#until he realizes thomas is a prick and then hes all bad

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Lilypadton

Intruality (Remus x Patton) Prompt: lilypadton and remus-?? overstim, manhandling, size difference (duh), maybe choking Warnings: sex, cockbulge, come inflation, overstimulation, size differences A request from my Wattpad

Cramped within the confines of his bedroom, Patton's experiencing stress in the sheerest form. That form being one that resembles a frog-man hybrid. 

He had tried heavily to keep himself calm and level-headed, but it took one minor inconvenience for him to burst into tears and leave him growing rapidly, until his green body clad in shredded clothes took up most of his room. His head uncomfortably pushes into the ceiling, and his knees are bent, with his toes pressed against the wall across from him. If he were to fully stretch out, his legs would no doubt go through the wall. And with the cracks already forming in the structures around him, he really didn't want to cause a complete collapse. 

He tries talking himself through his feelings. He's stressed! What does he normally do when he's stressed? Well, he enjoys baking. Watching television. Sewing up holes in his shirts or socks...

What he doesn't like is thinking about his negative feelings. Dealing with them. 

He shifts uncomfortably where he sits, attempting to repress his stress and sadness. He doesn't want to think about how uncomfortable he is crammed into his room, or how nobody's come to check on him. 

He bites his inner cheek. Nobody's come to check on him because they're all busy, of course. 

Roman's practicing a play he's writing: a one man show with a lot of meaning. Virgil and Logan have been fawning over Thomas's upcoming schedule, making sure everything was perfect. Janus was making sure everyone was still getting a proper diet and sleeping well despite their focuses being elsewhere. And Remus? 

Well...

Patton's thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock on his door, and a shrill, dramatic voice calling "oh, Patton! I can smell your repression from a mile away!" He makes dramatic smelling sounds from outside the door, reminding Patton that he can't hide anything. Not with the embodiment of intrusive thoughts lurking around. 

Of course, out of everybody who could have possibly came to check on him, it had to be Remus. 

Patton's heart sinks. None of the others are available, surely, otherwise they would have come to check on him, but Remus is just going to make his bad feelings worse!

Remus is horrible at focusing on the positive, so he's convinced that Remus is just going to stress him out further. In a slight moment of frustration and panic, Patton reaches forward and grabs his doorknob with his fingers - as gently as he can manage, with his large, green fingers - and uses his size and strength in order to make sure the door stays tightly shut. 

"I'm- I'm fine, Remus! I just uh..." Patton sucks in a sharp breath and quickly looks about the room, trying to find anything that could help him come up with a harmless lie. He spots a pair of pants with a hole in them, and quickly licks his lips, though his long, uncontrollable tongue does so rather sloppily. "I pricked my finger while sewing, and I was trying not to think about it!" 

It's nothing gory enough for Remus to want to see the blood, but still explains why Patton wouldn't want to think about it! It's a perfect lie. 

Or it would be, if Remus didn't spend hours upon hours by Janus's side. 

"That was a terrible lie," he hears Remus scoff through the door, rather judgmentally which makes Patton feel embarrassed. "You do realize your voice gets all high-pitched when you lie, right?" The banging on the other side of the door gets louder, as Remus's curiosity is only amplified by Patton's willingness to lie. "Come on! Open up!" 

Patton holds the door tighter, assured that at the very least, Remus can't pull it open if he's holding it firm. 

However, Remus neither has an affinity for privacy nor conventional methods, and so after a few moments of harassing the doorhandle, Remus lets go. He whines and pouts from the other end about Patton's literal refusal to open up, before Patton hears footsteps recede. Which would be a good thing, if Patton didn't immediately hear those heavy footsteps run up to his door, accompanied by a shriek of delight and then a crash as Remus's morningstar comes bashing through Patton's door, knocking it down until it's just crumbled wood laying sadly on the ground. 

"Geez, Patton, what's got your panties in such a twist... oh." 

Patton freezes in fear as Remus's eyes meet his, before scanning him up and down. From what Patton can tell, he doesn't look scared or uncomfortable by Patton's presence as a giant frog-man hybrid, but being seen like this makes Patton feel like a monster. 

His eyes tear up, and he immediately moves to apologize, but Remus cuts him off first. 

"Aw, sweet!" he exclaims, flapping his hands up and down. "I didn't get to see this in person last time! I had to deal with Janus blabbering all about it, tortured by the fact I missed such a sick thing!" Remus moves closer, tightly grabbing one of Patton's frog fingers. "It was actually pretty unfair. The others even got to see you standing! And yet I'm reduced to seeing you curled up in a ball, completely masking your entirety! That's kind of lame of you, you know. I deserve to see my big frog daddy in his full glory!"

Patton cringes at the title Remus gives him while watching the much smaller side bounce up and down on his feet. He hardly gets the chance to reply before Remus is squeezing his eyes shut and concentrating for a moment, before the room around the two of them grows. Well, at least the interior does. 

The walls and ceiling are pushed away from Patton, giving him ample room to sit up, and even stand without causing any harm to the structure.

The newfound largeness of the room makes Remus look tiny in comparison, but he doesn't seem to mind all that much. 

Patton would be half-tempted to thank Remus if he wasn't sure that Remus did it for his own benefit in one way or another. But he can tell by that wide grin on Remus's face that he most likely does want to see him in his "full glory." 

"There!" Remus proudly proclaims, setting his hands on his hips. "Now you have much more space to stand!" 

He says it as though he expects Patton to do so immediately, and when Patton doesn't, Remus's smile immediately falls into a deep frown. 

"Oh, come on!" Remus pouts, stomping his foot. "I make your room big enough for you to stretch out in and you don't even let me peek at your crotch? I'm dying of curiosity here!" 

Patton flushes, but it's impossible to notice on his newfound green skin. "Remus!" 

"What?" Remus whines, jutting his bottom lip out. "At least I'm being honest!" He tugs on Patton's finger again, as though trying to pull him up. "And I'm trying to help!" 

"In what way is this helping?!" 

Remus smiles wide, as though Patton just asked the million-dollar question. "Well, if you're thinking about me, then you're not focusing on you. I'm helping you directly avoid the problem!"

That's mostly what Patton was trying to do, and it wasn't working at all. So, Patton frowns, and instead of admitting that he'd already been trying - hence why Remus could sense his repression - he instead refutes Remus's idea with a very simple "ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away." 

It's good advice, and advice he was actively choosing not to follow. But Remus just rolls his eyes. 

"I know that. Everybody knows that. Except you, apparently." Remus winks, though Patton only feels worse at the jab. "I more so meant we distract you momentarily, and then after you've fucked out your feelings, you can better put them into words!" 

Patton basically squeals at the proposition. "That's inappropriate!" 

"It'd work though," Remus replies, smiling wide, as though attempting to entice Patton to consider. "Probably. And even if it doesn't, at least you'll know a bit more about your frog body." 

Remus shimmies as he speaks, running his hands sensually over his own body, before licking his lips. He wants Patton more than the other way around, but Patton supposes he really doesn't have a better solution. And what Remus is saying makes sense, at least to some degree. 

So, with a sigh, he relents. 

"Fine. But- but we're going at my pace! I'm not as quick as you kiddos are so I need things to be acclimated to me." It's a firm declaration, and one Remus doesn't bother refuting, instead just offering a thumbs-up of acknowledgement, and then taking a few excited steps back in order to give Patton the space to stand. 

Instinctively, part of Patton can't help but feel a little ashamed as he stands. It's a reminder of how big he is, and just how big his feelings are. Though, it's admittedly a bit hard to stay focused on his negativity when Remus is almost immediately waving his hands back and forth, whipping both of their clothes off through the power of creativity. 

It has Patton stumbling as he's suddenly stripped down to his boxers - just as stretched and torn as the rest of his clothing was - making him stomp his feet as he attempts to ground himself. 

"I thought we were going at my pace!" Patton shouts without intending to. He doesn't sound angry or uncomfortable; he just sounds surprised, but his hands still push over his mouth at the impulsively loud tone, and looks away from Remus as he tries to take a deep breath. 

"We are!" Remus protests, huffing. "Well, for the most part. You know I don't have much patience." Remus giggles nasally at his own words, as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You should be lucky I left you with those boxers on, though they look like they're hanging by a thread anyway." 

Remus waves his hand dismissively, before he turns to show off his own carelessly nude body. 

"I'm all naked though, generously sparing you the tedious work of stripping me down..." Remus slides his hands up and down his body, and Patton gulps as his eyes are seemingly drawn back to Remus every time he tries to look away. "I'm just dying to know what those froggy fingers feel like on my skin. Won't you give me the pleasure?" 

He emphasizes the word, as though mere touch will help spur on Remus's arousal, and knowing Remus, the slimy skin of Patton's frog-like fingers just might! Who knows what gets him off? 

Patton exhales, trying to calm himself as he bends down to grab Remus, before straightening himself back up, flushing when Remus immediately starts wiggling around in his hand, as if trying to grind against Patton's moist fingers. 

"Mmm," Remus moans, dramatically, "I could get used to this! If you ever need someone to fuck your emotions out on, I will be your long-term booty call!" 

Patton cringes at Remus's words, attempting to shut him up by shushing him softly, but Remus just wont stop talking. 

He stares shamelessly at Patton's chest, pleased with himself for having previously stripped Patton down. "So... what's first on the list? Pushing me in between your tits? Swallowing me down? Or do you want to get right into the sex?" 

Patton flushes as he repeatedly blinks in order to process Remus's usual quick-paced nature, shaking his head after a moment. 

"Well... uhm... first things first, I need to get fully naked. Obviously." He sounds more as though he's talking to himself than Remus, giving himself the motivation to use his other hand to try and pull his boxers off. 

He tugs at the waistband, but doesn't want to break them, so he pauses for a moment as he looks at the hand that's holding Remus and thinks for a second. He needs both of his hands, but he knows Remus will just whine and pout if he sets him down. So, his long tongue shoots out of his mouth and, with surprising precision, wraps around Remus's midsection. 

And Patton's just fine with it. Though it's a little weird holding something with his tongue, it's not like it hurts or is uncomfortable. And Remus squeals with delight. 

"This is so cool!" Remus exclaims, kicking his feet happily as Patton's tongue pulsates around him, saliva leaking over his chest and dripping from the muscle. It'd be gross under different circumstances, but Remus loves gross things, and Patton would rather not think about how weird this is right now. 

With Remus now held firmly, Patton's able to slide both of his hands down to his waistband, and he attempts to pull his boxers off. 

They rip immediately. 

Patton frowns, though he's unsure of whether the torn fabric was a result of his strength or the already tattered state of the clothes. Sighing, Patton decides to drop the useless material, now believing it useless he even tried to be careful at all. 

But Remus seems to enjoy being suspended by Patton's tongue, as he's held horizontal as though he's laying down, and Patton realizes that his tongue is long enough to keep Remus hanging right in front of his cock. 

Patton flushes, though it's not visible, as he sort of freezes. 

The idea of fucking into Remus while leaving him suspended by his tongue is strange, but one that plagues his mind. He could plant his hands on Remus's hips or thighs to pull him closer, but keep his center held by the long, twisting muscle. It's not like Remus would mind, right? 

As Remus opens his mouth to complain about Patton not moving to do anything, he suddenly feels Patton's slimy cock poking at his ass, running between his cheeks. It makes him writhe in delight, as he happily gasps "of course! Your cock has it's own slick! Good thing, too, as I can't really use my arms to summon lube." 

Patton would bite his lip if he had any teeth in this form. 

His tongue keeps Remus's arms pinned to his sides, and flexes as Remus continues to squirm. It's a bit difficult to control, but with a little bit of thinking, and the use of one of his large hands wrapping around Remus's midsection and his tongue (squishing them against each other), he's able to properly move Remus closer to his cock, groaning as the mere tip starts to stretch Remus open. 

Immediately, Remus cries out in pleasure. With how much he's moving, Patton would normally be worried, but as of right now he just tightens his grip on Remus with both his fingers and his tongue to hold him still, though quickly realizes he has to loosen it a bit as his monstrous cock slides deeper into Remus's ass due to the massive size difference between them. The sheer size of his cock makes Remus's stomach bulge to a considerable degree, and if they weren't quite literally imaginary, Patton would worry about hurting him. 

But as Remus feels himself be filled up slowly, and sees how Patton's fingers and tongue have to adjust themselves to adapt to his expanding midsection, he can't help but moan!

Despite being in a more distorted form, Patton still does have a soft, caring side to him. 

Sure, there's a part of him that wants nothing more than to carelessly use Remus. The latter's smaller body feels amazingly tight around his large cock! But another, stronger part of him wants to make sure that Remus is still okay. So once he's all the way pushed inside, he forces himself to hold Remus still, feeling hot when he looks down and realizes how insanely bulged he's making Remus's stomach! 

He knew it would make a difference, obviously, but he didn't expect it to be this intense! 

Patton gives himself a moment to familiarize himself to the tight, wet heat, desperately resisting his urges to just use Remus like he's nothing more than a sex doll. He checks on Remus instead. 

"Remus... you look really, really full. Are you okay?" Patton's voice is strained with the effort of of restraint, along with being the slightest bit muffled as he speaks due to his tongue hanging out of his mouth. But it's painfully obvious that he's only asking out of formality; he's just trying to be kind, and it's clear Patton's desperate to get right to the sex. 

Without any hesitation, Remus lets out a strained moan from the pressure of being so achingly full. "Yes!" Remus cries, as he squirms. "More than okay!" 

Remus is panting through labored breaths and shaky moans, shamelessly trying to squirm and fuck himself down on Patton's cock. He enjoys being pushed far past his limits, and in this situation he's more turned on than he's ever been in his life! 

"Why are you holding back?" Remus whines, after a minute. It's loud and desperate, and makes something click in Patton, encouraging him immediately to squeeze Remus (and groan as his cock is massaged from the outside). He uses his tongue and hand to pull Remus off his cock just enough so the tip is the only thing forced inside, before pulling Remus against him hard and impulsively. 

Spit soaks over Remus's body, mixing in with sweat as Patton pumps his body up and down on his girthy cock, setting a fast and ruthless pace immediately. With the noises Patton's making, he sounds like a pure animal, grunting and groaning as he uses Remus like the fleshlight he is. 

His cock visibly slides in and out of Remus, stretching him open and giving him mere seconds of respite before he's being fucked hard again. His organs are displaced. His stomach is stretched open. Remus would love to see himself after such a ruthless fuck; he's sure he'll look like nothing but an abused toy when Patton's done! 

All of Patton's internalized frustration, upset, and general anger comes out in his hard thrusts. At some point, he wraps his other hand around Remus as well. His tongue eases up on it's grip as Patton's large fingers are now doing a majority of the grabbing, but it still glides over Remus's chest, subjecting his nipples to Patton's slick tongue, and his cock just the same. 

Remus is a writhing mess of pleasure, trembling and shaking as he desperately holds back his orgasm. 

Usually, he's the last to come, but Patton doesn't look like he's stopping anytime soon. He's needy, and Remus knows that he's going to fuck all of his anger out on him. 

"Pa-Patton!" Remus cries, as Patton's tongue slowly slides over his body, wiggling around his neck and coiling around him as it cuts off his blood flow, causing his eyes to roll back into his head. Patton doesn't even notice what he's doing, and frankly he doesn't care. Remus loves it, and Patton knows that Remus loves it. 

Patton groans as pre spills into Remus, almost immediately being fucked out of him in large globs. 

The idea of Patton filling him to the point of bursting when he comes has Remus trembling, though he was already shaking with overstimulation anyway. 

Every sensitive area on his body is assaulted by some form of friction. Some moist pleasure rubbing or squeezing him in ways Remus has never been touched before. 

Remus feels absolutely defiled in the greatest way as Patton lets himself be controlled by his instincts and his emotions, leading to rough, intense thrusts matched to Patton's hands pulling Remus's body down, making sure he's fucked full each and every time. 

Remus's prostate is thoroughly assaulted, being hit or rubbed constantly, leading to waves of pleasure to crash over him with mere seconds in between. It happens so frequently that he has no time to catch his breath, leading to him gasping as he tries to stay conscious.

"Pat..." Remus chokes out, straining to say Patton's full name. The barely audible croak has Patton finally peeking an eye open, and sort of sighing as he sees Remus. 

Immediately, his tongue loosens around Remus's neck, allowing him to suck in some much needed air. Following immediately after is a pathetically loud cry, needy and desperate. It only spurs Patton to be rougher with him, delighted when Remus comes with just a few more thrusts. 

The taste of his come slathers along Patton's tongue, as it drags over Remus's cock. 

Immediately, Remus is whining and his writhing starts back up as Patton continues using him. He's not trying to get away; his body involuntarily is trying to lessen the stimulation he's experiencing. It doesn't help that Patton's tongue continues to squeeze and rub against his body, unwavering in its pulses, and Patton's hands just further squish his tongue against Remus's sensitive bits. 

Luckily, Patton seems to be getting sloppier. His animalistic noises increase in volume and frequency, letting out desperate grunts or groans with each pump of Remus on his cock. 

His own orgasm is unannounced, giving Remus little time to prepare. 

Patton's pulls Remus down hard against his cock, shoved into him all the way to the base. Remus is properly stretched out, only to be filled further as Patton comes. 

Streams of semen pour into Remus's body, stretching his midsection until it can't expand further. Then, come begins spilling out of Remus's hole, drenching Patton's legs and the floor beneath them. Remus keeps expecting him tp finish fully, only for more and more to come spilling out of Patton. His orgasm seems to be endless, and Remus's head falls back in a loud, strained moan as Patton does the same. 

He's held firmly as Patton pants, and both of them stay like that for minutes before Remus feels Patton's tongue retracting. 

He thinka nothing off it until his back suddenly hits the moist ground, which has him finally looking towards Patton. 

His previously giant form had shrunk back into his soft, chubby human form. His hands are still on Remus's waist, but they aren't enveloping it anymore. 

Remus's stomach still bulges from the amount of come pumped inside of him, but significantly less so due to Patton's cock shrinking along with the rest of his body (much to Remus's disappointment, admittedly). 

Patton's face is noticeably flushed, red, covered in sweat. He's even trembling! 

Remus cant stifle his laugh, which has Patton fully processing his surroundings and flushing darker, pulling out of Remus and cringing at the flood of semen that comes spilling out afterwards. As he takes a step back, he steps into more, as it drenches the floor, making him whine. 

This has Remus scoffing. "Quit whining," he pants, and watches as Patton fully realizes Remus is on the ground. 

Sweet as ever, Patton kneels down in their mess to help Remus up, who's shaky on his legs. Having achieved such a feat, Patton can't help but feel a little proud. 

He helps keep Remus standing, and manages to guide them both to the bathroom. As he starts a bath, Remus shakily snaps his fingers. 

"Boom. Now your room's clean. And small again, if you want to go look at it," Remus says, and Patton notes the quiver in his voice. 

Patton smiles in thanks, but doesn't say anything as he helps Remus into the water, and then steps in himself. It has Remus looking confused. 

"You... why are you bathing with me?" 

Patton gently cups a handful of water, and pours it over Remus's head. "Do you not want me to?"

"I don't mind," comes Remus's immediate response. He sets his hands on Patton's squishy chest. "It's more time I get to see you naked." He keeps his eyes wide open as Patton continues to run water through his sweaty hair. A few beads drip into Remus's eyes, but he doesn't even blink. "I just thought you'd want to feel better and then see me off!" 

Patton smiles softly, shaking his head. "Think of this as a thanks." 

He helps Remus wipe down with hot water, and Patton only washes himself off with soap after Remus has stepped out of the bath and shaken himself off to dry. 

Patton dries them both off with a towel, but doesn't expect Remus to follow him back to his room. He doesn't stop Remus either. 

His room is much smaller, suited to his current size. It's just as clean as Remus said it would be, which has Patton sighing happily. He's ready to deal with his feelings, but as Remus flops facedown on his bed, Patton decides they can take a short detour first. 

He crawls into his bed after Remus, pulling the blankets off around them, and hears a loud snore that makes him chuckle as he pulls Remus's head against his soft chest, cradling him softly as they rest for a bit. And Patton promises he'll work through his feelings as soon as he wakes up. 

[shatteredfears-arch]

sometimes i see non autistics write headcanons abt what probably went on in an autistic char they arent writings head and i just ‘yeah, yeah you have no idea how autistics think at all lol’ like yes its a spectrum, yes we’re all different, and youre still managing to pretend we’re neurotypical like—

[theartofimagining13]

BASED ON: Tom and Ben were enemies in their shady business. Ben captured Tom and thought he would finally get rid of him and climb up the ladder until his nemesis revealed the ace up his sleeve; he had you. Tom had l... [More]

WRITTEN BY: A.Wölf.

NOTES: Kids, you know me. There’s bad men, guns, blood, and lots of cursing in this story. 

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

The dripping sound coming from an old rusty pipe echoed in the empty warehouse.

It served like a metronome for the man with a hood over his head, strapped to a chair in the middle of the big space, humming Johnny Cash to himself.

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel.

Thomas sang lazily, practically reciting the song after waiting for hours for someone to show up. He heard steps in the distance but that didn’t stop him; he kept singing. His captor Ben, with a cup of coffee in his right hand, a gun holstered in his waistband, and flanked by two men stopped several feet away from the chair to listen. At first, he thought Thomas was just mumbling random words, still in a fuzzy, barely-conscious state after being struck in the head with a heavy object to be kidnapped and brought to him.

As Ben got closer, he recognized the song and rolled his eyes at his colleagues. He reached the empty chair in front of Thomas and straddled it.

And you could have it all.

My empire of dirt.

Ben brusquely removed the hood and Thomas winced a little but kept his head low and carried on with the song.

I will let you down.

He slowly lifted his head to finally look Ben in the eye and deliver the next line while looking just as bored as his singing sounded.

I will make you hurt.

He finally stopped and cocked his head.

“Hardly. I mean, look at you.” Ben said with a proud smile before taking a sip of coffee. He suddenly raised his paper cup. “Coffee?”

Thomas glared at him.

“You are absurdly predictable, Benjamin.” He said.

“Why the hell did you blow up my shipment then, if I’m so predictable? You have no idea the amount of money I lost. It’s obscene. Not to mention all the clients who are now pissed off at me because of you and your army of cocksuckers who torched my product.”

“Which could’ve been avoided if you had kept your shit out of my territory. You were warned once.”

Ben finished his coffee and placed the empty cup on the floor.

“Did you really think you could fool me and bring in over a 150 K’s without us noticing?” Thomas pushed with undertones of disbelief right before letting out a chuckle. “We have eyes and ears everywhere. And now this?” Thomas motioned at his tied self. “God, I always knew you were a dumb prick, Ben, but I clearly underestimated your level of idiocy, didn’t I?” He paused. “My people will come after you.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You put a bloody target on my back anyway.” Ben said through gritted teeth.

He got up and, it wasn’t until then that Thomas noticed the medical surgical trolley behind him.  

“You’ve given me no choice, Tommy.” Ben said as he studied every single torture tool before him, trying to pick one. “I’d be choosing my last words if I were you.”  

Thomas studied him trying to tell if Ben was bluffing, but he suddenly turned around with a hacksaw in his right hand and a big smile on his face.

“I always wanted to use one of these. However…” He turned back around.

Thomas realized he’d have to negotiate. He forced a chuckle.

“You want to climb up the ladder. I get it. But you don’t seem to understand that killing me will only get you killed.”

“Bosses aren’t untouchable, you know? It’s been done in the past.” Ben calmly said still immersed in his toys. “I know your guys will come after me, but they can either choose to join me or follow you to the grave.”

Thomas finally came to the conclusion that he was in deep trouble but, like any other cunning cartel boss would, he had an ace up his sleeve.

“I’m impressed, Ben.” He began. “I see you’re finally acquiring a general sense of the business. What would your former little flame think of you now?”

Ben instantly tensed up. Fear crept in and shock kicked as he inevitably turned around at the sound of her name coming out of Thomas’ lips.

“What’d you fucking say?”

“Nevermind. I spoke too soon.” Thomas sighed while shaking his head with condescendence. “I never went around killing people that vexed me to get to where I am today. I did my homework. And if you did yours, you’d know that sometimes you don’t even have to get your hands dirty. People will do as you say when they know you’ll pull the trigger on the people they love.” Thomas lectured. “It’s about knowing the enemy’s weakness. And yours… is that beautiful girl, am I correct?” He paused. “You were even selfless enough to sacrifice your own heart just to keep her safe. So romantic.” Thomas mocked.

Thomas smiled at the sudden terror in Ben’s eyes.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This is the kid who’s been moving the new product in town.” One of Thomas’s men said as he walked with him towards the driveway. He handed him a file folder. “His name’s Benjamin.”

Thomas stopped a few inches away from his car to look at it.

“We gave him a warning, sir, but…” The man continued, “…there’s quality in his product. His sells are increasing among our clients.”

Among various documents and photographs, one in particular caught Thomas’ attention. A Polaroid of Ben with a woman.

“This cocksucker might become a problem. Follow him. Find out who she is.” He ordered as he handed the file folder back and got into his car.

Ben missed her.

But he wasn’t safe to be around. Not since he had pissed the town’s mob boss and had taken a beating from his men. And as soon as he knew they were coming for him, he broke up with her without a reason just to keep her out of his messy and dangerous new lifestyle. He thought she deserved better but he was going crazy and missed her like hell.

