#IT SHOULD BE VERY NORMAL TO NOT TELL PATIENTS TO LOSE WEIGHT IT SHOULD BE VERY NORMAL TO DISCOURAGE MALNUTRITION

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

Today I heard a medical professional casually mention that I "of course shouldn't lose weight" (and I'm like. kinda fat by fatphobic standards although I would just call it "pretty average"). Thank you normal and sensible people reminding me not everything is the sort of hell that I see Americans talk about on tumblr.

[shaftking]

>It will never not baffle me how hard society tries to insist that fatness is an abnormality.

It is abnormal. The human body was never meant to be obese. It was never meant to carry massive amounts of excess weight, much less upwards of a hundred extra pounds of it. It’s not insisting on something completely outlandish, it is a simple observation. No one was meant to be 300+ lbs. No one.

>The average western woman wears plus size clothing. One of the smallest garments on the scale is called a medium.

Just because the average person is overweight or obese does not mean that being overweight or obese is normal. The fact that people are considerably larger on average than they were only fourty years ago should tell you something. The general population has gotten more obese since the 1980s. Pointing to clothing sizes does not actually refute the argument that the growing number of obese people is a concern. Especially with the rise of vanity sizing, where clothing sizes today are equal in measure to much larger labeled sizes in past decades.

>Most people with anorexia are in the overweight bmi category, yet somehow that's known as "atypical anorexia".

Most people with anorexia are not overweight. One of the literal criteria for anorexia is a low body weight and a fear of gaining weight. Because when you are starving you lose weight. Shocking. Atypical anorexia is called atypical because while it lacks the underweight requirement, the patient still has experienced rapid weight loss as a result of severe food restriction.

This is really such an insane thing to lie about that is easily disproven by common knowledge or simple google search of the conditions diagnostic criteria.

If you really gave a fuck about people with EDs you would stop trying to coopt the struggles of people with anorexia and destigmatize getting help for people with BED, NES, and EDNOS which are far more common and far more likely to effect overweight and obese individuals than AN or BN.

>Fatness is often labeled the cause of a number of diseases, but there are literally no diseases exclusive to fat bodies.

Because it is. Being obese can cause motor issues in the joints as a direct result of the excess weight. It can cause fatty heart and fatty liver. It can causes hormonal problems because visceral fat is hormonally active. It results in an increased risk of heart disease and diabetes. It increases one’s risk of multiple types of cancers, including reproductive cancers.

This is literally like saying that people should just continue to smoke cigarettes because people who don’t smoke also get lung cancer. We know people who don’t smoke get lung cancer, but the risk is much higher and people who otherwise would not have gotten lung cancer are 15 to 30 times more likely to get it if they are smokers.

>Looking at movies and television, you'd think the world was 98% thin people. It's not.

I hate the use of obfuscated terms like thin and fat in these conversations because it’s entirely subjective. This is why fat activists hate terms like obese and morbidity obese, because they can actually be measured and defined. What is considered fat or thin in one culture, community, group, etc could easily be vastly different from another. Like someone could be considered hugely fat while they live in LA but move to Georgia and be considered very thin. The same for western vs Asian countries.

According to the WHO, adult overweight and obesity has risen from 25% in 1990 to 43% in 2022. Nearly doubled. Meaning, no, the “thin” population is not 98%, but 57%. But that’s not a diversity win, that is a huge cause for concern.

It will never not baffle me how hard society tries to insist that fatness is an abnormality. The average western woman wears plus size clothing. One of the smallest garments on the scale is called a medium. Most people with anorexia are in the overweight bmi category, yet somehow that's known as "atypical anorexia". Fatness is often labeled the cause of a number of diseases, but there are literally no diseases exclusive to fat bodies. Looking at movies and television, you'd think the world was 98% thin people. It's not.

My point isn't that if it was pretty rare to be fat, fatphobia would be okay. Of course not.

My point is that we're surrounded by all these artificial indicators that fatness is unnatural and uncommon and it's just not true?? Humans are not always thin and we've never all been thin and we're not all meant to be thin. Fat humans are a normal type of human. Fatness is a feature, not a bug.

[fadelsburger]

—

It’s one of those days where I wanna shout into the void that I’m not doing well… I stayed longer in Türkiye because my grandmother wasn’t doing well. She kept losing weight and didn’t have any appetite. We insisted a long time ago that she would go see a doctor but due to her negligence she didn’t. So this time we forced her to go. Turns out she has many inflammations in her body, a wound in her stomach and her pulse is very low. We made an appointment at a cardiologist to get it checked out. She got two different (strong) antibiotics to get the inflammation under control. For now she seems to do better and her appetite came back slowly. Let’s see what the results will be from her cardiologist. She might get a pacemaker. And well if that isn’t enough last Thursday my mother had an appointment and they drew some blood and afterwards she fell ill. She told me she felt weak… I can’t do much since I’m in Türkiye… I told her to rest and if she still feels this way she should call an ambulance. On the next day the doctor called and told her the results are not good and that she has an inflammation somewhere. The doctor himself called an ambulance… the inflammation comes from her heart… they can’t tell how it happened or where it comes from. When she got admitted to the hospital she had a fever and they couldn’t bring it down… they tried everything and luckily after two days it went down. She feels a bit better now and gets treated with antibiotics for her inflammation. Yet she still needs to be operated on because the inflammation attacked her heart valve… (she got an artificial heart valve during the pandemic and there were complications… let’s say I almost lost my mother. It was a difficult time for me and my family especially since no one could go visit her…) now they’re going to shock her tomorrow to stop her heart to see if her heart works and if not, she will get operated on immediately and if it works normal they’re going to wait until the inflammation is gone and then she will get a new heart valve.

To be honest I’m scared… there’s trauma in me from that time especially since I know that I almost lost my mother, her heart stopped for two minutes… I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t see her, hear her voice because she was in a coma for almost three weeks - this is the first time that I’m talking about this. I went through a difficult time… now to hear she’s at the hospital again to get a new heart valve scares me a lot and I’m still here and can’t visit her… luckily we talk a lot through WhatsApp. But I don’t know what will happen tomorrow and to know we probably won’t get any news ‘til she either wakes up or my aunt gets a call from the hospital that she will get her operation… And I can’t tell anyone about it because I don’t want to show my worries to my grandparents duh they’re her parents… they also worry a lot and they’re not the youngest ppl anymore. They themselves struggle with health. My grandfather is also a dialysis patient. I try to distract myself with my grandparents and care for them also study a lot but still there’s this uneasiness in me…

[nathank77]

6/5/24

6:44 p.m Added to Significantly/Edited

So I gained 3 pounds. Maybe I am Hypo. That's def evidence that I could be hypo. I'm now 180. I'm not too concerned about it. Idk if I'm hypo or not. I didn't change my diet or anything. So I mean it's totally possible that I'm hypo. I absolutely have a calorie deficiency..

I'm disappointed but if I'm hypo it just means I'm going into remission and I'll start losing weight again once we see the bloodwork.

I got to pick a date for that.

I'm trying to consider other symptoms. I mean, I'm pooping the same. I'm hungry a little less frequently... but it's not drastic. Sometimes ranging going 5-6 hours in between meals So idk.. sometimes I'm hungry in 4... it's confusing.

Maybe I should go on the 7th cause this is the first time I've gained weight since starting Methimazole. But I want to make sure when I go it picks up me in hypo... not normal... cause If I go early and they see I'm normal but my levels are less than before he will likely tell me to stick the course until next month so I got to really think about my symptoms.

I got seen for my Cysts and I talked to this other dr about my black stool. And they said they will talk to my Dr about my xanax tomorrow... cause technically today is the 15th day meaning I have a pill. She perscribed me doxy for my Cyst.. She said the black stool is only concerning if it keeps happening along with other symptoms.

I feel like I should email my Dr tonight about needing my xanax tomorrow. I prob will. Cause I'm getting worried. Tomorrow it is Thursday. Then it's Friday. And sometimes it takes them 3 days to respond to my email. I mean the person I mentioned it to will likely tell my Dr tomorrow but I can't pretend I'm the only patient so... it might not be high on the priority list. The email/refill request is easier for me and puts it into writing.

I'm worried but I'll try to stay calm. I'm actually okay...

I am annoyed by the wieght gain if I'm not Hypo I'm going to have to start eating less which I'm totally fine with. I haven't been getting very hungry......

To add to this- sure I'm cold sometimes but it's not like the freezing I was feeling a few days ago. I'm not getting super hot. I went out today my car was warm essentially the whole time cause I didn't have it running long inbetween stops. I sweat on my upper back and neck a little.

I mean maybe I'm falling asleep easier. I'll see tonight when I go back to the half MG.... the 3 nights before the 1mg it was pretty easy... but the nights before that it wasn't.

The weed being thrown in makes me more energetic but yea I would say before the weed I was feeling fatigued. Legathic.

I feel like if I smoke too much weed, I get tactiles for sure. I noticed it. I could make it move...

The visual have remained the same. Her followers changed in front of my eyes this morning when i was sober. I noticed if things, "worsen" it's temporary. Once the weed gets out of my system in a hour it goes back to normal. Anxiety included.

What do I think worsened? Tactile if I hit it like crazy. Not visuals. The hallucination seems louder but not really maybe more frequent is the word. Bo4 was tolerable but only bc i was high. Once I took away the weed it was intolerable to sit there trying to game while I hallucinated nonstop... so I mean idk.

Idk if it's more frequent or not. It's not actually louder. I can confirm the tactiles if I go wild smoking are def worse. Worse part is I could live like that if the stupid voice would die.

I mean for now I reserve judgement. I just know it elevates my mood. Making my shitty quality of life more tolerable and making me calmer to cope with the chaos.. I get moments of silence regardless of the weed or not. It always comes back if I think about it I make it happen.... and I can't stop thinking about it.. but I had many moments of silence last night. That got ruined by thinking, "this is nice if only it would stay this way."

[jodilin65]

I’ve always considered myself an empath but have become less of one the more I see and realize that for the most part, people cause their own problems. Like voting Republican and then crying about lost rights. What do they expect? That’s like teasing a tiger and then bitching about it if it bites.

However, if the journal entries I’ve been editing and publishing from 2014-2015 were written by a total stranger, I would feel SO bad for them. It’s just so much torture both physically and emotionally that I went through! Even after all this time, I’m still angry that I had to suffer so much while the so-called experts blew me off and gave me suggestions that weren’t the least bit helpful in the end. They should have had a much better idea of what was going on with me and provided me with much better solutions rather than being so dismissive or blaming my problems on simply being anxious. Denying other possibilities was totally unprofessional, including that not everyone’s normal is in the so-called normal range of numbers.

I get that we know our bodies better than anyone else and that it’s hard for people to figure out or understand what they’ve never experienced first-hand but that’s still no excuse. They should have had enough info based on others who, like me, experienced the same problems. I was far from alone in what I went through between the medication and menopause.

I almost considered deleting Doc A for a minute after remembering the way she tried to tell me that levothyroxine can’t make you anxious, and that losing weight doesn’t affect your thyroid levels but only the life of the thyroid. How can any doctor say that to a patient?!

Also, the way I had to pry for menopause info or look online as if it’s a taboo subject and something totally unnatural that half the population doesn’t go through was ridiculous. I thought back to Doc C who knew damn well what my age was at the time, yet she never once said a word about menopause or perimenopause.

LOL, I just sent the last few paragraphs to Doc C on Facebook. She probably won’t see it though, as she definitely seems to have abandoned her account. And all because of what? A former patient who wanted to be her friend? Whatever. Her prerogative. It’s been 51 weeks since my last message to her which was actually an accident. It was a flower picture I meant to send someone else.

For the second day in a row, I’m tired because my sleep got broken up. I got up to pee and had trouble falling back asleep. Knowing that this meant I would automatically be tired when I got up, I removed the mouthguard. I was surprised not to find any spikes in oxygen levels after sleeping without it.

My only complaint is that the thing is making my jaw and teeth sore but I confirmed that while it can move teeth and make your jaws sore, it can’t knock your teeth out or anything like that. Hopefully, I’ll get used to it but if I don’t, yet still find it helpful (when thunder isn’t waking me up and I’m able to get back to sleep after I wake up to pee), I’ll ask Rhonda for a referral so I can get one custom made. For now, maybe tomorrow I can get back on with the testing! Part of having trouble sleeping might be my fault. It’s very hard to resist laying down when you’re tired and I might have laid down too much and gone to bed too early. I’ll try not to do that as much throughout the night.

There is some good news and that’s that some of my test results came back and I do not have an infection after all. I’m guessing the yellow discharge is simply the way I am in this day and age. Hormonal changes can cause it but it’s rarely a symptom of cancer so I’m not worried about it since I don’t have any symptoms. Hopefully, she won’t want to do further testing. The urine culture results are still a few days away.

More good news. The bed has been ordered! From Amazon, we have a metal frame that’s 14 inches tall and supports up to 3,000 lbs. The whole ensemble should be about 1,000, though.

I also got a couple of fitted sheets, one in Rio Red that will go with an extra pillowcase we have with red rosebuds on it, and one in Dusty Lavender which can go with an extra plum-colored pillowcase.

From the waterbed store, we got an 8-inch plush waterbed cover with free-flow tubes. It will come with 7 tubes that run the length of the bed and not the width. If I feel the cover is plush enough, I’ll just use an extra fitted sheet for a mattress pad. If not, we have extra plush mattress pads.

Tom will get a sheet of plywood to put on the bed frame since it's not a solid platform. There are gaps between the rails and we don't want to put the waterbed mattress on that. Also, I want to put the soundproofing blanket on top of the plywood and underneath the waterbed because I sometimes still feel and hear bumps and bangs from car doors given how close these houses are.

So now my survey savings account is almost empty! I’m going to get some little things before I save up for anything big again. I want to indulge in some Chinese food and a variety of incense from The Dipper. Then I want to finish the exterior bedroom wall.

Magic straws aren’t so magic. They have these flavored straws for milk and I decided to try the chocolate one but didn’t notice any chocolate taste at all.

Going to make dinner in a bit. A baked potato and chicken wings since I had salmon last night.

My weight is up a couple of pounds after having to raise my TSH a bit but it sure stopped my racy heart. You know how it is for me; it’s either be calm and be fatter or wound up and not as fat. The first choice is definitely more comfortable.

What was that the honker was just looking at? He just honked in and then I saw him step over in front of his lanai and peer between us and Ray at something. A rabbit?

[aspenkittyy]

Entry #1

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ୨୧ ꒰ Aspen, Ash ; ?? ꒱ Online name is Aspen, I go by Ash Certified princess ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍ ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

If you're Me, and it hasn't been at least a year since I finished writing this, turn AWAY !! >:(( You're not supposed to see this yet!

Read this while listening to Sweater Weather (FOR THE BEST EXPERIENCE)

Hello! My name is Aspen. You can call me Ash if you would like. Aspen isn't my real name, but I like it. I don't exactly expect this to be popular, or get a lot of traction. I just need a place to put my thoughts, you know? Maybe when I'm older I can look back at this and poke fun of it. ^_^ So, hi, future me! I guess I should tell you a bit about myself, right? So here is a list of my favorites. :

▄︻デ══━一💥(pew pew!) Ash's favorite things.

