#feel weird giving this a Thomas tag when he’s barely in the post

[tuesdayintheservantshall]

So, I’m (nearly) as much of a softie as the next guy for Thomas reassuring Jimmy that anal sex isn’t required between gay men, and/or doesn’t have to hurt, but I have thought of a variation that delights me to absolutely no end:

Imagine if Jimmy is familiar with the concept of anal sex but he assumes it’s a nasty rumor meant to make sex between men sound gross and degrading. Thomas brings it up and Jimmy is like “That’s real?!?!”

and then has to desperately try to reevaluate his understanding of this entire relations-between-men business on the fly.

[starlooove]

Hello! What about Duke Thomas made you like him so much??

I've been checking out his tag cause I saw some really cool fanart of him, so now I'm curious on what makes his character so appealing

AWHWHW sorry pls bare with me I’m scatterbrained but like. In a sentence I love that Duke is someone who presses forward despite everything! Like this is draft two bc my first answer was just listing character traits which wasn’t the question; but what I personally adore about him is that he just doesn’t stop moving.

It sounds weird but like. To me he gives refusal to die, refusal to settle, refusal to give up. When riddler took Gotham Duke was certain HE’D be the one to save them if he tried hard enough, when Bruce lost his memories Duke tried to get him back and then pushed forward with his own plans with the certainty that Batman would come back - whether through him or not, when his parents went missing he said fuck the system and went after them anyways and that’s just like. Off the top of my head. Like as corny as it sounds Duke lowkey embodies what I love about Batman - the whole indomitable human spirit or however you say that and it’s by far my favorite trait bc I don’t even think he’s aware of it? Like he actively plays at not caring about the Robin movement and just wanting to find his parents but like 3 hours later he’s texting them going ‘but like what are the details if I joined lol. Like hypothetically.” He actively fights Damian until he agrees with him, becomes a leader within the movement until Bruce is back whilst dodging gcpd, and Bruce literally had to dress up as karma for Duke to admit maybe it did fuck him up a little - all for him to still be like “I’m not good enough :(‘.

And I know that all seems like shit he just did but I promise his mindset during these things is so fascinating to me bc it’s like he simultaneously understands not many others would do this whilst also holding it as bare minimum/base standards. Like I make joke posts about him being a hardass but tbh he doesnt judge anyone half as hard as he judges himself - he understands bad circumstances, plans going left, differing povs - all until he makes a mistake; then he sucks and needs to be better. He’s also just hilarious like I didn’t read him in chrono order so the first thing I saw was him in a fight with some girls brother bc he heard Duke was flirting with her and idk an opening like that just cemented him as cool to me.

ALSO (from the tags!) I ADOREEEEEE HOW MUCH HE LOVES THE ADRENALINE/RUSH OF FIGHTING! Like Duke got in a lot of fights while his parent were missing and besides the obvious acting out bc he’s hurt he also just genuinely loves the rush of it - like not my interpretation he outright says it! And i need to do a reread for him bc I feel like it wasn’t mentioned a lot but if the og fight was the hook, the adrenaline line is what reeled me in and keeping it in mind while reading stories of him going off on his own for the good of Gotham adds another layer to it bc it’s not SOLEY necessity for him! Like things happened to line up where there was always a void that needed to be filled when he got involved in anything but it genuinely feels like duke wouldve been here no matter the circumstances. like even in civilian aus the way duke as a character is set up makes it so that it feels like - to me anyways- theres no world in which hes not doing or striving towards something! duke isnt the type to just be comfortable, bad wording, but hes just a very hungry character to me - if for an adventure or a solution. Its conveniently been both for most of his career but im very interested for what happens internally when those two clash - which. i personally think the nature of his powers and gnomon could bring that out beautifully!

[not-poignant]

Lately I have been trying to learn more about story structure and have been rereading books I've enjoyed while trying to pay attention to the structure specifically. I reread The Gentle Wolf and was just wondering, if you don't mind answering, is structure something you make a point to think about along with character/plot while you're planning out novel-length projects, or is it more something that happens instinctually for you?

Hi anon,

Tbh the answer for both things is kind of true when it comes to novels? I've talked a lot in the past about how I use a 3-act structure, and A/B/C storylines, so you only need to go back into the pia on writing tag to see some of those posts that have more of an explanation.

But I also generally speaking look at wordcount. I work out that I want to write a 90k story (give or take 10k words) - which is a standard novel). I generally divide that number by 4.5k (average chapter length, give or take 1000 words) and that leaves me with knowing exactly how many chapters I have to tell my story in.

From there, I mostly focus on having each chapter not be too 'busy' (i.e. focus around one major scene. The only exception are what I call 'transitional' chapters, where time gets super non-linear and I just skip ahead through a bunch of smaller scenes), and cleanly getting through my plot points as much as possible. In the chapter plan, everything is extremely short-handed. An example of my The Gentle Wolf chapter plan looked like this (copy/pasting from my chapter plan):

AODHAN

Thomas visiting Little Star. Aodhan happy to see him. They chat, and Aodhan realises he likes Thomas (or has known for a while) but that it’s been 2 years and he’s probably missed the mark. Thomas expresses needing information for his museum and because Aodhan wants to establish more of a connection, he suggests his grandfather.

THOMAS

Thomas meets Aodhan at Iona’s house. Iona treats Aodhan badly and Thomas feels bad. Wonders how this is connected to Aodhan’s ‘absences.’ The information Aodhan has is good. Thomas marvels because he has zero connection to his own wolf family, as he was put up for adoption. Aodhan mentions loving shifting, asking if Thomas would ever do it with him, but Thomas redirects: ‘I don’t like the loss of control.’

AODHAN

Aodhan with Hunter, shifting, chatting about Thomas. Hunter says Aodhan should just tell Thomas that he likes him. Aodhan gets a call, and leaves to see his father. Later he lays in bed and decides the worst thing about him isn’t that he’s demisexual.

(These are chapters 1-3 - Tumblr's formatting is weird and I don't want to touch it, lol).

The entire chapter plan is 1000 words, and one or two chapter descriptions are only one sentence. When that happens, it means I know around that point I'll need 'more' but can't figure out what I need yet at the beginning of the story. I leave those chapters as kind of empty spots for me to put any extra stuff in that might be relevant at the time.

But anyway you can see from chapter 1 we establish the unrequited aspect of Aodhan's feelings for Thomas, as well as Aodhan's workplace, and Aodhan's family as historically significant. In chaptaer 2, we meet Aodhan's family, and we learn more about Thomas' issues with shifting. In chapter 3, we learn that Aodhan is struggling over whether or not to tell Thomas he likes him, etc.

The Gentle Wolf actually had pretty slow / gentle pacing on purpose. But I tend to go with chapter plans like this because I just want bare bones of the events that are happening, or the emotionally significant events. I've got friends who write really long chapter plans (they're basically just writing a skeleton draft), but I've always done it this way - leave them as short as possible, focus on how to make these basic points powerful.

I don't chapter plan most of what I write, and the more complicated a story is, the less likely I am to plan it out (with the exception of The Ice Plague). The reasons for that are that I've had 9 years of practice writing serials, and I actually feel like I'm stronger at winging it and creatively figuring my way out of dead ends, than I am at pre-planning a story. So that's where the 'both' part comes in. I will also throw out an entire chapter's description if I think of something better as I'm writing the story.

I would say overall structure is pretty innate in the sense that...I've read thousands of books. I've watched thousands of TV episodes and hundreds of movies. I've read thousands of fanfics over the years. And I've done university-level courses in Scriptwriting and Creative Writing. There's so many different ways to look at story structure (3 act? 5 act? 9 act? etc.) I am a character first writer always, for better or worse, and I am mostly just interested in following characters through a story.

I try and avoid reading too many books on 'how to write' but I do like Dan Harmon's Story Circle technique (I learned about it late though, not at the beginning) and I feel inspired by the way Studio Ghibli tells a story, and many fanfiction writers that I love reading. I also find books written by writers tend to be extremely rigid and 'do it this way or else' (which is annoying when you realise they're all teaching you different ways), and a little (or a lot - in the case of Stephen King) ableist. So I avoid em! I'm the first person to say I'm not a great writer, but I like what I write, and since the great writers aren't writing specifically for me (not enough hurt/comfort, not enough angst, not enough BDSM, not enough diversity, not enough sitting with characters as they just talk about stuff and figure stuff out, not enough non-sexual touch, etc), I figured I'd fill that gap ;)

If someone wants to be a successful author, I don't think they should write like me, so...I'm just going to leave on that parting note, lol. There's a lot of other authors doing it better out there, just be wary of anyone who says that their way is the best and/or only way.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Seeing Him Smile and Kiss Someone Else (Hoodie X F!Reader)

[Hoodie/Brian Thomas X F!Reader]

[Warnings: none]

[AN: Howdy! I cross post these on quotev under ‘Elsie I Guess’ and on AO3 under ‘Whaletales1920′ under the title ‘The Places You Shouldn’t Be’. Just thought I’d start uploading them here too.]

Part 2

Proxies aren’t supposed to do a lot of things: speak back to their master, challenge hierarchical roles, have relationships with each other of that caliber, and never, never ever absolutely never have romantic relationships with humans. 

Why? It’s a losing game. Everyone knows that. Should proxies seek any kind of attachment, platonic, romantic, even sexual, their best bet is to stay within their own kind: other proxies. It’s the polite thing to do. It’s the right thing to do. 

When you first came in, you bonded almost immediately to your group of four other individuals. There’s Masky, your group leader. He’s really sweet when he wants to be and seems to care the most about you - it’s probably because you’re new. Toby is akin to the middle child. He’s always buzzing around you a lot like a bumblebee. While he has his jerk moments, he’s got an eye out for you. So too does Kate, once the group’s newbie/runt. She’s the one you replaced. She’s relatively quiet and sticks to herself, but she’s never a stranger to helping you out and immersing you in the culture and world you’ve found yourself entangled in. 

And then there’s Masky’s right hand, a proxy named Hoodie, but you know him as Brian. Out of all your group members, Brian was the hardest to warm up to. He hardly acknowledged you when you were first placed in his group and was amongst the hardest in the hazing process (you’re still technically going through). But, after some time and getting to know each other, the two of you became the closest of friends, even going so far as to rival Masky’s friendship with him. It’s safe to say you got a bit of a crush on him, in simplest terms. 

Three times. Three times you felt you liked him.

The first time was when you were about to head out of your safe house on a grocery run. Proxies don’t have any leads, so cards are absolutely off the table. You walked out of the safe house, yawning slightly, and barely made it down the driveway when Brian had popped back out of the house. 

“Reader,” he called out, slowly moving to lean in the doorway of the empty house the five of you were squatting in. 

“Yeah?” You asked sleepily. 

“Forgetting something?” He holds up his hand - it’s the wallet. 

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you speed walked back to the front door to retrieve it. “Guess I’m still kinda tired,” you admittedly awkwardly with a small chuckle. 

Brian shrugged slightly and threw you a smirk as he met you halfway, “Think I’ll accompany you this morning,” he said with a wink. 

The two of you began to walk as you mentally mulled over the man walking beside you - his hands in his pockets. You’d never really thought of him like that before, but the way he smiled and that wink… It planted a seed. You weren’t quite sure you were going to acknowledge it or if it was just a fluke, but the thought stayed, and then it remained. 

As the two of you traversed the grocery store for various things your comrades had asked for, you and Brian traded conversation about everything that popped into mind. 

“Oh, like you knew any better in high school,” you wheezed before tossing in a box of brownies. You’d just been discussing how terrible and how gods awful high school relationships can be and how at one low point, you got into one. Brian had said he knew better than to mess around in high school, but you had retorted that ‘we’re all young and dumb once.’ 

Brian raised a brow at the box but allowed it anyway. “I most certainly did and I knew how things were gonna play out before they even happened.” 

“On what basis? It’s not like you have future vision,” You snorted. You watched as he pushed the cart forward as you plucked items you needed from the shelves. 

He shot you a look. “I’m a guy, it’s practically flowing through our veins,,” he said as his eyes raked over the list. “I’d most likely be the reason those things are happening to begin with and knowing that is like it’s own future vision..” He flashed his smile at you. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever grew out of the dumb part,” he chuckled. 

Your heart skipped. 

The second time you thought you liked him was when you were in the car with him, heading back to your safe house (in an entirely different part of the country). The two of you were more than exhausted after clearing a house whose occupants the Operator wanted dead for one reason or another and Brian decided to steal a car. So, there you sat in the passenger seat. 

“Something on your mind?” He hummed, arm resting on the console. His hazel colored eyes flicked over to you with interest. 

You shrugged, “just thinking.”

“Dangerous for people like us,” Brian chuckled. “Care to get specific?” 

You sighed slightly and turned your eyes to the passing street lights overhead as the car pulled onto the late night expressway. “Thinking about all the things I’ll miss,” you admit. 

Brian nodded from the corner of your eye. “I think about that stuff too,” he said, a small frown pulling onto his face. “You were finishing up college?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean, I guess I’m getting out of the college loan debt but… Y’know,” you trailed off slightly, your posture changing slightly. “Maybe I would’ve been normal. Get a cool job, live a non murderous life, have a family and a loving partner. I don’t know, like, whatever the American dream says we should have. Anything but this.” 

Brian laughed slightly, “sorry. It’s not - it’s not you,” he explained. “It’s just awfully similar to what I wanted.” 

You turned your attention from the passing lights over to Brian. “White picket fence is your thing?” 

“More or less,” he hummed. “Wanted to live the rest of my life like a normal person.

Certainly died like one, more or less,” he finished. 

You mentally hummed, already knowing what he was referring to. Died and got resurrected. “Don’t think falling from a floor up counts as normal.” 

“Hey, it worked out for…. Something nice,” he quickly chirped. “Fell and met an angel.” 

He briefly turned his head to look at you and flashed a grin. 

“Oh that’s so bad.” 

“You love it.” 

You really do.  

The third time was when the two of you were on the rooftop of some house you’d been spending a lot of time at. It was kind of nice to be able to settle down in one place for more than a month - it’d been going on close to a  year. It was your roof, the one you shared with Brian. Late in the night, when the crickets sang and the stars danced, the two of you snuck up against Masky’s best wishes to talk about the world and life before. 

When summer was giving way to autumn and sending cool breezes throughout the night, you and Brian had been up there once again. 

“You think EJ will be around?” You asked, looking up at the stars you barely knew the names to. “BEN did say he was in the area.” 

“Gonna say yes,” Brian hummed back, momentarily pausing to point out Altair. “He’s always had a soft spot for our group,” he noted. “Why? You looking forward to seeing him?” He chuckled, hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. 

You laugh as quietly as you can and shake your head, “we’ve hardly ever spoken!” You giggled. “I just think he’s cool.”

Brian snorted in response and nodded, “yeah, I think so too. Though, where’d you get the opportunity to talk with BEN?” 

“There’s a little computer cafe in town,” you said, eyes flicking towards the direction of said cafe. “I’ve been spending a lot of time there. Mostly to use the internet,” you admitted, a slight heat coming to your cheeks. Proxies really aren’t supposed to use the internet. “Toby also sometimes tags along.” 

“So that’s where he’s been getting those weird references from,” Brian said with a tone of understanding. “Next time you go, let me know. I’d love to see what you children are up to online,” he teased. 

You laughed again and nodded, “sure thing.” 

The two of you continued to talk before a particularly hard gust of wind came in. On instinct, you shivered - though you weren’t really cold. 

Upon seeing you shiver, Brian took no hesitation in taking off his hoodie, much to your chagrin. 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you began as you attempted to push it towards him. 

“I insist,” he had said, already popping the thing over you. 

You relented and allowed the giant hoodie to envelop your form like a warm hug. It smelled just like him - something woodsy, smoke, and the faintest of graphite. When you looked back at Brian, he was staring up at the stars, a small smile on his face. His eyes did not leave the inky blueish-black, not even when your hand came within millimeters of holding his. 

All it took was three times. Three times to know you liked him, and once to know you’d lost him. 

As stated before, it is absolutely a losing game to get involved with humans. Humans are frail and prone to panic. They can’t understand the world the way you do, nor are they suited for life the way you are in their current form. In your society, humans are the lowest of the low, akin to cattle - albeit, sentient cattle. Only when they are lifted from their human status are they finally given the time of day. 

He never would have known about her if you never brought up that computer cafe. Truly, it was a mistake on your part. You didn’t mean to, but it had happened anyway. 

“Cute place, right?” You smiled, eyes traveling up and down the rows of tables. 

“The cutest,” Brian agreed with a small chuckle. “Do we go up to a counter and order or..?” He trailed off slightly as he inspected the place and took in all the minor details. 

“Just take a seat, a waiter will be around shortly,” you said, immediately pulling him to your preferred spot by the windows and tucked away into the corner. 

Brian followed your lead and took a seat next to you where he immediately powered on the computer. “It’s kinda weird that they let us have food this close to the electronics, no?” 

“Oh no, it’s super weird,” you nodded as you began flicking open tabs to get to the things you wanted - maybe say hi to BEN. “But, it works. So like, c’est la vie?” You giggled, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. 

A few moments later, a waitress stopped by. You had already managed to pull up a chat with BEN and were so engrossed in catching up with him that you failed to notice her. You hadn’t even recognized she was there until you heard her giggling at something Brian had said. 

“Never thought I’d be that star struck,” Brian had finished the small anecdote with eyes that practically sparkled. 

Her smile only widened. “You? The star struck kind?” She teased lightly. “Have to see it to believe it.” 

Brian looked up at her, his lips now pulled up into a smile. “You’re looking at it right now.” 

It pulled you so hard out of your conversation with BEN that you’d accidentally sent him a half-baked thought. “Wait what?” 

Your sound of confusion had snapped the two back into reality. “Oh! I’m sorry, sugar,” the waitress apologized with a slight blush rising to her cheeks. “Was there something I could get you?” 

You blinked a few times, your eyes darting between the two before finally managing to stammer out your drink and pastry of choice. You watched as Brian’s eyes followed her out and when she came back in. 

Long after the two of you had finished, the two of you decided to head back. 

“That was fun,” you said. 

“It was,” Brian replied, thoughts drifting elsewhere. 

Ever since that moment, he’d been going to the café with and without you. Sometimes you’d find yourself heading there only to see him entranced in conversation with the waitress, and when that happened, you turned right back around. At first it was to give them space, and then it was to give yourself space. 

You wished you could allow yourself to weather through this one with grace and that it didn’t bother you, that it didn’t get on your nerves, but it did. Slowly but surely, it had chipped away at some odd part of you that you didn’t even know existed prior to. 

Masky was the first to bring it up. 

“Reader,” he began. “Can you wrangle Hood from that café? Operator wants us to do something - I just need him,” he said, barely looking up from his newspaper. 

“I can go if you want,” you suggested before poking your head back out from the refrigerator. 

“Hm?” That got Masky’s attention. “Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrow, giving you an inquisitorial look. 

“It’s no big deal,” you said with a small smile as you plucked your drink out from the fridge. “Besides, I think Hoodie’s busy.” You had to fight the unpleasant feeling that bubbled up in your chest after you said that. 

“Oh,” Masky gave a hum of recognition. “Toby did mention he was getting a little close to someone there,” he said in passing. 

You shot Masky a look. 

He shot one back. 

Internally, you both know that’s not the best thing - but Masky’s not going to stop his best friend. And you know you won’t either. 

Kate mentioned it next, though she seemed to be telling you that you’d get  over it. It came relatively out of the blue. See, the two of you were standing in the living room of a house painted in blood just chatting, waiting for the Operator to give you direction on what he wanted for the man he wanted alive when Kate got weirdly serious. She sat down on the sofa and invited you to sit down next to her. 

“You can’t keep avoiding him like that,” she hummed, her shoe digging into the man’s chest as he wriggled beneath her step. “I know it’s awkward, but he’s your comrade first.” 

You rolled your eyes and lightly pushed at her. “Come on, it’s not that serious,” you said, attempting to play off your feelings that were so gods damn obvious throughout the time you’ve been spending in this area. 

“Are you kidding me?” Kate chuckled. “Look,” her hand is on your shoulder as she digs her heel into the man’s chest, cracking his ribs slightly. “It’s uncomfortable. I get that. It’s why we don’t… Do that kind of thing.” She rubbed her thumb in little circles on your shoulder as she grounded you. “It’s probably for the best, even though you can’t see it right now.” 

You sighed and gave her a look of slight pain. “You’re probably right.” 

“I know I’m right.”

It’s not that Toby is bad at reading a room, but it’s that he’s really bad at reading a room. When the two of you went to the computer café for your outing, he was excited to see the girl Brian was ‘seeing,’ as he somehow managed to miss her from every other precious visit. It was so obvious that they had been - her perfume was practically embedded into his skin now - and his smile was brighter than the sun after seeing her. 

And here you were, not even wanting to know her name. 

It’s Fiona. 

“Toby!” She greeted as she bounded up to your table. “Reader! What a nice surprise!” There was no malice in her tone. She was genuinely happy to see you. “What can I get you two today?” 

“C-Chocolate croissant and some h-h-hot chocolate please,” Toby said. He then turned to you, and as if he read your mind, gave her your order as well. “H-How have t-things been?” He asked. 

“Really good,” Fiona replied. “He’s such a sweetie, got me this necklace.” 

Your eyes immediately left the screen and travelled to her neck. There it was. Beautiful necklace. Silver chain with a hunk of rose quartz at the bottom in the shape of a bullet.You remembered seeing that pendant. It hung on his mirror for such a long time. You once overheard him saying to Kate how it was your possible birthday gift. 

“It’s so pretty,” you smiled, eyes not quite following. 

You were damn certain if you were suffering from hanahaki you would’ve choked on flowers by now and died. The last nail in the coffin? 

Now. Right now. You came back to the safe house just wanting to relax, maybe star gaze for a bit and fall asleep outside - anything and everything sounded better than just being alone in your thoughts after the Operator had some harsh words to say to you on account of your performance slipping ever so slightly from his golden standards. You fix yourself a warm mug of tea and start making yourway to the rooftop. It’s the same path you’ve always taken: head up the stairs to the upper floor, last room on the left side of the hall, go in and open the study windows there and hang out on the roof. 

You make sure to take careful steps as you ascend, not wanting to spill any of your carefully made tea as you seek to unwind. With a deep breath, you start making it through the hallway, thankful no one else is here. Masky is away on business, Kate is doing something with Jeff and Toby left a few hours ago to meet with someone he deems important. Come to think of it, you haven’t had the house free in a while. 

But, as you step closer and closer to the last room on the left, you hear it. Giggling, whispers, conversation that’s so innocent and intimate at the same time. You notice the study door is closed. It’s never closer. You step closer. 

“You’re so sweet,” That’s Fiona’s voice. “You don’t have to get me all these things - I don’t even know where I’m gonna wear all of them.” She giggles. 

“Wear a different one every time I come to see you.” That’s Brian. “Gonna be burning through those things like crazy.” You hear the sound of a kiss. 

“You got a deal,” Fiona chuckled. Another kiss. 