Ben grabbed a black hoodie and left his place. He walked the streets with the hood on until he stood in front of her apartment building. He looked up at the 4th floor, and as if the universe conspired in his favor, she walked by the window and he caught a glimpse of her. Ben smiled. He wanted that to be enough for him so he could walk home in peace but he felt he would burst into flames if he didn’t touch her.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath and entered the building headed for the elevators.

Her face fell when she opened the door and saw him standing there.

“What the hell are you d-”

He didn’t let her finish.

Without a care, Ben ended the distance, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her desperately.

“What are you involved in?”

The former lovers lied in bed wrapped in the sheets and in a bittersweet bliss after making love. She was resting her head on his bare chest.

“I know you’re the one sending me those money envelopes, Ben.” She pushed as she searched for his eyes.

“The less you know the safer you will be.” Ben kissed the top of her head and got up.

She stared at him as he started gathering his clothes and changing into them.

“You keep saying that. What about you? How is keeping me in the dark going to keep you safe?”

“That is no longer your concern.”

“I am not the one who broke things off out of the fucking blue, Ben!” She raised her voice. “You started talking about buying a big house and all these plans you made for us and then you broke up with me.”

“And it fucking hurt like hell!” Ben snapped.

Ben sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. He could feel his lover’s eyes on his back.

“You don’t get it.” He said. “I love you… more than anything in this world. I just can’t let you pay for the consequences of my choices.”

Her eyes welled up with tears as she realized that this was goodbye again, perhaps a much better one that the first one but just as painful.

“Ben, if you truly loved me, you would’ve chosen me.” Her voice broke.

Ben shut his eyes when he felt her getting out of bed to lock herself in the bathroom. Frustration had begun to fill him. He followed her, pressed his forehead against the door as if he was in pain. There wasn’t much he could really say about his reasons and she would never understand them.

One of Thomas’ men was parked outside the apartment building.

He had seen Ben walk in, and watched as he left.

Thomas wore gym clothes and a baseball cap to blend in as just another city runner.

Ben’s former lover came out of a shop and her face fell when she realized her car had a flat tire. She instinctively looked around, not knowing what to do. But before she could even begin to search for a solution in her mind, a blue-eyed stranger stood behind her.

“Everything okay, Miss?”

She turned around to face him.

“Yeah… it’s just…” She showed him the flat tire with a hand gesture.

“I can help if you have a spare.” The kind stranger said.

“Really?” She asked trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Of course.”

“Oh, god. Thank you so much. Let me open the trunk.”

As the woman got in the car, Thomas gripped the knife he had in his hoodie’s pocket. The same one he had used to stab one of her tires when she went into the shop and no one was looking, while pretending to tie his tennis shoe laces next to the vehicle. When the woman joined him again, he held his hand out and introduced himself with a warm smile.

“Let me buy you breakfast at least.” She said once Thomas had done her the favor.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do. People are very rude in this town, so you’re like a superhero right now.”

He showed a shy grin and finally nodded.

“There’s a place around the corner.” She said.

After motioning her to lead the way, his smile turned evil.

Thomas’ plan had worked and it was only the beginning.

“You motherfucker!” Ben spat as he violently pulled Thomas by the shirt. “What did you do to her!?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s in a golden cage.”

“You fucking touch her I will-”

“Oh, Benny, Benny, it’s a little late for that…” Thomas said venomously. “By the way, did she moan your name a lot in bed too, or does she just really love it when I stick my tongue inside her delicious cunt?”

Ben’s blood boiled. He didn’t think twice and punched Thomas in the face without letting go of his shirt. Thomas had an instant nosebleed but chuckled while Ben was an inch away from his face. Thomas turned his head to stare into Ben’s soul and with blood-stained teeth he grinned like the devil.

“My wellbeing is directly proportional to hers, and only I know where she is.” Thomas stated proudly. “You want to kill me? Go ahead. But you’ll never see her again.”

“You’re a fucking piece of shit.” Ben hissed.

“Valentine ’s Day is just around the corner, mate. What’s it going to be? Will you be sending her a bouquet of roses or a funeral wreath?”

Ben finally let go and stood up straight. He stared at Thomas but narrowed his eyes. He suddenly put his hands on his waist and let out a chuckle as he shook his head.

“You fucking liar.” He said. “You’re just trying to mess with my head.”

Thomas remained silent and serious, until a little smile appeared on his lips and doubt invaded Ben.

“What do you want!?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Well, it’s not that complicated really. I just want my freedom of course.” Thomas said with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t believe you. I kidnapped you, for fuck’s sake, and you set my drugs on fire just because-”

“No. No. Not just because. You were selling your shit on my territory and for every action…” Thomas trailed off.

“Exactly. If I let you walk out of here, you’re going to hurt her.”

Ben paced back and forth, not knowing what to do. He even glanced at his men who looked just as dumbfounded.

“Untie me and give me my phone.”

Ben made a face.

“I’m a man of my word.” Tom swore. “You want to know if she’s all right, don’t you?”

A couple minutes later, Thomas was handed his phone and he used the one hand they had untied to dial a number. Ben pulled out his gun, aimed at him and cocked it.

“No funny business or I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. Ben listened as he greeted one of his men and asked him to put his ex-girlfriend on the phone. He put it on speaker. Ben’s heart was racing while waiting to hear her voice.

“Hello?”

It almost leaped out of his chest when he recognized it. Ben wanted to snatch the phone away. He was dying to ask her if she was okay.

“Hello?” She waited on the other line but the phone was taken from her.

“Sir?” Thomas’ man said.

Thomas looked Ben in the eye while uttering his next words.

“If I don’t come home tonight, kill her.”

Thomas hung up and Ben instinctively got closer until the barrel of his gun was pressed against his enemy’s forehead.

“You fucking-”

“You have no choice, Benjamin. We’re playing my bloody game now. So you’re going to untie me and never show your face around here ever again because this town isn’t big enough for the two of us.” Thomas threatened.

Ben was seeing red, nothing but fire coursed through his veins.

“You do your part,” Thomas carried on, “and I promise you she will be fine.”

Ben realized he had lost. He had to swallow his pride, felt like he would choke on it, and clenched his jaw as he lowered the gun defeated.

“I want proof of it.” He demanded.

“As soon as you send me your new address.”

“And if you lay one finger on her...”

Ben glared at him in silence for several seconds until he glanced at his men over his shoulder and motioned with his head.

“Untie him.”

Ben crossed the snowy driveway of his cabin to reach the mailbox.

He had done as he had been told and was staying at a secluded place far away from Thomas’ kingdom. He planned to lay low for a while and until he figured out his next move. Ben had been anxiously waiting for Thomas to keep his part of the deal. Otherwise, he’d go back without a care and start a war. He’d do anything for her. But after three days of desperately checking the mailbox in vain, he finally received a small package.

Ben opened it in a rush and pulled out a VHS tape and a note he immediately read.

I’m a man of my word.

-T.

Ben stared at the VHS tape and sighed with frustration. Of course Thomas was going to give him a hard time even from a considerable distance.

“Old school cocksucker.” He muttered under his breath.

After a long drive downtown to visit an electronics store, Ben returned with a VCR so he could play the tape. It had cost him a fortune for being an almost obsolete device. He plugged it to the TV in his cabin living room and popped the tape in. There was nothing but static for almost a complete minute and then it brusquely blended into a clear image of a luxurious bedroom.

Ben got closer to the TV, even knelt in front of it as soon as he recognized his former girlfriend sitting on the bed wearing a blindfold. Ben’s stomach clenched as he feared the worst, but she showed no bruises on her body and she was wearing a dress. The camera seemed to have been hidden on a surface a few feet away from the bed. All of a sudden, Thomas walked in wearing a suit and stood in front of her. He was holding a small box.

Ben’s heart was racing.

“You can take it off.” Thomas said before opening the box. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

Ben’s ex-girlfriend stared at the diamond necklace inside the box and her mouth fell open. She got off the bed to get a closer look and Ben watched as she turned around for Thomas to help her put it on. When she turned back around, she crashed her lips against his.

“I love it. Thank you.” She said excitedly between lip brushes.

Thomas put his right hand on the back of her head and his fingers got lost in her hair as he pulled her in for a very passionate kiss. She pushed his jacket down his shoulders. Thomas was armed and Ben thought he was having a nightmare. But it got much worse when they toppled onto the bed and Thomas began to touch and kiss every inch of her and she threw her head back with pleasure. He groped her breasts as he slid down and pulled up her skirt. Thomas hummed with pleasure when he realized she wore no underwear.

He buried his face between her thighs, and she squirmed with pleasure as she moaned his name.

Ben gripped the remote in his right hand and stopped the video. He got up and started to pace like a caged lion and ran his fingers through his hair as his whole world came crashing down. He was nauseous and a million thoughts were rushing through his head. He didn’t want to keep on watching, he felt like it would drive him insane, but Thomas had a gun in his waistband. What if he hadn’t kept his word and had hurt her instead?

With both anger and fear making his hands tremble, Ben had to press play again.

Thomas lifted his head after a while to see her on the verge of an orgasm, but she groaned when he stopped.

“Tell me what you want.” He murmured.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“You want my cock inside of you?”

“Yes.” She breathed out as he pulled Thomas by the shirt so he’d get on top of her. She reached for the gun. Ben’s heartbeat stuttered but she just deepened the kiss as she left the weapon on the bed, right next to them. Thomas began to unzip his pants. He flipped her on the mattress to penetrate her from behind.

“You fuck.” Ben whispered then screamed. “YOU FUCK!”

He got up, threw the remote across the room which crashed against the wall and exploded into a million pieces.

“SON OF A BITCH! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Rage was pouring out of his every pore. Ben had sacrificed his love for her to keep her away from any possible danger, and yet, Thomas had waltzed into her life and she looked far from afraid of the gun holstered in his waistband. Maybe it even turned her on. Ben finally understood that she knew who he was and what he did for a living and didn’t care.

Was she in love with him?

Ben was sure that Thomas was just using her against him but she had no clue and was enjoying herself which made his stomach turn.

“God, I love you.” Thomas growled as he deepened his thrusts. “Do you love me, baby?” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it. “Do you love my cock?”

“I fucking love it. I love you, Thomas. Please.” She moaned out of breath. “Go faster.”

He gripped her hips tighter and granted her wish before looking into the camera.

Ben shivered. He felt watched. He felt played, mocked, even emasculated. His eyes welled up with tears of anger.

Thomas showed the most evil of smiles right before throwing his head back and succumbing to the pleasure of her walls clenching around him as she came for him. Thomas was panting as he felt his orgasm getting closer and closer.

All Ben could do was watch as the man he hated poured himself into the love of his life, and he tortured himself wondering whether this all could’ve been avoided if only he had been truthful with her, or if it was just his cruel fate.

About one thing he was absolutely positive; now more than ever, Ben wanted to watch Thomas die.

Slowly.

Gruesomely. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time. 

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember. 

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.” 

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.” 

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].” 

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found. 

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.” 

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.” 

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.” 

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story. 

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.” 

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Hooked On Your Feelings - Prologue (FWB! Tom x Reader)

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 2570

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N:   So I’m starting a new series! I always wanted to do this trope for Tom and I’m realllllly excited for this series!  I’m not completely sure how long it will be as of right now, most likely between 8-10 chapters. So if you want to be added to the taglist, please DM me! I hope you all enjoy the prologue and can’t wait to hear your thoughts on it! (Also credit to @osterfield-holland-andcompany for this amazing ass mood board I made her too..I’m obsessed!) Thank you xx -N

“Get out!” you screamed as you shoved your now ex-boyfriend out the front door of your apartment. You knew the walls were thin but you didn’t care. You were so completely filled with rage and your body was vibrating as you flung his pants at him, “Get the hell out, Justin!” you shouted again.

    Justin flinched as the door swung open and he stumbled out the front door, still in his boxers. The anger in your eyes made your pupils black while he grabbed his pants and rolled his eyes at you, “Will you just let me explain, Y/N?” he tried to speak but you cut him off with a dry and sarcastic laugh.

    “No. The conversation is over,” you snapped at him, taking another deep breath to try and pull yourself together. You felt yourself fighting back the tears because you didn’t want him to see you cry. Not again, anyway.

    Watching as Justin stumbled down the stairs, you stood at the top completely and utterly overcome with your anger you barely recognized your voice. But you knew you had every right to be mad. You couldn’t excuse his behavior and you were done defending him. You knew you deserved better than the shit he was putting you through. It was enough and now you were letting it all pour out as he was practically falling down the stairs.

    You grabbed the shoe he had dropped on his way out the door and aimed it right towards his head, missing and making a loud thud against the wall behind him. You probably just woke up the entire floor but you didn’t care right now. Forming a fist, you refrained from punching the door as you finally lost it, “Don’t call me! Don’t even walk down the same street as me anymore, do you hear me? You conniving son of a bitch!” your voice bounced off the walls with an echo as you watched Justin exit your life through the elevator, still with his pants in his hand.

    You couldn’t help yourself as you flipped off the closing doors while you let out the breath you were holding in. Your chin began to tremble as you tried to stop yourself immediately. He wasn’t worth it, you thought to yourself. You should be proud of getting rid of him. Especially after what he had done to you.

    Just as you were heading back into your apartment before anyone realized you were the cause for the commotion, your neighbor’s door flew open and made you jump when you saw his familiar face meet yours from across the hall. You saw his smile as he noticed you and you knew what that meant, you just weren’t in the mood right now to assist in his little escapade.

    “Y/N! Oh, I thought I heard your voice out here,” your neighbor from 3B made his way over to you with bare feet, brown curls a mess, with his grey sweatpants resting low on his hips as his bare chest was revealed to the entire floor, “Thank god! I need your help with this chick inside who is talking about meeting her family this weekend and I’ve known her for...three hours,” he cringed as he carefully tip-toed his way over towards you.

 You couldn’t help but roll your eyes because this was a regular thing for him, even if it wasn’t your business. But he was a friend of yours, in a neighborly way at least, so at some point you made it your business.

    “No,” you scolded him as you shook your head. You tried to hold in your laugh at the desperate look on his face but you couldn’t help, “Not tonight, Tom. No! C’mon, seriously? No!” you warned as he began to give you puppy dog eyes to try and convince you otherwise.

    Tom pressed his palms together and pressed them to his chest, praying for your assistance, “Please, Y/N! I owe you so much if you help me out and this is the last time, I swear,” he paused for a moment when he realized you were standing by your door this late at night and you looked as if you had gone through hell. His lips tightened as he suddenly grew concerned, “Wait, what are you doing out here right now?” he questioned.

    You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Um...I sorta caught Justin sleeping with his co-worker so I was just kicking him out, sorry,” you don’t know why you apologized for it but you knew you didn’t want Tom or anyone for that matter to see you when you were this visibly upset.

    “He did what?! Fuck...Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Tom said as he offered you a hug, pulling you into his bare arms while he tried to make you feel a little bit better, “That guy was a fucking prick and I never really liked him anyway,” he told you, making you laugh through your tears while you pulled away with a small smile showing.

    Running a hand through his curls to smooth them over, Tom squeezed your shoulder playfully, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably a bigger mess than you right now,” he told you as he cringed at what was waiting for him back in his apartment.

    “No, you have a bigger mess than me,” you corrected with another eye roll. Quickly wiping your tears away you placed a hand on your hip while taking another breath towards Tom and his stupidity, “If I do this, you owe me big time,” you sighed.

    Tom was a good guy but the decisions he sometimes made were, to say the least, questionable. You didn’t know too much about his personal life but just enough to come to the realization that he couldn’t commit to much of anything. He was always bringing random girls home, roommates came and went, and he had a tendency to flake on tenant meetings at the last minute.

 There was no question that he wasn’t looking to settle down, you never once saw him with the same girl more than once and that was none of your business nor concern. Tom was a good neighbor to you. He watered your plants for you while you were out of town visiting your family, he kept his music down to an appropriate volume, he would even bring you pizza on occasion to eat together while you gossiped about the other tenants on your floor. And sometimes in return, he would ask for favors like bailing him out of sticky situations that you tried not to judge too harshly.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tom gave you another hug with a kiss against your cheek, “I will owe you for fucking life, Y/N,” he thanked you as he waited for you to head into his apartment to do what he clearly was too afraid to do himself. Letting girls off bluntly was something he was never good at. Then again, that was a whole other issue he didn’t want to think about.

Tom followed you into his place as you glared at him when you saw all of the clothes strewn across the living room floor. Making a face at the boxers on the ground you shuddered at the thought of what the hell went down in this apartment as you watched Tom nod towards his bedroom signaling that she was in there.

Nodding your head you rolled your eyes before you got yourself into your character. Seconds later, you whipped around and channeled your anger towards Tom as you slammed his door shut, “Save it, Tom! I won’t hear it! I come home after taking a double shift for us and this is what I come home to?!”

 Tom gave you a thumbs up that you were doing a good job as you slammed your fist against the nearby counter, “I just spent fourteen hours stripping to pay your way through law school so we could afford a better place to live and this is the thanks that I get? You fucking some random girl?!” you shouted while you shook your head towards Tom with a shrug.

“Woah, nice touch. I love the story line this time,” Tom whispered with an approving smile as he pointed towards the bedroom door, signaling for you to go and get rid of her.

You stormed into the bedroom, already seeing the girl scurrying to find her shoes, “Oh god! Please, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as her red hair swung back and forth while she adjusted her sequin cocktail dress. Limping through the threshold of the door she couldn’t even look at you or Tom as her face grew red, “I had no idea that he-”

“That he what? Was married? Was cheating on his wife of seven years? You still want this son of a bitch?” you asked the girl who shook her head ‘no’ nervously, “The both of you need to leave! Get out!” you pointed towards the door as you focused on Tom.

Tom apologized to the girl as she practically ran out the door before he turned to you, “Darling, please let me explain! Think of the children!” he begged you as he still noticed the girl was in earshot.

“I want a divorce and I’m taking both the kids! You won’t have two pennies to rub together by the time I’m done, Thomas! Do you hear me? I can’t believe you would-”

“She’s gone,” Tom cheered silently as his door finally closed with a sigh of relief. He rushed to the fridge to grab two beers as he made his way over to you, “Both the kids? Really?” he teased while he clinked his bottle up against yours.

Giving him a shrug, you brought the beer to your lips as you collapsed onto his couch, “Well if you kept your dick in your pants for once maybe you wouldn’t have to ask your neighbor to make up such elaborate lies on the fly to kick girls out of your apartment,” you teased right back as Tom took a seat right next to you with a pout on his face, “Am I wrong?” you questioned him with a giggle.

“Well, technically, no. But then, where’s the fun in that?” he laughed as he took another sip. Trying to figure out why he even did half of the shit he did anymore. He knew there wasn’t any fun in any of it. Not anymore, anyway.  It made no sense, especially if he wasn’t getting anything out of these situations except drama. And he hated the drama of it all.

You made a face at Tom, “I guess no more fun than watching the guy you were in love with make out with his co-worker,” you stare at the bottom of your bottle, letting the alcohol swirl around your brain as you tried to push away those thoughts. You didn’t want to think about Justin again. It was still fresh but you weren’t ready to move on just yet.

“Guess we both should be alone for a while, huh?” Tom stated as he slumped further into the couch. Downing his beer as he set it aside on the table. This feeling was beginning to come more often than not with Tom after he dismissed one of his...conquests. He didn’t like it anymore because it was suddenly beginning to make him feel like this but he kept doing it anyway in hopes it would go away. But so far it only got worse as the nights rolled in and you came by to kick out more of them. He was lucky you were here because he didn’t feel like being alone right now.

The room fell still as the two of you remained on the couch in silence for a bit. Trying to blur out the events that had taken place earlier with Justin, you finished your drink and placed it beside Tom’s. You knew you wanted something serious and Justin was not that, even though you knew he was going to be trouble from the get go. You knew perfectly well what you needed but maybe you just needed some time for you right now and not to jump in to things that were going to be messy. You wanted numbness but at the same time you wanted to feel something that you hadn’t yet.

Turning your head to face Tom, your eyes met his in the dimly lit living room. The muted TV gave off the only illumination while you both remained there in your tipsy states, trying to figure out where both of your nights had gone wrong.

“I really don’t want to be alone,” you finally broke the silence as you stared into his eyes before they flickered towards his bare chest, back to his eyes slowly.

Tom swallowed as he shook his head, “Me either,” he agreed in the same tone. He noticed you were looking at him and more importantly the way you were looking, but he found himself not minding at all as his eyebrows raised up a bit when your lips crashed into his.

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[damiano-mylove]

Condescending Bitch

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x reader

Wc: 2.5k

Cw(s): swearing, kissing, crying, probably typos (as per usual, tell me if it sucks)

Summary: Reader breaks up with their boyfriend and Thomas consoles them.

Masterlist

If honesty be a virtue, you'd be virtuous to plainly say you'd fallen out of love with your boyfriend and you had done so a while ago. It wasn't deliberate, it was a gradual fizz wherein you found your heart warming for someone else. You felt horrible about it and that guilt had been eating at you. There was no cheating, but you didn't think you'd be able to avoid it for much longer. Not to mention, it wasn't only the non-existent feelings, Luca was just an asshole when you weren't blinded by love.

There comes a time where one must throw in the towel, and now was that time for you.

You couldn't do it at a restaurant; knowing Luca, he'd cause a scene. You couldn't do it at some meeting place; it would ruin that place forever and ever to both of you. And that shit's just not fair.

In the end, you couldn't make the decision. So you put every single item of Luca's clothing in a bag (and a couple things he'd left around your flat), and drove over to his house while you still had the nerve. You'd gathered and lost the nerve a couple times before, but the plan was already in motion now. Hell, there was no plan, but whatever you were raring to do was up and running.

You drove straight to Luca's mother's house in record time. Time flies when you're laser focused.

"Y/n!" Luca's mother exclaimed joyfully as you entered the kind looking house. How someone like Luca came out of Mrs. Batali was a wonder in and of itself. Once Mrs. Batali spotted the bag in your hand, she frowned. "Has something happened, Bambino?"

Somehow, the hardest part of this breakup would be bidding goodbye to Luca's mother, and not Luca himself. You sighed, "I'm sorry, Signora. Luca and I have been having issues for a while now."

"Oh, don't be sorry, Bambino." The older lady's kind smile returned to her face, which struck a heart string you hadn't even known existed. Mrs. Batali swayed toward you, in all of her vanilla scented goodness. She hugged you around your neck loosely, which you returned around her wide hips. "You're always welcome for dinner and a roof. Don't let the stupid boy stop you from seeing me."

God gave two gifts to this world; one of them was Mrs. Batali.

A smile cracked across your face as your chest continued to tighten and hurt. You loved this family like your own, and you loved Luca at some point. So many memories were made in the throws of this relationship, and it was all going to be thrown out the window by you. But it was too late now.

"Ti amo." Mrs. Batali placed a kiss to your forehead which made your smile even more genuine. She patted your shoulder, finally releasing you from her motherly grasp. Sadly, she raised her arm to the stairs to Luca's bedroom. "I'll be down here, if you need me."

You smiled once more to the older lady and bowed your head in silent thanks. If you uttered a word, the word would lead to tears. It seemed the two of you knew this.

It was the last thing you wanted to do right now, but you had to seal the deal.

Without your consent, your feet began moving toward the stairs then up the stairs. Your heart beat in sickening rhythm with your footsteps, but your heart seemed more heavy than your feet. It was ridiculous. You were ready to throw up, pee, or meltdown - you didn't know which one, if it was one at all.

At long last, after walking down the longest hallway of your life, you stood in front of Luca's closed door. You remembered all the times you'd breeze in, going straight into Luca's arms for a kiss. His breath wasn't always good and he was a bad kisser, but he made you feel infatuation. Now it only seemed a fraction of what you felt for the other person. Yes, God, that was why you had to do this.

You knocked. Your heart was deafening.

"Come in!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You pushed open the door, feeling like you were having a heart attack. Luca smiled brightly at you from the light of his computer. Then he laid eyes on the bag. Don't know how, it was dark as fuck in the room. And smelt of cheap body spray and dirty clothes.

"Hey, Babe, I wasn't expecting you," Luca smiled, trying to act off the bag of his clothes and gifts in your hand. You flicked on the light as he stood up to close the door behind you.

This room is fucking disgusting. It was truly noxious.

"Alright, Luca, sit down, we've got to talk," you told him, putting on your bravest and thickest voice. It worked because the air in the room changed. The air grew thick and impossible to breath. It could've been cut with a knife. Luca sat on his bed, hands in his lap. You placed the bag on the ground and sighed, "We're breaking up."

For a second, he was unresponsive. Luca didn't say a word until he looked you in the eye, what felt like a full minute later. His bottom lip quivered. "You're dumping me?"

"You can tell people you dumped me, I don't mind," you quipped, trying to make the situation better. You did not, in fact, make the situation better. You potentially made it about thirteen times worse.

"No, you're not." Luca stood up again. Your breath caught in your throat. "We're not breaking up."

He took a few quick steps to you. You stood your ground, trying to be as brave as possible. Your mask was slipping. The last thing you wanted right now was for Luca to see that you were cracking under his gaze. That would be fucking horrendous.

All of a sudden, Luca barked out a laugh. He looked like a madman. "This is about that Thomas bitch, isn't it?" You didn't answer, and your facial expressions gave nothing away. Then Luca snapped, "Isn't it?!"

"If you want to fucking shout, we can shout," you seethed. Luca blinked angrily at you. "We're adults - act like it."

"You're a condescending bitch."