Favorite color ∿ dark red

Favorite song ∿ Nice Nice, Dazey and the Scouts

Favorite animal ∿ Fox

Favorite place ∿ Skate City/The Pool

Favorite hobbies ∿ Rollerblading, Music

Instruments I play ∿ Piano, Flute

Favorite shows ∿ Percy Jackson, The Hollow, Black Mirror, Kipo

Favorite characters ∿ Grover Underwood, Kai (The Hollow), Reeve (The Hollow), Wolf (Kipo), Travis Phelps (Sallyface), Larry Johnson (Sallyface)

Favorite movies ∿ Coraline, Boxtrolls, Mean Girls, Heathers

Favorite musicals ∿ Heathers, Mean Girls, Be More Chill, Dear Evan Hanson, Ride the Cyclone

Favorite videogames ∿ Sallyface, Fran Bow, Little Misfortune, DDLC, Roblox, Gacha, Minecraft

Favorite food ∿ Curly fries

Favorite scent ∿ Sweet Escape, Strawberry Picnic, Bath & Bodyworks

Favorite season ∿ Summer 🦋ꦿ

Favorite type of Pet ∿ Dog

Favorite thing about myself ∿ Resourcefulness

Skin status ∿ Acne Prone, on Retinae and Doxy

Crush ∿ No one

Height ∿ 5'1.5

Weight ∿ 103 lbs. (Trying to lose weight)

GPA ∿ 3.75 (Dad and mom say that I am very smart for a girl my age . Yay !)

Favorite thing to say currently ∿ 'I will shank you'

Dream place to live ∿ Rainy Mississippi

Current Goals ∿ Grow my hair out, Make mom happy, Get grades up, Be more patient, lose weight

▄︻デ══━一💥(Pew Pew!) Now, some of Ash's least favorite things.

✶- People who chew with their mouths open

✶- Middle school boys

✶- M.D ex-friend >:(

✶-O.? ex-bf >:(

✶-Getting acne

✶-Selfish people

✶-My oldest sister (Has she moved out yet?)

✶-My room

✶-My mom

✶-Alcohol, Drugs, etc

✶-Being in my room

✶-Not knowing if I am normal or not

✶- Knowing that I am not healthy

✶- Thieves

✶- Snow

✶- Cantaloupe

✶- C.O. It is so BORING here!

✶- Mrs. S. (Drama teacher)

✶- Vomit

✶- Feeling envious

✶- The way I look

✶- French braids

✶-Deadlines

That's it for now.

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[appalachiananarchist]

I have many feelings so this will be long! @chiaroscur0 @cabbagequeen323 @shellstrop420 @marshapono

Concerns I have:

1) The way GLP-1 have been endorsed lately just feels predatory. Public endorsements suggest these are quick, easy, weekly shots to make you skinny and then you will be "healthy." This is all without explaining how the medicine works. Most who come in asking about these meds have no clue what they are. GLP-1s are being endorsed as a quick fix for obesity, not as an actual, strong medication with well defined medical indications and contraindications. Every medicine alters some physiologic process in your body, and as such, will have side effects and risks. GLP-1s make you feel full with less food and for longer, which is one way they help with weight loss. This means that food just kinda sits inside of you instead of digesting normally. This is not how bodies are supposed to work, so people on them can start developing the same symptoms someone with gastroparesis (think of that like stomach paralysis) might: severe nausea or vomiting and intense changes in bowel movements. GLP-1s also increase the risk of thyroid cancer and pancreatitis, among other potential side effects. People also don't realize that this is a lifelong commitment. You stop this drug, you gain weight back unless you've made major lifestyle changes--and most people really struggle to do that or don't want to.

I have a "if it ain't broke don't fix it" approach to medicine. It goes against every fiber of my being to say, "Hey, let's take your perfectly healthy GI tract and intentionally break it so you can't eat so much. Then you'll lose weight! Also, you may develop thyroid cancer or pancreatic disease!" Weight loss has its place, but is not the pinnacle of health. I don't prioritize if over keeping your healthy body functioning like a healthy body. If someone tells me that they are trying to lose weight, I want it done in a way that is as healthy as possible--and that generally means physical activity, healthy diet choices, and maybe seeing a counselor if overeating is an emotional problem. In general, if your body is operating normally, I think you should just leave it alone.

2) I am worried about people fixating on this drug as if it will make them healthier without the appropriate lifestyle changes. Being thinner doesn't mean being healthier. It isn't that simple. Unless your medical condition is associated with weight and is managed with weight loss, you need to live a healthy lifestyle to improve your health, not take a weekly shot. But let's be real: MOST people wanting this are more interested in weight loss for body image reasons. Or, they are misinformed and genuinely believe skinny = healthy, which is way oversimplified and not accurate. With the social stigma against obesity and conflicting information out there I totally get it, but this all feels a bit too close to profiting off of weight-based insecurity and/or poor medical literacy. And let's be real again: both obesity and poor medical literacy are higher in the poor.

I am not opposed to writing it to non-diabetics when I really feel weight loss could help improve overall wellbeing and all risks are clearly discussed. For example, I have a pseudotumor cerebri patient with uncontrolled symptoms despite all the traditional medications. Due to the impact on her vision, neurosurg wanted to do a shunt, but she and her POA refused surgery. She has a mild intellectual disability that makes traditional weight loss hard for her, so to save her vision and stop her daily debilitating headaches, we agreed to try a GLP-1. It worked. Her vision is no longer deteriorating and her headaches are almost entirely gone. So she is a case where I am comfortable with the decision to do a GLP-1 for weight loss because she had a very poor quality of life without it and could have permanently lost her sight.

3) The craze is impacting my ability to care for my other patients. My diabetics have been losing access to the meds they really need because local pharmacies are wiped out of just about every GLP-1 brand, especially at the low doses. I am spending a RIDICULOUS amount of time per day calling various pharmacies to try and make brand swaps or dose changes. This is time taken away from other patient needs. The sheer number of GLP-1 demands and calls coming to my inbox are tying up my inbox and the nurse line, keeping patients with serious medical questions from getting through. When I say it is a lot, I am talking probably 40% of my incoming calls/messages are non-diabetic GLP-1 inquiries right now, on top of what my "normal" inbox looked like prior to everyone asking for these meds. It is unsustainable.

And don't get me started on insurance. Most of my patients don't have insurances that cover these in non-diabetics. There's nothing I can do about the price, and I cannot force them to cover it even if I agreed to write it. Please stop yelling at me.

I think there was a study out there that said a family doctor would need like 27 hours per day in order to complete all of the tasks expected of them. Since this all started, I personally would have to tack another 1-2 hours/day MINIMUM onto that.

I have many feelings on the GLP-1 craze, mostly negative, but would be really interested hearing how others in the medical field feel about it.

[oomisluvr]

sakusa's first blowjob, part 1/3

synopsis: sakusa wants to take the next step in your relationship. who are you to deny him of such a request?

warnings: handjobs, blowjobs, cursing, minors do not interact.

sakusa likes to believe that he’s a confident person. he dominates the court, confidence oozing out of him in just about all he does, but he’s never given much thought to his physical attraction. sakusa gazes at himself in the mirror, gently batting a stray curl from his face.

suddenly, he doesn’t like his appearance so much.

what kind of guys did you like? should he cut his hair? straighten it? maybe he should dress differently than usual today? do you even like him to begin with?

six months. you've been together for six months and not once has he asked you to engage in anything remotely sexual. according to his teammates, that isn't normal. apparently, he's supposed to have fucked you a million different ways by now, ruining your ability to walk for days at a time.

what if you want that? is he failing as a partner?

his frown deepens. it's not that he does't want to have sex with you, it's just that, well,

he's kinda scared.

what if he's bad at sex? what if he isn't big enough? what if he can't make you finish?

he sighs, no longer wanting to look at his reflection or think these thoughts. shoving his phone into his pocket, grabbing this keys and wallet, he heads out of his dorm room to the other side of campus.

the walk to your campus apartment is uneventful, but he feels stressed nonetheless. stopping by the mini-mart to buy you some snacks, his mind wanders once again.

i shouldn't rush this, he thinks, we can take baby steps. start with some smaller stuff and work your way up to the big event. a plan, yes, a plan is what he needed.

thanking the cashier, he checks out and heads your way, suddenly feeling inspired. he checks his phone to see the time, changing his direction to your apartment.

upon his arrival, he raises a fist, giving three light raps to your door.

"it's open!" your voice calls, muffled through the thickness of the wood. he opens the door, stepping into the gentle air conditioning of your place.

"it's me."

"oh! kiyoomi, hi!" you walk over to him, kissing him on the cheek, "i wasn't expecting to see you today."

he frowns, "you need to lock your door, then. what if it wasn't me coming to visit you?" your eyes lock on the grocery bag he's carrying.

"yes. lock the door." you reach out to grab it.

"i'm serious, y/n. you need to be more careful," sakusa pulls it away from your reach. you groan.

"okay, okay, i'll be more careful. happy?"

"mm, give me another kiss and i'll think about it."

you make a show of rolling your eyes, leaning up to give him a quick peck to his lips. he smiles when you snatch the bag out of his hands, walking towards the kitchen to put the snacks away. he awkwardly follows you, wordlessly putting the goodies when they're supposed to go.

"so what's up with you? you're acting weird, did something happen?" your small hands dig through one of the bags, latching onto one of the candies he bought you.

"i just wanted to see you, believe it or not."

"that sounds even more suspicious," you begin, tearing apart the twisters he brought for you, "are you sure that's all?"

"yeah, i-" he eyes scan over your appearance, the old shorts you're wearing are suddenly looking very sexy. he wonders if you think the same way of him, "i just missed you, is all."

you take a bite of 3 twizlers at a time, hoisting yourself up to sit on the counter space by the stovetop, "you're lying. c'mon, be real with me, oomi."

he scowls, moving from his position in the kitchen to where you sit. sakusa stands above you, towering over you even while perched on the counter. he kisses your forehead, placing his calloused hands on the plush of your thighs. you know him so well. patiently, you wait for his response, chewing happily. sakusa fiddles with your skin, feeling very bashful in your presence. he thinks back to the thoughts he had earlier; he should communicate with you and tell you how he feels.

"i was wondering if you wanted to take our relationship to the next level."

"what do you mean?" you still nibble on the twizlers, finishing the last one in a single bite.

"like..." he wraps his finger around the stray thread on your shorts, "...if you want to have sex. and stuff." he cringes at the words coming out of his mouth.

"and stuff?" you giggle, poking his cheek.

"sorry, that sounded weird. it's just... we've been together for a while and we've never really talked about this kinda stuff. i know you're more... experienced than me and i don't want to disappoint you."

you reach out to stroke his face, palms resting just under his jawline. you smile when he leans into your touch, "no, no, never. i'm sorry if i made it seem like i didn't want to have sex with you, oomi. i thought i was respecting your boundaries, is all. losing your virginity can be a big deal, and i didn't want to pressure you into something you weren't ready for. i'll wait for you, though, for whenever you are ready," his skin feels soft under your thumb, a sad expression on your face.

"i-i think i'm ready, but..." he feels his blush deepen further, realizing how vulnerable he felt in the moment, "... but maybe not for everything, a-at least not right now. i think we should take baby steps."

"baby steps?" you softly smile.

"yeah, like the smaller stuff so we can get comfortable with each other before we do the big stuff."

"like?"

"like... we can, uhm, touch each other," god, this feels embarrassing to say out-loud, "and do things with our hands and mouths," your fingers comb through the thin hairs at the base of his neck; sakusa feels like he's floating. you feel so soft.

"touch each each other?" you lightly push him off of you, sliding down from the countertop. still maintaining eye contact, you slowly move to pull your hair into a high ponytail, "i mean... there's no time like the present, right?"

sakusa feels an inkling on where you're going with this, and plays into your advances, not wanting to come off as desperate, "i- yes, but, no. i mean, not if you don't want to. me personally, i-" his throat closes up when he feels your soft hands run over the waistband of his sweatpants.

you sink down to your knees, batting your lashes up at him, "are you sure, kiyoomi? we don't have to do anything, you know."

"please, yes," his voice squeaks when you run your palm over the print in his sweats, "this is fine. "i-it's okay. i like when you touch me."

you smile at him, your grip on him getting tighter. sakusa has to stifle a whine the threatens to spill out of his lips. playfully, you tug down the front of his sweats, lightly running a finger over his dick, feeling his erection strain against his boxers, "baby steps, huh? i'll take things slow then, just for you."

finally pulling down his boxers, you mentally celebrate at the sight before you. his dick stands hard against his toned abdomen, a pearly bead of pre-cum bubbles at his tip.

you take him into your hands, running your index finger across his slit, collecting the pre that's accumulated during the time you've been teasing him. he feels so embarrassed; you hadn't even begun to do anything, yet he's fully erect, dribbling pre-cum. he wants to cover his face, but kiyoomi can't seem to pull his eyes away from you.

you pull your hand back, spitting in it, and grabbing the base of his dick, building a languid, slow pace that knocks the wind from his chest. holy shit, he thinks, this is really happening. he has to remind himself to breathe when you focus your hand movements to his tip, maneuvering your hand in circular motions and rolling your wrist to keep the fluidity. your other hand finally comes up, moving to quickly pump the rest of him.

"o-oh, fuck," sakusa has to grip the counter, thighs shaking, "holy shit, that feels good," his voice cracks, but he can't bring himself to care, throwing his head back and releasing a series of moans.

"can i use my mouth?" you sweetly ask, now solely stroking his shaft, leaving the tip alone as to not deliver too much stimulation at once.

"mm, ye-yeah," sakusa squeezes his eyes tightly at the thought, "yeah, go for it. please."

you stop your movements and sakusa forces himself to choke down a whine. he's breathing heavy, eyes still shut because he knows that opening them will bring him to an orgasm. the vulgarity of the situation makes his dick twitch in your hands.

lowering his head, he finally opens his eyes, feeling blessed by the sight he sees. your pretty mink lashes make you look like an angel, your small hands wrapped around such an intimate area, fingers just barely touching. your eyes carry so much weight behind them; promises of what you want to do to him, the millions of ways you'll make him yours. gently, he brings a hand up to your head, thumbing the hair of your ponytail.

"look at me, kiyoomi," you voice sultry, yet demanding, and sakusa can't help but listen to you, pupils blown wide.

you lick his slit, dragging your heavy tongue across one of his most sensitive areas, your right hand moves to deliver long strokes. not wanting to make him wait any longer, you put your lips around him completely, hollowing your cheeks as you take him as far as you can go, the fine hairs of his pelvis tickling your face. relaxing your throat muscles, you swallow around him, once, twice, constricting his dick with the smooth muscles of your throat.

"oh my god, baby, just like that," you feel the hand on your ponytail tighten, but kiyoomi doesn't force you down, "yeah, yeah, fuck, you're so good to me, shit," he moans through the pleasure.

seeking oxygen, you come up for air, the wetness from your saliva giving you the slickness to jerk him at a faster pace, your grip on him tightening. his stomach clenches as he fights back an orgasm, mind clouded with thoughts of you.

diving back in, you bob your head up and down his length, your hands working what doesn't fit into your mouth. sakusa's hands fly up to grab the counter, his knees threatening to buckle.

