#the way he touches Thomas makes my brain short circuit

[billfarrah]

We’ve all noticed how Thomas’ love language is full and multifaceted - he expresses his love for Varian through words, touch, and looks, but especially looks. He’s always looking at Varian.

Varian, on the other hand, doesn’t allow himself to look, and isn’t capable of expressing his feelings in words. That leaves him with touch and god damn, do his hands speak volumes of the depth of his feelings for Thomas.

[zhongrin]

to be yours

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, childe, ayato, thoma, kaeya, wanderer, diluc

◇ tags ◇ minors dni, fluff, collar, nothing explicit is happening but it's very suggestive, diluc is so soggy in this but i’m not sorry

◇ a/n ◇ "but rin didn't you already write something similar to this with zhongli?" sHUT UP. SHUSH. SILENCE. /j

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

when you called his name so excitedly and said that you had something to show him, he didn’t think he would see you with a collar…. and is that his initials?

… oh.

oh.

zhongli tries so very hard to be a gentleman, but you can feel the urgency, the impatience in the slight bite of his fingers against your skin as he pulls you into a searing kiss. the loud purrs rumbling from his throat a telltale sign that your majestic dragon is exceedingly happy at your little present… maybe a little too happy, judging from the hardness pressing against your thigh...

hmm.

yes, the cor lapis gem on it is a nice touch, indeed.

“ah- apologies, my dear. how ungentlemanly of me… but i simply must express how much adoration i have for you at this present time.”

childe has a silly grin on his lips as he admires the accessory with his fingers. his blue eyes are hooded when he finally meets your gaze and his chapped lips persistently attack yours, an invitation to a heated battle of dominance; one you wouldn’t certainly mind losing, but you know the way you fight against him will turn him on even more.

you suppose you can indulge him... for now.

let’s see how he fares when you bring out his collar with your initials.

“y-you-for me? fuck… o-of course i’ll put it on, baby…. but won’t you help me wear it? please?”

al haitham snorts and folds his arms in front of his delicious treat of a chest, one of his eyebrows cocking up in mock arrogance, a contrast to your sweet demeanor.

he wants you to explain your choice of accessory, he says - nay, demands. and yet not even a minute into your horribly awkward speech, it’s his fingers that hook onto the leather to drag you onto his lap, right on the edge of your shared bed. there’s a certain glint in his eyes, and only then it clicks to you. he’s in that kind of mood today, it seems.

oh dear. you might want to prepare yourself to call in sick tomorrow…

“oh no, continue with your explanation, don’t mind me. i am capable enough to multitask between listening to you and leaving more… direct and indisputable versions of my marks on you.”

ayato has to blink a few times to make sure it wasn’t his sleep-deprived brain causing hallucinations after working for nearly thirty-two hours straight.

but when it sinks on him that you’re actually wearing a collar, with the kamisato clan’s sigil and his initials embellished proudly on the high-quality material - just like a loyal puppy waiting for praise from their owner - it’s like he just woke up from the most satisfying power nap he’s ever had his whole life. you find yourself pinned onto his desk seconds later, your master cooing over how adorable you look in your new outfit and how you’ll look even more the part with all your clothes off and stuffed full of his cock.

“what a good pet. my good little pet…”

thoma erupts into a thomato billion shades of reds that complement his outfit.

his brain is short-circuiting. his tongue fumbles like a three years old trying to speak words. his hands are awkwardly hovering in the air as he tries to make sense of everything.

when he finally gets his wits back, he launches into his mother-hen mode. not exactly the result you wanted, but you can work with it. you have your precious boyfriend wrapped around your fingers after all.

“d-does it not hurt? it’s not too tight, right? if it’s hard for you to adjust the length, i can help you to- what?! no, no, you misunderstand- wait, no! i don’t mean that i didn’t want to put it on you, i just- arghh, s-stop teasing me!”

kaeya blinks once, twice, and the third time is accompanied by a sultry smirk spreading over his kissable lips. he chuckles, a deep vibration that sends shivers down your spine as he eyes you like a hungry panther scouting a potential feast.

before you know it he’s had you pinned against the wall of his office, and his fingers are teasingly rubbing your jaw and under your ear, his hot breath mingling with yours as his cologne overwhelmed your senses. a knee slides between your legs and rubs against your clothed crotch, and your lover eagerly swallows your yelp with a deep kiss that speaks volumes about what he plans to do with you.

“ah, perfect. a distraction from work. lord barbatos must have seen me toil over these boring paperwork and took pity on me by giving me such a nice present. all wrapped up so nicely with a name tag to match, too…”

wanderer stares at the initials in disbelief for a full ten seconds before glaring at you. scathing words leave his lips like a fully loaded revolver, but you’re made of the thickest steel and you’re more perceptive than most - well, at least when it comes to your beloved puppet lover - so you can see the indicative ways of his joy: the slight nervous shifts of his legs, the way he’s scratching his arm for grounding himself, and most of all, the way his eyes looked at anything but the said ‘vile object’…

he’s so silly, you think fondly.

guess it’s time to play the ‘which buttons to push to break his act’ game yet again.

“you’re so embarrassing. a fucking collar, really? what are you, some kind of a mutt? and with the initials of that stupid name you gave me? what, you wanna tell the world that you’re my pet or something? hah! why don’t you bark for me then? …. w-wha- s-stop barking, idiot! what is wrong with you?!”

diluc takes a full minute to fully understand. his brain is failing to connect the dots even though he’s literally staring at the accessory.

it’s only when you point out and explain it all to him that his breath hitches. redness as bright as his hair creeps onto his cheeks, and he has to cover the lower half of his face-

wait-

are those tears in his eyes?!

“it’s… nice? i suppose. i know you will look nice in whatever you wear, beloved. your sense of fashion is impeccable in my eyes, and i- hmm? ….. oh…….. OH. i-ahem-i see. i-ah-no! no, these aren’t- they’re just…. i’m sorry, dear- i just.... feel so…. so…. loved…”

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[viviennevermillion]

May i request azul, leona, and rook kissing their s/o in headcanon format? Yes i put 2 of ur favorite characters thank you vi senpai :)) 💖

Kissing their s/o

notes: ofc, anon, thank you for the request and sorry it took so long to answer it, my writer's block lasted for ages and life has been busy, but here you go! 💕

contains: character x gn!reader

warnings: none

The first time Azul kissed you, he was very nervous. Azul is a perfectionist and he's scared of messing up and making a fool out of himself. I bet he even researched how to kiss someone properly. Cue Jade and Floyd coming into his office and Azul shrieks quietly and blushes after looking up from his laptop because just a second ago he was mindlessly staring at a screen and imagining your lips on his.

Still, none of the preparation could stop his nervousness from being obvious. His lips trembled slightly when they met yours and his heart and stomach were feeling like he was currently on a rollercoaster with 5 loopings in a row. He held your hand and when your tongue met his for the first time, he instinctively squeezed your hand and let out a gasp.

I headcanon Azul is very sensitive to touch and before you were dating his brain basically short-circuited for a while if you so much as put a hand on his shoulder. He hates how he gets super emotional over your kisses at first and he doesn't let you kiss him for very long in the beginning of your relationship because he doesn't want you to see him shed tears or be flustered af.

Azul's kisses are slow and passionate. He pours all his love for you into them.

He only really indulges you behind closed doors. And when I say closed doors I mean closed doors because Azul will never forget the time Jade and Floyd came back to Mostro Lounge to pick up Floyd's room keys after closing hour and found Azul halfway sitting on your lap and kissing you lovingly. They teased him for weeks 😔👌

So the most you get in public is a quick peck on the cheek or lips. Sometimes he'll also press a kiss to your hand while trying to be suave. But Azul adores kisses when in private. He tends to take both of your hands into his or cup your face and presses his lips onto yours. His kisses are very soft and almost careful. They're always a silent promise that he'll stay with you forever.

He loves when you run your hands through his hair while you kiss him. He'll sigh happily and tightens his grip around you or tries to snuggle closer to you.

If you hold his face in your hands and press several kisses to his lips, whispering things like "You're beautiful" in-between them, he'll blush heavily and momentarily wishes to withdraw to his octopus pot.

If you kiss him while in his octopus form, he'll be a flustered, stuttering mess. Basically clings to you. Kiss one of his tentacles; Azul.exe has stopped working.

He always gives you a forehead kiss or a kiss on the cheek before he goes to work or before you go to different classes and tells you he loves you.

Rook himself doesn't actually need that much physical affection. For Rook it's all about reactions. Seeing you smile into his kisses. Making you happy. Feeling how you pull him closer when his lips meet yours.

Rook loves to see how you react to different kisses. He'll try out a lot of different ways to kiss you and it's basically a "What happens when I put object xy in the microwave" situation except that he wants to see what you like and what makes you emotional.

He's very good at conveying his feelings through his kisses. He also often whispers things to you in French in-between them and unless you speak fluent French, you're not always sure what it is he's saying but you don't want to ruin the mood, he sounds very passionate

Rook has the endurance of a man who can watch the 10 hour version of the Thomas the tank engine theme so once he finds something you like a lot, he will kiss you like this for god knows how long (usually until your responsibilities need your attention or you want to do something different)

Doesn't mind PDA at all. Literally has no sense of shame. Would make out with you in the classroom before the lesson starts if you wanted to. Vil always lets out this long, disappointed sigh whenever he sees his vice dorm leader kissing you for like, at least 3 minutes in public

He likes to wrap one arm around you from behind and have you lean against his chest before turning your face to the side with his finger and kissing you on the lips. The hand that isn't holding you will reach for your own hand or Rook runs his fingertips along your arm.

He always gives you a good morning kiss as if he's waking you from a sleeping curse

Also loves to surprise kiss you. Rook knows how to go unnoticed and you'll often find him press a kiss to your cheek when you didn't even notice he was there before.

He loves when you give him forehead kisses. It makes him feel like you're blessing him with your love.

Leona loves kissing you so much. Sometimes when you're cuddling, his kisses will be lazy and he'll wrap an arm around your shoulders and press several soft kisses to your lips before resting his head on yours again and closing his eyes.

Most of his kisses are firm but still gentle. He usually leans his whole body against yours while kissing you

He often lays down on top of you when he kisses you. He makes sure you're not uncomfortable and props himself up with his arms so he isn't too heavy.

Loves to kiss your neck. It's his favorite place to kiss. Probably because it's very easy for him to reach when he's using you as his personal pillow. He often presses an appreciative peck to your neck, even when he's sleeping sometimes.

Leona doesn't mind PDA but he doesn't exactly initiate kisses in public. He kisses you back when you decide to give him a kiss tho.

Although, if he's jealous he would absolutely make out with you in public (only if you're okay with it though)

Sometimes when you're waiting for something or watching something (let's say the wishing star ceremony), he'll wrap his arms around you from behind and will place a kiss to your cheek before leaning his face against yours.

While Azul is very sensitive to touch, Leona is quite the opposite. When he's desperate for your affection, he'll often initiate kisses that are a little rough or let you bite him. It just feels to him like you're applying a little more pressure to his skin.

If you gently nibble on his neck or shoulders while placing kisses there, he'll shut his eyes and wrap his tail around you, his ears twitching slightly.

He also nibbles at your skin sometimes if you let him. He's like this cat.

[genshinology]

ayato + wishing his s/o a happy birthday

genre; established relationship au and fluff.

notes; rebiii / @hamayumis , a.k.a my beloved, the one who has been super sweet to me, happy birthday! i hope you have a blast day ahead and eat a lot of cakes bcs you deserved to be happy on such a meaningful day!! i may write this at freaking 2 a.m. so forgive me if my brain short-circuit <3

ayato is awkward.

awkward in a way people wouldn't even have the mind to think of, he is just awkward with anything about romantic relationships. growing up without a care about his own feelings or about his love life in general, when all he thinks of is his works on the back of his mind, definitely has its own perks.

it was always like that, until you came tumbling into his life, sneaking slowly into his own heart. it was hard, but eventually he figured out how to convey his confession and love languages to you in which you embarrassingly accepted.

imagine how restless he feels a day before your birthday—he is looking forward to it; it is his first time celebrating with you in his arms after all—what should he do? should he throw a grand party to celebrate it? no, he thought. he is a reserved person, so he may want to keep you all to himself.

sounds selfish? he knows. he isn't a selfless person, when all he wants right at this moment as he keeps on shifting his body onto the luxury sheets beneath him to relax his complicated thoughts is to share your day with him, and him only.

after tossing around on his big yet lonely bed, he just couldn't think of how to make your day memorable, to him and to you.

no, scratch that, he didn't even think of what birthday speech (we all know he would say “speech” instead of the informal “wish”) he wants to say to you. it's hard to think when the moon is shining brightly above the clouds, illuminating his dark room, but it's harder when he realises he never has any experience of some sorts.

prepare yourself when he knocks on your door at 6 a.m. in the morning because he is so tensed throughout the whole night, with a letter he sealed off with the official yashiro commission wax seal stamp, an array of formal essays of him randomly saying stuff about how he is grateful to have you by his side, and his special signature at the very bottom of the letter in his shaky hand, before giving it to you while you are still searching for any confirmation that he just stands in front of your house when the sun doesn't even rise yet.

nothing more, and nothing less. the letter he gives you is more than enough. please, this boy is having such a hard time brainstorming.

and although you are really touched at his efforts, slightly smiling at how formal the letter is, thinking that his way of wishing you a happy birthday is far away from perfect, but imperfectly perfect in your eyes, you realise how mess you must have look.

with your messy hair, stinky breath and inappropriate outfit, you decide to push him away from you before shutting your door right in front of him, shouting from behind that you are thankful, too, with being his partner.

you try not to open the door once again, and jump on him, and drown him with your kisses because seeing his beautiful face to start your day makes your heart goes through a marathon, but you know how horrible you are right now more than anyone else.

he doesn't take your actions seriously though, maybe just a little bit confused and maybe thinks he should hold a grand event to celebrate your day.

if he does feel like the latter, well, honestly, he may go overboard and invite all sources and people he know to make up his letter and makes you overwhelmed the moment he invites you to go near tenshukaku for your supposedly birthday party.

he, as well, may ignore thoma advices.

but of course, in the end, he wants for his darling to have the best day, right?

you will just show him your undying affections after you finally have some time to be alone at the estate.

ayato's ears become red when you smile into your sudden kiss? yes.

you may tell him that his letter is enough, no need to be that extravagant anymore and ayato seems to not understand you.

your day ends with you telling him what are the things you want him to do for your future birthdays.

this boy is so clueless, i love awkward ayato.

he will question you, why your ideas are so simple but you shut him by saying that, him being by your side is always the best gift you will ever receive in your entire life.

cue ayato being such a blushing mess that you have to make the first move and ends up with he lastly wishes you a happy birthday alongside with three simple words of i love you.

yeah, of course ayato is smooth with his words and always asserts dominance, but you can't deny that when it comes to love, he is pretty oblivious.

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[quillify-tries-to-talk]

Yet Another Rewrite (Part 2)

For the thomstair appreciation week by @youngreckless ik it's over. Sorry I'm late :(

You can read part 1 here then come back and read this one.

Thomas and Alastair working things out part 2. Enjoy!

Tw: mentions of racism, bullying, abuse, colonialism

"Even our angels have mercy, Thomas." His voice was hollow now. 

Despair threatened to pull him under. It wasn't worth it. Anything. He would always be like this. It was a miracle even Cordelia was able to look him in the eye without hate. He did deserve this, he thought, settling back on his bed, all the fight drained. He deserved every blow and every bruise he'd inflicted on others.

Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa 

Funny that he now remembered his Latin lessons.

The bed dipped under Thomas's heavier weight, and he felt a flash of warmth when hesitant fingers crept over his skin. Too close. He was too close. 

Let go, he wanted to say, but lies seemed to evade him whenever Thomas Lightwood was present. His eyes looked dark brown in the dim lighting. There were  dents on his bottom lip where he must have bitten it. It took everything in him to not let his hands rise and trace the lines of his jaw.

"I remember Paris."

Alastair's eyes widened. He sat frozen, and Thomas took that as his cue to continue. "You were kind to me when I was very alone, and I am grateful." He looked up, face a bit red. "It was the first time I realized you could be kind.”

He tried not to let the last comment needle him. “It is my favorite memory of Paris as well.”

“You don’t have to say that. I know you were there with Charles.”

His jaw went tight. Not that. Anything but that. "Charles Fairchild? What about him?”

Thomas cocked his head to the side, his expression innocent. “Wouldn’t that be your best memory of Paris?”

“Exactly what are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything." His tone indicated the exact opposite though. Cheeky little–

"I’ve seen the way you look at Charles, the way he looks at you. I’m not an idiot, Alastair, and I’m asking …” Thomas shook his head, sighing. 

He was going to say it. Right here. Angel help him.

“I suppose I’m asking if you’re like me.”

There it was. 

Perhaps he could salvage this conversation. He gathered his thoughts, straightened out of his slouching position.

“Thomas Lightwood,” he said. “I am nothing like you."

Thomas stared as if he'd been clubbed on the head, eyes dazed in shock again. He was shuffling from side to side, probably preparing to launch himself far, far away from him.

A bit more effort, dâdâsh, Layla said in his head, amused and exasperated.

Right. “I am nothing like you, Thomas." His breathing was faltering again, throat closing up, fighting against the vulnerability he was exposing. “Because you are one of the better people I have ever known. You have a kind nature and a heart like some knight out of legend. Brave and proud and true and strong. All of it.” 

He smiled bitterly. “And all the time you have known me, I have been a terrible person. So, you see. We are nothing at all alike.”

His head snapped up, surprise etched on his features. His eyes started twinkling again. What was he doing to him? Even looking at him made Alastair want to smile. 

He hadn't wanted to smile in a long, long time.

"I'm not—" Thomas broke off. "That's not what I meant."

Don't I know that, eshgham? "I know what you meant." His voice had softened. The words hung in the air for a moment. But he needed some answers of his own now. "How did you know about Charles?"

“You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing in Paris,” Thomas replied. Alastair thought he heard a note of hurt in his voice, but promptly dismissed the notion. “But you mentioned Charles, over and over again, like you got pleasure out of just saying his name. And when you came to London this summer, I saw the way you looked at him. I know what it is to have to hide the—the signs of affection.”

“Then I imagine you may have noticed I don’t look at Charles that way anymore.”

What did you just say, Carstairs? Admitting to your own failures now? Couldn't even hold on to first love?

His jaw tightened again. Get out of my head, baba. Charles. Get out, both of you.