"And you're an ugly prick, but I've never complained about that. You've called me a condescending bitch about 3 times and a flat-out bitch more than a dozen," you recalled quickly, with venom dripping off each syllable. It shut Luca up. However, he began to cry. You felt nothing but hatred now. "You're one pathetic bitch to be crying over the girl who you treat like a fucking doormat." Luca only cried harder. No sympathy. You spun on your heel and opened the door.

Without a glance back, you left.

Mrs. Batali smiled at you on your way out and gave you a freshly baked bun, which you thanked her profusely for.

It didn't take long for reality to set in, however. The adrenaline faded as you drove back to your flat complex. You began crying at the wheel and completely broke down in the car park. Tears streamed down your face like rivers, snot clogged your nose. Your mouth tasted horrible so you started to eat the bun Mrs. Batali had baked. It was so good that you started crying harder.

How the fuck could you do that? At this point, you were too sad to give a fuck about sobbing in a car park at 6 in the evening. You just threw in the towel of a year long relationship, in the blink of an eye. Like it was nothing and meant nothing to you whatsoever, which wasn't true at all. You felt like a horrible person.

Your chest clogged up with emotions and stale air, your throat grew a lump that you couldn't swallow down. Now you were the pathetic one. Crying in a shitbox car over your ex while eating fucking bread.

A tap on the window scared the Jesus out of you.

When you looked at the source, the other person was looking right back at you, looking worried and confused. Leave it to Thomas to look sad just because you were sad. Thomas looked so fucking good even though a blur of teary eyelashes. He made the hand crank motion, so you rolled down your window.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked. You just started laughing. What a stupid fucking question. Thomas began chuckling, realizing how stupid it was himself. "Fair enough. Fancy a cup of tea and a chat or shall I leave you to your car bread?"

How the fuck could he make you laugh in times like these?

You smiled then shooed him away from your car door so you could open it. He obliged and moved back, for you to get out, still with bread and keys in hand. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows as you two began walking back to the flat complex you both lived in. "Aren't you going to roll up the window?"

"How the fuck is anyone meant to steal it when all the windows are up?" It was your turn to earn a laugh from Thomas. Thomas' laugh hit your ear like honey. The sort of honey that your mother gave you to cure your sore throat before nursery. It was soothing and just the right thing for the situation.

As you walked up the stairs with Thomas, you realized he was taking you to his flat. To be fair, he was the one who offered you tea. What's he going to do? Offer you your own tea?

Thomas unlocked the ugly blue door of his flat that everyone in the building had a copy of. The second you both walked into the flat, warmth enveloped you, along with sandalwood and spices from Thomas' extensive spice cabinet. He must have been cooking earlier because it smelt Heavenly. Everything was in perfect place with just the right amount of mess and disorganization to make it seem like a home.

"I'll put the kettle on, sit anywhere," Thomas instructed after you both took your shoes off. You were wearing ratty trainers while Thomas was wearing perfectly clean Vans.

You nodded and flung yourself on one of his couches with a sigh. The couch was soft, warm and welcoming and you felt tired from crying and yelling and just the day in general. It was a shit day, that started with your toast burning and ended with this shit. A nap would really do good.

However, Thomas had other plans entirely. He placed a purple mug, full of tea with what looked like your golden ratio of milk and sugar. Thomas was your best friend, of course he knew your golden ration. You knew his. With a smile, you sat up which allowed Thomas to sit beside you and drape his arm over the back of the couch.

"Feel like telling me why you were crying in your car?" Thomas asked. You laughed lightly and sipped the piping hot tea.

"Broke up with Luca about-" you checked a clock. "-30 minutes ago."

As horrible as it sounds, Thomas' face lit up. His facial features remained the same but his beautiful green eyes lit up like candles in a dark room. "Is that so?"

"He called me a condescending bitch."

"So he hasn't gotten a new script," Thomas smiled. You chuckled lightly and sniffed. Your nose was still clogged from all the crying. You just didn't feel like blowing your nose like an elephant in front of Thomas right now. "He'll never get the chance to get a new script for you now."

"Thank God above," you sighed out with a laugh to your words. Thomas smiled. "I'll miss his mum though. Wonderful lady."

Thomas sipped his own tea and you discretely moved closer to him. It wasn't as discrete as you'd thought because Thomas picked up and moved a bit closer to you with a stupid smile on his face. "So how'd it go down?"

Like friends do, you told him everything, down to the detail. All but Luca being right, with Thomas being the other man who'd stolen your heart. That wouldn't be a key detail here because the last thing you needed today was to dump your boyfriend then directly after scare your best friend away from you forever.

But he wasn't scared off by you telling him Luca though you were leaving him for Thomas. Thomas actually smirked at that part, like the thought amused him. You didn't think anything of it actually, except for how cute Thomas was when he was smirking.

Eventually, the conversation faded and you were hip to hip with Thomas. With a sigh, he rested your head in the crook of Thomas' neck. His feather soft hair tickled the side of your face but you wanted nothing else for the moment. The scent of Thomas' cologne was prominent when you were this close to him, but you weren't going to complain about that. His arm fell from the back of the couch to around your shoulders.

Feeling Thomas' head turn to you, you looked up at him. Thomas' hand lightly squeezed you arm. Your breath hitched in your throat as you thought you were imagining Thomas observing your face.

Those gorgeous green eyes that you could stare into all day were scanning your face gently. They landed on your lush lips, then back to your eyes. All it took was a small nod for Thomas to lean in.

It was slow. It was slow, but undeniably sweet. The passion was palpable the minute your lips met his, just as you had been dreaming of for months now. His pillow-like lips were perfectly moisturized, but not over-saturated. The lip balm he used was strawberry flavoured and you'd never admired strawberry flavoured lip balm as you were in this moment.

As suddenly as it began, it ended.

Thomas leaned back for a second, looking guilty. "You need time to get over Luca, this is wrong."

"I've been over Luca for months." You placed a kiss to his lips, which Thomas accepted for a second, then backed out of again. You groaned. "Thomas, Luca was right. I'm in love with you."

In a stunned silence, Thomas' cheeks turned bright red. A broad smile grew on his face and you felt confident in your confession. You meant it, surely, but now you were confident that you did the right thing in telling Thomas.

"I've been in love with you since we went to the Capitoline." Thomas' voice cracked as he made his confession. Your heart bustled with warmth. He'd been pining for you all this time just to watch you run with Luca.

You couldn't take your aching heart. Grabbing Thomas' face gently, you pressed your lips to his again. He gladly returned this kiss with fervour and renewed zeal. Nothing else mattered while your lips were joined with Thomas' lips. Nothing would ever be able to induce the utter happiness and peace you'd felt in this moment.

After the kiss lasting for a while, Thomas pulled you to sit on his lap. He cupped your sweet face gently and smiled into your brilliant eyes. He kissed your nose. "May I tell you something else, Y/n?"

"Anything."

"I don't think you're a condescending bitch."

[kae-karo]

thomato/tomokazu brainrot

i'm living in the 'ayato is tomo' world where ayato ran from home due to the vision hunt decree and thoma/ayaka knew about him disappearing, tried to keep it under wraps, etc

thoma always loved ayato and hated when he started talking abt leaving, bc it went from 'vision hunt decree bad' to 'i literally can't do anything and i can't live like this' and he left thoma and thoma felt betrayed

ayato (changed his name to tomo) met kazuha, they traveled together for a while. tomokazu brainrot ensues. but then tomo got fed up with the vision hunt decree (kept him up at night that it was still going on) and finally went to challenge baal. didn't die, bc she recognized him, as did sara, but he almost did. kazuha took his vision, which seemed to die out bc he ran away with it.

but ayato recovered (as ayato) and forgot his ambitions and his hurt about the decree, which thoma is conflicted over - on the one hand, he has his ayato back. on the other, both he and ayaka know what happened, and ayato is still...different. he looks to thoma for comfort, but mumbles a name - something like 'kazuha' - in his sleep. when he sleeps, which isn't often enough for thoma's concerns.

one day, thoma finds ayato sitting in front of a mirror with his hair tied up in a high ponytail, just staring at his reflection. frowning. he notices thoma, tries to smile but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. 'just messing around', he says with a forced laugh, and thoma's stomach turns. that's how he'd turned up to fight baal, with his hair like that. that's how thoma almost lost him, permanently. he laughs louder, comes to ayato's side and pulls the ribbon from his hair. lets it fall, then ties it like his own, and it falls in an elegant wave down his back. this is his ayato, thoma reminds himself, but it isn't.

after a while, he asks. do you remember where you were? ayato doesn't. lots of shrugs, but his gaze goes distant, and he excuses himself from thoma's presence. thoma doesn't follow him, not at first, but when he finally does, he finds ayato sitting beneath a tree, some stray cat he's coaxed onto the estate grounds curled up in his lap. his hair tied up high on his head. this long, it looks more like ayaka's, but he'd cut it shorter when he left. this long, it looks like he could be ayato again, but thoma knows that he isn't.

he looks for kazuha afterward, but finds little. not a family name, and for all he knows, a fake, but he doesn't give up. can't, when ayato asks him to help cut his hair - he's started wearing it up, though he jokes that he can't look just like ayaka or nobody will ever be able to tell them apart, so won't you help me, thoma? and thoma does, of course. he could never quite say no to ayato. has loved him for far too long to-

to want him to stay where he's unhappy, in a life and a time and a stasis and an eternity that he'd tried to escape. thoma understands it better, now, even if it hurts. when he sees kazuha, hears his name from gorou for the first time, thoma nearly breaks down. hand over his mouth, trying to hold back tears, he stalks over to kazuha. no recognition flashes in his eyes, though, and he wonders - hates that he wonders, but does all the same - if ayato ever spoke of him. if he ever missed thoma enough to mention him to someone else so obviously precious to him.

ayato, he says when he manages to lower his hand, and kazuha stares. blinks. then recognition dawns, bright and hot, and his eyes go wide with the sharp breath he inhales. tears spring to his eyes then, too, and thoma doesn't know how to handle that. but they stand in the middle of the resistance camp and thoma's two seconds from losing his composure as well, so he tips his head toward the trees and kazuha follows

it's painful, telling him. harder than he thought it'd be, but thoma understands that pain all the same - he's felt it, too. kazuha takes it all in silence, tears gleaming but yet unfallen, and thoma doesn't know what to say when he asks if ayato remembers him. how to say yes, he does and he doesn't, he calls your name in his sleep and doesn't remember it in the morning. how to tell him who thoma wants ayato to be, who he was before, and not who he was with kazuha. thoma isn't a bad person, but he feels insanely selfish right now, as though he's waving his ayato in kazuha's face.

kazuha kept his vision, though. kept it, hoped without hoping, and thoma's stomach twists. guilt, guilt more than anything - he doesn't want to lose ayato again. how can he lose ayato again, how can he give his ayato away? will returning the vision restore his memories, too? kazuha asks, and thoma wants to say it won't. he wants to protect ayato and protect himself, because what if ayato does remember? what if he loves kazuha more than he ever loved thoma? he certainly can't have loved thoma more, or he'd have returned, right?

but thoma isn't even certain this is his ayato. he is, sometimes, and thoma wants that, but...but it hurts, to see the distance in ayato's stare, the sleepless nights where he wanders in the forest, where thoma follows him from afar. where he does nothing but walk though the evening, until he turns around and thoma rushes back so that he can pretend he hadn't been watching out for ayato. even though ayato's skill with a blade has only improved, though he can't remember how or why. it takes only one minute of watching kazuha spar with another resistance member for thoma to determine who he'd learned from.

there is a pain in letting go. there is a pain in holding on. and thoma can't do either one - he loves ayato too deeply to be selfish.

i don't know if he'll remember, but we should find out, shouldn't we?

it's easier than he expected, traveling with another wanted individual, and kazuha knows too well the burdens of keeping himself hidden. thoma understands a part of it, too, but kazuha is nothing short of incredible at it. it's no wonder ayato stuck around, you're a natural at this, he'd said, on a better day, when the sun shone and kazuha had kept them deftly clear of any shogunate army patrols. the wrong words, he'd realized a little too late. kazuha only nodded, a sharp thing for his typically gentle demeanor, and thoma did not know what to do with that. couldn't get more than a few words out of him the rest of the day.

he loved you too, thoma thinks in kazuha's direction. he doesn't know how to say it, though, because it isn't his place to say. but if not his, then whose? ayato doesn't remember. and it hurts, to see kazuha hurt in the same way that thoma did. he's certainly not a weak spirit, thoma's come to find, but he is a gentle one. kind and a bit mischievous when he wants to be, and thoma can see it, why ayato would fall for him. two of a kind in such different ways. had ayato found comfort with kazuha? adventure? something else, something he'd been searching for when he left? maybe thoma will never know. maybe the only one left to remember is kazuha.

what was he like? thoma asks one night around a dim fire, stirred to life on occasion by either he or kazuha. kazuha's gaze flicks up, and thoma does not need to clarify his question. excited. every little thing brought him such excitement. a thunderstorm, a clear day, a full moon. a small smile tugs at kazuha's lips, the first thoma has seen in days. it calms something within him - i will keep him safe, i will keep his heart safe for you, ayato. kazuha tells him of ayato- of tomo, the name he went by until his last day, until he left kazuha and went to face the raiden shogun herself. and thoma listens, and aches, and loves ever more fiercely. ayato was ayato, the pieces that kazuha saw are the pieces that thoma saw, if from a different angle. you are pretty short after all, thoma says with a grin, and kazuha blinks at him. there's a rush of wind, suddenly, and kazuha's hovering aloft several feet in the air, and thoma laughs louder than he has in well over a year. and kazuha floats down again, rests a little closer to thoma this time.

what was ayato like? kazuha asks in turn, and thoma knows that he does not refer to the time since he's returned. that is for...for later. a rascal, actually, i bet you two got along far too well, he says, and kazuha laughs then, and his head falls on thoma's shoulder, and it's late and dark and warm and thoma talks for as long as he can, every story he'd clung desperately to when ayato left him, and he shares them all with kazuha, who loved him too.

when they return, ayato waits for them at the teahouse. hold onto his vision, let me go in first? thoma asks, and kazuha nods. he wonders if kazuha wishes to put this off, too. how does it feel to have your heart ripped out, returned bloody and tattered, only to feel it torn from you again?

thoma, where have you been? he's crushed in a hug before he knows what to do, what to say, and tears prick his eyes. you had me worried sick! ayato pulls back, and thoma stares at him. sees him in a way he hasn't before - not his ayato. not the ghost of tomo. the two as one. he drags ayato back into a hug. i brought someone here to meet you, he says into ayato's ear, and when he turns, kazuha stands in the doorway. frozen, terrified. he must look to kazuha as he did before, if a bit more polished, and thoma wishes he could hear kazuha's thoughts.

he gets ayato's instead. who are you? not unkind, but curious. why...why am i crying? a laugh from ayato's lips, one that kazuha echoes before he clamps a hand over his mouth. the other holds his vision, ayato's vision, perhaps even his memories.

my name is kaedehara kazuha, i traveled with you for a time while you were running from the vision hunt decree. i knew you as tomo. the name carries such reverence, such love, and thoma turns back to find ayato's eyes wide. tears, as he said, leak from the corners, and thoma wonders again - did you love him more? do you still? how does it feel to lose one's heart?

kazuha... so quietly spoken. does he remember? it's hard to tell, with how he clings still to thoma. it's hard to hope, but he hopes all the same - he loves you, do you remember?

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Go the Distance

Prompt: Hello, I absolutely adore your work 🥺😍🥺 your Sanders Sides angst is just so goooood!!! If you're up to it, I'd love to request a fic <3 Virgil has noticed [side(s?) of your choice; they're all good choices, I can't decide ;-;] has been distant and avoiding him and he just can't figure out what he did wrong but it's actually because [side] loves him and are trying to take some time to 'get rid of/push down their feelings' The angster the better but don't push yourself ^ Feel free to add or change whatever Have a great day and no worries if you don't do this 💜💜💜~@im-an-anxious-wreck 💜🖤

Thanks for the prompt babe you’re the best

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, some lite™ angst

Pairings: prinxiety, background platonic dlampr because found family dynamics motherfuckers

Word Count:  4191

Virgil and Roman's relationship hasn't always been, well, great. But it's been getting better!

Or, at least, it was.

Listen, Virgil knows he and Roman haven’t exactly had the most…painless history. Virgil’s introduction to the series was Thomas telling Roman his dream was to get rid of him and, well, Roman was first and foremost loyal to Thomas. Then the whole…insult thing, ducking out, and the absolute mess of the callback wedding debacle, it’s not exactly been smooth sailing.

 But—okay, and maybe they’d been a little harsher about things than absolutely necessary, and maybe Roman got hit with the consequences of their fights more than Virgil, and maybe Virgil hadn’t exactly been…overwhelmingly accepting of all of Princey’s little ticks.

 But they’d still been talking!

 After the wedding, no one was on good terms with anyone save Patton and Janus—and wasn’t that the shock of a lifetime—and Remus and Virgil. Because they made the smart choice and decided ‘nope, fuck that, I’m out.’

 It was a good choice. You have any idea how high their scores are in GTFO now? The first rundown’s a fucking cakewalk.

 Anyway.

 They’d been talking! Virgil still doesn’t know exactly what happened right after—he saw the video, of course he saw the video, but Roman sunk right to his room and there’s a good twelve hours between that and the next time Virgil saw him—but Roman had come out and approached him!

 Probably because he was still hurt by the end of the video—which oof, Virgil does not blame him for, that was harsh—and his only options were Logan, Virgil, and Remus and Logan, um, didn’t want to see anyone for a while and Remus is Remus.

 Side note: those two have been getting on better. Something about their twin Creativity thing meant Remus knew that Roman was hurting bad before even Thomas did.

 But Roman did seek him out, asking him quietly if he had a moment, just a moment, to sit together. Virgil had shrugged and passed it off as nothing only for Princey to literally sit on the floor and not make a fucking noise. He’d frowned and poked his shoulder, asking if he was alright.

 “Perfectly fine, Dark and Stormy,” Roman had said lightly, “and I’ll leave you in a moment.”

 “But you’re…” Virgil had waved to his silent form. “…not acting like you normally do.”

 Roman had laughed. “And here I thought I’d never hear you say you missed me being loud.”

 “Now let’s not jump to conclusions.”

 Sure enough, a few more seconds had passed and Roman had gotten up, quietly bid Virgil good day, thanked him, and left.

 You bet your ass Virgil sunk straight into Patton’s room to ask hey what the fuck did you do to Roman.

 Patton had sighed and said that they’re not sure what to do now—‘they’ being Janus and Patton. Virgil, still recovering from the whiplash of those two being close had shaken his head and told them to get it the fuck together.

 If he sunk into Remus’s room to ask how to take care of Roman, that’s his business. It’s also his business if he tackled Princey in a hug two minutes later.

 So. Talking.

 Roman, for all he talks, doesn’t really say much. The few things he does say are easily passed off as jokes, off-handed comments that no one really pays much attention to.

 Not that anyone pays nearly enough attention to Roman, come on, guys, he makes it easy.

 But Roman talked to Virgil. He’d come in and sit and Virgil would sit next to him, trying to make sure his arm didn’t burst into flames from where it was pressed against Princey—the dude’s a fucking space heater, okay?—just to listen. Some of the time it was Disney rants—okay, most of the time it was Disney rants—but some of the time…

 “Virgil?”

 “Yeah?”

 Roman looked down at his costume. Today was repair day, unofficially called when Virgil’s hoodie ripped during the night and Roman’s sword cut through his sleeve. Virgil looked up from his own mass of fabric, needle stuck in carefully so he wouldn’t prick himself. He frowned at the look on Roman’s face.

 “What’s up, Princey?”

 “Do you think my logo looks bad?”

 Virgil blinked in shock. Roman didn’t look up and see the surprise on his face, instead running his thumb slowly over the patch on the costume.

 “What the fuck are you talking about, Princey?”

 “It’s so complicated,” Roman said, still looking down, “Logan and Patton have really simple ones. You have a pretty simple one.”

 “Janus doesn’t. Remus doesn’t.”

 “Yeah, but they’re…”

 Virgil frowned deeper, putting his hoodie on the ground and shifting closer to Roman. The prince didn’t even look up, still clutching his logo in his hands.

 “They’re what, Roman?”

 Roman swallowed. “…allowed.”

 A growl sounded from Virgil’s throat before he knew what was happening.

 “And you’re not?”

 “Hmm?”

 “And you’re not allowed, Roman?” Virgil gripped his shoulder. “Look at me, Princey.”

 Roman looked up. Virgil swallowed another growl at the despondent look on the prince’s face. Instead, he gripped Roman’s shoulder tighter.

 “No one,” he said firmly, “is allowed to tell you your logo is bad. You hear me?”

 Roman blinked.

 “I mean it, Roman,” he said, softening his voice a little, “it’s you. It’s yours, no one’s allowed to tell you it’s wrong.”

 “So that’s…okay?”

 “Yeah, Princey, it’s okay.”

 “Oh.” Roman looked back down at his costume. “Okay. Thank you, Virgil.”

 “Anytime.”

 Virgil would come to be astounded at how much he means that.

 Because, really, now that Roman’s talking? Virgil’s fucking shocked that they didn’t realize how much Roman actually has to offer.

 First off, Princey’s smart as hell. Sure, L’s the resident braincell but you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.

 If Logan tries to tell you he’s not a dumbass sometimes he is wrong.

 Roman can puzzle solve with the best of them. Do you have any idea how much brainpower it takes to write a story? A script? Understand how all those moving parts fit together and make sense as a whole? Virgil sure as hell didn’t. He spent one afternoon trying to help Roman only for it to end up as Roman explaining what he was doing and Virgil frantically trying to keep up. Don’t even get him started on how impressive the Imagination stuff is.

 “It’s my job, Fall Out Brood,” Roman laughs every single time Virgil expresses how fucking cool this is, “have to be good at something.”

 And Roman is. He’s good.

 Second: Patton may be the heart, Logan may be the brains, but no one is as good at reassuring him as Roman. Probably has something to do with the Creativity gig. Roman had asked, politely, if Virgil would be comfortable telling him what to do when he gets really anxious, whether to leave him alone, get him somewhere safe, get him things, what have you. Virgil had told him, bemused, only to be shuttled into somewhere that screamed safewarmcomfortableeverythingisokay the next time he had a panic attack. Roman, with the lack of shame truly becoming of a theatre kid, had no problems cheering him up by loudly declaring he would fight whatever shadowy figures plagued his little nightmare, swatting at the air with his sword until Virgil’s sobs had turned into giggles. He never made Virgil talk about anything if he didn’t want to, didn’t try to sit and work through things if they weren’t ready, and never touched him unless he’d gotten the okay. The first time Virgil told him he’d be fine with receiving hugs in the aftermath was the warmest he’d felt in years.

 Princey gives really good hugs.

 Third: Roman’s fucking funny.

 Remember the whole ‘smart as hell’ thing? Know how Logan’s funny as fuck too when he lets himself be?

 Virgil’s lost count of how many times he’s had to gasp out for Roman to shut the fuck up because his sides hurt too much from laughing. He ends up sprawled across the fucking floor or the couch or Princey’s bed, dying very happily but painfully because Roman won’t stop making him laugh.

 Most of the time it’s due to something they’re watching and Roman’ll notice some detail that he picks apart until they’re both howling or Virgil will make one sarcastic comment that turns into a full fucking bit for like…ten minutes. Roman will just keep riffing off of the smallest thing until he’s laughing too hard to keep going—not very likely—or Virgil will flail out desperately and smack him—much more likely.

 Princey said he makes fun of the things he loves.

 …maybe that’s why he doesn’t make fun of Virgil anymore.

 Virgil curls tighter around the pillow, clutching it to his chest. As he rubs his cheek against it, he grimaces. It’s too rough. It’s not warm enough. It doesn’t smell right.

 They’d been talking. It had been good.

 But that was before.

 Before Roman had cautiously approached Logan with an apology, the offering of a new planner for him, the promise to listen to him, hear him out, give him space to speak. Logan had accepted.

 Before Roman had opened the border between his and Remus’s side of the Imagination, sending a little puppy scuttling over to his brother’s castle with a note, a dagger, and a vial of acid. It returned as a kitten with a beautifully poisonous rose.

 Before Roman had finally, finally, after days of trying, opened the door when Patton knocked, letting him come inside so they could talk, about everything that happened since…well, ever. They hadn’t stopped hugging long enough to walk down the stairs.

 Before Roman had let Janus, Janus, take care of him.

 And now…

 Now Roman didn’t want to be in the same room as him.

 It feels as if they’re walking on eggshells around each other again, Virgil appearing in a room only for Roman to completely disappear, getting up and leaving a conversation entirely just to avoid him, Virgil knocking on Roman’s door only for Roman to shout that he’s busy, not to come inside, Virgil, trying, trying to figure out where Roman’s gone, what’s happened, only to receive the cold shoulder.

 A problem none of the other Sides seemed to be having.

 He clutches the pillow to his chest.

 Did he—did he do something wrong?

 Does Roman—does Roman not like him anymore?

 Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed so hard about talking to the others. Roman needed space, needed time, he didn’t need someone else breathing down his neck. He should’ve let Roman set the pace, listened more, been kinder to him when he needed reassurance.

 Maybe he shouldn’t have made Roman think it was his fault that the others were taking so long, or suggested that if he wanted things to get better he should try talking first. Roman had been taught by everyone else that things were his fault already, Virgil didn’t need to jump on that train too.