"s-shit, y/n, ah, fuck," he groans over the sounds of slick, "i-i think i'm gonna cum, y/n. wait, i'm gonna cum."

you move your head back, opening your mouth right below his tip, sticking your tongue out flat; a silent invitation to cum in your mouth. your right hand stays where it is, speeding up the pace of your strokes, your left hand moves back, massaging his balls between your fingers. sakusa's face is beet red, your generosity getting the best of him. throwing his head back, he groans loudly, stomach tensing as white ropes of cum paint your face and tongue.

"o-ooh, fu-u-ck!"

you deliver tightened, heavy strokes, slowing your movements to not overstimulate him, milking him of everything he's worth. looking down at you with lidded eyes, even kiyoomi is surprised at how much he came. semen is sprawled from your chin to your cheekbones, the whiteness of himself stands out against the pink of your tongue, thick cum pooling down your fingers and forearm, almost reaching your elbow.

grateful that he's an athlete, you swallow everything he gave you, enjoying the delicate taste. tucking him back into his clothes, he helps you stand from your position on the floor. you notice a sheen a sweat on his hairline.

"god is a woman and her name is y/n. i think you took my soul."

you laugh, he smiles, "you almost got cum in my eye, you know."

sakusa's ears turn red, suddenly worried about your comfort, "sorry, you made it pretty difficult to focus," using his thumb, he swipes the cum that missed your mouth, collecting it on his finger and holding it in from of your mouth. moaning softly when you shift forward to suck away the cum, he brings his free hand to pull you in by the waist, "thank you, y/n, seriously. let me return the favor, yeah?" bringing his face closer to yours, he slips his tongue past your lips, tasting himself through a deep kiss. his hand rises to caress the side of your face, tilting his head for a better angle.

"i blow you once and now you think you can handle me?" you mumble against his lips, "you aren't ready for it," you tease, your words making his body feel hot. he is ready; he's been ready, sakusa thinks, but waiting for the right moment makes it that much sweeter. patting your ass, he pecks your lips once more for good measure. oh, that reminds him.

"i wanted to talk to you about that, actually." you shoot him a questioning look, maneuvering around him to wash your hands.

"yeah, what's up?"

"i have a plan."

"a plan? for what?"

"for how we're gonna have sex."

you grimace, "gross, don't plan it out! that's what old people do!"

"stop," he whines, "i thought really long about it. i just need to ask you a few questions."

"okay, okay," you dry your hands with paper towel, using the wetness of the paper to wipe away any sticky spots still on your face, "what do you need to know?" he walks closer to the calendar you have on the wall in the kitchen area, whipping out his phone to compare dates, you assume.

"are you free next weekend?" you think for a moment.

"yeah, i think so, but i have a baby shower at 10."

"who throws a baby shower at 10 in the morning?"

"that's what i said! she really thought that it would be a good i-"

"wait, don't get side tracked. i still have more questions."

"kiyoomi, what are you even planning to do?"

"well, i cant show you all the cards in my hand! i just need you to answer the questions."

"okay, damn! ask away then." he taps through his phone.

"do you have a preferred place to have sex?"

"uhm, not really? just not in a car or shower, at least not for the first time." he types frantically.

"okay, next question. what are your thoughts on pubic hair?"

"kiyoomi!" you laugh, "what the hell?"

"i need to know! it's for science!"

"jesus, man. i guess, it doesn't really matter? it's natural, so who cares? as long as i'm not flossing with your pubes while i go down on you, i have no issues."

"that's disgusting. you know i would never do that. i need a serious response, y/n."

"okay, okay fine!" you laugh, "not too much but also don't just have nothing. bald dick is weird."

he nods his head, considering your answer, he types into his phone, repeating your words aloud to himself, "okay, last question for now. would you prefer sex in the morning or the evening?"

"it depends on the day, but considering this would be out first time as a couple, i wouldn't want to ditch you to go to lab after we fuck. late afternoon to evening would be the best time i think." he's silent, walking over to the calendar once again.

"okay," he nods his head, squinting his eyes in thought, "okay, yeah this totally works."

"it does?"

"yes, everything is coming together."

"so can i expect to have my back blown out in the near future?"

"if by 'back blown out' you mean gently and passionately make love, then yes, expect it."

"great," you clap your hands together, "i look forward to it," your stomach growls, the angry rumble echoes throughout the kitchen."

"don't tell me those 3 twizlers is all you've had to eat today."

"no," you smile, a laugh threatening to rip from your chest before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "i had your kids for lunch."

"y/n!" he gasps.

this is my first time writing smut, so please let me know what you think! leave a comment so i can improve; i plan to make this a series, so give me some criticism to improve the story <33 thank you for reading :)

[nastybuckybarnes]

Deep End  -  Six

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 4.6K

A/n: Okie dokie! I’ve got an epilogue planned but I like this. The epilogue will explain shit better but I've known that this would be the end since pretty much the beginning LMAO

Deep End Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

When Steve hears you stop struggling, stop fighting and stop crying, he’s nervous.

It’s been a while since he locked you up there, and he really should check on you soon, if only to make sure the baby’s okay after that stunt you pulled.

He pushes the door to the bedroom open, eyeing your figure carefully.

You look like you’re asleep. If he wasn't so attuned to your body, your heart and your breathing, he wouldn’t have noticed something’s wrong.

Your heart is beating rapidly, far faster than normal. And it’s weaker than usual.

Your breathing is shallow and strained, and your face is lacking its usual healthy glow.

He rushes to your side, tearing the rope from your wrists and touching your face carefully.

Your skin is hot to the touch, and he feels fear settle in his gut.

He doesn’t know what to do, how to help. He’s never really had to help you like this, the doctor’s always been nearby.

He grabs his phone, calling the doctor and pacing nervously.

“Sh-she’s burning up and her breathing is shallow.”

Steve's stomach drops as he listens to the doctor’s instructions, answers his questions and comes to the realization of why you’re like this.

He rolls you onto your left side, tears welling up in his eyes at how unresponsive you are.

The doctor hangs up after telling the super soldier that he’ll be there soon.

His heart is in his throat as he tries to undo the damage of his punishment, putting the evidence back in the box and kicking the rope under the bed.

You’re still unresponsive, heart weak, but your breath sounds a little less strained.

Monster. That’s what you called him. What Natasha called him and what Bucky’s asset called him.

Maybe you’re right.

But he wants you. He needs you. Giving you up would be giving up a piece of his soul and he’s not ready to do that yet.

~*~

The doctor informs him that both you and the baby are okay, but being on your back for so long was compressing a major vein supplying your baby with oxygenated blood. If he’d gotten there any later it might’ve been too late.

With strict instructions to keep you on your left side and make sure you stay hydrated, the doctor takes his leave.

He stays by your side, holding your hand tightly in both of his as he really comes to terms with the fact that it was entirely his fault. He almost killed you and your baby to prove a stupid point. To discourage you from doing the very same thing.

His heart is heavy in his chest as he listens to your heartbeat get stronger, to the baby’s heartbeat continue fluttering like a hummingbird’s.

Those two sounds bring him peace, if only temporarily.

Shattering his peace is the sound of the front door opening, followed by tiny little footsteps clomping up the stairs.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Sarah.

Steve shoves himself to his feet and quickly leaves the room just as his daughter tries to enter.

“Sarah, mommy’s sleeping.” She frowns up at him and shakes her little blonde head.

“I need to talk to mommy!”

She walks around his legs only for him to scoop her up in his arms.

“She’s sleeping right now, honey.”

Sarah shakes her head angrily, beating her tiny fists against his shoulders.

“Let me go! I want mommy! Mommy!! Put me down!” She starts shrieking. Full-on screaming bloody murder right in his ear, and he loses his grip on the wriggling child.

She slides out of his arms and runs into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed and shaking your shoulder.

“Mommy?” She’s got little tears on her face, and they don’t cease when you don’t wake up.

“Why won’t mommy wake up?!” She looks up at Steve with terror written on her face and it shatters his heart in his chest.

“Sarah, mommy’s sick, okay? I had the doctor come over and he said that she needs to rest and when she wakes up we’re gonna need to make sure she’s got plenty of water, okay?”

Sarah’s big blue eyes are filled with tears and she shakes her head.

“I want mommy!”

She clings to your torso, crying against your shoulder in fear.

“Sarah, honey, mommy’s gonna be okay. You just gotta give her some space, okay? How about I set up a movie for you?” Sarah sniffles and slowly pulls away from you, looking at her father and shaking her head again.

“I want mommy! I hate you!”

Steve then realizes just how crucial you are. How important you are, not only to him but to his daughter as well.

Losing you would hurt so many people.

“Honey, you gotta give mommy and I some space, okay?”

He picks up the five-year-old, despite her quite literally kicking and screaming, and sets her down outside the bedroom.

He shuts the door quickly and locks it even faster.

Sarah stands outside, wailing her head off and pounding on the door with her tiny little fists.

She cries for you, over and over again, and it breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s brought back to what you said about him. About how this isn’t love.

He sits down at your side again, trying desperately to drown out the sound of his daughter crying outside as his thoughts overwhelm him.

He hasn’t been the nicest to you, that he’ll openly admit, and he makes mistakes probably more often than he doesn’t. But he loves you. He needs you.

Tears well up in his eyes and he lets out a shuddering breath.

He’ll make this right. He has to. Sarah deserves a mother, so does your unborn baby. And -though he may not deserve you- he needs you. The monster will be hard to fight, but losing you will be harder.

The damage he’s done might be irreversible, but he’s gonna do what he can to make things right, to give you a better life.

You don’t wake up for a few hours, but when you do you’re confused.

Your back aches and you feel a little dizzy as you remember what happened, how you got here.

Steve watches as you regain consciousness, confusion pulling your brows together before you slowly open your eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles soothingly.

You look up at him then drop your gaze to your belly, bringing your free hand down to rub it gently.

“Am I... are we okay?” He nods gently, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). I was... I don’t know, trying to teach you a lesson. And all that did was hurt you. Hurt the baby. I wanted to show you that trying to hurt yourself and hurt the baby wouldn’t fly, but I ended up doing far more damage.”

You swallow hard and struggle to push yourself into a seated position, wincing at the throb in your head.

“The doctor said that you shouldn’t move too much, and try to stay on your left side when you sleep. I-I didn't know that sleeping on your back was bad.”

You take a deep breath and look up at him, waiting for the anger to take hold in his eyes but it never does.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. For scaring you and not trusting you. I... I lost you for so many years and now I have you back and... I don’t wanna lose you again. But everything I do to try and keep you close, make you mine... all it does is push you further away and I’m sorry.”

His apology takes you by surprise, and you eye him skeptically.

How are you supposed to know if he’s telling the truth?

He drags one of his hands down his face and for a moment you can truly see just how old Steve Rogers is.

The exhaustion of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders finally shows in the lines near his eyes, the bags beneath them. But what really displays his age is his eyes. They’re so full of trauma and pain and weariness.

For the first time since waking up from the ice, Steve Rogers looks his age.

“I-I’m sorry, too,” you whisper, surprising him.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t thinking. I just... I wanted to punish you for what happened to Natasha. What you did. I wanted you to hurt but I just ended up hurting myself in the process.” You look down at your hands, trying to figure out how you want to phrase what you have to say.

“People argue, Steve. But what you do... it’s beyond that. We’re not... there are so many things wrong with what’s happening between us, what’s happened already, but I can’t leave. Sarah’s too attached and all I want for my little girl is to have a happy life. To have the happiness that was torn from me.”

Guilt settles on his chest, but he lets you continue speaking.

“I want my daughter to have a good life. I don’t want her to be afraid of-of people. The way I am. She loves you, and I know... I think you love her. You haven’t hurt her yet, and I hope it stays that way because at the rate we’re going, I'm not sure how much longer I’ll be able to do this.”

The pure fatigue on your face is more than enough explanation, but the idea of losing you is too much for him to bear.

“No, don’t say that. I’m gonna get better, okay? We-we were happy once. And we can do it again. I’ll be gentle and patient. I just... I need you, (Y/n). I need you a lot and the fact that you have such a tight hold over my every thought makes me angry. But I’m not gonna take it out on you anymore, okay?”

You let out a deep breath and eye him carefully.

“You’ve said that before.”

He thinks back to the time you spent in that cabin in the woods, where you turned his friends against him.

He has said that before, and look at where he is now.

“This time it’ll be different.”

You don’t have the energy to fight him. So if he’s gonna try, fine.

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, hoping she’s still safely out with Morgan.

Steve’s face falls again and he stands up and opens the door to your bedroom.

Sarah sits crumpled in a ball, her cheeks covered in tears.

“Mommy!” She all but screams the word, launching to her feet.

Steve tries to take her hand but she yanks it away from him, shooting him a glare then running to the bed and climbing up beside you.

Your heart breaks when you see how sad she looks, and you hug her to your chest.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay.” She sniffles and climbs onto your lap, climbing to you like her life depends on it.

You wonder what happened while you were unconscious, what Steve did to upset her so much, and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

You look at the man, your thoughts written plainly across your face, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No. I just told her she couldn’t come in. Not ‘till you woke up. She uh... she stayed right outside the door.”

You soothe your daughter, rocking her as much as you can manage with the pain rolling down your spine.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You hold her close to you, trying to calm her down while Steve looks on helplessly.

Although his daughter loves him, loves being here with him, nothing can compare to the bond that the two of you have.

The monster in him hates it. Hates that he’s not as close to his own daughter, blames you for it. But he pushes that part of himself down.

He made a promise. And this time he’s not gonna break it.

~

"Are you sure you’re okay with it?” He asks for the thousandth time.

You only shrug, fixing your hair in the mirror as the doorbell rings.

“It’s a little too late now, Steve. Besides, I don’t really care. Sarah’s gonna have fun and that’s all that matters.”

Your daughter took a few days to warm up to Steve again, but now that she has he’s not gonna risk anything changing that.

He takes one last look at you, at how pretty you look in your blue sundress, then leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“I love you, (Y/n). I can send them away.”

You take a deep breath and shake your head.

“Sarah’s excited. Besides, I wanna know what we’re having.”

You plaster on a forced smile and it breaks his heart, but he turns and heads downstairs to greet the guests.

Ever since you got hurt, he’s been nicer. Far gentler than he's ever been with you, and you’re not complaining.

Steve has the potential to be a good person, that much is obvious, but he chooses not to.

He hasn’t hurt you again, or even yelled at you. No, he’s been patient and understanding and it’s such a sharp contrast from who he was before.

You can hear him greeting the guests warmly, chatting on and on about this and that and whatever else.

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you leave the faux safety of the bedroom and head down the stairs, smiling at your guests.

People that you’ve never seen before are in your house. Well, that’s not true. You’ve seen them on TV.

The Avengers are in your living room and kitchen, talking softly amongst themselves.

In the presence of these superheroes, you feel small. Weak. And you can’t fight the urge to find Steve as anxiety crawls up your spine.

He’s in the kitchen, talking animatedly with Tony Stark and Sam Wilson. Iron Man and Falcon.

He looks so at ease, his face split open with a laidback grin.

Sam’s eyes find yours and he says something to Steve, making the blond turn to you with a soft smile.

He waves you over and you obey, one hand resting delicately on your bump.

“Sam, Tony, this is my (Y/n). (Y/n), Sam and Tony.” You nod politely at them, sliding your clammy hand into Steve's nervously.

You haven’t been around this many people in a very long time.

