#I just keep getting really vivid flashbacks to my dream and it’s like I was trying to protect my dad bc in my dream he was still alive and

[milo-is-rambling]

Had a nightmare last night that many different large scary animals were trying to break into the house I lived in in New Hampshire and I kept running around and locking doors and screaming and crying and begging for my family to help me and they were just sitting and laughing or sleeping or living their lives and I was watching huge black bears pound on glass sliding doors and fog them up with their breath as they drool over the idea of demolishing my family and there were like big mountain lions finding small holes to crawl through trying to get in and I’m sobbing and bleeding and kicking them and trying to get my family to do something and they don’t even notice and act like I’m crazy

[wolvietxt]

𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌!

pairing : logan howlett x reader warnings : reader has the nightmare, logan doesn’t know much about reader’s past, trauma flashbacks, hurt / comfort wc : 1.2k

the air in the room was thick, almost suffocating. sleep should’ve been a sanctuary, a place where you could shut down the world and find some peace, but tonight... it was anything but peaceful. the soft hum of the night outside didn’t penetrate the tension. the bed felt like a trap, the sheets twisted around your legs, tightening like they wanted to hold you down.

you jolted awake, gasping. the world felt too real, too solid, and you couldn’t quite shake the vividness of the nightmare clinging to your mind. your chest heaved as you tried to ground yourself, pressing your hands into the mattress, but the fear and memories were still clawing at you.

you were back there - in the past. hands bound, eyes wide open, watching everything but being unable to do a thing. the missions, the screams, the people you’d hurt... it all replayed in slow motion, burning through your mind like it had never really left.

logan stirred beside you, his body instinctively shifting when he felt your movements. he was a heavy sleeper in some ways, but when it came to you, the smallest sign of distress was enough to get his attention. his arm draped over your waist, pulling you closer, his chest pressed against your back. normally, the warmth would be enough to calm you, but tonight you felt like you were drowning in the heat, unable to escape the memories.

“what’s wrong?” logan’s voice was a gravelly whisper, heavy with sleep but alert. his lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke, his breath warm on your skin. “bad dream?”

you didn’t answer right away. you couldn’t. the words felt too heavy, too tangled up in the nightmare. your hands were trembling, and it was only when you realised how tight your grip was on the sheets that you forced yourself to let go.

“yeah,” you finally whispered, voice barely audible. “just a nightmare.”

he didn’t ask for more, didn’t press you. logan wasn’t the type to demand explanations. instead, he shifted so he could pull you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. the weight of him against your back, the solid feel of him, was grounding in a way that nothing else could be.

“you’re safe,” he murmured, his voice rough but soothing. “nothin’s gonna hurt you. i won’t let it.”

the words should’ve been enough. they always had been before, but tonight they weren’t. not because you didn’t believe him - logan would go through hell to protect you - but because the danger wasn’t outside. it was inside you, trapped in your head, a part of the past that wouldn’t let go.

you swallowed hard, your throat tight, and turned to face him. his eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep, but there was a sharpness there, a readiness to do whatever needed to be done if it meant you’d be okay.

“it’s... it’s not about right now,” you started, your voice shaky. “it’s the past. stuff i... i can’t forget.”

logan’s brow furrowed, his thumb brushing absently over your shoulder. he didn’t say anything, just waited. the silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable, the kind of silence that meant he was listening. that he’d listen for as long as you needed, without judgment.

you drew in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but the memories were still fresh in your mind, too close to ignore.

“i keep dreaming about them,” you admitted, your voice quieter than before. “the missions. the people. what i did before... before you.”

logan didn’t react right away, but his hold on you tightened slightly. his jaw clenched, and you could tell he hated that you were still haunted by that part of your life. but he didn’t interrupt, didn’t tell you to stop talking. he just let you get it out.

“i try to let it go. i try to move past it, but it’s like every time i close my eyes, i’m back there. doing things i can’t take back.”

you hated how raw your voice sounded, hated that those memories still held power over you. but more than anything, you hated that even now, after all this time, they could still make you feel like you were drowning.

logan’s hand moved up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in slow, gentle strokes. his eyes were dark, filled with an understanding that came from his own history, his own pain. you weren’t alone in that, not with him. logan had his own ghosts, his own past that bled into the present in ways he couldn’t always control.

“you did what you had to do,” he said, his voice low but steady. “you survived. and that’s what matters.”

you shook your head, pulling back slightly. “but it doesn’t change what i did.”

“no, it doesn’t,” he agreed, his voice quiet but firm. “but you ain’t the same person anymore. you got out. you’re here. with me.”

he said it like it was simple, like the fact that you were with him was enough to erase everything else. and in a way, maybe it was. logan had a way of grounding you, of pulling you back from the edge of your own mind. he wasn’t one for long speeches or trying to fix things with words. he just... existed with you in the moment. and that was what you needed.

you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, not wanting to make a big deal of it. but logan saw. he always saw.

his hand caught yours, stopping you from brushing away the rest of the tears. he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath steady and calming, like an anchor. “you don’t gotta be strong all the time. not with me.”

that did it. the dam broke. you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely now, no longer fighting to hold them back. logan didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop you. he just held you, his arms solid and strong, letting you release the weight of everything you’d been carrying.

the room was quiet except for your breathing, the soft sounds of your sobs fading as the minutes passed. it wasn’t a loud cry, nothing dramatic. just a release, like the pressure had finally built too high, and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

logan held you until your breathing evened out, until the tears dried up and you were left feeling hollow but lighter. his hand kept a steady rhythm on your back, rubbing slow, calming circles.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than before, almost a whisper.

you nodded, your head still pressed against his chest. you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the slow, calming beat of his heart. it was enough to pull you fully back into the present, away from the nightmare.

“i’m okay,” you whispered, even though you didn’t quite believe it. but you would be. with logan, you always ended up okay.

he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there, warm and steady. “good. ‘cause you don’t deserve to be stuck in the past. not when you’ve come this far.”

you closed your eyes again, but this time, there was no nightmare waiting for you. just the warmth of logan’s arms, the steady sound of his breathing, and the quiet promise that whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

[lendeah]

Wounded Love

Summary: Astarion and Tav are both struggling with their emotions as they journey through the Shadowlands. When Astarion gets injured, Tav takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health, in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags: Astarion gets hurt, Emotional Constipation, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Massage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Tav takes care of Astarion, sub!Atarion, Light Dom/sub, bordering minimal really, Porn With Plot, Biting, Blood.

a/n: this is an old draft, so forgive me if there are any typos! Love ya🤍

WARNING! +18 CONTENT, MINORS DNI

It had been a stray hex, a capricious twist of magic that had hurt him, as told by the doctor responsible for his care in the Last Light Inn. The tendrils of the hex had woven an intricate spell, rendering him unconscious. Right now, as his chest rises and falls rhythmically, you feel something like pain and protectiveness stir in your chest. Although you are aware that your connection is currently purely physical, you can't help but feel a flutter every time your eyes meet or a tightening in your chest whenever he faces danger.

Looking at his peaceful sleeping form, you reach out to touch his hair, keeping it out of the way of his eyes. Your fingers trace the contours of his face and down his jawline. You wonder what kind of dreams come to him in these tender moments. Dreams you would love to share. To know all the things that go through the elf's mind.

His eyes suddenly open, and you get slightly startled, your hand hanging mid-air.

"What are you doing?" He raises one judging eyebrow, and squints at you through his eyelashes, but doesn't move out of your touch. His lips are curled into a small, tight grimace, probably still in pain from his recent wound.

You reach for the mug of water near the bed. "You look so peaceful when you sleep. Maybe you should spend more time like that. I like you way more when you are quiet," you say, a teasing tone lacing your words.

Astarion rolls his eyes, but he's also smiling a little.

"Yeah? Well, if you're so keen on me sleeping why not do me a favor and knock me out? The pain is unbearable as of right now," he says, but his voice is still soft and quiet, almost as if talking is painful You know there is a bit of truth there. He takes the mug and gulps down the water, then sets the piece back down on the bedside table.

He does appear miserable, even though his beauty remains as striking as ever. His eyes, usually filled with energy and mirth, seem drained of life, carrying heavy bags underneath. Though he is already pale, right now he looks paler than ever, and even his distinctive white locks, typically immaculate, fall disheveled and unkempt over his shoulders.

Your chest tightens at the sight, a vivid flashback of watching him fall during the combat flooding your mind. One moment, he was bravely battling alongside Karlach and the next, he was sprawled on the ground, so unnaturally still that it hinted at something had gone fatally wrong. The memory of that moment lingers—the scream tearing from your throat, the frantic dash to reach him—where the world outside, the lurking shadow monsters, and your companions; all became a blur, drowned out by the overwhelming fear of losing him.

You release a shaky breath, and try to appear nonchalant "Well, I happened to leave my Warhammer outside, but if you give me a moment, we could arrange it," you say, a hint of playful sarcasm masking the genuine worry beneath.

Astarion snorts. "Please, I don't need the Warhammer. Just a firm slap should do it." He says while shifting on his bed.

The movement makes the bedsheets rustle and reveals the bandages encasing his torso. His chest had sustained the most damage, with a deep cut that refused to heal and oozed a dark, murky liquid.

"You were out for a tenday," you inform him. "A stray hex hit you during combat and left you out cold. The wound didn't close, even with your vampiric and elf powers, so it had to be taken care of manually."

"Well, that's just great." Astarion mutters. Then, he speaks up again, this time seemingly with some concern, "I'm alright, right? I'm not going to die? I mean, I know I can't die, but..."

You chuckle softly at his words, a mix of fondness and relief washing over you. "Not under my watch. I am an incredible healer, after all".

"And quite humble, at that," Astarion mutters, but there is a small smile on his face. Then, there is a beat of silence, as both of you take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Astarion's smile fades, and his eyes search yours for something, a reassurance perhaps. You can see the vulnerability hidden beneath his usual facade of confidence and charm. It's rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual bravado. Leaning closer, you reach out again to gently brush a strand of white hair behind his pointy ear.

"Hey," you say softly, placing your hand on his cheek. "You're going to be alright. We took care of your wounds, and Halsin says you just need some time to recover." You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reach out and gently grasp his hand, intertwining your fingers. "You scared me, you know," you admit softly. "Seeing you fall like that... I thought I had lost you."

Astarion seems to freeze in place at that, as if he is unsure of how to react. You chuckle nervously, realizing you may have unintentionally crossed an unspoken boundary. Emotions are not your forte, after all. For a moment he simply stares at your intertwined hands. Then, he looks up to meet your gaze, and you see a flicker of some unreadable emotion there.

"Lost me? Come now, you should know by now it takes more than a measly hex to finish me off." His tone aims for nonchalance, but there is an edge to it that gives away his vulnerability. You offer a small, sheepish smile.

"Yes, well, you didn't die. So quit that moping and drink your water, or I'll let Shadowheart take a crack at healing you."

"From my point of view, this just means you just have to keep a closer eye on me from now on,"

You let out a small sigh and give him an exasperated look "I think I have done my fair share of caring for some time."

A look of realization crosses his face as if a puzzle piece has finally fallen into place. "Wait, did you stay here for the entire tenday?" he murmurs, his eyes widening with surprise and curiosity.

You clear your throat awkwardly "I mean, you were unconscious. Somebody had to keep guard, keep tabs on you, change your bandages..." you say, with a casual wave of your hand "Plus, I wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm not a complete monster."

But you are aware that it's not the whole truth. The real reason is that the thought of him lying in bed, wounded and vulnerable, causes a pain in your chest that you don't want to acknowledge.

Astarion's eyes widen slightly at your words, surprise mingling with something else. Gratitude, perhaps? It's hard to tell with him sometimes, but there's a softness in his gaze that tells you he appreciates your presence more than he lets on.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you then," he says, his voice softer than before. "I wouldn't have expected you to stick around."

You shrug nonchalantly "Had to make sure you didn't get yourself killed again," You reply teasingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Astarion chuckles a sound that warms your chest. "Ah, so it was purely for selfish reasons then."

"Of course, can't have our token charming vampire biting the dust just yet"

Astarion rolls his eyes, a smile on his face "Charming vampire, am I? You really know just how to flatter someone."

"You're also our only rogue," you reply.

Astarion smiles. "So not only am I charming, but I'm essential too. Guess the group just couldn't do without me. Perhaps you should write me a thank you note instead."

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be sure to draft up a heartfelt ode to your indispensability."

His smile widens, the playful back and forth easing the tension that lingered between you. It feels good to see him like this, even if he's still recovering from his injuries.

You've been through so much together, fighting against the darkness that threatens your world. And in those moments of battle and chaos, there's a strange comfort in he familiarity of this banter, with its playful jabs and sly remarks. You do this routine a hundred times, dancing around each other's feelings and skirting the edges of any true intimacy. And yet, it's still nice to pretend sometimes. Still nice to pretend there's nothing underneath all the playful words, that maybe this is all you need. But for once, when you are looking at him, you want to reach out to him. To tenderly kiss his forehead, rest your head on his strong shoulders, and be enveloped in his embrace and not just for physical pleasure. But you know better than to act on those desires. He has been so wounded in the past and it's not just the physical scars that linger. His past is a complicated web of pain, betrayal, and mistrust. You've seen the way his eyes darken when certain topics are brought up or how he flinches away from certain touches. So you will wait patiently until he opens up when he is ready, relishing in these small moments in the meantime.

"Well, charming vampire, it looks like I'll have to find some more enemies for you to sink your fangs into for breakfast," you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Astarion grins, a little wolfishly with his fangs on display, "Oh, I think I know just who to take my fangs to," he says, his eyes appraising your neck.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze. You roll your eyes and smirk. "Oh please, Astarion. I'm not that easy to sink your fangs into."

He leans forward, with a wicked smile on his lips "Oh, is that so?" Astarion says smoothly. A twinkle of desire flashes in his red eyes as he speaks, which only ignites your own thirst. You feel your heartbeat quickening, breath hitching in your chest. "You want to put that to the test?" His voice is lower now, a bit of a growl starting to creep into his tone.

You can feel the bed's cool, smooth sheets against your skin as you lean forward, your chest brushing against Astarion's. The energy between your bodies feels like a tangible force, one that you can almost reach out and touch. His face is so close, his red eyes bright and mouth slightly open, showing off two sharp fangs that would terrify most people but only send shivers of anticipation down your spine. There's something primal in the way you're looking at each other, and you can't help but feel a familiar wave of excitement and fear wash over you. Astarion's eyes flicker to your lips for a moment. You are waiting, wanting him to make the first move, your breath shallow and quick.

"Well? Still think you can bite me that easily?" you quip, teasingly, although your heart is pounding so loud you are sure it's deafening for him.

A mischievous smirk plays on Astarion's lips, his red eyes sparkling with amusement. Despite his injury, he moves gracefully and with supernatural quickness, catching you off guard. In the blink of an eye, you are pinned to the bed beneath him. Your back sinks into the soft mattress as Astarion's weight presses down on your body. His left arm is pressing into the skin of your collarbones, as his other hand holds your wrists above your head. Every touch from him sends electric jolts through your body.

Astarion's breath is hot against your skin as he leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear. "Oh, I am more than capable of biting you," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "I might even leave you with a few bruises," he adds, his voice an intimate rasp that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart races at his words and the thought of what he could do to you, at the weight pressing down on you.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Astarion murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You let out a soft gasp as he nibbles on your skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your arms. His touch is electric and every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. Without hesitation, Astarion's fangs sink into the soft flesh of your neck, and you let out a gasp as a mix of pleasure and sharp icy pain courses through you. You can feel yourself growing lightheaded as he feeds from you, his fangs sinking deeper and his grip on your wrists loosening as he savors the taste of your blood. The sensation sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Time seems to stand still as you remain locked in his embrace, your bodies tangled together on the bed. As he finally withdraws his fangs from your neck, he lingers for a moment, his lips brushing against the wounds he's left behind. You can feel the slight throbbing where his teeth had punctured skin seconds ago. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you feel him press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your skin.

You giggle a little, still coming down from the high of vampire venom.

"I will never get tired of that," The words slipped from his lips in a breathy murmur, one that was filled with awe and contentment.

"All it takes is a little blood to make our wounded vampire happy," You tease, giving him a small peck. His lips still taste a bit metallic, but you don't care in the slightest.

Astarion chuckles, "Ah, darling, we both know I am not the only one who enjoys that…"

He presses his body against your own, his lips suddenly ravishing yours with an intensity that steals your breath. The heat of his mouth sears through you, igniting every nerve and sending primal shivers down your spine. You cling to him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer until your bodies meld into one and your hands tangle in the soft curls of his hair. At this moment, nothing else exists except for the electric chemistry between you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Out of nowhere, he recoils and lets out a sharp hiss. Concerned, you examine the bandage on his chest and notice a small black spot forming. "Oh shit," you curse under your breath.

You quickly slide out from under him and stand next to the bed. "Lie down," you tell him firmly, "I'll take care of it."

