Help my fever break—”

You kiss him deeply, swallowing his words even as your tongue pushes past teeth to meet Gavin’s in reunion.  You had missed him; missed the way he tasted, the hint of mint that lingered in the breath you shared, as if your very lives were as entwined as your bodies in embrace.

To lose him was to lose yourself.  

And so, you give yourself over to the man who gave so much and asked for so little in return.

“Then I won’t sleep either.  I want to stay with you.”

Throwing one last glance at the door, you rise to your knees, skirt bunching at the waist as you straddle his hips.  Eyes wide, Gavin starts to move before you stop him, saying “Let me” as you push him back onto the bed before the IV line could pull taut.

You loved how Gavin looked at you, the artless way he wore his heart on his sleeve — showing in the pink of his cheeks, the blush creeping all the way to the tips of pierced ears.  It was a side of him only you were privy to; unguarded and unfiltered.  He watched you now, those amber eyes lit with a dark hunger to follow the motions of your hands: one pulling dampened panties aside as the other spreads glistening lips, guiding his cock along the length of your slit before you ease yourself onto his hard heat.  

Unable to stop the moan that escapes, you slide…lower and lower…until the flesh of your buttocks meets the muscular plane of his pelvis.  But the sensation continues — electricity spreading towards the very pit of the stomach to curl your spine, chest opening to receive all of his love.

Breathing barely controlled, Gavin bites hard on his lip in a bid to stay quiet, unwilling to attract the attention of curious staff.  “God, you feel so good.  I just…just want to move.”

“No, let me…let me be the one to take care of you this time.  Please.”

For the second time that night, Gavin relents, yielding to your exquisite torture even as he fought to leash the animal impulse that spurred him to rip free of the machinery and fuck you until the bed collapsed.  Hands clenching tight around the bedsheet, his knuckles grow white, as if the flimsy fabric were a lifeline keeping him from being swept away each time you lifted and lowered yourself onto him.

For everything about you drove him mad, from the tight, grinding circles you drew with your hips whenever he was fully sheathed, to the clenching embrace of your arousal-slicked walls that held him like no other, as if the entirety of you were created with him in mind.  Or, at least, it was a fantasy he harboured; to think that fate had a hand in ordaining you his sole queen, and him, forever your humble servant.

“Ahh, Gavin!…I…you’re so deep, I’m com—”

You don’t get to finish before your mind blanks.  All you could focus on was the sudden grip of Gavin’s hands on your hips and the shift of your weight forwards when his knees draw up, giving your lover the proper leverage to pound hard and fast into you from below until your arousal pools to drench those six-pack abs.

It nearly overwhelms you; the orgasm that makes you collapse onto Gavin’s chest, the contractions that hit like tidal waves moving through your body.  They spur him on, continuing to fuck you so hard the bed shook, each and every thrust hitting just the right, swollen spot to keep you elevated on that high.  And when you whisper

“I love you”

before your tongue extends to suck the lobe of his ear into your mouth, the tension building in the taut muscles of that perfect body breaks.  

You hear your name leave his lips in a deep moan, feel him leave a part of himself in the secret space between your legs.  Taste the salt of his sweat on kisses laid upon the pulse of his neck.  Waited for his racing heart to slow before telling yours it was okay to do the same.

And when his arms wrap tightly around your body, “I love you, too” returned with palpable affection, you let yourself fall into slumber…knowing that even in dreams, Gavin would meet you there.

👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[one-real-imonkey]

Could you do 9 with Hound and Pup?

"Show me where it hurts."

Warning: injury and blood.

Absolutely I can. I’ve been meaning to do this story for a while. *evil grin*

Thanks for the ask, please enjoy.

———

Hound was more than a little worried that his second hadn't come back to him. He'd sent Pup on an errand, he'd wanted to go himself but one of the Mastiffs had been limping and Pup had volunteered to do it for him.

Almost an hour ago.

Which was, well, incredibly concerning.

There was no need for Pup to have come back to him after going to Stone, he knew, because their patrol was over and they had free time. He could have gone for food, or seen someone in need of a hand with something, but it didn't sit right. Pup was dutiful, and if Stone had given him a reply he would have come to report it, or at least report that Stone had received his message.

Leaving the others to handle things, he set off into the barracks, pausing when he realised he wasn't quite sure where Pup would even be. He'd been trying to find Stone, to deliver a message Hound didn't trust to put to comms.

Stone had been on a guard duty shift inside the Senate Building.

The chances of Pup still being there were slim, and he pulled open his comm to see if he could find Pup's locator, but none the less he started in that general direction.

He didn't make it to the Senate Building or get a ping before he found Pup, not that far from the training rooms and stumbling back down the hallway towards him, and instantly Hound knew something was wrong.

"Pup?"

Pup's helmet tilted slightly, like he was just noticing Hound was there, which confirmed his suspicions. Something was definitely wrong. Pup's legs trembled a little, and he was holding his arm to his chest, and Hound darted forwards to put an arm under his shoulders to help keep his vod'ika upright.

"Hey, vod, are you hurt?"

Pup didn't say a word, and Hound started guiding him to med bay, to Fix, who would make sure he was fine, he would.

"Show me where it hurts."

He got nothing, which was never good.

Definitely to Fix. And quickly.

Fortunately, whoever had designed this base had put the med bay close to the training rooms, so it was a short trip but the closer he got the harder it was to ignore that there was blood leaking out from Pup's glove, which he couldn't ignore didn't look like it was on properly.

The good thing about being between shift changes and during a common meal time was that the corridor was mostly empty, along with the med bay and most other areas.

Most of all med bay.

Fix's head shot up at the door opening, and he was rushing forwards with his usual worry and energy at their arrival, ushering them to a bed and helping Pup sit himself in it, then carefully peeling off the glove, med kit open and ready to his left.

Hound almost gagged, almost, he'd been trained out of it young.

Blood poured out of the glove where it had been pooling, and his vod'ika's hound was covered in it, but that wasn't the worst of it.

Three of Pups fingers, his little finger and the two next to it, they were... well, from Fix's expression beyond saving.

Fix didn't hesitate to act, pressing dressing to the wounds to stem blood flow with one hand and depressing a hypo into the back of Pup's hand, which was almost certainly some sort of painkiller or numbing agent.

Pup whimpered, the first sound he'd made since Hound had found him, and Hound gently removed his vod'ika's helmet, raising Pup's chin so he was looking at Hound and not his hand.

Pup's eyes shone wide and wet and red.

His breath was shallow and rapid.

"Vod'ika, look at me, eyes on me, it's going to be ok. Fix will do what he does best, you'll be fine."

He would be, no-one would take him, no-one would ever to have to know. It wouldn't stop him from doing his duty.

They'd keep him safe.

He kept Pup's focus on him until it was over, until it was bandaged in bacta wraps and an IV had been administered for the blood loss.

He risked a glance down and winced, he'd been right. The two fingers had been beyond saving, but the third, the middle finger, was wrapped but there. Fix had saved it. Even with the bacta, he was sure it would be scarred, but it was still there.

Pup was looking at his hand too, with a weird mixture of horror and amazement, like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Vod, look at me, it'll be fine. I promise."

He knew they were bold words, risky ones, but he did promise it.

He wasn't letting them take his little brother anywhere. They'd find scraps that Gizmo could put together to make cybernetics, or maybe some fabric padded ones by their more creative vode.

"I... training, it was an accident, training."

Behind Pup, Fix bowed his head.

No training accident had caused those wounds, they'd been deliberately damaged. Pup was hardly Fix's first patient to have suffered wounds purposely inflicted, but Hound had never seen or heard of anything quite so damaging and horrific.

"Ok, vod, we'll list it as a training accident," Fix assured him softly, "but... if there's anyone we should keep the shinies away from...?"

Pup wasn't so out of it he hadn't caught on, and he started nodding, likely more to himself than to Fix.

"I didn't... I was on my way back from Stone, I... I didn't mean to trip, and I fell, Senator Tiphaine, it was an accident, she asked me to escort her back to her office to make up for it... I..."

"Breathe, vod, it's ok, it's over, you're safe, we've got you."

Hound sank onto the bed next to his brother and pulled him close, Pup's face pressed into his shoulder.

"I... please just say it was a training accident. It was just a training accident, I didn't... I was never... it wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to, I decided to train after seeing Stone, it was just a training accident. Thats all it was, just training, just training."

"Of course, vod'ika, of course. It was just a training accident."

He ran a hand through Pup's curls and tilted his head back to pray in vein to whatever was out there that something would deliver them, save them from this hell, to send them help.

There were so many stories out there of prayers being answered, but none of them told you what to do when the answer was no.

———

Thanks for the ask, this was fun and angsty. I’ve mentioned before that Pup is missing two fingers and here is the story to go with that.

Poor Pup, he’ll get his hugs.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.

Inbox is always open.

[haruno-sakura-san]

Can't remember if I posted this before, but I was reading through my notes on my phone and found it. Either way, enjoy this playful one shot with Sakura and a mystery man!

🌸❓

"Rough day?" A man who slid into the seat next to Sakura at the bar asked. "None of your business." She snubbed him. "It's been a while since ive seen a leaf nin drink like that," he observed unprompted. She mentally noted that she wasn't wearing her heite. He was either assuming from her gear or he recognized her. "I'm off duty." "I would hope so." Her gaze cut back over to him. A hood and tinted glasses obscured any identify features, but even so he looked incredibly mundane. In her line of work, that was also incredibly dangerous. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy-" "That assumptions a bit premature." "But I'm not here to meet anyone so if you don't mind-" "Actually I do." She glared at him for a long moment, not wanting to be interrupted again. "See, I'm waiting for someone myself." He offered finally. "You don't say" her tone thick with disinterest. "But I'm beginning to think I've been stood up." He sounded more amused than put out. She wondered if it was some kind of pickup strategy to get her to feel bad. "I can't imagine why." She said in the same flat tone. "My thoughts exactly."

Sakura made a sharp sound of disapproval. "My deepest sympathies. I don't see how this has anything to do with me." "Well, it really doesnt, on the surface. But you see, here I was feeling sorry for myself when I see you stomping in here, looking like you've just dragged yourself through a pigsty-" "It was a river bed." "Oh thank you- a river bed. Possibly the sorriest sight I've seen all day - not that I would normally say such a thing to a lady. I'm sure you look at least pleasant under normal circumstances." "Does this story have a point?" Feeling her anger swell at his commentary. "Of course, I just thought it might be nice to commiserate together - one passing stranger to another." She hates the cocky way he inclines his head, gesturing between them with his glass. "No, thanks." "Oh come on - why else come to a bar?" "For a drink - unbothered." "If that were the case, then I'd think the liquor store down the street would have done the job." "And what, have a few drinks at the store front? They have laws against that, you know." "You dont have a hotel room to drink in?" "Of course not" "Interesting." He purred. She realized she said too much. "So your plan was to get tipsy and then travel back to konoha or wherever your headed, seemingly alone, in the middle of the night." "I don't have to explain myself to you." "No, I think I've got a good handle on the situation without any explanation. Where are your teammates anyway? Isn't there someone around to keep you from making dangerous decisions like this. A captain maybe or a boyfriend?" Sakura slams her glass down against the wood of the bar. "For your information, I can more than take care of myself. I have an extremely high alcohol tolerance. And I've had too long a day for a pretty boy like you to be picking at me when all I want to do is have a drink in the peaceful Haven that is my own mind. So shut your trap. Am I clear?" "No, I have several questions." She snarls and begins to crack her nuckles in preparation to put this idiot though a wall when the bar tender yells, "No fighting in my bar! Take it outside if you want to act like animals." She settles back into her seat. "Sorry, sir. No need for that. This poser isn't worth the energy," she grumbles under her breath. "Lets backtrack to pretty boy. That had a nicer ring to it." Clenching her jaw, she takes a deep breath, exhales and takes a long drag on her drink. "So are you going to tell me the river bed story, Pocahontas?" "If I do, will you leave me alone?" "It certainly won't hurt your chances" She huffs. "Fine. I got caught in a fishing net." There was a beat of silence. "And?" She gave him a long-suffering look. "And was dragged behind a fishing boat." His eyebrows rose. "And how did that happen?" "I was pushing the boat. It was beached on a shallow part of the river." "Pushing it?" "Yeah." "Remind me to tip that bartender for not letting you deck me into next week." She smirked into her drink. Damn straight. "So when the boat broke free these fishermen did what? Cast their nets right done on top of you?" "Yup. I had to cut myself free and everything." "No good deed goes unpunished I guess." "Technically it wasn't a good deed, they were paying me to help." "That's even worse. And no one noticed you were missing onboard?" "Well, they wouldn't let me on the boat in the first place -" "Why not?" "It's bad luck." "Bad luck?" "To have a woman on board." "Wait a moment. So before the ship got stuck in the first place, while it was sailing, where were you? Nearby on the shore?" "No. I was running alongside them in the water." He laughed outright. "Running alongside them. That's too good. They didn't even give you rowboat." Her face flushed. She hadn't thought to ask for a row boat. "They were absolute assholes. Usually I can take quite a bit of crap from a client, but when he told me to pay for the net." "Pay for the net!" "And the lost profits for the day" "Ha!" "I told him just where he could shove his

lost profits and came to the nearest bar. I feel a little less sorry for myself now. Glad I could help. Now leave me be." "You don't want to hear my story?" "Not part of the deal. Now scram." He pouted, cheek resting on his hand. "But we were getting along so well." "You have a very twisted sense of relationships if you think that was getting along well." "I cannot argue with that." She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the bickering, but she was finally feeling a little unwound. Studying his profile for a moment, she thought it must definitely be the alcohol. "If you're going to stare, i might as well tell you my story." Definitely the alcohol. "I wasn't staring." She huffed, turning sharply away "Would admiring be more accurate?" "Do you ever shut up?" "For the majority of the time yes I do. It's quite liberating to go on and on like this. Strangers make some of the best conversation. You don't have to hold back because they will never see you again, probably not even remember speaking." She hated that he was right. She also hated that she couldn't see his eyes, instead watching his lips move. Kami must hate her because he had rather nice lips. "You're admiring again." They said. "Staring," she corrected. "Staring then." He said in a low voice, leaning in slightly. "Tell me your story." She said, trying to break the moment by divert this exchange to something hopefully safer for her psychy. Those damn lips curlled up in a feline grin. "Of course, my little mud pie." "Don't push it." She snapped, "You were meeting someone." "Yes, I've been seeing them for some time now. We are both wonderers so we meet about once a month. " "How long is some time now?" "Hmm, about ten years maybe." "And you guys haven't made it official yet?" "Well, it's complicated. They are a little old for me, and I'm not sure what society would think." She got the feeling he was making fun of her, but didn't get the joke. "They've never once been late or missed a meeting. I'm a little worried you see." For the first time since meeting the guy, Sakura felt a little bad for him. "Plus theyve got hands and eyes that wander a bit too much for my liking." "Sounds like they finally got bored and left." She commented. "Well. Even so, the meetings were as much about business as pleasure." "And just what kind of business are you in exactly?" "I'd say we were in the same field." She scoffs, looking him up and down again, not able to make out anything helpful from his form from under his travelling cloak to back up his claim about being a Shinobi. It was convenient line for civilian men who hit on kunoichi, so she rolled her eyes. "Sure you are." "Don't believe me?" "I believe you'd say just about anything to get on my good side."

"Hmm," his lips curled in that feline way, "And I thought leaf nin we're very skilled at seeing underneath the underneath." She froze, recognizing her sensei's phrase. "Who exactly did you say you were meeting again?" "I didn't." She slowly turned toward him, hand sliding to her thigh pouch under the bar, but it was too late. Here eyes were locked on his red, glowing gaze, pin wheels spinning. She felt her consciousness being torn from her body and into the inky black of his sharingan.

🌸❓

Quite sure this was supposed to be Itachi but it's quite OOC for him. So I'll leave it to you reader to fill in who it is. I guess I like Shisui for it myself but don't limit yourself haha.

[honeyhan-123]

Say Thank You XII

Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warnings: smut

Word Count: 3.5k

AN: I am so incredibly sorry at just how long it has been since I’ve updated this bad boy but here ya go my loves. I hope you enjoy it because, no spoilers but, it may be the last time you enjoy one for a while...

I. New York ~ II. Madrid ~ III. The Apartment ~ IV. The Trip ~ V. The Basement ~ VI. The First Lesson ~ VII. The Waiting Game ~ VIII. The First Attempt ~ IX. The Darkness ~ X. The Truth ~ XI. The Syndrome

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

XII. The Meeting Your fists curled into the sheets so tightly that you thought for sure they would make rips in the silken material. Your knees ached from how long you had been kneeling on them as they rubbed against the mattress with every thrust of his hips. The obscene sounds of your cunt clenching around him echoed in the bedroom as he drove you closer and closer to the edge once more.

He pounded into you with such a ferocity you worried that you would collapse underneath him and he seemed to realise this as he easily picked you up from the bed, wrapping on arm around your torso and the other around your neck softly, pulling your back against him, supporting your weight since you couldn’t.

‘That’s it Sweetheart, you look so fuckin’ good like this.’ His words came between his groans, murmured against the shell of your ear. ‘Look at yourself in the mirror, taking my cock so well, being my good girl.’ You couldn’t hold the moans back at his words, your eyes peeling open to stare at the large mirrored door that lead to the wardrobe in which you saw yourself reflected.

You had to agree with him, it was a sight for sore eyes. You mouth was open, dropped in an extended ‘O’ shape as his hand tweaked your nipples, pulling them into hard beads, rolling them between his fingers. You threw your head back against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright as his other hand danced down your body, swirling in the pool of slick that had gathered where you were connected.

He rubbed your clit with two fingers, as you screamed in silence, murmuring a jumbled collection of words, each one slurring into the next as the euphoria flooded your veins. ‘That’s it Sweetheart. Let go for me, c’mon baby. Just let go. I’m right behind you, I just need you to cum for me. Please baby.’ You couldn’t hold back any more, the visual satisfaction of watching his immense body flexing behind yours, the feeling of fullness he gave you with every thrust, the heated breath against your ear were all too much.