“It’s nice to finally meet the woman who’s got Captain America so hooked! All he does is talk about you,” Sam says, a grin on his face.

You smile at him, looking up at Steve.

He nods encouragingly, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles to try and ease your anxiety.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you. About both of you.” Tony smiles looking down as someone tugs on his pant leg.

“Can I have a sleepover at Sarah’s house?!” Morgan asks excitedly, her little face full of glee.

“You’re gonna need to go ask your mother. You know she makes all the decisions.”

Tony’s gaze lifts to yours when his daughter runs to find her mom.

“Is it alright if she sleeps over tonight?”

Steve nods then looks at you.

“You alright with that?”

You’re not sure if it’s a real choice or a test, but you don’t want to find out.

“Of course. She’s always welcome here.”

Tony nods with a smile, then resumes whatever conversation they were having before you showed up.

You tune out what they’re saying, carefully rubbing over your stomach and poking at your baby whenever they decide to kick you.

“(Y/n)? Did you wanna help me set the food up outside?” Pepper’s voice breaks you from your trance, her hand coming to rest softly on your shoulder.

You look up at Steve, silently asking for permission, but he just leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips and lets go of your hand.

You follow Pepper, setting up the table in the backyard silently for a while before she clears her throat.

“How are you feeling, (Y/n)? Sarah told us you were sick.”

You swallow hard and give her a tight smile.

“I’m feeling better. Tired all the time but this little devil is to blame for that.” You poke your belly only to be met with another kick.

Pepper nods, smiling at you.

“Are you excited?”

That question throws you for a loop.

Are you? Are you excited to have another baby?

You’re excited for Sarah to have a sibling. Excited to get to hold your baby and love your baby. But the reason why you’re having the baby in the first place? The father of your baby? No.

“Yeah, I am. A little nervous, too.”

She sits down by your garden, patting the seat next to her.

“You look tired, (Y/n). More tired than a mother should be. You’re wearing yourself thin.” You keep your lips sealed, not wanting to say anything that might make Steve mad.

She sighs and sets a gentle hand on your knee.

“I don’t know what your... relationship is with Steve, but I know you’re unhappy. He’s a good guy, deep down. But you need to take care of yourself, okay? Don’t work yourself to the breaking point because it’ll be even harder to build yourself back up. Especially with a brand new baby.”

You let out a shuddering breath and nod.

“It’s just hard. I’m trying but... it’s hard.”

As you talk softly with Pepper, Steve observes the two of you.

You look so sad, so defeated. He hates that he made you look like that.

“She’s unhappy, Steve.”

He turns to the voice, eyebrows raising.

“Wanda. I didn’t know if you’d make it.” He pulls her into a hug. “I heard about what happened in Westview... Wanda, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She sighs, pulling away with a sad smile.

“No. But I will be.” Her eyes travel back over to you for a moment, feeling the pain and the sorrow in your soul.

“Do you think she’ll ever be happy here? With me?” Wanda sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes, feeling your thoughts, your energy.

“It’s hard to tell. Right now she’s so... numb. Nothing but sadness and... hopelessness. Her spirit is crushed, Steve.” She reopens her eyes and turns to the blond.

“You can’t keep her here like this. It’s only a matter of time before she gets fed up and tries to do something drastic. Again.”

Steve knows. He fucking knows that. But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do to lift your spirits.

He's given you more freedom, let you make more decisions for yourself. He’s been gentler with you, hasn't forced himself on you.

Not forcing himself on you isn’t something to gloat about, but given the history between the two of you, it’s something fairly major.

He just wants to keep you in his life. He needs to keep you in his life.

He turns to the young woman beside him, a thought bubbling into his mind.

“Could you... do something to make her happy? Make her enjoy her life here? Make her love me again?”

Wanda’s mouth curves down as she looks at you, watches you play with your daughter and Morgan.

“Steve, it’s not right.”

The blond lets out a pained breath, shaking his head desperately.

“I just want happiness, Wanda. Don’t I deserve it? Haven’t I suffered enough to deserve a happy ending?”

Wanda’s eyes glow red with sorrow as she’s reminded of her own happy ending that she had to give up.

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze, dropping her gaze for a moment before looking over at his desperate blue eyes.

“We don’t always get what we deserve. It’s hard and it hurts, but we can't control everything. And at some point, we need to let go. No matter how hard it is or how much it hurts. We can’t hurt other people because of what we think we deserve.”

They both look back over to you, your own eyes already on the pair, but dropping as soon as you see them turn to you.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do that.”

Tears stab at his eyes and he huffs out a breath through his nose, turning on his heel and walking away from the party, from his friends.

His abrupt departure catches the attention of a few people, yourself included. Before you can get up and see what’s going on, Bucky’s on his feet and heading into the house.

The woman Steve was talking to makes her way over to you, smiling gently.

“Hi (Y/n). I’m Wanda.” You smile at her, eyes darting towards where Steve disappeared from then back to her.

Bucky re-emerges only a few moments later, shaking his head at Natasha when she gives him a quizzical look.

You turn to Wanda with a strained smile.

“Could you just watch Sarah for a minute? And make sure she has something to eat? The foods ready.” She nods, watching with sad eyes as you walk back into the house to see what’s wrong with Steve.

“Steve?” You call softly, looking around for him only to find him sitting on the couch in the living room, his face in his hands.

“Why can’t I have what I want?” His question catches you off guard and you move to stand in front of him.

He shakes his head sadly, pulling his hands off of his face to grab yours, holding them tightly.

His lips brush over your knuckles gently, before he presses the back of your hands against his forehead, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“This isn’t right.”

Your heart races in your chest, stomach tying in knots as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.

“What are you talking about? Is everything okay? Did... did I do something wrong?” Maybe you shouldn’t have talked to Pepper earlier. Maybe you should’ve just stayed quiet and smiled.

“I can’t keep you here.”

One sentence. Five words. Sixteen letters.

That’s all it takes to have your heart stuttering.

“What... what do you mean you can’t keep me here?” You try your hardest not to let your hopes get too high. Maybe he’s going to kill you. Maybe that’s what it is. It’s certainly something more up his alley than... the alternative.

He slowly raises his head, teary red eyes staring up into yours. 

“You know what I mean.”

You shake your head, needing to hear him say it himself.

“What are you saying, Steve?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and closes his eyes, the words hurting him but he needs to say them.

“You're free to go. You and Sarah.”

The breath gets knocked from your lungs, eyes wide as tears start to blossom. This is a trap. A test. It has to be. There’s no way...

“You’re letting us go?” You ask softly.

He sighs again, nodding as tears find their way down his cheeks.

“Yeah... I guess I am.”

You’re silent, staring at him and waiting for him to tell you it’s a joke, to punish you. But he doesn’t. No, instead he lets go of one of your hands and stands up, his chest almost brushing yours.

“You said I don’t love you... but I do. I love you. Or maybe I love the idea of you, I don’t know. But either way... I hate how sad you are. How sad and afraid I make you. You're free to go wherever you want.”

You’re practically hyperventilating.

After all this time, you never truly thought he’d ever let you go. That he’d have even a shred of decency left inside him.

He cups your hands together and carefully places something inside them, then turns and walks to the front door, grabbing his keys and leaving the house.

You stand silently, staring at the object in your hands until standing becomes too hard and you think you may throw up.

Then you sit down, silent tears trekking down your cheeks.

“(Y/n)?” You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, but Natasha’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“(Y/n), are you okay? Where’s Steve?”

You stare up at her then look back down at the tiny, life-changing object in your hands.

“He let us go,” you whisper, your glossy eyes raising to hers again.

She looks half as shocked as you feel.

“What?”

You sniffle then wipe the tears off of your cheeks.

“He’s letting us go,” you repeat, pushing yourself to your feet and holding your bump.

“Really?” You nod, eyes finding the backyard through the kitchen window.

Sarah and Morgan are playing outside with Sam and Wanda.

“What are you gonna do?”

Your heart is so full of confusion, full of pain and hurt.

“I’m gonna go cut the cake, then have a talk with Sarah.” She nods, a small smile on her face.

She heads back outside and you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down before you go out and face Steve’s friends.

You toy with the dainty thing he dropped in your hands before nodding to yourself.

This is what’s right. It’s the right choice for both of you.

You entertain his guests for a few more hours, not wanting to clue them into anything in case they disagree with your decision, with Steve’s.

Only after the presents are given and the cake is almost completely devoured do they finally start to leave.

Wanda helps you tidy up the backyard, writing her phone number down with a soft smile and a whispered ‘if you ever need a friend’.

Everyone bids you goodbye until only Bucky and Nat are left, the metal-armed soldier staring intently at your left hand before a smile spreads across his face.

He surprises you, pulling you into a gentle hug and nodding his head.

“Congratulations, (Y/n).” You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but for some reason, you don’t think it has anything to do with the baby shower.

They leave too, and then you’re virtually alone, Sarah and Morgan asleep upstairs.

After cleaning up every last inch of the house, you head upstairs to go to sleep.

Steve isn’t home until after midnight, long after he lets his tears run dry and his heart stop shattering. It just aches now. Hurts.

He let you go. He really did it.

Deep down he knew this would be the outcome. Either this or your death, but he never wanted to accept it. Refused to admit it to himself.

But seeing Wanda... after all that she’s been through... and she’s still standing strong.

He takes his shoes off and drops his keys on the kitchen counter, freezing in his tracks when he sees the covered plate of cake with his name written on it.

The batter is blue.

A boy.

He’s gonna have a son.

A son that he’ll never get to meet. He’s given you freedom, and he doubts you’ll let him be a part of your child’s life after all that he’s put you through.

He slowly makes his way upstairs, his heart hurting when he sees no sign of your things in the pristine house.

When he pushes open the bedroom door he freezes in his tracks.

There you are, sleeping in his bed. No bags are packed, nothing is out of place, and the dainty diamond ring sits on your finger.

You’ve made your choice, he realizes, his heart jumping for joy in his chest.

He sheds his clothes then climbs into bed with you, wrapping you up in his arms and sighing heavily.

Maybe Wanda was wrong.

Maybe he’ll get his happy ending after all.

[lvnatiq]

Random Relationship Headcanons | Felix Escellun x gn!reader

a/n: Hey ! On todays menu I am serving you modern au relationship headcanons. I know for a fact that I can’t write headcanons AT ALL yet here we are, out of spite I will keep trying until I can manage to write good shit. I’m going through a chaotic time in my life so please be patient with me 😭

I’m currently working on tattoo artist! reader x Felix headcanons and college!enemies to lovers one-shot. Knowing that Felix’s fav trope is enemies to lovers, I will post it hopefully before his new chapter drops. I used most of the hcs that were sent to me but if you couldn’t see yours, then it will probably be used on the other works.

No beta we die like men.

warnings: curse words, nsfw under the cut, random sage moments, felix being a ‘the neighborhood’ song basically.

You persuade him to start an Instagram account, and because of his family's popularity, he quickly gains followers. His account is practically empty because he would rather spend his time stalking your account on Instagram. You noticed the emptiness and wanted to take him out and take some photos for his account, which turned out amazingly. He is a little camera shy, so be patient with him.

You like to watch him apply his eyeliner but he finds it so stressing to do under your gaze.  He used to be able to do it easily, but it has now become one of his most difficult tasks. You wanted to ask for his assistance in applying eyeliner to you in the hopes of making it simpler for him; he agreed but quickly regretted it when he realized how near your faces would be. You with your eyes closed, waiting for him to drag the line as he was only thinking about how bad he wanted to kiss you. 

Felix has a Polaroid of you and stella in his wallet I said what I said.

When it comes to himself, he can be a pessimist, but when it comes to you, he is the most loving and positive boyfriend you could ever ask for. You have a dream ? He is ready to help you achieve it. Do you want to change in your life ? Go for it, He’s more excited than you are.

He can be quite insecure at times when it comes to your relationship because he feels like you deserve the world but the world is too big for his tiny hands. Will his cuddles be enough ? God he hopes so.

He almost cried when you told him you loved him for the first time. He's also baffled as to how you might feel the same way about him.

Drunk Felix is really clingy and honest. Whatever he can’t say sober drunk felix can and definitely will.

“May the stars let my death be between your glorious thighs amen-“ “Felix-”

Felix is weird but it add to his charm. It’s not unusual for you to wake up in the middle of the night and find the pillow besides yours empty. In the dead of night, you will find Felix munching on some weird ass food combinations.

He also has a habit of doing things that are extremely adorable without even noticing it. Like walking around the house in his oversized shirts, his hand clutching at the cuffs whilst the other one sheepishly rubs his eye.

“Can I lay on your lap ? I promise I won’t fall asleep. I just need to rest for a little.” His voice is so soft and hushed. “Of course, come here.” He throws himself onto you as he comes hopping on his tip toes.

He falls asleep on his desk too often, so you have to carry him back to his room, where he snuggles against you while you lead him there. Once he's in his room, he insists that you stay with him, so you wait until he falls asleep as you play with his hair, and he wakes up thinking it was all a dream.

I firmly believe that Felix’s love language is acts of service. Like making you coffee and bringing you random snacks as you work or wrapping you up in fluffy blankets whenever he catches you slacking on the couch.

He's been romanticizing anything and everything since he met you. When he sees beautiful flowers, he wants to bring them to you, but he also believes that their beauty stems from the fact that they are alive, so he argues and stresses a lot when deciding what to do in simple situations like these.

His edginess belongs to his impulsiveness and his style only at any other situation he's a complete softboy.

And I'm certain he knows a variety of card tricks. He enjoys showing off, and he enjoys it even more when you become fascinated and beg him to share the trick.

If you're a morning person, you'll probably spend your mornings alone in solitude, finishing work before the day begins, but if you're a night owl, you and Felix will go out for night walks and Felix would go out for night walks, sharing headphones to play some music, enjoy each others presence and develop a habit of watching the sunrise together.

Felix makes you playlists at the most random times and with the most random names. Until one day he sent you a playlist at around 4 a.m called “you”, filled with his favorite music. He usually sees music as a safe space for himself and now that you are his safe place too it’s only appropriate for him to do so. This only further proves how he spends his time thinking about you.

I feel like Felix would have what most would call "attachment issues" but it’s mainly because of his protective tendencies. This is not to say that he’s this "overly jealous toxic" character; rather, he has never had anyone to truly call his own in his entire life so he would do anything to protect it.

Felix is also big on astrology, so if you want the perfect birth chart, he'll give it to you. Also he owns a lovely deck of tarot cards, and if you ask him for a love reading, he can't manage to keep his words and feelings to himself so he modifies your reading according to him and his desires. Let the boy abuse his powers for the sake of love.

His style could be described as dark academia, his wardrobe mainly consists of dark colors, lots and lots of blazers and a lot of oversized shirts. He also loves jewelry so he owns a lot of rings and chains. Just so you know, if you're wearing any of his rings, his heart is doing cartwheels.

Is it obvious that he loves it when you place your hand in his and play with his rings with your fingertips.

Spoil him. Buy him that baby blue hoodie with cat ears.

“Ah, you look adorable.” “Isn’t it a bit too b-big ?” “You could say that. Do you mind ?” “No, I like it that way.” “I would know.” You smirk followed by felix’s gasp. “If you so desperately wanted a cat boy you know you have me right ?” Nudging your shoulder, Sage leapt into the conversation. “What is he talking about ?”  Felix grumbled, only to notice two fuzzy triangular fabrics on top of his head as he brushed his fingertips over it.