"I'm okay," Astarion lies, but complies, lying down on the bed with a sense of resignation. The soft sheets crinkle beneath his weight as he settles into a comfortable position. You hurriedly gather supplies before returning to his side, adrenaline and concern fueling your actions. With skilled hands, you begin tending to his wound as Astarion watches on with curious eyes.

"If you keep ogling me like that, I may just end up with a hole in my head," you quip.

The corners of both your mouths turn up in matching grins. The intensity of your gaze locks and it feels like the air is alive with electricity. With precision and care, you unwrap the bandage and clean the wound, hands steady despite your worry. As you finish dressing the wound, you can't help letting out a sigh of relief after realizing it was just a small tear, nothing too serious.

It's then that you notice you have been straddling his body over the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed and your cheeks flush furiously.

Astarion looks at you with a cheeky smirk, "Something the matter, dear?" he asks, his voice low and sultry.

You can feel your face turning even brighter red, but you try to shrug it off. "No, nothing's wrong."

Astarion lets out a low laugh, enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, I beg to differ," he teases, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

Astarion chuckles softly, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. Why does he always make your heart flutter?

"Well, I have seen you in way more compromised positions than the one you are in right now," he says, a hint of mischief in his tone. "You're not one to be shy."

You can't help but blush even more at his words. His hand starts caressing your thigh, and your breath hitches slightly.

"I must say," Astarion continues with a sly grin, "I've never had such skilled hands tending to me before."

You roll your eyes at his flirting. "Well, I have been trained in basic care since I was young," you reply with a smile playing on your lips.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "And how else are you planning on taking care of me, exactly? Because I remain deeply wounded." he says with a mock pout.

A mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you reply, "You'll just have to wait and see."

Meeting his intense gaze, you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. A sudden spark of inspiration ignites within you and you eagerly suggest, "How about a massage? I have been told I am really good at those."

He raises an eyebrow, "A massage, huh? It doesn't sound too bad."

A chuckle bubbles up from your chest and you swat him lightly on the shoulder. "Only 'not too bad'? I'll have you know, I'm excellent."

Astarion smirks, "Prove it then," he challenges, stretching back onto the bed, arms folded behind his head in a display of pure ease.

Squaring your shoulders in determination, you stand from the bed and walk to the other side of the room. You rummage through a drawer filled with various herbs and oils until you find what you're looking for - a small vial of calming lavender oil you had seen Halsin storing a few days ago. You just hope he won't miss it too much.

"You better not fall asleep on me," you call out teasingly as you make your way back towards him, shaking the vial in your hand for emphasis.

In response, Astarion chuckles lowly and flips onto his stomach without a word, waiting for your touch. The scent of lavender fills the room as you rub your hands together, warming up the oil before applying it to his skin.

As your hands start kneading into his tight shoulder muscles, he releases a sigh that is half groan, half purr. "Your touch is simply divine," he moans, his voice low and husky. "You really do possess a gift for caressing."

With a proud smile, you continue to massage his shoulders and neck, feeling the tension ease away. His eyes are closed, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Your heart swells with happiness to see him so content and relaxed.

You lower your hands slowly, massaging along the curve of his spine and drawing another low moan from him. The rhythm of your touch, the scent of lavender, and the quiet of the room come together to create a sense of calm and tranquility. You let your fingers brush against the edges of his scars, caressing them tenderly. Instead of flinching away, he leans into your touch, allowing you to continue your gentle exploration.

You continue to knead his muscles, working out any remaining knots and tension. And then, you lower your head and press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder, right above the bandage. Astarion lets out a surprised gasp at the unexpected touch of your lips. He turns his head slightly, his eyes opening to meet yours.

"Can't resist taking advantage, can you?" he teases with a small grin.

"I simply relish having you at my mercy for once," you whisper against his spine, taking in the sweet scent of lavender oil on his skin.

Astarion's lips curve into a playful smirk at your words. "Oh, do you now?" he asks in a husky voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You nod confidently, trailing light kisses down his spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I always enjoy being in control," you reply, your tone laced with teasing.

He lets out a low chuckle, "And I always relish when you take charge," he purrs, his eyes closing in satisfaction.

With a last kiss, you gently pat his side.

"Now you turn for me."

Astarion eagerly flips onto his back, his eyes shining with anticipation. As you straddle him, you notice he has been affected by your previous ministrations, his hardness pressing against your core. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips. Astarion merely smirks up at you, not bothering to hide his interest.

"Seems like your skills extend beyond basic care," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

You choose to ignore his comment and instead focus on the task at hand. Pouring more lavender oil onto your hands, you begin to knead his pectoral muscles, applying firm and steady pressure, avoiding the bandage covering it. Your hands roam over his chest with practiced ease until they find their way to his abdomen. You glide your fingers over each taut muscle, taking delight in the way his body responds under your touch.

"Enjoying yourself?" Astarion teases with a smirk.

A warm rush of joy spreads through you as you trace your fingers along the curves of his navel, softly giggling. His hands instinctively tighten around your hips, a desperate attempt to regain some control of the situation. A sly, self-satisfied smirk spreads across your lips as you slowly slip your hand lower down, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath the waistband of his trousers, towards the source of his growing excitement.

His breath hitches at your touch, his eyes now wide with surprise. "Oh, I see what's happening here," he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "You're getting into this caretaker role, aren't you?"

Your smirk deepens as you gently massage his hips, ignoring the suggestive implications of his words.

"I did say I'd take good care of you, didn't I?" you reply nonchalantly, as I continue with my performance.

Astarion lets out a soft chuckle and reaches up to cup your cheek affectionately.

"You certainly did," he murmurs, gazing up at you in admiration. "But what about you? Who takes care of you, dear?" he mumbles.

Your heart fills with sadness, at the thought of him only thinking of sex as an exchange, more than a pleasurable thing. You lean in to press a soft kiss into his neck, feeling his skin cold under your touch.

"Just trust me," you whisper, voice low and sultry, "I want to make you feel good." His breath hitches again, and you can feel him growing harder beneath your touch. "Trust me," you repeat softly.

You press your lips against his, softly at first, then deeper as he responds with equal fervor. Your hand swiftly opens his trousers, digging inside to grab his hardness, and starts a rhythmic movement, gliding up and down the full length of his member. As it reaches the tip, you twist your wrist slightly, eliciting a whine from deep within his chest. It's a sound you've never heard from him before, one that sends shivers down your and makes your core throb.

His body tenses beneath you, the feeling of your hand wrapped around him drawing a low curse from his lips. He arches into your touch, his grip on your hips tightening as he struggles to remain composed. He presses his lips against yours, the kiss becoming more fervent and demanding. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him, as if he can't get enough.

"Easy," you coo softly against his ear, an intimate tone wrapped around the single word as if it were a promise. Astarion's hands flex on your hips repeatedly, fingers digging into your flesh in a bid to ground himself. "Let me take good care of you," you assure him again, your voice low and breathy against his skin. His body tenses under your touch as he lets out a groan.

His breaths come in ragged gasps, punctuated by small moans of pleasure. "Faster," he pleads with a desperation that ignites a fire within you.

"My beautiful baby, so good for me," you murmur into his ear, your voice rough with desire and adoration. Without hesitation, you bring the pointed tip of his ear between your lips, savoring the delicate contours as you run your tongue along its edges. His body shudders in response, a high whine escaping from his throat as he gives in to your touch.

"Oh, sweet hells," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You release his ear and lay back to take a good look at him, and you smile to yourself when you see his disveleshed hair, and red eyes hooded. And then, without hesitation, you sink down between his parted legs as your lips part and encircle his throbbing member. The taste of him fills your mouth, a mixture of salt and skin and something uniquely his. You take him fully into your mouth, relishing the sounds of his moans and gasps as you move your lips up and down his length. You swirl your tongue around him, teasing and coaxing every delicious sensation from him. His hips thrust upward, and his hands grip your hair, pulling you closer, but you resist, teasing him with your tongue. Your own body is humming with need and desire, but you push it aside to focus completely on him.

You slowly remove him from your mouth, teasingly drawing out the moment. "Beg for me," you whisper seductively, reveling in the power you hold over him.

Astarion's breath hitches as you pull away, and he meets your eyes with a mix of surprise and desire. He moans a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through you, and his hips buck upward, thrusting into the air. His hardness stands tall and proud against your palm, straining for release. It’s slick with your spit, and with a reddish hue that reveals his recent feeding. So damn beautiful.

"Please," he pleads "Please, please," he tries to repeat, but his words come out in a garbled, unintelligible moan as you take him deep into your throat and swallow hard, feeling his member pulse and throb slightly in your mouth.

His entire body trembles, his breaths quickening to the point where they are almost non-existent. His hands clamp onto your hair, yanking you towards him with a savage strength as he thrusts relentlessly, pushing himself deeper and deeper inside of you until it feels like he might tear you apart.

"Oh gods," he cries, arching his back and groaning in a way that makes you want to keep going. "That's so good, hells."

His words only drive you further, and you begin to pick up the pace, slobbering and sucking on him like a starving man to a feast. His body tenses as his release approaches, and you can feel him pulsing in your mouth.

"Please, please, oh my god" His words are now a jumbled mess, spewing out of his mouth in a frenzied stream. His eyes roll back into his head, a sign that he is close to releasing everything he has been holding in. "I can't... I can't take much more," he whispers hoarsely, "Please, please, let me cum. Fuck, I need to cum."

With this plea, you can feel the surge of his release, and your body responds with an exhilaration that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel your body responding to his, your own arousal growing, and you rub yourself through your clothes, imagining the feel of him inside you. But that can wait - right now he needs you to take care of him. It's clear he's getting close now - his breaths are shallow, his moans low and desperate, his hips thrusting upwards in short, sharp jerks. With a final cry, you feel him tense, his entire body convulsing under your touch. You swallow hard, feeling the hot liquid spurt into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat in his essence. You can't help but groan in pleasure as it fills you, and you continue to suck and slurp, greedily devouring every drop he has to offer. His hips thrust upwards, bucking wildly as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. You continue to suck and stroke him, milking every last drop from his throbbing length.

Finally, he goes lax, his body slack and exhausted while his breath comes in ragged gasps. You gently remove his now limp member from your mouth, wiping the remnants of him from the corners with your thumb. As he comes down from his high, his body relaxes onto the pillow, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. You lay next to him, your heart filled with a sense of contentment and satisfaction. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths as he continues to recover from his release.

A spark ignites in his eyes as they lock onto yours, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of something. There is a tenderness and adoration in his gaze as if you are the most precious and captivating being in all of Faerûn. You smile and sprawl over his healthy shoulder, looking up at him.

"And here I thought I was the master at lovemaking," he teases. "Ever so surprising, my dear."

"Oh, you're easy to please, my love. But I do admit, you taste absolutely divine." You giggle and place a soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles deeply, running his fingers through your hair. A moment of silence passes between you before you find the courage to break it with a quiet question, "Did you truly enjoy it?"

Conversation after sex is rare for you, but something about today feels different, almost intimate. Like something has shifted, an unspoken understanding or connection.

There is a pause, and Astarion looks at you, seeming a bit awkward. He appears to be having some sort of internal struggle at the moment. But then, he relaxes a bit and nods his head.

"Yes, I did," he says. He smiles at you. "It was... mediocre. Which is quite good for your usual performance"

You raise an eyebrow in mock offense. "Excuse me? You were practically begging me to cum moments ago!"

"Was that begging?" he asks innocently, "I thought I was just doing a demonstration" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you, his lips curling up into a smirk.

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Well, you sure seemed to be enjoying it"

Astarion chuckled lightly, running his fingers through your hair. "I suppose I did, you know me, I can't resist a good show. And in case you're wondering, that was definitely begging. You just have a unique way of making me forget my manners."

You snuggle closer to him, basking in the softness of his skin. "I'm glad I can keep things interesting for you."

And then, to your surprise, he silently embraces you in a warm hug, pulling you close to his chest. The feeling of his strong arms encircling your frame is unfamiliar but comforting at the same time. You have never held each other in such an intimate way before, but in this moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

As the two of you lay intertwined and content, you can feel a sense of peace wash over both of you. For once, no worries or fears are clouding your minds - just the simple pleasure of being together in this moment. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh, wondering if this newfound closeness is a sign of things to come, and the thought brings a smile to your lips, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

[spider-man-199999]

Hey, how are you? could you write something with blackcat!reader? maybe they are in college and after a patrol peter manages to follow her and discovers that she lives in a frat next to his. Peter discovers her identity and is surprised that she went to school with him in midtown but doesn't remember him, just spiderman and the relationship they had before the spell.

(does that make sense? I don't know if it does, but whatever you want to do with it is completely fine✨️)

Oh boy, oh boy I love Blackcat x Spider-man as a couple. Me and Felicia are equally obsessed with Spider-man.

Thank you for the request! I really appreciate it and I hope I do well! University is kicking my ass right now.

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Fem!blackcatReader; Post nwh

word count: 3 k

warnings: It's cringe on purpose; drinking

Peter hated the state his life was in. He knew things were better the way they are now, for his safety, for everyone's. But it didn't mean he hated it any less. All his closest friends were at MIT and didn't even remember him. Not as Peter Parker at least. So, he decided it would be best not to go there after all. The idea of trying to get close to them again was giving him a headache. He desperately wanted to do it but he had to stop himself because it was better off this way. That was what he believed, at least.

If people could remember who he was, they would have been very surprised that he ended up being a frat guy in college. He didn't expect to become one either. After all, he thought these things were lame, propaganda from dumb movies or dream-sellings from romance novels. But Peter Parker was a frat guy. There was something about brotherhood that gave him some sense of security and comfort now that a new leaf was turned. It reminded him of the time he spent with the Avengers, in a way. He liked not feeling alone. The months he spent at college made him feel normal to some extent. He actually enjoyed this period of confusion, he could finally relax for a bit and feel normal. Go to a few parties, do his homework. It was nice, but so goddamn boring.

His life seemed so fucked-up, so different. He hadn't been on patrol for months, the thought of Spider-man was just too overwhelming. Plus, he needed to recover from everything he went through both emotionally and physically. He wanted to put the mask on again but whenever he did, he got vivid flashbacks - almost losing MJ, May dying. It would all come back to him, cold sweat running down his back, tears in his eyes. He just couldn't handle being Spider-man. But when he saw Black Cat running around in the streets close to his campus one night, everything changed. 

All of the memories from patrols with the girl in a black suit hit him like a train. She never knew who was behind the mask. And somehow Peter felt like she saw who he really was anyway. The urge to put the costume on was strong now, plus he had added some new upgrades he needed to try out anyway. So, on the most ordinary wednesday night, Peter put on the spider suit again, and jumped out of the window of his bedroom to go on patrol.

He was swinging around the city and it felt like a walk in the park. It seemed like he had forgotten how freeing it could be. Despite all of the negative feelings linked to the red and black suit, he found comfort in it now. The memories were still there, in his mind, and the people he loved were there too. He owed that much to them, to keep their legacy alive, even if they're gone now. With time, he was sure he could heal. Time was all he needed.

Suddenly, his spider-sense tingled, making his head shoot to his left. He was swinging by some old brick buildings around his campus when Black Cat practically tackled him into a wall, wrapping both her arms and legs around his torso. He turned his back to take the hit for both of them, wrapping one arm around her waist for support. Sidey used the other hand to continue swinging both of them around the city.

"SPIDER!" she said, hugging him tightly. "Mi amor, I hate you, where have you been?"

"Looking for trouble, as usual." he said with a laugh. Peter actually enjoyed her warm embrace for once.

He never had anything against the girl, her excessive flirting and implications that she was in love with him could get a bit out of hand sometimes, but he found it charming. Plus, before he was dating someone else and he couldn't really pay her the attention she craved from him. He actually missed that more than he had previously realised.

"You still have a girlfriend?" She asked, her head rested on his collarbone for a while.

Peter landed both of them on a rooftop, letting her step on her own as her limbs untangled from his torso. She placed her hands on her hips, foot tapping on the ground while she waited for his answer.

"Actually, no. I don't."

Her eyes sparkled with his words, throwing herself at him again. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Oh, Spider! I'm so happy! And sorry, obviously, why did you two end it?"

Peter usually would reject the affection she offered, but now he needed it more than anything. She was the closest thing to a friend he had left. They finally let go and he still wasn't talking. She tought the break-up was probably still fresh.

"Okay, Spider. Patrols haven't been the same without you, I missed you." she told him, her hand resting against his cheek.

Oh how she wanted to kiss him, like usual. He used to jump and run whenever she touched him, in fear that it would somehow affect his relationship with MJ. But now he didn't. He let her touch his face, smiling softly behind the mask. Even if everything was fucked up, even if everything was different for him now, she just wasn't. She was the only thing that remained like a token from his past life. The Black Cat was the only thing he had left.

---

By the end of their patrol both of them felt really beat up. Fighting crime was not an easy job, especially when your opponents were skilled. No major super-villains were threatening New York right now, but there still were bad guys to fight.

Spider-man and Black Cat were sitting on the edge of a rooftop, swinging their legs as they took a moment to breathe. Cat had a few scratches here and there and Spider-man was probably bruised under the mask as well.

"Spider, this was so much better with you here!" She exclaimed.