You hear the roof shingles move slightly as they move closer together. Against your better judgment, you push open the study door slightly. Must you be so nosy?

There, sitting on the roof outside the window is Fiona and Brian. She’s wearing his sweater (it’s just polyester) and giggling as he peppers her face in kisses. When she’s decided he’s covered her in enough kisses for an entire year, she presses her lips to his. 

He smiles before kissing her back just as fervently. 

Without a sound, you begin to head back to your room. 

Perhaps tea in your room would be better. 

[jewish-space-laser]

Could Be Lethal - Epilogue

“I'm scared to death that she might be it, That the love is real, that the shoe might fit, She might just be my everything and beyond...”

-Beyond, Leon Bridges

Hello friends! I’m honestly a little choked up posting this. CBL has meant so much to me over this past year, and all I can think about right now is how appreciative for every single person who has supported me, whether you sent me messages, reblogged with nice tags, or gave it any kind of love. None of it went unnoticed, I promise. Special shout out to @for-fucks-sake-h @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays @real-work-of-art @haute-romance-quotidienne for hyping me up and proofreading and just being all-around incredible. Okay, this got kind of long, so I’ll end it here, but as always please tell me what you think. I love chatting with you all <3 xoxox Tile (3.3k, she’s a short one!)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

or

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

Catch up here!

You were so, so late. 

It was half an hour past the time your friends were set to meet at Slim’s, and you hadn’t even left your flat yet. Meredith had texted you twice asking where you were, but you ignored her. 

You and Harry had decided to keep your relationship on the down-low, just for a little while. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from your friends, you just wanted a little bit of time to adjust to your new normal before having questions fired at you left and right. They were a curious bunch, after all. 

 “Shit,” you heard Harry mutter from your bedroom. You lowered your mascara wand to peek through the doorway, seeing him frowning at his phone. His jeans were unbuttoned, shirt nowhere to be found, and he only had one sock on. “Nick is calling me.”

 “Well, don’t answer!” You laughed. Leaning back towards the bathroom mirror, you continued trying to rush through your makeup. 

 You absolutely hated rushing, but you hadn’t been able to deny Harry’s suggestion that he should join you in the shower. It had been less than a week since you made things official, but you already knew you were in a world of trouble. You’d never be able to say no to him. 

 “I think I have to answer,” he sighed, “this is the third time he’s called me, I’m pretty sure he’s getting worried.”

 “Okay,” you snorted, “but don’t tell him you’re here.”

 “I’ll make something up,” he assured you. 

 Giggles bubbled up in your throat as you listened to him tell Nick that he’d accidentally taken an extra long nap, and that he’d be on his way shortly. He didn’t sound all that convincing, but it would have to do. 

 You hadn’t heard him get off the phone, so you jumped a bit when you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind. You set down the makeup brush you had been using, catching his eye in the mirror. He smiled softly, pressing a little kiss to your shoulder. 

 “You look really nice,” he told you. At first, it seemed innocent, but then he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, and another to your neck. “Like, really nice.”

 You couldn’t help the sigh that blew out of your lips as your head lolled to the side. He was entirely too charming, but you were already late. 

 “We need to finish getting ready,” you managed to breathe. It was always harder to string sentences together when his lips were on you. “You’re not even dressed.”

 He only hummed, closing his eyes as he moved his lips up to your jaw. His hands had moved lower, sliding over your hips and down to the tops of your thighs. You felt like you were on fire. 

 “Harry, please, we need to....” you gulped when his left hand slide just under the hem of your skirt, “we need to go.”

 “Do we?” He teased. “I was thinking maybe we could just… stay here….”

 Temptation crept up your spine, but you pushed it down. The two of you had been stuck together like magnets for the past five days, you should be able to get through one night without being all over each other. 

 “You already, um,” you gulped, feeling Harry’s lips turn up against your skin, “you told Nick you were on your way.”

 He pulled back with a sigh, letting the hand under your skirt fall to his side. You watched in the mirror as he rolled his eyes, resting his chin on your shoulder as you finished up with your makeup. 

 “I don’t know why you’re so stressed about this,” Harry mused, following you as you broke away from him to throw the tube of lipstick into your purse, “it’s just our friends. We see them all the time.”

 He was right, of course, but part of you really needed this night to go well, without a single hiccup. Because of you and your inability to express emotions, your entire friend group had suffered. Things were weird when you and Harry had stopped talking, and it was undoubtedly felt by the lot of them. You just wanted the dynamic to feel easy again.

 “I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, “I just hate lying to them. I’m so bad at it.”

 “You are,” he snickered, pulling you into his chest, “it was your idea, though. I personally don’t care if they know.”

 You groaned, twisting out of his arms once again to slip your shoes on. Harry followed suit, kneeling down to lace up his vans. The way he was gazing up at you made you squirm a bit, the concern and admiration he felt for you more apparent than usual. 

 “Babe…” he sighed out, rising to his feet, “you make things so hard for yourself, I swear. You’re always thinking about things that could go wrong. What about the things that have already gone right?”

 You sucked your lips into your mouth, not entirely sure how to respond. Maybe you were a pessimist, maybe it was your anxiety, or maybe it was just the way your brain was wired, but you’d always had a tendency to think of the worst possible scenario. Harry had a point though; there was a fine line between self preservation and self sabotage. Perhaps the world wouldn’t end if you gave your anxious brain a breather and allowed yourself to relax. 

 Getting together with Harry had been hell, but all of the obstacles you’d created were just in your head. Pulling excuses out of thin air was truly your specialty, anything to keep yourself from taking risks, but eventually it had been exhausting holding yourself back from the things you wanted. You didn’t want your anxiety to ruin your happiness anymore. 

 So you took a deep breath, and then you shifted your focus. Sure, it was going to be uncomfortable fielding questions from your rowdy group of friends, but Harry would be sitting right next to you. And he would stay next to you. And he was in front of you, right now, just inches away, loving you. Suddenly, your concerns regarding your friends weren’t worth dwelling on. 

 “That’s true,” you rolled your shoulders, letting go of some tension, “lots of things are going right.”

 “Like what?” He smirked, swiping his car keys off the little table in your foyer.

 “Let’s see,” you said playfully, pretending to be deep in thought as you locked up your flat, “I’ve got a decent job.”

 “That you do,” he agreed, “and?”

 “I quite like my neighborhood,” you remarked, tilting your head, “my flat is small but I’m proud of it.”

 “Okay,” his grin widened, “anything else?”

 He was fishing for compliments, but you refused to give in. He faked offense when you just rolled your eyes, and bumped his hip into yours before tangling his fingers with yours. You walked in hand-in-hand until you reached his car.

 “I’m lucky to have you,” you said quietly as he buckled his seatbelt. He paused, lips pulled up into a sweet smile.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded, meeting him halfway as you shared a short kiss, “having you in my life is very, very right.”

 He kissed you quickly once more before settling into his seat, fiddling with the rearview mirror until he was satisfied. He’d let you borrow his car the other day, and made a huge fuss about the way you readjusted his seat. You loved him anyway.

 In fact, you loved him so much, you weren’t sure you were going to be able to hide it. Maybe Harry was right… you were just creating barriers for yourself. How nice would it be if you could slide into the regular booth at Slim’s, next to Harry, and hold his hand? When you were trying to be secretive about your sleepovers, you’d barely even interacted in front of other people, too paranoid that you’d give yourselves away immediately.

 It was a scary thing to be thinking about, especially as you were on your on way there already, so you twisted a knob on Harry’s dash to change the radio station. After a few moments of searching for a song to distract you, you gave up and turned the entire thing off. 

 “Maybe we should just tell them,” you blurted, biting your lip nervously.

 Harry’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at you for just a moment before returning his focus to the road. “We can do whatever you want, babe.”

 “What do you want?” You asked.

 He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Well, I mean… I get wanting to keep this to ourselves because it’s so… new, you know?” He looked over at you once he was stopped at a red light, a sheepish smile painted over his cheeks. “But at the same time… I’m excited. Like, really excited, and I want to tell my friends. They’ll be excited for us, I know it.”

 Them being excited was what you were afraid of, in a way. You knew your friends well, so you knew that Meredith would ask too many questions, Thomas would say something inappropriate, Grimmy would accidentally talk about it on air, and Jessie would probably just silently sit in the corner. The image you’d created in your head was chaotic and overwhelming. 

 But maybe it wouldn’t be like that. Maybe it was worth finding out. 

 “You’re overthinking, I can tell,” Harry frowned, “listen, like I said, we’ll do whatever you want. Tonight is meant to be fun.”

 “No,” you shook your head, “let’s tell them.”

 “Really? That’s what you want?”

 “Yes.” 

 And you meant it. As terrifying as it would be, keeping more secrets from your friends wasn’t the answer. Plus, they would likely ask a bunch of intrusive questions, anyway. Meredith was nosy long before you ever spent a single night in Harry’s bed. 

Not to mention that Harry was excited, about you. It warmed your heart in a way you’d never felt before, like you were floating and sinking at the same time. He was proud to be able to call you his, and you understood because you felt the same way. If giving them the news about your relationship would make him happy, then it was a no-brainer. His happiness would always win over your fear.

 Your own happiness, too.

Harry ended up being right, of course. The moment the two of you walked through the door together, hands interlocked, the group was ecstatic. 

 “Holy shit!” Nick had shouted, loud enough that people at other tables were looking over. “Fucking finally!”

 Meredith had let out the most grating, nails-on-a-chalkboard squeal, but you’d barely had time to grimace before she was throwing her arms around you. Just like you’d predicted, it was loud, over the top, and even a bit embarrassing… but it was also a celebration. Even though they made a scene, it wasn’t awkward, or overwhelming. They just wanted to support you. 

 And being the center of attention wasn’t as difficult when you had a partner. Harry was more than willing to take the lead on answering questions, allowing you to sit back and just process everything. 

 “Next round is on me,” Jessie announced. Harry had just finished explaining to Thomas that the cuddling had been going on for months. Nick and Meredith hadn’t looked shocked, and Jessie had just looked amused.

 “Cheers, friend,” you smiled, “need help carrying?”

 They nodded at you, so you slid out of your seat, giving Harry’s arm a soft squeeze before making your way to the bar. Jessie caught the attention of the bartender right away, listing off the drink orders that everyone had become familiar with. 

 “How are you doing?” You asked them, leaning your back against the wooden bar. 

 “Me?” They scoffed, mirroring your position. “I should be asking how you are. Last time I saw you, you were a total mess. Well, figuratively. Your apartment was ridiculous, I can literally still smell Clorox.”

 You laughed, shaking your head. “Sorry you had to witness my panic induced cleaning. That talk we had ended up being really helpful.”

 “Good. It sounds like things are going well, then,” they said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I’m really happy for you.”

 “Thanks,” you rested your head on their shoulder, “I am sorry though, for making things weird for everyone.”

 “Whatever,” Jessie waved a hand through the air, “it’s over now. We just didn’t like seeing the both of you in so much pain, especially when it wasn’t really our place to do anything about it.”

 Just then, the bartender tapped your shoulders, pointing to the six drinks lined up on the counter. You grabbed four while Jessie grabbed two, and together you headed back to the table.

 “Oh good, you’re back,” Meredith said, plucking her drink from your hand, “Harry was just telling us about the time he got blackout drunk at some pub in Hackney, weren’t you Harry?”

 “No,” he said drily, “I wasn’t.”

 You passed him his water, which he promptly took a large gulp of. The woes of being a designated driver.

 This went on for a while longer, and eventually your friends stopped grilling you, satisfied with the information they’d pried out of you. Now, it just felt like a normal night, where everybody chatted and gossipped and caught up. So familiar, that you weren’t even phased when a text from Harry popped up on your lock screen. 

 From: Harry Styles 9:56PM

Are we sleeping at mine tonight?

 “Yeah,” you giggled, locking your phone and glancing up at Harry. He was already looking at you with bright eyes and a gentle smile. 

 He leaned down and quickly pressed his lips to your forehead. “Perfect.”

 Just weeks ago, you were secretly texting under the table and making up excuses to leave at the same time, a stark contrast to tonight, where you both hugged your friends goodbye and left together, hand-in-hand and drama free. It was refreshing to be able to fully relax together, no longer tethered to the weight that comes with keeping a secret. Harry seemed especially carefree tonight, running his hands up and down your sides as he walked behind you, only letting go once you reached his car.

 “I had fun tonight,” he remarked, twisting to look over his shoulder as he reversed from the parking spot. His arm was stretched out behind your headrest, and you had to resist the urge to lean into him.

 “Me too,” you hummed, crossing your legs, “it was nice being able to sit next to you for a change.”

 “I agree,” he nodded, looking straight ahead out the windshield, “although that skirt has been driving me crazy all evening. In this case it might have been easier having you all the way across the table from me.”

 You only giggled, rolling down the car window. You needed some cool air on your skin, which was suddenly feeling flushed all over at the thought of Harry checking you out.

 “I’m not kidding,” his lips were in a straight line, but you knew him well enough to recognize the twinkle in his eye, “that thing is coming off the moment we get home.”

 You soon found out that he was quite serious, pinning you against the door the moment it closed behind you. He pressed the front of his body fully against yours, not a single inch of space between your chests as he dipped down to slot your lips together. 

 You gasped for air when he pulled back, throwing your head back against the door as he slowly dragged his palms down your body, stopping to squeeze the flesh of your hips and finally resting on the curve of your ass.

 “How do you do it?” Harry wondered out loud, bunching the fabric of your skirt in his fists as he pulled it upwards. “It’s like you don’t even try.”

 “Do what?” You breathed, lifting up a leg and looping it around his hip.

 He let out an appreciative grunt, grinding his hips into the flimsy lace of your underwear.

 “Like… you just make me want you so much,” he wheezed, arching back slightly as you fiddled with the fly on his jeans, “you’re not even trying to be sexy, like tonight, just fucking sitting and chatting shit with our mates, I wanted to- oh, fuck me!”

 He let out a shaky breath when you reached inside his boxers, rubbing along his length until you could grasp your fingers around him and tug him free from his boxers. After just a few slow pumps, he was swatting your hands away, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side and pushing into you with a slow buck of his hips. He pushed slowly, in and out, until he was as deep as he could be, and you revelled in the feeling of his hipbones pressed against your pelvis.

 “Good?” He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

 “Mhm,” you managed, sliding a hand up his back under his shirt.

 It wasn’t long before he rendered you a moaning mess, one hand gripping your leg under the knee and the other looped behind the small of your back. He was hitting the deepest, most perfect spots inside of you, and even though the doorknob was digging into your ass, and you still hadn’t taken off your heels, you wouldn’t change a thing.

 He was so good at finding creative ways to fuck you, whether it was a spontanious quickie over the desk in his office, or the slow, sultry sex you’d had in his home studio. It was fun, and exciting, and unique, and you couldn’t get enough.

 His thrusts became faster and harder the moment you reached your hand down to play with your clit. He was watching your fingers like a hawk, not blinking as he watched you pleasure yourself while he fucked into you. Soon enough, your thighs were shaking, cries escaping your mouth as your orgasm thundered through your veins, sending tingles to the tips of your toes and  a warmth throughout your belly.

 Harry followed suit soon after, driving his cock into you once more before spilling inside of you. Neither of you moved, simply standing against the door.

 “You didn’t even take my skirt off,” you eventually broke the silence, dropping your leg. Your hip was definitely going to be sore in the morning. 

 “Would you like me to remove it?” He snickered, digging his fingers into your sides. “I’d be happy to rid you of it, right here, right now.”

 As you and your boyfriend chased each other around the house, teasingly undressing each other as you went, you didn’t spare a single thought on your worries, anxieties, or fears. No, they weren’t even on the radar. 

 Instead, all you could focus on was how unbelievably happy you were right now. 

 You felt high, but this time you weren’t afraid of falling because Harry would be there to catch you. There could be pits of lava, fields of thorns, pointy rocks, rivers full of piranhas… and you’d still take the blind leap if it meant being in his arms. In a way, you’d already been through hell to get here, plagued by your own mind, the most torturous kind of self sabotage. 

 It didn’t matter what the future held. Hypotheticals were no longer important; what mattered was what you had right now, right in front of you. 

 And that was enough.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I’m so sad that their story has come to an end, but it’s not over! We’ll definitely be seeing more of them. I love you all xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxox Tile

[barcaavengers]

Decisions || Newt Imagine

Note: I hope the lovely nonnie is around who made this imagine request! I’m sorry for taking so long but it is finally here! Not sure if there will be another part, but most probably there will be. Leave any comments or suggestions, as well as feedback!

Tags: Tagging those who liked my posts and the request! 

@hxrryftdelrey​ @seaveynewt @mayakalo @loverofmazeandthrones​ @lovely-leigh​ @meadows-of-light​ @sleepysnapesnake​ @iwokeupinabadmood​ @enixgucci​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine. Credit to rightful owner

Your ears seem to have muted the sound of the helicopter because you have not heard anything until the boys started calling your name from far away. It takes you a couple of seconds, but your eyes open slowly, only to have Minho besides you screaming at Thomas to move while Frypan was calling your name and helping you up. You try to catch up quickly as Frypan pulls you to your feet, the guards rushing you in the midst of the wind from the helicopter lifting up the sand around you. Your eyes squint to prevent any particles to fly in, and you take a small look around you to see the surroundings. 

The guards were shooting at something, after bullets are fired you hear the loud screech, and you remember the sound from the video that played at the Wicked facility. A shiver goes down your spine at the memory, the bodies, the brief explanation Ava had given before killing herself… You get ushered into a facility, and it takes you a moment to fix your gaze on something until the doors close with a loud thud, reminding you of the Glade walls when they closed. Everyone was as perplexed as you were, looking around before you started being guided into the facility by a man called Janson. He promised safety and Wicked not finding you, and a sigh of relief rushes through you. 

The boy next to you seems to have noticed your tense demeanor, because he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and providing a reassuring squeeze reminding you you were not alone. 

"You okay, love?" He asks quietly as he gives you a small tug to get you closer so he is able to talk in a low tone. 

"Yeah, the helicopter ride is wearing off" you admit to him. 

Janson continues to explain the facility, mentioning you will be fed and taken care of and nothing sounded better than that right now. You are taken to showers, away from the guys which made you somewhat uneasy. Being around them for so long for basically every hour has made you feel like a part of you was missing when you were apart, like in the Maze, even if Minho was right besides you. You have stayed quite a while in the shower, enjoying how the hot water washed away the dirt from the Glade and the stickiness of the sweat after running for your lives. The clothing provided was comfortable, and just right, not being able to feel the coldness of the air conditioning as much, but not feeling the hot temperature as well. You are provided with small meals, being told that you should all start with something light before going through stronger food, just to not throw it all. You are taken into rooms with beds to rest before they call you to run some tests to make sure you were all healthy. As soon as your head touches the fluffiness of the pillow your head rests on, you drift to sleep in just a matter of minutes, dozing off entirely. 

"You look sleepy" Newt teases as he walks beside you once you are being led to the labs. 

"The bed was so comfortable" you whine playfully. 

"So, you are saying I wasn't comfortable?" He jokes before pulling you close by the hand. "I feel like I slept like a baby, and how long was it? Three hours of sleep only?" He asks. "The difference of sleeping on those hammocks but at the Glade and a proper bed" he says. "Something that the bastards who put us in there didn't have the decency to provide."

"I had a comfortable bed" you point out with a soft grin most of the times you slept in Newt's arm, sound asleep as you enjoyed the warmth of his body on yours. 

"Good," he says. 

The group halts as they take in the labs. So many machines, needles, nurses, liquids, instruments... This facility had it all. Since there wasn't enough equipment to do the same test to everyone at once, they divided you into groups to run different tests, and you hated to be the one to get a feel of a needle first. You sat in a comfortable chair where a lady worked on you, Teresa a few feet away in a hospital bed. The nurse cleans the area before sticking the needle inside without a warning, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" She asks, and honestly it was going fine until you decided to look where the needle had poked through the skin and you started to see the blood rushing into the tube. 

"I-" you look away, the need to throw up present and you could feel what you ate last threatening to come up your throat, leaving a horrible taste in your mouth. 

The lady gives you a cotton ball with alcohol scent for you to smell on, saying that it should help with the dizziness you felt but it barely did a thing. "Still feeling lightheaded, sweetie?"

"Yeah...Like I want to throw up too" you say as you keep smelling on the cotton ball while she works with placing a round bandage over the poked skin. 

"Maybe blood makes you sick" she says. "It is normal on some people."

"I saw blood more often than I like to admit" you confess. "Human and animal…" you add. 

"Don't worry, every test we run in you will let us know if you are sick, but I don't think you are," she says and sits besides you. "I'll ask you a couple of questions to guide us better." The woman reaches for a pen and a wooden clipboard. "Y/N, right?"

"Yeah" you nod your head and relax your body. She asked about fever, coughs, body pains which you mention your legs, maybe a sign of being a runner, any broken bones or accidents you may have had in the Glade, and your job at the Glade. 

"Have you had sex?" Your eyes go too wide and your neck almost snaps as you look at her. The only time you have had that question asked was with Alby, and he was so smooth about it that it didn't sound like that question at first. He had sat down with you and Newt, both of you staring confused when he had asked if 'you have been together'. Alby was of the few people of the Glade who knew right away when you two got together. 

"Um…" 

"It's okay if you have. Nothing to be ashamed of" she gives you a reassuring smile. "This stays between us, nobody else knows."

"Uh…" you hesitate. "Yes." The nurse eyes you for a moment, nods her head and writes something down. 

"Recently? I'm sorry, I know it's personal but for our tests purposes we must know an estimate to determine a few things and scratch off others."

It makes sense…"Two? Maybe three weeks ago?" That's the last time you at least remembered that things were somewhat normal before everything started going wrong, Thomas and Teresa arrived, the walls stopped closing, Grievers came in...Now that you think of it, things got really bad really quick. 

"And this was the last time you had your period?" These questions were so bizarre. 

"Maybe a month or so" you say and they realize your answer, making your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Shouldn't you have gotten your period? Yoh shake it off cause you have never been the regular type, one time you had it the same month twice and it was a nightmare. 

"Alright" she writes something in her papers. "That should do it for now. You can go to your next test" she nods her head before standing up. Not even a few minutes after, they came to get you to continue. 

After many more needles, running, patches covering your body and head, you are led to some sort of cafeteria where there were many boys and girls like you, and it takes you a minute to get your eyes fixed on your group before walking to them. Frypan raises his head before waving at you, it causes the rest of your friends to look up and start moving on the table to make space for you, mostly to be side by side with Newt. 

"Hey, guys" you say, sticking one leg in first, then the other as you sit down. 

"Took them long enough to return you back to us," Minho says. "What special thing did they do to you?"

"Nothing, I think" you admit. "Just really personal questions" you say and look at Newt, his jaw was clenched. 

"What were they asking?" 

"Last time we…" you trail off and your eyes widen slightly for him to catch the hint. 

Minho is looking between the two of you intently. "I don't follow."

"Wait, last time we had…?" Newt asks, confusion taking over his features. 

