#thomas when i find you don’t bother running or hiding it’s gonna be a quick little drive by

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Leggiero (Chapter Three)

aIn collaboration with @bethanysnow

Small touches, looks, and wine-soaked daydreams lead to whispered conversations on balconies' edge. Put out cigarettes in the middle of the night. Let lips touch as palms do - eventually...

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word count | 7111

Tag list | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bidet-and-legolas @ginny-lily

***

The bus rumbled underneath Damiano as he turned around in his bunk, the humming of the vehicle drowning out the clatter and chatter of his bandmates in the background. His head was pounding, but less because of the little alcohol he had consumed the night before and more because of the thoughts that had kept him up all night. This morning, he had made sure to be up before Y/n would come around for her wake up call, got ready and then all but crawled into the bunk on his bus for more sleep. They would play a gig in the evening, but for now he was thankful for the 6-hour drive to Oslo with nothing to do.

He could almost feel himself drifting off, body tired out and mind exhausted, but instead all that he saw when he closed his eyes were scenes from last night.

The room was filled with laughter. Music and Vic’s singing, as Damiano let himself fall onto the bed next to Y/n. She looked gorgeous, hair down, relaxing, a champagne flute in her hand and a slight smile on her face. Even though he knew she’d be worrying about what Thomas was doing to the room and how she was going to get them out of bed the next morning. But mostly she was just gorgeous and he told her so.

His hand reached out before the contemplation of this action had been finished in his brain. The adrenaline from the first show of the tour had him flying, soaring, and there was nothing that could possibly bring him down. Her eyes showed surprise but she didn’t pull away as he put a strand of her hand behind her ear. The gesture was small but Damiano felt like he was on fire, briefly stroking the soft skin under his fingers before pulling back.

He found himself babbling about his hair, but he was much more interested in what she had to say. He wished she would talk about herself more often - so much of his personality was so out there, so much information about himself was literally out there, in magazines and interviews and photos, but she had her walls up, even when they were joking, even when she seemed to be talking freely.

“You’re getting more interesting with every second I’m around you, you know?” The words slipped out of his mouth so easily. She went over it just as easily. Did she not care? Did she not find him interesting? He had hoped for some sort of reply or reaction, but she just continued talking. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him… His brain only allowed the thought for a minute. No, he told himself, she simply was this way. Cool, calm, collected. He was sure he would be able to get her out of her shell further one of these days. He wasn’t going to stop trying.

Next thing he knew, she had thrust her phone into his hand, some picture of her from years ago. He didn’t care much about the outfit or the makeup or the questionable hair, it was her smile that drew him in. There was something carefree about it, something unabashedly confident, something she seemed to have lost since then. There was no way back for him he realised in that moment - it might as well have been this woman or no other ever again.

Next thing he knew, he was complimenting her again, calling her darling, but this time he didn’t have to wait long for a reaction. The drink that had been in her mouth just a second ago was now spluttered on her clothes and some of the bedding. He was about to ask her if she was alright, but she had jumped up from the bed, hands trying to hide her reddening face, and dashed to the bathroom.

Fuck, what happened?

“Damiano! What did you do to the poor girl!” Vic shouted in amusement from across the room. He simply waved it off. He wasn’t actually sure what he had done and it bothered him more than he would like to admit - especially in front of his bandmates. Maybe he had come on too strong, tried too hard, had made it awkward. His plan had been to pay her compliments - not scare her away with them. He would have to reconsider his course of action.

When she came back, it was only to say a quick goodnight, waving and leaving. She only spared him a brief glance, no smile or any reassurance that they were fine.

It had not stopped going through his mind. This morning, she had pretended like nothing had happened, but he knew she had been avoiding his gaze and her smiles didn’t seem quite as genuine as they did before. Damiano let out a low groan into his pillow. This was a mess and a half.

The curtain of his bunk was drawn back harshly, revealing Ethan’s face.

“Why would you scare me like that!” Damiano complained. “I could be jacking off in here!”

“Well, I want to assume you wouldn’t do that in a semi-public space such as this,” Ethan replied with contemplation on his face.

“What do you want anyway?”

“Victoria sent me and told me to tell you, I quote,” Ethan cleared his throat. “‘Stop moping, Damiano, it’s no fun'. So, there you go.”

Without another word, Ethan turned back around, leaving the curtain open, and walked back into the kitchenette of the bus. Out of the corner of his eye, Damiano could see him stealing a bit of fruit from the fruit bowl. He felt no motivation to join them.

***

“He alright?” Y/n whispered to Thomas, who was sitting close to her, guitar on his lap. He just shrugged. Ethan rejoined the group with an unreadable expression on his face, sitting down next to Victoria. Y/n shot him another concerned look, but he simply shrugged as well. She shook her head and got up from her spot, walking over to the counter to make breakfast for everyone. Getting out the waffle maker. Putting the Moka pot on the stove and filling it with water. Too early in the morning for rock and roll. In the background, she could hear the band discussing rehearsals and the show in Oslo.

As soon as the smell of food hit the three bandmates, they were all over Y/n, hovering around the little kitchenette, pushing and shoving each other to be first. Y/n looked at all of them in turn. Thomas was currently standing on the couch, raising his hand to smack an unsuspecting Vic who was looking the other way. A single raised brow from Y/n got him back down onto the ground.

“Hey! I’m older, I go first!” Victoria pushed Thomas back.

“Maybe, but it still took your mum nine months to think of a good joke,” Thomas retorted.

Ethan turned around, chuckling at his friends’ banter - but Y/n’s reaction was far more blatant. She started to laugh, a loud, almost cackle that the band had never heard before. Her smile easily reached her eyes and she gave a little applause at Thomas’ joke. “I- I;” she gasped in between laughs, “I know it’s not that funny but it just got me, sorry!” Finally managing to bite her tongue, she went back to serving breakfast.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw Damiano leaning so far out of his bunk to find out where the sounds and the laughter were coming from. The driver though couldn’t have known it was a bad moment to go over a pothole. With a loud thud, Damiano crashed out from his bunk and onto the hard floor. Chili, excited at the prospect of being able to reach him, ran over to lick his face.

“Eh! Chili, hi. Vic! Come get your dog!” He groaned, picking up the golden fluff and sending it back to her owner. She trotted away happily, over towards Victoria, who was a giggling mess after seeing her friend’s fall. He rolled his eyes at her grin.

“You gonna come join us, sleepy boy? I made coffee,” Y/n said, still trying to keep the peace between everyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, she walked over to Damiano and bent down, handing him the beverage. “I don’t really care if you want to spend the entire day on the floor, but I think your fans might tonight. So come join the party, hm?” Her voice was soft and enticing. Damiano’s eyes sparkled at her invitation. But still, his face was burning red. He sighed and nodded.

Y/n stepped back, taking the cup after he had taken a long sip, and reached her hand out to him. With a swift movement, Damiano was back up on his feet, immediately losing his balance and crashing into Y/n’s shoulder. More blushing on his part. He had not been expecting this amount of strength from her. Not caring about his little bump into her, she dusted him off, picking some fuzz out of his hair, her hand so close to his face, yet so far. She handed him the coffee once again and gave him a smile, before going back to her little corner on the bus as everyone devoured their breakfast.

Damiano watched as she tidied up after everyone had finished, constantly making sure what was effectively their home during tour would stay homely. She always looked like she belonged, and he admired her for that. After one last wipe down of the counter, she quickly addressed everyone on the bus, asking if she was needed for anything else right now, and after a round of head-shaking from everyone, she grabbed her laptop and retired to a quiet corner on the bus. It was only when she briefly looked up to find his eyes and gave a slight smile that he realised he was still watching her every move. Embarrassing, he scolded himself.

Damiano started fumbling for his bag, grabbing a notebook and a pen. He had too many thoughts running around in his head, too many images and ideas about Y/n, and he felt like the only way to get rid of them was to write. Maybe he’d even be able to make something out of it. Anything would be better than staring and dreaming about her anyway.

***

Two more hours until Oslo. With a heavy sigh, Y/n pushed the laptop away from her, neck cracking as she finally moved her bones a little. Suddenly, a pair of hands came down onto her shoulders. She only flinched for a moment before she realised it was Damiano, slowly starting to massage her tense flesh. Her head fell forward and she waved her hand to have him keep going. His fingertips digging into hours of uni work, work work, other work. Tension all living in her neck being slowly worked away by the singer.

"I'm not gonna turn down a free massage," she chuckled, feeling his talented fingers remove knot after knot. Then, suddenly, they became softer. She could hear Thomas in the background shouting something at Damiano. Taking his attention away from her, and all it left was soft fingertips on the sensitive skin on her neck. Dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their wake without him even knowing what he was doing to her. She shivered under such a light touch. A groan left her lips as she was falling deeper under his spell. At this point, she didn’t care. A very pretty man was smoothing his hands over her neck and shoulders and it was nothing short of lovely. Normally this wouldn’t be on Y/n's top list of things she would allow - but a 6-hour bus ride and sitting in one place for most of it was a killer.

I could fall asleep like this - fuck…

She was snapped back to reality when she realised that Damiano was once again staring at her screen, asking what she was working on, hands never moving from their position. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to concentrate like this.

“Oh, I’ve, um,” she awkwardly fumbled with the laptop, “I’ve been trying to memorise this sonnet. I’m doing a course on Shakespeare this semester and we’ve been told to pick our favourite by him and I think I finally decided on mine. It’s Sonnet 128 - um. One of the only sonnets to give you an actual scene in place. It’s from the perspective of this guy watching a bard and just craving to be touched, used, kissed by this person. To have the same sort of attentive mastery be directed at him instead of the player’s instrument. Describing the person listening to this bard play… Wait, would you just like me to read it to you?” Y/n looked up at Damiano. He nodded as he slid into the seat beside her. She moved the laptop so she could see its screen still and began to speak.

***

Sitting next to her wasn’t as bad as Damiano thought. After working on her neck and shoulders, her perfume had rubbed off onto his skin. Light and warm, not super floral, but he didn’t peg Y/n to be a flower kind of woman anyway. Looking at her face now, he noticed things he hadn’t seen before. Faint freckles, little lines around her eyes, the pink tint on her lips. Her hair was done up again in a bun. He could see a couple of bobby pins trying to hide in her wild hair. Then she started to recite the piece and his chest was exploding. He felt as if he was watching winter melt away and spring come.

“How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st”

Oh, what he would do to be her muse, Damiano thought. Her voice, low and soft, was like music itself to him, never mind the way her eyes lit up at the words she repeated from the screen. A little light inside of her, one he hadn’t encountered before.

“Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway’st”

Her fingers were just as sweet, his mind piped up as he tried to listen to her more closely. Some light polish on her nails that he hadn’t noticed before, but now that she was scrolling through the laptop, it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Quickly exploring images of them tangled in his hair, scratching down his back ever so slightly. Stop, he told in his own head in vain. Just stop and listen, for once. Yet the ideas of her he had hidden away kept demanding attention.

“The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,”

He tried so hard to concentrate. To listen, to take in the words she was reciting, to grasp their meaning and what they meant to her, but it was hard, getting harder. In an uncalculated move on his part, his arm swung around her shoulders, not pulling her closer, just letting her know he was there, right now, right here, with her. His hand resting on her upper arms, feeling the warmth underneath the fabric of her blouse.

“Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,

At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!”

His eyes travelled up from her fingers, over her soft and curvy figure, her delicate neck, to her blushing face. She was blushing an awful lot with him and he had not yet figured out completely if this was a good sign or not. Either way, he thought she looked adorable, a natural pink on her cheeks. Slightly restless eye movements that didn’t match up to the words she was reading, a certain nervousness overtaking her. He wanted to make her blush like that for the rest of his life if he could. He silently wondered if she would blush that much if… if it was just the two of them, alone in some random hotel room, a whole world of exploration before them.

“To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those dancing chips,

O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

Making dead wood more blest than living lips.”

His eyes betrayed him, flicking down to her lips as soon as she said the word. Soft, a light tint on them, pronouncing every syllable in the most mindful way. He wondered if she would let him kiss her. What. His brain flickered between two emotions. Yes, yes, yes. He would give everything to feel her sweet mouth on his, getting her close, inhaling her scent, pouring his every thought into a kiss. No. What was he thinking? She was their assistant. Strong, gorgeous, fiercely independent, and surely not interested. Right? He couldn’t help wondering. Would she let him kiss her? Would she want him to? Had she thought about it, the way he was right now?

“Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.”

Their eyes met and Damiano hadn’t even noticed how much closer he had edged towards her. It would only take a little bit, one more breather, a tiny motion, to put his lips on her, to feel what she was feeling, and the way she looked at him had him craving, obsessing and he almost dared himself to do it, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts, pulled him away from her.

“Y/N! I don’t understand how the waffle maker works!”

Damiano had never wanted to kill his bandmate more than at that moment. With a groan he turned around, seeing Thomas fumble with the appliances in their little kitchen area, a dumbstruck look on his face, and puppy dog eyes pleading Y/n for help. She only gave a low chuckle, before getting up and walking over to the guitarist, leaving Damiano with a head full of thoughts that all circled around her.

***

That was close, Jesus Christ! My face is so warm… how are his eyes that pretty? How have I never noticed that before? I wonder if he was thinking about the same thing as I was back there…

***

The crowd was roaring out by the main stage. Crew held their places waiting for the queue to go. The band stood off stage trying to sneak a peek at the audience. Hundreds more people than they were expecting. Y/n sat in a metal chair that was dubbed ‘her chair’ so she could watch the performance from behind the main curtain to cheer the band on without being seen. The lights in the main room were being lowered, the playlist that had been on in the background slowly being turned off, as the noise of the audience got impossibly louder. The band was getting nervous now, the good kind of nervous. Thomas jumping around to get his energy levels up before they would get the sign to get on stage. Y/n smiled at them in turn, returning a little wave Ethan was giving her. Just as they were given the go-ahead, and all of them started to jog on stage, Damiano took a little detour, sending her a smile that would set all the butterflies free in her stomach, before pressing a little kiss to her forehead. He was gone before she had a chance to react. Yet, she froze. Damiano looked back and it was the most perplexed, confused, and adorable expression he had ever seen on her.

It was an expression Damiano couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the concert, even long after she had lost it - and he knew she had because he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at her every now and again. He was fascinated by the way she watched them.

And if she was watching? Well, then he was going to put on a show.

He pulled all the tricks he knew - well those that were fitted to the situation and venue. During one of their songs, he decided to pull his favourite one. With a low grunt, he ripped his shirt apart, throwing it across the stage, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Until he looked over to where his top had landed and his eyes fell onto Y/n, standing beside the stage, now with a performance-rich torn tank top on her face. Maybe his aim had been a little off. The look on her face as she removed the fabric made him laugh. At least she isn’t hiding now, he thought, before going back to the song.

During “You need me, I don’t need you”, one of the covers they had chosen for the night, he couldn’t fight the grin, knowing his favourite lyric of the night was coming up.

“Melody music maker, reading all the papers, they say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator.”

Where Damiano would usually take the chance to suggestively hump the mic stand and focus on the audience, this time he did it while looking straight at Y/n. Her face clouded red, eyes looking at him with a flustered glare. He simply winked at her.

Similar things kept happening throughout the night, any song to do with sex or romance, any innuendo, it was all directed at her. To him, it was all about her all the time, and he made sure to let her know.

***

After one last encore, the band left the stage, the sound of the crowd chanting their names in the background. Once backstage, they all exchanged hugs, all pumped up from the adrenaline and the successful show. A massive gift basket sat in the corner, filled with beers, chocolates, some skincare products, and flowers, along with a note from the venue welcoming them to Oslo and thanking them for playing. Vic immediately grabbed Y/n.

“When we get back to the hotel - up for a girl’s night?” Wriggling her eyebrows at the assistant, she picked out some of the products from the red tulle in the basket.

“As if I could say no to you.”

***

“Okay, what’s first, face mask or red wine?” Victoria asked, holding up both items in her hands as she followed Y/n into the hotel room, Chili yapping at both of their feet, dying to get attention from anyone.

“I will pour the wine if you open the face mask stuff,” Y/n decided, picking up Chili for some snuggles, before putting the dog down on the bed and grabbing the wine glasses. “Don’t have a girls' night often, so this is nice.”

“I keep having them with the boys but it’s not really the same,” Vic laughed. “They never want me to pluck their eyebrows or anything! Oh, and please be careful with the wine around Chili, I drenched her once and it didn’t come out of her fur for ages.”

“You - you did what now? Wait, nope, I don’t wanna know. But to be honest, I would kill to get Ethan on my lap with some tweezers in my hand. Boy, does he need it. Not by much, sweet guy. Just, uh, you know?” Within a moment or two wine was being poured and handed to the blonde. “I didn’t know how much you would want but we can always add more,” Y/n stated, hopping onto the bed next to Vic.

“Oh, very sweet guy with unpredictable hair, really!” Vic said, grabbing the glass and downing more than half of it in one go already, before sitting down next to Y/n with the little pot she had opened and a little applicator for the cream. “That’s so fancy, I usually just slap it on my face with my fingers.”

“Same! Thinking we’re posh fucks, aren’t they?” Y/n grinned, looking at the tiny skincare items, another sip of wine. Chili curled up between the two women. “You looked like you had fun at the concert.”

“It’s so good to be back on the road and I feel like we’ve really found ourselves as a band now. We’ve only played two shows but it’s already my favourite tour. I’m convinced it’s because you’re here, too, by the way, you really fit in with us,” Victoria smiled at her, sipping from the glass, then putting it away on the nightstand and motioning for Y/n to do the same. “Come here, I’m gonna do your face.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that. You guys have been absolutely killing it. You got here by your own accomplishments and will, that’s hard to do. I am far more surprised at how well I’ve been able to fit in with you all. I’m, uh, as you can see,” putting the glass away, she scooted to face Victoria, “not as… ‘rock and roll’ and I would have assumed you’d want your assistant to be. But glad I got stuck with you though.”

“Oh, shush,” Vic said, sternly, as she began applying the cream to Y/n’s face. “You fit in just fine. Firstly, I think we definitely need someone to keep us grounded a bit sometimes and secondly, I am absolutely convinced there’s a lot more rock and roll in you than you think - you just wait until you’ve been exposed to us for longer, you’ll see!”