“I suppose I did,” Thomas said. “Though for the past four months, I’ve been trying not to look at you. I told myself I hated you. But I could never really make myself. When Elias died, all I could think about was you. What you must be feeling.”

His father's name reopened the gashes on his heart. Heat sparked behind his eyelids. “I insulted your father and blackened his name. You were under no obligation to care about mine.”

“I know, but sometimes I think that it is much harder to lose someone who we are on bad terms with than it is to lose someone with whom all is well.”

“Bloody hell, Thomas. You should hate me, not be thinking about what I must be feeling—” Alastair passed a hand over his face. It came back wet with tears. He didn’t even know when that happened. He’d never had an audience for his crying before. 

"But I do," said Thomas softly. His fingers ghosted higher along Alastair's wrist, making his heart skip a beat. Once, twice, three times.

Bewildered, he marvelled at the sensation such a small touch could cause. 

"I'm sorry." Thomas's voice was soft, filled with guilt. His head bowed as if in prayer. "I—what you said. What happened at school." His gaze trailed over Alastair's features, and he shook his head. "I always found you beautiful. Then and now. I didn't know people hated how you looked. You're like a poem, but in human form."

"Poem," Alastair repeated numbly. If his brain had short-circuited before, it was blown to bits now. No one had ever called him that.

Charles had called him a beautiful secret. His safe haven. His comfort and best friend.

Never a poem.

"Yes." Thomas's cheeks were slowly flushing rose. Another nice contrast with his skin and hair. "Graceful. Elegant. Confident. You were always so poised and sharp. Like one of Jamie's knives. You were smart, managed to turn people over. They listened to you. Look what you did just now. I didn't know what to do. If I wanted you. Or if I wanted to be you. Remember when I followed you around school?"

Alastair's rusty throat muscles regained a bit of their ability. He wanted me? It wasn’t the best, but it was okay. Charles had wanted him. It hadn’t been too bad. Until the end. Until the horror of his actions had dawned on him. Until he realized that all his time spent with Charles had been wasted in tending to his needs, not Alastair’s. He hadn’t even known a relationship required his own needs to be taken care of. That it was a necessity. 

"I remember,” he managed. “Then I met you in Paris and you’d grown up and turned into Michelangelo’s David. I thought you were beautiful. But I was still caught up with Charles—” He broke off, regret weighting his stomach. “Just another thing I’ve wasted. Your regard for me. I wasted my time and my affection on Charles. I wasted my chance with you.”

Thomas blinked. And blinked. And blinked. A pulse had started in the base of his neck, thudding against the delicate skin. Alastair raised his eyes only to find him already staring. 

"Thomas?" His name tasted strange on his tongue.

"You said angels too have mercy," he said in answer. "I—I must apologize. I'll admit I didn't know how people treated your family. I have been sheltered in that regard."

"You must know where those indigo-dyed silks came from," said Alastair softly. They were from India. Ariadne had mentioned it during their little dance, the news that had trickled in. The brown-skinned, hollow-eyed servants brought in for labour by mundanes and Shadowhunters alike. "Or why England never has a shortage of adamas, but my country does." 

That one was still going on. Britain liked guising their nefarious schemes behind offers of trade. 

He released a sigh, shaking his head in despondence. "They never tell you. Layla and I knew because we saw it happen; we know our histories ever since we could walk and talk. And it still happens. It's more than demons and humans for us. It’s always been that way." He held one brown hand up to the light, and Thomas’s eyes followed. “This isn’t apparently how we were supposed to look. I tried changing that, and it did work for sometime but.. I hated myself even then. I hated my family and my culture and my books. Do you flinch from your own face, Thomas? I always did. Still do, sometimes. 

“I hate that my skin isn’t like yours. If it was, perhaps people wouldn’t have said so many things. Perhaps I wouldn’t have as many bruises.” He leaned his head back against the wall, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “In another life, perhaps we would’ve had our chance, you and I.”

His words ended with a plaintive note; the bone-deep weariness that there was nothing he could do, aside from ripping off his own skin or trying to be like his father. In appearance, at least. They remained silent for a long while, but it was the thoughtful sort. Alastair didn't know how many hours he passed by just counting the cracks in the walls when Thomas's voice pierced the quiet.

"Teach me."

He jerked awake. "What?"

"You said there are things I don't know about you. About where you come from and what you and Cordelia have to face. And… perhaps I'd like to know. I'd like to understand how the world works." A small smile ticked up the corners of his mouth, and Alastair found himself besotted by the expression.

By the Angel. Definitely not coming out in one piece.

"You'd like to… umm…" Words had fled when he'd needed them most. Damn you, Thomas. 

Thomas’s fingers enclosed over his wrists. The warmth was steadying, comforting. His expression was hesitant, at odds with the way his body commandeered space. “I want help. Really, truly. I found myself fascinated in Spain by the difference in language and culture. And then Paris. One-time travel gave me a different perspective, so imagine what more knowledge would do.” He was practically shaking with excitement at the prospect of learning of his ancestor’s atrocities. “You’ll be teaching me, so it won’t feel like a debt to you.”

“Are you sure you want to know, Thomas? People have done some terrible things.”

“I need to know what I’m redeeming myself for before I ask for forgiveness.” His hazel eyes were clear, expression determined. Like a knight readied for battle. A scholar rewriting history on pages. 

Alastair felt his throat tighten at his excitement. He wasn’t used to any of this. Apologies. Forgiveness. Love. Hope. His story was supposed to have died after all his attempts to apologize to The Merry Thieves. He’d failed then to ask for friends, so why would someone give him another chance?

“And maybe you’re wrong,” Thomas added in what was supposed to be a nonchalant tone, but Alastair detected a slight tremor in it. “About me.”

“Speak sense, Lightwood.” His tone sharpened, a defense against his wrecked emotional state. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this.” In answer, Thomas hooked his hands around Alastair’s shoulders, and the sudden onslaught of warmth and gentleness made his body sway with the sheer impossibility of the situation. No glass. No manipulation. Nothing but warmth and truth and compromise. The good sort. 

This had to be a dream. He would wake up any time now, but he couldn’t stop staring at him. Couldn't stop admiring his smile, the brightness of his eyes, the shape of his mouth, that damned pulse at his throat. And more. His strength. His passion for learning. His bravery in venturing after a killer alone. The openness of his heart.

I’m not worth it, Alastair wanted to say, but by then his head had fallen on his shoulder, nestled in the crook of Thomas’s neck. He felt lighter than air. For the first time, his head felt empty of anything: trouble, grief, responsibilities, duties. It was just them. Thomas with his arms around him, holding him in the storm of his life. His heartbeat was a steady clock that Alastair could time his breaths to. 

With Charles it had been all heat and desire, and the furious pounding of his heart in the thrill of being wanted by someone. This felt like coming home, sitting down for a cup of tea with his favourite book. Warm and right and natural. Tears slipped down his cheeks, freed after years and years of being locked away for the sake of his family. 

Thomas set his lips to Alastair’s brow. 

His body seized up at the soft pressure. It felt like someone had poured sunlight into his veins. Another tear slipped down his cheek. Impossible. Wake up, now. Happiness wasn’t a part of your life. But he was still here, feeling Thomas lean his cheek against his hair. Through the swirl of emotions, he heard his voice again.

“We’ll get past this together. I will relearn you, Alastair.” The sound of his name on Thomas’s lips sent his heart careening again. “Negaran nabash.”

Don't worry. Even with the different cadence, it would’ve been hard to miss. Thomas had just spoken in Persian. 

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow. “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh. Umm. Just something…” That adorable smile surfaced again. “A little hobby? Like Kit and his test tubes?”

Shaking his head, Alastair allowed himself a little smile. Perhaps, it had been worth it to risk his neck. For this. Only for this.

Taglist: @cherilyn-rose @youngreckless @eugeniaslongsword @nott-the-best (2nd part eeeeeeee🥳🥳🥳) @cant-think-of-anything @livingformyself

[hops-hunny]

Bratty Girl.

Pairing: Ginny Weasley x slytherin!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.9k

Request: N/A

Summary: When (Y/n) goes a bit far at a quidditch after party, Ginny is more than glad to put her in her place.

Warnings: 18+ DNI IF YOURE A MINOR OR AGELESS ACOUNT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, Full on smut, dom!Ginny, sub!Reader, daddy kink, light bondage, strap ons, swearing.

A/N:  Ginny definitely has a daddy kink and I will not be convinced otherwise. This was my first attempt at full on smut, so I’m sorry in advance. Let me know how you like it!

Ginny wouldn’t call herself a hothead persay, she described herself more as passionate. When she had kicked malfoy in the bollocks last week, it was simply passion! Sure, sometimes her “passion” was expressed in more..physical ways but it was passion nonetheless. Tonight was no exception to that rule. Ginny's face was in a scowl as she took a swig of the half empty bottle of fire whiskey in her hand. Her eyes were fixated in a straight line across the room where her lover was. (Y/n) stood there, giggling as Dean Thomas pulled her closer. God she was a minx, she lived up to the slytherin name well. Just as cunning as she was enticing.

This was a game she loved to play. She knew Ginny liked to keep up her reputation in public as the respectable but badass chick she was. Always seemingly unbothered by everything. Ginny would never do anything to stop her in public but after all the festivities were over, she’d drag the shorter girl off and have her way with her in (Y/n)’s dorm. But, tonight was different. Ginny was particularly bothered. Of all men she decided to flirt with, why did she choose that bloke? And two, she didn’t recall Dean leading the Gryffindor team into glory during quidditch today. Dean’s name wasn’t the one everyone was cheering and he certainly wouldn’t be the one experiencing the pleasure of hearing her moan his name tonight.

So, being fed up with Dean whispering into the girl’s ear, she took a large drink of fire whiskey before throwing it to someone as she walked over to the other side of the room, pushing anyone in her way. The familiar fiery red hair caught (Y/n)’s eyes as she smiled at her girlfriend. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Ginny’s lips. Ginny gripped at the girl’s face harshly as she engaged her in a rough but passionate kiss. The fire whiskey and chappedness of Ginny’s meeting the softness and peach gloss from the other girls. The redhead bit at her lover’s lip before pulling back, not releasing the grip she held on her face. She kissed up her neck, nibbling in her ear before whispering, “What do you think you’re doing, love? You must think you’re really funny, huh? You think Dean can kiss you like that?” Ginny could feel a smirk form on the girls face causing her to hover over her. She took in the girl’s appearance. She looked like absolute sex tonight. Blush covered cheeks and the now smudged gloss combined with that little red dress she knew Ginny loved. If she hadn’t a brain she’d take her here right now.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Gin. Or, should I say, daddy.” She said, looking up at the Weasley with those big, innocent eyes she loved to give her. Ginny growled slightly before picking up the Slytherin, throwing her over her shoulder. She kept a firm hand on her rear as she did, partly to keep her dress down and partly to make sure everyone knew who’s exactly she was.

Ginny threw the girl on the plush bed, beginning to unbuckle her belt. “When I turn around, you better be in nothing but your underwear and on your back for me. Do I make myself clear, love?” she asked, reaching into the drawer. When she heard no response, she looked over her shoulder making eye contact with the girl.

“Yes, I understand.” she responded, smiling at her softly. (Y/n) couldn’t wait for whatever Ginny had in store for tonight. She watched as Ginny’s eyes soften for a second meeting her smile before getting back into the dominant headspace she was in. The Gryffindor walked over to her lover, taking the belt she was wearing, tying the girl’s hands to the bed frame. The girl huffed slightly, tugging at the belt a bit as she glared up at Ginny. Ginny laughed slightly before pecking her lips.

“I have to give you some form of punishment. I can’t just let you get away with that little stunt you pulled earlier can I, dove?” she began to massage the girls body, caressing all over. She trailed her hands up her hips, squeezing slightly, rubbing them before bringing them up to her breast. She admired how beautiful they are, soft and smooth. Leaning down, she began to suck on the left one, swirling her tongue around it as she massaged at the right one, pinching the hard bud. (Y/n) gasped, moaning softly as she began to squirm. She went to tangle her hands in the mess of red hair, growing frustrated as the metal of the restraints made a clunking noise which reminded her of her position. She began to whine softly, wanting nothing more than to touch her lover. She yelped slightly as Ginny bit down on her nipple before blowing on it as he pulled away. “Patience darling, if you’re good maybe, just maybe daddy will give you what you want.” she said, placing a kiss on her forehead before trailing down right above the girl’s pussy. She stroked her thumb along it, wetness gathering on it through the thin material. She moved her mouth to grab the material, pulling them down with her teeth. The (e/c) girl gasped at the brief feeling of the sensation before settling again.

She parted the girls legs, throwing them over her shoulders. The Slytherin girl felt herself becoming antsy, the mere thought of the feeling of Ginny’s tongue was enough to get her going which didn’t go unnoticed. She continued to hover her face a few mere centimeters away from the girl’s soaked pussy. “You have the prettiest pussy darling. Y’know that? Hm?” she asked, the warmth of her breath mixing with the coolness of the dorm. It was almost too much to handle. She felt her brain short circuiting. She was knocked out of her haze as the brown eyed girl bit at her inner thigh. “It’s rude not to respond when spoken to, kitten. ‘Specially when it’s a compliment.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you who?”

“Thank you, daddy.”

That was all Ginny needed to hear, plunging a ringed finger into the girl as she sucked on her clit. She pumped it in and out at an agonizingly slow and steady pace as she licked and sucked. She used her other hand to hold down the girl’s hips as she couldn’t sit still. The alcohol they consumed earlier just added to their arousal. Ginny added another finger, speeding up slightly and going deeper. (Y/n) moaned louder, a chorus of “daddy”s and “more more more!” falling from her lips as she tried to buck her hips unsuccessfully. The constant pleasure being sent to her arousal was too much as she began to clench around Ginny’s fingers. She looked down at her whimpering.

“Go ahead baby, cum for daddy.” She says, smirking before going back to work with her tongue. (Y/n) creamed on her face, crying out as Ginny continued to fuck her through her orgasm, licking up the flow of juices as the beautiful girl continued to climax. “What a dirty girl you are cumming for me like that, dove.” she stood up, the girls eye following her as she opened the bottle of lube. It was then she noticed she had it on. Ginny rarely bought out it, usually opting for other things. This is how the Slytherin realized she was definitely in trouble tonight. Her eyes followed as Ginny lubed up the girthy blue strap.

Ginny laughed slightly at the girl’s agape mouth. “Baby, if you stare any harder I’m afraid you’ll go blind.” She said, leaning down to stroke the girl’s cheek. (Y/n) leaned into the touch, staring up at her as she batted her eyes cutely. Ginny gripped at her cheeks harder. “Being cute isn’t going to get you out of this darling, I’m not untying you. A brat like you doesn’t deserve to touch me.” she patted the girl’s face before hovering over her. She began to rub the tip against her, gathering her slick along it. She would’ve definitely slid into her sooner but, the smaller girl kept bucking her hips prompting Ginny to pull away each time she did. “Hmm, I’m feeling generous. Maybe if you beg me I’ll fill you up.” she said, looking down at the girl. (Y/n) began to mutter softly. “I can’t hear you princess, speak up. You had no problem doing so to Dean earlier.”

“Please, oh please put it in! I wanna feel you deep inside of me! Please daddy, I’ll be so good for you?” she begged, eyes filled with tears of desperation. Her brain was clouded, the only thought she could form was Ginny pounding her with that bloody strap of hers. Ginny rested one hand beside the girl’s head, the other guiding the strap to her hole. Once aligned with it, she rammed it inside using her now free hand to choke the brat beneath her. They both moaned in harmony. (Y/n) felt so good, Ginny deep inside of her, pounding her to oblivion. Ginny moved, stretching the girls legs to rest near her head. She concentrated on the masterpiece below her. Eyes closed, beads of sweat dripping from her face as her hair stuck to the pillow. Her mouth in a constant ‘o’ shape. Her moans and whimpers were music to her ears, fueling her to continue going. Ginny’s grip on the girl’s throat tightened as she continued to pound her.

“Who’s the only one who can give it to you this good honey, hm? You think Dean would’ve been able to fuck you like this? I don’t fucking think so. My pretty baby, so dicked out just for me.” Ginny said, (Y/n) blubbering gibberish in response. She chuckled, smirking at her a bit. She reached a hand down, rubbing her clit with her thumb. “Are you close again baby? Use your words.” she asked, applying more pressure.

“Y-yes! So close for you, Gin! So close. Don’t stop! Feels good! S-s-soo good!” she gasped out. Her eyes widened before closing tight as she climaxed for the second time. Her back arched from the bed as she clenched around the toy. Ginny softly caressed the girls hips, thrusting a few more times before pulling out slowly, placing a kiss right above her mound. (Y/n) was out of it, breathing heavily as her eyes fluttered closed. She was absolutely exhausted.

When she opened her eyes again, Ginny was gently cleaning her off. She worked the warm rag, making sure to not overstimulate the girl more than she already was as she placed soft kisses along her body. She stood up, handing the girl a glass of water as she sat besides her. The Slytherin gladly accepted it, not even realizing how sore her throat was. Ginny admired her, petting her head softly. Somehow even all fucked out, she was still the most angelic looking woman she had ever seen. The redhead pulled the girl into her side. “I love you so much (Y/n), yknow that? I’m so lucky to have you.” she said softly, the girl responded with a small ‘mhm’ as she was too tired to respond.

As (Y/n) slowly drifted to sleep, the only thing she could think was, ‘Dean did a good job, I better not forget to buy him that butter beer I owe him for this.’

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

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Tagslist: @sarcasticallywitty15​

[evening-starlight]

Chances {Chapter Seven}

This chapter is a bit shorter then usual. I was running out of steam on this. 

Master list

Edited in Grammarly

Bowling For Salads

Word Count: 926

    Not much else happened after our date for a week or two. I stayed locked in my apartment for three days, writing angry song after angry song, pouring all my frustration with myself and Jared into my music. I didn't see Jared after our bump-in, like everyone expected me to do. I felt dirty just thinking about it. Tom and I kept in touch, texting every day about meaningless things, but it was the highlight of my day during those times. It was finally Tom who got me out of the rut I put myself in.

    I wait anxiously in front of the bowling alley. It was Tom's idea, saying I needed to get out of the house and that throwing balls would help. I didn't tell him everything that caused the bad mood but admitted I was having a lousy brain week. I smile when I see Tom's black Jaguar pull into the parking lot. He gets out in a rush to come to meet me at the door.

    "Stella, Love, you could have gone inside. It's boiling out here." He says, pulling me into a quick hug. My name on his lips sounds like how honey on toast tastes like, warm and inviting.

