#if you want a part two ask and i’ll probably do it because thoma

[m1d-45]

small miracles

summary: washed up on the sands of ritou, inazuma’s famous helper lends you a hand.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: n/a, just standard imposter au things. you are on the run, technically. very minor gore i guess(like veeeery tiny)

-> lowercase intended!

< masterlist > || second part >>

dirt collapses beneath your feet, your torn shoes skidding on the edge of the cliff north of liyue harbor. you can hear the waves lap at the rock thousands of feet below you, layered under the huffs of the people in front of you.

steel blades shine in the hot sun, the millelith wielding them just as fierce. you can see the hatred in their eyes, the need for your end, whether by the spears in their hand or the waters behind you. the only reason they haven’t struck is because of the woman behind the ring of them.

a dark oak pipe balances on the tip of ningguang’s finger, her eyes as sharp as their ruby hue. she lets it tip to one side, her head following the tilt, before she spins it back into her palm. every action is defined with grace, not so much as a hair out of place. every golden ornament shows off her prestige, her power, how without even lifting a finger she has you pinned in place against a cliff.

perhaps if you weren’t at risk of dying, you might feel different about it.

one of the millelith asks if they’re allowed to strike. the red tassel on her forehead swings as she shakes her head.

“no. this fake is not worth liyuen metal.” ningguang tucks the pipe away in a smooth motion, crossing one arm over her chest to rest the opposite elbow on it. a clawed finger swipes an invisible hair back into place on her bangs. “send them to the sea. their bones will serve as an excellent toothpick for osial.“

well, that was a horrific visual.

in an instant, the millelith spin their spears around, careful to keep the blades away from themselves and each other to jab to dull ends at you. behind them, ningguang barely looks fazed, examining a geo crystal in her hand. you know the nonchalance is manufactured, a subdued silence, but that doesn’t make it any better. she doesn’t care that she’s sending you to your death. she knows it, wants it, and what would the millelith be if they couldn’t remove one person from the tianquan’s presence?

your left foot is standing half on air. the part that is on ground is shaky, uncertain, dirt nowhere near as stable as stone.

you risk a look at ningguang.

ruby eyes are the last thing you see before you fall.

you wake up on a beach, sandy and exhausted. invisible wounds bleed harder as sand gets into them as you sit up to look around. your clothes are hard with saltwater, and it’s a miracle you made it here alive. though teyvat has been kind, fruit and clean water always within reach, you didn’t think that you would live long enough to hit land.

you stand—nearly falling—and shake out as much sand as you can, looking around. across the sea is a small island, within swimming range, but youre not inclined to explore when your limbs still feel so heavy. to your right, the beach narrows off, overtaken by the cliff behind you, but it seems to open up more to the left.

you decide to stumble that way, passing a spike of driftwood, and stop just as quickly.

you can see green roofs of houses, spires and what is maybe a watchtower in the distance, the architecture familiar. red and orange trees are interspersed between them, and your hopes fall.

you’d hoped you were in the stone forest. you’d hoped that you’d have a chance, knowing the abundance of hilichurls on the small islands, but now you’re…

you start walking, hoping to find some clues to prove your hunch wrong.

you see an okay looking boat, but youre preoccupied by the path branching to the left. wooden boards seem to make a walkway, and you step over them on your way inside. theres a small tent, a lantern, a block of supplies and a cooking pot. in the tent is a bed fashioned of hay, but embers light up the wood beneath the pot.

it would be a cozy enough place to stay, but you can’t risk whoever owns it coming back.

you head back the way you came and continue towards the city. the sand slides beneath your ragged shoes, but theres flowers following the breeze in the grass near the cliff. purple and a soft blue, they distract you long enough that a guard walks to their post further down the beach.

oh.

oh no.

you recognize the uniform, and the logo of the tenryou commission embossed on the armor. if inazuma is the same as any other nation—likely worse, considering the way its run—you need to avoid those guards at any cost.

you look to the cliffside. its steep, too steep to climb when youre still soaked from the sea.

you sigh, and decide to find another way up.

youre not quite sure how none of the guards saw you, but under the dwindling light of dusk, you manage to make to the southern(?) outskirts of what appears to be ritou.

…not that that means anything. you still don’t know how to get off the island, and trying to forcibly get deported will only result in an arrest. though there’s a food cart that most certainly can see you, the worker didn’t report you to the guards when they passed. you don’t remember her name, but know she sells some kind of food. maybe a fish dish? or was it egg? not that it matters, food is food, and if you’re lucky you’ll have enough mora for some.

you sit against a wall, checking your pockets. most of your stuff was either stolen or lost to sea, but your mora was still securely tied to your waist. after checking twice that you were out of people’s line of sight, you started to count, stacking the coins in piles of 10 on the grass in front of you. after a hundred, you moved them into one bigger pile.

you had more than you expected. though your pouch always seemed to weigh about the same, you didn’t think you could fit almost three thousand mora inside- or that you even had that. then again, chests typically had a few hundred, and you’d been pretty lucky in mondstat…

you set aside five hundred and hope it’s enough, but knowing teyvat’s economy… if salt was 60 mora, who knew how much you’d need?

whatever the case, you needed to eat. cradling the coins against you as you attach your pouch back at your waist, the go to move for the food stall.

your plans are dashed the second you stand.

a familiar face walked up the path towards the food stall, but quickly diverted towards you.

shit.

you step away, behind a tree, hoping against hope that he’d only seen somebody next to you instead of-

“hello there!”

you jump at how quickly thomas voice appeared at your side, taking another step back.

shit. that’s definitely him. weird horn headpiece, blonde hair, too-short jacket, dog tags and all.

you lick at your lips. they taste of salt. “hi?”

you hate how shattered your voice is. how quiet and rough it’s gotten.

“hey! i’m thoma.” he extends a hand, the small ribbon on the back of his glove rippling in the soft breeze. “it’s nice to meet you!”

you hesitate. it feels like you do a lot of that lately.

you remember him being affiliated with the kamisatos, which means he’s almost certainly heard of everything you’ve been accused of. but… there’s no way he would come up to you so casually if that was the case, right?

you want to trust him. you do. but there hasn’t been anybody else yet that you could.

carefully, you meet his hand with your own weak grip. the cloth on his gloves is leather, unsurprisingly, and though it is cold with the dusk chill, his fingers are warm. you have a feeling it’s from his vision, and your mind flickers to the last time you slept by a fire.

it’s been months.

“oh, you’re freezing! what are you doing outside?” his voice jumps a few octaves and his hand tightens around yours. “oh jeez, you’re going to catch a cold if you’re not careful. what are you doing without a coat in the middle of winter?“

is it winter? you don’t really remember the last time you knew the date for certain, but if that was true, then it was bad news. the clothes you wore you got from hilichurls and abyss mages, but the main enemies in inazuma were nobushi…

your worry must show on your face, because thoma’s frown deepens.

“now that i look at you… you’re not from inazuma, are you?”

you shake your head no.

“oh no… did you get caught up in the outlander affairs agency? they haven’t gotten any better after the decree, have they….”

“no, i-“ you cut yourself off with a coughing fit, tasting a bitter mixture of salt, blood, and bile climb up your throat. it’s disgusting, and alarmingly salty. you must have drank more ocean water than you meant to; it’s a wonder you didn’t choke on the trip over.

(how did you make it over? the distance from liyue to inazuma was too large for you to have simply floated, surely? but didn’t thoma himself float over?)

thoma’s other hand lands between your shoulder blades, patting lightly. “hey, it’s okay. it’s good you haven’t ran into the agency, but that cough doesn’t sound good at all…”

you adjust the tattered mask on your face, straightening and doing your best to look like you haven’t been on the run. “i’ll be fine.”

your chest tightens with the need to cough, but you set your jaw. you can’t afford to get involved with the yashiro commission. you’re certain the mora clutched in your grip is enough to buy you a decent meal and—alongside the rest of it—some kind of warm herbal tea.

gentle green eyes catch the money in your palm and widen. you can see the gears clicking inside his head, and he speaks before you can.

“is that all the mora you have?”

“i-“

“and you don’t even have a- ah, i can’t leave you out here like this. could you come with me to the teahouse? there’s a waypoint just inside ritou, and i’d feel a lot better if i could get you some tea and clean clothes. it won’t be the fanciest, but i know there’s some spare sets and anything would be better than risking an illness. inazuman winters aren’t kind, and the shogun hasn’t been in the best mood as of late.”

the pros and cons weigh in your head. you could go with somebody you know is kind, and get what is certainly good food and hot drinks with clean clothes to boot. or, you could risk walking into a trap with, arguably, one of the most influential people in the yashiro commission at least, if not all of inazuma. it’ll either be the best choice you’ll ever make, or one that’ll land you in front of tenshukaku in chains.

thoma picks up on your hesitation, taking his hand off your shoulder and giving you space, though he keeps your hands linked. “can i at least bring you some dinner, then, if you don’t want to come with me? or a blanket? or- or something?“

he’s awfully worried for somebody he just met. you’re not sure if his determination is evidence of his benevolent nature, or if he’s trying to make you trust him as he calls over some shogunate soldiers.

…you also can’t decide if it’s your desperation for connection with somebody you can rely on or your need for a better environment that makes you agree.

maybe his bright smile has something to do with it. or the comforting warmth in his hands as he leads you away? maybe it’s the way he holds you tightly against him after you ask to go to the teahouse and are nearly sick coming out of the teleporter.

or maybe, by chance, it’s the light in his eyes when you say ‘thank you’.

[film-in-my-soul]

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Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

[ailendolin]

Hope - A BBC Ghosts Fanfic

Title: Hope [AO3]

Characters: pre-Nigel/Thomas, Jean, the Plague Ghosts

Summary: Thomas can't handle the quiet after Alison, Mike and Mia leave.

A/N: I began writing this after I finally got to see the final episode of Ghosts last January and couldn't stop thinking about how difficult that first night after the Coopers left must have been for the ghosts with the house being all quiet and everyone probably retreating into their rooms to deal with the new situation on their own.

————

Hope

It was late. Not yet past midnight but still later than usual according to the chime of the old grandfather clock that echoed too loudly through the silent house. Normally, Nigel and the others went to bed early just as they’d done their whole lives but today was not a normal day.

Today, Alison and Mike had left.

Alison had tears in her eyes when she’d come down to the basement to say goodbye earlier. It had been painfully obvious to Nigel that a part of her didn’t want to leave but he hadn’t told her that. He did not want to be the person making this harder for her than it already was. She’d made her decision, for better or worse, and all he could do now was support her in it. So he’d smiled at her and said, “Have a good life, Alison.”

And he’d meant it. He and the others did not begrudge her selling the house. They would miss her, though. She had always been kind to them – even if she did call them zombies, once – and made sure to keep the light on so they would not have to sit in the dark. Today, she’d turned off the light for the first time in years.

“I’ll leave the door open for you guys,” she’d said with one last smile. “I know it’s not the same but this way, you’ll at least have a little light when the electricity will be cut tomorrow.”

The moment she’d turned around, Mick started crying.

It was another reminder that everything would be different now, and Nigel wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The hotel would turn the house upside down and they knew their little corner of it would not escape the renovations. Alison had said they would love the sauna but he had to admit he was still a little sceptical about it.

“Won’t it smell if all the livings come down here to sweat?” he’d asked the others back when Alison had first informed them about the plans.

Geoff had shrugged. “Can’t be worse than us, eh?”

That had gotten a laugh out of everyone.

There was no laughter ringing through the house this night; no calls for dinner from the kitchen, no crying from Mia, no music playing. The quietness reminded Nigel of the time when Humphrey had been alive, and not in a good way, and he could tell the others felt it too. Even though no one said a word, it was clear none of them were eager to go to sleep that night.

So they talked – about the time Mike tried to repair the boiler and nearly blew up the house in the process, about that memorable night when Alison desperately tampered with the lights to imitate Robin, and that fateful Christmas Day a little over two years ago when Thomas’s portrait found its way down to them and caused all sorts of excitement.

“Thank god we’re over that,” Walter’s wife said and the others nodded in agreement.

Nigel glanced over at the portrait in the corner where it stood half-covered and among a myriad of other things Alison and Mike had left behind, and thought, Speak for yourself.

He might no longer be blinded by Thomas’s posed prettiness but that didn’t mean he didn’t find him handsome at all. There was just something about the way Thomas held himself that drew him in. Nigel had likened him to a flamingo once and he stood by that. Thomas was graceful, and his voice – oh it was the sound dreams were made of. Misty Glade might have been a mess of words and metaphors but Nigel didn’t think he’d even have noticed if the others hadn’t started questioning it because Thomas had recited it so beautifully. Thomas could read from the boiler manual for all he cared if it meant he’d get to listen to that beautiful deep cadence of his voice again or watch him prance around on stage playing a prince with all the pathos in the world.

If he were pressed to name the moment when he realised the portrait situation had been more than a passing fancy for him, Nigel would say it was the end of the panto. Thomas had looked so happy then – so completely at ease and content it had taken Nigel’s breath away. He’d never realised how beautiful Thomas’s smile was until he saw it that night in the gentle glow of the Christmas lights, and a part of him began to dream that Thomas would smile at him like that one day.

That was all it was, though: a dream. Nigel had never had any illusions that it could be more, which was why he didn’t tell anyone about what that foolish heart of his felt every time Thomas was so much as mentioned. Judging by the looks Jean sometimes gave him, he suspected she knew anyway. She seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense for this sort of thing – perhaps that’s how managed to hide her feelings for Geoff for so long, Nigel mused with a smile.

When he tuned back in to the conversation, the topic had moved from Thomas’s portrait to the panto.

“Oh, it was so much fun, wasn’t it?” Geoff’s wife said with a happy sigh.

“I did not like the sisters,” Mick grumbled.

Everyone groaned and gave him a look.

“You were not supposed to, silly,” Jean said. “They were meant to be like that.”

“Cinderella deserved better,” Mick insisted.

Nigel was just about to remind him that she ended up with the handsome prince in the end when the soft sound of a throat being cleared made him and the others turn towards the open basement door in unison. To his surprise, Thomas was standing there, looking terribly small and self-conscious in the gloom.

“Knock knock,” he said softly without looking up from his shoes. His fingers were nervously fiddling with the cuff of his sleeves, making him look restless and skittish. “I, uhm … didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“And yet you have,” Walter said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring him down. “What do you want?”

Thomas took an involuntary step backwards. His eyes flicked up, just briefly, but long enough for Nigel to see that they were a little too wide; a little too frantic and glassy.

“Sorry,” Thomas mumbled. He hunched his shoulders and turned away. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

“No, wait!” Nigel said and before he knew it, he was across the room. Ignoring the irritated look Walter gave him, he gently touched Thomas’s arm – not to hold him back but to reassure him he meant no harm. “What’s going on?”

Thomas sniffed pitifully and hung his head.

“The house is so quiet,” he whispered. There was a lost look in his eyes when he glanced up, and a silent plea for Nigel not to make him spell out why he’d come here. It tugged at Nigel’s heart and crush or not, he knew in that moment that he would not send Thomas away to suffer this loss they all felt so keenly alone.

“It is, isn’t it?” he said softly. Giving Thomas’s arm a squeeze, he added, “Come on, you can sit with us for a while.”

“Excuse me–“ Geoff’s wife and Walter said in unison only for Jean to shush them both with a heartfelt, “Oh shut up, you two. We’ve got room for one more.”

Walter glowered at her. “Not if he starts reciting his bloody poetry we don’t.”

Thomas seemed to shrink in on himself at the sharp words and it took all of Nigel’s willpower not to rub his arm reassuringly – or turn around and punch Walter in the face. As satisfying as the latter might feel, he was not in the mood for a row with Walter, not tonight.

“Don’t listen to him,” he told Thomas instead, careful to keep his voice soft and gentle. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be alone right now.”

The small but grateful smile Thomas gave him did nothing to calm the butterflies fluttering nervously about in Nigel’s stomach.

“There’s enough people upstairs if he needs someone to hold his hand,” Walter muttered under his breath but a quick glare from Jean finally shut him up. 

“They’ve all gone to bed early,” Thomas said with his head bent low as Nigel led him over to a corner. “We … we haven’t really talked, not since–“

His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes against the emotions threatening to well up inside him. As gently as he could, Nigel helped him sit down on the old stone floor before he joined him. He wasn’t surprised when Jean settled down on Thomas’s other side.

“It sucks sometimes, doesn’t it? Being alone with your own thoughts?” she asked kindly.

Thomas sighed and nodded, almost helplessly. “I keep thinking about what tomorrow will be like, and the following weeks and months and years, and I just – I can’t stop.”

Jean smiled in understanding. “So you came down here for a distraction because god knows we never shut up.”

Thomas hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry. I did not mean–”

“Hey,” Nigel said, cutting him off before the self-blame could take hold. “Don’t worry about it. We’re glad to have you here.”

“Some of us certainly are,” Jean smirked, not even trying to hide her knowing grin when Nigel glared at her.

Luckily for Nigel, Thomas neither noticed the silent conversation he was having with Jean nor the blush Nigel knew was creeping up the back of his neck. He just pulled his legs up to his chest so he could rest his chin on his knees and said, very quietly. “Thank you. I … I wasn’t sure I would be welcome, considering what happened last year.”

“Well, you were a bit of a prick, I’ll give you that,” Jean told him bluntly before her face softened into a smile. “But then again, so were we.”

“It was rude of us to interrupt you,” Nigel agreed. “The least we could have done was let you finish your poem before we started asking questions.”

Thomas blinked at them in confusion. “Why are you being so … nice about this? I … I called you names!”

Nigel exchanged an amused look with Jean before he shrugged and said, “To be honest I still have no idea what a wazzock even is.”

“And you know, it’s never too late to apologise for one’s behaviour,” Jean added gently. Almost stricken, Thomas looked up at her. She gave him an encouraging nod. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, Thomas met Nigel’s eyes. “I truly am sorry.”

He sounded so sincere that Nigel couldn’t help but smile. “It’s okay. I’m not one to hold grudges anyway.”

He glanced over at Mick who stopped mid-sentence to stick his tongue out to him and then continued talking to John as if nothing had happened. Nigel grinned, glad they’d reached a point where they could gently joke about Mick’s role in their deaths now, and turned back to Thomas. Feeling a little brave, he gently nudged his shoulder and quietly asked, “Do you want to talk about today? About Alison leaving?”

Thomas stared at him, wide-eyed and looking terribly young, and for a moment Nigel could just imagine him as a little boy: all gangly limbs and with a heart that would always be too big for his chest.

“I’d rather not,” Thomas said softly and averted his eyes. His voice was thick with grief as he hugged his legs more tightly and added, “I just … don’t want to think about it for a little while.”

“That’s all right,” Nigel said easily. “What would you like to talk about instead?”

He expected Thomas to launch into a lecture about the finer points of poetry, or perhaps even a poem to keep his mind occupied and distracted. Instead, Thomas turned those expressive eyes onto him and asked, “Would you tell me about yourself? We’ve been living – well, ghosting – in this house together for nearly two centuries and I know little but your name about you.”

Oh, Nigel thought. Panicking, he looked to Jean for help. He wanted to say he was surprised to find her trying not to laugh at his predicament but he wasn’t. Giving her one of his most vicious glares which seemed to only make her press her hand to her mouth harder to keep from laughing, he turned back to Thomas and stammered, “Well, there’s not really much to know. I lived a rather boring life, I’m afraid.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Thomas said with such intensity that Nigel felt himself melt under his gaze. “Simple, perhaps, but not boring. Not with this lot around.”

He nodded to the other villagers and Nigel huffed out a laugh because Thomas had a point. His life, simply as it might have been, had certainly not been uneventful. So he started at the beginning. “The bluebells were in bloom when I was born. I was my parents’ second child. My sister Susanna was born two years before me, and my brother Henry three years after me. I loved them both very dearly but Henry was always sickly and …”

Just like that, he found himself talking about people he hadn’t thought about in decades and sharing memories he usually shied away from and preferred to forget. Nigel did not know why he was telling Thomas all those painful, private things. Perhaps it was because of the way Thomas was looking at him, silent but attentive – as if in that moment, Nigel had become the centre of his universe. Or perhaps it had just been too long since he’d talked about his family and their ghosts were tired of being forgotten. Whatever it was, not only Thomas and Jean were listening to him intently – the others were as well. No one interrupted him as he talked about his short life, and when he was done, Thomas gave him a soft, grateful smile that made him duck his head and said, “See? Not boring at all.”

One by one, each of them began to tell their tale. They didn’t even notice the hours passing until Lady Button’s scream echoed through the house, heralding a new dawn. Looking at the tired but content faces of the people he had known all his life and death as they settled down to sleep, Nigel smiled. They might have their differences but at the end of the day, there was no one he would rather be stuck with in the afterlife than them.

His gaze wandered to Thomas. He had fallen asleep on his shoulder, a warm, solid presence against his side, and his face looked more peaceful than Nigel had ever seen it. He felt his smile soften and suddenly, desperately found himself wishing that this were not a one-time thing – that he could be someone Thomas would seek out in moments like this; someone Thomas might even come to love one day, like Alison or Lady Isabelle. He was so tired of being alone.

“Don’t lose heart,” Jean said quietly. It was something his mother had once told him as well, back when Nigel had confessed to her that it wasn’t pretty girls like Jean who made his heart beat faster. There had been sadness in his mother’s eyes, then, but understanding and acceptance too, and he saw the same in Jean’s now when their eyes met in the dark. She did not make him any promises, did not tell him that Thomas would madly fall in love him, but she did tell him that he was not alone and that there was always hope.

And hope, Nigel thought as he allowed himself to lean his head against Thomas’s and close his eyes, was all he could ask for.  

[th3w00ds]

Hey I saw your requests were open? If that's still the case then I'd love to request a Natemare x reader that has some sanders sides fic where the reader has been dating Mare for awhile so the reader decides to finally introduce Mare to there best friend of many years, Virgil. If that's possible, please and thank you.

Of course!!!

I Lie Inside Myself for Hours

@namelessmunster

Title From: Imaginary by Evanescence

Fandom: Youtuber Egos + Sanders Sides

AU: None

Content Warnings: Not proofread

----------------------------------------

As you were standing in front of the Sides house, it occurred to you for the fifteenth time that day that Natemare, your boyfriend, had never met the Sides. You didn’t know if they’d even get along.

The reason you were here other than introduce him to your friends was to see your best friend of many years, Virgil. He was an anxious guy, but somehow you were closest to him out of the Sides rather than one would probably expect your best friend to be, like Logan or Patton.

But Anxiety was the one who you were closest to. You’d known Virgil for around five years, since Thomas had invited you over saying that he “wanted you to meet a few people.” It turned out that those people were parts of himself. 

You sighed, and knocked on the door, then turning to Mare. “It won’t be that long, usually Roman- Creativity gets the door within a few seconds,” 

“Yeah? Wellll, I can’t help but notice it’s taking a few more than that, isn’t it Y/N?” He said sarcastically, looking around the outside of the house. Oh yeah, he’d for sure get along with Virgil. 

Around ten seconds later Roman opened the door, and he smiled at the sight of you. He called out to the other Sides, “Y/N IS HERE!!!”

Then he looked back at you and his eyes turned to Mare. “Ohh, who is this now? Your lover? What’s his name? How did you meet-“ 

“Roman!! Shut!!!” You said, interrupting him. That man never stopped with his romance questions if he figured one was interested in it. 

“Awww… fine, I’ll save them for later. But do I at least get to know his name?” Roman said.

You looked over at Mare, and he smiled.

“I’m Natemare, but if you want you can call me Mare,” He told Roman, shaking his hand. 

“Well.. come in! Virgil will be happy to see you, Y/N!” Roman said, moving out of the way. 

“Who’s Virgil?” Mare asked you as you both walked into the house.

