#but he always does the Exact thing that triggers the abuse.

[4ngels0uls]

i wanna be your lover, i don’t wanna be your friend…. M.S

don’t like? don’t read.

summary: y/n loves matt so much, till she makes a mistake and just ends up confessing… making them to end up having sex.

paring: fem!reader + bsf!matt

warnings: SMUT, use of y/n, friends to lovers, confessing, being embarrassed, abusive relationship (not physically), toxic relationships, a big trigger warning!, manipulation, disrespect, strong language,

a/n: i was listening to this song and thought of this.

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y/ns pov

“hey matt?” you yell for him as your in his room and he’s in the kitchen, grabbing a drink. “what?” he yells back. you don’t answer and he sighs. he walks over to his room with the cup of water in his hand. “what do you want?” he asks as he walks over to his desk to put the cup down. “i’ve been talking to this guy and he wants to meet up but i’m scared… does he look like he would kidnap me?” you show him a picture. “nah.” he answers dryly. “are you okay?” you ask before he just walks away.

that’s when you realized…. you fucked up.

————————————————————

“i’m going to go matt…” you tell him as your going to to get ready to meet that guy. “kay.” he answers dryly again. you sigh and walk out the door with your stuff as you walk to your car, digging in your bag for your keys. you find them and open your vehicle and start the car and drive off.

you get home, pulling into the driveway. getting out your car as you walk into your house, locking your car doors. you take your shoes off in the pitch black house. you lock your door and turn some lights on as you walk to your room. you go over and get some clothes ready for you to take a shower, till you begin thinking about matt and how dry his answers were when you showed him the picture.

you flop back on your bed, crushing the clothes that you just put nicely on the bed. you stare at your roof and sigh, thinking you fucked up the whole friendship with matt. you genuinely like matt… like more than a friend but you’ll know it’ll never happen to you begin to find other guys, like this one that your texting in this exact moment. “i can’t wait to see your beautiful face.” the guy texts you.. alex is his name as you remember.

you met him in a party once, he was drunk… like very, and he asked for your number and it went off.. you guys didn’t even fucking remember when you traded numbers. but here you are, texting him that you’ve been waiting to see him, while you broke matt into pieces without even realizing.

you showered, done your makeup, and fixed your slutty outfit you have on. you walk over to your body mirror and check yourself out. you smiling and go and get into your car and drive off to the restaurant you are going to.

that’s when you walk in and see him, alex….

biggest mistake ever.

“hey alex.” you smile as you walk up to him. “hey y/n.” he smiles as you guys sit at a table and… next thing you fucking know he’s drugged your drink but you didn’t even know. your in his bed, naked… and now your dating…

few weeks later

he’s been manipulating you and cheating on you left and right. you know you made a big ass mistake as you try to text matt and he immediately tells you to block him. “w-what..?” you question. “i said fucking block him y/n!” he scolds. “i-“ you try to speak. “shut the fuck up before i break your phone!” he yells. fuck… you text him secretly. “i love you matt.” before you block him.

he’s typing right before you hit that red button that says block. you sigh, trying not to cry. “stop fucking crying like a big baby, bitch!” he yells. that’s when you begin to get anxiety from his yells, but that’s when you decide to hide it since you’ve been hiding your emotions for years..

it’s been 2 months since this incident.

you’ve been missing matt, he’s all you think about.. but if alex known, he would have tried to kill y/n.. that’s why he’s asleep. fat shit always fucking sleeping. you took his phone and remembered his password, you open his phone and look through his messages, you start to cry.. “what the fuck…” you sob quietly. you throw his phone and get up and grab a bunch of shit of yours and leave his house, taking your car keys you found as he keeps you home by hiding your keys.

that’s when you know… that’s fucked up and you should have never been to dinner with him. you immediately hop into your car and the first place you think off is matt’s house. and you hope that chris or nick doesn’t answer and it’s matt that does. you arrive and pull into their driveway and go up and take a deep breath before knocking on the door.

and exactly who you didn’t want to answer.. it’s nick. “nope fuck that!” he yells before trying to slam the door. “wait!l you yell. “i need to talk to matt.” you tell nick. he sighs. “matt!” nick yells before going up the stairs. you wait for matt and he opens the door a bit. “y/n?” he says quietly. “matt.” you say. “why’d you block me.” he asks. “he made me.” you says and matt knows immediately. “come on.” he takes your hand and drags you in.

he takes you to his room, some new stuff, and some stuff gone. “are you okay…?” he asks you as he sits you down on his gaming chair. “kinda.” you answer quietly. “ya look cold.” he says. “yeah i am…” you say. “here i’ll go get you a blanket.” he walks off, and comes back with a blanket. “here.” he says as you wrap yourself up with the blanket. “s-so like… what ever happened?” he asks me. “oh.. uhh. you know that guy that i showed you? yeah well we started dating and he was apparently manipulating me, cheating, and being disrespectful and just rude.” you say.

“oh i’m sorry…” he answers as he doesn’t know what to say. “it’s not your fault.” you say. he gets up and hugs you. you sit shocked for a moment and begin to hug him back. he picks me up and lays down with me on his lap. “you know y/n… i’ll always love you.”

so tell me that you love me again..

you smile at his words. “i’ll always love you too.” you mumble. he rubs your back. you sit up a bit and you guys both lock eyes. he takes a glance at your lips then right back to your eyes. you lean in slowly and you kiss him, as he immediately returns the kiss back. you pull away. “oh my god… i’m so sorry.” you say, after realizing what happened.

“it’s okay.” matt says as he pulls you back to him by your waist. he wraps his arms around your neck and begins to hug you. he pulls a bit away from the hug and stares into your eyes. he kisses you softly, closing his eyes as he holds your face. your instantly kissing back.

he rolls you guys over, now he’s on top and your on the bottom. he grins against your lips. he runs his fingers down your body, slowly. his touch effecting the fuck out of you. you watch his fingers get to your inner thighs. you look into his eyes and he smiles. your eyes on his as his eyes are on yours. “your so pretty.” he mumbles softly. you try not to smile as he talks. he smirks as he watches you try not to smile.

he watches as he runs his fingers to your thighs. he gets to your waistband. he looks into your eyes, for consent. “you okay with this…?” he asks. you smile and nod. he pulls your pants to your ankles, then they fall to the ground. he smiles softly at the tiny fabric covering you. you sit up and take your shirt off, also revealing your bra. “needy, hm?” he smirks. he kisses you back reaches behind your back and unclasps your bra in the back. he pulls the bra off slowly as he kisses you roughly.

matt pulls away and stares at your tits, completely out of it as he stares. you chuckle. he leans down and kisses your neck. leaving a trail of hickeys. “fuck your beautiful.” he mumbles on your skin before kiss down to your tits, kissing them.. till he puts your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it. you gasp as you feel his lips latch onto your nipples.

he smirks and pulls his mouth away. he kisses you before his fingers slide down to the edge of your tiny thong. he smiles and his fingers get down your underwear, trying to tease you. his long, thin fingers get to your clit, massaging it gently, making you buck your hips. he chuckles and pushes your hips down and holds them down. he starts to move his fingers faster and you start to moan a bit.

he slides down to your pussy. he stares as he uses the patting of his thumb to fingers your clit. he pushes a light kiss on your pussy, making you gasp loudly. he chuckles and latches his mouth. fucking you with his mouth at this point.

“o-oh fuck!” you moan, tryna be a little quiet since his brothers are home. he smirks at how loud your being, his grin sitting on your clit. then he starts to use his mouth faster, making it impossible to stay quiet. you buck your hips far, making matt smash his nose into your pelvis. he chuckles against your pussy, pushing your hips down for him to continue as you squeeze your thighs around his head.

he goes down to your hole, tongue fucking you now. “fuckfuckfuck!” you moan, feeling your orgasm come closer. matt chuckles “you close?” he mumbles. you nod like crazy, try to keep quiet, squeezing your face together as he tongue fucks you.

you could tell by his eyes, he was fucking pussy drunk. “matt! ohh fuck!” you practically scream before cumming on his face, all of your juices leaking down his chin to his neck. he licks you clean as your sensitive. “matt!” you yell as you squirm. he smiles and sits up and hovers above you. “your so fucking pretty.” he says in a raspy tone before smashing his lips into yours. he kisses you passionately, his tongue grazing your bottom lip as you let him in.

his tongue exploring your mouth. you whine against his lips, as matt swallows your whine. he breaks the kiss as he kisses down your neck, leaving fat fucking hickeys on your neck. “mattt!” you whine because you know everybody will ask. he smiles and kisses you again before undoing his belt on his baggy jeans.

you watch as he fumbles with the belt. he throws it somewhere on the ground before pushing both, pants and boxers down. he cock springing put as soon as he pulls his pants down. you look up at him as you lay beneath him. “what’s wrong?” he asks. “your big as fuck.” you say quietly, BEGGING silently he doesn’t hear what you said. he smiles and chuckle lightly before leaning down to you. he lines himself up between your folds, making you fumble silently. you gasp quietly as the feel the contact.

he smiles widely and shoves himself inside of you slowly. he smiles down as he watches your core swallow his hard cock. he begins to thrust faster, making you gasp loudly. “fuck!” you moan as the bed creeks loudly. he groans softly, moving even faster. you throw you head back in pleasure. “fuck…” he groans as you clench, making him grunt loudly. “fuck sakes… if you keep doing that i won’t last long.” he groans

you begin to start milking him at this point. he’s struggling to not cum right in this moment right now. he starts to think of things that won’t make him finish as fast. but your moans and the skin slapping, echoing in the room is making so much harder. “fuck!” he groans loudly before releasing his release inside you, painting your spongey walls white.

you release right after he does. “fuck…m’ sorry.” he apologizes. “it’s okay. seriously.” you tell him. “you were fucking milking me.” he mumbles into your neck. “i knowww” you whine. he chuckles. he slowly pulls out. he gets up and goes to grab a wet warm cloth, to wipe both of your guys releases off you. he wipes your sensitive core, slowly not to hurt or anything. he throws the cloth somewhere and lays his head on your stomach.

“i love you.” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “i…love you too.” you answer.

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a/n

holy fuck i took long to post this.

i’m sorry, been busy. i’ll try to get the next carrington one out as soon as i can😊

THANK YOUS FOR 400😓

[bnnuy-wabbit]

I'm going to say something and u are not going to be happy about it. If you have to follow a set of rules to be safe in your own house that house is abusive. It honestly sounds like you're mainly upset at your brother for not being 'good' and making the house unsafe. But he's not making the house unsafe? The people yelling and throwing stuff are. And unless he's over 18 he can't be expected to manage living in abuse well either. Idk just the way you talked about it reminded me of my own household and how angry I got at my siblings. But think about it okay? I hope you find somewhere safe soon

Yeah... I know to be fair... I just don't have any better way to put it...? I'm aware it's abuse it's just! Im really dang tired of having to deal with the outcomes of my brother's misbehavior.

If you'll allow me, let me explain the entire situation. If you have any ideas of what to do Here, please PLEASE let me know because I'm going insane. I hold no grudges, I'm just extremely out of ideas on how to manage it.

There actually are very few rules! Is the issue! It used to be wayyy worse when i was a kid. It's just that my brother is ridiculously spoiled (not his fault!) and can't follow basic things such as "don't speak over people", "when someone says No to something you want to do and/or have, then you accept it even if you really want it". It always ends with him screaming and complaining for several hours straight until someone lets him have what he wants, and telling everybody "i hate you" and throwing loud tantrums everywhere. All day. Everyday. All the time. And then eventually his parents lose their patience and either i have to deal with Not Letting That Happen or suffer the consequences with him too.

We are on vacation rn. I just spent the last 8 hours of my life with him clinging to everybody's clothes complaining about everything we were doing and screaming about how he wants to be on the phone or go home or do something else.

And we can't let him home when we go out because he cries when we do anything without him. He only ever shuts up when he's on the phone. It's not healthy for a kid to be on the phone all day, so nobody lets him. When hes at home he complains about not doing anything and wants to be on the phone. The "something else" usually involves phone or videogames.

It's frustrating for everybody involved. He's never happy with anything and because of that my parents are always on a shitty mood and because of that i have to deal with the fall out.

I know its not MY responsibility but also its not like i like watching my parebts berate him either. I diffuse him often by distracting him. But sometimes he won't let me do that (like today. Dad almost threw his icecream on the floor because hed been tantruming for 8 hours straight).

[davlucies]

taako rescuing lucretia frfom the depression nexus because otherwise there's no way he and lup can pull off this prank 🌶

[pippin-katz]

In Defense Of Edwin

Something that has bothered me is that there's a significant amount of people who talk about Edwin being unaware of Charles' pain as if he's oblivious, or like he did something wrong; that is simply unfair to Edwin.

Charles is happy, friendly, and wonderful. That is his personality. That is not all forced.

People are quick to jump on the line that Charles has been hiding his pain from Edwin, but a line people are ignoring from that argument is: "He's probably been hiding it from himself!"

His behavior indicates that he doesn't talk or think about trauma or negativity unless it's relevant to the situation. I doubt Charles even realized how bad his trauma was until the Devlin Murders. His pain was so repressed that he wasn't "feeling" it anymore.

Charles’ Triggers

While I'm not going to say that Charles did not hide his pain from Edwin at all, I am going to point out that this may have been the first time, in a very long time or ever, that they encountered something this close to home for him.

The only real reason Charles discusses his trauma now is because the Devlin House triggers him, genuinely in a psychological way. It's not just the "crazy dad" that gets to him. There are so many details that fit Charles personally. That whole situation is too fucking much for him.

The song Owner Of A Lonely Heart playing in the background; a song that he says he liked enough to get the cassette tape but that it was smashed by his father.

The controlling and restrictive behaviors of the father on his daughters. The eldest daughter writing about walking on eggshells and looking forward to graduation.

The way that the father kills them; he doesn't shoot them, or poison them, or whatever, he butchers them. His attacks are physically direct. He swings an axe, so his movement is the root of the violence. If it had been a gun, it would've been his finger on the trigger, but the bullets hitting them. Charles was abused by his father through the means of a belt, which is physically direct.

The loop, having to watch it over, and over, and over again with no break, no relief, and not being able to do anything, no matter how many times he sees it happen. Charles' abuse seemed to be regular and constant, no matter what he did. It always ended the same way.

All of that is then exacerbated by the Night Nurse forcing him to reexperience his trauma the very next day. That's a lot of specific details and events that lead to his complete breakdown.

Charles hasn't been consciously choosing to hide all of that pain from Edwin. It had been buried to the point where even he couldn't see it anymore, but the Devlin House uprooted it from his subconscious.

Charles’ Parents

Now, he does hide his habit of checking on his parents from Edwin, but that's not fully about his abuse. Charles misses his family, his life, being alive.

It's worth noting that he only shows Crystal his parents because he's trying to connect with her about not being able to go home. He didn't bring that up on a whim. It was relevant to help Crystal feel understood. She's not special; if someone completely different from her did the exact same thing, Charles would've shown them too.

Now, let's talk about him not telling Edwin. Charles may not have a full comprehension of Edwin's experiences, but he knows he's different from "normal" people. Hiding his parents from him is likely just as much about not wanting to hurt Edwin as it is protecting himself.

Edwin does not show any type of longing for his life. Everything he knew about the world from his time is gone or been changed beyond recognition. He doesn't have a family to miss, not that he was close to them in the first place; even if he did have an emotional connection to them, they've been long dead.

And Edwin seems unbothered, but there’s no way for Charles to know that for certain. Watching his parents weekly would remind Edwin constantly that he does not have anyone. He’s worried about being insensitive; he feels like he would be unintentionally taunting Edwin and rubbing salt into the wound.

Edwin has been dead for over 100 years and spent 70 of those years being torn apart by a demon in Hell; how could he even remember physical sensations other than pain and exhaustion? How could he remember the taste of food while running through Gluttony, watching its inhabitants vomit profusely? He never saw the appeal of romance or sex prior to his death, and then he witnesses the bloody masses of people in Lust; how could he be anything other than repulsed?

Charles tells him that pain is not a contest, but he almost without a doubt compares his own experiences to Edwin's. It's something people with low self-esteem do more than others. He feels guilty, like he’s selfish for being upset; Edwin has it so much worse.

How does being abused by his dad compare to being dragged to Hell? He got hit with a belt; Edwin was ripped apart. Who is he to whine about his life to a boy who has died more times than days Charles has existed?

He may not have had the specific details before, but the knowledge of it being Hell was enough. When you don't put your own needs on your priority list, that's one of the first "justifications" your brain comes up with. They already have enough on their plate, and you don't need to talk about it. You're totally fine! So yes, hiding his parents from Edwin makes sense from his perspective.

But his abuse? Charles doesn't even realize how much pain he's in; how could Edwin have realized?

My point is that Charles wasn't actively choosing to hide all of his pain from Edwin for thirty years, so to blame Edwin for not noticing is like blaming a blind person for picking up a red ball instead of a blue one. He couldn't have noticed; there was nothing for him to notice. Charles wasn't wearing a full mask.

The second Charles shows any indication that something is wrong, Edwin does notice!

Edwin may have trouble with people, but he's not oblivious, and he knows Charles. If he's ever been upset like this before, he would've noticed. He notices Charles' change in behavior after Crystal joined in only a day, and he doesn't deny it when Edwin calls him out.

Edwin also follows up on asking if he needs to talk about his father. Charles brushes him off, but Crystal and Niko show up before Edwin has a chance to press a little more, which I think he would've. I don't think Charles would've opened up, but it would've shown that Edwin is aware that all is not well. He is aware, but on top of being in the dark about it, he's got his own shit he's working out and cases to solve. His attention is divided.

I think it's important to remember this fact that has been driving me mental for months now:

Charles and Edwin’s dynamic during the show is a completely different dynamic than the one they've had for the past thirty years.

The introduction of Crystal, going to Port Townsend, meeting Niko, Monty, fighting Esther, the Cat King, etc. etc. etc. Everything about their relationship gets shaken up from the start of the show. They're both acting differently in all sorts of ways, and some they even acknowledge to each other.

What we saw of them in Port Townsend is not what Charles and Edwin were during those thirty years. It's unfair to pass judgement on something we don't actually know about.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm getting really tired of fics/posts making a commentary about Edwin not noticing being something he has failed at. Does Edwin feel guilty for not realizing it sooner? Absolutely, but please, at least acknowledge that it wasn't his fault if you're sticking to canon. If you want to twist some shit into it to make it more complicated, make it more angsty, go right ahead! I'm absolutely not stopping you!