    "It's alright; I don't mind the heat." I shrug. "Besides, Robbie took my car to San Fran with Naomi for the weekend." I link my arm with Tom's as we walk into the bowling alley.

    "Robbie is your guitarist, right? He's dating Naomi?" Tom asks, taking an interest in my life. I nod as he pays for our one round of bowling. "Why'd he take your car, then?" Tom asks as we grab our bowling shoes off the counter.

    "Naomi's sister totaled her car about a month ago, and they haven't been able to get a new one yet. and Robbie's is in the shop after he got rear-ended yesterday." Tom raises an eyebrow while he ties his shoes.

    "And you're trusting him with your car?"

    "Hey, if he wrecks it, he buys me the newest model with a sunroof." I laugh. "I'm going to grab a ball; come with?" I ask over my shoulder, smiling as Tom scrambles up. He lays a hand on my lower back, reaching for a ball on the rack below mine. My mind short circuits shortly, racing with the repeated fact that Tom's hand is on me. I clear my throat as we walk back to the lane, trying to keep my cool.

    We've been talking for weeks now, but he still gives me butterflies and makes me blush when he calls me Love. When he touches me, my brain short circuits, and I feel like I'm floating on air. He makes me feel like a schoolgirl going out with the popular jock.

    Tom enters my name first in the score tracker under Love and his under Loki. I giggle at the names, moving up to the ball retriever. We play a few squares, taking small breaks to talk and joke about how we should go pro, while we bowled with bumpers on.

    My stomach growls while Tom is bowling, hitting every bumper along the way. He pulls his lips back into a joking grimace as he walks back. "Definitely should go pro," I joke, causing him to laugh that beautiful laugh that seems to be contagious.

    "I'm getting quite hungry," Tom says. "I reckon we finish this and go out for some lunch?" He asks, taking a seat next to me. It's like he can read my mind.

    "I think that's a lovely idea, Thomas." I smile up at him, getting lost in those fucking eyes that constantly pull you in. They feel like a home I never knew. The way they hold so many emotions and tender kindness. I could live the rest of my life happily if those were the only thing I could ever look at again.

    "I think it's your turn, Love." Tom's voice is low as if he doesn't want our staring contest to end. I clear my throat and nod, going up to bowl the last few rounds we have left.

    My arm is linked in Tom's as we walk out of the alley, talking about how absolutely horrendous we did on the scores. "Would you like to walk or drive?" He asks, stalling next to his car.

    "What did you have in mind?"

    "I was wondering between burgers or salads. I know a wonderful salad bar further in town." Which way would I be able to spend more time with Tom?

    "Salads sound excellent."

    See, I knew I was fucked (can you tell my comfort word is fuck?) when I realized his eyes were the closest thing to a home I have ever felt. And that was scary. I had never had a family that genuinely was there 100% of the time for me. I love my band, I do - they have done so so much for me - but we're all in our twenties and tend to flake on each other; I'm guilty of that too. But Tom? Tom was slowly becoming the family I never had, and I was scared. I was petrified even. This was new territory, and I thought I had to conquer it alone while also dealing with the mess of an ex. But I didn't have to. I never had to. I had found my family in my band and the people I surrounded myself with. I was never alone. Even when I did something I regret to this day.

Tag List: @queenofallhobos​

[quoth-the-sparrow]

Error 404: Gay Malfunction

A Sanders Sides One Shot

Warnings: Sympathetic.Morally Grey Deceit, one blink-and-you’ll-miss-it hint at something nsfw (If I need to add anything, let me know)

Pairings: Loceit

Description: Deceit enjoys flirting with a certain logical side

Word Count: 804

A/N Part 1: This was written for Deceit’s birthday, but mostly it’s just a self-indulgent fic of my two favorite characters flirting. So I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

You can also find this story here on ao3

“Well well well, isn’t this a surprising turn of events? What would goody-two-shoes Patton say if he knew you agreed with someone as evil as me?” Deceit feigned a look of shock and horror, but Logan could see the delight sparkling in his mismatched eyes.

“I never said I agreed with you completely; I said you had a few solid points in your argument. As for what Patton would say, I can’t quite say it matters one way or the other. Despite your… at times questionable methods and beliefs, I am aware you only want what’s best for Thomas. You’re not nearly as bad or ‘evil’ as the others believe you to be.” Logan hesitated before continuing. “In fact, I think there’s more good in you than anything else. Certainly more than what you show to almost everyone here.”

Dee’s expression slipped from fake to genuine, and Logan gave his fellow side a small smile. He thought that would be the end of it, but then the look he was giving Logan went from surprised to mischievous. 

“Oh no…”

“Aww, Logan, I didn’t realize you liked me so much! How embarrassing for you.”

A blush spread across Logan’s face as he struggled to think of a comeback. Normally he could quip back with no trouble, often one-upping whoever tried to verbally spar with him. There was just something about Dee’s teasing that always made him flustered. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how attractive and distracting he was, especially in that outfit; absolutely not.

Deceit pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning on and sauntered towards Logan. Almost unbidden, his eyes drifted down towards Dee’s hips, down to the thighs that were peeking through from under his pastel yellow skirt with every step, the sharp contrast between scales and skin so mesmerizing. He could have stared at those gorgeous thighs all day but then a gloved hand cupped his chin, tilting his face back up and- oh. Deceit was incredibly close now, so close he could feel the warmth of his breath against his lips.

“As flattered as I am by your staring, my eyes are up here. Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?”

Logan’s brain short-circuited, his breath catching in his throat. Dee let out a low chuckle. “You’re so cute when you’re at a loss for words. There’s nothing I love more than being able to render you speechless like this.”

Logan couldn’t handle it anymore. Things had been slowly escalating between them for months; intense gazes and lingering touches and the constant flirting- it was enough to drive him mad, but hell if he didn’t love every second of it. Dee had been the one to initiate all the moves lately and it was Logan’s turn to retaliate. So he did the first thing he thought of to do: he wrapped his arms around Deceit and kissed him.

Deceit certainly hadn’t been expecting that particular move, judging by his muffled gasp of surprise. However, it didn’t take him long before he started kissing Logan back with a fierce intensity, and yes, all those months of longing and flirting had definitely been worth it.

His hands ran through Logan’s hair and their bodies pressed against one another. Logan’s hands roamed down Dee’s back and settled on his hips and he couldn’t focus on anything but the sensations Dee was making him feel. All of the flowery descriptions of what passion supposedly felt like now made perfect sense: the fire in his veins, the butterflies in his stomach, the electricity in the air.

Dee was the one to pull away, and Logan couldn’t help the whine that escaped his throat. Deceit grinned at this, looking for all the world like the cat that got the canary.

“We can continue this later, if you’d like. Perhaps somewhere more private?” Logan nodded, trying to school his expression into something that resembled calm composure, though the low tone of Dee’s voice made it difficult to do so.

Dee moved away and disappeared with nothing more than a wink. Logan stared at the empty space for a minute before sinking down onto the couch, his legs unable to support him any longer. He  would have stayed there, trying and failing to make sense of all that had just happened if Virgil hadn’t come down the stairs and into the living room.

“Hey, L, what’s… up?” His voice faltered as he stared at Logan, his gaze shifting from curiosity to suspicion as he took in the logical side’s mussed hair and the still-present blush on his cheeks.

“Uh, do I even want to know what the hell just happened here?” Virgil asked.

Logan cleared his throat, one hand running through his hair and the other nervously adjusting his tie. “I don’t believe so, no.”

A/N Part 2: Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! If you’d like to be added or removed from my taglist, please let me know by sending me an ask. You can find me on ao3 at Storytelling_Sparrow. Thank you so much for your continued support!

Taglist: @theresneverenoughfandoms​ @galaxywitchwolf13 @magicallygrimmwiccan @daring-elm @creativity-killed-thekitten @007ardra @princeyssash @demigodnamedathena @khadij-al-kubra @im-shooting-straight @princewroammin @gayzelley @it-me-the-phi @elfarmyenby @sparkedawg @ironwoman359 @today-only-happens-once @areyousirius-noheisdead @madly-handsome @milomeepit @princelogical @silversmith-91 @xxladystarlightxx @poisonedapples @romanamongthestars @ab-artist @ninjago2020 @anuninspiredpoet @justanormalfoot @gemini-the-kitsune-rp @youvegotafiendinme @aizawaisnotstraight @therubyjailcell

[sidespromptblog]

The Night

Summary: Remus just wanted someone to share his ideas with, regardless if it was at midnight and everyone was supposed to be asleep. He most certainly didn’t expect this of all things to happen.

Humming a janky tune to himself Remus practically skipped away from his bedroom with a stack of suspiciously stained and bloodied papers in his hands, of course, it was also well past midnight. Something that was made abundantly clear as he sank down rising up in the space of the other sides, as all the lights were off in the living area aside from one little night light that was most likely for Virgil’s sake only. The kitchen was barren, no sign of the life that usually inhabited it during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A half-hearted pout formed on Remus’ lips, as he haphazardly shuffled the papers around in his hands.

He wanted at least someone to talk to, to spout his horrific ideas off to.

And since Deceit usually kept his door locked, there was no way that the dishonest side would ever let him in at this time of night, and Roman… Remus wrinkled his nose as he made his way up the stairs towards the others’ rooms. He didn’t want someone with such dull creativity looking over his ideas, he already knew that Roman would cringe and shoot down his ideas for the wig that would melt the skin off the wearers head until it reached the brain leaving a puddle of slimy goo, down the drain. He wanted someone… someone who was…

Someone who was smart!

There wasn’t a single light on underneath any of the doors, and not a single sign that any of them were awake. Then again, that wasn’t really going to stop Remus either way, sleep had never stopped him before and it most certainly wasn’t going to come anywhere close to stopping him now.

Almost immediately he bypassed Virgil’s room, after all, there was no need for him to have a panic attack while imagining all the vividly horrific ways that Thomas could die in his sleep. And he was at least twenty percent certain that if he went to their resident emo, he’d scream and cause a great deal of a ruckus and wake everyone up and then he’d never been able to tell his ideas to anyone! And his nose wrinkled at the stupidly happy and cheerful stickers that were plastered all over Patton’s door, complete with puppies, kittens, and little paw prints speckled all over the baby blue colored door. It internally made Remus retch a little bit, the sight of such happy cutesy things on display right in front of him.

Rip off the stickers, burn the stickers, burn the door, piss on the door, leave carrots outside of his door so that he can’t escape and he’ll be forced to either starve or eat the carrots, eat the stickers? Remus’ knee bounced jerkily up and down at the thoughts that rattled around inside his head, and before he knew it he had already ripped off a bright bubbly blue paw print sticker before sticking it right back to his forehead. A near-silent snicker left his lips as he scraped his nail down that bright blue paint, leaving a thin line of chipping paint behind. It wasn’t nearly as much as he would have liked to do, but for now… it was enough. Maybe later, if he couldn’t find anyone to talk to, he could come back and paint the door a dark putrid green color. The dirtiest nastiest green, that would smell just awful and-

Remus’ hand froze midway down Patton’s door, as his eyes locked on the deep blue door to his left with a simple name printed on the front and nothing more. It was cracked open just the slightest, most likely just in case Virgil had a nightmare of something and he’d need to come to someone to calm those fears. It made Remus’ gut twist and writhe as if he had live eels for intestines instead of actual organs, and a smile lit up his demented face.

“Loooogan,” He purred pushing open the door with his foot before shutting it behind him with a resounding click, “Logan! Logan! Logan! Logan!” He chirped rushing over to the side of the bed where the faint rise and fall of the logical side’s breathing could be seen, leering over him like a dark shadow in the night Remus felt something inside of him freeze for a moment at the sight of Logan’s completely and utterly peaceful expression. Without his glasses, and without the serious expression he wore, he looked… entirely different. It was almost useless of him to notice it, but the worry that lines that creased Logan’s face in the subtle manner that they did were… gone. He looked almost happy as he was asleep, Remus almost regretted having to wake up. Almost. “Loooogan,” He drawled again, shuffling his papers to one hand as he reached down shaking the side before him.

A soft whine answered his insistent noises and actions, and something inside of Remus’ chest short-circuited.

“Rem..us…” If Remus could have… he would have screeched at the name that fell from the logical side’s lips, because he was already certain that his face was blazing right now as his breathing completely stuttered and stopped in its tracks. Logan was still fast asleep, still on his side and breathing as he had a few moments ago. There was no way that he had woken up, and there was no way that he had been able to see just who was in his room, especially without his glasses on and the room as dark as could be. He couldn’t have known, so that meant.. that meant…

“Logan!” He hissed the name out, his lungs working extra hard now as he leaned even more over the sleeping side, shaking him more and more. “I don’t know what you’re dreaming about, that would make you say my name, but wake up! I wanna know right now!” Did he? Did he really want to know? It wasn’t like Logic of all people was having some forbidden sexual dream about him, was he? No there was no way on earth, he only wanted Logan awake so that he could talk and ramble about his ideas. Nothing more. “Log- Ah!”

In one movement, one movement alone, Remus felt the logical side’s hand latching onto his shirt and dragging him down onto the bed. If his lungs had been having a hard time breathing now… well then it was just about doubled as he laid there, his limbs spread out, on his back, laying completely still. This.. this was… he was on Logan’s bed.. with Logan laying next to him.. completely at ease.. relaxed… around him of all people. Remus’ heart thudded in his chest ringing in his ears, like it was soon to become an alien that would tear out his internal organs and soon his ribs and chest exposing itself to the world. His tongue laid dry in his throat, like a limp lump of sandpaper that made it impossible to do so much as swallow too loudly near the side that was asleep.

“Lo..gan…” His cheeks were burning, he was certain that his face was as red as it could possibly be, just what was he supposed to do?! Clearly, the other side didn’t know what he was doing, or maybe he’d been infected with mind leech that was making him do odd things in the middle of the night. This… this was emotional warfare! This wasn’t fair, it should’ve been no problem at all to push Logan away and get back up. And yet… Turning his head, he could just barely make out the curve of Logan’s face in the darkness. He didn’t want to wake him up, but… he’d have to. “Logan, come on you dork. You sleep harder than the dead, wake up and let my arm go.” He huffed to himself, even he knew that had sounded half-assed even to someone with a full ass.

Logan squirmed, and for a second Remus was gripped with two very conflicting emotions, relief… and disappointment. Two emotions that went right out the window as Logan turned and moved, before finally setting his head right on Remus’ chest no doubt hearing his frantically beating heart in the process.

Emotional warfare! His mind screamed at him, while his body… his body melted at the warmth coming off of the logical side, it was the first time in.. well ever that someone had voluntarily touched him, let alone anything like cuddling especially like this. His arms moved mechanically, even as his mind screamed at him to do various things in order to get out of the situation. What would happen when Logan woke up in the morning? It didn’t matter, not as his papers laid forgotten and scattered on the floor, and not as he wrapped his arms around the logical side that had curled up against his side like some oversized cat breathing contently next to him sleeping without a single worry. Why did touching someone like this feel so… nice? He had been fine before he had done it, so why was his skin tingling like this? Why did.. why did Logan feel so nice in his arms?

Something akin to tears burned Remus’ eyes as his eyelids slowly started to droop, and before he knew it… he was asleep, his dreams going untroubled for the first time in years.

Remus woke to sunlight filtering through the window in a warm haze of sunbeams lighting up the room, and a very awake Logan staring back at him unblinking with those thickly framed glasses pushed up his nose.

The reaction was almost immediate.

“OhMyGodYou’reAwake!” Jerking back as if he had just had his nipples electrocuted by a hundred-volt battery, Remus tumbled back his feet kicking up in the air as his back slammed into Logan’s floor leaving him completely immobilized for a second as he laid there frantically trying to piece together what had happened. Logan was.. he was awake, he was awake and he hadn’t said or done anything until Remus had woken up. He hadn’t screamed or made any kind of sound in disgust, in fact… he had remained curled up next to Remus even while he was awake, not moving a single muscle from where the both of them had slept all throughout the night.

Hadn’t he?  

Fear and embarrassment weren’t usually emotions that Remus felt on a day to day basis, but looking up as Logan peered over the side of his bed. He felt those emotions coloring his face, especially if the look on the logical side’s face was anything to go by. He looked… half amused and half concerned for Remus, especially given the fact that he hadn’t gotten up yet, and had just laid where he had fallen like a limp noodle.

“Are you-”

“I don’t have a humiliation kink!” Remus blurted out before Logan could even finish his sentence, scrambling to sit up as the other side blinked in obvious confusion. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end, as Logan blinked owlishly at him, looking so much more confused than Remus had ever seen him before. It was kinda hot if he was being honest, the way that Logan’s lips pursed as he attempted to piece together just what Remus had meant, all while tilting his head to the side regarding him not with an eye roll like most did… but genuine concern. A rarity, that was if it had ever happened to him before.

Oh god, Remus wanted to throw up a bundle of blood confetti to distract from this awful experience. Or maybe he just wanted to lean in and kiss those pursed lips, yeah… he definitely wanted to do that.

“Are you alright? You don’t have a concussion do you?” Out of all the things that Logan could have asked, it wasn’t why Remus had been snuggled up to him that morning, and it wasn’t a request for Remus to leave his room. He didn’t know what it was, but with his messy bedhead, Logan seemed… more relaxed now than he ever had been in front of both him and the others. This was very much obvious as Logan sat up, scratching the back of his head. “I heard you last night, I’m sorry if I happened to cause you any kind of discomfort. It.. it won’t happen again.”

Finally, the useless lump that was Remus’ tongue managed to work.

“I… didn’t mind it,” He honestly said fiddling with some of the papers around him. “It was nice… to sleep next to someone wasn’t trying to suffocate me to shut me up.” He cheekily added, “You’re a pretty good person to sleep next to pillow princess, I’d let you choke me any day of the week.” Remus added a wink for good measure, expecting something like a blush, stuttering, or even an eye-roll that his usual flirtings got. “I’m into it.”

He wasn’t expecting a laugh to tumble so freely from Logan’s very kissable lips, and he wasn’t expecting to feel himself grow even warmer at the sight of Logan’s hand covering his mouth to hide such a thing.

“Pillow princess…” Logan snorted, and Remus fell even more for the sound. “That’s a new one,” He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss him so damn much. How on earth was this fair?! Since when did the nerdy side make him feel like this?! Just a few months ago he had been perfectly fine with throwing a ninja star at his head and calling it a day, just what had changed?! “What are those?” Remus’ mind snapped out of the train of thought that it had been rushing down, as his line of sight followed Logan’s fingers to the scattered papers on Logan’s floor.