“He’s my best friend,” You answered.

“And you’ve never introduced me to him? Shame upon you,” He said jokingly, “How dare you not introduce me to everyone you know.” 

“Shut up,” you said, laughing a little. 

“Hmm… no!” He replied. “Y’know, I am curious as to who the other Sides are. Roman was certainly a… character,” 

“That’s just how he is,” you said. You then saw Logan, Patton and Janus hanging out in the living room, playing some kind of board game.

Patton looked up first, and pretty much shouted in excitement. “Y/N! You’re here! I’m so happy, it’s been way too long,” 

“Patton, it has been two weeks since Y/N has last visited.” Logan said, placing a piece on the board. Janus looked at you, slightly smiling, and then he looked at Mare.

“Oh, great, there are two emos here now.. I’m so thrilled,” He said, and he rolled his eyes.

“You remind me of my younger brother,” Mare said to Janus. 

“Amazing,” Janus said flatly. Patton then went up to Mare.

“What’s your name? Are you human? Also, I’m Patton, Thomas’s Morality, Logan is his Logic and Janus is his… Deceit,” He said. 

“I’d suggest stopping with the rampant questions, Patton, he’s already been questioned enough by Roman,” Logan said.

“It’s okay. I’m Natemare, and no, I’m not human. I’m a siren,” Mare answered Patton. 

“Like the beings that lured sailors to their deaths in Greek Mythology?” Logan asked. 

Mare nodded, “Exactly. Most people I meet get scared when they hear that, so it’s kind of new that people aren’t.. you know, trembling and backing away just because of that.” 

“It wouldn’t be nice to judge you based on what you are!” Patton said, smiling once more. 

“Hypocrite,” Janus quietly said with anger while out of earshot of Patton. Which was true. Out of all the light Sides, Patton was the one who judged the dark Sides based on what they were the most. 

“That’s nice. It was nice meeting all of you, Y/N has mentioned all of you once or twice,” Mare said. 

“You did?!” Patton said happily. 

You nodded. “Yeah. Also, Patton, do you know where Virgil is?” You asked. You hadn’t seen the emo nightmare yet, which was odd. Usually he was one of the first to come talk to you when you came over. 

“Yes, where is that raccoon? He disappeared right when you showed up,” Janus said. 

“He’s downstairs,” Patton replied, “Probably on the couch, poor kiddo. I wonder what’s up with him today..” 

It might be the fact a new person is here. Virgil didn’t like new people, he never has. It took him a while to trust you, and even more time for him to open up to you. 

“Thank you! We’ll go check on him,” You said, walking down the stairs with Mare.

“So.. if the Sides represent things about Thomas, then what is Virgil?” Mare asked you. 

“Virgil is Thomas’s Anxiety,” you answered his question. “He’s not really a people person,” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mare said. You two reached the bottom, and entered into a second living area. 

You looked around for your best friend, and then saw him on the couch, like Patton said he might be.

He was on his phone, probably scrolling on Tumblr, with his hood up and his headphones in. The music was loud, so loud that you could hear it. It was “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” by My Chemical Romance, which was Virgil’s self proclaimed “theme song” and one you two often listened to together. 

Well, if listening is counted as screaming the lyrics to it at 3am, then yes, you listened to it together. 

You went up to him and tapped his shoulder a few times. “Virgil??”

He paused his music and looked up, not taking off his hood. “What?” He said with an annoyed tone. You were stunned for a moment. He hadn’t been this blatantly annoyed with you since before you were best friends.

“Uh- I want you to meet someone,” You said, gesturing to Mare. Virgil sighed, and finally took off his hood, taking out his headphones as well. 

“Who?” That was all he said. “Don’t tell me they’re like Roman… or worse, Remus,” 

“Oh, no, he’s not like them at all. This is Natemare, my boyfriend,” You said. Virgil moved to look at Mare, looking him up and down. 

“He’s your boyfriend? Huh. Wait, first of all, WHEN did you get a boyfriend? You’ve never mention this to me before,” he said, his annoyance slightly going away. 

“We’ve been dating for six months,” Mare answered for you. 

“Six months??? Y/N, you’ve been over here  eight times in that time and you’ve NEVER mentioned this??? I would’ve thought that you would tell me whenever you got a partner, since you’re, you know, my best friend!” Now the annoyance was back. Virgil did seem mad, as he raised his voice slightly.

“Hi.. I don’t want us to bother you, we can leave if you want,” Mare said. “Also.. were you listening to MCR? They’re one of my favorite bands, and I’m Not Okay is a good song.” 

Virgil was silent for a few moments, and then spoke. “No, you guys can… stay if you want. I want Y/N here at least,” He said.

“Alright,” You said. “Can I sit next to you?” You asked. Virgil simply nodded, and moved so you could sit next to him.

You sat down, and Mare sat down too. You moved closer to him, and Virgil sort of.. glared?? Does he think that just because you have a boyfriend, you’re going to abandon him or something?

“Virgil.. I’m not going to leave you, and I’m not going to stop being friends with you just because I have a boyfriend,” You said, trying to reassure him due to his unspoken feelings. 

“Who said I thought that? I wasn’t saying that,” He said. Mare laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna steal your best friend from you or something,” 

Virgil… actually laughed at that. That was a good sign. 

That was probably the quickest time he laughed at something someone he just met said, even when you had first met him.

You could tell they’d get along great. Eventually. 

[theshippirate22]

listen i’ve got like 18 different wips that aren’t going anywhere so I should definitely not start another one but i’ve just thought of the best thing and i don’t know who to tell so y’all get to hear:

(background here: i’ve been listening to Labour by Paris Paloma on repeat pretty much since the second it was released. if you’re on tiktok, you’ve probably heard it, and if you haven’t go listen to it right now because it slaps every time)

so transfem stevie harrington was disowned by her parents as a teenager for being a disappointment and a failure, shit like that, and so when Prince Thomas asks her to marry him, she’s really got no other choice. there’s a caveat, however. the prince isn’t allowed to marry a woman, because it’s generally accepted that women are useless and it makes more sense for two men to keep the throne (i.e. no homophobia, lots of misogyny) so stevie has to keep her dead identity as Prince Steve.

her marriage to Tommy is miserable, though. it’s no surprise he was so desperate to marry her, because no one else could stand him. he’s so particular about things, and he likes “steve” a certain way- all the ways that make stevie so horribly dysphoric. she ends up hiding in her wing of the castle when she’s not needed to dress up and hide away the part of her that wants something else.

it doesn’t help that her valet is the sweetest, strangest man ever, who seems to know what goes on when Tommy’s away. stevie’s quite sure it’s him that’s leaving dresses and makeup and jewelry and shoes in her armoire when she’s not around.

the worst of it though, is her daughter. because all royalty is male, heirs are chosen through a competition to establish the fittest. Lady Maxine won the competition a few years prior and while she seems to know somethings off with stevie, she hasn’t seemed to figure it out quite yet. when max gets in trouble with Tommy and things escalate a little too quickly, stevie knows they’ve got to get out of this castle, and this kingdom as soon as they can, if only to protect max.

while they’re rushing to pack and slip out the window in the dead of night, stevie’s valet, eddie, catches them but instead of turning them in and forcing them to face their fates, he steals them a chaise and some horses, deciding to come with them and offer whatever protection he can because he’s “loyal to milady.”

while they try to escape, they run into an overworked, livid housewife (nancy!) and a depreciated, frustrated lesbian (robin!) who decide to come along with them.

idk maybe i’m delusional? i just think it could be so good lmk if you’d even read something like that and i’ll do a snippet

[pjisskullourful]

🆄🆂🅴 🅼🅴

🚬Ethan × reader

part 4/?? [series masterpost]

NSFW 🔥 smuttastic feral nastiness

° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert ✨ cameos by: Damiano David, Thomas Raggi & Victoria De Angelis

° 'This son of a bitch will pay for this tonight' ||| meeting the members of måneskin in miami unexpectedly brings up your need for revenge [based december 2022]

wordcount::        6,370

° commissioned by the wonder that is kat (@mistressofthecats-blog ) 💋 thanks for another truly filthy idea that i loved bringing to life

“So you’re the reason Ethan can’t focus ‘cause he’s always horny?” Damiano asked.

“Yep, that’d be me. Did you want an apology or…?” You returned, making the lead singer laugh.

You felt good about this, feeling confident of the first impression you were leaving on one of Ethan’s best friends. This was the first night you were meeting all the members of Måneskin and there was an unprompted urge inside of you to prove yourself. Not just to the three of them, but also to Ethan. You wanted to show him that you could fit in with the most important people in his life, as if this was an unofficial test to win the achievement of being the great girlfriend he deserved.

But your night wouldn’t be entirely about appealing to the musicians, because you were at work the same as them. The events management company that you worked for were partnered up with the company that had brought Måneskin to Miami for the night.

This was just a brief moment of relaxation that you would have backstage.

“Okay, okay, how about a little less inappropriate questions for this professional woman just trying to do her job?” Ethan suggested, stepping forward.

Damiano was provided a steaming cup of tea and wandered off for a quiet place to sit. This left you and your boyfriend alone, amongst the rest of the backstage activity. Smirking, you turned to face him.

“Always horny, eh?” You asked.

He stared you down. “Oh, and you aren’t? You’re probably thinking about it right now…”

You folded your arms across your chest. “I’m sure that I have no idea what you’re talking about, I am just a professional woman doing my job.”

“Really?” He asked, full of cheeky scepticism. “Are you really gonna try to tell me that you aren’t already thinking ahead to the hotel room?” He took a step closer to you and your eyes darted down to his mouth. “You don’t have any plans for that bed, or the floor?” You were hanging on his every word, too distracted to care if anyone else was noticing the two of you. “You didn’t pack any extra, special items in with the rest of your work stuff?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Baby, I’m just a regular working stiff tonight. I think you should be more worried about yourself.” His eyebrows raised at that. “Will you be able to focus on your drums knowing I’m watching?”

There was no hesitation in how he responded, ready to quip back in the same second that you had finished speaking. “Are you gonna survive knowing I’m banging my drums and not you?”

“Yep, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” You said with full confidence.

“And we’ve got Vic.” One of the members of the touring team announced to the large room as the bassist emerged from the makeup room.

“Okay, photos. Everyone get together.”

Ethan gave you a peck on the cheek before leaving your side. He went over to where someone was holding a bulky camera, assembling with his bandmates.

Before the informal photoshoot could begin, you were distracted by a co-worker tapping your arm. They presented you with a rectangular tin. This needed to get to the merchandise stand, because the staff were running low on cash. You took one last look at Ethan (who was showing his serious side to the camera) before leaving backstage, with the locked container in hand.

The venue was buzzing with the excitement of the fans, with a large amount of people in line to buy some merch. You moved around to the other side of the booth, joining the other working staff. You transferred the cash box into their hands and asked if they needed any extra stock from backstage.

Then you were leaving, ready to see what tasks needed your attention next.

“Why don’t we do a ‘kissing under the mistletoe’ photo?” You heard the photographer suggest as you returned backstage, which made your ears involuntarily prick up.

“But there’s no mistletoe…” Damiano said.

“Imaginary mistletoe.” Thomas offered a solution.

“Come on, it’s festive.” Victoria said. “It’ll be good for the feed.”

There didn’t appear to be much thought put into how they would pair off, Thomas turned to the person directly beside him and Victoria did the same - meaning she would be sharing a kiss with your boyfriend. As you watched, from a distance, you couldn’t help feeling like you were back in school, watching Spin the Bottle go down at a rambunctious party.

“Okay, are we ready?” The person holding the camera asked the chatting bandmates. “Three, two- kiss.”

You kept your eyes glued to Ethan, watching the way he and Victoria laid their hands on each other before kissing. Their eyes were shut as they fully went in, heads tilted and lips parted, leaning into one another. The camera flashed so many times, capturing a lot of photos as they kept going.

You couldn’t look away, even as you felt white hot irritation winding its way around your gut and tightening. The tendrils reached higher and you clenched your jaw. The negative emotions were so deep within you before you had any time to understand their source or apply any kind of logic.

This son of a bitch, it was your first coherent thought, directed at your boyfriend.

You weren’t entirely shocked by the display - you had come to learn that this was something of a trademark for Måneskin. You had seen the video for I Wanna Be Your Slave, you understood that they played with the ideal ‘sex sells’. He had explained to you that the four friends were simply very comfortable with one another, with physical affection being part of that. You hadn’t raised any further questions, accepting this, even if you couldn’t relate to it.

Now, all that you could think about was how you would literally never do this with any of your friends. Even if you were single. Nico would sooner hit you with pepper spray than agree to this kind of lip-to-lip contact.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, you understood that nothing would come of this. There was no betrayal to be felt, because you knew she wasn’t after your man, or anything juvenile like that.

All the same, you were plagued by jealousy. Because you wanted to be the one indulging in a kiss with Ethan. It had been hours, you wanted to feel his hands and taste his lips.

This son of a bitch will pay for this tonight, the decision was made.

He was teasing you with what you couldn’t currently have. It was as frustrating as the naked or otherwise lewd photos he sent to you when your work kept you separate.

When the friends finally parted, he screwed his face up in distaste. “Pizza breath. Fucking Hell, Vic.”

This brought about laughter and she playfully punched his arm. One of the makeup artists rushed forward, ready to do touch-ups, beginning with her.

Amongst the movement from everyone else, he spotted you and all traces of that scowl left his face.

He smiled and winked at you. It wasn’t one of his over-exaggerated, silly winks. This was a subtle batting of one lid, just for you.

You returned his smile only half-heartedly, your jaw was still clenched.

“Hey, can I get you to grab another pack of those water bottles from the fridge?” Your supervisor asked, approaching you. “We’re running low out here.”

“Of course.” You said immediately.

You started to leave the backstage area, heading for the loading dock you had been shown earlier in the night. As you walked, you began to make your vivid plans for the hotel room, plans for the bed and possibly beyond.

In your mind, you were already away from this night of work. He had been teasing you and your dirty mind before, but you were prepared to go beyond anything he might expect.

*** *** ***

Almost every word that you had said to Ethan had been dripping with sarcasm. And he had matched this, without any signs of fatigue from the intensive show he had just put on.

The two of you were able to carry out your unique style of flirting as you were driven away from the venue. A large van was filled with the members of Måneskin and some of their team, en route back to the sanctuary that was the luxurious hotel.

You had spent the entire concert coming up with how you would exact your payback on Ethan. This had built up a lot of energy inside of you, with your intentions bubbling just beneath the surface. This manifested in a lot of snarky comments and sassy comebacks.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in the van. But for the majority of the journey, the two of you had been volleying.

“I heard a girl screaming in the front row, ‘fuck me, Ethan’.” You said.

He was smiling at you. “You sure it wasn’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“No, I just have memory of that.”

“And is it memories like that which keep you quote-unquote ‘too horny to focus’?” You teased.

“You know that he was exaggerating when he said that.”

“I dunno about that, he seems like a reliable source to me.” You said of Damiano. “If I were going to shout anything, it would be ‘fuck off, Ethan’.”

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t have any memory of that.”

“You’re about to…”

From the seat behind yours, Thomas chimed in. “You two sure have an unusual way of communicating. Don’t take that the wrong way, please. ‘Cause it’s good to go against the grain. But damn, if I didn’t know any better…”

“Yeah, are you two this mad at each other when you’re fucking?” Damiano asked.

In your peripheral vision, you could see that Ethan had begun to blush and this pleased you. “It depends on what kind of dumb shit he’s done that day.”

His mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “What? What about the dumb shit you do?”

“No comparison.” You calmly stated.

“You two need to go and fuck this out already.” Damiano said.

“In his dreams.” You said.

“We’ll see about that when we get back to the hotel.” Ethan said.

A sly smile came onto your face as you responded. “Yes, we will.”

*** *** ***

“I’m so exhausted.” You had said to Ethan once you were back at the hotel, before he had gotten the door to your suite unlocked.

He had taken you at your word, after seeing a portion of your night at work. He hadn’t given you sarcasm or any kind of sass, that mood had been left behind. He hadn’t tried to talk you into joining him in the shower, instead he had kissed you on the cheek and promised to keep the noise down.

“Get some rest, creep.” He said as you yawned.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, you cut this fake yawn off. You continued to undress from your work clothes, going over to your opened suitcase. But you didn’t pull out the old T-shirt you had brought to wear to bed, instead you unzipped a thin compartment of the bag.

You heard the water running in the shower and quickly got to work on the first part of your plan. This included a transformation - taking you out of the practical clothes he had seen you in all night. You replaced your bland uniform with a dark red, velvet dress. You paired this with fishnet stockings, then slid your feet into some black high heels. You pulled on a pair of black, mesh gloves that reached above your elbows.

When you had packed this ensemble, you had envisioned having a romantic reason to wear it. But you didn’t mind putting it to use in this way. Using it for an evil plan was better than not using it at all.

Onto your lips, you painted a blood red pigment. You touched up the makeup already on your face as the water kept running in the other room.

Then it came time to prepare the room. You tossed your secret prop onto the seat of an armchair and began moving this over, getting the chair closer to the bed. You rushed around, turning off all of the lights, excluding your bedside lamp. You used this light to get back to the chair and you sat down, facing the bed. The prop laid in your lap as you listened to the shower.

When the water finally shut off, you reached your arm out and switched the lamp off. You were swallowed up by the shadows, hoping that the light from the bathroom wouldn’t reach you. You crossed one leg over the other and composed yourself.

He emerged from the darkened bathroom (considerate enough to shut off the light before opening the door, to avoid disrupting your sleep). He became another shadow in the suite and you listened carefully for his footsteps on the carpet. In your mind, you visualised his movements.

You kept very still, until you heard the mattress sigh under his weight as he began to settle. Was he reaching across the bed and trying to find your body? How long would it take for him to realise that something was different and speak a question into the silence?

You hooked your prop over one finger, letting its chain make a quick, rhythmic rattling as you reached out with the other hand. You switched the lamp on again, filling this part of the room with light.

His brow was furrowed as he looked in your direction. Immediately his expression started to change, with the concern giving way to show how impressed he was. He sat up in the bed as his eyes rushed to take in your entire appearance.

Nothing was said as he appraised you. You took advantage of this moment and began to twirl one thick leather cuff around your finger, the other, attached handcuff swirled through the air. You maintained this momentum, drawing his attention to your BDSM prop.

“Hey creep, I thought you were asleep.” He said.

You didn’t smile as you looked at him. “Nope. I’ve gotta deal with you before I can sleep.”

“Deal with?” He repeated, looking sceptical.

You got to your feet, taking the few steps over to the bed. “Yes. You see, you’ve been a complete pain in the ass.”

You climbed onto the bed, keeping yourself on your knees so that you were higher than him. You put one hand on his bare shoulder and shoved him back. He didn’t resist this and you got him lying flat on his back.

“It doesn’t matter how God-like you may feel, all of those people screaming and falling to pieces over you and just you- that doesn’t mean you can disrespect me like you did tonight and not face any consequences…” You said, holding the heavy-duty cuffs securely in your hand.

The cocky, teasing smile came back onto his face as he looked up at you. “You’re referring to the kiss?”

“Damn right I am.”

“Alright.” He said and offered his wrists to you, showing his willingness to submit.

“Above your head.” You said. “I’m cuffing you to the bed.”

He continued to smile as he lifted his arms up, he probably thought he was about to go on a sexy adventure. But the cuffs were only a part of your evil plan.

You wrapped the leather around one of his wrists, then you fed the linking chain around a rung on the wooden headboard. You pulled the other cuff over and fixed it into place, trapping him in his current position.

“You look really gorgeous, babe.” He said.

“Aw.” You pinched his chin in your hand. “That’s not gonna get you out of this…”

He looked even more inviting than you could have imagined. You swept your eyes up-and-down his body, which was clad in only a pair of blue underwear. There was more inspiration to be drawn from his current state - the muscles in his arms tensed while the rest of his body was immobile. Your imagination was practically overflowing with ideas as you watched his impressive chest rising-and-falling quicker than what was normal.

“The things I’m gonna do to you…” You said as you remained kneeling at his side.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched the motion of how you had started to stroke the side of your neck. “How about you tell me? Then I can help you and make sure you get everything checked off that nasty list you’ve got.”

You shook your head. “No.” You properly caressed your skin, exploring all that was left exposed by your dress’ low neckline. “I’d rather leave you guessing.” You played with the spaghetti strap over one shoulder. “I’d rather tell you about how totally crazy you drive me. ‘Cause you aren’t just a pain in my ass. You consume me, probably without even trying…”

You ran both of your hands down to the front of the dress, your palms gliding onto your chest. His eyes had widened, fixed on what you were doing, on how you had begun to lightly fondle your breasts. “You make me ache.” Your nipples were firming up beneath the fabric. “You make me so insatiable and it’s so often. All that you have to do is look at me and you get me aching for your touch.

“And it’s in my whole body…” You lowered your hands, going for the hem, which sat at your thigh. You lifted the dress, allowing him to see more of your thighs. You ran your hands up-and-down your legs and he continued to watch with fascination. “I just want your hands all over me, because you make me feel so good.”

He gulped audibly, but he didn’t have anything to say as he watched you working your hands up-and-down your thighs. You let the hem of your dress move without lifting it high enough that he would be able to see your lacy panties.

You found that his dick was now visible as it stiffened and strained against his briefs. This sight brought a smile to your face - you were yet to lay a single finger on him.

“Maybe you know a little something about an ache…” You said.

His nostrils were flared as he nodded a little. You removed one of your gloves and dragged the thin fabric along his skin, watching his feet start to shift.

You didn’t speak as you took off the other glove, his heavy breathing was the only sound in the suite.

The next thing you removed were your high heels. You rested the shoes upon his chest. “Hold onto those for me, will ya?”

He looked displeased by this and you wondered how much of his patience remained. The chain gave a rattle as he readjusted how he was holding his arms.

You rolled your stockings down and pulled them off. It was a sudden decision to loosely wrap them around his neck, as some sort of fishnet scarf. The dark material looked perfect on him, adding another enhancement to how your fantasy was flawlessly becoming real.

You picked your shoes up. “Thanks, babe.” You pulled them back on, knowing how much he enjoyed the sight of you in high heels.

You grabbed for the bottom of the slip-style dress, allowing him to see your black underwear now. You lifted the dress, pulling it away from your bare torso. You removed the velvet garment and tossed it off the bed. His eyes were fixed on you as you readjusted your hair.

You could tell that he was fully hard inside of his underwear now. You started to push your own down, removing the damp panties.

Instead of liberating him in the same way, you placed your hands to his shoulders. This was to help you brace yourself as you mounted him. He loudly groaned when you straddled him at his stomach, keeping your crotch away from his. He squirmed beneath you, but he was ultimately powerless.

You felt a giddy rush to the head, indulging in the triumph of your plan. You were receiving vindication and he couldn’t do a thing to stop you. The sense of control was intoxicating.

And you let it push you further - you grinded as you settled your body weight on top of them. You pushed your wet pussy down until you made contact with his hot skin. You placed yourself over the strip of hair that reached down from under his belly button.

He made an impatient huffing sound as you started to move your hips. You arched your back, rocking yourself back. Then you thrusted forward, dragging your pussy along his skin. You felt a shiver run up your spine as this translated very well to your aching pussy, you continued your work at building some friction.

You rubbed your clit back-and-forth, wetting his skin as you went. Your walls spasmed and contracted around nothing as your excitement grew. You were finding your pacing, settling into his wonderful motion.

“Fuck.” He moaned, watching you grinding yourself on him. “Does that feel good, dealing with me like this?”

“You have no idea.” You said.

He lifted his head from the pillow to watch as you reached down, going for your pussy. You let your two fingers plunge down, wiping along your slit.

He was transfixed by this. Maybe he was preparing for the fingers to go into his mouth, as you had done in the past.