You screamed for him as you came, your voice hoarse and strangled through the pleasure, your velvet warm cunt clenching around him, pulling him in deeper, milking him for every drop as he cradled your body against his. You felt him thrust, slow and shallow as he filled you, groaning into your ear.

‘Oh Sweetheart, I think I’m going to like having you up here.’ A barely there laugh escaped your lips as he pulled you back down to the bed, curling his body against you, his cock remained inside of you, slowly softening as your breathing calmed down, sleep gently calling you despite the early hour.

You didn’t know how long you lay there with him, his fingers gently tracing the smooth planes of your stomach, his mind seemingly miles away. Eventually you felt him shift behind you, pulling out as he crossed to the dresser, pulling on a clean pair of boxers and handing you a shirt.

‘C’mon Doll, get up. We gotta talk.’ Your mind was foggy as you obediently followed him from the room, heading back downstairs and turning left to what looked like his lounge room. He pointed you to the couch and stood above you, his shadow looming over your body.

‘What’s going on Steve? You seem tense.’ You tried to reach for him but he stepped out of your grip, his brow furrowed.

‘Nothing’s wrong per se Sweetheart. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page about this, about you coming upstairs.’ You swallowed thickly, hoping he wasn’t about to send you back down to the basement again. ‘You’ve been behaving so well lately and I just want that to continue. I want us to continue living the best life we can but I think we need to lay down some ground rules. Most of them will be pretty straight forward or rules that you have already been following for some time such as no shouting or fighting. I’m taking a huge risk bringing you upstairs so soon, but it’s because I trust you to behave and I would hate for you to make a silly mistake that would dismantle everything we’ve built together.’

You nodded, understanding his words, the veiled threat of what would happen if you disobeyed. Your hand reached out, latching onto his own as you tried to pull him towards you. ‘I understand Stevie, I know how much you’ve done for me. I don’t want to do anything to ruin that.’ He clasped your hands in his, his eyes searching yours for deceit as your sweet words washed over him.

‘Thank you Sweetheart, you don’t know how much it means to me that you realise I am on your side. I’m only trying to help you.’ A frown threatened to cross your face, diminishing the demure facade. He’s on your side? He was the reason you were here, trapped as his partner, as he referred to you as so often. You swallowed back the bitter taste his words left in your mouth and he knelt before you, letting go and reaching to clasp your face in them, bringing your bodies closer, him in between your legs.

He leaned back, pulling you with him so you straddled his chest on the floor, his back resting on the soft carpet as his hands clawed at your body, trying to pry his shirt from your body. The bulge he moved your hips against was evidence of just how eager he was to go again already and while your body may have been itching to have him fill you again, your mind was less certain.

As though your prayers had finally been heard, a faint ding resounded through the house, causing Steve to halt as he fondled your breasts, pulling back as he turned his head towards the hallway.

Gently, he lifted you off of him, handing back his shirt and you were quick to cover yourself with it. ‘Sweetheart… I need you to stay here okay? You can’t make a sound until I say you can. If you so much as think about trying anything, there will be severe punishment.’ His threats echoed around your head as the doorbell rang again. ‘I need you to say you understand Sweetheart, I need you to promise me.’

Fear crawled it’s way through you as you nodded, your voice small and weak as you replied. ‘I understand. I won’t move or make any noise.’

‘Good. I’ll be back soon.’ His lips pressed against you forehead and he cast you one last warning glance before heading out of the room as the ding sounded again. ‘Christ, I’m coming okay?’ He called out in annoyance to whoever stood on the other side of the door.

You could hear the door click open and faint male voices but nothing else was audible from this distance and so you sat back on the couch, too afraid to do anything else. This is probably a test of some sort. He wants to know if he can trust you being upstairs. If this were really a test, you were determined to pass with flying colours, you weren’t willing to risk being back down to the basement so soon.

+

Steve pulled open the door, his mind too preoccupied with you being left alone upstairs to remember to look through the peephole. The great wooden door gave way to the one person that Steve could trust right now and relief flowed through him, anyone else might not have understood.

‘Buck, man am I glad it’s just you.’ Steve pulled the other man into a hug, tapping his back before leading him back outside, closing the door slightly behind him.

‘What’s going on Steve? Why are you so stressed? What have you done?’ Bucky’s blue eyes narrowed at his best friend as he thought back to the girl stuck in his basement. Whatever was going on must have something to do with her.

‘It’s nothing Buck, definitely nothing bad… yet. We’re just trying something new, I want her to move upstairs with me and it’s only been a day and she’s all alone and everything is locked and I know she’ll be fine but… I just don’t want her to ruin everything we’ve built, I just want to make sure she’s ready for this much trust.’ Even as he spoke Steve’s eyes were farting around his front yard as though looking for her, trying to see if she had somehow found a way out of the house. ‘But what are you doing here? Is everything okay?’

‘That’s good Stevie. I’m glad she’s out of that basement and I just came to check on you, on her, see how everything’s going.’

‘It’s going fine and as you can see now’s not really a good time so I’ll see you later okay?’ Steve already started backing towards the door, eager to get back inside, to you, to where you had left off when the doorbell rang.

‘I’m leaving… on Wednesday, for Wakanda and I’m busy between now and then. I want to meet her Steve.’ Bucky watched as Steve swallowed heavily, analysing him momentarily before finally nodding.

‘Fine, I guess we could use it as a test. See if she’s ready to meet the others too. Promise you’ll tell me everything she says?’

‘I can’t promise that pal… but I promise I’ll you if you have to worry.’ Steve clenched his jaw as he appraised Bucky’s offer before accepting.

‘Just, give me a minute to get her ready, I’m pretty sure she’s not decent right now.’ Steve hated the smirk that came over his best friends face at his words.

‘What? Did I interrupt something?’ Bucky’s voice was full of mirth and humour as Steve rolled his eyes and pushed the door back open, praying that he hadn’t made a mistake leaving you alone so soon.

+

You watched as Steve returned to the living room, his head peeking through the doorway first as if he were afraid of what he would find. Yet as he saw you sitting patiently on the couch, the smile that came over his face made him look nothing less than angelic.

‘I’m sorry about that Sweetheart, but I promise we can continue later. Now that you’re upstairs I plan on taking you on every surface in our home.’ Your insides fluttered at his words as he crossed to you, gathering one of your hands and pulling your body up to his, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you deeply.

Before it could get too heated, he pulled back, pressing his lips to yours softly once more before pulling away completely, your hands clasped in his. ‘C’mon Sweetheart, we need to go downstairs.’  

Your face paled, your heels instantly trying to find a grip on the soft carpet as you tried to hold your ground, your body pulling back on his. ‘Stevie no, please! I behaved, I didn’t move or make any sound. Please don’t take me back down there!’ Your voice rang with desperation as you pleased with him, clutching his arm, tears of panic threading to spill. Even though you had only been upstairs a short amount of time, the thought of going back to the basement was enough to make you feel sick.

‘What?’ Turning back you saw the realisation wash over Steve’s face as he saw you again, instantly trying to calm you down. ‘Sweetheart no, it’s not like that. I know you behaved and I feel so proud of you. We just have a guest and all of your clothes are still downstairs. I figured you wouldn’t want to meet my best friend looking like this.’ You glanced down at your scantily clad body, the only thing covering you one of Steve’s shirts and a pair of lace panties.

‘No, I don’t. I’m sorry Steve, I just… I just thought you were taking me back down there.’ Your eyes started drying as he held you, soothing you slowly.

‘I understand Sweetheart, I should have said something, made myself clear.’ Relief flowed through you as he once again started leading you down the hallway, towards the basement door. You were still hesitant about going back down there but you trusted that Steve was a man of his word, he had never once lied to you since locking you down there.

It was eerie walking down into your former rooms even though so little time had passed. You now had hope, before you had been resigned to a life trapped down here but now he had taken you upstairs, was willing to introduce you to other people.

‘I think Bucky’ll like the white one, you know, with the blue trim?’ You nodded your head, crossing to the wardrobe and pulling the dress he was talking about from the hanger. It was more traditional than the rest, that type of almost schoolgirl design that had been popular back in the forties.

‘Yes, I think this is a good choice.’ You smiled at Steve across the room before slipped his shirt off and selecting a satin brassier to go underneath the dress. You didn’t have any time to do anything to your hair other than try to somewhat tame it, to make it not completely look like you had just had sex. You pulled the silken stockings and matching blue kitten heels Steve handed you as he spoke.

‘Now Doll, I don’t want to see any funny business up there. I’m trusting you a lot, allowing you to have visitors this soon and I don’t want to see that trust go to waste. So, you will be polite, and nice, and you won’t mention anything bad to him. Do I have to clarify what I mean or do you understand me?’ His voice was stern, causing you to look up at him from the blue heels.

‘No Stevie. I understand. I will be the perfect hostess.’

He smiled briefly, murmuring to himself. ‘The perfect hostess.’ He definitely seemed to like that idea. ‘Good, come along. He’s waiting upstairs.’ Steve held out his hand for you to take and you linked your fingers with his, allowing him to lead you from the basement to the front door.

As he opened the large mahogany door, your eyes took a moment to adjust, the harsh sunlight stinging your eyes as you blinked. From all of your time down in the basement you had forgotten how warm the sun was, how a gentle breeze could run through your hair, making it fly around your face. You were too startled by the outside world to hear Steve or even pay the stranger any attention and when Steve pulled you back from the door, swinging it closed gently you found liquid pooling in your eyes.

It was only the not-so-gentle squeeze of Steve’s hand that brought you back, reminded you of what was at stake, and hastily you tried to blink away the tears, plastering a smile onto your face as you took in the man before you. If you hadn’t been so used to Steve and his impressive physique, you may have been intimidated by the man’s large build but as it stands, it was his eyes that intimidated you the most. They were slightly lighter than Steve’s more of a crystal blue, the dress Steve had picked out for you making more sense as you realised the colours must have matched nearly perfectly yet you couldn't be sure as he was squinting, analysing you. It felt as though he could read your soul in just one look and you weren’t sure if he liked what he found.

You were snapped from your rumination by Steve’s strong voice. ‘Sweetheart, this is Bucky. He is my oldest friend; my best friend. And of course, Buck, you already know my girl.’ He already knew you? Grabbing his outstretched hand as Steve introduced him, you realised he must have been the friend that came to visit a little while ago, that just left you down in the basement with Steve. You wouldn’t find an ally in this man.

You plastered your most gracious smile on, shaking his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ You barely heard his ‘likewise’ as Steve led you both into the lounge room, Bucky taking a seat where you had just been sitting, his shoes on the soft carpet where you had been on Steve. You forced yourself to look away as you say in the loveseat across from him, your mind spinning as Steve retreated to the kitchen for coffee and tea.

‘So… How are you?’ Bucky’s voice was rougher than you expected, lower too.

‘I’m good.’ Your response was clipped, edgy. You didn’t like being alone with him, you just wanted Steve back; wanted him to hold you and ensure you everything was fine. It hadn’t been until this moment that you realised just how much you had come to rely on your golden soldier.

‘How is he treating you?’ A scoff died in your throat as you tried to hold your composure, determined to pass this test.

‘He’s great.’ Your leg was jittering on the couch, your fingers dancing over the white skirt of your dress. ‘I’m happy.’ You threw that in for good measure and prayed that he would stop trying to talk to you. What could be taking Steve so long?

Bucky stewed as he analysed you. He didn’t need to be a former assassin to notice you were clearly nervous, your clipped answers, flickering eyes lingering on the hallway for too long but never glancing his way told him all he needed to know. You were scared, but not of Steve.

In fact, the moment he returned, taking the seat next to you, Bucky noticed a drastic shift in your manner. Your hand automatically sought out Steve’s, linking your fingers together while the other clutched the warm tea to your chest. Your breaths were more even, your leg less jittery as it pressed against Steve’s instead.

An almost unrecognisable pang hit Bucky in the chest as he watched you find solace in his best friend. If only Hydra hadn’t fucked him up so irreparably…

+

Steve clapped Bucky on the back, bidding him goodnight beside his car. ‘So? What did you think?’ Despite his heart already belonging to you, Steve still wanted Bucky’s approval, he wanted him to love you almost as much as he did himself, after all Bucky was the only family he had left.

‘She’s fantastic Steve, everything guys like us could have ever asked for growing up.’ A sigh of relief permeated the air as Bucky spoke, Steve’s breaths becoming lighter yet he could tell something was still plaguing his mind.

‘I’m so glad you approve… but… you don’t think what I’ve done, what I’ve put her through to get here is… irreparable? I just… I love her and I guess what I’m trying to say… Do you think that one day, maybe, she could love me too?’

An achingly long silence stretched between the two men, one lost in agony, the other in jealousy. It was finally broken when Bucky cleared his throat as he tried to clear his mind. ‘You still don’t know a thing about women. While she may not necessarily be at the love stage yet, and while what you did was beyond fucked up, she clearly cares for you. When you were gone, making the coffee in the kitchen, she was a wreck but the moment you came back, it was like she was a whole different person. She became chatty and bubbly under your guidance and then again when you were preparing dinner, it wasn’t so bad but she still shut down slightly, retreating back into herself. She needs you, she relies on you to keep her safe, to protect her, to know her. You two, you’re going to be just fine.’ He forced a smile as Steve took his words in, his shoulders slumping, his tense stance deflating.

‘Thank you Bucky, you have no idea just how much that means to me.’

‘I think I just might pal.’ With one final goodbye, Bucky got into his car, pulling out of the driveway of the suburban two story.

If only…

+

Steve watched as Bucky left, the red haze of his taillights slowly disappearing down the street along with Steve’s anxiety.

Just maybe everything would be okay.

Of course, just like usual Steve had thought too soon as a vibrating from his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. He only paused to stare at the caller ID for a second before answering, wondering what on earth Tony Stark needed.

+

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XIII. The Mission 

Series Masterlist

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[babysizedfics]

okok so i dont know if virgil would like it (bc of the separation anxiety) but how does he feel abt peek a boo? i imagine his cgs would make it super fun! like have him on his mama’s lap with his papa in front of him and theyre like “wheres the baby??” and pat covers his eyes “there he is!!” and pat gets all happy and excited to see virgil so v gets all excited which makes pat even mOre excited so v gets lil happy kissies!!!! (can u tell ive been wanting to play peek a boo hdhdj)

I HAD TO SCREAM INTO A PILLOW

I hope you don't mind but i made this into a fic it was essential it was unavoidable i was crying as i wrote this

Title: Peekaboo!

Summary: Logan is a shy new caregiver, Patton learns what separation anxiety is, and Virgil disappears then reappears and is a very confused baby.

Word count: 6,600

Note: Set before the events of Little Accidents, Big Developments (AO3 | tumblr)

Also on AO3

oOo

It had been a somewhat slow day. Roman had been holed up in his room for most of it, rehearsing for an audition that Thomas had landed for the following week. He was working rather relentlessly, though Patton had been sure to request that he at least leave his room for mealtimes - and Logan had outright demanded it when Roman stubbornly refused. After a very speedy lunch, Roman was back in his room and the other three were left to their own devices in the living room.

Quite understandably, Patton had noticed Virgil was much antsier that afternoon. Probably because Roman was constantly talking about how absolutely essential it was that Thomas did not mess up a single line in next week’s audition and that he personally would “enter into a state of devastated mourning should this chance at stardom be killed and dashed across the stage floor”.

That had evidently sent Virgil’s anxiety into a downward spiral. After the fourth shaky sigh in as many minutes from the younger side’s lips, Patton shook his head and twisted on the couch to look at him.

‘Okay, that’s enough,’ Patton said, giving a rare stern look to the boy who was currently pacing the living room floor and looking just about ready to tear his hair out. ‘No more worrying, Stormcloud.’

‘I can’t help it!’ Virgil whispered quite fiercely. His eyes were wide and though they looked in Patton’s direction, it was as if his gaze was fixed a mile in the distance, likely imagining a variation of disastrous scenarios. ‘We could choke or trip or literally do the worst performance ever and Roman would be depressed and then we might not be able to make videos for months because he’s so distraught and what if it was all my fault? What if I was the one to make Thomas mess up and then Roman would hate me and -’

‘Breathe,’ Logan commanded from where he sat in the armchair reading a book.

As if being shaken from a spell, Virgil’s frantic pacing halted and he gasped in a breath.

‘It was not your fault because it has not happened. Roman won’t hate you because even if it did happen, the blame could not fall solely on your shoulders. Everything is going to be all right, Virgil.’

At Logan’s reassuring words, Virgil nodded slightly to himself, his eyes fixed on his feet as he took in steady, though shallow breaths.

Patton bit his lip for a moment in thought. It was obvious that Virgil would not be able to get past this anxiety without a distraction… and what better distraction than being a baby?

With a firm nod to himself that meant Yes, this is definitely the only solution. Not just because I love looking after my baby, of course, Patton switched the TV over from the show he had been watching to Guess How Much I Love You, one of Virgil’s favourite cartoons in littlespace.

As soon as the bright musical score started playing, Virgil and Logan’s gazes both snapped up to the screen. The older one smiled slightly while the younger side’s thumb flew to his mouth in an instant. He began nibbling on his nail as a young child’s voice sang the opening song:

“Dancing through springtime,

Flowers are raised in summer sun,

Catching white snowflakes on your nose,

Running through autumn leaves that float from trees from high,

With a love that is bigger than the sky”

Patton beamed at how Virgil seemed fully enraptured by the animated rabbit and bright flowers on the screen. The moral side happily joined in singing his favourite part of the song, all while gazing at Virgil.

‘Guess how much I love you, guess how much I love you -’ he held his arms out to Virgil in an invitation for a hug ‘- Guess how much I love you!’

‘’M not little,’ Virgil mumbled with a strong blush gracing his cheeks. It was so quiet that Patton wouldn’t be surprised if Logan had not been able to hear it, being slightly further away from them.

‘I know, sweetheart,’ Patton said gently through a smile, knowing that Virgil’s statement wouldn’t be true for very long. His arms remained open. ‘But maybe we can just watch a bit and see if it helps you calm down.’

There was a stiff nod and within a few seconds Virgil had plopped down onto the couch beside Patton, instantly snuggling up to him.