 Maybe he should’ve been kinder to Roman, less focused on making the others understand that they hurt Roman. Everyone in the Mindscape knew that Roman was hurt, Virgil should’ve helped fix that, taken care of Roman, not pushed the blame onto everyone else.

 Maybe Roman didn’t like what he had to say about Disney films. They were Roman’s comfort watches, the last thing he needed was for someone to cruelly rip away his enjoyment of one of the few things he could enjoy.

 Maybe Roman didn’t like Virgil’s way of taking care of him. Virgil never pushed, never did Roman the courtesy of asking, like Roman did with him, just assumed he knew best how to comfort someone and left it there. Roman might’ve needed more hugs, more time, less distraction, just something other than what Virgil gave him.

 Maybe Roman didn’t like how much Virgil ended up hoarding him to himself. Not letting him go to the others for comfort, just to work things out. Maybe he thought Virgil was just keeping him upset so he could hang out with him more.

 Or maybe…

 Virgil muffles his sob in the pillow.

 Maybe Roman needed or wanted him anyway.

 Maybe Roman was just waiting until he could get the comfort he actually wanted. Maybe he waited until the others were easier to talk to so he could go back to what he really needed. Maybe Virgil was just a placeholder until Roman could get hugs from Patton and Remus, talk with Logan and Janus, not him. Never him.

 Maybe that’s…okay.

 It’s not, it won’t be fucking okay for a long time, but one day, it will be okay.

 Virgil curses and throttles the pillow in his arms, wishing for it to be real, to be warm, to be a chest of white and gold and a splash of red, for it to wraps its arms around him and say it’s okay, shadow-ling, I’m here, I won’t leave you, shh.

 But it’s just a pillow.

 Has his room always been this cold?

 Have Disney movies always looked this flat?

 Has music always sounded this gray?

 Has Virgil always been this alone?

 He can hear them in the living room below him. He can hear Roman and Logan throwing quips back and forth, can hear Remus tackling his brother into the wall, and Roman protesting. He can hear Janus scolding Remus and checking to make sure Roman’s not injured, can hear Roman wave him off gently and go right back to verbally sparring with Logan. He can hear Patton laughing too hard, falling off the couch and begging the two of them to let up, let him breathe, can hear Roman coo and call him sweet, adorable, in that soft voice he only uses when he’s talking to someone he cares about.

 Can’t hear any of them worrying about where he is.

 Maybe it’s better this way.

 He got greedy, took too much of what was never his to take, what wasn’t given to him freely. He latched onto the first thing he thought was for him and didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t. He may think he’s been included in the famILY but he knows he’s still an outsider.

 He may be Virgil now but deep down he’ll always be Anxiety.

 So here he will stay, in the cold of his room, in the dark of his face smushed into a pillow that will never be real. He will stay and he will be happy.

 But not today.

 He sniffles and smears his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, not bothering to pull away from the pillow long enough to wipe tears properly. His limbs start to protest as he hugs it tighter, tighter, tighter, but it’s no use. He can feel his own arms through the pillow. There isn’t enough—there’s too much give in the pillow. It’s just a fucking pillow but it’s not enough.

 Another laugh from downstairs and Virgil growls, burying his head in the pillow until he can’t hear himself think.

 Can’t hear anything but his own muffled sobs ringing in his ears.

 Can’t hear anything other than the thought swirling around and around his head that he’ll never be enough, that he’ll never be wanted, that he’ll never be anything other than Anxiety.

 Can’t hear the soft knock at the door.

 “Virgil?”

 The voices in his head must be getting pretty powerful because he’s certain he can hear Roman calling for him. He buries deeper in the pillow.

 “Virgil? Virgil, can you hear me?”

 Yes, he thinks, yes, I can hear you, which means I’m not crying hard enough.

 “Can I come in, shadow-ling?”

 Yes, he thinks, come in and make me forget that you don’t need me anymore.

 He must really be losing it because he thinks he can hear the door open and close again with a soft click, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a soft coo.

 “Oh, shadow-ling,” the imaginary Roman murmurs, “come here, little Stormcloud.”

 Oh, his imagination is being cruel to him right now because the sensation of warm arms around his waist and shoulders fucking burns. He buries his face in the pillow until he can’t tell which way is up anymore, not sure how he’s tricked himself into imagining Roman’s cradling him but too unwilling to let the illusion go.

 “That’s right, Stormcloud, relax for me, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh, you’re alright,” the imaginary Roman keeps whispering in that cruelly soft voice, “you’re doing great, shadow-ling.”

 Virgil wants him to be real. So bad he aches from it. But he knows he’s not.

 What happens next breaks his fucking heart.

 The imaginary Roman kisses him.

 It’s chaste, a barely-there brush of his lips against his forehead but it tears a whine out of Virgil’s throat before he can stop it. The imaginary Roman hushes him gently, pressing another kiss to the part of his cheek not buried in the pillow and it taunts him with how real it feels. The slightly chapped lips, the warm rush of air as Roman breathes, the light brush of his nose as he pulls away.

 It’s too much.

 It’s too much and he wants it to be real so badly but he knows the instant he pulls away it will vanish and that might just break him.

 Then he realizes the imaginary Roman is talking to him.

 “Breathe, Stormcloud, you’ve got to breathe,” he coaxes, “I know it’s tempting to stay buried in a pillow all day, but you can’t breathe properly like that, sweetheart.”

  No, no, don’t call me sweetheart, I’ll break.

 “Shadow-ling, Stormcloud, my darling,” the imaginary Roman says instead, “come on…”

 Well, now he’s disappointing imaginary Roman too. Figures. He can’t do anything right.

 “Of course you can,” the imaginary Roman pleads, “just breathe for me, shadow-ling, I’m right here, I’ve got you, you can keep your eyes closed if you need to, just breathe.”

 Another whine. Another kiss pressed against his head. The whine grows louder.

 “Shh, shh, my darling,” imaginary Roman murmurs, “breathe, come on, just—trust me, okay? Can I ask that of you, Stormcloud?”

 And goddamnit, this is why Virgil can’t do anything.

 Virgil trusts him.

 So he prepares himself for heartbreak and lifts his head.

 “Thank you, shadow-ling,” imaginary Roman—wait, he’s still here?—murmurs, rubbing his back, “there you go, now just breathe—oh! Oh, come here, lean on me, I’ve got you.”

 Having listed to the side horribly, Virgil lands against a solidwarmsafereal chest and—and—

 “R-Roman?”

 “Yes, my darling,” not imaginary Roman says, still kissing Virgil’s forehead, “I’m here, I’m here.”

 White-hot rage burns Virgil’s tears.

 He lets out a yell and shoves, not caring that it throws them both horribly off-balance, threatening to send him tumbling to the floor. He hears Roman cry out, trying to keep ahold of him, but he scrabbles and gets his hands around the bedpost and pulls.

 “Virgil—Virgil stop, you’re going to hurt yourself—“

 “Why do you care?” The rage coats his tongue. “You fucking left, you—you—you fucking didn’t care about me anymore, you decided you didn’t want me anymore and you fucking left so don’t try and care now!”

 “Virgil—sweetheart, I—“

 “Don’t fucking call me that!” He keeps his eyes squeezed tight. “You didn’t give a fuck about me when you left, when you got your fucking family back, you think—you think you can just waltz back in like you didn’t abandon me?”

 “Virgil—“

 “Because you did, Roman!” Virgil blindly shoves at where the prince was before, knocking him into the wall. “You fucking left me as soon as you got the others back like I—like I never did anything for you and now you—now you can’t even look at me.”

 “I’m looking at you now.”

 Virgil laughs.

 He throws his head back and howls until his chest and throat ache.

 “You didn’t give a shit when the others started talking to you. You just fucking up and abandoned me like you never cared about me in the first place. You replaced me with them or—or abandoned me as your placeholder and I’m fucking hurt, Roman.”

 “I know.”

 “Then why did you do it?”

 Silence.

 Virgil’s heart stops.

 No.

 No, no, no, no—

 He fucked up.

 He fucked up so bad.

 Roman left.

 Roman’s not here anymore.

 Roman left again, he made Roman leave, he—he fucked up so bad, he shouldn’t have yelled, he’s fucked up, he hurt Roman, no, no, no, no—

 On instinct, his hands hook into claws.

 Only to be caught by warmsolidreal hands and brought to something soft.

 “Don’t,” comes Roman’s softsaferealhurt voice, murmuring in his ear as he holds him still, “don’t scratch, sweetheart.”

 “Don’t—“

 “I know, I know,” Roman says immediately, “you said not to call you that. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

 …what?

 “I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” comes the voice again, “that’s no excuse, I know, but please, Virgil, I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to abandon you.”

 Virgil swallows. “What the fuck do you call it then?”

 “I didn’t want to push my luck.”

  What?

 “You were being so good to me, Virgil,” Roman murmurs, oblivious to the internal struggle Virgil’s currently facing, “so kind, so supportive, that I…I realized I wanted to ask more from you. Things I had no business asking. And the longer you kept on being you, the harder it was to resist the urge to push and risk shattering everything you’d let me build with you.”

 “What—“ Virgil swallows— “what the fuck did you want?”

 Roman stills in front of him. With his eyes still shut, he can’t tell what’s going on, but when Roman speaks next his voice is hoarse.

 “Before I ask,” comes the whisper, “I want you to know that you have every right to say no. You can push me away, shove me out of your room, stay angry at me for as long as you want. I’ve hurt you, badly, and I have no right to ask this of you. I want you to know that. That I’m okay with you asserting that right.”

 Fuck, Princey.

 “…what do you want?”

 A pause. Then a soft rush of air, right on his face.

 “May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 “R-Roman?”

 “That’s it,” Roman murmurs and oh, his mouth is right next to Virgil’s, “that’s what I want, shadow-ling.”

 He shifts a little until Virgil can feel Roman’s warmth.

 “That and everything that goes with it.”

 “Why—why did you leave? I-if that’s what you wanted?”

 “Because that would mean to push,” Roman says immediately, “and the last thing I wanted was to push you away. I thought if I could…rein it in, control it, I could…I wouldn’t hurt you.”

 A soft chuckle.

 “Look how well that turned out.”

 “But the others—“

 “I needed Remus to tell me what was going on,” Roman says wryly, “Janus to point out that I was okay in wanting something, Patton to help me figure it out, and Logan to kick my ass into doing it.”

 “To…to ask me?”

 “Yes, Stormcloud,” comes the whisper, “to ask you.”

 “And if I say yes?”

 He can feel Roman’s lips turn up.

 “…then I’ll kiss you, Stormcloud.”

 “Are you really here?”

 The question bursts out of him before he can stop it, immediately biting his lip in reprimand for letting it.

 “Open your eyes, Virgil,” Roman says softly, “look at me.”

 He shakes his head, not wanting it to be imaginary. Not now, not after this. Roman squeezes his hands.

 “Look at me, Stormcloud,” he whispers, “look at me.”

  Fuck it.

 Roman smiles at him, real and warm and soft and here. He squeezes Virgil’s hands again and takes the smallest step closer.

 “I’m here,” he says, wrapping Virgil’s arms around his neck, “I’m right here, shadow-ling.”

 He’s here.

 This won’t fix everything. But it’s one hell of a start.

 “Ask me again.”

 “May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”

 Virgil shakes his head. “Not like that. Ask me properly.”

 Confusion dances on Roman’s face before realization hits. His smile widens and he brings a hand to Virgil’s head. Virgil clutches Roman tight as he gets dipped into the prince’s arms. Roman leans forward until his mouth almost catches Virgil’s.

 “May I kiss you, sweetheart?”

  “Yes.”

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[moral-turpitudes]

Roses 🥀:

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of an Age Gap (sort-of, nothing happens).

Word Count: 3,835

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader, Finn Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @msbzowy​, I apologize for it taking so long, this was such a joy to write!

Summary: Y/N is sent flowers from a secret admirer, making Thomas a bit jealous as he realizes he’s harbored feelings for her. Meanwhile, her admirer turns out to be none other than the youngest blinder, Finn Shelby.

The smell of roses filled the room as Thomas walked in, the soft petals strewn over the shop floors as the sun shined brightly through the dusty windows, giving an almost pink hue to the room.

As Thomas sat down in his office, the smell only grew stronger as he looked around, opening up every drawer to see them all stuffed with bouquets of roses. He frantically picked them out, throwing them on the ground harshly as the thorns pricked at his fingers, small traces of blood coming through the skin with the contact. As he threw them in the bin he noticed Y/N standing there, her face fixed in a permanent smile as she clutched what seemed to be a hundred roses, all wilting and wet. Her eyes were tired and her clothes were soaking as she stood there, the usual bustling around the shop becoming eerily silent as she stepped into the room, his brothers all following as they carried more wilted roses in their arms.

“Take these. Now.” She said in a menacing tone as she got closer, the rest of the blinders advancing towards him as he backed up against a bookshelf. His eyes fixed on Y/N as she stalked towards him. His breathing quickened as he reached out to take them from her, a piercing scream rang from the doorway as he did so. Polly was holding another bouquet in the doorway, her eyes boring into his as she stood there.

He looked around to see everyone’s faces plastered with wicked smiles as they watched him, all silent as the room grew from a pink hue to red, with only another piercing scream coming from Polly as the roses Y/N was holding plunged their way stem-first into his heart.

With a gasp, Thomas awoke. The air in the room seeming thick as he looked around the large bedroom. The sound of birds chirping and Charlie playing down the hall with the nanny as he got a grasp on his surroundings.

Once composed, he got ready, knowing he had to be at the shop soon. No matter how jarring a nightmare he had, the business never stopped, and so he had to continue even through the madness.

It had been a week since the first bouquet of red roses arrived at the shop, the mailman smiling as he placed it on Y/N’s desk near Thomas’ office.

“Oh these are lovely! Thank you!” She said, dismissing him to go about his deliveries. Polly coming over as curious as a cat.

“Who’s the admirer Y/N?” She asked, smelling one of the roses.

“Oh uh...well...it doesn’t say. There’s no note.” She said, fiddling with the flowers in search of one.

“Interesting. Well enjoy love. This is the most color the shop has seen since Christmas.” She said.

“Thanks Pol, I will.” She said, a genuine smile on her face as she placed them on the corner of her desk.

As the week went on though, the flowers became a regular occurrence. By Friday she’d had 5 bouquets lined up, almost to where she was hidden behind them.

“Who’s the lucky lad aye?” Thomas asked as he walked by, only taking a real interest after the third day the bouquet’s came, forever being oblivious to things that weren’t work related.

“I was going to ask you Tommy. I haven’t the slightest clue. It’s strange now though. I’ll have a whole rose garden by next week it seems.” She said with a light laugh that made Tommy’s heart do flips. She carefully cleared them off her desk to where they sat along the floor, hoping that would be the end of them.

“I’ll decorate the office with them, no use having them all here.” She said, grabbing two vases and placing one on Polly and Esme’s desks.

“Have fun with that. Just leave them out of my office though, love.” He said.

“No problem.” She said, retrieving the other two and placing them on Lizzie and Johns desks.

After the weekend flew by, Y/N hesitantly opened the door to the shop early that Monday morning to find another bouquet placed on her desk, a slight smile appearing on her face as she looked around the room.

“Christ. The poor lads in love.” Polly said as she walked in, seeing the bouquets placed on almost everyone’s desks.

“I still don’t know who it is though. Not a fucking clue Pol.” She said with a sigh.

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled this week. You do the same.” Polly said as she sat down, returning to the work she’d left from the week prior.

“Will do.” Y/N said, starting on her own paper work.

Thomas smirked as he walked in past her desk, Y/N not noticing as he went straight to his office. His suspicions started to grow with each passing day, eventually leading to the nightmare that he’d had later that week.

Thomas nervously went into his office later that Friday. It had been a week since the first onslaught of them, with no man in sight besides the delivery man. But something inside him made him feel something was off. The nightmare only fueling his anxiety as he thought about it.

“Pol, can I have a word?” He said from his doorway, his slender frame leaning out just so she could see him.

Polly nodded and came in, her head swimming with questions.

“This has to stop.” He said sitting at his desk, running a hand through his hair.

“What does Tom?” She asked.

“The roses. I can’t tell if someone’s trying to send me a message or a threat or what. Whoever it is they know where we are and what we do. And they somehow know when she’ll be in the office.” He said, his hatred for uncertainty shining through.

“I don’t think anyone’s after you or the company Tommy. If anything someone’s after her...not in a bad way though.” She said.

“What do you know about roses in dreams?” He asked, lighting a cigarette.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” She said, sighing as she got comfortable in one of the armchairs in the room.

“I had a nightmare...last night... where you were screaming, and everyone was holding wilted fucking roses and...Y/N stabbed me in the heart with them.” He said, the memory of it causing his brows to furrow.

“Well, in general roses are for affection, but if she stabbed you with them, that’s hard to say. But if they’re wilted...that could be a relationship ending...although I’m not sure one has even begun. If I were you I wouldn’t look into it too much.” She said, trying to console him.

“Why not?” He asked.

“It’ll only stress you out more. You don’t need that on you with everyone going on already. If she likes the person, I’m sure she’ll return the favor. Those roses probably weren’t cheap in the first place.” She said.

“Alright, well until then can you help get a family meeting together? I’m trying to see if we can narrow down who’s sending them. I don’t like that they know our business and hers.” He said.

“Okay. May I ask one thing?” She said, looking into her nephews eyes. She’s seen the look only a few times before.

“Are you jealous of this person? Perhaps the roses were for her not reciprocating your feelings.” She said.

Thomas chuckled as he took a drag from his cigarette, his eyes cutting away from Polly’s to stare out the window.

“If I was I would’ve found the lad wouldn’t I? I can’t control who she likes or who likes her.” He said.

“Well, you’re pretty involved for someone who isn’t jealous. I’ll see what I can do, but until then keep your eyes peeled. I’ve told Y/N to do the same.” She said.

“Alright.” He said, watching her leave as he blew out a puff of smoke. The dream still running circles through his mind.

Later that night Polly let everyone go early as she told Arthur and John of the family meeting, the other workers all filing out, including Y/N.

“Hey Y/N...” Thomas said, holding the door for her as she walked out of the shop.

“Yeah?” She asked, the cold air causing her to wrap her coat tightly around her as she stared into his ice-blue eyes.

“The roses haven’t been sent to your house have they?” He asked.

“No. Why?” She asked, clutching one of the smaller more recent bouquets.

“Good. I’m trying to look into who sent them.” He said.

“Oh, thank you. They were uh...sweet the first time ‘round but after two weeks it’s kind of concerning me.” She said, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips as she looked around.

“Me too. I’ll let you know if I find out anything alright?” He asked.

“Okay Tommy. Goodnight.” She said, turning away from him.

“Goodnight.” He said, watching her walk away down the cold streets. Something pained him to see her walking alone, suddenly walking towards her on a whim.

“Y/N wait!” He said loud enough so that she stopped.

“Would you...would you like me to walk you home?” He asked.

Y/N’s face heated up as she looked down, trying to hide it from him.

“Sure.” She said. Her heart racing in her chest as they continued down the narrow walkway.

She’d admired the man from afar for most of her employment, but never had the courage to talk to him more outside of work. He was a busy man and all and she knew he was notorious for nabbing various women, but here she was being walked home by the man who only recently started talking to her more as the hundreds of flowers trickled in.

“I have a peculiar question Tommy...” She said, as they neared her apartment.

“I may have a peculiar answer.” He said, smirking as he looked at her. Her eyes glinting in the setting sun as she turned to him.

“You weren’t the one who sent them were you?” She asked.

As much as he abhorred the thought of a hundred flowers, he wished he would’ve been the one sending them. Loving the way the color of the roses illuminated her skin. The way her smile grew at the sight of them. It was in these two weeks that he realized he should’ve sent them, even if he wasn’t one for flowers, he’d have filled the whole room with them just to see her smile.

With a hurt look in his eyes, he spoke. His answer slipping off his lips as he looked at her.

“No. Unfortunately I’m not one for many flowers. But I would’ve sent one at least. Whoever this was...clearly has me beat.” He said.

“Oh, well, if anything I hope you can find out who it was. Good luck with your search.” She said, unlocking her door.

“Oh and Tommy?” She asked as he turned around, her hair blowing slightly in the cool wind.

“Thank you for walking me back. It was nice to have your company.” She said, giving him a small smile as he nodded and resumed his walk back to the shop. His heart aching and angered at the same time. Someone out there had outdone him, and it was only a matter of time before he found out who.

Back at the shop, everyone gathered around the table as they chatted. Patiently waiting for Thomas and Finn as the sun finally set for the night. With a harsh slam of the door, Finn waltzed in, fingers bandaged as he looked at the roses on everyone’s desks.

“Oi! Where you been brother? Tommy’s called a meeting but hasn’t shown yet. We were wondering if you knew where he was.” Arthur said, causing all eyes to go to the young Shelby.

“Oh uh, I was at the stables. Helping the horses.” He said.

“Did they try to eat your fingers? Look at the bandages on them...” Polly said slowly uncovering them to see small red pricks of dried blood. Her smirk grew wide as she looked at him, his face paling as he realized he’d been caught quite literally red-handed at this point.

“Well aren’t you just a little Cupid!” She said. The others looking at the two like they had ten heads.

“The flowers....Finn sent them.” She said, sitting back proudly in her seat.

“Well well well...Finny boy has a crush aye?” John said slapping his younger brother on the shoulder.

“I’d say he has more than a crush. He’s in love.” Ada said teasingly.

Finn’s face flushed as red as a tomato, his heart racing as he sat down. Embarrassed that he’d picked so many for her.

“Right, so let me take a wild guess. It’s Y/N innit? You know she’s older than you right?” Arthur asked, smiling.

Finn sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair, the pain from the thorns pricking him finally taking their toll.

“You’d have a promising job as florist brother...if the job with us doesn’t work out.” John said, earning a chuckle from the group.

“Well personally I think it’s cute...But Arthur’s right Finn. She’s much older than you. She didn’t even know who they were from, love.” Ada said.

“I should’ve just kept it to myself. No one would ever go for me anyway.” He said, a sullen tone to his voice. His heart felt like it was stabbed and crushed with the weight of a thousand bricks as he took in the reality of the situation. He’d only liked her from afar, never knowing how to approach her even though she was much older than him. It pained him to know a number held so much weight but it did, and no one could change that.

“Oh Finn...you’ll find someone. I know there’s many a girl your age at the shops down the street. Seems like that’s where they all go to hang out anyways besides the Garrison. I’ll tell Isiah to tag along with ya when I see him tomorrow how about that?” Polly asked, holding his hand.

Finn sighed again, knowing his crush had to end at some point. It’s why they called them crushes after all.

“Yeah...alright. I’ll go down there. I’ll throw those out later.” He said, gesturing to the flowers.

“You know what Finn? One thing ya did right though is you showed Tommy up. He practically had to chase her out the door to see who was sending them. He’s a bit jealous she has such an amazing admirer.” Ada said, a small smile on her face.

“Oh great. Tommy will kill me then aye?” He asked.

“Only one way to find out.” John said, pointing to the front door that swung open.

Thomas walked in, a frustrated look on his face as he neared the family.

“Aye Tommy where were ya?” Arthur asked, trying to hide a smile.

“Walking Y/N home. Speaking of that...I’d like to know if any of you know who’s been sending the fucking flowers? If it’s none of you then it’s some other man trying to drag us into something.” He said, lighting a cigarette as he sat down.

“I uh...I sent them Tom.” Finn said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“What?” He asked.

“I...I sent the flowers. Bloody stupid of me aye?” He said, laughing at himself to lessen the blow.

“Ah...so...you’re her little admirer then...that’s cute.” He said, his tone low. Finn clutched his fists at his side as he nervously shifted in his seat.

“I’m serious Tom. I was stupid for even laying my eyes on her in the first place. Didn’t know she was older than me by that much.” He said, wanting to run out of the shop and never look back.

“Well, a little brotherly advice Finn. If you’re going to send a girl roses, make sure they’re you’re age and make sure you only send one bouquet alright? 10 were a bit....” Tommy said trailing off.

“Desperate.” John said, Tommy smirking and pointing at him.

“Aye, desperate.” He said, blowing a puff of smoke from his lips.

“So is this meeting over then? Am I free to go? I’d say we solved the fucking case.” Finn said.

“Yes it is. Everyone can go. Except you Finn. I want to talk to ya.” He said.

Finn rolled his eyes and stayed seated as everyone got up to leave. The shop soon turning eerily silent.

“You gonna shoot me or just laugh like all the others?” Finn asked.

“Neither. I would’ve done the same thing at your age.” He said.

“I don’t buy it. You just can’t stand the fact I did something about her before you could, right?” He asked.

Thomas pulled a chair up near him, his blue eyes staring into his.

“You did beat me to it I give you that. I just wouldn’t have sent her a hundred of them.” He said.

“She obviously likes you more though Tommy....I’ve seen the way she looked at ya when the flowers came in. I should’ve known then I guess.” He said, growing done with the conversation. Wanting to desperately run to the comforts of the Garrison.

Thomas sighed as he sat back in his chair, the sadness in his little brothers eyes reminiscent of his own many moons ago.

“Look, brother. I’m not mad alright? I’ve eyed the wrong people before and it hurt almost as much as being stabbed. You’ll find someone though alright? I’ll see to that if need fucking be.” He said.

“I’m just embarrassed I even liked her.” Finn said, fiddling with the bandages on his hands.

“We can’t always help who we like or who we love Finn. But we can always find someone for us. You’ll find her. I promise.” He said.