But canonically, at least I feel after studying these characters under a microscope, Edwin could not have known sooner.

(ko-fi)

[groenendaelfic]

you know I wasn't going to comment on anything s3 in detail or write a super long divisive post because that's draining and tiring and I just want everyone to have fun and find joy in fandom in whatever way is best for them. And yet here we are. Who'd have thought?

All I wanted from season 3 was for Wilmon to talk to and with each other, to get to know each other (better) and to try to understand and support each other and grow together. To be a couple in love and working on their relationship, learning from each other. Them against the world, facing problems together as a team. I wanted romance and hugs and honesty, and all I got was them being horny. I mean don't get me wrong I love them being horny, but I don't want that to be their entire (positive) relationship and the only thing they have going for them as a couple. Please just have an actual, proper conversation with each other?

This post however is not about that. This post is about Kristina.

I hate what they did with her. I hate her entire character arc (if you can call it that) in s3. I hate what triggered her breakdown. I hate that instead of breaking the circle of abuse and emotional and physical neglect she no doubt suffered, she perpetuated it.

She left her son alone when he needed her most. When all he needed was a hug and a good long cry and the assurance that he's not alone, that she's there for him. That she understands. For someone (his family) to be there and listen and assure him that for them, Wille comes first. (I mean not all, he also needed proper therapy for one, but that'd have been a great and important start)

Wille is a child. Her child. Wille needed her and she failed him. She pushed him away and she sent him away and she left him alone.

(the same is true for Ludvig of course, it'd be extremely sexist etc to not put the exact same expectations and blame on him as well, but alas this post is only indirectly about him as everything always is at best)

However.

Her son is dead.

She's been groomed to believe her entire purpose in life is to be a mascot (which comes with very specific expectations and restrictions she herself said she struggled to adapt to) and to give birth to the next mascot.

I don't pity her for that, but that's still her entire identity and purpose in life. It's always been, and now the next mascot is dead and she has to burden the son she thought would be spared with it all, pun very much intended.

But let's return to my first point first. Her son is dead. Not just the next mascot. Her son.

Yes, Wille's brother died as well and I'll never make light of that. It's horrible and a grief and pain impossible to put into words. Especially as a kid or young teen. Wille needs all the support. Still.

It's not the same.

I know it's not the same because I know exactly what it's like. Both of it.

Granted I'm not a queen, but I did have a cousin who died aged sixteen. We lived in the same house their entire life and shared a bedroom for years. We were like siblings. It was my first time experiencing the death of a close loved one and it was horrible. We all struggled for a long time. Their siblings and I and the entire family, and they will never be forgotten, but it broke my aunt and uncle. Fifteen years later and they're still broken.

I also have two sons and a spouse who are dead (no I didn't lose them, I know exactly where they are) and I promise you it's not the same. A dead sibling is nothing like a dead child. (not that it's a competition)

I'm not going to talk about what it does to you internally, but I will tell you what you'll experience from the outside world when your family dies excitingly enough to make it to the local newspaper. Then feel free to multiply it by a large number of your own choosing when you're royalty and the entire country is looking at you and you've been groomed to never lose composure.

Everyone will call and show up and want to show their support and their condolences (that lasts until about a week or so after the funeral). And they will get two words in and break down and cry, each and every one of them, and then it's your job to console them and be strong and deal with all the arrangements and lawyers and bureaucracy. And it'll have to be you for most things no matter how supportive your family might be, because it's you who needs to sign shit and show the school a death certificate. Everyone will mean well, but it'll be everyone else who'll require reassurance and you who'll have no choice but to function because at first there's so much to do. So much. You won't have time to breathe until after the funeral, and after that there're still so much more to do and take care of you'd never have considered before. For weeks. You can ask someone else to drive you but it'll still be you who's required to show up and do the thing. Some things will drag out for months and more. You don't have time to break down and be weak. You can't afford to, because you also have a job and other responsibilities and a duty to your dead loved ones.

But then the day comes when it's 'over' and there's nothing more to do. Sure people still look at you with pity and whisper behind your back wherever you go and fall quiet, unsure how to react or what to say, because you're now the lady who lost her family in a freak accident, but everything and everyone else moves on. That's normal. It can't not. But it's that quiet after which is the most dangerous.

I hate that they made Kristina's breaking point her son publicly coming out as queer, renouncing following traditions without thought and admitting to having been in the video. I hate it so much, because that was a choice made with an entirely different motive behind the one I'll expound on now and I hate that. Don't instrumentalize grief and the loss of a child and sibling to further prove and underline your political agenda (which I agree with). It cheapens it and was very much unnecessary. We all would've gotten the point without it as well.

But you know what? I can't fault Kristina for that.

You don't know your breaking point until you reach it. It can be anything. There's a reason the saying goes 'the straw that broke the camel's back'. Everyone has a different one and they often feel very ridiculous to oneself (which is a very helpful feeling in that situation, believe me /s). I've talked to numerous people who've gone through something similar. In my support group and in grief counseling and group therapy. No one I've met had a 'logical' breaking point.

Mine came late last fall when I saw a robin outside my window. Yes a bird. We'd have one come every winter to eat the oats and raisins etc we put out for it, and my youngest would spend endless hours every day before dusk looking out that window waiting for the robin to come and eat for a few moments at a time, less if he started clapping out of excitement.

That was it. Boom. I was useless for the next seven weeks.

You don't let your grief overcome you. That isn't a choice. You don't choose not to function when a loved one dies. You don't choose to be depressed or to have the most ridiculous thing be your breaking point. You don't choose to be too strong to not let the grooming break you or to be too weak to be unable to break out of it. And you don't choose to be unable to sit at a birthday party and enjoy cake with a son you know you'll have to force into a role he never wanted, the one your dead son was supposed to fill.

Does that make Kristina any less of a shitty mom? No, of course not. Nor does it change anything for Wille. Kristina's grief shouldn't be Wille's concern. But you don't choose any of that, and the stronger you have to appear the farther you'll fall once you just can't hold it together anymore.

I grew up with a very large, multicultural extended family. There wasn't an hour I was awake at home as a kid when I wasn't hugged or kissed by a younger cousin or aunt or my mom (it was super annoying). We talked and still talk about everything. I married into a family which was a bit less physical and more Swedish in showing their affection, but they are still very open and loving and genuine. I had all the support I could ask for. They're the best and I couldn't have asked for more.

It's not enough. Your child is dead. And Kristina had none of that.

Is Kristina (and Ludvig) super annoying for going on and on and on about Erik and how perfect he was? About always bringing him up when they have a son right there who needs them desperately?

Yes. It annoyed me too. I kept catching myself being furious on Wille's behalf and Simon's with how Wille reacted to the not-comparison between Erik and Sara. But I understand Wille's reaction to Simon and I understand Kristina and Ludvig.

Because once your child / sibling / spouse / dog dies?

They become perfect. My oldest once poured syrup where he shouldn't (it was a Nordic winter night and the car was thirsty) resulting in us being out of our only car, our insurance laughing at us, and us unable to afford a new one. It cost a lot of money, my spouse almost their job and made our life a lot harder for well over a year. He was old enough to know better (and leave the house by himself to go outside and play). He never did anything wrong in his life. He was perfect. They were all perfect.

Erik? What we learn about him is horrifying, and it being normalized and dare I say institutionalized, with him probably not having second guessed his actions, makes it worse instead of better. I do believe Erik was the kind of guy who just didn't (care to) think and merely did what was expected without further thought. That doesn't make it better either, because those kinds of people are the ones who keep corrupt systems running. I might be wrong about his character entirely, but it doesn't matter, because as soon as he died he became perfect.

It's weird what death does to our perception of a loved one. Or maybe not. It's also weird what death does to our perception of everything, because suddenly everything will remind us of that person.

A cloud? A scent? A sound? Toilet paper? Kristina is at the stage where everything she sees and feels and smells and hears will remind her of Erik and his death. Of how he's dead and now Wille has to become him and that is the worst.

Also her son is dead.

No she can't just pull herself together and eat the damn cake. Everything she talks about is Erik because everything she currently is is Erik. Her son who is dead.

There is a reason this is such an often used trope in fiction.

Kristina spent all her life being told that her duty to the throne is her only purpose in life. Be queen. Represent Sweden. Produce an heir. Part of why she's as old as she is is no doubt because Pernilla August is awesome and you can't not hire her when that's an option, but nothing else in this show is a coincidence and done without thought, so I refuse to believe that Kristina hasn't always been meant to be an older mom.

Maybe she had fertility issues. Maybe she for whatever reason didn't want kids and put it off for as long as she could. She's certainly not maternal. Unlike every other woman her generation, no one ever expected her to be maternal. That's not her job.

Quite the opposite. Kristina is old enough to have been raised at a time when royal mothers weren't expected to have any hand in raising their children except for approving (or rather disapproving chosen) nannies and playmates and tutors and the like. She was very likely the first female heir apparent, or maybe she was simply the heir because she had no (male) siblings. Either way her job was always to be a monarch, not a woman or a mother. That's what staff is for. That's not an excuse, but it does explain her as a character.

She was groomed and forced herself to adjust (I do believe forced is the right word, because unlike Erik she seems to (have) be(en) a lot more like Wille than she'd like to admit). She had to be strong and queen and represent Sweden. And then her son and heir died and she failed at both.

I do believe Erik was always the 'easier' child, doing what he was told and taking only the freedoms he knew he'd be granted, while Wille is willful, argues, has a temper and his own head. (that doesn't mean Erik was happier or better adjusted)

And now Erik is dead and Wille has to fit the mold. Wille who got to go to a normal school and clubbing and was let to run wild with little preparation for the role he'd someday have to support his brother with. Arguments can be made that Kristina and everyone else never cared about Wille until they needed him, but I'd like to think she meant well and gave him the freedom she could, and because she is a bad parent she thought she was being kind, and because she is queen no one told her otherwise until it became a problem.

Kristina has never been a good parent, and I honestly believe saying someone meant well is an insult and not an excuse, but I do believe she tried the best with what she knew, the best she could.

It wasn't enough, it was the opposite of enough, but she tried and her breakdown is not a weakness but something which was a long time in coming.

She's not maternal. Her job wasn't to be maternal. Her job is to be a mascot and have other people make sure the next mascot is fed and watered and able to perform. Her being too brainwashed to see how horrifying that is does not make her innocent or any less of a bad mother, but why would she think of acting any other way?

She's ashamed of her breakdown. She can't be weak. Not in front of the nation and not in front of her son and heir. Wille can learn and grow and change. Everyone can and it's never too late, but Kristina here is meant to be what Wille risks becoming if he doesn't, if he gives up and becomes a thoughtless mascot.

Kristina is not a victim and I can't forgive her for being a shit mom, but she's also not the devil. She's a mother who lost her child, and she's spent her whole life being told that the worst thing she can do is to appear weak.

Well guess what? At one point that simply doesn't work anymore.

This post by the lovely @voldiebeth is what motivated me to write a similar one. I originally planned on reblogging and merely adding my own thoughts, and I did talk to her before posting, but then it became something even more personal than originally planned, and considering the difficulty of the subject I found myself more comfortable making this a standalone post. I know that's not proper tumblr etiquette, but please bear with me. Many thanks to @voldiebeth for motivating me to put my convoluted thoughts and feelings in writing and order them a bit. It was very cathartic.

[cerastes]

I was wondering, are there any characters in Arknights that on the surface are jokesters, but anre actually immensely deep and powerful? I know about characters like Jaye and Nothing, but they aren’t particularly funny and casual. What I’m looking for is someone like Sans, basically.

"Nothing isn't particularly funny" oh we're just fundamentally different people then because I smile like a babe listening to jingling keys every time he's in the scene.

In the exact same regard as Sans, 1:1? Not really. Similar enough in some regards or in essence that they warrant mention? Yeah, I'd say so.

Aak is a good case, I'd say. Aak is a very casual guy, perhaps excessively so, referring to Doctor as "my dude" and in general having a very whimsical whistle to his steps, not to mention his seemingly jovial soul. Then you dig a bit deeper and you realize, well, despite the way he behaves, he takes what he does extremely seriously and is one of the most ruthless characters in the cast as a whole, in addition to being a medical sciences prodigy the likes of which Terra has seldom seen, and being infamous in the criminal underworld as a vigilante and executioner that has no qualms disposing of a mother fucker, if said fornicator of moms is a criminal and adversely affects others. See, the thing with Aak is that he, for the longest time, hated being so good at the medical sciences, because as he saw with his own twisted father, a brutal underworld doctor and criminal, curing illnesses doesn't begin to truly rid the common man of their suffering: There are always oppressors, abusers, those who selfishly make lives difficult for others for their own gain. Aak believes that to be a truly good "doctor", he needs to eliminate the root cause of the people's suffering: Criminals that will hurt them. Since his cooperation with Rhodes Island, his views have shifted a bit for the better (understanding people better, finding a good friend that shares his latent curiosity and love for the medical sciences and research in Warfarin), but it's still evident that Aak remains an unstable vat of fluoroantimonic acid waiting to bubble over, if the right trigger is present. He's not particularly powerful, with all his evaluations being "Normal" and "Standard", but his ruthlessness, his knowledge of the underworld, and his deep knowledge of medical sciences do make him quite dangerous despite "my dude"ing you.

Ceobe is the other one that comes to mind. Ceobe basically replicates the experience of having a big dumb loving dog, not just with Doctor, but with others as well, such as her canonical friends Vulcan and Sesa (Sesa being someone that also qualifies imo), and is in general a fun goober that livens up every scene she's in on virtue of, well, being a big dumb loving dog with all that entails: She WILL break into the kitchen even though she knows it's forbidden for her to do this, she WILL steal food, she WILL whimper and apologize, she WILL grow immensely defensive over her loved ones over things like "a loud vacuum cleaner" and WILL act over any perceived threat with maximum power; the entirety of Integrated Strategies 1, Ceobe's Fungimist, comes about because Ceobe gets high on hallucinogenic mushrooms she found in the jungle, and goes apeshit because she imagines this whole scenario where Villains have kidnapped Doctor and only she and whatever friends she can recruit on the way can save them, resulting in her beating the absolute shit out of numerous warrior tribes Dynasty Warriors style. Let's talk about that last part! She beat the absolute shit out of numerous warrior tribes Dynasty Warriors style while high as fuck on shrooms. She can do that! Because Ceobe is actually fucking shredded. Despite being a Funny Dog, Ceobe is a legitimately Arts genius, having no formal training and yet being able to use Arts with no problem, almost instinctively, as well as simply being able to harness pretty much any weapon she touches and empower them further with her Arts. Part of this is definitely because she's VERY Infected, but not even that explains just the sheer magnitude and expertise with which Ceobe seems to use her Arts. And speaking of? She dragged herself, across much of Terra, while incredibly Infected and with no care at all.

Ceobe, by all rights, should be dead. Not even the Medic Operator that wrote her medical file has a lot of faith, and her Oripathy is explicitly very grave and only getting worse. And even in this state, she dragged herself and the small arsenal strapped to her back across the world.

Her Physiological Endurance rank of Outstanding is no joke. Keep in mind, this is a rank equivalent to the toughest and most resilient characters we know of, such as Specter and Hoshiguma.

This is all stuff you'll only ever realize about Ceobe if you pay attention, because she's almost exclusively used for comedic relief, but the funny dog is actually a natural archmage and weaponmaster that just won't fucking die, if we were to use more fantasy adjacent terms for her.

There's more (like Sesa) but those two are the ones that jumped to mind.

[moments-on-film]

Moments on Film: Carmy’s True Purpose

Hello everyone! I hope you’ve been well. I haven’t posted in a while, life has been hectic, but I wanted come back to share a post I had been working on this Fall. It’s is a follow up post to my series, Carmy doesn’t know who he is yet. I have one more piece to share in this series. In the first piece, I explained how Carmy is not currently in touch with who he is and what actually makes him happy because his original passion, art, has been beaten out of him. So far in his life, Carmen’s done the only thing he thinks he can do, stay in the kitchen. But he’s not living a life and his heart is frozen.

Carmy is abused, traumatized, exhausted, and his heart is simply not in the kitchen anymore, and maybe it never was.

He suffers from severe nightmares, night terrors, and debilitating anxiety, and is sick and it all stems from trauma forged in the fires of the various kitchens of his life. Because of his extreme commitment to being a chef, and a great chef, he has absolutely no personal life, no friends outside of work, no joy, no sense of play or fun or happiness.

There are so many examples of Carmy’s heart not being in the kitchen anymore, from the first episode to the last. Carmy has also never fully exhibited the true characteristics, strengths and skills needed to be a great leader. This is why he always feels off. He’s not great at communicating, he is not in control of his personal triggers, which cause his personal life to impact his professional life, he is not good at any of the backend skills that are required to be the “captain the ship”, such as business acumen, finance, interpersonal skills. This is because being the leader of the restaurant is not his true purpose, it’s literally fixing everyone else up to run it without him and then leaving to go live the life he should living, and not his sad shell of an existence. He does have a very important leadership skill needed to do this: seeing beauty, seeing the best in others, and seeing other people’s strengths before they can see it in themselves. Let me explain. How Carmy’s skill will lead him to his ultimate purpose.

In season 1

When Carmy meets Sydney, he quickly assesses her skill and potential, and almost instantly relinquishes his power as the leader of the restaurant and bestows it on her, he says he will “dial business” and tells her, “you are everything else.” Ironically, he doesn’t even “dial business”, in S2, by calling the fridge guy, leading to his own downfall.

Carmy literally says “I can’t do this” in his nightmare in 1x8.

In the Al-Anon monologue in 1x8, Carmy states his purpose, maybe to “fix the whole family” by fixing the restaurant. This doesn’t mean his family by blood. As he tells Natalie in 2x9, “family is also not an exact science.” He’s talking subconsciously about his chosen family of Sydney, Richie, Tina, Marcus, Fak. And isn’t that what Carmy spent the majority of S2 actually doing? Knowing what each person on his team needs in order to be “fixed”, pushed to dig deep, make the most of their strengths, passions and gifts and achieve their ultimate potential.