He’s obsessed with your hands, kissing your knuckles, drawing circles in your palm. At a certain point it became an involuntary gesture he does it quite often without realizing.

He’s also canonically extremely blushy but he would never admit it. You’re convinced he uses some sort of make up because it is not possible for the pink dusting his cheeks to look this good.

He insists that you’re cold even in the warmest weathers because he wants to see you in his coat.

Sage forces Felix to take his thirst trap Tiktoks.

He really appreciates it when you add to his herbal tea collection without him noticing and he considers it a sign of affection because he takes his tea very seriously.

He loses it when you call him baby he gets flustered and frustrated but it’s all because it rolls off of your tongue so nicely that he can’t get enough of it.

Felix owns a broad collection of scented lip balms some of them are tinted. You didn’t hear this from me.

He never once took anything the Sage says seriously until he saw how well you two got along. He never thought that he would be standing there taking relationship and flirting advice from the frat boy.

Felix is a complete asshole when he wants to. He’s very verbal about it too. Consistent sarcastic remarks and eye rolls. I mean it runs in his blood, look at Escell.

You love it when he suddenly whips out the confident Felix, it’s not a daily occurrence you know.

When Felix is concentrated, he’s lost and there’s almost no way you or anything else can distract him. So it’s time to grab some colorful hair clips and ties to fuck around with his hair.

Felix is not the best at verbally expressing his gratitude towards you. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t there for him at the lowest points of his life where normally he would close himself and bare the weight of his family problems and personal life issues that he can’t seem to get out of. Now he has you, someone who’s willing to listen to him and offer him a warm embrace when he needs the most. 

While you to play games together, when he wins he wears that iconic shit eating grin of his with pride looking at you through the corner of his eye. “Shit, what do you want me to say to that felix ? Perhaps I should call you master now that you won ‘one’ fucking round.” He is praying that the screen light is covering the fact that he is a blushy mess after hearing you say that.

NSFW

I cannot stress this enough but he is extremely vocal in bed. Whining, trying to restrict himself from making too much noise but failing miserably.

Muffled pants, choked sobs and lots of pleasure infused tears.

He loves getting praised during sex but what he loves more is to get praised after it’s all over. Like you telling him how great he was, how well he behaved, how good he made you feel. He experiences sub drops a lot so please assure him that he did well :(

He’s into power-play but not in a submissive or dominant kind of relationship, it’s more of a psychological thing where the fact that he can see how good he makes you feel gives him a rush of confidence and adrenaline.

I believe that this motherfucker is a masochist, pain makes him more excited than getting an update on his favorite author who went on a year long hiatus and that is saying a lot.

Bite him. Scratch him. It is so stimulating for him he can reach his high just from those actions.

Fuck do anything to his ears bite, lick, pull, blow on it. He is extremely sensitive so anything you do will basically drive him out of his mind. It will most definitely lead to him trembling beneath your fingertips.

You must think that you are the only one who is such a tease but you’re wrong. Felix teases you quite often mostly to direct your attention towards him or to keep your attention on him. He’s quite greedy when it comes to you and your hands on his body. Unbuttoning unnecessary amount of buttons on his shirt to show a little skin that he knows you’ll notice. Playing with his necklace placing the chain between his lips dragging it towards the inside of his bottom lip teasing the metallic charm with the tip of his tongue. He definitely ain’t oblivious he knows exactly what he’s doing and he makes sure that you know exactly what he’s doing.

When he’s in the mood he will tug the hem of your top meanwhile his eyes are glued to the floor or graze the temples of his glasses between his lips, his teeth lightly nibbling the pointy edge. He loves to play dumb too. When you question him, he acts like he doesn’t intend anything and that you need to get your head out of the gutter.

At the end of the session Felix looks divine. Drool leaking down from his bottom lip to his jaw line towards his neck, his bangs sticking on his sweat coated forehead, his chest rising up and down quickly. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, his hands still clutching tightly to the sheets. Faint whimpers and deep breaths filling the air.

Leading up to the after care, his shy self returns. He buries his face to your chest hiding his blushy cheeks beneath the palms of his hands.

He likes to experiment a lot and you are his favorite subject.

It shouldn’t be surprising to find random kink definitions or role-play ideas on the search history of your laptop. After all Felix just asked for it to write an email, that’s all there is to it. That’s until you offer to try them out.

He doesn’t act upon his jealousy, what he does instead is that leaving marks on you especially around your neck and your chest where he knows it will show. Don’t cover them up if you don’t wanna deal with him.

“People just don’t appreciate art anymore.” “Felix these are, hickeys.” “Oh so now you are judging my art medium ?” “Since when proving Sage that I got railed by you is a form of art ?”

I didn’t see anyone point this out but whenever he is in the sub space he tends to be more on the bratty side. He starts of shy but his confidence builds up as the tension rises. Meaning that you should be ready to get your patience tested.

When you two are in separate places your suggestive words and tone leads up to phone sex, which Felix secretly fantasized about a lot. What made everything even more dirty was the fact that you didn’t know that he was laying on your bed surrounded by your scent and humping your pillow. Once you come back home you are greeted with a fresh pair of sheets on your bed. Apparently Felix decided to do you a favor and clean your room as well as the the whole house. He’s crossing fingers that you don’t notice because he knows that he’ll never hear the end of it.

Felix knows a lot about sex but his knowledge is based upon fiction rather than experience. So, naturally, he is more interested about learning specifically how your body responds to certain actions, what you enjoy and what you’re interested in so teach him. He’s a good student and oh well he’s a quick learner.

Pull his hair pull his hair put his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair.

When he settles between your legs as he ties his hair, he places the hairband between his lips and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. It’s his definition of torture.

Even though he doesn’t give off that vibe, he is very freaky if you would’ve known what his AO3 tags consisted of you would agree.

Tag list is open

[tunafishprincess]

Spirited Away Au Snippet

While the rest of the spirits were only just beginning to wake up, Deku was finishinghis last delivery for the evening. Or rather, he was supposed to. Transparent phantoms appeared in the periphery of his vision, alerting him of how much time had passed.

Just one more, he thought grimly, determined to complete the task.

This would have been so much easier if his body had not betrayed him this morning. It was doing that a lot more often as of late, much to his consternation.

He wasn’t stupid. Deku knew the consequences that came with eating food of the spirit realm. His changing body was a testament to that. The alternative was being forgotten (which Deku considered was the kiddy version adults use to explain disappearing into nothingness) and Deku quite preferred living, thank you very much.

The initial fear he held had long given way to exasperation with the situation. Heightened senses were alright. His increased appetite was manageable. The horns were itchy when they came in, but tolerable. He didn’t even see them most of the time, both hidden beneath curly locks.

He glared down at the culprit. It shifted restlessly, a perfect reflection of his mood.

A tail. A bloody tail. Waking up to the sight had been a shock. His balance, already a subject of jokes among the bathhouse workers, was greatly affected to the point that even walking took mental effort. Toshinori, bless him, helped cut some trousers for him to wear, but it still took him twice as long as normal to do his job, thanks in part to the tourists.

He swears the witch must have put a magical sign on his back. As the day dragged on more and more spirits popped out of the shadows to brush a hand or feather or claw down the serpentine limb as if he were some sort of luck charm. He knew river dragons were popular with spirits, but he never expected they would be coming to him.

The pearlescent scales seemed alive, shimmering under the sunset’s fading light. A trail of dark green fur ran down between them, ending at the tip with a ball of hair not unlike the one on his head. Deku buried his face in his hands. This was the worst.

Slimy cold fingers touched the base of his tail, shaking him out of his train of thought. Deku gave a full-body shudder, goosebumps riding up his arms. His face flushed, his tolerance of the nonconsensual touching reaching an all-time high. It reminded him too much of his last school’s bullies.

What could he do though? He worked for the bathhouse. The witch would have his head if he yelled at one of the guests. Sweat trickled down his brow as anxiety settled in his stomach. He could even be fired. He finally looked around, staring down at the perpetrator.

Oh sweet kami, it was a family of kappa. The biggest kappa, the one Deku presumed was the father, was gesturing for his younglings to come and touch the magical appendage like he were Disney character performer. The children were at least more bashful. In fact, they looked terrified. All of them did now, the father Kappa dropping his hold.

Well, well, well, he inwardly remarked, thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?

Alas, it was not he who scared them off, Deku soon discovered. Almost immediately he noticed a heavy shadow, its size increasing with every step its welder took. The family of Kappas froze, the oldest white as a sheet.

“Run along now,” a deep patronizing voice stated. “I suggest you don’t touch what’s not yours, otherwise, your luck might run out next time.”

The Kappas scampered off. They weren’t the only ones. Any lingering spirits suddenly found themselves busy, abandoning the street until he and the worst dragon he could have come across were the last ones left.

“Lord All Rivers in One,” Deku addressed coldly.

“Please, enough of the formality. Call me papa,” the dragon remarked, red eyes scanning the child up and down, his own tail swishing beneath the folds of his rich fabrics.

The boy pointedly chose to ignore the request. Instead, he stated plainly, “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself just fine.”

The man bent down. Even kneeling to one knee he towered over Deku. His claw-tipped fingers came to rest on his jaw. “Really now? Is that what ‘just fine’ is these days for you younglings?”

“None of your business. Anyways, I have work to do,” Deku stated, twirling around with his bag in hand. Sadly, his tail did not follow through with the movement. He tripped, falling face first and losing any remaining dignity he had.

Tears prickled his eyes. Stupid tail. Stupid dragon. He discreetly wiped them away as he got back up. Bag in hand, he tried to stomp off (albeit awkwardly).

“You know…” The dragon began. “I think I have a solution to this problem of yours.”

Deku stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head, suspicion in his guarded gaze. “Explain.”

He motioned for the boy, fangs peeking out from his widening smile. “Come here. You’ve been walking wrong all day today. It’s time you had some lessons.”

“Just tell me what I need to do.”

“It cannot be explained in mere words. If it could be I imagine that mutt would have helped you. But he can’t. I can.” His eyes glittered like rubies. “Let me assist you, from one dragon to another.”

“I’m not a dragon,” he grumbled but complied, too desperate to do otherwise.

A large warm hand pressed against his back, gently positioning him while the other rested on his sternum. “The tail of a dragon holds more weight than that of a mere wolf or other common beast. It is an extension of our being. Lean forward here, it will tire your back muscles for now but you’ll get used to it,” he explained.

“The weights gone,” the boy whispered.

“No, just redistributed,” All Rivers in One answered. “ Now, if you’re catching the tail on things or going down those crowded narrow streets, you’ll need to wrap it.”

He lifted a brow. “Wrap my tail? With what? Cloth?”

“No, no,” he barked a laugh, his tail lifting up from behind him. “Like this.” Within moments he wrapped the tail around his waist, fitting the end up and over like a sash.

That...was a pretty good idea actually. Deku copied the movement. It wasn’t as nice looking as the other’s, the young boy stuffing the end into his belt, but it did the job.

Deku bit on his bottom lip. All Rivers in One always seemed to have a hidden agenda but this time he had been relatively helpful. Maybe Deku was wrong about him? The dragon smirked; Deku frowned. Well, perhaps he wasn’t completely wrong about him.

Giving a deep bow of respect, he said, “Thank you, Lord All—Lord Shigaraki.” and left it at that, leaving for his last delivery before his night job at the bathhouse.

The dragon lord waved his hand at the disappearing figure. Once the dragonling was out of earshot, his smile stretched even larger, a soft purr leaving his mouth. The scant remaining good part of him wondered whether he should have told the boy only hatchlings tied their tails around their waists like that, but the vast majority of All Rivers in One relished seeing his little Stream acting childish instead of that boorish adult facade he tried to imitate.

It won’t last for much longer, he thought with a dark smile, getting up from the ground and turning into one of the alleys, back for his villa so he could finish preparations. The boy’s humanity was nearly gone. Sources told him the boy had already forgotten his last name. All lovely news in the dragon’s book.

The young hatchling’s days were numbered at that bathhouse. He would have both his wife and son in his arms soon enough. His tail flicked back and forth excitedly. He just had to be patient.

[iamwhoami]

Are You With Me (Grey’s Anatomy)

Grey’s Anatomy

   When Y/N unexpectedly find out that she’s expecting, she suddenly finds herself having to figure out how to tell Jackson.

Warnings: Pregnancy???

Requested = Yes

“No...no, please no,” You whispered quietly as you stared at the stick in your hand.

   You were starting to lose hope that the first one you took was a false positive.

   It had all started a few weeks ago actually when you missed your period. That didn’t really alarm you since you were never regular and plus with all the stress that was on you right now, you figured that those were just the reasons. 

   Then, you started getting sick. Feeling nauseous, throwing up...all that fun stuff. 

But only in the morning. 

   Even then, you kept brushing it off, telling yourself that you had probably caught a stomach bug from a patient.

   It was the one and only Arizona Robbins that forced you to grab a pregnancy test (or two) from the pharmacy.

   So now here you were, locked in the bathroom in your apartment with three positive pregnancy tests. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

   You and Jackson hadn’t even started talking about kids and now you had to tell him you weren’t just thinking about having kids in the future, you were having one now.

This couldn’t be happening.

   You were deep in your swirling thoughts when your phone suddenly went off and you looked over to see a text message from Jackson.

Hey, do you wanna come over? I’ve made dinner for two...

   Did you? Not really. But at some point you’d have to tell him right? You quickly texted him back saying that you were leaving now

   Sighing, you decided to shove one of the pregnancy tests into your purse along with your phone before grabbing your coat and heading over to Jackson’s.

~~~

“Hey!” Jackson’s smiling face greeted you as he opened the door. “Come in!”

   You walked in and shook off your coat before hanging it up. Usually, it felt more casual but today you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

“I made fettuccine alfredo,” Jackson said, not noticing your tense body language, “Do you want some?”

   You swallowed, “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

   You took a seat on one of the bar stools at the island and Jackson soon placed a plate filled with a generous amount of pasta on it. He then helped himself to a plate and took a seat on one of the stools next to you.

   Normally, you would have finished the pasta in seconds, but your stomach was too nervous to have any sort of appetite so the best you could do was a few bites before you ended up playing with the food on your plate.

“Is everything okay?” Jackson asked, now noticing your strange behaviour. 

   This might have been a good time to tell him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Yeah, just a long day you know,” You replied, not completely lying. 

   It had been a long day but that wasn’t why you were acting different. 

   Jackson nodded, “It was a long day, do you want something to drink? Wine?”

“No,” You quickly declined, earning a strange look from Jackson. 

You had to think quickly to prevent any suspicions. 

“I think maybe I caught a bug or something from someone,” You explained, “I don’t think wine’ll make me feel any better.”

   Jackson nodded and for now, it looked like you were able to steer clear of the topic. 

   The rest of the dinner, you and Jackson talked about all the patients the two of you treated earlier in the day. By time he had finished, you had still barely touched your plate. 

   You knew he was concerned about that but he didn’t ask about it, much to your relief. 

   Before he could invite you to stay over, to quickly came up with a lame excuse about forgetting to your laundry in one of the machines in the apartment laundry room and thanked him for dinner.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” You told him.

   Jackson nodded, “Yeah, see you.”