"Yeah" you decide to ignore Minho and his question, he will figure it out eventually. "And last time I was on my period, which I get now, probably to know if it's normal or something" you shrug. "It's weird it hasn't happened for a while now."

"A month, right?" Newt knew because he would take care of you and pamper you with whatever you needed. You also had small pains and headaches during the first days and he would always be around in case you felt sick. 

"Wait, you know when her period is?" Thomas asks. 

"Man, that's weird," Frypan says. "but smart though, and cute."

"We can stop talking about periods now. Anyone wanna join me get some guys and see what their maze was like? See what we can find out about these people?" Minho asks. 

"I'm in," Winston says, Frypan and Thomas join and with Minho they leave for another table. 

"You alright?" Newt kisses your temple and offers you his bottle of water. "You look anxious."

"It's just this place...So many other kids, like us" you say. "They are all from different Mazes?"

"Looks so" Newt says, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. "Want to see if they let us out of here to our beds?"

"I don't think they'll let you come along" you say with a grin. 

"Just pretend to be dizzy, maybe they will. At least to be with you for a few minutes with the lot of people around."

Surprisingly they let Newt take you to the dorm, being escorted of course. You ask for a few minutes with Newt and the guard nods his head before closing the door behind you two. Newt cups your cheek and kisses you, his eyes shut tightly as his lips press against yours while he holds his breath. "I was getting scared already" he admits against your lips. "When they didn't bring you in after us" he says. "Tommy and I were already planning to get you, and Teresa, but she hasn't come to join us yet. It's strange" he says and you both sit down on the bed. 

"I'm okay" you assure him. "They had me running, and ran a few tests on me. I hope everything is okay, though" you admit. If they were done with the guys quickly, why did it take so long with you? And where was Teresa?

"I'm sure it's alright. You are a tough one, luv" Newt says with a smile and you run your fingers through his hair. "You look nice all washed up" he steals a kiss from you and you giggle. 

"Not bad yourself" you tease. "I hope they later let us stay together...I don't think I'll be getting much sleep these first days."

"We will find a way, love. I'll sneak in somehow" and just in cue the guard calls on Newt. "I love you, I'll see you later, 'kay?" He gives you a short, passionate kiss before pulling away. 

"Love you too" you say as the guard shuts the door close after he walks out. You lay back on the bed and close your eyes. The bed was too comfortable and the pillow too fluffy to neglect getting sleep, so you try to ease your thoughts before falling into a deep slumber. 

The next day you are all in the cafeteria area again, your group now sat with other guys from other mazes, talking about them and how they got out. Newt asks them about what happened to the people inside the Glade which a boy answers that he didn't know. Your hand squeezes Newt's thigh letting him know you could read his mind, he was thinking about the others that were left there to their luck, the ones Gally convinced to stay because they would meet death upon leaving. Then they start calling people and another one of the boys explains that it is to be taken to a Haven, some sort of place away from everything and only a few are selected. The boys continue to talk so you look around, spotting a couple of girls on a bench, then a whole table of them, another one with only a boy around them. 

Second day you are taken again to the cafeteria, seems it was the only place you could all gather around. Everyone was eating their breakfast but you felt nauseous since you woke up, not having any appetite for anything in your tray. Thomas is saying something about a boy showing him a place through the air vents, but it was under strict access. "I need to know what's behind that door."

"You said you saw a body?" You ask him. 

"Not the body, but it had scanners, like showing heart rates and vitals and other things" Thomas says to you. "Aris says he thinks nobody really leaves this place…"

"There isn't an access through the air vents to that room?"

"No. He tried but it stopped right out of it...They have to be hiding something…" Thomas seemed so sure. Minho and Newt exchange glances.

"Y/N?" Janson approaches your table and everyone looks up at him quickly. "Please, come with me."

"Where is Teresa?" Thomas asks. 

"She is safe. We are only running a few tests on her."

"And why does Y/N have to go with you?" Newt asks, his hand reaching to hold onto yours. "You already called everyone for your little paradise place" you noticed that Thomas' words have put him uneasy. 

"We just need to run a few more tests on her," Janson offers a smirk. "She will be back in a couple of minutes, I promise" he says and one of the guards reaches for your arm which you tug away quickly. 

"I can stand on my own, thanks." Your body turns to Newt. "I'll be alright, okay?"

"I know…" he says and squeezes your hand before letting go. 

"More tests?" You ask the doctor who asked you to lay down on the table. 

"We found something," she says as she sits besides you. "I'll show you." She reaches to lift up your shirt and you pull it down quickly. "It's okay…" she says, you hesitate before letting go of the hem of your shirt. 

She places some kind of gel on your stomach, "What is that for? Is something wrong?" You start worrying, because if she was going to run tests on your stomach and your nauseous state in the morning, it had you wondering if your stomach was sick in a way you needed treatment. Maybe so long in the Glade...but you always ate. Your head was spinning with possible causes. 

"You'll see" she starts running an instrument along your belly, looking at a monitor as she does. You eye them both curiously as she seems to be looking for something. "Ah, there it is" she says with a smile. "See that small figure over there?" She asks and points at the monitor, your eyes squint at it. "That's your baby," she says, "congratulations."

The room starts spinning around you, eyes wide, your chest feeling tight all of a sudden, you find it hard to breathe. You take small breaths and let them go rather quickly. "I'm sorry," you take in some air. "My what?"

"You are pregnant" she repeats and the words take a while to process in your head, your lips agape in surprise. 

"I-" you trail off looking at the monitor. You were pregnant… You were expecting a baby. No. Newt and you were expecting a baby… Your baby. "I-" no words come out of your lips. You are speechless. 

"We wanted to let you know," she reaches for a napkin and hands it over to you to wipe out the gel from your stomach. "You can go back to your friends" she says, standing up and leaving the room. 

You return to the cafeteria, all the walk there thinking how to tell Newt, how would he react, what words to say? It wasn't like you were expecting the news, or like you knew what to say right now. You sit next to Newt, right in the corner of the bench, his arm goes around your shoulder and he eyes the guys when he notices your tense body. "Love? Are you alright? You look like you have seen a ghost. You look pale." He places a hand on your cheek. "Did they hurt you? If they hurt you I'll bloody-"

"A baby" you blurt out. Thomas turns his attention to you and Minho raises his eyebrows, Newt looks at you in confusion, Frypan joins the trio's expression as well.

"What? What baby?" Newt asks

"Ours" and you slowly turn to him. "Newt, I'm...we are having a baby."

"Oh shuck" Minho blurts out.

"How did you guys even made time to-" Frypan gets interrupted by Newt.

"What?!" Newt's eyes go wider. "Did they-"

"Yeah...A doctor showed me." Your hand goes to your belly, running your fingers on top of your shirt. "Newt...I- I don't know what to say or what to do" your vision starts getting blurry from the tears. 

"Hey, no, love. It's okay. It's okay" he coos as he pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you. "I don't know what to say either... Other than I'm happy in a way, we will have our own little lady or little boy running around in a couple of months...Our baby" his last words sound like he is repeating it for his own processing. "We are safe here…"

"We don't know that yet," Thomas steps in.

"I said, we are safe here" Newt says through his clenched jaw at his friend, and you couldn't see him but you knew he is getting a death glare from your boyfriend. "We will figure it out. We have time" he pulls you away and pecks your lips, his hand covering yours on your belly. "I didn't know it would be this fast, though."

"What? You thought the baby would wait in there to be cooked up after you two-"

"Minho!" You call and the boy grins.

"Congratulations, though," Frypan says. "The little one will have one hell of a story of how it got made." He and Minho high five and Newt pinches the bridge of his nose.

"All the bloody supportive things you can say and you shanks have to go through the last ones of the list" Newt complains and turns to you. "Babe, I-" you can see him struggling with words. "Are you okay with this? I mean, obviously maybe you are not because this is so unexpected and-"

"Newt," you call and meet his gaze, "I'm- I want this baby. I don't want it to grow up here though…"

"We will figure it out. If this place is true we should be all good, love." Thomas parts his lips to say something but Newt is quick to glare at him. 

Third day you are sitting in the cafeteria, Newt is already worrying about you when you don't come in quick wondering if something happened to you, like you fainted or the morning sickness was too much for you. "I don't like being away from you, now more than ever" he says and presses his lips against your temple. 

"I'm fine, okay?"

"If something we know from Y/N is that she can take care of herself" Winston says and you smile at him. You liked that he gave you a confidence boost and the most needed moments. 

"Have you seen Teresa?" Thomas asks and Minho rolls his eyes. 

"No, I haven't...I don't know where she is…"

"Aris and I will go into that room tonight, we just need a plan to get an access card there."

"Alright, listen up folks, we have the new list of those whose lives are about to begin" Janson says as he is handed a clipboard. He mentions a few names, ones who you take a moment to remember to not name your baby from how weird they were. "And Y/N." Your eyes go wide and the whole group in your table turns to you, Newt's eyes showing panic. 

"No, there must be a mistake. I just got here, I-" you trail off and a few guards come over to you and you stand up, chin up, defying them. 

"Don't you dare to touch her" Newt stands by your side quickly and places a hand in front of you. 

"You will deny her the chance to be away from this place? Of your baby growing somewhere else?" Janson asks as he approaches the group, Thomas, Frypan, Winston and Minho stand behind you. 

"Because it is our baby, I won't let you take her" Newt takes a step forward in front of you. 

"I won't go anywhere without them" you say to the guards.

"Unfortunately, this isn't a choice…" Janson says, a guard moves forward but he is quick to raise his hand. 

"You are threatening her right in front of us?" Thomas takes a step forward and a guard is quick to push him, but he continues to struggle, "Where is this place exactly, huh?!" After a few seconds, Frypan holds Thomas back and he stops struggling. 

"Let's not ruin the excitement for others, okay? Let's do this as amicably as possible." He says. "And I am sure you don't want to be taken in your sleep, leaving your friends wondering what happened to you." His tone was almost threatening. Why was he insisting so much in taking you when so many others were there before you. "I'm sure you'd like what's best for your baby, and this is it. So please…" Janson steps aside and you eye your friends, then your boyfriend. 

"I'll be fine, okay?" 

"Love, don't-" you press a kiss to his lips. "I'll come back to you" you whisper against his lips before pressing another kiss. 

"Be careful, love" Newt says as he watches you being escorted by the guards and Janson trailing not far behind. "So," Newt turns to Thomas. "What do you have of this bloody plan of yours? I need to know that she is not being taken into a strict access room where I won't see her…"

[thominho-incorrectquotes]

I’ll never leave you alone

This is my entry for Thominho Week 2021, Day 7 “ Trauma exploration/Vulnerability ”

Characters: Thomas x Minho

2961 words

Tags: Trauma, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship

Summary:   When Aris gets hurt under Minho's watch, the young leader shuts himself from everybody, including his boyfriend, Thomas, who just wants to help him.

Note:  This is the last one! I had so much fun doing this, once again, and I can't wait for the next one!

You can also read it on AO3 and ff.net

________________________________

Minho had gone into the forest with a small group of people. There were supposed to gather stuff and comeback in the evenings.

Thomas was missing his boyfriend already. He hated whenever they were away from each other, even for few hours. However, he wasn't expecting to see him comeback early with an injured Aris on his back.

He immediately ran towards them.

"What happened?" he asked hastily, worry thick in his voice.

"I have to get him to the medjacks" Minho simply said, barely sparing a glance at Thomas.

"Let me help you-"

"No."

He continued way, passing by the brunet. Thomas felt like he had been shot again, this time directly in his heart. Minho had never talked to him like that. Never looked at him with such dark eyes.

Aris looked almost dead. His right leg was twisted in a weird angle and his body was hanging limp on the leader's back. Thomas didn't who was more worrying. Minho or Aris.

He followed to the medjacks' hut, hoping he would get more information there, all the while ignoring the pain in his heart.

Once there, it was confirmed Aris's leg was broken. Minho briefly explained that when they were walking pass the edge of a hill, the boy tripped and felt down. The young leader told the others to continue while he brought Aris back to Paradise.

The medjacks concluded he had no other injuries, fortunately, and was not numb from a head injury but most likely from pain. That was a relief for everyone.

For everyone except Minho who still had a dark expression on his face, as if Aris was going to die. Which was weird since he never liked the kid. He left shortly after, Thomas in his footsteps.

"Min, talk to me, are you okay?" he tried. No respond.

"Min, please… what's wrong?" Still no reply.

Taking his arm to force his boyfriend to look at him, he tried once more "Minho, babe, plea-"

"Leave me alone."

Thomas widened his eyes in shock as another bullet in his heart was shot. "Min-"

"Leave me alone, Thomas!" he repeated, louder.

"But-"

"No!" Anger could be seen in his eyes. That wasn't the first time Thomas saw Minho mad, but it had never been directed towards him. Never. It broke his heart. "Leave me the shuck alone!"

Storming off, he left a sad and confused Thomas outside the hut who was too stunt to go and follow him again.

Silent tears left his eyes. What could have happened to make his boyfriend like this? He was worried sick and hurt from being rejected. This was so unlike the man he loved. Something was wrong.

He ran to their shared cabin, where he was sure to find the young man.

But once there, the small home was empty. Maybe he was on their spot on the beach? He loved going there. But he wasn't going towards the beach when he left. So where was Minho?!

He ran back to the center of their little town, looking for one of his friends. Gally was with the group that went in the forest, so he wasn't there. Maybe Frypan? He went to the communal kitchen and sighed in relief when he saw him.

"Frypan! Have you seen where Minho went?" he asked hastily before the young man could even say a word.

"Minho? He's back?"

Shuck, not Frypan then.

He ran once again when he spotted Brenda and asked her the same question.

"I think I saw him going to one of those empty cabin we've just finished" he said. "Is there something wrong, he shouldn't be back so soo-"

"I know, Aris was injured so he brought him back, but Minho's not okay, I know that, and he doesn't want me, and-"

"Stop, stop Thomas you're panicking. I'm sure Minho's fine. Let's find him okay?"

He nodded, wiping the tears that felt during his rambling.

He let Brenda lead the way, trying to calm himself down and ease the pain in his chest. They arrived in front of a cabin that was inhabited, but still looked like any other they've built over the past year.

As the young women stayed back, knowing it was probably better to let Thomas and Minho alone, the brunet knocked on the door.

"Min? You there?"

No answers.

"Min? It's Thomas, if you're there, please talk to me…"

He went to open the door, but something was blocking it. So Minho was indeed there. More tears started falling. His boyfriend was really rejecting him and he had no idea why.

"Babe, please, open the door. There's something wro-"

"GO AWAY!" a voice screamed. Minho.

"No, I'm not go-"

"SHUCK OFF, THOMAS, LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The boy stumbled back as he was once again hit by pain. "Min-"

"It's no use Thomas" Brenda intervened. "He needs to be alone now, okay? We should respect that."

But Thomas only stared at the house, he couldn't leave it.

"Come on Thomas, let's go back-"

"I'm staying" he told her. He sat next to the door, wiping away the tears. Minho would have to come out eventually and Thomas was willing to wait. He would wait forever for his boyfriend.

Brenda sighed and went back with the others, knowing it was futile to argue with the stubborn boy.

Thomas waited. For hours. The sun was declining, showing the day was soon coming to an end. Frypan came, bringing two plates of food.

"Thanks Fry" Thomas said, taking the plates. It smelled good and his stomach grumbled in agreement.

"Still there?" the other man asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah…"

"You should leav-"

"No. Thanks for the food."

He went back to the cabin, cutting off any discussion. He couldn't leave Minho alone. His boyfriend was hurting, for an unknown reason. He was also hurting from this situation and the only way to comfort him was to be as close as possible to his lover. Even if there was a wall between them.

He put one of the plates in front of the door before knocking on it. "Minho, there is food for you."

He was meet with silence. Sighing, he sat down again and ate his food in silence.

It's only later, when Minho's plate of food was stone cold, that another head appeared. Gally. The group was back.

The blond had a weird expression on his face. Something between confusion, sadness and concern. And for one second, Thomas imagined the worst.

"Is Aris-" he said.

"Aris is fine. He will be." Gally interrupted him. "I'm more concern about him" he added, pointing at the house.

Oh. Gally, worried about Minho? That was first. And very concerning. The dislike the two young men had for each other was known by everyone in Paradise. Even if Gally and Thomas have become friends, Minho still hold grudges against the ex-Keeper.

"Come with me" the young man said, "we need to talk about what happened back there."

As much as Thomas didn't want to leave Minho, the urge to know how things has led to this took over him and he followed his friend.

Once they were far enough, Gally explained.

"It was weird. We were all worried when Aris felt down and didn't move, but Minho was panicking, and we both know how he feels about the shank." Thomas nodded; his boyfriend didn't like the boy. "He was on his side in few seconds" Gally continued. "And when we said two should bring him back, he dismissed everyone and went on his own, carrying the boy on his back."

Minho being protective wasn't unusual. But Minho being protective over someone else then Thomas was.

"I-I don't know what to think about it…"

"Me neither" Gally sighed. "But whatever it is, I'm sure there is something deeper than just Minho taking care of a friend."

The brunet bit his lips to stop them from shaking. This was the worst. He hoped the blond man would know more than that.

"Well. Thanks for telling me."

As he was going back towards the cabin, he was stopped by Gally.

"You should go sleep Greenie."

"Not until Minh-"

"He's not gonna leave this house today, Greenie. Try again tomorrow, maybe he'll be in a better mind."

"No, I-" he tried to argue before getting interrupted by Gally again.

"Don't make me force you…"

"Okay, okay, I'll go to sleep" he gave up. If there was someone more stubborn then Thomas, it was Gally. "But I… I'll go say goodnight to him… at least."

"I guess I can't stop you" he sadly smiled.

Without other words, the brunet went back to where his boyfriend was, knocking once again on the door.

"Hey Min, it's me. I, huh… I just wanted to say goodnight… I'll go sleep now. The door is open if you… if you wanna come back…"

Silence. Thomas was getting frustrated. But he still went to the cabin he shared with Minho and, with great difficulties since his lover wasn't by his side, he felt asleep.

…

The next day, he went to give Minho his breakfast and as a repeat of last night, he was met with silence and the young man didn't opened the door to get his food. If Minho was going to starve himself, there was obviously something wrong and worry clouded his mind.

It didn't get better. He went to give him his lunch later on. He still didn't eat it. Still no sound from him. Thomas would have thought his boyfriend was dead if the water bottle he left for him hadn't been taken.

At least he was staying hydrated.

Before going back to their home for the night, Thomas sat down next to the door. He told Minho what he did that day, what happened, like they always did… before…

He needed it. He needed to still feel their connection. He left after wishing him a good night.

It was the same thing for two more days. In which Minho only took a meal.

Everyone was worried. It wasn't unnatural to see people having mental break downs from time to time in Paradise as pretty much everyone had trauma, but having one of their leaders, Minho none the less, who was always so reliable, felt so out of place. And everyone could see how it took a toll on Thomas.

The boy had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and didn't smile at all, even if he never was one to smile a lot. But his reason to be happy, the one person would could make him laugh wasn't there. A hole was in his chest. He needed his boyfriend, his best friend, so much.

He was back again at night, another water bottle in hand that he let at the usual place, and talked about his day.

"Aris is doing better" he then told. "They put his leg back into place and put a cast to stop it from moving. The pain is still intense, he told me, but at least he's conscious and eats well. The medjacks say that he's gonna heal pretty fast."

He thought some information about Aris would maybe make Minho better, but to no avail.

He continued talking, rambling even. He just wanted to hear his boyfriend's voice.

"I miss you Min. I miss you so much" he said. "I want to hold you. I wanna hear your laugh. I wish I could hear another one of your jokes. I wish I could kiss you…"

"I miss you Minho…

Silence.

"The door is still open for you… Goodnight Minho…"

He stood up and left. Another night alone.

…

Next morning, Thomas was on the beach. He didn't feel like going to Minho. He felt betrayed. All this time, all they've done for each other… all for nothing apparently.

He didn't want to be mad at his best friend. He probably had a good reasons. But he was rejecting him and he couldn't help but feel hurt.

He had barely slept. Not more than two hours. Nightmares had drowned him during the nights and Minho wasn't there to make it better. He wasn't hungry and was such in a bad mood, he knew he couldn't see anyone without putting his frustrations on them.

The sun was getting higher when he heard footsteps in the sand behind him.

He turned, expecting Brenda to come get him.

But what he saw made his stomach flip in a way that was unreal.

It was Minho!

Completely forgetting all the frustrations he had, he ran towards his boyfriend, latching at him, knocking them both into the sand. Now that he had him, he wasn't going to let him go.

Wrapping his arms around the smaller frame of his lover, Minho let out a breath he seemed to have held for days. "Oh shuck, this feels so good" he mumbled, burying his face into Thomas's neck.

The brunet couldn't agree more. He felt whole again. He couldn't let go. All the pain was going away.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours. They needed this so much.

And even as they moved to see each other's face, their limps were intertwined, and their faces were still so close, their noses were almost touching. Thomas let himself drown in the dark orbs looking at him.

"I'm so sorry Thomas. So sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you away…" the young man finally said.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"I-I'm… I'm just…" Minho struggled to answer. "I'm just a failure as a leader…"

"What!?" The surprised made Thomas sat up in the sand, quickly followed by the other boy.

"I am Thomas. I always let everyone down" he said, louder. "So many Gladers died because I failed to find an exit to the Maze. It was my job, Thomas. My job! And I failed! And in the Scorch, more died, and I lost you so many time, and I was the leader! I-"

"No, Minho, stop, it's not-"

"And then I failed to bring back Newt! Newt died because of me-"

"NO! I forbid you to say that! I killed Newt, you know that! Don't put that on your shoul-"

"You had to kill him because I failed to get him back, Thomas! It's my fault you had to shoot him! Don't you understand?!"

"No… No Minho…"

So that was what had been going through his boyfriend's mind for the past few days. If not months. Thomas understood how those feelings could be overwhelming. He experienced a lot of grieve and self-loathing during the first months in Paradise. But telling Minho the truth about Newt and having his Keeper beside him had helped a lot. The reason he managed every day, the reason he was doing better, was Minho.

He never suspected the boy had so much going on too. It shouldn't have been a surprise, after everything, but Minho was just always this strong leader, someone who could do anything, challenge anyone that it seemed impossible that he too could be hurting. He felt bad for not noticing it earlier.

"And Aris, this is my fault too. I should have made everyone take a different route. I should have known it was too dangerous-"

Thomas put hand on his lover's mouth to stop him. He stared at him with serious eyes.

"You have so much on your shoulders babe, you need to let go" he said. "No one is perfect. And let me tell you, you're the best leader I've ever seen."

Minho rolled his eyes.

"It's true! When you asked me if I wanted to be the leader in the Scorch, I didn't say no because I just didn't wanted to. I said no because I knew you were better than me. You always were. Of course you couldn't save everyone. Nobody could have. But without you, I know we wouldn't be there."

Minho relaxed. The brunet knew there was still a long way to go, that those things would take time to heal properly, but if he had at least appeased his boyfriend for now, it was a win.