A major major revelation for me that Carmy wants out and that he has no problem handing over the reigns to his capable team took place in the finale of S1. Sydney, not Carmy, brings Michael’s spaghetti to the table.

Gif source: @chefkids

This really stood out to me when I first saw it. I immediately thought, why isn’t he doing this? Michael gave him the recipe, it was the last thing he ever gave him, and he cooked it. It should have been Carmy. It really should have. Just like it should have been Carmy that created a dish named in honor of his brother. He didn’t. It is Marcus that has the honor. Again, the first time I heard Marcus say “the Michael”, when Carmy asked what the cannoli was called, I teared up and then said out loud, “that should have been you.”

In 2x1, Carmy tells Richie, “this shits not fun for me”, and tells Sydney “F stars”, and “we’re trapped” (if we get one). Look at his eyes in the gif below. He knows what it will mean and he doesn’t want to do it anymore.

When Carmy sees Claire in the freezer aisle of Potash Grocery store, he openly tells her he told Mrs. Kelly’s son “don’t do it” when he was asked advice on becoming a chef. Then he gets reflective and says, “I should really listen to myself.”

I discussed in a prior piece how “just keep going” has been Carmy’s mantra his entire life. It’s been his survival technique because it has had to be. He’s exhausted, traumatized, sick, in pain and desperately in need of a reset. In my opinion, in S2, he’s looking for any excuse to subconsciously jump ship, not be the captain of it, which is why he let himself get distracted with Claire.

For much of S2, Carmy is actually giving pieces of himself in the restaurant away. He gives Tina his knife, which is so sweet but it’s also a little jarring. He gives Marcus a “spot” in Copenhagen to train. Tina and Ebrahim get sent to culinary school. Richie gets sent to stage at Ever, a 3 Star Michelin restaurant. Natalie is the COO and has taken over the office. It’s no longer his, it belongs to Natalie. He is setting everyone else up to take over. Sydney is the CDC. He tells her, “it’s your ship now, Captain”, and she opens the doors, not Carmy, when it’s time to open. Carmy can’t do paperwork, or manage the business end of the restaurant, but he also isn’t contributing by innovating and being a consistent leader.

In the kitchen, two hours before the soft open, Carmy is finally “there”. He’s barking orders, catching everything he’s missed, but he is completely going through the motions. His commands are joyless. Sydney, Tina, and the crew say “yes Chef”, but there’s none of the teamwork, camaraderie, and dare I say, fun, as when Richie is running the pass and expoing with his whole heart when Carmy’s trapped in the freezer.

When Uncle Jimmy asks Carmy, “do you want to be the guy? Then be the f-ing guy”, you can see Carmy glaze over. No. Carmy doesn’t want to be the guy. Not the guy in the restaurant. Not anymore.

Even Carmy’s new monogrammed chef coat is another example of how Carmy is disappearing and fading away. His former coat had dark blue initials in an elegant cursive font. His new coat has his initials in plain font, in white stitching, barely visible, unless you look for it hard.

In the end, Carmy is locked out and left behind in his own restaurant because subconsciously he doesn’t want to be there.

I have written about this in various posts, but I truly believe Carmy’s character arc is to get back to his original passion, which is art. Michael knows this is a gift of his, and thanks to the menu sketches he drew for the new most important person in his life, now so does Sydney.

Michael’s final note to Carmen was the recipe for spaghetti for him to fix for family meal, the words, “I love you dude”, and “Let it rip.” But what if Michael was really saying find the money, take it and everything you’ve learned and FIX the family to go on with the restaurant without you (something Mikey was never able to do while he was alive) and then once you’ve done that, “Let it RIP”, as in Rest In Peace. Leave. Get out. Don’t be scared. Go for it. And discover the life you’re truly meant to be living.

©️moments-on-film 2023

[hbpseverus]

For the past day somebody has been in my TikTok comments arguing about Snapes Worst Memory and the definition of SA (mind you, under a post that was entirely unrelated to the topic!) and their replies are just... insane? I'm going to block this person and I would hope they are simply quite young and very biased towards their favorite character (being James), but I thought I'd share some of my... highlights here. For amusement but also for further discussion since TikTok replies are too restrictive for proper analysis. Obvious trigger warning for discussion of SA ahead.

- Let's start with this topic of pantsing. I do not think this term is appropriate for what happens in SWM because that scene goes beyond the usual understanding of what 'pantsing' is. Severus was simultaneously being choked and magically restrained upside down in the air in a position where he could not defend himself or simply pull down his trousers/robes again. Imagine a boy and his friends restraining a girl in the schoolyard, exposing her underwear for everyone to see and collectively laughing at her. Or a stranger pulling down a womans skirt on the train, for example. Surely both of these cases would be considered SA, right? These women could undoubtedly go to the police with this. So why is it different when it happens to Severus? To me it feels like it boils down to the 'boys will be boys' mindset. When a boy does this to a girl we all agree that it's SA, but when a boy does the same thing to a fellow boy it is 'not that deep' and just a prank. And this exact mindset is a serious issue, with male victims not being taken seriously, especially by fellow men.

- Well... this last reply I thought was absolutely insane so I'll let it speak for itself lol. Fact is, whatever James' intention, the act of exposing someones underwear and especially genitals against their will is always inherently sexual. For obvious reasons, this can not be compared to a parent changing their childs diaper.

- They then dropped this definition at some point. What bothers me the most about this is especially the second part. The intent of SA, even rape, is never truly simple sexual arousal or gratification. It is first and foremost about abusing power. James saw Severus as a love rival when it came to Lily. He did not threaten to undress Severus to gain sexual satisfaction, but to humiliate him and therefore gain power over him. That does not mean it was not SA. The attackers intention matters little to the victim. There are of course also so many forms of sexual assault that do not include physical touch, it can even happen online.

- Finally they tried to argue that James did not threaten to remove Severus' underwear at all, stating that 'pants' refers to trousers, not underwear. Now I am not a native english speaker, but it should be obvious to any literate person who reads the chapter that this cannot be the case. It is described that, as Severus is lifted upside down into the air, his robes fall over his head, immediately revealing his bare legs and underwear with no mention of trousers, followed by other characters explicitly seeing and mocking his underwear. He clearly was not wearing any trousers under his robes. I also argued that it was translated into 'underwear', not 'trousers', which they did not want to hear because JKR did not translate it herself. The movies can not be used as an accurate source here. The source material are the books. The movie was not written by JKR either. The movie scene as a whole was changed drastically. The movie could also most likely not display the full original scene as it's target audience were children and it would be considered too graphic. They then used quotes about other characters wearing trousers as 'proof' that Severus also had to have worn trousers under his robes. Do with that what you want. What I will say is that this conversation often shifts towards victim blaming, i.e. 'it is Snapes fault for not wearing trousers under his robes!'. I don't need to explain how dangerous and morally horrible this is.

Well. Honestly being a Snape stan can be exhauating sometimes. I'm honestly getting real tired of having this conversation so often, but as long as I wake up to my comments blowing up with people arguing about the fucking definition of SA I will keep talking about it because this clearly goes beyond simple arguments over fictional characters.

[mumms-the-word]

i think 'groomed' in the mystra context is a little bit like 'groomed to become a leader' in the sense of being prepared for a role. the elements of a huge power imbalance and manipulation make that negative where it could've been a positive thing. so instead, 'gale was groomed to become mystra's chosen' becomes 'gale is groomed to die due to his folly'. not getting into the pitfalls of being a chosen, but that's how i see it mostly. i suppose he was also a child at one point there and that then brings in the other definition. but mostly the former. i think.

That's another good and complicated facet in this complex issue! The difficult thing is everyone disagrees on the exact definition and parameters of Gale as a victim of grooming, if they believe that at all.

If you believe BG3 ignores 5e canon and Mystra revealed herself to him as a child, then it’s Child Grooming. If you believe she revealed herself when he was a late teen or young adult and was his mentor first, then it’s Teacher-Student Grooming. If you believe he was a consenting adult for most of their relationship, then you get a thorny kind of Adult Sexual/Emotional Grooming thing, which is extremely hard to pin down because we weren’t there to see all the details, and Gale isn’t being open about how much he consented at certain steps of his relationship with her. He may not even personally know how much he did or didn't consent himself, if he hasn't processed the trauma yet.

We can’t even agree on a timeline as a fandom. Of course we're not going to agree on a particular "brand" of grooming.

So it gets fuzzy, especially because no two “Gale was groomed” interpretations are the same, and that’s just among people who aren’t fighting over whether he was groomed.

The other difficult thing is that for most of the word's history (assuming "groom" was coined around the late 1700s), the use of “groom” as a verb meant either the care of an animal, plant, or location (grooming a horse, a cat grooming itself, grooming a lawn), or it meant personal hygiene (grooming your nails, your hair, etc), or it meant “to prepare a person for a role" without as many of the negative connotations (i.e., a politician grooming his successor, a situation where the person being groomed likely is consenting and finds no issue with the arrangement).

So, hate to say it, but there's a scenario where Gale could admit he was groomed--he was groomed to be Mystra's Chosen, a role he may have willingly walked into (kind of related to your point as well). That complicates the "Gale was groomed" narrative, doesn't it? Where does victimhood lie?

Apparently the term "grooming" didn’t have sexual connotations until around the 1980s.

Like not to be all Academic on Main but the Oxford English Dictionary, which tracks the (relative) earliest known uses for definitions, says the definition to prepare or coach a person for a career or role (paraphrased) has been around since the 1830s, while to gain the trust of and influence over a person for sexual abuse, exploitation, trafficking, drug-dealing, terrorism, etc (paraphrased) first came around 1984.

Granted the OED doesn't always find the exact first usage but the gap between 1830 and 1980 is pretty telling.

So this could not only be a language divide, but a generational divide. The concept of grooming as a sexually/emotionally predatory thing is pretty new by language standards. Most people playing BG3 would know the concept of grooming-as-predatory if they grew up in an English-speaking country, but at what point did they learn that definition? It will obviously vary.

These days it's a buzzword, thanks to all the shit coming out about Nickelodeon and child actors and celebrities and so on, so younger millennials and Gen-Z and beyond might be a bit more "trigger happy" about using the term than older millennials and others for whom the term is still relatively new and hard to grasp. Also, as completely different aside, I think people are quick to diagnose/label based on vibes, and that's part of the problem with all the fighting too, because how do you compare vibes?

Language is and always will be slippery. I guess in the end I just wish people would be more open about explaining why they go with a specific term, or why they disagree, without attacking people or completely dismissing whole narratives/arcs/experiences simply because it “doesn’t fit the definition.”

As a final related but side note, I think the biggest thing that bothers me about people erasing the Gale-as-grooming-victim is that it inevitably harms actual victims of grooming by insinuating that it's a scenario that could never possibly happen. But that has less to do with the weirdness of language and more about how people view trauma, abuse, and victimhood.

[misserabella]

That cliffhanger at the end of part two of new blood is definitely a gut wrenching one for sure. Will there be a part three? Hoping Ellie and the Reader can get away from Abby and the others and that Abby won't kill her sister. Your writing is so good.

new blood pt3

ellie williams x fem! reader

summary; abby finally finds you. measures have to be taken. paths will part ways. people will be left behind…

cw for this chapter; blood, weapons, chains, hostages, fighting, broken bones, threatening, mentions of abuse and imagery (abusive parent), angst angst angst!!!

You grunted due at the new punch that crushed your cheek and made your mouth fill up with warm blood. You spat and coughed, staining ellie’s shirt. You were as you had been found, naked legs trembling and bruising against the harsh cold floor.

You scoffed, a broken smirk showing on your face.

“Does it feel better? Does hurting me make it feel better? Gives you peace?”

“Shut up!” you groaned at the new kick on your stomach. “Where is he?” Abby inquired, and you smirked.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you?”

She gripped your hair. “Where. Is. He?”

“I don’t know.” you said, once again, like you had answered the last 20 times she has asked you.

“You’re lying.” she said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe. Are you gonna beat the words out of me? Like your father did?”

“He was your father too. How can you be helping the man that killed him?!”

“He was not my father!” you screamed, and she fell silent. “He destroyed me. Look at me.” her eyes where nowhere near you, avoiding your scars, the scars that her father branded on your skin. “Abigail! Look. At. Me.” you ordered, and smiled when she finally looked at you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” you inquired, tugging at your restrains as you looked at your arms. “You know I almost died for this one?” you said, your eyes on the large gash on your forearm, which went through your skin and cut your veins. “He left me on the floor to die like some dog. I almost bled out. Thank god he hadn’t given me water for days and my blood was too dry or else I wouldn’t have made it.” you laughed, a broken laughter that made Abby’s arms grow on goosebumps. “And now look at you…” your eyes met her blue ones. “You’re doing the same exact thing. Just like two peas in a pot…”

“Shut the fuck up!” she yelled at you.

“Or what?” you inquired. “Or what?!” you repeated. Her friends were silently looking to the two of you, guarding the doors. Better not get into family discussions. They knew how Abby could get when pissed off. “You’re gonna kill me?” you teased her when she pushed off her belt her gun, pointing it at your head. “Go ahead. Follow his steps. Pull the trigger.“ you encouraged her, dragging your knees and crawling until the gun was fully pressed against your forehead. “Finish what your father started. Pull the trigger. Kill your sister.” she didn’t move. “Pull the fucking trigger Abigail!” a bullet broke the air, just like it did your skin. Your cheek flooded in crimson form the cut the bullet had left behind. It had graced you.

She looked into your eyes. And without a word stepped away. You laughed.

“You’re gonna leave me here?” you scoffed as you watched her go towards the door. “Gonna run away from me, Abigail?” you screamed, and she stopped, not facing you as she opened the door. “You need to stop running from the truth. The truth about your father being a fucking drunk, and the fact that he wasn’t a good man, Abby.” she stood there, silent, but still moved and closed the door behind her, leaving you in the darkness, like she had done before.

-

The floor was not comfortable, that’s for sure, but you’d grown used to it. You were the one who took the beatings and grew up sleeping on rags. You looked like your mother, or that’s what your father always told you before he’d beat the shit out of you. You didn’t know why. Why he hated her so much. Maybe cause she died and left him all along? Had the love he’s had for her made him bitter?

After years… You truly never thought about it anymore, although you’d catch yourself looking at your reflection and wondering what was that thing that made the two of you so alike. Was it your nose? Your hair? Your smile?

You groaned when you felt a pair of hands on you. “Fuck off Nora. I already told you everything I know…”

“Shhh…” the chains around your hands fell, and you opened your eyes to meet those emerald ones you’d found yourself growing attached to.

“Ellie…?” your voice came out as a whimper, your eyes feeling warm with tears.

“I’m here.” she whispered, holding you tightly to her chest when your hands reached out for her, nails digging on her clothes as you clung onto her. “I’m here baby, I’m here…” you sobbed against her lips as she kissed you, tears pricking your eyes. her hands cupped your cheeks, her guts burning at the sight of your beaten up pretty face and bloody appearance. She was gonna kill then all. “I’m gonna take you out of here.” she promised pecking your lips and you nodded, groaning when she shifted your body so she could take you in between her arms. Your whole body ache and burned. And she was sure you were running a fever. “I know baby, I know…” there were tears falling down your cheeks. You were sure you had a few broken ribs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” she was so careful holding you, touching you… It was something you’ve never experienced before. It was breaking your heart.

“Where’s Abby?” you questioned, your arms surrounding her neck.

“Joel’s taking care of her.” your body froze and next thing Ellie knew is that you were fighting her hold to free yourself. “Woah, woah. What are you doing?”

“I need to see her…” you groaned when your feet touched the ground, your whole body shaking in pain. “Abby!” you called out for her, staggering as you walked.

She tried to stop you, but you followed Joel’s voice the best you could, creaking the door open to find Abby down on her knees, a deep cut gushing from her forehead.

“Stop.” you ordered when you saw him pointing his gun at her. Joel’s eyes shifted towards you as you fell down on your knees in front of your sister, shielding her with your body.

“Move out of the way, y/n.” Joel said, not moving, and Ellie took out her gun to point it at Joel.

“Joel put the gun down.” she said, and her heart cracked when he looked at her.

Tommy pointed the gun at Ellie. “Ellie. Don’t.” he said, and her hands shook.

“Please.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you protecting her after all that she has done to you?” Joel inquired you, his shoulders tense, his aim on point.

“She’s my sister.” you simply answered, ignoring the way Abby looked at you. The way they all looked at you. “She’s the only family I have left.” “If you want her dead you’ll have to kill me first.”

Joel looked at you. They had the rest pinned to the ground or unconscious. They must have caught them off ward. Abby was smart and sharp, she must have been fast enough to fight. But not strong enough.

“y/n…” she called out for you, and you hissed.

“Shut up.” you said. “Joel… Let them go. This is your chance to change what you did all those years ago… You don’t need more blood on your hands.”

“They’d only come back after us.” he muttered, the gun pointing straight in between your eyes as she cocked it.

“Joel.” Ellie pleaded.

“I need to do this, Ellie. To keep you safe. To keep all of us safe.”

“They won’t. They will leave and never come back. You’ll never hear from them again.” you promised.

“And how do you know that?” your chest rose with a deep breath.

“Because I’ll go with them. You’ll never see us again. I’ll take them as far as I can and leave all of you alone.” you promised.

“No, y/n, you can’t...” you ignored Ellie’s hurt voice, her green emerald eyes. Because you knew that if you didn’t you’d never be able to leave. Everyone was looking at you. Sad eyes and clenched fists.

“I promise.” you repeated, looking into his eyes. It seemed like years have passed until he finally lowered his gun. And you could breath again.

“Get out of here.” he said and you nodded.

“Thank you.” you groaned as you pulled Abby up on her feet, swinging one of her arms over your shoulders as she was too dizzy to walk by herself. You tried really hard to hide your tears. You looked at Ellie, who was already looking at you, begging, pleading for you to not go.

“y/n…” she took your hand, holding onto you. You were freezing cold.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered as you let go of her touch. It was killing you. You looked away. “It’s for the best.”

And maybe it was. But what you’d never forget was the way your heart broke for leaving the person that made you feel loved for the first time in your life behind.

-

a/n; this was short but it was needed! hope y’all liked it! <3

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Chapter Six

Warnings: tw: child abuse, tw: physical abuse, tw: verbal abuse, mentions of therapy, heavy angst, language, self-loathing.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: There are TRIGGER WARNINGS in this part - please heed these, and if you think you’ll be affected by any of them, please do not read.