“Well, I agree with the grounded part. You realise that today during breakfast Thomas was climbing on the sofa about to smack your head just to get further in line? That boy does not stop.” She relaxed into Vic’s touch, silently deciding that girls' nights needed to be a more regular thing. This was great. “Ethan said something similar - something about ‘head banging right along with everyone else’. You all have it out for me don’t you?!” She asked, putting on an overly dramatic, surprised look.

“No, he didn’t!” She exclaimed, astounded. “I’m gonna get him back for that tomorrow. Anyway, Ethan was right, you won’t be able to resist our bad influence forever, Y/n! So, have you been to gigs before taking this job, or is this still something new to you?”

“I have been to gigs before, but they were more music festivals, and I was never one for EDM or anything. The heat and lots of glittery, sweaty people drunk on warm beer? No, thank you. Or they would get a new assistant for a tour and the job would end. Not in a bad way, it's just how it is as an assistant. You do your job until they don’t need you anymore.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or you, but I don’t think I’ve talked this much about myself really since I started this job. Not this particular job, mind you, but the whole P.A. thing.” Y/n chuckled, pulling her hair back into a tighter ponytail to keep out of the way of the fancy skincare.

“Hm, now I just keep thinking of putting glitter on you and getting you in the middle of a good punk gig one of these days,” Vic giggled as she finished up Y/n’s facemask, motioning for her to return the favour. “Let’s make the most of this wine then, I’m going to pour you another glass and you tell me a bit more about yourself.”

Grabbing the little pot of face mask, Y/n gently held Vic’s face, slowly applying the cream. “I’m going to be an alcoholic by the end of the tour, aren’t I? Um, well, I had a boyfriend, he was a prick, we broke up. My best friend lives in London in our old flat. My favourite films are old Hollywood romances. ‘Singing in the rain’, stuff like that. I dunno really. I’m just Y/n. Though I was thinking we should find a way to line Damiano’s trousers so that if they - when they rip apart, you see the lining and not the man’s underwear. Not that I think he cares, actually.” She truly was unable to turn work off completely, even on a night off.

Victoria couldn’t contain the giggle, receiving a scolding look from Y/n, who almost put the cream in her hair by mistake. “Thinking about Damiano’s underwear a lot, huh? Can’t blame you, that man is as pretty as they come. You can be happy they’ve all not gotten to the point where they just hang out on the tour bus in just their boxer shorts, but believe me, that day will come sooner or later!”

“I have not!” She insisted as her face betrayed her, telling a completely different story. “That is unprofessional and objectifying. I hope it doesn’t happen at all. You saw my face before when you all decided to ‘put on a little show’ in the dressing room.” She took the glass from Vic to take a sip. “Anyway.” She started blending out the face mask with fingers, careful not to get it into Victoria’s hair. “Would there be anything you want to know? I am never good at talking about myself.”

Chili nuzzled into Victoria’s leg, getting more needy. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries here, but honestly - why do you work so hard? I’ve only known you for like three days but you never seem to relax, you’re always either busy working for us or working on your projects and when you have a minute to breathe you end up cleaning after us or just going above and beyond taking care of us. I’m not complaining,” she held her hands up, laughing. “It’s great, but it’s a lot, huh?”

“Um… I can’t lie. Not to you or the band. Lying isn’t good for you anyway. But.. I don’t know. Lots of stuff happened before I moved to Italy. Lots of not-so-good stuff. So, I had a lot of reserved pent-up energy, still do. So I had to find ways to put it into things. Now I put it into my work because it’s my new dream. I put it into the band because I care about you. I want to see this tour do well…” Y/n stopped for a moment, caught off guard by the question, looking back and forth between Victoria and her own reflection in the wine. “I want to prove to myself that I can achieve and be successful. I am also a giant workaholic, though, like it’s bad,” she giggled, as Chili now put a paw on Vic’s thigh, demanding attention.

“Well, if you gotta do that whole workaholic thing, I’m glad you’re doing it for us,” Vic smiled, placing a soft hand on Y/n’s arm. “Just make sure to make some time to let loose every now and again. I’m sure any of us would be happy to help you with that.” She turned on her phone to check the time. “I should probably get this mask off now, give me a second,” she explained before getting up and skipping to the bathroom sink.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Y/n said, also taking note of the time. “Doesn’t Chili need to go out now? There’s no grass on the balcony or I’d let her do her business here.” She stood up, placing the wine glasses on a little counter, trying to force the cork back into the bottle. “Thank you for tonight though, we should make it a thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll take her out for her evening walk now.” Victoria came back, hair slightly damp from where she had washed her face too hastily. “But let’s definitely do this again, next to Ethan you’re like the most calming person on this tour to hang out with.” She moved to give her a hug, only to realise Y/n still had the mask on, so instead, she opted for an awkward shoulder rub and a giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You do realise it is my job to follow you around and see you tomorrow? Like, that is what I am paid to do. But hell, I’d still do it if it wasn’t my job,” she smiled, nudging Vic’s shoulder. “Now go get Chili out and then get some sleep yeah? Important things like sleep, food, water, everything you people seem to keep forgetting about!”

“Well, that’s what we have you for now, don’t we?” Victoria laughed, picking up a whining Chili and already halfway out the door. “But you get some sleep too! No working through the night, I am ordering you to bed - as your boss!”

“Of course!” Y/n laughed, shutting the door behind the bassist. After taking off her mask, she put the rest of Vic’s leftover wine into her glass and went out onto the balcony with her laptop. Pulling out all the bobby pins and the hair tie, she ran her fingers through her hair, brushing out the knots and letting it hang loose. The light from the sunset had long been gone by the time they had gotten to the hotel. Only street lights and the blue screen were illuminating the space of the balcony. The outdoor space was large enough for a table and chairs. The street down below was faintly noisy as people and cars passed by, but not enough to disturb her peace and quiet.

***

So much for an early night, Damiano thought, staring at the screen of his phone, as Ethan slept soundly in the next bed. With a sigh, he kicked the blanket off his legs, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, and sneaking out onto the balcony without waking his bandmate. Maybe a smoke would help. His eyes drifted from the rather unspectacular view out front to where he noticed movement to his right, only to see Y/n on her own balcony, right next to his.

Y/n was relaxing in her chair, glass of wine in her hands, mouthing the words to something on the computer in front of her. Entirely focused on whatever she was working on, she didn’t notice Damiano’s door opening and closing. She took a drink of her wine, leaving a dark red stain on her lips, then stood up to face the street. Laptop on her arm and looking outward, she mumbled the words on the screen to herself. He just about managed to make out what she was saying.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with brief- Wait, no. Grief. Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Who is already sick and pale with grief. Stupid tiny font is gonna be de death of me,” she mumbled, trying to zoom into the text.

Damiano watched her, a chuckle on his lips, both amused and amazed at seeing her play out the scene on her own. With a quick flick of his lighter, he turned to his cigarette, taking a drag, wide awake. The low light of the moon was illuminating her figure and her hazy movements and for a while he allowed himself to simply be fascinated by her. By the way she moved. Performing fully committed to the open air. Then she made a particularly dramatic, sweeping gesture in her monologue and he knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Hey there, Juliet.”

The surprise went through her like an electric shock, she was stumbling over nothing, almost dropping the laptop from her arms, as she turned around towards him so fast, he was sure her hair was going to give her whiplash.

“Ah fuck - Damiano?!” She gasped delicately into the night. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hopefully, for very different reasons, he thought to himself.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replied. “What are you doing? It’s almost 2 am.”

“You know I could very well ask you the same thing.” She looked at him accusingly. “If you didn’t have the day off tomorrow I’d be ordering you back to bed immediately.”

Damiano briefly considered a suggestive comment, but instead, let the cigarette between his lips keep him quiet. Y/n was putting her laptop away now, sinking back down into the lounge chair as he walked over to the edge of his own balcony, leaning over the railing to get a better look at her.

“You know I’ve not forgiven you for your antics at the concert tonight yet,” she suddenly stated, pulling him from his thoughts. The smirk flashed over his face naturally. He wondered if she was blushing again, but the little light the moon and her laptop screen gave off didn’t tell him anything. He was hoping she was.

“I promise I didn’t mean to hit your face with my top,” he laughed.

“But you obviously did mean everything else you did!” An accusing finger was pointed his way. “I did not appreciate that.”

For a second he flinched, wondering if he had gone too far, crossing a boundary. But then she looked back at him with a smile she was obviously trying to push away, unsuccessfully. Glass of wine in her hand, she sauntered over to him, while he put out his cigarette on the railing. She leant over her own railing, mirroring his movements. At a slow pace, like she knew he was watching, she sipped from her glass. His eyes falling to the way her neck was exposed as she threw her head back, tracing the soft skin with his glances until she set down the drink. There was a droplet of red wine on her lip and he wished their balconies were closer together, fantasising about reaching out and wiping it away, feeling just how soft she would be under his touch.

“Not that… I didn’t like it.” She paused. “Also not the first time I’ve been hit in the face with a shirt. So there’s that.” Y/n laughed.

“Now you’ve got me curious - who else would hit you with a shirt? Are you trying to tell me you’ve been to strip clubs?” Damiano laughed. Teasing her came easy to him.

“Dancers. With aim as terrible as yours, Mr. David. And I don’t know if you want the answer to the second question,” she smirked. When they were alone like this, she seemed more at ease. That, or it was the wine. He didn’t know.

“Dancers, huh? Think you could teach me a thing or two? Or, you know, were you just watching, lusting over sexy men?”

“Ah! I would do nothing of the sort. Most of the guys there weren’t into girls anyway. Wouldn’t do me much good… Damiano, I could teach a lot of things. You to dance? God help us all.” She made a dramatic cross across her body, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Now, Y/n, I’d let you teach me whatever you wanted,” he winked. “Preferably something… active, hm?” He could keep from laughing as he saw her unimpressed face, staring him down and shaking her head. He’d rile her up for the rest of his life if she gave him the chance.

“I once met this Italian guy, came to the studio. Thought he was God’s gift to dance. But you Italians all have that, bravado, confidence, whatever you wanna call it. Well, after learning the first intermediate step, he fell flat on his face and went back to beginner lessons. You gonna be like that?” Raising a brow at him, she leant further over the railing on her side.

Damiano puffed up his chest, comically, trying to make himself appear bigger in a useless attempt to impress her. “Now, you’ve obviously not met the right Italians yet, amore mio. Sounds to me like you need a real Italian to show you the way.”

Just like this morning, she burst out laughing, letting out cackles that filled the air with joy. “Sorry - not laughing at you. Just thought what you said was funny.” She looked down, and as dark as it was, he could see the same signs he had seen before. Shy expression, holding herself close to her body. The slight panic of not knowing what to say. “You’re real Italian, alright. You seem to always know what to say. Now is that an Italian thing or a Damiano thing?” She asked, sarcastically, to deflect the fact that her face was heating up.

Amore mio…that's what did it. He felt like he was unlocking a single puzzle piece at a time, slowly putting her together and making sense of her. He couldn’t wait to get the whole picture one of these days. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he simply said. The night was making him strangely comfortable with being honest. “Maybe you just bring it out in me.”

“Eh - I’ve been told I bring out a lot of things, never a savant before.” She was still looking down, at her hands, starting to pick at her nail polish. Some little nervous tick that he hadn’t caught onto till now. “It’s late, you should go to sleep, Dami. I am sure that bed is missing its handsome owner right about now.” She started to look far away, picking up the wine glass and taking the last sip.

He had barely heard what she had said - too focused on her calling him Dami, for the very first time. It was like a little shudder running through him, knowing she was growing closer to him as the time passed. “Are you okay, though? I’m sure my bed will survive without me a little bit longer.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me, I worry enough as it is. Tomorrow is a day off, so I won’t be waking you up in the morning, bus call isn’t until later. Um, but I will be getting breakfast. Is there anything you would want?”

“As long as it involves coffee, I’m happy. I’m sure you’ll pick out the perfect thing anyway.” Damiano watched as she nodded, moving towards the balcony doors and away from him. He felt like grabbing her just to keep her there. He straightened up as well, just barely backing away from the railing. As she left he looked at the space she once occupied, feeling like he could almost make out the outline of her body where it once had been.

Amore mio...

#maneskin fiction #damiano david fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #thomas raggi x reader #damiano david x reader #writers block #bethanysnow #quiet music

[imma-potatoo]

Im not sure if you take requests but if you do can I please have some angsty janus HC? if not im sorry for bothering you. have a nice day!

First of all, you aren't bothering me, I love it when people ask about my headcanons. And secondly, *shocked* I'm being ASKED to share my angst?!

We're gonna be here for a while

He picks/scratches at his skin,

he doesn't really know why he does it, but he often spends full nights scratching his arms, chest, and legs. But NEVER at his neck or face, the other sides can see that. It's normally targeted at his scaled half, but he does scratch at the human side too

The scratches typically run very deep, there's a lot of blood, and Janus doesn't always have access to a medkit

Janus is the youngest out of all the sides, around 21-24, but he never really got to have the full childhood that he was supposed to

Virgil is the oldest of the sides, and when they were younger he was around a lot, basically playing mother hen. But once Janus turned 10 or so, Virgil stopped spending as much time with him and Remus

So Janus had to grow up quick. He learned how to cook (not very well, but food is food), spent most of his time reeling Remus in (who is around 15 at this time), and delivering food to Virgil's door, trying to get him to come out

At the end of the day, Janus was too tired to play, read, or do anything really. He just went to bed.

So young Janus' schedule was;

wake up, make Remus/Virgil food, force Remus to eat the food, attempt to keep the house from a disaster fire from Remus, make lunch, talk to Virgil through his door, more babysitting of Remus, make dinner, send Remus to bed, clean up, go to sleep

Hardly time for playing in there

To this day, if you hand him a toy, he'll simply stare at you with wide eyes

Janus can tell when people tell lies

They don't taste nice or anything, he can't even taste them at all. The lies are revealed with a sharp stabbing pain to his chest

Similar to a heart attack.. But worse.. So much worse.

Imagine if you took a long knife, and stabbed it repeatedly, over and over for hours, breathing faulting, and the entire room starts to spin. It hurts

Now imagine that you have to keep a straight face during this pain or get strange looks and get told you're faking

Janus has gotten a little too used to that stabbing pain

Everytime that Janus stumbled in SvS? That was him trying to hide the pain

The dark side is cold, really cold, like Canadian winter cold. But the darks don't have central heating

It's sadly very common for Remus to find Janus passed out, near hypothermic, in random places in their own home

The dark sides home is... a lot less pleasant then someone would prefer. It looks like a prison with concrete walls and floors, bars cover the windows, and the backyard is completely fenced in with 15ft+ high fences.

The sides rooms move when Thomas is willing to accept that they're a part of him and that he needs to work with them

Remus' room moved back in DWIT, because Thomas accepted that he's there and that he can't get rid of him

Janus is still stuck in the dark. Thomas has given him a chance, but he's not completely accepted that he's needed yet

Janus can often be found passed out on the light side's couch, simply because his room is far too cold

Virgil almost always finds him first, he doesn't like Janus by any means, but he knows first hand that the dark half is cold, so he normally just throws a heated blanket over him and calls it a day

Janus is always gone before Virgil can talk to him

His shepards crook is actually a cane

He had to start using it right after Virgil left, Remus ran off to the imagination and Janus chased after him. He ended up getting cornered by a monster, and it punctured his knee almost clean through

Remus only found him because he was screaming so loud. Roman could hear it from his half of the imagination, but thought it was an animal and didn't bother to investigate

Even as an adult, his sleep schedule is horrible

He's coldblooded, makes the dark half so much worse

The closest thing that he's ever had for a friend (when he was younger) was Logan. They would watch documentaries together and talk about them for a bit

Those stopped when Janus had to take care of Remus

Remus is his friend now, but he still spends most of his time looking after him and making sure that he's eating (he tends to forget that he needs to eat)

Remus goes back to the dark half everyday to spend time with Janus

Janus is a really bad cook, he can make half burnt grilled cheese and pasta. Thats about it. It's not from lack of effort really

The other sides are genuinely concerned for his health and well-being. Everytime he shows up he seems paler, his eye bags are larger, and his clothes hang off of him

Janus doesn't actually believe them when they say that they want to help though

Janus gets maybe two hours of sleep daily

He spends the entirety of his free time trying to help Thomas

He would drink coffee to help him stay awake and productive, but he hates the taste of it

The others grow more and more concerned everytime he passes out. Which is a lot. Janus always brushes it off though

Logan is the only one who doesn't believe him

He remembers what Janus was like when they were younger, and it was NOTHING like how Janus acts now. They're completely different.

The Orange side made him show up and impersonate the other sides. The only time that he showed up willingly was in POF

He honestly doesn't know what he did to make Virgil hate him, nor does he know why Virgil locked himself away when he was 10

Janus is angry, he's angry that he had to grow up quickly, he's angry that Virgil abandoned him, he's angry that Remus needs to be constantly supervised, he's angry at Orange, he's angry at himself. He's angry. But doesn't have the energy to do anything

He cries himself to sleep a lot more then you would think

Touch starved. Completely touch starved. He breaks down completely when someone touches his wrist

You would think that self preservation would have better self care, but no. He's really bad at it. The closest he gets is getting 4 hours of sleep instead of the normal 2

Even after Remus left, he spends all of his time trying to help Thomas... Only to get pushed to the side

He normally completely forgets to eat food and only remembers when he's on the verge of passing out

He's gotten super good at makeup to hide the red streaks from crying so much

He loves snakes, but can't own one in the dark half because the temperature would put them in extreme pain or even kill it. Janus doesn't want to put the poor creature in suffering

The only toy he still has from childhood is a stuffed snake, but even that has had extreme mending

He sewed his entire outfit himself, and he was quite proud of it! Every time another side insults it, he withers a bit inside

The other sides have tried to stage an intervention so many times, but Janus can somehow avoid them everytime

He doesn't want their pity, because thats what he thinks it is, pity.

T r u s t I s s u e s

Lots of trust and abandonment issues

He has talked to Emile, but he has a hard time trusting him

Completely avoids Patton. Completely.