"I'm sorry" he said. "When I saw Aris with his leg bend, everything just came back. Newt, with his broken leg, and how I failed to protect him. And everything escalated."

"I understand, it's normal" Thomas replied, caressing the tan cheek of his lover.

"And… I felt the need to punish myself for everything. Something in my head was telling me I wasn't worthy of love. And even if it was the last thing I wanted to do, I pushed you away, to punish myself…"

"Slinthead…"

Minho smiled sadly "I know. Yesterday, I realized I was also punishing you by doing this so… So I came back. I couldn't stand it anymore anyway…"

Thomas kissed him. He couldn't believe his boyfriend did that. That he was so broken inside. And yet, he was so strong. Despite all his insecurities, he never gave up. Thomas just wanted to give this man all the love he had inside him, because that was what Minho deserved.

He told him that; with every touches, with every nibbles to the boy's lips, with every moans. He just wanted Minho to know how much he loved him and how amazing he was.

"You're so strong Min, so strong" he said when they parted. "And I forbid you to do that again. If you ever feel the need to punish yourself, come to me, okay? In fact, always stay by my side."

Minho laughed "Okay babe, I'll do that."

They both smiled at that. Things weren't perfect. But it was going to be better, they were sure of that now.

_________________________

Hope you liked it and I'll see you with more fanfictions! They are still so many to come!

[mashtonasfuck]

there’s a ghost in the back of this room

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Calum Hood (and also a bonus side of muke that happened accidentally)

Prompt:

Person B is a ghost in Person A’s house and they would be really freaked out but Person B always leaves really good advice using the kitchen magnets, so Person A is not really bothered

Warnings: mention of a missing person who reader knows is dead/a ghost

Word Count: 3K

A note from Lucy: This is part of the halloween writers collab organised by @maluminspace​ and @h0tsos. The masterlist can be found here. See the end of the post for more notes. Hey look, I managed to write cashton fic without it turning into smut! Thanks to @loveroflrh and @kindahoping4forever for reading this over for me 💙

If you’d like to be added to my tag list then please fill in this form

You can find my masterlist here

This work must not be reposted anywhere - I do not give my permission for it to appear anywhere other than on my blog, or on my ao3 page.

——————————————————————————

“Ashton, why does your fridge say ‘stop being an idiot’?” Ashton glanced over to where Luke was staring at the fridge door in mild amusement. 

“Oh, that’s just Calum - ignore him. I usually do” Ashton rolled his eyes as a picture fell off the wall as he finished speaking, the thud causing Luke to spin around, eyes wide.

“What was that?” 

“I just brushed past the picture and knocked it off, that’s all.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at Ashton, the older man chuckling as he hung the picture back up. 

“Come on, let’s watch this damn movie you don’t shut up about.”

–

Why did you tell Luke to ignore me

The question was on Ashton’s fridge the next morning, the letters a mishmash of colours and cases. Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose as he read it - only he would get a self conscious ghost living in his house. 

“Calum, are you here?”

A cupboard door opened and a mug floated down onto the counter a few feet away from him - Ashton took that as a yes and shoved a pod into his coffee machine before grabbing the mug and pushing the button. 

“I was only messing with you, Cal. Besides, you’re my ghost, it has nothing to do with Luke.”

Ashton watched as the letters on the fridge rearranged themselves, sipping on his coffee and humming at the bitterness dancing on his tongue. 

Do you not want your friends to know about me

Ashton groaned internally, how could he explain this to his house ghost without offending him? 

“I think they’d be pretty freaked out if they knew I lived with a ghost. You saw Luke’s reaction to you knocking that picture off the wall. Besides, I like keeping you a secret, you’re mine.”

It’s pretty hard for me to be yours when you’ve never even seen me

Ashton had in fact seen Calum. Or at least a photo of Calum. 

– 

He hadn’t been in the house more than a month when he started to realise that things kept happening. A photo moved slightly, the couch not being quite as tidy as he’d left it. The day Ashton had realised he actually had a ghost, he’d come home to find a new photo of him and Luke floating in midair. 

“Um, hello?”

The photograph was dropped hastily, as though Ashton had scared the ghost he evidently had living in his house. After that, Ashton started talking to the ghost, even though he never got a reply aside from the odd knock on a table or a wall. It was while he was at a store grabbing something for dinner that he saw the fridge magnets. He grabbed all of the packets they had and drove home with a grin on his face.

“So, I bought you these today,” Ashton held out the magnets towards where he hoped his ghost was, “I thought maybe you could try talking back to me?”

Ashton felt a small whoosh of air as the ghost moved around the kitchen and he tore open the first packet, dumping the contents into a drawer he never used. Almost immediately the letters started floating from the drawer towards his fridge and Ashton watched as the ghost arranged the letters into a sentence.

Hello Ashton

“Hello, ghost. Oh - what’s your name? It feels weird calling you ‘ghost’.”

The letters arranged themselves once again.

My name is Calum

“Nice to finally know your name, Calum. How was your day?”

I’m a ghost Ashton

The brunette snorted as he watched the letters form another sentence.

Boring thank u for asking

Ashton laughed before spending the next few hours conversing with his ghost - with Calum - via fridge magnets. Calum had told him his full name after Ashton insisted upon knowing it.

“If you ever piss me off, I need to know what to call you.”

Calum Hood

It lingered there for a few seconds before ‘Hood’ was moved over.

Calum Thomas Hood

Ashton turned it over in his mind. Why did that name sound so familiar to him? He thought nothing more of it until he was at work a few days later.

STILL NO SIGN OF MISSING MAN 

Police are still searching for Calum Thomas Hood, 24, who disappeared from his home 6 months ago. They’re urging anyone who may know anything about his disappearance to come forward. 

Attached to the article had been a photo of the missing man, and Ashton knew it was his Calum. (He’d later cut the photograph out of the newspaper and taped it to the bottom of his desk drawer where no one would find it.) When he’d got home from work that day, Ashton had asked Calum how he’d died. 

Not sure don’t remember

Ashton had debated telling the police that he knew exactly where Calum Thomas Hood - or at least his soul - was. He’d told Calum this one evening and a single word had appeared on his fridge.

Crazy

– 

Calum was bored. 

Sure, being a ghost meant that he could walk through walls and move things with his mind, but being bound to one place had its drawbacks. There were only so many times you could move things around waiting to see how long it took Ashton to find them before you’d moved everything. 

(He’d even tried to swap all the furniture in Ashton’s bedroom with all the furniture in his living room, but Ashton had come home earlier than Calum had anticipated and made him put it all back to normal without any help. Moving things with your mind was tiring. 

“You’re a ghost, Cal, how can you get tired?”

Calum had used all of the ‘i’s and the ‘l’s to make a middle finger on Ashton’s fridge door.)

Calum thought that Ashton could sense how restless he was. Ashton seemed to find new reasons to work from home during the day so Calum wasn’t by himself. Not that they could really interact unless Ashton was in the kitchen. They’d tried using a pen and some paper once, but Calum’s ghostly abilities didn’t seem to extend to pens. He couldn’t seem to get the pressure right to actually leave ink on the paper. Ashton had laughed at him before being met with a cushion to the face. 

Calum missed being alive. He missed being able to go outside. He missed coffee. He missed being able to pet dogs.

Most of all, he was frustrated that he couldn’t remember how he’d even become a ghost. At night while Ashton was asleep, Calum tried to remember what had happened. (There wasn’t much else to do while your best friend was sleeping.) He’d get so far into the memory and then something would tug him back into the present moment. It was disconcerting. Calum could sense that he was close to finding out the truth, but something was stopping him. He’d tried to explain it to Ashton but ran out of letters and gave up. He’d debated asking the other man to buy more, but had resigned himself to the fact that it just wasn’t worth it. Ashton wasn’t going to be able to help him figure out what had happened - it was something he needed to figure out for himself.

– 

“Hey Cal, how do you feel about me throwing a Halloween party this year?”

Although Ashton couldn’t see him, he knew that Calum had raised an eyebrow at his question. 

It’s your house Ashton

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my resident ghost wasn’t inconvenienced.” Ashton smirked at his fridge as Calum spelt out a new message.

Appreciate it

Sure, have a party

Ashton cheered aloud and began reeling off his ideas to Calum, barely giving the ghost time to form a sentence. Calum shook his head fondly at the man standing opposite him - if Calum had been alive and met Ashton, he was sure that they’d have been best friends. When Ashton had finished speaking, Calum had one thing to say.

You already have a haunted house Ash

– 

The party had taken Ashton weeks of planning and he’d dragged Luke into the prep early on in the process. 

Calum liked having Luke around - he was fun to mess with. He’d taken to moving Luke’s glass from wherever he’d put it down and putting it on the other side of the room. Watching Luke’s bewilderment was a new favourite activity of Calum’s - Ashton had to keep taking the fall for his antics. 

As Halloween rolled around, Ashton’s house really did look haunted. Every room was shrouded in black and there were cobwebs all over the place. (Calum’s favourite thing was the skeleton hiding behind the downstairs closet door that jumped out whenever you walked past it.) According to Ashton, the outside looked just as scary as the inside, but Calum had to take his word for it. 

As people started arriving, Calum retreated into Ashton’s room. He didn’t usually go anywhere near the other man’s room, but Ashton had told him that it was okay if he needed to get away from all the people. Calum was worried about being walked through. Ashton had done it a few times by accident, and Calum had felt sick every time it had happened. That was something they were both eager to avoid, especially once Calum had explained to Ashton how it felt. 

A knock on Ashton’s bedroom door piqued Calum’s interest and Luke’s head appeared around the door frame.

“Ash, are you - oh. You’re not here.” Luke started to close the door but stopped suddenly, pushing it back open and slipping inside before closing it behind him. He glanced around a few times, gaze running over where Calum was sitting on the end of the bed. 

“This is going to sound crazy, but is there someone else in here?”

Calum cocked his head at Luke’s words; he knew that Ashton wasn’t particularly forthcoming with Luke about his existence. He shifted off the end of the bed, moving across the room to stand about a foot away from Luke. The blonde let out a breath as he felt the temperature in the room drop slightly.

“Calum, right?” Luke’s voice was quiet as he spoke, Calum smiling at the fact that Luke remembered his name. He picked up a pillow from Ashton’s bed in response, tossing it gently towards Luke. The other man caught it easily, eyes growing wide at the pillow that was suddenly in his arms.

“Holy shit, you are actually real.” 

Calum let out a laugh at Luke’s words, amazement etched into the blonde’s face. 

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.”

The blonde left the room, returning a few minutes later with an armful of stuff. He dropped it all on Ashton’s bed before turning around and facing the room. 

“So, um, I bought a small magnetic whiteboard and some of the letters from Ashton’s kitchen drawer and I was wondering if we could talk about something?”

Luke watched in shock as the letters began arranging themselves on the whiteboard.

Hi Luke

What’s up

Luke sucked in a breath before he started talking.

– 

Calum knew this was crazy. 

Luke was crazy.

Just because it was Halloween, it didn’t mean that Ashton would suddenly be able to see him. Calum had always thought the whole ‘veil being thinner on Halloween’ thing was bullshit. Luke was insistent that it wasn’t, telling him that if anyone would be able to see him it would be Ashton.

“He’s in love with you, I think.” 

The way Luke had said it had been so casual, but it sent Calum’s mind reeling. Ashton couldn’t possibly love him. He barely even knew him. Luke had dismissed Calum’s concerns before he’d even completed a sentence on the board. The more Calum thought about it, the more he was sure that he was the one in love with Ashton. He paused rearranging the letters for a moment as he stared at Luke. 

Think I love him too

Luke had lit up with a smile at Calum’s words before slipping out of the room to find Ashton. 

Calum was sure if he had any contents in his stomach, that they would be on their way out by now. He was so nervous. Luke was so sure that this would work, that Calum found himself believing the blonde man wholeheartedly. It felt like an eternity before Luke finally returned dragging Ashton behind him, along with another man that Calum had never seen before. 

“Calum, this is Michael. He’s my boyfriend and he’s also slightly psychic.”

Michael blushed a deep red at Luke’s words, scanning the room before he locked eyes with Calum. 

“Hello, Calum.” 

Calum waved gingerly at the green eyed man staring at him, Michael breaking out into a smile. He glanced at Luke and nodded slightly, the blonde smirking at Ashton. Ashton was standing behind Luke looking bewildered as he watched the exchange between his friends. 

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on? Luke, how did you find out about Calum?” 

Luke glanced over his shoulder at the brunette man and rolled his eyes. 

“Please, I don’t know why you thought no one would find the picture you’d taped to your desk drawer. Coupled with the fact that you kept blaming ‘Calum’ for things. You weren’t exactly subtle, Ash. I put two and two together and did a google search.”

Ashton’s jaw dropped open as Luke spoke, Calum snickering at his reaction. Michael smiled widely at Calum and turned to face Ashton. 

“You already know what Calum looks like, right?”

Ashton nodded slowly, fearful of where this was going.

“As we all know, the veil is thinner on Halloween, therefore allowing spirits to pass between the realms. I’ve never tried to bring an actual ghost through the veil, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” Michael rolled his shoulders as he spoke, turning back to face Calum. “Provided this goes right, we should all be able to see you. I mean, I already can. But Luke and Ashton too. Worst case scenario is that only I can see you, and this doesn’t work. You only live once though, right?” 

Calum rolled his eyes at Michael’s words, bracing himself for whatever the man was about to do. 

“Oh, wait.” Michael glanced at Ashton before looking back towards Calum, “Say something to me, Calum. I need to know if I can hear you already or not.”

Calum raised an eyebrow at Michael.

“You’re such a know-it-all, Michael.” 

Michael broke out into laughter, Luke and Ashton looking at him in confusion.

“This is gonna be fun, nice to meet you Calum.” Michael smirked at him before cracking his knuckles, “You’re gonna fit right in with us all, I’m sure of that.”

“Michael, what exactly are you going to do?” Ashton’s voice was nervous, he didn’t like the fact that Michael could see Calum when he couldn’t.

“We, my dear friends, are going to summon Calum firmly into the realm of the living.”

– 

Calum felt the air around him grow fuzzy as he watched the three figures sat on the floor in front of him. 

“Now Ashton, I need you to imagine Calum standing right in front of you. Really imagine it. See him in your mind’s eye. You got it? Good.” Michael looked away from Ashton and back towards Calum. “Cal, whenever you’re ready, I need you to come and stand in front of Ashton. I’m 80% sure that this is going to work. It depends how well Ashton is visualising.”

The brunette huffed in Michael’s direction and Calum smirked. 

“Is he always like this when I’m not around?”

Michael grinned at Calum before nodding and gesturing to the spot on the floor in front of Ashton. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Calum.”

– 

Holy shit

“Cal?” Ashton’s voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the man suddenly standing before him.

“Hi, Ash.” Calum blushed under the other man’s gaze, casting a look towards Luke and Michael who were both sat on the floor smirking.

Ashton blinked a few times before slowly standing up and reaching towards Calum. The other man grabbed his arm as he stood, helping to pull him off the floor. 

“How - how are you corporeal right now?” Ashton looked over at Michael who simply shrugged in return.

“You must be really good at visualising. It was only supposed to make Calum visible and hearable. Whether or not he was corporeal was out of my control.” Michael pulled Luke to his feet as he stood up, taking the blonde’s hand, “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go and make out with my boyfriend in Ashton’s spare room. Nice to meet you, Cal. I daresay we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future.” 

Michael dragged Luke from the room, the blonde waving absentmindedly at Ashton and Calum as they retreated, closing the door behind them. 

“It’s really you.” Ashton ran his hand up Calum’s arm. The other man was wearing the same clothes as in the photo Ashton had seen, Calum’s leather jacket feeling smooth against his fingers. 

“It’s really me, Ash.” Calum brought a hand up rest against the back of Ashton’ neck. “It’s so weird to be able to talk to you and for you to actually be able to hear me.”

Ashton laughed quietly at Calum’s words, leaning forwards to rest their foreheads together. 

“I can’t believe you’re really standing here and I can see you. Remind me to get Michael a case of beer or something.” 

“Noted.” Calum grabbed both of Ashton’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “I’ve thought about being able to touch you for so long.”

Ashton hummed quietly at the other man’s words, the realisation finally setting in.

Calum was here. He could see Calum. He could hear him. He could feel him. 

“Ash, I need to tell you something.” Calum nudged Ashton’s head up so they were eye to eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” 

Ashton smiled softly at the admission.

“Pretty sure I’m in love with you too, Cal. I mean, it’s kinda complicated because you’re a ghost and all, but I really do love you.”

Calum searched Ashton’s face for any sign of hesitancy before closing the distance between them. 

——————————————————————————

Notes: I deliberately left this open ended so I can come back to it in the future. I hope you like it, I’m really unsure about it 🥺 please let me know what you think here

Taglist: @pxrxmoore, @irwinkitten, @kindahoping4forever, @sadistmichael, @loveroflrh, @adoringlrh, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @maluminspace, @malumsmermaid, @lashtonswildflower, @irwindoll, @castaway-cashton, @everyscarisahealingplace, @converse-luke, @zhangyixingxing1, @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25

[ragnarachael]

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1,490

Summary: You didn’t need your famous celebrity boyfriend to spoil you all the time. Though, there are certainly times where you wish you weren’t so stubborn and stayed determined to keep your job in retail.

Author’s Ramblings: i’ve been doing a lot of writing rather than reading, idk if we could tell by the EVERYTHING about my blog lately. (also, i’ll be tagging my loki taglist here! if you don’t want to be tagged in hiddleston content i post on here, just message me!)

LOKI/HIDDLESTON TAGLIST: @myraiswack​ @bellesque​ (once again belle, sorry i forgot to tag u in my other loki things, consider this my apology letter to u)

MASTERLIST !    FEEDBACK !   AO3 LINK !

You didn’t plan on joining Tom for his nap. You really didn’t. But it was one of those rare days where you both were just out of energy, willing to let the exhaustion take over and sleep for an unspecified amount of time. 

And besides, Tom had an open schedule, and you finally had a handful of days off at your standard retail job. You weren't scheduled to work again until the end of the week. 

You carefully climbed into bed when you surrendered after weighing your pros and cons, still dressed in your pajamas from the morning when you woke up just like Tom. You eyed him carefully as you shimmied onto the mattress next to him as he was laying on his side. He was facing your designated side of the bed that you both shared with light snores while his arm that wasn’t under the pillow supporting his head was out and seemingly already reaching for you. 

What kind of girlfriend would you be to turn down such an invite?

Tom was a heavy sleeper when he wanted to be if he was overworked, and today was no exception. In a matter of minutes you had your face buried in his chest, his free arm wrapped around your waist loosely as you started to get comfortable with using him as your pillow for the most part. 

And within a few minutes, you were asleep. Warm, protected by your lover’s arm that was slowly starting to curl around your middle as his sleeping brain registered that you were finally in his grasp. It seemed like Tom was awake when that happened, but you knew he wasn’t due to the soft snores that were still being pulled from his throat. It was nice to know that even in his sleep he wanted you close as possible. 

You were asleep. Happy, almost clinging to Tom like a lifeline as you let yourself check out and relax. 

Until your phone started to ring about two hours later. 

At first, you didn’t know what the ringing was. You thought it was your alarm at first, but you stayed still until the irritating repetition of the tone completely pulled you from unconsciousness. It kicked your brain into high gear which caused you to jerk up suddenly only to realize it was your ringtone rather than your alarm tone. 

And there could only be one other contact that could break through your Do Not Disturb function other than Tom, who was now starting to show signs of waking up as well. 

You groaned and let your head fall back onto what you could only assume was Tom’s chest, tightening your grip on him instantly as you kept your eyes shut tight. You didn’t want to be awake right now. You wanted to stay in your dream, in comfort and keep relaxing and not worry about the work call you were getting. You just worked for almost a week straight, what the hell could they possibly want from you now?

Tom seemed to groan with you, both of his arms wrapping around you as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled loudly, curling your leg around his hips a bit more as if that would stop your phone from ringing. “I knew I should have shut the damn thing off.”

“Mm,” Tom hummed groggily as he breathed in before releasing that breath in a soft sigh. “‘S alright. D’you know what they want?”

You took a deep breath, slowly peeling yourself from the comfort of Tom’s chest, keeping your eyes closed so you didn’t lose any of the sleepiness you still felt. 

“Could be asking for me to pick up some shifts. Could be calling to say that I’m fired.”

“Oh, stop it,” Tom said breathlessly, chuckling as his hand found some of your smooth skin under the hem of your shirt that was riding up your stomach as you sat up in your weird position. 

You were almost sitting completely on top of him, you realized. 

“I’m not wrong.”

“You’re a damn good worker, darling. They wouldn’t fire you over a phone call.”

“You’d be surprised,” you mused, finally letting your hands move up to rub the sleep out of your eyes as the ringing finally came to an end. Both you and Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, the assault on your ears done for the time being. 

Tom’s hand took its time slowly trailing up and down the expanse of your bare back under your shirt as you tried to wake up enough to get the courage to look at your phone. 

“I don’t want to be awake,” you complained lightly, almost like a child. Your face was pulled into the pout and everything as you opened your eyes to match the look you were giving Tom. Yesterday’s shift was your final straw - you were tired, pissed off, and just wanted the few days you were given to relax at home with your boyfriend and not think about going back to work for a bit. Maybe take care of your neglected laundry.

Anything to avoid going out into the public eye for a few days.

“I know,” Tom replied gently, almost as if he was talking to one of his nieces—it was a gentle, kind voice. One that was designed to calm them down and not have them go into another tantrum. “I know. I wish we were still asleep too, love.”

You let another groan rip out of your throat as you decided to fall back on the bed dramatically, Tom’s hand being forcefully taken away from its spot under your sleep shirt. He let out a rough laugh before his hand found another spot on your thigh that was still over his hips. 

“You should see what they want. I don’t want you fired, even if I’m more than sure you don’t need to keep that job—“

“I’m not going to let you spoil me like that, Thomas.” You tried not to push your leg up into his touch. “I don’t need my celebrity boyfriend paying for everything. I can do it.”

“I’m just telling you the offer still stands,” Tom retaliated gently, finally starting to sit up now with a grunt. Your eyes were quick to find his bed head in the dimly lit room. You assumed from the sunlight that was barely filtering in from the window that it was about late afternoon. “Whenever you want it, it’s yours.”

You lifted your head up from the mattress slightly, trying not to seem phased by the fond, caring look he was giving you at the moment. 

“Can I have a kiss?” You questioned suddenly, brushing off the previous topic completely. Your sleep riddled brain did nothing to hide your sudden needs for Tom, as per usual.

“When you’ve looked at your phone, certainly.”

“You truly hate me,” you whined, pulling your thigh from his hand before slowly rolling over onto your stomach to drag yourself up the mattress to grab at your phone on the nightstand.

Tom’s laughter continued to make you feel warm and tingly all over, all while you heard a soft thud as your fingers finally curled over the plastic edge of your phone case. You realized that Tom probably decided to lay back on the bed. You wouldn’t blame him. You’re not ready to leave this mattress at any cost. 