A/N 2: And so here is the next part that made me cry as I was writing it. Have tissues at the ready... and maybe some ice-cream to soften the blow, and know that I am giving you a big, squishy hug at the end 💖

You can catch up here!

 My Masterlist AO3    Ko-Fi

My dearest Dean,

My therapist gave me this exercise to write letters to the people in my life - the good and bad. To get things off my chest that are weighing me down and need to be said. She said I could send them if I wanted, but as it stands right now, I don’t know if you will ever read this. This is the first of five I plan to write. You, your mom, Uncle Bobby, and my father. He will never see his, but there is a lot of shit I need to get off my chest about him. I also need to write one to myself. Give myself forgiveness or some chick-flick bullshit! 

Dean let out a chuckle as he read her opening words.

That’s right… you read that right! It does say therapist! I know you always told me to go. Told me that it’d help. But you know me, stubborn to the core and will go out of my way to do the exact opposite of what I’m being told to do just to piss everyone off! Trust me, some things will never change! But I guess what I’m trying to say is… you were right.

I fought it and fought it, but when the nightmares got worse, and I started seeing him all over campus, at the bar I work in, the coffee shop I study in, the grocery store… You get the picture. I knew I had to at least try it, and… it’s working.

It’s such a relief getting everything out in the open. Knowing that I really, honest to God, did nothing wrong and didn’t deserve any of it. I know you never judged me, and you never would, but there were always things running through my mind that I never told anyone. Not until now, at least.

It was always swimming around in there that it was somehow my fault. That life would’ve been much simpler if I’d died that night. Maybe my father was right. He and Mom could’ve had more children and softened the blow.

I dreamed of a better life every night - at least when the nightmares stayed away. My dreams would show me what life would be like if Mom survived. Sometimes I had a little brother. Sometimes it was a sister. We’d spend weekends playing in the yard or baking cookies together. I’d run down the sidewalk to meet my father on his way home from work, and he’d pick me up and swing me around and around. He’d lift me onto his shoulders, and we’d walk home together laughing, and I’d feel like I was on top of the world!

But then I’d wake up, and the world around me was so cold and dull. He’d be passed out on the couch again, and I’d have to make myself breakfast and get ready for school. Those mornings, I honestly wished I were dead.

More tears leaked from Dean’s eyes as a sad smile overtook his features. He wished she’d had the life she dreamed about. If the spark was still there between them, he swore to himself that he’d make sure any kids they might have in the future had a life exactly like the one in her dreams.

I know you always told me that none of it was my fault, and I know deep down in my heart that it’s true, but there has always been that nasty voice telling me I’m not good enough, that I’m a waste of space and I deserve to be treated like shit. The voice that would whisper: ‘Stop complaining. People have it worse than you.’

You know it’s one thing for the people who love you to tell you that the voices are lying, but it doesn’t sink in until an outsider tells you that. So, thank you, Dean, for babbling on endlessly about going to therapy. Without it, I’d never have thought about going, and I’d have given in to the destructive ways I began using to drown it out.

I’ve wanted to call you so bad, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep putting my shit onto you. I was the one who left you. 

Dean knew more tears were streaming down his face now. He knew all eyes were on him, but he couldn’t care less. All he could think about was that he’d somehow failed her for having such negative thoughts and never fully believing it wasn’t her fault.

Before therapy, when things got too much, I coped the only way I knew how. Well, the only way I’d been taught - I drank. I also developed an unhealthy relationship with sex to feel something… anything that wasn’t pure hatred for myself. I let men use me in any way they wanted to. I might as well become the filthy little slut my father always told me I was, right? Of course, it didn’t work. Not really. It only made me hate myself more.

It shames me to tell you all of this because I know it makes me a stranger to you. It turns me into someone you no longer know, but as therapy goes on and I’ve stopped using those harmful coping methods, I realise I’ve changed. For better or worse, those experiences and getting treatment have made me a different person.

He dropped the letter from his gaze and sobbed again. He wept for the girl who was taught to drink away her problems. To the girl whose father’s words had cut so deeply into her skin that she became the thing he’d always accused her of being.

Memories of the first time she told him her father had accused her of having sex with him, and he’d called her a filthy little slut crawled to the forefront of his mind. She was only twelve years old.

Sam’s hand on his back brought him back to the present, and he huffed a loud exhale before picking up the pieces of paper and continuing.

I’m mentally and physically stronger now (thanks to kickboxing and self-defence!) I have more confidence in myself, more self-esteem, and more self-belief. But I know that underneath all that, I’m still me. I’ve found the girl I was before I lost my sparkle and before her crown slipped.

I’m becoming a whole new woman, and I need you to know that you started to build her, Dean. Your love gave her the solid foundation and supporting walls she needed to soar skyward. The structure was shaky for a little while back there, and I didn’t know if it would all come crashing down, but I had your voice in the back of my mind telling me that you loved me, that you’d always love me. And it stopped the world from shaking and the structure from crumbling.

You laid the foundations for me, and each supporting wall you built is at the core of the new me. Because of you, I found the strength to open up and start the healing process. Because of you, I was brave enough to leave and start a new life. Because of you, my colours, which started as dull shades of grey, became soft pastels and are now neons, shining brighter than ever. Because of you and your unconditional love, I’ve grown my wings, and I’m finally learning to fly without a safety net.

Thank you for not asking me to stay, Dean. Because I don’t think I’d have taken this time to fix and heal myself if you had.

I love you. I always have, and I always will. And I miss you every goddamn day. I need you to know that, and I need you to believe that. I hope that one day I’m strong enough to come home and tell you this face to face, but that’s still too far out on the horizon. 

There’s still so much building I need to do to solidify myself, and I promise I will do it. I’m gonna be that little girl who was your best friend again. I’m gonna be that young woman you fell in love with again. I’m gonna make you, Uncle Bobby, and my mom proud. I won’t end up like him; I’d rather die than make his words true.

As I read back, it feels like this is a goodbye, and I guess it is, in a way. It’s a goodbye to that frightened and sad little girl everyone once knew.

I hope with all my heart that we meet again someday, Dean. I hope you get to see the woman I’ll become. I hope she makes you proud, and I get to tell you she’s here because of you.

All my love, always and forever,

Y/N xx

Dean wiped furiously at his eyes, cleared his throat, and huffed loudly. He hugged Mary tight and whispered an emotional ‘thank you’ that was only heard between mother and son.

“I would’ve dropped everything and gone to Chicago if I’d read this back then,” Dean said.

“I know. And so did Y/N. It’s why she told me to wait until the time was right,” Mary pulled back from his embrace to look into her son’s eyes. “And it wouldn’t have ended well for either of you. Y/N needed to heal and grow. If you’d gone to her, she’d have given up therapy, sacrificed her healing for you.

“What you had was special, there is no doubt about that, and it could be again, but with her fragile upbringing and your unconditional need to protect her all the time, it could’ve only ended in two ways…” Mary stopped, and Dean nodded his head.

“Either she’d have lost herself completely, swallowed up in my shadow, or I’d be in prison for murdering her father,” Dean finished for her.

“Exactly. Y/N knew that, too, and she didn’t want either of those futures for you. She wanted to grow and learn how to take care of herself. Stand up for herself. Fight back. She could only have done that alone. She had to become someone you didn’t need to protect,” Mary said.

“I’ll always protect her. I’ll protect everyone I love,” Dean countered, and Mary smiled.

“I know you would, Dean, and we are so proud of you for that, but she’s a lot stronger than you give her credit for, and there’s a big difference between needing to protect someone and wanting to,” Mary cupped his cheek and gave him a soft smile before she moved to sit at the table.

“So, what happens now, son?” John asked. “I know you still love her.”

“I’ll always love her, but I’d like to find out if I’m still in love with her,” Dean replied.

“It’s clear that you are, Dean,” Sam added with a smirk. “I don’t think you ever stopped.”

“Yeah, maybe. But that letter is at least ten years old, and Y/N talks about being different. Shit, I’ve changed too. Who knows if that means I still love her, feel nothing but platonic love or will fall in love with her all over again?”

“I don’t think she’ll have changed as much as you think, Dean!” John said with a soft smile.

“I hope not,” Dean smiled. “Still, I don’t wanna get too excited. She might not be in love with me anymore. Plus, she’ll have a lot on her plate with moving back, settling into a new job, and a new life. Her dad is dying-”

“Dean, you can’t put off seeing her,” Sam insisted.

“I won’t. But I won’t force myself back into her life when everything’s already in the air for her. I’ll let her settle, and then if she agrees, we’ll meet and talk.”

Next Chapter >>

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[deathsbestgirl]

so i made a little post once about mulder's & scully's empathy (/compassion). i focused more on scully's because hers is quiet, it's not as obvious as mulder's. it's more contained, in my opinion. and i've just been thinking about about it because of that mulder + compassion post and it's something i love about him.

because sometimes it goes beyond sense. he can extend it to the worst of humanity, because he desperately wants people to be good, to give them the opportunity to do better. one small chance to redeem themselves and prove that humanity at its core is good, that even people who do bad things think they're doing it for good. i think this is why he can't kill csm or krycek. (wondering what this has to do with his father?) and it's a crazy dichotomy, because he will kill to protect. he regrets not pulling the trigger on john barnett before he was able to kill another agent, leaving a family without a father & husband. to when he slits that man's throat to save scully. to the way he feels at the end of pusher or squeeze, or the events of pine bluff variant.

his empathy & compassion are so elevated, but there are instances where he doesn't feel it or maybe can't accept it because the evil (to him) surpasses it. i don't know if this is the best way to word it, or that i'm really getting my point across here. i love the complexity of fox mulder so much, the layers to his character, and sometimes the contradictions like any person has. and this is a big part of it for me. as kae says, he's always holding out his hand to the world, to people who have hurt him before because that's who he is. he is so trusting, as much as he talks about "trust no one," it's a core tenant of his character, to trust freely and openly.

sometimes he contorts himself, refuses to make connections he normally might because he wants to believe, he doesn't want it to be true. he doesn't want to be crushed again. i think there's this idea (hope) that you can't hurt people so intentionally if you know them, care about them, love them. but he also knows that isn't true. that often we are most cruel to people we love, and there are things (guilt, compassion) people can't accept in themselves, that make them act out against specific people who carry those same things. and sometimes, it's easier to blame the scapegoat than face yourself or the people you've hurt (abused) with honesty.

i thought i would go into specifics, but i think there are examples in nearly every episode. we see it in the pilot with scully, and we learn everything he does on the x files is for "the truth" aka love. it starts with samantha, but it quickly extends to every person he meets.

on the mulder compassion scenes post i said:

i love that he especially does this for kids and anyone "other" — but also just adults who've been through something. no matter how awful they are, he extends kindness & compassion. i think his brand of kindness & compassion is rare to extend to adults.

any decent person would treat kids the way he does, but it's a skill. one he has honed beautifully because of his empathy & love. we see it in conduit, eve, born again, etc. a few of my favorite. trying to tell kevin the truth, that ruby probably isn't coming back because no one ever took the time to tell mulder that after samantha. in born again, he makes michelle laugh after the horrible things she saw. in paper hearts and sein und zeit, he needs to help those little kids & their families. they deserve the truth & closure, whatever they can be given.

but i think the way he extends it to adults is something really, really special. in oubilette, he extends it to lucy despite her history with drugs & as a victim most people write off. he believes in her. that she's alive is enough. he tells her how she matters, that she can help someone. he knows she isn't guilty of anything but a connection to a little girl suffering the exact same way she did. when they find the kidnapped girl, drowning in the river, he gives her cpr and won't stop despite scully begging him to give up. he can't, he won't. he wasn't going to let this girl die, he would exhaust himself first, never letting that thought enter his mind. and after, he cries over lucy's body. he didn't really know her, but to him, knowing her at all, for such a short time, was a gift. and she did it. she saved that little girl. and he failed her.

in mind's eye, he connects with marty. the local pd are convinced she's guilty despite the ways it doesn't make sense. he urges her to tell him the truth, to help them get the real killer. that what she sees matters. it isn't about her disability at all. i don't think he pitied her for it, if anything, i think he valued it and what she could "see" that others couldn't. once again, he believed marty could make a difference. her disdain & standoffishness didn't put him off in the slightest. it only intrigues him more. he always wants to understand people. he always believes in them, even when they don't believe in themselves. and that is such a powerful thing. there's also something to the way he respects their choices. it isn't what he wanted for marty, or lucy, but it was their choice. even if marty killed her murderer biological father and lucy died. (if mulder kept in touch with anyone from any of their cases, i think it would be marty. not fucking rapist pmp guy.)

and then there's the "other" category (which you could say lucy & marty fit into also) but when i say that, i really think of roland & harold. in roland, he helps him pick out a shirt. he notices he's good with numbers, even if he isn't a genius mathematician. he tells roland about his bad dreams, and that bad dreams don't mean he is bad — a fear roland didn't voice, but mulder understood from his reactions. and harold, mulder saw the way he cared about the women that were killed. he also liked numbers, but harold specifically liked bowling. he remembered people's scores and he would recite them when he was anxious. mulder picks up on all of this. he sees everything.

mulder cares. just because they're people and they matter. it doesn't matter what they've done, or haven't done. he values them just for existing, and living. he always sees someone's potential. sometimes to his detriment (krycek, csm, diana). but mostly, it's a strength. and just because some people abuse that doesn't make it a character flaw. (and this is what i love about scully: she views this as a strength and something to protect. she can take comfort in her science & facts & pragmatism, and she can support him. i genuinely think she feels it similarly to him, but she does not show it as freely, for a lot of reasons. this is a way she empathizes with mulder.)

there's so so many more. these are just my favorites, besides the way he shows it with scully. how much i love this aspect of mulder is why i posed that question. there are so many, big & small, through the entire series. it's one of the most compelling parts of his character.

[atom-writings]

love your work!<3 how do u think yandere main 8 would be like with their s/o? Thank you :)

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) Gen Yandere HCS

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N HEY GUYS I AM NORMAL ABOUT YANDERES (LYING) DO NOT REQUEST MORE YANDERE THINGS (LYING I AM LYING)

Trigger Warning: Unhealthy relationships, violence, domestic abuse, general yandere trigger warnings.

To Alfred,  you are the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He would be blessed to be with you, he absolutely cannot get you out of his head! And anything he wants, he’s going to get.

He’ll take you rather quickly, probably only after a couple times meeting him. But he thinks, doesn’t he deserve you? Isn’t he entitled to your love? His hard work, his kindness, all of it culminated in getting you. Owning you. And if you don’t agree, well, there’s going to be some problems.

As soon as you come home to him, he expects your complete, total dedication and obedience. Can’t you see how incredible he is? You are as graced to be with you as he is with you. You two could be the most perfect couple in the whole world, if only you stopped acting like a child! It’s getting quite tiring having to break your legs over and over again every time you try running away.

He’s even being gracious enough to allow you almost every personal freedom! He’ll pay for everything you could ever want, you can visit your friends and family (almost) whenever you want! He just wants a normal relationship… where you have very little of a life outside of him!

But it doesn’t help that he is incredibly hard to read. His anger is always disguised with a sly smile, his sadness completely hidden as he distracts himself. He just doesn’t want you to take how he’s feeling personally. Through everything, he does truly love you! In his own sick and twisted way.

To Arthur,  you are the perfect lover. A damsel in distress to his knight in shining armour. A perfect, obedient, lover, what he’s always been looking for.

As soon as he realizes this, he takes you away. Of course, not violently, that would be rather ungentlemanly, wouldn’t it? No, he uses his position of power to fabricate reason after reason for you to leave your life behind to join him.

But I’ll be blunt. Your new life will be nothing but servitude. He loves you, of course, but his love manifests more in larger actions than everyday affection. But he expects you to be the exact opposite. Your entire life will revolve around him, what he wants, and what is best for the two of you. Any off time can be spent working on your silly hobbies, but he expects your full attention otherwise.

Obviously, because of this, your life is strictly monitored. Any deviation from his plan for you is immediately punished. And he has absolutely no qualms about doing so. He rationalizes it less as him being an abusive husband, and more like you being ungrateful. He has given you an incredibly easy life, for free! And you chose to disobey? Well, I guess you won’t be getting any more food (that he has been giving you for free, mind you!,) for the next day or two.

As long as you act the ideal servant, he’ll act the dutiful husband. He could never betray you or abandon you, even if you are deserving of punishment. If anything, you are a work in progress. And well, he has nothing but time.

To Francis,  you are a work of art. Best fit hung on his wall, for only him to admire. Everything about you is perfect, but the world could never understand you like he can.

Francis takes his self-elected position as your eternal guardian very seriously. You can never, ever leave the house unaccompanied. Any electronics are forbidden, all entertainment filtered through him, and any other personal independence stripped away. He knows best for you.

Of course he’ll just whisk you away from your home! Your life before him was simply a prologue to the grand love story he has orchestrated for you! You deserved so much more than your former useless existence, it’s a shame he was the only one to see that. But now he’s earned that right, the right to your whole self.

He loves taking care of you. He requests very little of you in return, simply to stay with him with little protest. In the mornings, he’ll dress you in the finest textiles, and at night, he’ll tuck you into bed and watch over. It’s all to keep you safe, maintain your perfection, he’ll tell you.

And he would never hurt you! One would not cut a painting, so he shall not do the same to you. In fact, anyone who has ever disgraced you in any way, will be the target of his wrath. Sometimes, he cannot help but cry thinking of how you must have lived without him. It’s such a miracle he came around, isn’t it?

To Yao, you are nothing more than a trophy. Something he must work to obtain, but simply display at home when everything is said and done.

He would never simply take you. No, no, that’s no fun. He’s in this for the chase, to win over your affections, to make you completely and utterly his. But simply taking you, cutting you off from everything through violence? It’s uncivilized. It’s unbecoming of him. Not to say he doesn’t think you deserve it…

One thing that you will always remember while with Yao is that you are less than him. His love is a gift to you, a small mercy in your otherwise, short, meaningless life. Pray you to learn to respect him, never squirming in his arms as he regales you with his many tales of utter destruction.

Frankly, he does not care enough about you personally to enforce strict control or punishments. You may live your life freely, as long as you always return home by the end of the day. But if you run away, that’s a different story. He’ll drag you back home, kicking and screaming. You’re lucky he’s tired, he seriously considered drowning you in the river.