You put the fingers into your own mouth, tasting your cunt as you used your tongue to clean this moisture off. The taste of your arousal coated the inside of your mouth as you took your fingers out. You didn’t swallow as you looked at him.

“Open your mouth.” You instructed.

He opened his mouth and you did the same, leaning forward. He strained in his current position, trying to get closer to you. You pushed the saliva out of your mouth, over your bottom lip. The spit dripped down, going directly onto him.

Only some of the spit landed on his waiting tongue. Most of it landed on his skin and you didn’t waste any of your time wiping this up. He furrowed his brow and shut his mouth again, looking wholly frustrated by this scenario.

But you were still enjoying the manifestation of your plan. You wiped a hand across your lips as you rocked your body weight back again. You resumed your grinding upon him.

You found your rhythm, savouring the effects this friction was having on your body. You could see a look in his eyes as he watched you riding his body, this was a look of him wanting to grab and kiss you. He was hungering for more than that drop of saliva had provided. You could see how tense the muscles in his arms were as you continued to deny his desires.

It added to the thrill of the complete control you currently held over him and it made you push yourself down harder on him.

“You’re mine.” You purred.

His response was instant. “Yes.”

“You are mine, Ethan, all of you.” You said. “And that includes those fuckin’ lips.”

“I know.” 

“Those lips are only supposed to go on my lips, all of them.”

“I know, baby.” He said.

You reached for the nightstand and picked up the packet of cigarettes you had left there earlier. You took one out, placing the filtered end between your lips. You collected one of your E.T. marked lighters, turning the little wheel mechanism until the flame appeared. He watched you light the cigarette and take your first drag.

With this task fulfilled, you could concentrate on your rocking again. You continued working your clitoris against his skin, enjoying how the pressure was building inside you.

Holding the cigarette between two fingers, you lowered it down to him. He opened his mouth, allowing you to place the end between his lips. His eyes were locked on you as he inhaled deeply. He puffed out a cloud of smoke before going back for another drag.

Allowing him this indulgence didn’t seem to help with his impatience. He continued to frown and the way the muscles in his arms still visibly strained told you that he was keen for his imprisonment to come to an end.

He stared you down as you brought the cigarette back to your own lips. He was watching you with such intensity - impatient, but not bored.

The cigarette began to lose its importance to you as the rubbing on your clit started to feel even better. The pleasure was swelling up, getting you so much more excited and you were soon picking up speed. Your jaw fell slack as it got more difficult to catch your breath and you held the burning cigarette off to the side. You squeezed your legs tighter against his sides.

“Are you gonna come?” He asked.

You were going faster, using all of your energy as your body filled with giddy tingles. “Fuck, yes.” You relentlessly pushed your cunt against him as that intoxicating friction demanded. “I’m gonna come right here, right on this fuckin’ happy trail.”

His reaction to this was lost to you as you were overcome by the delicious sensations in your body. You squeezed your eyes shut as you twitched yourself up closer to that edge.

One last powerful thrust was all that was needed for the pressure to melt away and you gained your orgasm. It brought a breathless smile to your face as everything fell into place. The friction was resolved and you could still yourself on him, your attention going back to the cigarette, what remained of it.

You let out a deep sigh, the puff of smoke all that you could see when your eyes first fluttered open. You licked your lips, taking yourself off of him as you slowly came back to Earth.

You could see his stiff dick still waiting and craving attention beneath the material of his briefs. Above this, the light from the lamp caught the little streak of moisture that you had left behind, it glistened as he squirmed.

“I should probably clean that up.” You commented through another cloud of smoke. “But I’m not gonna.” He rolled his eyes. “Just like I’m not gonna do anything about how hard that cock is.” The chain between his cuffs rattled. “You’re not getting any. Your punishment is gonna be those blue balls you’ve got…”

“What?” He snapped, the annoyance making his voice so much louder than what was typical. “You’ve got to be joking, you are being absolutely ridiculous-...”

Crack!

It was louder than anything else in the room, getting your attention at once. He had broken off the decorative wooden rung that had been keeping him tethered to the bed’s headboard. He hardly acknowledged this, meanwhile your eyes had grown wide and you were no longer so relaxed.

“You’re so fucking ridiculous.” He said, his teeth bared. As he started to unbuckle the handcuffs, you scooted away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. “Maybe you were cocky enough to think that you’d get away with that. But it’s time for a reality check, baby.”

It felt like it was with all of his strength that he grabbed your arm, his fingers locking around your bicep. Before you could properly react, he was tugging you closer. Your butt slid across the bed covers and he wrapped his other hand around your other arm.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and resisting was the last thing on your mind. He forced you down onto your back and swiftly climbed on top of you. A portion of the pantyhose had tumbled free from his neck, brushing against the side of your face. He braced himself above you, looking at you with the intensity that could start you trembling straight away.

“Now I’m gonna teach you a lesson.” He said. “And I promise that it’s one you aren’t gonna forget anytime soon.”

His iron grip on you relaxed as he sat back. He unwound the pantyhose from around his neck and used these to clean any of the remaining saliva off of his face. Then he tossed them away.

There was a rush of adrenaline inside of you as you began to sit up. “I need to be taught a lesson?”

“Damn right you do.”

You gave your head a little shake. “And what lesson would that be?”

He grabbed you by the arm again and pulled you over to him. You were twisted around by his hands, turned to face away from him before being pulled into his lap. With his hands on your arms, he held you in place.

He spoke directly into your ear. “You’re gonna learn to not start shit that you can’t finish.”

You scoffed. “You clearly weren’t paying attention, ‘cause I did finish.”

“I did notice that. You making your pussy so sensitive like that was a grave mistake, with what I’ve got planned for you.” He said. “But that’s just the beginning. You aren’t gonna be able to walk in the morning.”

All of that sounded truly wonderful to you, especially because you could tell that he meant it. You didn’t care to get free, even when his guard lowered slightly as he took his underwear off.

Your butt was pressed to his lap again and the presence of his uncovered dick was noticed instantly. Your breathing had grown shallower and the anticipation hung in the atmosphere of the room.

He was controlling you with his hands on your hips, squeezing tight enough that you thought bruises would be left. He got you to the right spot and soon the tip of his dick was spreading your sensitive pussy open.

You couldn’t help squirming a little as he stroked himself in deeper. But he kept you in place with an arm locked around your waist. You heard his determined growl next to your ear as more of his length was buried into you.

Your noises were immediate when he started to move inside of you. From beneath you, he set into his desired tempo. Your moans marked his hips striking into your butt as your hands grasped his forearm with a claw-like grip.

He rocked his body back and you were bracing for the next impact, when he surprised you. As effortlessly as if you were nothing but a ragdoll, he was spinning you around. You were repositioned to face him, his hands on your back bringing your chest flush to his. He wrapped one of your legs around his waist and held it here as fucked deep into you again.

“Unf, Ethan.” You whimpered, clinging to him.

You felt totally out of control as you bounced in his lap. The friction was unbelievable, going straight to your head. In the intense pleasure, you were losing all thoughts, simply going with the momentum he was determinedly maintaining.

“You’re having fun learning this lesson, hm?” He asked, squeezing your body to his as you whined. “Good, because I’m not stopping until I’ve rearranged your fuckin’ guts.”

Your bodies writhed together, you were thrown off of your rhythm when your face was suddenly spat upon. You flinched in response to the drops of saliva hitting your skin.

Before you knew it, you were being moved. He took you out of his lap and you were pushed down onto the bed, flat on your back. You were left gasping for breath, the adrenaline pumping through you and you understood that this was far from over.

He flicked his loose hair back, away from his face as he placed himself on top of you. But he didn’t instantly resume his invigorated jackhammering into you.

Instead, you saw a moment of calm in his eyes as he scanned your face. The gentleman that he truly was won out briefly as he allowed you to regain your bearings, checking that you were alright amongst this feral energy.

You spurred him on for more, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down, bringing him in for kisses. As he kissed you back, he buried his length deeper inside of you. He kept your leg wrapped around his waist.

Excitedly, you sucked on his lower lip. But this was cut short when he shifted his body weight and sat up.

At this new angle, he could grind into you even harder and you were soon grabbing for the bedsheets. He arched his back, his body tensed as he resumed his speedy pounding forward.

Your hands wildly shook and you could feel the pressure building up inside of you. It was more powerful than before, making you feel as if the release was going to break you apart. You were consumed by his passion, with all of your energy going into keeping up with his rhythm.

He grabbed your other leg and guided it straight up, your ankle resting at his broad shoulder. As he continued plunging into you, you felt your elevated foot beginning to shake free of the shoe. You let the high heel fall, tumbling onto the bed behind him.

You shut your eyes, daunted by the edge that you could feel him pushing you up to. “Baby, I’m close.”

“Yes.” He hissed. “Me too. Gonna come inside you.”

“Yes.” Your response was half-shouted. “Come inside of me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” His energetic bucking was matched to his impassioned little chant.

You twitched and spasmed beneath his powerful body, making your loudest sounds of the night. It was all beyond your control, feeling as if your body was filled with an electric charge. Your cunt clenched around his cock, drawing more mind-blowing sensations from every collision.

“Oh, fuck…” He moaned and you could feel his hot cum starting to shoot between your sensitive walls.

You writhed up into him, crying out when this brought out your release. With a tremble, you felt all of the tension inside of you snap, your own cum springing forward. Soon, your thighs were feeling wet, but you were too lost in the afterglow to care. Your legs went limp as the room was swallowed up by silence.

When you finally lifted your head from the pillow, it was to find him sitting by the end of the bed. His eyes were on you as he slowly drank from a bottle of water. You could see a cocky smile tugging at his cheek as he took in the sight of your nakedness.

“My lesson was better than yours.” He said confidently.

“I didn’t know we were having a competition.”

“If that’s how you cope with your loss…” He said.

“How did I lose?”

“I’m just saying that I didn’t see any squirt when you were done on my tummy, teaching your lesson or whatever. But after my lesson…” His smile remained as he took a pause to look at your cunt. “I felt that squirt, and I can see more than just my mess dripping out of you right now…”

“Okay, so maybe you won. Does that mean you aren’t gonna share any water with me?”

He sat forward at once. “Of course not.” He joined you at the head of the bed and handed the bottle over to you. He gently wiped the drops of spit from your face and you could tell that his stormy mood was totally gone.

“The moment you stop fucking me like that, is the moment I’m leaving you.”

“Noted.” He said with a chuckle.

“But you don’t need to worry about me going anywhere ‘cause I’m not gonna be able to walk in the morning, or maybe for the whole day.” You teased.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? My lesson was better.” He said. He laid down next to you and his eyes seemed larger than before as he looked at you. “You’re okay, right?”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.” You said, removing your shoe and throwing it away from the bed.

“I just really want to make sure that you aren’t pissed off or actually hurt over me and Victoria kissing for that photo.” He said. “Because she was worried after, that it crossed a line. But I just assumed that you would know it meant absolutely nothing because you’re the only one for me and you know that. But if you want me to apologise, then I’m happy to.”

You picked his hand up in yours, your fingers naturally interlacing. “You don’t have to apologise. I’m not angry at Vic, in fact, I really like her. I think she’s cool. I was there, I saw how manufactured and staged that moment was. But I’m not gonna pass up an opportunity to put you in place and remind you who you belong to.”

“You’re the only one I wanna kiss.” He said, holding your hand between both of his.

“Good.”

“But maybe I should suggest kissing for future photos, if this is the revenge that I get.” He said. “No, seriously, when you first turned that light on and I saw you- I was ready to do whatever you said. You just looked incredible, so damn hot. I felt really lucky, really fucking lucky. But then you made me suffer.”

“You didn’t have to take that out on the bed.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at you. “Didn’t I?”

“No, you destroyed the headboard.” You said, pointing to the missing rung. “Are we gonna get in trouble for breaking the bed?”

He shook his head. “No, it’ll be fine. We’ll make up some lie about how it happened, I’m sure it won’t cost that much to repair. We barely broke it.” He looked at you, smiling. “You know that you and me could really ruin this bed if we wanted to…”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 112]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53

I have a couple of things to do tonight, but probably won't be on very long.

Chapter 54 (Patton)

“I still can’t believe he’s allowing this,” King Thomas said from next to Patton. The two of them were standing at the edge of the arena outside the horse stable, watching from a safe distance.

“If he hadn’t tried to bite me earlier, I’d think he was a different horse,” Patton agreed.

“He doesn’t even let Logan ride him,” the king said. “At least not ride him and give him directions.”

Patton was very aware of that. Logan did on occasion choose to get up onto Mr. Apples’ saddle. However, Mr. Apples was always the once who got to decide where they went after that. Logan had no say.

With that in mind, Patton, Logan, and every stable hand who’d heard about the prospective riding lessons had tried to convince Virgil to learn to ride on a different horse. Virgil was just as stubborn as Mr. Apples however and had insisted. Logan, being the only one who could be around Mr. Apples without risking being kicked, had become his de facto tutor.

Not even Logan could have expected that within a week, Virgil would be able to control Mr. Apples. Though perhaps ‘control’ was the wrong word. Nothing could control Mr. Apples, but for some reason, Mr. Apples seemed willing to do as Virgil asked.

Even right now Mr. Apples was trotting around the training arena like he was a well-trained trick horse warming up with his rider.

“Logan told him we could go on an actual ride today if the lesson went well,” Patton told the king. The lesson seemed to be just getting over because Logan said something to Virgil and Virgil started to climb off. Mr. Apples was patient and still as he dismounted.

“Do you think he’d mind if I went with you?” King Thomas asked.

Patton shrugged. “Mr. Apples might.”

“Mr. Apples definitely will,” the king replied. “I’ll come anyway.”

Logan had walked over to where Patton and the king were standing while Virgil fed Mr. Apples some apple pieces as a reward.

“I hear you’re going to go riding today,” King Thomas said.

Logan nodded. “Mr. Apples seems to listen to him well enough,” he said.

“I might join you if that’s alright. Where are you kids going?” the king asked.

“I was thinking the main forest path,” Logan replied. “It’s not a particularly difficult route, but it’s also a part of the castle grounds Virgil hasn’t been able to see yet. Loraine told me it has been recently cleared after the winter.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” the king said. “Are you going now?”

“Once Patton and I saddle up our horses,” Logan said. “You can come.”

“Great,” the king said with a smile. “I’ll ask for Bella’s saddle to be brought out. I haven’t gone on a ride yet this week.”

He turned then to walk towards the stables leaving Patton and Logan alone.

“Do you think he’s been acting weird?” Logan asked, turning towards Patton.

Patton frowned. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

“I’m just wondering why he wants to go horseback riding with us.”

“He likes spending time with you?” Patton guessed.

“Yes,” Logan said, “but typically in a setting that doesn’t involve Mr. Apples.”

Well, that was fair.

“I mean, it’s not too weird,” Patton said, thinking back through the last couple of days. King Thomas had been a bit… clingy.

“He’s been hanging around a lot,” Logan said, echoing Patton’s thoughts with narrowed eyes. He glanced back at Virgil. “You don’t think Virgil let something slip, do you?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Patton said. “I think your dad would say something if Virgil let slip he was an assassin somehow.”

“Unless he let slip something that didn’t quite implicate himself but invited suspicion.”

“Your dad doesn’t seem suspicious,” Patton said. At least, Patton didn’t think he did. He hadn’t been acting mean in any way. In fact, he might have even been acting nicer.

Logan frowned. “We should keep an eye on him, especially around Virgil.”

Patton bit his lip.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Are we ever going to tell your dad about Virgil?” he asked.

Logan hesitated. “I don’t…” he trailed. “I’m not sure.”

“It just feels weird lying for so long,” Patton said. Patton didn’t lie a lot. Sure, maybe he’d pretend to not know what Mama was talking about when sweets went missing from the kitchens or he’d pretend to not know what Logan’s birthday gift was, but he’d never lied about anything serious before now.

“I know, but,” Logan glanced back at Virgil once again, “even if we did decide to tell, we’d have to convince Virgil everything would be alright beforehand. I don’t think we’re at that point yet. He was terrified of Father until a few months ago, and he’s still cautious around him sometimes.”

Logan was right, of course. Virgil was getting more and more comfortable around the king, but he figured any of the progress made would go down the drain as soon as they brought up telling King Thomas about where exactly Virgil had come from. Patton didn’t know if Virgil would ever be comfortable enough.

“We should go get our own horses,” Logan suggested, and Patton nodded.

Patton and Logan’s horses had already been saddled by the stable hands in anticipation of their ride and it didn’t take long for the king to saddle his own horse, Bella.

The forest path at this time of year was very pretty, Patton thought. The tree branches now had small green leaves on them after having been barren for the entire winter and flowers were starting to grow. In a few weeks’ time it would be even prettier, but it would also be harder for the groundskeeper to maintain as well as it was right now.

Virgil really did seem less anxious around King Thomas now. The path was only wide enough for two horses to go at once, and he didn’t seem to mind that he and the king ended up next to each other while Patton and Logan lagged behind. In fact, he and the king seemed to be having a nice conversation about the local wildlife.

However, if Patton looked close enough, he did sort of see what Logan meant. Virgil may not be anxious talking to the king now, but the king himself seemed just a little bit nervous at least at the beginning of the ride.

He seemed to relax a bit as they rode (even laughing when Mr. Apples tried to bite him when he got too close).

Logan had been teaching Virgil the basics about things like animals, but there was still a pretty big gap in his education when it came to anything that wasn’t about training to fight and kill. King Thomas seemed more than willing to answer any of his questions when it came to the animals and plants around them even if they were sometimes a bit silly.

He’d seen a bird that looked like a dove. (It may have even been a dove, but Patton hadn’t seen it.) This had been a source of endless confusion for him.

“But shouldn’t it live in the dovecote?” Virgil asked.

“Not all birds live in a dovecote,” the king explained again.

“But it’s a dove,” Virgil said with a frown.

“Not all doves live in a dovecote,” the king replied.

“But it’s a dovecote,” Virgil argued. “It’s for the doves.”

“Yes, but there are also wild doves,” the king said.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Virgil replied.

“What about it doesn’t make sense?” the king asked with a laugh in his tone.

“Doves go in the dovecote,” Virgil said.

Patton was starting to have trouble following this argument.

“Dovecotes are made for doves,” the king said, “but not all doves go in dovecotes.”

“Why?”

This seemed to stump the king momentarily, but he still answered after thinking for a bit. “Doves existed before people got to them,” the king explained. “People caught and trained some of them, but there was no way to catch all of them. So, some stayed in the wild and continued with their lives like they had been before humans. Plus, sometimes domesticated doves fly off and never come back. Sometimes they might die, but other times they may have just gotten lost and had to build a new life somewhere far away. Or maybe they even decided that being a trained dove working for humans wasn’t for them, so they decided to go off on their own.”

“You let them do that?” Virgil asked.

“We can’t really stop them in the end,” the king said. “People can try, but it never ends up working as long as they can fly.”

Virgil thought about this. “I still don’t understand,” he said, “but okay.”

“We should take you to the cliffs,” the king suggested.

“What are the cliffs?”

“The castle grounds were built for defense,” King Thomas explained. “The edge of the grounds to the North is a large river and overlooking it is a huge cliff. It’s a good place for picnics and for birdwatching. It’s a bit of a trip, but now would be a good time of year to go.”

He glanced over his shoulder back at Logan and Patton. “What do you boys think about going to the cliffs sometime? Maybe in about a week?”

Logan squinted at his father suspiciously. It wasn’t so much the fact that the king was asking them to go to the cliffs. They did that every so often. However, this time, it only supported Logan’s claims that the king was hanging out with them a lot recently.

“Sure,” Logan said, after a moment.

“Sounds fun!” Patton said cheerily right after, trying to cover for the lack of enthusiasm in Logan’s voice with his own. Judging by King Thomas’s expression and Logan’s tight-lipped scowl, he may have overcompensated.

“Great,” the king said. “”I’ll make sure to make arrangements when we get back to the castle.”

Chapter 55 (Logan)

            Virgil was beginning to be able to read some of the common instructions in magic books, but Logan still made sure to read out the instructions to him at least twice before setting him loose. He’d started to jot down notes to himself about things, though these notes were not words, but various symbols that only made sense to the boy himself.

            Logan had asked about their meaning at one point and received an answer that, while earnest, was unintelligible. The symbols were mostly just pictures of things to represent certain steps in spell casting, but they were filtered through Virgil’s rudimentary penmanship and often bizarre perception of the world.

Though, despite the fact that Logan could not often decipher his chicken scratch, it did seem to help him produce impressively quality charms even as Logan began to introduce more complicated processes to make them. He was a very good student even if he didn’t have the best foundation for learning.

“I add lavender for the next step, right?” Virgil asked, his finger on a word in Logan’s magic book.

“That is correct,” Logan confirmed.

Virgil looked back at the book and mouthed the word ‘lavender’ to himself before turning back to his potion. He grabbed a few sprigs of lavender and threw them into the cauldron.

The liquid popped and bubbled violently, but Virgil didn’t flinch as he once would have, prepared for it now.

After the lavender, Logan knew that it would have to simmer for 5 minutes. Virgil looked down at the boiling liquid, contemplating it for a long moment.

“Can I soak a knife in it?” he asked.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Can I soak a knife in the potion once it’s done?”

“In that potion?” Logan clarified. “In the emergency hand warmer potion?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think a hot knife would be useful,” Virgil said.

“For what?”

Virgil shrugged. “Cooking food on the road,” he said, “burning wood, stabbing someone and immediately cauterizing the wound.”

“That is… not a standard use for this potion,” Logan said.

Virgil titled his head at him. “Would it work though?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Logan contemplated. “Perhaps. The potion can cause burns if one uses too much of it or if it is used without an appropriate layer between it and the skin. If one were to pick a knife with enough surface area and let it soak long enough, it could in theory get hot enough to do as desired. Hmm…” he thought about it. “There would perhaps be the problem of the potion not sticking to the knife very long as it is intended to soak into fabric. However, cardamom could solve that issue as long as it doesn’t interact with any other ingredients. Let me see that spell.”

Virgil stepped out of his way so he could study the page. “Yes,” Logan said after scanning through all of the ingredients. “I think coriander would work for something like that. Let me go find some.”

He turned to walk towards where he kept his supplies of potion ingredients. Virgil followed on his heals.

“Can we use a serrated knife?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Virgil,” Logan said, nodding as he searched through the cupboard that should hold the coriander. “The knife being serrated would help keep the potion stuck to the blade after many uses and would increase the surface area.”

“That was certainly my intentions,” Virgil said smoothly. There was something odd about the tone that had Logan turning to him and blinking at him. Virgil just smiled at him innocently and Logan turned back to the cabinet finally locating the coriander.

“So how are we going to use that?” Virgil asked.

“We’ll put it in right before the last step and let it sit for about 3 minutes,” Logan said. “If it doesn’t quite work, we may need to make another batch. There are options other than coriander, but that’s the first idea that comes to mind and it a lot simpler if it works.”

81310

He continued to speak of the many other options they could try as they returned to the caldron as well as how they could test the hot knife. It was already about time for the next step and Virgil did it without interrupting Logan’s rant.

Virgil listened to his suggestions with interest all while still making sure the potion he was making was progressing well.

Logan did eventually take over to finish the potion with the revised steps he’d come up with and they ended up with a potion that looked perfect except it was a few shades darker than the one they’d originally been planning to make.

[parkerslatte]

Dalliance | Chapter Five

Matthew Fairchild x Fem!OC

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: allusions to sex. drinking. mentions of nudity.

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Delilah practically carried Matthew to the ballroom. Her arm was tightly wrapped around his torso while his arm slumped over her shoulder. With her spare hand, Delilah held his wrist tightly knowing that if she didn’t, Matthew would simply slip out of her hold. Her hair fell into her eyes and she tried her best to blow it away, she gradually got more agitated as her hair didn’t do what she wanted it to. 