Patton allowed himself a small chuckle as he wrapped his arms around Virgil and pulled him into his lap. Seeing Logan’s proud smile filled him with far more joy than he was currently able to express if he didn’t want to accidentally fling Virgil off of his lap, so he let it fizzle away in his chest with a bright grin. As he settled back to watch the show, he pretended not to notice his baby’s thumb slipping into his mouth.

Needless to say, by the end of the ten-minute episode, Virgil was entirely gone.

‘Papa?’

Patton nearly squealed. He wasn’t quite over his excitement for Virgil’s new nickname for him. ‘Yes, my sweet little fieldmouse?’

‘Peas Minpy?’ Virgil garbled around his thumb, twisting his head to look pleadingly at Patton.

That look… Virgil had no idea what that look did to Patton’s heart. With a firm hand on his chest, Patton said, ‘Okay, baby. Let’s go upstairs and get Minty.’

‘I can fetch them,’ Logan quickly announced from the armchair. Patton watched as he snapped his book shut quite hurriedly, stood, paused for a second as he clearly got a head-rush from standing so fast, then made his way over to them. ‘I’m going to go and get Minty for you, Virgil,’ he explained, leaning down to be eye level with them.

His hand reached forward hesitantly and patted Virgil’s head twice, to which the regressor replied with a giggle and a poke to Logan’s wrist.

Patton fought very hard to contain an adoring smile as Logan’s cheeks flushed before he bustled out of the living room. The logical side was a little awkward in his attempts at physical affection, but they never failed to put a smile on Virgil’s face so Patton could hardly tease him about it. And it wasn’t Logan’s fault that cuddles and kisses didn’t come as naturally to him as they did to Patton. He was trying, and it only made Patton all the more smitten with him.

Feeling his cheeks warm at that thought, Patton quickly busied himself with holding Virgil’s hand (the one that was not currently glued to his chin while he sucked his thumb) and started circling his finger on the little one’s palm. ‘Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…’

After a short while of singing and tickling and giggling, Logan returned with Minty in tow. One of Virgil’s little baby blankets was slung over his shoulder. At Patton’s raised eyebrow he shrugged it with a short explanation of: ‘Just in case he needs it.’

Virgil snatched his thumb out of his mouth with a muted pop and held his hands out to the soft toy with a whine.

‘Can you remember what word we say when we want something?’ Patton nudged Virgil slightly, though kept him in a firm embrace to make sure the boy didn’t topple off of his lap with his lack of balance.

Virgil’s face turned back to him. He opened his mouth as if ready to say something then frowned and snapped his jaw shut with a pout. Another whine came forth, this time sounding a bit upset.

‘Aww, are you too little, sweetie?’ Patton cooed. Virgil’s head suddenly collapsed onto his shoulder and he heard a sniffle. ‘No, no, it’s okay. It’s all right, baby,’ he hastened to reassure, bringing his hand up to stroke Virgil’s hair soothingly. He really was so sensitive when he was this small, it was difficult to avoid upsetting him. That was one thing that had been difficult to come to terms with when Patton first became Virgil’s caregiver. ‘You’re allowed to be as little as you want.’

The cushion beneath him dipped and he realised the sudden firm warmth pressing against his arm was Logan, who was sitting incredibly close to him. It was difficult not to blush. And so Patton did blush.

‘Virgil, look who has come to see you,’ Logan said so warmly that it melted Patton’s heart.

A curious baby pulled his face off of Patton’s shoulder and all remnants of upset on his features were quickly replaced by sheer happiness. Patton thought it would never get old, seeing Virgil’s eyes sparkle with such rare joy.

A lopsided grin stretched Logan’s lips as he pressed the stuffed dinosaur into the crook of Virgil’s arm. ‘There we are.’

The sweetest little squeak sounded as Virgil sat more upright on Patton’s lap and hugged the toy tightly, burying his face in its fur.

‘So much for not being little,’ Logan murmured lowly by Patton’s ear in an amused tone. The rumble of it resonated right through the moral side’s chest and left him dumbstruck.

‘Yeah,’ Patton breathed, not being able to think of anything much smarter to add.

oOo

Twenty minutes and a couple more episodes of Guess How Much I Love You later, Patton and Virgil (now with a pacifier) were being silly on the carpet. By being silly, they were quite literally just making funny faces at each other and then taking a minute’s break while they calmed down from all of the giggles and aching smiles than ensued.

Logan, being “not one for such tomfoolery”, was back to reading in the armchair. Though Patton had noticed that he was tending to spend more and more time on each page as he cast more and more glances over to the two on the carpet.

It was quite evident that Logan was eager to take care of Virgil, and it was becoming more prominent every day. He was incredibly passionate about the idea when he had first discussed it with Patton nearly a month previously and had been damn near ecstatic when Virgil had agreed to the suggestion. Though, going by his timidity and shy glances when Patton was caring for Virgil around him, it seemed his nerves were getting the better of him. Well, Patton couldn’t have that at all.

‘Oh, you’re such a silly baby!’ Patton chuckled when Virgil scrunched up his face as if he had eaten a lemon slice. ‘Papa’s gonna be right back, sweetheart.’

Without much delay, Patton jumped up with a big smile and ruffled Virgil’s hair, only just noticing that his face had fallen as he walked away. He would be fine, especially with Logan looking after him.

‘Where are you going?!’ Logan practically shrieked, his eyes wide and staring at Patton in disbelief.

Patton couldn’t help but giggle. ‘I’m just going to pee. You can watch Virgil while I’m gone!’ he cried a bit too excitedly if the look of suspicion on Logan’s face was anything to go by. ‘Come on, Lo. You are his other caregiver, aren’t you?’

That seemed to humble Logan as he looked to his lap and fidgeted with his tie. ‘Yes, I - of course.’

As Patton moved out into the hallway he heard Logan sliding off of his chair and talking to Virgil in quiet, gentle tones. He smiled, knowing that Logan truly did have it in him to be a carer, he just needed some encouragement.

Within mere minutes Patton was on his way back to the living room. If he took his bathroom trip quite languidly and chose to use the upstairs bathroom just to have a longer journey, he was sure no-one would have noticed. It was all for a good cause, after all. Though, he began to doubt this reasoning when he became aware of wet sniffles and whimpers and frantic hushes coming from the living room.

‘Logan, is everything okay?’ Patton asked as he pushed the door open.

He was met with the sight of a red-faced, tear-stained Virgil pulling very harshly on his pacifier handle. Logan was knelt beside him, holding his hands out in a placating gesture and looking quite concerned.

It only took a second or so for Patton to drop by Virgil’s side and immediately wrap him in a warm hug. The younger’s crying slowed as he buried his face in Patton’s chest.

‘What happened?’ Patton whispered, looking up at Logan’s bewildered stare.

‘He started crying the minute you left,’ Logan said, his brow furrowed (beautifully), ‘but I could not find any indication of injury or anything in the vicinity that might have caused such a sudden drop in mood.’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Patton murmured sadly as he gazed upon his curled up baby, suddenly understanding. He lifted Virgil slightly to bring him into his lap. ‘It’s okay, Lo. Sometimes he does that when I leave him for a bit.’

Just as with every time previously, Virgil’s tears had completely subsided now that he was in Patton’s embrace. Rather than whimpers and sniffles, the only sounds coming from him were the suckling of his pacifier and a small sigh of content.

Logan seemed thrown off by the sudden change. ‘He cries when you leave the room? Is there no suggestion that he could be upset by extraneous variables in these situations?’

‘I don’t know much about “ex-trainer vary balls” but nothing else happens to make him cry.’ Patton tightened his hold around Virgil protectively. ‘He just misses his papa.’

The way Logan’s frown pulled down even more was slightly less cute this time, only because it made Patton worry.

‘Patton, I don’t believe this qualifies as “just missing his papa”. This may be a case of separation anxiety.’

Even as his baby snuggled into him further, Patton felt his heart sink. ‘That doesn’t sound very nice. What is it?’

‘In short, it means that he is aware enough to realise just how dependent he is on you, but not in an old enough headspace to have a solid understanding of object permanence.’ Patton’s confusion must have shown on his face because Logan immediately elaborated, ‘When something leaves his line of sight, he believes it has ceased to exist.’

‘Oh, that can’t be right.’ Patton looked down at the sleepy boy in his lap. ‘No, he must know I’m still gonna come back to him. I always come back to him.’ Purple tendrils of hair parted around his fingertips as he stroked his little one’s head.

‘Allow me to demonstrate,’ Logan said, then picked Minty up from where they had apparently been abandoned on the carpet. ‘Virgil,’ he called, ‘Vee, look over here. Look at Minty.’

With a little snuffle, Virgil lifted his head from Patton’s shoulder. It was noticeable how his eyes sparkled upon seeing his favourite toy. ‘Minpy!’ he squealed in excitement.

‘Aww,’ Patton cooed, unable to hide his adoration for just how sweet his little boy was.

‘Don’t you think he was surprised to see Minty?’ Logan questioned, holding Minty just out of reach from Virgil who was starting to whine as he held his arm out to the toy.

‘Well… I guess so, but that doesn’t mean -’

Minty was suddenly pulled away and hidden behind Logan’s back, completely out of sight. An expression of fake-surprise crossed Logan’s features as he looked at Virgil. ‘Where did Minty go, Vee?’

Watching Virgil’s reaction, Patton was beginning to understand what Logan meant. A mild panic had clouded over Virgil’s eyes and he looked frantically between Patton’s face and Logan’s now empty hand. It wasn’t long before the whimpering started anew.

‘Sweetie, it’s okay,’ Patton murmured, rocking him slightly on his lap. ‘You remember where Minty went, don’t you?’

Wet eyes locked onto his. ‘Gom,’ Virgil whispered forlornly.

‘He’s not gone, baby. See.’ Patton sent a pointed look to Logan, to which the logical side at least had the decency to appear embarrassed by his experiment and pulled Minty back out from behind him.

Virgil gasped through his pacifier, apparently shocked by the toy’s sudden reappearance. He whined and made desperate grabby hands at the toy.

‘There you go, Virgil.’ The toy was pushed into Virgil’s hands and instantly squeezed against his chest in a tight hug. Logan looked back up to Patton a little shyly. ‘I apologise for upsetting him. I had to prove my hypothesis.’

A sigh escaped Patton as he swayed his baby gently. Logan did honestly look remorseful, and he had shown Patton what object permanence was (or more what it wasn’t) so perhaps it was all right. Even if it hadn’t been in a very fun way. ‘So, does he think I… I die when I leave the room?’ he whispered shakily.

‘Not nearly so morbid,’ Logan reassured, actually reaching out to stroke his finger across Virgil’s knuckle. It was a very small act of affection, but Patton appreciated it nonetheless. ‘He does not have the mental capacity to think about anything that he cannot see. When you leave him, he cannot see you and so all he can think about at that moment is your absence, rather than believe you could exist somewhere that is not with him.’

The strangest bittersweet feeling swirled in Patton’s chest. Sure, it was kind of cute that Virgil loved and needed his papa so much that he always wanted to be with him. But Patton couldn’t be with him all the time. He did his best, of course, but he couldn’t exactly go hours without needing to go to the bathroom or fetching something from the cupboard.

‘Can we maybe fix it?’ Patton asked.

That crinkle in between Logan’s eyebrows came forth again and Patton longed to press his lips against it and smooth it out with a kiss. ‘There are simple activities we can do to try to reinforce object permanence. Though given the fact that he is not truly a developing child, I am unsure if they will have any effect on him.’

‘It’s worth a try though, right?’ Patton didn’t want his baby to be needlessly upset if they could help it.

A soft smile stretched Logan’s lips, and it made it quite tricky to remain worried. ‘It’s worth a try.’

And try they did. They really did.

As per Logan’s suggestion, they started with Patton leaving the room for progressively longer bouts of time. Thirty seconds, then one minute, then two minutes, and et cetera. At least, that had been the plan. In practice, it was much more resemblant of ten seconds, Virgil’s distressed whimpering, and Patton dashing back to comfort his baby. Then ten seconds, then Virgil whimpering, then Patton dashing. Ten seconds, whimpering, dashing. All in all, they considered it a failed attempt. (Patton was very glad that Logan didn’t reprimand him for ruining the experiment.) (‘You didn’t ruin anything, Patton.’)

The next activity was hiding objects and showing Virgil that they would always be revealed again. Minty had been the first choice, though Virgil was still rather distressed from their first activity and was clinging onto the toy tightly. The caregivers came to a silent agreement that it would not be fair to take away his comfort item. They instead attempted to hide things from around the room; little trinkets such as a photo frame or one of Roman’s sketchpads he had left lying around.

Virgil at least did not start crying whenever they were hidden behind Logan’s back or under his baby blanket. In fact, he hardly seemed to notice them disappear at all. No matter how much baby-talk and coaxing from Patton and Logan, the regressor did not react to them and only frowned and buried his head against Patton’s chest with a whine that almost resembled a groan of annoyance. Apparently he was entirely uninterested in the activity when it concerned such boring objects.

‘Virgil, look. Roman’s drawings are all gone,’ Logan announced, pulling the blankie over the sketchpad for the fourth time. Patton felt Virgil’s head roll on his chest lazily to look. ‘And now -’ Logan pulled the blanket back with a little gasp, revealing the book, ‘- there they are, they came back!’

‘Wow, would you look at that!’ Patton gasped, shaking Virgil very gently to try to excite him.

A soft grunt sounded before Virgil buried his pouting face in Minty’s tummy.

Both caregivers sighed.

‘Perhaps this activity is too impersonal to interest him,’ Logan mumbled, looking more than a little disheartened.

It wasn’t a surprise, given how passionate Logan was about educational activities. Despite the logical side’s hesitance with being solely responsible for a regressed Virgil, he had displayed plenty of interest in the boy’s wellbeing. Over the past few weeks wherein he had been subject to Virgil’s regression, Logan had had plenty of input in ways Patton could play with him and similarly teach him things that his regressed self had not known before. Patton, in turn, had convinced Logan that he himself partake in the activities too, and hence Virgil’s comfort around him had been gradually growing.

So seeing how disappointed Logan was by Virgil despondence for this activity, Patton absolutely had to do something to remedy it. He just had a fussy baby to get through first.

‘Oh no!’ Patton cried, knowing that it would be enough to get Virgil’s attention. As expected, the baby looked up from his toy still adorning a frown as he suckled his pacifier. ‘Vee, I’ve lost something very important and I can’t find it!’

Virgil’s grumpy expression melted into a worried one and he looked over to Logan. Then he pointed at the other side and whined at Patton.

A giggle worked its way through Patton’s words as he explained, ‘No, I didn’t lose Logan. I can’t find my happy little baby anywhere!’

Shyness replaced Virgil’s confusion as Minty was pulled up to cover most of his face.

‘Is he…’ Patton hummed in thought for a moment, then fluttered his finger under Virgil’s ear, ‘over here?’

A little squeak was muffled behind Minty as Virgil’s eyes crinkled. But, Patton thought in amusement, he still couldn’t see Virgil’s smile, so technically it didn’t count.

‘No?’ Patton gasped, then moved his finger down to wiggle over the sole of Virgil’s socked foot. ‘Is he under there?’

With a strained giggle, Virgil dropped Minty to push at Patton’s hand quite weakly. His dimples were starting to show.

Biting his lip around a grin, Patton released Virgil’s foot but then started circling his finger around in midair teasingly. ‘Oh, I wonder where my happy little one could be.’

‘Papa!’ Virgil called, giggling around his pacifier.

‘Oh my, I think I heard him!’ Patton’s finger started wriggling and moving towards Virgil’s tummy. ‘Could he be in here?’

He slid his finger under Virgil’s shirt and started squiggling over his tummy. Virgil was immediately squirming in his lap, giggling uncontrollably.

‘There’s my happy baby!’ Patton laughed.

For another couple of moments, the room was filled with the sounds of Virgil’s bright laughter and the soft kicks of his feet against the carpet. Then Logan spoke up:

‘Actually, this poses another suggestion.’

Patton twisted in his place, keeping a firm hold on Virgil who was still calming from his giggles. At some point during the tickle attack, Logan had apparently moved back to the armchair. While he was sitting quite stiffly and avoiding Patton’s eyes, there was a slight twist in his lips that suggested he was holding back a smile.

‘What’s that, Loganberry?’

A half-hearted scoff greeted that nickname, though Logan continued regardless. ‘Playing Where’s the baby? - otherwise referred to as Peekaboo - is a commonly used tactic in teaching object permanence in infants.’

‘Oh, how adorable!’ At once, Patton shuffled both him and Virgil to face Logan on the carpet, supporting Virgil in sitting upright. He was eagerly peering over Virgil’s head at Logan. Patton wouldn’t miss this for the world! ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

Logan bridled in his seat a little. ‘I, um… Well, I anticipated that you would want to do it, Patton.’

‘Oh.’ The slump of Patton’s shoulders was probably more noticeable than he would have liked. Was he asking too much of Logan to play a game like that with their baby? The logical side has always been sensitive to looking less than serious. ‘Of course,’ Patton nodded, regretting that his voice sounded strained.

‘Wait, no. I -’ The words stuttered to a halt as Logan closed his eyes and took a deep, likely steadying breath. When his eyes opened again, he looked down at Virgil with a soft, open expression. ‘Shall we play a game, Vee?’

Pride swelled in Patton’s chest.

The weight on his lap shifted as Virgil turned around to look at him. His expression wasn’t too easily read, but Patton knew he was simply seeking affirmation and so he encouraged him. ‘That’ll be fun, won’t it, baby?’

Seemingly satisfied, Virgil turned back to Logan and made a hum of assent.

It would never be spoken aloud, but Patton was quite sure that both he and Logan acknowledged just how awkward the logical side felt in that moment.

With a quiet clearing of his throat, Logan lifted the baby blanket from the floor and held it up in the air in front of him, concealing his face. After a moment, the fabric dropped to his feet to reveal Logan’s face - adorned with a faint blush.

‘Peekaboo,’ he said in an incredibly unfitting monotone.