You can occasionally see him out of the corner of your eye in the common rooms, but the second you turn around he's gone

He's short as hell

His hair is like curly fries. Complete ringlets. But he hates them, hense the hat

He hates it when the others steal the hat

Everytime they insult his scales, he dies a little inside

Let me know if you want more :)

#Sanders sides #Janus sanders #sanders side headcannon #headcanons #Headcanon #Janus headcanon #Janus angst #logan sanders mention #virgil sanders mentioned #patton sanders mentioned #remus sanders mentioned #roman sanders mention #deceit sanders #Deceit angst #Tw injury #Tw angst #tw death mention #tw skin picking #tw scratches #tw bold text #tw unhealthy eating habits #tw bad habits #tw swearing #Ask to tag #tw abandonment

[amintyworld]

Dark Prince - Switcheroo AU Oneshot

A/N: Hello hello this is your author Minty here! Just wanted to give a quick thanks to @aimasup for letting me use her Switcheroo AU on the Creativtwins for this cheeky lil oneshot. The AU is about if the split occurs, but Roman and Remus were assigned opposite traits to represent - Roman being a dark side and Remus being a light side. This was really fun to write and took a lotta work, so I hope ya’ll enjoy! - Minty

Summary: Roman never wanted to be the villain. 

TW: Abandonment, Child abuse (Kinda, tagging just in case), sexual innuendos, Injury, exclusion, slight insanity, slight repressed homosexuality, cursing, putting life in someone else’s hands (As always, let me know if I need to tag anything else!) 

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

Roman’s first memory was of pain, of needles all over his body, and then… a kick. He remembered making a small whimper as he curled into himself, weak and tired, the kick hurting more than it should’ve.

“Get away, you disgusting pervert! Get away from Creativity!” Someone yelled sharply, and Roman slowly opened his eyes, wondering what he could’ve done and where he even was. He was in a room, a room filled with stuffed animals and children’s drawings and… a man. He was wearing a cardigan with a grey sweatshirt wrapped around his shoulders, kneeling to help up someone else… someone who looked like him. “Creativity, are you alright? Oh, you poor thing, don’t worry, we finally got rid of it…”

Creativity? Wasn’t… wasn’t he…?

The kid shook a bit, weak like him, looking to the man in wonder and curiosity. “Creativity.” He said, repeating the word as if to understand it. “I’m… I’m Creativity.” Creativity tried to stand, nearly falling before the man caught him. 

“Careful.” The man warned. “You might be a bit weak, that was a little intense. Here, let me help.” The man slowly picked up Creativity in his arms, then his gaze fell upon Roman, turning into one of disgust, making Roman’s heart begin to break. What… what did he do?

Creativity followed the man’s gaze. “Hey, who’s that?”

“Someone bad we don’t need anymore. Come on, Creativity.” They left, and Roman tried to move to get up, to follow them and maybe try to understand, he didn’t understand...

The next thing he remembered was gloved arms wrapped around him, lifting him up, and he looked up to see a man with half his face covered in green-tinted scales and a yellow snake eye that made his body tense. The man looked down at him warmly, sensing his fear. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” Roman looked at the man, and his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why?”

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

Roman liked Janus a lot, he was one of the few people who’ve ever really shown him kindness, plus he smelled like vanilla. Despite his off-putting scales when they first met, Roman had really warmed up to the other side. Janus was funny and a really good cook - leading to Roman’s obsession with Peanut Butter, even to the point the poor parental side had to hide it constantly or else all three jars would be gone by the end of the day. 

As their bond grew, so did Roman - he learned all about the others, ‘the light sides’ as Janus called them, and even the foretold Thomas. “Do you think I could meet him one day? Meet Thomas?”

“Uh…” Janus looked uncomfortable by the question, struggling to find the words to speak. 

“I’m sure if I explain everything to him, maybe he can clear things up with Patton, maybe we could all get along and be happy again!” Roman smiled, jumping a bit on the ripped up couch. 

“Roman…” Janus said, taking a breath. “It’s not that simple… Thomas… he…he doesn’t like us.”

“Why? You’re really nice, and… and-”

“He doesn’t like us because he doesn’t like what we represent.” Janus said, comfortingly rubbing circles on the back of the child’s hand. “Until he likes us, it’s no use trying to talk to him. That’s why I… well, why I’ve kept us hidden from him, why he doesn’t know about you… if he did, he could summon you and mock you and hurt you-”

“Will he ever like us again, Dee?” Roman looked up to Janus with sad eyes, the same sad eyes the deceitful side saw the day of the split. The eyes that made him help the kid so long ago, to endure the risk of insult and injury, to protect him. Janus met those eyes, and for once he didn’t have the heart to say the harsh truth. 

“Maybe, Ro.” Janus gave the kid a comforting smile. “Maybe someday.”

That’s how it was for a while - Janus and Roman against a world who hated them. Their own little family of acceptance and love. Janus would play with Roman, sing songs and teach him the right way to hiss. Roman would comfort Janus when he’d return after being summoned by the Light Sides, and bring him into the Imagination for adventures, and work on training with his new abilities as they presented themselves to him. 

It was one of those days in the Darkscape, Roman now fourteen, when the two were watching a movie that the most unusual thing happened. With a slow rise up in the living room stood Logan - tie messed up, bags under his eyes, holding a tiny seven year old in his arms. The child in question was wearing a large black hoodie, hood up and head buried into Logan’s chest, crying. 

The two on the couch stood up quickly. Looking over toward Logan, who was looking around the place blankly. Roman was about to give him a piece of his mind for entering unannounced, bothering them, but Dee held up his arm to block him. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.” He said harshly under his breath. He looked over toward the intruder. “What brings you to our neck of the woods, Logic? I thought your kind made it crystal clear we weren’t welcome.”

“I am… sorry to enter unannounced, Deceit. I do believe this is one of yours.” Logan said, adjusting his glasses with one hand and walking over, the other arm supporting the child. Moving his arm, the child looked over to the two others, his lip trembling and tears in his eyes. Janus’s heart broke at the sight as he moved closer. “What’s his-?”

“Anxiety. His name is Anxiety.” Logan said. He slowly began to hand the child over as he calmed to sniffles, only for the action to make the child in question burst out crying once more. Janus slowly moved and held Anxiety as he made grabby hands to Logan. 

“Pwease, I’ll be good! I’ll be good, don’t leave me!” Anxiety cried, and Janus held him close, shushing him and trying to soothe his tears, looking up to stare daggers at Logan. 

“Is that all? Or is there another helpless child that ‘moral compass’ of yours wants to abandon?” Janus spat.

“Deceit, you know as well as I do that this is the best thing in the end for Thomas.” Logan said, rubbing his forehead. “It’s dangerous for Thomas for all of you to be out, he’s not ready-”

“A seven-year-old child is dangerous for Thomas?!” Janus said, looking angrier and angrier by the second. “For Logic, you don’t seem to be making any sense.”

“Janus-”

Janus jabbed his finger at Logan’s chest. “Now get out of my face and my home before things get so messy even your faulty ‘logic’ can’t fix them.” Janus’s voice was full of pure rage, and Logan’s blank face broke into more of… pity.

“I am sorry, Janus.” Logan simply said before sinking out, leaving the three of them alone. 

Janus’s anger dissapated quickly as he rubbed Anxiety’s back, heading to sit back on the couch. “Shh, shh, it’s okay…” Roman just stared at Janus in shock of the altercation between the two, he’d never ever seen Janus talk like that to anyone before. Janus looked up at him. “What?”

“I-”

“Please… p-please don’t h-hurt me-!” Anxiety shook, looking up at Janus, then to Roman. Janus gave them a sad look, realizing what Patton probably told this poor kid-

Roman slowly reached out to him, smiling. Virgil’s reddened eyes met his as he looked up, moving toward Roman as Roman cupped his cheek softly. “I promise, no one’s gonna hurt you, okay?”

For a moment, silence fills the room as the child hesitates before his shaking small voice answered Roman. “P-promise?” Anxiety said, holding up his pinkie. Roman pinkie promised him, smiling warmly. 

“I promise.”

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

Roman yawned as he slowly made his way down to the kitchen, smiling as Virgil walked past him, eyes glued to his phone. “You know, you’d think with those dark circles under your eyes, you’d be the one yawning.”

Virgil gives a slight smirk at the playful remark. “Fuck off, playboy.”

“Well… I mean you’re not wrong there-” Roman shrugs, mischievously grinning. “I do like playing with a boy or two!” Roman finished with a wink at his brother.

Virgil nearly snorted at the retort, hiding his smile underneath his phone. “God, you’re disgusting-!”

“Right back at you, My Chemical Ro-Mess.”

The two sat down at the dusty dining room table as Janus walked out wearing a scaled apron with the words ‘Snake me’ written in flowy black cursive, carrying two plates of eggs and toast. He set them down in front of the two sides, turning to head back into the kitchen, ruffling Virgil’s hair as he went. “Cream and sugar for both of you, right?”

“Yep.” Virgil said, popping the ‘p’ slightly at the end. 

“Yeppers, Jan-Jan!” Roman answered before taking out his own phone to scroll through some… “tasteful'' photos. He liked thinking of their strong hands running down his chest or through his hair…

Janus came back out with the coffee as he sat down to eat, dealing out the drinks. The little family ate in a comfortable silence as they always did every morning, Janus only breaking it for a second to check their plans for the day as he spread a bit of Crofters on a piece of toast. Virgil answered first, putting down his phone for a minute. “Besides work and stuff, I was thinking about maybe putting up some new posters in my room, I’ve been getting into Evenasence.”

“Do you need any help, shadowling? I know the ladder’s not completely stable…” Janus asked.

“Shortie-” Remus smirked as Virgil just rolled his eyes at his older brother. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine, I usually give it extra support even when it wasn’t so loose.”

“If you’re sure… Roman?”

“Just gonna hang in the Imagination.”

“You hang out there a lot lately…” Janus remarked smoothly between bites. “Something you’re not telling me?”

“No, no! Dee, I’d never-” Roman sputtered, but Janus just raised his eyebrow.

“Roman, I’m the Lord of Lies. You can’t seriously think I won’t be able to spot one from a mile away?”

“It’s nothing serious, really. Just… uh… I made a friend?” Roman admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Friend…?” Janus asked.

“Uh… yeah! Katy, one of the townspeople in the kingdom, we hang out all the time-” Roman said, beginning to get up quickly. “Anyway, she’s probably waiting for me, I should go.” Roman chugged the rest of his coffee and quickly walked off. “See you guys at six!”

Janus’s eyes narrowed. That boy is hiding something, something big. Virgil just looked at the hallway entrance, where he disappeared to. “That was… weird.”

“You said it.”

“Think he’s gonna do something stupid?” Virgil asked, concerned. 

“I dunno.” Janus answered. “Just… check on him when you get the chance for me, okay? I know he likes handling things by himself, but the Imagination’s not completely his domain. If the light sides find him… I’m afraid things could turn ugly.”

“You got it, Chief.” Virgil said, worries already building up in his mind about what his brother could possibly be doing.

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

Roman sighed. That was a close one. 

It’s not like he didn’t want to tell them, it’s just… he didn’t think they’d really understand. Roman let out a small sigh before grabbing his bag and sword, and heading through the door to the Imagination. He began the walk as he did every day along the path, smiling at the winged rabbits and the frogs who croaked glitter - some of his best ideas, he’d say. 

As the animals became quieter and quieter, he couldn’t help but feel guilt at the edges of his stomach for making Janus worry. He knew that lying as necessary, to make sure they’d never get found out, but if it doesn’t make his stomach churn sometimes. Maybe, when he got back, if he could convince him, he’d finally be able to tell Janius. Maybe it was silly to hide it from him, maybe he’d really, truly understand.

“Hey, Roman! Up here!” His twin looked down at him from the treehouse, smiling and waving in his green and white uniform. He waved, returning the smile as he sat on the ladder, pulling the rope as he ascended, entering their little hideout. As soon as he put the basket down, he was bulldozed to the ground with a giant hug, making him laugh. 

“Remus, come on! It hasn’t been that long-”

“Two weeks is like… forever in brother years.” Remus responded, tightening the hug for a moment as Roman returned it. 

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too, Rem.”

The two sat down on the picnic blanket, relaxing as the cool wind blew through their small shelter, snacking on Crofters and bread, as well as a few sodas and candies Remus smuggled from the Mindscape kitchen. Roman played a bit with the crisp autumn leaves that blew inside, practicing lifting them up and folding them into shapes.

“Ro, do you ever wonder what it was like… before?” Remus asked, drawing Roman’s attention away from the star he was folding. 

“Before? Before what?”

“Before. When we were together.” Remus said, chewing on the jam-stained bread thoughtfully. 

“Oh.” Roman said. “I’ve never really thought about it, I guess.”

“We had the whole Imagination just to us, no hiding or running away. No one telling us who we were.” Remus said. “I just think about it sometimes. Daydream, really - what they had looked like, what they did, how everyone used to be. I’d ask more about it, but Patton…” Remus' face fell. 

“Hey, we don’t need him.” Roman said, placing a comforting hand on Remus’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, Ro Bro.”

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Roman said. “I just barely got away to get here, Janus was onto me. I was… thinking, since he’s been so open and honest about everything to me-”

“No.” Remus said sternly. “Roman, we can’t. No one can know about this.” His face was a mixture of anger and fear. “Do you know what they’d do?! Roman, they don’t want us to be together, they don’t want us to get along or be happy!”

“But… but Janus isn’t- he’s not one of them!” Roman insisted, getting angry. “If I recall, your little Patton threw us out! Janus… Janus hasn’t done anything except be there for me and Virgil, he wants to protect us!”

“Roman, no.” Remus said. “That’s what he told you.” Roman’s fists clenched in anger, looking toward the ground. Janus wouldn’t lie to him, he wouldn’t-! “Don’t you ever think it’s weird how Dark and Light sides were already made up? How Janus and Patton were both ready to just... take us away?” Janus wouldn’t… he wouldn’t, he promised! “This whole thing was a setup to change who we once were, don’t you see? Patton, Janus, and Logan… they all made us split!”

“That’s not true!” Roman yelled. “Janus told me he’d never lie, he told me it was the truth!”

Remus’s face turned dark. “Roman, he’s the Lord of Lies, don’t you get it?! He was a liar from the very beginning-!”

Then, suddenly, Remus was on the ground, holding his jaw and looking up at his twin with shock. Roman looked down, his hand pumping with adrenaline from the punch. It was only a moment, but Roman could see the pain on his brother’s face, and his anger quickly disappeared. “Remus, I’m-”

“Remus…?” Roman’s heart dropped at the voice. Patton. Suddenly, a whip wrapped around Roman’s arms as he was pulled to the floor, volt shocking through his body, making his breaths slow and body cower. “Remus, are you okay?!” He could only hear footsteps behind him as he struggled to sit up, getting zapped every time he shifted. So his intended ‘he’s fine’ could barely be heard.

“He’s...ugh-!”

“I’m fine, Dad.” Remus said, looking down at Roman, worried. 

“Oh Remus I was so scared this morning when I woke up and you weren’t there and things had been stolen, I just knew you were kidnapped by Janus, but… it seems his little protege had other plans.” Patton rambled, looking over Remus for any bruises or injuries like a worried mother. “It’s okay now, you’re finally safe.”

“Dad, please let him go, I wasn’t kidnapped.” Remus said, pulling away from the cardigan wearing side. “He’s done nothing wrong, you’re hurting him!” Remus rushed past Patton to Roman, seeing drops of blood slowly coat his skin as his breathing began to slowly decline. He grabbed his pocket knife and cut the whip, releasing him as he simply slumped to the ground. “Roman, oh my god-!”

Patton simply watched with odd curiosity. Remus helped him sit up a bit, having his weak body lean on him. Roman let out a small coughing fit. “Remus, n-no…” They’d held the secret for so long, they coudln’t give in now!

Remus turned to Patton. “Dad come on, we have to help him!”

Patton slowly walked over, cupping Remus’s cheek. “Oh Remus, what did he do to you?”

“What…?”

“I knew they were bad, but I never throught they’d stoop so low.” Patton said. “Brainwashing a child…” Patton held Remus’s hands as they stood up, Roman on the floor. “Remus, they’re not good - Deception, Lust, Anxiety - they twist and manipulate your mind, that’s why I sent them away, to protect us.” Patton softly tucked Remus’s hair behind his ear. “I failed. I’m... sorry.”

Remus just looked toward the floor, taking a quick glance at his brother, his mind full of thoughts. “Dad, I…”

“I… I don’t know what they told you, and I don’t know if you’d believe me, but I promise you they’re nothing but a family of lying rats.”

“But… but Roman-”

“He doesn’t care about you, and it’s hard to say if he ever has.” Patton said. “Remus, there’s a reason the split occurred. You were being insane, lying and cheating, it wasn’t you. I had to save the real you from him.”

“Save me-?!”

Remus looked over at Roman and the two just looked at each other for a brief moment. “R-remus, I swear... I’d never-”

“Roman, what’s going on here?!” Virgil barked, his weapon Roman had created for him in his hands - a shimmering back bow and silver feathered arrows. Roman struggled to get up against the wall as Virgil entered, notching his arrow quickly and aiming at Patton. “What did you do-?!” He growled. “Where is he?!”

Patton slowly raised his arms. “Don’t shoot, though I’d think your kind wouldn’t hesitate to let a few fly against me, hm?”

“If you so much as hurt a hair on his head, I swear-”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Patton slowly approached, the arrow pushed slightly against his forehead. “I wouldn’t be surprised, Anxiety. Or should I say Paranoia?”

“Stop avoiding the question and-!”

“V-virgil…” Roman managed weakly, falling to the floor as he took a step, making Virgil turn and rush toward him, taking off his dark sweatshirt and trying to help the bleeding from the electritcity, trying to find some way to help him. 

“S-shit-!” Virgil cursed under his breath. “Roman, hold on-”

Patton just looked over at them with anger. “They’ll never change, Remus. It’s in their blood - torturing the innocent with their thoughts and lies and fear. Twsiting reality for their own benefit. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, a part of me thought if I didn’t... I’d protect you.” Patton sighed, turning to Remus with a sad smile. “Let's just go home.” Patton walked past the two dark sides on the floor, and yet Remus stayed frozen. “Come on, Remus. Let’s go.”