It was a mess, that much was for certain. He’d had a lot of papers that he had brought with him, he was pretty sure that this was all of them, all the ideas he’d had rolling around in his head at midnight when he’d made his journey here to bother the other sides.

The shame and embarrassment that cascaded over Remus was a feeling that he had never permitted himself to feel before, “I uh…” His entire body burned once again, “These were my ideas, I wanted to tell someone and your door was open, so I uh… I came in to bother you, even though you were asleep, looking like a greek god waiting to be painted and worshipped.” Oh lord, oh god… that had just slipped right out hadn’t it? He had just gone ahead and said that, with no warning whatsoever… he was such a mistake. But then again… he didn’t feel sorry for saying it, he had meant every word.

Logan’s cheeks burned a bright red, and almost immediately Remus wanted to imprint the color into his mind and never forget it. Ordinarily, he hated the color red, it was the opposite of his own green and to top it off it was Roman’s color. But… Logan made the color look beautiful, he made it looked like it had a place in Remus’ world after all. He made it look… real. He’d made Logan blush, not Patton.. not Virgil… and most certainly not Roman, but him. It made a strange feeling of pride well up in his chest, ready to pop like a balloon from the soonest word from the logical side.

“Well, I…” The red on his cheeks deepened as Logan glanced away, giving Remus a perfectly good view of that red touching the tips of the nerd’s ears the back of his neck. Bite it, his mind whispered. “I wouldn’t be opposed to looking over your ideas,” Logan mumbled, his hands fiddling with the sheets. Remus wanted nothing more than to take those hands, the fingers rough with callouses on ends and lick them.  To shower and pepper every inch of Logan’s body in love and pleasure, “Over dinner?”

Once again Remus felt himself short circuit at the shyly asked response, and for the first time in… ever, he found himself completely and utterly speechless. The only thing that left his lips was a faint wheeze as happy tears burned at his eyes like he was looking right into the sun, and… well, he supposed that he was, given that Logan was sitting right there in front of him.

“I’d like that,” He finally managed the words out, a dopey grin on his face.

So maybe he did have a chance after all.

[shut-up-its-funny]

Won’t Say I’m In Love

Wordcount: 2184

Pairing: Roman/Remus

AO3

Happens months before ‘Bonding Time’.

How the twins get together.

Roman liked to think he knew most things about his brother, they were the same person in the beginning after all.

Even between The Split and the years after that of not communicating he could still predict Remus pretty well, not one hundred percent of the time but some things never changed and he knows for a fact that Remus can't lie.

Now that Thomas and the others acknowledged Remus, he's been coming around the commons a lot more to just lounge around, everyone got used to his presence after a while and although he can still scare Patton or unsettle Virgil, he's not all that bad to be around most cases.

He and Roman too have started to get along again like they used to, spending more time with each other, more than Roman thought he could handle, it's been fun having his brother back.

So when Remus starts to act weird (well weird for Remus that is) and starts to dodge topics of conversation in a clearly obvious way Roman is understandably confused.

What is Remus hiding?

Well it shouldn't be hard to find out, he's kinda used to getting things out of Remus pretty easily, this isn't any different right?

Right.

~ ~ ~

Roman is on to him. He'd prefer Roman to be on him.

Wait, that's the issue here! There's just so many conversations about romance and feelings you can avoid with completely random topics without the other person getting suspicious, even for Remus!

The first time he noticed that he did this was a shock to him.

The group was discussing Thomas' feelings on this particularly charming fellow and his mind went right to Roman when they described this guy as 'charming' instead of the actual person of topic.

He stood up abruptly not having control over the action, the thought itself wasn't strange for him to have, he always has these types of thoughts for the others, some were sweet like this and some were more raunchy, he gets them with everyone Roman included. It just came with the the title of 'Intrusive Thoughts'.

The feelings that came with the thought however was different.

Everyone started to stare at him when he didn't say anything.

“Remus, you Gucci bro?” Roman had to be the one to ask.

He can't lie, so avoiding the question should be his course of action.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to shove your hand in an angry hornets nest?”

Yeesh, that was not his best distraction question.

“Most likely not pleasant” Logan says.

“Yep! Aaaaaaanyways I'vegotathingtodo byeeeee” and he sinks out to go think on this new development.

It was a couple days after the first occurrence happened Roman seeks him out, out of concern. He wanted to know if 'the thing he needed to do' was to actually stick his hand in a hornets nest, cause he was worried that Remus would hurt himself and damn did that not help him one bit but at least he didn't have to lie to ease Roman's thoughts this time.

“Nope, just other things you definitely don't wanna know about!” he answered, Roman did look sceptical but he let it go.

Thank fuck.

“You didn't finish the conversation with us the other night, did you have any thoughts on it?” He just haaad to ask about that.

Fuck. Think fast.

“I wasn't properly listening to everything, okay bye!” He rushes out and sinks down leaving Roman standing there confused.

And this cycle of avoiding topics and diverting attention away from himself becomes a constant annoyance for Remus, why did Roman have to be the romantic side? It was hard to keep a conversation going with him that didn't have an inkling of romance somehow in it.

He needs help it's been a few months, he's tired of it.

So he goes to Deceit.

“I have a problem” Remus says as he pops into Dee's room.

Deceit rolls his eyes “oh yes, of course come right in Remus, oh no, no need to knock or anything.”

“Shut up, you don't mind” Remus waves his hand around.

Deceit looks at him with an eyebrow raised, putting the snake in his hands on to his shoulders to rest there instead.

“Your problem Remus?” He asks.

“I need to learn how to bend the truth better! I keep just blurting things out and avoiding topics all together someone is bound to connect the dots sooner or later!” Remus says in one breath.

“I definitely don't need any context for all that word vomit at all.”

“Heh, word vomit, that's a funny image.”

“Remus, please don't keep on topic here.”

“Right okay! I love Roman” Remus says bluntly, Dee doesn't have the reaction he's expecting.

“Well he isn't your brother and you totally haven't been spending a lot of time together again, it should be so hard to tell him.”

Ah, he misunderstood.

Remus whines, striding up to Dee and squishing his cheeks in between his hands.

“No Deeeeeeeee, you don't understand!” He says getting nose to nose with Deceit “I think-”

“Oh that's not dangerous at all.” Dee says, Remus shoves a finger on Deceits lips.

“Shhshshhshh. I think I'm in love with Roman.”

“Oh” Deceit replies “you definitely don't need my help.”

~ ~ ~

Roman is going to get to the bottom of this, his brother is acting stranger than usual and he wants answers, so he needs to think.

When did this first start?

It could have been when they were talking about Thomas' crush a few months ago, although that wasn't too weird right?

Come to think about it when he went to ask Remus if he was alright he brushed Roman off there too, when he asked about the crush conversation.

Okay, what other instances did he act weird in?

The time it was Romans turn to cook and he asked Remus to taste what he was making, so he put the spoon to Remus' lips for him to try it and Remus went oddly still and robotically opened his mouth, but ending up not actually tasting it cause he spit it out everywhere before yelling 'Good!' and sinking out, once again leaving Roman confused.

There was another instance where Remus was just doing something that made him filthy, his face had only one smudge on it though so Roman just automatically wiped it off with his kerchief out of kindness, even though he knows Remus doesn't care if he's dirty. Remus froze there too when Roman came close to him to touch his face, he collected himself faster that time though.

“You know I don't mind being dirty Ro” and then he choked like he didn't believe he just said that, Roman thought nothing of the remark until Remus became a spluttering mess over it.

A lot more interactions like that ended similarly, he can't put a finger on as to why.

Maybe he needs outside help for this, some logical thinking might help.

So he goes to find Logan, it's not that hard he and Patton are sitting in the commons.

Patton watching cartoons as Logan does a puzzle.

Patton might be great help with this conversation too actually.

“Hey guys I have an issue.”

Patton immediately pauses the cartoon and Logan hums in acknowledgement.

“Remus is acting weird... for Remus that is and I need another perspective.”

Logan stops his puzzle making “I have noticed in some instances that he has seemed off from his usual weirdness.”

“Maybe he just has something on his mind kiddo, try talking to him about it” Patton suggests.

“I do think that can be a factor, however Remus has never shown to be one to keep his thoughts to himself before” Logan says.

“Hmm that's true” Patton agrees.

“Tell us more about this, how often does it happen and the context of each scenario, we might be able to find a pattern” Logan says.

Roman thinks, he tells them when he first actually noticed and when he thinks it started, the cooking thing and then the dirt thing with the innuendo that he was shocked over and a few more times after that.

“So what do they all have in common?” Roman asks.

“It seems it only happens when you get too close to him or when romantic topics are being discussed. Logically it would seem that he's uncomfortable with such topics and close proximity.”

Since when does any of those things make Remus uncomfortable? He's the king of making situations uncomfortable, not the other way around.

“I don't think that's entirely what's wrong, I think it's more feelingsy than that” Patton tacks on.

“What does even mean?” Roman whines.

“Maybe he has a crush on someone and doesn't know how to deal with it so all romantic type things make him flustered?” Patton says.

A crush? On who? Does he want to know who? Why does he feel sad at that thought?

“Thanks guys, I'm gonna go think” he sinks down into his room.

He's pacing, he needs to speak to Remus, he needs to know about his behaviour.

But he's...scared.

Not of Remus himself, but of what he'll say.

The others have their theories, he has his. He doesn't know if he wants it to be confirmed or denied though.

Why is the thought of it being denied make him feel bad?

He has to know.

Doesn't he?

He steels his nerves, buckles himself up and marches right to his brothers door.

And loses the nerve once he's about to knock.

What if he doesn't like the answer?

What if he likes it too much?

Wait, what...

The door opens before he can contemplate turning back and Roman shrieks in panic, Remus flails his arms around as he falls backwards on his ass.

They stare at each other for a few long seconds.

Roman composes himself, he came here for a reason!

He holds his hand out to his brother, “want some help up?” He asks, Remus just continues to stare. Alright then, Roman retracts his hand.

“I want to talk to you about something that's been plaguing my thoughts” Roman begins, Remus is still oddly quiet so he continues on “I feel like there's something going on, with us” he says and watches Remus' eyes widen “I just wanted to know your feelings on-”

“I think I'm in love with you” Remus blurts.

Roman's brain short circuits.

“I, you... you.. I, what?” Roman eloquently stutters while blinking rapidly.

Well, that's kind of what he was here for no? But he wasn't expecting declarations of love, he was more expecting a small infatuation that was spurred on by intrusive thoughts, not.... not love.

Remus bolts up onto his feet and slams the door in Romans face.

~ ~ ~

Well that could have gone better! What was he thinking? All of his hard work that he's done with Dee about talking in loopholes instead of weird distractions all for nought! Cause apparently one sign of the others obviously not there affection, he goes and confesses love!?

What the actual and whole fuck Remus!

Oh, damn he slammed the door in his face!

Welp time to never show up anywhere, ever.

Roman is never going to want to talk to him again, it's going to be like The Spit, he's going to be alone again.

All because he couldn't keep his damned mouth shut.

He bangs his head on his door multiple times.

Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

A soft knock comes from the other side of the door after a particularly harsh head bang into the wood.

Remus freezes.

It could be Dee... Hopefully Roman hasn't been standing out there this entire time.

He opens the door wide and immediately slams it closed again.

Fuck, stop doing that to him!

“Remus, please open the door” Roman pleas softly.

“You wish!” Remus yells back.

'You wish'? Remus what? C'mon man.

Roman lets out a small chuckle. “Hm, can you grant my wish then?” he asks.

What the fuck, this can not be happening right now, he must be dreaming right?

He summons a hammer and hits his hand with it, he feels the pain.

Nope definitely awake.

“Are you alright?” He hears Roman's concerned shuffle, he knows Roman well enough that he knows that Roman is just itching to burst into the room and help whatever is wrong.

Remus opens the door slowly, peeking his head out of the small opening.

“Maybe, you get three ya'know.”

Roman has a small comforting smile on his face, it makes Remus open the door fully.

“Even after you just granted this one?” Roman asks.

Remus smiles wide, “well the first one is always a freebie, keeps 'em comin back for more.”

“How generous of you.”

“Oh definitely, you also get a complementary still beating heart as an added bonus.”

Roman snickers with the cutest smirk.

“I'm sure I do. Can I come in?”

Is this actually happening? Is this for fucking real right now?

Remus hops out of the doorway to let Roman through and slams the door for a third time.

[katelynn-a-fan]

Dec. 4

8. Virgil x Logan – Analogical

Virgil was listening to his favorite playlist when Logan opened the door.

“What’s up L?”

“Virgil”

Virgil looked up.

“Yeah?” 

It took a second before Virgil took in that something was off. Logan’s skin was covered with a sheen of a light frost and his breaths were visible like when Thomas had gone north and first experienced near freezing weather.

“Whoa Logan, are you okay?”

“I think I need you.”

Logan swayed and Virgil rushed over to Logan before he could fall. Luckily the frost on Logan seemed to melt wherever Virgil touched as he helped Logan onto his bed and did the same with himself. They locked eyes.

“You’re okay now Logan... What did you mean when you said you needed me?”

Logan looked away from Virgil with a pink tinge to his cheeks, whether from the cold he was feeling or something else Virgil didn't know, as he spoke. “Um... there’s no easy way to put this.” 

Virgil was clearing away any of the remaining frost from Logan with his body heat as Logan spoke and ended up with the last bit covering a portion of  Logan’s face as Logan had has face turned away from him.

“Virgil, it seems that I have had a ‘crush’ on you for a time and when I realized that and tried to convince myself otherwise and repress such strong feelings, I appear too gain this paler as a consequence.” Logan gulped before continuing.

“But because it is not likely you share those feelings, having these feelings for you does not make it impossible for us to retain our current friendship at least on my part. I do enjoy our time together whether or not we engage in initiating a relationship that fulfills the feeling I have for you. I don’t want to lose you. You are- Mmph!”

Logan was stopped short in what he recognized as the start of spiral of anxiety by Virgil pulling him towards him. They were... kissing.

Virgil had been listening to Logan’s monologue and decided that the last area of  frost on Logan’s lips had to goad he kissed Logan. Virgil loved how bumbling Logan was when he was describing how he felt, his inexperience with feeling and candidness were endearing and honestly adorable.

Sparks were flying behind Logan’s eyes, he didn’t know he closed them, as he felt all traces of the frost dissipate in Virgil’s kiss.

When Virgil finally pulled back Logan’s brain was still short circuiting and was at a loss for words.

Virgil just smiled and said “Neither do I.”

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 20: Magdalene

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 20/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Nineteen+

Chapter Twenty-one+ >>

Severus paused at the top of the steps leading into St. Thomas’s Church and exchanged a glare with the green copper head of a wild man that stood guard over the door. He tugged at the sleeve of his dark gray suit, agitated that it was not nearly long enough. In spite of Mr. Frost’s insistence that Muggle clothes became Severus far better than the ‘damned clerical dress’ that was his usual attire, Severus hated wearing them. They reminded him of all the days of his childhood that he had spent in clothes from Cokeworth Priory's charity bin that had neither matched nor fit. It wasn’t as though his father had been unable to afford proper clothing for his son. Tobias Snape had never paid for anything that he could get for free. And he had been very good at getting things for free. Ever since Severus had attained his majority, he had taken all of his clothing, magic and muggle alike, to Mr. Frost, Cokeworth’s venerable tailor. The man was free with his opinions about Severus’s sartorial sins, but he did good work and he was far more affordable than Madame Malkin’s or Twilfitt and Tatting's in Diagon Alley.

But the christening of the Lee child was to be held in this Muggle church, and so Muggle clothes it had to be. The brass knocker dangling from the wild man’s mouth was rough and heavy in Severus’s hand, and he was once again plagued by the indecision that had been troubling him all afternoon. A fit of good humor had addled his brains after his pleasant excursion to Romania, and he had accepted the Lees’ invitation to the event. He hated changing plans once they were made but, the closer the actual day came, the less his mind dwelt on Miranda and her smiles, and the more it dwelt on everything that could go terribly wrong. Being caught in a church with his Muggle-born lover and a slew of Muggle-loving purebloods would not do much for Severus’s precarious reputation among the Dark Lord’s minions. Not that it was terribly likely that any of those minions would cross his path today in this church or at the Embassy afterwards. He had gone to Spinner’s End to change after his classes, rather than risk leaving Hogwarts dressed as a Muggle, and had lost some time taking a circuitous route from Spinner’s End to St. Thomas’s in an attempt to ensure he was not followed. Beyond going home now and forgetting the whole thing there wasn’t much else he could do. With a sigh that was equal parts irritation and resignation, he jerked the ominous door open and took his decision.

“Bless my soul, Severus, you did come!” exclaimed Molly Weasley in a loud whisper.

She appeared from the shadows of the dimly lit church. It was late afternoon on a lethargic, cloudy day, and the flickering candles grouped around various pictures and statues provided more light than what managed to filter in through the windows. For a terrible moment he was sure that she was going to attempt to embrace him, but thankfully she stopped short and her outstretched arms dropped to her sides so that her hands might fidget with her bag. She looked a mess, her dress a clash of patterns and colors that had no business being seen in the same room, let alone on the same person. There was a reason that Severus stuck to black and gray.

“Molly,” he said shortly, barely inclining his head to her.

“It’s so good to see you somewhere outside of a meeting about You-Know-Who or a meeting about one of my children making trouble,” she went on bravely.

“Indeed.” Merlin, how long was this tête à tête going to last? “I was under the impression that Arthur would be here as well.”

“He should be along any minute once he finishes up at the Ministry. Did you have a nice day at school?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s a shame. I hope it wasn’t one of my children’s fault.”

“No more than it is any other day.”

“Aren’t Aaron and Rachel lovely people? They’ve come by for dinner a few times and it’s so sweet to see a nice young couple right at the beginning of starting their family. Makes you nostalgic, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Her eyes widened and she started laughing. “How silly of me, of course you wouldn’t know. Yet. Arthur tells me you have a friend that you’ve been hiding from everyone and that she’s quite a catch. Maybe you will know before too long.”

Severus was starting to feel dizzy from Molly’s chattering and, worse, the back of his neck was getting hot the way it did when he was particularly embarrassed. He had a strong desire to turn up the collar of his coat and he wished that he had left his hair down instead of tying it back. All of his usual masks were gone in these wretched Muggle clothes, so he made do tugging at his sleeve and glaring at his companion.

“I hope that Arthur was not remiss in explaining to you the dangers both to Miranda and to myself if you were to repeat that nonsense anywhere, even to our allies,” he said coldly.