Once your phone was in your hand, you were quick to unlock it and go to your phone widget to see the voicemail in your inbox that was left. Tom watched you with his arms placed behind his head lazily as you pressed your phone to your ear, shifting around on the bed so you had your phone propped up with the pillow against the side of your head rather than hold it with your hand.

“Just as I thought,” you mumbled as you listened to the audio. “They want me to pick up a shift either tonight or tomorrow night.”

Tom didn’t hold back his groan of irritation as you pulled your phone away from your ear to lock it and toss it face down onto the bed.

“They just had you work five days straight! You’re part-time, the last time I checked.” 

“I’m aware,” you sighed, rubbing one of your eyes again as you rolled over and into Tom’s side to place your head on his chest again. “It’s a closing shift though. It should be fine. I’ll have to call back and tell them I’ll take it.”

“You know you don’t have to—“

“I know, I know,” you chastised. “Extra money in the paycheck. I want to see if I can break into the next hundreds with this one.”

Tom snorted as he extended an arm to wrap around your shoulders. “Need I mention the offer again?”

“No, Thomas. Now cuddle me before I call my manager back.”

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Kismet; Lacuna Fandom: Dishonored Chapters: I | II Characters: Billie Lurk, Daud, Thomas, Corvo Attano, Pieor Joplin Tags: Time Travel, unspecified throat injury, temporarily mute character, Post Death of the Outsider, WIP, AU, Present Dishonored, discussions of void powers Summary: He felt twisted sick, the air refused to stay in his lungs and his throat burned fiercely. He couldn’t speak when for so long all he had were his words. He couldn’t feel aside from cold familiarity that had been his life for so long…and his name–he knew it, it was there in the tip of his tongue, on the edge of his thoughts, and yet it was gone again. Taken from him. Stolen, yet not. The Void churned within him, but it was wrong. He hadn’t felt like this in two years. He hadn’t–this was all wrong. The Outsider was dead; he wasn’t the Outsider anymore. Wasn’t he?

Billie Lurk wakes up on her bed in the old Commerce Building ten days before her exile from the Whalers. She has a void eye and a void arm that only she can see, memories of events that haven’t happened, powers she can’t explain, and a connection to a boy who had once been an Eldritch whale deity whose name she knew but cannot speak, cannot think. Something had gone horribly wrong and the path of destiny irrevocably changed.

Thomas pulled Daud aside; Billie had been under Fisher's care for a few hours now and the man couldn't focus on the reports that a few of the Whaler's had brought in for the life of him. Thomas could understand it--Billie wasn't like herself at all, earlier. She'd woken late, which was unusual but could've been chalked up to having overworked herself the night before on some errand as Daud's second. No, the real kicker had been what she did, the words she said and didn't say--the way her magic felt so very off and different. It tasted more like stagnant water in the air, a salted sea gone sour with rot, instead of the sharp electric tang of Daud's Arcane Bond.

{she'd looked at him, said 'Thomas?' with such clear confusion, face twisted into a thousand little emotions and so bare that it shook him--she was never so easy to read; she was an unattainable goal of perfect professionalism mixed with snark and sass and not this)

"That wasn't Billie," Thomas said simply, mask off even though they were in the middle of Daud's study, even though the rules were clear for everyone. Thomas scrubbed a hand through his hair, then over the faint stubble on his face. Daud didn't look at him, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the broken window into the ruins of Rudshore. He didn't say anything, left Thomas to scramble for his words and explain. The silence was expectant.

Thomas' hands curled into fists. He said a short, "Daud--"

Daud breathed out slowly, head bowed down. "I would argue," the man said, voice gravel soft, "that that was more Billie than she's been in a long while."

The words drew Thomas up short; enough that his hands unclenched and he took a surprised step back. "What?"

Daud turned and looked him over, eyed Thomas up and down, and then turned back toward the window. He said a short, "What did you see." It wasn't a question, more of a demand for Thomas to explain his thoughts and it brought Thomas up short suddenly. How does he put into words how Billie acted that made him so assured something was wrong? Thomas went over the morning in his mind eye, the way Billie sat up bleary eyed so late in the day, her hair messed with sleep, bags under her eyes.

The way Billie's right eye drifted, ever so slightly from her left. How her right arm moved sharper than he was used to. The way she'd looked at him so unmasked, a thousand thoughts and a thousand regrets across her face in an instant. Thomas struggled to put into words what he saw, as Billie lifted her right arm and pressed it against her right eye and tilted her head back. The way she went suddenly stiff for all of a half second, and then settled back down into her skin. How she repeated the movement a moment later, incomprehensible, and then how the void just--took her.

Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it again. The transversal was odd; Billie hadn't vanished into smoke and void ash, like burnt papers in the wind as they normally did. Instead rock and stone wrapped around her form, twisted about her, then dropped to the ground and Billie was gone. Thomas couldn't put into words the sudden panic that had gripped him--how terrified he was at the strange transversal and the thought of an intruder in Rudshore, wearing the face of Billie who was so trusted that Daud named her Second that--Thomas caught himself from his spiraling thoughts and looked to Daud.

"She was expressive," Thomas said, words clipped with near uncertainty. "She was tired. She looked exhausted, worn down, off. Her words had more--gentleness. Softer." Thomas paced. "Then she--she reached up to her face and tilted her head back. It was--Void it was strange, Daud. Like she--she was elsewhere for half-a-second and then back. She did this twice and after the second time she slipped into a transversal but it was--it was wrong."

"Wrong in what way," Daud's words were quiet, contemplative.

"It wasn't void ash and smoke," Thomas stuttered over the words. "It wasn't--it was like stone, black as night, sharp as a blade. It--twisted around her. Dropped to the floor heavy. Then...melted into shadow. She was gone by that point."

Daud hummed, then said quieter, "Not every transversal is the same," which brought Thomas up short. Daud traced a finger along the wood of the window, continued his words, "You have the ability to transverse through me--through the Arcane Bond." Daud gestured toward his left hand. "You share in my transversal." Daud looked to him then. "You've seen Attano?"

Thomas paused, then said slowly, "Yes?" He'd been part of a squad that had been out on the rooftops, keeping an eye out for Attano in Bottle Street over a week back. They'd caught sight of the man only after he knocked out two other Whaler's, oddly gentle against them given he had to have recognized the masks, had to have realized who they were.

"What was his transversal like, Thomas?" Daud asked, and it drew Thomas up short.

What was Attano's transversal like? Thomas had seen it; he had clocked it as weird at the time, but brushed it aside and now he couldn't quite realize as to why. Thomas brought his hand to his chin. He had to think about it--the way the light refracted by Attano slipped into that liminal space. The Whaler's vanished into ash and smoke and burnt papers of void shadow; Attano just--winked out of existence and appeared elsewhere, light bent around him void-dark and then he was just gone into smoke. There was a trail, but faint and it faded fast enough that you had to look to see it; dispersed away into air like smoke and light puffed from the end of a cigar.

Thomas said as much as he could, confusion coloring his tone as he spoke his thoughts aloud, and Daud nodded his head.

"It is different for each Marked," Daud said, eyeing his hand disinterestedly. "Whether the black eyed bastard chooses what to give us, or if it's defined by something else, I haven't got a clue. But it is different."

Thomas pressed his lips together, but nodded slowly even as he said a short, "Like how Aelolos can duplicate."

"Or Rinaldo can tether, or Finch can bend time," Daud nodded.

Thomas frowned. "But you can't duplicate," he pointed out. "Yet we--share your transversal?" Daud shrugged, and Thomas realized that this was something Daud didn't even know. How could those who did manifest such different secondary abilities, ones that even Daud didn't have, yet they all share the same transversal, the same inexorable link to the man who had given them this gift?

For a moment Thomas didn't speak, then shook his head sharply. "Are you saying you think the Outsider Marked her?" Thomas bit his lip.

"You are the one who said she was trancing," Daud replied, voice almost too quiet to hear.

"It was--" Thomas paused, then sighed heavily. "It was similar to how you get when he bothers to talk to you." He could see the way Daud's lips quirked up, the slightly bitter slant to them. "You think He Marked her."

"It is possible," Daud said, words even. "You said she woke late?" He turned to look at Thomas, who nodded slowly. "It might be His doing, then."

"But...why?" Thomas asked, confused, hurt. The Outsider decided to Mark Billie, decided to gift Billie with new fantastical powers--but not anyone else? Why Billie specifically? After being so silent to Daud all these years, then coming back only after the hell they'd created for themselves by assassinating an Empress, coming back when Attano had escaped, coming back to give Daud a name and nothing else. "What sick game is He playing?" the words came out rough, almost grief-stricken.

"Who knows at this point?" Daud said back, purposefully blank in his tone. Thomas knew it hurt; knew Daud would look at Billie and feel a sting of betrayal. Billie was Daud's, Billie was the Whaler's, and while they were all through Daud the Outsider's he didn't just get to take one of theirs so easily! "What's done is done. The rest is Void."

Thomas clenched his hands into fists. He ground his teeth together and bowed his head. He felt a sharp sting of bitterness and rage swell in his chest that he worked to stamp out. He wondered if this meant Billie would leave them. He thought to the way she looked, how the emotions--grief, love, sorrow, hurt--flashed across her face and Thomas had to turn away from the window and away from Daud.

"I want you to keep an eye on her," Daud said, suddenly, and Thomas jerked back. He opened his mouth and then closed it when Daud looked at him, eyes hard as steel. "Watch her, see what she does. No more solo assignments for information. You keep an eye on her back and her blade."

Thomas swallowed; Daud stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, face gentling for a moment.

"This can go one of two ways, Thomas," Daud said. "I want to make sure it doesn't bite us in the ass."

A moment, then a nod, and then Thomas transversed away.

Billie stretched as she finally escaped Fisher's clutches, rotated her right arm and sighed tiredly as she dug through her meagre belongings in her space. Blackened, void fingers rested against her red coat, folded up with the Whaler mask settled atop it. After everything that happened in Dunwall originally when Billie fled, she'd buried the coat and mask in the bottom of what little possessions that she had. She kept them for mere sentimental value, but she dared not don them. It felt strange to be in front of them now after everything and to look at them as more than mere relics of her past. These were part of her present now.

Behind her Billie could hear the sound of a transversal--the soft thwip-like sound that indicated a Whaler had moved between the realms, stepped into the void and back out again in the span of half a second. She didn't tense, didn't even turn around because she had a fair good idea who it was that stood here.

"Thomas," Billie said as she picked up the mask to set it aside so she can dress in her jacket. She'd felt so proud when Daud gave her the red coat. Later she found she couldn't stand the color, not for fifteen years as she lived as Megan Foster. Red made her sick then; even now she felt a vague sense of unease with the color, despite having taken on a sleeker form of the coat after she'd dropped Emily off in Dunwall.

"Billie," Thomas said, and Billie glanced to him. She was surprised to see he still didn't have his mask on; it was hooked to his belt as he watched her, hands behind his back. "Fisher finished with you then?" He offered her a faint grin, part of that old teasing moment.

Billie huffed and hooked her own mask to her belt before she began to work through her weapons. "Yeah. Clean bill of health." She didn't mention the way Fisher frowned as he checked her eyes, or her involuntary responses. She knew something was up with her right side--had known ever since the nightmares started after Stilton Manor. The Outsider's 'gift' of void artifacts to replace them had only made it more apparent that something had happened to them, although Billie never did get an answer as to what. Now that she was here, younger and yet not, she wasn't surprised to have some lingering side effects.

Fuck, it hit Billie then and she scrubbed a hand over her face, was she a walking fucking hollow? Billie fought back a shudder and resolved to look at herself deeply with the eye later. Not when Thomas was in her room, looking at her with all the professionalism he wore about himself like a cloak. In fact--Billie turned to look at Thomas with her lips pulled down into a thoughtful frown. Thomas had been one of the few people from her days as a Whaler that hadn't treated her with complete coldness. He'd cared after everything, despite everything, and Billie had kept her ear to the ground about the fate of her mess of misfits. She knew for a long while Thomas had tried to keep the Whaler's together, after Daud decided to fuck off to who knows where.

"Thomas," Billie said, decision made, "your with me."

Thomas seemed to start or a moment; his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open before that mask of professionalism crossed his face again and made it bland, yet pleasant.

"For what?" Thomas asked lightly as Billie turned back to arming herself.

"I'm surveilling the Timsh Estate," Billie pointed out. She was Daud's forward scout, his first contact in matters that he took personal interest. Billie was the one who got him the majority of his information. She ground her teeth in the reminder that it was that job of hers that put her in Delilah's path in the first place.

"Oh, right," Thomas shook his head as if he'd forgotten. Billie quirked her lips. "Why do you need me?"

Billie looked at her wristbow. She wondered what she could say to convince him, then just shook her head. "Back up. Just in case." She'd tell him more when they were out of Rudshore. Thomas deserved that much--and maybe, if she got him on board, she could mitigate her own fucking mistakes. If she could limit Delilah's actions somehow against the Whaler's, manipulate the woman enough that she wasn't aware of how Billie planned to betray her and yet somehow come out of this without getting Daud to knife her again--well, it'd be good preparation for Thomas to take over her position. Better than being suddenly thrust into it after her betrayal at least.

Maybe Daud would even stay this time. Wasn't that a thought? Daud keeping the Whaler's together, instead of them drifting apart until they weren't a family anymore. Billie didn't doubt that she would leave; she couldn't stay here, with them. Not with--not when that tie between her and the former Outsider burned sick in her gut. She couldn't imagine leaving the kid in that hell hole again, to rot away asleep to the world at large, petrified in stone for four thousand years--no. Billie wouldn't stay here after everything was done. After Delilah was dealt with she'd take her leave, find out where the fucking knife was, and cut a bloody swath through those fucked up cultists until she could get to him in the ritual hold.

(it was in Tyvia, wasn't it? hadn't that been what the Eyeless implied? so Tyvia then Karnaca....)

There had to be some poor dead sap in the void that could be convinced to whisper his name, after all. Billie didn't want it to be Daud again, didn't want to wait the fifteen years for it to be Daud again. She couldn't live through it a second time, and fuck it if turned the whole world into a hollow. It couldn't be worse than what they were dealing with before she woke up here.

With that thought in her mind Billie tugged on her Whaler's mask and looked to Thomas, left brow raised behind the mask. "Well?" she asked, voice tinny through the filters.

Thomas' lips quirked up and he tugged his own mask off his belt and slipped it on. He gestured to Billie, said a short, "Lead the way," and Billie grinned.

"Catch me if you can," Billie teased, cast her gaze for a space to transverse to, and disappeared in a flicker of void stone and water.

Corvo snorted awake, blinked his eyes and stared at the cot and the unfamiliar ceiling. It took him some time to place the sight of Piero's workshop. He didn't remember drifting off, but apparently at some point he'd landed on Piero's cot in the workshop and off into the realm of dreams. Corvo looked around, tried to spot Piero and the--the boy. He couldn't see anything on the upper floor, so he rolled off the cot and stretched with a grimace. HIs muscles protested, the still healing injures and scars from his time in Coldridge tugged irritatingly along his torso. He rubbed a hand along the stubble on his face and started his way down the stairs.

"Oh, Corvo." Corvo paused in the middle landing and blinked at Piero who had begun his way up. The inventor looked dead on his feet, and he swayed the faintest bit. Corvo wondered how to get across his question without a means to, but then Piero continued in a hushed voice. "I've done what I can for your guest, but Corvo...he's not in a good way."

With a gesture Corvo motioned to his neck, face pulled into a grimace, and Piero shook his head. "No, no that I've stabilized. The cut was deep but it missed the vital vessels in the neck," Piero said shortly. "I've sutured what I could but I'm not a physician, Corvo." Piero scrubbed his hand down his face. "Give me a good technical system any day, but people? I can't fix people, Corvo."

Corvo nodded, slowly. He knew as much even when he brought the--the boy here. Piero gestured toward the stairs, and quickly Corvo shifted aside to allow the inventor to head up. He followed after with heavy steps.

"It took me most of the rest of the night to stabilize him," Piero said, words short. "You passed out about halfway through. It's midday now." Corvo tilted his head, lips pressed together. "If you really want to help him we're going to need help. Are you sure you don't want to tell Havelock--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, and Piero raised his hands in understanding quickly.

A part of Corvo wondered if Piero recognized the face. He'd read through Piero's journal--he knew that the slighter man had seen the Void. He knew the Outsider whispered in Piero's ear. Had Piero seen his face? Actually talked with him? Corvo couldn't ask, and he hadn't seen the God in his sleep this night. He wondered if he would see him, given the very human shape of that same God rested downstairs.

"I get it," Piero said into the silence, words bitter on his tongue. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot on his desk as Corvo followed him silently. "Then I have a request of you, my friend." Piero took a sip of the liquid and Corvo watched, silently. "I need Sokolov."

Sokolov? Corvo cocked his head, lips pressed together. He knw Sokolov. The Tyvian was the Royal Physician after all; did good work, really, when he could be bothered to. Jessamine had him working on the Rat Plague before her death, but Corvo didn't know what happened after. He hadn't seen Sokolov since before his travel to the other Isles on behalf of Jessamine.

"The...others have been talking," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "I can't do much more for the Loyalists as I am. Sokolov is the only one who can really--the protections he's given the Lord Regent..." Piero sighed heavily. "I've done what I can without help. I'm not good enough." His hand tightened on his cup as he said the words, lips ground together. He relaxed his grip a second later. "I have no doubt they're going to ask you to retrieve him."

Corvo didn't hum--he didn't want to deal with the pain in his throat right now, although it was a close thing--instead he turned his head to the side and tapped his fingers against the edge of his pantleg while he thought. Sokolov would definitely be helpful--he could give Corvo an edge around the defensive technology Barrow's had applied liberally throughout the city. If he was in good standing with Barrows too--and given his genius Corvo didn't doubt Barrows kept Sokolov in good standing despite how Corvo wished Sokolov faced hardships like the rest of him--Sokolov could be a unique advantage.

Emily liked the man, too, for all of his annoyances. Corvo breathed out heavily.

"Knowing Havelock though they won't ask you to be gentle," Piero said, a grimace on his face. "And if you are determined to keep him secret--" Corvo made a sharp gesture, head instantly snapped back to Piero who made a placating gesture immediately. "I know, I know. But if you want to keep him secret then you need to be gentle, for all that Sokolov doesn't deserve it." Piero took another sip of his drink.

Corvo frowned, but nodded. He leaned over Piero's desk and dug around until he found a map of Dunwall the inventor had stashed away. After a second he laid the map out and made a short gesture to it, brow eyes narrowed intensely. Piero shot him a bitter sort of grin as he looked over the map.

"I thought I heard them talking," he said, voice soft and conspiratorial, "about Sokolov being holed up on the Kaldwin Bridge." Piero tapped the area on the map and then pushed up his glasses. "I know it'd be easier at night but do you think you--?"

Corvo huffed, but nodded. He traced his finger along the sweep of the Wrenhaven and then glanced back to Piero. It was the best he could get out to ask about the route, and it took Piero a moment to parse the unspoken question, but Piero jolted.

"Oh, yeah, Sam should be good to get you there," Piero nodded. "I hope you don't mind but I asked him earlier while you were resting. It's about...midday now." Corvo frowned. "I had gathered you wouldn't want to leave your guest in dire straights for too long. Given his--well, given everything. I know my strengths Corvo, and this? This isn't it."

Corvo ducked his head, then nodded once and turned to leave. While he disliked having the decisions made for him, Corvo knew in this instance that Piero was right. He wouldn't want to wait, or have to hunt down Samuel for a trip to the Bridge. Knowing where he needed to go, knowing that Samuel was already on board, was one worry to take away from his chest.

"I--I'll just keep watch of him then," Piero said to Corvo's retreating back, and Corvo gave a short wave of acknowledgement, already focused on how he was going to convince the Tyvian Menace of Natural Philosophy to follow him back from whatever cushy position Barrows and dropped the bastard into.

[sentient-stove]

Crashing Down.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, c!Thomas Sanders (mentioned), Virgil, Roman, Patton, Remus, Janus, Nico Flores.

Relationships: c!Thomas/Nico, Logan/Nico, Logan&Virgil, Platonic DRLAMP, Roman/Patton

Additional tags: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (x2), Angst with a happy ending, Sad Logan hours, Homophobia, Protests.

Summary: What if gay marriage was made illegal again? What if you never got the chance to tell the person that you loved that you loved them? What if they were torn from you?

Notes: Hey, gay marriage is actually super close to becoming illegal again in the United States, so catch me being killed because people hate me for who I am. This is a very sad story, but it has a happy ending. enjoy.

AO3

Virgil can’t breathe.  There’s a knee pressing into his neck and as he chokes, the leering face of the man looms over him.

God, he doesn’t want this to be the last thing he sees, but his vision is swimming and the way that stars are dancing in his vision reminds him of Logan…

The darkness wins.

…

Logan is at work when he gets the call.

Logan is twenty five when he loses his best friend at a protest.

Logan is twenty five when the world comes crashing down.

It had been something that Virgil had offhandedly brought up that morning, when the two were in bed, using each other as radiators so that they didn’t have to pay for heating.  A protest that someone had organized that was directly fighting against the ban on gay marriage that had been reinstated after only being legal for five years.  He understood where the anger came from and he promised to meet Virgil there after work.

It never happened.

Instead Logan was asked to identify a body in a morgue.  Virgil looked like shit as a dead man, the dark circles under his eyes matching in a horrible way with the strangulation marks on his neck.

He didn’t cry.  Not until he was knocking on his brother’s door, falling into the arms of Patton and sobbing as his older brother easily lifted him and carried him to the couch.  Logan lets himself be hugged, even if it isn’t what he wants, it’s what he needs in the moment, someone to hug him and whisper lies that everything will be okay.

But it’s not.  Patton can’t marry his husband, (they were married but it was nullified after gay marriage was banned), and Logan is alone.

Gosh, it’s only been seven hours and he misses Virgil more than anything.  Roman came in sometime during the crying fest and joined the pile, simply giving Logan a knowing look.

The protest wasn’t supposed to get violent.  That man wasn’t supposed to try to kill that girl and Virgil wasn’t supposed to push him away, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle.

According to the people that managed to pull the guy off of Virgil, his best friend’s last words were along the lines of telling the dude to fuck himself with a hot iron.

It’s fitting.

…

Would it be lying to say that it snowed the day of the funeral?  Janus looked up at the sleet that was coming down, tilting his umbrella back just enough to catch some in his face.

His brother had always wanted to be cremated and then scattered in a Walmart parking lot at the witching hour, and so here they are at three am, scattering ashes like how Virgil wanted.  Twins were weird that way.  Janus never felt like they were related, but Virgil had always loved the strange and obscure, almost the exact opposite of himself.

Logan hasn’t said a word for a week and it scares Janus.  He knew that the pair were close, but this was concerning.

The ashes blend well with the sleet, disappearing as each take a turn to scatter some.  Janus saved the last bit, and the others pretended not to notice.