Remus slowly approached Virgil and Roman as they slowly got up, Roman leaning on Virgil slightly for support, both just looking at Remus. “Remus, I-”

“Save it.” He growled. “So, this is really it, huh? I was dreaming of such a happy past to be found, for both of us.”

“Remus…”

“But it seems I was nothing but an idiot to believe you, to believe that you were innocent.” His stared turned cold. “All this time, everything we’ve done, everything we’ve been through-”

“Remus, you can’t honestly believe-?!”

“You’re the reason we split, aren’t you?!” Remus snapped. “You’re the reason there’s light and dark sides-” Remus’s voice slowly began to rise with his growing anger, tears going down his face. “You’re the one who brainwashed me into thinking you actually cared!”

“Remus, please…” Roman begged, tears forming in his own eyes as he could feel his heart break into a million pieces at his brother’s words. It can’t be true, it just can’t, he couldn’t have-! Roman grabbed Remus’s wrist as he turned away, prompting Remus to push him to the ground. 

“Get away from me, Lust.” Remus practically spat, disgusted.

With that, they left, leaving Roman alone on the floor, crying. Remus actually left him. He believed Patton over him, he hated him, he abandoned him, he didn’t even... love him anymore. Virgil sat next to him, pulling him close and comforting his big brother as he cried, remembering his own day of abandonment and letting a few tears shed down his cheeks. “You don’t need him anymore, Roman. We don’t need any of those assholes, okay? They’re all the same - stuck up pricks.” Virgil spat with venom. “Fuck him.”

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

Soon enough, Thomas had grown into an adult, and Janus’s concealment of them was getting weaker by the day. Roman and Virgil were scared - they just wanted to do their jobs in peace, and not have to face the constant fear and harassment that loomed over them all their lives. Janus tried to comfort them, but even he was nervous.

One day, they couldn’t find Virgil. Janus and Roman tore through the entire Darkscape and Imagination looking for him, scared of what they might have done to him. Janus had ended his frantic search on the floor, bawling and shaking like a leaf as Roman tried his best to comfort him. “Don’t worry, Jan. Virgil will come back, okay? Virgil’s gonna be alright.”

Janus could do nothing but weep, sniffling. His mouth opened to say something and yet nothing ever came out. His heart felt hollow, and his mind was filled with worry for his family, his son.

Virgil eventually came back later that night, a little stand-offish at first than normal. When he saw Roman and Janus, however, he rushed to their side and apologized, hugging all of them tightly. Finally, Janus found the words as he hugged Virgil tightly, afraid if he let him go he’d lose him again. “Don’t ever leave me again, okay?!”

“O-okay…” Virgil said as he hugged him back, his eyes full of a few tears themselves. “I… I promise.”

They decided that they needed to be on guard, Thomas could summon any one of them now. Their new plan was to try to stand up against the light sides and Thomas, and to stand by each other through thick and thin. So it was - Virgil would get summoned when Thomas needed him and return, telling them all what occurred. 

It was around dinnertime on a crisp autumn night when Virgil didn’t return. Worried, they waited as long as they could, the night getting later and later, eventually eating without him, thinking maybe Thomas had a rough night. Virgil showed up not too long after Janus began doing the dishes, looking pensive. “Virgil, thank god you’re okay, we were worried-” Roman said, walking up to give him a hug. Virgil held up his hands to stop him. 

“No Roman, I… I need to think.” Virgil said, something in his voice Roman couldn’t place. 

“But… but you missed dinner, and-” Roman said, but his protests were in vain as Virgil awkwardly held his arm. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m… I’m not that hungry. I don’t mean to worry you both, sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine, Vee.” Janus smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Virgil smiled back. “If...If you need me, I’ll be upstairs, okay?”

“O-okay.” Roman said, a small comforting smile on his face hiding his confusion. 

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

Roman was alone. 

He knew he was right about them, about the light sides, and yet… yet more and more his family believed them, and… and they left. Virgil changed and moved in with them in a heartbeat after they’d saved him - he wouldn’t even need to be saved if it wasn’t for them in the first place - Vee said they changed. They were more open, accepting, that they loved him. 

All Roman could see was fake lies. 

When he called it out, Virgil left with an angry rip of his old sweatshirt, leaving Roman wondering what he did, what they did to him. Janus followed suit soon after, claiming that Virgil was really right. Did everyone forget what they did?! Did everyone forgive them so damn quickly for YEARS of torment, of abandoment?! It wasn’t.. It wasn’t fair! 

Roman was alone. He was sad, upset, angry...crazy? But finally, after all this time, sane. 

He finally knew what they wanted - a villain. Someone to point at and laugh at and crtisize and hurt. Roman couldn’t help but laugh, oh how it all made so much sense! They wanted someone to blame for everything, and still they’re blaming him. Roman’s tears dried as his chuckle echoed throughout the Darkscape. 

Well, if they wanted a villain, they’d get one. 

Roman snatched up Janus and threw him in the cell, his back making a satisfying crack as it hit the iron bars at the other end, leaving the scaled side to fall into a heap on the floor, letting out a soft groan. Virgil rushed over to help him, shaking like a leaf. “Janus-”

Janus coughed as he sat up again, struggling to get the air that was knocked out of his lungs back. “Roman, let us go! This isn’t funny anymore, let us out right now!”

“The pathetic thing is that you still think it’s a joke, Deceit.” Roman laughed, walking over toward the mirror to put on his crown. His hair was tidy and a crisp black prince outfit stood in place of his normal clothes as he fiddled with the collar, admiring his reflection. “I’m afraid your presence here is, well, essential to my plan.”

“P-plan…?” Janus questioned. “Roman whatever you’re going through we can figure it out together, okay? We’re a family-”

“Don’t you DARE utter that word again, you lying snake-!” Roman snapped, looking toward him with a cold sharp stare. “You choose those...those bastards over your own family, you left me for them.” His fists clenched as he hit the bars hard, making Janus jump and Virgil to cling to his side closer. “You don’t GET to be my family anymore.”

“Roman…” Roman could hear the emotion forming in Janus’s voice as he turned away to look out the window for a second before grabbing his sword to sharpen. “Roman, why…?”

“Why?!” Roman pointed his sword at Janus accusingly. “You both abandoned me and left me alone for people who hurt us, who kicked us toi the curb when things got tough.” He steadied himself, slowly calming his demeanor. “But, I guess i really should thank you both. Without you two, I’d have never realized my true role in all of this.”

“Role?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard, Jan?” Roman smiled slyly. “It seems as if I’m cast as the villain right now, what a shame. Would’ve really rathered playing the hero, but I guess you take what you can get these days, hm?”

“Roman.” Someone growled. Roman heard a voice from behind him, and just from the tone he already knew who it was. He wasn’t scared. He was playing his part beautifully, as he was always meant to be. He turned just as Remus struck with his morning star, weapons clashing. Remus looked extremely angry, and Roman couldn’t help but smile. 

“Wondered when you’d show up.”

“Let them go, Roman.” Remus growled, looking ready to pounce. Roman just let out a soft chuckle, turning into a giggle, soon his crazed laughter filled the room, making Remus hesitate in shock and confusion. “R-ro…?”

“Oh, what a hero! Man, we should have been playing this way from the start, this is so much better!” Roman laughed. “Would’ve done without ripping out my heart and feeding it to me, though. Notes for next time, ey?”

“Next...time?”

“Yeah, maybe not draw it out too much. Really make my life hell near the beginning and save us all some trouble, yeah?” Roman smiled, clashing swords with his brother. 

“This isn’t some game, Roman!” Remus shouted. “Release them right now, or…”

“Or you’ll what? Finish me off? Would be a bit of a gruesome scene for the kiddies, no?” Roman asked casually. “A bit dark for the hero, isn’t it?”

“H-hero…? But.. but I-”

“Well, please Remus, there’s no need to insist here, if you really like that ending, who am I to stop the famous hero’s wishes?” Roman calmly smiled as he dropped to his knees, dropping his weapon and kneeling his head. “Uh, maybe make it a bit quick, if you will? It’s my first time with a beheading before.”

“Roman...I…” Remus looked down to his twin, head bowed, and then to his morning star. “Roman, stop it! This isn’t right-!”

“Right? Hm, where have I heard that one before?!” Roman yelled, snapping to his feet to grab Remus’s neck and slam it into a nearby wall. “Guess you were smarter than you knew back then, huh? The bad of what we used to be…” Roman gestured to himself with a snicker. “It’s all right here, baby.” With a bit of creative magic he’d chained Remus by the neck, laughing as he snatched Remus’s glistening silver and green crown as he slowly lowered it over his head, turning pitch black. “Finally, after all these years, I get to take something from you, brother.”

As he marched toward the balcony, his shadow crossing over the iron cage as the two former dark sides huddled together in comfort and protection. He walked out as the sun slowly began to rise over Remus’s… no, HIS kingdom. He smiled as he watched his subjects come out of their houses, as he sat on the railing, legs crossed.

“People of Creativia, there’s been a slight change in management as of late-” He began. “As of now, I, Roman, am your new ruler and crowned Prince, and I hereby demote the status of your former ruler Remus to outlaw.” He heard murmurs from below. “Now, with that out of the way, let a new era of fear and evil plague this once happy town.”

“Welcome, everyone, and meet your Dark Prince.”

#dark roman sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #creativity sanders #anxiety sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #morality sanders #logic sanders #logan sanders #familial creativtwins #familial dark sides #sanders sides #sander sides #sanders sides fic #my writing

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 9

A/N: I’ll explain my disappearance later. I just want to get this out for now. It’s a long one. But I’m happy to be back :P Love and miss y’all. 

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sex, mentions of drugs, police, DCS, mature themes. 

Words: 5.5k YEESH ALSO AHH MIDSUMMERS :D

Masterlist

Kiara and you arrived at the Chateau together, well after sunset. The silhouettes of Pope, JJ and your brother were clear against the moonlight, quiet as they lie in the hammock.  

You and Kiara slipped into the netting silently. Your shoulder was up against JJ’s bare bicep, and you fought the urge to move closer.

“You really think it’s out there? No bullshit?” 

You felt JJ’s gaze on you, a million different emotions brought to the surface by his mere stare. 

John B admitted that he did believe after hearing your father’s voice on the tape.

“Well we’re going to find it, you know. Even JJ believes,” said Kiara, looking over at you two.

Surprised, John B asked, “Oh my God, JJ, do you really believe?”

On instinct, even though he clearly hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation, JJ replied, “Totally.” Then paused, confused. “Wait, are we talking about four mil?”

“Four hundred mil!” 

All of you chorused, causing JJ to roll his eyes and turn onto his side, facing you. “I’m going to dream about shipwrecks. Good night, Bird!” 

“Goodnight, bird shit!” Pope mocked.

All of your friends were asleep. You could hear John B’s loud snores and Kie’s soft murmurs. Pope’s body was halfway off the hammock in his state of unconsciousness.

You turned, lying down on your side and startling slightly at the wide eyes looking back at you.

Before you could chide him for creeping, JJ whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Immediately, you whispered back, “I’m sorry, too...Are we gonna be ok?”

JJ hushed you. “It’s you and me, Trouble. We’re always gonna be ok.”

The two of you didn’t say anything else. You didn’t need to. 

The five of you set off in search of the coordinates the following morning. There was an unmistakable air of excitement but also somehow nonchalance. Everyone wanted this to be it, but was too afraid to believe in it.

JJ was at the wheel of the HMS Pogue, his sunglasses and signature red cap making him look especially good in the Carolina sun. 

You noticed yourself noticing things like this even more than you did before. This morning, you woke up before everyone else and found yourself admiring the early morning silhouette of the blonde that currently occupied all your thoughts. Pope caught you, incredibly confused why you were staring at his best friend like a dazed puppy. Luckily, your reputation pulled through and he simply scolded you for being stoned so early. Yeah, that’s right, simply looking at JJ made you seem high. You were in a shitload of trouble. 

You were supposed to be helping Kiara release the rope with the drone attached at the end, hurriedly tossing it into the water against the raging winds. Y’all had picked the worst time to do this.

You caught yourself distracted by JJ, who was furiously spinning the wheel to John B’s directions. There was something about that shirt. He flicked his head back to see how you guys were doing and scrunched his eyebrows inquiringly when he noticed you watching him. You shook your head, trying not to get embarrassed. Too late. “Y/N!” Kiara slapped your shoulder, forcing you to pay attention to the rope that the current was currently tugging away. Shit. You refocused, but not before catching the upward tilt on JJ’s lips at your ridiculousness.

960 feet.

 970.

 980.

 “I’m at the bottom!”

“See anything?” Called JJ.

“It’s the Royal Merchant,” You heard your brother say, raising the hair on your arms. 

You and Kiara rushed over, your arm on John B’s shoulder as you tried to look over him at the monitor. He was right, you could see old, rusted over debris from the wreck scattered all over the ocean floor. But...no gold.

You looked at your feet in disbelief. Clenching your fists as your heart dropped. You met JJ’s eyes, shaking your head sadly. He nodded at you, shrugging as if to say. What did we expect? You didn’t miss his heavy disappointment. That look steeled you. Gold or no gold, you’d find a way to get JJ out of this shithole.

“Somebody beat us to it,” John B muttered.

“Or it was never there,” Grumbled JJ. 

You and John B dropped the pogues off, each of them saying goodbye rather emotionally, drained from the loss of something you never had. Kiara ruffled your hair, reminding you, “Chin up, yeah?” as she left. Pope simply pulled all of you into a quick hug, giving you a pat on the back. 

JJ, as always, was more subtle, more secretive. As John B steered the boat towards the docks, he sat next to you, pulling your hand into his lap without looking at you. He rolled his lips, before bringing his elbows onto his knees and leaning his forehead on his hands that encased one of yours. He breathed deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he looked at you, offering you a smile and twirling your ring. He echoed his words from last night. “We’re gonna be ok.”

You nodded fiercely, smiling. “I know, Bear. We always are.”

You and John B walked up to the Chateau alone, gear in hand. He draped an arm around you, pecking the top of your hair. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I really thought it would.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but you did, anyway. Maybe your brother needed to hear it or maybe you needed to say it; whatever the reason was, you said, “Yeah, me too. I really hoped Dad didn’t give his life for nothing.”

John B pulled you closer into his side as you walked, for once not disputing your claim on your father’s death. 

The two of you walked inside, only to see...fucking Cheryl from foster care on your couch.

You startled immediately, pulling your brother behind you. “Hey, guys,” the devil incarnate greeted.

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the table as John B sat down. You sighed. “You know, Cheryl, it’s kind of a bad time for a check-in.”

She smiled. “Not a check in. We’re here to take you.”

Your eyes widened. “Today? Really?”

“It’s just for a few weeks until your hearing.”

John B spoke up. “No, no, no. Cheryl, look, we’re not going into foster care, okay? We’re not going to go be a part of your little system.”

“Kids, this is Deputy Thomas.”

Before you knew it, Deputy Thomas had you and your brother in the back of his car, driving you to your fate. 

John B pulled a clever trick though, and as he picked up the picture of your dad that Cheryl had been foolish enough to let you guys grab, you both looked at each other once, before breaking into sprints in opposite directions.

You ducked under some trees, peeking over the corner of your shoulder to see Deputy Thomas chasing your brother. He’d have to get away somehow. You had to trust that. You looked forward, running through the neighborhoods you knew so well and dialing the first person you thought of.

“Yo! Me and Po-” 

“JJ!” 

You made your way towards Heywards, figuring he must be with Pope. “Woah, what’s with the excitement. I know I’m a riot, but-”

“JJ, shut up! It’s DCS.”

“What? Are you alright? What’s going on?”

“I got away. I’ll see you at Heywards.”

“Wait, Y/N-”

You hung up as you neared the store, seeing JJ out front, staring at his phone in concern, a deep set frown on his face.

“JJ!”

You nearly crashed into him, but stopped short, your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath.

Pope came out, too, noticing you. “Ayo, Y/N. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“What? No. I just got away from Deputy Thomas.”

“What the fuck? Did he do something to you?” 

“Why are you running from the cops?”

JJ and Pope questioned you immediately. “I-no, I’m fine. Like I said, I ran away. They’re trying to take us away until our hearing in a few weeks. But I don’t know if John B got away. Listen, I shouldn’t be here. They’re gonna come looking for me.”

“Then come with us,” insisted JJ.

“No, I wouldn’t put it past them to search the waters.”

“Stay here, then,” Pope offered. “You know my Pops will cover for you.” 

You agreed. JJ furrowed his brows. “Then we shouldn’t go. We can’t leave her like this, Pope.”

You shook your head, grabbing JJ’s hand. “No, you guys go. Anyways, if they turn up here, they’ll be more suspicious if y’all are here. They’ll expect me to be with you. Trust me.”

Pope nodded, going back inside to let his dad know. JJ held your shoulders, leaning down to look at you. “Be careful, yeah? Nothing stupid.”

“You’re one to talk.” You tried not to notice how close he was to you. 

I’m fucking serious, dude. There’s nothing I can do if they take you away from me. I don’t want us in the position, got it?”

You nodded, taken aback by his seriousness but grateful for it nonetheless. 

He pulled his cap off, messing your hair before slipping it over your head. “Stay low, Trouble,” He said as he walked off towards the docks.

You walked inside, smiling at Pope’s dad. “Thanks for this, Mr. Heyward.”

He nodded at you. “Any time. I know all about that foster system. You’re better off dead than stuck in that, kid.”

You agreed, taking some boxes from his hands and getting right to work.

You spent the day at Heywards, hiding out in his freezer when the Deputy came over.

That evening, Kiara dropped by Heywards and convinced you to come to one of those old movie nights that you usually spent your summers at--summers free of treasure hunts. She explained that you’d be hidden amongst everyone from town and JJ and Pope would be there too, so there was no reason for you not to come. 

JJ held your hand tightly, his eyes darting around the crowd constantly. You hadn’t questioned his jitters or why his grip on his bag was so tight, but your fingers were starting to give to the pain of being crushed.

“J. Shit. My hand, bro.”

He looked down, instantly letting go and looking apologetic. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You shook your head as you walked over to Kiara.