“You never make promises Tommy.” He said, looking at the floor.

“I only makes ones that I know will be true. With a mug like yours you’ll find someone. I bet tomorrow someone will walk in and you’ll be picking roses for them for the rest of your life.” He said with a small smile.

Finn chuckled as he got up, adjusting his cap.

“So she likes you then?” He asked.

“I think so. I’ll understand if you hate me.” Tommy said, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Just don’t break her heart. I can see she has one at least.” Finn said.

“I won’t. But I may need help with a bouquet soon.” Tommy said.

Finn smirked and shook his head.

“No. My work is done. That’s up to you now Tommy. Good luck with Y/N though alright? I’ll come by tomorrow and pick all of them up before she comes in. Save myself the embarrassment.” He said.

“I got it brother. Just tell her tomorrow.” He said.

“You mean you won’t?” Finn asked.

“No, that’s your business.” He said.

“Alright.” He said, heading towards the door.

“Where are you going this late Finn?” Tommy asked.

“To the Garrison, I need a drink.” He said.

“Take one of the these fucking roses will ya. Who knows, you may need it.” He said.

Finn plucked one from a vase nearby, tipping his cap to him on the way out.

With a long sigh Thomas looked around at all the vases, there seemed to be almost as many as there were in his nightmare, but at least this part had a somewhat happy ending, even if in the end it was Finn who got stabbed in the heart with rose stems. But it was only a matter of time before something worked out for the youngest Shelby.

The next morning Y/N made her way in to the shop, the thought of seeing another bouquet making her cringe as she opened the door. To her surprise the shop was empty, all except for one bouquet on her desk.

“Morning Y/N.” Finn said quietly, startling her slightly.

“Oh hi Finn! How are you love?” She asked.

“Good...I uh...wanted to tell you something.” He said, nervously putting his hands in his pockets.

“Of course, what is it?” She asked, leaning against her desk. Thomas was eyeing their interaction from his office, smirking to himself as he watched Finn doing one of the hardest things he’s had to do since taking a bullet to the arm.

“I uh...sent you all those roses. Tommy thought it would be best if I told you, seeing as it worried you. I-I liked you for a while and didn’t really know what to do about it and so I may have went overboard on the flowers. I’m sorry.” He said quickly, Y/N looking at the floor with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Finn...” she said quietly.

“I appreciate them. So so much alright? I just....my heart is somewhere else and I’m also older. Don’t get me wrong you’re very charming. I think all the Shelby’s can learn something from you. But just know I don’t feel the same way. I do appreciate them though, it’s probably the sweetest thing that I’ve ever gotten. So thank you.” She said, giving him a small hug.

“I figured that...but it’s fine. I’m happy they made you happy. It’s alright though. I uh, may have met someone else anyway.” He said, his cheeks flushing.

“Oh really? Who’s the lucky lady?” She asked.

“Someone I met last night. I went to the Garrison.” He said.

“I’m happy for you. You’ll have to tell Tommy.” She said, eyeing his office.

“Oh no it’s fine I’m sure he won’t-“ Finn started to say as Tommy walked out.

“Aye Finn! How’d the Garrison go?” He asked, walking near Y/N and holding her hand. He never did that in public really but with the shop being almost empty on a Saturday he figured why not. To his surprise she actually did it back, making his heart race slightly.

“It-it was good. I told Y/N about my attempt at trying to win her over.” He said chuckling at his efforts.

“I see. Did you manage meet anyone last night?” He asked.

“Actually yeah....she’s nice...kind of like Y/N. She’s a florist matter of fact. Turns out she eyed me at the shop when I’d bought some last week. I’m going to see her today, if that’s okay with you and Pol.” He said nervously.

“Of course. Don’t get into too much trouble though, I really don’t want to pull a bullet out your arm later.” He said.

“Finn, wait!” Y/N said, breaking free from Tommy’s hand to hand Finn the roses that were left.

“Take these. She’ll love them.” She said.

“Alright. Thanks you two. Don’t you both go getting into trouble either. I’d rather not have to come back in to work today.” He said.

“Oh I can’t promise that.” Tommy said, smirking at Y/N.

“Oh fuck off Tom.” He said, chuckling and quickly leaving the shop. His heart racing as he ran to the girl meant for him. Finally healing from the past with each step he took.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx,

@lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore​, @xxbeckybeexx-blog​

Finn Shelby Tag List:

@ajwantstohavefun​, @inglourious-imagines, @reveparade, @ta-ka-shi-ma

If you’d like to be added/removed just send an ask or message! :)

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed - Episode 02

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

(Masterpost ) (Previous Episode) (Next Episode)

Donkey Riding

way ho and away we go, donkey riding donkey riding way ho and away we go, riding on a donkey

Wei Wuxian and Apple are doing their best for the Ministry of Culture and Tourism. 

Xiao Zhan had trouble riding the donkey sitting side-saddle, so the Department of Questionable Practical Effects made him a fake leg to wear while riding regular style. 

Can you spot it? It’s very hard to spot. It is very convincing.

Simple Pleasures

Wei Wuxian takes his time wandering up the nearest mountain, and half of the cultivators in the land also wander up this mountain because...Night Hunting! The cultivators are hot and thirsty from walking because they forgot that they all know how to fly. 

Wei Wuxian relaxes by a well and listens to people stanning him. 

Also

I’m going to say it: Wei Wuxian never met a drinking vessel he couldn’t blow.

Everything is Beautiful at the Ballet

The actress who plays A-Yan is named Zhang Linran. She probably has studied dance since she was 4 and now she gets her big break which turns out to be feeding an apple to a donkey. So let’s pause for a second to look at how beautifully she moves.  

Reunions are Awkward, Part 1

Wei Wuxian meets up with one of his family members and it goes super well. 

I...like Jin Ling? He’s much less of a douchebag than his dad, his uncles Jin, Jiang, and Mo (the three stooges), and every damn one of his Jin cousins. He’s genuinely brave (his Dad’s primary good quality) and his hair is on fleek. He’s still a whiny diaper baby, but I like him. 

(much more after the cut!)

Then Jiang Cheng shows up, looking fine as hell and radiating peak arrogant-prick energy.

When he discovers that ‘Mo Xuanyu” stuck a piece of paper to Jin Ling, he tells the child to literally murder him. Excellent uncleing! A+++++ would recommend.  

“In fact, literally murder anyone who uses Yiling Laozu’s tools, like talismans, lure flags, or spirit compasses - basically murder everyone in the Lan Clan plus those other fanboys we saw coming up the hill. Then get out there and make some friends, goddamn it!”

These nets full of cultivators on this daytime night hunt are the only time we ever see anything in a net during a night hunt.  In fact dudes constantly go night hunting and the only prey we ever see is rock lady, murder turtle, and a couple of rag mops in the lake. 

You Are Not Qualified to Speak to Me

Also radiating arrogant-prick energy on this occasion is Lan Wangji. He has been using pettiness as a weapon since long before he met this Jiang Cheng turkey, and he *brings it* when Jiang Cheng tries to have a conversation with him.

Letting your eyes wander everywhere except to his punchable face while you ignore his passive-aggressive questions? Quality work. 

Dropping a silence spell on his child and then letting your own child explain it to him? Golden. 

Lan Wangji is never ever going to forgive Jiang Cheng for what he did on cliff day, and his silence here is as pointed as an ice pick. I suspect the last words Lan Wangji actually spoke to him were “Jiang Wanyin, stop it,” sixteen years ago. 

Jiang Cheng is actually the bigger person in this particular interaction, visibly mastering his temper and telling Jin Ling to take his medicine. 

Reflecting

Wei Wuxian hangs out by a beautiful river and hallucinates for a while. River Jiang Yanli is nurturing and River Jiang Cheng is pissed off, so there are no surprises there.  River Jiang Cheng thinks that Wei Wuxian is a promise-breaking douchebag. He’s not exactly wrong. 

Courtesy of convenient gossiping cultivators, Wei Wuxian discovers that the 16 year old arrogant kid from the Jin clan who his brother from the Jiang clan has custody of is actually and quite obviously Jin Rulan.

Well fuck I guess now I care about something, that’s inconvenient. 

Needing to help parent the child of the sister who parented him is what draws Wei Wuxian fully into his new life. 

As soon as he has this realization, Apple comes back from roaming around, and never gives him any trouble after this for the rest of the story. Which...probably doesn’t mean anything. 

Wen Gravesite

Does Wen Ning hang out here because it’s where he and his (dead) people came from? Oh great, now I am sad. 

Judging by all the leaves on this grave thingy I’m going to say that this grave tender dude is, ah, not very good at his job. 

Get him, Jingyi!

I feel like maybe we all focus too much on how Lan Jingyi is so hilarious and sardonic and not enough on how he is a such a biscuit. 

Soul Grass

As mentioned in the previous post, Chinese spiritual concepts don’t always translate well into English. Soul grass? Sure, why not. 

This is where Wei Wuxian’s Sherlock Holmes brain starts to work, although he still doesn’t remember really basic stuff about Dafan Mountain. Dying and changing bodies is rough on the old neurochemistry. This creates more opportunities for flashbacks, however, and if there’s one thing The Untamed deffo needs more of, it’s kissing flashbacks.

Temple Statue

Presumably grave-tender dude is also in charge of clearing away spiderwebs at the temple, because it’s not getting done. 

Jin Ling walks into the temple blaspheming at full volume. 

Since this isn’t a Greek story, he isn’t immediately struck blind for this. Then when he wishes for the statue to come alive, it obligingly does.  Everything’s coming up Rulan!

Wei Wuxian shows up to rescue all the kids by throwing talismans at the monster which does not tip anyone off to who he is. 

Baby Cultivator Babysitting

Lan Wangji chills out in the cultivators’ pavilion with Jiang Cheng and their mutual hate boners.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian forgets all about his nephew and turns into cool professor guy, explaining the basics of soul-eating to the baby cultivators and gleefully encouraging their fear of Hanguang-Jun’s punishments. 

Because the Lan babies are good filial children they are super respectful and engaged with this random adult who is lecturing them. They also - like their own Hanguang-Jun at their age - see and admire Wei Wuxian’s intellect. It’s easy to forget how extremely smart Wei Wuxian is, because of how extremely dumb Wei Wuxian is.

Lan Jingyi suddenly figures out Wei Wuxian is not crazy. 

Bis. Kit. 

Then Rock Lady shows up and Jin Ling sticks 6 arrows into her while Lans Jingyi and Sizhui stand around not bothering to draw their swords.

I see a lot of comments about the bad effects in the statue sequences but I think Rock Lady is all right. The figure animation is decent and the lighting is no worse on her than on everything else in the scene. Her hair is nice, for a rock person.

Admittedly I just finished watching Guardian which has CGI monsters so bad they may have injured my retinas and possibly also my DNA, so the bar, for me, is pretty low. Rock lady clears it with room to spare.   

Note: Wei Wuxian’s flute playing does zippity towards controlling the statue. Not sure what his plan was here.

Wen Ning Kicks Ass

Now we get to meet Wen Ning, who appears to be a stone-cold badass. Later we will discover how hilariously inaccurate that assessment is. 

While all versions of Wen Ning are delightful, this version of Wen Ning is also...strangely attractive? He’s got a Patti-Smith-Horses-Era vibe here, instead of his more usual lost-baby-dork vibe. And his dreamy “I have nails in my head” expression is intriguing. 

I mean, he’s not a total snack like zombie Song Lan or pre-zombie Song Lan or blind Song Lan or post-zombie Song Lan, but this look is a good one for Wen Ning, is what I’m saying.

Reunions are Awkward, Part 2

Lan Wangji, who has 99% already recognized Wei Wuxian because of the haunted sword and the fierce jawline and beautiful neck and tiny tiny waist, is summoned by his flute playing as inexorably as the Ghost General was. 

Jiang Cheng also recognizes Wei Wuxian and goes into full beatdown mode, thwarted (silently) by Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian attempts to preserve his incognito by sassing Jiang Cheng in as sibling-like a manner as possible. 

Hanguang-Jun’s Pro-Ghost Agenda Has Been Clear for Some Time

This Jiang/Lan fight is hilarious when you consider the implications.

Macroexpression vs. Microexpression

Mo Xuanyu brought Wei Wuxian back using sacrifice summons, a dark ritual invented by Wei Wuxian that he, most likely, did NOT show to Lan Wangji back in the day. So it’s a pretty safe bet that Lan Wangji doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian was gifted a body, rather than stealing one.

when your brother turns around, you must whip him you will never live it down unless you whip him

When Jiang Cheng lets loose with Zidian, it’s not just because he’s angry. He’s using purple power to force Wei Wuxian’s ghost out of the body he’s apparently possessed. And Lan Wangji instantly STOPS him from doing that.

Clan Leader Jiang: this person has been possessed, against their will, by an evil ghost

Future Chief Cultivator Lan: Counterpoint: I am banging the ghost

Flashback Time

Welcome to your 30-episode flashback!

Once I used to join in Every boy and girl was my friend Now there's revolution, but they don't know What they're fighting

Let us close our eyes Outside their lives go on much faster Oh, we won't give in We'll keep living in the past

Road Tripping to Summer School

Gosh I’m looking forward to younger, kinder, more relatable Jiang Cheng.

...prick. 

Incidentally, until now this episode didn’t know that Jiang Cheng has smile muscles, and neither did the person who glued his wig on for him.

I Like Rabbits

Here we have our first rabbit in a large collection of rabbit iconography that appears in The Untamed. 

Instead of sending everyone to the Wikipedia page for Tu'er Shen I’m going to take this opportunity to rec the short film Kiss of the Rabbit God by Andrew Thomas Huang (tw: blood, tw:body-mod cutting) which you can read about and watch over at  Nowness.com 

Particularly if you are a queer person of Chinese heritage, check it out. 

So. What the fuck are these? Are they food? 

Are they made from wax? Or corn starch? or pig intestines? 

Wei Wuxian runs off to get laid drunk and Jiang Cheng grumps about it. Jiang Yanli reminds him that being free is a Jiang Clan Rule, so really Wei Wuxian is following the rules by not following the rules. Does that mean he’s not free? My head hurts. 

Jiang Cheng: yes but grump grump grump

Jiang Yanli: Nothing bad will ever happen because of A-Xian’s choices, trust me

Outro

Wei Wuxian faint tally: one  Caught by: the cold hard ground

Soundtrack: 1. Donkey Riding by Great Big Sea 2. Living in the Past by Jethro Tull 3. Whip It by Devo

Fic prompt:  Lan Wangji’s internal monologue while he sits in the pavilion with Jiang Cheng 

If you write a fic from this prompt and want to share, please post a link in comments!

Bonus: Wang Zuocheng, macro-expression king

Episode 03 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

the sky’s open wide, i’m running with the wolves - chapter 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, background Remy, background c!Thomas Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Platonic/brotherly Virgil with Logan and the Creativitwins; platonic/parental Patton & Virgil; platonic/brotherly Logan and the Creativitwins with each other; platonic/parental Janus with Logan and the Creativitwins; background endgame Moceit.  Warnings: Probably some language; references to Christianity; non-graphic violence.  Word count: 1570 Notes: Wolfwalkers (2020) AU! You don’t need to have seen the movie to enjoy this, though. 

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: When Patton is charged with hunting down the wolves in the woods, he believes he is protecting his young son Virgil. But Virgil is afraid to watch his father vanish into the woods, and sneaks after him. When Virgil runs into three wolf cubs who hold the secrets of the forest, he has to make a choice: obey the rules he’s known all his life? Or try to help the three shapeshifting boys find their missing father—even though Virgil's always been taught that the only safe wolf is a dead one? As Virgil explores the wonderful world his new friends show him, and uncovers the lies his town is built on, he may be too late to realize that his choices will cost him more than he ever bargained for.

Chapter 1

Remy would never have particularly considered himself a God-fearing man. Oh, he said his prayers and went to church, of course, but it was more a comfortable habit woven into the fabric of his life than something he devoted much thought to. Even at nineteen, he preferred to occupy his day-to-day thoughts with such matters as the tending of his sheep, the comfort of a nice dry pair of woolen socks, the avoidance of wolves, and, most of all, the brewing of a good cup of tea.

Remy was good at his job. He tended his sheep; he stayed well away from the woods. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with the woods. Stay away from their territory, and keep up the deal of old, and always be safe. He had never put much thought into this, either; it was much more important, in Remy’s eyes, to consider the fine taste that a brew steeped just right could carry.

He never expected his thoughtless respect for the woods to pay off.

The first time Remy saw a Wolfwalker, he was twenty-five years old and had started to wonder if he even believed they were real. But after that day, he never doubted again.

After all, how else could one explain the way the huge, snarling gray wolf, poised to deliver a killing bite to one of Remy’s finest sheep, had heard that commanding howl come from the woods, and put its tail between its legs and run back home in response?

Remy had watched the wolf run, standing frozen in fear and shock—and then he’d seen the Wolfwalker. A tall, tremendous wolf standing at the edge of the treeline, easily twice the size of the largest man, with dark gray fur and eyes gleaming yellow, a jagged scar running down one side of its face. Lean and powerful. Remy instinctively knew this was no ordinary wolf.

Remy had never considered himself a God-fearing man, but staring at the Wolfwalker and the way it commanded the pack of ordinary wolves surrounding it, he thought to himself that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little harder.

“Thank you,” he croaked out when the Wolfwalker turned its eyes on him. “Thank you, m’lord—bless ye—I’ll never cross your territory, you may be sure of that—thank you for protecting my sheep—” He barely even knew what he was saying, babbling out his thoughts in more than a little healthy terror.

He wasn’t quite sure if the way the Wolfwalker bowed its head was a nod of acknowledgement, but the next moment, the Wolfwalker was leaping away, the pack of wolves trailing in its wake. And not a single sheep of Remy’s had been harmed.

Remy didn’t see the Wolfwalker often; over the next decade or so, he crossed paths with—him? Remy somehow got the feeling it was a him—perhaps half a dozen times. Every time he came away filled with awe and fear and a renewed sense that though the Wolfwalker was terrifying and fearsome, Remy would far rather live under his odd protection than whatever farce could be provided by all these guards the new Lord Protector kept bringing around.

Before he knew it, Remy was nearly thirty-seven and his appreciation of a good cup of tea had only strengthened over the years. He went to church and said his prayers with gusto, and every night he glanced out to the woods and gave a little nod of respect. For the Wolfwalker and, these last few years, the little cubs that followed in his wake.

As long as the people kept themselves to themselves and stayed out of the woods, Remy knew there was nothing to fear from the wolves.

***

“I don’t want you to go!” Logan clung to Janus’s wrist, digging his heels into the ground and trying to physically hold him back.

Janus lifted his powerful arm and picked the near-teen right up off the ground with almost no effort at all. “This is terribly grown-up of you,” he informed his eldest son dryly.

“There are too many humans,” Logan insisted, dangling from Janus’s arm, the little claws of his hands pricking at Janus’s skin. “You said only the forest was safe!”

Janus drew a long breath. “And that has been true for time immemorial. But things have changed. I like it no more than you do. But I need you to stay here and look after your brothers, you understand me, Logan? I will find us a new forest, a safer one, without any humans who want to cut and burn the trees or trap us with iron. And then I will come back and get you three, and we will go there.”

“But this forest is ours!” Logan protested. “No other forest will be ours like this one is.”

“Logan,” Janus said, and his voice bore an undercurrent of a warning snarl now, “I am doing what I must to protect my cubs.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that they couldn’t stay here. Not with the way the humans kept getting bolder and bolder and venturing deeper into the woods. Between Logan’s poor eyesight and the twins’ recklessness, and the way all three of them were only cubs and couldn’t defend themselves well yet, Janus was getting twitchier and twitchier by the day.

Logan stilled, an unhappy look on his face. “Can I come with you, at least? I can help! I’m very good at figuring things out! We could find a new forest together!”

“No,” Janus responded at once, his heart rate quickening at the idea. “I don’t—” He broke off and reconsidered what he was about to say. “I need you to look after the twins,” he said at last, striving to keep his voice casual.

Not casual enough. Logan stared at him, a look of dawning horror on his face. “You think you might not come back!” he accused.

Janus refrained from speaking the curse he wanted to let out. Logan had always been far too observant. “Of course I’ll come back,” he lied through his teeth, running a comforting hand through Logan’s tangled hair. “I only want to make sure the way is safe for my little ones first.”

Logan had spoken the truth a moment ago: there were too many humans these days. Janus wasn’t sure it was possible to safely venture past the borders of the forest anymore. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere left to take his little ones.

He wasn’t sure he would survive this search.

But it wasn’t like there were any other options left at this point. “Logan,” Janus said, kneeling down and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He focused on making his voice honey-sweet and sincere. “I’m going to keep you safe, you understand? I would never abandon you. You are in charge of keeping your brothers safe until I return, but I will be back in a month or two.” Janus held the little boy’s brown eyes and tried not to think of humans with their traps and spears and guns and the way that once Janus left the forest he would have nowhere to hide.

“I will come back,” Janus told Logan, and he put his whole heart into his lie. “I promise.”

***

“I don’t want to move to some stupid village.” Virgil kicked his feet against the edge of the wagon petulantly, poking a piece of straw through the bars of his kestrel Thomas’s cage.

Patton sighed and reached back to ruffle his son’s hair, not taking his eyes from the winding dirt road. “I know, kiddo. We’re going to have a better life there. The Lord Protector offers a handsome salary to Hunters who can bring down wolves. They say the town is terrorized day and night, and they need to rid the forest of these pests so they can safely harvest the wood and expand the borders of the town.”

“But I hate when you go hunting!” Virgil crawled up to the driver’s seat beside Patton and clung to his arm. “I’m always so scared you’ll get eaten up! Or step in a trap! Or fall off a cliff! Or drown! Or—”

“Hey, there. Hey, now.” Patton wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “Breathe, child. Breathe for me.” He murmured soothingly for a few minutes. “Now, come on, tell me: who taught you to draw a bow and arrow?”

“You,” Virgil mumbled.

“Good lad. And who taught you to track?”

“You did.”

“And what do you think? Am I a good Hunter? Haven’t I always kept you safe as can be?”

“Yes, but—”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted, gentle but firm.

Virgil fidgeted for a moment. “It only has to go bad once, and you’d never come home again!”

“It’s a good thing I’d never do that, then,” Patton said, chucking Virgil under the chin and chuckling. “I mean, I have a sturdy little lad to look after, I must always make sure I hasten home to him at the end of the day.” He drew Virgil close and gave him a protective, reassuring hug. “Nothing’s going to get your Papa. I promise. I will always protect you, Virgil, you hear me? And today, the best way to protect you is to find ourselves a new home out here. We’ll make do, never you worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of new friends in no time!”

--

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): 

@theimprobabledreamersworld @private-snippers @fivehargreeves05 

[98prilla]

Heat Stroke

I’ve seen a lot of “deceit is cold blooded so he gets cold easily” and I decided to flip the script. Too much heat is just as problematic for reptiles as too much cold. Read on A03 Here 

He was warm. Not unusual. He tended to burrow under blankets while he slept, making more of a nest out of them than anything. He rolled over and yawned, about to go back to sleep, but he frowned. It was bright. He could see the light through his eyelids, it was far too bright in his room, he never left the lights on when he slept.  

He realized with a jolt of panic that he wasn’t lying in bed, either. He didn’t feel the soothing weight of his blankets atop him, nor the softness of his mattress below. Instead, he felt hard ground.

He shot to his feet with a hiss, instantly awake and on guard, quickly taking in his surroundings with a sinking heart.

He was on a large, smooth rock. Before it was what looked like mulch woodchips. But beyond that….

He was in a cage. A terrarium, more accurately, he imagined Logan saying with an adjustment to his glasses. That brought a smile to his face for a moment, before it slipped away.

The glass sides of the tank extended upwards, so high and smooth there was no chance he was going to be able to climb them. The tank itself was a decent size, long enough it took him forty paces to reach from one side from the other, and twenty paces wide.

The most concerning part, besides having been somehow caged in the first place, was the light, and the heat it brought with it.

Looking up, he could make out what seemed to be a uv light, mimicking the sun and its rays, as well as its heat, along with a heat emitter bulb.  

He was already growing uncomfortably warm. He could feel sweat starting to slick his skin, and he desperatly realized there was no shelter from the “sun", not shade, no water, anywhere to be found.

This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was awful.

Without realizing it, he reached for his power, trying to sink out, panicking further when he realized he couldn’t. He could still feel Thomas, but something was keeping him well and truly trapped here.

He started pacing furiously, knowing it would only make this worse in the long run, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

None of the so called light sides would trap him in this manner, no matter how much they disliked or disagreed with him. They were too fundamentally caring to put him through this. No, if they had the nerve to want to kill him, it would be a blow from Romans sword, not… not this.

Which meant it was one of the others, one of his… no. They weren’t his people anymore, were they? Hed given that up when he appeared to Thomas, when he’d made himself known, inserted himself into the equation after denying the rest of them that very thing for years.

He'd be lying of he said everything was fine over on the dark side of the mind, if he denied it was all falling apart, he’d known sooner or later there would be a price on his head. Because he was the only obstacle between them and Thomas.  

And they were tired of waiting.

Suddenly furious, he glared at the glass. He took a breath, retreating as far as he could, before he took a running start, slamming his shoulder against it.

He fell back with a pained cry, gasping as he tried to push past it. He only fell apart more as he looked up, realizing his attempt hadn’t even left the faintest trace of a mark against the glass.