A wince fought to crumple Patton’s face, but he battled it fiercely. As was to be expected, Virgil did not react much to Logan’s weak exclamation.

‘That did not have the desired effect,’ Logan grumbled, his cheeks a deep shade of pink now.

‘Aw, come on. Maybe you could try again with a bit more, y’know,’ Patton stalled, shrugging his shoulders with a guilty smile, ‘feeling.’

Logan’s eyes darted between Patton’s face, the blanket on the floor, and Virgil. Then he shook his head rapidly and muttered to his lap, ‘This was a silly suggestion. Forgive me.’

Being overcome by a wave of sympathy, Patton offered, ‘Here, why don’t we switch?’

He gripped Virgil tightly and rose from the floor with his baby in his arms. Virgil only had the chance to whine for half a second (he didn’t respond too well to being picked up a lot of the time) before Patton was easing him into Logan’s lap.

‘Uh, Pat - Patton…’ Logan stuttered, going stiff in his seat.

Ignoring the nervous protest, Patton persisted and situated Virgil further back on Logan’s lap so that the regressor leant against Logan’s chest. ‘There we are, sweetheart.’

It was met with a high-pitched whine and one of Virgil’s hands reaching out to him again as he leant forward to chase his papa.

Logan quickly caught Virgil’s shoulders before the boy swayed too far to one side. ‘Are you certain this is all right?’ he asked quite breathlessly. ‘I haven’t held him before, I don’t -’

‘Logan, don’t worry.’ It was almost amusing how wide Logan’s eyes were. Patton sent both of his boys the most comforting smile he had to offer. ‘I’m sure Mommy Logan is plenty capable of holding a baby in his lap.’

Both sides on the couch spoke simultaneously:

‘“Mommy Logan”?’

‘Mama?’

Virgil’s tiny voice filled Patton with such intense awe, he could hardly breathe past the swell of adoration in his chest.

He just smiled and with each hand offered a supportive touch to the two on the couch - a hair stroke for Virgil and a shoulder squeeze for Logan. He directed his next words at Virgil, knowing Logan wouldn’t be able to argue with his baby-talk. ‘Yes, baby. You’ve got a papa already, haven’t you? So now you’ve got a mama too!’

In a somewhat unexpected change of heart, Virgil’s upset at being away from his papa dissipated and he sank back against Logan’s chest quite happily.

Logan’s arms had fallen forward to secure around Virgil much in the same fashion as a seatbelt.

The decision to be so unapologetic and forward about suggesting “Mommy Logan” had been a risky one on Patton’s behalf, though seeing the gentle smile that softened Logan’s face thwarted any lingering doubts he had harboured about it.

‘I suppose that makes sense,’ Logan murmured, absently stroking his thumb over Virgil's shoulder and gazing down at him as if in a trance. ‘I can be Mama Logan.’

Going by Logan’s expression, Patton was sure he recognised the feeling that lay behind it. Patton knew it well; being entranced by the vulnerability and innocence and sweetness of the person who now relied on you to take care of them. It was the feeling of protectiveness. The paternal instinct. It was love.

He did his best not to tear up at seeing it displayed so openly in Logan’s eyes.

‘Okay, baby, are we ready to play?’ His happy tone was only moderately hindered by his tearfulness.

Virgil bounced a little in Logan’s lap (which earned him a surprised chuckle from the logical side) and nodded, squeezing Minty tighter in his hands.

‘Here we go!’ Patton announced, then leaned forward. He covered Virgil’s eyes with the palms of his hands. The confused squeak from Virgil forced Patton to bite his lip to conceal a giggle. After a couple of seconds, he lowered his hands and with a bright smile. ‘Peekaboo!’

There was certainly more of a reaction in comparison to Logan’s monotonous attempt, though it was not exactly the expected one. Where Patton expected to find an excited glimmer in Virgil’s eyes, he only saw confusion and upset.

Undeterred, Patton simply laughed it off. ‘There you are! And now…’ He covered Virgil’s eyes again, slightly concerned at his small whimper. When he lowered his hands and called, ‘Peekaboo!’ again, Virgil outright pouted at him.

‘What’s the matter, baby?’

‘I think he may have sensory issues with you covering his eyes,’ Logan suggested gently.

Patton observed how Virgil had instantly started rubbing at his eyes once Patton’s hands had pulled away from them. ‘Was it a yucky feeling, Vee?’ he asked.

A little nod and whine from the regressor confirmed the suspicion.

‘Aw, honey, I’m sorry,’ Patton cooed, feeling his heart sink with guilt. He had to remind himself to be careful of Virgil’s sensitivities. It was certainly proving to be a learning curve for the touchy-feely father figure.

Logan seemed to have regained some of his usual confidence and spoke without an ounce of hesitation, ‘I suggest you attempt it with his blanket instead.’

Glad for Logan’s to-the-point problem solving, Patton picked the blankie up. The material was unfathomably soft and always calmed Virgil down after he had been subjected to “yucky” textures, so he was sure it would help with their game.

‘All right, let’s try this again. Ready?’ Patton held the blanket taut and dropped it over Virgil’s head. An even louder whimper this time sounded from underneath it and Patton shared a concerned glance with Logan.

‘Papa!’ Virgil called out in panic. His grip on Minty was tight enough that the soft toy bulged between his fingers.

Patton hurriedly lifted the blanket again, ready to exclaim “peekaboo”, but was heartbroken to see Virgil’s eyes glossed over with tears.

Virgil whined as soon as he seemed to notice Patton. He dropped Minty to Logan’s lap so that he could hold his arms out. ‘Papa,’ he whispered, sounding close to tears.

‘Hey, hey, don’t cry, baby,’ Patton soothed, wrapping Virgil in a quick hug (that just so happened to include Logan, seeing as how he was so close behind Virgil). ‘It’s all right, Papa’s here.’

‘This separation anxiety is far more intense than I initially thought.’ Logan sounded troubled. 

It made Patton’s stomach flip. Would Logan want to test it more? Would he say it was bad for Virgil’s mental health? Would he want to separate Patton and Virgil? A sick feeling surged through Patton and he quickly plastered a big grin on his face, pulling back from Virgil despite his baby’s reluctance to let go.

‘No, no, we can do this,’ he assured. ‘Can’t we baby?’

Virgil didn’t seem to know what Patton was asking him, so he only whined and stretched his arms out further towards Patton.

‘It may help if you speak while he is hidden,’ Logan whispered. ‘That way he will still sense your presence.’ He offered a slightly awkward smile. It was beautiful to Patton.

He picked the blanket back up from where he had dropped it to the couch and, as per Logan’s instruction, repeated the game but this time spoke when Virgil was covered by the blanket.

More whines met his ears, though Patton quickly gasped and said, ‘Uh oh, I can’t see little Vee anywhere!’

To his relief (as well as Logan’s, going by the drop of his tense shoulders), Virgil’s whimpering stopped.

‘Papa?’

‘Where’s the baby?’ Patton sang.

A confused coo came from Virgil. It was such an unmistakably babyish sound that the remains of Patton’s concern were overridden by thoughts of My baby is so frickin’ adorable!

Then he snatched the blanket from Virgil’s head with a wide smile. ‘There he is!’

Virgil blinked slowly a couple of times before twisting around to look up at Logan.

The logical side smiled down at him and nodded. ‘You came back,’ he stated simply.

For a moment Patton was unsure of what would happen next. Virgil’s silence could have meant anything from shyness to fear. It could have been followed up by hysterical giggles or heartbreaking sobs.

Instead, Virgil turned back to Patton and mumbled, ‘Bwankie.’

How on Earth Patton had not yet suffered a heart attack from the sheer amount of adorableness coming from his baby, he had no idea.

‘Shall we play with your blankie again?’ Patton asked.

When Virgil nodded, so much pride and happiness filled Patton that it spilt out of him in a joyful giggle.

‘Oh my gosh, okay!’ He bounced on his toes as he lay the blanket over Virgil’s head again. His baby did go slightly rigid upon being left in darkness, but it was quickly remedied: ‘Where’s my little baby?’

Virgil’s body relaxed back into Logan and he shook Mento in his hands with a squeak. With a strong suspicion that his little boy was excited, Patton pulled the blankie away. ‘There he is!’

And it was true! Virgil was smiling behind his paci and flapped Mento in the air in front of him with a giggle. The anxiousness of the previous few minutes had completely disappeared.

‘Logan, he liked it!’ Patton cried, unable to contain how ecstatic he was.

He was a little surprised to catch Logan staring at him with a distant look and a soft smile etched onto his features. With a little start, Logan seemed to catch himself and nodded stiffly.

‘I am glad,’ Logan said and with the hand that wasn’t keeping Virgil secure, he scratched at his cheek. It only drew attention to how rosy it had become. ‘It might be worth keeping it up. Solely for the educational merits, of course,’ he hastened to add.

‘You don’t have to tell me twice,’ Patton laughed and looked back at his baby. ‘Again?’

Virgil bounced a little in Logan’s lap and his dimples sunk in his cheeks. ‘Gen!’

‘Anything for my little stormcloud.’

Virgil was promptly hidden behind the fluffy material. 

‘Oh dear, where did Virgil go?’

The blanket giggled.

Logan chuckled quietly as Patton winked at him. ‘Where’s my itty bitty baby?’

‘Papa, Papa!’

Patton gasped with an exaggerated surprise, ‘Oh my goodness…’ He swept the blanket off of Virgil's head to be met with a very happy baby with fluffed up hair. ‘There he is!’

The sound that came from Virgil could only have been described as a squeal of delight. His face was glowing with joy and he squished Minty against his face. He tended to do that when he was either shy (which he certainly wasn’t at that moment) or when he was so overwhelmed by emotion that he had to hide and process it for a moment. The fact that he was hiding from intense joy, rather than intense fear as usual, was nothing short of heartwarming to Patton.

‘I love you, honey,’ he whispered and leaned down to press a firm kiss onto the top of Virgil’s head.

‘Um, Patton?’ Logan asked quietly.

With a growing embarrassment, Patton realised he had his hands on Logan’s thighs to steady himself in leaning forward. He quickly retracted his hands. ‘Sorry.’

‘No, no, that wasn’t - you can -’ Logan cut himself off by clearing his throat. His eyes darted up to Patton quite hesitantly before they settled on Virgil. His hold on the regressor visibly tightened. ‘I wondered if perhaps I could try playing again.’

Patton had not, in fact, known true pride until that very moment.

‘Gosh, yes, please, of course,’ Patton rambled, instantly crouching down to be eye-level with Virgil. He had to seize this window of opportunity lest Logan shy away. ‘Let’s move you around, sweetheart.’

With a little help from Logan (and a little blushing as Patton’s hand brushed his), they were able to get Virgil to face Logan whilst in his lap. There was only a slight protest when Virgil reached out to hug Patton but couldn’t because of his position, but it was soon brushed over when Patton sat beside Logan so that Virgil could clearly see him. Perhaps the separation anxiety had not been helped so much by the game, but it was fun nonetheless.

‘We’re gonna play with Mama now,’ Patton announced and smiled when Virgil looked expectantly at Logan.

The logical side faltered a bit, though as Patton nudged him slightly with his shoulder he seemed to come out of it. ‘Are you ready to play, Vee?’

The baby nodded and hugged Minty tightly to his chest.

Logan did as Patton had - covering Virgil over with the blanket and immediately wondering aloud, ‘I appear to have lost Virgil. Wherever could he be?’

To Logan’s credit, the performance was far more expressive than his first attempt. It wasn’t quite as resemblant of a children’s TV presenter as Patton’s coos and gasps were, but it was certainly enough to get Virgil smiling, as was quickly revealed when Logan pulled the blanket back with a joyful, ‘There he is!’

They kept at the game for several more minutes, none of them getting bored of the repetition.

It was quite difficult to be bored by Virgil’s squeaky giggles, Patton found. Especially when they were supplemented by Logan’s soothing voice and a grin brighter than Patton knew the logical side would have ever dared to display in any other situation.

By the last round, Virgil was getting sleepy; his laughter was interrupted by quiet yawns (which sent Patton’s heart racing as he questioned how a human being could so closely resemble a kitten).

‘Last one, Stormcloud,’ Patton chuckled as Logan covered the boy with the blanket once more. ‘Then it’s naptime.’

‘Where’s Virgil?’ Logan called. ‘Where’s the baby?’

Virgil’s giggles were quiet, and it was noticeable how he was swaying a lot more now, being too tired to support himself. It was a good thing that Logan refused to release him from his careful hold.

Patton had shuffled further toward the other two as the game went on and now he was fully leaning up against Logan’s side. When they both looked at each other with bright smiles, Patton actually dared to wonder whether Logan’s cheeks really were just flushed from all the laughter, or if maybe Patton wasn’t alone in feeling a spark where their arms touched.

‘Together?’ Logan suggested.

Patton was sure his smile was completely goofy by this point, but he hardly cared.

‘Three…’

Logan smiled. ‘Two…’

‘One…’ Patton pulled the blanket from Virgil’s head.

‘Peekaboo!’ the caregivers said in unison, their happy, sing-song tones identical.

oOo

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Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated! ♡

[pixieposts]

Febuwhump Day 14

AO3

Today's prompt was technically “I didn’t mean it” but I didn’t have any solid ideas for it, so instead I went with Alt 9: Gunpoint.  I know this is after the gunshot part, but I had an idea, and I ran with it😅.  This also takes place inside a Modern!AU that I haven’t posted yet... Soooooo if you read it again act surprised I guess? 😂😂

TW’s:

Major Character Injury

Warning: Trent Ikithon  

Brief Description of Injury

Fjord looked up in surprise at the quiet knocking, almost uncertain if he had imagined it.  Most of his friends didn’t bother to knock... the only one he could think of was Caleb (despite having a key), but he had only left about an hour ago.  He stood as the knocking sounded again, setting down his tea and making his way to the door.  He smiled when he opened it and saw the familiar ginger man standing on the stoop.  

“Hey there Cay, I didn’t expect you back till morning, miss me that much?”  

He felt the teasing grin drop off his face when he realized just how pale Caleb looked... taking in his expression Fjord reached out to pull him inside.  Caleb winced, but followed him, leaning back against the door when it closed behind him.  Fjord felt the panic rising in his chest as he got a good look at Caleb in the light.  His breathing was rapid and shallow, his face sickly pale and pained.  He was clutching his hip under his coat and let out a gasp when Fjord jostled the fabric.  The scent of blood overwhelmed him for a moment, and he thought he might be sick.  

“Caleb what- what the fuck?”

“Trent, or one of his guys” Caleb forced another deep breath “shot-shot me, I would have gone home but-” He stopped, panting slightly as he held up his blood coated hand “I- I didn’t know what else to do”

“Fuck, no it’s- You need and ambulance Cay”

Fjord led him to the kitchen, trying to support as much of his weight as possible.  The moment Caleb was seated in the large kitchen chair Fjord whipped out his phone and dialed the emergency number.  

“What is your emergency?”

“Ambulance, we need an ambulance, my friend he- we need help, he's been shot and we need help”

Fjord could hear the panic in his voice now as Calebs eyelids drooped, the hand on his hip was going lax where it needed to be maintaining pressure.

“Address?”  

“Cay you need- yes sorry it’s 23 Spire Square- put pressure darlin’ please”  

The woman was talking again, but he barely registered it as he moved to grab a clean kitchen towel and pressed it up against the bullet wound.  Caleb’s eyes were completely closed now, and Fjord wasn’t sure if he was awake or had actually passed out.  

“Sir?  Sir I understand this is difficult, the ambulance is almost there, and I need you to unlock the door”  

“It’s unlocked, I never- I didn’t get around to re-locking it”  

The paramedics arrived and lifted Caleb from the chair onto a stretcher.  Fjord felt the bile rise in his stomach at the way Caleb’s head lolled, he was sweating, he was so pale.  The ambulance ride was a blur of tearing clothing and beeping machines.  One of the paramedics tried to ask him what had happened, but he had nothing to give them other than Trent’s name.  The wound was horrible, once the medics had it cleaned off Fjord could see that there was more than one awful hole in Caleb’s skin.  

He had to look away.  

He watched Caleb’s face instead, watching the way it twitched, taking some small comfort in the fact that it hadn’t stopped.  The fact that he was breathing.  

When they arrived at the hospital there was a team waiting, they took Caleb and one woman stopped him at a pair of swinging doors

“You can’t come past here dear, you need to wait in the waiting room”

“Please, please I have to- he needs me, I need to be with him”  

He knew he should be embarrassed by the way he pleaded, but at this point he couldn’t make himself care.  He needed to be with Caleb, he needed to make sure he was okay.  

“I’m sorry, really, but he’s in good hands with the doctors okay?  The best thing you can do for him now is wait here.  What’s your name honey, is there someone you can call?”  

Can I help? Is there someone I can call?  

His own voice rang through his head, all those months ago.  He nodded at the nurse, still staring over her shoulder as if he could see through the doors through sheer force of will.  

“I’m Fjord”

“What’s his name dear, he didn’t have ID”  

“Caleb, his names Caleb”  

“Okay” she led him to a hard plastic chair from which he could still see the doors “call someone, we’ll take care of him and send someone for you when he’s out of the surgery okay?”

He nodded and watched her walk quickly through the swinging doors, the panic had faded into an uncomfortable numbness.  Caleb was back there, he was back there with lead in his body, in pain, and Fjord couldn’t help.  

Finally, after what could have been a few minutes, or an hour, he picked up his phone and dialed.

“Fjord?  If this is you calling to say Caleb is sleeping over again-”

“Veth”

Something in his tone stopped her immediately, a worried hum was the only response.

“Caleb’s- Caleb was shot”

“He was what?  Where are you?  Is he okay?”  

Veth’s panic broke through the fog in his mind, and he shook his head before remembering that she couldn’t see him.

“He- well he was breathing when I-” he forced himself to take a breath “hospital, we’re at the hospital, the doctors took him, they wouldn’t... I couldn’t go in with him”  

“I’m on the way”  

The click of her hanging up the phone was too loud, but he nodded and slipped his own phone back into his pocket.  All he could do now was wait.  