While Delilah was slowly getting angrier, Matthew happily strolled by her side. This confused Delilah deeply. The demeanour he had shown outside of the institute was brief but Matthew had allowed his walls to fall, if only for a fraction of a second. There was something within Matthew that no one knew, Delilah had always known that, although she didn’t know what it was – no one did. 

By the time the two entered the ballroom, James, Thomas and Christopher were standing in the centre. At the sound of the arrival of Delilah and Matthew, attention turned to them. Concern flashed across James’s face at the sight of his parabatai slumped across Delilah. The Lightwood girl released his hand and let him slump back into the wall, letting out a sigh of relief that she had managed to get him into the ballroom without injury to herself or him. 

“We must bar the doors,” said James. “They don’t lock, and we can’t be interrupted.” James glanced at his parabatai. “Matthew, can you stand?”

“I am quite all right,” he said, pushing himself from the wall and staggering over to a chair and fell into it. “Please continue with your plan.” He squinted. “What was your plan?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment,” James said. 

Christopher looked worriedly at Matthew. “Perhaps some water?”

“I’m quite all right,” Matthew repeated.

“I found you drinking and singing in the Baybrooks’ carriage!” Delilah exclaimed.

“It was private there,” Matthew said. “And well-upholstered.”

“At least it wasn’t the Bridgestock’s carriage, because they have already experienced enough tragedy today. Nothing bad has happened to the Baybrooks.” said Christopher, with great sincerity.

“Nothing until now,” James said. “Christopher, was everything all right, dropping off Miss Blackthorn?”

“Oh, perfectly,” said Christopher. “I told her all about culturing bacteria, and she was so fascinated that she never spoke a word!”

Delilah cringed. She loved her brother dearly but she knew that one thing a woman wouldn’t want to hear about is bacteria. 

“Did you have to tell Mrs. Blackthorn what had happened at the park? She can’t have been pleased.”

Christopher shook his head. “I confess I didn’t see her. Miss Blackthorn asked that I drop her at the gates, not the front door.”

“She probably doesn’t want anyone to see the state of the place,” said Matthew, yawning. “The gates alone are festooned in rust.”

“Thomas,” James said, his voice low. “Maybe a healing rune?”

Thomas nodded before taking a seat on the arm of the chair Matthew had fallen into. “Push your sleeve up, then, there’s a good fellow. Let’s wake you up and James can tell us whatever mad thing he’s planned.”

“We'd better check the locks on all the windows. Just to be sure,” James said, darting around the ballroom like a madman.

“James, my dear,” Delilah said. “What is your plan? If we need to lock the windows and bar the doors, it does seem quite over the top.”

James didn’t reply as he checked on one of the windows to make sure that it was locked.

“It seems somehow blasphemous to use Marks to rid oneself of the effects of alcohol,” Matthew said, looking more clear eyed than before.

“I’ve seen you use your stele to part your hair,” said James.

“The Angel gave me this hair,” replied Matthew. “It’s one of the Shadowhunters’ gifts. Like the Mortal Sword.”

“Now that is blasphemy,” Thomas said.

“Lila agrees with me,” Matthew said, stubbornly.

Delilah snorted. “Where did you ever get that idea?” 

Delilah sat on the chair Matthew was previously seated in and began to fan herself with her hands. With all of the windows and doors locked shut, it was getting warmer and warmer and Delilah wished that she were outside in the cold again.

Matthew shot her a glare before turning his attention to his parabatai. “James, why are we locking all the windows? Are we afraid of over-curious pigeons?”

James finally turned his attention to his friends. “I have spent the past four years of my life trying to train myself not to do what I’m about to do. I don’t wish to even consider the possibility of being interrupted.”

“By a pigeon?” said Matthew. “Jamie, what are we doing here?”

James took a deep breath. “I am going to deliberately send myself into the shadow realm.”

Everyone immediately exploded in protest. Delilah stood to her feet inching closer to the others. “James, you can’t be serious,” she said.

“Of course he isn’t,” Matthew said, suddenly entirely sober. “The danger–”

“I do not think there will be danger,” James said. “I have been in and out of the shadow realm many times in my life. It has been ages since I fell accidentally into that world. Yet in the past week, I have seen it three times, once just before the attack today. I cannot think that is a coincidence. If I can use this ability to help Barbara, Ariadne, all of us– you must let me do it.”

“Bloody hell.” Matthew rubbed his eyes. “If we don’t help you here, you’ll just try to do this after we’re all gone, won’t you?” 

“Clearly,” said James. He tapped the daggers at his waist. “I’m armed, at least.”

Matthew twisted his signet ring around his finger, a thing he only did when he was distressed. “Very well, James. As you wish.”

Delilah took a step closer to Matthew and slightly nudged him with her elbow. He glanced at her briefly before the twisting of his ring ceased and his shoulder’s seemed to relax the smallest bit. 

James cleared his throat. “All right. Let’s get on with it.”

There was silence as Delilah, Christopher, Thomas and Matthew stared at James. 

“Well?” Thomas said. “Go on into the shadow realm, then.”

James took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Nothing happened but everyone stayed silent. Delilah noticed the concentration on James’s face as he tried to fall into the place where he always tried to avoid. She knew that it was a bad idea and she wished she had put a stop to it as soon as James suggested it. 

Matthew stepped away from Delilah and stood directly in front of James. The Herondale didn’t seem to notice until he opened his eyes and jumped back in surprise.

“Matthew!” James exclaimed.

“I really don’t think staring at him is going to help, Matthew,” Thomas said as Matthew took a reluctant step back.

“Is there anything we can do to help? We’ve all seen you do it. You start to get shadowy and a bit blurry at the edges.” Delilah said. 

“When I go into the shadow realm, the realness of my presence here begins to fade,” James said. “But it is not what drives me into the shadow realm. More of a side effect of being there.”

“Often it happens when you are upset or shocked,” said Christopher. “I suppose we could try upsetting or shocking you.”

“Given everything that’s happened, that shouldn’t be too hard,” said James.

“Nonsense,” Matthew said. “The last time I saw you shocked was when that Iblis demon was sending Christopher love letters.”

“I think that shocked everyone,” Delilah added.

“I have a dark charm,” said Christopher sadly.

“Please recall that I am the pale neurasthenic one and you are the stern heroic one,” Matthew said to James. “It is very tedious when you mix up our roles. We will have to think of something quite impressive to startle you.”

“So what is my role?” said Christopher.

“Mad inventor, of course,” said Matthew promptly. “And Thomas is the one with a good heart.”

“Lord, I sound dull,” said Thomas.

Delilah folded her arms across her chest. “And what is my role?”

Matthew looked at Delilah waiting for his answer expectantly. “You are,” Matthew began, trying to find words for what he wanted to say but failed. “You are just Lila.”

Delilah’s expression faltered. “ ‘Just Lila ’? And you thought you sounded dull, Thomas.”

“That’s not–” Matthew tried to speak but was cut off by Thomas.

“James, come here for a second.”

James moved toward Thomas. Delilah eyed her cousin, wanting to know what he was planning behind his hazel eyes. What Delilah didn’t expect was a fist flying through the air and hitting James in the face. He stumbled back before landing on the floor. Delilah’s mouth hung open in shock. 

“Thomas!” Matthew yelled while checking on James. “What were you trying to–?”

“I was trying to surprise him!” Thomas yelled back. “This is important, Matthew!” Thomas shot James a concerned glance. “You don’t mind, do you, Jamie?”

“It’s all right,” James said breathlessly. “Only it didn’t work. If I turned into a shadow every time something hit me, I couldn’t patrol.”

“There has to be other ways to surprise you,” Delilah said. 

Just as Matthew had gotten James to his feet an arrow soared past Delilah. Thomas reached forward and pulled her back and out of harm's way. Delilah stumbled, clutching onto Thomas’s arm. Matthew pushed James back to the floor again as the arrow soared past them and into a window shattering it. James might not have been surprised but Delilah sure was. 

Delilah turned to the direction the arrow had come from and found Christopher holding one of the bows that was displayed on the wall.

“In case anyone was wondering if those were purely ornamental,” said James, getting to his feet, “they are not.”

“In the name of a million bloody angels, Christopher, what the hell did you just do?” Matthew demanded. “Did you just try to kill James?”

“I was not trying to kill James,” said Christopher in an injured tone. “I was hoping the shock of the arrow flying past would startle him into the shadow realm. Pity it didn’t work. We must think of a new plan to grievously alarm James at once.”

“Christopher!” James exclaimed. “I cannot believe you would say that! I also cannot believe you would shoot at me.”

“It had a seventy-two percent chance of working, in perfect laboratory conditions–”

“We are not in perfect laboratory conditions!” James shouted. “We are in the ballroom of my house!”

“Stop shouting!” Delilah snapped. “All of you!”

The ballroom doors began to rattle, diverting everyone’s attention. “What’s going on?” It was Will’s voice. “James, are you in there?”

“Bloody hell. My father,” James said. “Look, all of you– get out through the windows. Well, the broken one anyway. I’ll take the blame. I’ll say I shot the window out.

“In the ballroom?” Thomas said practically. “Why would you do such a rattle-headed thing?”

“I’m capable of anything!” James made a grab for the bow in Christopher’s hands but the Lightwood simply ran behind Thomas, shielding himself behind the bigger boy. “Come on, Kit, give it over–”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He’s going to say, ‘Because I’m a Herondale,’ isn’t he?”

“Most likely,” Delilah muttered.

“I am a Herondale,” James said glaring at everyone as Will’s knocks became louder. “And I am telling you to get out of my Institute so the only one who gets punished is me.”

“Answer me, James!” Will shouted from the other side of the door. “Why have you blocked this door? I demand to know what’s going on!”

“James isn’t here!” Matthew shouted. “Go away.”

James looked at Matthew puzzled. “Really?”

“I heard breaking glass!” Will called. 

“I was practising fighting moves!” Matthew answered.

“In the ballroom?”

“We’re trying to distract Thomas! It’s been a very emotional day!”

“ What ?” Will’s voice was incredulous.

“Don’t you blame this on me!” Thomas whispered.

“James, if you're going to do this, you need to do it now.” Matthew said, stepping closer to James.

“I know,” James said. “Math– help me.”

Delilah saw Matthew step closer to James and whispered into his ear. James jerked away from Matthew and Matthew’s face fell. Delilah watched as James closed his eyes before he vanished completely just as Will had managed to get through the doors. He looked around at the guilty faces.

“Hi, uncle Will,” Delilah said, offering her uncle a small wave. 

Will’s eyes jumped from Matthew to Delilah to Thomas to Christopher and back again. “Where is my son?”

No one answered. Because no one knew.

***

Delilah needed to go to the one place where she could let loose. She would be able to relax far into the night and early morning. So that's what she did. As soon as Delilah got home with Christopher she went to her room and stripped off her ruined dress in favour of another, this one a little more scandalous than her everyday dresses. It was dark in colour and the blue of it only reveals itself when it catches the light. 

Delilah had become an expert in tying her own corset, she had done it a few times before after a long night at the House. She grabbed a jacket from her wardrobe and threw it over her shoulders. As Delilah slipped out of her bedroom she noticed Christopher’s door open a crack. He was sitting on his bed staring at his hands. 

She stepped closer so she stood in the doorway. Christopher still hadn’t noticed her presence. Delilah stepped further into his room. It was nearly empty. Before Christopher began to use Henry’s lab, his bedroom was his lab and he had basically destroyed all furniture, even his bed needed replacing at one point. 

“Christopher,” Delilah announced her presence. “Are you okay?”

His violet eyes met her blue ones. She had always loved the colour of her brother's eyes and she remembered being jealous of them when they were children. So jealous that she didn’t bother with her brother for nearly two weeks when they were four and five. 

“I’m okay,” Christopher said. 

Delilah sighed and joined him on his bed. “I am your sister, Kit. That means that I can tell when you are lying. We have grown up together, I know everything about you.”

“What would have happened if I had hurt James today?” He questioned. “I know it had a seventy-two percent chance of working but if the experiment landed in the twenty-eight percent, I could have seriously injured James.”

“Oh, Christopher,” Delilah said, taking his hands in hers. “What matters is that you didn’t injure James at all. You shocked all of us, yes. But there wasn’t even a scratch on him.”

“But–”

“What if it was me who shot that bow and I was in your position right now?” Delilah said. “What would you be telling me?”

“That you were only trying to help,” Christopher said. “And that you shouldn’t dwell on it.”

“Exactly,” Delilah squeezed her brother’s hands. “Now take your own advice.”

Christopher looked at Delilah before slowly nodding, the night bouncing from his glasses. Delilah leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug. “You know I love you right?”

Ever since Barbara was injured, Delilah wanted nothing more than to wrap her brother in a protective shield. She couldn’t imagine what Thomas was going through but she didn’t want to. Delilah knew that if she treated Anna this way, Anna would simply push her way and besides, Delilah knew that her sister was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Alexander was constantly with their parents so Delilah never had to worry about him. 

But with Christopher it was different. Growing up very close in age played a part in how protective Delilah was over her brother. When they were younger, Delilah remembered always being taller than her brother and she held it against him. But just before the two joined the academy, Christopher had a growth spurt so he towered over Delilah. Of course she grew after but not to catch up to Christopher, coming a few inches below his height. Like in childhood when Delilah always held over him that she was taller, Christopher began to hold it over Delilah’s head. 

“I love you too,” Christopher said after a while. He never said it often so Delilah knows that when he said it, he really meant it.

“Good,” Delilah said before pulling away from her brother. “Now put a smile on your face, I’m older so I know best.”

Christopher fought the smile as he looked at his sister as she slowly backed out of his room. “Now if I come back later and you are staring into the void contemplating every experiment you have ever done, I will personally…I don’t know what I will do to be honest. You don’t really care about your clothes nor anything in your room,” Delilah said. “But just know that I will do something.”

“I believe you,” Christopher said, finally letting a small smile appear on his face. 

“Good,” Delilah said, straightening her jacket. “I will see you later, Kit.”

Christopher simply waved as Delilah closed his bedroom door and continued her way out of the house. 

It was quite late but it hadn’t yet turned midnight. Delilah debated going to the Fairchild residence for her art supplies as she hadn’t had the ones she usually took to the House. She had asked Christopher to put them back in the lab. Normally she would go in freely but since Chrstopher wasn’t there, she didn’t have that luxury, knowing that the lab was locked if Christopher or Henry were not using it. 

Delilah didn’t want to risk knocking on the door in case Charlotte or Henry answered and questioned why she was out so late, especially if there was a demon attack only hours before. Of course Delilah would simply say that she was on her way to Anna’s flat but then she would be met with the circumstance of the Consul accompanying her and Delilah didn’t want that. 

As she found herself nearing the Fairchild residence she noticed the light emitting from Matthew’s bedroom. The only light on in the house. Hurrying her steps she picked up a few small pebbles from the floor before coming to a stop below the window. With precise aim, Delilah threw the first pebble– it hit his window. Delilah internally cheered and threw the second, and then the third. She was having far too much fun. Just as she went to throw the fourth, the window opened and Matthew’s head peered out into the darkness. 

“Matthew!” Delilah whispered up to him. 

Matthew looked down and his eyes widened in surprise. “Delilah? What are you doing here?”

“I need to get into the lab and it’s locked,” Delilah said. 

The light coming from Matthew’s window was bright and cast a perfect square onto the ground below, illuminating Delilah’s figure.

“Go to the door to the lab,” Matthew said simply before closing his window.

Delilah dropped the rest of the pebbles and quickly scurried around the house and waited in front of the entrance to the lab. It wasn’t long before Matthew opened the door. He didn’t look amused. “It wasn’t locked, did you even try to open it before you pestered me?”

“No,” Delilah said sheepishly while she stepped past Matthew and into the lab. “I assumed that it would be locked.”

She spotted her sketchbook where she normally left it and she smiled and picked it up alone with her pencil roll. Matthew watched as she did so.

“This is all I came for, I shall be going now,” Delilah turned around to face Matthew and he stood in front of the doorway, blocking the exit.

“It’s late, Delilah,” Matthew said simply. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, just to Anna’s–”

“You’re going to one of those mundane parties, aren’t you?” Mathew asked.

Delilah sighed. “Yes, I am, and as much as I love your mother, I would appreciate it if you didn’t say it so loudly. She is still the Consul, Matthew. I just need a distraction. With the demon attack and James disappearing earlier, I just need to wind down for a while.”

“Bring me with you,” Matthew said.

“What?” Delilah exclaimed. “No!”

“It’s either that or I am dragging you and locking you in the guest room,” Matthew said. 

Delilah glared at him. “Fine, grab a jacket and be quick . I won’t wait for you.”

A smile broke out on Matthew’s face, he looked giddy . “I’ll be fast.”

As soon as Delilah was out of sight, she stepped out of the lab and quickly walked away from the house. Her pace was between a fast walk and a jog. If she made it to the end of the street, Matthew wouldn’t know what direction she went–

“You can’t escape me that easily, Lila,” Matthew said, draping his arm over her shoulders. 

“I was hoping to,” Delilah grumbled.

“You don’t mean that, you love my company too much,” he said. 

He wasn’t lying and Delilah didn’t deny it. 

The walk to the house was silent. Matthew’s arm was still wrapped around Delilah’s shoulders securely. Neither of them realised. It wasn’t long before the House was in sight. The music was already flowing from it and it was completely lit up. Delilah smiled. Matthew glanced down at Delilah and he too, smiled.

As they made it to the doorstep, Delilah turned towards Matthew. “I must warn you, it can be a little much.”

Matthew only nodded as he followed Delilah in. Immediately he was hit with the smell of alcohol and smoke. People lounged about in the entryway talking and drinking. Delilah smiled at people in greeting. 

Delilah reached and took Matthew’s hand in hers. Her warmth was a complete contrast to the cool tone of his hand. 

“There are a few sighted mundanes here too,” Delilah said and pointed to a boy, around the same age as Matthew and Delilah, slumped against the stairs, his arm wrapped around a woman as they conversed. “His name is Tobias. He has the Sight.”

Matthew nodded as he looked in Tobias’s direction before it bounced around between everyone’s face. Matthew smiled.

Delilah gripped Matthew’s hand as they walked through the house. A glass of champagne was offered to Matthew and he took it immediately. 

“Where are we going?” Matthew whispered, his mouth brushing her ear as he spoke.

Delilah smirked. “My favourite room.”

Delilah pulled him down the hallway until she pushed open the large doors. Inside there were easels set up in a circle. People set up as Delilah found an empty space. 

“So this is what you do here?” Matthew questioned, looking around the room in awe. Upon the walls were large pieces of artwork that stunned Matthew and only made him more intrigued.

Delilah smiled at him. “This isn’t all I do here.”

“Delilah!” A voice squealed. 

Before Delilah could react a body came in contact with hers and pushed her gently into the wall. Lips were immediately on Delilah’s as the figure pressed herself into Delilah’s body. Delilah smiled into the kiss and held tightly onto the woman’s waist, tracing the curve of it under the robe she wore. 

Matthew stared down at Delilah wide eyed. He didn’t know.

The woman pulled back from Delilah and her brown eyes widened when she took in Matthew. “Oh, I didn’t know you were with someone.”

“We’re not together.” Both Matthew and Delilah answered.

“Okay,” the woman laughed. “I’m Celine, by the way. I model here.”

Matthew shook Celine’s stretched out hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you Celine, I’m Matthew.”

“Oh!” Celine exclaimed. “So you’re Matthew! Delilah has mentioned a Matthew a couple of times before.”

Delilah tried to deny it but she couldn’t, knowing that Celine would only call her out on her lie immediately. 

“Did she?” Matthew smirked looking at Delilah. 

Celine nodded before she turned her attention to Delilah. She pressed a kiss against her lips. “I have to make sure my hair is perfect. There’s going to be twenty people drawing it and I will not let it look like a bird's nest.”

“Your hair is already perfect,” Delilah said.

“Delilah, be serious, this is not time for jokes,” Celine said before she walked away, quickly catching the attention of a man walking past as she whisked him away in her arms.

Matthew took a sip of his drink before turning to Delilah who now also had a drink in her hand. Delilah fiddled nervously with the drink as she looked at Matthew. 

“So are you with Celine or not?” Matthew asked. “Because if you are then I must congratulate you. She is beautiful.”

“No, we are not together,” Delilah said. “She also has the Sight and she was the first person who saw me here and greeted me when everyone else looked at her like she was mad.” Delilah paused. “But I do prefer the company of both men and women. I did quite like Celine before that infatuation faded away.”

Delilah took a large swig from her drink. “I’ve wanted to tell you that for a while.

Matthew’s eyes softened. “Then why didn’t you?”

Delilah shrugged. “To be completely honest, I don’t know. The only people who know are Anna, Christopher and now you. I know the others won’t judge me but…” Delilah sighed. “I just don’t know.”

“Hey,” Matthew said softly, his hand trailing down her arm until his fingers entwined with hers. “You needn't tell them now, tell them whenever you are ready.”

Delilah looked up at Matthew and smiled, squeezing his hand. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Matthew.”

Matthew nodded before his eyes glanced around the room. “So these parties happen every night?”

“Basically,” Delilah said. “I don’t come every night but I do come at least once a week.”

Delilah shrugged off her jacket and Matthew stared at her. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. The dress she wore was not one he had ever seen before and he wished to see more of it. The dress hugged her curves and dipped dangerously low in the front. Matthew’s eyes surveyed every part of her. 

Even though Matthew had seen more of Delilah’s body before, with her only in her nightgown. After a night of drinking the two had found themselves curled up together in the bedroom of the Devil Tavern. That had only been six months ago and the two didn’t speak about it ever again. 

Feeling eyes on her, Delilah glanced up at Matthew, a smirk playing on her lips. “Like what you see, Fairchild?”

“No! I mean, yes. But not like that! By the angel…” Matthew’s face was redder than Delilah had ever seen it.

“I’m just teasing, sweetheart,” Delilah said, throwing her jacket on the chair behind her.  

Matthew only nodded before ripping his gaze away from her body. “While you do your art lesson, I’m going to take a look around.”

Delilah winked. “Have fun!”

As Matthew walked out of the room, Delilah finished off her wine before filling her glass once again with the bottle on the table behind her. As she sat, Delilah felt lighter and felt like there was a huge weight off her chest. Celine came back, her hair now in a different hairstyle, and seated herself in the centre of the circle of easels and dropped her robe. Delilah was concentrated on her pencil and sketchbook for the next hour.

***

Delilah packed up her art supplies and left them on the table behind her and went out in the House to find Matthew. She held the bottle of wine close to her and drank straight from it, instead of the glass she had abandoned only after her second drink. As she walked past people, she was dragged into many conversations by people she knew and people she didn’t. 

By the time Delilah found Matthew the bottle of wine in her hand was basically empty. Matthew was seated across from Tobias– who had the woman he was talking to when Delilah and Matthew had walked in– situated in his lap. From over Tobias’s shoulder, Matthew spotted Delilah and a lazy grin spread across his face. 

As she neared, she placed herself in front of Matthew as leaned into his chest, smiling at Tobias and the woman. “It’s lovely to see you again, Tobias.” Delilah said. 

Tobias smirked. “You look delightful tonight, Delilah.”

The woman looked at Delilah’s dress and gasped. “You must tell me when you got your gown from.”

“I honestly do not remember,” Delilah confessed. “Although, I would be more than happy to accompany you and we can find it together.”

The woman eagerly nodded and Delilah smiled. She knew that it would never happen but it was nice to discuss.

Matthew’s hand wrapped around her from behind, pulling her closer to him as Tobias’s gaze raked all over her body. Delilah smiled at Matthew’s protectiveness and leaned further into him, while she took a final swig from her wine bottle. 