But after that, you two can return to your peaceful existence. As a perfect couple, perfectly loyal. As long as you don’t require too much from him. Don’t you know clinginess is an ugly trait?

To Ivan, you are everything. His closest companion, his only family, his god. A perfect being that he could never allow to be tainted by the outside world…

As soon as he takes you, you can kiss your old life behind. His life revolves around you, so he expects yours to revolve around his. He’ll be the most perfect, loving husband you could ever want, as long as you’ll behave!

He is incredibly hot and cold. As soon as you are together, he acts as if you two have been dating for years and years. But the second you protest or don’t reciprocate his massive advances, he’ll throw you down the cellar. That’s how he treated his beloved sisters, so surely you’ll learn your lesson just as they had.

Surprisingly, you will be allowed to interact with the outside world! As long as you tell him everything, every single detail about every interaction. You’re so innocent, you would never know what people were really thinking about you! How silly! But don’t worry, he’ll help you.

Needless to say, violence is never far behind. He tells you, he will gladly talk through your issues! He loves hearing your adorable voice, but not when it’s shrieking at him. He’ll make you be quiet and talk like an adult. By whatever means necessary.

But that’s not to say he’s not loving. He loves you more than anything! Please, won’t you tell him you feel the same? He knows he’s suffocating, but don’t you love him just as he does you?

To Feliciano,  you’re absolutely everything he has ever wanted. The “One” he has been searching for! And wouldn’t it be a disgrace to let such a perfect romance go to waste?

He could never take you out-right, you don’t deserve that fright. His controlling ways are much more subtle, as he begins urging you to distance yourself from everyone from him. Soon enough, you’ll end up crying in his arms about much you need him, how you have nothing less. And well, that’s where he thrives.

There’s nothing he wants more than to be your everything! Living in a little world with only the two of you, like a dream! He would never try to restrict you or change you, as long as you don’t break his wistful illusion. Act the perfect partner, and everything will be perfect.

But break his delusion, and he won’t know what to do with himself. From his perspective, he’s done everything right, so you must be the problem! But it’ll all be alright, all he has to do is break you a little! It’s not very hard, at that point you’re presumably already wrapped around his finger. If it hurts, just remember that he didn’t want it to come to this. You did this to yourself, you know?

After that, everything can return to normal. You two can become blissfully isolated from the outside world, endlessly in love. Who cares if that love comes with horrible terms? He would never truly hurt you, and he can take care of you for as long as you live. Just don’t go breaking his heart.

To Ludwig, you are a solution. The moment he sees you, he knows you could solve his problems, make his life tens of times better. So, what is he supposed to do? Let you get away? No, no… never.

He must have you. That is all he can think of… ever since he saw you. Your mundane life, presumably as lonely as his is, is not what you deserve. You deserve greatness, a greatness that he could provide you. And you could provide him with everything he’s ever wanted as well. Together, everything would better.

When he first… takes you, he knows to be gentle. No transition is ever smooth, regardless of how good the end result may be. Besides, he wouldn’t be a good husband if he was too rough. He’ll serve you, just as he expects you to serve him.

He’ll try not to interrupt your life as much as possible. He may be possessive, but he is not too controlling. You can always visit your family! As long as he can come with every once in a while. You can watch and read whatever you want! As long as he knows what it is. You can make your life with him as comfortable as possible! He promises he doesn’t care, as long as he’s involved.

With you, he can finally have the perfect marriage he’s always wanted. Even though it required a bit more… enforcement than he’d hoped. He couldn’t be happier to have you, don’t you feel the same?

To Kiku, you are a creature who must be understood. Not a human like him, but something foreign… who must be captured.

As such, he could never allow anyone but him to lay eyes upon you. You were not built for the outside world, just as he was not. The damage you could inflict, the damage it could inflict on you, all of it means one thing. Keeping you to himself is a public service.

In his home, you are an experiment. He’ll poke and prod, isolate and spoil you, just to learn exactly how your unusual brain works. He cannot understand your reactions, so he must be as unpredictable as you are to him.

Everything about your life must be strictly controlled. You can only eat certain things (things HE likes,) read certain books (HIS books,) and watch certain media (things he knows will never give you any… incompatible beliefs to his.)  He cannot have his unruly specimen tainted, can he?

He almost feels disgusted with himself for his attraction to you. That may be why you’re stuck with him, but he had convinced himself his motives were pure. At least, at first. But now he cannot help himself but grab you, touching you gently, just a lover would. It’s immoral, he tells himself, you are nothing more than a creature he must protect.

But eventually his human urges control his logical ones. He must have you, in every way possible, regardless of how animalistic it makes him. Animalistic… like you.

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Phantoms of the Past: Vergil x Male Reader

SUMMARY: Vergil has always had nightmares and night terrors for as long as he can remember; however, when he met you, those began to subside more and more. Over the years, he had begun to forget what it was like to wake up in a cold sweat and terrified; that is until a few months ago. Once more, his mind has been plagued by these agonizingly real dreams.

BEGINNING NOTES: HAH! YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WRITING SAD FLUFF WITH VERGIL; WELL THINK AGAIN (He really is my comfort character--I swear). There are 12,886 words in this… This beats my last one so now this is the longest chapter I’ve written--It’s like 23 pages in google docs lmao. ⚔️🛡️⚔️ ▪️I couldn’t find an exact answer to this so I will put this here: a grin refers to the lil’ smirky smile Vergil gives Dante in DMC5 while a smile is closer to like showing your teeth. I hope that helps clear things up a bit lmao ▫️I use an in-game combo term (DMC 5)--just a head’s up. ▪️When I reference triggering unless I say specifically “Sin Trigger” I am referring to Vergil’s regular trigger (the pre-DMC 5 form; however, I use the concept art for DMC5 as my visual reference… I know that’s kinda complicated. Just look at his fandom page and then the gallery; you’ll see the concept art for DMC5.) ▫️I’ve never personally had a concussion before so I did some online research; forgive me if it is a bad representation of having 🛡️⚔️🛡️ 💠Vergil x Male reader; I tried to write G/N but it got confusing, sorry. 🔹Pre-established relationship--married and living together. 💠Fluff… well more angst; I got kind of carried away. 🔹Minor accusations of physical abuse; THE KEYWORD IS ACCUSATIONS. (trigger warning) 💠Minor blood warning; from both of you. ⚔️🛡️⚔️ READER RELATED 🔹The reader uses: Beowulf and Revenant 🔹Reader is overly chill about things; I am a rather passive person so it ended up being that way with this story, sorry. 🔹It is mentioned that you are younger than Vergil--and closer to Nero’s age. 🔹Reader does throw up; only mentioned it isn’t like graphic or anything--still figured I should warn just in case. 🛡️⚔️🛡️ VERGIL RELATED 💠Vergil has PTSD-related nightmares/actions. 💠Self-harm? Vergil skins himself accidentally; so I am not sure if that is self-harm per se. Plus it’s only in one part so it’s not that big of a talking point. 🛡️⚔️🛡️ Slight spoiler, don't read if you don't want to have things spoiled: To add some explanation to Vergil’s bit where he swore and freaked out: I figure that when Vergil lost his autonomy for so long as Nelo Angelo, he ended up becoming hyper-aware of what he is doing at all times. So when he does something that he either can’t remember doing or didn’t want to do that it would send him into a panic; fearing that he is going to lose his freedom again.

==

INSPIRED BY: And when thy heart ceased to beat--By: Craig 

Please give this a read. It is what originally inspired me to write this, plus it is just a really good story and takes a pretty realistic look at what Vergil’s life could/would be like after everything that’s happened. 

==

     A cold wind swept through the arena as all movement stilled. 

     At the edges were the two remaining contenders; circling one another. One, a male human equipped with Beowulf, was out of breath and exhausted: the other, the olive-armored Nelo Angelo, had barely warmed up and diligently awaited the human's next move.

     Seeing how the man defeated the slew of lesser demons that Nelo had sent prior, he decided to take things into his own hands. The devilish swordsman was confident that he’d win this fight; even if this particular human has been more of a challenge than anticipated--as the pair has been going at it for nearly an hour now. 

     With gritted teeth, the man sprinted at Nelo, cracking the ground in their wake. He was going to try and grapple with the large knight. Right before he was able, Nelo swung his greatsword. The silver blade was suddenly halted as it hit the Beowulf gauntlets. Even though the man was unharmed, the momentum of the attack was enough to fling the human far across the field. 

     Using the claws of the gauntlets, the man shredded the arena’s floor and stopped himself. Nelo turned to face him and waited for the incompetent warrior to stand back up. Noticing that the knight stood still, the man began to grow frustrated; knowing that the devil was taunting him to try again. 

     With a pounding heart and exhaustion only worsening, the man stood up with a grunt. He rolled his shoulders, cracking them loudly, and took a deep breath. Once more he sprinted at Nelo. When the man was close enough, he decided to jump off one of the nearby walls. Springing himself above the Black Knight and performed Starfall. 

     Nelo dodged but wasn't quite fast enough and was nicked along one side; which only further irritated the Black Knight. The second the man's feet landed, Nelo kicked the underside of their knees--bringing them to a kneel.

     Not wasting any time, Nelo raised his sword to strike, only to be blocked once more by the Beowulf gauntlets. The pair locked in a bind; Nelo’s sword heavily pushing downwards onto the forearms of Beowulf, which were painfully held above the man’s head.

     No matter what way you put it, a devil's strength is insurmountable to a human’s, even if the human is wearing the armor of a former devil. Nelo knew this and drove his weapon harder into the demonic protection as it began to falter.

     Knowing it was only a matter of time before the gauntlets shattered, the man moved into a position where he could dig his feet into the ground. This allowed him to stand ever so slightly. Not having any better ideas, he used this small amount of space and attempted to jump. This, in turn, used the demonic energy of the boots to push the gauntlets up harder into the greatsword; allowing the man to stand up further. Without wasting any time, he jumped once more and noticed small cracks that began to spider on their forearm guards. However, he had enough room to break away from Nelo; making the knight slam his blade into the ground. 

     The man grumbled as they looked down at his gauntlets, seeing that they would shatter if hit by the sword again. 

     Nelo pulled his sword back up and huffed. Now it was his turn.

     Nelo sprinted at his opponent and lunged with the broadsword; catching the man off guard; as he only barely dodged the sharp edge, rolling into a stand. Before the man had a moment to think, Nelo attacked once more. A large sweeping motion from the broadsword hit the gauntlets and blue sparks flew off the sword from the impact; sending the human flying into a wall of the arena. 

     Standing back on his feet, the man looked at his forearms; Beowulf had fractured all the way through. Seeing Nelo begin to move in again, he quickly shed the broken armor and dodged. Using Beowulf’s boots, he jumped onto Nelo’s shoulders and used him as a surface to bounce off. 

     The devil turned to face the man and heard him say something unintelligible; and yet, something so familiar. Nelo ignored it with a small dismissive shake of his head and continued the fight. Once more he moved to attack. The man attempted to dodge in the same way again, not knowing what else to do. However, Nelo wasn’t created yesterday. He was quick enough to grab the man's leg in a flash. 

     Nelo used the human’s limb as a handle to swing the attached body into the ground. The floor cracked from the extreme force as the man's flesh made contact; followed by an ear-piercing scream and the sound of an unimaginable amount of breaking bones. 

     A strange feeling ghosted at the recesses of Nelo’s mind, a feeling of terror--a deep underlying urge to stop what he was doing. However, the knight had to finish what he started. The demonic swordsman grabbed the man by his neck; making him scream once more. 

     Despite their wounds, the human still attempted to fight. He grasped at Nelo’s face and horns, pulling on them; all the while, the man was saying something Nelo was still unable to understand. 

     It didn’t matter, the struggle was pointless.

     Like a hot knife through butter, Nelo plunged his broadsword through the man’s torso. Nelo felt the human’s body go limp and their hands released the tight grasp on his face. The dead man’s blood trickled down the silver blade and onto Nelo Angelo’s olive-armored fingers. Before the knight could enjoy his victory, he decided to get a better look at his opponent. 

     A loud clatter emanated from his sword as he dropped it and the fresh corpse. The Black Knight’s hands shook as he looked at the blood that was dripping from them, horrified at what he’d done.

     Vergil shot upwards with a loud terrified scream. 

     He frantically turned his head around to get his bearings. He was sitting at home, in bed, with you. Vergil’s heart was racing and his skin was clammy. With short panicked breaths, Vergil gripped his face tightly, unknowingly tearing at his skin with his claws, as he replayed everything in his mind. 

     “Vergil? Is everything alright?” a confused and very concerned voice called from the space beside him.

     The blue devil nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing you speak. You sat upwards upon noticing his terrified state.

     “Hey,” you whispered and gently touched his bicep, making him flinch.

     Vergil turned his head to you and just stared. You noticed that his arms were partially triggered, his eyes were glowing dully, and there were small pin-prick-sized bleeding marks caused by his claws on his face. His stare was blank with his brow ever-so-slightly creased. He looked afraid… almost as if he were lost.  

     “Another nightmare?” you softly kneaded against his arm, hoping to bring him back from whatever terrified thoughts he was in, “It’s okay, Vergil. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.” 

     His stare moved down to your chest and he slowly reached outwards. Confused, you let go of his arm--allowing him to fully pivot to see you. Barely-there scaled charcoal-black fingers ghost down your midline. You noticed a slight tremble in his lips and his stare had softened a bit.

     Slowly you grabbed his arm, making sure he could see what you were doing (and to be cautious of his forearm’s blades), “I’m right here, Vergil. You’re safe and at home. Everything’s okay.”

     He opened his mouth but no words came out, just a weak crack of his voice. The both of you just sat for a few minutes; his palm resting firmly over your stomach while you rubbed his forearm. You continued to try and ground him back in reality with your words, hoping to keep things from escalating. 

     When Vergil’s trigger began to subside, he cleared his throat and spoke in a barely audible voice, “I didn’t…” his voice trailed off once more.

     “It’s okay Vergil,” you noticed his expression had shifted and he seemed to be more present, “You’re safe. I’m safe. We’re alright.”

     Vergil nodded slowly, his free hand moved to yours that you had on his forearm. You let go of him and watched as he removed his palm from your skin. He placed your hand in between both of his. With trembling fingers, Vergil ran his digits over your hand and arm while staring down at the interaction. 

     Another few minutes passed, Vergil’s trigger had fully subsided and a few stray tears fell from his eyes. It pained you to see him like this; to see him so scared and not know how to help him. A small pang of hurt tugged at your heart; you had a feeling that whatever the nightmare was, it involved you as (you presumed) most have. However, tonight was different; Vergil didn’t attack you.

     Over the past few months, Vergil’s nightmares and terrors had been getting steadily worse. Just two weeks ago he woke you up by almost dislocating your shoulder. A week ago? Vergil triggered in his sleep and gouged the crap out of your back--enough that you had to get new bedding because of bloodstains.

     Tonight, you finally managed to get him to sleep for the first time in a week and he had another agonizing nightmare. It was also the first time he had tried to speak to you afterwards; rather than sit in silence. 

     A stuttering breath caught your attention. You looked into Vergil’s eyes as he spoke, his voice still laced with a terror you’d never heard from him before, “I couldn’t… You...” the blue devil’s jaw quivered, not being able to bring himself to finish his thought.

     “You’re okay. I’m okay. Everything’s okay,” you moved to get closer to him, “I promise.”

     He pulled you into his lap and buried his face into your neck and continued to mumble, “I’m sorry,” over and over as he shook against you.

     You gently wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, “It’s not your fault, you don’t have to be sorry.”

     The two of you remained this way until you both fell asleep. Vergil, thankfully, did not have another nightmare; however, his sleep was far from restful.

==

     A ringing phone woke you from your sleep and you moved to grab it, only to be stopped by a strong set of arms. Vergil had wrapped himself entirely around you--legs and all.

     “Vergil,” you whispered, “I need to get up.”

     He grumbled in response and loosened his grip just enough for you to slip out of bed. You grabbed your phone and went to the bathroom. While in there, you saw that Dante had tried to call you and text you:

     “You coming in today?”

     “Hello?”

     “I am going to keep spamming you till you respond,” and that he did. 

     It looked like Dante had been doing this for the past 30 minutes. 

     After you finished up in the bathroom, you called Dante.

     It rang once before the red devil picked up, “Mornin’ beautiful.”

     You rolled your eyes as you made your way back to the bedroom, “Do not call me that; Vergil will kill you.”

     “Be one hell of a way to die--make sure to put it on my grave, yeah?”

     The both of you laughed, “So, what’s up? The shop finally burn down or something?”

     “Honestly… I don’t think the fires of Hell could burn this place down…” you could hear Dante’s chair creak as he leaned forwards, “You both forgot about that job this morning, huh?”

     Your face went pale, “What--”

     The younger twin laughed, “Verge and you had a contract for today. It’s nearly noon and you both are still at home?”

     “Son of a bitch!” you yelled, forgetting that Vergil was still sleeping, “We’ll be right there.”

     “See you soon,” you could practically hear Dante reveling in the fact Vergil messed up.

     “Mhm, yep,” with that, you hung up the phone.

     “Dante?” Vergil grumbled from the bed, making you jump slightly.

     The bed creaked as you sat on it, swinging one leg on it, “Yeah… We are late to work…”

     Vergil moved to set his head on your lap and sighed, “I will undoubtedly never hear the end of this mistake.”

     “Mhm,” you gently ran your fingers through his naturally down hair, “knowing Dante.”

     “Brillant,” Vergil looked up at you and had a strange pained look.

     “Something on your mind?” 

     His lips parted slightly as he took a hand and reached up to your face, not saying anything.

     You kissed his palm, “I’m right here, Vergil.”

     He closed his eyes and nodded with a sputtering exhale. This had also become a regular occurrence in the last few months; even before the terrors began. You had noticed that Vergil would often stare at you with this sad and distant look on his face. One night, he finally acknowledged that he did so and admitted why; that he was afraid you aren't real.

     After a few moments, Vergil removed his hand and sat upright. An air of remorse emanated from the twin as he whispered, “I did not harm you last night, did I?”

     You shook your head, “No,” you set a hand on his bicep, “You did talk to me a bit, though.”

     His brow furrowed as he tried to remember and looked over his shoulder at you.