Veth arrived quickly, so quickly that Fjord would realize later that she must have driven like a mad woman, but in the moment, he was just relieved to have someone else there.  They didn’t speak, she just sat next to him and joined him in staring at the doors.  At some point her small hand landed on his, and he was thankful for the contact, though he didn’t have the words to say it.  

Finally, what Fjord would later be told was about two hours after they had arrived, an elvish man in scrubs walked out the doors.  He paused for a moment before he found Fjord and Veth and walked over.  Fjord's heart was pounding again as he tried to read the mans expression, looking for something to indicate that all was well or... or not.  

“Fjord?”  

He stood, and the doctor held out his hand.  Fjord took it briefly as he nodded, Veth standing and introducing herself as well.  

“I’ll start by saying that Caleb is in recovery”  

Fjord felt the air go out of his lungs all at once as he dropped back into the seat, relief washing through him.  The doctor gave him a moment before continuing.

“The bullet entered his right hip and lodged in his left thigh; he was incredibly lucky that it missed both femoral arteries.  It was a narrow miss in the left leg... but a miss still.  We managed to get the bullet out, along with some bone shards from where it nicked his hip-bone.”  

Fjord nodded along, trying to get his breathing under control again.

“You can come back and see him, but he’s under some fairly heavy anesthetic so he’ll be out for a while”

Fjord stood immediately and squeezed when he felt Veth take his hand.  The doctor led them down a series of halls into a much quieter ward of the hospital.  It occurred to Fjord as they passed a darkened window just how late it was.  He needed to call Caduceus, there was no chance he would make his shift.  The doctor opened a door into what would only be considered a typical hospital room.  The lights had been lowered to a soft glow, and the blinds on the windows were drawn.  The nurse from earlier was blocking Fjords view of the bed as she fiddled with one of the machines before nodding to herself and turning around.  She offered him a soft smile, but the best he could manage in response was a grimace.  

“The chairs pull out, they’re not the most comfortable but it’s better than sleeping sitting up” she said softly, patting his arm as she left.  

“If you have any questions, myself or another doctor will be in to check on him in a few hours.  If he wakes before that the blue button behind the bed will call the nurse's station”

“Thank you, doctor,” Veth’s voice was gentle, and a little scratchy.  

“Get some rest”  

As if.  

Fjord pulled the chairs up to the side of the bed, feeling his chest ache at the sight that greeted him.  Caleb was sleeping, long lashes fanned across familiar freckled cheekbones.  He was still pale, but the sickly sheen was gone, and if Fjord hadn’t known any better, he would have thought nothing was wrong.  Someone had changed him into a hospital gown, and a voice in the back of Fjord’s head noted that they would need something to take him home in.  The blanket bulged slightly where Fjord assumed the gauze pad sat on his hip, and the bandaging was wrapped around his thigh.

It was a near miss

Gods.  If the bullet had hit his artery... Fjord shivered and sat down, sliding his hand under Caleb’s on the sheets to avoid messing with the IV sticking out of the top.  His poor hands, both attached to the clear medical tubes leading to the odd bags of... whatever they were.  Anti-biotics maybe?  Pain medication certainly.  He was never letting Caleb out of his sight again.  

No, that was crazy.  

But... if he had driven him home, if he had insisted on it instead of giving in to Calebs claim that it wasn’t worth wasting gas...  

At the very least, he wouldn’t be walking home for a while.  

Veth took his free hand, her eyes locked on Caleb’s face, and together they waited.  

[mercuryeff]

A peek into the new chapter

https://mercuryeff.weebly.com/home/chapter-iv-heads-will-roll

Wow. No, really, just wow. There were never such words between them – as a matter of fact, there were almost no words between then. And sure, Aleks knew that Wincent was into him, he saw it in a way he was watching him when they've kept ending up in the same places, even though back then he was reading these looks quite differently. He got their meaning when they were walking through the Skaryszewski Park late at night about three months ago. Aleks was a little tipsy and for some reason he was talking about a really expensive shirt he found on Zalando, one he couldn't really afford, but he wanted it so badly that he bought it anyway, even though he hated himself later. Wincent was shaking with laughter at the end and claimed that it was the gayest thing he’s heard in a very long time, so Aleks riposted that if he saw the shirt, he guaranteed he would discover his inner homosexual. Then he cursed himself, cause he was really asking for it. Wincent was eyeing him with an undecipherable expression for a long moment, but when he spoke, he said that if he saw the shirt on him, he would definitely discover his inner homosexual. Aleks’s mind was blown, because he had it on good authority that Wincent was one of those guys who wouldn’t even consider the possibility that one of their friends might be gay. And maybe there were things about Aleks that were pretty obvious, like his love for clothes, but generally he didn’t think that people could just tell. So he assumed that Wincent didn’t know, cause if he knew he wouldn’t hang out with him, worse, he would probably beat the shit out of him, because die fags and all that jazz. And then there he was, blurting out that he would like to see him in his fancy shirt, before pressing against him and whispering that as a matter of fact, he would rather see him without his fancy shirt. By then Aleks was close to fainting, because fuck, it looked like he managed to land a guy who spent eight hours a day in a gym and was so macho that testosterone was literally leaking through his ears.

The truth was, back then Aleks was pretty much in love with him. Ok, maybe not in love, because he always thought he was in love, then when it turned out that the guy didn’t have this elusive something, he switched to the next one. He’s been falling in and out of love at the same rate as an average teenage girl and just as unluckily. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. He just liked the idea of the eternal, soul-shattering love, besides he was young and had the right to fly blind. So he was smitten with Wincent for quite a while before that night, because it was quite flattering that despite his bad temper, he was always so nice to Aleks. Like he knew that he was completely green and really young, and wanted him to have a friendly face. That’s why while there were probably many people whose dreams were hunted by Wincent pulling a gun on them, Aleks associated him with security. It was that way from the very beginning, he felt that he could always come to him, hide between his tattoos and become one of the pictures on his skin, where nothing could do him any harm. And yeah, he knew it was incredibly sappy and naïve.

So he was smitten, and then Wincent said that he would like him better without his beautiful, flaxen shirt and they’ve slept together, because Aleks might be a lot of things, but a hard to get virgin was not one of them. He spent the next day thinking that life was really full of surprises, cause sure, guys could be nice at times, but he wasn’t so dumb to think that it always had to mean something. And he didn’t feel comfortable enough with his sexuality... no, he felt plenty comfortable with his sexuality, it was the rest of the world that had a problem with it, which kept him from considering random men as potential boyfriends. The main issue was that you always had to tread carefully and think every step through in order not to get punched in the face. He’s got punched in the face enough times throughout his short life even without being officially gay. But fortunately this time it was Wincent who made the first move, with a small help of booze, and although it wasn’t Aleks’s first time, it was the first with someone who actually meant something to him. Maybe he was a mushy fool, but no one before Wincent has ever liked him back. His infatuation with him was also different from shallow crushes he used to have on boys from school, who maybe had pretty faces, but when you got to know them it turned out they were as much fun as chlamydia. Wincent might have not been the sharpest pencil in the drawer, but he was entertaining and a little dangerous, which made his rare displays of affection even more endearing. There was enough adrenaline rush between them, because of course they had to sneak around most of the time, and it was also kind of a forbidden fruit, because as long as Aleks remembered, the world was divided into ‘us’ and ‘them’, and Wincent was one of them.

Annoyingly enough, he got over Wincent right after he started sleeping with him. He was still important to him, sure, and the sex was still fine, because what Wincent lacked in imagination, he made up for with enthusiasm. But Aleks’s enthusiasm was starting to wane and he felt guilty, because what the hell was he looking for? And now Wincent was saying all the right things, as if he knew that it was always Aleks’s kryptonite – that he could melt such a tough guy and turn him into a teddy bear. But so far Wincent’s most tender confession was when he told Aleks that he was thinking of little else than fucking him since he first saw him. And sure, Aleks knew that he was playing it down and it wasn’t all about sex, but holy crap, it was nothing like ‘I like when it’s just the two of us’. That sounded awfully serious.

[donatello-writes]

Not Quite Human, Part III - Donatello x Reader

Part II can be found here --> (x)

Part IV can be found here -> (x)

Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange: But love is blind and lovers cannot see.

-The Merchant of Venice

Trembling still, Donatello started backing away again slowly with intent to abscond through the window behind him. Not seeing the chew toy in his path, he tripped over it and fell backwards, and he kept falling...and falling...The vision of your fear-stricken face at the forefront of his mind. Awakening with a start, he sat up in his bed and buried his face into his hands. 

"It was...just a nightmare?" He asked himself in shallow breaths, shaken from how real the illusion felt. Taking a few moments to find calm, he finally rose from his bed to go about his routine. As the day wore on, the genius became caught up in his work, and lost track of time. Before he knew it, he was already running late for his date with you. 

**********************************

Your nerdy sweetheart waved to you as he ran up, this time he came wearing a new and intriguing accessory which promptly caught your attention, "I like your goggles, very steampunk." Surprised, he felt the top of his head to find that he'd forgotten to take them off. So accustomed to having his goggles on all the time, he didn't even notice that they were still there. He was honestly shocked that this had not happened sooner. With a small smile, he prepared to humble brag about his creation.

"You make fun, but these are actually functional," He stated matter-of-factly while pushing his glasses up his nose. When you gave him a look of skepticism, he removed the item from his head and held it out to you. "Would you like to test them out?" He offered, trying his best not to appear too overly confident as he did so. 

Laughing incredulously, you humored him, and donned the apparatus. Much to your amazement, they were fully operational. The invention provided biological breakdowns of various objects within it's range. When you turned your gaze to Donatello, he was careful to avoid your line of sight. For just a few seconds, his chemical make-up flickered before your eyes as you managed to catch a glimpse of him through the lenses. 

The information disappeared before you could read it as your lanky beau slipped behind you and attempted to pluck the gadget from your head. Removing them yourself, you held the invention out just far enough to keep it from his grasp. The device listed so much data at once that it was difficult to fully absorb. However, one thing in particular stood out...His heat signature, it was far too low for a human being. You stored that information into the annals of your mind for future contemplation.

Mouth agape, you began your adulation, "You...made these?! They’re incredible!" You exclaimed as you proceeding to marvel at the technical intricacies of the small apparatus. 

He chuckled heartily at your response as he pursued the repossession of his belonging, "Try not to sound so shocked, I'm an...inventor, of sorts." You swatted away his hands and released a haughty laugh. 

"Alright, give them back, you cannot be trusted with those!" He finally demanded, and you continued to deny his request, holding them behind you with a firm shake of your head. 

"No way, they're mine now!" You refused him once more, and the two of you continued to wrestle for the trinket; all the while laughing hysterically. The young man's chortle quickly turned into snorts as he continued to reach for his possession. 

"That is insanely adorable," You complimented his dorky laughter and his face became flushed. 

The position in which the two of you had found yourselves was incredibly romantic, and his heart fluttered in his chest. Only mere inches separated your lips from meeting. Locked in a introvert's stale-mate, you both waited for the other to make a move. Despite his outwardly human appearance, Donatello still felt like a mutant. He couldn't believe that someone as attractive as you would ever want to kiss someone like him. He especially didn't expect you to reciprocate if he were to attempt a lip lock with you, but that fact failed to quash his yearning. 

Being very methodical, it was unlike the genius to act on impulse. He would always plan out a strategy before taking action to ensure the most favorable outcome. However, at that moment, he threw caution to the wind. He knew that if he didn't act now while he had the perfect opportunity, he never would. As if you both were dancing, he held you in a dip and slowly moved in. Your widened eyes followed his lips as they lingered longingly over yours. He wanted to kiss you, but hadn't the courage. Shying away at the last second, he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

In an act of bravery fueled by need, you decided to take his action further. It was just a quick peck, but the spontaneity of the gesture roused something deep within Donatello. A shudder of anticipation suddenly ran throughout his body. What followed was a low, mellifluous, churr that welled up from his chest. The unexpected vocalism caused both of the young lovers to flinch. The amorous lad reflexively gasped as his mind quickly placed the sound, making you fear that you had been too forward. 

"I'm sorry!" You panicked, breaking the embrace, and taking a few steps away from him. Unsure of what else to say, you waited for his response on held breath.

"Y/N, don't be sorry! It was...nice." He said dreamily, unable to forget the softness of your lips on his. In the back of his mind, he was concerned about his clearly inhuman bodily hiccup. Thankfully, you didn't appear to be too concerned about it. Not even Donatello, himself, was aware of this uncontrollable trait. The braniac knew actual turtles churred when mating, but never thought he'd exhibit it; writing it off as an impossibility, given that he was part human. He wondered why it never manifested before now. Perhaps the emotional connection that he shared with you drew it out.

But the two of you weren't even close to engaging in what was scientifically considered to be mating. It was merely a kiss, and a chaste one at that. Admittedly, he was getting hot and bothered from that alone, with the help of his imagination. When his mind fixated on the idea of the two of you being intimate, his face turned red. Another humm emitted from his body, this time much louder. It served as a rude awakening from his daydream. That one was impossible for you to miss, and you gave him a vexed look.

The infatuated young man's blissful expression quickly fell as he searched his mind for a response, "That was...my...stomach! I'm starving! A-are you hungry? Do you want to go and get some food? I'm thinking Italian," His words stumbled out feebly, eyes refusing to meet yours. Meanwhile, all you could do was guffaw at his odd reaction to something as normal as stomach rumbling. 

"What's inside that stomach of yours? A zoo?" the well-timed joke lifted the awkwardness of the situation, and successfully calmed your beau's nerves. This was feigned ignorance, however, as you perceived something strange in his so-called stomach noises; but you chose not to broach the subject, as he appeared to be extremely self-conscious about it. 

The sounds were far too guttural to be of the stomach, they almost sounded...bestial. You'd heard a similar sound before, but couldn't place it. Deciding that you needed to investigate further, you returned to the reality from which your mind had wandered. Donatello was guiding you along as he prattled away about this amazing Italian restaurant that he loved, which just so happened to be nearby. This was a insubstantial attempt to distract you from what had just occurred. 

Stopping without warning, you brought your chatty date to a halt as well. The bespectacled boy turned to you in confusion, "Is everything alright? Why'd you stop all of the sudd-" not allowing him to finish his inquiry, you threw your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a kiss. Though surprised, he hesitantly embraced the sudden display of affection. Shaky hands meeting your waist, and resting there apprehensively.

Curiosity got the best of you, as you tried to draw out that unusual sound from him again. You'd noticed that it previously happened during your close encounter earlier, and decided to test the theory. When the result that you expected failed to occur, you released him, trying to mask the disappointment you felt in the experiment's failure. 

Perhaps it really was his stomach after all, you resolved to put it to rest...for the moment. Donatello gave you a look of befuddlement, but swiftly picked up on your motivation after brief contemplation. While the likelihood of you coming to the conclusion that he was a giant mutant turtle was statistically improbable, giving you a cause for suspicion still wasn't good.

The brainy young man was partially impressed that you'd gathered so much information from such a quick, and unpredicted irregularity. This was truly unsurprising, though, he knew that you had a brilliant mind. Donatello cursed his biological makeup, his errant turtle moan was costing him dearly. 

Sudden booms of thunder offered a perfectly timed distraction from the shenanigans at hand. Darkened clouds swirled in the distance, threatening a coming storm. Exchanging glances of concern you both agreed to seek cover, and the aforementioned dining establishment was the perfect place to go. 

The eatery was everything that Donatello had promised and more. The two of you indulged in pasta, delightful conversation, and of course...tiramisu. Upon finishing your meal, you walked outside together to discover that it still had yet to rain. And the threat was still promising, as the sky remained a deep purple. This unforeseen weather complication put a kibosh on your outdoor date plans. Given the circumstances, the two of you agreed to cut the date short. Much to the dismay of both parties. 

As per usual, your date bid you goodnight outside of your high rise apartment, being far too shy to invite himself in. Glancing at him flirtily, you offered hospitality, "Would you like to come up to my place?" 

He shrank at your inquiry, knowing full well that he only had an hour or so left until he changed back into he old turtle self. That wasn't much time in the grand scheme of things, and he simply didn't want to risk it. The once distant rumbling suddenly grew louder, and raindrops began to fall, swiftly escalating into a downpour. Hand-in-hand, you ran for shelter at the door of your building. The space was barely enough to cover you both.

"Wow, these rom-com clichés follow you like a shadow, huh?" You tittered as the two of you huddled together underneath the small overhang, nearly soaked to the bone; bodies firmly pressed against one another in order to fit. The intimate proximity enticed romantic ventures, chests rising and falling with synced breaths. Desire swirled in his golden eyes, and at that moment, he didn't overthink. Instead, he took your lips in his with adrenaline-fueled confidence. Impassioned and deep, it felt as though the storm had stricken you both with it's threat. 

An electricity passed between your bodies, coursing through, and enlivening you with each traded kiss. Having no prior experience in kissing wasn't too much of a problem for the mutant in disguise, it was simply the proper application of jaw mechanics and tongue movement. In technique he was prepared, but what he wasn't prepared for was the passionate intensity of the experience. He felt as though his heart would break free from his rib cage at the rate it was beating. When you came up for air, all that you could do was utter a single word with shaky breath...

"Wow." and when you stumbled back a bit, he caught you, an unfaltering smile lighting up his features. You then cupped his face with both hands and locked eyes with him as you prepared to deliver the most unparalleled of witticisms.

"I'm cashing in my raincheck." You voiced with a prideful grin, and your beau stifled a laugh. The cleverness of your one-liner was undeniable. He couldn't resist such a convincing argument, especially not after that kiss. 

"Okay, but I can only stay for one hour!" Donatello stated his time limit decisively, and you nodded in agreement. 

Together, you headed up to the apartment and made your way inside. Various framed posters lined the corridor of the entrance, all from iconic horror and fantasy films. The first was The Wolfman, followed by Creature from the Black Lagoon, Pan's Labyrinth, and finally, Frankenstein. You watched as your guest scanned the hangings with delight, and continued leading him to the main room. It was spacious and well decorated with paintings, and knick-knacks, but not overly cluttered. Several art supplies laid on the tables, and there was even a sewing machine on it's own desk. 