Delilah noted Matthew’s glass empty and intertwined their fingers. “Do you want to get another drink?”

Matthew simply nodded, still glaring daggers at Tobias. Delilah dragged him through the house until they ended up in a large room. It was grand and filled with paintings and all sorts of art. Matthew spun around in wonder. The large table in the centre gave away that this was the dining room. It was filled with bottles of alcohol both expensive and cheap. Delilah picked up a nearly full bottle of whisky and spun around to face Matthew. 

“You were jealous of Tobias,” Delilah spoke as the two collapsed onto a sofa in the corner of the room. 

“I was not,” Matthew defended. 

“Are you going to be that way if a suitor ever comes my way?” Delilah questioned, taking a swig from the expensive whisky before passing it to Matthew. 

“I won’t have to,” Matthew said. “You know you already have Christopher, Thomas and Matthew for that. Only one of them might be your brother but the other two practically are.”

Delilah laughed. “Christopher wouldn’t notice if I had a suitor, he would notice after a few weeks then greet them like he’s known them for years. But it’s true that any suitor might be intimidated by Thomas’s stature. And people will be intimidated by James because he is a Herondale and his father is Will Herondale.” Delilah sighed dramatically. “I will never find a suitor.”

Matthew laughed and took another swig from the whisky. “I fear you won’t.”

Delilah took the whisky out of Matthew’s grasp and brought it to her lips, feeling it burn down the back of her throat. “I’m not sure if I even want to have a suitor. I couldn’t picture myself in a marriage and with children. I can only picture myself at parties and doing my art all around the world. I don’t want to be tied down, especially when I’m young and in my prime.”

“You don’t need to think about that now,” Matthew said, as Delilah shuffled around on the sofa and brought her legs up to rest over Matthew.

“Oh, but I do,” Delilah said. “I’m a woman, Matthew. I am expected to marry soon and bare children for my husband. Even if Shadowhunter’s are a little more progressive than mundanes, there is still an expectation for me. For every woman.” Delilah brought Matthew;s hand closer to her and fiddled with his rings. “I just want to have a life. I understand I am a Shadowhunter and that comes with a lot of responsibilities, but I want to travel with my art. Make my own living, make my own money. But that is nearly impossible. ”

Matthew’s hand unconsciously glided down her shin before resting on her ankle. If they hadn’t been at this party and were doing what they were in the Institute or anywhere outside of the house or any other downworlder party, it would be considered the most improper. Matthew couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“Then do it,” Matthew said. “Who cares if you say it’s not possible. It will be possible because you, Delilah Lightwood, will make it possible.”

Delilah smiled. “I knew why I liked you, Matthew Fairchild.”

“I am a very easy person to like,” Matthew teased. 

Delilah rolled her eyes as she looked at the time on the clock. It was nearly two in the morning. “It’s getting late, we should be getting home.” As she said it, Delilah found herself not wanting to leave.

Matthew noticed the expression on her face and tightened his grip on her leg. “Do you want to leave?”

Delilah returned her gaze to Matthew and shook her head. “I am enjoying my time here.”

“That settles it then!” Matthew said. “The night is still young and if your parents ask where you were, you can easily just say that you were shaken up by everything and spent the night at my house. No one can judge you for going to the Consuls house despite her nor her husband being there and their eldest child had accompanied them wherever they went. And the sole resident left in the house refused to let a tired and distressed lady walk home in the dark and cold so he allowed you the use of the guest room.”

“So I threw pebbles up to your room for nothing?” Delilah exclaimed. “I could have just knocked on the door?”

“Yes,” Matthew answered simply. 

Delilah lightly hit his arm. “You could have told me that!”

“Well, you were in such a rush to leave that I didn’t have the chance,” Matthew defended. 

Delilah rolled her eyes before standing up and offered Matthew her hand, the other still tightly gripped the bottle of whisky. Matthew simply stood and took her hand in his, unsure of what was happening. It was the first time Delilah had noticed Matthew’s appearance. His jacket was missing and probably abandoned somewhere in the house and the first few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing some of the runes on his chest. Delilah swallowed.

“Where are we going?” Matthew asked.

“There is still plenty of this house that you probably haven’t explored,” Delilah said and dragged Matthew from the room. 

***

An hour later, Matthew and Delilah stumbled into one of the many bedrooms in the house, both laughing maniacally. The room was large with a king size bed in the centre of it. 

“I can’t believe you said that!” Delilah said as she stumbled to the bed. “I do want to come back here! And so do you, don’t lie.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Matthew said as he sat next to Delilah. 

The bottle of whisky the two had shared was gone and in their systems, rendering the two of them drunken messes. Although not drunk enough to be rendered unconscious, both of the two Shadowhunters were still very awake.

“Did you even hear what he said about you?” Matthew said. 

“It was Tobias, I don’t question anything he says anymore, especially not after the night I spent with him,” Delilah said, laying on her side and propping up her head.

“You didn’t?” Matthew laughed, “Him? Really?”

Delilah blushed. “It was a good option at the time.”

“He is nice to look at but he has the personality of a slug,” Matthew commented. “And the slime of one too.”

“Again,” Delilah said, “it was months ago and it was the best option at the time.”

Matthew laughed before he laid down. The two stayed that way for a while. Somehow in these past few hours, Matthew had gotten to know the true Delilah, the side of her that she never shows anyone, never tells anyone about.

As Delilah stared up at the ceiling, she realised that she had never had so much fun before. Not in her everyday life nor in this house. Delilah didn’t want it to end. Suddenly sitting up from the bed, she stumbled over to the door and locked it. Matthew sat up and watched her with curious eyes. 

“It’s late,” Delilah said. “And neither of us are in a state to walk home. We can stay here for the night, many people do.”

Matthew allowed his head to fall back down onto the bed. “I am not complaining, this bed is almost as comfortable as mine. Much larger too, I don’t know where you are going to sleep.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “With you, idiot.” 

The Lightwood girl heard Matthew laugh as she tried to reach to undo her corset. She could normally do it easily but she didn’t have the coordination. 

“Want some help?” Matthew questioned as he watched her struggle.

“Please,” Delilah said as Matthew stood from the bed and was at Delilah’s side in an instant, chests nearly touching. 

Delilah looked up at Matthew who looked at her. Blue and green eyes meeting. The blonde placed his hands on Delilah’s shoulders and turned her around so her back faced him. Delilah gathered her hair and rested it over her shoulder to allow Matthew to untie her corset. Matthew could normally untie it quickly but he found himself doing it slowly. His hands shook.

Delilah could feel his breath on the back of her neck and shoulder as she stood behind her. She tried to ignore it but found it difficult. She could still smell his cologne on him, still lingering despite all the different smells he had walked through in the house. She could feel every tug and pull as Matthew untied the corset. 

Of course Delilah had her corset taken from her body before by someone else but it was normally in a rush and quick. It wasn’t as intimate as the way Matthew did it. The dim lighting in the room hid Delilah’s blush well. 

As the dress finally sagged from her body, Delilah gasped and held it against her chest. Somehow now forgetting that she didn’t have anything to change into. 

“Give me your shirt,” Delilah said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Matthew didn’t say anything as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to her in her free hand that wasn’t holding her dress to her chest. Delilah took it and stepped into the small bathroom just off the bedroom and let the dress fall from her body. The material was soft against her skin and Delilah sighed in delight. The shirt was long on her but not as long as Delilah would have liked. But it was all she had, so she walked out of the bathroom.

Matthew remained standing where Delilah had left him, seemingly lost in thought. She tried not to but her eyes looked his body up and down. His shadowhunter training had definitely been useful. She stepped closer to Matthew until she could tell that she was in his eyeline as his eyes fought to look at the carpet. 

Delilah chuckled as she stepped closer and gently reached for his face, raising his gaze to meet hers. She didn’t miss the brief glance at her before he met her gaze though. 

“This is most improper,” Matthew mumbled, not looking anywhere but her eyes.

“There is nothing proper about us,” Delilah muttered, thumb brushing across his cheek. 

She released Matthew’s face as she climbed into the bed. It was soft and the pillows were plush. Delilah let out a content sigh. Matthew remained where he stood and he turned his body to look at Delilah in the bed. Somehow the bed seemed ten times smaller than it did when he walked in. 

“Are you going to stand there all night?” Delilah asked. 

Matthew finally moved as he removed his shoes and slowly shimmied out of his trousers before finally joining her under the covers. The two lay side by side facing one another. It was silent, even the sounds of the party below could not be heard. Delilah and Matthew were in their own small world. 

“Today was a nice distraction,” Delilah whispered. Her breath fanned Matthew’s face.

“Yeah,” Matthew breathed out. “Yes it was.”

Delilah shuffled closer to Matthew and rested her head on his chest. Matthew immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. Their legs tangled together under the covers. 

“It has felt like today has gone on forever,” Delilah said, tracing the runes on Matthew’s chest. “I came here for a much needed distraction. Originally I was looking for a bit more than just drinking, though.”

Matthew paused. “There was a downworlder party tonight that I planned to attend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for dragging you away from it,” Delilah apologised. 

“It’s fine,” Matthew mumbled against her forehead. “I much preferred my time here, with you. Everything with the demon and James disappearing and I don’t know where he even is. I needed to get away from everything for the night. A distraction as you called it.”

Delilah shifted her head and looked at Matthew. Blue and green. Matthew’s hand brushed her hair away from her face.

“You have violet flecks in your eyes,” Matthew muttered.

Delilah didn’t reply. She was too concentrated on the way Matthew held her and the hand getting tangled in her hair. Originally they wanted the same thing. A distraction, something to focus on for a brief moment. To feel something other than worry or pain for a single moment in time. She knew that it had happened before between them, but Delilah barely remembered it. She only remembered waking up in the Devil Tavern in her nightgown and Matthew only in his shirt. 

Before Delilah could think, she pressed her lips against Matthew’s. She cupped his jaw and she pressed her body against his, feeling every part of him. Her body was on fire with desire. Matthew’s eyes fluttered closed as his arm tightened around her body, the hand in her hair gripped it with some more force. 

Delilah’s hands rested on Matthew’s firm chest as she kissed him. His lips were as soft as she remembered those months ago. His body felt the same as it did then. Delilah’s finger’s unconsciously traced the runes on his chest, she was completely absorbed in Matthew. 

Matthew’s hand slid down her body and held her hip, fingertips digging in. Despite his drunken brain, his senses were on fire and as sharp as ever. He was overwhelmed by Delilah’s scent. The smell of her perfume and shampoo seemed to spread all around the room. The goosebumps across her skin and the slight shiver that racked her body as the duvet slipped away from her shoulders. The taste of her and the alcohol that still lingered in her mouth. Matthew was aware of everything about her. 

Delilah pulled away once she realised what she had done. 

“I am so sorry,” Delilah said. “You just mentioned a distraction, as did I. And I thought that didn’t need to be wasted–”

“Delilah,” Matthew cut her off. “Are you sure?”

“I just really need a distraction.” Delilah’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“As do I.”

Their lips met in the middle. It was gentler and tender, just what each other needed. Matthew’s hands gently caressed Delilah’s body as they kissed, afraid that she would break if he applied even the smallest amount of pressure. Delilah’s hands snaked up to his hair, which was just as soft as it had been the last time. Delilah could see why Matthew took such pride in it.

Matthew slowly moved so he was leaning over her, her body now rested beneath his. Delilah could feel every part of him against her. Delilah wrapped her arms around Matthew’s neck pressing him against her, leaving no gap between their bodies. His hands slipped beneath her shirt– his shirt. Her skin was soft to the touch. His fingers briefly ran over the small scars she had gotten from training and her normally clumsy self.

Delilah wrapped her legs around Matthew’s waist as she shifted their positions. The kiss broke away momentarily as Matthew looked up at Delilah. His eyes dark. His hands held onto her waist as she slipped his shirt over her head, revealing herself entirely to Matthew.

Matthew’s fingers traced the curve of her waist and hips before slowly coming back up her body, his fingers danced across her breasts and caused Delilah to suck in more oxygen that was typically necessary. 

Delilah looked at Matthew beneath her and it was the only thing that she could think of. Everything about the day– the demon attack, the injured people in the institute and James’s disappearance to the shadow realm. All of it disappeared. The only thing she could focus on at that moment was Matthew. 

“Are you sure?” Matthew asked once more. His hair was a mess on the white pillow, courtesy of Delilah. His chest heaved up and down. 

“I am sure,” Delilah said. Leaning forward so her face hovered above Matthew’s. “Are you sure?”

Matthew’s hand held her hair tightly in one hand while he held onto her hip with the other. “I have never been sure of anything else.”

Matthew pressed his lips against Delilah’s. He sat up, Delilah still straddling his waist and pressed her chest to his, feeling all of her. Delilah moaned into Matthew’s mouth as his hands explored her body as he mouth trailed from her lips and across her jaw. Delilah smiled.

It was a pleasant distraction.

[filthforfriends]

The Hybrid (Part 3)

Read parts 1 & 2 on my Masterlist

Damiano x Thomas deranged Omegaverse

Word Count: 5.8k

CW: Gratuitous, self-indulgent, sacrilegious hurt/comfort mentioning domestic abuse

Vic: Weird question but is Damia with you by any chance? He stood me up for lunch today & he’s not answering his phone. 

Vic: Hey just remembered you’re working, sorry! I’ll just go bother him he probably forgot.

Vic: Oh my god Thomas call me

“Hey its, Victoria, call me when you get this is really important. It’s about Damiano, the security force is here.” 

“Hey it's me again. I’m taking him to the hospital and he’s asking for you. I don’t think he’s too hurt.”

Vic: The doctors are evaluating Damiano (check your fucking voice messages). Why aren’t you answering??? I know you’re off work

Vic: HES ASKING FOR YOU

“Thomas, I can’t deal with this alone. So call me soon, or I’ll call Ethan. You better have an excellent fucking excuse.”

“Hey, it's Ethan. Victoria told me to tell you to call her. What's going on?”

Ethan: Is Dami hurt? Victoria sounded really upset, but she said she needed your help. Let me know that everything is okay, please.

Thomas had silenced his phone for a private music therapy session. He ended up talking to the parents for 45 minutes afterwards, giving them assurance more than anything else. Feeling excellent about his day, Thomas turned his phone back on to check his messages and had an actual panic attack. He crouched down, aching pain in his chest, feeling sick, and called Victoria. 

“What the fu -”

“Work ran late, I’m so sorry. Where is he?”

“He insisted we go back to his place, but he’s been regressing. Like he’s not even verbal.”

“I’m coming now!” Thomas tripped over his own feet, grabbing his keys, wallet, coat, and scarf from various places in the room.

“Uh, okay. I’m - I’m not sure what to do right now. He demanded we go home, but maybe I shouldn't have listened to him. I just wasn’t sure what, what…” Her voice breaks and Thomas can barely breathe.

“What the fuck happened!?” He takes the steps two at a time, while trying to stuff everything into his pockets.

“Damiano basically rid every trance of Samuel’s scent from the apartment and his nest smells like someone else.” Thomas’ stomach dropped. For a second he struggled to speak.

“Wh – wha – but they’re not exclusive.”

“Yeah, but they had a fight and Damiano told him to just get out, that he didn’t want to bother with the dynamic anymore. Said he didn’t get anything out of it, and he’d lost interest.” Victoria paused, sighing, and her tone changed. “It was all very sudden, I think he just snapped, it's not like there was much romance there. So Sam got all his shit together, but he roughed Dami up in the process.”

“What the –” Thomas drops his phone on the seat, while trying to maneuver everything into the car. “What happened? What – is he okay?”

“Bruises, and his face is a little messed up. Almost got a hairline fracture on his ribs. I didn’t think Samuel was the type.” But I did. The tears burned in Thomas’ eyes as he drove out of the parking lot. He should have known when Damiano flinched, he should have known. He should have pressed the issue.

“I didn’t think Dami was the type to stay with an abuser. He’s so strong.” Even as he said the words he hated himself. What kind of victim blaming bullshit mentality was that? No matter how powerful he may be, Damiano was an omega first and foremost. Forced into a subservient role by society, even he was subject to abuse. Thomas let out a sob on the phone.

“Hey he’ll be healed in a couple weeks.”

“No he won’t,” Thomas says through gritted teeth. “You don’t just get over that.” Despite himself, he lets out another sob and almost hits someone’s bumper.

“Hey Thomas, hey –”

“I should have answered the phone.” The visual of Damiano, in a hospital bed, asking for him, wounded and scared, plagues him. Thomas had to grip the steering wheel tighter because his hands were shaking. “I failed him, I fucking failed him. He was hurt and I wasn’t there. I should have known.”

“Hey Tom, it's not like you ignored this on purpose.”

“He was asking for me, and I wasn’t fucking here.” His voice lilts upwards at the end and cracks. He has to slow down because of the tears. “It’s my fault.”

“Thomas, just get here. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Oh, but I did. 

“Okay, I’m gonna hang up, so I don’t crash.”

“Okay, we’ll see you soon. Breathe.” Thomas’ tunnel vision narrows as he bounds up the stairs, wrestling with the door. The lock had been knocked loose and shoved back into place.

“Damiano!” he calls out, already knowing where he is. Victoria is crouched down next to the closet, where the door is cracked open. Her mascara has long since dried on her cheeks and she looks shaken. Thomas drops to the floor and sees Damiano curled in his nest. He’s using the corner that contains Thomas’ dirty clothes as a pillow. Dami was trying his best to self-soothe, and Thomas’ scent was his mechanism. Yet, he’d had to go to the hospital without him. Having a fork put through Tom’s hand would be less painful than this visual and the knowledge that accompanied it. 

“Cucciolo, hey, it’s me” he whispers, sliding the closet door open. Thomas crawls forward into Damiano’s nest, placing his limbs carefully.

“Tom, don’t -” disturb his nest. Victoria stops herself, as she places the new scent. Something so closely adjacent to Thomas’ that it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Thomas, what the fuck is that?” 

“I really, really need you to not ask questions,” he emphasizes. “Don’t tell anyone, please, I’ll explain later.” What was worse: his hybrid status being revealed or Damiano being hurt? Thomas rubs his back tentatively, getting ready to curl himself around Dami, who shifts and looks up. 

“Caro mio, I’m so sorry. I would give anything for it to have been me,” Thomas confesses. To take on Damiano’s pain so he didn’t have to bear it: there was nothing more appealing. 

“Tommy?” He sits up, reaching towards him, with grabby hands, showing he wants physical touch. One of Thomas’ hands grasps his thigh and goes around his waist. He maneuvers Damiano onto his lap, but the closet is too dark to see his face. Holding him is like a piece falling into place. It's easier to breathe, Thomas can serve and nurture his omega now. Damiano straddles him, back turned to Victoria, and tucks his head against Thomas' neck. Thomas would do anything for him at this moment. Take a bullet, donate an organ he couldn’t live without, give him the last sip of what in the desert, or simply lay down his life in the place of his omega’s.

“I’ve got him, Vic. You can go, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here before.” As Thomas leans forward, Dami uses the opportunity to wrap his legs around him. 

“Are you sure?” He can see the toll today as taken on her. Knowing its weight, she is resistant to dump it entirely on someone else. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” This task should feel insurmountable, but Thomas is grounded by his role in Dami’s life. This was his intended place in the universe right now, to heal and love Damiano.

“This is exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he affirmed, rocking back and forth soothingly. Damiano would communicate when he was ready. Right now, he just needed to be held and made to feel safe. 

“Okay, if you say so.” Victoria got up and collected herself, pacing through the apartment to locate all her belongings. She poked her head in once more, and lowered her tone to a whisper. 

“How are you so calm?” she hissed, looking genuinely mystified. The answer to that question was more complex than he could explain in an hour, let alone a single sentence.Thomas kissed Dami’s temple a couple times as he thought.

“This feels more organic and affirming to me than anything else.” Victoria wanted to ask why so badly, but held off. “I’ll try explaining it to you another time. For now, I really need you to not tell anyone.”

“Not even Ethan?” Thomas was deciding how to answer this whan Damiano spoke up.

“No one,” he mumbled. Victoria seemed shocked to hear him verbalize at all, and nodded.

“No one,” she agreed. Thomas waited until she was out the door before scenting Dami. Tom tried to think loving, protective thoughts, not pure rage. That wouldn’t help his omega right now. Still, it was difficult not to let poison seep into his mind, fantasies about dismembering Samuel. Damiano moved his head to the other shoulder, allowing Thomas to scent both sides, who fretted over the idea of knotting. If Damiano asked, he wouldn’t be able to get hard given the situation. 

Thomas’ heightened emotions reminded him of Damiano’s ability to help him regulate. During his last rut, he'd worked himself up into such a cloud of anxiety that he was only half present. Dami’s pheromones responded and quelled Thomas’ panic. Lilac was the smell of tranquility. So, he attempted to do the same for his omega. First he tried to evoke feelings of calm within himself, and when that didn’t work he searched for memories of his calmest moments. Chamomile tea with his mother at eight years old while she read him a story. Laying under his grandfather's piano while he played The Nutcracker.

He checked in with Damiano, who’s breathing was still ragged and who had twisted the fabric of Thomas’ sweater into his fists, hanging on for dear life. What was calming to Damiano? They’d spent their young adult lives not being too close. Their connection couldn’t be too intense or too satiating, or too natural. Otherwise Thomas’ hybrid status could be discovered. 

Collectively, he’d spent hours watching Damiano when he couldn’t explore his feelings. Watched him sing, cry, argue, giggle, sleep, rant, sweat, and cum so hard he shook in Thomas’ arms. He’d watched him brush his teeth, restart his household’s router while cursing, dig through a pile of laundry for a sock, cook elaborate dishes then burn his hand and whine incessantly. He’d watched him wipe jizz from his abdomen, brace for the pain of a tattoo, lose his keys, fight with the clasp of a necklace, and struggle to open his favorite sauce because the seal on the jar was always so tight. 

He came to know Damiano so well that Thomas took him into those fantasies. He and Damiano crawled under the grand piano, lay on their backs and felt the music move in the floor. They climbed out his parents bedroom window and onto the roof, watching the stars and space shuttles blink while smoking weed. They sat on his bed and listened to Spanish guitar tapes until their eyes grew heavy. They took a freezing cold walk on a coastal beach in the middle of winter, frigid wind biting at their cheeks.

Thomas took him into his earliest memory of serenity: a yellow comforter and soft lighting. It could have been a blanket fort or his parents bed, or the bottom of a linen closet. It was abstract, but something as deep in a person's psyche is bound to be. He took Damiano there, where it was warm, insolated, snug, and smelled of lavender drying sheets. Thomas kept him there, right next to his heart. As he held him, Thomas could feel that Damiano’s body had gone quiet, finally soothed.

It wasn’t without effort, however. Emulating calm for Damiano evoked the same mental exhaustion as doing calculus. It took all Thomas’ focus to hold steady, but it was worth it because Dami felt decent enough to scent him back. He started shifting in Thomas’ arms, no longer hunkered down for survival. Damiano sat up, forehead and nose pressed to his alpha’s, whose eyes were screwed shut in concentration.

“I’m okay.” His voice came out broken, Dami hadn’t spoken for hours between the tears. Thomas took this as permission to drop the mirage, and did so with a gasp, like breaking through the surface of water.

“That was so beautiful, thank you,” he cooed, a hand sneaking up the base of Thomas’ skull and into his hair. “How did you do that?”

“I just knew that you needed it, so I did. I’m not really sure where it came from,” he confesses. Even with his face shrouded in shadow, Thomas can see the wonder in Damiano's features. In those same features he searches for the damage that Samuel’s fist caused. Thomas must look sick with guilt, an expression so incongruous with Damiano’s affectionate admiration. Dami’s face falls into a scowl, realizing his former mate is soiling this moment as well.