The effect was instantaneous. She stopped laughing, the smile fell from her face, and the intelligent woman who sometimes hid behind the facade of the doting mother revealed herself.

“I understand completely,” she said seriously, putting a hand on his arm. “And while I’m sorry that things have to be this way for you, I am happy to know that you find other things to do with your time besides disciplining students and risking your neck. Your secret is safe with us.”

She gave his arm a brief squeeze that he supposed she meant to be consoling, and released him.

“I am aware that you and Arthur are capable of keeping a secret,” he allowed.

They lapsed into a silence that lasted long enough for her to return to fidgeting with her bag and him to wonder if he would fray the hem of his sleeve with tugging on it. He would have been perfectly happy to remain silent until the others arrived, but he was concerned that Molly would not allow such a thing to happen. In an effort to avoid speaking any more about his friend, he attempted to think of some topic of conversation, but neither magical tactics nor the behavior of potions students seemed quite the thing for the occasion.

“How did you meet her?” Molly asked abruptly, returning to the unfortunate topic.

Severus could feel his eyebrow start twitching. “By the caprices of fate.”

Thankfully he was preserved from having to continue that explanation by the noise of the door opening and the arrival of the rest of their party. Both he and Molly turned at the sound, perhaps equally grateful to be rescued, and Molly was halfway across the church to meet the group before Severus could blink. Amidst the tumult of embraces, introductions, and the crying infant, Severus took the opportunity to drift up the aisle, making a show of studying the stained glass pictures in the windows as he worried the hem of his sleeve. The sun outside made a feeble attempt to break through the clouds, and the rich colors of the glass responded with a pleasing glow. Judging by the obscured, but undressed figures and the riot of animal and plant life, it depicted the Garden of Eden. He busied himself picking out the various flora in an attempt to ignore all of the doubts that were creeping to the fore of his mind.

“You look nice,” Miranda said, her light step coming to a stop next to him.

She was near enough that he could feel the warmth of her body, but she did not attempt to touch him. He looked from the window to her and, from the blush that pinked her cheeks when he did, he rather suspected that his own face was betraying how pleased he was to see her.

“And you appear to have recovered from your illness,” he replied.

“Now, I already admitted you were right. I don’t think I should have to keep stroking your ego.”

“But it makes me so agreeable when you do.” Her flaring temper amused him, as usual, and he could not deny even to himself that at that moment he didn’t give a damn if all the Death Eaters in the Dark Lord’s army burst into the church and caught him.

“I don’t think you’d know agreeable if it bit you.”

“Fortunately I have you to explain these things to me. And perhaps I merely commented on your appearance in order to admire it.”

This won him a smile, and, as the others were busy settling the child and speaking to the priest, he allowed himself the indulgence of returning it with one of his own. The sun outside the window continued its mission to break through the clouds, drawing his eyes back to the image.

“There is a fascinating mix of plants in this window,” he observed.

“Is there?”

“Yes. There are chamomile and comfry tangled together with belladonna and cicuta. I had thought that this was supposed to be a picture of paradise, but perhaps it is some other strange, Popeish thing.”

“No, it is the Garden of Eden. But it’s before the Fall.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Before the Fall, all of the plants were helpful and benevolent. It was only after that some became deadly. Or, that’s what my brother Columba used to say.”

“I see.”

“I’ve always wondered what those sorts of plants were like before. What sort of good use they might have been put to.”

“Interesting question.”

Footsteps approached and a well-dressed but obviously sleep-deprived Aaron interrupted their conversation. His face was haggard enough that Severus decided not to glare at the new father when he gave Severus’s back a friendly slap.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal Miranda for a while, Severus. Thanks for being here,” Aaron said.

“Of course,” Severus replied.

He followed the Americans to a small alcove in the back of the church where a pair of clerics and the rest of the company were waiting. Severus fell back to stand behind Molly, the other extraneous person in this business, and his height enabled him to observe the rite from that spot. A pale but lovely Rachel cradled the infant who was all but swallowed up in a voluminous gown of satin and lace, and the efficient, owlish priest began intoning Latin texts with a rapidity that bespoke his understanding. At first Severus took the trouble to translate the words to himself but, before long, the rhythm and the quiet lulled him and his mind began to wander.

During his childhood, Severus had gone to service most Sundays, morning and evening. As Tobias had refused to darken the door of Cokeworth Priory, unless it was to receive some embarrassing form of charity that the Snape family did not actually require, this had been a welcome escape for both Severus and his mother from Tobias’s mercurial temper. Severus had found the morning service to be tedious, especially when it was interrupted by overlong and circular sermons, but he had found Evensong to be much more pleasant. There had been something about the way the afternoon light would break into the run-down church. It lit up the sad, neglected space, making it seem clean and otherworldly—almost magical. Sometimes, if they were lucky, Tobias would be gone when Severus and his mother returned home, and they would spend the rest of the evening together. Those were the times when his mother had given him the most attention, and he had held those moments close during the long hours and days when she had none to give. If he were asked, he would say that he had seen too much evil in the world to believe that God and Christianity were anything other fables and fairy stories, but he did remember the peace of those Sunday afternoons with something that bordered on fondness.

That same magical afternoon light broke through the clouds now, and came slanting in through the windows of St. Thomas’s, haloing the infant, her tired parents, and Miranda in its radiance. As Miranda held the child over the font, her face displayed an open, honest joy that made Severus’s breath catch to see.

“Magdalene Tokoyo, ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spritus Sancti,” the priest murmured, pouring three measures of water over Magdalene’s head.

The infant blinked, as though surprised, but did not cry. Silence really was the order of the moment, and Severus found that he could recapture that fleeting feeling of peace that he had experienced during Evensong, far from his tormenting father. He could forget for a moment about the Dark Lord, and Albus, and the war, and Potter, and all the rest of it. He could just be.

*****

“Eh, you’ll be in the same boat soon enough, Severus,” Aaron observed between puffs of smoke. “It’s only a matter of time before…”

“Before what?” Miranda interrupted as she came out onto the Lee’s charmed porch. It was a nice piece of spell-work, just worn enough to seem real. Aaron, Severus, and Arthur were seated in the group of well-used chairs that looked out over the white painted wood and onto a lawn that was a replica of Aaron’s childhood home. The false sun had set, and the sky was a hazy grey as the stars started showing their faces. There was even a breeze of sorts, and it was easy to pretend that they were not far underground. Aaron’s face was jovial and pink, Severus was giving the man a narrow glare, and Arthur was staring up at the slow-turning fan on the ceiling of the porch, apparently trying very hard not to laugh. Miranda raised her eyebrows in order to give Aaron the ‘you’d better quit while you’re ahead’ warning.

“Oh nothing. Nothing at all,” Aaron hedged, offering Miranda a cigarette.

“No, thanks. I’ve been sent to collect Severus. Rachel wants to thank you for the present you gave to Maggie.”

“That would be preferable to continuing this conversation,” Severus said.

He rose silently and followed Miranda into the living room, both of them pretending not to hear the laughter that erupted from Aaron and Arthur as soon as they were off the porch. Rachel and Magdalene were snuggled together in the rocking chair and Molly was cleaning up the wrapping paper and dirty plates. Severus’s offering was currently floating above the sleeping baby; a rotating mobile of animated figures on silver strings. The figures went about a soundless play of a young woman slaying a sea serpent at a stately pace.

“Severus, thank you,” Rachel said, her tired face serene. “It was so nice of you to come and to bring this for Maggie. Wherever did you get it?”

Miranda could see the tips of Severus’s ears pinking and he cleared his throat before answering.

“I made it. You can change the scene as well, thus,” he explained.

He flicked the top of it with his long fingers, and the players transfigured into a new set. Now there was a young woman, flying up to the sky in a chariot of flowers.

“A nicely done piece of magic,” Miranda said, moved that Severus had taken so much trouble. “I had no idea that you made children’s toys.”

“It is not my habit but, as I did make one for Draco Malfoy on the occasion of his christening, I thought it would be acceptable to do as much now.”

“Draco Malfoy’s christening?” Molly asked. “What was that like?”

“Obnoxiously loud and insufferably crowded. Not at all like today.”

“I assume you didn’t put scenes from Japanese fairy tales and the Tenchi on Draco’s mobile,” Miranda said.

“No. Constellations. I thought it best not to depict the Miss Lee’s actual namesake. Rachel, I have no idea why you would choose to name your child after a woman who was murdered by being hung upside down in a vat of refuse.”

Rachel laughed. “Catholics sometimes make little sense to people who aren’t Catholic. But there are many martyrs with more gruesome deaths.”

“Besides,” Molly added, “you invoke a martyr to prevent whatever happened to them from happening to you.”

“It still seems macabre to me,” Severus insisted.

“It’s important to give expression to all sides of the human condition. And Magdalene is a lovely name,” Miranda countered.

“I never said that it wasn’t,” Severus protested.

“I’m afraid it will be a while before I’m able to finish the translations of that potions book I mentioned,” Rachel said, stifling a yawn.

“I quite understand. I look forward to when you are able to complete it, but I am aware that you have other demands on your time,” Severus said. “I do not have much reference for judging, but you appear to have produced a fine child. She has all of her limbs and seems able to eat and cry.”

“Why thank you. She cries especially well at night.” Rachel was not able to stifle the next yawn.

“So I see. I shall take my leave of you then, before those festivities start. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“And thank you for being here. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal one of these days. Maybe three years or so from now.”

He gave Rachel a short bow and Miranda accompanied him out of the room, amused by his gruff kindness to Rachel. But Rachel was a woman who made it easy to be kind. When they reached the door, his eyes darted about the room briefly. It was empty, and his kiss was surprisingly tender, but his expression when he pulled back was dark, as though he were thinking of something unpleasant.

“You are staying here tonight, correct?” he asked.

“I am. Tomorrow night too. Maggie doesn’t like to sleep unless someone is rocking her or walking with her, so I’m going to take a shift to give Aaron and Rachel a chance to rest,” Miranda replied.

“And you are meeting with Lucius tomorrow?”

“Yes. But don’t worry, Arthur will be there right on time to escort me away.”

He frowned and started tugging at the sleeve of his suit coat. “You should know that Lucius is fully aware that Black is not in Romania. He doesn’t know what you are doing there, but he is certain that whatever it is, it is not his bidding.”

Ah, that must be why Severus was acting so seriously. Miranda was touched by his concern, but she’d been handling Lucius Malfoy for the better part of a year now. She could take care of herself.

“Well, the Aurors are doing a pretty good job of watching my family. It may simply be time for me to cut ties with Malfoy. We’ve had a good run.”

His frown deepened and he traced her cheek with his finger. “Do try to be careful tomorrow. Lucius is not to be trifled with.

“I know. You warned him about me months ago.”

“I did, but sometimes warnings seem to go in one of your pretty ears and straight out the other.”

“Why don’t you come by tomorrow evening for supper? You can sit up with me while I rock the baby and we can hold hands like a pair of love-sick teenagers.”

This wrung a smile out of him, and he replied haughtily, “I have never been a love-sick teenager. I was born at the age of forty-five. But I will come, if only to hear about the afternoon’s disaster.”

“And to give me my birthday present,” Miranda reminded him.

“Yes. And to do that as well.”

*****

“Good day, gentlemen, it’s been entertaining. Papa will send over the exit papers tomorrow,” Miranda said as she sailed out the door, shutting it in her former employers’ sputtering faces.

Her heart was pounding in triumph, although she knew Papa was going to give her an earful. He’d understand though, he’d been at this long enough to know when a job was sour. Albus might be angry as well, but he’d just have to deal with it. She was doing enough for the Order in Romania that he’d better be happy with that.

The meeting had been unexpectedly short and Arthur wasn’t there waiting for her. The lift was out of the question at the moment, for she was far too jittery to be that confined. The stairway was deserted when she reached it, and her boots echoed off the ceiling as the torches flared to life and helpful signs on the walls chirped at her to watch her step. She was nearly to Arthur’s floor when she heard another set of footsteps on the stairs above her. Their rapidity and haughty sound told her they were Lucius’s. She quickened her step, but did not run, and she was not surprised to find the door leading out of the stairway locked. With a bored expression fixed on her face, she turned to watch Malfoy descend the final flight of stairs.

“A moment, Miss Rose,” he sneered.

“Mr. Malfoy, I think we’ve said everything we need to say to each other. I’m no longer in your employ, you may wash your hands of me and my behavior.”

He halted an arms length from her and his height forced her to look up at him.

“I don’t think you understand,” he continued. “You are meddling in forces that are far larger than Cornelius Fudge and the Ministry.”

“I think I understand plenty.”

“All the more reason that you should watch your step. You are still my pet to do with as I like.”

Only the knowledge that whipping out her wand and hexing Lucius within an inch of his life would bring down a host of Aurors and mountains of paperwork kept Miranda from doing so.

“Mr. Malfoy, I think we both know that I can kick your ass any time, anywhere. When you’re ready for a rematch, you just let me know and I’ll be happy to oblige you. And this time let’s say that the Unforgivables are on the table from the start. I think a nice round of Crucio followed by a quick Avada is just what you need.”

He grabbed her chin the way he had the night of his Christmas party, and Miranda decided she’d had enough. The way that his face blanched in surprise and confusion when the barrel of her pistol hit his chest was worth all the trouble of the day. He stared at it stupidly, and then let go of her chin to retreat a few steps.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now if you have anything further to say to me, why don’t you do it from right there.”

“If you think that Severus won’t hand you over when the time comes, you are sadly mistaken. And he will be the first in line to torture you when it comes to that,” he said, his voice shaking with rage.

She laughed harshly. “Do you think you’re telling me anything I don’t already know? Of course he’ll hand me over. I’m nothing but his plaything. All American women exist for the sole purpose of fulfilling the sexual fantasies of repressed Englishmen.” She cocked the gun and aimed it at his nether regions. “Go back upstairs, Mr. Malfoy. Before I get really angry.”

“You wouldn’t dare! We’re in the middle of the Ministry of Magic!”

“You sure you wanna try me? I do this for a living. I can get rid of you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, and no one will know where to start looking for the pieces.”

Lucius glared at her, but continued his retreat. When he reached the landing, he turned and started stomping back the way he had come. The door behind Miranda unlocked itself, but she kept her gun in her hand until she was safely through it. Just as she was closing the door, she heard Lucius’s parting shot from above her.

“I am going to thoroughly enjoy your demise, Miss Rose. I promise you that.”

*****

“Sit down, Miranda, your pacing is making me dizzy,” Severus complained that evening. He was sitting on the sofa in the Lee’s homey living room, reading Coleridge aloud while Miranda paced with the sleeping Lee infant in her arms. The constant movement was distracting Severus from sorting the many thoughts twisting through his mind into appropriate categories in a vain attempt to pretend that he was in control of the situation. He knew he must bring up a terrifying subject this evening, before Miranda returned to Romania, and he found that he would prefer a meeting with the Dark Lord to the current situation.

“I’ll try, but I’ll probably be up again in five minutes,” Miranda agreed. She lowered herself into the rocking chair smoothly and Magdalene remained asleep. After the two of them were settled, she added, “You should have seen the looks on Malfoy’s and Fudge’s faces when I quit. I’ve never seen that particular shade of purple.”

Severus snorted. Although he would rather not deal with this new complication, part of him did wish that he had witnessed the scene in the stairwell. It was not often that Lucius met someone willing and able to stand up to him.

“I suppose it was impossible for you to continue playing that game any longer. I wish that I knew why Lucius is so sure about Black’s whereabouts. The idiot must have left cover when he well knows he is to remain indoors at all times.”

“What’s Black like? I’ve been pretending to hunt him for so long that I feel like I ought to know him.”

“He is a disgrace of a wizard and I do not wish to discuss him.”

“Sorry. We can talk about something else. I hear you have a birthday present for me.”

Yes, the present. That was by far the more comfortable topic. He was more than willing to postpone the other, even if this show of sentimentality on his part embarrassed him almost as much. He cleared his throat and pulled a small black box out of his pocket.

Eyeing Miranda’s full hands, he said, “Perhaps I should do the honors.”

“Please do.”

As uncomfortable as he was, he could not deny the warm rush of pleasure that went through him when he opened the box and saw her reaction to the tear-drop filigree necklace that waited inside of it. A lovely line of pink spread over her cheeks, her lips parted in surprise, and her eyes became the soft, calm gray of the sky after a storm.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled up at him and added playfully, “Although Mama would say I have no business accepting jewelry from men.”

“I assure you that this is purely a practical present.” He hung the necklace lightly around her neck so as not to disturb the infant. It was a handsome piece of frippery if he did say so himself. He’d passed it in the village near Miranda’s cabin several times before finally going back to purchase it. With a few well-placed charms it had become the perfect vessel for the real gift he had made for her.

“Oh? I see, there must be a potion inside of it. Is it a new one?”

“Correct on both counts. A Stasis Potion.”

“What does it do?”

“The next time you decide to get yourself maimed, you will drink it and it should keep you alive long enough for you to find further help.

“Should keep me alive? I don’t remember volunteering to be your test subject.”

“One of the hazards of keeping company with a Potions Master. I have tested it and it shows great potential.”

“Potential?”

“Being as you should only take it in a dire emergency, you will have nothing to lose should it fail to work. Of course, if you don’t care for it, you needn’t keep it. I am certain I can put it to another use.”

“No,” she said quickly, putting a protective hand over the pendant. “I love it. All of it. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

He leaned down to kiss her but, before he could make contact, the infant started fussing again, requiring Miranda to resume her pacing. Reluctantly, he reclaimed his spot on the sofa and opened the book. His agitation returned full force as he fidgeted with the pages without starting to read. Aaron’s off-handed remark from the day before had been plaguing him, as it had brought on the realization that he had been careless in the extreme. Carelessness was a trait that Severus despised and one that he could ill afford. Much as he dreaded the next topic of conversation, he knew that it was as unavoidable as it was tardy.

“You should keep reading,” Miranda said. “I think your voice was helping Maggie stay asleep.”

Best to get on with it before the infant started squalling again.

“There is something that I need to speak to you about first,” he began. It was good that he had left his hair down tonight. He could already feel his ears growing hot.

“If it’s about Malfoy, I know that you’ll hand me over to the Dark Lord if you have to. I understand.”

“That’s not at all what I was going to say. And I would not give you to the Dark Lord.”

“Yes you would. If your cover depended on it, you would do what you had to do.”

“I should think that I am clever enough to avoid doing that if at all possible.”

“I know that too. I just wanted you to know that I understand that it’s a risk.”

“Now that I have your permission to sacrifice you, would it be quite acceptable for us to discuss a more pressing difficulty?”