He growled, getting to his feet, winding up before charging again. And again. And again. And again. And-

He screamed as he felt something in his shoulder give, his arm hanging limply at his side, the smallest twitch of his fingers sending agony coursing through his entire left side.

He slumped to the ground, head pressing against the glass as he tried to contain his sobs. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t afford to lose any more water content.

He was hot. He was so hot. It felt like he was slowly burning, from the inside out, any moisture on his skin had already evaporated, and he could feel himself starting to get lightheaded, the world spinning ever so slightly.

No. No! He wouldn’t give up, he wouldn’t die here, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of killing him.

Because unless he got out of here soon, he was going to die. His reptilian traits went deeper than the surface, after all. He’d always had trouble regulating his body temperature. With no shade, no water, no respite to the endless, aching brightness, he was going to overheat. He was going to be cooked alive. He was going to die.

It was slow, and cruel, because he knew exactly what was happening, he was lucid and aware as he staggered back from the glass, searching for something, anything, he could use, common sense giving way to terror.

His only hope was to buy time. Time for the lights to find him, as slim a chance as it was they would even notice, much less care.

Wincing and swearing with every step, he made his way to the edge of the rock, praying it didn’t go down too far, that it was just settled in the dirt, and started to dig.

It felt like hours. His forehead burned and his hand shook and he could feel his heart pounding too hard and too fast, like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest. He kept stopping to cough, so hard he thought his lungs would burst, so short on breath his body was convinced he must be choking, but the air scalded his insides, sent pain blazing down his throat.

Finally, he was down deep enough, down was the hard part. The mulch down here gave way to soft earth, still blessedly moist earth, and he widened his hole until it was just big enough for him to fit, if he curled up his tightest.

He’d made a burrow, digging out a small shelter underneath the basking rock, out of the light and the very worst of the heat, though it wasn’t enough.  

He shivered. He knew that was bad, shivering. It meant his temp was hotter than that of his surroundings. Down here was cooler, only slightly, but cooler, and that meant he was already as hot as the surface of the cage, he guessed 101 or so, and rising.  

He curled tighter, head against his knees as dark spots danced before his vision. He counted his breath, trying to slow his racing pulse, trying to breath in air, but his heart was so, so loud, it drowned out even his thoughts as he felt his muscles go limp.

What did it matter, anyway? No one was coming. No one cared. What did it matter, if he burned to death on his own heat, here?

It didn’t, he supposed. He let out a dry laugh, his tongue sticking to the bottom of his mouth, so dry he couldn’t even make spit anymore. It was like the sahara, in his mouth. He couldn’t speak now if he wanted too, which was somehow the most terrifying thought of all, because words were his weapon, his armor, his defense. Without them, he was nothing.

He was nothing.

He was…

 Virgil was in the midst of the worst panic attack he’d ever had in his life. His knees were curled to his chest and he was rocking back and forth, unable to focus on anything else besides the noise in his head, screaming at him that it wasn’t safe, wasn’t right, wasn’t good!

He couldn’t see anything through the black and white spots peppering his vision, his breath coming in too short, unsteady gasps, that tore at his lungs and throat, that burned his chest and screamed in his ears.  

He couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing, pounding in his ears, his hands gripped his hair, he could vaguely feel his nails digging into his scalp, pricking fine points of pain, he could feel his teeth biting his lip so hard it started to bleed, but that pain wasn’t enough, it wasn’t grounding enough, he could taste the copper on his tongue, and it only made him gag, made his pulse rush faster. He knew someone was counting, someone was trying to reach out, but it was too hot, too hot, too hot!  

“He can’t hear me.” Logan stated, withdrawing his hand at Virgil’s strangled noise at his touch, shaking his head hard and fast. Logan had stopped his counting. “He’s too far in his panic spiral.”  

“So what do we do? Just leave him?” Patton asked, fear pitching his voice higher than usual. None of them had ever seen Virgil quite this bad, he looked to be on the edge of passing out.

“Where is he?” Roman yelped, jumping as Remus launched himself over the couch and into the common area.  

“What the lemony snicket!? What are you doing here?” He asked, but Remus’s gaze had locked on Virgil. He walked purposefully towards him, before being blocked by Logan.  

“Move.” Remus growled, glaring up at Logan, who’s arms were folded, letting his fierceness drop when he found no suspicion or hate in his eyes, only concern.  

“I don’t know if given your turbulent history with Virgil, you should be interacting with him in his current state.” Remus shook his head, and Logan was surprised to find tears forming in his eyes.  

“I can, I can, I need to, you don’t understand, it’s not him, it’s not-” Remus’s fists clenched and unclenched as he let out a breath from between his teeth, struggling to keep his words in order, to keep everything from spilling out, he was shaking, he couldn’t stop shaking.  

“Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease...” Logan heard Patton’s sharp inhale of breath as Remus broke into tears. He looked over Remus’s shoulder, seeing Roman speechless, gaping like a fish. Patton looked shocked, and he nodded once, towards Virgil. Logan frowned, but nodded back, looking down at Remus.  

“ok. Just... just be careful with him.” Logan said softly, squeezing his shoulder as he stepped aside. Remus nodded, taking a few steps forwards, before kneeling in front of Virgil, who still rocked, breath catching and heaving, eyes covered by his bangs.

“Vee.” He said the old nickname, and instantly Virgil froze, head jerking up, eyes blown wide with panic as they met Remus’s.  

“R...r...ree...” Remus shook his head, moving closer.  

“It’s ok, stormy, don’t try and talk. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Dee?” Virgil nodded so fast his head spun, and he closed his eyes against the wash of dizziness.  

“Feel it. Bad, is bad, too hot, too hot!” Virgil cried, hands digging deeper into his scalp.  

“None of that, now. Squeeze my hands ok? As hard as you need. You’re not gonna hurt me.” Remus said softly, surprised as Virgil instantly let go of his hair and clutched Remus’s hands as if they were his only lifeline, so hard Remus could hear bones popping.  

“Good. That’s good, Vee. I know it’s hard, but I need you to focus. I can feel it too, he’s in trouble, bad trouble, right?” Virgil nodded again, and Remus could feel him calming somewhat.  

“I need you to tell me what you can feel. What he can feel. We need to find him.” He could feel Virgil trembling, shaking as he started coming back to himself, rocking a bit faster on his heels. “I know its hard, I know it doesn’t feel good, I know it hurts, but you’re the only way we have to find him. I need you to try. I’m right here, I’ll be right here. Okay?” Remus reassured. Virgil bit his lip, wincing at the pain.  

“O... oh... okay. Cl-closer? Pl-pl-please?” Virgil asked, breathless and shaky. Remus scooted closer, surprised as Virgil climbed onto his lap, letting out a trembling breath. Hesitantly, Remus let out his tentacles, wrapping them around Virgil to keep him steady on his lap, so he didn’t have to let go of his hands.  

“Too much?” He asked, feeling Virgil shaking in his grasp.  

“N-no.” He mumbled. “G-g-good.”  

“Okay. Are you ready?” Virgil nodded. He took as deep a breath as he could, before squeezing Remus’s hands tighter, closing his eyes.  

It was hot, it was far too hot. His throat was dry, scorching air in and out. It was dim, but not dark, he could feel something soft and dry on either side of him, dirt? Hopeless, he was hopeless, he was sure no one was coming, no one would find him, the others had done their job well, caging him in this glass prison like the snake he was, light and heat and rock and it was hot, hot, hot!  

Dying, he was dying, he could feel it. His heart pounded too hard and too fast, his breath was shallow and quick, his vision was failing, his senses shutting down, he was burning, every inch was burning, and he was giving up, it was too much, his eyes slipped closed and-  

“No! Nonono n-n-n-no, D-d-dee, Dee, d-d-d"  

“Virgil. Virgil, where? I need to know, where?” Virgil was hyperventilating, on the edge of breaking down again, but he knew Remus was right, they needed to know where. He squeezed Remus’s hands harder, it hurt, it hurt, he couldn’t hold it much longer, but he needed to know, which one, which one, where...  

“Wrath!” He gasped out, slumping against Remus, exhaustion cresting over him. “it was wrath.” He whispered, feeling the tentacles retract, only Remus’s arms left holding him, his hands having let go at some point, but he was too worn out to care, to open his eyes. He felt Remus press a soft kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose. It reminded him of when Remus used to put him to bed at night.  

He would always tell some rambling, nonsense story, it didn’t make any sense, and it didn’t have to, it kept his brain occupied, trying to decipher the words, letting his worries fade and allowing him to get some sleep. Before he drifted off, Remus would always tuck him in tight, whisper words of love, kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheek, before turning on his nightlight and gently shutting the door.  

“Thank you. You did so good, my little storm cloud, my dark night. You are so, so, good, love. I’m so proud.” Remus murmured in his ear.  

“Dee... y-you need to g-get Dee.” He felt a gentle hand brush his bangs back from his face, caress his face softly, and he shuddered, leaning into the contact.  

“We will, Vee. I’ve gotta let you go, okay? We’re gonna go get him, right now.” Virgil clung to him tighter, shaking his head. For the first time, Remus looked up at the others.  

Logan was looking at the two of them critically, no doubt trying to decipher what was going on, what had just happened, and Remus thanked his lucky stars that he had let Remus through, none of the others would have known what was happening, much less how to calm Virgil from an attack like this one. They’d never had to.  

Roman was looking at him with wide eyed surprise and suspicion, a frown on his face, but Remus didn’t care what Roman thought at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.  

“patton. I’m leaving you with Patton, ok? He’ll take care of you, you know he will. And... and I’ll be right back, ok? I’ll be right back with Dee.” Remus promised, shifting Virgil in his arms as he stood, passing him to a surprised looking Patton.  

“He needs to sleep. Lots of sleep. And he usually gets cold, after this. And... and he might have nightmares. He will, until I get to Dee, but even after that, so be careful if he wakes up in the next hour or so, he won’t be here, fully.” Remus listed off, turning away with fire in his eyes.  

“Remus. I would like to come with you.” He stilled at Logan’s words, turning to face the logical side, eyes narrowed in suspicion.  

“Why?” Logan adjusted his glasses.  

“because from what I heard just now, it seems Deceit is in some sort of mortal peril, and I have the most medical knowledge of anyone here. Whatever the situation, I will be able to assist.” Remus didn’t have time to argue, and truthfully, he didn’t want to.  

“I’m coming too.” That was more surprising. Roman and him were on ok terms, but still, Roman kept his distance, thought Remus was weird and gross. Roman softened at his brother’s gaze. “I know we don’t always get along, but I don’t hate Deceit. We need him, as much as we need you, as much as we need any of us. And if it is wrath, you might need the extra sword.” Remus nodded curtly, running a hand through his hair.  

“Ok. I can take us directly there, take my hands.” Remus ordered, smiling just a bit as he felt two hands instantly hold onto his. He let out a breath, steeling himself. “this might be a bumpy ride.” Then he closed his eyes and the three sank out.

Logan and Roman staggered as their feet touched solid ground. It had felt like they were falling for eternity, swirling around and around until they hadn’t known up from down, until their minds spun and they feared they’d never make it out.  

Then it was suddenly over.  

“Um... you alright? I did say it was a bumpy ride.” Remus said sheepishly as Logan straightened his glasses, and Roman stood up from where he’d been hunched over, trying not to hurl.  

“Fine. I’m fine. Let’s just... get a move on.” Roman replied, glancing around. They were in a hall with doors, much like their hallway on the light side. Remus stalked over to one painted brilliant, crimson red, flame decals across the bottom. With a battle cry, he kicked the door in, mace in hand as he prepared to swing. He froze instead, mace dissepating in the air as he ran to the glass.

“Dee! Snake face, can you hear me?” He shouted, pounding against the glass. No response. He swore, mace appearing back in his hands. He wound up, and swung forcefully. It bounced off, but left a hairline crack. He screamed, and hit it again, fractures spiraling up the glass. One more swing, and an explosion of glass shattered inwards, sending him stumbling forwards and onto his hands and knees. He barely noticed the glass cutting into his knees, scratching his hands and cutting into his skin. It didn’t matter.  

Dim, not dark. That’s what Virgil had said, so he wasn’t above ground, somewhere, there was no shade to be seen. He noticed the heat next, it was hot, easily over a hundred, probably more, and he cursed again.  Too hot, burns, Vee was right yet again.  

He scanned the mostly empty area, noticing a strange pile near the large rock in this... god, he hated to call it an enclosure, but that’s what it was. He sprinted towards it, feeling himself sweat. He ran hot, if he was already sweating from this, and Dee had been here long-

The pile wasn’t Dee. It was dirt. But next to the pile was a shallow hole. He dropped into it, looking around, dim, not dark. And there he was. He sucked in a breath, cursing in a nonstop rant as he reached in, gently extracating Deceit from his clumsily made burrow.  

He was burning hot. He was so hot his skin was red and burned, his scales were dry and flaking. His breath was far, far too fast and shallow, rapid breaths against his too quick heartbeat. His head lolled against Remus’s chest, completely limp in his arms, and one arm hung at an unnatural angle. He was too hot, too dry, his fever was up to 110.  

“The fuck are you doing in my room?” His voice was hot and scorching, raspy and burning. Remus turned, glaring just as hard as Wrath was, feeling his tentacles sprout from his back, his mouth twisting into a snarl. Surprise flashed across his face as Roman and Logan stepped between him and Wrath, Roman’s sword drawn, and Logan’s hands glowing a deep green.

“Oh come on, you brought the lovey dovey squad with you? How pathetic.”  

“Not pathetic. Strategic.” Logan replied. Wrath rolled his eyes.

“Please. How’d you even know he was here? I made sure he couldn’t call for help.” Wrath stated, leaning casually against the wall, making Remus growl deep in his throat. “Was it that little tattle tale wannabe light side? I’ll have to pay him a visit, teach him a lesson.” Remus moved to step forwards, but Roman did before he could, eyes aflame.  

“You won’t be going anywhere near him. You won’t be going anywhere near any of them, ever again.” Roman growled, flames erupting from his sword, and with a slash, they sprung from the ground, surrounding wrath in head tall, burning blue flames. For the first time, fear sparked in Wrath’s eyes as he pressed back against the wall.  

“you wouldn’t.” Wrath hissed, and Roman’s eyes narrowed as he leaned through the flames, which didn’t singe a hair on his body, pressing his blade to Wrath's throat, just hard enough to draw a bead of blood.  

“I fucking would. And if i ever see your face again, if you ever threaten my family again, if you ever hurt any of them again, I will. I’d lay low for a while, if I were you.” Roman hissed, twisted smile on his lips as flames danced in his eyes. ”Otherwise, who knows what unfortunate accident might befall you?” With that he turned on his heel, walking back to Remus, Logan already examining the unconcsious Deceit with a frown on his face.  

“He’s gotten heatstroke. A very acute, severe case, as well. The best thing we can do is get him back to the commons and work on cooling him off, slowly, so as to not shock his system. If we do this carefully, he should be alright. I can tend to that arm there, as well.” Logan reassured lowly. Remus nodded, glaring up at Wrath once more, hoping he conveyed all his hatred and ire in that one look, succeeding, if the shudder Wrath gave was any indication. Then Logan and Roman each took hold of one of his arms, and they sunk out.

 Hot, hot, burning. His scales were flaking, falling off, his skin was peeling, turning red, his breath was short, his heart was failing, he was dying, Dee was dying, he couldn’t hold on any longer, they were too late, and he was gone-

He shot awake with a wild sob, hands covering his face as he shook, unable to shake the vision of Dee from his mind, unable to tell if it was true or not,  but he could still feel the residual pain, the fire that crawled through his veins, that burnt him up from the inside out, that devoured his breath and his lungs.  

He jerked as he felt a hand on his shoulder, meeting Patton’s eyes.  

“Kiddo? You okay?” Virgil shook his head, arms wrapping around himself. It was still too hot, too hot, but something else, something good. Safe, he was safe, they had him!

He scrambled to his feet just as the others sunk back in, everyone staggering except Remus, who had a determined look on his face as he set Deceit down on the couch. Instantly, Virgil was on the couch, Deceit’s head in his lap, stroking his hands through the side’s hair, tears falling silently down his face.  

“Roman, get me a box fan, something that can blow a steady stream of air on him, and the aloe from the bathroom. Patton, a bowl of cool water and a washcloth, as well as the ice packs. I’ll get my medical supplies. Remus, stay with the both of them.” Logan ordered, everyone splitting up on their respective quests.  

“Vee? How you doing?” Remus asked softly, sitting on the arm of the couch behind Virgil, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s middle.  

“good. Bad. I don’t... it’s all... still see it.” Remus nodded, tucking his chin against Virgil’s shoulder.  

“It’s ok, stormcloud. Can you breathe with me? Just try to match me, okay?” He breathed in deep, mentally counting, emphasizing each step, feeling Virgil begining to copy his rhytm. By the time the others returned, he’d slid off the arm and into Virgil’s seat, Virgil curled on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, face pressed against his chest in sleep, Dee’s head in his lap.  

“We need to remove his layers, it’s only hindering him at this point. Roman?” Logan asked. Roman nodded, and with a snap, Deceit was in a soft tee shirt and pajama shorts. It was strange, seeing him so exposed, and a bit unnerving. It frightened him, seeing the usually suave and smooth side so unguarded and unresponsive, Roman realized, and looking at the others, he could tell they felt the same.

Quietly, Roman plugged the fan in, turning it on low and setting it on the coffee table, blowing air at Deceit’s torso. Logan took the ice packs, and positioned them under Deceit’s armpits, under his knees, and behind his neck, setting the arm in a sling, frowning as Deceit didn’t react at all to what would have been a very painful jolt. Patton carefully, gently, rubbed in the lotion and then the aloe onto his skin, wincing at the burns and dryness, at the flaking scales, at the heat still emenating from his body. Remus took the rag and started dabbing at Dee’s forehead, trying to cool his temp.

“Now what?” Patton asked, slumping back on the opposite end of the couch, looking to Logan for answers.

“We can do nothing but wait. Now that he is out of there, and cooling down, his pulse and breathing should start to return to a steady and normal level. He will be exhausted, his skin will hurt like a severe sunburn and take some time to heal, but he should be stable in only a few hours, awake a few after that.” Logan said, falling into his armchair. Roman was the only one who couldn’t seem to settle, pacing the floor.  

“Remus, what...what was happening? With Virgil?” Patton asked, concern in his eyes as he realized Virgil was still shaking, face scrunched tight in his sleep.

“He sees things. When... when one of us is in trouble, he can sense it. Usually it’s not much, it’s small enough it doesn’t affect him at all. Like when Roman’s stressed over a video deadline, or Logan can’t solve an equation, or you can’t find the recipe you’re looking for. He feels it, the... stress, the anxiety, he can tell where it’s coming from and who. This... this was so strong, I could feel it. I knew he must if I could. When it’s that strong, he can’t separate what’s happening to the person he’s feeling and what’s happening to him. It’s like he’s there. That’s how I knew he could find Dee. He could see where he was, feel it, though it’s hard to focus enough to see details through someone else’s perspective. Between pushing himself to see, and the panic attack, he’s completely wiped out.” Remus answered, rubbing Virgil’s arm as the side started to whimper in his sleep.  

“There’s only been a handful of times it affected him this badly. The first time was me. I got into a fight in the imagination I couldn’t win. I managed to get away, but I didn’t have the strength left to heal myself or shift the enviroment. I was bleeding out on the forest floor. Scared the hell out of Dee, but he caught on pretty quick that Virgil wasn’t just panicking, something was up. Enough details spilled out, Deceit realized what was going on, managed to find me based off his descriptions. I’d be dead three times over it weren’t for him.”  

“And the other times?” Logan asked. Remus scowled, face darkening.  

“What, can’t deduce that? Most of the others have never been fond of Dee. He’s the only thing keeping them away from Thomas, the only obstacle in their way to running rampant. I at least have the sense to see he’s right! I hate it, but he’s right to keep me from Thomas, to keep me away, to keep my presence to a minimum. I hate... I hate how I am, but that’s not his fault, has never been, and he...” Remus stopped, too choked up for a moment to continue, his gaze resting on Deceit’s too pale face. “The other three have been traps. Set for Deceit. To kill him. So the others can run free.” Remus laughed hollowly, shaking his head. “How funny, right? He plays the villain, puts on the façade, so you all don’t have to face the real monsters in Thomas’s mind. He’s spent every second of his existence protecting you all, keeping them away, almost dying for you and your precious standards of purity and light, and you couldn’t give less of a damn if you tried.” Remus closed his eyes against the grief and sadness and futility overwhelming him.  

“I... I didn’t know... I’m sorry, Remus.” Remus shook his head, laughing bitterly at his brother’s words.  

“You didn’t care to know. There’s a difference. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s not the point.”  

“Remus. It does matter. I mean it, I didn’t think, and I’m sorry. How... how long has it been like that?” Remus shrugged.  

“It wasn’t so bad. We were never as close as you guys. But it only got worse after Dee revealed himself. It made them mad, why should he be able to show himself, but keep them all hidden? Who was he to hold that power? It had always been him, me and Virgil, against them. We both understood Dee, agreed with him. Virgil is fight or flight, anxiety, after all, he knew it was a bad idea. And I... well. Look at me. I know I’m not good. I know I’m just... just an illness. Then... then Vee left. We both helped push him out the door, pushed him to show up and make himself known, we knew what would happen, we knew he would leave, but we knew it was for the best. But it got harder, after that. They got stronger, and madder, and Virgil still stepped in, if we asked, but we didn’t want to drag him back into it, so we didn’t as much as possible and it was only a matter of time until something like this happened and I-” He caught his breath, gently stroking Deceit’s scaled cheek, cracking open his tear streaked eyes as he felt Deceit lean into his touch, though he still showed no signs of awakening. “I tried. I just... I can’t be everywhere at once. And he doesn’t tell me everything. He goes off on his own sometimes, and Wrath must have nabbed him then. Probably ambushed him, else Dee would have bit his head off.” Remus said fondly, dabbing the cloth over Dee’s scales, trying to get some moisture on them.  

With his normal outfit gone, it was easy to see why Dee wore so many layers. Scales in varying colors, from the gold on his face, to deep silvery blue along his arms and pale lilac on his hands traced patches and lines across his body. His nails were sharp, reminiscint of talons, and he was thin, but his muscles were toned, no doubt allowing him more strength than he seemed capable of, and his whip fast speed. Along with the scales, they could see lines of old scars on his skin, no doubt a testament to all the scrapes he’d gotten into with the others.  

“We’re moving you. If... that is, if you want. I’ll move your rooms up here right now. Then they can’t get to Deceit, and he can keep them contained using his power from a distance. If he has to go down there to handle them, at least he has a safe place to come back to up here.” Patton’s voice was gentle but firm, and Remus was left speechless at the offer. He opened and closed his mouth several times, taken aback.  

“yes. Please.” He finally managed to spit out, spurred on by the concern on Patton’s face. Patton nodded with a small smile, closing his eyes. He felt out their rooms in the mindscape, in the downstairs, and pulled, with all his might, feeling them settle in the hallway, opposite each other, next to Virgil and Roman’s rooms, respectivly. He staggered as he finished, Roman stopping in his pacing to catch him, keep him upright.  

“Okay, padre?” He asked, Patton clutching at his shirt.  

“Yeah. I just forgot how much energy that takes. The last time I did it was Virgil, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so much at once. I maybe got a little ahead of myself, there.” Patton said, trying to step away from Roman. His legs buckled from under him, and Roman swept him up off his feet, leaving Patton giggling and smiling sheepishly at the bridal hold, Roman equally as flushed at his own instincts.  

“Er, sorry. I’ll settle you down on the other recliner, yeah?” Roman asked, chuckling as Patton yawned, shaking his head.  

“Nah. You’re cozy...”  Patton murmured, tucking his head against Roman’s chest, arms wrapping around his middle in a hug as his eyes drifted shut. Roman rolled his eyes fondly, kissing the top of Patton’s head, smiling as Patton let out a soft happy noise, nuzzling closer as he sat down in the chair and tucked a blanket around Patton.  

“Guess it’s naptime. Wake me up if anything happens, Lo.” Roman said softly, settling in and closing his eyes, starting to snore softly almost immediately.  

Logan’s full attention turned to Remus. Despite Deceit in his lap, and Virgil koala hugging him, he was tense, eyes roving over Deceit’s face as he dabbed at him with the cloth, frowning at every tic of his eyelids, every twitch of his fingers. Occasionally he paused to smooth back Virgil’s hair, murmur softly in his ear when he made a distressed sound or squeezed him a little tighter, no doubt having a nightmare, as Remus had said to expect.

His mind turned over and over all the things Remus had said. He should have realized sooner that the others would not be friendly towards Deceit, and it was not a large jump to violence, for those sides, anyways. But that’s not what his mind was stuck on.  

“Remus. You... do you believe, what you said, about yourself?” He asked, watching Remus flinch imperceptibly, sink back into his seat, brows furrowed as he looked at the floor.  

“yes. It's... it’s true! I’m just the screw up, the bad part of creativity, the part Thomas didn’t want, and all I do is drive him up the wall and none of my ideas are good, and Deceit was right, to keep me locked away. Cause look what happened when he let me out. It’s like you said. It’s better... it’s better to just ignore me until I go away.” Logan softened as Remus’s voice cracked, the creative side still refusing to look anywhere near him.  