“Thomas can we please just forget about this? My life isn’t ruined because I got punched one time. Remember how I used to wrestle with other kids when I was younger. I’m fine, I promise.” Damiano seems to actually believe the excuses he placates Thomas with.

“Get into the light,” Thomas orders in a monotone, his mouth clenched into a straight line and pursed in repressed anger.

“What?”

“Let me see you in the light, I want to see your face.” Damiano makes a noise of dissent as Thomas throws open the closet door and partially disentangles himself to reach the light switch. When he turns back to his omega it's very clear that he was hit more than once. Damiano has a swollen cheek, a cut right above his temple, and a bruise on his swollen jaw. He winces, not in pain but in the knowledge of what Thomas is currently looking at.

“Okay, one fight, but I’m still fine. Just ignore the bruises.”

“Ignore the bruises?” Thomas seethes. “You’re lying to me.” He didn’t want to direct any negativity towards Damiano, but out of all the situations he’d anticipated outright denial was not one of them.

“Everything’s fucking fine! I’m not lying to you,” he insists.

“Pull up your shirt,” Thomas deadpans. 

“What does –”

“If everything was fine the security force wouldn’t have shown up. The lock wouldn’t be half torn off the door. Vic wouldn’t have taken you to the hospital. So show me your ribs, now.” 

“I don’t have to prove anything to you!” Damiano shouts, pulling as far away from Thomas as possible while still remaining seated on his lap. 

“I know that, cucciolo! Because this is my fault, I did this!”

“Thomas, in what world –”

“You flinched, okay? You flinched that first morning when we were mating on the bedroom floor. And afterwards you didn’t seem to remember so a part of me didn’t want to deal with it because I couldn’t fathom existing in a world where you were anything less than cherished. It’s not a fight, Damiano, it's abuse! I know it happened more than once so if you’re honest with anyone let it be me.” Thomas was out of breath by his last word. The wave of guilt that stifled him settled in the pit of Tom’s stomach. This was not how he wanted to deal with this. He wanted to give a perfectly calibrated and reassuring reaction, where he held complete control over his emotions. Instead, he’s trying not to cry.

“Damiano, please forgive me,” he begs. 

“You won't get it, because,” he sighs, not in anger, but in trepidation. “Because you’re not like the – because you’re a hybrid. You don’t have normal, or, I mean typical heats with alphas. You don’t understand how much control hormones have. Most omegas get roughed up once or twice in the course of their lifetimes while mating. It happens, because occasionally, certain alphas take things too far, use omegan biology to twist shit up.” Thomas thinks back to Victoria’s original reaction to finding Damiano and the language she used. 

“This can’t be normal,” he insists, pulling Damiano closer. He scoots up on Thomas’ lap so their abdomens are pressed together, but avoids eye contact.

“This was the first time outside of heat that Samuel’s…this. He had an unfair advantage, hormonally. He’s supposed to go into rut pretty soon. And obviously I…” just went through an early heat with you. Damiano trails off, picking at his black nail polish, almost timid. 

“So he roughed you up,” Thomas winces at his use of language, but outright calling it abuse may be too intimidating for Damiano right now. “When you were both hormonal?” Dami almost nods, but not quite.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be pushing the issue. We don’t have to talk about it right now, cucciolo.”

“You have to promise to still like me after I tell you this.” The pain in Damiano’s face is tenfold of what Thomas has encountered before. What could he say that would nullify Thomas’ affection so immediately? It wasn’t possible.

“Cucciolo, after all these years, you have to know that I could never just –”

“Promise me,” Damiano insists. At a loss, Thomas simply agrees.

“Okay, I promise.” Now that Damiano finally has permission to say whatever he needs to, the words catch in his throat. Perfect, peaceful Thomas would never see him the same again. How could he sacrifice that so casually?

“I – I, um,” he sighs in hesitation. Damiano hugs Thomas tightly, pressing his face into Tom’s neck as he speaks, too scared to meet his eyes. Without question, Tom holds Dami back, a soothing hand stroking his skin. His omega winced, feeling undeserving of such tenderness. 

“We would fight, sometimes. Physically, I mean.” 

“When you were both hormonal?” Dami nods his head. Seeking to understand, Thomas pulls back so he can read his omega’s face.

“The first time, I – god this is so fucked up,” he whimpers, hiding his trembling mouth behind a trembling hand. “The very first time, part of me liked it, the intensity. I never told him, but I thought Sam could sense it, which is why he did it again the next month.”

“So he’s been abusing you for a while?”

“It doesn’t really count though, because I started fighting back. Plus it wasn’t enough to leave a mark. I mean, until now. He’s never been this rough before.” Thomas nodded, and watching him attempt to process the information was more painful than the rest of it to Damiano. Sweet, non-violent Thomas, realizing he was with the type of person that answered aggression with aggression, instead of terminating the relationship altogether. 

“Did you ever ask him not to, um –”

“Well, yeah of course. I didn’t just let him walk all over me, but maybe that would have been better. If I wasn’t going to leave at least I shouldn’t have stooped to his level.” Maybe then I’d still deserve you. That was the thought that always echoed in Dami’s mind: what would Thomas think of this? Would Thomas still desire his omega if he knew what kind of person Damiano was? 

“How the fuck would not defending yourself be better?” 

“I should have just left.”

“And there shouldn’t be institutionalized power dynamics between alphas and omegas that are practiced in our society above all reason. There shouldn’t be a biological advantage that trumps all personal autonomy.” There's a fierceness in Thomas’ eyes that Damiano expected, but didn’t anticipate being directed elsewhere. 

“So you don’t think I’m a monster?” 

“What the fuck!?” Thomas answers, in genuine shock. Damiano bursts into tears and catapults himself back into his alpha’s arms, far more relieved than he is saddened. It became immediately apparent that this is what Dami needed, to ugly sob in Tom’s embrace until the impulse passed.

“Caro mio, I would never judge you for this. I can appreciate the complexity of the situation. cucciolo,” he pledges. Damiano tries to take a breath, but it gets caught in his throat.

“I didn’t want you to think I was,” sob “like, into violence, or” sob “or something.” Sob. “Because you’re – you’re” sob.  

“Amore, we’ve had sex before. Samuel isn’t the only one that knows what turns you on.” From the way his breathing pauses, it seems to be the first time Damiano has considered this. “In fact, I’d like to argue that I’m far more qualified to pass judgment on your sexuality and general character. Seeing as we’ve been hooking up since I was 16, and friends a year beforehand.” Thomas tries to coax Dami from where his face is pressed into his mate’s neck to no avail. He’s determined not to budge from his safe place, and clings incessantly. 

“Caro mio, I think you’ve internalized a lot of bullshit from Sam because he was your mate.” Dami doesn’t respond, his mind too muddled by manipulation and ego to decipher its thoughts. “For example, we’ve been intimate for twice as long as you’ve known Samuel, but you’re so fearful that I’ll spontaneously share his views that you’re shaking. Bello, please stop shaking,” he pleads, voice pained. 

Thomas never expected to see Damiano so broken down and gaslighted by another person. His strength seemed unmatched, but no one was immune to the societal repercussions, mental programming, and pheromonal manipulation that resulted from being born omega. In at least that aspect, Thomas’ hybridism had spared him. 

“I don’t think you’re a violent person. There’s no evidence to support it. We both know your tendency to be mouthy has nothing to do with a desire to hurt me.”

“Of fucking course not,” Damino bites, punctuating his words with a pathetic sniffle.

“Mhm,” Tom agrees, soothingly. “I think you can be highly defensive and occasionally combative. However, I also know you’re self aware and this doesn’t come as a surprise to you.” Dami nodded his head, kissing Thomas’ scent gland, trying to gently elicit some light excretions that he could lap up with his tongue for comfort. The sensation startled Thomas and he jumped.

“Sorry,” Damiano muttered, adjusting his arms to make his hold more comfortable and less desperate. Secretly, Tom loved that his mate looked to his body for comfort. If the consequences hadn’t been negative for Dami, he also would have loved the fact that he rid his shared apartment of all other pheromones. It indicated an extremely intense attraction that Thomas could grow to share. Of course, he was still ignorant to the extent of Damiano’s emotions, for his own protection. 

“I know you’re right,” he suddenly confided. “You just get so wrapped up in it and everyone sort of says it's normal. It’s really hard to separate.”

“Can you name a single time you’ve been violent towards me? In any way?” Damiano takes a deep breath and considers for only a moment before decisively shaking his head.

“Mm-mm.” 

“Exactly, I’d even venture that you’ve most agreeable around me.”

“Well you’re really easy to get along with,” he confesses.

“Actually we’re just really compatible.” Damiano likes his comment so very much. He smiles wide, even nips at his alpha’s scent gland. He’d had so many fantasies about sharing a moment like this with Tom, yeared for it painfully for the last six years. Now that it was here, he struggled, but was forced to admit to himself that every alpha up until now was a placeholder. Damiano knew he couldn’t have Thomas, because it wasn’t safe, and he would never endanger him like that. In fact, he cared for Thomas so deeply that when the urge surfaced he was awash in self loathing. What triumphed was a primal need to protect and shelter him, because he was made vulnerable by Dami’s knowledge.

“So now that we’ve established that nothing Samuel says can be trusted because he’s obviously a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, I agree on that one.” Damiano is picking at his nail polish again instead of meeting Thomas' eyes. He feels suddenly foolish, having built up this confession in his head to something catastrophic, but Thomas is holding him the same way he was 10 minutes ago. There’s a special kind of nausea that settles in the stomach of a person when they realize they’ve been manipulated. Damiano had fancied himself too smart to be the victim of Samuel’s mind games. Yet, his entire world view was warped and his perception of his relationships poisoned.

“I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.”

“I was so sure that you’d reject me. I don’t know how he got in my head like that, we didn’t even talk about you that much,” Damiano marveled, rubbing his face roughly. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much clarity he wanted to seek. Yet the knee-jerk reaction every time Damiano opened his mouth was to question if Thomas would want him after he spoke. What was there even to say that would be so divisive? Damiano knew that it was irrational, yet the fear was so deeply ingrained that it overpowered logic.

Damiano had craved being Thomas’ boyfriend and mate for so long. To go through heat with Thomas, to have Thomas run to his side, speak his defense. They’d finally agreed that their relationship was inevitable. There was no point in resisting and making themselves miserable. Now, Damiano was free from prior obligations, he was in his chosen alpha’s arms, cherished by Thomas. And yet, part of him yearned for how things used to be, despite the past having no merits. Part of truly having Thomas was the ability to truly lose him. 

When all previous relationships and partnerships had ended, he would cry over connection or even the love that was lost. Then Dami would go to Thomas’ to mourn, drink, receive comfort, eat, laugh, fuck, and cuddle. He’d mate with Thomas during his next rut, which essentially felt like pressing the reset button. If things with Thomas ended, he could lose him, and maybe even their shared friends. Damiano wasn’t a reflective person, but he was sure he wouldn’t survive that. There was nothing to survive for, an emotion so intense that he feared verbalizing it would spook Tom.

“Cucciolo look at me.” He hooked a finger under Dami’s chin, coaxing him to raise his gaze. “The most effective thing an abuser can do is isolate. It’s hard to leave someone if you feel they’re all you have. I’m going to keep reminding you that you have me and you will always have me, no matter what.”

“I know that,” Damiano answers automatically. Tom is silent for a moment, observative.

“Damia, I don’t think you do,” he says slowly, tone cautious. “If you were to become a monster right now, I would devote years trying to get you back, just based on who you’ve been in my life so far. You are endlessly lovable to me.” Endlessly lovable. No one had ever called him that, not dotting romantic prospects with the gift of language, not his wonderful parents. It was more powerful than saying you can do no wrong. Endlessly lovable means you can do wrong, but I will still want you always. 

“If you ever have a question, just ask, caro mio. Deconstructing shit like this takes time.” He tucks Dami’s hair behind his ears. After weeks of not cutting it, the length was nearing his shoulders, and that's what Tom tried to focus on, not the swelling and discoloration. 

“Hopefully not too much time. I didn’t even like the fucker that much,” Dami muttered darkly. Unsure of how to segway, Thomas takes a deep breath and keeps talking.

“I think we also need to face the reality that Samuel suspected, which means others probably do as well. Maybe we’re not as sneaky as we thought.” Thomas tries to say the words lightly, to cloak his panic at being outed.

“I swear to you, I didn’t say anything we didn’t agree on. I promise I am so careful, Tommy. I tried to never mention you, I –”

“I know.” Damiano speaks with such desperate intensity, but Thomas needs no additional affirmations. “But Samuel wouldn’t have spent so long turning you against a casual hookup, would he? He also failed pretty epically.” Dami looks down at the mess of intertwined limbs sat on their dirty sheets and snorts a laugh, then keeps laughing. Not because it's particularly funny, but because it feels good not to be crying. It feels even better to be wrapped around his mate in the middle of his nest and to have some body awareness returning.  

“I’m sorry,” he chortles, “I’m like half lucid right now.” Nothing could compel Thomas to laugh, but seeing a break in the tension at least prompts a genuine smile. It only sort of looked like a grimace. 

“What were the doctor's directions?”

“Rest, ice, disinfectant twice daily. I can pick up some of that Tachyangiogenisis ointment from the pharmacy if I want to speed it up.” 

“What about referrals?”

“For what?” 

“Domestic abuse recovery?” Damiano huffs in aggravation. “I work in the alternative pediatric psychiatric therapies, but I’m sure that I could help you find someone –”

“I don’t need anyone in APPT, Thomas. Hitting a couple keys on a piano isn’t going to change what happened.” Thomas continues on, unaffected, as though Damiano hadn’t just insulted his entire field of treatment.

“I’m sure I could help you find someone in an appropriate medical sector if it feels too overwhelming right now,” he finished. “Sensory overwhelm is a totally normal reaction and I want to help in every capacity I can.” Damiano sighs and bites his cheek in shame.

“That was a really dickish thing to say, Thomas. I didn’t mean it at all.”

“I know.” Children who lacked verbal ability due to developmental variation or lacked the language to describe a traumatic situation were often Thomas’ clients. Piano, usually, but often other instruments, allowed them to describe their emotions in a detailed, precise fashion, where there was no external pressure. What made the session therapeutic was largely Tom’s patience and unequivocal kindness. He was born with a wonderful temperament, and just his two syllable response was a reminder of this. Damiano loathed himself for lashing out.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean it! I don’t think that at all. I really don’t, you’re so perfect for your job and all those families are lucky to have you.”

“Dami –”

“I mean you devote your life to helping people, what's more admirable than that? And I know the science is sound, I do. I’m not some uneducated skeptic that shits on people of better character and moral fiber. I’m not. I’m fucking not! I’m just really, really sorry –”

“Shh, it's okay.” Damiano has Thomas’ shirt gripped in handfuls of fabric again, pulling it taut to bring Tom close in this moment of desperation. His eyes are panicked and their foreheads are pressed together. 

“I’m sorry and I’ll go to therapy if you think it’s right. I trust you.” Dami looks into Tom’s eyes and sees such softness. He rocks back and forth, shushing him, and running a hand slowly up and down his back, such a juxtaposition to Damiano’s thundering heart rate. 

“I don’t know why I said that or why I can’t just shut up.”

“Because you’re totally deregulated and need the help of your mate to stabilize.” Damiano falls against him once again. When he sucks on Thomas’ scent gland, Tom lets him. He tries not to flinch from sensitivity. Having gone practically untouched here his whole life, the sensation took some adapting to. 

“I’m here, cucciolo. Give me the reins for a couple days.” Dami nodded, his nervous system finally taking a step below absolute terror survival mode. 

“You need to eat and sleep.”

“Not here. There will be an officer outside the building until they’ve arrested him, but I hate the smell.” The word is spoken with intense disgust. “Can’t we just go to your apartment?” Where everything will smell perfect and I’ll be surrounded by impeccable nesting materials.

“If Samuel’s figured it out, and remembers where I live, my place isn’t safe either.”

“Vic’s?” 

“No. I’ll call my mom,” he sighs. Dami moves off his lap so Thomas can get his phone from his pants.

“I can’t compromise her safety too! I’ve already put you in danger,” he sniffles, face distressed.

“You are not doing anything. My mother put herself in danger 21 plus years ago when she decided not to treat my Primary Gender Dysmorphia. She has spent my life making me internalize that fact. So no, you are doing nothing.” It was only then that Damiano understood the strength of not only his mate, but his blood line. Thomas had grown up knowing that someday his identity would be discovered, and he would be persecuted, but he lived anyway. His mother, a woman only a few years older than Damiano was now, willingly put the rest of her life in danger to preserve her child's autonomy. She made her entire life into an act of protest. There is no strength like being a warrior with unconditional, soul-deep kindness in place of a bloodied sword. With no shield, only the best of intentions and a gentle hand. The only thing more difficult than being hardened, is to be soft, strengthen unchanged.

“Hey, mom, Yeah, I’m good, I was just wondering if I could come pick a couple things up? Yeah I left my blue sweater there last time and I need two pairs of socks. Mhm, okay, yeah we’ll stay for dinner. Love you, bye.” Immediately Thomas turns to Damiano. “I need you to wear a blue sweater under your clothes for my mother’s sake.”

“Yeah, of course!” he enthusiastically agreed, happy to be able to do something. “But, um, why?”

“Because I’ll carry it on the way back. If I get detained it won’t look like we were using code.” 

“Nothing is going to happen to you!” he cries out.

“We don’t know how much Samuels pierced together, or how much he’ll say when they find him. Damiano you need to know something.” He cups his omega’s face between his large hands and holds Dami’s gaze with a burning intensity. “No matter what happens, I chose this. The consequences are worth it. It is not your fault.”

“This can’t be happening,” he whimpers, eyes welling up again. This is my life. To someone who’d lived in normalcy, the amount of risk involved in just existing semi-authentically for Thomas was totally overwhelming. He searched for the right words, and found nothing but a whirlpool of panic in his mind. So instead of speaking, he kisses Damiano, just a brush of lips, then up the bridge of his nose to his forehead. For a minute they just breath each other in, synching each inhale and exhale.

“It’s time to go.”

Notes: I rarely write stuff this heavy, which is why I originally was only going to post The Hybrid on AO3 since that place is a cesspool (affectionate). But having different fics on different platforms felt ridiculous so here it is. Message me to be removed from this fics taglist.

-XOXO Eden

taglist: @blackberryblossom @bobfood @butkutee @bohemianrainbow @cuzimitaliano @daisy0gf @elvirabelle @gr8rainbowpunk @harryssshouseee @hiraetheral @iamtashaquinn @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @kammerstx @l0standn0tf0und @little-moonbeam-666 @lizzylynch1 @maneslut @minnietmouse @mortyandem @obiw4n @que--sera--sera @slavicgoddess13 @stardustingold @teenyweenynightghost @thegeminisgirl @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia @bieberhoodforever

@ursulalurks bestie I do not know wtf is going on, but I still can't tag you. All I can recommend is contacting Tumblr Help, sorry. <3

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Chapter One

Chapter Twenty-Two:

It was the strangest recovery from death either of them had ever experienced.  Neither of them had to guard, apart from the comparably effortless task of keeping the other core sides away.  Virgil didn’t have to work twice as hard to get enough food, because despite the kitchen being off limits during meals, no one tried to stop him from eating the rest of the time.  Virgil got Remus enough towels and outfits that he could shower daily, and apparently hot water on sore muscles really helped.  It was all surprisingly nice.

So by the time Remus was getting well enough to start doing other things again, Virgil was starting to suspect there would still be other parts of them living up here that would be surprisingly nice, despite everyone still hating them.  It’s not like life here hadn’t been a huge improvement back when he only got along with Patton.  Even if they got along with none of them, life would definitely be better now that they didn’t have to be on the run all the time.

Unfortunately, the first thing that had to happen was one that would definitely piss everyone off.

It was time to introduce Remus to Thomas.

Technically they didn’t have to.  Remus could just stay up here, and not be introduced to Thomas at all.  But Virgil wasn’t sure what would happen if they tried to play it both ways, and if Thomas was expecting to meet a new side and it just didn’t happen, that apprehension could be just as damaging.

Well, it would be Virgil’s fault that he felt it.  But it could still be just as damaging.

So, on the morning they’d planned to introduce Remus, they both ended up in his room trying to figure out how to go about it.  Remus had been pacing back and forth for the past ten minutes, and Virgil wasn’t sure how to help.

“I haven’t had time to prepare anything,” Remus said, shaking his hands out nervously.  “I haven’t had time to plan a big dramatic entrance Virgil!”

“Well, what would you want to do?” Virgil asked.  “Maybe we can work something out?”

“A song,” Remus said instantly.

Virgil blinked.  “A song?”

“An introduction song where I just throw everything and everyone around in regards to my whims and tear down all of Thomas’ preconceived notions about creativity and show everything that I am all in one fell swoop,” Remus said, waving his hands around dramatically as he continued to pace.

“Uh, I don’t know if we have time to write something like that Re,” Virgil said hesitantly.  “And I think the others already kind of told Thomas that you’re the other part of Creativity.”

“It’s fine, it would suck anyway because I can’t make anything good right now,” Remus said, turning as he reached his desk to start walking back towards the other side of the room.

“Hey, no,” Virgil said, crossing his arms.  “That’s not helpful.”

“Yeah, well it’s true!” Remus said, spinning around to face Virgil.  “Virgil do you ever think about the fact that I haven’t made anything in years and all I have are random ideas that probably aren’t even any good in a bunch of shitty notebooks and any ideas that might be useful are years too late and I’ll probably never make anything worth it ever again—”

“Remus,” Virgil said, grabbing him by the shoulders and startling him into silence.  “Breathe.”

Remus pulled in a shaky breath and started shaking his hands again.

“I know you don’t think that either, Re,” Virgil said, nudging him gently in the arm.  “You’re just freaking yourself out because you’re about to meet Thomas.”

Remus nodded weakly.  “I know.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Re.”

“I just—” Remus pushed his hands over his face.  “I know he’s going to hate me and be angry and all that.  I’m not expecting anything else.  Just… what if he doesn’t take me seriously, Virgil?  What if he sees how I haven’t made him anything in forever and just thinks I’m a useless side who can’t do anything good or bad?”

“He’s not going to think that,” Virgil said, praying that it was true.  “Re, I’ll give them all hell if none of them acknowledge you.”

“I don’t care if he acknowledges me,” Remus said, running his hands nervously through his hair.  “As long as he doesn’t laugh at me.”

“He won’t,” Virgil said, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Remus.  “Re, he won’t.”

Remus buried his head in Virgil’s shoulder.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“When I met Thomas I introduced myself and started talking about the problem he was working through,” Virgil said.  “I mean, we can’t really guarantee he’ll be working through a problem right now, but—”

“What are you talking about, he’s Thomas,” Remus said.  “Of course we can.”

Virgil thought about that for a minute.  “You know, fair enough.  Just talk about that, then.”

“You think?” Remus said, running his hands through his hair again.

“Yeah.  It’s gonna go fine, Re.  Or well, you know.”

Remus smiled a little.  “Yeah.  Okay.  Okay.”  He shook his hands out one more time and held one out to Virgil.  “Come with me?”

“Of course,” Virgil said, taking Remus’ hand.  “Let’s do it.”

Then they both rose up in the living room, where Thomas was sitting on the couch working on something on his computer.

He started the second he saw them, and immediately his gaze turned wary and suspicious.  “Anxiety, who is this?”

As if summoned by the situation, Janus appeared next to them both and turned an immediate glare on them.

“Hi Janny!” Remus called, giving him a shit-eating grin.  “How’ve you been?  Haven’t seen much of you this week.  You didn’t want to pop in on your new roommate if you weren’t gonna threaten me?”