The wind blew her hair gently to the side while she looked down on New York. Peter turned his head to look at her, her face showered in the sparkling city lights. He thought about how pretty she actually was, but he never had the chance to notice that before. Maybe it really was the comfort that she gave him that was making his heart beat faster while he stared at the scene. She looked like a Van Gogh painting - vibrant, breathtaking, gently touched by the warm light.

"Yeah." He replied, making her look at him in return.

"You were totally falling in love with me right now, weren't you?" she said with a giggle.

"What? No, no, no, no." he shook his hands in defence, denying her accusation.

She stood up, looking somewhere ahead of her.

"I would love to stay and let you fall deeper in love with me, but I have to run, early morning tomorrow." And with that she left.

Peter lay down on the rooftop for a little while, overthinking her words. Was he actually falling in love with her? Maybe... He didn't want to jump to conclusions, he didn't want to make her a rebound after MJ either. It was starting to mess with him, just as he found some serenity. It was like he couldn't have a single moment of peace in this costume. After a good 15 minutes, Peter decided it was time to swing back to the house, just like Black Cat, he had classes early in the morning.

He had almost reached his place when a familiar figure caught his attention. He stopped, sticking to a wall just to make sure. It was Black Cat, and she was on campus. His campus. Well this was getting a bit too interesting to pass up. He crawled and jumped around the buildings to follow her, stopping when she did. He climbed up a wall to a house next to where the cat stopped, peeking just enough to see clearly what was going on. The Black Cat took her mask off, placing it in a gym bag that was hidden next to the back door. His mouth flew open when he realized he finally knew who she was. Not only was she someone on campus, living a sorority right next to his frat house, but he also knew her personally. Peter hid behind the wall completely, trying to process the information. It was you, the girl that he went to high school with, the girl that took AP history with him. It took him a few seconds, but when he looked again, you were already gone. A room in the house light up soon after, and he started feeling guilty for what he did. He would have hated it if someone did this to him.

"Good going, Spyder-man!" he cussed at himself, finally going home for the night.

He tried not to make things awkward with you for the next few weeks, but oh gosh was he terrible at that. The two of you were never close, the fact that you came from the same school never really meant anything to the either of you. But now that Peter knew your secret identity, it meant everything to him. It felt like he had found a long lost friend in you. He tried to get closer, talk to you more whenever he saw you, even invite you to the latest frat party. If he knew one thing about Black Cat, she loved having fun. And what better occasion to have fun than an actual frat party, at a frat house.

Of course, you agreed. What was one night away from the crime scenes? You deserved that, plus, Spider-man got you covered, right? Nothing could really go wrong, you literally needed seconds to get into the suit and go if you had to. You did find Peter Parker's new attitude towards you a bit peculiar, but it was cute nonetheless. You were only really interested in Spider-man, but you loved attention no matter who was giving it. Outside of the costume, you still had this care-free, very self-assured personality but a little toned down. It wasn't always easy to be the one to fight the battles for yourself all of the time. And you had to do it, every single day. Maybe there was a reason why you liked Spider-man so much, you two felt like a team, like it wasn't just you alone against the world for a change.

----

The time of the party came quicker than you thought. Your "sisters" were already pulling you by the hand out of your room. In true Black Cat spirit, you just had to wear a tight black dress with a slit on the side. And a choker around your neck. It was only normal to make heads turn when you walked in the frat house. Your sorority wasn't one that liked partying all of the time, but when you did party, things just got crazy.

"Y/N!" you heard, turning your head to see an unfamiliar boy.

He shoved a cup in your hand.

"Peter is in the backyard, wanted me to take you to him when you got here."

"Yeah, cute, but that's not gonna happen." You winked at the boy and walked off to mingle somewhere else.

You actually really wanted to dance with your girls tonight. And you did just that, a full cup in your hand the whole time. At some point you couldn't really remember how much you drank, there were some shots involved. You were having so much fun, even dancing on top of a table. A hand grabbed your arm suddenly making you look, it was the guy from earlier tonight, you got off the table with a jump so you could talk. You were obviously annoyed by his interruption, crossing your arms in front of your chest. He scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Look, I'm so sorry to bother you, but it's been 2 hours and Peter was asking me about you-"

"I don't care." you interrupted him, turning around with the intention of leaving him there. He placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please, I've been lying to him for two hours, I'll be in so much trouble."

You looked at him over your shoulder, gently removing it with your hand.

"If Parker wants to see me so bad, he should come get me." You winked at him and left.

Dancing on top of tables didn't seem so fun now, and your head was feeling pretty light from all of the alcohol. You overheard some girls from your house mention a pool and you immediately walked over to them, placing your arms on the shoulders of each one of them, standing between them.

"Did I hear pool?" the three of you giggled after the question.

----

Your dress was wet, along with your hair and pretty much everything else on your body. Yes, the three of you really did jump in the pool, which caused a chain reaction of other people jumping in as well. Soon the party had drunk, wet people, running around everywhere. Cats rarely liked water and you were no exception. You didn't mind it as much as long as you weren't in the costume. So, after swimming for a little bit you got out, squeezing out some water from the hem of your dress when you felt something cover your shoulders. You turned around, your eyes meeting Peter's, who had placed a towel on you and smiled. You squinted your eyes at him, letting go of the dress and standing up straight to look at him.

"It's cold." he said

"Yeah, thanks?"

It was so sweet of him to be so considerate, it made you feel very weird things, but maybe it was the alcohol. Peter put his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously.

"So..." he started "How's it going?"

"Are you usually this awkward or...?"

''Yeah, kinda"

"So it's not my stunning beauty, just you?"

"No, well I mean, your beauty does make it a lot worse for me, but no."

You laughed, drying your hair off with the towel.

"If I didn't know any better, I would assume you were crushing on me." you said, giving him back his towel.

"No, what? What gave you that impression?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm in love with someone else."

"Wait, who?" he asked, trying to act confused.

You turned your back to him, trying to hide the blush you had on.

"Well, I don't really... know yet." you said, already taking off so you could hide from him.

-----

It was kind of embarrassing to admit that you were in love with someone you didn't really know. It's not like you didn't know Spider-man, you just didn't know who the person behind the mask was. But truthfully, you never felt a need to do that. You were content with the teammate you had, the person who was there to watch your back. You were in love with the person who would put himself in harm's way to save others, the person who always seemed to know what to say. He was so brave and dedicated to his mission, his heart was pure. Sure, you used to be curious about his identity in the beginning but with time it just stopped mattering. There was something bigger, something greater about your love for him because of this.

And you couldn't help but feel conflicted when you started feeling the same things towards Peter Parker. He definitely wasn't the first guy to express an interest in you, or be consistent with said interest but there was something about him that just made you feel warm inside. Maybe it was his nerdiness and how smart he was, or it was the way he would smile whenever he saw you. How he would try so hard to find something to talk about with you and how he would research any topic you would mention. He was so overly-sweet and protective that it brought out a soft side of you, one you didn't really know you had before that.

So, meeting Spider-man and Peter was becoming increasingly difficult for you. It got to the point where you would avoid Spider-man on patrol so you could spare yourself some emotional damage. It didn't take him long to figure you out though.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on finally?" Spider-man asked you one night after probably the worst patrol the two of you ever had. You were so distracted the whole time that the two of you took quite the beating. His costume was torn and so was yours, wounds and bruises everywhere.

"I really don't know." you said, pressing your back against a brick wall in the alleyway the two of you hid. You slid down the wall, sitting on the ground and hugging your knees.

Spider-man sat down next to you, pressing his head to the wall and looking up at the metal fire-escape that the two of you were sitting under.

"Something from your personal life?"

"Well, I'm not so sure."

"How can you not be sure?"

"You know I have this undying love for you, right."

He laughed, turning his head to look at you.

"I know."

"Well, I might have it for someone else too."

"Someone else?"

"Yeah, he's... well he's not as great as you are, not even close, but he has this nerdy charm about him."

You turned to him, cupping his cheek with your hands while you looked at the mask. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss where his lips were supposed to be.

"You're still my greatest, biggest love, Spider."

He looked at you for a while, his hand hesitantly pulling his mask up enough to uncover his lips before he pulled you in for a real kiss. It was a sweet, warm kiss, your lips moving together while your hands were holding onto each other. It was a kiss that the two of you had anticipated to share for so long, dreaming and imagining how it would go. And it went even better.

[unnervinglyferal]

Funny story. So I’m really sick right now, and being really sick often makes me hallucinate and gives me really vivid, detailed, and recurring dreams as a side-effect; I’ve had the same one the past 3 nights where me and this punk dude are riding a tram in a vaguely futuristic version of Germany on our way to save the world for some reason. It’s always a pretty fun, optimistic-feeling dream, like there’s no doubt we’re gonna be successful.

Now another not-so-fun thing that happened to me recently was me getting unexpectedly reminded that the guy who abused me as a kid still fucking exists, and the whole load of bad memories and shit that brought up. Combine that with being sick and the flu meds I’d taken, and I started hallucinating during the flashbacks and thought that the fucker was somehow projecting his consciousness into my head.

Eventually passed out and the usual tram dream started, except instead of being optimistic and fun like the past 2 nights it felt like a fucking horror show, because *He* was there somewhere, trying to get inside my head and hurt more people using my body. I couldn’t even beat his head in like usual when I dream about him, because I couldn’t fucking keep track of where he was, and no-one else there could see him.

Eventually the tram stopped, and me and the punk were told to move to a different car, and as soon as we did it was like *He*, my abuser, just disappeared? I just knew somehow he wasn’t there anymore, wasn’t *anywhere* anymore, and I was still me and he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else now because he’d just fucking been cancelled from existence.

Then I look across the tram car, and see you and your kids just sitting there chilling, on your way to wherever you were going. And something just made sense, like “well of course *He* can’t be here if Feral and his kids are here. Those two sets of people can’t exist in the same universe. This place here is safe, and good. I’m safe here.”

Then I fucking woke up.

…I guess what I’m trying to say is thanks for Thanos-snapping my abuser out of dream-existence by being a good Dad??? This makes like the fifth dream I’ve had about you, dude, I feel like you should take out a restraining order or something.

Holy fuck your brain sounds like a bad time right now. Hope your head gets better once you're not sick anymore, and hope you recover fast. Also for some reason teared up at the last part. Thank you for telling me this and fuck you for making me cry.

[pupphe-additions]

✬Evie Story Teaser✬

Word Count: 2109

cw/tw: night terrors, flashbacks, light talks/mention of multiple types of ab*se (physical and sexual), ptsd episode, mentions sh, has swearing

a/n: anything intalics is spoken in English.

March 20, 2021

Evie wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and she bolts up in bed and lets out the loudest scream she’s ever made in her life and starts to hyperventilate. Her corgi, Aurora, comes jumping onto her bed and lays on her lap to try and get her to calm down but Evie is having vivid flashbacks and doesn’t even notice the dog. She starts crying and hugs her knees tightly to her chest, causing the dog to instead lay next to her staring at her owner helplessly, as she starts to tremble. There’s some knocking on her door from one of the boys but she doesn’t notice.

Evie just woke up from a memory like dream and it reminds her why she hasn’t been sleeping much since what happened right before her hiatus. Aurora starts to lick the back of Evie’s hands as she cries into her knees. She’s remembering all the times she’s been beaten down, both in a literal and verbal sense, and just used and hurt. Evie starts to dig her nails into her skin and rock as her mind continues racing and is flooded with all of the bad she’s been trying to run from all these years. She is more specifically remembering why she went on this hiatus to begin with. 

A few weeks before this Evie had been sexually harassed by a man who claimed to really love her and her group. He groped her lightly and tried to do more but she slapped him across the face as hard as she could. She then shoved him and screamed at him calling him an awful person and running to one of her staff members, who had left her only for a few moments. When the staff asked her why she looked so scared and stressed Evie just calmly told them she wanted to go back home and they then quickly finished what they needed to do and then escorted her back to her dorm room. She has yet to tell anyone about what happened because at the time she didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but clearly it was if it caused her to get like this. She shakes her head crying.

The knocking is more insistent and she could hear a voice from behind the door. Concerned, gentle, urgent, tone saying something she can’t quite make out as she continues to rock and claw at her skin until she bled. She knows she has to talk about this with her therapist sooner now than she originally planned to and she’s not looking forward to it. Evie can hear someone at her door finally breaking from her spell in her mind.

“Evs? Evs, ya ok?” the voice calls from the door again.

Evie speaks barely above a whisper saying, “It’s open…” 

The door opens fast and Chan comes running to the side of Evie’s and sitting down swiftly grabbing onto Evie’s hands to make her stop digging at her own skin. He glances around the room for anything to clean up the blood but he can’t find anything so he looks at Evie with gentle concern.

“Ah, Evs, what happened? What’s got you all worked up like this Bug?” Chan asks. “Would you like me to help you clean that?”

“I…” Evie stops and just nods, tears falling still. 

Chan gets up and quickly grabs a med kit from Evie’s closet, they decide to keep it there after Chan found out that Evie tends to hurt herself both intentionally and by accident. He starts to clean up the scratches, which were much deeper than he’d thought they would be. Evie was clearly getting lost in her thoughts again so Chan gently rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

“Bug, what happened? Why did you scream?” Chan asks in his quiet gentle older brother tone that always melts Evie’s heart, it always reminds her of Hudson when he gets like this.

“Huds…” was all she could say.

“No Evelyn. It’s Chris not Hudson.” 

“Huds…!?” She then just burst into tears and Chan pulled her into a gentle hug before grabbing his phone and calling Hudson.

“Chris? Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour? Is my sister okay?!” Hudson can be heard speaking extremely fast and concerned.

“Physically? I guess. Mentally? No. She kept saying your name so I decided to video call you.” Chan replies as he props his phone up so Hudson could see his sister and vice versa if she wanted to.

The room falls silent as Evie just sits there staring blankly at Chan’s phone. Hudson tried getting her attention but it didn’t work, Evie was officially lost in her own mind again. Hudson started to pace his room as he watched Chan comfort his sister the best he could. Chan started to sing one of Evie’s favorite songs and she immediately snapped out of it, staring at Chan in awe. She wanted to join him in singing but she couldn’t bring her heart to do it so she just listened to him gently singing to her.

“You remembered…” She whispers as he finishes.

“Of course I did. How could I forget?” he says smiling at her kissing her head very softly. “Are you ready to talk now, Bug?”

Evie reluctantly nods. “I had a very vivid bad dream… It was like part memory, part nightmare…”

Chan sits next to Evie gently and helps Luna, Evie’s other dog onto the bed before speaking in a loving tone. “Would you want to talk about it?”

Evie takes a shaky breath before speaking again. “Exactly two weeks again I had some creepy man…” She trails off for a moment. “Grope me… In the dream things went… farther… I don’t want to…”

“You don’t have to.” Chan cuts her off noticing how uncomfortable she is with this topic. “Did the staff see it happen?”

“No… I smacked him and ran to the staff before it could get worse…” Evie said in a defeated tone. “I’m sorry for not telling you”

“It’s okay, I would never be mad at you for not telling me something right away that traumatized you.”

“But that’s the thing. I didn’t tell you guys because I thought it wasn’t that big of a deal. Like I didn’t think it was bothering me until tonight… If I’m honest though it’s part of the reason I asked for the hiatus…”

“I hope that cunt fucking rots.” Hudson interrupts.

“I think we all do Huddy.” Evie says with a smile when she notices Chan called her brother.

“Thank you for picking up Huddy but I’ll call you in the morning. You have the twins to tend to. I love you.”

“I love you too Evs, call me when you wake up again if you decide to sleep or call me when you plan to make those brownies.” Hudson says before hanging up.

“Did I wake you?” Evie asks anxiously.

“No, I wasn’t asleep yet, I think you woke up Minho though.” Chan responds, causing Evie to frown.

“Another thing happened too… If you want to hear…” Evie starts to trail off and starts to space as she talks.

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

Evie shakes her head no but starts to talk anyway. “During my trainee days when I lived with that one roommate, someone broke in and… hurt me…”

“Hurt you…?” Chan asks gently “Where?”

She shrugged before putting his hand on her cheek and he gently kissed her on her cheek.

“You didn’t deserve that Bug.”

“It gets worse…”

Chan just pulls her into a hug silencing the broken younger idol. Evie allows herself to crumble into him and she starts to gently hit her head off his chest, a common occurrence between the two. He gently puts his hand on the back of her head and pulls her closer to him. Chan can’t help but to feel angry and pained over the fact that Evie had to go through something like this not once but twice. He knows what she means by it gets worse, he doesn’t want her talking about it when she clearly isn’t ready yet. The hiatus and extra therapy is making a lot more sense to him now. 

“We don’t need to talk about it Evs, do you want me to call the boys for a movie?” Chan asks when he notices she’s starting to shake.

“No they are sleepin.”

“Then do you want to watch a movie with me?”

“No, you need to sleep.” she said kind of coldly.

“You know I won’t be able to sleep because I’m worried about you.”

“Exactly why I should just never talk about my issues again.” Evie is clearly frustrated with herself.

“Bug, I’m not upset with you.”