You lied down and didn’t bother listening to the conversation, too worried about your brother either being dead in a ditch somewhere or in Deputy Thomas’ clutches. He hadn’t called once.

Until you heard, “JJ, please tell me you did not bring a gun here.”

You sat up immediately, “JJ what?”

“There are children here,” You heard Kiara say.

You raised your eyebrows at him, ignoring Pope and Kiara’s words as you stared. “Are you kidding me, dude? A fucking gun?”

He had the decency to look a little ashamed, staring at his feet and biting his lip.

During the movie, the boys ventured off to take a piss and you and Kiara joked that they must be holding it for each other. Honestly it was ironic given the amount of shit they gave you and Kiara for going to the bathroom together only to do it themselves.

It was not more than a few moments later that you heard glanced over to see JJ and Pope gone. You grabbed Kiara and walked behind the giant projector screen, shocked to see Pope in Topper’s hold and Rafe and Kelce grappling with JJ. “Let go of him, Topper! Fascist Asshole!” Kiara cried, using JJ’s bag to hit Topper. 

“Get off him!” You turned to JJ and shoved Rafe, grabbing his shoulders and pulling his jaw down to meet your knee. “2 on 1...real fair, Rafe,” you sneered into his ear as he groaned, clutching his smarting jaw.

You saw Topper toss Kiara and instantly reddened with rage. You grabbed his hair, pulling him to the ground with force. He grabbed your ankle and you would have fallen if JJ wasn’t right behind you, helping you up. Kelce and Rafe were on you again and you couldn’t get out to help Pope, who Topper was about to suffocate. 

“Come on, man, admit it! Admit you did it, bitch!” He threatened Pope and you screamed.

“Get the fuck off of him, Topper! What the fuck! Please!”

You heard Rafe tell Topper to finish him off and let out a strangled cry, locking eyes with JJ, who for once, looked scared, too.

All of a sudden, it was hot. Really, fucking hot. You looked around to see the movie screen going up in flames; you heard shouts as people fled the burning scene.

Kiara. Instantly, the kooks let you go. Kiara helped Pope up and JJ coughed, nearly falling forward, but you caught him, slinging his arm around your shoulder. “You’re a fucking idiot, J,” you hissed.

He ignored you, simply pressing his lips to your cheek. “What was that for?”

“That was for bruising the fuck out of Rafe Cameron’s jaw,” JJ said smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one of the moves I picked up from you, actually.”

“Exactly. You did me proud.”

“No, what the fuck, JJ? They almost killed you guys. Kie saved your asses.”

He leaned on you heavily as you walked and his off-beat steps had you realizing that he was faking the limp. You hid your smile. 

You couldn’t stay at the Chateau anymore, not with DCS watching it, so all of you apart from Kiara crashed at Heywards.

JJ and you took the couch, not unused to spending the night together on all sorts of odd surfaces.

As you lie down, head on his shoulder and body overlapping his slightly, he pet your hair. The silence was absolutely insufferable.

“Hey, Trouble?” JJ asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed.

He sighed, pondering his words. “I know you’re scared to…to change anything between us.”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes shut as you just listened. 

“I just-I just want to tell you that I...I would take care of you, Y/N. I swear on it. I would. I’d...I’d-fuck, why am I so bad at this?”

He took a breath again and you could imagine the adorable look of frustration on his face. You felt his arm raise, probably to run through his already messy hair. You bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling. 

“I just want you, yeah? Any way you’ll have me. Just...think about it.”

He settled in, then, his breathing evening out. You peeked your eyes open to see his shut; he looked dead asleep.

Your fingers slowly made their way into his. You ducked your head further into his chest and felt him squeeze your palm. Oh, so he was awake?

Blushing, you decided this was a problem for tomorrow, and instead let his presence lull you into slumber, dreaming of John B being chased around town by Deputy Thomas.

When you woke, JJ was gone. You heard voices in the store though and made your way towards them. You found Kiara, Pope and JJ. Your eyes met Kiara and she shook her head sadly. No John B. You saddened visibly.

“Morning!” JJ greeted with a grin, throwing some sort of rubber ball from the tourist section at you. You caught it, walking up to him and placing it at his chest. 

“Morning, J,” You said, surprisingly shy.

“Hey, Pope. Someone here to see you.” Mr. Heyward entered. “Y/N, you don’t want this one to see you right now.”

JJ took one look outside and shoved you down by the shoulders, pushing you behind one of the shelves. “Stay down!” He whispered.

You heard Pope say “Evening, Officer and your eyes widened.”

“I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property.”

Oh, fuck, Pope got caught. Your heart sped up, and you twisted your ring in worry.

You heard the distinct metallic sound of handcuffs and next thing you knew, Pope was being taken away, arrested by Shoupe. You heard everyone go outside but couldn’t make out any words. You waited a few minutes, waiting for the sound of the car driving away.

You got up, heading outside to see Kiara, Mr. Heyward and Pope? You rushed over to him, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, thank God, I thought he arrested you, man.”

Pope was rod straight. You pulled away, confused. Kiara was standing there in utter shock. Wait, where was JJ?

“What-what happened? Why are you like that? Who died?” You chuckled half-heartedly.

Mr. Heyward shook his head, going inside.

You looked at Kiara and she said, “JJ told Shoupe that he did it. Shoupe took him away.”

Your stomach fell. Clutching the cloth of your shirt, you asked, “JJ did what?” 

You blinked away the tears before your friends could see them. “We have to do something. We have to bail him out.”

“There’s nothing we can do, Y/N,” Kiara insisted.

You looked at Pope, who looked lost. 

“Well, if you guys won’t, then I will!”

Pope grabbed your arm, pulling you back. “No! Look, Y’N. Kiara’s right, there’s nothing we can do right now. And you can’t do anything, you can’t risk getting taken away by DCS.”

“FUCK DCS, Pope! JJ’s in jail!”

“They won’t keep him there for long, Y/N,” Kiara said, stepping closer. “He’ll be ok.”

You thought it over. You couldn’t think of anything you could do except stomp over to the sheriff’s office and demand that JJ be released, but that wouldn’t go over well for either of you. “Fine. You’re right. We just have to hope for the best.”

Kiara had you spend the night at her house, both in an effort to cheer you up and because it was Midsummers the next day and the only way she said she’d go is if you came with her. It wasn’t a bad hiding place. There were no cops at Midsummers so you’d be alright.

She saw you fidget all day, restless. Your brother was missing and JJ was rotting away in a cell as far as you knew. It got you thinking, though, if anything were to happen to JJ, you would regret most not coming clean to him that you liked him more than a friend. Yeah, you were admitting it to yourself. You cared about JJ in a way you had never cared for anyone ever. Even though that thought was enough to scare you to your bones, right now, all you could think about is how much you wish he knew. You hoped you knew without you having to say it, but he deserved to hear it. 

Kiara took the liberty of trying to distract you as best she knew how. She helped you get dolled up for that evening. She was wearing the most beautiful deep lavender dress you had ever seen. She offered you her entire closet and she was a little disappointed when you chose a halter jumpsuit, but when she saw how nice the rich, sunset orange went with your skin tone, and how the low cut neckline down to almost your waist and lack of a back flaunted some skin, she caved. 

She did your makeup so that you glowed golden and your hair was free. You let yourself get lost in the process, realizing you had missed out on stuff like this after your mom left.

It was tradition to wear a flower crown, and you chose peach colored hibiscuses to decorate yours, weaving them together with jasmines in between to make it smell nice. In the end, as you and Kiara stood side by side, you thought you looked like prairie girls, but she said that was the aesthetic and you should shut your mouth and go with the theme. 

The party was loud. It wasn’t loud like the keggers you had on the cut, it just screamed money and status. Every little thing was done up in a way to show something off. The food they chose was to prove that they had a taste for the richer things, which were much worse than a meal at the Wreck in your opinion. The drinks were aged to perfection and people spent more time staring and discussing the bottles than drinking, completely juxtaposed to the fast pace of the lines at the beer kegs that you were used to. Saying you felt out of place was an understatement.

You knew Pope was working the party and Kiara and you caught sight of him pretty quick. They exchanged some witty banter and you raised an eyebrow at Kiara, only for her to blush and shake her head, wordlessly denying anything. You did your usual handshake with Pope and pulled him in for a hug. “I like the fit,” he complimented. You smiled. “Hey, have you heard from JJ?” Pope asked. 

You looked down, shaking your head. “I-No. He has to be okay, though.”

“Yeah, he’ll be alright. He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.”

Pope frowned. “It’s all my fault.”

“Uh-you didn’t do this, Pope.”

You nodded. “Kie’s right, Pope. You can’t blame yourself for this. JJ made his decision on his own.”

You pulled Kiara towards you. “Come on, let’s dance. I need to not think about anything, right now.” You called out to Pope, “Catch you later!”

You were dancing with Kiara and a couple other kooks she was chill with. The song taste wasn’t your favorite, but it was something to get your mind off all your problems. 

When a particularly ear-bleeding song came on, you couldn’t help yourself. Holding Kiara’s upper arm, you admitted to her, “I’m really fucking worried about, John B. I’m hoping he’s ok and just being stupid by not calling me. I don’t know what I’m going to do if something happens to JJ. I’m worried that even if he gets out, his dad-”

Kiara wrapped her arms around you, shushing you. “I know, babe. I can’t say much to help you, but have a little faith, hmm? We’ll deal with whatever happens.”

You nodded, before looking over her shoulder to see Pope and a blonde waiter. Wait, no, that wasn’t a blond waiter. No one else on the cut had those rings and that tousled hair.

“JJ!” You cried, breaking out of Kiara’s embrace. He must not have heard you over the music, because he didn’t look at you, still talking to Pope. Your legs couldn’t carry you fast enough.

You shoved indignant people out of your way, ignoring their shrieks and curses. Your hair flying, jewelry clinking together, you threw your arms around him, forcing him to take a few steps back from the momentum. He held your shoulders, pulling you away from him. “Ma’am--wait, Y/N?” 

“JJ! You’re okay!” 

He smiled, pulling you into a hug. He dropped his head to your hair and you held tight to his neck, face tucked into his neck. “Thank God,” You whispered.

You looked up at him, noticing now the clear dark marks of fresh bruises all over the left side of his face. His lip was busted open and his eye slightly swollen.

You touched his cheek. “J, did Shoupe-”

JJ shook his head. “Oh, nah. This was-this was my dad. Has the right jab.” 

You were quiet for a moment, before saying, “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“No, no, no.” JJ’s grip tightened on your arms. “You can never go near him, got it?”

“J, I-”

“Swear you won’t, Y/N,” He insisted, looking scared. 

“I won’t,” You gave in. 

Something came over you then. Some rush of emotion, a rush you had been experiencing more and more often around the blonde. “J, I-I want to talk about what you said that night-”

JJ’s eyes widened almost comically. A shocking flush crept up his neck and you almost smiled at his adorable awkwardness. He glanced at Pope behind you, reminding you that he was watching your entire exchange. “Hold that thought, yeah?”

You nodded. He pecked your cheek, making it heat up as you looked anywhere but at him. He let go of you, stepping away and into the crowd. 

Pope looked at you incredulously. 

“What?”

He parted his lips in disbelief, waving at the air between you and where JJ stood, like his question was obvious.

You simply repeated your question.

Pope sputtered. “What you ask? Since when has that become a thing? I didn’t know y’all were having a thing.”

“We’re not!” You said quickly.

Pope laughed. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

You looked around the crowd, not spotting JJ. You frowned, where had he gone?

Your question was answered pretty quick. You noticed a commotion across the party and saw JJ being escorted out of the party. He downed a gentleman’s drink and the action was surprisingly attractive. 

You noticed Kiara shouting, trying to prevent him from being thrown out. Grabbing onto Pope, you made your way over to them.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie!” JJ called, walking out. You saw him meet up with John B. Your breath came back to you seeing your brother alive and intact.

JJ noticed you out of the corner of his eye and grinned wide, holding his arms out for you. You didn’t think twice, letting him spin you around and grab your hand as the five of you ran off.

A fire was soon set up at Rixon’s Cove, and JJ had changed into normal clothes, though you had to admit, you didn’t mind the look he was sporting before.

JJ lay across a log, his head in your lap, looking up at your face, which was lit up from the fire light. He didn’t smile, didn’t say anything, just looked at you as you ran your hands through his hair, refamiliarizing yourself with him even though he had only been gone about a day. His absence reminded you how used to seeing him you were, how used to touching him. 

“Alright, my dad’s going to kill me, anyways. So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

You were wondering that, too, and looked up at your brother, waiting for an explanation.

JJ sat up beside you. “We might as well tell them, man, before we get gaffed.”

“Gaffed?”

You soon learned that the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant. It was on Tannyhill. What concerned you, actually what made your blood boil, is how your brother had gone about finding this information.

Kiara voiced your concerns. “You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron while Y/N thought DCS had for sure taken you away?”

You stood up, glaring at John B. “You better be fucking with me. Not one call? What, you were too busy macking on here and prancing around the mainland to let your goddamn sister know that you were alive?! I was so scared, you ass!”

John B shuffled his feet, before walking over to you. “You’re right. Ok? You’re always right. I didn’t think. I’m-I’m sorry for worrying you, kid, alright?”

You were prepared for him to blow up at you. A sincere apology was the last thing you expected. “Maybe Cameron’s a good influence on you. First time I’ve heard you say sorry since you broke my collarbone in the fourth grade.”

“That was JJ’s fault, though.”

“That’s debatable.” 

John B pushed your forehead and you sat back down.

The storm came on suddenly. Not a regular storm either—a full on, thundering, lightning outer banks storm. The four of you huddled in the van as your brother went to meet Sarah Cameron and figure out the exact location of the gold. 

You groaned, pulling your hair up away from your sweaty neck. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

You began to get up. “Where you goin’?” JJ asked.

“It’s too fucking hot. I’m going to step out for a sec.” You paused before saying, “Come with.”

Pope began to get up, too, but Kiara stopped him, hissing something in his ear. 

JJ followed you out, falling in step with you as you made your way into the cool night air. Your pace was slow, unhurried, unbothered by anything right now, because everyone you cared about was safe. 

But, that thought from earlier in the day, that regret, still remained. You looked at JJ and he offered you a shy smile, offering you his hand and quirking an eyebrow in question. You took his hand, your arms brushing against each other as you walked.

“I almost didn’t recognize you today. You look like a right kook.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s offensive.”

JJ shoved your shoulder with his. “No, that’s not what I meant. You look great. For real. You look like the goddamn outer banks sunset threw up all over you. I mean that in the best way possible.” His eyes sparkled with eagerness. 

You smiled at his attempt at complimenting you. “I’ll take it as such. Thank you, JJ. You looked nice in your disguise, too.”

“Nah, it was too stuffy for me.”

“That’s ‘cause you probably haven’t had a smoke in a hot minute.”

JJ snorted. “That could be it.” 

You were quiet for a moment, just walking, stealing glances at each other. “JJ,” You said, stopping. 

He stopped, too, turning towards you. “Yeah?”

“You remember all those chick flicks John B used to drag us to on the weekends? The ones where the heroine would be all ‘my world revolves around you’ and ‘I can’t breathe without you’ and ‘you give my life meaning’ and all that?”

JJ scrunched his nose. “How could I forget that kind of trauma?”

You stepped closer to him, taking both of his hands in yours. “I’m only going to say this once, we are never to speak of it again and if anyone asks I will deny it.”

JJ choked on a laugh. “Alright, Trouble, you have my attention. I’m listening.”

“That’s just it, J. You have my attention. All of it. All the time. Those romantic movies are the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. They’re absolutely, clinically insane. I don’t get it and I probably never will. All I know is that when I’m drowning, you’re the first person I think about. I know that you’re the only one who has ever seen that I’m so incredibly fucked up and not wanted to fix my behavior. I know that when you’re hurt, which is way too often, I go absolutely batshit with worry, seriously it’s a problem. I know that, especially recently, I can’t stand the sight of you macking on anyone.”

JJ looked like he was losing control, and you hoped that it wasn’t in a bad way. His breaths were coming faster and his hands gripped yours tight. “What are you saying, Trouble?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m saying I’m in love with you, JJ.” JJ's face broke into a blinding smile, encouraging your words. “I can’t promise you that I love you like in John B’s movies—”

“--Thank God.”

“--But I can promise that the way I love you is crazy in its own right. The good kind of crazy. I’m still scared. God, I’m still so scared, JJ. I don’t know how to do this. I’m still so afraid that I’m going to fuck up in some way. So that’s why I’m tell you this now.” You held his face in your hands, pulling him close so that he would hear your words, really hear them. “If you let me love you, I swear on poguelife that as long as it’s in my hands, I will never make a decision that will hurt you. That I promise you.”

You noticed JJ tearing up. He swiped his eyes with his thumb. “Fuck, dude, you’re making me cry.” He laughed tearfully, bringing his hands to rest on your waist and leaning his forehead on yours. “I know, dude. Everything you’re telling me--I know. I know you’re scared. I’ve never seen you scared of anything, even though you really should be, but this scares you. But I love you, yeah?” 

You nodded, biting your lip against the tears.

“Trust that. Please, even if you trust nothing else, trust that I love you. Because it’s where I put my faith. Kie tried to take me to church once, but man I don’t think I have ever had anything nearly as religious as how I feel about you, Y/N. It’s constant. It-it centers me. It grounds me. So if we’re going to do this, you have to promise me something.”

“Two promises in one day? You’re getting greedy there, Maybank.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he assured you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then it’s done.”

“You have to promise me that if you get scared, you’re going to talk. You’re not going to run, you’re going to talk to me and we’re going to figure it out together, yeah?”

“Done. Can I kiss you now?” 

“Fuck, yes. 

And then you heard the screams.