Janus gave Remus a glare before turning a much gentler gaze to Thomas.  “Thomas, this is the side we warned you about.  He’s been invading the commons a little more lately, I’m not surprised he’s chosen this time to introduce himself.”

“Oh, yes, I’m invading,” Remus said, his eye twitching slightly but not lessening his grin at all.  “That’s what you call it when you come out and enjoy shared space for things like meals and movies!”

Janus shot him another glare.  “It was not supposed to be your space,” he hissed.

“Whoops,” Virgil said with a roll of his eyes, since that was as good a place as any to enter himself into the conversation.

Thomas sighed, seeming exhausted at the prospect of all of this.  “So you’re Roman’s brother, then,” he said to Remus.

“Always my favorite way to be referred to,” Remus said, widening his smile just enough to seem unsettling.  “You can just call me Remus if you want to be a little more accurate!”

Thomas blinked in surprise and Janus hissed in displeasure.

Virgil glared over at him and hissed back.  It wasn’t his place to decide when Remus got to share his name.  Honestly, he really should have expected Remus to share it right off the bat.

Thomas certainly seemed surprised though.

“You… you told me?” he asked.  “I don’t understand.  I’ve known Anxiety for over a decade, and he’s never told me his.”

“That’s cause Anxy’s a different side from me,” Remus said, turning his grin on Thomas.  “I’m sure that comes as a total shock to you.”

“Uh, okay,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking deeply uncomfortable with this whole situation.  “So… are you here to… bother me?”

“More or less,” Remus said, moving over to plop himself down next to Thomas and looking at his laptop screen.  “Ooooh you're stuck on a video about your ex-boyfriend.  Hey, what says you to sharing a bunch of ideas on how to get revenge?  You could hunt him for sport or tear off his arm or rip out his teeth—”

“What?  No!” Thomas exclaimed, leaning back from Remus.  Virgil shoved down the own spike of nerves he got from the idea.  That was all stuff he knew Remus had gone through.  Why was he talking about it with Thomas?

“That sounds like a horrible idea!” Thomas continued, but Remus just cackled.

“Come on, you haven’t thought about nailing his fingernails to a chalkboard even once?”

“That’s enough,” Janus snapped, waving his hand.

Remus smacked his own hand over his mouth, but the way he looked at Janus the second after made it very clear he was licking his own hand and enjoying everything about doing so.

Virgil bit his lip to keep from smiling a little bit.  At least Remus seemed to be having fun with all of this.

Before he could come up with anything to say to add to the conversation though, Logan rose up on the other side of the living room.

“Logan,” Janus said, giving him a look.  “I told you I could handle it.”

“I know, Janus, I just wanted to remind you and Thomas what we talked about with trying to ignore Remus instead of trying to stop him.”

Remus yanked his hand off of his mouth.  “I agree!” he called happily.  “I think trying to stop me would make things way too boring!”

“You’re right, Logan,” Thomas said with a nod.  “I don’t think those ideas will be helpful… Remus.  I’ve got this one, thanks.”

Remus tipped his head to the side, his neck cracking slightly at the motion.  “Okay!” he called.  “Let’s see if we can’t think up some other ones then!”

He leaned back against the couch next to Thomas, probably to show what everyone should have already known in that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Virgil moved over to perch on the arm next to Remus, because it was always more enjoyable to sit on something that wasn’t meant for that purpose.

Janus looked very irritated with the whole situation, but moved to sit on the other side of Thomas, who just looked done with everything that was happening.

Logan seemed to consider it necessary that he stay too, because he went to sit on the other side of Janus, meaning now they were all just hanging out on Thomas’ couch as the poor man was trying to get work done.

Virgil, for his part, was trying to figure out what Remus was doing.  He’d expected him to be loud and annoying on purpose.  What he hadn’t expected was for Remus to start talking to Thomas about things that had happened to him.  It’s not that everyone else would know that he was referencing real events, but still.  Why would he do that?  Virgil wasn’t ever going to breathe a word to Thomas about the things that had happened to him.

But right now Remus was peering down at Thomas’ script as he was trying to write it and suggesting that they add in a segment about all the different places Thomas could stab his ex-boyfriend.  It was clearly bothering Thomas, which was what Remus had been hoping to get out of this.  Virgil just hoped Remus couldn’t see that a large part of that was coming from the way it was bothering him.

“And then you could threaten to cut out his tongue,” Remus said lightly, as Janus continued to glare at him, still trying unsuccessfully to smack Remus’ hand back over his mouth.  “So that way he can’t scream for help.  And then you could get all of his loved ones and force them to watch—”

“Okay!” Thomas said, slamming his laptop shut as Virgil tried to force down his own terror at the idea.  “I’m going to go make lunch.  Logan, could you come with me?  I think I just need to talk about… something other than work for a little bit.  Tell me what you’ve been researching lately.”

“Of course,” Logan said as he stood to follow Thomas.  “I can also help make sure your lunch is of nutritional value.”

“Do you want me to come, Thomas?” Janus asked, standing up after Logan.

“No, that’s okay Janus,” Thomas said.  “I’m sure you were busy.”

Janus didn’t seem to like that answer, but he nodded, before immediately turning his glare back to Virgil and Remus.

Remus hopped up and beamed at Janus like nothing in the world was wrong, and Virgil wouldn’t have seen his eye twitching slightly if he hadn’t been looking for it.

“Well!  I don’t know about you guys but I have had an amazing time,” he called, clapping his hands together.  “I’ll be seeing you around Thomathy!  Enjoy the nightmares!”

Thomas didn’t seem in love with that idea, but Virgil didn’t stay long to dwell on it, because as soon as Remus sank out a second later, he followed.

They ended up back in Remus’ room, and as soon as Virgil turned to face him Remus collapsed back onto his bed.

“Re?” Virgil asked, moving forward in concern.

Remus waved his hand weakly.  “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Virgil said, sitting on the bed next to him.

“I wasn’t sure when to leave,” Remus said, pulling his legs up and resting his chin on his knees.  “I didn’t know what to do, Virgil.  I was just trying to say anything.”

“Yeah, why… why would you tell Thomas things that happened to you?” Virgil asked, trying not to make his discomfort obvious.

“I don’t know, it was something to offer?” Remus said, running his hands over his face.  “I didn’t have anything else to say.  I had to give him something.”

“You don’t,” Virgil said quietly.  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Yes I do,” Remus said.  “I’m Creativity.  That’s my job.  If I don’t have ideas, I can give him something else.”

“Re, you just recovered from dying,” Virgil said.  “I’m pretty sure you don’t have to be functioning at peak performance.”

“So what, am I supposed to rest then?  That didn’t work so great last time,” Remus snapped.

Virgil winced.  He had a point there.

“I… I don’t know,” he said quietly.  “We’ll figure something out.”

“And what if we don’t?” Remus murmured.

“We will.  Come here.”  Virgil leaned forward and pulled Remus into his arms.

Remus leaned against his chest and mumbled something incomprehensible.  Then, a second later he pulled back.  “Can we just stay here for a little bit?  And can you squish me?”

“Yep,” Virgil said, pulling Remus down onto the bed and laying on top of him.  “It’s gonna be okay, Re.”

Remus didn’t really look like he believed him, but he didn’t say anything in response.

...

Chapter Twenty-Three

[slasher-male-wife]

New life: Thomas Hewit x gn reader part six

Bro writers block is like so fucking annoying istg. Anyway I hope y’all enjoy this part. I’m probably gonna end this soon, I’ll see where it goes. Anyway I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Implied murder, implied canibalism 

You’re out in the barn feeding the cats. Thomas has been in the basement all day. It started in the early morning when Hoyt brought in four people. As soon as you heard the yelling Thomas took you outside to the barn. You’ve been spending the past few hours with them. The yelling stopped about a half hour ago. Thomas is always trying to drown out the yelling with anything he can. It never usually works but you don’t tell him. You don’t want to stress him out anymore. You’re playing with stretch and Lester at the moment. You had to make it yourself. You tied a ball you found onto a stick and just prayed it would work. You hear the barn doors open and you look over to find Thomas. You smile and run over to him. You notice that he’s got some pretty bad cuts on his arms and hands. “Oh Thomas you poor thing. Let me help you honey.” You take him back inside and sit him down at the kitchen table. 

You get the first aid kit and start to clean up his cuts. A smile is on his face as he watches you clean him up. He loves watching you focusing on something. It’s even better when you show him love. You start to wrap up his cuts. “Tommy you have to be careful ok? I don’t like you getting hurt. You shouldn’t be getting hurt ok?” You look up at him and stare deep into his brown eyes. A smile grows at you get lost in the dark pools of brown. There’s comfort in them. You uncousiusly hold his hand tighter. “You’re real nice Thomas. You make living here well not that bad.” You rub his knuckles and he points to you. “You feel the same?” He nods. “Well I’m glad.” Your eyes move down to his lips. You wonder how they feel. 

Thomas can sense that too, You start to move your face closer to his and so does he. Your heart beat inclines and you shut your eyes. “The hell are you two doing in here? Screwin?” Monty asks making you move away. Thomas huffs and you can tell he’s annoyed. 

“I was just cleaning him up. I’m gonna go get to work on the laundry now, if you don’t mind.” You glare at Monty and get up. You grab the basket in the hallway and go outside. You grab the soap and fill up the laundry tub outside with water. You add the soap and grab the wash board. You start to wash the clothes thinking about what would have happened if you two kissed. You don’t hate the idea of kissing Thomas at all. He’s quite handsome and the nicest person here outside of Luda Mae. But can he feel romantic feelings back? You know he’s been through a lot and probably has some trauma. Maybe that made him unable to feel romantic attraction? But you shouldn’t assume. You also don’t hate the idea of dating him. I mean you’re alive because Luda Mae wanted you to be his partner. 

You ring out the clothes and put them in the clean bucket before you grab the next one. Thomas has made living here be bearable. You do kinda act like a couple already. You spend lots of time together, share a room and a bed and he’s quite protective over you. If they have a ‘guest’ over for dinner he will refuse to let you in the dining room. He’ll make you eat in the kitchen away from it all. Sometimes he does take you down to the basement but you never get involved in what he does. You do have to eat the food they give you which most of the time has questionable meat in it but he gets you anything else whenever he can. He’s given you a good amount of clothes. Granted they are from dead people but they’re clothes none the less. You’re smiling just thinking about him. You finish up washing the clothes and get to hanging them up to dry. You’re pinning a shirt up when a large hand is placed on top of yours. You turn around and find Thomas. You smile and close the pin on the shirt. 

“Hi Tommy. What are you doing out here?” You ask. He puts his finger in your chest. “You came to see me?” He nods. “That’s very sweet of you. I’ve been thinking about you too. I have a question. Are we dating?” He pauses, looking at the ground. He looks back up at you and shrugs. “Do you want to date me?” Another pause, this time shorter. He nods, a bit worried you’ll react poorly. “If I asked you to be my boyfriend would you say yes?” This time there was no pause before he nodded. “Well will you be my boyfriend?” Another nod. Your smile grows. “Well I guess we’re dating now.” He nods again, a tender feeling in his heart. This time around he’s the one looking at your lips. He knows the height difference would make this kiss awkward so he should do something about it. He takes your hand and leads you to the back steps. He sits down and you do too, now closer in height. The feeling from before comes back to you. ‘Should I do this?’ you ask yourself. ‘Fuck it.’ You move closer to Thomas and put your arms around his neck moving your face closer to his. He’s caught a bit off guard by this movement but knows whats going to happen next. As you move closer he does too. Time seems to slow as you close your eyes and wait for the feeling of his mask on your lips. Your heat beat rises again, the anticpation is killing you. Finally you feel the rough leather touch your lips, but only for a moment. You pull away but Thomas goes back in for another, longer kiss. Once your lips part your face is a bright pink and so is his. You let out a little laugh and look into his eyes. You know Thomas is going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. 

[kalpasio]

Yo hey! 

New reader here, but I was confused as to why you described kalpas in your fic, “The Chef in the Shitty Kitchen”, as OOC? I might be biased because I love exploring how other sides of characters surface in different scenarios. I feel like it’s our job as a fandom to expand on our blorbos! I’d just like to know your thought process (that was actually my favorite fic, I love domestic kalpas. Imo it’s much better to be a carb addict than an alcoholic—)

On the other hand, thank you for single-handedly keeping the kalpas fan club afloat. I scraped Danbooru for some kalpas content, but in 60% of the pictures he was like 6 pixels in the background.

Moving from genshin to honkai where there’s a severe lack of content almost made me implode, so I’ll try my best to help out! Although I’ve only written two fics, and both times my wrists hurt so bad I had to stop.

They were only 1k words. 💀 

Fellow kalpas lovers, rise up!!! (Sorry for being wordy but I didn’t want to clog up your ask box, you’re probably already in really high demand 😭 )

I think I say he's ooc in all my fics because I'm nervous lmao but that one especially I wrote before the golden courtyard anime came out and it was like entirely made up from brainrot? so I was like this is NOT real kalpas, and I can say it but if someone else said he was ooc I would definitely start arguing lol

I feel like flame chaser kalpas 1) has seen Some Shit, 2) been through Some Shit, and 3) does not have access to a kitchen so his personality is very different than it would have been if honkai hadn't destroyed his life. Golden courtyard kalpas is what I guess he would be like if he had actually gotten a chance to live his life I guess? idk he deserves a little happiness ya know? also domestic kalpas is a bean, change my mind

tbh moving from genshin to honkai and seeing so little content was part of what made me start writing for kalpas? I was like "oh Thoma has no content" because he only had like a couple hundred fics and then kalpas had like. two. and I was SO Mad I swear even if I write for something else if I ever get a chance holy shit I will always come back to Kalpas

my wrist HATES me which is problematic so I completely understand lol I usually end up taking breaks and writing things down on notes so I can come back and elaborate when my hand isn't about to fall off? still makes me sad tho. also 1k words is 1k more words than we had before!!! if you feel comfortable with it I'd love to read your works 🧡!!

asks are unfortunately all I've been doing lately because of school so you don't have to worry about sending any in! tbh my request list is so long because I have some that are literally over 100 days old and I am just dying rn 💀

[dasher85]

15. Splendour

A sequence from  Inexpressible

Kamisato Ayato X Reader | you | y/n

Recommended to read the other parts (but can be considered a short story)

Sequence: 15 (FINAL)

[  to love and be loved ]

------------------------------

The servants carried exquisite furniture to the capacious room. The floor, walls, windows were particularly cleaned without a spot of dust. You stood in the hallway, outside of the room, making suggestions for the interior arrangements to the Estate's owner himself. Ayato intently listens to you, and occasionally gives a reply but you thought he wasn't entirely focused on that matter. In fact he hasn't been himself ever since breakfast. 

"Is there work coming up? I'll handle the room arrangements, you go ahead and address the matter"

He frowned, revealing half of his unspoken emotions, "I'm still disappointed. I have yet again been defeated by luck itself" he complained. 

You laughed, instantly getting what he meant by that. "My poor adorable cat… as I promised, we still have a date to go too."

[ Two hours earlier ]

Ayato made you sit on his lap, one arm supporting the back of your body and the other was holding on to your side just to keep you securely close.

You had just removed the blanket that you've previously pulled over to cover your face away from him. It did take you much courage to meet his gaze but you didn't want to ignore his little request either. Otherwise he'll probably gloom over you for the whole day.

His light purple eyes unblinkingly patronizing over you, eagerness lingering behind his calm demeanor. You adoringly displayed a smile as your fingertips were about to reach over the side of his cheeks…

"My Lord, breakfast is ready!" A few knocks were heard from the main door, after the person quickly informed Ayato from outside.

You quickly stood up, almost pushing the latter to the side, feeling utterly surprised by the slight commotion.

"I'm off duty today until Monday, Thoma!"

The said person must've thought the Commissioner was almost late for work and hasn't been updated with Ayato's latest schedule due to his recent tasks outside of Inazuma.

You deliberately hold your laughter, keeping your lips sealed. Ayato glanced up towards you, looking as if he had experienced emotional damage and despair. He was unsatisfied. 

"Come here…" he whispered, insisting you to return.

"Oh dear… breakfast is ready…" you took the jade comb from the table and quickly combed your hair. Your back facing him, intentionally acts as if you didn't hear him but he still could see the wide smile on your lips from the reflection of the mirror. 

He helplessly sighed, feeling defeated yet again. Ayato wasn't sure if it was because of the mention of food that had made you smile like that or was it because you simply had the chance to escape away from him yet again?

"Y/n… " he called out, pointing his hair expecting you to understand what he was requesting you to do.

You nodded and went over with the jade comb. His blue hair was fluffy to the touch and wasn't damp anymore compared to last night. You gleefully smiled while combing and styling his hair. It was risky to get too close with him because he could literally rope you into giving him the kiss he was eagerly asking from you but you're risking it all just to touch his soft hair. 

Eventually he smiled too, heavily influenced by your facial expression. He hasn't noticed it until now but it seems you're particularly happy whenever you get the chance to play around with his hair.

He still remembers the first time you playfully messed up his hair before boarding the ship back to your homeland. If it wasn't you, he would have considered sending that person into prison but that thought never once crossed his mind back then. Those were such precious moments he couldn't possibly forget. 

"Done" you informed him with a wide smile but then quickly taking large strides, almost running just to exit from his room. As if you've been released by your abductor and giving no such chance for him to take any unexpected actions. 

If he wasn't in deep thoughts, reminiscing about your past behavior, you wouldn't have been given any chance of escaping away from him either. He let out a chuckle, trailing his gaze on you as you hurriedly closed the sliding door leaving him there.

[ Present time ]

"Come to think of it, you never planned a date for me" you nonchalantly speak out of the blue while looking at the room's progress. 

"My dear, that's a harsh accusation." He whispered beside you. 

"It's true. You only tag along with me whenever you're not busy" 

"It wasn't tagging along, it's called accompanying you with a devoted heart"

"Mhmm…  Alright, I'll give you that"

Although it was a simple conversation, you both started laughing as if someone had whispered a joke but quickly quieted down after a servant asked to choose a curtain fabric.

You only glanced at him, indicating that you'd prefer him to choose from the options because you didn't want to decide on that.

"My wife says, she prefer the the one with golden embroidery"

Once the servant nodded and returned to her task you finally gave him a look. 

"What?" He questions after receiving the draggers from your eyes.

"I didn't say that"

"You just did. I happened to pay my full attention to your preferences"

He only smiled seemingly at ease. It then occurred to you that whenever a servant asks questions he'll answer with 'My wife…' or 'She says…' even though you never told him to say any of it. It was as if he'd take every chance to say it out loud, emphasizing the same word ever so clearly.

"No. I don't like the mirror position. It'll reflect the sunlight from the window. But I'll change it later" You casually informed him. However, after saying that, he went on instructing the servant to adjust the mirror position based on your suggestion. 

"Don't trouble them too much, Ayato."

"My-"

You already knew what he was going to literally announce to the servants who were diligently working. So, you ended up quickly pulling him away from there before he could make any further unnecessary remarks.

"Let's go… let's go on a date"

"Oh? I wasn't expecting someone to be so eager to go out on a date with me?" He casually brings his face closer to yours as if he wasn't evidently unsatisfied just moments ago. 

Usually you could literally just ignore him as if he didn't exist but today you decided to turn your head to meet his gaze.

"Yes, are you unsatisfied that it's just with me?" You smiled before quickly turning your face away as if you've said nothing to him. 

It was so quick, but he was indeed caught off guard by your sudden actions to the point that he couldn't quickly react to your question.

"I am pleased indeed" 

Eventually he happily smiled, casually caught your hand before quickly kissing the side of your head. You barely reacted but you still ended up smiling anyway. 

[ Nearby the Seashore, hillside ]

The distant sea breeze, the blue sky and the warm sunlight through the tree leaves creates a comfortable sense of warmth and familiarity. The both of you were leaning back against the tree trunk. He was admiring the distant blue sea while you were flipping the pages of your note book. 

It was the same place where he first met you. Where the Sakura tree blooms in unison with his fondness towards you. Where fate and destiny ties both hearts into one.

"Huh!" You exclaimed as you tried to catch the piece of paper that flew past your grasp.

Ayato quickly stood up and caught the paper with one hand, a little too quick that he almost crumpled the paper.

"Oh no…" 

"It's alright" You smiled, feeling relieved that the paper was saved from being taken away by the wind.

He hands you the paper after trying to carefully straighten the crease. In that white paper, there wasn't any sentence written on it but a decent drawing that was drawn using a pencil. On a brief glance, he could've sworn that he was looking at the mirror's surface. 

"Y/n… it's illegal to draw me while I was asleep" he huffed like a five year old. 

You casually placed the paper back in between the notebook that you've brought along with you as if you never heard him complaining.

"I don't know what you're talking about. That's not you" It was obviously him but you denied it all the same. The amount of time he rests his head on your lap only makes it easy for you to just make a copy of his ethereal features. In your defense, it's his own fault.

He laughed, feeling amused by your no effort excuse against him.

"Oh? Is that so… then tell me about him" he smiled, eagerly waiting for your answer. If you decide to play an act then it wouldn't be a problem for him to join in. 

"I love him"

That's it, you gave him a simple answer without implying any humor in your words. It was as if you're talking about how the weather was hot without any enthusiasm but pure honesty was clearly evident in your unwavering voice. You were voicing out a fact.

Ayato expected that it would be difficult for you to describe a reply for his question and perhaps it would be amusing to witness such moments. How he thought you would just shy away and feel uneasy to answer his question. However, he never thought you'd say those words so suddenly. Unlike you, he was the one who was being left speechless. How then would he keep that same amused smile against your answer? In that instant, all his scheming thoughts were completely cleared away from his mind.

Ever so slowly, a gentle smile slowly formed on his lips. He's just too happy that he's unable to express it with words but you knew that. You knew how much that specific word actually affected him like a headache during a busy day. It was a direct win against him. 

"Oh wow… you're not jealous that I love someone else?" You teasingly smiled at his reaction.

The Commissioner who often finds himself enjoying other people's misery is now but a vulnerable soul when he's against you. He tried to open his mouth but he seemed unable to erase the smile on his lips.

"That's unfair…" eventually he softly replied after a minute of you laughing at how helpless he had become over such words. Despite that, he's genuinely content to see the joy in your usually calm features. 

"You seem overly happy, I don't see the need to apologies" you jokingly replied finally relaxing yourself from all the laughter.

Ayato walked over towards you, instantly closing the distance between the two of you. He slightly bends over and rests his forehead on your left shoulder. In truth, he hasn't giving up on winning against you. 

"What should I do? I've fallen helplessly in love with the person who drew the drawing." He meekly whispered.

"Marry her?" You laughed once more unable to take him into account.

"I already did". He dramatically replied with a whisper before slowly taking one of your hands into his hold while his other arm wrapped around your waist.

"...are you taking me hostage now?" You raised a brow and instantly became aware of his move.

"Aren't you already mine?" He finally raised his head to meet your gaze with complete admiration in his unwavering light purple eyes. His lips lifts up in a gentle arc, just as he usually does whenever he sees you.

You gulped, somehow the feeling of nervousness slowly increasing your once normal heart rate. How did a playful moment become a rather serious situation? Too serious for your own liking. Something about the question itself triggers a certain turbulence in your chest and you dislike how uncontrollable it was... It's like a disease. 

"Hmm… you're not going to answer me?" His voice smooth like honey, laced with genuine fondness. If he says one more word, you'd rather just faint and not reply to give an answer.

"...your face is too ugly, stop talking" On the spur of the moment, you couldn't help but blurted out something random without actually admitting that you were feeling overwhelmed.

He looked at you feeling a little surprised but eventually returned a knowing smile. "Why don't you try listening to my heartbeat? You might find it just the same as yours."

"What nonsense?"