“Is Minho awake…?” Evie asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I can go check if you’d like, if he’s not do you want anyone else?” 

“Lix or my baby?” she says with a shrug before she lays in the fetal position on her bed.

Chan nods before checking to see who is awake. While Chan is gone Evie takes that time to cuddle close to her dogs and tell them about what happened at the apartment to get it off her chest without having to tell the boys yet.

“He thought I was alone so he tried to…” Before she could finish her thought she heard footsteps and curled tighter into a ball. 

The footsteps go away and she continues “He tried to make me… ya know…” then she gestures to her mouth. Her dogs look at her confused.

“Make me ya know. Slob on the knob I guess.” she says before chuckling at her own way of describing it. “I know you guys don’t know what I’m talking about but mama needed to get it off her chest.”

“Mama?” Hyunjin smirks from the doorway causing Evie to nearly jump out of her skin and she chucks a pillow at him.

“Fuck you!” Evie shouts out of fear before taking a deep shaky breath and sitting back up. “I’m sorry… Did I wake you… Did you hear what I said to them…?”

“Yes you woke me, but it’s okay.”

“But did you hear me?”

Hyunjin walks into the room and gives her a hug as he lies and says. “No I didn't, I just walked by when you called yourself mama.”

Just then Chan, Felix, Minho, and Jeongin all walk into the room and they engulf Evie in a group hug. Evie starts crying again. The love these boys show her is something she never thought she’d experience, nor did she expect. She feels extremely undeserving of their friendship.

“Chan said you had a bad dream, is that why you screamed?” Minho asks after the hug breaks off.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you guys. We should get some rest…”

“You seem reluctant to sleep.” Felix observes.

“That’s because I am…” Evie admits quietly while running a hand through her hair, just after Jeongin sneaks in another quick hug.

“Do you want to sleep with one of us?” Hyunjin asks gently, shocking everyone in the room including himself.

“Could I?”

“Who?” Chan asks.

“Lix?”

“Of course! Let’s go.” Felix said eagerly

“Will the staff be mad that I’m switching rooms for the night?” Evie asks with a frown.

Felix flashes a smile “Truthfully, I don’t give a fuck, I miss hanging out and sleeping with you. Let’s go cuddle, bring the dogs with you.”

With that Felix and Jeongin walk out of the room, Hyunjin following after telling Evie goodnight and kissing her on her head. This leaves only Evie, Minho, and Chan left in the room and Evie is shocked to be pulled into a tight embrace from Minho.

“You know, I hear you crying every night right?” he whispers to her hoping the other boys don't hear him.

“I’m sorry… I’ve been through a lot…” Evie tells the younger boy with a sore heart.

“I know noona, and I’m sorry for that. You have us now, never forget that. I love you.” Minho says hugging her tighter than he ever has.

“I love you too Mini.” Evie says, squeezing him back. “Never call me noona again though.”

Minho smiles before taking his turn to leave and Chan walks her to Felix’s room. When she gets there she hugs Chan goodbye and tells him to try and rest. Felix assures the older boy he will take care of Evie before they head to Felix’s room and cuddle until Evie eventually falls asleep watching Felix rest peacefully.

[acidmatze]

I have been in a great many of fandoms and i have been just as insane and autistic about these fandoms as i am about Trigun (i think....?) And yet, and YET its only Trigun in particular that shows up in my dreams. I dont wanna say its a Common Occurence but its a Steady Occurence that my dreams will either be entire fictional arcs that are so vivid and so realistic and so... Trigun that im just going to accept them as canon in Some Other Universe. Or Vash is there. Just... adapting to whateverthefuck im dreaming about but hes not just some stand in my brain has thrown in cuz it needs characters for the dream and he just happened to be there but instead its Vash. Starring Vash as Himself, basically.

Last night i had the probably most vivid and biggest Arc That Does Not Actually Exist dream. In which Vash was travelling with some boy, maybe 9 years old or so and they were attacked by the Gung-Ho Guns and one of them was someone who used to know Vash from 100 or so years ago who should be dead by now by all accounts. They used to live in some village together which belonged to some weird cult that did some really funky Killing People In Rituals stuff and such. Vash only stayed cuz he was young and wanted company and a feeling of belonging somewhere and thats how cults Get You. Like there was a scene where the cult was storming some member's house to kill them for some ritualistic reason and they resisted so they were murdered even more violently. Also he had a family and among other things a son roughly in the age of the boy hes now taking with him. And his former "friend" poked fun about this fact and also about Vash's hypocrisy and if he thinks if he keeps his stuff up he can make up for all the fucked up shit he knew was going on in the cult and didnt do anything against. And it was implied that instead Vash ran away one night cuz he didnt know what else to do and simply never returned and now the guilt is basically eating him alive.

I mean this is basically canon now to me. This is just.. very fragmented of what the dream was about. I cant describe it very well. But the dream itself was so Vivid and coherent. Normally i wake up and say "Wow that made no sense" but all of this made perfect sense and was shown in a very logical matter with flashbacks and everything. I wonder what it is about Trigun that its so far the Only fandom to actually show up in my dreams. Not just Once in a very nonsensical dream-typical way but as complete Stories. Or have characters show up as People and not as the regular dream entities.

[sugarstarlights]

Don’t think I’ll be getting sleep tonight, that’s not unusual but this time I’m awake and stuck thinking about the nightmares I’m avoiding so lying in bed sucks just about as much as it does when I’m actually getting rest so that’s fun. There’s 2 really great extended memories I keep reliving after Jon ate my forest trauma and I started having flashback dreams to. A thing that. Happened. The former was supposed to be like. Permanent. But Rook uncursed me. Still a vivid enough dream that it comes back sometimes. I genuinely don’t know if it’s better or worse to be able to alternate between abandoned object and fun toy every time I try to sleep rather than just stick with 1. My dream rings just. Aren’t working on this. It’s stupid. They should. But I’m not allowed to have nice magic dreams anymore I guess I only get terrifyingly indefinite suffering. Awesome. 

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 155,

Morning thought: I’m almost disturbed by how okay I feel.  

Yesterday’s events feel like little more than a bad dream, albeit an especially vivid one.  In truth, I’ve felt worse following the nightmares of the Catacomb Depths.  I need look no further than the scraps on my hands and knees and the lingering soreness of my wrist for evidence that it was more than that, yet when I look at them, poke and prod them, there are no flashbacks, no dawning horror of the reality of that phantasmagorical crowd.  Just an “Oh, I guess that really did happen.  Huh.”

Is this what it means to be repressing trauma?  Is my mind fogged by some fae influence that makes the encounter coincidentally (intentionally?) easier to bear?  Or was the whole experience so far removed from my ingrained past world sensibilities that I simply can’t accept and process it all as having been “real” on a subconscious, emotional level to be fully affected by it?

Whatever the reason, I’m satisfied just to be functional and in relatively good health.

*******

Waiting for the laundry to dry.  Never got the chance to hang it up yesterday.  I didn’t get up until sometime around noon but Maiko tried doing it in my absence.  She did a better, less crease and stretch inducing job than I did my first try, I’ll give her that.

It’s funny, as little as the expected emotional repercussions of yesterday’s ordeal seem to be sticking, my mind keeps going back to the seemingly unanswerable why’s of it all.  For instance, why bring me out there in the first place and dance me around in front of what I presume are other nature sprites?  Was it like a child showing off a new favorite toy?  A public declaration that “my” sprite has claimed me so I’m off limits to the others?  Or perhaps the opposite: “my” sprite finally growing bored of me and auctioning me off to the others.  Maybe it was some manner of trial; that I’d been observed dancing in the rain and between that and the incident with the western rhythm “my” sprite was trying to induct me into being one of them.  If it was such a trial, I surely failed.

And what of the Wandering God?  Was the gathering some sort of ritual to summon it?  But if that’s the case then why would they all leave as soon as it appeared?  Unless perhaps I was meant as an offering and none of them wanted to be taken instead.  If that’s the case, then their offering was not accepted.  I can’t bring myself to accept the notion that it showed up to save me.  I’m not even sure it noticed I was there.  Perhaps the Wandering God was simply wandering through and interrupted whatever was happening by accident in a fortuitous coincidence for me.

What am I to the nature sprite?  It seems every time I start to think it’s out to help me in its roundabout way or begin to find it strangely endearing, it does something horrifying.

Perhaps the better question is what is it  to me?

Oh, also, I’m going to need to pick up a new block of laundry soap next market day.  I think we left it with the basket.

*******

I’m back at the archive.  Still planning to meet with Vernon for dinner soon, as scheduled.  There are some requests piled up, but I’ll deal with them after class tomorrow.

In a moment suggesting that I was perhaps not as unaffected by yesterday as believed, I found myself asking Maiko if she would walk to the Village with me.  For the portion she can safely do so without being seen of course.  When I thought about the prospect of traveling that cobblestone corridor through the trees alone for the better part of an hour, I’d found myself hesitant to go through with it.

Thankfully, she agreed to accompany me.  We didn’t talk much during that commute, but I was grateful for her presence nonetheless.  When we neared the Village proper and it was time to part ways, I found myself feeling the urge to hug her.  I did not.  It didn’t seem like the sort of thing she would go for.

I didn’t really register it at the time, but looking back, it occurs to me that she was talking the whole way back to the house last night.  I find that break from her norm offputting.  Just how worried did I have her last night?  How bad did I look when she found me?

I hope those villagers she saw don’t start making a habit of visiting the spring.  She seemed to like that spot.

*******

Dinner with Vernon was… refreshing.  True to his prediction, the chosen venue had few other people there, which was nice in and of itself.  As much as I didn’t want to be alone today, I really wasn’t up to dealing with crowds either.

He’d changed out of his mediator uniform yet was still wearing far too heavy a coat for this climate.  I may not be one for showing skin (laundry day with no one around but Maiko notwithstanding), but I still don’t know how he manages it.  His demeanor certainly showed no signs of overheating, nor other discomfort for that matter.

He greeted me with his usual good cheer.  A different sort of cheer from Lin’s energized playfulness.  More like a relaxed, confident optimism that even if there are low spots life and the world are ultimately good, and even if they have bad days or make mistakes people are generally pretty great and that includes you.  Most people that I’ve heard talk about him paint him in similar broad strokes to that.  It’s an attitude that tends to not unpleasantly infect the tone of any conversation with him.

The tone of the evening thus described, I suppose I’ll move on to recounting the actual conversation.  We started with the usual niceties and greetings.  What we’d been up to lately, etc.  I talked about being a (probably?) first time teacher, let myself get overly-enthused about the blackboard all over again, briefly mentioned the extrapolated census project, and - after a quick check that we wouldn’t be overheard - a bit about living with Maiko as a sort-of-roommate.  Meanwhile he talked some about his work and his wider social web of friends and acquaintances.  Both surprised me in their own way.  

The work talk because he spoke little of the mediations themselves and more about interactions with his fellow mediators and guards (apparently Martin actually has a sense of humor if you get to know him).  He said that with the nature of what he does, talking too much about it feels like unfairly gossiping about other people when they’re at their worst.  The only reason I heard as much or got as involved as I did with the matter of Bartolome and his feuding sons was due to my role as Archivist being relevant to the resolution.  I commented that in retrospect it seems a little strange that I haven’t gotten more of that.  In a tone halfway between pride and amusement, he said that keeping things from escalating to the point of being notable enough for me to record is kind of their job.

As for the anecdotes about his social life, I suppose it caught me off guard because I’d never really thought about that part of him before.  In my own little circle of friends that I’ve gathered none of the rest of us really have that.  I have a tendency to hide myself away in the archive or at my house, only talking to people for business and not making an effort to connect with them beyond that.  Until recently Cass spent most of her days either on the farm or manning her family’s stall on market days.  I suppose she must have spent her rainy seasons in school when she was younger, but she’s never mentioned having friends her own age from that, no one ever comes to visit with her, nor has she ever said anything about going to visit anyone besides her brother and sister-in-law (does the Village actually have laws for that term to apply?).  I suppose she can be a bit, well, “abrasive” isn’t quite the word I’m looking for but it’s actually not hard to imagine her not making many friends.  Meanwhile, Maiko grew up in the woods actively avoiding human contact out of fear and doesn’t seem keen on changing that much more than she already has anytime soon.  And Lin… well, I get the impression that she used to have a fairly vibrant social life but gradually drifted away from everyone.

Which is all a long way of saying that the rest of us don’t really socialize outside of eachother.  I guess that makes Vernon the group’s token extrovert.  Funny how easy it is to forget people have lives outside of the slice you see when they’re around you.

Also, of course, it wasn’t me dumping all my stuff then Vernon talking about himself for the rest of the evening.  Nor were the topics so nicely categorized.  It was a long, meandering back and forth drifting from topic to topic.  Mostly forth with me saying only small bits at a time and giving him prompting to go on until he’d long since lost his train of thought.  And that was more than a little intentional on my part, and for the same reasons that I left out my last visit with Pat and didn’t mention yesterday’s events beyond citing “just some nature sprite weirdness” when Vernon mentioned I looked distracted early on.  The truth is I didn’t want to think about myself or my problems tonight, I wanted to drink in someone else’s life.

There was one thing I did get around to asking that I’d been meaning to for some time, and that was inquiring into the source of Vernon’s spectacles.  He asked if I needed a pair myself  (a question that made me hesitate for some reason) but I told him my eyes were fine, I just had another potential use for similar glasswork.  When he asked what I started going on about that half-forgotten idea of mine to try to make a microscope and examine some crystals with it to get a better idea of their composition.  Maybe find out if they were actually rocks or something alive like coral.  Vernon told me the glassmaker - who lives out near the western coast of the island has made magnifying glasses and spheres before, but not, to his knowledge, anything as tiny and precise as what I was describing with the microscope.  Might be possible though.

And thus the evening carried on into the night with the two of us being among the last to leave the eatery and making our apologies to the proprietor for keeping the place open so late.  I accepted Vernon’s offer to walk me “home” to the library.  I did hug him as we prepared to part ways.  I figured he might be more receptive of such a gesture than Maiko.  It felt nice, but once the moment passed I was terribly embarrassed and began apologizing.  He laughed it off (in a “trying to lighten the mood and reassure” way, not a “laughing at you” way) and said that it was fine and nothing to apologize for.  And that, besides, it wasn’t the wildest gesture someone’s made toward him at the end of the night.  I responded with a nerve-tinged laugh, said that I’m sure it wasn’t, hoped it was too dim for him to notice me blushing, thanked him for the evening and bid him goodnight.

I do hope he didn’t take that the wrong way.  As I said before, I’ve no romantic intentions toward him, emotional nor physical.  It’s just… I really needed some kind of emotionally positive physical contact with another person.  Comfort.

<==Previous          Next==>

[jessmalia]

heartless | 06. only fools

pairing: henry mills x oc a/n: you’ll need to remember some details from this for a certain future chapter. jo this is just a giant puzzle i’m giving to you to solve.  warnings: it’s the therapy chapter, guys. there will be talk/themes of trauma, ptsd, anxiety attacks, nightmares etc. also mostly unedited.  wordcount: 1195

<<prev || masterlist || next>>

“So, tell me about these nightmares you’re having.”

  “Well, they’re usually pretty much the same,” Max said. Her hand was tracing the spot on her thigh where her dagger had been strapped to the night before. She had to admit that one advantage skirts had over pants was that it was significantly easier to hide a dagger underneath them. She had to keep it in her bag now, which wasn’t nearly as easy to access. “I’m always in this dark forest, and I… have this feeling that I’m in danger. Like there’s something, or… someone, hiding behind the trees.”

  “But you don’t know what?” asked Archie.

  Max shook her head. “No, I have no idea. And whatever it is, it never shows itself.”

  “And what’s the other recurring imagery?”

  “Well… water. I see a really big ocean, and sometimes I feel water streaming around me. My hands start… shaking a lot. And then,” Max swallowed, “there’s the sound of a little boy screaming.”

  “A little boy screaming? Is it Henry?” Archie asked.

  Max decidedly shook her head. “No, it’s not Henry. But I have this feeling that I know who it is, but I just can’t,” Max took a deep breath, and the slightest chuckle escaped her, “remember. Every time I feel like I get closer to discovering his identity… but it never happens.”

  “And what does his scream sound like?”

  Max swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I mean, is it a scream of joy? Pain? Or horror?”

  Her hands were shaking again, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. “His scream sounds like…” she took a deep breath once more, trying her best to calm herself. “He sounds like he’s dying.”

  Whatever answer Dr. Hopper had expected, it seemed that wasn’t it. Shock and sympathy were woven into his expression. Max needed to change the subject before he attempted to comfort her.

  “And then, there’s my panic attacks,” she said.

  Archie blinked. “Yes, of course. When do they happen?”

  “They’re usually… they’re often triggered by things that remind me of my dreams. Like walking in the forest at night, or even just thinking about them sometimes.”

  “And during these anxiety attacks, do you see and hear the same things as in your dreams?”

  Max nodded.

  “And do you ever, aside from the anxiety attacks, see these things when you’re awake as well? Sort of like vivid flashbacks?”

  Max nodded again. “Yeah, how did you know?”