…

Patton finds the journal when they’re cleaning out the small apartment that Logan used to share with Virgil.

It’s tucked under the floorboards, it’s really a miracle that he stumbled on it and when he opens it, he can see Virgil’s beautiful cursive filling every page.

Who knew the emo could write so pretty?  The journal itself is not that old, the first date from less than six months ago.  Each page has a snippet from his life and it’s the words on the last page that prompt Patton to fresh tears.

I think I’ll tell Logan tomorrow.  Ask him if maybe… after all this is over, maybe he’ll go out on a date with me?

The entry was three days before he died.

Patton doesn’t show Logan the journal when his brother comes back into the room to carry out a box.  The timing isn’t right and Logan is still fragile, barely eating, barely speaking.

…

Roman sat across from the man who did it, the man who’s now in cuffs, blank stare boring into his soul.

“Why?” “He was in the way.”

Roman refrains from showing any emotion, although if there wasn’t a pane of glass between them, he’d beat the man until he was black and blue for what he did.

“Do you regret it.”

“Yes.”

“But not for the reasons you should.”

…

It’s Remus who finds Logan one night.  Both of them are on the wrong side of the bridge railing, tempting fate.

“I miss him.”  Logan admits softly.  Remus doesn’t blame him.  It’s been three months since the funeral and so much has changed.  Roman and Patton are married again, Janus disappeared to Italy and has yet to send out another text confirming if he’s alive and Remus?

He finds Logan.  He takes Logan home and helps him eat, helps him stay alive as the world tunnels for the nerd.

He misses Virgil.

But he moves on.  Remus doesn’t dwell on things for long, it’s part of the reason why Virgil called him heartless as a joke.  It rings false, they both knew it.

Logan was his first friend.  They had met in high school, back before Virgil was in the picture.  Logan had found Remus on a bridge like this.  He’d sat down and coaxed Remus back over the right edge, concern lacing his voice as he talked him through his intrusive thoughts.  Logan had later met Virgil and the three became unstoppable senior year of high school.

  Remus knows that Logan misses that feeling.

Because he does too.

…

Logan is under his covers when the package arrives, addressed to him in flowing cursive.

It’s Virgil’s handwriting, he’s seen it enough times on the grocery lists that they put together.

It’s a simple bracelet.

Logan didn’t realize that it was Valentine’s day until almost a week later, when he went to the post office to mail a letter and the mailperson processing the letter asked if he got the package okay.

Apparently Virgil had set up the package almost a year in advance, hoping to have forgotten by the time Valentine’s rolled around so his friend could have a surprise.

Logan went home and sobbed for an hour after.

…

Janus returns, a new scar cutting across his cheek and a tattoo on the back of his neck that is a simple padlock with a lightning bolt on it.

He brings with him a delicate glass blown pendant.  The glass was mixed with the leftover of Virgil’s ashes and he gave it to Logan.

It rests against Logan’s heartbeat and he pretends to be okay even though everything is crashing down.

…

Virgil’s murderer is released from prison.  He later kills another gay man at a protest and is given the death penalty.

It’s too merciful. 

…

Logan turns twenty six.  He doesn’t celebrate.

…

Patton gives Logan the journal one day, on a whim when Logan asks if he can help with cooking the anniversary dinner for when Roman and Patton got remarried.

…

Logan is twenty seven when he meets Nico in a mall.  They ran into each other- literally and at a later time, he finds out that Nico lost someone too.

Virgil and Thomas.

It’s strange how you lose the ones you love the most.

Together, they pick up the broken pieces and struggle forward.

…

Logan is thirty when he becomes Logan Flores.

Later, after the wedding reception, he’ll hold his husband close and promise, no, vow to always be there for him.

They fall asleep tangled together and everything seems to click back into place.  For Logan, he still feels like a vase that's been shattered at a teenager's party, but he's slowing fixing himself, slowly getting better.

…

Sometimes you lose your first love.

Sometimes it snows and you think of them.  

Sometimes you pretend that it's okay.

Sometimes everything comes crashing down.

Sometimes it gets fixed.

This is one of those times.

[kaitycole]

Shoulders Heavy with Guilt

This picks up after Broken Wooden Fence Posts, basically what Drake was doing as Riley spoke to Jackson.

Summary: Drake finally calls Liam

Word Count: 2717

Pairing (for this piece): Riley x Drake

Warnings: Mentions of a hangover and premarital sex. Pretty bland this time.

Part 8 of WP. To catch up read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore  @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways  @bobasheebaby  @bascmve01  @burnsoslow  @the-everlasting-dream  @ao719  @sirbeepsalot  @janezillow  @i-bloody-love-drake-walker  @kimmiedoo5  @choices97 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite  @lodberg @edgiestwinter @marshmallowsandfire 

*I don’t own the characters, just borrowing them*

A/N: I do not condone the behavior of these characters. Yes, I am writing it, but that doesn’t mean I support their shitty behavior and poor choices. Just FYI. 

THUMP

A slightly hungover Drake falls off the couch after rolling too far to the right. Sitting up, he rubs his forehead and blinks before fully waking up. He checks the clock: 11:30AM, before heading into the bathroom to shower.

“Riley?” He calls out when as he dries his head with one towel while another is tied around his waist, “Ri?”

Where the hell is she?

He begins to walk around the house; checking in the nursery, office and out on the back porch but he can’t find his wife. It’s not until he gets into the kitchen that he finds a note stuck to the fridge door.

Meeting with Lynn to go shopping for the baby. Might be out late. – Riley

He’s a little confused on why she didn’t just wake him up and tell him. But he puts little to no more thought on the subject. Riley was strong and independent, so he wasn’t too concerned. Plus, he couldn’t blame her if she needed space from how he’d been acting the last few weeks.

Speaking of, there was someone that he needed to call, no matter how late it was there.

**

Rubbing his eyes, Liam notices that it’s close to 10PM and he’s still working on this trade deal. He told himself that he would attempt not to stress himself gray until after he found a wife; didn’t look like he’d keep that promise. Just as he gets ready to turn his attention back to the paperwork, his personal cellphone begins to ring.

“Drake?” He tries to hold back a yawn, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I know it’s late, but it’s been a while.” Drake lies, he knows that he should just tell Liam, but he’s not sure what mood Liam’s in or how to approach the topic.

He looks back at the paperwork, surely it could wait another day. Drake was right, the two haven’t really spoken in a bit.

“How are things? How’s Riley?” Liam asks, he pushes himself from the desk and begins walking through the room.

“Things are well and so is Riley. However, I wish she’d pick a paint color for the nursery.”

Liam laughs, “Her indecisiveness can definitely keep you on your toes. I’ll stick to trade deals.”

“Does that mean no royal babies are in the works?”

“I’d need a wife for that and I barely leave my office as it is. So, no. You and the rest of Cordonia are just going to have to wait a while.”

Drake chuckles, “I said baby, nothing about a wife.”

“Drake!” Liam laughs again, “The court always said you were a bad influence.”

He seems to be in a good mood, maybe now is the time?

“Yeah yeah yeah, but hey,” he pauses, “I need to tell you something.”

Liam immediately notices the dramatic change in Drake’s tone. It’s rare that Drake said or sounded as serious as he did in that moment, “I’m listening.”

Drake still wasn’t sure how to tell him and he knew that he should’ve told Liam as soon as he saw Jackson. That it was Liam he should’ve called for guidance instead of Leo, but he didn’t. At first, he felt ashamed that after all these years, his dad could be alive and maybe wasn’t the hero he grew to think he was. Then it became guilt, that he enjoyed the time with Jackson and that made him feel like he was somehow betraying Liam. There wasn’t anything the two had ever kept from each other and here Drake was with the bombshell of a century.

“I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” He pauses, hoping for the universe to do something to prevent this, but nothing happens, “My dad is alive.”

It’s a few moments before Liam responds, “Forgive me, I haven’t had much sleep, it sounded like you said your father was alive.”

“That’s exactly what I said, Liam.” He takes a deep breath, “Jackson Walker, my dad, he’s alive, Liam.”

“That’s impossible. I was there when you buried him. I went to the gravesite with you.”

“I know that, but you have to believe me. He’s alive,” Drake feels a weight lift from his chest, “And it even seems that we have a younger brother.”

Liam’s world stops. Flashes of Jackson and his mother’s funerals resurface, “Who? You and Savannah?”

“And you.”

If it wasn’t for the wall he was leaning against, he would’ve fallen to the ground. There was no way. Jackson Walker wasn’t his father, how could he have another brother? He was Constantine Rys’ son whether he liked it not half the time.

Drake’s too relieved to have the guilt off his shoulders that he doesn’t hear the change in Liam’s tone. He doesn’t pick up on the fact that everything Liam’s believed in, has completely been turned upside down, “His name is Luke Rys Walker and man, Liam, he looks just like you.”

“Rys? You’ve seen my mother?” Liam can tell Drake is talking, but the sound of his heart thumping in his ears makes it hard to make anything out. His mother was dead. He buried her. He grieved her. There was no way that she was alive out there, right? She wouldn’t have left him for Jackson Walker, right?

“Not in person, but there’s pictures of her.” He leaves out the part where Jackson had told him that it’d just been him and Luke for a while. Drake never asked for more information and he didn’t want to tell Liam something he wasn’t sure of.

“I…I have to go.” Liam ends the call without letting him respond. He calls for Bastien immediately, fills him in and sends him away to gather everything he can about Eleanor Rys and Jackson Walker.

Drake looks down at his phone to see the call was ended before he heads back inside the house. He felt with all things considered, Liam took it well, but he was still going to give him time. Hell, he’d known for almost two months and he was still trying to wrap his head around everything.

**

He walks into the nursery and shakes his head, he wants to get started on painting and laying down the hardwood, but he refuses to paint it before he has Riley’s seal of approval. He wasn’t painting this room more than once and that’s exactly what would happen if he painted the original light gray they decided on.

**

Drake checks his phone and sees it’s close to 6PM and he’s yet to hear from his wife. It was rare that she’d be out this late, especially when she was adamant about dinner being at 5:30PM.

Within a few minutes, the phone is to his ear, ringing.

“Hey honey.”

“Are you okay? It’s getting late.” Drake asks, walking into the kitchen.

“Yes, I’m okay. Just got hung up with Lynn.”

Opening the fridge, he looks for something to cook, “Did you two find anything for the nursery? I was in there today, it’s a bit bare.”

“No, I didn’t find anything while shopping.”

“Oh, there’s always next time. I’m thinking of making spaghetti, when will you be here?”

“I’ll be home soon. Say thirty minutes?”

“I’ll see you then. I love—” Drake hears the beeping from the call ending before he finishes.

I wonder why she’s acting so weird today. Pregnancy, I guess.

**

“Drake! I’m home.” Riley says, closing the door behind here and hanging up her purse. She can smell the sauce from the doorway and realizes how hungry she is.

“Hey,” he kisses her forehead, “Did you have a good time with Lynn?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah I did.” Grabbing a glass, she fills it with water before taking a sip, “What were you up to?”

“Oh, I was going to paint the nursery,” he playfully cuts his eyes at her, “but I just called Liam instead.”

“How is he?” Riley feels like she’s about to burst. In their relationship, she’s never lied to him. A few small white lies about birthday and Christmas gifts, but never about something this big. She felt like a fraud.

“Good. No sign of our little having a cousin anytime soon though.”

“Drake Thomas, you did not ask him about that!?” She playfully hits him with the oven mitt.

“I surely did.” He stirs the hamburger into the sauce, “I don’t want our kids to be ten years apart!”

Riley rolls her eyes, “I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten at least engaged. It’s been, what, two years since the social season? Almost three?”

Drake shrugs, “He says he doesn’t leave his office enough to even look.”

“I mean, there were other women at the social season that he wouldn’t have to leave his office to meet.”

Drake raises his brow at his wife, “Such as?”

“Olivia.” She smirks.

“He,” Drake starts before Riley finishes.

“Sees her as a friend. Yeah yeah, I’ve heard that before. But something’s gonna happen where he stops seeing her that way. Bet.”

Drake shakes his head, “Come get a plate, Cupid.”

**

Drake flops down on the couch next to Riley after he’s finished cleaning the kitchen. She’s absentmindedly flipping through channels that he didn’t even realize they paid for.

“Earth to Ri? You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah,” She chews her lips, “Well no.”

“What’s wrong?” He springs into worry mode.

“Calm down, it’s not that serious.” She grabs his hands, “I wasn’t with Lynn today.”

“Oh? Then where were you?”

She bites her lip even harder, worried, “I went to see Jackson.”

“Jackson who?”

“Your dad.”

“How? How did you know where he lived?”

She lets go of his hands as she turns away from him. “I went through your wallet.”

“You went throu…Riley, what the fuck?” He shouts as he stands up.

“I wanted to know why you were acting so strange. You wouldn’t talk to me!”

“So, you went through my personal things? You couldn’t just ask me?”

“I tried! You just drank for days on end. When was I supposed to ask? Between Jameson and Jack Daniel?” She throws her hands up, annoyed.

He knew she was right. He could’ve handled the last few days better than he did, but it didn’t excuse her behavior in the slightest. He begins pacing the room, not sure how to continue the conversation, “You thought I was cheating, didn’t you?”

“What?” She snaps her head in his direction.

“You found an address and number in my wallet. Then you drove there, you thought I was cheating, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t until she heard him say it that she realizes she really did think he was. It had crossed her mind briefly when she initially found the paper, but didn’t dwell on it until she was actually driving towards the address.

He stood there, waiting for her to tell him he was wrong, that she knew that wasn’t even a possibility, but she didn’t. She just sat there, looking at him.

“Really, Ri? I moved across the world for you. I’d move the sun and moon for you. You’re having my baby and that’s the best you think of me?”

“No, Drake. I mean, maybe for a moment, but I didn’t know what to think. That’s why I went there.”

“But you still thought it. I’d never think that about you.” He storms into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Getting some more whiskey to deal with your problems rather than talking?”

“Sure am. It’s a new brand called H2O.” He rolls his eyes, “You tell my dad about how his son is a deadbeat that cheats on his pregnant wife?”

Riley glares at Drake, “No. I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. I thought you should do that.”

“Oh, so it’s not your place to tell him you’re pregnant, but it’s your place to go through my things and jump to conclusions?”

“Real nice, Drake.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He raises his eyebrows at her.

“What?” She spits at him.

“You went there to get answers, you find them?”

“Obviously since I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t go looking for anything in particular.”

“Then what’d you do? Seeing how you opened the door to an old man instead of some young and hot raven-haired woman.”

Riley twisted her mouth up, she knew he made that jab on purpose; reminding her of the ridiculous assumption during Liam’s social season that Drake and Kiara had a thing.

“We just talked.”

“You talked? All day?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you talk about?”

She thought back on the nature of what Jackson had told her; all of it being things that Drake should hear from Jackson, not her, “How he and your mother met.”

“You talked to my dad about a story I’ve told you several times?”

But you don’t know the real story. “Amongst other things.”

“Such as?”

“I really think that you should hear it from him. It’s not my story to tell.”

Drake lets out a deep breath. He loves her to death, but she could really piss him off. Then he realized why he was so pissed off.

“So, you’re telling me that he met you and within minutes spills his guts out, but when I, his son, confronted him about who he was, got sent away? What bullshit.” He storms out of the room, slamming the backdoor on his way out.

Riley sighs, maybe going without Drake wasn’t the best decision. However, he did make a good point, but maybe it was easier for Jackson to talk to someone who hadn’t spent their life idolizing him, someone who wasn’t related to him, someone who didn’t expect anything from him. But she could still see where her husband was coming from, everything he thought was a lie which caused her to wonder, how Liam would handle the news.

**

“I’m sorry.” Drake says, rolling over to face her.

After he stormed out to the back yard, Riley had taken a shower and got into bed and it wasn’t long after that Drake got in bed. However, it had been an awkward 45 minutes before either had finally spoken.

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just asked you.” She turns the lamp on her nightstand on before looking at him, “I should’ve trusted you.”

He caresses her cheek with his thumb, “I should’ve just told you, even though it felt like no one would listen to me.”

“I hate that I was one of those people.” She presses her forehead to his, “I love you.”

“I love you, Ri. So, what’d you think of Jackson?”

“I think he deserves to tell his side of the story and I know he wants to hear yours.”

“Mine?”

She turns red, she told herself that she wouldn’t go into too much detail. She really did want Drake to hear a lot of what they talked about from Jackson himself. Too late.

“Let’s just say that he didn’t know that your mom left you and Savannah in Cordonia and now he does…”

“He didn’t know?” Drake knits his brows together, “I don’t understand.”

“From what I’ve gathered he thought your mom was still in Cordonia.”

He sits up, his head in his hands, and thoughts clouded. How did he not know what happened? “I don’t understand anything, Ri. Did people really think he died? Or was that a ruse?”

She scoots closer to him, holding his head against her chest.

“Did he tell you? Please just tell me that.”

She runs her fingers through his hair, “He didn’t tell me that, sweetie. But he did want you to come and hear his story.”

He doesn’t respond. The weight of the situation is beginning to weigh on him. It was no longer whether or not this Jackson Walker was his father or not, Drake figured that out. But the heavy questions were starting to come front and center: Was his death faked? Did they know it was faked? Why was it faked if it was? He was too caught up in his hero of a dad being alive, that he didn’t think to stop and realize that maybe he wasn’t the hero he made him out to be.

[entity9silvergen]

Oblique- Chapter 2 (Sanders Sides Fanfiction

Previous chapter, Full Story

Story Info:

Summary: Unable to experience romantic attraction, Remus feels incomplete. Unable to feel sexual attraction, Roman feels less than. Maybe as the King, they decide, they will feel whole again. Their partners and friends, however, know this isn’t the solution and seek to help them realize there’s nothing broken about them before it’s too late.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil, Nate, Remy, Emile, Seth, Toby, Janus, Remus, Unnamed Orange Side, Romulus, Dragon Witch 

Relationships: Logan/ Patton, Virgil/ Roman, Janus/ Remus, Remy/ Emile, Toby/ Seth, Nate/ Orange Side

Other Tags: AroWriMo, Aromantic Remus, Asexual Roman, Spider Virgil, Snake Janus, Orange Side, 7th Side, Additional Sides, No OCs, Short Vid Characters

Warnings for this chapter: Sexual themes, internalized acephobia, internalized arophobia, arousal, romantic feels, minor self-harm, intrusive thoughts, Remus

Author’s Note: There is nothing explicit in this one but there is some post sex scenes and pre almost sex scenes. Also romantic feels. I am aroace so like I don’t actually know what I’m doing, first time writing something like this, but we’re doing it. If any of that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip this chapter. It takes place prior to the previous chapter and provides more context to what’s up with Remus and Roman but is not actually relevant to the plot.

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

Remus felt good in that way only an orgasm could cause.

It was like… like everything inside him just melted away. Everything tense and tight just washed away. It was at times like this he really felt at peace. The only times he felt at peace. With his mind quiet, he really just felt like himself. Not Dark Creativity, not Intrusive Thoughts. Just Remus.

He should go be productive. Draw something that wasn’t totally obscene. Maybe take a shower without trying to swallow the soap. Eat something other than deodorant. Trim his mustache without cutting himself. Nah, he was still going to do all that stuff. He loved it, intrusive thoughts or not.

He started to roll out of bed when an arm stopped him.

“You’re always so quick to leave,” Janus murmured, draping an arm over Remus’s bare hips. Fuck, that was sexy. Why was he so sexy? All naked and relaxed… Disheveled. That was the word Remus was looking for. His hat, gloves, and clothes were long gone, messy brown hair and scales out for the world to see. Well, not the world. Just Remus. Janus was cute when he was like this, rare as it was. Not cute enough for Remus not to have a double take at his words though.

“Is that bad?” Remus asked hesitantly, a bit more of his insecurity in his voice than he would’ve liked. He knew Janus wasn’t mad and he wouldn’t make fun of him. It was just… ugh, the post-sex euphoria was kind of fading and Remus was starting to feel bad about himself again.

Janus looked up at him, breaking out of his affectionate daze. He frowned. “I mean… no? If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be. Staying the night is just nice.”

“Why?” 

The question tumbled out of Remus’s mouth before he could think, like most things he said did. He felt like he shouldn’t have said that but he couldn’t help it. And he really did want to know.

“It just… um, helps with the emotional side of hooking up?” Janus ventured. Remus tried not to frown. “The romantic aspect?”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll stay,” Remus responded and flopped back down on the bed, letting his back hit the sheets once more. Janus stayed where he was. Remus just stared at the ceiling, unsure if Janus’s touch was nice or uncomfortable. They were both all sweaty. And sticky. Didn’t people normally shower after this? Or wipe off or whatever? Normally Remus would just run around naked and the air would dry him off and he’d be good as new but that didn’t really feel like an option right now.

“You look so uncomfortable.” 

“What? I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re like a tree right now.”

“Unfuckable unless you want splinters?” Remus cracked, looking down at Janus, but the snakey Side didn’t seem amused.

“You’re literally lying on your back with your arms at your sides,” Janus deadpanned. He shifted a bit, resting his head on Remus’s chest. “And that’s fine but you look stressed. Which is weird because you just came and normally that makes you all loose. Figuratively, not literally, don't look at me like-”

“I’m loose in so many more ways than one,” Remus responded with a shit eating grin, wiggling a bit. Janus sighed, sounding exasperated but fond. But then Remus sobered up. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You know I don’t really mind your jokes. Or lewdness. It’s just part of who you are as a Side.”

“Not that. I meant for not being… romantic. It’s just not my thing. I’m not Roman.”

Janus lifted his head to look at him. “I don’t want Roman. You think if I wanted Roman I’d be in bed with you? If I wanted Roman, I’d be having Roman.”

Remus couldn’t stifle his laughter. Roman probably wouldn’t want Janus either, not when Virgil was so clearly the Side for him, but Janus’s confidence and self-assurance amused him. He was right, Janus probably had the swagger to seduce whoever in the mindscape he wanted. Though he may be biased.

“I don’t really care if you do the whole romantic bit of a relationship,” Janus went on, putting his head back down. “Feelings can get kind of icky. You’re my best friend and I love you, I wouldn’t change that.”

Now, Remus knew Janus said that to comfort him but it just made him feel all kinds of bad. Guilty. Selfish. Ungrateful. He didn’t like these feelings. He was the Duke! He didn’t get down in the dumps. He was just pure, unfiltered nastiness. Not whatever this was. 

He didn’t know if Janus expected a response or not but he just smiled awkwardly and patted Janus’s hair. Janus didn’t comment on how grimy his hands were and just relaxed against him, seeming to enjoy Remus’s fingers in his hair. It felt weirdly intimate to be doing this. It was nice, Remus supposed, but it felt foreign. Like he was missing something. Maybe he was missing something.

He tried to steer those thoughts away. He was naked in bed with his best friend, not fully clothed and crying in the shower alone like he normally was when these moments hit. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. He was… This was a good moment. Good things were happening. He’d just had an amazing night of mindblowing sex. His friend- partner, fuck buddy, boyfriend, whatever- had just told him he loves and accepts him. How could he be thinking about this right now?