~~~

   Okay, you were going to admit it. You were avoiding Jackson and there was no way around that.

   He had texted you last night once you got home and when you didn’t reply, he had called you multiple times though every time you just let the phone ring until it stopped by itself.

   When you had gotten to the hospital the next morning for your shift, you spotted Jackson talking to a nurse at the front desk and made a quick beeline for the hall that lead in the opposite direction. 

   While Jackson had specialized in Plastics, you specialized in Peds after realizing that there was just something special about working with kids. 

“Hey! Look who made it!” Arizona greeted you as she watched you start to go through the charts of the patients you had to see today.

   You sighed, “Yeah, I made it all right.”

“So what did the test say?” Arizona pried. 

   You knew what she was talking about but you played dumb anyway.

“What test?”

“You know what I mean,” Arizona said and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your eyes that were now slowly filling with tears on the charts.

   Arizona noticed your tears and quickly placed a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t need to say anything for her to know your answer to her previous question. 

“Have you told Jackson yet?” She asked you softly.

   You shook your head, “I was going to last night, he invited me over to dinner, but I chickened out.”

“You should tell him,” Arizona told you, “The sooner he knows, the better.”

“I know, I know,” You said, “And it’s not like I don’t want to tell him because I do. I want him to know.”

   Arizona nodded understandingly, “But you’re scared.”

   You scoffed, “More like terrified. I’m pretty much dropping a bombshell on him.”

“Well, my advice would be to just tell him,” Arizona said, “Get it over with.”

Both of you knew though that it was much easier said than done. 

“Yeah...okay,” You took a deep breath, “After shift, I’ll tell him, but right now, I have to check on Tracy Jenkins. It looks like she took a turn for the worst overnight.”