  Dr. Hopper forced a tight smile. “Just a routine question. Could I ask some more of those?” he asked, and upon Max’s confirmation, he continued, “Do you feel detached from others around you or have difficulty maintaining close relationships?”

  “Yes, to both,” she said, finding her answer reasonable since the only close relationship she’d ever had was with Henry.

  “Do you have negative thoughts about yourself and the world?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you often feel emotionally numb and have difficulty experiencing positive emotions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you drink or smoke?”

  Max’s eyebrows rose. “I’m thirteen,” she snarked.

  “Well, that doesn’t stop everyone.”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any trouble concentrating?”

  “Only my whole life,” Max scoffed, watching Dr. Hopper write her answers down. “So, what’s your theory, then?”

  Archie looked back up from his notepad. “Excuse me?”

  Max raised her eyebrows once more, unimpressed. “Those aren’t regular ‘routine questions’, they’re routine questions for the theory you have. Now, spill.”

  “Well, it’s much too early to do a proper diagnosis.”

  Max groaned. “Don’t you think I know that? But isn’t someone usually informed about any thoughts and theories you have before you diagnose them? I know I’m only 13, but it’s not like I have any family around. So just spit it out. I can fucking handle it.”

  “Well,” Dr. Hopper said, quite shaken by her harsh tone, “all your symptoms point quite perfectly to the same thing, post-traumatic stress disorder.

  “PTSD?” Max asked, quite surprised.

  Dr. Hopper nodded. “Yes, the only strange thing is that from everything you’ve told me about your life, you don’t seem to have experienced anything traumatic enough to trigger such a disorder. It’s like you’re haunted by memories that never happened.”

  Max's posture straightened, and her eyes narrowed. “Or like… I’ve forgotten them.”

  “Ah– well, yes,” Dr. Hopper spluttered, “I guess you could put it that way.”

  And then it hit her. The one thing that could explain all of this. Everything Henry was saying about this place was true. She realized how perfect sense it made as she thought over everything that had happened since Emma got there. That, plus her apparent post-traumatic stress disorder when she hadn’t even been through something that traumatic, cemented it for her. There was no way this was a coincidence. And then she cursed herself for not figuring it out sooner. Of course it was true! Henry believed in it. That should’ve been enough to convince her. Only a fool wouldn’t believe in Henry Mills.

  “I need to go,” said Max immediately, rushing out of the sofa and towards the door.

  “W-what? Why? Max, we’re not finished yet.”

  She grinned. “I don’t think therapy is gonna bring back my cursed memories, Dr. Hopper.” And with that, she dashed out the door.

–––

Henry opened his bedroom window, and Max greeted him with a bittersweet smile.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  Henry smiled. “Hi,” he said back, voice just as low as hers, before frowning slightly. “How was your appointment with Dr. Hopper?”

  Max sighed, before climbing in through the window and sitting down on Henry’s bed. He took a seat beside her.

  “We talked about my nightmares,” she said, keeping her eyes on her lap, “and my panic attacks, and, you know, all the other issues I’ve got. Like detachment, fear of intimacy, the works…”

  Henry nodded, rubbing soothing circles across Max’s back.

  “And, well… Dr. Hopper said that all of my symptoms point to PTSD, but that it didn’t make sense because I’ve never been through anything bad enough to trigger that…” Henry knew where she was going, but that didn’t make it any easier. For once, Max wasn’t crying; her eyes were dry, but… that only worried him even more. She turned to look at him as she continued, “Henry, these dreams I keep having, they’re not just memories… they’re trauma.”

  Henry immediately reached forward and gripped Max in a tight hug. She smiled despite everything and buried her face in the crook of Henry’s neck, letting herself sink into the embrace.

  It was weird, in a way. Max had absolutely no recollection of her previous life, and yet, somehow, she knew that Henry was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She would do anything for him.

  Soon they parted, and Max’s gaze met Henry’s determined one. Henry had beautiful eyes. It had always been her favorite part of him. There was this light in them; this beautiful beacon of hope and good. Max wasn’t the sort of person who opened up easily to people, but Henry was the exception, and that light behind his eyes was the reason she knew she could trust him.

  “We’ll get through this together,” he promised.

  Max nodded. “Okay.”

–––

A/n: I know that it’s common for people with PTSD to repress and forget their traumatic event, I’ve done my research; so Archie’s confusion doesn’t really make sense but sssssssshhhhhhh.  But, I mean, it’s not like he’s actually an educated therapist he’s just some cricket so I guess it does kinda make sense anyway. 

heartless taglist: @jochase​

[writingquestionsanswered]

Do you have any tip on how not over-use flashbacks? I fear I have got too used to manga-style stories, where they dedicate a lot of chapters to introduce us to the important characters's backstory. Alsto, the fact is that one of my w.i.p have two essential big flashbacks, I'm really worried about this.

Alternatives to Flashbacks (For Delivering Back Story)

There are other ways to deliver back story besides slipping into a flashback. If you feel you're relying too heavily on flashbacks in your story, swap out some of the flashback scenes for some of the following methods:

1) Memories via Exposition - Exposition in the story is the "narration" part of the story. Exposition covers character thought, which includes when they're thinking about things that happened in the past, aka "memories."

I stared at the photo I took the day Martin left for New York City. A summer storm had been rumbling at the edge of the field as I sat out front in one of the rocking chairs, watching the trees shake in the breeze. I knew if I didn’t get a photo of the house then, I never would, so I walked to the end of the driveway and framed it up nice. Martin clunked around inside the house, slamming doors and muttering to himself as he packed his few belongings. He hated me more in that moment than I hated him, but somehow neither of us wanted it to end.

2) Pure Exposition - Information can also be delivered via exposition directly to the reader, without framing it as a memory.

The day Martin left for New York city, a summer storm had been rumbling at the edge of the field as I sat out front in one of the rocking chairs, watching the trees shake in the breeze. Martin clunked around inside the house, slamming doors and muttering to himself as he packed his few belongings. He hated me more in that moment than I hated him, but somehow neither of us wanted it to end. Looking back, I think we're both glad it did.

3) Memories Shared with Other Characters - Having characters share memories or important back story details with each other is not just a great way to deliver information, it can also provide a way for characters to connect and bond.

“So, what exactly happened with Martin?” Kara asked as we strolled past the small cafes and cute boutiques that lined Rue de Grenelle.

It doesn’t take much for me to conjure up the little white house beneath the cottonwood trees. Martin clunking around, slamming doors as he packed his few belongings. “Well, he was furious with me.”

“I gathered. What did he say?”

I remembered the screech of the screen door, Martin appearing with his battered suitcase, keeping his back to me until he reached the end of the drive. 

“Nothing. He just clenched his fists, threw his suitcase into the back of the truck, stared at me longingly, then drove off in a cloud of dust."

4) Dreams and Nightmares - Like flashbacks, dreams and nightmares shouldn't be overused. However, when used sparingly, they can be an interesting way to deliver information or let the reader experience something that happened in the character's past.

I’m on the wrap-around porch of the little white house, in one of the rocking chairs, listening to the thunder rumbling at the edge of the field as a cool breeze tosses the cottonwoods. Martin is clunking around inside, throwing his few belongings into his suitcase, slamming doors and muttering to himself. He hates me more than I hate him. I still don’t want it to end, and I don’t think he does, either. I want him to say something–anything–but neither of us can find the right words. The screen door screeches open…

Gwen Stefani’s voice fills my small Paris bedroom, shouting about spiderwebs and an annoying caller. I’m confused until I remember I set my radio alarm to go off at eight. Rubbing my hands over my face, I try to shake Martin and the old house loose so they’ll leave me alone. Vivid dream, or maybe a nightmare, but either way it was a long time ago.

I hope that helps! ♥

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[omeliashepherdhunt]

Stay With Me

Chapter One

I wake to muffled cries. A quick glance at Emmy’s monitor reveals it’s not coming from her. Our sweet baby girl has been sleeping through the night for the past month much to her brother’s relief as their bedrooms are adjacent. I briefly rub the sleep from my eyes and realize the distressed sounds is Owen. He’s laying on his stomach but I can see his frightened face contorted with anxiety. Beads of sweat from his forehead blend in with the tears that escape from his tightly shut eyes. I sit up and start to gently shake him awake, afraid of what he’s dreaming of. Owen doesn’t take too long to jolt awake and sit straight up in record timing. His blue eyes dart back and forth and he’s breathless. I reach out and stroke his face that is sticky from sweat.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” I try my best to soothe him. It takes Owen a little bit to be able to form words.

“Bad dream. I’m fine. Go back to sleep please.”

I softly smile at him and squeeze his hand. His T-shirt clings to his body from how much he was sweating.

“I can’t go back to sleep until I know you’re okay so why don’t you tell me what all of that was about?”

“I can’t talk about it, Amelia. It’s scary and traumatic. I don’t want to go there, especially not with you. I couldn’t take it if you started to think of me the way others have.”

I raise my eyebrows, feeling taken back. There is only one thing he has remained tight lipped about — his time in the army.

“Owen, I’m your wife. The wife that has had her fair share of dark and scary things. I can’t help you through it if I don’t know what is torturing you in your sleep. You married a recovering addict and alcoholic with chronic mommy and daddy issues. I have no room to judge.”

Owen peered over at the clock on his nightstand. It’s just after two in the morning.

“It’s late and we have a baby that will be up in a few hours. I swear I’ll be okay. I’m going to jump in the shower and rinse off really quick. I feel disgusting.”

“Owen, please just tell me what it was about. I can handle whatever it is.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

“Drop it for Christ’s sake. I don’t need to talk about it. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

My stomach started to form knots so I just gave his hand another squeeze.

“Okay, I’ll change the sheets then come check on you.”

I watched him walk away while my heart sank. His normal 5’11” self from now looked similar to my 5’3” frame purely from how mentally exhausted he looked.

—————————————————————————

It’s not often that I have such vivid flashbacks to my time served in the army, especially not about the explosion. I’m not sure how much time has passed when Amelia comes in and starts the water. I only notice her briefly, unable to tear my eyes away from my reflection in the mirror. Sometimes it’s hard to see why Amelia is attracted to me when I look like I do right now. There’s huge bags under my eyes, skin abnormally pale, and my hair is slicked against my head from the sweat. Another moment or two passes by the time I feel my wife’s petite arms envelope my abdomen.

“Bath water is ready. I know you said you wanted a shower but I wanted to join you. It’ll also help you to soak your tense muscles.”

I couldn’t keep a sheepish smile from escaping.

“Amelia, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you but I sure am glad I have you. I didn’t mean to be so curt with you earlier. It’s hard.”

Her small hands cupped my face and she pulled me in for a soft kiss which I happily reciprocated. Things didn’t seem to be so bad when she was by my side.

“I just want you to be okay. Leo, Emma, and I need you here both mentally and physically.”

I kissed her again and let my lips linger against hers.

“I’m right here. You and the kids can’t get rid of me that easy.”

She pulls me by the hand over to the tub and takes her own sleep shirt off while I peel my sweat drenched T-shirt and pajama pants off. She gets in first and ushers me to get in front her which is different for us. Usually she curls up in my arms but I’m happy to have her hold me for once. If only I could protect her from the horrors of my past.

—————————————————————————

Owen didn’t say much in the bathtub but it was still nice to just have him lay there with me. It’s not too often we get so much one on one time with each other because Leo or Emma needs one or both of us.

Once we were dried off and back in our freshly made bed, I pulled him to me and let him rest his head on my chest. His ginger curls still damp from the water smelt like his lemon and sandalwood soap.

“Owen, please remember you can tell me anything. I just want to know what scared you so much.”

He sighed heavily but tightened his arms around me.

“It’s not easy for me to talk about… I don’t want it to change what you think about me. It’s not a light story.”

“I figured as much. There isn’t anything you could tell me that would change what I think about you. I love you. You’re my husband and my smoking hot baby daddy.”

Owen let out a sarcastic chuckle which made me giggle. At least I could still get him to smile even when he’s not wanting to.

“I love you more… Now I’m going to tell you this one time and I really don’t want to elaborate on it… We were on a convoy and hit an IED. I wasn’t hurt too badly but everyone else was subsequently killed. Dan Mooney, who served with me as Colonel, initially lived but his injures were too severe and he succumbed to his injuries only after I had to say a Hail Mary with him and he forced me to take my hand off of the wound on his neck. He bled out right before I was rescued by a helicopter. Now I live my life with immense survivor’s guilt. When I nearly choked Cristina to death, that was because I was triggered merely by the blades on our ceiling fan. Callie Torres was actually the one that got me off of her. I haven’t forgiven myself for that.”

His entire body went rigid as he explained the details which just broke my heart. He had been through so much at Grey Sloan without everything that occurred during his time served.

“You know… whatever higher being out there wanted to keep you alive for a reason. Now look at your life. You’re married to a brilliant neurosurgeon, a father to a five year old son and six month old daughter, head of trauma surgery, and we own a beautiful house and both of our vehicles.”

“I know we’ve been very rich in that sense but it doesn’t make what happened to my platoon okay. My own mother didn’t know I was home from the army for the longest time… Who I was then is different from who I am now. The army changed me overnight.”

I softly kissed the top of his head and wished that I could protect him from the world much like we try to protect Leo and Emma.

“I love who you are now. Your journey makes you who you are. You’re not a bad man, Owen. It’s nothing you could’ve controlled. You weren’t driving and no one knew there would be an IED right in the path. You did what you could with the resources you had in the time that you had.”

Owen looked up at me with huge, watery eyes. I held him as close to me as I could. His facial expression reminded me of Leo’s when he’s in time out.

“Mia, there are times where the pain seems unfathomable. When I get flashbacks or have night terrors, everything feels so raw and recent. How am I supposed to be strong for you and the kids?”

“That’s the thing, my love. You don’t always have to be the strong one. I’ve had my fair share of hard things. We are equals. You’re strong when I can’t be so I can do the same for you.”

Owen’s shaky hand reached up to caress my cheek.

“You are a saint. Let’s try to get some sleep before Emmy needs to nurse again. Just feeling you in the bed helps me feel safe.”

Another kiss on Owen’s head then one on his lips stretched a sweet smile across his face. He looked exhausted but more content by the time he started to doze off. It was a quarter past three in the morning before he was asleep again though I couldn’t sleep. All I could think of was his trauma and what steps we needed to take to get him into some form of counseling. If I can do NA or AA meetings, he could see a PTSD expert.

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

My Soldier. Bucky Barnes.

a/n: this is an edit off of my old wattpad! sorry for the shitty summary. also maybe a pt 2?? obv. pre-snap. may edit

summary: y/n and bucky used to work together at hydra. bucky saves her when her profile is leaked (thanks natasha), and she later returns the favour.

word count: 1,926

warnings: mentions of violence? female pronouns? mentions of blood

There she stood, one of the most gorgeous dames he had ever seen. (Y/n) Beetrove, agent of Hydra. She was sinfully beautiful in his mind, and to many others. That is why she was such a successful agent. Her hair was always perfectly pinned and curled, her lips always pouting with a sultry red, her lashes darkened and elongated by a coat or two of mascara. He could never take his eyes off of her. She had a smile that warmed up the cold rooms in the Hydra building. He couldn't help but fall for her. Everything he knew told him that what he was feeling was wrong. Fraternization was strictly prohibited, but that never stopped them from sharing looks that were a moment too long. Or from gentle touches lingering when they were somewhat alone, mainly with those who wouldn't notice. Sweet nothings whispered when prying eyes weren't watching. Little did he know, she wasn't who he thought she was. She was feeding hydra's enemy information, soon to become SHIELD. A double agent. His enemy.

Their last mission together was both of their last missions for quite sometime. It was a massive failure, which always lead to punishment. This time, he was the one met with physical pain, and she was thrown into a cryo-tube for a long freeze. He saw her being dragged into the room by her hair. Her dainty hands grasping the wrist of the agent dragging her along the floor. She didn't fight him, yet he could see her cheeks were damp with tears. Their eyes locked for one final moment before the doctor shut the door and turned to Bucky. His punishment was shorter than expected, but he was ordered to go to the cryo-room. He shared the same fate as his dear (y/n).

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

The thaw was always the worst part. Bucky always found himself feeling stiff. His metal arm was also slow to activate. There was always a delay after he woke up from a long freeze. He found himself still in his tube. He pressed his hands to the glass, pushing it open with surprising ease. He stepped out, looking around the room. He took a few steps, walking to the station next to him. He tapped the screen, waking it to view the information. He closed his eyes, trying to remember where he had last seen her. What tube was she in? He made his way through the room, checking each station. He froze in his tracks when he heard her.

Her screams echoed through the halls. Her screams were loud enough to wake the dead. She wouldn't go down easily. Bucky had no idea what was happening. He could hear grunts, her screams, and thuds. Bucky didn't know that she had been unfrozen due to her profile being leaked. She was to be killed, slowly and painfully. But she wasn't going down without a fight, she never did.

Another Hydra agent grabbed her arm, she pulled him close to her and slammed her head into his. She heard a sickening cracking of his nose as he let go of her to grab his face. She soon swiped his legs out from under him and began to run before she heard the thud of his body hit the floor. She didn't make it very far before she was caught. Another scream escaped her pale pink lips as she was dragged back to the room she came from.