“More pressing? What might that be?”

“It has come to my attention that we have not been terribly cautious in our relationship.” Not his best opening.

“I’ve never been cautious in all my life. So?”

“I don’t think you take my meaning. I was referring particularly to the carnal aspect of our relationship.” She blinked and bit her lips, and he knew she wanted to laugh at him. “I mean to say…I am concerned that long term consequences may develop…or may already be developing….”

Mercifully, she interrupted him, although she couldn’t quite keep the laughter out of her voice. “Severus, are you asking me if I’m pregnant?”

He was almost pathetically grateful she’d said it for him. “Yes, I am.”

“It’s a little late to worry about that, don’t you think?”

Did that mean she was? “Be that as it may, there are plans that need to be made. I cannot think of a worse time for such an event, but that is all the more reason we should deal with it purposefully.”

“I see you have a plan.”

In an attempt to manage his discomfort, he stood and paced over to the fireplace, tapping his fingers irritably on the mantelpiece. The figures in the framed pictures perched on it were whispering and grinning at him, but his stern glare sent them back to minding their own affairs. His eyes drifted down to the merry jumping of the flames and he forced himself to continue.

“I always have a plan. There is no escaping from either your current obligation in Romania, nor can I leave my position at Hogwarts. I will explain the situation to Albus and I am certain that he can be persuaded to spare us a member of the Order to help you and to ensure your and the child’s safety. Once you are free of your blasted mission, you will return to your family in America and stay there until the problem of the Dark Lord is resolved. We should also get married sometime before the child is born, but I expect that you will have some opinions about how that is to be accomplished.”

“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

“I was remiss in not thinking of it before. I hope never to be so incautious again. It is highly unusual for me to be so careless.”

“Severus, stop. I’m not pregnant. And, before you ask, yes, I’m sure.”

“Ah.” God, he was a idiot. “Well. Good.”

“Did this have to do with whatever Aaron was teasing you about yesterday? For a diplomat, he can be pretty tactless when he’s sleep-deprived and inebriated.”

“His comments merely reminded me that I had not been cautious with regards to that aspect of our relationship. I could not recall ever seeing the necessary potions in your cabin, nor the ingredients for them. And, in any case, I would rather prepare such potions myself.”

“You didn’t see any of those potions because I don’t need them. I can’t have children.”

Her voice was light, but there was a strange undercurrent of tension in it. When he turned his gaze from the fire to glance at her, the mask of her smile reminded him of the one she’d shown him during that wretched exchange of insults at her cabin when they had first met.

“There’s no need for you to worry, you’re quite safe,” she went on. “We can be as careless as we like and there won’t be any mud-blood brats running around afterwards.”

“Don’t use that word,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“Call a spade a spade. Why else are you so relieved that I’m not knocked up?”

“I should think that it were apparent that now would be a terrible time to have a child. You are trapped by bond in a dangerous mission in Romania and I am bound to the precarious life of a spy.”

“It’s not because you don’t want to further pollute the Prince bloodlines?”

“When did I ever say that?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her mask falling away. When she opened them, they were soft again, but with sadness, not with pleasure.

“You didn’t,” she conceded. “That was unfair of me.”

The sorrow in her eyes hurt him, and he came away from the fire that he might run his fingers over her dry cheek. She leaned into his touch, and the sweet smell of the balsam oil the priest had put on Magdalene’s head the day before filled his nose. Miranda held the infant tucked under her chin with a natural grace, the way she did everything. The pair of them made such a comfortable image that he felt irrationally disappointed he could not hope ever to see Miranda pacing by his fire, cradling a dark-haired child of their own.

“It is true that I have never desired to become a father,” he said, his eyes on Magdalene’s downy black curls, “but, if it had to happen, I would not be sorry that it was with you.”

The child began to stir and Miranda broke away to resume her pacing. He could not bring himself to look at her face after such an admission, and he was relieved that her voice was returning to its usual sanguine tone when she spoke.

“I…I could use a cup of tea, I think. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” Relieved to have something mundane to do, he started for the kitchen. But he could not quit the room without his curiosity prompting him to say, “Miranda, I must ask why you are so certain that you cannot have children.”

“Just trust me on this. I don’t think you want to hear all the gory details.”

“No. I suppose I don’t.”

His thoughts were a tangled mess as he went into the kitchen and began the calming ritual of making tea. Methodically filling the kettle, setting it to boil by charm and measuring the tea leaves into Rachel’s white and blue teapot brought him back to earth. All the while, his instinct was pricking him, telling him that there was more to Miranda’s explanation, and he had the urge to continue digging until he uncovered what it was. He did his best to crush the urge and let whatever it was lie. Their relationship was quickly becoming confusing and more complicated than was at all prudent.

It was for the best that she would be returning to Romania tomorrow. Distance would help to put things back into their usual places. Their casual relationship was perfectly pleasing as it was. Best not to think of anything else.

Somewhere in his heart he knew this was a lie. He embraced it like a lover and poured out the kettle over the leaves.

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

End Notes:

Belladonna is deadly nightshade and Cicuta is water hemlock.

Magdalene Tokoyo Lee is named for St. Magdalene of Nagasaki, who was brutally martyred in 1620 and Tokoyo, a young lady who killed a sea serpent.

Newly baptized babies are the best smelling creatures in the world.

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

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Nineteen+

Chapter Twenty-one+ >>

[logansanderslove]

Logan 3.0  (2/?)

CO-AUTHOR: @demented-dukey

Summary: Remus is an incorrigible flirt, and Logan can only bear the innuendo for so long until something has to give. Passions erupt, but there are more lasting repercussions than either could have predicted, including a significant transformation to Logan himself! How will these new changes affect the delicate balance of Thomas’s mental state? When a new dark side threatens the lives of several of the other sides, will Logan and Remus’s love be strong enough to save everyone, including Thomas?

Ships: INTRULOGICAL

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Thomas, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Fic type: Drama, Romantic, Action, Flirty

Trigger Warnings: No character deaths, but a lot of very close calls. Consensual knife play and bloodplay, and lots of bloody fighting and monster attacks. If you’re sensitive to unsympathetic characters, some parts flirt pretty close to that, but there’s also a lot of extenuating circumstances to explain the situation, and there’s a happy ending once you get through the angst and misunderstandings. Self-harm and references to such, and suicidal tendencies.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 2: Gotcha

Logan walked into the Common Area to see Remus sitting on the floor, fussing over something. “Remus?”

The Duke was distractedly making butts out of green play-doh, then he looked up, a smile spreading on his face. “Oh! Hey, pocket protector.” He offered him a buttock. “Check out this ass!”

Logan sighed. “Remus, how old are you?” He asked in a slightly nagging tone.

Remus gave him a wide grin. “Sixty-nine. Give or take a few decades?”

Logan then smirked. “Really? I would have said forty-two because you're the meaning to my life.” He winked.

Remus splayed a hand to his chest. “I’m flattered!” He jumped up and sidled closer to Logan. “Don't panic... but I've got a towel with your name on it.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Logan raised an eyebrow with an amused grin. “Goodness, Remus, someone is rather excited today.”

Remus put his hands on his hips. “Can't help it, Lo-beau. One look at your gorgeous face and you've got me all aquiver.” He said as he shimmied.

Logan offered a casual smile. “Remus, I cannot help it if I make you 'aquiver' as you say. However, I can do something to remedy that.”

Remus’ eyes sparked. “Oh yeah?” He asked excitedly. “What are you plotting in that deviously magnificent big brain of yours?”

Logan stepped closer, running his fingers through Remus’ hair. “Oh, I just thought you might desire a bit of affection, that's all.” He leaned forward to press his lips on Remus', one hand on his waist and the other holding the back of his head.

Remus shivered, going pliant and boneless in Logan's arms. “You thought right.” He kissed Logan back, sucking and nipping on his bottom lip, tongue seeking entry to Logan's mouth.

Logan gladly accepted, his fingers grabbing at Remus' messy hair, loving the feeling of his tongue sliding with Remus' and the hand on his back that held him close. “You're fantastic…” He pulled away for a moment, meeting his love's eyes. “Have you told anyone yet? About us?”

Remus moaned at the taste of Logan's tongue against his. All the years of talking had given the man tongue muscles to die for, and Remus got flushed just imagining all the things that tongue might do to him. He blinked as Logan pulled away, and it took him a moment to pull enough blood back to the correct brain in order to process the question.

“Hmm? Oh, no, not yet. Been busy in the Imagination.” It wasn’t really a fib, the Others rarely sought out his company, so he mostly spent his time distracting himself from the boredom. He bit his lip nervously. “Have you?”

Logan shook his head. “Of course, I haven't. I wouldn't have told anyone due to your reaction about us initially being together. But as I said before, I don't care what the others think. If they look down on me for this, so be it, that is their error because nothing could be better for me than you, Remus.”

Remus bit back his first thought (a lot of things could be better for Lo) and his second thought (of course Logan hadn't told anyone, he was ashamed/embarrassed/humiliated by Remus's feelings, he'd changed his mind and hadn't figured out how to let Remus down easy yet) and his third thought (What if a meteor fell and hit the earth right now and the ceiling fell and Thomas became a quadriplegic - would the Sides lose limbs too???) and settled on his fourth thought. “How... how did you want to tell them?”

Very little actually scared Remus, but the thought of the others knowing was on the short list of things that downright terrified him. But Logan was a Good Guy, he'd want his friends to know his boyfriend. Logan wasn't the kind of guy to date someone in secret, and Remus wasn't exactly subtle on the best of days. It was only a matter of time before Remus made a dirty joke or accidentally said something in front of the Others, so it was better to break the news to them first.

Logan scrunched up his face. “Well, in all honesty, I hadn't thought that far. I believed that just for now we could attempt to hide it, but I can tell when you are nervous about something, and upon my very mentioning it, you seemed to react. So I am not sure, but if you think we should tell them, then perhaps we can find a way.”

Remus cursed himself. Spending so much time alone in the Imagination, he'd gotten out of practice hiding his feelings (not that the embodiment of Intrusive Thoughts was ever good at hiding anything when his job was the opposite). “No! No, it's fine. There's no rush, right? We can hide it for now.” 

Logan still looked suspicious. ‘Fuck! Need a distraction’. “Besides, I'd rather have you all to myself for a little longer.” Remus' fingers threaded through Logan's hair, tugging his head back, and Remus licked a long strip up that delicious, pale throat, before kissing his way back down to suck a hickey onto Logan's Adam's apple.

Logan's breath drew short in surprise, then a smile twitched the corners of his mouth up as he moaned. He wrapped his arms around Remus and pulled him back, stumbling backward to fall onto the couch. “R-Remus…” He bit his lip as the other sucked harder. “You'll al-always have me to yourself.” He turned his head, leaning back against the couch with a sigh, twirling Remus' hair between his fingers.

Remus had quickly decided that straddling Logan's lap on the couch was the BEST IDEA EVER and his boyfriend was BRILLIANT for thinking of it. He didn't bother arguing with Logan's words - Remus might be underused himself, but he had a general idea of how much the Light Sides worked and how often Thomas called them forward for the videos. Remus knew there was a lot of Logan's time consumed by the host and the Others, but he was inclined to be selfish for the moment. Fingers in his hair short-circuited his train of thought, and Remus moaned, tilting his head towards the touch.

Logan chuckled, rubbing Remus' head gently. “You're enjoying this, aren't you, Remus? Being with someone, I mean. I understand how you've been...well…” He didn't want to use the word 'alone' for fear of hurting his boyfriend, so he just avoiding speaking it altogether. “...Since you and Roman were together. But you don't have to worry, Remus.” He moved his head to kiss the forehead of his lover. “I'll make sure that you are never alone again.” His hands scooched Remus closer to him, rubbing his back gently.

Logan's words were gentle, but Remus hated being bared emotionally when he'd much rather be bared physically. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him he was wasting time - Logan was bound to come to his senses eventually, for they were in the common room, christ, one of the others could walk in on them at any second. Remus let himself be scooched closer, capturing Logan's mouth with his own. He explored the warm cavern with his tongue, taking the time to lick each of Logan's teeth.

“I love your cuspids…” Remus moaned, poking the sharp canine teeth with the tip of his tongue. Meanwhile, his fingers drifted down to Logan's tie, tugging the knot loose.

Logan was happier than he had been in a very long time. Perhaps ever. He had never known the warm embrace of another, the soft lips against his that were heaven, the taste of his love filling his heart with joy. Logan closed his eyes as he leaned into the kiss, Remus removing Logan's glasses for him when they drifted down his nose. He just held Remus closer, never wanting to let go. His fingers tangled in Remus' hair, curling the few silver strands in the very front around his index finger. He contently smiled as he felt the tie around his neck slide off, the top button of his shirt undone. He ran a hand across Remus' chest, caressing the exposed skin. 

“God, I love you…” He murmured, biting Remus' lip gently.

Gods above, Remus had never seen Logan look this disheveled outside of his fantasies before. Hair in disarray from Remus's fingers, glasses and tie set aside, Remus kissed the patch of skin revealed as the second button came loose. “More than your precious Crofters?” Remus teased, “Or is there a bear in Canada I'm gonna hafta hunt down in a jealous rage?”

Logan laughed, a sound he hadn't genuinely made in years. “No, you're FAR above that. There's no need for you to be worried about anything like that, Re.” He kissed Remus' forehead, his hand sliding down under the back neck of his shirt, past the tall collar to rub Remus' back, his fingers circling each vertebra as his boyfriend continued to kiss his chest. “Nothing in the universe could take me away from you, Remus. Nothing. This...this is perfect. You're perfect…”

A wider smile grew on his face as he nuzzled his head into Remus' hair, loving the unique smell. It wasn't bad like anyone else would have assumed. It was...Remus. The part of him that Logan adored. Not the Remus everyone else saw. This was his Remus.

As they embraced, a small sound made Logan look up to see one of the doors to the common area open and someone walk through. He couldn't see who without his glasses, but all he knew was that they froze immediately.

Remus preened under the praise, arching into Logan's touch like a cat. He was unused to so many compliments and they were going to his head, making him feel drunk and reckless. His entire world had narrowed down to the man in front of him, the strong arms holding him close. The previously-imagined meteor could crash down, the ceiling could fall, and he wouldn't notice. Remus concentrated on sucking a hickey onto Logan's chest, nose pressed against the open V of the black polo shirt. Logan smelled like ink and dusty old books, like forbidden knowledge and berry jam, and Remus breathed it in deep, worrying the small patch of skin to a darker red than Logan's favorite flavor of Crofters.

He smirked as he murmured, “Pity, I could use a new bearskin rug, I'd quite like to fuck you on one. In front of a roaring fire... make you roar…”

Logan heard the words his boyfriend had spoken, a smile wanting to break across his face, but he was unable to do anything as he just stared at the person staring at the two of them “R-Remus?...” said Logan warily.

Remus hummed in response, oblivious that they were being watched. He nuzzled Logan's chest, teeth closing around the third and final button. He considered biting down hard, ripping the button off Logan's shirt and crunching it like candy between his teeth, and idly wondered how mad Logan would be if he did just that.

Logan pulled Remus' head up and looked him dead in the eye, then over his shoulder, giving a silent nod with his slightly panicked eyes. He didn't say a word, still unable to see who it was; his glasses were out of reach, and with Remus on top of him he couldn't stretch to grab them. So he just nervously swallowed, his heart skipping about four beats. “Remus…” 

All the warmth building inside Remus died in an instant, cold fear flooding through him as Logan's panicked gaze drifted to something(someone) else in the room. Now that Remus had been brought back to reality, he recognized the itching tickle in the back of his head that always grew in intensity whenever his twin was near. He'd been so distracted it must have blended in with all the other sensations, or else he'd have noticed the moment Roman had stepped into the room. Without turning, Remus muttered loud enough to address Roman, 

“Are you here for a reason, brother, or did you just rush right over 'cause you sensed I might be experiencing some actual joy?”

Roman stared at the two with wide eyes. “Wha...Remus....WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO LOGAN?! AND WHY?! What are you even doing here?!”

"Don't be stupid, brother." Remus tossed a devious grin over his shoulder. "I assure you, it is exactly what it looks like."

Roman spluttered, "What it-what it looks like?" He stormed forward, grabbing the back of Remus's tunic and yanking hard - Remus sprawled on the floor on his back, the wind knocked out of him. In the blink of an eye, Roman's heavy boot was on the middle of his chest, pinning him to the floor, and Roman's sword was manifested and pointed at Remus's throat. "It looks like you were molesting the Microsoft Nerd. Is it not enough to violate our space with your revolting presence, you dare to force yourself upon Logan's person, you villainous degenerate?"

Roman then felt a hand on his shoulder, and he spun around just in time for Logan's fist to fly right into his face. Both Royal brothers gasped, Roman stumbling back as Logan pushed his glasses up with an infuriated glare. “Don't make snap judgments about what was going on, Roman. And don't you dare say anything against Remus.” 

His harsh icy cold glare never wavered, such a contrast from the warm and smiling eyes he had only moments ago, before the Prince had barged in. “If you have a problem with this, ROMAN, then speak now.”

Remus had never been more turned on in his life. His brave, sexy boyfriend was defending his honor - it was better than unicorn porn. Speaking of unicorn porn, he'd seen Logan's onesie before, and idly wondered just how freaky Logan would be willing to get with it…

Roman looked between the two, from Remus's soppy smile to Logan's icy glare. His face hurt - Logan had never punched him before... something was wrong and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. "What did you do?" Roman hissed at his brother.

"Won the lottery," Remus said, dreamily.

Giving that up for a lost cause, Roman confronted the more immediate threat in the room. He de-manifested the sword, and held his hands up, palms out, showing he was weaponless. "Logan..." Roman said, as if approaching a wild animal, "I'm not sure what's going on, but Remus... his powers... You might be under his control and not be aware of it..."

Logan rolled his eyes, scoffing. "You only perceive things in black and white, don't you, Roman? Well, in this instance, all you're seeing is black. Either your brother has done something bad, or he's done something worse." He crossed his arms. "Did it ever occur to you that I could have been the one to initiate it? That I could actually be with someone for the first time in my entire life?"

He shook his head and dropped his arms to his sides, closing his eyes. "Of course it didn't. Because Heaven forbid I ever receive the chance to be happy."

Logan? Initiate it? Roman wrinkled his nose, trying and failing to imagine it. "Logan, you don't know what you're saying. I've seen Remus do things like this before - he can control actions, manipulate the mind..."