Janus would tell him he wasn’t broken. That he wasn’t missing anything. That he was amazing the way he was. But Remus couldn’t find it in himself to bring it up right now. It was hard, not voicing his thoughts. He loved talking, spouting out every thought that crossed his mind. These ones though… He didn’t really want Janus worrying about. He already knew what Janus would say. Janus was a two-faced liar who could trick the smartest Side in the mindscape but Remus trusted him. Janus knew how to be serious. He knew how delicate Remus’s heart could be when it came to- to… He wouldn’t tell Remus anything about himself that he didn’t believe. It was just Remus who didn’t believe it.

Remus loved himself. He knew he was amazing. He loved his creations and that he could creep any Side and Thomas out. He just wanted to live his best life. But that little voice telling him something was wrong, giving him memories of a time before, would always be there.

Maybe it was time he listened to it.

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

Roman just felt so freaking good.

His heart just felt so full. He just had so much love in him that he felt like he was going to burst. It thrummed in his chest, letting the feeling of life flow freely into his limbs. He didn’t know why he felt like this. Maybe it was because of the role he fulfilled as Thomas’s romantic facet and his fanciful side. Or maybe he was just so high on love that it got him all giddy like this. He didn’t know, he just knew he liked it. It was an amazing feeling that he just wanted to have forever. 

But all good things had to come to an end.

Virgil withdrew from him, not quite letting go but enough that Roman craved his touch again. He leaned in for another kiss, and managed to successfully get one, before noticing the look in his boyfriend’s eyes. It wasn’t… a bad look. Not a new one either. Just somewhat different.

Virgil was definitely turned on. Expected, after making out for however long they’d spent doing just that. To be honest, Roman was pretty into it too and he could feel some arousal coming in. It was an exciting feeling, one only supplemented by the rush of affection he was feeling. 

So why did he feel so uneasy?

Virgil slotted his palms over Roman’s hips and gave him a sultry look. “You want to do a bit more?”

Roman opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. He didn’t know if it was from arousal or fear. He locked eyes with Virgil and nodded, trying to look eager. Virgil looked… excited? Happy? Satisfied? Something. He looked something good at his response and started undoing the zipper and buttons on his pants. Roman looked away, not really wanting to watch despite all the feelings happening down there. It was only once Virgil’s fingers were hooked around his underwear that it became apparent something was wrong.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Don’t call me dude when we’re in bed. You’ll kill the mood.”

“I’m trying to kill the mood. You look hella uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You looked away when I took your pants off and you flinched when I touched your underwear. Is that comfortable in your world?”

“I’m fine, Virge. Let’s just keep going.”

“We don’t need to do this if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to,” Roman insisted, gesturing vaguely to his crotch which was very visibly hard through his underwear.

Virgil didn’t budge. “Having a boner and wanting me to touch you are two different things, Princey.”

Roman sighed. “I know.”

“Consent is sexy.”

Roman sighed louder. “I know, Virgil.”

“Communication is-”

“I know, Virgil.”

“Come on, talk to me, Princey.”

“You’re still killing the mood.”

“I know, Roman,” Virgil responded, mimicking Roman’s tone, before giving him a serious look. “What’s up? If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Roman opened his mouth but, again, no words came out. How was he supposed to articulate his thoughts? He wanted to… do stuff. Sexual stuff. Touching. That sounded fun. Sex was supposed to be, like, a big thing in a relationship, right? So shouldn’t he want to do it, being the romance guy and all?

Maybe it was because sex was more of a Remus thing. Ew, no wait, he shouldn’t be thinking about his brother right now. Actually, that was a big turn off which was what he needed right now. But point was that sex was never his thing. Roman didn’t think about it much. Or at all. Should he? That was something people thought about, right?

Thinking about sex made him feel… gross. Not completely though? Thomas was a pretty sex positive guy so all the Sides generally viewed consestuall sex as a healthy part of a relationship but anytime Roman thought about sex in a more personal way, not as an abstract concept, he felt all weird. And he knew he shouldn’t. Sex was natural. Hundreds of generations of humans have been doing it. So why couldn’t he?

There was just this… disconnect. Between what, he wasn’t sure. His feelings, his body, arousal, desire, all of it. And it felt wrong. Like, it should be there. He didn’t know what it felt like but he could imagine it. He’d read about it and he could see it in his mind but when it came to the present moment, it just wasn’t there. He-

Odin’s eyepatch, Virgil was waiting for him to say something, wasn’t he?

“Can we… not?” Roman said weakly, hating how unsure he sounded. But to his relief, Virgil just nodded. 

“That’s fine. We’re not ready,” Virgil responded. Roman couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed or not. “But I, um, I’m going to go take a cold shower. Figuratively, not literally. I hate the cold. I’m going to go jer- I’m going to go take a shower. And you can do whatever you need to do or take one after me. And then we can just hang out. Does that sound alright?”

Roman was a bit surprised Virgil seemed so together. Not anxious. He was still a bit rambly but mostly together. Maybe he was just trying to put on a face for Roman’s sake. Either way, he was grateful that Virgil was taking the lead on this one, however odd it may be for the other Side. Smiling, he nodded. Virgil returned it and wandered off to the bathroom.

But when he returned, Roman was nowhere to be found.

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

They both slunk out in the night, stumbling to the Neutral Zone with similar goals in mind. Consciously or unconsciously, it was impossible to tell. They were just hurting and that was enough to draw them together.

Still, they looked surprised at the sight of each other, Roman on the stairs leading up and Remus surfacing from the basement. It was dark but the red and green of their clothes seemed to stand out. They stayed silent, staring at each other wordlessly, waiting to see who would move first.

It was a third figure who broke the silence.

“Sup guuurlssss,” Remy slurred as he drifted through the living room, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. Both of the twins jumped, startled by his sudden appearance, but Remy was already wandering towards the hallway by the time they realized who exactly it was. “Go to the dreamspace if you’re going to destroy anything, bitches. Toby will be pissed if you touch his shit. Byeeee.”

The twins watched the Neutral Side walk away, his shuffle making him seem to float away in a very dream-like manner. But that was just how Remy was and they could ignore him and soon they were once again focused on each other. Remus spoke first.

“So why are you here?”

“Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

“But I’m older.”

“Explain or I fart and wake up the whole floor. And you know how smellicious this tank can-”

“Ugh. Okay, fine.”

“Well?”

“...”

“Princey.”

“What was the question?”

“Why are you here, Prince Boring?”

“Um, well…”

“Just spit it out, brother mine.”

“How do you sex?” Roman blurted bluntly.

Remus started at him. He blinked. Once. “What?”

“How do you do sex?” Roman repeated, looking flustered. “I can’t.”

To his credit, Remus was quiet for a full three seconds before bursting out laughing.

Roman scowled. “It’s not funny! I just… I can’t.”

Remus tried to smother his laughter to a series of giggles, wiping a couple fake- or real, who knows?- tears out of his eyes. “Oh Princey! You should’ve come to me sooner! I tried giving Seth some crash course kink lessons from yours truly but Toby hit me. Really hard. It was hot. Janus let me do my whole spiel on him but it’s no fun when you’re fucking the guy you’re teaching because he already knew all this stuff when he signed up to be my fuck buddy but now that you’re-”

“Stop. I already regret this,” Roman said, waving his hands. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Poopy.” Remus didn’t actually sound disappointed, a blessing in disguise. 

“I just… can’t get into it.”

“I know what you mean,” Remus said, surprising Roman. When Roman didn’t speak, Remus continued. “I can’t do feelings. All that romantic stuff? Bleh. Not for me. But I feel bad because I think Janus would like it. I’ve tried but it just feels like it’s… not… there.”

Roman suddenly felt a surge of mutuality for his brother. He was voicing exactly how he felt. Well, not exact. Opposite, really. But he felt understood. “Do you think it’s because of the split?”

“I- Maybe,” Remus admitted with a shrug. He rubbed a finger under his nose. Roman almost reached out to stop him from picking his nose but he was just scratching his mustache. “It feels like… like… I’m a mirror. And I shattered. A long time ago. And someone taped me back together. They really tried but they did an awful job. There’s sharp pieces sticking out everywhere ready to cut your hands open so you can watch as you bleed out but the reflection’s all fucked up and you just see all the dark, awful… goop inside of you. And there are pieces missing. And I don’t know where they are.”

“They’re probably in me,” Roman said softly. “I don’t feel like-” He gestured loosely in Remus’s direction- “that. I feel like- like a mirror that broke but got put together with glue. They made something new and it’s- it’s art. But it’s still broken. You just can’t always tell but it’s real and it’s there.”

Remus nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. He was playing with his hands, like he was nervous. Roman noticed tiny cuts on his hands around his fingernails, like he was picking at them. He wasn’t picking now though, just fidgeting. Like Virgil. “Do you think we’d be whole together? As King Creativity? Do you remember if he felt normal?”

Roman hesitated. “I don’t remember. But I think… Remus, I feel so empty all the time. Like I’m only half a Side. And not just about the sex thing. I feel so- so- so-”

“Oblique?”

“Oblique,” Roman whispered. “And I want to feel normal. And I think maybe we can do that if we tried to… I don’t know, unsplit?”

Remus didn’t say anything but his face betrayed him. With decisiveness, he offered Roman his hand. And Roman accepted it.

No longer would they be broken mirrors of each other. No longer would they be oblique. Soon, they would be whole once again.

Next chapter

[seth-storm]

On the Stage (Short Fic)

(Sorry, I am bad at writing songs. I did try though!)

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, Roses

Ships: N/A unless ya really squint in which case it’s my favorite ones

“Wrong, wrong, wrong!” Roman sighed, exasperated. He was trying to write a song, but he couldn’t find the words to describe what he was feeling. He strummed his guitar, the notes perfectly in tune but not quite right in his head.

The other sides didn’t know he wrote songs. It was for two reasons. One, he didn’t want to be mocked and ridiculed if they were bad. Two, some of them contained really personal ideas. They were all said in an abstract sense, but anyone who knew him would be able to easily figure it out. Right now, he was trying to write about how he put part of himself into every character he played on stage, even unwanted parts of himself, but no one noticed and they all came back to him at the end of each show. That was the best way he could explain it, but there was so much more than that. There was the joy of doing the show with his friends, the sadness of relating to a character so much and not being able to help them, the stress and absolute relief at the exact same time he got from merely standing in front of an audience, and the jealousy that came from realizing all these character’s problems ended when the show did. Logan always found his shows silly, Virgil normally worked tech and didn’t watch, and Patton was usually busy baking refreshments for afterwards. Deceit came occasionally, and for that Roman was grateful, but there was really only one person Roman wanted to come. Granted, he had come before and completely messed up the atmosphere with his bad humor, but Roman wanted him to really come. To sit and watch. To actually approve of him, for once. He could wish that, right?

He looked at the yellow and red flowers on his desk, knowing in a few weeks they would wilt and he’d throw them away. His last memory of this play. He’d liked this play, it was a fun and upbeat comedy with a subplot of romance... and murder. It was challenging, but his character had an overinflated ego, so it was easy for Roman to project onto him. And every night when he was stabbed in the back by his brother, leaving his true love waiting for backup that would never come and leading her (Roman was only straight when the script said he had to be) to her demise, Roman felt that. Roman empathized with the man who didn’t know his true love wanted to confess her feelings that night, the man who never knew love, the man whose own brother shunned him. It hit a little too close to home. But it was good to get it all out on stage, and as people like Thomas and his friends (and the rest of the town Roman brought into being through imagination) came to see it, Roman felt a bit more at peace. Now, those feelings had come back, and they were haunting him like the wilting yellow and red roses sitting on his desk by his long-memorized script.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea.” Roman smiled, strumming a C chord. Ugh, no, not C major. That was too happy for a song like this. D minor would work for now.

Wilting roses on the desk I used,

To memorize my lines and cues,

They said “the show must go on!”

And then it ended

We all broke our legs

And then they mended

“Ugh!” Roman sighed, leaning back in his chair. Nothing he wrote sounded any good today! He wanted to write the rest of the song but he couldn’t! He strummed the guitar more passionately, pouring his feelings out into an improvised song.

Sometimes you put yourself up on that stage

When it’s supposed to be someone else, someone who is fake

Sometimes your acting is a desperate plea,

But those watching see the character, not me.

But those watching see the character, not me.

Deceit cocked his head, listening to the music that rang through the mind palace. It was quiet, and he was willing to bet none of the other sides were listening hard enough to hear it. “It’s happening again.” He said quietly, and Remus looked up. “Are you going to go tell him this time, or wait like you do every time?”

“I can’t just tell him, Snake,” Remus protested, “You know that. It’s more complicated than sticking an elephant’s trunk up my—“

“I get the picture,” Deciet sighed. “Don’t you realize by now your approval means the world to him? You’re his brother you know. No matter how many times he insists he hates you, he doesn’t. He just wants you to be there for him.”

“But I’m not,” Remus laughed bitterly. “I never have been. I’m a ‘dark side’, Deciet.”

Deceit sighed, looking at a picture hanging from the wall of a boy in a black jacket and black shirt smiling and standing beside a boy in yellow, a boy in green, and a boy in orange. “So was Virgil.”

Remus stopped, looking at the same picture Deceit had chosen to stare at. He knew the side missed Virgil. They all did. But Virgil was adamant that he had found a new life. A better life. Remus wanted to get close to Roman, he really did. But what if... what if he lost his yellow? What if he lost his orange? Would they be fine looking at the picture and seeing both the boy in black and the boy in green had left? They’d be alone, just the two of them. “I can’t leave you alone.”

Deceit smiled at Remus, tears (real tears, not crocodile tears) in his eyes. “You can’t leave him alone either, you know.”

The audience claps and I bow

The cheering for me so silently loud

I said my lines that’s why they care

I smile at air

While the one who matters most

Isn’t even there

Remus nodded, standing up and walking down the hallway, entering the light side’s part of the house. Virgil gave him a weird look, which he ignored and kept walking. Logan told him he shouldn’t be here, but he kept following the music. Patton tried to ask him what was wrong, but Remus was going to go make something right. This time he would. This time for sure.

Sometimes you put yourself up on that stage

When it’s supposed to be someone else, someone who is fake

Sometimes your acting is a desperate plea,

But those watching see the character, not me.

But those watching see the character, not me.

Roman, not caring who heard anymore, belted out the bridge with all his soul, making up the words to express his emotion as he went. He might have been crying, but he couldn’t tell. He was too caught up in the moment.

They see the man who is playing someone else

Who’s giving everything he has to get rid of himself

And maybe he wouldn’t give so much if he knew what he’d receive

A bundle of wilting flowers... no, there must be more for me

Remus—

Roman’s voice broke, but he kept on singing anyway.

You’re the only cheer I need.

Remus, on the other side of Roman’s door, paused with his hand on the handle at these words. What if he disappointed Roman? What if his approval wasn’t everything Roman thought it was going to be? He heard a new voice singing now, and it took him a moment to realize who it was. It was him. He had started singing. Had he gone absolutely insane?!

Sometimes you put yourself up on that stage.

And you want the world to see who you are and stop and be amazed.

But the part you play is meaningful to me.

When you get off that stage you’re the friend everyone needs.

You get off that stage,

And those watching see,

You’re the one person I wish I could really see

You’re the one whose roses mean the most to me.

Roman got up and went to the door, not believing what he had just heard. He opened the door slowly, hoping against hope Remus would be there.

Remus ran back down the hallway. He couldn’t tell him face to face. He couldn’t. Roman would hate him and be disappointed. He scoffed at himself. “I thought Virgil was anxiety,” he thought to himself as he sat down heavily on the dark sides’ couch.

“You chicken out again?” Deceit asked.

“Yah, but I still kind of told him.” Remus sighed. “I left a note. Butchered and heated to perfection pecking bird sounds good right now.”

“I’ll make chicken for dinner. In any case, I suppose that is better than last time, where you essentially ding dong ditched his door and blamed it on The Stiff(TM).”

Remus sighed, looking at the ceiling. “I guess... do you think I’m a disappointment to Roman?”

Deceit shook his head adamantly, sitting next to the troubled side. “No. Roman would be a fool to not realize he has an amazing brother. I know he says he doesn’t like you... but he also says he doesn’t like Virgil and look how that ended up.”

Remus sighed, leaning his head on Deceit’s shoulder. “Thanks, Snake. You’re the white line on my figurative road that stops me from playing the best game of bumper cars ever.”

Deceit smiled slightly. “I try.”

To Roman’s chagrin, Remus wasn’t there. He tried not to be disappointed as he saw the empty hallway and Virgil’s closed door right across the hall. Well, after fantasizing Remus had come to bond with him, he decided he could use some comfort. He needed a good cry, and Virgil was a great person to have a good cry with. He stepped forward, expecting carpet beneath his bare feet. Instead, he felt the crumple of a paper on the floor. Roman picked it up and read it, a massive smile breaking out on his face as the good cry came prematurely. In the best possible way. On that note were the words Roman had always wanted to hear, scrawled in the exact same messy handwriting Roman had.

I’m proud of you, big bro.

Tags for short fics (you can always request to be on either TLS or this list! (Also if somehow you got either list off tell me because I lost the list on my old phone and I’m using the ones on previous posts.)):

@stop-it-anxiety @idunnosong @ms-top-hat @sapphirebluluvsu @littlewolf432 @winterrs-child @anxiousvirgil13 @remusownsmyuwus @emmillie @nutmegandgingersnaps

[hopeidontabandonethis]

Personality Switch AU

Depressive/Nightmare Stage - Part I

-A relatively short stage, last around three weeks.

-Thomas Anxiety was oddly quiet at the time and Patton was unusually tired, falling sleeping in the couches and chairs or stairs.

-When awake, the heart found himself slipping a lot into daydream mode, unable to pay attention to his surrounding or the moment. He could barely register Logan usual lectures about doing his job poorly, the familiar hurt that comes when facing cold hard logic still there, but somewhat faded. Everything, in fact, was far too mellow for the emotional side. He feels numb, kind of weak. Maybe he was sick...

-  Roman hates when Thomas let the clock tick by without absorbing any words from the outside world, so he sides with Logan and tries to knock some sense into Patton. He eventually notices something is wrong with the heart and tries to get answers. Unfortunately, it looks like an emotional problem and since he isn’t very good at emotions, he tells Logan to figure out what is going on while he actually do his job.

- When both Thomas and Patton start to slip from reality the mindscape demand more daydreams. The creative side cannot deal with an even bigger dream demand but he gives his best anyway, leaning dangerously close to the edge between passion and unhealthy obsession.

-Logan never tried to understand how Patton works, nor does he ever think about calling Virgil’s help, so he comes to the conclusion the heart had fallen ill and leave him in favor of reading harry potter yet again.

-Patton doesn’t magically get better the next day and Roman goes from being an unsociable side to being barely present. Dinner is always ready but Roman does not eat with them, no one knows if he eat at all. Patton goes from not touching his food to not even attending dinner and Virgil is nowhere to be seen. Logan notices the food taste worse, the table is also too quiet...

-The color starts fading from Patton glasses and Thomas lose the capacity to get excited over mundane things. Logan tries to drag Patton into one of their Disney debate but all he gets are halfhearted arguments, even talking shit about Alice in Wonderland doesn’t bring more than an offended look to the explosive heart. The brain is starting to get worried when Patton sleeps mid-argument.

- Roman looked like a stressed mess when Logan finally manages to get his attention, his purple hair was an absolute nightmare and he doesn’t even seem to have noticed his lack of gloves. For the first time in ages, the creative side asks (begs) Logan to put a Disney movie on and start one of his weird theory session, complaining that he isn’t having any inspiration and his stupid burn hand is sluggish, refusing to work properly (The hand appears to be working fine when Roman waves it around, but the short side had an unstable spark in his eyes that convinced Logan to do as he was told. If the screams coming from the short side room are anything to go by, his long theory about Mulan and Brave did not cure Roman author block)

- In a few days, Patton glasses lose all its colors. Logan is very much worried, he tried to literally slap some sense into Patton (it crack his glasses, but is otherwise ineffective) and even resort to stupid morbid Tumblr post to cheer up the heart up. It does not seem to work. Nothing does. To make the situation worse, Roman stop getting out of his room period. Logan is forced to cook. He feels like a (terrible) babysitter, thorn between being offended by how little attention and respect Patton gives him while also fearing things would get worse. (As strange as it sounds, he kind of miss bickering with Patton... His sassy comebacks sure are better than silence.)

- Things get worse.

Part 2

Tag List: @sticksandanxiety . @always-in-a-fandom . @sammy-mynott-art . @starbucks-remy . @grumpyvitti . @star-prince-charlie   . @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 . @coralflower-ao3 . @kittiebrick . @anachronistic-cat   . @whatevertheheckiwantthanks

[theeternalspace]

In Memoriam 8

Summary: The metal tree had always fascinated the Prince.

Only, it wasn’t a tree.

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t really a Prince. Instead he was… a side of someone’s personality? He doesn’t remember Thomas, or the other sides, those who call themselves his friends. He doesn’t really remember anything, not even his own name, no matter the efforts of Patton, Logan or Virgil. He must venture back into the Wardrobe door, back to the metal tree in an attempt to recover his missing memories and regain everything he has lost.

But perhaps some doors are best left closed for a reason. And perhaps some personas should remain in the ground where they have been buried.

Story Warnings: Sympathetic/Grey Deceit Sanders. He is trying his best you guys. Anxiety. Self doubt and self loathing. Fantasy fighting. Verbal fighting. Threatening behaviour. Blood and injury. Memory loss. Drowning. Near death.

Previous || Next

Roman was having so much fun!

He had been able to push all of his negative and unpleasant thoughts firmly to one side in order to focus on the game slash battle at hand. Physically doing something was a good way to forget about any issues for a little while it seemed. All of Roman’s energy went into crafting the snowballs he was using to try and tag Virgil once more. There were no rules to the game as far as he knew, no point system, no way to win until the other person admitted they had lost.

It was just a simple game and it was wonderful. Another ball flew through the air and narrowly missed Virgil as he ducked and weaved, dodging it. This was just what Roman needed, the creative side feeling a swell of affection grow in him as he scooped yet another handful of snow up, barely noticing the chill now. His fingers might be cold but his cheeks were warm and his chest was heaving, a light laugh slipping free as the snow was fashioned into yet another piece of ammunition. 

Bright red sash had been pulled off and tossed over the lamp post the moment he realised Virgil was going to play and fight back. Having such an item on him was just asking for trouble. It gave the other side a clear target to aim for. The bag containing the crofters had been left there too and the last thing either of them wanted was to damage that. 

Now he was dressed mostly in white only and that had to work to his advantage. Maybe that was why Virgil had thrown so few projectiles back, because he didn’t know where he was. Speaking of the other side, Roman suddenly realised he hadn’t seen Virgil in almost half a minute. He turned slowly, straining for any sight or sound. The snow made a crunch with each movement and it should have been easy to work out where Virgil was by that alone but Roman couldn’t hear any snow being disturbed, nothing that told him where the other side was. 