Bucky found himself unguarded, taking the opportunity to search for her. He could hear her screams, slowly leading him closer to the source. But then it all stopped. James Barnes was very confused as he wandered through the halls. He kept listening for any sound to lead him closer. Time ticked on with no more screams, just silence and the occasional sound of footsteps. And then, her scream echoed through the corridors. His pace quickened as he practically ran to find the source. His mind was clouded with thoughts. He should be paying no mind to what he was hearing. He definitely shouldn't be trying to find her, but something inside him told him he had to.

"Help me." A female voice shrieked. He knew it was her, it was (y/n). And she was fighting for her life. He threw the doors open, and there she was. The memory of her was like a dream, she was so bright and vivid before they froze her. Now she had paled. Her lips were barely pink, her skin looked dull and lifeless. Her lip was bleeding, and she was covered in bruises. Seeing her like this made him tick. Something in him snapped as he watched a fellow agent kick her in the stomach. Within minutes, he had taken down the room full of hydra agents.

She watched with wide eyes as he kneeled in front of her.

"P-please, don't hurt me." She let out a frail whisper from her blood stained lips. Bucky reached out, gently touching her face, shaking his head. His (y/n), the dame who took care of him during the experiments, was now laying in front of him beaten to a pulp.

"I would never hurt you, (y/n), you know that." he said in a gentle tone as he lightly brushed her blood soaked hair out of her face. "I'm going to get you out of here." He watched as she relaxed. He reached down to pick her up, noticing her wince.

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

She was alone in a big city, she hadn't seen Bucky since he saved her. She hadn't really seen anyone she knew. Everyone she knew was dead. Her family, her friends, and the people she worked with. The only people she knew that were still alive were Steve and Peggy. She had visited Peggy a few times, but she barely remembered her. She ran into Steve once. He remembered her face, she was a nurse who was there for his experiment. She was good with comforting people, he always assumed that's why she was assigned that job. They only talked for a few minutes. He gave her his phone number, told her to reach out if she ever needed anything.

Today, she was going to visit Peggy. She tried to check in on her, even if Peggy barely remembered her. She stayed with Peggy for an hour, talking in a hushed voice. Peggy told her that Steve still came to see her. (Y/n) found herself sitting on the bench outside of the nursing home, thinking back to everything that had happened to her. And James. He always found his way back to her mind.

"(Y/n)," she heard Steve's voice, snapping out of an endless daydream of memories. "I need your help."

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

She followed Steve into a small house out in the middle of no where. They had been in the car for hours. Steve told her that it wouldn't take long, but it was a six hour drive. (Y/N) was almost thankful when Steve pulled into a long, stone driveway. She stepped out of the car, slowly following Steve to the small house. She looked around, not sure what to expect or why she was needed. She then heard the soft patter of bare feet on the wooden floor. Her eyes landed on a man with a silver arm, a man who she nursed, the man who saved her. He looked shocked to see her, he didn't know what had happened to her after he helped her escape. Her mouth fell agape, staring at James.

"I need you to help him." Steve's voice broke the silence. She nodded in response, never taking her eyes off of Bucky. She had no idea he was still alive. She assumed he would've been killed for saving her. She owed him her life.

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

"Trust me, you can do it." (Y/n) coaxed Bucky as he stepped towards her. He stopped in his tracks and shook his head. She held her hand out to him, hoping he would take her hand. He had refused to get close to her for weeks, afraid he would lose control and hurt her. "You said you would never hurt me, I trust you." She said softly, looking at him with soft eyes.

"I can't." He roared, crushing the glass he held in his metal hand. She walked towards him.

"Buck-". She was cut off as he stormed away from her. She let out a soft sigh, hearing a door slam. She knew Bucky had stormed off to his room, trying to avoid her. He seemed to get frustrated with her so quickly, even when he knew she was just trying to help. She began to follow him, but found herself immobile after stepping on the shattered glass. She yelped out in pain, tears welling in her eyes. She could feel glass cutting into her foot.

"B-Bucky." She stuttered out, calling for him. Her right hand reached to grasp the counter top to help support her weight and regain her balance. She held a hand gently to her foot, trying to keep the bleeding under control. She was so shocked. It had been a long time since she had been hurt, or seen an injury of this magnitude on anyone. Bucky came quickly, looking down at her. He soon realized what had happened.

"I'm so sorry, doll." He said, slightly panicked as he picked her up. He carried her to the bathroom, letting her cry against his grey t-shirt. He sat her on the sink, looking at her foot. He let out a sigh, looking up at her. He hated seeing her hurt. It brought flashbacks of the day he saved her. The pain she was in, what Hydra was doing to her. He took a deep breath, looking back to her foot.

"This is goin' to hurt, doll." He said as he gently began to pick the glass out of her foot. She whimpered as he plucked the last piece out, the biggest piece. "That's more like my lil' soldier." He smiled as she wiped tears from her eyes. He hadn't seen her cry since Steve had told her about Peggy's condition. He placed a kiss on her forehead and smiled. He reached up behind her, grabbing the first aid kit. He dug through the kit, trying to find some gauze and bandages. He took out everything he needed. He cleaned her cuts with peroxide, frowning a bit as she winced at the stinging.

"You'll be okay." He assured her as he began to wrap her foot. He stopped for a minute when he noticed her staring at him. He raised an eyebrow, returning her gaze. He noticed the playful smile that played on her lips. She was always so beautiful. He reached up to wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks. His eyes never left hers, his touches were so gentle.

"Are you just going to stare or are you going to kiss me, soldier?" She asked, with a devious smirk he hadn't seen since the first time she laid that line on him back in the 40's. He grinned before gently placing his lips against hers. The kiss was soft and sweet, but he soon pulled away. He felt a chuckle rise in chest as a pout formed on her lips.

"I've got to finish dressing your foot, darlin'." He mumbled, placing a quick kiss to her lips causing a whine to leave her lips.

"James, you haven't kissed me properly in nearly sixty years."

[eliemo]

What Matters

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

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

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

Masterpost

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

“It was an experiment, Virgil.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus was...a different story. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been up a while.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing was going to change. And yet…

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

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

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

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

“Just in case...what, Virgil?” 

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Janus.” 

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

Virgil was aware he was being a complete asshole. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, Virgil.” 

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

“Virgil!” 

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

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

“I- uhm, I’ll be right back.” 

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

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

God, what was wrong with him? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Virgil?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve been avoiding me today.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Virgil--” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s--?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan--” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it’s--” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Virgil.” 

[rizlowwritessortof]

Riz’s Master List

Just updated my master list (finally) - haven’t added anything new for a few months, unfortunately, but I’m working on it! Links below the cut. HUGE THANKS to @firefly-graphics for the dividers, you are a GIFT, my friend! 

Never Look Back

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 21 chapters

Bethany Rae Cooper didn’t realize when she met the Winchesters in her family’s bar and grill that her life would never be the same. But she’s always believed that everything happens for a reason, even if it’s not exactly what you were expecting…

The Shadow’s Edge

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 17 chapters

Sequel to Never Look Back. When the demon Dameon was killed, Dean and Beth thought their son was safe from the prophecy. But when Cas brings them news of the new battle for Hell, they realize that their war has just begun.

The Fine Line

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 34 chapters

An unexpected tragedy sends Devon down the dark path of hate and vengeance, but she will learn that things are not always what they seem…

Scars

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Sequel to The Fine Line. Dean and Devon’s relationship has always been stormy - but can they work through the scars of their past to find each other again?

Stars In the Darkness

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A crushing loss brings Dean and Sam to Sioux Falls, and ghosts from the past and present bring them across the path of Tiara, a girl they haven’t seen since childhood.

Dreaming

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 5 chapters

Dean Winchester has always been a bit of a thorn in Kelsey’s side - a very attractive thorn, but still… A visit at her uncle Bobby’s reunites her with the boys, and she begins having vivid dreams - about Dean. Is it just her subconscious trying to tell her something? Or is there more to it than that?

My Unimportant Little Life

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 11 chapters

Season 5 timeline. Dean gets yanked from 2009 to 2014, so he can see the ‘consequences’ of saying no to Michael. At Camp Chitaqua he meets Reggie, and is surprised to find that she comes from 2009 as well…

Back In the Saddle

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 10 chapters

Dean and Sam are back in the old west again - in answer to a cry for help from Samuel Colt. And if Dean just happens to get tangled up with the spirited redhead that owns the saloon… what’s the harm, right?

Sweet Escape

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life? This one’s dedicated to my friend, Liz, who gave me the idea. If only…

Sweet Escape Part 1

Sweet Escape Part 2

Shut Up and Drive

Dean/Female Reader, 2 parts

Reader teases Dean while he’s driving, so - he gets even

Part 1 - Keep Your Eyes on the Road

Part 2 - Or We Could Park - Parking Is Good Too

Take the Long Way Home

Dean Winchester/Female OC, 8 chapters

A look at Dean and Rusty’s relationship, in the present and through their memories. Flashbacks/memories are in italics.

Black Velvet

Demon!Dean/Female Reader, Dean/Female Reader, 9 chapters

You and Sam are broken after Dean’s death. Nobody expected him to come back with black eyes…

Fade to Black

Dean/Female Reader, 11 chapters

Sequel to Black Velvet. Dean is no longer a demon, but he’s still cursed with the Mark of Cain, and the lure of that darkness grows stronger as time goes on.

Dean and Toby Series

Part 1 - The Meet-Cute (Actually Rescue but Whatever)

Part 2 - The Emergency Bed-Share/Move In With Us Combo

Part 3 - The Hit and Then Run Like Your Ass Is On Fire

Part 4 - The FINALLY Admit Your True Feelings and Get Busy

GENERIC

I’m Good

This is the story that was published in the Seasons - Supernatural Short Story Anthology in 2017. Bobby sharing some memories.

Combo Shot

Dean/Female Reader

June 2015 GIEPP (Girl In Every Port Project) entry. Prompt: Pool/Poker hustler competitive chick. Pretty much pure smut.

A Hunter Walks Into a Bar

Dean/Female OC

Prowling hunter, sassy bartender

Shelter

Dean/Female Reader

Dean providing comfort

That’s How It Should Be

Sheriff!Dean/Female Reader

They have to make a fast escape, but Dean won’t let being on horseback stand in the way of showing a lady a good time

The Storm

Dean/Female Reader

You’re terrified of storms, and Dean is concerned, feelings get shared

Pest Control

Dean/Female Reader

You think you’ve got mice. The exterminator that shows up is Dean Winchester. He’ll just let you believe that, and take care of the problem. And you.

Happy Birthday, Baby

Dean/Female OC (KK)

Fluffy, smutty birthday fic written for a friend

Gunpowder and Dean

Dean/Female Reader

You’re pissed off at Dean, taking it out on the firing range, but he just won’t leave you alone…

Juicy and Delicious

Dean/Female Reader

My entry for Dean’s Flavor of the Month fic challenge - Peach Pie. You bake some peach pies for Dean, and he’s very grateful…

Lost In You

Dean/Female Reader

A casual flirtation leads to a violent encounter, and Dean’s reaction is a little more than you expected. Warning for brief description of attempted (unsuccessful) assault. Protective Dean.

What You Need

Dean/Female Reader

You’re watching as Sam and Dean prepare to interrogate a demon. Dean knows you’re watching him, and he knows exactly the kind of effect it’s having on you…

Santa Claus Is Coming Tonight

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s really getting into the Christmas spirit…

I Need You

Dean/Female Reader

You screwed up, Sam got hurt, Dean’s pissed and you aren’t handling it very well.

Snow Day

Dean/Female Reader

You and Dean, stuck in a motel room in a blizzard

Frisk Me

Dean/Female Cop Reader

You’re a cop, in hot pursuit of a murderer, and guess who crosses your path?

Comfort

Dean/Female Reader

Dean had a rough hunt, and he’s beating himself up as usual. You take his mind off things for a little while…

When I Think About You

Dean/Female Reader

It was a wild hunt, and you’re both a little high-strung. Surely there’s some way to blow off some steam…

One Finger

Dean/Female Reader

Dean Winchester has never been one to back down from a challenge

What Makes You Feel Alive

Endverse!Dean/Female Reader

The world is bleak, the struggle endless after Croatoan. You and Dean do what you have to do to keep going.

Sweet Misery

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

My entry for Bev’s Song Challenge - song prompt was Cryin’ by Aerosmith, lyrics at the beginning

Winchesters Don’t Giggle

Dean/Female Reader

A friend and I were having this discussion about giving Dean a back rub, and whether he might be ticklish…

Confession

Dean (Priest!Dean)/Female Reader

When Dean returns from some undercover work, you discover a fantasy you never realized you had

The Bait

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s (now on her 100th url as @cavillanche - Love you, Jess!) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘dressing up as an anime character for his birthday.’ And I have to admit, I really enjoyed this one… Reader dresses as Sailor Mars (from Sailor Moon) for Dean’s birthday.

Hey, Man - Nice Shot

Dean/Female Reader

This is for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. The prompt was ‘competitiveness in the shooting range (loser cleans the kitchen for a week) No smut.

Take the Pain Away

Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @jessica-bones-winchester’s ( @cavillanche ) Dating Dean Writing Challenge. Prompt was ‘him taking care of you when you’re sick.’ Reader falls victim to a migraine, and Dean helps her through it. No smut.

Lose Yourself

Dean/Female Reader

Smut, pure and simple… Just imagine having Dean tied up, at your mercy while you worship those perky nipples…

The Contest

Dean/Female Reader

Dean loves to give you a hard time, and one night he pushes things a little too far… Flashback in italics. All’s well that ends well.

Slow Ride

Dean (Bullriding!Dean) /Reader

Yeah, after 12x11, y'all should have known this was coming - they don’t call me Cowgirl for nothing… Written (coincidentally - timing is everything!) for the Smut Apocalypse (Smut Appreciation Day) on Tumblr.

The Photo Booth

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

This was written for @winchestersandwordprocessors SPN Valentine’s Fic Challenge. Prompt was Semi-public/Risk of getting caught.

Make You Mine

Dean/Female Reader

Dean’s jealousy gets the best of him, which is not a bad thing…

Take a Chance

Dean/Unnamed Female OC - Dean’s POV

In 7x04, Dean gives himself a little pep talk before his planned hook-up with the bartender. That scene is what inspired me. This one is more important than the usual one-nighters, and it’s making him a little nervous…

If We Don’t Make It

Dean/Female OC

This fic was written for @whispersandwhiskerburn Angel’s 2K Follower Celebration. My song prompt was “Broken” by Lifehouse, and the dialogue prompt was “If we don’t make it out of this, I need you to know…” No smut.

My Deliverer

Dean/Female Spirit - Her POV

Dean is hunting a vengeful spirit. But another spirit is in this place, and she is drawn to him…

Friendly Advice

Dean/Female Reader - Dean POV, Reader POV

This was written for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Mimi’s RomCom Fluff Challenge. The fluff got a little smudged into smutty fun… oops! Two POV’s, Dean’s thoughts are in italics and Reader’s are in regular font.

Old Times

Dean/Female OC

Sequel a few years down the road from A Hunter Walks Into a Bar. Tiara goes back to the bar for a visit, and who should show up the next night but Dean Winchester… Flashback in italics.

You Can Leave Your Hat On

Dean/Female Reader (nicknamed Taz)

Inspired by the sexy AF Cowboy!Dean we were treated to in 13x06 Tombstone. Helped along by Joe Cocker’s rendition of “You Can Leave Your Hat On.“

Wish Her the Best

Dean/Female OC - Dean’s POV

This is an angsty li'l fic inspired by Thomas Rhett’s ‘Marry Me,’ tore at my heart until I finally wrote it. No smut.

A Matter of… Time?

Dean/Female Reader

This is the crackiest piece of work I’ve ever written - for @percywinchester27 Ana’s PJO Quotes Challenge. Prompt was “Don’t you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?” - “Umm - no. Me running the world would be kind of a nightmare.”

Demon Seed

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

Demon!Dean stops in for a drink and decides he wants you. He’s very persuasive. Written for @evansrogerskitten’s Hottest Dean Challenge.

Not Wasted Now

Dean/Female Reader

When you all decide to get drunk in the aftermath of a bad hunt, lines get a little blurred. Or crossed. Or fucking erased. Fluffy, smutty, comforting, sweet and sexy Dean.

Bad Guy

Demon!Dean/Female Reader

This was written for @eyes-of-a-disney-princess Rapunzel’s Tangled Up With Supernatural Challenge. My Tangled quote was “You want me to be the bad guy? Fine, now I’m the bad guy.”

Shiny

Trucker!Dean/Female OC

Trucker!Dean AU. Breaker, breaker, got your ears on? 67 Midnight Rider, put that hammer down…

Some Kind of Hero

Dean/Female OC

Written for Tiff’s WTF Challenge. Dean’s just filling up Baby, minding his own business, when he hears an argument and gets involved. Protective Dean, no smut, left that to your imagination.