"Wow, you're quite the jack of all trades, huh?" He chuckled as he gestured to the Singer Quantum Stylist 9985 in the corner.

"Yes, I dabble in many hobbies." You answered with a cheeky smile.

The young man's eyes continued to travel the room in awe before finally settling on one painting specifically. A relatively large oil painting that was hard to miss, but not because of it's size. The subject matter was of particular interest to the turtle in human’s clothing. On it was a woman with a sea monster, the two of them exchanging a deep loving gaze as they floated within the murky depths of the ocean. Recognizing it immediately as the final scene from The Shape of Water, Donatello smiled wide.

Drawing close for a better look, he couldn't hide his appreciation for the work. He knew the patience that it took to paint with oils, but moreso, admired the piece because it gave him...hope. Becoming entranced, he absendmindedly muttered under his breath, "For loue is blynd alday and may nat see." 

You barely picked up what he'd said was it...Latin? No, Middle English. Watching as he marveled at the work you let out a muffled chuckle. His facial features spoke volumes: amazement, respect, and something more. There was an evident understanding in his expression, gaze fixed on the monster, as if they shared some sort of kinship.

Realizing that he was acting peculiar, he turned to you with a dorky smile and bestowed a compliment, "Y/N...This is...gorgeous."

Jolting at the admiration, your breath hitched, "T-thank you...I painted it." You stuttered as you grabbed two towels from a nearby closet. Feeling warmth flow to your cheeks, you ran into the other room to gather dry clothing. After taking a few seconds to calm yourself, you returned, throwing a hooded sweatshirt and basketball shorts to Donatello.

Catching the garments launched in his direction, he continued to shower you with adoration, "You really painted this?! That's incredible...It's amazing!" 

All you could do was nod sheepishly. "Thank you! It's not really that great, there are so many anatomical errors and..." Your train of thought trailed off as you noticed his clothes dripping still from the rain. 

With a chuckle you shifted the conversation, "Alright, you've appreciated my artwork enough! We should get changed before we catch colds." Just as you finished your sentence, your date absentmindedly removed his shirt. Stunned at the sight, you couldn't help but stare. You'd never noticed his lean muscular build previously, since he always wore long sleeves.

Once he became aware of his social blunder, he swiftly recovered with a joke, "Do you mind?" He then placed a hand on his hip, raised one eyebrow, and shifted to a stance that radiated sass.

Still awe-struck, you responded in an unbothered tone before getting the hint, "No--Oh-oh-oh! Excuse me." before retreating into your room once more. Peering through the crack in your door, you looked him up and down while biting your lower lip. Once he shot a playful glare in your direction, you swiftly closed it, but not without getting one, "Bye!" in before doing so. Both of you exploded with laughter at your near-perfectly executed Road to El Dorado scene. 

Following your wardrobe change, you wandered out of your room. Hands over your eyes, you loudly announced your entrance. When you peeked through your fingers to see him decent, a huff of disappointment escaped your lips and he chuckled. The nerdy lad then gave you an amused look as he gestured to the graphic on the kelly green sweatshirt that you'd chosen for him, "Ha ha, very funny." 

Twisting your face into a mischievous grin, you suppressed the urge to giggle and shrugged, "It was the only long sleeve thing I had that would fit you." unable to withhold it any longer, you finally burst into laughter upon reading the ‘Talk Nitrogen, Erbium, and Dysprosium to me’ periodic table of elements joke that adorned the garment. The merriment was cut short when the sound of barking echoed from the other room. 

"Oh no, my poor baby! I'm sorry, do you mind if I let my dog, Noodles, out to meet you?" You asked, and your handsome suitor responded with an affirmative nod of his head.

The dog bounded out into the living area once he was released from confinement, eager to meet the new guest. Prior to getting close, the chocolate brown labrador retriever froze in place and sniffed the air. The animal then proceeded to hesitantly approach, almost as if he was unsure what to make of Donatello. Tilting his head in confusion, he refused to draw in too near. Matching your canine companion's response, you were equally perplexed as you watched the interaction. The pooch didn't growl, nor did he cower, he merely stood at attention before your lanky beau. Finally coming to the decision to lay down on the floor, the pup wagged his tail lightly while keeping his eyes focused on the visitor.

"That was a little weird, but I suppose that it's a good sign...he typically gets aggressive with the men that I bring over. He's my barometer for character." You smiled as you made your way over to the couch, gesturing for Donatello to come and sit with you. Plagued by nerves, he sat a fair amount of space away from you.

"So, how'd you know that I had a dog when we first met?" a question meant to distract from the awkwardness of the situation, but only worsened it. The nervous young man flinched at your question, he hoped that you had forgotten, but he should have known better.

"You just...looked like a dog person," He knew that was a terrible explanation, and judging from the look on your face, you didn't buy it. 

"I suppose that I can accept that as an answer." You motioned with just your index and middle fingers from your eyes to him, in a silent indication that said I'm watching you. The reasoning for how he had guessed your dog ownership was not at the forefront of your mind, however. The nerdy young man chuckled at your attempt at intimidation, snort making an appearance. His laugh made you weak and you fought yet another blush that tried to form on your cheeks. 

Meeting his gaze coyly, you closed the gap between the two of you. Donatello knew what was coming, the burning look in your eyes was telling. Regardless, his heart nearly burst through his chest when you drew in intimately close; bringing your face just inches away from his. The shy young man's nerves got the best of him, and he froze like a deer in headlights. The moment the two of you shared outside of the building was a fit of spontaneous passion. Now, with a clear head, the anxious lad's overactive brain stole his bravery from him. All of his insecurities flashed before his eyes, and proved to be an imposing force.

The blush that crossed his cheeks was accompanied by a broad smile, indicating his interest. He was simply immobilized by uncertainty. Expecting this hesitation, you happily took the lead, pressing your lips softly to his. Your lips tasted so sweet, just as they had before, and Donatello could barely handle it. Without realizing it, he allowed a soft, blissful moan escape him. You responded with a giggle causing him to stammer out a flustered apology. For him, this experience was entirely new, but he couldn't tell you that.

"It's okay, it was cute." You assured him, and he simply replied with an awkward chuckle. 

Slowly, you moved in closer and Donatello followed your direction, sliding down into a reclining position. It wasn't long before you found yourselves laying together on the couch that you'd previously been sitting on. With you on top of him, his heart was now racing, face still beet red as he scrambled to keep up. His body began emitting the low humming sound that you'd since become accustomed to hearing. 

"Jeeze, you work up an appetite pretty easily, huh?" You teased.

"Yeah, but I'm not hungry for food...I'm hungry for you--S-sorry, that was awful." He snorted, critiquing his own terrible pick-up line as he made it. 

Tilting your head you grinned, "I liked it," upon hearing your positive feedback, he then found the courage to wrap his arms around you. This gesture caused you to move from his lips to his neck. Donatello wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, his sensory levels were about to hit critical mass. 

Oh, no...

The fun came to an abrupt end when he felt that indicative tingling overcome him, which only meant one thing. Panic replaced pleasure when amorous young man realized the effects of the ooze were beginning to wear off. It would not be long before he began reverting back to his actual form. He searched his mind for a plausible excuse, but in his flustered state, couldn't come up with even one. 

By this time you had moved back up to his lips and continued kissing Donatello, who couldn't help but reciprocate. Sure, he was concerned for his current state of affairs, but he wanted this so badly. Knots twisted inside his stomach, and he could feel the plates of his plastron reforming underneath his clothing. In the most inconvenient timing, you happened to find your hand on his abdomen, and he whimpered. 

"Huh. That's odd." you were rightfully baffled by this unexpected sensation. Just as you positioned your hand to lift the hoodie, the fretful lad quickly intercepted it.

"S-sorry, I gotta go!" He blurted out, unable to hide his discomfort. Proceeding to slide out from under you, he leapt from the couch nimbly, and made his way towards the door. 

"Wait! Donnie...what's wrong?" You reached out and took a gentle hold of his wrist, feeling a roughness that wasn't there previously. The panicked young man looked down in horror at his now lightly scaled forearm, watching as the rough skin slowly became more prominent and attained a greenish hue. Yanking his arm away, he pulled down the sweatshirt sleeve to conceal it. 

Words fell out of his mouth clumsily, "uh...uuuh...it's a skin condition..." a flimsy elucidation only made worse by the addition of an awkward smile. 

When both of his hands began to tremble, and he instinctively hid them behind his back. He then started to walk hastily in reverse to the exit. Meanwhile, his index and middle fingers began slowly fusing back together with his ring and pinky fingers following suit. Once he made it to the door he fumbled nervously with the handle attempting to open it, a task that proved difficult given his current complications. 

The door finally opened, and without looking, he backed his way through. Before closing the door he gave you one last apologetic look from across the room, hoping that you'd forgive him for his unusual behavior. Much to his dismay, he found himself in your bathroom. He'd made a critical mistake. Donatello swore up and down this was the exit. Now he was effectively trapped by both embarrassment for what had just transpired, and fear that you'd find out what he really is before he was ready to tell you.

A soft knock came from the other side of the bathroom door making the fretful anthropomorphic young man yelp. "Donnie...are you okay?" You called to him, with genuine concern in your voice. 

"Ye-yeah...everything is just fine." He lied, clenching his teeth as he did so. The vanity mirror gave him a perfect view of his current appearance, skin slowly becoming saturated with green and nose flattening into a cream-colored snout. He turned his head away, not wanting to watch his reversion. Scanning the expanse of the the bathroom, he was relieved to find a window. He clambered through the aperture before even giving it a second thought. And then he was gone, down the fire escape of your high rise apartment building. Like a coward he ran, with his transformation nearing completion, and an overwhelming sense of guilt washing over him as he fled into the shadows.

...to be continued.

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn - Part IV

Log #1 - Muu 3rd, 425

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M A SAILOR NOW. It’s just after nightfall of my first evening at sea, and it still doesn’t feel real.  I’m proud of myself to be able to say that I didn’t get seasick like Papa talked about feeling when he first sailed on a ship. I like the feeling of the waves rocking the boat, and I love the smell of the salty air and the sounds of the sails as they flutter in the ever-changing breeze. Darja said that today was mostly for me to “find my sea legs” and get settled.  

I got to see some really cool sea creatures already: a few dolphins followed alongside the ship a ways, jumping out of the water as they flanked us on either side.  It was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. We saw a whale too, but we weren’t very close to it.  Still, they’re so big that when it sprayed water from its blowhole, it looked like those giant geysers from geography books.

I have my own cot!  It smelled a little, but something weird but exciting happened...I don’t quite no how to explain it, but as I was standing there, thinking of home, thinking of the little things that I knew I was going to miss, it was like my hands were suddenly not my own, moving in strange, somatic swipes and turns, til suddenly, I watched the soiled marks on the cot fabric fade away.  I was really surprised because...to be honest, neither Mama nor Papa have magic, so I didn’t think I did either.  Maybe it’s all this fresh air!  I got excited and decided to try again as practice, and sure enough - I was able to make the cot smell like my sheets at home after Mama freshly washed them in jasmine water. I might have cried a little...I don’t know what made me more happy: the smell of home being right at my fingertips, or the fact that I could make it happen at all. I decided to try one more time, this time concentrating on making a warm bed.  Sure enough, I touched the fabric on the cot and noticed the temperature change, warm to the touch. I’m lying in my warm, clean, sweet-smelling cot right now, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.  I can’t wait to tell Mama and Papa all about this when I come home.  Now Papa and I can both share stories at sea.

Log #2 - Muu 4th, 425

Today was pretty rough.  I’m so tired, I can hardly grip the quill to write this. Darja told me that today I was to learn the ropes so that I could start earning my place on the ship and make some coin.  I worked with Bardi - he’s the head midshipman on the Golden Afternoon. I’m not gonna lie, he’s a bit of a hardass. At first I was doing pretty well keeping up - he taught me how to hoist sails, check the rigging, and a few other things that I don’t really remember what their names were (I’ll get it though).  I kind of tried to show off at the beginning and used up a lot of my energy in the first couple hours, not realizing I’d be working that hard all day…

My hands are all chewed up from the rough ropes: they’re blistered and bleeding, and I don’t know what to do because Bardi said I’m gonna be doing it all over again tomorrow, too. There’s another younger kid on the ship - his name is Mica, he’s a genasi from the mountains in Sokoku. He told me that the same thing happened to him on his first day at sea and that he found that wrapping his hands helped a lot.  I’m going to try that, I guess.  I tried using that little bit of magic I found out that I could do yesterday, but it didn’t seem to help.  I wish I could do healing magic like the people at the Sanctuary can… Maybe this little spell is all I can muster though.  I’m still hopeful for more though. 

Log #3 - Muu 5th, 425

I had another dream last night...about the kind man with wings. It feels bizarre saying this, and even reading this as I write, I know I sound crazy, but it had to be real. I had a hard time falling asleep because of how much pain my hands were giving me; but once I drifted off, he visited me.  I couldn’t make out his face since there was no light at all, but I knew it was him...I could make out faint outlines of grey in the darkness, and I could see his wings curled around his sides and his massive shield strapped to his back. He didn’t speak, but just him being there made me sense that he felt...bad for me? Worried, maybe? He gave off a feeling of sadness.  He took me by the hands, and I distinctly remember feeling the pain as it did so at first. But then, I saw our hands begin to glow faintly, and a soothing sensation took over my palms - it felt like the time I burnt my hand on the brick oven and Mama had to rub aloe on them. After that, I must have woken up, because I don’t remember anything else; the dream just sort of ended. But when I sat up in my cot, my hands were completely healed. COMPLETELY. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I’m so grateful.  

Whoever you are, if you’re here with me now or can read this, who are you? Why do you care about me of all people? Just...don’t ever leave though, okay? And thank you so so much…

Time to get up, eat, and go to work now - I’m not dreading it as much as I was last night.  I’m going to find some cloth to wrap my hands, just to take precautions. Hopefully today won’t be as bad.

Log #4 - Muu 7th, 425

Sorry that I missed a day: yesterday and the day before were pretty wild. On top of doing my regular duties, I was assigned my first night watch (not something I want to do on the regular). I was so tired from all the hard work that day, and then I had to stay up all night… Thankfully, there wasn’t anything to report. One of the other sailors relieved me just as the sun started to rise, and I was able to sleep away most of the day. 

When I woke up yesterday afternoon, we had just dropped anchor offshore from Felgra, the region to the east of Ghaan.  Papa says that his fleet is based out of that region, but Darja said we’re still a ways away from Port Cladach.  Instead, we were taking small rowboats to a coastal town called Fenwilde. It was nice to get a break from working with rigging - I finally got to do something I was good at: loading and unloading cargo.  I learned how to row a boat as we went ashore, and then we delivered some crates to a little shop called “Blink Bottles” and a few sacks of spices to a tavern called “the Boar’s Head.” 

Papa was right when he said that everywhere is a little different from home: there really wasn’t all that much sand as we got closer to the shore; and even then, the mainland was really boggy. And even though we’re still along the southern coast, it was surprising to me that it wasn’t hot - it was actually quite cool...just damp. There were trees everywhere, some of them growing right out of the shallow tributary channels, and everything was SO GREEN. I couldn’t believe how much moss there was in any direction that I looked. While in Fenwilde, we had a little bit of downtime while invoice papers were being reviewed and signed, so I took a quick look around town in an area they told me was called “High End” - they had all sorts of shops there, and one was a clothier. I didn’t realize how lucky I am to have Mama...she always made my clothes for me.  Clothes are expensive.  I was starting to feel chilly at night on the ship, and if other places were like this one, it was likely going to continue to be that way (or colder). I looked around until I found a cheap fleece blanket of emerald green. I bought it and returned to the crew.

When we finished the delivery, we rowed back out to the coastline, then continued out into the oceanic waters. When I got back, the sun was just starting to set - Darja told me to go rest up because I’d be taking the late watch again. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep doing this… But I guess it’s only for another week or so.  I’m going to go try to sleep now...hopefully I can get a few hours of rest before they wake me up to take the night shift…

Log #5 - Muu 8th, 425

Last night’s watch was a little scary...as I was up in the crow’s nest (with my new blanket, thank the gods), I saw something off in the distance...it was another ship. I’ve heard rumors of sea bandits, or “pirates,” that sometimes prey on merchant ships in the cover of darkness, and I was terrified that what I saw was just that. The ship looked altogether foreign to me: what I now know to be a red-sailed jong, common among genasi merchants may as well have been the ship of the sea’s most dreadful buccaneer. Fearful and panicked, I nervously played with a piece of copper wire in my pocket from a repair I made earlier and felt a strange tingle in the back of my mind as I whispered over and over again, “Someone’s coming, shitshitshit, something is sailing this way, what the hell do I do…” Before I knew what I had just done, I heard the confused voice of Darja echoing in my head: “Ka’l? Is that you? Who is coming?” I had once again done magic, and I’m still a little unclear what I did to make it happen. I’ve heard about material components sometimes being involved - maybe the wire? Regardless, I flung myself from the crow’s nest, scaling down the rigging as fast as I could, to meet Darja on deck.  He grumpily informed me of my mistake in identifying the ship as ill-willed, assuring me of its safety by pointing out the markings on its sails, before he returned to his quarters to sleep.  I’m sitting in my cot, writing this, unable to fall asleep: I’m still jittery with shock from both finding a new spell and realizing just how easy it can be for a pirate ship to slip into proximity with us if one wanted.

Log #6 - Muu 10th, 425

Today has been a rough day. Darja called me to his cabin after supper.  I figured it was about my two weeks almost being up; maybe he was going to offer me an extension, or something… It turns out he’s just a creep though - he tried to...I don’t know, I think he thought I was interested in him or something. I made it very clear though that I was not. He told me that since I was so disagreeable, I would be on night watches for the rest of my journey back to Khaadeehava but would still be expected to perform my daily duties as well.  