Masterlist

Tag List (If there is a strike through your user it’s bc I couldn’t tag you bc tumblr is wack sometimes…)

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#im back from the dead i'm so sorry ive been gone i promise my reasons are valid and will come soon #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj #jj maybank x you #jj x you #obx #jj x reader #john b x twin!sister!reader #john b x sister! reader #john b x reader #john b #john b routledge #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x female reader #obx rewrite #obx series #jj maybank imagines #jj imagines #jj x reader imagine #jj x reader imagines #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #obx imagines #jj maybank fanfiction #jj fanfiction

[justanobsessedfangirl]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy - Chapter 3 - The Maze Runner Newt Fic

Request from aw0kenangel: Oh shit oh shit The angst 😳 GIVE ME THE ANGST -also question/kind of a suggestion or idea, maybe Thomas could come up in the box next and he and the reader spark a close friendship; ADDING TO THE ANGST HELL YEAH *ahem* sorry

Are you in my head? How’d you know Thomas was coming up ;))))))) 

Request from Anonymous: i’m not sure if you’re taking requests but part 3 of the cheating newt one? if not sorry to bother. <3

I love receiving requests, don’t ever worry about being a bother!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 |  Chapter 5

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

“Find anything new?”

You slowed to a stop as you came out of the Maze. Swiping at the sweat on your forehead, you shook your head at Minho. Your feet ached, your calves burned, and all you wanted to do was sit down, but you had to play your part in the conversation. “The new Greenie came up today, right?”

Minho nodded. It was strange to see him at this time of day, near sunset, not dirty from hours of running. It had been his day off, so he was clean and refreshed and exactly the opposite of you.

“How is he?” you asked. “Or she?” You felt your chest tighten, so slight it was almost unnoticeable. Is the Greenie another Margaret? Your heart thumped painfully against your ribs. Another Newt?

A month wasn’t enough time to adjust to your new reality. A reality where you didn’t kiss Newt, didn’t touch Newt, didn’t even talk to Newt. A reality where you avoided the only other girl in the Glade because every time you saw her you could imagine her lips on his.

You needed to move. You started for the Runner’s Hut, Minho matching your easy jog.

“He tried to run into the Maze.”

You laughed. “Maybe he’ll replace you.”

Minho snorted. “He’s a Slopper for sure.”

You reached the Hut with a smile on your face. “Does he know his name?” As you opened the door, you glanced back to see Minho shake his head. “He’ll get it eventually. Where is he now?”

Minho hesitated. When he finally spoke, his words were quick, like he was hoping they wouldn’t stick. “With Newt.”

You busied yourself getting paper and a pencil, trying to ignore the way your insides froze at the sound of his name.

“But he’ll be at the bonfire tonight. The Greenie. Not Newt. Newt doesn’t usually go anymore...” Minho trailed off.

Unspoken words hung in the air like a bad smell. He doesn’t go anymore because he’s afraid you’ll be there. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that; it was exactly why you didn’t go either.

With a shrug, you sat down. Relief flooded your legs. “I think I’m gonna call it a night after this. Maybe I’ll meet the Greenie tomorrow.” You started mapping the section of the Maze you ran that day.

Minho sat down next to you. “You haven’t been to a bonfire in a while.”

You shrugged again.

“It’ll be fun.” He paused. “You can still have fun, you know.”

Your teeth clenched. The next couple of lines you drew were dark, and you pressed the pencil tip so hard it almost snapped. “I don’t have time for that.”

Minho leaned back in his chair. “Yes, you do, Y/N, you just don’t want to. I know you want to get out of the Maze, but you need to relax sometimes too.” He stood up, walking behind you. “Your shoulders aren’t supposed to be up by your ears!” He put his hands on your shoulders and gave them a light squeeze.

You managed a small smile. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until Minho brought it up, but now, with his warm touch, you could feel how tight you were. Everything about you was coiled, ready to spring up and bolt if you needed to.

“There you go,” Minho said, rubbing your shoulders. “Much better. You have a neck again.”

You spun around and jabbed his side. Minho danced out of the way, cackling. He strode to the door, leaving you and your map. 

“I’ll see you at the bonfire, Y/N!” he called over his shoulder as he ducked out.

Before you could think of all of the reasons why you shouldn’t go, Newt and Margaret and sleep and escape, you heard yourself agree.

The Runner’s Hut was silent after Minho left. You found yourself mapping faster, a small, hidden part of you eager to be with people, mingling around the fire, maybe indulging in a few sips of Gally’s moonshine. A while later, you were done drawing the path you took that day. You locked your map in the trunk with the others. For a few seconds, you couldn’t walk away. You lingered in the Hut, thinking of the maps, thinking of the Maze, thinking, thinking, thinking. Flames of anger licked at the edge of your mind. There was still so much to do. You were about to crack open the trunk again to see if you could piece anything together when you heard the faint roar of the Gladers at the bonfire. 

Swallowing your feelings, you spun on your heel and left the Runner’s Hut.

Night had come while you were inside. A sliver of moon hung in the sky, thousands and thousands of stars surrounding it. You followed the smoky scent to the bonfire. Some boys sat on logs around it, chatting, but a large group was off to the side, forming a ring so thick you couldn’t see what was going on in the center. Their voices fought, shouts against cheers against insults. You heard, “Get him!” and “Shank!” and “Klunk!” and other, more barbaric jeers.

You spotted the back of Minho’s head and weaved your way around bodies as you approached him. When you got there, you jabbed a finger into his side, making him jump.

“You shank-” he whirled. A smile broke on his face when he saw you.

You mustered up the courage to smile back, despite the anxiety chewing at your nerves. Your eyes darted from Minho to the surrounding boys, hoping not to see Newt or Margaret, while also praying that you would see them, hopefully separate from each other, hopefully sad. Was that a flash of her hair, glowing red in the light of the fire?

Before you could get a better look, Minho looped an arm around your shoulder and steered you to his side. A couple of boys were still in front of you, blocking your way. “The Greenie’s in there with Gally!” Minho yelled over the noise. He forced himself between the pair in front of you, dragging you along.

“Sorry,” you called, ducking around elbows and slipping past long legs. When you finally faced the center of the circle, you were met with a scene of violence.

Gally’s hands were curled into meaty fists, the muscles of his arms on full display. His right hand was bloody, but you weren’t sure if it was his, because, scrambling up from the ground in front of Gally, was a bleeding boy you didn’t recognize. He had short brown hair and a split lip. Where Gally was strong the way Builders are, all mass and height and power, the Greenie was lean muscle, built for speed.

Gally lunged. The Greenie ducked out of the way in the nick of time, giving Gally a swift push in the side that sent him sprawling to the ground. The Greenie had time for a smile, a few seconds to relish in the wild applause, and then Gally, on his back in the dirt, delivered a sharp kick to the Greenie’s legs. The Greenie went down, his head slamming to the ground.

“Cheap shot,” you muttered to Minho. 

Minho’s eyes were alight with excitement. “No one’s knocked Gally down for at least the past three bonfires.”

“Maybe the Greenie won’t be a Slopper after all.” You kept your eyes on the new boy. He was lifting his head, his lips moving, but you were too far and the crowd was too loud for you to hear anything. “What’s he saying?”

Around you, the boys were quieting as the Greenie stood.

“Thomas!” the Greenie said. “My name is Thomas!”

There was a beat of silence. Then, from across the circle, Alby pointed at the Greenie and yelled, “Thomas!”

The people around you took it up as though it was a war cry. “Thomas!” they shouted. “Thomas!” Just like that, the circle broke, a mob converging on Thomas to pat his back and shake his hand and let him know that he was one of you.

The swarm of people lasted only a few minutes, but the connection you felt with the other Gladers seemed like it would exist forever. You were one, welcoming Thomas into the sea. Minho was on your right and a Slicer, maybe Winston, was on your left, and in front of you was Clint holding two glasses of moonshine, and little Chuck was somewhere amongst you all, his high voice sounding a cheer that could be heard above the deeper tones of the other boys. For those few seconds, you were unified.

Eventually, people trickled away. Some went to the fire, others to the food, others to the drinks. Gally had disappeared, maybe going into hiding to nurse his wounded ego. Still standing where his triumph had taken place was Thomas, and next to him, you, Minho, and Chuck lingered.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. Now that you were close to Thomas, you could see he had brown eyes and a few moles dotted across his cheeks. He gave you a shy smile and nodded.

“I’m Thomas. In case you missed it.”

Chuck giggled. His face was red and his smile huge. “How could anyone miss that? I bet we woke all the Grievers!”

In an instant, the atmosphere shifted from cheerful to tense. You and Minho glared at Chuck. Blood drained from the boy’s face. He clapped his hands over his mouth.

“What’s a Griever? People keep mentioning them but they won’t explain,” Thomas said. He waited, but neither you nor Minho said a word. “No one answers any questions here.”

It’s for your own good, you thought, it’s safer this way. Sometimes you wished you didn’t know about Grievers. They were walking nightmares, armed with hundreds of different, painful ways to kill someone. It wasn't enough that you had to risk running into them in the Maze. They infiltrated your dreams. How many nights had you awoken in Newt's arms after seeing him get torn apart over and over again? Even now, when your relationship with him was so messy, you wished you could scourge that image from your mind. You wished you could forget about the Grievers.

But that would make you less aware in the Maze. It might even make you think that staying in the Glade was the right thing to do. So, as a Runner, it was your duty to remember the Grievers. To remember the danger. And, as you looked at Chuck, the youngest boy in the Glade, and Thomas, who was still new enough not to be stripped of his innocence, you recognized that it was also your duty to protect them from that knowledge. 

“It was nice meeting you, Thomas.” You began walking away. Minho nodded at Thomas and joined you.

From behind, you heard Chuck’s voice, eager for redemption. “You should hang out with us on your next day off, Y/N!”

As you were turning around to give Chuck and Thomas a smile and an apology (like hell you were taking a day off any time soon) someone else spoke up.

“That’s a good idea.” Newt was approaching the group. He walked slowly, hesitantly. His shoulders were slumped like he was tired, and there was something about his face that seemed different.

You froze.

“I was looking at the schedule yesterday,” Newt continued. He wouldn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the ground, his features hardly visible in the dim light. Half of you wanted to see his eyes, while the other half wanted him to shut up and leave you alone. “You were supposed to rest three days ago.”

Your heart ached at his accent. You gritted your teeth and steeled yourself. “I wasn’t tired.” This was the first time you’d spoken since the time you’d rejected his apology. Pretty weak apology, you thought, remembering his excuse of never seeing another girl and getting “caught up”. In an instant, unresolved rage rushed through your body. You squeezed your fists. You needed to keep this in check. Not in front of the Greenie. Not in front of Chuck and Minho. Not at the bonfire.

“Minho, you know the protocol. She’ll get injured if you let her keep doing this.” Forgotten notes of protectiveness seeped into Newt’s voice. He couldn’t act like this anymore; not after what he’d done.

You opened your mouth.

Minho beat you. “I know.” He looked down at you regretfully. “I’m the Keeper. You need to listen to me if you want to keep your job. And if I want to keep mine.”

You stared at him, lips pursed together. Curses and insults bubbled in your mouth.

“You’re taking tomorrow off,” he said.

“I can’t take tomorrow off! I’m supposed to cover Hank’s section!”

Minho frowned. You wouldn’t look at Newt. You refused to. 

“Fine. After tomorrow you’re taking a day off.” Minho’s tone was firm.

You wanted to argue. You wanted to turn on Newt and tell him off. You wanted to shake some sense into these people. Didn’t they understand how important this was?

“It’ll be fun, Y/N. You’ll like hanging out with us,” Chuck piped up. He sounded genuinely excited, if a little afraid that you’d start yelling at him. Next to him, Thomas stood silently, watching with intelligent brown eyes.

You deflated in a long exhale. “Fine.” You spat the word like it was poison. You gave Minho one last betrayed look, then walked away without a goodbye. Not to Thomas or Chuck, and definitely not to Newt.

The bonfire was over.

You ran angry the next day. With sharp eyes, you scanned every stone on the walls and ground, every patch of dirt, every tangle of vines. Even though you were in a different section, it was all still the same. There was nothing out of the ordinary. You weren’t expecting a glowing exit sign, but you did want something. This couldn’t be a puzzle without a solution.

At one point during the day, when the sun was still high overhead, you thought you heard a scream. It was faint, but it made you stop in your tracks, hold your breath, and wait to hear it again. After nearly a minute had passed with no new noises, you continued running.

Was the scream a sign? Should you try to run towards it? What if it wasn’t a scream, but the screech of metal as a new door opened?

Your legs moved faster. You searched every passage. Every nook and cranny and every dead end. And you found nothing.

You arrived back at the Glade early, sweaty and sore and disappointed. You’d spent the last hour or so trying to tamp down your frustration at your forced rest day tomorrow. You were so angry that you almost ignored Minho when you saw him in the Runner’s Hut. The look on his face made you pause.

“What happened?” you asked.

He was sitting, maps spread in front of him. His eyebrows were scrunched in worry, his mouth twisted in a frown. All of the playfulness had left his expression. Behind you, the sound of the door opening made you turn. Alby walked in. You whipped around to face Minho again as you caught sight of Newt trailing behind your leader.

Just that slight glimpse of him was enough to confirm what you’d thought at the bonfire last night: he was thinner, more somber looking. There were dark circles under his eyes. For a brief second, you let yourself wonder where he was sleeping. Was Margaret not as comfortable to sleep next to as you were? Did he miss the bed you’d shared? Did he miss you?

Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts. “Ben got stung.”

You blinked. “During the day? How?”

Alby and Newt took seats at the table, the latter boy choosing the spot farthest away from where you stood. Alby was the one who answered you. “We don’t know.”

You pulled out a chair and sat. Your hands felt numb. Beneath the table, your legs shook. “Is he still...” you trailed off.

Alby nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “He’s alive in the Slammer. Some Builders are keeping guard.”

Your wide eyes prompted Minho to add, somewhat reluctantly, “He tried to kill Thomas.”

Icy dread flooded your lungs. Your stomach was in your heart, your heart was gone, because instead of a steady pounding you just felt sick. 

You knew Ben. You’d ran with him and laughed with him and lived in this stupid shucking Glade with him, and now, because of a Griever and an unlucky day, he was someone else.

“Y/N-” Newt started, his voice soft.

“Is Thomas okay?” you interrupted. After Minho nodded, you asked, “When is Ben getting banished?” You looked from Minho to Alby, ignoring Newt with every fiber of your being.

“Tonight. Soon,” was Alby’s reply.

You nodded. Clenching and unclenching your hands, you made the numbness go away, replaced with jittery energy. “We’ll have to look in the Maze for any clues tomorrow. Did Ben say where it happened?” You slid one of the maps in front of Minho toward you. “I’ll check out his section tomorrow, we can have someone else cover mine, and-”

“You’re not going, Y/N.” Minho’s voice was hard. When you looked up at him, his face was like stone.

“What?”

“You still need to rest. This doesn’t change that.”

You looked around incredulously. One of them had to see how ridiculous this was. Alby stared back at you, unrelenting. Newt’s eyes were softer. You felt your gaze stop on him. His brown eyes were deep pools of pleading. You could practically hear him in your ear, his accent thick, his words laced with care, as he told you you needed to take a day off.

You forced your eyes back on Minho. “How could this not change everything?” You struggled to keep from shouting. “I’m one of the best Runners! You need me out there.”

"You're wearing yourself out, Y/N. You and I both know that," Minho said.

Your muscles pulsed with soreness in response. You thought of how painful sleeping was, not just because you were alone but because your body never stopped throbbing, and even though every bone in your body ached with exhaustion, your mind could never quiet. "I'm fine," you insisted.

“Minho and I are going to run Ben’s section,” Alby said.

“No offense, Alby, but-”

“Y/N, I think you should leave.” Alby’s tone was more serious than you’d ever heard.

You shook your head. “I still have to draw my map,” you said stubbornly.

Alby rose. “Then we’ll go to the Homestead.”

At his words, Minho and Newt stood up and made for the door, giving you sympathetic looks that you wanted to throw back in their faces. Minho had the gall to pat you on the shoulder. You glared at them.

As he stood in the door, waiting for Minho and Newt to leave, Alby said, in a kinder manner than before, “We’ll tell you everything when we get back tomorrow. We know how good you are. We can’t afford you getting an overuse injury." He stared you directly in your eyes and you saw the smallest shred of fear. "Not right now.”

And then he was gone and you were alone in the Runner’s Hut. The table was clean; you hadn’t noticed Minho take the maps. Moving as if in slow motion, you gathered pencil and paper and began to draw.

So much had happened in one month. How was that possible? You squeezed the pencil tighter, willing your hands to stop shaking. You thought you might cry. You thought you might rip apart the map in front of you. You thought you might shatter into pieces because everything was going wrong and you were no closer to getting out and now your friends were getting hurt and soon you would be even lonelier.

Time passed without you realizing. You must have sketched your section of the Maze five times. Every time you finished, you got another piece of paper. You needed to keep your hands busy. You needed to feel like you were doing something.

Outside, the walls began to rumble. You drew faster. Ben was probably at the entrance right now. Who was pushing him in? Was Ben crying? Was he begging? Was he so damaged from the Griever sting that he was still trying to attack his friends?

Your pencil ripped through the paper and you were drawing on the table and your face was wet and your breath was shaky. The pencil tip snapped. You flung it across the room and dropped your head in your hands and cried.

There wasn’t enough air. Or maybe you just had too many tears. There were tears for Newt and the kiss that felt like it’d happened so long ago, there were tears for Thomas and being attacked in a strange place, there were tears for Chuck for being so young, there were tears for Alby for having to act so old, there were tears for Minho and Ben and all of the other Runners who risked their sanity and their lives and sometimes didn’t get lucky.

You never heard the door open and close. You saw someone set a plate with a sandwich in front of you. You felt their arm settle across your shoulders. You smelled Newt and he smelled like home, and so you pushed away your shame and leaned into him.

He didn’t say anything. He just held you, and when you wrapped your arms around his waist, he let you hold him. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, right by your ear. The ghost of his lips hovered a hair’s length from your skin.

Neither of you said a word.

#the maze runner #the maze runner newt #the maze runner newt x reader #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner preference #the maze runner preferences #maze runner #maze runner newt #maze runner newt x reader #maze runner imagine #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #maze runner preference #maze runner preferences #tmr #tmr newt #tmr newt x reader #tmr imagine #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr preference #tmr preferences #newt #newt x reader #newt imagine #newt imagines #newt preference #newt preferences

[greenninjagal-blog]

Fool Me Thrice

Hey guys! My three day spoiler free band is up so now you guys get to see what I did immediately after that new video (FwSA) came out! 