     “You kept… apologizing, telling me that you didn’t know..? I won’t pry, but…” you locked eyes with the blue devil, “I am here if you ever want or need to talk about it, okay?”

     He turned to you, “Thank you for your offer… But I assure you that I am fine.”

     “Vergil,” you placed a hand on his and spoke softly, “You don’t have to be fine all the time; it’s okay to be upset, to have problems.”

     A weak grin was all he gave you in return, squeezing your hand tightly. 

     The eldest twin knew exactly what had set off this spiral of increasingly terrified thoughts; however, he was ashamed to admit it, even to you. 

==

     It had been a job just like any other; clear out demons here and destroy a nest there--a piece of cake really. However, the weather was far from amiable; being overcast and heavily raining.

     “Fuck me!” you growled as you violently yanked the Beowulf boot from the mud. 

    The demonic hardware is rather heavy, at least for your human legs, so it is not ideal for muddy rainy weather--often getting stuck. Vergil noticed your grumbling and scrunched-up expression from the corner of his eye as he stifled a laugh. 

     “Don’t even--” you insincerely growled at him, “I swear I will throw them at you.”

     Vergil smirked slightly and huffed a laugh through his nose, “Perhaps you’d prefer me to leave you here?”

     Playfully you shoved his shoulder, “You wouldn’t dare.”

     His eyes narrowed, "I wouldn't?"

     You raised a brow, "You'll sleep on the couch for a week if you do, mister,” your voice was heavily layered with sarcasm and playfulness.

     Without responding, Vergil grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you over one of his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

     “Hey--!” you squirmed in his grasp.

     “Stop struggling,” his grip tightened as his fingers dug into your skin, “Or I will drop you.”

     With a shake of your head and a smile, you laughed, “What a romantic husband I have.”

     “Tch,” Vergil was scowling, but you knew it was disingenuous.

     The two of you walked like this for some time, enjoying the comfortable silence (which if you listened very closely, you could hear Vergil purring). A part of you had almost forgotten that the both of you were on a job; that is until Vergil yanked you from his shoulder and plopped you on your feet. 

     He placed a stiff hand on your shoulder, “Stay,” with that, Vergil dashed off behind you. 

     Confused, you turned around and watched Vergil zip around a group of miscellaneous demons. You lovingly wolf-whistled at the silver-haired hunter. 

     Similar to a peacock showing its feathers, Vergil did these solo fights to show off--to flirt with you. You knew that this was the case because he would always finish the fight with a fancy move; be it an over-the-top judgment cut or using his doppelgänger in a combo. Today he opted for the second type.

     You smirked widely as you watched Vergil return the Yamato to its scabbard and dismiss Doppel.

     Lovingly, you cooed at the devilish swordsman, “I love watching you work, you know that?”

     His face was emotionless, holding intense eye contact with you. His lips were slightly parted as he seemingly tried to come up with a response. 

     Under your breath, you laughed quietly and approached him, “my Dark Slayer,” you winked and gave him a large grin. 

     He closed his lips and looked down with a tiny smirk, a trace amount of bashfulness ghosted his features. As you got within reach of him, a loud noise made both of you snap to attention. The two of you moved closer together, back to back; as per typical routine. The source of the noise sprung from the nearby buildings. It was a group of four Scudo Angelos and two Proto Angelos. 

     Vergil’s lip twitched as he huffed in irritation. He would always take care of these two types in particular, alone. Right now, however, it is impossible to get you away to a safe distance without a high risk of hurting you. 

     “So, you got a plan?” you calmly asked over your shoulder to Vergil.

     With a small click of his tongue, Vergil spoke, “You take care of the Scudos; I will take the Protos.”

     “Sounds good,” you nodded and the two of you broke apart. 

     Using Beowulf, you made quick work of the smaller demons’ shields. The talon heels of the boots are always a great tool for crushing the demons’ thick skulls. It didn’t take long for you to have them all but bloodied remains beneath your heels. You turned to address Vergil, figuring that he had finished his fight alongside you; however, he was still in combat. 

     You raised a brow as you watched him take on both of the knights. Confusion pricked at the edges of your mind, it was unusual for Vergil to take longer than you. The closer you watched the more off he seemed; his movements were overly stiff and his technique was sloppy. Deciding to help him, you moved in on one of the Proto Angelos. It didn’t take long for the demon to notice you. It charged at you and, just as it swung its broadsword, you parried the attack using your gauntlets. Taking advantage of the small gap of time that it took for the demon to pull its blade upwards, you hit it square in the chest. 

     The Proto Angelo stumbled back a bit but was relatively unphased by the uncharged punch. Now circling each other, you waited for the demon to attack. Once it did, you jumped upwards and were able to perform Starfall upon the knight. Grinding your taloned heels into the flattened olive-armored demon, you did a fancy flip off of it; deciding to have some fun. Which was a major mistake. 

     You hadn’t noticed that the second Proto Angelo also had its attention on you as it had knocked Vergil into a far-off wall. Hearing movement, you spun around to defend yourself but it was too late. 

     A searing pain shot through you as the demon’s broadsword slashed horizontally along your torso. With a loud shout, your knees buckled a bit as you stumbled backwards. You placed your arm along the slash, feeling it with your fingers--as to not break eye contact with the demon. The wound was bleeding profusely and was much deeper than you anticipated. 

     “Shit,” you grimaced and noticed the first Proto Angelo stand up. Thinking quickly, you sprinted at the second one and jumped off its shoulders. With another loud shout in pain, you landed using a shoulder roll. Your head was spinning as you slowly moved to kneel with your back to the demons. 

     A bright blue flash caught your eye and you felt a gush of wind pass you by. Once you managed to stand, the pair of Proto Angelos had been desolated into nothing but specs of dust in the wind. Where the demons once stood was Vergil in his sin trigger. Instantly, he was in front of you, making you jump a little. 

     With a huff and a weak smile, you jested, “Kinda sad I missed that,” you winced a bit as you felt your gut twitch in pain.

     A large grey-scaled hand gently touched your wound. Despite the heavy distortion of his sinful voice, you could tell he was worried, “You are hurt?”

     You did your best to play it off as you set a hand atop his, “I’ll be fine; it’s just a scratch.”

     He huffed loudly and pulled his hand from your body, looking at his palm that was covered in your blood, “I am sending you home--”

     “What-!” you shook your head, “Vergil, you can’t be-”

     The blue devil snarled lightly, “This is not up for discussion,” he sighed with a shake of his head returning to his human form, “It is not worth the risk to keep you here.”

     With parted lips, you did your best to formulate a sentence despite your anger, “I’m not just going to leave you,” you shifted your jaw to the side, “We’re partners, remember?”

     “As if I could forget,” Vergil’s eyes met yours as he mumbled, “That is why I am doing this.”

==

     “Vergil?” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, “You okay? You’ve been zoned out for a few minutes.”

     “Forgive me,” he removed his hand from yours, “I was lost in thought.”

     You looked at him curiously.

     Vergil shifted to the other edge of the bed, “We should get ready,” with that Vergil left the room.

     You pursed your lips and sighed through your nose as you stood up; admittedly, you had hoped he might indulge you on what he was thinking about. 

     After a few minutes, Vergil returned to the room. You already had the majority of your gear on and were in the middle of tying your boots when the ringing of your cell phone caught your attention.

     Before you could answer it, Vergil snatched it off the bedside table, “What do you want, Dante? "

     Although you couldn’t hear the younger twin, you could tell that he was poking fun at Vergil for being late. 

     “Have you called only to pester? Or is there a reason for this conversation?” Vergil’s lip twitched as he huffed through his nose.

     A small smirk tugged at your lips at Vergil’s feigned irritation at his baby brother.

     “I see,” Vergil slowly looked over to you and eyed you up and down, “My partner and I will discuss it and let you know,” he turned his gaze from you, “Goodbye,” he hung up the phone and placed it gently down on the bedside table as it was before. 

     Vergil moved to the closet and grabbed a dress shirt, his jaw moving slowly around as he mindlessly buttoned the black fabric. Your boots hit the floor with a soft thud. Humming a soft tune as you moved to the dresser to grab Revenant off of it, sliding it into the horizontal holster on the small of your back. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Vergil standing behind you. 

     “Oops, shit-- sorry,” you shuffled out of the way.

     “Do not apologize, I am in no rush,” he opened one of the drawers and grabbed a pair of pants and his belt.

     A bright smile adorned your face as you resumed your humming. You grabbed your coat and his off the nearby wall hooks and walked over to him.

     Vergil had moved back to the closet and slid on one of his vests.

     “Allow me?”

     The blue devil turned to you, “I can button my own clothing.”

     “I thought you weren’t in a rush?” you teased gently.

     You handed Vergil his coat to hold and slowly began to button the slate-blue apparel. Out of the top of your vision, you could see that Vergil was staring down at you with a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

     “So what did Dante want?” you reached over to the closet behind him and grabbed one of his ties.

     “He wanted to know if you wished to trade places with him for today.”

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” you made sure the tie was semi-loose--as he prefers--and tucked it beneath his vest.

     “That he would accompany me on the job and you would work with the women--taking Dante’s place."

     “Well,” you rested your hands on his shoulders and sighed quietly, “I guess that makes the most sense since we are so late today…”

     “Are you sure you are alright with it?” his eyes flicked to your hands then back to you, “I know you prefer to work with me,” he tossed his coat over on the bed and placed his hands on your waist.

     You laughed as you felt him pull you closer, “It’ll be fine, dear,” you leaned your head on his chest, “just promise me you’ll stay safe and keep in touch?”

     “Of course,” his voice was barely over a whisper as he kissed the top of your head, “Same goes for you.”

     “I will,” a grin spread across your face as you leaned back to look at him. Lovingly, Vergil pressed further into you and moved one of his hands to the side of your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek. The two of you kissed gently. His other hand kneaded into your hips as you moved your hands down the front of his chest, grabbing his vest. 

     Gradually, you two split from the kiss. The blue devil stayed touching your forehead. You shivered slightly feeling his hot breath against your lips, wanting to taste more of him.

     “Perhaps we should save this for later?”

     “Just a little more… please?” you pouted slightly.

     The blue devil chuckled softly, “With a face like that,” he brushed his lips against yours, “how could I say no?”

     The two of you intertwined yourselves once more. He moved both his hands to your sides, slowly and strongly kneading down them. With kisses as sweet as molasses, he made sure to show you how much he relishes in your affections. One of your hands moved to his hair and slowly ran your fingers through slicked back pomaded locks. A small distant purring could be heard as he pulled you even tighter to his body. Vergil’s lips left yours and ran down your jawline and neck.

     “I love you,” you murmured, “so very much…”

     He removed his lips from your skin and looked you in the eyes; his way of expressing the same affection. Despite his silence, you knew he felt the same. 

     A ghost of a smile hinted at Vergil's face as he reluctantly let go of your body, returning to his regular volume, “We should get going; otherwise I may change my mind about saving things for later.”

     Your face turned a slight red at the flat-out way Vergil said that he wanted you. The blue devil had walked over to the bed and slid on his coat. He then grabbed Yamato from its resting place next to the bed and your phone.

     With your phone outstretched in his hand, he raised a brow at your expression, “Ready?”

     You shook the ever-encroaching ideas from your head as you meekly grabbed your phone, “Yeah.”

     “Good,” his hand was still outstretched, “Shall we?”

     A large smile decorated your face as you grabbed his hand, “Lead the way, dear.”

==

     The instant you left Nico’s van after work, you went inside to bathe. It had been another rainy day and you were not only coated in demon blood but also mud--lots of mud. You pulled off Beowulf before entering your shared home and set them on the rubber mat near the door; leaving them to clean later. 

     Slowly, you undressed as you made your way to the bathroom when you heard something odd.

     “--to do,” it was Vergil. You peered through the door of the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from you and was talking to himself, “Perhaps it would be best--” he stopped and turned his head slightly to the right. 

     You bit your lip and knocked gently, “Hey, sorry to intrude… Didn’t know you were home.”

     Vergil pushed up on his knees, standing to turn and face you, “Do not apologize, I wasn’t doing anything important…” he looked worn out.

     The door creaked as you fully opened it and stepped into the room, halfway undressed, “You look tired, babe.”

     The blue devil shook his head, “Dealing with my brother is exhausting.”

     “Well, then after I shower,” you set Revenant down on the dresser, “maybe we should take a nap together?” 

     “I-” Vergil’s expression hardened, “I don’t know if that is a good idea.”

     Your lips parted slightly as you looked with a soft crease of your brow, “I know it’s been rough but… you need some sleep, Vergil…”

     He looked as if he were going to say something, but moved his gaze to the floor and nodded in agreement. 

     “You don’t have to wait for me,” you moved back towards the door, “I’ll join you when I get back, okay?”

     The eldest twin nodded as he watched you leave the room.

     He had already removed most of his clothing, only having his pants and his, untucked, dress shirt on. Slowly, Vergil stood and went to get a more casual shirt; removing the rest of his work clothes. 

     Now dressed in a loose-fitting black tank top and navy boxer briefs, he moved back to the bed. Apprehensive didn’t even describe how he felt right now; no, the eldest son of Sparda was petrified over the thought of sleep. However, you were right, he was beyond beat and wanted nothing more than to rest. With a heavy sigh, he climbed into the bed and closed his eyes, praying for just a moment of pleasant sleep.

     You came back into the room about an hour later. With a warm smirk, you tip-toed around the room to avoid waking the sleeping devil. Once you re-dressed yourself, you turned back to look at Vergil when you noticed something was wrong. 

     His face was contorted into a rather violent grimace and, as per the night before, was partially triggered. Vergil was also breathing heavily and growling in his sleep. In his arms, he had taken one of the pillows--and some of the duvet--into a death grip, ripping them.

     Biting your lip in thought you sighed, “Shit…” although you knew that this could only end badly, you decided to wake him up from his nightmare.

     Cautiously, you moved to the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Vergil..?”

     Nothing.

     Your gut twisted with fear as you shook him harder, “Vergil?”

     Still nothing.

     With a heavy sigh, you shook him harder, “Wake up…”

     Instantly, you were pinned to the floor by a set of charcoal-black scaled hands around your throat. You had never been scared of Vergil before but tonight? You were terrified. His face was somewhere between emotionless and furious. A loud rumbling growl emanated from the back of his throat as he continued to squeeze ever-tighter.

     “Verg-” your voice sputtered as you grabbed his arms, gasping for air. 

     Blood had begun to trickle down your palms as you accidentally sliced them on his forearm blades in your panic. Becoming steadily aware of your need for air, you grabbed at his face and neck; anything to get him off of you. 

     Tears sprung from your eyes as you felt his claws pierce the sides of your neck as his grip tightened even further. You knew that if he pressed down his thumbs, Vergil would stab right into your windpipe and kill you. 

     Lightheadedness began to sink in as you croaked out another beseeching plea to your lover, “Vergil--!”

     With nothing left to do, you clawed harder against him and roughly cut into his cheek with your nails. This seemingly pulled him from his delusion as his grip loosened.

     A new look replaced the hardened glare from before, a look of complete and utter horror. 

     Vergil’s voice trembled as he realized what was going on, “What--?”

     You took a loud deep breath and pulled his arms away from you and spoke as best you could with the growing pain in your throat, “Move,” you pushed against his body and did your best to speak normally, “please.”

     Without hesitation, Vergil removed himself completely and stood staring down at you. He looked at his, still-triggered, hands and saw your blood dripping from his claws. The blue devil’s blood ran cold. 

     “Vergil-” you groaned as you sat upwards, watching him bolt out of the room, “Wait-” with a strained grunt, you gradually stood upright and did your best to stabilize your wobbly legs.

     The blue devil slammed the bathroom door close, quickly locking it behind him. His hands had de-triggered and shook violently as he tried to wash the blood from his skin. He had turned the faucet as hot as possible and had begun to inadvertently scorch his skin. While he was brutalizing his own hands, he felt something drip down his jawline and to the tip of his chin. Vergil looked at himself in the fogged-up glass in front of him.

     Upon each side of his face and neck were dark smears of your blood from you pushing him away. Three large scratches decorated one of his cheeks and were slowly bleeding; now dripping off of his chin and to the sink below. Vergil took one of his hands and slowly ghosted over the markings on his face. A deep all-encompassing pit formed in his gut as he replayed the nightmare from just the night prior. The feeling of you desperately tearing at Nelo’s face, trying to escape him.  

     A tremble found its way to Vergil’s lips and body. Pressing as hard as he could, the eldest twin began to desperately scrub his blood-stained face with the sink's boiling water; grimacing from the feeling of peeling the top layers off of his flesh. You were the only person in the world he wouldn’t dare fight, wouldn’t dare harm; yet, only mere moments ago, he had his hands around your neck. A wicked thought echoed in his mind, how it would have only taken just a few more seconds or just a little more pressure for him to have killed the only person he has ever loved. Vergil bared his teeth as he let out a muffled whimper, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.

     The knob of the door jiggled, “Vergil?” the Dark Slayer flinched at the sound of your voice, even though it was soft and calm, “Vergil, are you okay?”

     He couldn’t come up with what to say in response, only whimpering again with a sad twitch of his lip. 

     Using an even softer tone, you set your head on the door, “Vergil… Let me in, please?”

     Despite his effort to come up with something, all he could muster was a loud voice crack as gripped the countertop.

     “Vergil,” you sighed quietly, “I want to see you. Please open the door,” an overwhelming amount of fear had consumed your mind; not for yourself, but over how Vergil might punish himself over this, “Please, Vergil…”

     “I-” he took a harsh breath trying to calm himself--and failing miserably, “What if I--” a crack began to form in the laminate countertop as his raw skinned fingers gripped harder and harder in growing frustration.

     “You won't; I promise.”

     After what seemed like an eternity, Vergil shut off the faucet and unlocked the door. You opened the door slowly and felt your heart sink at seeing your blue devil. 

     At the furthest point from the door, he was sitting on the floor, trembling heavily. Scalding red marks adorned his pale skin where he had been scrubbing and his fingers were no better. 

     “Vergil…” you approached him and saw his body stiffen, “Can I sit next to you?” 

     All he gave you was a small nod. Slowly, you moved next to him and sat beside him.

     Neither of you spoke for nearly a half hour. At one point, you managed to get a hold of one of his hands and intertwined your fingers; thumbing over the fading red marks. Internally, you were fighting the urge to hold him as close and as tight to you as possible.