I’m so homesick. I really love it out here on the Turquoise Waves, but I wish it were a different ship with a better captain. I rushed to get all of my chores done right after my watch ended this morning, then came back here to my cot to write a little before trying to get an hour of sleep before I’m needed to mop down the quarterdeck later. My one little twinkle of happiness is that - in my loneliness for home - I found another little bit of magic that I can make: I’m sitting here with my journal in my lap, and sitting on the cot in front of me is Mama...well, not really, but some sort of illusion of her.  She’s sitting at the end of the cot just like she used to do at the bottom of my bed at home when she would come into my room to say goodnight...and she has that warm, soft smile that I miss so much. I wish she were here right now.  I wish I had someone I could hug.  For now, I’ll just hold tightly to my fleece and pretend, I guess...

=============================================================

Thank you, as always, for following me through this journey of fleshing out one of my PCs’ backstory! If you’re interested in being included on the taglist, just send me a message.

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites, @mayvinwrites​

[princess-sora]

Review: Phantasy Star IV

Some History

Phantasy Star's a series that's been near and dear to me for over half my life. I first got into it via the Phantasy Star Collection for Gameboy Advance, a 2002 collection of the first 3 out of the original 4 games. 1 and 2 were good games for their time, and while they were mechanically rather archaic, their aggressive combination of fantasy and sci-fi captured my 13-year-old imagination something fierce. I'd never seen a setting like it. 3, though... some of its ideas were interesting to me, but not only was it mostly fantasy and very little sci-fi for most of its story, it just plain wasn't very good. I largely left it alone. I never beat any of the games, but they left a massive impression on me.

It wasn't until several years later that I'd discover that I was missing something. They'd cut Phantasy Star 4 out of the collection, presumably for cartridge space/budget reasons... and in doing so, I've since learned, deprived my young self of an incredible experience. When I first learned about Phantasy Star 4, I no longer had the ability to focus on an RPG long enough to complete one. Over multiple tries at it, I only ever got about a third into the game before drifting away. But, now that I can focus on things again, I decided to give it another attempt.

The Review

At its core, Phantasy Star IV is a traditional JRPG, with random encounters, turn-based battles, and a storyline with essentially zero player choice or agency. But it's an exemplar of the genre. Scenario design is overall very well-paced and conveyed; at no point did I feel like I wasn't advancing, or didn't know what to do or where to go. Aside from one specific point near the end of the first third, I didn't feel like grinding was ever necessary--if I felt like I hit a wall, there was some sort of side content to check out that'd get me back on track.

On the subject of side content, Phantasy Star 4 has plenty. The Hunter's Guild has a list of sidequests that open up as the plot progresses, which are a source of money more than anything, as not all of them involve combat. The Hunter's Guild quests are probably one of my bigger quibbles, actually. Like in a lot of RPGs, money ends up being essentially meaningless near the end, so it can be a bit of a gamble to tell whether you'll get anything worthwhile (read: experience or equipment) from the experience.

On top of that, a few of them have remarkably unsatisfying conclusions--off the top of my head, one ends up costing you exactly the amount you later get paid as a reward, and another gives you no money at all, though it does involve a boss battle. I still recommend doing them, however; there's a story to every one, sometimes amusing, and it all serves to make the world feel more lived-in and real.

There are a fair few side dungeons, too, beyond the one or two you visit as part of guild quests. They're optional as well, but almost always worthwhile, giving lore, good equipment, new skills for your Android characters, and often, challenging and lucrative boss fights.

Dungeons, on the whole, are very well-designed. They're generally a bit mazeish, but dead-end branches generally have something interesting at the end of them, and they're never particularly long. Where they really shine, though, is in their structure. The way that they're built gives a sense of place, that despite their gameplay-oriented layouts, they are actually the sort of structure thy claim to be. Caves and some underground dungeons don't quite fit this as well, but for the most part, it's a very strong point. One of the midgame dungeons--an ancient castle built on crumbling, deteriorating foundations--is my favorite example of this. The winding halls feel, in some way, like they were once the grand halls of their ruler. There are dead ends that are simply overlooks from the castle walls, or areas that would present paths if not for the ground crumbling away. They don't have anything at the end, but they aren't long enough to be annoying; it feels like they're just there for versimilitude, to add to the idea that this is a place, something more than a construct for the sake of gameplay.

The game's presentation is top-notch, as well. Sprites on the overworld are clear and well-animated, with cute little touches like every character's walk cycle being a different speed based on height or bulk, and in battle, backgrounds and sprites are *beautifully* detailed, with both party members and enemies having various different animations depending on what they're doing.

The sound design is especially excellent. The sounds of battle are satisfying and impactful, and along with the animations, this gives fights a fantastic "game-feel" that helps keep encounters from becoming stale. That's to say nothing of the music. This is some of the best music to come out of the Genesis' sound hardware, hands-down. It's (mostly) a far cry from the "electro-farts" some people describe the Genesis' sound as, and when it is, it's with a very clear purpose. The compositions are musically complex and fun to listen to, particularly the dungeon and battle themes, whose catchy, interesting tunes do a lot to make up for the fact that you'll be hearing them a lot.

The battle system is presented in a fairly standard style--you see your party members from behind, facing down the enemies, you queue up all of your actions, and the turn progresses roughly in order of agility. Your characters have a wide variety of abilities available to them, divided into two categories, Techs and Skills, both learned as characters level up. Techs draw from a character's pool of TP (basically MP), and are essentially this game's version of magic. Skills are a bit different--with a couple of exceptions, each character's skills are unique, with their own effects or gimmicks, but with the caveat that each one only has a certain number of uses until your next visit to an inn. The game itself, regrettably, doesn’t tell you what techs/skills do what (I suspect that’s in the manual), so don’t be afraid to look them up online.

There's a "macro" system in place, too, allowing you to set up specific sequences of actions for your characters to carry out during a round of battle. At first blush, it'd seem like a more complex version of the genre-standard auto-battle system, but there's another purpose: combination attacks. Certain techs and skills, cast in the right order without enemy interruption, can combine into a more powerful move. As an example, three characters casting the basic fire, ice, and lightning techs together on the same turn will combine to cast "Tri-Blaster," which does higher damage to all enemies. They need to be cast together without being interrupted by enemies, however, meaning you need to keep your characters' agility stats in mind when building and sequencing your macros. There are 14 combo attacks, total, and the game doesn't tell you any of them, so don't be afraid to look those up, either.

The story is fantastic--probably one of the best out of any game I can think of. It was meant from the start to be the end of the story, and it's a tribute and a love letter to the franchise's legacy, while still managing to be accessible and engaging for an unfamiliar player. It deals with death in a way that's rarely been matched, and it raises the stakes from 'investigating monster attacks' at the start to 'destroying ultimate evil' by the end in a way that feels about as natural as you can make that kind of escalation. The protagonist grows visibly over the course of the story, and while most of his his companions are somewhat shallower, there was hardly anyone among the cast I didn't care about, by the ending. The setting feels lived-in and even a bit alive, thanks to guild quests, incidental dialogue that's actually interesting, and various other worldbuilding touches throughout.

The Conclusion

I'm not gonna give this a number. But I will say that Phantasy Star IV is the first RPG I've actually felt driven to beat in years, and I recommend it with absolutely no reservations. In fact, it's on Steam for $1 USD. Buy it. Play it. You won't regret it, I promise.

[sweetimagines]

We Could Be Dead Tomorrow - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Armitage Hux

Description: Even the force ships Gingerpilot.

Warnings: None I can think of.

Word Count: 1469

A/N: 3 months in the making and it’s finally here. For more context on how I imagine Hux’s childhood read this.

BB-8 chirps happily in his slot on Black One as Poe makes his descent into Yavin IV. The astromech couldn’t be happier to be away from the First Order.

“Come on, buddy, the Finalizer is not so bad.” 

The droid answers sarcastically, questioning Poe’s habit to try and blow up the dreadnaught if they’re “not so bad”. 

“Alight.” Poe chuckles. “You got me there.” 

Dameron lands his X-Wing by the Great Tree, planted in his front yard from a fragment of an Uneti Tree his mother had helped recover, alongside Luke Skywalker himself. He used to tend to the branches and keep the force tree strong - after one time he accidentally crashed a speeder on it. Kes isn’t making as good a job on that, though.

Poe tries to visit as much as possible, but it’s war time and he’s doing his duty - how his family had before him - so it’s been quite some time since he last saw his father.

Kes is waiting for him by the threshold with a smile. Poe mimics his dad’s expression and they hug for several minutes before releasing one another.

The younger Dameron gazes back at the hangar and his father knows the reason for the visit. 

“Go on. I’ll entertain BB-8.” Kes knows his son far too well. He can see Poe’s troubled face a mile away and sometimes only Shara can help.

Poe nods as his astromech, who rolls inside the house beeping rapidly after Kes. His father knows BB-8 likes to listen about stories of Poe as a youngling.

He opens the hangar door with strength, it has a lot of resistance to it. There’s rust on the edges so he makes mental note to fix that before leaving. 

Poe’s old speeder bike is parked next to Kes’ landspeeder and, in the center, lies Shara’s RZ-1 A-Wing. It has been grounded since long before her death, but while she still flew, her son was right along with her, learning as much as he could, but mostly admiring the stars.

The strongest memories he has of her are inside that fighter, so, since she passed away, Poe uses it as a way to connect with her.

He’s not force sensitive but believes fully in the force and is certain his mother is a part of it now. 

In the most important moments of his life, Poe feels Shara with him, as if she’s blessing his path - like when he graduated the academy with flying colors or joined the Resistance to fight the First Order when the New Republic refused to.

Poe’s hoping to get her help on what could be the biggest decision of his life so far. Until now, he has always been sure of himself, whatever path he walked. This time he has doubts.  

He brushes his fingers over the cannons and feels the wrinkles on the durasteel from all the repairs. His eyes glance at the scorch marks from all the years of service. 

Only after paying it’s due respect does he enter and takes a sit on the pilot’s chair, his finger running over the dashboard, remembering everything he learned in that A-Wing. A grin curls his lips as simultaneously a single hot tear runs down his cheek.

“Hey, mom!” Poe’s not expecting an answer - he never does - but he believes it’s polite to talk as if she could, like she’s right there, next to him.

He starts the conversation by updating her on the war, his droid’s mischievous adventures and sharing a new flying trick he successfully delivered in battle. 

“But you probably know I’m not here for small talk.” Poe imagines her listening to him all that time, just patiently waiting for him to get to the point.

“I want to talk about Hugs... I mean, Armitage.” He leans back on the chair and instinctively reaches for his chain, closing his eyes so he can pretend Shara is just at arms reach.

“I didn’t mean to, but I kept a small piece of information regarding him.... He’s not JUST my boyfriend whom I brag about being incredibly foxy.” Poe chuckles, lightening up the mood before the conversation takes a serious tone. “He’s First Order, a General to be exact.”

Poe breathes in, wondering how Shara would react if he could see her, certain that it would be better than Kes did when he found out.

“I swear I’m not with him for shallow reasons, such as the thrill of sleeping with the enemy. My feelings for him are real.” Poe knows for sure after Finn. He thought that maybe developing a crush on the ex-trooper would help him get over the General, but all it did was make him want Hux even more. 

“Hugs...” He laughs at how silly that must sound to her. “That’s just a nickname I use to tease him. His actual last name is Hux, but between you and me, Hugs suits him better.” 

“Anyways, as I was saying. He’s not in the Order because he’s an Empire fanatic or a bad man. He’s with them by circumstance.” Hux might have done unspeakable things but most of the time he didn’t want to and only Poe knows how he feels remorse about it, even if he has to deny it in order to remain safe in his working environment.

Poe explains to his mother about Brendol Hux having him outside his marriage with a “kitchen woman” and how he killed Armitage’s mother and took him away from his home world. 

“He was raised in a dreadnaught in the unknown regions, suffering even more abuse than while at Arkanis. At least then his mother protected him.” Poe holds back tears, speaking about it brings him pain. 

“Hux grew up with a father who hated him, surrounded by people manipulating him to fit their regime. It was kill or be killed.” He sighs. “He was born Armitage and was shaped into General Hux. I see Armitage where everyone else only sees Hux.”

Poe opens his eyes again - a blind hope that somehow his mother might be standing in front of him. “Now that you know everything, I can tell you why I’m really here.” He removes the chain from around his neck and holds the wedding ring on his palm. “Dad trusted me with this. To give it to the person I choose to spend my life with.” 

The little boy in Poe used to dream about the perfect man he would marry, childish, but it brought him comfort many nights he missed his mother. To know that someday someone he loves deeply would wear her ring.

“I choose Armitage Hux.” He lets silence take over the tight little fighter that’s more like an armed cockpit for a few seconds. 

“I know dad will hate me, kriff, the whole galaxy will. But there’s no other man for me, mom.” Poe almost sobs, he could really use a hug right now. He still remembers the warm feeling of Shara’s arms around him. His father also has an incredibly tender embrace and Poe will certainly take advantage of it later. 

He’s not even sure Hux will accept his proposal. They’ve had countless discussions about switching sides or running away, ran through endless possibilities but never one they are willing to follow. 

“I don’t know what the future holds for us. I do know that if we keep going like this, the only future for us is death and I won’t accept that.” There’s simply no future without Armitage Hux.

“Should I risk losing him for the possibility of keeping him?” Poe will be the happiest man alive if Hux says yes. He smiles at the prospect.

“Thing is... I can’t propose if that would disappoint you.” He wouldn’t be able to give Shara’s ring to someone she doesn’t deem worthy.

“I need some kind of sign if this is the right choice.” Poe never asked for it before, but right now he’s begging. If the force really does exist, this is the moment he needs its help the most. All those years tending to the force tree must have earned him this one favor.

He waits, for what feels like forever, but it’s just a really long moment. Nothing, no sound, movement, not even a feeling. He usually senses his mother’s presence - right now, nothing. 

Poe sighs in defeat, getting up to leave the ship when, out of nowhere, it hums to life and the dashboard blinks on and off for a brief moment.

Tears fill his eyes and fall through his smile. “Thank you.” He whispers. “I love you, mom.”

[deltastorm101]

What happened after Bio Inc. #5 - Chapter 2

Remember this oneshot I wrote a while ago? The one in which I explain what I think went down after Bio Inc. #5? Yeah. I continued it.

Serious warning: This is dark and intense. One section in this will get incredibly graphic - ‘gory’ is an understatement. Please read with caution. Word count: 2200.

He was alive. Barely conscious… but alive. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times to focus his vision and make the black spots disappear. But there wasn’t much he could see in this complete darkness – the room around him was pitch black, apart from that little glowing light in the far distance... How did he get here? When he tried to move, an ear piercing scream escaped his throat – a stinging pain in his stomach made him writhe in agony. He stayed still for a few seconds, waiting for the throbbing to subside. His breathing quickened and hitched, to the point where even careful inhaling hurt.

Henrik, no... don’t you dare hypahventilate again... Ve’ve been over zhis...

He gently moved his chin towards his chest to take a look at what was tormenting him so much - his eyes widened at the sight of a gushing stab wound in his stomach. He suddenly remembered everything - he had lost Jack. His eye had started bleeding uncontrollably. He had saved himself by putting the IV cannula into his arm. The voice he heard in his head. The picture he was forced to post to Jack's instagram. The glitching man pinning him to the wall and... stabbing him with his knife...

He should be dead. Yet he wasn't - he was lying there, on the cold, hard floor of an endless void, seeing nothing but blackness, a deep stab in his stomach tormenting him. But - maybe he was dead and this is what hell felt like... a lot chillier than he imagined. What the hell was he thinking?! Verdammt... Konzentriere dich... FOCUS...! He took a raspy breath and flinched at the sensation of something harshly tugging at his bleeding insides. He hissed through his clenched teeth, somehow managing to hold in another scream. He had to find out where he was and if he could get away from here... He sucked in some painful air and braced himself for standing up. Oh holy fuck... FUCK! Make it stop, MAKE IT STOP...!! But now he stood on his weak-kneed legs, tightly clutching the wound with both hands, hunched over and swaying slightly. One foot after the other... carefully... He squinted to keep his vision focused on that little glowing thing in the distance. It took him an awfully long time to get closer, but he could soon make out a wall and the shape of a door - a small note pinned to it. The white surface of the paper seemed to shine bright like a light... Suddenly, his vision started to swim. His legs would give in soon. He gathered all the strength he had left to quickly stumble forward and hold onto the wall to avoid collapsing to the ground, trying hard to ignore the sharp stinging in his abdomen. The words written on the note made his blood run cold. - d o n ' t  t u r n  a r o u n d -

A cold, icy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach – and his heart skipped a painful beat when he heard the sound of a soft chuckle from behind him. The temperature in the room seemed to drop even further - he could see little clouds in the air from his fast and shallow breaths. But as much as he wanted to keep standing there forever, he had to do something. Clutching his wound and hoping he would wake up from this nightmare wouldn’t solve anything...

He had to act. Bracing himself for whatever he might see, he straightened his back, inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again - and turned around slowly.

And there he actually was. The man who could walk through walls by glitching in and out of existence. Whose voice sounded scratchy, distorted, high and low pitched at the same time. The entity who was very much alive, despite having an open, bleeding gash on his neck. The man who stabbed him in Jack's living room.

“Hello, d̫o͖̱ct̫̟a͉̯͍h... How are we today?” “Who... who are you?” “I believe I told you already - the last time we've seen each other... Have you already f̭̲͍̲̱o̟̜̺͇ṟgo̯ṱ̙̬̱̲̠te̬̖n̻͈̠̰͓̫? Aren't doctors supposed to be smart and have a good memory?” His roaring laugh echoed loudly through this - void. “You... Anti?” “Hah... you remembered. Took you lo̰n̩̙̩̬̱g̦ ̱͎̠͔e̬͈̟͓̙̖̭n̠̥̟̹̼̤o̝̱̙͈̞u̲̦͎g̱̪͚͈h͖͈̬.” “Vhat - about Jack...?” His voice was only a whisper now. He felt his energy dissipate, his clear thoughts blurred. And the pain strangely - subsided... “Jack... Oh yeah. Well, I failed to eliminate him on H͉̖̤a͓l͓͖̲͓̬̙̰l̰̠̖͉̠̝o̟̗̫͍w̯̘̞̝e̤e̖̭̯̝n, so I thought why not make someone else do the job for me. I gotta say, that's usually not really my style, but I did have the chance to e̦̝ͅl͔i̹͔m̫͎̠i̯̣̥̲̬͎̬n̬̻a̝t̖̱̼͚̫͍̰e͍͓̮̪ͅ the both of you at the same time. So I took it...” “So it vas you... it vasn't my fault? How could you do zhis... to Jack? What has he ever... done to you...” “What? Are you trying to g͕̥ụ̰̩̗̩̼̙il̫̤t͕̘͙ͅ-trip me?” He raised his right hand, a long, glitching knife appearing in his grip - the one Dr Schneeplestein had already felt in his stomach. It was still bloodstained... “It's not gonna work.” Schneep’s vision started to swim, and although he was still holding on to the wall, his body swayed like a flag in the wind. “But how... I don't understand zhis...” “There's nothing to u̪̳̟̭͎n̠̯͎͚̻͈̫d̼͙̟er͙̣s̯t͍̺͔͕̼a̠̬̫͎̞͍n̻̘̙̜͎d̗̤. Just accept it.”