From the floor, Remus groaned, letting his head thunk against the floor. It had been a joke, a childhood prank, and at the time Deceit and Virgil had been willing to play along, pretending to be his "victims" and follow his commands so that he could pull one over on his brother. His stupid brother, who apparently never realized it had been a game, or wondered why Remus's powers never extended to any of the light sides.

Logan groaned, shaking his head. He stepped closer to Roman, his eyes dead serious. "I'm going to put this as simply as I can for your judgemental, clearly denying brain. I LOVE REMUS. I am the one who asked him if he would be with me. I AM THE ONE WHO PULLED US ONTO THE COUCH. We didn’t want anyone to know because of the EXACT reaction you are having!"

Logan's hands shook. "And don't you think that if Remus actually COULD manipulate someone's mind, he'd have done it to one of us already? You're so quick to judge others that you're just willing to forego all logic and reality and instead CONJURE YOUR SWORD TO SWING AT THE NEXT PERSON WHO MIGHT BE SAYING SOMETHING YOU DON'T LIKE!"

His face was wrought with fury, and the other two in the room had truly never seen him even close to that mad. It was honestly almost terrifying.

Roman was astonished, mouth agape. He thought he'd seen Logan furious before (the nerd was kinda fun to tease), but this was something else. It was dangerous to poke Logan when he was riled up, but Roman lived for danger, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, "Says the nerd who hit me in the eye with a vocab card! And- And Remus conjures his morningstar way more often than I do my sword!!!" Okay, that last bit had come out in a bit of a whine, but Roman had come out into the commons to have a good time, maybe watch a Disney movie, and honestly he was feeling so attacked right now.

Logan raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms and forcing down his anger. "You're throwing a temper tantrum? Really?"

He glanced at Remus on the floor, then shoved past Roman to grab his hand, hoisting him to his feet, the logical side much stronger than the others knew. He hugged him, leaning his forehead against Remus'. 

"I'm sorry, Remus, but do you mind if I teach your brother some 'manners'?"

Roman shuddered at the word and the way Logan had spoken it, with no remorse and a hint of malice.

Remus bit back a moan, shivering against Logan. Violence as foreplay? His boyfriend was PERFECT. "Please do!"

Roman's fingers itched to yank Remus away again, to re-manifest his sword, but that hadn't worked so well the first time and Roman did learn from his mistakes. Then again, Logan's voice was awfully threatening, maybe re-manifesting his sword wasn't that bad of an idea…

Logan spun around with stern eyes and stared down the Creative side. Stalking up to him, he grabbed the front of Roman's tunic and dragged him close, inches away from his face. 

"Listen carefully, Princey, or you'll meet my fist again. You will not say anything bad about this. Understand? I do not care if you think that Remus is somehow 'controlling my mind', your stupidity can reign free all it wants. But we," he gestured to himself and Remus. "Are very real. And you will not mock us." He snarled, meeting Roman's eyes harshly.

Roman never did react well to being called stupid, which was why it was one of Remus's favorite insults for him. With a growl, Roman shoved Logan back, "You don't know what you're saying, Logan." The sword was back in his hand before he even consciously called for it. "You'll thank me for this later."

Roman braced himself in a fighting stance, sword up in defense. "Logan, if you can hear me underneath whatever spells my brother has cast on you, I'll set you free. You have my promise."

Remus glanced between Roman and Logan. His own morningstar could be in his hand in seconds, and he was ready to manifest whatever deliciously sharp weapon Logan might desire to teach his brother a lesson. Class was in session, baby! Of course, Logan could totally just use his bare fists. That was hot too - Remus wasn't complaining.

Logan shook his head slowly, bewildered at how absolutely thick Roman was.

"Wha...Roman, how many times do I have to SAY IT?! And how stupid can you be?! Remus can't actually manipulate people and take control of them. I know how every single one of the sides works, and that is one ability that is not in his roster. So why don't you take your ignorant head out of the sand and TRY USING YOUR BRAIN FOR ONCE!!" He snapped.

He just couldn't hold that anger back any longer. He had been trying to truly not lose his temper, but somehow whenever it happened, it was always Roman who had provoked him.

He gritted his teeth, his breath hard and angered. "You imbecile."

"That's what he WANTS you to think!" Roman spat back, "I've seen him do it! But of course, you can't be wrong, you're LOGIC, how dare I know something that you don't!"

"You're such a child, Roman! You throw these temper tantrums all the time, and nothing comes of them. And, if I remember correctly..."

He closed his eyes, his eyelids flitting, the other two staring at him with curiosity and concern. Then his eyes snapped back open with a smirk. 

"Just as I thought. Deceit, Virgil, and Remus all played a joke on you. Remus pretended to take control of them, and they acted along to mess with you."

He then snickered. "I cannot believe that you actually still thought it was real!! How idiotic and gullible can you GET?!" He laughed.

The sword had lowered while Logan was checking his memory banks, or whatever, but now Roman was getting royally pissed, and hot shame at being deceived was washing over him. How the hell was he supposed to know it had been a trick? "Stop calling me an idiot!" Roman screamed, fist flying to punch Logan's smart mouth.

Logan stumbled back, holding his jaw, then his eyes narrowed as he licked back the blood from his lip. To say he was amused by Roman's anger would be an understatement. Roman had always been the one to rile Logan up, why shouldn't he have a taste of his own medicine?

Logan chuckled, wiping the blood that was dripping from his mouth away with the back of his hand. "Am I making you mad, Roman? Can you not handle yourself? Or are you like me, where you LASH OUT viciously?" His eyes grew a taunting nature.

"You're getting angry. I can see it. Is it from being tricked as a child and believing the lie all the way to adulthood, or is it from me calling you a blundering, idiotic buffoon?" He drew out each word, a dark smile crossing his face.

Roman’s fist curled, his fingernails digging into his palm. Logan wanted to see him lash out? He'd SHOW him lashing out. With an incoherent scream of rage, Roman brought the sword up and drove it through Logan's right shoulder, drawing a pained shout from the scholar. Instants later, Roman reeled from the impact of a morningstar hitting the back of his head. Staggering a few steps back, Roman still clutched his sword, now with crimson blood dripping down the blade.

Logan cried out, bringing a hand to the bloodstain that was slowly growing across his shoulder. He stared at the blood that dripped from his fingers, snapped his head up to Roman with wide eyes, then he shook his head as he clamped his hand down on the wound. 

"I didn't think that you would lash out that much, Roman." His dark grin returned, worrying his boyfriend as a new side of him started to appear. "It felt good, didn't it? Cathartic? Justified?"

He stepped forward, pushing down Remus' hand that held another star. He smirked as he stopped a foot away from Roman, then he flicked his eyebrows up.

"If it felt so good, take another shot. I dare you."

Remus stroked the ninja star between his fingers, ready to fight but willing to let Logan run the show for now. He was angry at his brother for damaging Logan, but he couldn't deny that the sight of a fierce and bloody Logan was getting him all hot and bothered. He wasn't too worried about the wounds themselves - he knew from experience that any damage was only temporary. He wanted to lick the blood away, ingest Logan into his body, wrap his lips around Lo's shoulder wound and suck on it. The darkness emerging in Logan's voice and body was as thrilling as it was terrifying - Remus had had his suspicions at what it would look like if Logan ever released his tightly controlled calm, and the reality of the storm brewing was a force of nature that threatened to blow Remus away.

Roman back-handed Logan and the resounding crack echoed like thunder. Remus shivered, his whole body electrified with the violence, breathlessly anticipating Logan's revenge.

Logan stumbled, falling to the floor from the force. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, then slowly rose to his feet with a chuckle, running the back of his hand under his nose to wipe away a line of dark blood.

"Oh, you're good and angry now. How's it feel, Roman? To finally be able to hit me after all these years I've gone off on you?"

His eyes seemed to grow a more sinister, darker shade of blue as he tilted his head with a devious smirk.

"Come on, Roman. Let's see how far you're really willing to go."

Roman screamed again, dropping his sword and attacking Logan. Within seconds he had tackled Logan to the ground and was on top of him, bare hands squeezing Logan's throat. "SHUT UP! JUST! SHUT! UP!"

Logan's eyes shot open, choking as Roman's hands constricted his breathing.

His vision began to blur, growing dark around the edges.

He had gone too far. He knew he had. He had prodded the sleeping dragon and now he was suffering its wrath.

His eyes began to flutter as his head pounded. Was Roman going to kill him? Had he angered him that much?

Perhaps he had.

As Roman's screams grew muffled to his ears, Logan's eyes rolled back in his head as the whole room went dark.

~

Remus stopped grinning as Logan blacked out. Okay, yeah, time to end this. Remus grabbed his morningstar and WHACKED Roman over the head with it, knocking his brother unconscious. He didn't bother cleaning up the room - Logan's tie was still discarded on the couch, and there were blood spatters soaking into the carpet. Heaven knew what it would look like if any other side walked in, Remus didn't care. He picked up Logan's limp body, cradling it to his chest, and sunk out.

In the safety of Remus's room, he laid Logan out on his black silk sheets, careless of the blood soaking into the green embroidery (he could always wash it later, or cut it out and save the stained fabric as a souvenir). He removed Logan's shirt, cleaning and bandaging the wound (and restrained himself to licking only a little bit of the blood). He mopped Logan's brow with a damp washcloth, murmuring to himself, "You did so good. I am so proud of you. Such a fearsome, vicious fighter. No wonder I fell for you so fast."

[perlocutionary]

Morning Glory, pt. 12 - The Maze Runner - Thomas au

Description: Based off the original story of The Maze Runner, where Y/N has been around a long time and she and Thomas might be the key out of here. I have my own take on this, I have used particular things from the movie/books but a lot I did change for this story!

Relationship: Thomas x Reader - THE MAZE RUNNER

Title: Even if it’s the last thing I do.** Word count:  2160

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11.

My wet hair sticks to my skin as I trail over to the dining hall, the chatter of men becoming louder and louder with every step I took. Mindlessly, I strut over my Frypan and get my daily stack-up of food, a cookie slid my way with a wink as I nod gracefully as my thank you.

As soon as I see Thomas, I let my platter fall onto the table and wrap my arms around his shoulders, hiding my face in his neck. The chuckle that slips him vibrates against my cheek as his large, veiny hand comes up to trail over my lower arm. “What’s wrong?”

I hum against his skin, pressing my lips to the freshly washed scrub on his jaw. “Nothing. I just need a hug.” My eyes drift closed again as I take another deep breath, my grip around him not once wavering. “Well, then, come sit.” He pats the spot next to him and I reluctantly let go, slipping onto the bench and picking up my fork.

As I gaze up, I finally notice Newt and Minho sitting in front of us, grinning deviously as Newt shakes his head at me, his eyes silently screaming I told you so. A shriek passes my lips when Thomas’ arm winds around my waist and he hauls me against his chest, my legs dangling over his thigh and fitted between his. I grin thankfully in his direction as I shove the first bite of potatoes past my lips, sighing from both food and Thomas’ warm fingers trailing along the small of my back.

“Apparently I had forgotten how horrible you would feel after a day in the Maze. I’m ready to call it a day.” I sigh, pushing my vegetables around on my plate, slowly blinking my eyes, trying my absolute best to keep them open. Thomas’ gentle strokes weren’t helping me stay away – au contraire.

Minho laughs loudly, smacking Newt in the shoulder, who immediately sends his mate a glare. “Look at her, complaining. Try doing it every day.” A scoff leaves my lips as I push my plate away from me, leaning further into Thomas’ embrace. “Well, Min, I did. Remember? Outran you almost every day.”

“Did you really?” Thomas smiles down at me and I hum in return, winking at Newt as we all watch the frown appear on Minho’s brow. Instead of bickering any further, I squeeze Thomas’ thick thigh and unwrap myself from him.

“But I’m turning in for the night. We’ll talk about everything in the morning, alright?” I turn to Minho and Newt, awaiting their answers before disappearing. Two firm nods later, I rest my hands on the table to push myself upright, Thomas immediately following.

“I’m coming with you.” I raise an eyebrow expectantly, doing my hardest to suppress my smirk. “It’s fine if you wanna hang out with them though – I’m just a bit sore.” I rub one of my arms, frowning when the movement prickles my nerves agitatedly. I really wasn’t used to a proper workout anymore now that my job had been with the Medjacks.

“All the more reason for me to join you. Come on.” His fingers intertwine with mine and he pulls me along, the boys hollering behind me and whistling.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” I sigh contentedly, dropping my arms beside my body and slumping my shoulders as Thomas rids me of my shirt. I unbutton my trousers, dropping them to the floor. I unhook my bra and discard it as I stroll over to my bed, hearing Thomas’ rustling behind me.

“Relax baby. Let me take care of you.” Thomas sighs against my neck, pressing his lips against my neck, teeth grazing against the skin. A blissful sigh leaves my lips, my body falling limp against his as I let him push me towards my – our – bed.

He crawls in behind me, spooning me as his arm is wrapped around my waist, hand resting on my stomach and drawing small figure eights. A low moan slips from my lips when Thomas sucks on my pulse point, his hand dipping lower and underneath my only article of clothing left, gently cupping over my core.

Another breathless sigh leaves my lips as his longer, slender finger slips over my folds before he dips his fingers in. There is no teasing, its sole purpose being for my relaxation – and I adore him for it. His finger curls inside me, prodding against my G-spot and another moan erupts, louder this time, my ass grinding into Thomas’ still covered pelvis.

“Relax, Y/N. Don’t think about anything. Just focus on me – on what I’m doing. The way your body feels when I touch you. How you make me feel by just moaning and letting me touch you like this.” Thomas groans against the shell of my ear, pressing his erection into my bum and another moan slips, followed by a whimper of his name tumbling from my lips.

I’m already dangling on the edge, and when Thomas’ thumb brushes over my swollen clit, my whole body jerks. The light applied pressure and his continuous pumping drags me to my orgasm, high-pitched, low whimpers leaving my lips. My hips roll against his, my whole body reacting to his touch as he moans against my neck from the friction.

“God damn it, I could just come from you and your moans alone.” Thomas snickers behind me as I stall my movements, his hand slipping from my underwear to rest on my hip. I turn around in his grasp, cupping his jaw and pressing my lips to his, my body completely tense-free and I press my naked chest against his.

“You’re amazing.” I breathe against his lips, trailing my hand down and wasting no time in freeing his erection and wrapping my hand around his thick shaft. His body turns rigid underneath my as I press butterfly kisses against his cheeks, jaw and chin before landing back onto his lips.

He is quick to swipe his tongue along my bottom lip, and I grant him access without a second thought. When my thumb swipes along the tip to collect his precum as lubricant, he pulls his lips from mine. “I won’t last long – I – “

I immediately shut him up by reconnecting our lips, giving his shaft a squeeze and dragging a loud, ragged moan from Thomas. My speed picks up, the flicking off my wrists angled in different directions until his fingernails dig into my bicep and he comes undone, mouth agape, eyes tightly closed and head thrown back. I kiss along his sternum as I pick up his shirt off the floor, wiping my hands and his chest down before chucking it across the room.

His heartbeat is still hammering in his chest as I gently flatter myself against him, his arm thrown around my neck in a tight embrace. “We’ll figure it out. You will figure it out.” Thomas mumbles, pressing his lips to my temple and lingering there as a yawn escapes me involuntarily. “We’ll get out of here. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

When I wake, the bed beside me is empty. Thomas is probably already getting ready with Minho to run into the Maze. I’m lazily dragging myself out of bed, groaning and moaning as I get dressed. It’s not until Morning Glory pops into my mind I’m excitedly skipping out my door and to the Med Shed.

“What do you do?” I mumble aloud, furrowing my eyebrows as I push my shoulder against the shed door, squeezing my way inside. It’s pitch black, my finger flicking over the light switch, but to no avail. I turn around, looking for a solution and I spot the curtain draped over the small window, something I had never once closed, although it was now.

I yank it open roughly, specks of sunshine immediately coming through and illuminating the small flower in the middle of my desk. “What the – “ I mumble to myself, stepping closer to my desk, looking at the now closed flower. My features hold nothing but pure astonishment when I see the small flower blossom and open, showing its beautiful trumpet shape and its white core.

It takes me a while to put two and two together – and I rub sleep from my eyes as I circle my desk, my gaze never once wavering from the small flower. “Could it be – “. I stick the tip of my tongue past my lips, biting down on it as an involuntarily frown sets onto my brow.

“That’s it! That I didn’t think of that before!” My brain seems to short-circuit as I run to the exit, stopping in my tracks and wandering. With a shake of my head I push through the door, breaking into a full-on run to the Homestead. I’m panting by the time I’m rushing through the door, startling Minho, Thomas and Newt in their tracks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Thomas immediately sounds alarmed as I stare at all of them, still not fully realizing what I’ve discovered. A bright grin breaks onto my lips as I run toward Thomas, throwing my body against his, wrapping my arms around his neck. “It opens!”

I drop my embrace and take a step back, smiling at the three boys in front of me. Their minds don’t have seemed to click yet and Minho shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed as he takes a step closer. “What?”

I blabber my answer before he can finish is one-worded question. “That’s what it does. It opens!” My fingers curl around Thomas’ wrist and I give it a squeeze, making eye contact with him and his eyes seem to twinkle at my happiness. “Y/N, what the fuck are you on about?” Newt chuckles, a confused grin spread. My gaze falls from Thomas to Minho, slowly blinking and focusing on Newt.

“The fucking plant, Newt! It opens and closes along with daylight. That plant is our way out!”

After a Gathering with the Keepers, giving them our much needed received information, it was time to come up with a game plan. Although I was one hundred percent certain that this plant would get us out of the Glade, I wasn’t sure what we’d find behind those doors. What if it was packed with Grievers, waiting for us to unlock the door and pounce.

Maybe there was nothing there – just mere emptiness to diminish any spark of hope we had left. Minho had been running through the Maze for almost three years – and never came up with anything. Why could I presume that this was different – and if so, why did it only just now appear? Where did the flower come from? Did the Creators plant it for us? Was our – predicament over?

Somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever we’d find behind those doors in that Dungeon would be something I wasn’t ready to face yet. There were a lot of things running through my mind at lightning speed that could be a possibility – every single one of them worse than the last.

“Stop frowning like that.” My head snaps up at the voice, Thomas strolling into the shed, towel hanging over his shoulder as he approaches me. “Huh?” He circles my desk and disappears behind me as I sit up straight, giggling when I feel his nose being squished against my cheek and a loud smack fills the room. “You look troubled beyond belief. You’ll figure it out, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

I reach my hands behind me, grasping onto the belt loops of Thomas’ pants as I pull him closer to me, my head resting on his toned stomach, gazing up at him.  “I might have come up with a plan, I’m just overgoing any possibilities to make sure I’m not putting anyone in unnecessary danger. Taking precautions, you know?”