     Vergil’s voice was nearly silent when he finally spoke, “I’m sorry.”

     “It’s okay--”

     “No,” he pulled his hand from yours and turned to stare at you, “No, it’s not okay,” with each word he got louder and held more frustration, “I could have--” he clenched his jaw as he scrunched his face, holding back his overwhelming storm of emotions, “I could have killed you!”

     “Vergil…” you decided to follow his idea and pivoted to face him fully, “I face death every day with work so it--”

     The blue devil snarled loudly, “I am not some mindless fucking demon,” he gripped his face with his hands, “I should be able to control myself!” tears began to slide down his face as he grimaced intensely, bearing his teeth in frustration.

     You were taken aback, you have never heard Vergil swear before, let alone sound so distraught, “I--” your lips pursed as you carefully chose your words, “I didn’t mean it like that, Vergil,” you gently set a hand on his knee, “I just meant that I’m used to that kind of thing, as morbid as that sounds.”

     A tremble reappeared through his lips, “You shouldn’t have to deal with that from me; it goes against everything I…” his mouth opened as if he were going to continue but no words came out.

     You were trying your hardest to stay calm despite wanting to join his crying upon seeing him this way. Tenderly, you thumbed over his leg, “When we got married,” you made sure to keep your voice slow and soft, “I signed up for whatever hardships may happen, to or from either of us--that we would figure things out together,” you noticed that Vergil’s stare had finally reconnected to yours, “no matter what the what happens."

     Vergil pursed his lips before taking a slow deep breath through his nose. His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes, slowly stopping his weeping, and removed his hands from his face. 

     A part of Vergil wanted to argue with you; to tell you that you're insane, delusional, that you shouldn't bear the punishment of his inner demons. The feeling of you grabbing his hands and holding them pulled him from his bitter thoughts. 

     Bringing one of his hands up to your lips, you kissed his knuckles, whispering against them, “I love you,” you brought the other hand up and repeated your action, “more than anything in the world, Vergil.”

     His grip tightened on your hands, “You are a fool," Vergil did his best to sound normal but only managed to give a small whispering whimper of a response. 

     “If loving you is foolish then I will happily play the court jester, my love,” a small smile tugged at your lips, hoping to make him feel a little better.

     After a brief moment of silence, Vergil released your hands and scooched closer to you, “May I see…” he meekly gestured at your neck.

     You nodded slightly and exposed your neck to the blue devil. The skin of your neck had already begun to darken and had small red petechiae marks. It was easy to tell that Vergil had used his hands on you because of the long slender lines of bruising; which ended in much darker spots where he had been pressing the hardest (except his thumbs). At the end of each dark spot were small needle-like marks that had dried blood on and around them. 

     Although you tried your best, you flinched at the feeling of his fingers ghosting your neckline. Vergil’s expression became increasingly distressed the longer he looked at you. Seeing this, you grabbed his other hand and held it tightly; hoping to provide some solace to him. 

     “It’s alright, Vergil, it’ll heal,” you whispered as he pulled his hand back from your neck.

     A small tremble found its way to his lips as he whispered back, “I am sorry.”

     “You do not have to apologize,” you grabbed his other hand and held it, “It is not your fault.”

     He paused for a moment before speaking, “We,” his voice cracked as he avoided your eyes, “We should get you cleaned up.”

     With a comforting grin and soft voice you thumbed over his fingers, “You sure you are okay to do that?”

     Vergil nodded, “I’ll be okay,” he pulled one of your hands to his lips and kissed it very gently.

==

     It wasn’t long before morning rolled around. Reluctantly, you had agreed to let Vergil stay in the living room for the night and you sleep in the bedroom, alone. 

     You woke up freezing as you had grown accustomed to the broiling body heat of your lover. With a loud groaning yawn, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. As you walked to the bathroom, you felt a sudden sharp headache form. 

     Upon reaching the desired location, you noticed that the laminate countertop was cracked badly by Vergil gripping it.

     “Shit,” you grumbled.

     Your thoughts were cut off as you began feeling very off balance, leaning on the broken surface for support, before suddenly lurching forward into a kneel and throwing up in the toilet. During all your years of hunting, you knew what concussions felt like and this was definitely one of the worst ones you've ever had.

     “Fu-uck,” you sighed with a scowl slowly emerging on your features.

     Finishing up what you had originally gone in there to do--and making sure to brush and rinse the fuck out of your mouth--you left the room with a few painkillers in hand.

     The house was uncharacteristically silent as you wobbly meandered your way to the kitchen. Once at the sink, you poured yourself a glass of water and took the pills. With your hands resting on the edge of the sink, you slowly drank the rest of the water; doing your best to stay upright. The lukewarm water only helped to highlight the growing pain in your throat. 

     “Are you alright?” a voice called from your right.

     “Gah--!” you jumped slightly and dropped the cup in the sink--which was thankfully plastic. Then turned to see that it was Vergil, “You scared me, Vergil--" you took a deep breath trying to calm your heart, "I am fine, just a little sore is all.”

     His face softened as he cautiously pulled you into a close hug, “I’m sorry--is there anything I can do to help?”

     “This is exactly what I needed,” you leaned further into him and heard him purring quietly, “How are you doing, dear?”

     Vergil had a small smile as he whispered, “Much better now that I am with you.”

     The two of you held each other--swaying slightly--for what seemed like only mere seconds; when, in reality, it had been nearly a half hour. 

     Vergil nuzzled his cheek into the top of your head and spoke very quietly, “I hate to ruin the moment; however,” he pulled back from the hug enough to see you, “Dante requested us to come in early today.”

     You raised a brow, “Why?”

     “Morrison brought in a big contract; Dante requested that all of us be there for the briefing…” Vergil placed a hand on your face, not wanting to let you go.

     “Mmn, suppose I need to get ready,” you leaned into his palm and closed your eyes, and sighed, leaning out of the hug, “Best not to be late again."

==

      Both of you stood at the front door, debating on how you were getting to the DMC. Since you had a concussion, traveling with the Yamato was out of the question--last time you had traveled under the same circumstances, you almost threw up inside the portal and then proceeded to pass out once on the other side.

     “You sure you’re alright with this? I can just call an Uber or something,” you folded your arms and raised a brow.

      Vergil nodded, “I am fine with it; however if you aren’t then--”

     “No- no, it's fine just,” you tried not to laugh, “never thought 'flying via devil' would be something I’d do.”

     He grinned, “Perhaps we should travel this way more then.”

     “And here I thought you only used your trigger for emergencies,” you playfully teased.

     “This is an acceptable outlier,” Vergil laughed quietly. 

     With a bright flash of cornflower blue light, Vergil stood before you in his devil trigger.

     A warm smile adorned your face as you approached the black and blue devil, "I never knew the devil was so handsome,” your voice was laced with sarcasm as you placed a hand on his cheek.

     “Chivalry will get you nowhere, human, ” Vergil gently jested back, holding back a small laugh, “I will devour you whole.”

     “Oh no, whatever shall I do?” you dramatized your words; placing the back of your hand on your forehead and leaning back slightly, “Someone save me,” you did your best to stifle your laughter.

     He wrapped his wings around you and looked downwards at your expression, “No one will take you from me, pet. ”

     “I-” your lips were slightly agape as you tried to formulate a response--Vergil had never called you that before.

     However, he spoke before you could come up with anything, “What? Devil got your tongue?” he leaned in close, breath washing over your lips.

     “Mmn, no,” you moved your lips even closer to his, “I wish he did though.”

     Vergil cautiously connected with your lips. You moved your hands to the dark reddish-brown underside of the leathery appendages and slowly ran your fingers along the grooves. This elicited a moan from your blue devil and made him push himself against you harder. His fingers were trembling as he ghosted them along your sides, catching your attention.

     Breaking off the kiss but not moving away, you whispered against his lips, “You can touch me, Vergil. You won’t hurt me,” you used your hands to push his palms to your sides.

     His pupils dilated slightly, “Are you--”

     You cut him off with an aggressive kiss, placing your hand on his chest and kneading into him. Not wasting any more time, Vergil came back at you with an even more intense fervor. He pushed his tongue within the confines of your mouth. A muffled moan came from your lips as Vergil used his oral mastery inside your cavern; touching everything he could and playing with your tongue.

     After a minute or two, you both broke apart from the kiss. You smiled widely at him and placed a long sweet smooch on the tip of his nose; making him scrunch a bit in confusion. The two of you stood holding one another for a few minutes before you broke the serene silence. 

     “We should probably get going,” you sighed, “otherwise we won’t be making it to work…”

     The eldest son of Sparda sighed as well, “I suppose you are right…” he picked you up bridal style as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, “Shall we?”

     You nodded as he opened the door. A sudden cold wind shot right through you as you leaned in closer to the hot-blooded devil. It was raining quite heavily so Vergil shifted you to face him completely; sheltering you the best he could from the elements, holding you underneath your thighs. With a small grunt from the devil, you two were off into the air.

==

     The flight wasn’t very long, you were at the DMC within a half hour; however, the rain had steadily gotten worse and made it a less-than-optimal flight. Vergil decided to land on the roof rather than risk being seen on the street and quickly ushered you indoors; fearing you would fall ill. 

     You took off your sopping wet coat and shook your head a bit, trying to dry off. Vergil had de-triggered and, because of how hot his devil trigger is, he was bone dry as he raised a brow at your “dog-like” actions.

     “What?” you looked up at him, giving him a curious smile.

     “Nothing,” he gave you a smirk in return.

     The two of you came downstairs, Vergil went first as you followed. Upon entering the foyer, you noticed that Vergil wasn’t kidding when Dante said “everyone”. Said red devil, Nero, Trish, Lady, and even Nico were inside the Devil May Cry; all chatting amongst themselves. 

     The younger twin noticed you both on the stairs and flashed a wide grin, “Glad you both could make it! Thought maybe you were going to sleep in-- Ah,” a small dagger from Vergil jabbed Dante in the arm.

     You pursed your lips and stifled your laughter, quietly speaking to Vergil, “Give me your coat? I’ll go hang it.”

     He stared at you from the corner of his eye for a moment before doing as you asked; delicately handing you the dark navy clothing. Vergil moved towards the bar counter to converse with Nero as everyone else resumed their conversations. With a small spring to your step, you waltzed over to the hooks near the front door and hung both your jackets. Pivoting on your heels, you went to move back into the room when you were stopped by Dante. 

     The red devil stood in front of you and used his forefinger and thumb to turn your head upwards; revealing the bruising on your neck. An aggressive furrow appeared on his brow as he frowned intensely.

     “Dante,” you whispered so that only he could hear you, “It’s not what you think--” his turquoise eyes locked with yours before he let go of your chin. It was too late.

     He turned around, “Alright,” Dante’s voice was between serious and pissed-off, a tone that was highly unlike the high-spirited brother, “What the fuck.”

     Vergil tilted his head ever-so-slightly and parted his lips in confusion, squinting at his twin.

     Dante made his way across the room, you followed him and tried to get him to stop, but were unable as he spoke even louder than before, “What is wrong with you?!”

     The blue devil’s face only became more confused as his eyes flicked between his brother and you.

     The red devil shoved Vergil, “Answer me, Vergil!”

     Fearing that the two would escalate into a larger fight, you grabbed one of Dante’s arms and tugged him away, straining your sore voice, “Dante you don’t understand-”

     Dante turned to you, “I think I know strangle marks when I see them,” his eyes went back to Vergil, “I'm tired of not saying anything.”

     With a slight sharpness, Vergil closed his eyes and scrunched his face, “What are you talking about?”

     “Don't play stupid,” Dante raised his voice even louder with a slight growl, “You think that I didn’t notice? Everyone here has noticed--fuck,” he flung his arm out, gesturing at nothing in particular, “even Morrison asked me about it!”

     “What does--”

     Dante's voice was unbearably loud as he yelled at his older brother, "You're fucking beating your husband, Vergil!” 

     The shop went silent. At this point, Nero had moved toward the couch the three ladies were sitting on, awaiting Vergil’s response.

     Your eyes widened at Dante and the absurd notion he had brought forth. Knowing Dante as you do, you had figured he was going to jab at Vergil for "being too rough in bed" or something stupid--not domestic abuse. With a slightly furrowed brow, you turned to the group next to you, then back to the brothers, and noticed Vergil’s pale stare. 

     Vergil huffed quietly through his nose as he looked downwards, pursing his lips in thought. After a moment, he looked back up at Dante with a cold glare, "Do you really think that lowly of me, Dante?"

     Dante cocked his head to the side, his voice still laced with a growl, "You know, after what you've done? Sorry, but I wouldn't put it past you."

     Vergil’s face was barren of any emotion--to everyone else besides you, that is. You’ve been in a relationship long enough with the stone-faced slayer that it was painfully obvious how much Dante’s accusation hurt him. Unable to think of what to say, he just stood there and glared at his twin. 

     "I ain't letting this go, Vergil. I'll stand here all fuckin--" a loud crack of thunder cut Dante off as the power went out in the shop.

     You weren't sure what happened, but the next thing you knew, you were on the floor and a sin-triggered Vergil was encompassing your surroundings. It was overwhelmingly hot as you felt his wings and arms tighten around you, pushing you further into his chest. The blue-grey devil shook wildly as a continuous thunderous growl emanated from deep within his chest. At any other point, it would have been a nice feeling; however, the loud sounds, sweltering heat, and the bright blue light from his chest made your headache turn from bad to agonizing. 

     Through the loud rumbling, you could vaguely make out Dante speaking; something about Vergil overreacting. Then you felt Vergil shift slightly and heard a loud yelp from the younger twin. There was a loud shuffling of hasty movement from the couch beside the two of you which made Vergil snarl even louder. 

     Lady could be heard telling Dante to “back off” of (presumably) Vergil. You then a loud creak of the garage door being opened and more shuffling feet. The last thing you heard from the rest of the crew was Nero saying something unintelligible and shutting the door. Leaving Vergil and you alone in the foyer. 

     This was the first time Vergil had done something like this and you were unsure how to calm him down; so you just slowly wriggled your hand free and kneaded into the bright blue lines of your lover’s chest, “Hey,” you whispered in hopes of catching his attention, “It’s alright, Vergil.”

     His growling quieted a bit, however, his grip tightened into an almost painfully tight vice.

     A small grunting groan left your lips as you spoke again, “Vergil, we are okay. I’m okay,” you heard his growling subside further, “It’s okay, darling. We are safe, inside the Devil May Cry,” you leaned your head into his chest and kneaded harder against him, “It was just thunder. It’s okay--we are okay.”

     You continued to intermittently tell the blue devil various forms of grounding statements as he slowly calmed down; loosening his grip and quieting his thundering growl. Although he doesn’t have to breathe when in this form, you heard soft whistling as he took small short breaths in through his sharpened teeth. His shaking had subsided as well; only moving with the reverberations of his small breaths. 

     A grin tugged at your lips as you heard a small distant start of a purr from your kneading, “It’s alright, my love. Nothing is going to harm us…”

     Finally, he pulled back from your body. He placed his palms flat on the floor next to you and kept his wings around you, just much looser now. His pupil-less luminescent eyes just stared at you, leaving you to assume he was looking over your body for any sign of injury. 

     Very carefully, you moved your hands to the sides of his face and gently thumbed over the leathery denim-colored skin, “Hey…”

     He leaned forward placing his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, showing you that he was coming back around. You placed a long tender kiss against his fangs and heard him purr louder. 

     As quiet as he could manage with his distorted voice, Vergil whispered to you, “Are you okay?”

     “I’m fine,” you smiled and gently jested, “head’s killin’ me though and the floors kinda cold” you laughed and moved your hands to the gap of skin between his shoulder pauldrons and neck, kneading with your fingers, “Are you alright, Vergil?”

     Vergil nodded slightly, “Yes,” feeling the soft touch of your fingers against him, he allowed himself to de-trigger; slowly switching to his regular trigger and then his human form. All the while, you continued to massage his shoulders and tried your best to ignore the throbbing in your skull; wanting nothing more than to rip your head off. 

     The blue devil’s breath was ragged and he avoided looking you in the eyes. When he went to sit upwards, you grabbed his forearms, gaining his attention, “Vergil,” your voice was barely audible.

     After waiting a moment, Vergil cocked his head slightly, “What is it?”

     “Could,” you pursed your lips with embarrassment, “Could you help me up?”

     Vergil nodded, “Of course.”

     The eldest twin stood up and then leaned forwards to help you upright. You stumbled into him as you felt nauseously lightheaded.

     Noticing this, Vergil held one of your arms, “Steady…”

     You used your other hand to grab his shoulder and did your best to adjust to standing. He looked over to the couch and then back to you; before slowly picking you up and setting you on the pleather surface. Not wanting him to leave you, you grabbed his tie and tugged it slightly. 

     “I will be right back,” he grabbed the hand from the tan fabric and kissed it gently; which surprised you because of his distaste for out-of-house affections. 

     It was then that you noticed how quiet the shop was and how dark it was; the power had gone out completely. A loud creak from the garage door made you scrunch your face in slight pain. Vergil stood in the doorway and said nothing before moving back to stand near Dante’s desk. 

     You noticed a large cut through Dante’s shirt and realized that Vergil had used his tail to defend you from the red twin. Thankfully, Dante could heal quickly otherwise it might have been a trip to the ER from how large the incision seemed to be.

     “So care to explain what the fuck that was?” Dante’s voice was loud, as normal; however, it felt like he was shouting right beside you.

     Vergil noticed your discomfort and addressed his brother, “Quiet, you are being much too loud,” he flicked his gaze to you, “and no; I don’t.”

     The younger twin’s face scrunched in irritation. Before he could speak, Lady cut him off by roughly slamming her hand atop his shoulder, “Maybe the two of you should go home for the day? Dante can text you the information later on.”

     “Are you sure?” Vergil raised a brow at the sudden personable suggestion, “Or would Dante rather yell more absurd accusations at me?”

     The red devil growled, forgetting to keep quiet, “You son of--”

     “Watch your tongue. Mother is right here,” he flicked his eyes to the photo on Dante’s desk.

     “I fuckin--”

     You scrunched your face harshly and hoarsely snapped, “Oh my g-god,” you groaned, “Vergil isn’t beating me and I have a fuckin major headache. I thank you for your concern Dante, but it is misplaced… so can you please just drop it?”