Summary: The aftermath of FwSA but Virgil was actually Janus in disguise the whole time. (featuring: Janus breaking down to tears and Roman being really confused.)

Word Count: 4734

Quick Taglist:@alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones  @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders  

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

“DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX!” Janus yells, but the incessant bubbling in his stomach causes the edges of his lips to quirk up anyway. It’s a ridiculous, intoxicating feeling, and it’s curling around his insides like a snake coiling around its prey. He wants to smile. He wants to jump. He wants to sing.

But Virgil doesn’t do any of those things unless under threat and pressure and Janus has to keep-- he’s still pretending-- Janus is impersonating Virgil.

He’s not doing a very good job of it, and he knows. Ever since that stranger at the food court, that stranger who might be gay, that stranger whose name is Nico Flores and happens to write songs-- Ever since Nico uttered those silly, little words, and Thomas’s Heart and Creativity had swamped the controls, the more….intellectual sides were finding it hard to….think.

Everything’s fuzzy and blurry and Janus keeps trying to hit back that buzzing between his ears that comes every time that Roman and Patton team up and get lost in their contagious excitement. Virgil, certainly, is probably docile by now, flooded with the warm feelings that make it hard to panic over anything for at least another hour because he’s too busy riding that high of the “honeymoon” phase of dating-- before he remembers that it's possible that Nico might be a Serial Killer who lures his victims into relationships before slicing their throats and hiding their bodies in the woods.

He doubts that Logan’s having fun either: he hadn’t even bothered to show up when they had first spotted Nico across the cafeteria, not even to throw out that suggestion of saying “I see from your stickers we have similar interests. Let us discuss the possibility of future copulation now.” Which, of course, spells all sorts of troubles that Janus is going to have to fix later.

Later which seems to be now, because Thomas is jittery from the excitement flowing off of Roman and Patton and he is going to text Joan all about it which requires none of Janus-Virgil’s help.

It’s a flawless escape. Janus smiles inwardly, at the gooey feeling of pride in his stomach. He did it! One whole video, completely undercover! 

It figures that Virgil would be the key. 

Of all of them...well, Janus has always known Virgil the best. Anxiety and Self Preservation have gone hand in hand since Thomas was in diapers still. Janus grew up watching the curve of Virgil’s tense shoulders, watching the flickering of his eyes watching the entry points of the room, watching Virgil’s smirk curl and his eyeshadow bloom and--

And Janus knows Virgil hates him right now, even underneath the gooey layer of good feelings Patton is pumping through all of the Thomasphere. Janus even thinks that if he pops in to check on the little ball of nerves, Virgil will come back to his senses and start a murderous rampage on his way to stop Janus from ever impersonating any of them ever again. Which is definitely what Thomas needs right now. 

Whatever. He can celebrate his victory privately.

Thomas is happy. That’s all that matters right now. The rest can wait until the good emotions in Thomas calm down and Janus can think clearly again: he’ll get out his fermented grape juice and pour it in a glass so he can feel fancy and then he’ll figure out how to deal with Logan, listen to Patton’s emotional-gushing-that-ends-in-overwhelmed-tears, entertain the Duke’s R rated fantasies with a polite smile, congratulate the Prince for his victory, and then after all that he’ll send Virgil a card via messenger dove to thank him for his...bravery.

And then he’ll go to sleep for two hours, and hopefully when he wakes back up Thomas will not be on fire.

That’s… that’s a reasonable hope, right? He’s not asking too much of the other idiot sides, right?

The buzz between his eyes sharpens for a second, as Thomas shakes his hands some more, with a grin that Janus would absolutely die for. It's almost regrettable because if anyone took a moment to look at him, to look at the way he looks at Thomas, they would see immediately what his weakness is: Janus is Self Preservation, Self Importance, Self, self, self. 

He’s weak for Thomas’s smile. The gut force that drives Virgil to do things is protection, so he tries to make Thomas recognize everything as a threat; for Roman its creation, so he tries to push Thomas to achieve all of his dreams. For Janus it's Thomas’s id wants, so he does whatever it takes to keep him happy.

A smile on Thomas’s face means that Janus is doing good, that he’s doing right by Thomas. Who cares if in the end he’s the villain of the story? Who cares about him when there’s Thomas?

Thomas thanks him again-- actually he thanks Virgil, but Janus' face flushes anyway. The feeling in his stomach washes over him, leaving his knees weak and his lips smiling. Is this what being giddy is? He suddenly understands, suddenly, why Patton subscribes to that whole “Thomas is morally and objectively the best” philosophy; It’s a nice feeling, even if it makes it hard for Janus to concentrate on keeping Virgil’s eyeshadow the right color.

Thomas rushes by him-- almost close enough to touch again and wow Janus’ hands were still tingling from that; He forgot that Virgil was always able to touch their host-- and runs up the stairs to go scream in a pillow and text Joan the brilliant news and Janus takes that as his cue.

Time to wrap it up and go. (to sleep. Oh god, he can hear his bed calling for him already.) 

But when he turns back to the last side in the room, Roman is pressing his knuckles to his lips and staring at the blinds in Thomas’s living room like he can set them on fire with his mind.

“Princey?” Janus asks, his own smile slipping. “What’s up?”

Roman snaps over to look at him-- to look at Virgil, whom he trusts and likes and appreciates and who is definitely not Janus at all. Despite that, the way that Roman is looking at him with furrowed eyebrows that would sing of a scowl if Patton had been doing his job just slightly not as well as he is currently, forces Janus to check to make sure he’s still wearing Virgil’s appearance.

“I can’t figure it out,” Roman says, looking like he just caught his best friends in the middle of decorating for his surprise birthday party. “Why?”

Janus squeezes his eyes closed trying to focus on what Roman was talking about. He knows that he missed at least one thing that was said in the hullabaloo all day, but he didn’t think it was something that Roman of all sides would be upset about. Why, what? Roman got the guy. What was so complicated about that?

Actually asking why is more on brand for Virgil.

For a ridiculous second Janus wonders if that was Virgil wearing Roman’s outfit and pretending to be him the way that Janus was pretending to be Virgil. But Janus is decently sure that Virgil can’t resist insulting Janus for more than five seconds at a time, and they’ve been side by side for hours now.

(And hadn’t that been nice? If Janus had just closed his eyes, he could have imagined the grateful smile Roman had given Virgil had been meant for him.) 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Ro,” Janus shrugs. “But I’m gonna go. All these good emotions are like...disgusting.” He sticks out his tongue that way that he’s seen Virgil do every time that Thomas has to eat the carrots his mom put on his plate just to sell the act, but Roman’s jaw sets.

“Why did you do that?” Roman bursts out before Janus can get all the way out, “Why? Janus!”

Janus should have run then, should have pretended that Virgil hadn’t heard him at all and let the other sides argue with each other, but his name is so new and shiny and no one ever uses it. The words vibrate through the air like needles and the next thing he knows is that he’s pinned in place, frozen, and Roman is looking very not-happy anymore.

Ha, so he knew. Looks like Janus can’t get through a video without being outed.

“I know it's you, you slimy snake,” Roman says. “Will you stop wearing Virgil’s face already! I want an answer!”

Janus’s tongue flicks in his mouth, rolling over the back of his teeth as he tries to think of the best way to handle this when all of his thoughts have to process through the molasses that is the gooey happiness Thomas is feeling and his own exhaustion.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Janus says, as blase as he can make it.

Which is….maybe not his best idea. The buzzing in his head makes the rest of the room go blurry for a second, in and out of focus and it’s so very helpful. 

Roman’s face goes red, stuck somewhere between being angry and being insulted. He reaches out and Janus’ legs do that thing where they don’t work so when he throws his weight back, away, out of reach, his body goes plummeting to the foot of the stairs as well.

Roman yelps, leaning forward for a moment maybe with the intent to help him back up but Janus throws up a hand to stop him before he knows for sure. His eyelids are heavy, he realizes, and he’s tired and he really doesn’t want to have a fight with Roman right now.

“I had fun, Roman. Thank you for the... entertainment this evening.” He says, dropping the last of his stellar Virgil impression. He wonders how long he had Roman fooled, if he had him fooled at all for any point. Does he dare wonder how many of those smiles were given knowing that it was Deceit in disguise?

(He doesn’t and he resents the implication that he cares what the others think of him.)

“Congrats on wooing the boy or whatever.” Janus climbs back up to his feet and brushes imaginary dust off his tunic. Or it could be real. He’s not sure considering that he’s so tired he can’t see anything in front of him.

“You fiend!” Roman snarls, “What did you do to our Stormcloud?”

“Why don’t you go find out?”Janus suggests, with a half-assed flourish, even by his own standards, “Or better yet, don’t. In the meantime, I’ll be in my room.”

But Roman snags his arm and holds him up and Janus is acutely aware that sinking out with another side is troublesome and takes so, so much focus and energy. (And Romans touch is scalding. It’s burning. It’s white hot and Janus wasn’t aware he had been freezing before.)

“I’m tired of this game, Snakes and Ladders!” Roman says. “Tired of not knowing what you’re up to! Tired of not knowing what Thomas wants! Tired of getting backseat to self care and morality and-- and I’m Tired, Janus! Why do you keep doing this to me?!”

And hooooooo, does that strike something in Janus! The soft feelings in his chest burn right up in an anger he hadn’t even known he had been feeling. But it must have been there for a while because it boils right through him, leaving his chest smoldering and his mouth tasting like ashes.

“You think you’re tired?” He snaps, burns, blazes. There’s something in this throat, and it makes every word catch fire when it comes out of his mouth. And even Roman has enough sense to know that fire is dangerous and that he’s going to be cremated if he doesn’t step back.

“You think you’re tired,” Janus repeats, taking a step forward so that they’re nearly toe-to-toe and he can see the way that Roman’s Adam's apple bobs. “What about me, Roman? Don’t you think I’m tired? That I’m exhausted? That I know I’m going to have to sink back down and figure out what is wrong with Logan and listen to Patton and keep Remus busy and make sure that none of you morons overpower the others and drive Thomas directly into the ground? That I haven’t slept a full night since the whole start of these videos and moral dilemmas and whatever else? Every time I turn around Thomas is making another lie: to his friends, to his family, to himself! Don’t you think that I… that I…”

Roman is staring at him.

Janus’s head pounds. The room around him sways and he thinks that maybe...maybe the reason he can’t think straight right now doesn’t actually have anything to do with Patton’s elation keeping Thomas busy.

“Oh,” Janus says because he blinked and now he’s on the floor. 

He blinks again and Roman is right next to him, looking concerned-- how ridiculous. Roman being concerned for him. Ha.

“Janus…” Roman’s voice is low, which makes Janus aware suddenly that everything else had been so loud all this time. He grits his teeth when Roman waves a hand and magics up… what are those, tissues? Why would he--

Oh.

Janus is crying. He reaches a hand up tentatively rubbing away the tears, and has to swallow a laugh. Oh, he's crying. When was the last time he cried? When was the last time he cried in front of someone else? 

He's so, so tired. And that's the reason-- the only reason, mind you-- that when Roman scooches closer, a centimeter, an inch, a foot, and then rests his hand on Janus' shoulder, Janus doesn't push him off and immediately sink out to his room. It takes too much energy to lock a room, even his, from the others and Roman would surely follow after him and demand answers.

Roman’s touch is a shaky, changing warmth. Janus noticed it earlier when Roman had said the word “Bravery” and Janus hadn’t been able to form an actual response because he was so busy wondering if this was how all touch was supposed to feel. But now he thinks he can count every single atom that is touching him and the awareness hums in his veins in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

He sucks in an equally shaky breath and tries not to look like he’s leaning into the feeling. His stomach rolls around, twisting and churning to the point where it hurts. He might be able to blame this on a stomach bug. The other sides probably wouldn’t look farther than that. They don’t like him enough to look farther than that.

“Janus,” Roman says again, calling him by name and Janus wants to tell him to stop. He sounds like he cares and Janus knows it’s a lie. He thinks it’s a lie. He’s pretty sure it’s a lie.

It’s hard to tell right now, especially when his own inner desire is yearning for it not to be. He can’t trust himself when he’s like this. He always ends up doing something stupid.

Like sitting at the foot of Thomas’s stairs crying in front of Roman.

“Fuck,” Janus says, and laughs, like this was part of his grand master plan that definitely exists. He ignores the tissues Roman places at their knees and uses the back of his palms to get rid of those pesky, unprofessional tears. “My most humble apologies, my dear prince. Too much fun today I suppose--”

“Janus,” Roman cuts him off, and Janus wishes his sharp inhale was a little less noticeable. “Are you… Did….”

Janus can feel how Roman’s thumb is rubbing his shoulder, slow circles like a loading screen while he tries to weave together a sentence that makes coherent sense.

“Why?” Roman decides. “Why are you...why did you help Thomas meet Nico? Why did you force him to do it naturally without any lies? I thought you liked when Thomas tells lies!”

Janus snorts, which is a bad decision because his nose is runny and, god, now there’s snot all over his face, which just makes the lump in the back of his throat grow larger. He snatches up the stupid tissues and tears open the pack.

“I don’t--” Janus wipes away the snot, and tosses the tissue into oblivion. “I don’t want Thomas to lie all the time. Do you think I’m crazy, Roman? I have to manage every lie Thomas tells himself! It’s… It’s… imagine if you had to make a new video script every single day.”

Janus can see Roman’s confused look. It's adorable really, like a puppy that just got told to “Stay.” He recognizes that Janus is saying something, that Janus is talking to him, but the full meaning of the words is lost on him.

“If it's so taxing, why do you do it, then?” He asks, like it's some sort of choice and not his job.

“Why do you make video scripts? Why do you help Thomas practice his lines? Why do you take him on daydreams when he’s bored?” 

“Because he asks me to,” Roman answers without a single hesitation. “Wait….”

Janus leans forward pressing his chin to his knees. His eyes close for a moment, two, three while Roman struggles to understand what Janus isn’t blatantly saying.

“Imagine if Thomas asked you to make a new video script every single day. Do you think you could say no to that?”

Roman makes a wounded noise from deep in the bottom of his soul. It resonates in the air between them, like an elephant neither of them wants to admit is there. Janus breathes in deeply, and wards off the fresh round of lovely wonderful tears that come from his lovely wonderful headache.

“I’m sorry about the court case, Roman,” Janus says. The words feel dangerous, like throwing knives and Roman flinches back, leaving the spot on Janus’s shoulder painfully freezing. “I wanted-- I wanted Thomas to do what he loved. I wanted him to stop lying about wanting to go to the callback and I thought that if I just made it so that only you could make the decision it would be easier! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Janus breathes in, but somehow it seems that all the oxygen in the room had dissipated without their knowledge. He gasps a few times, trying to get a steady rhythm back but the white noise in his head and the itch behind his eyes keep throwing him off. 

There’s laughter-- it takes him a moment to realize it's his own. Which is just great, just fantastic, just what he needed. He finally got the sordid apology out and now he’s laughing. 

But Roman is looking at him not with a scowl, but with some other emotion Janus can’t quite name through his blurry vision. For a second he thinks it might be fear-- which is even more funny than the idea that Virgil had been pretending to be Roman this whole time. In the safety of Thomas’s apartment, when Thomas had just gotten the boy of his dreams, when Janus was on the ground out of secret agendas to hide, what is there for Roman to fear?

“I just--” Janus gasps one more time, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. “Thomas deserves a win. You deserve a win. That's why I wanted to help with Nico.” He feels like his head is going to pop right off. Maybe if he asks nicely Roman will get out his sword and do it free of charge and relatively painlessly.

“So I...ha, so I spent all day playing dress up,” Janus hates the wobble in his voice. “And now I’m a day behind on managing all my work and now Patton’s going to want to talk about what happened today, and someone needs to listen to Remus and Logan is obviously not doing too well so I have to check on him-- and Virgil too even though Virgil will probably throw something at me but I have to….And then Thomas is going to need me and I have…. I have to…”

“You really… you really do all that?” Roman says in a small voice that doesn’t suit him at all. “All by yourself?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else to help, Roman.” Janus says before he can stop himself.

“I’ll help you!”

Janus freezes. Because, well.

He’s heard those words before, hasn’t he? Not all that too long ago. When the divide between dark and light was more defined and Thomas hadn’t started posting videos with them in it and Janus wasn’t afraid of the purple door in the middle of the hall.

He knows how this conversation goes all too well.

But Janus apparently can’t learn any new tricks because he still says, “No, I can do this myself.”

(“You’ll kill yourself from stress, Jan!” Virgil had yelled. “Then where will we be?”

“I have everything under control, Virgil! I don’t need any help! Just drop it, okay?”

“Thomas and the Light sides are running you ragged and you want me to pretend like it isn’t hurting you? Are you crazy? They need to stop lying so much!” 

“No! I can handle this!”

“Janus!”

“Virgil!”

“I can’t let you keep doing this,” Virgil had said, “If you won’t do something I will.”

“Don’t you dare!”

But he had. And now he was a light side, an accepted side, everyone’s favorite side. And he was slowly convincing Thomas to stop lying by turning Janus into something to be feared and avoided. How quaint. How trademark.)

Roman is staring at him. Janus can feel the weight of his eyes on him, and somehow that's worse than his hand on Janus’ shoulder. It’s heavier. It’s harder to just shrug off. It means something more.

Because Roman isn’t talking. And Janus isn’t hiding.

And if the words weren’t so hard to say, he thinks that maybe Virgil was right, and he should apologize.

“Huh,” Roman says after the silence threatens to swallow them both. He clears his throat and mercifully looks away, staring at that painting over Thomas’s couch. “I didn’t think you were stupid.”

Janus hisses at him, at the idea of him. But Roman flicks his fingers.

“Oh come on, Ouroboros,” Roman says. “You handle all of Thomas’s lies, and then you’re out there looking after each of us sides as well? I think after 31 videos we can all agree that one side being entire in control of Thomas is a bad thing! So why are you still trying to do everything?”

Janus has a very good answer. The best answer. 

But Roman’s elbow reaches out and nudges him and all his thoughts scatter into the air. Maybe that was intentional, but Janus can’t find the energy in himself to really be angry about it. 