“Okay, yes, good luck!” Arizona told you before you hurried off.

~~~

   After a very long, exhausting, and horrible shift, you collapsed on one of the beds in the on call room. 

Today had been an awful day.

   Tracy Jenkins ended up coding and you weren’t able to restart her heart. She was eight years old. 

It wasn’t just Tracy though.

   Little Billy, born premature five days ago, had caught an infection and was now in critical condition. 

   Sixteen year old Molly Thompson was walking home from school when she was hit by a car. The driver was drunk. 

   She was still alive, but she was currently facing the possibility of paralysis while everyone waited for her to wake up from surgery.  

   You heard the door open before Jackson’s face suddenly loomed over you. 

“Long day huh,” He commented as he took a seat next to you.

“More like a rough day,” You groaned.

“Yeah...same,” Jackson sighed and you sat up.

   You were exhausted and felt like crap but you had said you were going to tell Jackson the news after shift and you didn’t plan on chickening out this time so...

“We need to talk,” Jackson said before you could say anything though.

   You nodded, “You’re right. We do.”

“I don’t know what I did,” Jackson kept going, “I keep racking my brain for anything I could have done but I can’t think of anything-”

“Jackson, stop,” You cut him off, “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong Y/N because you know I know something’s wrong,” Jackson raised his eyebrows. 

   You took a deep breath, “Jackson, I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“You’re...” Jackson’s voice faltered.

   You nodded, “I’m pregnant.”

“Okay...well...” Jackson seemed to be at a lost of words, “Maybe it was a false positive?”

“Maybe,” You bit your lip, “But I took three and they were all positive so unless I got three false positives...”

“Which is very unlikely,” Jackson said.

   You swallowed, “Yes. Which is very unlikely, but, I haven’t actually gotten any blood drawn or anything.”

More silence.

“Jackson, I need you to say something,” You finally told him, “I need you to say how you feel about this.”

“I mean,” Jackson put his hand on his head, “You just told me you were pregnant, I’m still comprehending things.”

   You sighed, “I’ll put it differently then. Are you with me or not?”

“Of course I’m with you,” Jackson quickly took his hand off his head and placed it on your hand instead, “I’m not leaving you, not now, not when you need me the most.”

   At those words, you burst into tears, not able to keep your composure any longer. 

“Hey...hey,” Jackson said softly as he scooted closer towards you, “It’s okay. We’ll figure things out.”

“I was going to tell you last night,” You spoke between your sobs, “But I got cold feet. I’m sorry.��

   Jackson wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you told me.”

“I was scared,” You admitted, “I’m still scared.”

“You know what? So am I,” Jackson whispered, “But we’re gonna take this one day at a time. Together.”

You nodded and buried your face into his chest. 

“Does anybody else know?” Jackson asked you as he started stroking your hair. 

   You nodded again, “Only Arizona. She was the one who told me I should take a pregnancy test.”

“I think we should talk to her again,” Jackson said, “Get some blood drawn to see if those tests were right and then if they were, get an ultrasound done. You know, to check on our little bean.”

   You smiled, “Our little bean?”

“Well, little bean probably does exist so they need some sort of name,” Jackson explained, blushing a little. 

“Okay well...we’ll do what you just said in a little bit,” You agreed, “But I just need a moment with you.”

   Jackson opened his mouth to say something but before he got the chance, your pager went off and you quickly picked it up.

“Molly Thompson’s waking up,” You said and started getting up, “I need to be there.”

“Yeah of course,” Jackson replied, “I’ll meet you on the OB floor then when you’re done.”

   You nodded, “Sounds good.”

   You left the on call room feeling as if all the weight had just been lifted off your shoulders and you could now breathe again.

Everything was going to be okay.

[scripturiends]

stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

~

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;) 

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy! 

~

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.” 

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked. 

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.” 

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.” 

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed. 

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now. 

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder. 

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted. 

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.” 

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it. 

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.” 

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?” 

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal. 

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her: 

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.” 

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.” 

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company. 

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing. 

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.” 

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death. 

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.” 

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath. 

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?” 

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.” 

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

~

Send me your thoughts here!

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 42)*

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+, this is smut folks. Plus, the usual warnings, and a focus on Ivar’s past experiences/trauma regarding sex, and related issues. Also, idk if I still need to let you know, but I write Ivar as a sub/bottom, always will.

A/N: Hi, thank you so much for being patient with me for taking an extra week to post this update after my return from the hiatus, I think I can get back to a more regular writing/uploading schedule from now on. Hope you like this chapter!

Alongside this chapter I posted an Ivar’s PoV. I very much encourage you to read it. You can find it here :)

Your fingers are quick making the knot, and you find yourself chuckling.

“What is it?” Ivar prompts, but the trail of kisses he leaves down your neck distracts you for a few breaths.

“I married you in red. It means nothing to your people, but does to mine,” You explain, before lifting the wrist that now bears your pendant like a bracelet between you, and tracing the inside of his wrist right under the leather knot. “And now our fates are tied as one, just as they would have in my homeland.”

“What do you mean?”

“When two people get married, amongst the things we do is tie their hands together. Like this,” You demonstrate, putting your palm against Ivar’s, fingers still greedily tracing the inside of his wrist that now bears the mark of your promise. “And a Hiereia would tie a knot to symbolize the union,” Your smile is a little dazed, more than a little lovesick, but you can’t find it in you to care. “Similar to how I did just now.”

“So we are married now?” He teases, and you chuckle, rolling your eyes. Ivar persists, though, a tad more serious, “Before your Gods, are we…are we husband and wife?”

“Of course we are,” You reply, almost affronted. Your brow presses against his, and you turn your hand to intertwine your fingers. “I swore before your Gods and mine to become your wife, did I not?”

He searches your gaze, or is lost in it, for a few breaths before he gives any answer.

The answer, it seems, is a soft smile and a slow blink of his eyes.

“I love you.” He tells you, an answer as well.

He lays his body over yours, and your senses are overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. His hands settle comfortably on your waist as he explores your mouth, tongue seeking entrance you willingly give, but he doesn’t waste a moment to grip surely on the curve of your ass when you bend one leg to bring him closer.

“I want you, I want…” He doesn’t finish his train of thought, choosing instead to trail open mouthed kisses down your throat, nuzzling at the dip between your collarbones, before his kisses grow more heated, gentle sucks and scattered bites over the tops of your breasts.

He is stopped by the nightdress you still wear, and resting his chin in the valley between you breasts, Ivar looks up at you, big eyes dark and plump lips bearing the reddish mark of your kiss. The sight shouldn’t be as distracting as it is, but you still lose yourself in it, and you think he speaks but you cannot hear it, too focused on reaching with one hand and trailing your fingers in through his loose hair.

Ivar says your name, a question, and all you can reply with is an inquisitive, hm?

“Can I…?” His hands bunch up the sides of your nightdress, the intent obvious.

It makes warmth and something else, something darker and made of iron more than silk, blossom in your chest, to hear him ask, to have him await your permission, to have him…surrender.

You nod your head, barely having to put any strength in lifting your body off the mattress to get the dress of since Ivar lifts most of your weight. That will never cease to surprise you, and you don’t think it will ever cease to make you want him even more either.

Laid bare before him, as you have been many a time before, you look up into his eyes. He doesn’t bother hiding anything right now, maybe if he tried he couldn’t, and you are witness to everything that swims in those pale blue eyes. The desire, the awe, the lingering frenzy from when you first told him of your choice, that frenzy of not wanting to waste a moment, a breath.

You had never felt want like this, not until him. You hadn’t felt wanted like this, not until him.

Not until the wide blue eyes that gaze at you like something out of a dream, not until the voice roughened by desire breathing out your name, not until the reverent and frenzied hands exploring whatever part of you that they can reach.

Ivar continues his previous trail, sealing lightning against your skin with every press of his lips over your body, with every caress of rough hands on delicate skin.

Nestled between your legs, he looks up at you with a smile that speaks of arrogance but something sweeter too, something softer.

Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder with practiced ease, Ivar licks a stripe up your center, making you shiver.

One of your hands tangles in his hair as it always does, and as Ivar starts working his tongue against you, your fingers tighten and pull at his hair, only succeeding in making him redouble his efforts, drawing the occasional moan from him that reverberates through you.

He takes his time slowly making pleasure build inside you, tightening like knot in your lower stomach, to the point where your body is begging for release.

In between tight circles of his tongue against the bundle of nerves in your core, Ivar puts his fingers inside you, skillful curling of them making your legs tremble and your breaths stutter.

Praise is falling from your lips, you aren’t sure if in any language he knows but certain he understands regardless, judging by the bite followed by a reverent kiss that he presses to the inside of your thigh.

And you climb higher and higher, lost in him, lost in the pleasure he so willingly seeks to draw out of you as if it your moans were the most exquisite form of praise.

With one last cry of his name that sounds high and breathless, you reach your peak, feeling as if the waves of pleasure rolling over you are never to end.

As you come down, you blink past the daze of pleasure and draw him back up to you, bringing his lips to yours.

You never hesitate in kissing him, even when the evidence of what he has done to you is still on his tongue. If you are honest, tasting yourself on his mouth sends a pang of heat through you each and every time.

And you are hungry and desperate, hungry for pleasure that isn’t yours, desperate for giving him the pleasure you know you can.

Your hand trails down his chest as your mouth demands entrance into his, tongue exploring his mouth leisurely. Your free hand tightens on his hair, and you pull him closer, while you reach exactly where you wanted.

You barely are able to cup your hand around him when Ivar pulls back, breaths ragged.

His hand grips at your wrist, stopping you. You expected that, though.

Ivar takes a deep breath, and states, “It won’t work, you know that.”

Your free hand reaches for the side of his face, trailing down the side of his neck, and you search his eyes as you promise fervently,

“Even if it doesn’t work normally, you can feel pleasure, Ivar. I know you can, I h-…”

“I can’t,” He interrupts you, eyes wide. You remain silent after his words, and a shaking breath leaves his parted lips. Voice low and rough, he explains, “It feels…painful, and…do you think I didn’t try, after that first night with Margrethe? I-I couldn’t go to her again, o-or anyone else, but…I believed she had done something to me, I believed-…she had to be the reason why, it had to be her fault.

You think of how long it has taken him to feel comfortable around you, how much he still struggles with the soft intimacy of just the two of you, how aware he is of his own body and where and when you touch him; and you cannot help but think he most likely wasn’t ready at all to be with that girl. You know him well enough to assume it was probably something having to do with his pride, with that public image that seems to seep into how he sees himself all too often.

Ivar continues, “I tried using my hand to-…I tried, and it…and it was useless. It is of no use,” His expression tightens, a furrow in his nose of old anger, of resentment at the world and Fate itself. “Being touched…it-…I can’t bear it.”

“Have you felt that way with me?” You ask quietly, suddenly sickened by all those times you felt him lean into your touch or almost surrender to the press of your body or your hand against him and believed you were offering pleasure. “Is it painful when I touch you?”

More than anything you wish you could be in his head right now, you wish you could know which are those thoughts that make for a few moments his breaths slightly more panicked, that make something like anguish cross his features before he can offer any words.

“No,” He tells you, letting you breathe easier, “I-It always felt…good with you. But I can’t, you know I can’t.”

Something in you steels at the way his eyes fall from yours. There is no reason he should ever feel he cannot hold your gaze, least of all for something like this.

Your hand on the side of his face is gentle, and he obeys the silent command and returns his eyes to yours. The sight of tears -this time not overwhelmed, happy, disbelieving tears at hearing you are to stay, but defeated, humiliated, helpless- makes you strengthen, offer certainty when he has none.

“It will feel good with me, Ivar,” You say, unwavering. You know it is true. Still, even if you ache to show him, you offer your words and your sincerity and nothing more. “It will feel good, because you are mine and I am yours. There’s no room for pain, for anything else, not when it’s us.

He starts shaking his head, words stuck in his throat but trembling lips trying to form them anyways. You lean closer, the hand on his cheek moving to grasp at the back of his neck.

“You can feel pleasure, my love,” You promise. His eyes -wide, uncertain eyes- jump in between yours, frantically searching your gaze as if truths can be found in you, as if he’s desperately hoping he can believe what you tell him. “Let me show you.”

“I…I’m-…”

You press your lips gently to the corner of his mouth, and even that simple and intimate touch makes him jump, makes the faint tremble of his body slightly worse.

“Shh,” You soothe, daring to put a hand on the center of his chest, the caress firm but soft as you try luring him to a normal breathing. “It is alright. I will stop if you want me to. Is that what you want?”

You lean back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart suddenly picking up speed at the sight of him. Ivar’s eyes are wide and his breathing hasn’t slowed down, and it is after a few shaky breaths that he manages to give you an answer.

The barest movement as he shakes his head, and promises, “I want you.”

Simple words, but they make pure and raw hunger run through your veins like wildfire. A wilder part of you, a part of you that lingers in all the ways he has proved he is yours, wants nothing more than to satiate this hunger with starved touches, demanding kisses and hurried and desperate proof that you want him, however you can have him.

But more than anything you want to erase any memory of any hands on his body that aren’t yours, even if they are his own, when those memories bring forth pain. You want to show him there’s no pain to be felt when it comes pleasure, you want to show him there’s no humiliation to be dreaded when it comes to intimacy.

Pleased with the answer and unable to help yourself, you capture his lips on yours, a leisurely exploration of his mouth as you press as close as you can. Ivar moans against your lips at the first of presses of your mouth on his, leaning into your touch with barely any hesitation.

When you pull back his brow is furrowed and his breaths are fast, and a pang of heat goes through you at the way he licks his lips, already missing the taste of you.

“Then trust in me,” You ask softly, your mouth moving slowly through the curve of his jaw to reach his ear. Voice low, you demand, “Give in to me, Ivar.”

The effect of your words is immediate, and Ivar doesn’t bother containing the overwhelmed little sound, somewhere in between a whimper and a moan, that leaves his parted lips. Your hand on the back of his neck is the one thing that keeps his head from falling back, and the only thought that runs through your head at the sight of him is that he is yours, yours, yours.

Past the daze of hunger and desire, you remind yourself that there will be time for hurried, there will be time for desperate and hungry. There will be time for you to leave your mark on him, there will be time for his skin to bear the reminder that he is yours and yours alone.

But now, now you want to explore every part of him, with hands, with tongue and lips. You want him to feel safe with you, you want to get him drunk on nothing but you.

And so you do.

With aimless but gentle touches of your hands over his body, with presses of your mouth that linger between hungry and soothing, with whispered praises of how much you want him, of how no one compares to him in your eyes, of how good he is for you; you make the lingering tension in his body give way to something else, you make him give in to the lull of touch and the high of being just the two of you and the intimacy between you.

And this time when you reach down and palm him over the thin barrier of his pants he doesn’t even try to stop you, instead offering a haggard breath of your name and nothing else, surrendering to your touch.

He tenses underneath you when you move your hand to reach for him under his clothes, but you press quick and soothing kisses to the exposed skin of his neck and remind him quietly,

“It is just me, Ivar. All I want is to give you pleasure, nothing will change that.”

“Y-You know I-…”

“I know,” You tell him softly, “Just focus on me, focus on how it feels.

After lifting your hand back up to your face to spit on the palm of it and make things easier, you whisper your instructions as you circle your fingers around his cock.

“It feels good when I touch you, doesn’t it, love?” You ask, not expecting an answer, but you do get one, a choked hum of affirmation. You smile against his neck, “It feels so good to finally be able to touch you, to be able to make you feel good.”

Slowly but surely, you feel him hardening slightly under your touch. You still keep the pace of your hand steady, as well as the flow of praise that falls from your lips, certain that if you draw attention to it he will close up or revert to the defeated certainty of before.

When you get him hard enough that even he cannot ignore it anymore, Ivar gasps your name, a call to stop even if you don’t obey it.

“H-How-…? I don’t-…”

“Focus on how it feels, Ivar,” You reiterate, not wanting him to overthink things, not wanting the past to have any reach in this moment. “Focus on me.”

You make sure to keep talking. He has told you many times, and proven even more, that there’s something soothing to him about you talking, either because of the sound of your voice or what you have to say, you truly don’t know.

So with your fingers toying at the waist of his loose pants, you look up and ask,

“Can I see you, my love? All of you?”

Ivar licks his lips, but they still part helplessly as he looks down at you, barely daring make a sound past the gasping breaths that leave him.

And he nods his head. His eyes remain intently on you as you take off his pants, remain on you searching for something in your gaze as you take in all of him.

Bare before you, his skin baring the faintest shine of sweat and a few marks that may be the result of less-than-gentle exploring on your part, you feel your throat tighten, your mouth dry. You want him, you want to make him moan, you want to make him surrender, you want to make him yours.

But, teasing both him and yourself it seems, you take your time, slowly crawling up his body until you are face to face with him, straddling his hips but not close enough for you to be pressed together.

Ivar looks up at you, wide eyes asking -pleading- for something that he doesn’t yet dare voice, chest rising and falling rapidly with each expectant breath.

Your mouth slowly curves into a smile, and keeping your eyes on him in a silent command that he keep looking at you, you reach for his hardening cock.

At the first of your touches Ivar lets out a haggard moan, head craning back and leaving his throat exposed, tempting you to place a few more marks here and there. But you want to see him, you want to see the effect of your touch on him.

“Look at me,” You order, a pang of heat running through you at how quickly, how pliantly, he obeys the command, forcing heavy eyelids to remain open and dark eyes to remain on you. “I want your eyes on me, love.”

His cheeks are tinted red and his eyes are slightly moist as he looks up at you, his hair roughened my movement and the passing of your fingers, he looks like every desire you’ve ever had made man.

The strong body, open gaze, the moans and whimpers he tries and fails at keeping hidden. Perfect. Yours.

You run your thumb over the tip of his cock to gather the moisture that slowly starts forming there, turning your wrist slightly when you stroke upwards. Ivar gasps, almost sitting up, but you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

And…Gods, how easily he complies, leaning back and letting you continue to touch him, surrendering his pleasure to you. And still, in the daze that makes moans and whimpers fall from his lips so easily, he still remembers to keep his gaze on you, to keep endless blue eyes focused on you. The sight of his surrender is enough to make a woman mad.

His lips form helplessly around the words before he even utters them, but eventually Ivar gasps, “It…ah, it feels…”

“Good?” You ask, and he nods his head frantically.

“Y-Yes,” He promises, eyes wide, “Don’t…don’t stop.”

You don’t stop the movements of your hand, but you move down his body, and settle between his legs. Ivar’s eyes are wide, and he looks tortured when he looks down at you.

Licking a trail from the base of his cock to the tip, you delight yourself in the tremble you make take over his whole body, and after a few tentative licks that are there just to see if you can make him beg without having to tell him to, you take him in your mouth.

He moves as if to sit up again, unconscious movement of his body against the new feeling, but you still put one hand against his stomach, keeping him down even if it is not through brute strength that you do so.

Ivar cries out your name as you start moving your mouth over him, while your hand strokes the base of him. And you try keeping your eyes on him as much as you can, not wishing to lose a moment.

You don’t keep track of time, couldn’t even if you wanted to, but you do notice him climbing closer and closer to that edge. It is written in the tension of his arms and shoulders, in the red that starts spreading over his chest, in the way the sounds he makes are broken by whimpers, in the breaths that stutter over one another.

But he stops you again.

“S-Stop, pl-…ah, please stop,” He pleads, taking a few shallow breaths when you pull back. His hands grip tightly at the sheets underneath him, and breath by breath he starts to let go. Once his hold on them is almost loose, he speaks again. “Stop, or I will…I…don’t want this to end yet.”

Your heart does a strange thing in your chest, and you move back up to be face to face with him. Your eyes linger on the few details that make him look so utterly wretched, from the faint shine of sweat on his forehead to the bite marks on his lip.

You want to kiss him, but hesitate, wondering if he will be disgusted by his own taste. Ivar doesn’t even think about that, it seems, for when you are close enough he lifts a trembling hand and tangles it in your hair, bringing your lips to his, kissing you slowly and deeply.

You pull back, a hand on his chest, and promise, “It isn’t the end, love.”

“I want to be inside you.” He argues.

“And you will be,” Is the answer you give, before kissing a quick path down his chest. Grasping him in your hand once again, you look up at him. Unable to resist the temptation, you grant the faintest of licks to his tip, making a ragged groan leave his lips. “But before that, I want to make you come undone, using just my mouth.”

He doesn’t offer any resistance after that, but judging by the way his breaths get quicker and his eyes flutter shut before you even get to put your mouth around him again, your words had a deeper effect on him than you had anticipated.

Bracing yourself on his thighs, you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, ignoring the discomfort of your jaw as you move your mouth over him.

The litany of sounds that leaves his lips becomes more ragged and broken the longer you pleasure him, even if it isn’t that long until you notice the clear tells of him being close to the edge again.

This time you redouble your efforts, daring to moan slightly around him, making a string of curses leave Ivar’s lips. And when you reach with one of your hands to play with his balls, his hands grip desperately at the sheets underneath him once again.