And with that, he leapt forward without a warning. Schneeps quickly tried to recoil and dodge Anti’s attack, but everything started spinning rapidly – the floor seemed to tilt and his knees gave in. He ended up tumbling to the ground with a thud, while Anti tackled him there and made him expose his right arm – where the Bloodborne tattoo was. “If only you had died a little earlier... you could have s̥ͅp̼aṟ͚̪e͓̬d͈̙̫͕̦ yourself a lot of pain.” Anti held up his own arm while a sadistic smile appeared on his face. “This rune. It doesn’t suit scum like you. It’s for h̦u͙n͈̩͚̜̭͙̜t̖͇e̖r̯̗s͚̳, not for pathetic little creatures like you... It’s about damn time someone r̞͔̩͕͕̤̥e̠̜͕m͎͕o̟̖̠̣̹ͅv̥͇̜̩e̱̬͈̠͚̰d̰͚ it.”

The poor doctor’s mind was foggy, he barely realized what was happening. But when the dreadful certainty of what Anti would do to him now reached his brain, his heart skipped multiple beats. He could only watch as Anti forcefully rolled up the sleeve of his bloodied lab coat and pressed the tip of the blade into Schneep’s skin, near the crook of the arm. At first only gently, but then a little deeper... A sharp hiss escaped Schneep’s throat. When Anti started to slowly drag it downwards to where the wrist was, carefully following the edge of the black outline of the tattoo, warm and oozy liquid poured out of his lower arm. The doctor let out an anguished, pained cry. The feeling of the knife carving his arm made him snap awake from his almost delirious state – which was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to him. The adrenaline that rushed through his veins was supposed to suppress pain, but right now it made him feel everything three times stronger. “Oh, why even b̲͍̫͖o͚̗̫̗̹̖t͍͔̗h͚͙̦̲e̗r̼ͅͅ.”

Anti pulled out the blade and quickly wiped away the blood on his black shirt, only to shove the blade into the flesh again and force it even deeper. The feeling of the skin’s resistance against the cold metal of the knife before it finally sunk into the arm in a smooth motion gave Anti a feeling of utterly sadistic pleasure. He kept pushing until he could feel the knife touch the elbow bone. The excruciating pain shot up to Schneeplestein’s shoulder, ultimately giving him the feeling of his arm getting ripped out and torn apart. His high-pitched shriek echoed through the dark room. Then, he had to endure Anti violently dragging the knife all the way down to his wrist, ignoring his ear-piercing screams and his desperate struggles to escape Anti’s restraining grip. The dark red crimson flowing out of the deep wound formed a little puddle on the ground. “VERDAMMTE SCHEISSE!! WAS HABE ICH DIR JEMALS ANGETAN? WIESO TUST DU DAS?!”

But Anti carried on cutting through his arm, severing nerves, veins and muscles, pulling apart layers of skin, tissue and fat. The doctor screamed until his throat was sore and his voice hoarse. When Anti harshly pulled apart the already horribly gushing wound even more, he could only utter a pained howl. Desperate tears of agony ran down his cheeks. He wanted to die. He wanted to die right now. To be relieved. To be freed from this nightmare.   He begged Anti to stop, but it was no use. He kept on going slitting the poor doctor’s right arm while the edges of his vision were flashing red. But his bloodcurdling screams didn’t make Anti feel sorry for a single moment. Then – Anti was finished. Well, at least he finally stopped tormenting the doctor by carving and cutting his arm open. He pulled out the knife and wiped the blood away on Schneeple’s labcoat, then he stood up and threw a disgusted glance on the quivering mass on the floor. “What a h̝͔̳̮u̜̜͍n͕ͅt͓̩̪ḛr̪̬̫ you are.” Schneep’s chest sunk and rose extremely fast, his whole body was shaking, he wasn’t able to catch a single clear thought. And he didn’t know why or how, but something in his mind snapped. And he looked Anti dead into his black eyes and weakly groaned: “Fuck you…” A second after he said these words, he immediately regretted them. Shit. Now he was in even bigger trouble... What did he just do?! Anti’s expression went from disgusted to utterly furious. Who the FUCK does he think he is. How DARE he talk to him like that. And what else does he need to do to clearly make him understand who is in control here?! His head violently glitched towards his right shoulder, which made a horrible cracking sound, while he dashed towards the trembling and bloodied doctor, the knife tightly clutched in his hand, ready to annihilate him. Dr Schneeplestein tensed up and closed his eyes, getting ready for the final strike that would finally put an end to his suffering.

But it never came.

After some seconds which felt like hours, he dared to open his eyes a little – and couldn’t make sense of what he saw. The air around him was strangely shimmering, and in the far distance, where the ceiling should be, there seemed to be – some kind of tornado forming…? He could already feel the puffs of wind touch his skin, it came closer. But the thing that truly made his mind spin was the fact that Anti suddenly didn’t seem to be interested in him anymore – instead he stared up into the tornado’s eye, where the circling air now filled with what looked like thousands of little gold fireflies. Why Anti was acting so weird? “That’s… a c̫̙̳̖ir͈͉̙͓ͅc̹͔̦l̳̖͈e̼̹̰…”

A – circle? Yes, it was, but why was that important? There’s no way a basic shape could be the weakness of a murderous, glitchy entity. But yet – Anti was… afraid. It was too much of a cliché to be true. Something as absurd as this came to save him literally at the last second… He couldn’t believe that he actually had a chance, a slim chance of surviving Anti’s brutal torture. But he had to keep on fighting against impending death… had to last just a little longer, endure the next minutes to see if there was a possibility to be saved -  but he didn’t know if he could handle it much longer. From somewhere far, far away, he registered Anti quietly mumbling something about ‘fucking circles’ to himself, while he concentrated on staying awake and trying to understand what was happening. Suddenly, the colour of the glittery particles in the air changed from bright yellow to blinding white, and the howling sound of the wind was drowned out by an ear-piercing scream – which came from Anti’s mouth. His whole body was quaking, little flashes and sparks of white light were twitching over his skin and his limbs glitched all over the place while cracking nastily – not a pretty sight. Anti was clearly being electrocuted. And it worked - he was immobilized, unable to move.

Sleep... he needed to sleep. He was so tired. And this darkness. It was perfect for a little nap. Just a few minutes, to get his energy back. His eyelids got heavier, his muscles relaxed... Something in the back of his mind screamed at him for letting this happen but he didn't care. So tired. So sleep-deprived...

BANG!!!

The door with the white note burst open with a bang, glistening white light flooding the black void and blinding Schneeplestein's eyes. His foggy mind was able to register two figures: one with a cat mask and a blue long sleeve shirt and one with very light, almost yellow hair and a pink cap. Their voices were only faintly audible to him, although he knew they were probably shouting. “DUUUDE! THERE HE IS! Marvin, you are a fookin legend!!” “Quick, let's get him! Looks like the doctor himself has to get saved for once...” “WHAT DA FUCK?! Bro, look at his arm...! Oh my god-“ And that was the last thing he registered before his brain shut down. Blissful unconsciousness finally took him.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. “So, doc... whatcha say? Will he make it?” “I'm sorry - he's dying.” “Nah dude, be serious for a moment. Will he recover from that brutal attack?” “Yes. It does indeed look good for him. Both his physical and mental strength are remarkable...”

So. I actually finished this. I didn’t want Schneep to die...! Anyway – have my 2000-word-explanation-theory-text of why and how Schneep survived Bio Inc. #5. I hope you’re still alive after that one scene… which was even scary for me, and I’m not one to reject some bloody horror... ;)

(Henlo, it me, I wrote again. And I’m probably annoying you. @miharukano​ @thedarkenedkeeper​ @blipblorpsnork​  @viostormcaller​ @no-strings-puppet​ @vity-dream​ @fear-is-nameless​ )

[king-smaurent]

Real life has been hard lately, and to completely avoid my problems ive been thinking a lot more about smaurent and auguste. So, heres another 2k words about our princes. Its not really anything at all (Unsurprising), just some self indulgent nonsense and a very loose look at how i interpret Aleron as a parent. Not a terrible man, but someone in permanent King mode instead of father mode. idk. Also i didnt bother to confirm how long Auguste may really be gone so 

.....

“You coddle him. It’s inappropriate.” Aleron says without preamble, without even looking up from the parchment on his desk, as soon as Auguste closes the office door behind him. Auguste pauses his step and is as at sudden loss for words, glancing behind himself at the closed door in confusion. He turns back and clears his throat lightly.

       “Pardon, father?” He asks and walks closer to the desk, cautiously.

       “Laurent has been moved out of the nursery for a week now, and I’ve been told that six of the seven nights he’s been in your rooms.” Aleron finally looks up from the parchment in front of him, his eyes hard. “It’s inappropriate, he learns nothing by you coddling him.”

       “Father, he was scared,” Auguste says and he can’t help the laugh of exasperation. It earns him another hard look “He’s six, and in a new environment. I’m his older brother, his family, I really don’t see the problem with being there for him.”

       “It’s not just these occurrences,” Aleron continues, without truly acknowledging Auguste’s statement. “You spend too much time indulging his wild imagination— “

       “You mean treating him as a six-year-old child.” Cutting off the king is a dangerous game, even for the crown prince, but Auguste feels his anger building. It’s always been obvious that Aleron doesn’t understand his younger son while clearly favoring his older, but this line of conversation is borderline cruel to Auguste. “You can’t be suggesting I leave him to be scared and alone.”

       “What I’m suggesting is that you return to your duties as the Crown Prince and leave the care-giving to his staff. Further, this is a growing point for him, moving from the nursery to the princes’ quarters signifies that it’s time for him to start learning to be a Prince. For him to start learning the Princes’ duties. And your coddling is hindering that, he’s not just any Veretian child.” Auguste opens his mouth to reply but Aleron is done allowing to be cut off. He holds up a firm hand and continues, “You’re eighteen Auguste, and its high time I put you back on track. You will be riding out to the border, doing your duty by touring the forts and letting the country see their Prince, their future king. You will also be working with the soldiers by running traditional military maneuvers.” He sets another hard stare on to Auguste, waiting to confirm his understanding and nothing else.

       “Yes, your majesty.” Auguste responds, his entire body tense.

       Aleron nods “You leave in a week’s time. You will be permitted to say your goodbyes to your mother and brother tonight at dinner, but starting tomorrow you will be staying in the soldiers’ barracks to make sure you are practiced for the tour. And I mean it that tonight will be it,” he says firmly, eyes still locked with Auguste’s “Laurent’s guard will be instructed that he is not to be permitted to exit his rooms in the night. He must learn. That is all.” Aleron finishes, looking back down to the documents in front of him. His tone allowing no room for response, let alone an argument. August gives a shallow bow.

       “Yes, your majesty.”

…..

       Laurent is sitting on a couch in the front receiving room of his chambers with a large book opened on his lap. He doesn’t notice Auguste walk in and is startled when he plops down rather dramatically next to him.

       “What are you reading about now, little brother?” Auguste asks with an easy smile on his face, trying not to let any of the previous tension and anger show through.

       “About Dragons.” Laurent responds with his own smile, but it’s not as wide and bright as normal. “What’s wrong Auguste?” He asks bluntly, closing the book. Auguste’s smile falters. Laurent is incredibly perceptive, especially for his age; Auguste should have known he couldn’t hide a thing.

       Auguste takes the book from Laurent and sets it on the low table in front of the couch. He pulls Laurent in to his lap, and Laurent relaxes against him, resting his small hands atop Auguste’s arms. “Father is sending me to tour the border,” Auguste answers honestly and he can feel Laurent tense up immediately. “I leave in a week, but starting tomorrow I’ll be staying in the soldiers’ barracks.” He tightens his hug a bit and smiles “You’ll be sure to keep things in order while I’m gone, right?”

       Laurent nods, but is otherwise unresponsive.  He’s looking down at his lap, and Auguste waits patiently to allow him to process. “For long?” Laurent finally asks in a quiet voice.

       “No,” Auguste responds lightly, “Three months or so, depending on the travel to and from Arles.” He says and gives Laurent another squeeze. “Before you know it I’ll be back in your hair. And I mean it—You’ll be the prince of the castle while I’m gone. It’s a very important position.” He rests his chin on top of Laurent’s soft blonde head. Laurent’s fingers are fidgeting against his arms, and he’s still uncharacteristically silent. Auguste knows he must be feeling a bit scared, Laurent is very attached to him, and this will be the first time they are apart for a long period of time. Auguste’s mind flashes back to their father’s cold temperament and words regarding Laurent. Maybe this will be harder for Auguste himself than he first thought.

       “Well,” Auguste clears his throat and gives Laurent a tight squeeze before reaching for the book Laurent had been reading before he came in. “Tell me about your dragons here, so I know what to look out for while I’m out there.” He says and Laurent gives a soft gasp, his young imagination easily able to take back control from the fear, at least temporarily.

       “Do you really think you could find one?” Laurent asks hopefully, quickly reopening the book on his lap. Auguste smiles and brings his head to look over Laurent’s small shoulder so he can see the illustrations.

       “Well we have a few hours until dinner, so in that time, instruct me all you know and I’ll see what I can find.”

……

        A soft thud wakes Auguste. He lifts his head from his pillow and looks around with narrows eyes. Just as he thinks he may have imagined it he hears it again, coming from the wall by his wardrobe. Shaking away the sleep he slowly slides out of the bed and cautiously makes his way over. There’s another bang, and Auguste can see a panel in the wall budging in time with the sound. It leads to a secret passage that leads out of the room, under the castle and ultimately out of it. All the royal chambers are connected, and are from a time when castle sieges were much more common and a royal escape was a needed possibility. As it stands, they haven’t been used in a hundred years and are mostly forgotten, as evident by the wardrobe placed without thought in front of the door. Or so he thought.

        Auguste presses his should firmly against the wardrobe and puts all his strength in to shoving it aside. It screeches something awful and scratches up the mahogany floor. He puts his hand to the latch that locks the panel but doesn’t flip it yet.

       “Hello?” Auguste tries stupidly. Its answered promptly by a loud, familiar sob and Auguste curses under his breath. He flips the latch quickly and the panel bursts open, a dusty, sobbing Laurent flinging himself in to Auguste’s arms. He’s almost knocked off his feet but quickly recovers, locking his arms around Laurent and lifting him up. Laurent cries loudly in to his shoulder.

       “Laurent, Laurent,” Auguste says softly, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of Laurent’s blond head as a comforting gesture. “What were you doing in there? What’s wrong?” He walks back over to his bed and sits on the edge, holding Laurent close and sitting him across his lap.

       Auguste could tell Laurent had still been uncomfortable at dinner, despite their hours spent together before hand. He knew Laurent was still rationalizing Auguste’s trip, but he had genuinely thought he had adjusted well to the idea of it. Other than a few curious glances around the King and Queen to Auguste, Laurent had seemed to be chatting as cheerfully as normal with their mother. Laurent’s goodbye had been typically formal, especially under the watchful eye of their father, but he had given his usual sweet smile before his nurse lead him out from the meal to go to bed. Even their uncle, sitting on Auguste’s other side, had commented what lovely spirits Laurent seemed to be in. But now, with a sobbing child in his arms and a large wet spot accumulating on his shoulder, Auguste thought that he may not be as perceptive as he should be.

       “You were— They wouldn’t let— “Laurent tried to speak but was interrupted by more sobs.

       “Shh, Shh, it’s ok,” Auguste says as he feels his heart breaking with the sound. He pets Laurent’s head soothingly “It’s ok, I’ve got you. You’re ok.” Auguste is quiet after that and lets Laurent cry out the worst of it, offering comfort where he can.

       “I…you were dead. I had a dream you left and you didn’t come back and…and…” Laurent lifts his head and starts to explain after the sobs finally tapered off, but they threaten to return just as quickly and Auguste can still feel his small body trembling. Auguste stays silent, allowing Laurent to gather himself and think about what he wants to say.

       “And I came here and your room was empty and I couldn’t find you. I…You were dead.” Laurent says quickly and his little hands grip the front of Auguste’s night shirt without mercy. “I woke up and I asked my guard to bring me here to check and they said no. They wouldn’t let me go and…” He stops there and instead buries his face again in to Auguste’s shoulder.

       “You decided to trek dusty, unused tunnels by yourself in the dark?” Auguste asks lightly with a smile, trying to sooth the tension. “That sure sounds like you little brother. Always looking for an adventure. But as you can see,” He nudges Laurent’s head with his shoulder so that he’ll look up at him “I’m alive and here, as I always will be.” Auguste pauses for a moment, thinking that over “Give or take a couple months, I suppose.” He chuckles and stands up again, taking Laurent up with him. He turns to face the bed and sits Laurent down out it. He walks over to a small table with a pitcher and pours a cup of water, bringing it back and handing it over to little, waiting hands.

Auguste lays back down on the other side of the bed, back under the covers. Laurent quietly drinks from the shallow cup and then sets it on the side table and Auguste lifts the covers again, allowing him to shuffle underneath and snuggle up close.

         “You promise?” Laurent says after a while, a whisper in to the quiet of the room.

       “I do,” Auguste responds, “I will always be here for you, my dear Laurent, and when I do ever have to leave, I will always come back.”