     The younger twin shook his head, “You expect me to--”

     “It is a result of my night terrors and we are dealing with it ourselves,” Vergil said curtly, despite not wanting to talk about it. Then turned to address Lady, “I think we will take you up on that suggestion and leave,” the blue devil moved to grab your coats from the wall “Keep us informed..?"

     No one responded as Vergil handed you your coat and you put it on as best you could while sitting. You wobbled a bit as you went to stand, but, a set of strong arms picked you up. A small blush found its way to your face as you realized Vergil was carrying you from underneath your thighs in front of everyone else.

     Nero was the only one to address either of you as you headed up to the stairs, “Fly safe; winds pretty bad out there.”

     Vergil nodded in thanks to his son as the two of you disappeared from view, heading to the roof. You nestled your face into the crook of Vergil’s neck, taking a deep calming breath. It didn’t take long for you to sleep--or rather pass out--in the blue devil’s arms and it stayed that way till you got home. 

==

     When you opened your eyes next, you were laying underneath the duvet of your shared bed. Slowly blinking awake, you mumbled, “Vergil?” and felt around to see if he was nearby. Nothing.

     A hissing groan left your lips as you sat up and looked at the alarm clock. It had been several hours since you left the shop. You stretched upwards and immediately regretted it.

     “Fuck,” you groaned as you grabbed your head with one hand, the headache from earlier surged back into existence. 

     In hopes to remedy this, you decided to try taking a hot bath. The moment you stood up, however, you fell forwards and just barely caught yourself with your forearms. A small laugh of disbelief escaped through your painful groan, it was really just not your day. 

     The sound of a familiar sharp voice calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. You slowly moved your head upwards and saw Vergil standing above you with a wide-eyed confused stare. He was wearing a space-blue sleeveless turtleneck with black yoga pants.

     Admittedly, you weren’t exactly in a normal headspace when you cooed at the blue devil, “Ooh! You’re even prettier at this angle, Vergil.”

     The blue devil crouched in front of you and rested his forearms on his legs, “I leave you for five minutes and you end up on the floor?”

     With parted lips and raised brows, you eyed him up and down, “Was my plan all along since, from here, I get a really good view of your--”

     Vergil put up a hand telling you to stop, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, “Would you like help up?”

     “Nah,” you jested and rolled over to face the ceiling, “I like being stuck on the floor,” a sly smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head back, “especially when we’re--”

     “Enough,” Vergil sighed and moved to help you upright into a soft embrace. 

     You sighed and leaned into him, “You know I love you, right Vergil?”

     “Perhaps I should take you to the hospital, you are acting in a very concerning manner…” 

     “No way in hell am I going to the doctor,” you pulled back and had a small pout on your lips, “I just need you beside me and I feel much better…”

     “That seems rather counter-intuitive, don’t you think?” his voice had an outlying tinge of sadness as he looked down at you. 

     “Not in the slightest. In fact,” you moved your hands to his chest, “I already am starting to feel better in your arms.”

     He avoided your eyes and had a small sad frown. A deep sharp pang of sadness stabbed at your heart at seeing him look so dejected. 

     You used a hand to cup the cheek facing away from you and gently turned him back to face you, “Vergil, care to join me for a bath?” you knew that he was still beating himself up over things and wanted to distract him for a while.

     A soft huffed laugh came from his nose as he closed his eyes in slight confusion, “What..?”

     “Come on, you need a break… to relax,” you cocked your head to the side, “Please?” you gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

     Which seemed to do the trick as he sighed with a smirk “If that is what you want then I will accompany you.”

     You pulled his face down to yours and gave him a small peck on the cheek, “Thank you, Vergil.”

     Although the blue devil was hesitant to let you go, you eventually wander off with a very wobbly saunter. Slowly, you moved to the dresser and began to grab some clothing when you heard Vergil murmur, “I’ll go draw it up and I’ll be back for you; please try and stay upright,” then he left the room.

     Your headache had subsided for the most part and was just a dull throbbing now. However, you still wanted to lay with him for a while, knowing that he needed it as much as you did. A warm smile crept its way to your face as you moved toward the edge of the bed to sit until he came back. You decided to lean over to the side table and grab your phone, checking it for any messages. Surprisingly, Dante and Nero had texted you.

     The younger twin had sent a rather all-over-the-place paragraph explaining that he was sorry for the outburst in the shop and that he was just worried that something was going on. You sent Dante a text explaining that it was nice of him to worry but that, before he goes off, he needs to listen better.

     Nero was making sure that both of you were alright and that if either of you needed anything to let him know. 

     Before you were able to respond, Vergil walked back into the room, “Are you ready?” his voice was very quiet and meek; catching you off guard.

     “Yeah just gimme one second, just gotta send this…” Vergil looked at you with a slightly curious head tilt, you smiled at him, “Nero was just making sure everything was okay.”

     “I see,” Vergil gave a weak grin.

     “Nero’s worried about you,” you set the phone back down on the table and grabbed one of Vergil’s hands, “He’s a good kid, ya know? You’re one lucky dad.”

      With a small shake of his head, Vergil pulled you off the bed, “Need I remind you that he is technically your son, too?”

     You laughed and pursed your lips, “Sometimes I forget that part if I’m honest,” the two of you slowly made your way to the bathroom, “Especially since we are like the same age--you cougar,” with a playful wink you let go of Vergil’s hand to get undressed.

     Vergil’s face scrunched, “You make it sound as if I am too old for you.”

     Playfully, you shoved his shoulder, “Bah- you don’t look a day over 30; besides,” you paused a moment as you watched Vergil remove his shirt, “I like older men~”

     “Those two statements contradict each other,” he noticed your gaze as he slid his pants off, “However, I appreciate the sentiment.”

     Once you both were fully stripped, Vergil helped you into the tub; fearing you would fall, “Hey, Vergil..?” he looked at you, “Can you sit in, like,” with pursed lips, you tried to figure out how to explain what you wanted, “in my lap? Like with your back to me?”

     “I-” he raised a brow and turned his lips to a thin line, “May I ask why?”

     A smile ghosted your face as you cooed, “I want to be able to play with your hair.”

     The blue devil was a little apprehensive at allowing such an action, but he did as you requested; positioning himself in front of you. His shoulders tensed up at the sudden feeling of vulnerability and being so exposed to you--even if the two of you have been together for a long time now. Noticing this, you gently wrapped your arms around his middle and leaned him back into you while you leaned back yourself; ending up in a semi-lying position. 

     Tenderly, you ran your fingers through his neatly slicked back locks, “You alright, Vergil?”

     With a small stuttering inhale, Vergil rested further against you, “Yes…”

     A faint purring came from the blue devil as he relaxed against your touch. The two of you just sat in the warm soapy water for nearly fifteen minutes, laying against each other. 

     Vergil shifted a bit to lay the side of his head on your chest before meekly whispering, “I love you,” typically, this would have made you ecstatic hearing him say such a thing; but there was an underlying sullen tone to the phrase. 

     You moved one of your hands to grab his while keeping up your ministrations through his hair, “I love you too, Vergil--more than anything.”

     “May I ask you something? And I want you to answer me honestly,” his eyes were glued to your fingers that were intertwined with his own.

     “Sure,” you removed your fingers from his hair and set that hand on his shoulder.

     “Are,” with each word his voice became quieter, “Are you afraid of me?”

     “No,” you answered without skipping a beat, “I will never be afraid of you, no matter what...”

     Another bout of silence fell as you felt him lean harder into you while taking slow deep breaths.

     “May--,” the Dark Slayer closed his eyes and spoke in a hushed voice, “May I confide in you for a moment?”

     “Of course, my love,” you leaned and kissed the top of his head attempting to reassure the man. 

     He sighed and turned further into your chest, hiding his face, “N-Nothing scares me more than causing you pain,” you felt his brow furrow, “These past few months, have been spurred on by a combination of that fear and,” he had a lump begin to form in his throat, “and my time spent under Mundus’s…” he swallowed audibly in an attempt to deter his emotions.

     You squeezed his hand tightly and you moved your other hand back to his hair, hoping to console him a bit. 

     Which worked, he took a shuddering breath and continued, “In my dreams--” he pursed his lips and unintentionally pushed himself as hard as he could into you, “I’m always back as- and I can’t,” he paused once more, realizing that this is much harder than he had anticipated, “control myself and I-I don’t know that it’s-- until it’s too late,” his voice cracked into silence as he gripped your hand in a vice hold. 

     That was enough for you to put together what he meant as your eyes widened. You whispered and moved your hand from his hair to his shoulder, holding him close, “Vergil…” you didn’t know what to do--how to help him.

     All you could think to do was to hold him close and comfort him as he cried into your chest. You knew that he had nightmares about his time of being enslaved to Mundus and the other atrocities that have happened to the poor blue devil. Throughout your time together, Vergil had told you about that time and has even sought comfort in you when he was upset. 

     A meek whisper pulled you from your thoughts, “I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, “I know this is substandard behavior.”

     “Vergil,” you kneaded his bicep, “This is normal behavior, you don’t have to be strong all the time,” placing a soft kiss on the top of his head, you murmured, “You’re human--you have emotions; both good and bad.”

     “I feel as if I have disappointed you,” despite his sad tone, a light purring could be heard from him--indicating he was at least comfortable.

     “You could never disappoint me, Vergil--especially over something like this. Things take time to heal and even then they still leave scars; you aren’t to blame for what has happened, my love.”

     “I do not understand how after what I have done in my lifetime,” his voice cracked with a tinge of frustration as he sat upright. His front side was facing out of the tub toward the innards of the room,  leaving you to see his side profile, “Why you still believe me to be a good person…”

     “Vergil,” you moved to sit up as well, no longer resting your back on the tub, “I don’t believe that you are a good person; I know you are a good person,” you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed his emotions again, “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t.”

     A thin pained grin adorned his features as he turned his face from you; hiding the fact he had begun to cry once more.

     “People do bad things,” you shrugged your shoulders a bit in thought, “that doesn’t make them a bad person. Traumatic experiences make people do things that otherwise might not have.” you paused and thought for a moment, “Vergil, you have been punished ten-fold by everyone your entire life, even for things that you had no control over. Which is total shit. You deserve to be treated well and like a living breathing person. I know you are a good person because you have shown me that many times over; you are worthy of love, Vergil.”

     Vergil let out a loud shuttering exhale and turned his head to look at you with pursed lips. He wanted to say something, anything, but all he could muster was a small whimper of acknowledgment. 

     Moving to your knees, you spoke softly, “Is there anything that I can do to help you with these nightmares?”

     “I,” after a small pause in thought, he turned to come face to face with you and grabbed your hands in his, “Could you promise me something?”

     “Anything.”

     “If we get into any altercations with,” he avoided your eyes with an increasing embarrassment eating the edges of his mind, “Angelo-type demons, please, leave them to me; please..?”

     Your brow twitched in confusion as you cocked your head to the side; that’s when things clicked and you remembered what happened shortly before these terrors began, “Sure, if that is what brings you solace then I will,” you smiled, trying to make him feel a little better.

     “Thank you,” his eyes re-connected with yours and he gave a small smirk.

     The two of you sat for a brief moment before you pursed your lips and smiled semi-awkwardly, “I hate to ruin the moment, but could we get out of the water? I’m kinda cold…”

     Vergil straightened his posture and nodded, “Of course, wanderer,” he moved to get out of the water and held his hands out for yours.

     You grabbed them and wobbly got up, “Oh? I haven’t heard you use that in a long time.”

     A small huffed laugh came from the blue devil as he handed you a towel, “It was the first nickname I gave you. I thought it appropriate for the moment…”

     “It was wasn’t it?” you shook your head, “That feels like a lifetime ago…”

     “In a sense, it was quite literally,” he leaned over and drained the tub.

     With a small laugh and nod, you finished drying off. While the two of you got dressed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your lover. 

     “Is something wrong?” Vergil noticed your stare.

     Pursing your lips you thought for a moment and decided to indulge in his love for Blake’s poems, “ 'Joy & Woe are woven fine,/A Clothing for the Soul divine;/Under every grief & pine,/Runs a joy with silken twine.' "

     An amused look adorned his face as he stood with parted lips thinking for a moment, “Auguries of Innocence?” the Dark Slayer cupped the side of your face, “We never did finish that poem; you’d always fall asleep.”

     “Not my fault you have such a soothing voice,” you placed your hands on his chest and leaned into his palm, “Want to try again?”

     He leaned against your forehead, “If it is alright with you, I think I’d rather sleep…”

     “Only if you stay beside me,” you looked into his icy eyes; enamored with the thousands of different blue-grey hues, “please..?”

     “Are you sure-- Mnm,” he was cut off by a sudden connection of your lips.

     It was a slow and passionate kiss as you poured all the love you could into that one moment. Once satisfied, you left the kiss and whispered against his lips, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Vergil.”

     Without another word, he picked you up and took you into the bedroom. Carefully, he set you down and crawled into bed with you. A small lingering sense of dread crept in from the edges of his mind; however, those were pushed away when you laid atop his chest. You curled into him and he tangled his limbs with yours.

     As the two of you drifted off to sleep, Vergil had a very small content grin as he allowed himself to sleep; knowing that, at least for tonight, his terrors will be kept at bay. 

==

Ending Notes: Sorry that was lowkey all over the place, I just went with the flow of my brain. It kind of just ended up being a long fluff fic.  Also to add some explanation to Vergil’s bit where he swore and freaked out: I figure that when Vergil lost his autonomy for so long as Nelo Angelo, he ended up becoming hyper-aware of what he is doing at all times. So when he does something that he either can’t remember doing or didn’t want to do that it would send him into a panic; fearing that he is going to lose his freedom again. 🛡️⚔️🛡️ Poem quoted:      Auguries of Innocence: William Blake

==

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[s0fter-sin]

general society is such an underthought aspect of mha. obviously there’s the big things like the obsession over heroic quirks and the demonisation of villainous quirks. quirkless people are dismissed entirely but i don’t think we talk about how society in general would have to handle a world with super powers.

we know after afo’s first uprising, the government overcorrected and outlawed public quirk usage. we know people have their quirks registered and go through quirk counselling as well as a type of gym class where they practice under teacher supervision.

how in the hell is that supposed to work?

the closest equivalent i can think of is mental health services. someone would have to study for a long time to be able to pursue quirk counselling as a career. it’s also a highly personalised system: everyone has a different quirk - even similar ones have different activations, triggers, exceptions and drawbacks - so no two sessions could ever be the same. if anyone’s been through mental health services, you know how rough it is; it’s an overworked, underpaid system and if you live somewhere that only offers a few free visits, it can also be expensive.

and that’s an elective service.

almost everyone on the planet would need quirk counselling.

there’s no way they could implement such a labour intensive and individual public system and we literally see that they can’t.

we see the gym class in amajiki’s flashback and he only has a few minutes with his teacher before he’s chided for not being more impressive and utilising his quirk to the fullest and they move on to the next student. say a standard class is twenty students like it is at ua. that leaves just over two minutes for each student to learn and practice their quirks. you can’t focus on just one kid per lesson bc what will the other nineteen do? do teachers also have to have a degree in quirk counselling? is that part of becoming a phys ed teacher or is it some random joe schmo trying to wrap his head around literal super powers?

given that inko goes to garaki - a doctor - to confirm izuku’s quirklessness, it can be assumed that quirk counselling is entwined with the medical system. i don’t know if you’ve ever had to apply for a specialist before but you can be on their waiting list for a while. a quirk counsellor is essentially a specialist. are there subcategories of counsellors? do you focus on either emitter, transformation or mutation the way doctors become cardiologists, paediatricians and neurologists? or is one person expected to be equally knowledgeable about all three?

we see through toga that her counsellor identified her need for blood but they didn’t find a way to curb those instincts or even find a supplement for her. she’s left to be abused by her family for something she can’t control bc it’s literally in her dna. compare that to iida who knows he needs orange juice to power his quirk. his entire family are pro heroes so it would be easy to assume they could employ a private quirk counsellor the same way richer people can employ private doctors.

how many people have specific requirements due to their quirks? changes in their physiology that have to be treated the same way nutritional deficiencies and allergies do? even people without mutations probably have those requirements: does kirishima’s shark teeth mean he’s an obligate carnivore? does mina’s acid change her ph levels and what vitamins and minerals she needs? how would they figure that out? quirk counselling.

what about kids like touya who would need extensive counselling so he could figure out how to live with his quirk without hurting himself? kaminari essentially has seizures and they’re so normal to him and everyone around him that they’re the butt of jokes. they wouldn’t be a one and done patient; there’s always going to be people that need continued support the exact same way there’s people that need developmental and disability support. there would be so many quirks that harm their user, are they just taught to bury their quirks? as if that wouldn’t cause any physical or mental consequences?

governments can’t create a system that applies to only some people, we’re expected to believe they’ve made one that applies to all of them?

[acequinz]

Okay but listen. THOUGHTS ON MAME AND HER WORKS IN GENERAL.

As much as I hate romanticising rape and shit and as such have never liked Mame as a person.

I have noticed a pattern in her content.

And that is all the victims get some real good tlc or basic TLC I don't fucking know I don't get a lot of it .. Except Tar(also type), my boy got extra trauma. To be exact her victims face a pattern of dealing with the trauma.

The pattern being

Person looks fine and even happy, then has their trauma triggered all over and is a mess, has one person with them who never leaves then despite the trauma and how it makes the victim lash out and cares for them and loves them through the entirety of it just unconditional love.

I know tharntype, tharn was the one to trigger the trauma and a cause. But after that shit , he did do his best to take care of Type and never gave up on him despite all the abuse.

Tar also recieved a lot of support from Type even after he moved to a whole different country to get over his things. I don't have much to speak on him cause I didn't watch lbc S2 completely.

Fiat always had Leo comforting him through the entire period the nudes were going around and everything else.

All of them also had the common scene that the "top" takes care of the "bottom".

It happened with Type, Tar, Pete, Rain and now Sky.

And while one could say this is her projecting her personal fetishes or preferences onto her characters.

It also makes me think that does she write the rape victims and all that stuff as a fetish or a way to deal with her trauma regarding it.

Cause I know I consume a lot of dark fiction to deal with certain traumas I have ... Is she doing the same thing?

Cause if she is that is just making me feel like an asshole for judging her the way I did ....