As Ivar’s voice begins to give out, head turned to the side and nothing but broken moans leaving his lips as you get him closer and closer to the edge, you try your hardest to commit this moment to memory. This moment, of his voice sounding so beautifully wretched by the pleasure you give him, of his body pliant under your every touch and desperate in equal measure.

Ivar reaches his peak with a hoarse shout, his back arching off the bed, wide eyes looking at the nothingness above him. You are lost in the sight of him lost in the throes of pleasure, and you can almost ignore the bitter taste of his seed as you swallow.

He loses all strength and collapses against the bed, gasping breaths as he comes down from his high. You move back up against him, pressing a kiss against his chest and resting there, soaking up his warmth.

His hand settles on your waist, but it does so with such effort that pride surges through you. His chest still heaves under you, and as you lay your cheek against his heart, you hear it beating wildly under your ear.

“That was…” He lets out an incredulous laugh, a breath past parted lips. His eyes meet yours, “Thank you.”

“Hm, so polite,” You tease, pecking his smiling lips. “I’m still going to insist that I told you so.”

And for now you remain in this moment you wouldn’t change for anything, this moment of leisurely traces of hands on each other’s bodies, this moment of kisses exchanged like secrets, this moment of a beginning in more ways than one.

____ ____ ____

So that happened! Hope it was okay! Thank you for reading!

You can find Gǫfga, the Ivar PoV that continues from this chapter, here.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @pieces-by-me​​ @angelofthorr​​ @samsationalwilson​​ @peachyboneless​​ @1950schick​​ @punkrocknpearls​​ @ietss​​   @itsmysticalmystery​​  @revolution-starter​​ @the-a-word-2214​​ @fae-sedai​​   @crazybunnyladysworld​​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​​@aprilivar​​ @msrawog​​    

[eliemo]

Blameless

Summary: Logan knew it was only a matter of time until Thomas found out, but he had no intention of pushing Virgil out of his comfort zone. Unfortunately, things are a bit different right now. 

Masterpost

Notes: I plan on writing the “incident” mentioned throughout this fic sometime soon. It’s killing me to plan out

Logan had known it was only a matter of time until Thomas found out. 

He’d been the one to suggest telling him right away, just days after Virgil’s past had come to light. After all, it couldn’t do any harm to have him on the same page when it came to redirecting a harmful mindset.  

But he’d quickly dropped it upon seeing how distressed the idea made Virgil. Logan wasn’t quite sure what he was so afraid of, (Rejection? Dismissal? Annoyance?) but he had no plans to push the anxious side out of his comfort zone. 

Unfortunately, things were a bit different right now. 

It had been almost a week since the...incident had occurred, and while things were steadily improving, they were still hardly back to normal. 

Virgil was still horribly jumpy, wide eyed and trembling far more than usual, apologizing relentlessly for even the smallest things like he was terrified they were all still upset with him. 

Not that anyone had been upset with him to begin with. Just...stressed and worried, was all. They’d all triggered some kind of panicked response from Virgil before, but last week had been a whole different story. 

But that was in the past. It wouldn’t happen again. 

That being said, Virgil still needed time. And Thomas wanted to film today. 

Logan had done what he could to get the date rescheduled, but logically, there was no reason not to film today. Not without a viable excuse, and he knew better than to push the idea of telling Thomas the truth. Virgil would open up when he was ready. 

So now they were all in Thomas’s living room as usual, sharing wary glances as they talked through their host’s latest problem, hoping he wouldn’t notice Virgil was just a bit quieter than usual. 

Virgil’s hands were still wrapped in bandages- and Logan made a mental note to check how those were healing when they were done here- but he was able to keep them hidden beneath his sleeves. 

The issue today was fairly standard- Thomas panicking over a reaction from one of his friends, frantically scrambling as he tried to figure out how to respond and move forward. 

It was the kind of discussion that would usually have them all bickering, shouting over each other with no real malice, probably getting frustrated and carried away in the process until they inevitably came to some kind of conclusion. 

Today, they were careful to keep the volume low, cautious not to lose their temper, Patton and Roman sending less than subtle glances Virgil’s way every few minutes. 

Really, with how obvious they were being, Logan would be more worried if Thomas didn’t pick up on something being off. At the very least, he was bound to be feeling a little extra anxious recently. 

But he hadn’t said anything, Virgil left to his quiet fidgeting from his usual place on the stairs, so perhaps they could--

“Virge? What do you think, buddy?” 

Then again, perhaps not. Thomas was speaking softly, and Logan knew he was only trying to gently encourage Virgil to voice his thoughts, but the anxious side still jumped at the sudden attention, eyes widening slightly. 

“I...s-sorry, what?” 

“I was just wondering what you thought,” Thomas said. “About what Patton was saying.”

Logan saw Patton wince at the question, at the way Virgil was beginning to look helplessly cornered, Thomas still watching with oblivious confusion. 

He should have tried harder to get them to reschedule. Today was a bad day. 

“I- um, I don’t know,” Virgil said. “Sorry, I-I was just, I was…”  

“Zoning out a bit?” Thomas offered, his smile easy and gentle. He’d meant it lightly, Logan knew, but Virgil actually flinched at the implication. 

“N-no I was listening,” he said quickly. “Or, I- I was trying to, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to space out.” 

“What? No it’s...It’s fine, Virgil. Honestly, we were all just rambling at this point, right guys?”  He turned, just in time to see the worried glances Patton and Roman were failing to hide. 

“Right!” Patton exclaimed, too quick and too cheery, and Logan resisted the urge to groan at how utterly horrible the two were at nonchalance. “Everything’s ok! You’re doing great, kiddo!” 

Virgil sunk even further into his hoodie, fiddling with the strings, looking like he would rather be anywhere else in the world, the attention clearly overwhelming. 

Thomas noticed, frown deepening, and he quietly cleared his throat before turning to the creative side. “Roman? Can you stop the recording for a sec?” 

Roman hesitated, looking to Patton and Logan as Virgil began noticeably trembling. But he did as he was told, moving to shut the camera off as Patton hurried to Virgil’s side, talking too softly for the others to hear. 

“Alright, what’s going on you guys?” Thomas asked, missing the way Virgil flinched again. “Logan tried to change the schedule earlier, which we all know is unheard of, and all of you are acting...really weird.” 

Logan opened his mouth to answer, everyone else stubbornly silent, but Virgil beat him to it, his voice heartbreakingly small. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, we can...we can keep f-filming, Thomas.” 

Immediately, Thomas’s expression softened. “Hey, buddy it’s ok. I’m not upset, I just wanna know what’s going on. Obviously something’s been happening for a while.” 

Virgil stared resolutely down at his lap where Patton had intertwined their hands, and Roman was shifting restlessly by the camera, clearly waiting for someone else to take the lead. 

Logan sighed, realizing that despite his own lingering stress, he was still the most composed person in the room. As was usually the case. 

“Thomas,” he said, hands automatically fidgeting with his tie when the others turned their attention to him. “There was a...situation a few days ago. It’s been sorted out since then, but today might not be an ideal time to film.” 

“A situation?” Thomas echoed. “Is...is that why I had a panic attack earlier this week?” 

Virgil’s head snapped up at that, kept only from scrambling to his feet by Patton’s tight hold. “You felt that? I- I’m so sorry I thought I...y-you said you felt fine and I thought--” 

“No, no, Virge it’s ok.” Thomas was moving towards the stairs, crouching to Virgil’s level, careful to keep a couple feet of space between them. “It wasn’t that bad. Your panic attacks don’t usually get to me, but this one felt...different.” 

Virgil shrugged, but offered a reluctant nod. “Yeah it was...more intense than usual, I guess. Sorry.” 

“What did we talk about, kiddo?” Patton squeezed Virgil’s hand, smiling sadly. “You don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Virgil didn’t answer, still refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, shoulders hunched under the weight of their stares. 

Thomas inched closer, ankles brushing the stairwell, finally breaking the silence. “Virge, can you...tell me what happened?” 

Logan was actually surprised by how quickly Virgil shook his head, looking like Thomas had just suggested something ludicrous, like talking to a cute guy in public. He’d known Virgil was adamantly against telling Thomas any of this, but he hadn’t realized just how hesitant he was. 

“I-I can’t,” he stammered, looking to Patton for help. “I can’t say, I’m sorry, I just...I can’t tell you.” 

“Perhaps it is time we told Thomas,” Logan suggested. “He’s bound to find out eventually, Virgil. And I can assure you, there is nothing to worry about.” 

“But of course, you don’t have to!” Roman added, looking almost just as nervous as Virgil. “It’s entirely up to you!” 

“I’m not gonna pressure you into anything,” Thomas said. “But you know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll do what I can to help.” 

Thomas’s living room was silent for a long moment, the only noise being Patton’s overly exaggerated breathing to keep Virgil from hyperventilating. They all waited, patient and silent, careful not to do anything to make the anxious side feel rushed. 

Logan blinked, surprised when Virgil’s eyes were suddenly locked onto his. 

“Can…” he paused, chewing on his lip. “Can you tell him? Please?” 

Logan gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded. “Of course. Would you prefer to be in the room or wait somewhere else?” 

Virgil hesitated, free hand tugging at his hoodie, glancing up at Thomas as if to make sure he wasn’t upset with the change in plans. 

“Do you want to wait in the other room, kiddo?” Patton asked. “I can come with you if you want.” 

Virgil nodded, the relief in his eyes painfully obvious, but Logan didn’t miss the tremble that stayed in his hands, the wary, anxiety riddled glances he kept sending Thomas’s way as Patton led him up the stairs. 

“I’ll come get you in a few moments,” Roman called, moving to sit on the edge of the couch, wringing his hands in his lap. “Teach?” 

Logan cleared his throat, adjusting his tie again as he turned back to Thomas, suddenly painfully unsure how he was supposed to continue. 

“Right...Yes. Well,” he started. “A few weeks ago we became aware that, ah...actually Thomas, would you like to sit down?” 

He was stalling and they all knew it- he wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle. But Thomas went along with it anyway, sitting opposite of Roman while Logan awkwardly remained in his usual spot, careful not to fidget. 

“You are, of course, aware of the other sides.” 

“Yeah,” Thomas said. “The dark sides, right?” 

“You have, being a complex and emotional person, many facets of your personality,” Logan explained, ignoring the question. “Some are not as...developed, or as fundamental as the four of us. Most you will likely never interact with. I doubt they even have the ability to manifest.” 

“Okay?” Thomas looked to Roman for some kind of clue, concern clearly morphing to confusion. “What does this have to do with Virgil?” 

Roman clasped his hands in his lap, switching between staring intently down at the floor and looking at Logan- who was frantically trying to figure out the best way to put the delicate situation. 

“Soon after we had accepted Virgil as one of us,” Logan said. “It...came to our attention that he was not...treated well, in a sense, by a majority of the other sides.” 

Roman scoffed. “That’s one way of putting it.” 

“We had all noticed right away, of course, that he was uneasy around us, and always a bit on edge. We all thought he was merely nervous about being rejected again and assumed it would pass.” 

Logan was resolutely not looking at Roman. He would not lose himself, would not fall apart in front of Thomas. He was simply restating facts. That was all. 

“I found him in my room about two weeks into our attempts to get to know him. He was borrowing some reading material and he...well, he believed I intended to strike him as punishment, since he was used to that being standard.” 

Logan risked a glance up, allowing himself to be relieved at Thomas’s expression. He was horrified, as was expected, but there was compassion and understanding flickering in beneath that. 

He wasn’t sure what he had been so afraid of. Perhaps Virgil had been rubbing off on him a bit. 

“But he’s...he’s alright now, isn’t he?” Thomas asked. “I mean, he knows he’s safe with you guys. Right?” 

“It’s a...work in progress,” Roman admitted, and Logan quickly jumped in to elaborate at Thomas’s growing distress. 

“And he is making a great deal of progress. We’re all very proud of how far he’s come in such a short period of time. But it is not something that fixes itself right away.” 

Thomas nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face, and Logan shared a worried look with Roman, both sides at a loss of what else to say or do. 

“How long?” Thomas asked suddenly. “Do you know...how long it went on for?” 

Logan shook his head. “Not exactly. We’ve all...helped Virgil talk through his experiences in chunks whenever he is comfortable. But from what I’ve gathered, it would have been several years at the very least.” 

That, clearly, was not what Thomas had wanted to hear, distress only doubling as he dropped his head into his hands, Roman frantically attempting to provide comfort. 

“Thomas--” 

“Years?” Thomas pushed himself off the couch, Roman hurrying to follow. “It went on for years and I just-- fuck I just let it happen?” 

“You did not let anything happen, Thomas.” 

“He’s my anxiety, Logan!” Thomas shot back, and Logan couldn’t help but be thankful that Joan wasn’t over to hear this particular rant. “It happened in my head and I didn’t even--” 

“Thomas.” Roman’s hand on their host’s shoulder shut down his rambling, the Prince's voice uncharacteristically grim. “There was no way for you to have known. None of us knew- hell Virgil didn’t even know it wasn’t normal!” 

They’d all gone down a spiral of self blame, obsessing uselessly over what could have been since they’d found out what Virgil had gone through. 

If they had just been kinder to him, welcomed him sooner, tried harder to get him to open up from the beginning, then maybe they could have stopped it, saved him from the treatment sooner…

But there was no use in those thoughts. All they did was upset Virgil, who refused to allow anyone to feel guilt over him, half the time convinced he was still just a minor inconvenience. 

“Placing blame is not of importance,” Logan said. “What’s important is Virgil’s safety, and learning how we can undo what has been done. He’s been...conditioned to have a very unhealthy mindset.” 

Thomas took a shaky breath, still much more pale than Logan would like but noticeably more collected than before. 

“You guys found out about this a while ago,” he said after a moment. “What about this last week? You said something else happened?” 

And just like that the tension in the room skyrocketed once again, Roman meeting Logan’s stare with wide, questioning eyes. 

It was like they hadn’t talked about it. They’d had several long discussions, both with and without Virgil, doing all they could to ensure nothing like that ever happened again. 

But Logan didn’t think they’d ever really...recounted out loud exactly what had happened. They all knew. They didn’t need to relive the details. 

Which was illogical, of course. It happened, it was terrifying at the time- the glass, the blood, the way the mindscape had been too quiet- 

But it was over now. It was a mistake, an oversight, and it wouldn’t happen again. And Thomas had the right to know. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Thomas said, and Logan was surprised by the sheer force of the relief that hit like a tidal wave. “It’s ok. I trust you guys to take care of him.” 

“We will,” Roman agreed. “Always.” 

Logan nodded and Thomas took a breath, running his hands through his hair before glancing at the empty stairwell. 

“Roman, do you think you could go get him? I wanna talk to him if he’s up for it.” 

The creative side nodded, glancing at Logan for some kind of unspoken approval before hurrying up the stairs, disappearing the way Patton and Virgil had left, leaving Logan and Thomas alone in the suddenly much too quiet living room. 

The logical side adjusted his tie once more, eyes trained on the floor. “Virgil has been worrying over your reaction for weeks,” he said. “Please attempt to keep your emotions in check.” 

He couldn’t help but think back to that first day, when Patton had lost himself in his emotions, and Virgil had been convinced that anger was directed towards him. 

Luckily, Thomas seemed to pick up on the uneasiness because he just nodded again, glanced once more at the staircase, and moved back to his spot on the couch. 

“Did...did Deceit hide this from me too?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Logan said, and unfortunately that was the truth. He didn’t know. “But from what I’ve gathered, I don’t believe he ever laid a hand on Virgil.” 

That, of course, didn’t mean he hadn’t known about the abuse. No one had really gotten the nerve to ask the dark side about the affair.

But there wasn’t a need to fill Thomas’s head with any more doubts.

It wasn’t long before there were footsteps from the stairs, Virgil reluctantly following Patton into the living room, Roman lingering a few paces behind. 

Thomas waited until they were all off the staircase before scooting over, patting the spot next to him. “Hey, Virge. You want to come sit?” 

Virgil shrugged, shoulders hunched and hands buried in his pockets, but he made his way over to the couch, sitting as far away from Thomas as possible. 

He didn’t look like he was panicking, Logan noted with some sense of relief, just miserable and wary, like he was expecting the worst. 

“Did Logan tell you?” Virgil asked, pressed up against the back of the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

“Yeah, he did.” Thomas moved closer, still careful not to crowd the anxious side. “Buddy...do you think I’m gonna be mad at you?” 

Virgil shrugged. “No. I...I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“I don’t think Thomas has ever been angry with you, kiddo,” Patton pointed out from his spot by the window. “And I really doubt he’s gonna start now.” 

“Of course I’m not angry with you, Virge. Why would you think that?” 

A beat of heavy silence, and for a second it looked like Virgil would refuse to respond at all. But there were no tell tale signs of a panic attack, even as he took a small, trembling breath. “Because you should be.” 

It was mumbled, barely audible, and Logan frowned as Thomas looked like he’d just been slapped. “I- what?” 

“You should be,” Virgil snapped, finally looking up to face the others. “All of you should be! You should...you should be furious with me and you’re not and it’s been months and I don’t get it!” 

His breaths were steady, albeit labored, eyes wide as he met each of their stares, voice only slightly wobbly, and Logan briefly wondered how long he’d thought about saying this. 

Roman took a careful step forward, still hesitating by the stairs. “Virgil...why do you think we’re going to be mad?” 

It was a question they’d all asked him before, when he got that panicked look in his eyes when he thought he’d done something wrong. But this...Logan knew this was something different. This wasn’t panic. 

He didn’t like it any better. 

“I don’t,” Virgil argued. “I know you won’t be and that’s the problem.” 

No one knew what to say, exchanging helpless glances as Virgil took a steadying breath, finally focusing on Thomas. 

“I just...let them do that to me,” he said. “They said I had to be- be h-hurt and I just believed them like an idiot. It probably just hurt you and I didn’t even realize!” 

“Virgil, there was no way you could have known. You thought what was happening was normal.” 

“How is that any better, Logan? I thought I deserved it just because they told me I did. I never tried to fight back! It just...to me it just made sense. I deserved it. I...I still think I do sometimes.” 

“Virge--” 

“But you’re all so nice to me. I just...I-I love you all so much and I don’t know how...I just keep messing up and panicking over stuff I let happen to me and making your lives harder and it’s...what if I don’t get better? After what happened last week how long are you gonna…” 

He paused with a shaky breath, clearly resolutely determined not to cry. “What if I don’t stop doing this to you? I-I keep...doing this and- and I try to listen to you but sometimes I...I get it. I get why they did it. I mean, if I’m just such a fuck up that that’s the only way to control me, then why don’t you guys just do the same thing and beat the shit out of me so--”

“Virgil!” 

Logan hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he could see Virgil getting more and more worked up, and the last time he’d brought up any of them getting fed up enough to resort to violence Patton had burst into tears, which would do nothing to help the situation.  

Luckily, the flash of fear in Virgil’s eyes as he fell silent only lasted a second, recognition taking over as his shoulders dropped. 

“Sorry,” Virgil muttered. “Sorry I didn’t mean to say all that, I know you guys...I know you won’t do that. I just worry...I don’t know.” 

Thomas was scooting closer again, watching Virgil with an expression Logan couldn’t quite read. Sadness, definitely. But it was also fond, something protective and kind. 

Logan thought Thomas was the only person kind enough to look at their anxiety like that. 

Good. Virgil deserved that kindness. 

“Virgil,” Thomas said, arms now open and inviting, his smile warm and genuine. “Come here?” 

Virgil didn’t hesitate. His face crumpled and the facade he was trying so desperately to put on faded as he fell forward into Thomas’s embrace, holding him tight. 

Logan smiled, sinking out along with Roman and Patton. They would need to talk about what had happened- all of them, but it could wait. 

Virgil needed some time with Thomas, and Logan had no doubt he would be taken care of. 

To Virgil’s own, silent amazement, he managed not to dissolve into tears the second he realized Thomas not only wasn’t upset with him, but offering physical comfort. 

The others had sunk out sometime into the hug, leaving the two of them alone on the couch, and he did his best to breathe through the lingering panic at the memories of what he’d just said. 

Thomas didn’t let go, but didn’t try to pressure a conversation either, seeming to know Virgil needed some time to find his voice again. 

Instead he just leaned back slightly, enough so both of them were resting comfortably against the back of the couch, and turned the tv on to some mindless show, the background noise helping to ground them both. 

His arms were still wrapped around Virgil, comforting and safe, and the anxious side’s breath hitched as Thomas began carding fingers through his hair, unable to stop himself from leaning into the touch. 

Thomas shouldn’t be taking care of him like this. Not when Virgil had done nothing but hurt him. 

He pushed those thoughts away, closed his eyes, and willed his mind to focus. 

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, everything fuzzy and far away, but Thomas never pushed, waiting until Virgil was ready to talk on his own. 

“I’m so stupid.” 

The fingers in his hair stopped, just for a second, before starting up again, even more gentle than before. 

“You’re not,” Thomas said. “You’re not, Virge. You were being hurt and manipulated. It wasn’t your fault.” 

He’d heard this all a thousand times before. It wasn’t his fault, it was manipulation, his reactions were normal, he shouldn’t blame himself. 

It helped to hear, sure, but only in the short run. It all came creeping back eventually, taunting, jeering voices mercilessly screaming in his head. 

“I know,” he said against Thomas’s shoulder. “But I believed them. I know what they did wasn’t my fault but I never questioned it. I hated the way it made me feel and I still never tried to get it to stop.” 

“You thought you didn’t have a choice.”

“Nobody else would be stupid enough to believe that,” Virgil muttered. “You wouldn’t, the others wouldn’t, I just always thought...I thought I was helping but I always just make it worse.” 

For a second, Thomas didn’t answer, the low volume of the television the only sound in the living room. For a terrifying second, Virgil thought Thomas was going to agree. 

“You make us better, Virgil,” he said, the same words Princey had spoken in his room. “Not worse. Never worse. Don’t forget that.”

Thomas pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Virgil’s eyes, carefully moving a hand under his chin when the anxious side averted his gaze. 

“You aren’t stupid, buddy. And you did not deserve that. Any of it. You couldn’t have known- we all treated you like a villain, and you thought you had to be the bad guy.” 

Virgil shrugged, taking a shuddering breath. “I thought...I was just trying to protect you.” 

“And you do,” Thomas said. “You always have. Nobody blames you for believing what they told you. Especially not when you were scared.” 

Thomas finally allowed Virgil to look away, the side staring down at his lap, forcibly reminding himself not to pick at the bandages under his sleeves. 

“I hated it,” he mumbled, face burning. “I wanted it to stop so bad so I don’t know why...why I can’t accept that it’s over.” 

“You’ll get there,” Thomas promised, more certain than Virgil had ever heard him. “You’ll realize someday you didn’t deserve it. We’ll show you that you deserve to be loved, Virge.” 

Thomas pulled him close again, the hug tight and desperate on both ends, and for just a moment Virgil thought that with an embrace like this, a family so open and understanding, he would never be afraid again.