“Oh, Remus. That’s not what I meant at all. And you’re forgetting what else I said. That you would help Thomas if he chose to pursue more adult themes, which we all know he is going to. Perhaps not dolphin sex or whale genetelia,” That got a snort of laughter out of Remus, and Logan adjusted his glasses, pleased, “but the topic of depression, which has already been lightly touched on, the topic of suicide, of self harm. And that is just as you pertain to Thomas. Not as you pertain to us.” Remus looked up at him, hope and puzzlement warring on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we care about you, as Remus, not just as creativity. Patton doesn’t shift the mindscape lightly, and surely you’ve noticed Roman trying harder to spend time with you, to get to know you again. I had been trying to be welcoming as well, though emotions are... hard for me to express in the way I would like. You are not an illness. You are not a disease. You are useful, you are needed, you are loved.” Logan said the last sentence with a rush, already embarased by what he’d said, but the broken, shattered look on Remus’s face stopped him. He took a breath, and crossed the few steps to where Remus sat, crouching so he was at eye level with him, holding his gaze steadily.  

“Remus, you are needed. You are loved. You are wanted.” He repeated, slowly, wishing he could chase away the doubt and fear on Remus’s face.  

“Truth.” Came a quiet, rasping whisper, making the both of them jump. Deceit’s eyes were open a slit, though he didn’t seem to have the strength to move, to even turn his head.  

He felt awful. His limbs were like noodles, his head lolled against Remus’s knee, and he tried, but he couldn’t even shift his neck to get a better look at Remus, who was hovering over him like a mother hen. His vision was blurry, forms too bright and fuzzy at the edges, he couldn’t even open them all the way. He only knew it was Remus because of the streak of grey that stood out against the dark, and his voice. He tried to speak again, to reassure Remus, but his words caught in his throat, and he ended up coughing, his mouth desperetly searching for moisture, but it was dry, dryer than it had ever been, his tongue swollen and thick against the roof of his mouth. By the time the fit had passed, he was wheezing for air, air that burned his too dry throat and nearly sent him into another round.  

But then someone was helping him to sit, and there was a glass of water to his lips, and he tried to drink slow, but it felt so good. It was like a cooling breeze in the midst of a muggy summer day, like rain over a forest fire, the sweetest, purest, relief he’d ever felt in his life, and he let out a whine as the glass was taken away.  

“Easy, Deceit. Too much at once will make you sick. You can have more in a few minutes.” Logan’s voice reassured. He cracked his eyes open further, squinting against the brightness that seemed to be everywhere. “How are you feeling?”  

“tired. Cool. It's... h-how did you...” He swallowed, trying to get the lump in his throat down as it all came rushing back. The heat, the fear, the surety that this was it, this the end, no one was coming, he could still feel the earth under his nails, the heat all around, the fire eating away at him-

“Dee! Deedeedeedeedee-” Then there was a bundle of warmth throwing itself at him, sending him sprawling back across the couch, and it took him a moment to recognize the splash of purple against the darkness of his jacket. Without pause, he wrapped his arm around Virgil, pulling him close, realizing the other was bound in a sling against his chest, aching dully. Virgil didn’t seem to care, he wrapped his arms around Dee’s neck, burying his head in the crook of his neck, legs wrapping around him in a koala hug, pressed so tight against him Deceit could feel every tremble and breath and heartbeat against his skin, soothing something inside him, warming him in a good way from the inside out.

“Shadow, little shadow, you found me. You did it, you found me, dearest, it’s going to be ok now.” He murmured, feeling Virgil’s tears against his shirt. “so brave, you’re so very brave, dearheart.”  

“W-w-wrath had you, h-h-h-ot, saw it, can’t, c-c-can't st-st-stop-” Deceit shushed him, pulling back, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, his cheeks, finally resting his forehead against Virgil’s, all he could see those dark, violet eyes.

“I know. But I’m here, dearest, because of you, I'm here. I’ll be right here. Go back to sleep, lovely.” Deceit murmured, watching as Virgil struggled to keep his eyes open. “I’ll be right here.” He kissed Virgil’s eyelids as they fluttered shut, and Virgil let out a soft sigh against him, curling into his chest and somehow holding him tighter. Deceit nestled his head atop Virgil’s, and let his own eyes slip closed once more.

“Dee?” Remus, voice worried. He couldn’t find the strength to peel his eyes back open, not with Virgil hugging him tight, filling him with warmth.  

“M’fine. Tired. Lil dizzy, yet, but m’fine.” He mumbled, slipping into darkness once more.

With those two curled up together on the couch, there was room for Logan to slip into a seat beside Remus, hesitantly, carefully, pulling him into a tentative hug. Remus froze at his touch, and he worried he’d overstepped, then Remus let out a soft wail, hugging him back, letting his stress and worry and fear drain out of him in his shaky, quiet sobs.  

“You meant it. You meant it.” Remus said breathlessly, wiping away tears and snot on his sleeve. Logan frowned smally.  

“I did. I think it is safe to say Deceit will be alright. He has clearly recovered from the heat, if not the exhaustion. Meaning you should get some sleep, as well.” Remus looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, before slumping into Logan’s arms with a sigh.  

“Alright. Only for you, Lolo.” He closed his eyes and started snoring just as fast as Roman had. Logan chuckled, taking off his glasses and setting them on the coffee table, before settling back in his seat. Some sleep would be good for him.

Virgil woke first, slowly, sleep trying to tug him back into its warm embrace. He was still tired, no, exhausted. It reached to his bones, the weight trying to tug him back down, and blearily he thought he hadn’t felt like this since-

His eyes shot open, breath speeding for a moment as he saw only black, before he felt the warm exhale of breath against his hair, and realized he was being held tight, entwined with another side. Shifting, he felt everything inside him loosen as he saw that half-scaled face, as he felt Dee’s heart beating, his breath coming in and out, his skin still looked red and flaky, but far less angry than the day before. As he watched, Deceit let out a soft groan, his own eyes slowly flicking open, resting on Virgil’s, a soft smile quirking his lips.  

“Hi.” Was the tired word that escaped his lips, but it was enough, because Virgil was hugging him again, so tight he could barely breath for a moment, before his hold loosened and he pulled back, a fierce look on his face.  

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Dee. Don’t... don’t scare me like that.” He muttered furiously. Deceit sighed, shifting to sit up, Virgil following and settling beside him on the couch. Deceit ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room, surprised to see Logan curled up with Remus in his arms, less surprised that Roman and Patton were in the same position on the recliner.  

“Oh yes, because I very much wanted to get trapped in a container like I was some kind of pet and then boiled to death from the inside out. That was exactly my intent.” He replied, unable to help the sarcasm that slipped into his voice. He smiled as Virgil let out a breathy laugh, resting his head on Dee’s shoulder.  

“Okay, fair. You’re just lucky Remus was around.” Deceit frowned, turning to look at Virgil.  

“How are you doing, dearest?” Virgil let out a breath, fidgeting with his hoodie sleeves.  

“Alright. Still... worn down. Remus helped. God knows I wasn’t making sense, but he calmed me enough I could focus, I could see... I was scared...” Virgil said softly, so softly, and Deceit reached out, tucking Virgil’s bangs back, stroking his cheek.  

“I know. But you did such a good job, shadow, little shadow.” Virgil rolled his eyes, but shoved his head against Deceit’s hand much like a cat demanding pets. He laughed, and started massaging Virgil’s scalp, the action soothing both him and Virgil, it had been so long since he’d had this much contact with anyone, he realized.  

“Mhph. Virg? You up?” Roman grumbled, stretching and yawning hugely as he blinked open his eyes. Deceit froze, flinching back, expecting Roman to shriek or summon his sword, and he was too tired to deal with his theatrics and put up his usual façade. Instead, Roman’s eyes widened, and he gently shook Patton.  

“Pat! He’s awake!” Instantly, Patton was on his feet, crouching before Deceit.  

“Oh, goodness, I’m so glad you’re up. Logan said you’d be fine and just needed to sleep, but you had me scared, kiddo. Um, we have some lotion and aloe here, for you, but I don’t know if you use something else on your scales that might help, they’re pretty bad, too. Do you want something to eat? Oh, and I should get you something to drink right away, you’re still really dehydrated, water? Or would juice be better, it has more sugar and stuff?” Patton rambled.  

‘Patton, you’re crowding him. Juice would be preferable, and something simple, toast and scrambled eggs, if that’s acceptable?” Logan asked, looking to Deceit, who nodded.  

“Yeah. Sounds... fine. I have some oil, in my room, Remus knows where.” He said softly, realizing Remus was awake and staring at him as if he hadn’t seen him in years. Abruptly, Deceit realized his normal outfit was gone, leaving his legs and arms exposed, and he shivered.  

“We changed you out of your clothes yesterday, to aid in your cool down. Your temperature is sufficiently lowered now, if you wish to change back. We also have moved your and Remus’s rooms up here, with Remus’s permission.”  

“You don’t have to do that.” He answered softly. Logan cocked his head.  

“But we have. What I said to Remus applies to you as well, Deceit. We should have worked to make that clearer, sooner. Please, let us help.” Deceit blinked slowly, before nodding, settling back on the couch.  

“Ok.” He snapped his fingers, and his outfit changed into soft fleece pajamas, patterned with dark scales. It felt good against his sensitive skin. Remus popped back up, a bottle in his hand, which he passed to Deceit.

“Let me help. I can reach the ones on your back.” Virgil said, gently taking the oil from him, waiting for a reply. Shakily, Deceit nodded, feeling his aching muscles start to relax as Virgil carefully rubbed his back. He realized Remus still hadn’t said anything, an unusual occurance, and met his gaze, tilting his head in a silent question.  

Remus let out a breathy laugh, sitting on the couch cross legged before Deceit, taking both of Dee’s hands in his, simply staring at his face as if he couldn’t get enough of it, searching it for something, though Dee couldn’t pinpoint what.  

“Ree?” He asked, gently, and Remus squeezed his hands.  

“What if I hadn’t noticed you were missing? What if they distracted me enough I didn’t come after you? What if I didn’t feel your panic? What if Virgil hadn’t been able to see? What if no one realized what was happening until it was too late? What if we found you and you’d shriveled up like a prune, crumbling to dust before our eyes? What if we watched your heart slow and stop and your breathing stutter out and your eyes close and they never, never opened up again? What if-” Deceit gently extricated one of his hands from Remus’s, and guided it to his chest, over his heart. “I can’t stop, can’t stop, it’s so loud...” He muttered, Dee rubbing circles against his knuckles.  

“I know, love. But you can feel that, right? Tell me what that is.” He asked softly, earnestly.  

“You’re heart.” Came the mumbled response.  

“Yes. And what is it doing?” Remus’s eyes flicked to his for just a moment, before looking away again, though he could see the thoughts starting to slow, his eyes starting to clear.  

“Beating.”  

“Good. Now, what about this?” He asked, moving Remus’s hand so it was over his diaphram. “What is that?” He could see the small smile starting to grow on Remus’s face.  

“You breathing.” He murmured. Deceit smiled.  

“Indeed. Do you know why, my heart is still beating, I am still breathing?” Remus didn’t respond, but he was looking at Deceit now, meeting his affectionate gaze. “Because you did notice I was gone, you did feel my panic, you did find Virgil, you did focus him enough he could see, you did find me in time, you did get me help and you did make sure I was alright. That’s what matters. Can you remember that for me, Ree? Can you focus on that?” Remus’s smile was bright as he nodded, tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Deceit, who laughed as Virgil was pulled into the hug by Remus’s tentacles, grumbling but making no move to escape the hold.  

He could hear Patton in the kitchen, the smell of eggs starting to waft through the room. He could hear Roman talking softly with Logan, who was already flipping through whatever book he was reading, trying to find the page he’d been on. And he could feel the warmth from his two best friends surrounding him, filling him with a soft joy he hadn’t felt in far too long.  

And he wondered if nearly dying was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to him

[cesabutterflywrites]

Prince in the Storm: Chapter Sixteen

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Virgil was sensitive. Most people saw him as some “spooky, broody dude”, when in reality he was just a private person. Teachers tried to open his mind up with a figurative crowbar. Everyone tried to get him to open up. Well, everyone except his best friend Talyn. They were the only one who understood his personality and inner workings just enough to be his friend. However, they haven’t seen his Marking. No one other than his parents have. Contrary to popular belief, Roman was sensitive. Most people saw him as a fanciful, dreamy, somewhat egotistical thespian who wanted nothing but to be the best of the best. Everyone cheered him on in his performances. Everyone praised his original works. Anything he made others enjoyed. People would whisper about his Marking, wondering where it was and when he would reveal it. He had a whole circle of friends, yet no one except his best friend Joan understood him. Joan was the only one who saw Roman’s insecurities. As students of Kingston High School, with zany principals and try-hard superintendents, it is up to Virgil and Roman to stay alive enough to fulfill their destiny. Ao3

Word Count:  6129

Chapter Warnings: none

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen

Bonuses: Immune to Change

Roman woke up with his head at the foot of his bed, hugging his pillow, and his notebook open on the floor. He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't remember dreaming. He definitely didn’t remember why he had drool stuck to his cheek. He rolled over to shut off his alarm on his nightstand. That's when it dawned on him. 

He didn't remember dreaming. 

He shot upwards. His heart was pounding. Was this a sign? Were he and Virgil on the right path? He hadn't believed that mumbo jumbo about Soulmate Magic and dreams when Joan told him in the beginning of the school year. When Roman talked about his weird nightmare that Virgil had started to play a small role in. Was that only 6 weeks ago? 

But why would they stop when he finally felt comfortable around Virgil? What did it all mean? He really needed to ask Joan for those articles again. Maybe they weren’t mystical mumbo jumbo after all. He should have been paying more attention to them when he was obsessing over the nightmares in the beginning of the school year. After all, internet articles weren’t always unreliable sources, right? 

Roman sat at his vanity mirror. His reflection had changed from what he’d been seeing for the past two weeks. He looked brighter. It was like the depressive haze since their first kiss was thinning. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. His eyes looked crinkled from the wide smile on his face as he gazed into his reflection’s eyes. 

Humming a tune from Tangled, Roman combed through his hair. Linda didn't seem up to her usual antics. That rebellious strand of hair was actually laying down with the rest of his hairdo. 

He looked...good. Not quite like his old self. This confidence was  more...genuine. Happiness looked good on him. Is this what other people saw in him when he walked through the halls? A young man who just radiated the energy of sunny attraction? Or was this a new sight in general? Was he seeing himself clearly, or for the first time? 

His hair was caught in a beam of early morning sunlight, bringing out the strands of gold and red that only appeared in the purest of lighting. He resisted the urge to blink as he inspected his eyes. Had the golden brown always been so rich? Was the sun just in a good spot in the sky shining through his window, or was he finally seeing himself the way he’s wanted to since he was a child? 

Closing his eyes, Roman took in a deep inhale through his nose. He tried to  remember that stormy night when Patton spoke with an anxious Virgil. Smell the rose? 

He opened his eyes on the exhale. The morning so far tasted sweet to him. A beginning. A fresh start. 

With bold proclamation, he recited his affirmations to his reflection. He sang 

them to the tune he’d been using since he first came up with them in the eighth grade.

“ I am pretty

I am a star

I am an artist

I am perfect

I am a prince ”

When he had first written those affirmations down, Joan teased him because he used ‘Prince’ instead of ‘King’, like his last name. Roman explained it to them as best as he could. Princes were at the beginning of their journeys. Princes got to perform, they got to explore. He told Joan all those years ago that he’d change it to King when he was older and had enough life experiences under his belt. Or when he was ready to settle down with his true love.

Roman sighed as he remembered that day while getting dressed. He wondered if Joan actually did understand, or if they had just nodded to get him to shut up. 

No, that wasn’t true. Joan was the only person who understood him. Even though by now Joan had probably forgotten about the affirmations. They didn't know he still did them five years later. It wasn’t something that really had a place in everyday conversation. 

Half an hour later, Roman was pulling up to the student parking lot earlier than usual. That’s what happens when one gets decent sleep , he supposed. There were a few students milling about. The air was getting crisper. The summer humidity had changed to a fall humidity (the difference only noticeable to a long time resident of Parkwill, of course). Roman was glad he had decided to leave his jacket at home. Any rain that came wouldn’t be too bad. It would probably be more misty than anything. 

He made his way to his first class on the second floor, English with an old man named Mr. Richardson. He needed to ask for an extension on his essay. He had been ignoring most of his homework in his depression since Virgil kissed him. He wondered how he’d be feeling after their date. Would he be in such a joyous high that he’d continue to ignore his studies? It was a worry for him. His deal with his parents was good grades as a trade for continuing theater. Briefly he considered even telling his mom that he had a date tonight. 

Roman paused in the doorway of the classroom as the realization hit him. He was going on a date. A date! He was going to be taking Virgil on a date. That Virgil initiated! Virgil, distant Virgil, handsome Virgil, with a mouth that tasted like the heat of a summer bonfire and lips that felt like plug outlets. 

Roman felt tears prick at his vision. Happy ones. Virgil had asked him on a date. Did this mean they were ready to move forward? No more nightmares?

No, he wouldn’t get his hopes up yet. He needed to go slowly. He had always planned from the beginning that his soulmate would be the one to reveal himself, or Roman would after he was done with his travels. When he was ready to settle down. Also, just because Virgil wanted to go on a date, it didn't mean they were ready to jump into the thick of it. Roman needed to be patient. 

Patience is a virtue, but I’m not a freaking nun or anything, Roman thought  as he walked down the hallway.

Roman walked into the room with a strange feeling of electricity dancing over his arms. He looked at the desk his English teacher usually sat in during the morning. Instead of Mr. Richardson, though, there was his favorite teacher and a man he had only seen twice before, but had never been introduced to. 

“Oh, Roman, you’re a bit early, aren’t you?” Mr. D asked. What was that look on his face? He was...smiling. He only did that when he was looking forward to something special. 

“Uh, yeah, I got decent sleep.” Roman was eyeing the two men. He couldn’t help but feel off-kilter as the sparks continued shooting up his arms. 

“Good, good.” The drama teacher patted Roman’s shoulder absently. “By the way, no rehearsal tonight. We all need a night to relax and regroup, right?” 

Roman nodded. He knew that the teacher was implying something, but he didn’t know what it was exactly until he spoke up. 

“Wow, Princey, you always look this good?” a gruff voice called from the back of the classroom. 

That explained the weird feeling in his arms. “Oh, hi, Virgil!” He ran his hand on the back of his head, which most likely would wake Linda from her slumber. “Sorry I didn’t see you there...in the shadows.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes as he walked forward. “Whatever, I’ll see you later.” 

Then he did something Roman didn’t expect. Virgil embraced him, not even minding the awkwardness of the backpacks they both wore, and then kissed his cheek. 

“See you at lunch, Roman.” Virgil winked at him before he left. 

Roman was frozen from the weird pain/not pain feeling in his abdomen. He jumped at the sound of Mr. D chuckling. 

“That’s the action I want to see from you when we get back to rehearsals. Pull on that feeling okay?” The theater teacher pat Roman on the shoulder again as he walked out. 

Roman stared at the superintendent, who was grinning like he had just won a goldfish- or a freaking puppy-at the fairgrounds. What was that all about? Virgil must be scheming something, and the superintendent looks like he’s expecting something from me. 

Roman did what he did best, he played it off cool before he died of stage fright. 

“How rude of him not to introduce me to you, I’m Roman. Roman King.” Roman stuck his hand out politely. He hid his relief that the buzzing had stopped vibrating on his skin. 

“Yes, of course, my nephew hasn’t always had the best manners.” The man shook Roman’s hand. “But that’s why you like him, isn’t it?” 

Roman let out one of his ‘Noble Noises’, a name that Joan gave to the sounds he couldn’t help but let out when he was at a loss for words. 

“Wh- I- ha-”

“Relax, Roman.” Thomas chuckled. “Mr. Richardson is going to be out for the week. Due to the lack of-” he clenched his jaw- “stability in this school, Principal Duke hasn’t set up any substitute teachers to be on our call list. I could have had other teachers work on their off periods to cover the class, but I have free time.” 

“Isn’t being a substitute a bit below your paygrade?” Roman asked without thinking. 

“I was a sub before I was anything else.” Thomas held his arm out to direct Roman to take his seat. 

 A group of students wandered in as the bell rang. Mr. Sanders smiled warmly at Roman. A bit too nice, as if he knew a big secret. 

Jeesh, was Roman getting too paranoid for his own good? Or was he getting his hopes up? 

Roman made his way to his desk, excited to see how the Superintendent of the entire district would teach. He knew that Mr. Sanders was taking the fall semester to exclusively monitor how Kingston High was improving, but he didn’t know that he’d be this involved. His reputation for caring about education seemed to hold more truth to it than Roman thought. Hopefully it meant that he'd leave the drama department alone. 

The second bell rang. Mr. Sanders walked up in front of the whiteboard to write down his name. Not that he needed to, he did just introduce himself to the entire school just a short time ago. 

Roman pulled out his English notebook. He was sure that Mr. Sanders would make them continue their assignments. Mr. Richardson had them working on learning about the various types of essay formats. The unit was difficult, especially since he wanted them to do three different essays in different formats as a way to show how well they understood. 

Mr. Sanders’ demeanor had changed now that he was in front of the classroom. Roman recognized that shift. It was the type of body stance that actors took right before getting into character. The tension in his stance to fend off the stage fright. 

“Hello class,” Mr.  Sanders greeted. He sounded like a car salesman rather than a substitute teacher. “Mr. Richardson will be out for a week. I will be your teacher while he is gone.” 

He turned on his heel to the whiteboard. He wrote out a phrase on the whiteboard: 

“Soulmate Magic: Myth or Fact?”

Roman felt himself about to choke on his own spit. He hated the Universe sometimes. He had just been wondering about that this morning. 

“Who here believes in Soulmate Magic?” Mr. Sanders asked the class while he drew out a chart of some sort on the whiteboard. 

Roman felt his arm lift up without his permission. He hurriedly looked around the rest of the classroom. There were a few students also looking around with their hands in the air too. One guy in the back of the class was chuckling to himself. 

“Mr. Flannigan, what’s so funny?” Mr. Sanders asked as he turned around. 

The boy shrugged, causing his bulky headphones to shift on his leather jacket. “This is English class in high school ,” he emphasized with a sneer. “You can’t expect us to believe that fairytale bullshit.” 

Roman and the others had put their arms down by then. If he had been asked this before meeting Virgil, he would have been on the fence. However, since the first day of school there were just too many coincidences and feelings and experiences he had noticed. After all, he did start believing the Dream Theory enough to go with Virgil to his house when they had barely known each other...and also kiss him that next morning. 

Mr. Sanders didn’t even acknowledge the cuss word from the bold student. He looked amused. “I take it the rest of you feel this way too?” 

The class all seemed to  shift uncomfortably. Gabrielle, the girl who sat behind Roman, spoke up first. “It’s not that I think it’s bull, it just feels like something we say to kids.” 

“Oh? Then do you know why Markings exist?” The Superintendent looked like he was holding information no one else had. Roman had a heavy feeling in his stomach at that look. His smirk was an older version of Virgil’s. 

Gabrielle frowned. “No one does. They’ve been around forever. They’re just...something that’s natural.” 

“Would you be willing to argue that point as passionately as Mr. Flannigan in the back?” Mr. Sanders asked. 

Gabrielle blushed and looked down at her desk as a few kids snickered. “Well, maybe, I don’t know.” 

Mr. Sanders went back to the whiteboard and labeled the columns he had drawn out. On the left he had written “Myth”. On the other side he had written “Fact”. Underneath “Fact” he started writing the names of some of the students who had their hands raised earlier. Roman felt sweat start to form on his forehead as his name was written in the “Fact” section. 

As he wrote, Mr. Sanders spoke. “Your teacher was doing a unit on the different types of essays in academia. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the traditional thesis statement. For the first half next week you’ll be spending class time working in groups on finding research online supporting your side of the argument. We’ll spend one day in the school library looking for books as sources too. Then the second half of the week you’ll each write your own essay about why you think Soulmate Magic is or isn’t real.” 

Roman sighed. Could he use personal experience as his only source? 

Mr. Sanders had finished writing their names on the board. He uncapped a pink marker. He looked behind him at the class and asked. “Who here has met their soulmate yet?” 

Roman gulped. He didn’t want to jump the gun. There was still a chance he was being set up for disappointment despite the other ‘signs’. Maybe this project would help him find the truth-or as close as he can get-about what the hell was going on with Virgil without actually talking about it. Obviously he'd need better sources than Buzzfeed's 'Six Signs You've Found Your Soulmate' article he had seen floating around. 

Mr. Sanders put a pink asterisk next to the names of the students who had found their soulmates. There were a few on each side of the chart. Roman felt a lump in his throat. There were more people who found their soulmates while young than he had thought. That didn't help with the whole "not getting his hopes up about his career" thing. 

They spent the rest of the class being assigned to their study groups. They were sorted into groups of four. Roman was assigned to work with Marissa Falcon, Andrew Harrison, and Mercy Fenton. They had changed their seating to make sure they were all sitting together. They had moved their desks to face each other close to the door. 

Marissa was definitely excited about this project. Her tight red curls bounced around her face even when she was still. She was one of the students with a pink asterisk next to her name on the board. The only one in their group, actually. Meaning that she had already found her soulmate. 

“So, putting aside the weirdness of the superintendent of the entire school district being here, can we just talk about how cool it is to learn about this?! Much better than what the old man was doing.” Her voice reminded Roman of bubblegum and the color pink. She was excitable, bright, and definitely had the glow of someone who considered herself an expert. 