Crave

Dean/Female Reader

So, have some ‘Riz is craving some sexy Dean action with a big ol’ side of schmoopy fluff’ stuff. Because I was, and I’m sharing with you - the smut and all the sickenly sweet cuddly that I just need sometimes. If y'all are in the mood for that kind of thing.

Perchance to Dream

Dean/Female OC

Using African dream root on a case leads to an awkward situation, and Karlie can’t handle the tension between her and Dean any longer

Ruined

Dean/Female Reader

Dean comes home from a hunt, and he’s had something on his mind…

Going Home

Dean/Female Reader

Written for @crispychrissy’s Gif It To Me Challenge. Overhearing only part of a conversation sends her running, but jumping to conclusions without the whole story isn’t the best decision. No smut.

Not the Smartest Thing

Dean/Female Reader - Reader POV

Only Dean Fucking Winchester could turn taking a swig of beer into pornography. Cocky bastard. But two can play at that game.

Suzy Q

Dean/Female OC - OC POV

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan’s Multi-fandom Follower Celebration Challenge. Prompt - “I think I’m having a feeling. How do I make it stop?”

Invisible Touch

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Rowena teaches Dean something new, and he gets inspired. I have no idea where this came from, but here it is…

Maybe I’m Amazed

Dean/Unnamed Female OC

An accident leaves her unconscious and fighting for her life in the hospital, drifting in and out of awareness and memories as Dean refuses to leave her side. Written for @rockhoochie’s 1K Love Supernatural Style Writing Challenge.

Reunion

Dean/Female OC

Passing through town, Dean runs into an old high school classmate. Fluffy and smutty, no angst here!

Playing With Fire

MOC!Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Late Season 10 MOC!Dean smut fic that just wouldn’t leave me alone…

Uninvited

Michael!Dean/Dean/Unnamed Female OC

Michael gives Dean a choice, because sometimes Michael likes to watch…This one is darker than my normal, PLEASE heed the warnings.

What Happens At the Roadhouse…

Early-Season Dean/Female OC

Bailey’s just looking for a couple days post-hunt R&R at Harvelle’s - and then he shows up. Cocky bastard.

Unleashed

Post-Purgatory Dean/Female OC

She’s still struggling to cope a year after Dean disappeared in the explosion that killed Dick Roman.

The Pool House

Dean/Unnamed female OC

Inspired by a dream - one I will never forget!

The Break-In

Dean/Tara (female OC)

One night I started thinking about what it would be like using mics and earbuds and having Dean’s voice RIGHT IN YOUR EAR. And then this fic happened. Hope you enjoy!

Tired of Missing You

Dean/Journey (female OC)

This is one of those times when my story yanked the wheel out of my hands and I just went along for the ride. So if you’re in the mood for a fluffy, angsty cookie with a smutty, creamy middle - here ya go!

Compelled

Dean/Brandi (female OC)

Have you ever had a really bad day at work? I’ve never had a day quite as bad as Brandi’s - but damn, I’d love to use this method to relieve the stress…

The Devil Made Me Do It

Demon!Dean/Shea (Female OC)

Shea is in a reckless mood. Demon!Dean is happy to help her indulge that mood.

Driving Miss Baby

Dean/Reader

Dean decides you need a driving lesson in Baby.

Just a Little Story About Lou and Sam

Sam/Female OC

Lou and Sam walk into a bar… written for a friend who’s a Sammy girl

Doctor-Patient Relations

Sam/Female OC

One-shot inspired by The Born-Again Identity - sick Sammy and Dr. Nicole. Written for another Sammy-girl friend

Head vs. Heart

No title

Fourth of July

Working Saturday Isn’t So Bad

11x17 Drabble

Some Nights He Dreams

Most of the Time

The Name Game

God Bless America

Stress Relief

Dean Hurt/Comfort Drabble

@mrs-squirrel-chester ‘s Album Fanfic Writing Challenge Drabbles

    Dangerous

    For My Brother

    In Chains

    Kiss and Tell

    The End of Me

    Choices

    Hero

    Pure

    In the End

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne - Chapter 16

:D

Chapter 16: Villain

-

P. Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

Tag: @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani @redscarlet95 @greatcatblaze @promiswords @fantasiame @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @alexandriamw @officiallydarkgeek @galla02006 @maleive07

-

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Wally stirred around in the bed, patting around the bed to look for his phone. After a while, he found it, flinching harshly when he found it and dared to check the time within the dark room. 

5:30 in the morning. 

Getting up, Wally noticed Amira missing from her room, deciding to look for her. 

Unsurprisingly, he found her in the kitchen, baking. 

“Want to talk about it?” Wally asked, sitting on a nearby stool. He watched Amira continue to knee the bread dough, her lips pursed as she ignored him. “Want to talk about something else?”

The pregnant silence in the kitchen remained there until Amira spoke moments later. 

“Please.” Amira practically begged as she whispered, her kneeing stopping. 

“Say no more. Remember when you left me here alone? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Bridgette! She’s the most adorable baby there is! And can you believe she actually held my hand? She held it for like two seconds. Two seconds!”

Wally went on to talk about the time he spent with Bridgette and how next time he will bring her some toys to play with. 

He watched as Amira’s shoulders began to sink back down, her kneeing becoming less aggressive and the furrow of her brows less tense. 

Wally made a mental note of investigating what caused Amira to have nightmares again. 

After all, it’s been months he last saw her stress baking because of one. 

What caused her to have one now?

-

Marinette appreciated the cold wind in her face, allowing her to forget the events from this morning. 

She didn’t think video games would give her flashbacks of the days she used to play them with Jason. Days where they would stay up all night playing them until Alfred caught them or the days Dick would join them and then whine when he would lose.

Memories she believed she had deeply buried within her mind only for a Victim to bring them back with ease. 

Days she missed dearly and wished badly for…

But the past was the past and there was nothing she could do to bring Jason back…even if she wanted to...

Stopping at the bottom of the school steps, she let out a deep sigh before going up the stairs, hoping to forget the vivid dreams of last night.

Just as she had a small plan on how to get rid of them, the moment she stepped into the school, she knew something was off. Something was interrupting the equilibrium and she hated that.

Shaking the feeling off, Amira headed to class, taken back by the small decorations in the classroom. 

The windows were decorated with paper snowflakes, red and green ribbons draped around the yard. 

“What’s all this?” Marinette asked herself, preparing herself for the upcoming school day. Keeping her scarf, she put away her coat and a few textbooks she didn’t need. 

“Dudette, do you really not know why the school is decorated this way?” Nino asked, closing his locker. 

“No be honest, no.” A gasp came from the other side, Chloé appalled at her. 

“Dupain-Cheng. Christmas is just around the corner! How did you forget that!”

“Christmas?” Marinette repeated, wondering how she missed the holi-

Oh...right. “I...I don’t really celebrate it.” Marinette admitted, then remembering the last time she ever spent Christmas with her Grandpere and father...and with Jason… or rather...without him...

“Marinettte, are you-” Sabrina was about to ask if she was okay when the bell rang.

Now with a tense atmosphere, the friends made their way to their classroom, Chloe feeling miserable as she watched Marinette zone out throughout class.

During chemistry, the girl excused herself various times, making Alya having to do most of the work herself.

“What’s bothering her?” Adrien asked Chloe, noticing that she too was acting strange since that morning.

Pursing her lips, Chloe let out a sigh as she began to label the diagram in her textbook.

“I may have upsetted her.” Chloe admitted. “We were talking about how Christmas was right around the corner. I asked how she forgot it when she told me she doesn’t celebrate and then...she just...went quiet.” Chloe trailed, letting her pencil fall out of her hand. “Adrien, I messed up.”

“You didn’t know she would react like that.” Adrien replied, watching as Marinette walked back into the room, apologizing to Alya as she sat in her seat. “So you apologize for it.”

“Okay, so I apologize for it, but how do I prepare for the next time? I don’t know what I said that made her...well, change.”

“It might have been old memories.” Adrien quickly supplied. “Perhaps relating to her family.”

“Her family?” 

“Well, this is just a theory,” Adrien started, hoping that he was semi-right. “But I think Marinette came to Paris to move on.” Chloe arched a brow.

“Move on?”

“Well, when we first met, she mentioned having siblings.”

“Siblings? As in more than just Bridgette?” Chloe asked, remembering seeing the tiny baby when they had gone to visit her while she was sick.

“Aside from Bridgette, Marinette did mention having two-one other siblings aside from her.” He corrected himself. “But as far as we know, we know nothing about them. Never talks about them either.”

“Wait, you said two before changing to one. Why?” Crap.

“Well, that's where things get a bit complicated. When Marinette said she had siblings, she told me she had two in total although it used to be three. My guess is that, well...he has moved on.” Adrien said quietly, looking at his book with great interest. “Her eyes became dull, just like how they look like now.”

Chloe processed the information, looking over at Marinette. To think she knew so little about her good friend. Chloe hit the table with her head, letting out a groan. “Don’t worry Chlo. She’ll understand if you just ask her.”

“I hope she does.” Chloe said, lifting her head.

Class went on and shortly later, Mlle Mendeleiev began to tell the class to pack up. With the ring of the bell, everyone went onto their next class or lunch, Chloe missing the opportunity to talk to Marinette.

Sighing, Chloe picked up her things and went to have lunch with her father as they had promised to do that morning.

---

Marinette huffed as she sat across from Adrien, taking out a notebook that was heavily encrypted in code. 

After all, she didn’t want anyone else to know she was Ladybird and that she had narrowed her suspicions onto one man possibly being Hawkmoth.

“I heard what happened this morning.” Adrien said, flipping a page from his own book, Marinette noticing the odd language in it.

It looked eerily...familiar. Where had she seen that book before?

“I’m guessing Chloe told you.” Marinette continued, flipping a page in her book of evidence. “She doesn’t need to apologize. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. She didn’t do anything wrong, I did. I shouldn’t have gone silent like that. I didn’t explain to her that-”

“But it’s because she didn’t know that she should ask what made you react the way you did. For future reference. And to avoid making the same mistake.” Adrien said, looking up from his book. “Of course, you don’t have to specifically tell her-”

“It’s because of my brother.” Marinette cut off, closing her book and looking straight at Adrien. “This will be the first Christmas...since his death...a Christmas without him...” Marinette trailed.

He was right? But wait...first Christmas without him? If they were siblings, surely the two would’ve celebrated various Christmas together...right?

“When Marinette said she had siblings, she told me she had two in total although it used to be three. My guess is that, well...he has moved on.” 

Moved on…

Marinette did move from Gotham to Paris, remembering that she used to go to Gotham Academy. Surely the two had to have been greatly involved in each other’s lives if Marinette remembered her brother dearly; they had to have had a tight relation with each other. To be attached to each other-

 “-to the hip.” Alfred’s words finished off for him.

Wait...what was it he had said after that?

“Even after the two were taken by different families, the two went to the same school and stayed together. But when Jason died, her parents took her with them to open up their business in Paris. To start anew and let Amira recover from his death.”

That had to be a coincidence...yeah! A complete coincidence!

There was no way- but now that he thought about it...it kind of made sense.

For starters, Marinette didn’t look like either of her parents. She was of a darker complexion and has emerald eyes. 

Despite knowing French, Marinette spoke in a dialect that seemed more like Metropolitan French opposed to Parisian French, although her French also seemed to have Canadian influence as well. He remembered that during a spar of theirs, she accidentally said ‘aweille’ instead of ‘allez.’

Her English, for that matter, sounded more natural to her than her French, often hearing Marinette more relaxed when she spoke it.

Marinette also seemed to give off an aura of having already learned her materials, Adrien then remembering how she reacted to learning he was home schooled.

It seemed like she was somehow able to empathize with-

“-need to pick that up?” Marinette asked, snapping Adrien from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your phone. It’s been ringing for a while.”

Sure enough, it as, Adrien realizing it was his father. He never called unless...oh no…

Did...Did he notice?! Already?!

Quickly getting up, Adrien dumped the book he was reading into his bag and knocked the chair down. While picking it up, his bag slid down his arm and hit the floor.

Apologizing to Marinette about having to leave her alone, he quickly ran to his locker to grab his coat in case he needed to go out.

Calling his father back, Adrien couldn’t even let a word out.

“Adrien. Come home. Now.”

---

Amira blinked for a while as she still took in what had happened just seconds ago. Shrugging it off, Amira continued to look at her data when Tikki flew out of her jacket. 

“Tikki!” Amira hissed, making sure no one had seen her. “What do you think-“

“This!” Tikki shouted, Amira going under the desk to see Tikki attempting to lift up a heavy book more precisely, the book Adrien was reading. “We have to bring this to Master Fu!”

“Master Fu? What would he be needing a book like this?” Amira asked, lifting the book and opening up its contents. “It’s just a bunch of-” 

She stopped as the page she decided to open up was one that showed a man that resembled Hawkmoth, his armor grandiose yet too loud. Seriously, wings? 

Amira looked at the image, she traced the glyphs with her fingers that were near an image of what she assumed the Butterfly miraculous looked like. “Butterfly.” Amira read, only then did it click as to why these glyphs looked so familiar.

“Amira! How do you know how to-”

“I’ve seen this before Tikki.” Amira quickly closed the book to look at its cover, the crest staring back at her. It looked just like it! “Tikki...what exactly is this?” Amira asked, feeling as if she just stumbled upon Pandora's Box. 

“I can’t tell you here.” Tikki said, looking around. Amira nodded, stuffing the book into her school bag before running out the library and back home, the cold no longer a worry.

Fumbling to find the correct key to the apartment, Amira hated how cold her fingers got as she pushed the door open. She quickly bolted up the stairs and opened up the apartment door before rushing over to her room.

Thankfully, Wally wasn’t there, allowing Amira to focus at the hand at task. 

As Amira set the book down, Tikki flew out to inspect the book, opening it up and flipping each page.

“Tikki. Explain what this is, now.” Amira demanded, opening boxes she never unpacked before. Small trinkets looked back at her, causing her to close them back up and open the next. Where was it?!

“R-Right.” Tikki said, flipping over to a page that showed different forms of the yo-yo. How did she forget its many forms? “This grimoire is a book of spells that not only enhance your abilities, but unlocks the abilities of us kwamis. It also contains information about the other miraculouses and how to use them. Of course, only those who know how to read the Guardian’s language could decipher the spells and information.”

“Guardian’s language?” 

“It’s a special language that is only passed on from one Guardian to another, a language which only they know. Not even us Kwami know. A precaution on the Guardian’s part.”

Amira hummed in response as she gave up looking at the boxes and started to rummage through her desk, tossing papers, notes and books around, stopping when she found the thing she was looking for. “By the way Amira, how do you know how to read the Guardian’s language?”

Amira showed her an old journal, placing it right next to the spellbook. The front of it had the same exact crest as the grimoire.

“My brother adored learning languages, even the obscure ones. Whenever we would have a day off from school, he would go to our father’s library and stay there all day.” Tikki watched as a soft smile formed on her face as she said so. “I remember the day he deciphered the entirety of this language, a language that had stumped researchers for years. You wanna know how he did so?”

Tikki nodded. “He noticed that the translations among the various attempts to decode the language were right. But he noticed that that was just the first layer of the text.”

“Layer?”

“The entire language is encrypted.” Amira said, flipping through the journal. “Depending on which part of the grimoire you were looking at, the code would change. The grimoire was created this way to not only test the fluency of the Guardian, but to also prevent it going into the wrong hands.”

Tikki was left in awe.

“And he did that all by himself?” Tikki watched as Amira showed her the widest grin she had ever seen on her.

“You bet! You should’ve seen the look of satisfaction when he tried to teach me how he used different dialects of Chinese, Arabic and other Native American dialects to ensure his translations were correct. Of course, I didn’t really capture everything he told me. After all, he was the linguist and I was just the student.”

Tikki softly sighed when she saw Amira talk dearly of her brother, a smile on her face that showed her true nature.

Taken by the flow of the discussion, Tikki had forgotten about the reason why they took the book in the first place.

“Amira! We have to get this book to Master Fu! He needs to see this!”

“No.” Amira quickly rejected, getting up from her seat.

“No? Amira, Master Fu-”

“I can’t give him this book just yet. Don’t you realize how valuable this is?”

“That’s exactly why-”

“It’s our greatest clue yet.” Tikki watched as Amira took out a little case from one of the boxes she had opened up earlier, popping it open to display a gadget Tikki had never seen before.

She watched as Amira got to work, placing the small gadgets on the spine of the grimoire, watching as the computer monitors began to display different windows.

It was then that Tikki figured out what Amira was doing.

“Amira...are you planning on-”

“Whoever had this grimoire has to be Hawkmoth. It’s the only plausible explanation. After all, whichever Guardian who was the one before Master Fu was foolish enough to leave the translations of the activation of the miraculouses on the book.” Amira pointed out, showing Tikki some faint mandarin writing under the glyphs. 

Tikki continued to watch in silence as Amira continued to work on the bugging of the book.

“So...we’re not giving the grimoire to Master Fu, right?”

“Not this one at least.” Amira said, showing Tikki a device that resembled a phone. “I will be sending him a copy after I finish scanning the pages.”