Even now, he's still learning about your little quirks and ideas but he's definitely progressing quite a lot. Experiencing those moments when you're sad, angry, embarrassed or just simply happy made him forget how difficult it was to get a reaction from you back then. Now, he could understand you better without you actually saying it to him. 

Without actually receiving your approval, he gently wrapped you into a gentle embrace. You slightly refused at first but perhaps curiosity has grown stronger than your resolute thoughts. Hence you stayed. Eventually pressing your ear on his chest. Although covered under expensive fabrics of his outfit, you could evidently hear his strong heartbeat. Fast, loud and clear. 

"...but why do you look unbothered at all?" You slowly whispered your honest thoughts.

"I felt this ever since the first time I saw you, of course I'm used to it now." He replied with an amused grin on his lips.

"...and besides, I'm entirely entranced by you. How then would I notice my own heartbeat?" He mused effortlessly.

"...ugh. stop talking like that." For once, you didn't keep your thoughts a secret. 

He laughed at your reaction but ever so slowly raised a hand just to gently stroke the back of your head. The locks of your hair through his fingers has his mind completely charmed by the silkiness of your hair. 

"I take it that you still prefer me over anyone else for granting me to hold you at this distance" he gently whispered. 

You were the person who could easily make him feel nervous, anxious, worried and desperate without even saying a word to him. If it was before the day he saw you, he could've easily reminded himself that love was useless and unnecessary for all he knew, he already has all the people that are important to him. Clearly, things have changed since then… 

"My options are scarce when it comes to acquiring the expectations I require." You replied seemingly revealing the calmness in your voice once more. Perhaps listening to his heartbeat does bring you a sense of comfort.

"I'm just glad your expectations haven't reached out towards the moon. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to fulfil your demands" 

Much to his own liking, he wouldn't be able to have you by his side if it wasn't for all the gamble and efforts he has made. 

You laughed at the thought, finding it rather amusing when things he described become a little overly exaggerating.

"I'm more than satisfied with what I have now, Ayato." You eventually replied before securely wrapping both of your arms around his torso. 

"So do I". He nodded as a wide smile slowly spread across his face.

[ Returning from Inazuma city ]

The sky was cloudy, completely covering the late afternoon sun glares. It might rain but the both of you weren't the least worried. You were carrying a nicely wrapped parcel while he was holding a wagasa.

"How much was the bracelet?"

"Hmm… I seem to miss out on that"

Earlier, you've only been having a leisure stroll along with Ayato. There wasn't much to do, so you thought window-shopping wouldn't be a bad idea. Walking in and out of a few shops just to look at trinkets until you walked inside an accessory shop. One bracelet in particular has caught your attention.

Ayato on the other hand wasn't looking for anything in particular but he would be occasionally observing your every little gesture. Looking at how your eyes were fixed on one particular item for more than thirty seconds, he already knew what he should get for you.

The bracelet was expensive for a normal working class but on the contrary, he wasn't the slightest staggered by the price. He was just glad to buy something that you really liked. After all, even you didn't hesitate to buy him a luxurious gift the last time he visited your homeland.

"You’re just refusing to tell me"

"How is it supposed to be a gift if you're going to ask the price?"

Eventually, you resigned from the thought of repaying him. It can't be helped, it's only natural for you to let him.

"I was going to buy it myself… but alright, it's considered a gift then"

He smiled, as he walked side by side with you. The gentle wind softly swept the side of his hair.

You suddenly tilted your head, only to feel a second droplet of rain on your skin. A small smile appeared on your lips, seemingly revealing pure joy that emanated from your heart.

"Do you still remember that day when we got caught up in the rain?"

You eyed him from the side as he only nodded his head still displaying the same soft smile.

"My dear sister would blame me for getting you drenched, but if you insist… I would be glad to accept your offer" 

You haven't suggested anything and yet his thoughts are very much in sync with your way of thinking. Much to your own liking, he's quite supporting of these unspoken ideas that were already brewing inside your ever so calm mind. 

On that late afternoon, the wagasa was left unopened even until the both of you safely made it back to the estate with a joyous smile.

The servants were horrified, Ayaka was left speechless and Thoma was facepalming himself because he thought he gave a broken wagasa to his Lord.

Expensive Kimono all drenched and yet you're not sure what's more enjoyable. Is it the reaction from the people that stood before you or the act of walking under the rain with leisure? Surely no one was enjoying the outcome except the both of you. Should either of you get sick... it would be a bad outcome.

The group of servants who's now dedicated to serving you got into working real quick and ushered you inside. They prepare warm bath water and a set of clothes.

Once you are done, they then bring you back to the main room. The room was already done, every furniture and decorations were placed in perfect arrangements. You were still trying to carefully inspect the room when this tall person literally stood before you. Despite it all, you bend half of your body to the left side just to take a look at the book of shelves behind him.

"What has caught your attention now?" He raised a brow as his left arm pulled your waist towards him and he laced his right hand with yours.

"Those books… aren't those mine?"

Every book that is written by you would have a distinct golden colored tassel that is included and tied at the book's backbone. It was one of Lady Yae's promotion ideas, hence why you recognized it by a glance. After all, you have all the copies of the final published version, it's difficult not to recognize it. 

He looked over his shoulder towards the shelves that were placed at the far end of the spacious room. 

"Left shelf is yours, mine is on the right" he turns to meet your gaze once more with a proud smile.

It just happened that those books are all arranged in the right shelf. How convenient… he basically has all the copies of books you've written.

"You actually bought it all, you should've just borrowed mine."

"It's called early investment." He confidently spoke, seemingly satisfied with the outcome.

It didn't occurred to you that he didn't only read your books but also kept the whole collection.

"Is that so…"

"Mmm…" His hand that was once on your waist is now on the side of your head. He then gently bought your hand towards him with his other hand.

In that second your brain can no longer function when he so suddenly and yet unhurriedly pressed his lips on your slender fingers, from your fingertips to your knuckles and lastly on the back of your hand. His warm breath still ghosted your skin even after he had your hand placed in between his cheeks and his palm.

It's the second time today that you can hear your own heartbeat thumping against your chest. Your state of calmness has once again seeped away from your own control. He has yet again caught you off guard. 

"I'm yours…" he whispered earnestly, his eyes closed shut with a slight frown as if struggling to convey such words to you. His subtle smooth skin against the surface of your palm felt slightly cool and yet warmth slowly came in contact with your senses once he pressed your hand endearingly. 

Unthinkingly, you decided to slowly run your fingers through the side of his fluffy hair with your other free hand as you gradually forgot about your own heartbeat. He often claims that you bought him peace… it's probably not merely a statement for you now because holding him does ease your thoughts. 

Moreover, it feels gratifying that you're the person who's preferred by him. The only person who's granted his heart and soul. To see him like this, attempting to make you understand how much he adores you, makes you feel a little concerned… because he should've known how much you preferred him too. 

"...likewise." you slowly whispered with a soft smile.

His tall height compared to yours was a little tedious but despite that you decided to tiptoe to come closer and swiftly pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. Just a little bit of affection, not too much but just the right amount. At least that's what you thought…

Ayato opened his eyes in surprise as he felt your lips brushed against his. His eyes widened as he witnessed the genuine sweet smile on your lips. His heart almost stopped, he couldn't breathe and for a second he almost lost his cool. Being the man who wished and dreamed to receive that particular gesture from you has had his mind cease to function. It was such an exceptional experience for him.

All in all, he recovered way faster before you could even tease him. Unlike earlier today when you made fun of him after merely saying those sweet words. 

A soft smile slowly crept across his face as his eyes glistened with hopefulness. 

"May we redo that again?" 

-------[ The End ]------

Check out the [ Story List ] for the other sequence in Inexpressible Series

A/N: The final sequence and the happy ending version. After a year its done, I wouldn't be able to finish this without all the love and support. Thank you for reading everyone >.<  but ofc I’ll still be writing about them in short story as usual. I have a lot of drafts about them fr

One day when we finally reach the cold nation in game, I’ll definitely be reminiscing about this series.

[rookiesbookies]

Bruce tries to learn to understand the thought process on why some people deserve to die.

OK link to where this idea came from this is for @icntblvfreudwasrite I’ll be returning your brian cells soon. It’s 1 am when im starting this so LETS GO.

—————

“Master Bruce,” the britsh butler’s accident rang out in the kitchen, “must I understand why you are sleepless on your night off?” Alfred took the cup off coffee away from Bruce, replacing it with some decaf tea.

“Just thinking about Jason again.”

“May I ask what about?”

“His methods- since he came back. I feel like in a way if I had corrected him more, if I had known why he thinks this way, maybe I could have stopped it- stopped him from getting like this and if I had-”

“Master Bruce, you’re being absurd. You had no clue Master Jason would turn this way and he’s not wrong either. Approaching situations differently is quiet healthy. Especially when it is a team effort!” Alfred poured himself a cup, knowing this would probably be a long conversation- but one that needed to be had none the less. “The important part is that Master Jason isn’t killing random thugs. He is killing mad men, who you have tried you bloody best to help, Master Bruce! He has shown great efforts toward compromise with you as well which is a fine lot to see! So while he may not stop using guns- he’s more careful where he shoots and is quite a bit more open to rubber bullets.”

“Alfred, I just am worried that he’s crossed the threshold and won’t be able to come back because killing is to easy-”

“Your boy is living proof that that line can be walked. Master Jason is proof that you can come back from that line. He strives day in and day out to prove that to you as well to prove himself- and prove it to himself.”

—OH LOOK A MAGICAL FLACHBACK BROUGH TO US BY RED ROBIN SAYING YUM IN THE REDROBIN COMERCIALS CUZ IM TOO TIRED TO WRITE A TRANSITION RN—

The dark haired teen plopped himself at the kitchen counter after struggling to reach the cereal with his injuries. The past two nights had been sleepless for younger Jason, he had a bruise on his ribs from a fight prior in the week that was killing him which didn’t assist with his insomniac tendencies.

“Master Jason- what are you doing up at this hour. You’re on bed rest-”

“Yeah, yeah, Alfred, I know.” Jason stared into his empty bowl. “Just had a midnight craving and I can’t reach the cereal without hurting again.”

Alfred pursed his lip together. “Another fight with Master Bruce, I’m going to assume.”

“How could you tell?”

“You only reach for Master Richard’s cereal when you fight with him. You usually eat toast for breakfast.”

Jason was shocked at his own predictability.

“Well, are you going to tell me what the fight was bloody about- or must I guess?”

“I asked why we can’t kill. I don’t want to kill thugs or anyone innocent- I want to take out the bad ones like the Joker who carved that big J into Dick’s back or- or Slade who terrorized Dick for years and has tried to kill Bruce twice!” Alfred listened to Jason’s rant and portioned him a small snack of cereal.

It was one of those super sugar bomb cereals with all the chocolate and sugar costing a kid could ask for- some off brand kind Dick ate in the circus that Bruce had flown in for him every onces in a while. Jason added some 2% milk to it, he couldn’t stand whole milk for some reason, the viscosity messed with him for some reason- and he was by no reason a picky eater it was just that which gave him issues.

Alfred put the milk away and handed Jason a spoon.

“I don’t even want to kill Dent, there’s just some people that you can’t help. Why doesn’t Bruce accept that?” Jason shoveled a bite into his mouth and began chewing. “Like it’s not that difficult!”

“Master Jason- not with your mouth full.”

“Sorry.”

Alfred put a hand on Jason’s left hand, his right hand- which was his dominant hand shoved cereal into his mouth.

“I understand your frustrations with Master Bruce’s rule. But perhaps it’s not to stop you, perhaps it’s a coping mechanism after seeing Master Thomas and Mistress Martha shot?”

Jason’s brows furrowed, Bruce never said he watched his parents die. He only knew they were dead.

“I-…”

“You didn’t know, Master Jason?”

“Yeah…”

“I assumed so.” Alfred put away the cereal box, “now finish up your cereal, I want you tucked up in your bed before Master Bruce is home.”

“Yes sir.”

[viola-halogen]

12 Days of Thanktival — Day 3: Angst/Secret Santa

—

[AO3 link]

Relationships: Kitty & Mary, Robin/Mary, Robin & Kitty

Characters: Kitty, Robin, Pat Butcher, Mentioned Mary

—

Summary: [SEASON 4 SPOILERS]

The first Christmas after losing Mary is hard for everyone, but especially for Kitty and Robin. Robin makes sure Kitty doesn’t have to go through it alone.

A/N: for me Robin and Kitty were the people who were closest with Mary so I really like the idea of them supporting each other through their grief and becoming closer together because of it.

—

It’s Christmas (So No-one Can Fix It)

“Now that brings me on to point seventeen of today’s agenda: the first ever Button House Secret Santa.”

“Yes!” Pat cheered. “Oh, you guys are gonna love this.”

Robin whooped with excitement. He still wasn’t sold on the whole “Christmas” thing, but when Alison had explained the concept of Secret Santa to them, he had to admit it had sounded quite fun.

“Quite,” the Captain agreed from the front of the room, where he’d been conducting the daily briefing for the past two hours. “Now, obviously we can’t actually buy presents for each other, what with us being… well, dead. Which is why I’m encouraging all of you to try and think outside of the box, and come up with something suitable that you can do for your partner. It could take the form of a song or poem…” his eyes strayed over to Thomas, who immediately sat up higher, striking a pose. “Or you could arrange something nice for your person to do. Whatever you can think of. Now, Alison has kindly agreed to help us with the choosing of the names. If you please, Alison…”

“Right,” Alison said, putting down her phone and getting up from where she was sitting on the other side of the room. “I’ve put each of your names on a piece of paper in this bowl. One at a time, each of you will come up and I’ll pick out a random person for you. If you get your own name, I’ll put it back and pick a different one. Oh, and no telling anyone else who you’ve got, because that just spoils the fun of it. Okay?”

“I don’t know why on earth I let you persuade me into taking part in this absurd business,” Fanny scoffed.

“This should be a bit of fun, right Robin?” Julian said, catching Robin’s eye and winking. Robin grinned.

“Don’t forget about me this time!” Humphrey said from where he was perched on a coffee table.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Alison said, looking around the room. “Let’s see, who wants to go first… Kitty, how about you?”

Robin glanced over at Kitty, who was standing behind the sofa. He had expected her to be the most excited about taking part in the Secret Santa, but far from her usual enthusiasm, she seemed particularly quiet and subdued. At the sound of her name, she looked up like a startled rabbit. Her eyes swept over the room, and then she gave a loud sob and fled the room, gathering her skirts as she went. Robin heard the muffled sounds of crying in the distance.

Alison’s face fell, and she looked worriedly around at the others. “Is she okay?” she asked. “She didn’t seem upset at all yesterday. Do you think something reminded her of her sister, or…”

“She’s probably just in one of those moods,” Fanny said. “Just leave her, she’ll come around eventually.”

“Are you sure?” Alison bit her lip. “Captain, maybe you should go check on her… she talks to you…”

“I’ll go,” Robin said, getting to his feet. He said nothing else as he left the room—the others would only doubt his ability to talk to Kitty, and besides wasting his energy on an explanation that wouldn’t be listened to was rarely worth his energy. He heard them muttering behind his back as he left, but ignored them and headed in the direction Kitty had gone.

Finding her, however, turned out to be a whole other problem. She wasn’t in any of the usual places she went to when she was upset—not in her room, or her reading spot, or the landing at the top of the stairs. Nor was she on the bench in the old flower garden, or her usual nook in the library, or the windowsill where she liked to watch the sunrise. It was only when Robin was coming back from checking the place where Florence now stood that he happened to hear the sound of crying, coming from further down the garden. He turned and followed the sound, and as soon as he saw where she was everything started to make sense.

Kitty was sat on the ground in the patch of trees where they’d held the memorial service for Mary, curled up into a ball as she sobbed her heart out. Directly in front of her was the tree underneath which they’d buried the items Alison had collected—the drawing of her that she’d done now hung framed from the tree trunk to mark out which one it was.

Robin felt as though a cloud had passed over his heart, stifling out all the warmth he’d previously felt. The day suddenly seemed colder, bleaker than it had any right to be, even in the middle of December. He approached Kitty in silence, dropping wordlessly to crouch next to her.

“I miss her so much, Robin,” she hiccoughed. Her eyes were shiny with tears, tears that vanished into thin air almost as soon as they rolled down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook as she said, “I still… can’t believe she’s… she’s really g… gone…”

“Let it all out,” Robin said, reaching out to stroke her hair. In a sudden moment of heart-wrenching awareness, he realised that what was happening now made a sort of parallel of the last time he’d comforted Kitty while she cried. It had been that night at Alison’s party, when Kitty had been convinced Alison was ignoring her out of spite. That night Mary had been by his side, helping him comfort her. That night had been the last time he’d ever kissed her.

Robin blinked hard as tears stung his eyes. He wouldn’t cry now and make Kitty feel worse—he had to be strong for her. Like he’d been strong for his sister when their mother was killed in front of them. Like she’d been strong for their children when she heard the news of his death.

“I miss her too,” he said, continuing to stroke Kitty’s hair. “The pain…” his voice broke. “Every time you think it’s gone for good, it… rears its head again.”

“It just d… doesn’t seem… seem right… celebrating C…Christmas without her. How… how am I s… supposed to be happy when I can’t… I can’t share it with her?”

“I know,” Robin said. He did know—for all that he didn’t care about Christmas, it could be a brutal reminder of the year that had passed when it came up again. Especially now, when last Christmas Mary had still been by his side. When he couldn’t stop remembering how this time a year ago, she’d been his lawyer as he tried to argue that Alison was the one trespassing on his land. How they’d spent countless evenings curled up under the stairs together, coming up with new ways to make Alison give back what was rightfully his. How this time a year ago, he’d still had Mary here within his reach.

A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek. He made no effort to wipe it away—it vanished almost immediately—but Kitty saw it and began to cry again. “I’m never… going to s… see her again,” she sobbed in a small voice.

Robin said nothing. There seemed nothing to say, in the face of that one final statement. Instead he threw his arms around Kitty and buried his face in her shoulder, holding her close to him, as if he could crush all their shared grief into oblivion with the weight of his body. It wouldn’t work forever, he knew, but for a brief amount of time it might just be enough.

“What… what are you doing?” Kitty said, her chest heaving with sobs.

“Hugging you,” was his muffled response. “Make feel better.”

“Oh,” Kitty said. She sounded surprised, as if the simple gesture were something completely out of the ordinary. He wondered how long it had been since someone had hugged her like this.

“When you were a kid, Mary used to watch over you when you were sad,” he told her. He’d often sat with her as she did, watching as she whispered comforting words over and over again that Kitty couldn’t hear. Yet she’d still done it every time, without fail, as if she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving that sad little girl alone. “You cried a lot as a kid. Think she wanted to protect you, and that was best way she had to do it.”

Kitty’s crying paused. “That does sound like Mary!” she said. “Oh, and that explains why I so often thought something was burning as a child. Eleanor told me I was imagining things.”

Robin smiled. He decided not to mention the countless times Mary had deliberately made herself sick just to inflict the smell of burning on Eleanor at random moments in the day.

“Oh, I wish I could tell her that now! We’d have laughed about it for hours…” Kitty’s shoulders began to shake again, and the sound of sobbing came back.

“Hey, I got you,” Robin whispered, stroking her back. “It’s okay. Is going to be okay.”

It took some time, but eventually the force of Kitty’s tears went out of her, and she relaxed in his arms. Her crying stopped, and Robin felt a weight go out of him as well. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but when the sky began to darken and the stars came out, they simply lay down where they were without letting go of each other. Once they were settled, Robin pulled himself closer to her and closed his eyes, and at some point they both fell asleep like that.

~~~

He woke up to an early morning sky and the sun barely a finger’s width over the horizon, with a stiff back and a crick in his neck and Pat standing over him looking relieved. Kitty was still asleep in his arms.

“We didn’t know where you two had got to,” Pat said. “It was Alison who saw you out the window this morning. We should have realised you’d be here.”

“Well, now you know,” Robin said.

“We, um… we all picked our partners for the Secret Santa without you. If you go and ask Alison she can tell you who you’ve got.”

Robin chewed his lip. “I should stay with her,” he said, nodding at Kitty’s still-sleeping form. “Don’t want her to wake up alone.”

“I think she would want you to join in and have your fun,” Pat said, and the flicker of his eyes towards the tree ahead of them revealed that he wasn’t talking about Kitty. “If you want… I can stay instead.”

Robin thought for a moment. If it had been almost anyone else he’d have refused the offer, but Pat knew what he was doing. “I s’pose so,” he said, and carefully disentangled himself from Kitty before getting to his feet, stretching out his muscles. He turned to go, but Pat reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you for looking after Kitty,” he said. “I think… she’d be proud of you.”

Robin smiled. Inside his heart, the first rays of the sun were beginning to peek through the clouds.

“Careful,” he said with a grin. “I got fleas on that shoulder.” He cackled as Pat quickly withdrew his hand. Then he turned and headed back towards the house.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death's Doorstep (pt 19/?)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word Count: 545

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Karrot Kings

Warnings: none in this part

~~~START~~~

It was late.  

Or maybe it was early, Thomas wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of was that his husband hadn’t come to bed yet, and that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he’d located him. So he untangled himself from the comforter, slipped his feet into his Scooby Doo slippers, wrapped his robe around himself, and set off in search of the other man.

Nico wasn’t hard to find; he was just sitting at the kitchen table staring into a mug of hot cocoa, the only light source being the fixture above the sink.

“Hey,” Thomas said softly, afraid of startling his husband.

He needn’t have bothered as Nico barely reacted to his presence at all.

“Can’t sleep?” Thomas tried again, pulling out a chair for himself at the table.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, dear,” Nico whispered, still staring into the cocoa — which had long since gone cold. “Go back to bed, I’ll be there shortly.”

“I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay with you.”

Nico shrugged; Thomas took that as a ‘yes’.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, the only sound being the constant humming of the fridge, the ticking of the clock, and the occasional car passing by outside. He didn’t ask what was wrong, he already knew.

Five months ago, their son and grandson disappeared without a trace. The government swore that Virgil had retired after Orin’s death — a death which they still hadn’t been told the cause of — but if he’d retired, then he would have come home.

At the very least, he would have called his dads to tell them that he and Patton were alright.

No, something was very wrong, and not knowing what was infuriating. Something was keeping their son away from them, and they were being lied to about it!

Three weeks after Orin’s death, Thomas and Nico had travelled two states over to look for Virgil and Patton themselves. The secretary at the SSP building had refused to even let them past the lobby. Agent Sophie, who had brought Patton in last time they were in town, was eventually called down to talk to them, but she’d just repeated the same story about Virgil retiring that they’d already been told a million times — even going as far as to suggest that if Virgil hadn’t contacted them yet, it was probably because he didn’t want to.

Thomas wasn’t usually quick to anger, but her comments left him seeing red.

There wasn’t much they could do after that, not without any leads to follow. Still though, they’d walked around the city for almost a week, visiting every park and playground in the hopes that Virgil and Patton might be there. They never were.

Suddenly, the silence of the kitchen was too much for Thomas to bear.

He placed his hand palm up on the table. After a moment, Nico placed his own hand on top of Thomas’s, lacing their fingers together.

“Where are they?” Nico asked, his voice barely more than a broken whisper.

“I don’t know.” 

They went to bed a while later, the cup of cocoa cold and undrunk was left on the kitchen table. On the fridge hung a calendar with the day’s date circled: December 19th, Virgil’s birthday.

~~~END~~~

Enter Virgil’s dads, Thomas and Nico (Virgil’s adopted, so neither Thomas or Nico will have powers)

This brings us to the end of Section 2, which would be the halfway point if I didn’t think that sections 3 and 4 will both be longer, but we’re still gonna call it halfway. Happy halfway done with the longest fic I’ve ever written!

ODD taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @meganmoneky14