Roman was just glad he wouldn’t have to take the lead on the project. Maybe working with someone his age who had already found their soulmate would help him out with his personal life as well as give him an edge on his essay. The other two in the group barely participated in the rest of the conversation. He got the feeling that Marissa and he were the ones who were going to take the assignment seriously. 

It was too soon that the bell rang for his next class. Disappointed, Roman packed his backpack. He waved goodbye to the substitute. Mr. Sanders gave him a smile in return as he pulled aside Gary Flannigan. Probably to talk to him about the cussing earlier in class.

Roman went to his next class. Thinking to himself, I hope this is a sign I’m on the right path with Virgil .

-------

“Jeez, Talyn, don’t tug my hair so hard!” Virgil griped. He was trying not to flinch as Talyn precariously combed the dye through his hair. 

“Well, do you want me to be thorough or no?” They responded tersely. They were trying - unsuccessfully - to hide their smile at Virgil’s pain and suffering.

“Remind me to never let you dye my hair in a bad mood, Talyn” Joan snarked as they read a book at Virgil’s desk. The Chrome Borne was the title that Virgil caught. 

It was weird, Virgil admitted to himself, to have his maybe-boyfriend’s best friend hanging out with him without Roman being there. Not bad, just weird. It made Virgil a little annoyed that he couldn’t have one on one time with Talyn as much anymore. Still, Joan was fun to have around. They were able to keep Talyn from smacking Virgil upside the head quite a few times. 

“Don’t make me flick some of this on your stupid face,” Talyn muttered so only Virgil could hear. 

“Why are you being so rough with my precious head? I don’t need a concussion on my first real date, Tal.” Virgil winced as Talyn purposefully tugged on his bangs. 

“You can’t get a concussion from hair pulling, smartass.” Talyn responded sweetly. “Besides, maybe next time you’ll give me more time to prepare to do this. I know I’m magic but I’m no miracle worker.” 

“Not my fault I’ve been busy!” he whined. “You don’t want me to fail classes do you?”

Talyn huffed as they clipped up the section they had finished. Their movements were more gentle now. “No. You need all the help you can get.” 

“What does hair dye have to do with failing classes?” Joan asked. They set down their book and spun in the desk chair to face Virgil. 

“Virgie has finally decided to take school seriously. So he’s gotta learn how to do homework for the first time.” Talyn was starting to trail off as they poured their focus where it should have been - making sure Virgil’s hair dye wasn’t fucked up. 

He rolled his eyes. “What they mean to say is that Mr. Charles has been helping me after school twice a week to get my homework done. I’m in a stupid deal for the first half of the semester to actually try to be a good student.” 

Joan’s eyebrows raised. “Never took you for a hard worker, no offense.” 

“None taken, neither did I.” Virgil grinned. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

Joan made a show of rolling their eyes and groaning. “How dare you burden me with trying to find answers to the universe?” They put their wrist against their forehead and leaned over the side of the spinning chair. “It’s so hard being an oracle. Haven’t you heard of google?” 

Virgil and Talyn snickered. “I see where Princey gets his theatrics,” he remarked. 

Joan immediately shot up, leaning their elbows on their knees and looking at Virgil with mighty curiosity. “Why do you call him Princey? His name is King.” 

Virgil shrugged impulsively, causing Talyn to flick him for moving. “I dunno. It slipped out one day and kinda stuck.” There was more to it than that, but there was no way he was going to give that information to Roman’s right hand. 

“It’s just kinda funny to me,” Joan’s eyes looked lost in thought, “That you’d choose a nickname for him based off of his affirmations.” 

“Roman does affirmations?” Virgil asked, surprised. “Isn’t that for people who don’t like themselves or something?” 

Joan frowned at Virgil, and in a reprimanding tone said, “Not necessarily. Sometimes people do it to control how they view themselves. Sometimes it’s to remind them of their goals.” Joan sounded sad when they added softly, “Besides...Roman doesn’t exactly have a very high view of himself. He probably doesn't even know that I remember he made affirmations all those years ago."

Virgil snorted. “The guy’s got an ego the size of the Chrysler Building.” 

Talyn paused their work and shared a look with Joan. Joan shifted in the seat, looking down. Their voice a near whisper, “Not really. He’s just a good actor, ya know?” 

Oh. 

“I get it now,” Virgil looked down as Talyn pushed his head forward. “He did seem really...hollow...after something-” 

“I know what happened, Virge, you don’t need to go into it.” Joan didn’t sound like they had fake disinterest. They truly weren’t digging for information and wanted to respect Virgil’s privacy.  

Remembering that fuck-up was hard for Virgil. It was still so fresh in his mind. “No, it’s okay, I want you to know my side.” 

He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement. He told Joan about Roman meeting him on the bus, their walk home, the panic attack, the family dinner, Roman spending the night, the morning, the kiss, him running away, and the talk with Uncle Thomas. 

Joan helped fill in some blanks for him, too. He heard about how Roman had been so distraught when he visited their house right after. Joan mentioned something about a song, which led into the trio getting sidetracked into Joan’s history of creating with Roman. It was nice hearing stories about Theater Camp. Hearing about Roman’s softer side was way better than hearing constant praise from people who barely knew him. 

“So, what was your original question?” Talyn nudged while they put the shower cap on Virgil’s head. 

Virgil thought for a moment. What was the question he had? 

“Oh! Right! Hey Joan,” Virgil reached for his phone in the pocket from his jeans. “Could you tell me if Roman would like this surprise idea that I have?” 

Joan took the phone that they were handed. Their face slowly grew more mischievous and they were laughing a creepy, sinister laugh by the time they were done with it. “Yes, yes he will love this.” 

“Really?” Virgil asked as he stood up to stretch his legs. “I hope he’ll understand what I’m trying to say.” 

Joan bit their lip in thought. Talyn sat on their lap in the small rolling chair, which creaked under the weight of them. Virgil just sat on his bed while waiting for their response. 

“I think,” Joan started in a more serious tone, “that it’s a sweet idea. He’s always said that he didn’t want to know his soulmate before he was ready with an established career.

“But I don’t know, he’s changed a lot in the past two months. He may not be willing to commit to it no matter what you say. He’s been down pretty bad, Virge.” Joan started rubbing their finger up and down Talyn’s forearm while swaying back and forth. “I say, go for it. You’ve got most of it all planned out. I will say that if you go through with this, maybe prepare yourself for him to not be understanding of what you’re asking for. Because it is a lot.” 

Virgil nodded slowly. “I’ll see how the date goes tonight. I don’t really wanna jump the gun, you know?” 

Talyn got up to sit next to Virgil and rub his shoulder. “Your date is going to go fine. You already know he’s in love with you. You’ve just gotta clear the air on some things. This is a time for honesty.” 

“And really, this surprise you’ve planned out, Virgil?” Joan giggled. “I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure this happens.” 

“Yeah, watching you two dance around each other is better than any soap opera.” Talyn agreed. 

The trio talked for a bit more before the timer on Talyn’s phone went off for Virgil to rinse out his hair. He rushed to the shower so he could be ready on time for his date.

Virgil was in the shower rinsing his hair when it hit him. Roman would be going on a date with him. It wouldn’t be just a normal date, though, but a chance for Virgil to be vulnerable about everything. He needed to come clean about his side of what happened. Especially hearing about how Roman was so empty after that first kiss. 

The water was cold, which normally didn’t bother Virgil, but he found himself shivering at the thought of hurting Roman again. Was he ready to try? What if he was just doing this to make himself feel better? What if, when he explained himself, Roman thought he was toxic? What if Roman just couldn’t be with someone who won’t reveal their Marking? What if he fucked up again ? What if he can't open up after all? 

Once the water was running clear in the tub, Virgil stepped out to dry his hair off with his “Trash Towel”. It’s the towel he used when his hair was freshly dyed. He didn’t want to ruin a bunch of different ones with leaky hair. This was a white towel with stains of all the different hair colors he had done over time. He probably should have replaced it long ago, but that meant ruining another towel again.

The sound of the hair dryer wasn’t enough to drown out his thoughts. His fingers felt numb as he worked on his hair. Once that was done he returned to his room to get dressed. Talyn and Joan were downstairs. It sounded like his dad was home and talking to them. That was good. He needed some time to gather himself for what he was about to do. 

He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he didn’t want to look like he didn’t care either. He wondered if Roman would be dressed up all fancy for their first date. No doubt the boy was at his house fretting over what he’d wear. That image of Roman freaking out over what he’d be wearing comforted Virgil a bit. 

Virgil was glad that Mr. D had agreed to cancel the club meeting for that night. He was a weird teacher. He kept his distance but it was obvious he cared deeply about his students, especially Roman. The few times Virgil talked to the mysterious teacher, he always held a fond sparkle in his eye when Roman came up in conversation. It was really cool of him to give special treatment, and as Virgil changed he figured that Roman must be really special to his teacher. Which was good, considering that he needed Mr. D’s help with his surprise later on if his date went well.

After Virgil was mostly satisfied with his appearance, he went downstairs to see that it wasn’t just his dad who was home. 

Logan was sitting on his couch, with his arm over Patton’s shoulders. Patton leaned into Logan like he was relaxing after a long day. They were talking to Joan and Talyn. The four of them were laughing at something his dad must have said. Virgil felt his chest start to warm. It was such a natural sight, except for the empty loveseat in the corner. It was easy to see himself laughing along with them, with Roman’s head on his lap as they talked. 

Hope swelled within him. Could it be that he could make this work? Maybe he wasn’t going to fuck up after all. 

He walked into the room. His dad saw him and stood up to meet him. “You look so handsome, kiddo!" he squealed. The pride was so evident on his face. “My baby’s first date! So exciting.” 

Virgil pretended to frown. “C’moooon dad. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.” He tried to not laugh. 

Talyn stood up, playing along by stomping their feet. “Young man, I worked way too hard to make your hair perfect. The least you could do is let your dad take pictures of my masterpiece.” 

Virgil lost his composure by then. Talyn calling him ‘young man’ was just the cherry on top. “Sure, go ahead!” he called out through his hysterical laughter.

Logan spoke up, nervously grinning. “I have my camera in my car. It would produce a better quality for pictures than our phones.” 

“Need some help?” Joan asked excitedly. They didn’t wait for an answer as they made their way to the door. Logan just chuckled to himself as he left after the excited teenager. 

“Talyn, don’t tell me your soulmate is a photography nerd! You hate taking pictures of yourself.” Virgil teased. 

“Shut up,” Talyn grumbled, though their grin was noticeable. “Joan’s only got a passing interest in it. They haven’t asked me to be their muse or anything.” 

Patton chuckled. “Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Artists are very serious about their work.” 

“Dad, have you been modeling on the side?” Virgil asked. He wasn't teasing, but genuinely curious. That hadn't talked bunch about Logan or the galaxy tattoo since that fight. 

Logan had walked back in by then and made his way to Patton. “Your father has a very symmetrical face, and when he smiles I want to keep it with me forever.” He kissed Patton’s suddenly red cheek. 

Virgil noticed the way his dad stiffened as he waited for Virgil to react. It was weird to see another man lovingly touch his dad. He faked a reassuring smile to the pair. He didn’t want to think about the prickling in the back of his head. He needed to get used to Logan being around in a more casual manner. He'd have to get used to the fact that Logan was here to stay. 

He made sure to put all of his focus into watching Talyn and Joan from there on out. He tried not to blink when the camera flashed in his eyes. He fought within himself to keep that earlier hopeful feeling from flying away from him. He wouldn’t let his pessimism win. 

This night was about coming clean. It was about asking for forgiveness, giving context, and taking his next step to be a better man. It was about searching for compromise in good faith. It was for finding faith in the opportunity for fresh starts. After tonight, he’d be able to see a brighter future for himself. 

It was when they were still taking pictures that there was a knock at the front door. Talyn let out a squeal that seemed out of character. Virgil raised his eyebrow at them, which welcomed another click, flash! from the camera. He walked away from the staircase to open the door. 

His forearms felt like he was being pricked by static shocks all over when he saw Roman standing there, the beginning sunset behind him looking like something out of a movie. Virgil was speechless. He couldn’t think of anything flirty or sarcastic to say. Had it only been at lunch period that day he last saw Roman? He looked like royalty. 

Roman had his hair combed back. It was a bit longer since he hadn’t gotten it cut, so his hair had some flow to it. He had worn a long sleeve button up with black slacks. The shirt was a deep red color, bringing out the hazel eyes and white teeth. He was wearing a small bit of brown eyeliner and mascara, nothing obvious, but enough to bring out the features of his face. The rosey blush that Virgil loved so much was starting to form the longer he stared. 

“Um, I didn’t know where we were going, so I figured I’d make myself look nice.” Roman looked Virgil up and down. “I’m glad to know we had the same idea.” 

Virgil looked down at what he was wearing. He had chosen his only pair of slacks -a gray pair that his grandmother got him for his birthday - and a deep wine-purple button up. He had chosen a dark gray necktie with black stitching to look like spiderwebs. Just to keep a little bit of his dark personality obvious so he wouldn’t feel completely out of his depth. 

“Oh, right, yeah.” He responded lamely. His voice cracked and he felt like he wanted to shrivel up in embarrassment. 

“I got you this. I hope it’s not too cliché or tacky for you.” Roman handed Virgil a single black rose. It was plastic, and the stem was dark purple with glitter. It was definitely something cheesy, but Virgil smiled anyway.

“Thank you, Roman, I love it.” Virgil heard his dad clear his throat loudly. He rolled his eyes. Feeling more normal now that his bubble with Roman had burst, he swept his arm behind him. “Come in. We’re just taking pictures as if it’s fucking prom or something.” 

Roman laughed at that. “I’ll never say no to a photo op!” 

Joan and Talyn gave hugs to Roman when he was in the room. “Looking as royal as ever, your highness.” Joan remarked. 

"Wait, isn't Highness for a prince?" Virgil asked. "I always call him Majesty."

Roman chuckled. "Majesty and Highness can be either, depending on the situation. Majesty is more formal, and Highness is a sort of catch-all." 

Virgil didn't have a good response to that. He didn't know anything about royalty and all that fancy shit. He was itching to go, but automatically he pulled Roman by his waist. "Let's get our pictures done quickly, I'm starving."

Roman and Virgil took a few pictures at the bottom of the staircase. Roman didn’t seem bothered by the blinding flashes. Virgil kept his arm tight against his date’s waist. After he felt he was thoroughly blinded, he ended the photo session. “Alright, if I want to be able to see Roman’s sexy face I need the flashes to stop.” 

Roman whined behind him as he made his way to his jacket by the door. “But I wanna make sure all of my sides have been captured…” 

Virgil just ignored him. In a rush to leave, he gave hugs to everyone except Logan, and walked out the door while Roman gushed his thanks to Logan for taking pictures. 

The pair settled into their seats in Roman’s car. The silence was nice as Virgil adjusted to it after the noise of the living room. He looked at Roman nervously. He seemed relaxed. His handsomeness seemed never-ending. “Alright, Captain Cranky, you ready to go get some fancy food?” he quipped, too giddy for Virgil's own good. 

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed. “Only the best for you, your Majesty .” 

Roman chuckled. They pulled out of the driveway as Virgil plugged in the aux cord to his phone as if he had done it every day. 

By the time they arrived at Marina's, Virgil had educated Roman with every song on the Welcome to the Black Parade album. They got out of the car laughing as Roman gave the keys to the valet. 

With a warm blanket of joy between the two, they entered the restaurant to start the first part of their date. Virgil tried not to think about the nerves bundling up in his abdomen, or even consider the coincidence that his Marking was warmer than usual. 

-

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Fluff and worldbuilding? Fluff and worldbuilding.Thank you for reading and supporting this story. I didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth everywhere, but for about a year now a family member of mine was getting sicker and sicker until he passed a few weeks ago. It's been a hard time, but he's at peace now & I feel like I can refocus my life.So, we're looking at an update every other month here. I don't want to promise more or less than that. I can say that I think about this fic ALL THE TIME and I want to just publish my rough drafts of the chapters and speed through it, but I know these boys love to take their time, so I will too.I hope you have been doing well, readers, and let me know what you thought of this chapter! And maybe comment your guesses on how you think the date will go ;)also, I have a discord server join for updates, bonuses, and talk with other readers!

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@404-morality-not-found​, @k1ngtok1​, @lovelivingmydreams​

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist for my stories

[achliegh]

Bronze

Y’all We Are Almost DONE! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Explaining:

Before Letter is the present.

Letter is updating the lives of the people back home, of whoever wrote it mostly.

After Letter is memory.

TW/CW: Discussions of death, military training, smut, cringy jokes, underage drinking, dumb choices, swearing, hospitals, injuries and death caused by someone close, domestic abuse, blood, unfair treatment from police, false allegations.

Beta: @walking-crisis

Some Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Chapter 7:

Jolene

The plane was colder than Clay ever remembered it being. During training he was in the back of planes all the time, but this felt different. After Grev and him had their bonding moment over the photos an officer came and knocked on the door. Clay heard Grev and the officer whispering to one another about something that seemed important. The harder he listened the further away he felt.

It felt like he was on a carnival ride that would swing him closer and then pull him away again.

He was taken off guard when his uniform was given to him, he was told he was going to his teammates funeral. Apparently they were all at once and a long time after the incident. He was also being awarded a metal. They didn’t specify which medal, but he didn’t want it.

He just wanted to be home.

He was bored, which sounds selfish but when it is just him and nine oddly long cargo crates he can’t help but get bored. He noticed small bags attached to the left corners of the crates and wanted to know what was in them but felt like he would get in trouble if he moved. There were two higher officers a ways away that were acting like he wasn’t there besides the glances they would give him.

So he passes the time hoping that all the little treasures he found for everyone were picked up after he was wounded. He couldn’t wait to give them to everyone.

Dear Clay,

Hey Man, I know you aren’t expecting this letter. But I just wanted to write and say that I really miss you. I know we aren’t as close as you, Leo, and Reg are but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.

I can tell that you being gone has taken a toll on everyone, especially Leo, but that's expected in these situations. When you get back we have to go hiking! A new trail opened up and I have been watch a lot of “flesh pedestrian” tiktoks! We should go and try to catch one!

Also, I know you told me a lot about your experience with a not-deer but I think I had one recently and I need to tell someone who understands! I’m dying because Logan doesn’t give a shit and Leo tells me there isn’t any up here!

WHICH IS A LIE!

Anyway, I need you back already so that I can talk about this with someone!

Sincerely,

Finn

Dolly Parton was singing in the background as Clay walked into his childhood home, the screen door slamming behind him alerts his parents that he's finally made it home. The next thing he knows he is being crushed by his mothers scrawny arms. He smiles but struggles to take a breath.

“Let him go Judy, He’s only been gone a couple of months up north. It's not like he's coming back from war.” Garland laughs and pats his shoulder and kisses his forehead once his mother releases his death grip on him.

His nerves were back to rumbling in his stomach and chest.

He was going to possibly go off to war someday. He was here to tell his parents that he is leaving for the Navy in two days. He knew they were going to take it just as bad as Leo did… that's why he waited until the very last moment.

He knew that they would try their best to convince him not to go.

He needed to go. He needs a purpose in life.

They have a nice home cooked meal that Judy put her heart and soul into. It made him realize just how much he will miss them. His mothers cooking and jokes and her bone crushing hugs. His dad's supportive unconditional love… it was all going to be away from him for a while.

What if he isn’t ready.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” Clay hadn’t noticed that he had stopped eating, his hands here in his lap and he was just looking at them. “You look a little sad, Baby.” She smiles her sweet smile at him and he feels tears prick his eyes. His face feels frozen as one drips down into his food.

Extra seasoning.

“I’m leaving in two days.” He goes to wipe his cheek but his dad's hand beats him to it. Judy and Garland share a worried look.

“You miss us that much? I bet Thomas and Noelle are jealous.” Garland tried to lighten the mood but it just makes Clay cry harder and shake his head. “You’re going back to them, right?” Shaking his head aggressively Clay answers after a few hyperventilative breaths.

“I’m leaving for Bootcamp.”

“BOOTCAMP!” Judy’s face goes white and she puts her hand over her mouth as the news sinks into her skin. Her baby was going to fight… he was going to sacrifice himself for this country. It was her biggest fear come true.

Garland took an angrier route, pushing his plate away and standing up so quickly his chair fell backwards. Resting his hands on the table and looking in between them he takes a deep breath.

Clay watches, he was expecting more from them. He was expecting a huge blow out like Leo. But instead he was pulled into another crushing embrace like earlier but this time from his father. Clay looked at them in the reflection of the window that was right behind his dad. He smiled a little when he saw the Bi flag pin still on the back of his dad's hat from when he came out in high school. His dad has always been his number one supporter.

He felt another set of arms wrap around him and his dad, soft and gentle his mother buries her face between their chests and stays quiet. Just holding them, as they hold her and each other.

He was home.

[yes-i-have-thoughts]

So, I have a head cannon question. Might I hear some of your Shally head cannons? (Or just Wally head cannons if you don't have any shipping head cannons). ;)

Why not both?

~WALLY~

- He's a bi-racial kid that was kicked out of his house as a teenager and bullshit his way into an apartment before picking up small jobs to pay for it--first janitorial duties around the apartment building, then expanding out to eventually get hired at JDS

- Joey found him after he got fired from his last job hiding in an alleyway trying not to have a panic attack. His rent was due in three days and he only had three dollars to his name but it's fine, he'll find a job in that span of time. It's fine, he doesn't have to go back home. It's fine, his landlord will understand. He won't cuss him out again, it's fine, it's okay, fuck why can't he stop crying-

- Joey went back in the store he was hiding beside and brought him a candy bar to calm down again. Ever-prideful Wally just barely let his walls down and admitted that he was a little behind on the rent and wasn't sure what to do. Joey asked if he had a job, he said no, he got one almost then and there

- He was pretty clearly the baby of the studio when he first arrived, though the studio itself was pretty young at the time--the art department was one person, the writing department was one person, accounting was one person. He got pretty close to all of the tiny staff and took it pretty hard when Henry left a year later. (He later came to view him in a pretty poor light, but the reason for that is a headcanon for another day...)

- He's always a little scruffy-looking and his bangs are always in his eyes, sometimes to the point they can't be seen through them. Abby once gave him a hair clip to tie them back with and new hire Shawn seemed totally distracted the rest of the day after bumping into him once

- It really blows, being the only janitor of an ever-expanding studio. A lot of rooms go uncleaned and he has to bust his butt the next day to clean them, which means other rooms go uncleaned. Joey keeps telling him he's going to hire help. He never does.

- Well...That is until Wally slips up and vents to Thomas about this problem. Thomas ripped into Joey about it the next time they had a meeting and the next day there were some sudden new janitors around so now Wally has an excuse to slack off that's not just spite

- As I said before, no one knows what his age is. He keeps changing his story. The only person besides Wally himself that may know his real age is Joey, and he's refusing to tell. "It's not my business to say," he'll say if asked. Is he protecting Wally or himself?

- He rigged a Bendy cutout to scare people who try to get into his office one too many times since the constant happening broke his lock and he had to sacrifice a paycheck to get a new one, which he was not happy about. There was a fair bit of startled shrieking before people finally left him alone.

- His office is also his safe space. If he has to get away from people for a while for whatever reason, he hides out there. Oddly enough people are more likely to leave him alone when the light in there is on then when it's off. Strange...

~SHALLY~

- So imagine this. You're a new hire, you're still getting used to American accents, people are still getting used to your accent and you get a job as a toymaker at some big fancy animation studio that has a toy shop on the same grounds for some reason. This was Shawn on his first day.

- Luckily for him there's a pretty fucking cute janitor that immediately offers to show him around before dropping him off at his new workplace

- Yeah Shawn's pretty gay. There's a lot of angst going on in the background about that too-he's been hiding it for years and then Wally shows up in his line of vision and it comes crashing back to the surface. His first day of work was...A little weird. At least he doesn't have to see him every day...Right?

- It was pretty slow to get started at first. Shawn wanted to avoid Wally, Wally was under the impression Shawn didn't like him so he avoided him back. It took Shawn practically breaking down Thomas' door to passive-aggressively ask him what the Hell happened to his tool belt for him and Wally to iron things out and start up a friendship

- Long story short, Wally was there at the time and got to watch this scruffy blond Irish prick that was maybe 5' 7" if he stood up straight tell off his 6-foot-tall semi-boss who was build like a brick wall. Even Wally didn't have the guts to tell off Thomas. Hell-Joey Drew himself usually backed off under his scrutiny!

- Now I'd just like to add here that Thomas isn't a bad guy. He's just very intimidating. This didn't stop Shawn, though.

- So after that spectacle Wally just had to meet this Irish boy. They hit it off the same day, went out for a drink the night after and were pretty much friends by the end of the night.

- It took two years for Shawn to confess to him. He didn't even do it on purpose--he'd had one drink too many one night and told him point-blank how he really felt about him. Wally shrugged it off at first, then realized he was serious and found it...A little awkward. After a night of thinking though he wound up telling a very confused Shawn later the next day that he felt the same way.

- As of "right now" (whenever my kinda-sorta AU takes place), they're still new to the whole dating undercover shtick. The only person that knows about it is Thomas since Wally is incapable of keeping his mouth shut. He hasn't said anything, though, instead happy to listen to Wally ramble about his boyfriend while he works at pipes. Though it's a little annoying when he does it when they're supposed to be working.

[lokidiabolus]

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn’t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.