Satisfied with the response, Tikki continued to watch over Amira until they had to head back to school for the afternoon classes.

-

When Marinette stepped into the classroom, she didn’t expect to see Chloé crying and sobbing. Sabrina was by her side, rubbing circles on her back as she whispered ‘there, there.’

Running and collapsing to her side, Marinette urged Chloe to look at her.

“Chloe, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s Adrien! His father isn’t letting him come back to school over a book! A stupid book!” Chloe threw herself onto Marinette, sobbing into her friend’s arms. “Stupid Gabriel! Adrien doesn’t deserve to be treated this way!”

“A book? Did Adrien tell you what it looked like?” Chloe wiped off the small snot off her nose.

“N-no. He only said how the book was a book of inspiration for his fa- where are you going?”

“I might know how to find it.” Marinette said, picking up her things. “Tell Ms. Bustier that I won’t be back until tomorrow.”

---

Amira looked at the book sitting on her desk, frowning at having to depart from it so quickly.

After calling Adrien, she was able to confirm that the book he had lost was indeed the grimoire. What were the odds?

“Are you really going to give it back right now? Why don’t you wait a while?”

“I don’t want Adrien to pay for something he didn’t do.”

“Well, he did take the book.”

“But then I took it away without his permission.” Amira fought back, picking up the grimoire and stuffing it into her bag. “He shouldn’t be punished for something he had no control over.”

“True.” Tikki said, watching as Amira slipped into a thicker jacket and wore a dress, something she rarely did.

“Ready to head into the lion’s den?” Amira asked Tikki, Tikki nodding, slipping into Amira’s scarf.

---

“-didn’t know it was yours, sir. I didn’t even think it belonged to Adrien until just moments ago.” Gabriel watched as the girl handed the book over to him, which he took too quickly for his liking. 

While Gabriel thought nothing of this girl, something about her bothered him. 

Perhaps it was the designer in him that screamed to grab a pen and pencil as inspiration had hit him. After all, despite working in the fashion industry, he rarely got to see models with an olive complexion. 

Her neutral expressions were also camera worthy. 

How would she look alongside Adrien during photoshoots?

Setting business aside, he focused back onto the matter at hand.

“So you took it home after finding it in the library?”

“Yes, it happened shortly after he got a phone call. It’s how I assume he left it there as he was in a hurry to answer it.”

Gabriel looked at her directly, trying to find any wavering emotions, only to find none. A child who wasn’t afraid of him. How odd.

“I see.” Gabriel said. “Seeing as Adrien didn’t actually lose the book, he will be free to attend school again. Thank you for returning my book.”

Gabriel watched as the girl curted, turning around to leave only to stop.

“I have a question and a couple of...suggestions.”

“Go on.”

“That book, I was wondering where you found it.” Gabriel watched as the girl took out a worn out picture, causing his eyes to widen ever so slightly.

In the photo, there was a boy with the same exact book in his hands, deciphering what seemed to be the contents of it. “Before my brother passed, he was researching texts that looked similar to the ones inside the book. So of course, I wanted to know if it was the same-”

“I found mine overseas while on a trip with my wife.” Gabriel cut off, wondering why he even told her that. “Since I bought it, I have never seen another copy of it, until now. Do you know what happened to your brother’s copy?”

Gabriel didn’t know what to expect when the girl shook her head.

“Most of his research along with the book disappeared in the fire that took my brother a year ago in Gotham.” The girl said, frowning as she told him. “The only thing I have left from him is this photo.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Gabriel softly said. “Now, you mentioned suggestions.”

“Right.” The girl composed herself. “I left a few translations in the book based on what I remembered from my brother’s notes. But my main suggestion is for you to be more lenient with Adrien. Take it from a child who was also homeschool for half her life. 

Resentment isn’t a pretty thing. While they’re easy to hide, they aren’t the easiest to control once they spill. With Paris’ situation...well, you know the rest.” Gabriel let those words sink in, something in his head clicking. “Well, I hope to see Adrien at school tomorrow. And it was nice seeing you Mr. Agreste, although, this wasn’t my first time seeing you.”

Dumbfounded, Gabriel watched as the girl left his home, wondering what she meant by those words.

He walked back to his office, placing the grimoire back into its place before taking it back. He pressed some hidden buttons on the portrait, feeling the ground below him submerge.

---

Wally flinched when the hatch to Amira’s room swung open.

“Hey! Did-” Amira pressed a finger to her lips before gesturing towards the monitors, taking a seat in her chair and putting on some headphones.

Wally watched as Amira’s map of the Agreste residency started to map out, watching as a red dot began to go below ground.

“Holy shit Amira.” Wally whispered, grinning like a madman. “You fucking did it...and without me!” He whined, Amira ignoring it as she watched the dot come to a stop.

“So that’s where you have been hiding...Hawkmoth.”

---

Amira yawned as she made her way up the stairs of the school.

How she regretted staying up with Wally. She is never letting him take over the Beetle ever again. He treated her camera as if it were some type of toy! The nerve!

As she made her way to her locker, taking off her coat as she walked, Marinette couldn’t help but notice the buzzing around her and within the halls. 

She also couldn’t help but notice the name Lila being said in every sentence she heard. 

Lila this, Lila that. Just who was this Lila?

“Lila? That’s the name of our latest transfer student!” Alya said, putting her coat into her locker. Guess she said that out loud. 

And a transfer student? It’s already December for crying out loud!

Picking up a few books, Alya showed Marinette a video, or rather an interview where the girl reminisced about her meeting with Ladybird. 

Marinette watched with disgust as the new transfer student blabbered about events that didn’t happen, even going as far as saying that the two were good friends by the end of their supposed meeting. 

“When did you say she arrived in Paris?” Marinette asked, closing her locker and placing her lock.

“Seriously? You still place a lock on your locker? Come on, we’re grown! We can trust-”

“Trust is earned, not given. And you didn’t answer my question. When did she arrive?”

“Just yesterday! Which is why I thought it was so cool that she got to meet Ladybird-”

“How do you know she even met Ladybird? Not even you have and you’re the only reporter in all of Paris that even dares to approach Ladybird during and after a fight.”

Alya pursed her lips as she looked at her phone.  

Marinette was right. 

How come she didn't get to converse with Ladybird despite their many encounters? Why hasn’t she yet got to get an exclusive interview with Ladybird while Lila got one on her first day in Paris?

That wasn’t fair. “And even if it was true, doesn’t it seem a little odd? There wasn’t an attack yesterday, meaning that Ladybird was on patrol and we all know Ladybird never talks with civilians while she’s out on patrol. She even told you it herself when you encountered her the second time all those months ago, or did you already forget?”

Alya felt herself bringing her head down, remembering the time she got akumatized into Lady WiFi. 

She had tried to go after Ladybird, trying to find out her identity as the next big scoop for her blog - Ladyblog. 

After days of tracking her patrol route, Alya decided to track down Ladybird which ended up with the vigilante scolding Alya for disrespecting her space, invading her privacy and for endangering herself. 

“Perhaps Lila-“

“Alya. Are you really going to accept Lila words just like that? Whatever happened to being a reporter that would one day rival Lois Lane herself?” Marinette reminded her, hating herself for remembering that rant from months ago. “Will you really blindly accept the words of a person without doing any type of investigation?”

Alya looked at the video staring back at her, Lila’s laughing face looking back at her. “If that’s what you want to become, then by all means, go ahead. Just don’t expect to be receiving any internships anytime soon.”

Alya watched as she felt the locker room, leaving Alya with herself. 

Did Marinette really not believe in Lila’s words? 

She wasn’t one to harshly comment about people without knowing them, so why this time? 

What in Lila’s interview had bothered Marinette?

Having found a new goal, Alya quickly grabbed her things and headed towards class, the gears in her head spinning as she thought of a way to devise her investigation. 

-

“-and he even wrote a song about me!” The way Lila’s voice became a pitch higher upon ending her sentence irked Marinette, the girl rolling her eyes at the girl’s tale. 

“Welcome to the club.” Nino told her as she walked past his desk. 

“Club?”

“Seems like only us five don’t particularly like her.” Sabrina elaborated, taking out her notebook for their first class. “Something about her stories just doesn't sit right.”

“Doesn't sit right? Sabrina, they're ridiculous! Who brags about being Ladybird’s friend when she doesn’t even make friends with civilians? She made that loud and clear with Cesaire!”

“I see.” Marinette said, looking over at Lila, the rest of the class surrounding her and eating from the palm of her hand. “Where’s Adrien?”

“He said he’s running la-there he is!” Chloe squealed, latching onto him the moment he walked into the classroom. “Adrikins! I’m so glad you’re back!”

The group failed to see Lila look over at them, a faint blush on her face. Holy hell was that boy cute when he smiled.

“I suggest you stay away from them.” Someone told Lila, but Lila brushed the warning away.

“It may not look like it but they aren’t exactly the kindest of people.” Another voice spoke.

“You have Chloe - a bully, Sabrina - Chloe’s lapdog, Adrien - Chloe’s best friend and Marinette-  Chloe’s friend.” 

“What about the boy with the cap?” Lila asked, her eyes not leaving the sunshine boy among the group. He was...perfect...

“He’s a recent addition.”

Just as Lila was about to ask about more information about Adrien, their teacher walks in.

“Oh, I see everyone has met Lila!” Miss Bustier cooed, watching as Marinette made her way to her seat. The two made eye contact before Marinette huffed.

Ever since that humiliating first day of class, Mlle Bustier tried to bring Marinette’s behavior to M Damocles, only for him to do nothing. 

Something about her father having donated a large sum of money that allowed the school to have more STEAM programs and of the sorts. 

Ever since then, Mlle Bustier made sure to be wary of Marinette and made sure to never give her a chance to make a mockery of her teaching again. “Lila, if you would come to the front of the class to introduce yourself just in case someone hasn’t met you yet.”

Lila smiled as she grabbed her things and walked to the front.

“Hello everyone! My name is Lila Rossi! I transferred her from Italy due to my mother’s job as a diplomat. Since she’s a diplomat, we tend to move a lot.” The class cooed at that, Marinette, however, raising a brow. “I’d be happy to answer any questions about my-“

“What other places have you been?”

“Have you met anyone famous?”

“What are-“

“Class, class!” Miss Bustier raised her voice, making sure the class settled down before continuing. “Now, Lila will answer your questions one by one.”

“Thank you Mlle Bustier. As for where I have traveled, I’ve been to Spain, England, Achu and now I’m here. I met Prince Ali in Achu and I can’t tell you how marvelous it was being able to spend hours with him.” 

Once more, the class cooed. Marinette remained unfazed, noticing how the girl lied with ease. 

“Just recently, I was in Gotham. I even got to go to this year’s Gala!“

Lila noticed Chloe raising her hand. “Yes?”

“How come I didn’t see you then? Surely I would’ve recognised that ridiculous hairstyle of yours anywhere.” Chloe asked, earning a harsh warning from Mlle Bustier.

“You make a good point Chloe. I also didn’t see you there.” Adrien said, causing Lila to pale.

“Oh right, I forgot the two of you went to Gotham for Wayne Gala as well.” Lila heard Marinette say, her face neutral. “Weren’t you guys invited to stay at the Manor as well?”

Shit. 

“Well, perhaps you didn’t see me because I was spending the entire night talking with Jason and keeping him company throughout the gala!” Lila said, placing her hands together. “Everyone was told that he couldn’t make it to the gala due to having other priorities the next day, but the truth is that he wanted to spend time with me before I had to head here.”

No one noticed the way Marinette stiffened, the way her eyes widened and her hands began to form a fist. Everyone was either too busy cooing or gagging.

“You’re lying.” Marinette seethed.

“I know it’s hard to believe it, but it’s true! Jason and I are the bestest of friends and M. Wayne is like a second father to me! All night, we were chatting away, Jason telling how he was the one who created the foundation in honor of-”

“Shut up.” Marinette said it loudly enough for the class to hear, causing them to turn to her direction. 

“Pardon?” Lila said with a tilt of her head, wondering why exactly this girl was getting so on edge.

“I said, shut up.” Marinette said, her voice just above a whisper. “Shut up before you-“

“Marinette!” Mlle Bustier raises her voice. This girl wasn’t going to bully this poor girl on her first day of class! Not on her watch! “Apologize at-”

“No Mlle Bustier, let her-“

“You said you knew Jason...when did you meet him?“ Marinette said as she got up.

“We met when we were little, around 5 years old. M. Wayne-”

“Bruce Wayne adopted Jason just over two years ago.” Marinette cut off.

“5? I mean to say 12.” Lila corrected herself. “And like I was going to say, he told me he had been planning this for quite a-”

“He couldn’t have told you that himself!” Marinette yelled, getting up from her seat and slamming her hands on the table. “And don’t you dare claim that he did!”

“You weren’t there, so how-“

“Because he would never tell someone like you about it! Hell, even if he did show a liking to you, there’s no way he would’ve been able to.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Jason and I are good buddies!“ Lila cried out, tears pooling in her eyes.

Marinette could hear the yells behind her that told her to stop bullying Lila. To stop acting so jealous over her exciting life.

“Stop lying! Jason couldn’t have told you anything because he’s dead!” Marinette yelled, feeling her eyes sting. 

How she hated how her body trembled and burned with rage. 

Somewhere in the distance, she heard Tikki whisper to her to calm down. 

But how can she? This harlot was using her dear brother's name for fame..she couldn't sit back and watch this girl do that.!

“And how would you know? You probably have never left-“

“Because unlike you, I actually knew him! I’ve actually met him! I was there when he got taken in by Bruce. The two of us went to Gotham Academy, because yes! I’m actually a Gothamite! And not only that, he was my best friend!” Marinette yelled, feeling her throat grow dry. “And I! And I was there the day he died during a villain attack in Gotham so don’t you dare say you knew him when there was no possibility in you ever speaking to him!” 

Marinette marched down the steps and grabbed Lila by the collar of her shirt, Lila’s hazel eyes not being a challenge for her emerald ones. “So I suggest you shut your damn trap and stop lying to everyone in this damn room just so you could get a lick of attention! 

Unlike them, I can’t be fooled by such trickery. You’re nothing but a simple con artist.”

Dropping Lila to the ground and grabbing her bag, Marinette left the classroom in a hurry, never turning back…

She never noticed the akuma that followed her hot in her heels. 

-

Hawkmoth was busy looking at the translation left on his book, trying to decipher it when he felt a shiver run down his spine.

This emotion was strong, filled with both anger and grief, a negative energy so strong, he felt his knees buckle. He grinned at this golden opportunity. 

He would have to thank whoever made this poor soul fester into such a wonderful monster just waiting to burst out. For this will be his greatest akuma yet.

Beckoning a glistening white butterfly, it sat on his palm, Hawkmoth carefully enclosing it between his palms. Oh how he could feel the raw power in this soul. This poor soul who wanted their enemy to feel the same grief she had been dealing with for months.

“Fly, my little akuma and make her our greatest creation yet!” He praised with predetermined glory, watching as his miasma covered butterfly slipped through his hands and out the window. 

He waited as his akuma merged into the soul’s dearest possession, feeling the negative energy hit him in the face once the merging was done. 

Just as he was going to introduce himself, the soon to be Victim spoke to him. 

“I know who you are. I know what you want...but why should I let myself be used for your own gain?”

His own gain? 

To think his gem was hidden from him all these months!

Letting out a cackle, Hawkmoth couldn’t believe his luck. 

He could feel it in his blood. 

Today was the day. 

Today, he will get Ladybird’s and Chat Noir’s miraculouses. 

Victory will be his at long last!

“My own gain? On the contrary my dear. I will give you the power to make anyone you touch feel your despair and anger at losing your loved one. All you have to do,” Hawkmoth let out a chuckle. “Well, you know the rest.”

-

Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina and Nino ran out the classroom in pursuit of Marinette, watching in terror as an akuma landed on her, not seeing what item the akuma merged into. 

All they saw was their dear friend get enveloped by a hideous purple miasma. 

A few seconds passed when the miasma dispersed and turned into fog, mist so dense you can barely see your own hands in front of you. 

The four stuck together, staring at the place Marinette once stood, watching as an all white figure approached them. 

They watched with beating hearts and held breaths as the figure was now a foot in front of them, staring at them with tears flowing down their pale face and bloodshot red eyes through her thin white veil. 

“Li...la.” Marinette hoarsely said, her head tilting up to see Lila staring at her with wide eyes. “Lila.” She said with a smile.

Letting out what seemed to be a shivering wail, Lila pushed herself away from the railing and sprinted towards the other side of the school yard and fled, Marinette turning to follow her before a hand stopped her.

“Marinette.” Chloé whispered, making Marinette turn to her. “Is that-“

“I’m not Marinette.” The white figure said, clasping her hand with Chloé. 

The group watched in horror as Chloé let out a heart wrenching shriek and collapsed to the floor into a sobbing mess. They backed away from the ghostly figure as Adrien and Sabrina crouched next to Chloe, who had curled up in pain. 

The group now looked at the white figure, wary of her hands.  

“If you are not Marinette, then who are you?” Nino asked, noticing that the edges of the veil were now black.

“Banshee. My name is Banshee...”

NEXT