His fingertips ghost over my jaw and cheeks and a sigh leaves my lips, my hands reaching up to curl around his wrists and keep him in place. He stills his movements, leaning down so our faces are hovering mere inches from one another before he speaks. “You better hope that I’m involved in this plan, because I’m not letting you go there by yourself.”

Even though a slight smile is grazing his lips, I know he’s dead serious. His eyes bore into mine and I almost squirm underneath his penetrating gaze. I try to lighten the mood, leaning up to press my lips briefly against his. “Aren’t you a protective little shit.”

“As if you don’t like me for it. Now, when does this plan take action?” His large hands land on my shoulders and he starts to knead the tense, soft flesh with his calloused fingertips. A low groan slips me and I dart my tongue out to lick along my bottom lip before I reply. “Tomorrow. When the Doors open.”

Taglist: @mariariley96 @ssweet-empowerment @rebeccaannex3 @fuckwhateverfuck @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname @blue-berry-barry-allen @honeymoonmuke 

[glass-snake-writer]

Unplanned Atraction

Chapter 4: Set in motion

A/N: Can also be read on my Ao3

Thomas had finished his tea well before Alex walked back into the room. He had gotten pretty far in it, but put the book down as soon as Alex entered their dorm. Instead of the greeting he was expecting, Alex ignored him completely and flopped onto his own bed with a sigh. Raising an eyebrow Thomas turned to face his bed more.

“Took you long enough to get. We still gotta practice y’know?” He told the shorter man. Alex cringed as he turned to face him. Thomas didn’t know why he was making that face; he’d agreed to this after all.

His expression changed to anger as Alex snapped, “Fuck off dipshit, I wanna get some rest.” This made Thomas’ facial expression turn sour as he set his book down next to him.

“You can sleep later. For now, we’re practicing so this plan actually works and doesn’t go down in flames.” Thomas quipped. For a moment they stared each other down. A silent challenge was issued between them. Never one to back down, Alex stomped over to him. Before Thomas could ask what he was going to do, he had a lap full of an angry Alex. Startled, Thomas let out a noise of surprise as his brain short circuited. This was definitely not what he’d expected. Hell, he doesn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this.

He wasn’t sure what was going on in Alex’s head during it. There was a strange fire in his eyes and and what looked like realization. It faded into a look of determination quickly though.

Licking his lips Alex asked, “So what exactly do you want us to do in this practice?” Thomas snapped his gaze to the side to the side and swallowed nervously. His emotions were going out of control and he didn’t know why. For now he’d just try to rein them in so he could deal with them later.

Discreetly clearing his throat Thomas said, “We should get used to being physically affectionate with each other and just generally acting in love” Alex nodded in understanding he moved slightly closer.

“I’ve got a few questions first, before we get started. Probably shoulda asked a few of these earlier, but eh, we’re here now” Alex said.

Glancing down at the man in his lap he replied, “Shoot.” Alex sat up a bit straighter and gathered himself.

Looking up at Thomas he asked, “Did you tell them anything about “me”? Like, do I have to act a certain way specifically besides acting in love? And before we do this, what are your boundaries?” Thomas tilted his head as he thought about the questions.

Glancing back he replied, “I never mentioned personality traits per say, so all you gotta do is act in love I guess. As for boundaries…” He had to pause again and really think about it. Thomas had never thought much of his own boundaries. There wasn’t much that made him uncomfortable to begin with. “Just don’t call me sweetie and we’re good I think. If anything comes up though, I’ll let you know.” He finished.

Alex nodded and didn’t question his answer. It was a relief, but it made sense that he wouldn’t say anything. He’d seen John and Thomas together after all. So his distaste for the pet name wouldn’t be out of place. Thomas still felt weird about how intimate this all felt. Then again, they were pretending to be boyfriends for his family. Intimacy was bound to form between them, at least a little bit.

“What about you? Got any boundaries I should know about?” Thomas prompted. Alex seemed to have his answer already planned because there wasn’t too long of a pause.

All he said was, “Don’t even jokingly call me a slut or any sex shaming kinda bullshit. Also, don’t touch me when I can’t see you in my line of vision or grab onto my wrist and pull my anywhere.” Nodding his head Thomas privately wondered about his answer but didn’t say a word. Alex had respected him and not asked about his boundaries, so he’d return the favor.

Snaking his arms around Alex’s waist Thomas smirked and said, “Now that that’s over, we can get down to business.” There was a bit of nervousness that shined in Alex’s eyes before he shook it off and let a playful expression overtake his features.

“Yes, lets.” He quipped back with a matching smirk. Thomas pulled the man even closer to him, to the point that if either of them moved an inch their lips would meet. A heavy silence filled the room as they stared into each other’s eyes. Both waited to see who would make the first move. It felt like this was the start of something new. Then again, it was.

Alex, never one for self control of any kind, broke their standoff and pulled him into a kiss. At first it was awkward, what with them being so unfamiliar with each other in this way. However, it quickly morphed into something wonderfully intense. Thomas and Alex kissed with their all, not giving an inch. Minutes passed them by as they continued to make out yet they hardly noticed the passage of time. They were too wrapped up in the kiss to even think of anything else.

Eventually they needed to break away for air. As they gasped for breath Thomas’ brain went haywire. He wanted to do that again, many times. But it was Alex! Alex, a man who he had no interest in whatsoever. The kiss had been good, but he shouldn’t be this into it. While Thomas was freaking out, Alex appeared unaffected.

“What else do you wanna practice?” Alex huffed out. His cheeks glowed red from the kiss and the lack of breath. Thomas noticed how red his lips looked and had to shake himself out of it. He looked into Alex’s eyes and felt lost.

Breaking eye contact Thomas said, “We should practice flirting and more casual affection.” Nodding Alex let his head fall onto Thomas’ shoulder. Haltingly Thomas let a hand rest on the man’s head.

Coughing to get his attention Thomas asked awkwardly, “So how’s your day been darling?” Alex snickered at him and Thomas frowned. A twinge of annoyance went through him.

“That’s how you flirt? If this is the best you’ve got, no wonder Ange slapped you!” He cackled. Glaring at him Thomas jostled Alex to shut him up. It didn’t do much, but he did calm down a bit.

“Well Romeo,” Thomas snapped, “how would you do it?” Lifting his head with a grin Alex placed a hand on his cheek.

With hooded eyes Alex purred, “Dearest, don’t get mad. It was a cute attempt, almost as cute as you.” Thomas face warmed as he was knocked off center. He tried to find a retort but came up dry. His mind raced and he felt overly flustered.

“Oh shit,” Alex whispered, “was that too much? Fuck, I made you uncomfortable… I’m so sorry.” Looking at Alex he could see the worry and nervousness written across his face. Relaxing slightly Thomas gave a slightly shaky smile. This in turn seemed to calm Alex down.

Taking a steadying breath Thomas replied, “Don’t worry sugar, I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” The bright smile that lit up Alex’s face nearly took his breath away. He’d never seen him look this happy. Sure, he’d seen the shorter man happy before but never like this. His expression felt... different somehow.

“I’m gonna go make some coffee.” Alex said breaking the silence that had settled between them. Swallowing around a suddenly dry throat Thomas nodded. They sat there for a few moments.

“Y’know,” Alex said with his lips quirking into a smile, “ya gotta let go so I can get up Thomas.” Immediately his hands fell to his sides. While Alex got up and headed to make coffee, Thomas was left with one thought repeating in his mind. He’d never heard Alex call him Thomas before. It was nice. Shoving the thought to the side Thomas got up and followed him into the kitchenette.

Alex measured out the grounds pausing and calling back, “You want some Mi alma?” It felt distinctly domestic to him. Feelings he couldn’t begin to sort through welled up inside him.

Clearing his throat discreetly Thomas shot back, “Yeah, sure.” Alex started the coffee machine before attempting to reach for the mugs. Attempt was the key word here. The man was too short to reach the cabinet with them. It was just out of his reach, yet Alex still made a valiant effort to reach them. Chuckling Thomas walked up behind him and grabbed two mugs. He set them down on the counter before turning to smirk at the shorter man.

“You piece of shit, you didn’t have to rub in how your as tall as a fucking tree. It’s obnoxious as fuck, but I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a jackass after all.” Alex grumbled. There was no real bite behind it though. At least, none that Thomas could detect.

Grinning smugly down at him Thomas teased, “You’re just mad cause you’re a shorty. Don’t worry though, it’s cute.” A blush rose up on Alex’s face and he shoved Thomas lightly. He mumbled something under his breath that Thomas wasn’t able to catch.

“What was that darling?” Thomas prompted the man. Alex crossed his arms and looked off to the side.

Grumpily he replied, “Nothing.” His whole demeanor was closed off. He looked like a porcupine, small, adorable, and prickly.

Unsatisfied with his answer Thomas urged him, “Come on hun, you can tell me.” Tensing Alex looked back at him. After a prolonged silence that left Thomas uncomfortable Alex slumped forward.

Eyes distant Alex told Thomas haltingly, “I was just thinking. About how long it’s been since my last relationship.” Thomas became confused. He could’ve sworn that Alex had dated someone recently. In fact, Thomas knew he’d seen a guy hanging around him a while back.

“Wasn’t there a guy you just dated a few months ago? What was his name? I think it was Reynolds.” Thomas mused. There was a sharp inhale from Alex upon hearing the name. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“I don’t wanna talk about him.” Alex snapped weakly. His hands were white from gripping the counter fiercely.

Unable to let it go Thomas continued, “Why? If I’m remembering correctly, you dated the guy for a pretty long time and everything. So that’d mean you’d had a relationship recently, and a long term one at that.”

Snapping his head to glare at Thomas Alex snarled, “Because he’s a fucking scumbag. Now drop it before I kick your ass.” Behind them the coffee machine beeped. It was a harsh sound to add to the harshness in Alex’s voice.

Putting his hands up Thomas said, “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to poke such a sore spot.” With a stormy expression Alex filled up the two mugs. He shoved one into Thomas’ hands before stomping off towards his bed. Before sitting down he grabbed his laptop, no doubt to do his work months early. When Thomas walked over towards him Alex ignored him completely.

Sighing Thomas went to his bed and picked his book up again. He’d apologize to him tomorrow. Glancing over at the short spitfire Thomas thought about everything that had happened. All the emotions that he’d felt that had rattled around in his head. Alex’s reactions to it all. Right now he couldn’t do much about it though. He’d have to talk to James about it. James was always good at helping him sort through things he was having trouble with.

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Mysteries of the senses: The boy who broke almost every bone in his body – but didn’t feel any pain

Most young siblings spend their summer holidays building dens together, or imaginary castles out of cardboard boxes. But playtime for Paul Walters and his sister Vicky, from Essex, was somewhat more dangerous – usually landing them in hospital.

Those of a faint disposition may want to stop reading now.

They’d often be found attempting to pull out their own teeth, burning their hands on an open fire or, a particular favourite, sitting directly in front of a swing before it pelted them in the face.

The reason for this shocking behaviour: neither Paul nor Vicky can feel physical pain.

They were born with the disorder congenital analgesia, in which, for a variety of reasons, the messages that normally carry the ‘warnings’ of pain from one place in the brain are somehow interrupted.

Playtime for Paul Walters and his sister Vicky as children, pictured, was dangerous – usually landing them in hospital

Why the condition occurs isn’t fully understood. Sufferers’ other sensory perceptions are completely normal – they perspire when hot and are sensitive to touch. But when it comes to pain, be it a burn or injury, they feel nothing.

It is so rare, just a few hundred people across the world are believed to suffer from it.

And although it may sound like some kind of superpower, it’s far from it. Those with the condition commonly suffer horrendous, disabling injuries.

One reason it’s so rare is that few people with congenital analgesia reach adulthood as, unconstrained by pain, they do ever more dangerous things.

Now 35, Paul, a retail supervisor, says: ‘I’ve broken just about every major bone in my body.’

Their father, Bob, adds: ‘As children, they would place their hands in front of the fire just to listen to their skin sizzling – almost like a steak in a frying pan. Their hands would blister but it only made them laugh. They both broke their nose, had black eyes and needed stitches in their heads. Yet all the time they thought it was funny.’

Paul says that the constant litany of bone-shattering injuries he endured throughout childhood has stunted his growth. Today, he stands under 5ft tall.

‘Psychologically, the biggest effect of the condition has been on my height – I hate being short,’ he says. ‘It happened because I used to do stupid things like jumping down the staircase, or off a roof. There was no downside because I never felt the pain of breaking a bone. All I noticed was that I was getting loads of attention.’

At the end of this month, Paul’s exceptional story will be heard for the first time, along with several other medical mysteries, in a fascinating new BBC radio series.

Presented by leading neurologist Dr Guy Leschziner, it reveals the weird and wonderful things that happen when our senses go haywire. Dr Leschziner travels the breadth of the country meeting those plagued by bizarre conditions that affect how they smell, taste, touch and hear. There are those who can ‘hear’ their eyes moving inside their head, a man who can ‘taste’ words and a woman who sniffs roses and detects a repugnant smell of sewage.

Paul says that the constant litany of bone-shattering injuries he endured throughout childhood has stunted his growth as today, pictured, he stands under 5ft tall

‘Our senses can be surprisingly strange,’ says Dr Leschziner, who treats patients with these types of problems at St Thomas’ Hospital in London. ‘Especially when they malfunction due to injury, disease or genetic abnormalities.’

The reason for Dr Leschziner’s investigations, documented in the upcoming five-part series, is not merely entertainment.

‘These rare cases are vital for helping us to improve our fundamental understanding of how our senses work,’ he says. ‘They may pave the way for new treatments for these and other conditions.’

In the case of congenital analgesia, experts hope one day to create new painkilling medicines by studying the condition.

During the series, Dr Leschziner also meets 61-year-old James Wannerton, from King’s Lynn in Norfolk, who since early childhood has been able to ‘taste’ words. Doctors first dismissed James’ claims as the product of a young imagination. But brain scans showed areas associated with taste become more active when he reads words. Certain sounds even make him feel hunger pangs.

‘My name tastes like chewing gum that’s lost most of its flavour,’ says James. ‘My father’s name, Peter, tastes like processed peas, while my sister’s is blackcurrant yogurt and my grandmother’s was creamy, thick, condensed milk.

‘As a young boy going to school with my mum on the train, I’d read the names of the stations out loud, as we passed through.

‘A particular favourite tube was Tottenham Court Road because Tottenham had the taste and texture of sausage, Court was like a lovely crispy fried egg and Road was like toast. So it was almost like a full English breakfast.’

James’ condition is called synaesthesia – where the senses become jumbled. And it’s not too uncommon, affecting roughly one in 2,000 Britons, to some degree. The stimulation of one sense can cause an involuntary reaction of another – seeing colours when you hear certain words, for instance.

Paul’s exceptional story will be heard for the first time in a fascinating new BBC radio series, along with several other medical mysteries, including James Wannerton, pictured in 2008, who has been able to ‘taste’ words since childhood

Doctors don’t yet know the specific process that causes this but it is thought to involve the misfiring of brain cells, akin to the phenomena experienced by many of feeling physical reactions, such shivers or goosebumps, when hearing rousing music.

For James, not every word evokes a pleasant taste or smell. ‘I was at a social function once where a woman called Maureen asked me to describe how her name tasted,’ he says. ‘I had to break the news to her that it was, sadly, like vomit.’

While this is, ultimately, harmless – if bizarre – other problems can be simply terrifying for the sufferer. Imagine chatting with friends over dinner, and suddenly being deafened by the sound of your own lungs, heaving up and down in your chest. It may sound like a scene from a horror film. In fact, it is 50-year-old Mark Buschhaus’s reality.

The toy shop owner from Crawley in West Sussex first noticed a strange change in his hearing during his 40s.

While in the pub with friends, conversation would be drowned out by one specific bodily noise, such as the sound of his teeth crunching a crisp, or, more disturbingly, the squelching movement of his eyeballs as he glanced around the bar.

‘It was as if someone had turned up my internal volume control to 100,’ says Mark.

‘I felt like I was in a bubble. Every time I took a step, my footsteps sounded like a big bang that sent echoes through my skull. I could even hear my lungs breathing.

‘It got to the stage where I didn’t want to go out and was making excuses about going to the pub.

‘I’ve never felt so low – I was really struggling.’

After years of misery, Mark finally got a diagnosis – superior canal dehiscence syndrome.

The condition, which affects one to two per cent of Britons, is caused by tiny holes inside the inner ear which affects the way internal sound is processed by the brain. Doctors are unsure what causes the holes, but they are thought to be present from birth.

Bob Walters, father of Vicky and Paul, pictured as youngsters, said his children ‘would place their hands in front of the fire just to listen to their skin sizzling – almost like a steak in a frying pan’

Bodily sounds can leak through the small openings in the inner ear and reverberate in the brain, making them appear louder than usual. Some sufferers can hear the blood flowing through their veins, while others are haunted by the thumping sound of their heart beating.

Thankfully, following pioneering surgery to repair the hole, Mark saw an ’80 to 90 per cent improvement’ – and was able to enjoy going to the pub again.

Elsewhere, Dr Leschziner explores the devilish brain tricks that affect all of our senses – those that occur with age.

A quarter of Britons over 65 suffer some form of hearing loss. But, for a small number of these people, the world doesn’t only get quieter, it sounds stranger, too.

It is estimated that roughly three per cent of those in their 60s suffer auditory hallucinations.

In other words, they hear sounds that aren’t there.

Dr Leschziner explains that when we start to lose our hearing, the auditory cortex, part of the brain that processes sound, can become overactive because it is being starved of the input it normally gets from the ears.

My father’s name, Peter, tastes like mushy peas 

This hyperactivity then interacts with memory circuits in the brain – which explains why the phantom sounds are often based on long- held memories.

One noteworthy sufferer is the comedian, musician and avid birdwatcher Bill Oddie, 79, who began hearing phantom jazz tunes two years a go.

‘I was in the house and I thought somebody next door was playing music very loudly,’ the ex-Goodies star tells Dr Leschziner.

‘It sounded like a brass band, with a lead trumpet player and occasionally some male vocals, and even an announcer. But as I went towards the wall it faded. This went on for weeks.’

These bizarre symptoms often lessen if hearing improves, so patients are encouraged to try hearing aids – which Bill plans to do.

lThe Compass: The Senses starts on Wednesday, July 29, at 3pm on BBC World Service.

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