He had to be somewhere. 

A flash of purple caught his eye. Roman felt a smirk curl onto his lips as he saw the edge of Virgil’s hoodie slip behind a tree and come to a stop. 

There was his prey. So Virgil thought hiding was going to save him from a snow bath did he? Clearly he underestimated Roman and his hunting abilities. This all felt so natural to him, as if he had done this so many times before. Or at least, something similar. Finding tracks, trails, hints as to where his opponent was, it was all part and parcel of what he was apparently. This was energising, invigorating and just the tonic it seemed he needed.

The other side wasn’t moving. Just one sleeve and a bit of the hood that seemed to be pulled up over his head visible, as though he was trying to become one with the environment completely.

Perhaps he was planning an ambush. Roman felt his smirk grew, dipping down to create a second snowball, one for each hand and if that was Virgil’s plan, well, he was just going to have to turn the tables on him wasn’t he. Roman held his breath as he crept closer, acutely aware of every tiny sound he made in the snow, each crunch sounding like an avalanche, making him wince. It felt as if he was more like a blundering elephant than a graceful, sneaking prince. The other side still hadn’t moved though, which had to mean that amazingly he somehow hadn’t heard Roman’s approach. Better and better, this meant he was going to take him completely by surprise. This had to be a victory moment, right here. 

Virgil was almost within touching distance now, Roman’s heart pounding in his ears, a triumphant smirk firmly on his face. 

What was their surname again? Snow... no, no, Sand. Sanders. That was it. Sanders. 

“Eat snow Sanders!” Roman yelled, jumping to the side in order to give himself a clear view of Virgil, one snowball and then the other thrown in rapid succession, directly at the back of Virgil’s hoodie. He was already bending down to scoop up another handful before they had even reached their target, lobbing the third one haphazardly towards his chosen victim. 

Virgil’s hoodie fluttered gracefully to the ground, devoid of anyone actually wearing it, the back caked in snow where all three of the projectiles had landed. 

For a horrible moment, Roman thought he had somehow killed Virgil. 

No, that couldn’t be right. Snow couldn’t do that and even if by some impossible reason it could, then it surely would either have taken effect the first few times he had hit Virgil. Or else Virgil would have screamed for him to stop it because of the danger. There was no way he had killed the anxious side. Just no way. That didn’t explain what had happened and his brain felt sluggish, almost full of snow itself as he crossed the distance to reach the hoodie now lying in the snow.

Roman stared down at it in shock before carefully crouching and poking at the item of clothing.

Could Virgil teleport? Was that something all the sides could do or just Virgil? Was it a flight or fight thing? Virgil had reluctantly shared some information about what being anxiety actually entailed and it had only reinforced his belief that Virgil was a good guy, that he was protection because it was him that came out to defend Thomas in times of stress. Maybe part of that was being able to teleport, Roman still staring numbly at the hoodie and feeling that he was missing something... very important.

Snow fell around him, a steady and light scattering of flakes from the clouds that never seemed to lift. As fun as this was right now, Roman certainly wouldn’t miss the endless cold and snow when they crossed the Wardrobe border and back to the warmth of the house. He needed to find Virgil first however, and that didn’t seem as easy any more. 

A few extra clumps fell on his left arm. Roman felt the slightly weighter snow but paid it no heed as he absently lifted a hand to brush it off his sleeve, still trying to work out what had just happened to his friend. 

“Eat snow Sanders!” Virgil’s voice screamed out from somewhere above him, Roman automatically looking up for the source of the noise. For a second he caught a glimpse of Virgil balanced on a branch above him, his long sleeved purple top surely offering no protection against the cold. There was a cocky, almost manic energy to his grin as he tossed two snowballs down in rapid succession, both smacking Roman right in the face and for a few seconds blinding him.

Which meant he couldn’t see what Virgil did next. He could certainly hear him however and with a war like yell, Virgil launched himself from his position, crashing into Roman a few moments after the snowballs, sending them both falling to the ground. Roman hit the ground doubly hard, his back connecting to the snow and his front apparently cushioning Virgil so that the other side landed on him and now the snow. 

For what felt like an eternity they simply lay there, Roman far too winded to even think about moving, let alone pushing Virgil off him. In a weird sort of way, despite how incredibly uncomfortable it was, it wasn’t all bad because his front was at least a little warm from the Virgil blanket he had apparently gained. 

“Ugh, I hate heights,” Virgil groaned at last, rolling off Roman and to the side, his breath coming out in short little puffs of white smoke as he pushed himself into a crouching position. Using his elbows as support, Roman pushed himself up a little as well, watching as Virgil wandered off to his discarded hoodie, collecting it and shaking the fabric to try and get rid of the large chunks of snow that were still clinging to it. 

The words slowly started to sink in, Roman’s mouth dropping open into a little o like shape as he finally just understood what Virgil had said. Hating heights was fine, it was probably quite a common fear but if that was something that affected him then why... then why would... 

“Then why did you climb a tree?” Roman asked slowly, wondering if he had somehow misheard what Virgil had said. Purple checked hoodie was slipped around too thin shoulders, Virgil tilting his head to look back at him, that same manic energy crackling around him. 

“Winning!” 

Well... Roman couldn’t really argue with that sort of logic, even if the choice of word tense was slightly confusing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing somewhere here, something that perhaps he had once known. There wasn’t really any time to brood on what he might have missed because Virgil was moving back towards him, zipping up the hoodie as he went as though it might grant him more warmth against the chill that Roman was belatedly becoming aware of.

“Do you yield?” Virgil asked, a playful tone to his words as he loomed over Roman, standing there with his hands on his hips. There was still that gleam in his eyes however that let the fallen side know that Virgil was only half joking and half ready to launch another insane attack if he had to.

Roman let a breath escape before chuckling, shaking his head a little and it seemed as if the anxious emo nightmare had bested him. It was an ingenious plan of attack, he had nothing but respect for that and now it made him wonder what other ideas Virgil would come up with when placed in other situations. It made Roman want to pick Virgil’s brains even more, made him want to plan an adventure with him together and oh the things they would get up to if they could combine their talents.

The plans and games they could weave when they worked together, they had to be incredible and Roman couldn’t wait to find an opportunity to test that theory. 

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. He kicked at the snow in front of him, letting a large part of the snowdrift fly up into the air, splattering Roman further and starting to mildly bury his legs in the snow. Roman realised with a start that he had visibly shook his head but verbally had kept his acceptance quiet and Virgil clearly thought he meant to keep fighting.

“I yield, I yield,” he agreed hastily before Virgil got any more ideas about how he was going to defeat him. At this point, Roman wouldn't put anything past him, including dropping a literal ton of snow on his head from all the other trees if that was what it took. Virgil grinned brightly, something almost innocent about it - if it wasn't for the way his feet twitched towards the rest of the snowbank, as if eager to kick it again just for fun.

It said a lot about how good Virgil really was, that he resisted the urge to do that when Roman was helpless and completely at his mercy. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to resist the temptation if the positions were reversed - and what did that say about who Roman really was?

“Remind me never to get on your bad side again,” Roman chuckled lightly and he wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating the darker side ever again.

“Gladly,” Virgil replied in an off hand tone, as though he won these things all the time. Maybe he did. Maybe it had been a fool's errand from the start but there was no real harm in trying, not when it had been a friendly battle. Virgil reached out, offering a hand to him. Roman accepted the gesture without hesitation and let the other pull him back upright, his smile as bright as Virgil's own. This had totally been worth it, even if he had lost. This time at least he had lost. 

A full frontal attack was clearly out of the question because Virgil was liable to turn into a feral version of himself with no mercy at the drop of a hat. A sneak attack was probably out of the question too, since Virgil was Anxiety and Roman had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t see the funny side of Roman setting up some prank that would hit him when he least expected it. That didn’t mean he was going to completely give up this war. There had to be a third option, which was yet another reason why he was looking forward to finally picking Virgil’s brains and getting a better understanding of how he worked. He needed to know how to beat him. 

“Okay Princey, now we're both wet to go with the cold we were feeling, why don't we finally go home and get changed, get warm and maybe try something called relaxing? Plus I want to brag to Logan and Patton about how I totally wiped the floor with you right now.”

Roman had no doubt that Virgil meant those words and that he planned to spend a long time going into great detail about this battle. He didn’t need to have his memories to be able to tell that seemed like the sort of thing Virgil would do. It was endearing, the way he was grinning, seeming so pleased with himself and yet it didn’t come across as arrogant or smug. If only he could remain in this moment and not have to deal with anything else. 

“Princey... that is from... before I take it?” Roman asked softly, the thrill of the game fading as he belatedly took in all of Virgil's words.

Virgil had called him it before he remembered. A couple of times but Roman had never bothered to really think too deeply about it. He had never felt as... bothered by it as he suddenly did right now and what had once been accepted as a name now felt like a danger although he couldn't explain quite why.

“Yeah, it... actually I think you came up with it. I'm not sure. You've just always been Princey to us all.” 

Virgil said the words so matter of factly as though it was just the way the world worked, as if it made perfect sense for someone who wasn't really a prince to go by that name. Roman nodded absently, filing the words away carefully as he considered the nickname. Princey. It sounded harmless enough really, all things considered. 

But if what Virgil said was true, then Roman had named himself that. Could a nickname mean the same thing if you chose it yourself? It surely didn't have the same power, the same importance than ones where you had been given it by someone who loved you instead of just taking it.

Roman didn't even know if he liked the name Princey. Right now, he wasn't even sure if he liked being a Prince. Oh, there were a lot of advantages of being one of course, there were lots of perks to being royalty, of having people love and respect you like that. He got a cool sword to swing around, he got people to listen to him. He went on grand adventures which more often than not seemed fun. It was what Virgil expected of him and yet... and yet there was something, hovering on the very edge of his consciousness, that made him want to shy away from the reality of the term. 

The feeling of unease that sounded him about the name only grew. 

He tried to hold onto the happy feeling, the joy he had felt during the snowball fight but the emotion was fleeting, slipping through Roman’s fingers as rapidly as the snow was melting on his tunic. He didn’t want to go down this road again, not right now. He was happy, he was feeling good and he wasn’t going to let his own mind twist and snarl against him. He wasn’t going to become his own villain. 

Roman collected his red sash from the lamp post. Carefully, he folded it up a few times before slipping it into the bag he had taken from Bree before they had departs. The jar of Crofters was tucked neatly inside. It helped pad it and protect it from any last minute damage that could occur. Roman didn’t think he would lose too much sleep if it did break and leak its contents all over the sash. There would still be enough left for Logan to run whatever tests he wanted to run and if it meant the red shiny fabric was ruined... well, he could probably clean it but better safe than sorry. It would have to go.

Maybe he could set the bag down a little heavier than he needed to when they returned to the house. And it would be a terrible accident but one that they could all work around.

Virgil was giving him that look again, somewhere between concerned and a studious blank that spoke volumes by how hard he trying to make it say nothing at all. An eyebrow lifted slightly, a twitch that betrayed the question he was clearly trying very hard not to actually ask. Roman felt compelled to answer it anyway, eyes drifting down to look one final time at the sash before he closed the bag. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“No point putting it on wet clothes,” Roman explained and was it really a lie when it was a half truth at best? He didn’t see the point in putting it on when he was already so wet to start with. He really didn’t see the point in putting it on at all really. It just made him a target, gave people something to aim at, be it snowballs, words or poisoned food disguised as perfect treats. He also wasn’t sure if he liked the sash anymore. It was so bright, so garish and it only seemed to highlight what increasingly felt like flaws instead of talents. 

There had to be a reason why he liked the sash, why he chose to wear it so often but as with so much of his life, that reasoning had escaped him, lost in the mists of time. It had been taken from him like everything else, but this was something he would probably be content to never regain. Maybe it was time to start thinking about a change. Roman had to accept the possibility that he might never regain his memories - or at least, that it might be a slow process. He needed to work out what he was going to do in the meantime, how he could learn to help Thomas as this new version of himself. 

That meant changes. Perhaps the sash could be the first sign of that change. 

Virgil’s lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line as he stared at Roman. He tried to smile back, tried to hold his gaze but his eyes kept sliding to the side, slipping from brown eyes to gaze at Virgil’s shoulder instead. He couldn’t meet those eyes, not when Roman was half convinced that the other side could see right into his soul and knew everything he was thinking and feeling. 

To his relief, Virgil didn’t push it. Maybe he wasn’t completely sure about if Roman was lying or not and didn’t want to accuse him without being sure. Maybe he was taking pity on him and letting Roman have this moment, this secret. Whatever the reason, he was going to take this opportunity for the blessing it was and not question it at all. 

They moved over to where this world ended and the other began without another word, Roman able to see the crack so clearly now. Where last time it had just been a light creating a strange outline that he felt drawn to, now he could see different colours and hear faint strands of music drifting through the air towards them. It felt even more enchanting than the last time, something that was really trying to draw attention, to make them want to step closer and closer. Perhaps this was the magic of the world at work again, ensuring that you never got trapped here too long. 

It would be far too easy to become trapped in this world, away from all the things that confused and hurt, without something like the door to encourage you home. 

“Ready?” Virgil murmured, a hint of concern in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide and with a start Roman realised he had been staring at the crack for goodness knows how long without moving or saying a word.

“Let’s do this,” Roman replied, swallowing down a sudden flutter of butterflies, fears crystallising into understanding and he didn’t want to face Logan and Patton. He didn’t want to have to go back to the endless questions, the prodding, the optimism that was so sweet it set his teeth on edge. Virgil hadn’t been like that during the trip, he hadn’t pushed beyond Roman’s comfort level. He had never once acted as if this version of Roman was some fragile, breakable thing. An inferior version of what had come before and one they couldn’t wait to destroy in order to bring back what they considered the ‘real’ Roman. As if he wasn’t still Roman, as if he wasn’t worthy of the same consideration as that shadow of a dream which lingered in their awareness. 

Roman was sure that the others didn't mean that of course. They would never deliberately treat anyone like that. It didn’t change the fact that their determination to ‘fix’ him had come across that way. When he had set out on the quest of course, Roman had felt almost the same way. He had been so impatient to find the answer to all his questions, he had never once stopped to wonder if he actually wanted to know, not deep down.

Who wouldn’t want to know who they really were?

Someone who was starting to question the value of who that previous person might be and reaching worrying conclusions about the original Roman. 

Thoughts were still swirling around his mind as they finally moved into the light, shifting from one place to another in a blink of an eye. Roman stepped over the threshold. He didn’t stumble this time, instead smoothly crossing from one reality of existence to another. The living room was lit by late afternoon sunlight, the rich deep orange illuminating the area and casting everything in a warming glow. Long shadows crept across the ground, winding their way around the couch and table, the staircase in particular creating long spindly lines like witches fingers reaching up into the sky and yet there was a delightful magic to them nevertheless. Roman didn’t fear the magic he could almost taste in this room.

It was beautiful and his smooth passage into the living one had been a sight to behold, Virgil shuffling a few paces behind him almost as graceful. It even made him reconsider his plan to accidentally ruin the Crofters jelly and more importantly his sash because he was just so pleased with himself and the way in which he had mastered the art of crossing over. At least he had learnt something and that had to help. Roman handed the bag to Virgil before the temptation would strike him again. He trusted Virgil with it more than he trusted himself. He would do the right thing. 

That feeling of relief lasted two whole seconds before he was suddenly tackled from the side, Patton wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tight. It was a bone breaking strength of a hug, and maybe Roman was just imagining it, but he could have sworn that he heard his rips crack just a fraction as the moral side seemed to physically attack him with love. 

“I’m so glad you’re both back!” Patton exclaimed joyfully, holding on for a moment longer before releasing Roman so that he could breathe easily once more.  He spun, hands suddenly on his hips, looking every inch the scolding father. Roman was struck by the urge to shrink back, to maybe hide behind Virgil as if that could somehow save him from the wrath that was apparently heading his way. Perhaps he had been a little too optimistic with the thought that he could breathe easily once more. 

“What were the two of you playing at, sneaking away in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea how worried we both were? A note does not really cut it, anything could have happened to you two with Roman in the condition he was. Please don’t do something like that again, I know you can come and go as you please but this is a special situation... I was just worried.” 

“Woad, whoa, Pat, take it down a notch, nothing bad happened... well, not really. Nothing good either,” Virgil replied, shoving his hands in his pockets as he spoke. He looked distinctly ill at ease, Roman unsure if it was because of the not quite telling off they were receiving or the way Virgil had clearly decided not to mention the monster they had battled to ease Patton’s concerns. 

“Oh sorry kiddos, you’re right I let myself get too worked up! Did... did it not work?” Patton looked so crestfallen as he asked that question, that it almost hurt Roman to have to say that he was still the same as the last time they had seen each other. He was still... missing things, was still without his memory, still wasn’t the Roman that Patton knew and for some reason loved. He was still just whatever had been made in his place. 

By the look on Patton’s face it was clear that he had been counting and hoping on the fact that Roman would come back normal. Well, there went any hope that they might have solved the problem of his memory while the two of them were away. And added to the mix of confusing feelings about what Roman actually wanted from this whole mess. 

“Sorry to disappoint you Patton,” Roman replied shortly, giving a small shrug as he did so. He couldn’t stand to meet his gaze any longer, to watch that expression slide into disappointment, to have him realise they were still stuck with this version of the creative side of Thomas. 

“You could never disappoint me Roman!” Patton’s tone of voice was warm, inviting. It almost begged Roman to believe it and yet as badly as he did, as much as wanted nothing more than to brush those miserable thoughts aside there was something stopping him from accepting the easy comfort. It was almost too kind, that voice. Too sugary and rich, too sympathetic. Was Patton really that good of a person? If he had his memories back, then he would know. If he had his memories back, then he would be certain for sure what kind of person he was, but that person also chose to be ‘Princey’ and demand that everyone call him that. 

Roman felt... stifled. As if the air around them had grown steadily thicker and thicker. It wanted to choke him, shoving his own doubts back down his throat and how did he live like this every day? Did he not have these kind of thoughts with his own memories? Or was it just easier to bury them when the mind was full of other things to focus on? 

“Where’s Logan?” Virgil asked, the question cutting through the tension life a knife. It reminded Roman that his friend was still there and that he was almost certainly just imagining these feelings about Patton. They wanted to help him, they were trying their best and it wasn’t their fault that he was confused and unsure of what he actually wanted now. Of course Patton wasn’t actually disappointed, and of course they should find Logan, they had something to give him. 

“Salutations Roman, Virgil.” Logan walked out of the kitchen area, a cup of tea in his hand. 

“I’m going to go check in on Thomas, have fun kiddos.” With a bright grin Patton sank out of the living room, presumably going to the real world, for a moment Roman yearning to go with him. He wanted to see what the other world was like, he wanted to finally meet Thomas - but no, they had to stay here, they had to deal with one issue at a time. Roman was going to have to ask Virgil later how you actually sank down, or whatever it was that they did because he wasn’t sure how to actually travel out of the mind. It was yet another thing that he needed to relearn it seemed. 

“I should clarify that while Patton was worried I was confident in your ability to untangle yourself from any harebrained situation you might have found yourself in,” Logan informed them, carefully placing his half drunk cup down on a coaster on the table. 

“That being said... I am... gratified to see that my trust in you was not misplaced and you are both unharmed. It has not been the same without you both.” Logan lifted a hand to adjust his tie, giving a soft little cough as he did so, and Roman almost thought he looked a little... uncomfortable with what he was saying, as if striking out into unknown territory. “Were you able to discover anything useful?” 

“We found... this,” Virgil replied, pulling out the jar of Crofters and holding it out to Logan. The logical sides eyes lit up at the sight of it, taking the jar and turning it over and over, examining it carefully. To Roman, it felt as if Logan had forgotten he was even in the room, his whole attention swallowed up by the object in his hands. He muttered under his breath as he stared, voice pitched far too low for Roman to hear anything he was actually saying but then he didn’t think the words were really for them anyway. 

“And for the love of all things Halloween, do not be tempted to take a taste. I’m pretty sure this is what caused Prin- uh... Roman’s memory loss,” Virgil warned. 

“Why did you change what name you were using?” Logan asked curiously, even looking away from the jar to stare at the other side who shuffled his feet slightly, moving from side to side. Virgil lifted his hand after a moment, pushing his fringe out of his face a little bit. A seemingly futile gesture as the bangs instantly fell back down to cover them. He gave a huff before finally speaking.

“I dunno... Roman just... didn’t seem to really like it when I used it back there. I don’t want to make him more uncomfortable and confused that he has to be,” Virgil explained and Roman felt something swell inside of him, a heady rush of pleasure that Virgil had noticed and put into words what Roman had been struggling so hard to explain to himself. 

“Interesting. Do you no longer like the nickname of Princey? I confess I have always found it somewhat ostentatious but it was your choice and I respected that. Without the influence of Disney it seems as though you do not have such desires. I did not realise that it had such a profound effect on you, although that is clearly a mistake on my part. Tell me Roman, why do you dislike a name you loved only a few days ago?”

“I...” Roman trailed off his mind hopelessly spinning and not coming up with any answer. He didn’t know what to say, how to answer and Logan was still staring at him with that same piercing gaze, pinning him in place and making him feel increasingly small. He still hadn’t worked out his own feelings, couldn’t put them into even stumbling words and yet Logan expected him to be able to answer everything clearly. 

“Not the time Logan,” Virgil told him carefully, subtly shifting to the side and almost sliding between the two of them, cutting off Logan’s line of sight. The logical side blinked rapidly, seeming to snap back into himself. 

“Of course. I didn't mean to cause offence or push you too hard. You must have had a trying time within the Imagination. I have some tests I can run on this... forbidden Crofters. It will be my greatest challenge yet.” Logan’s attention returned to the jar in his hands, effectively dismissing them both without another word.  

There was something almost... intimidating about Logan. He knew so much and he gave off the impression of knowing even more. Roman was still unsure of where he stood with Logan, just as he was unsure of where he belonged with Patton. 

“Come on, let’s leave the teacher to his work,” Virgil suggested, words breaking through the rising tide of confusion and reminding Roman that there was at least one stable rock in his world. He was Virgil's friend and he knew where he stood with Virgil. Time was clearly the answer, so maybe he just needed to have an adventure with them both and he would be more comfortable in their presence. Until then, Roman had Virgil and that was enough for now. 

“I’m tired, I’m going to go back to my room and relax,” Roman told Virgil quietly, suddenly feeling the strain of the day upon him. He wanted to get away from the questions, all the attention and just try and work through the mess of emotions that were all tangled up in his mind. 

“Sure, I think I’m going to do the same.”

The two climbed the staircase without any further talking, Virgil mumbling some farewell as they reached the top before turning to shuffle to his own room. Roman watched him go for a moment, before he spun on his heel to head in the opposite direction, making his way to the room that bore his name but still felt like it belonged to a stranger. At least he would be left alone in there for a little while. Roman quietly closed the door behind him, leaning against it and exhaling loudly, head tilting up to stare at his ceiling. 

He had a lot of thinking to do.