“I…” Janus says, “I just want Thomas to be happy.”

“So do the rest of us too, Snakecrates!-- Get it? Like Socrates?-- Not gonna lie, your way to make him happy is truly… the foulest of methods, but at the end of the day we’re all a part of him.” Roman says. “Maybe instead of trying to puppet master this you could...try working with us? Like showing up as yourself instead of using Virgil’s or Logan’s face again?”

Janus snorts again. The backs of his eyelids shoot bright red stars across his vision. “As if. None of you would listen if I did things that way.”

Roman nudges him again. “It's just a suggestion, Slitherous Snape.”

“How many of those do you have?”

“Nicknames?” Roman pauses, and Janus guesses that he’s counting on his hand. “Dunno. A lot. I never get to use them because you show up in someone else’s clothes and I don’t realize it’s you. All the more reason you should listen to me and just show up as your usual self!”

Janus must have made a noise, but his brain is too preoccupied with the fact that the carpet in Thomas’s apartment is actually really comfy and if he buries his head in his knees the room is actually dark. His headache is a dull repetitive thob, like a drum beat that if he doesn’t focus too much on becomes a noise he can fall asleep to.

“I thought you hated me.” He admits, in a quiet tone and only partially hopes that it was too low for Roman to hear.

“Fool me once,” Roman says in a soft tone, humming like it's a melody. “Shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice…”

He sighs deeply.

“And I think that means we need to actually think about talking out things like adults.” Roman nudges him again, and then places his arm around Janus’s shoulders. “But not right now, when you’re half dead from exhaustion. Let’s get you to your room, Jan.”

There’s a cold feeling around both of them, washing over Janus’s muscles like a flood, as they sink down. His eyes open briefly just in time to make out his own room surroundings before Roman drops him on his bed.

Oh, it’s really comfortable. Has his body always sunk into his mattress like this?

“Get some sleep, Deceit,” Roman says.

“Wait... Logan…” Janus definitely does not whine.

“I’ll handle the nerd.” 

There are so many reasons why that’s a bad idea-- Janus knows there are a bunch of reasons because he wrote them down on flashcards to study in between grieving Virgil leaving the dark sides and managing the lies Thomas tells day to day and the ones he had going on forever and the ones that sides told each other and--.

But before he can say any of that, Roman sifts a gentle hand through his hair and Janus loses the ability to think again.

(Janus really doesn’t remember when Roman gained that power.)

He curls up almost unintentionally on his bed, and Roman makes a noise that could have been a laugh, if Janus cared enough to check.

“Sweet dreams,” Roman says softly.

“W…wait!” Janus gathers the last bit of his energy, the residue from the gooey feelings Thomas was harboring, and surges after Roman before he can leave all the way. “How did you... know it was me? And not…”

“Virgil?” Roman offered. “You kept messing with the eyeshadow, Janus. He has that angsty charcoal color on twenty-four-seven. You kept changing it to purple. I mean I liked it, but that’s not his style.”

Janus frowns. “No….he has the purple when he’s happy. I know he has the purple… He only started wearing the black...when he was trying to freak out Thomas.” He sighs and settles back into his pillow. “It glows...when he’s happy…”

Janus has plenty of memories about that, too. They were some of his favorites: Virgil on Christmas morning when the prospect of presents was more scary than the idea of all Thomas’s relatives coming over, Virgil on late nights watching cryptid history shows with Remus and talking about marrying Mothman when Thomas got older, Virgil right after he first appeared to Thomas, glowing in all senses of the word because their host knew who he was. 

Janus remembers being a little upset when Virgil covered it up, because it was another lie then: Virgil was hiding part of who he was and the three of them had always agreed on no lies between them. 

Besides Virgil had always looked younger with the purple, looked more happy, looked more approachable. He looked like he was excited to see Janus and not like he would rip out his throat if they ended up in a room alone together. 

Virgil was purple long before he had been black, and Janus thinks he might have been in love with him even before that too.

Who had he been talking to, again?

Janus gets the distinct feeling something is wrong, but his pillows are comfy, and his mattress is soft and he’s been running on fumes for far too long. He’s fast asleep before he realizes that Roman is still in his room, frowning, and wondering if that meant Virgil had never actually been happy around the Light Sides at all. 

#sanders sides #Au #Janus Sanders #Roman Sanders #virgil sanders #crying #sleep deprivation #Oh god Janus is so tired guys #touch starvation #TS Spoilers #fwsa spoilers #Roman has no clue what he's doing here #anxceit #angst/comfort #then angst again #I'm only kinda sorry about it #Hey have you guys heard my new hc #for why Virgil and Janus can't stand each other #Janus is a workaholic

[ninnodesu]

The New Matriarch, ch 7.

AN: Prrrffffttt... Here we go.I feel like the small introduction to the story is now over and done. Let's see if we might get a small-time skip next chapter, who knows? I don't! This chapter is mainly just some porch cuteness with Tommy to ease the transition from Stranger to Part of the Family <3

From now on, the writing is probably going to change a bit, not a whole lot, but a small bit. I’m also starting school at the time this chapter is uploaded, I’m gonna try and get some writing in though so don’t worry! 

Have fun guys, and thanks for reading! 

You

Hands… sweaty, sticky hands traveling over your body. Leaving disgusting burning sensations where they’ve been, groping, pulling, pinching… invading. A breath of alcohol, a tongue running over your cheek.

You wake up with a silent scream, a sheen of sweat covering your already hot body.

A dream, it was only a dream.

Your breathing is heavy, your entire body is shaking. You need air, you need to get out of bed, you need to leave. A sudden urge to escape starts building in your whole body as you get up on shaking legs, anxiety and panic wreaking havoc inside you. The room you’re in seems to start shrinking, pushing you close to hyperventilating. “I need to get out of here.”, you start to panic even more and rush to pull Thomas’ shirt back on and hurry outside as fast but silently as you can as to not wake up the cacophony of snoring you hear on and close to the main floor.

Finally reaching the main door you pull it open with force and throw yourself at the screen door, slamming it a little harder than you intended.

Outside, you feel a sudden wave of nausea overcome you, making you clutch at your stomach to prepare yourself to vomit, though nothing ever happens. You brace yourself on the railing and try to steady your breathing as your body starts registering the fresh air that surrounds you.

“Oh god… Oh god… Breathe.”, deciding to focus on everything around you, you look around to ground yourself. The sun is starting to rise in the horizon and you figure it’s either really, really early or the sun rises early here. No one else is up and you didn’t bother checking the time on your way out. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of the wooden railing under your hands, grabbing the railing harder to feel the hard material, the dampness of morning seeping into your palms. The chilly air of an early morning grazing your exposed legs making your skin pebble. The sound of a fox somewhere, a bird. Something moving in the grass close to the house.

Slowly you feel your pulse starting to relax, your breathing even out, nausea ebbs away. You let out a sigh at some point and feel your whole body relax.

Suddenly, you hear a small huff behind you and you turn to your right to see a large man standing in the doorway looking at you. Somewhere deep inside you, something flickers to life.

Happiness. There he was, your beacon of light. “Hi, Thomas.”, you whisper. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry if I did, I…”, you trail off as you see him half shrug and make an “Eh, kinda”-movement of his head. He didn’t move much from the doorway, only taking a step out to close both the main door and screen door, seemingly at peace leaning up to the door frame.

You turned your attention out on the yard in front of you again. The floorboards started creaking behind you before a low grunt was right behind you, turning you saw Thomas had sat down on the bench behind you, realizing this is the closest you’ve been to him since the incident in the barn. Being in a better state of mind you saw how huge he actually was, the bench almost disappeared under him.

Then he surprised you; he motioned you over to sit down next to him. You couldn’t read his intentions, but you didn’t feel any hostility from him, but he did seem shy and timid. Like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do either, or what he himself was doing even. But you accepted, and curled up into a ball next to him, making sure to not take up too much space so he could be as comfortable as possible on the small bench.

It’s quiet for only a minute or two before you speak up. “Do you know… what time it is?”, you looked up at him after finding your own comfortable position, resting your head on your shoulder. He seemed to think before first holding up three fingers on one hand, one the other, and five straight after. You just hummed while trying to decipher his makeshift way of telling you the time. “Oh… fifteen minutes past three?”, you asked when you figured it out, and he nodded. “Oh, I’m uh… I’m sorry for waking you up. I just... “, he cocked an eyebrow at you, nodding to continue. “I had a nightmare.”, you chuckled lightly at how childish you sounded and tried hiding a small bit of embarrassment. “I panicked and had to get some air.”, he nodded again, again surprising you when he seemed to try and… comfort you. He gently patted your arm with two fingers, as if he was scared of touching you. But you just smiled at him, appreciating his gesture. “Thanks.”

You both fall into silence for a while, you just listen to his muffled breathing as you sneakily stole glances of him. He had his eyes closed, head leaning back against the house, exposing his wide neck, one quick thought of what kind of sound he would make with your lips on it raced through your mind before you felt your cheeks warm-up and you shook your head to delete it. You doubted he was actually asleep, probably just enjoying the outdoors. You traced the shape of his uncovered face, trying your best to get any kind of sneak peek under his mask, the only thing you saw was a bit of his mouth, lips seemingly chapped but thick and soft to the touch. Your eyes traveled down his chest, his apron was gone but he had the shirt and tie you’ve seen him with. The tie was loose around his neck, his sleeves rolled up exposing muscular arms covered in scars, the sight broke your heart.

Oh, Thomas… Don’t tell me you did that…

Out of nowhere, your thoughts are interrupted as Thomas suddenly stands up, and you jolt. “Wh… what’s wrong?”, you look up at him but he motions you to stay put with his hands and holds up one finger “One minute” . “O...okay.”, you’re dumbfounded as to what just suddenly happened and you just sit there looking around as he goes inside.

It takes a few minutes for him to return, this time with a worn-out notepad and a pen, he seems to smile behind his mask as the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. He sits back down next to you and starts scribbling something on the piece of paper and hands it to you. “What’s this?”, he points down to it and you guess he wants you to read it. “Kit?”, you look up and are confused, having no idea what he means by that three-lettered word. He nods excitedly and points to himself first. “You’re Thomas, yes…”, then he points to the note and to you. “And I’m… Kit…?”, you raise an eyebrow while the cogs in your brain turn. “Are you… giving me a name, Thomas?”

A smile, and a nod, before he takes the notepad back and starts writing again. His handwriting isn’t the best, his spelling and grammar are a bit off as well, but you figured it’s because he left school at an early age. But it’s both readable and understandable.

“ You need a name. Canot walk round without 1”

The notepad leaves your hands again, one last sentence is written down.

“You are family now”

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

Thomas B. Hewitt

Thomas scratches the back of his head as he’s heading back down to sleep after a visit to the bathroom, he glances at the clock.

Three. Three more hours of sleep, nice.

He cuddles up on the bed again, hugging his pillow and nuzzles into it. It smells like absolute shit, but he doesn’t really care at this point as he drifts off to sleep again. It feels like he’s been asleep for no time at all as he’s awoken by a slam coming from upstairs.

Whu… Who left now?

He groans and tries to ignore that annoying feeling of curiosity that’s growing inside of him as sleep is starting to escape him. He turns over to his back and just stares at the ceiling in pure annoyance.

Fine! he thinks to himself as he throws his hands up in defeat.

He drags himself out of bed and buckles his mask back on, he shoves his feet into his boots and trudges up the stairs carefully as to not wake his brother and uncle. Through the window out on the porch, he sees a figure hulking in the railing, head hung low, shoulders heaving. As he gets closer he starts to recognize the hair that’s resting on the figure's shoulder, one strand falling forward.

Kit…

He slowly opens the screen door but decides to keep on standing in the doorway, letting out a quiet huff to let her know easily that he’s there. His heart rate goes up a tad when she turns to look at him. She has a certain look in her eyes he can’t fully place. She seems… happy to see him, but it’s not the… usual happiness his mama gives him. There’s something else in her eyes. “Hi, Thomas.”, her voice is low. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry if I did, I…”, Thomas just gives her half a shrug and cocks his head to the side.

Yes, and no. I had to pee, anyway. But why are you up…

He just watches her stand at the railing, she turns from him and looks out to the yard. He follows her eyes and watches as the landscape becomes lighter by the second. He lifts an eyebrow in her direction, something about this doesn’t seem alright to him. He steps out of the doorway and closes the main door plus the screen door and leans up to it at first, but quickly decides to shuffle over to the bench behind her, cursing the stupid floorboards that give him away.

He lets out a low grunt as he sits down, this bench is so goddamn low compared to him. She turns and watches him.

What? I wanted to sit down with you, come on.

He motions to the seat beside him, hoping she gets what he wants her to do. And she does. He makes sure that there’s enough room, cramming himself to the armrest, making his right arm hang over the bench instead of pinching it between his fat thigh and metal armrest. She seems to do the same, curling into a ball, leaving a big gap between the two of you.

Look, I’m not going to bite you.

It’s quiet for only a minute or two before she suddenly decides to say something, making a part of him relax. “Do you know… what time it is?”, Thomas glances over at her, trying to figure out how to tell her, when the idea strikes. He lifts three fingers on his right hand, one on his left, and then five straight after the one.

Three fifteen., he tells himself internally like she could read his mind, his little charade making him feel like an actual idiot when she just looks at him as a small hum leaves her throat. “Oh… fifteen minutes past three?”, he nods. “Oh, I’m uh… I’m sorry for waking you up. I just…”, he raises an eyebrow and nods at her, wanting her to continue.

You didn’t, go on.

“I had a nightmare.”, a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth out of view from her as he sees her trying to hide her embarrassment. “I panicked and had to get some air”, Thomas nods again and feels a sudden urge to comfort her come over him. He slowly reaches out to her, but right before his hand lands on her arm, he retracts it, deciding to only pat her arm with two fingers. The smile she gives him makes his heart jump a bit.

“Thanks.” A part of him was surprised that she didn’t run away after he had touched her, even if it was only two of his fingers patting her slightly. But she seems content, relaxed. The air between Thomas and her was calm, the silence and occasional animal sound started to lull him into sleepiness again, and he leaned his head back against and closed his eyes.

I’m just gonna rest my eyes…

After a few minutes, his eyes shoot wide open and he almost jumps off the bench.

SHIT! NOTEPAD! PEN!

He starts to head inside before he turns to the girl and motions her to stay right there before he runs inside to rummage around the kitchen to try and find a notepad. “ Come on, come on…”, he mumbles quietly until he finds what he’s looking for and grabs a worn-out notepad and a stumpy little pen, and heads out again. He smiles big at the girl as he sits back down and starts writing out the name he had given her. His writing is so shaky this time, he’s nervous.

I hope you like this name.

He looks it over once and then hands it over to her. “What’s this?”, he lets out a silent huff and points to it.

Read it…

“Kit?”, she seems confused, she has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about, and it shows. So, he nods first and proceeds to point to himself. “You’re Thomas, yes…”, then he points to the note, and up at her. Hoping she’ll understand now. “And I’m… Kit…?”, he sees in her eyes that she’s figuring it out. “Are you… Giving me a name, Thomas?”

Yes!

He smiles and nods towards her, and takes the notepad back to scribble down something else, and that’s when he realizes that his handwriting, spelling, and grammar are… worse than he thought. Usually, the only writing he does is dating on meat packages.

“ You need a name. Canot walk round without 1"

When he notices she’s finished reading, he takes it back again.

“ You are family now"

#The New Matriarch #TNM #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas #thomas hewitt fanfictiom #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction

[primitivejunketer]

I Want To Tell You- A George Harrison FanFiction

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Chapter 4- It’s Been A Long Long Time

Fic Summary: George and Rosemarie have been next door neighbors their entire lives. As they grow older, feelings grow stronger. Will they fall in love or fall apart? angst/fluff/slow burn

Chapter Summary: Cuteness! George and Rose face conflict in their school years and feelings begin to erupt.

Word Count: 1818

Rating: T

Warnings: explicit language

Note from the author: This is the chapter that really got me excited for this fic, I hope everyone enjoys!

Listen while you read xx

---

February 9, 1954

George laid on his bed, listening to the classical Indian music his mother was playing on the record player downstairs. 

A knock came from the already opened door, "Can I come in mate?" His older brother, Peter, asked. 

"Yeh." 

"You alright?" Peter asked. 

"I just don't wanna go. I don't see why it matters anyway." George answered stoutly. 

"We all went, it's like a right of passage. It's traditional." 

"It's stupid, Rose is staying at public school and I'm sure she'll be just fine." George scoffed, jealous of his best friend. 

"G, will you at least try not to be so bitter about it? Mum and dad just want what's best for you, and I'm sure you'll get on in no time," he said. 

"I guess." George sighed, picking up the guitar. 

"Chin up, mate." Pete said, patting George on the shoulder before leaving his room.

-

June 11, 1954

"So, your birthday is next week, anything special you want?" George asked with a grin. 

"You already know what I want." Rose snarked back. 

The two met at the park near their house for some peace and quiet. Lately this seemed to be a weekly affair to blow off steam when their families became too much. 

"Rosie, something I can actually give you." George pleaded. 

"You can actually give me this!" Rose mocked. 

"You know I can't." 

"I just don't know what I'm gonna do without you." Rosemarie sighed. 

George opened his arms for a hug, just as Rose leaned into the embrace they heard a voice from behind. 

"Awww, saying bye to your boyfriend, Rosie Posie?" A boy from their school, Fred, that had tormented the two for years arrived with two other boys. 

"Grow up, Fredrick." Rose said, annoyed. 

"I mean, it's obvious, match made in hell for two freaks." Another boy from the group teased. 

"Hey boys, why don't you fuck off and give me a minute with my girl." George spat, his arm still wrapped around Rose. 

This was the first time George had ever referred to Rose in a romantic manner. She could feel the color coming to her cheeks. 

"Come on George, lets just go." Rose attempted to walk away to avoid further confrontation, but was stopped by Fred's voice, "yeah you should, slag." 

Rose turned with her hand raised, but George beat her to it. 

"You bastard!" He shouted, landing a blow on Fred's cheek. The two began to brawl. As the other boys jumped in, Rose fought, too. She kicked and bit and even pulled hair. 

"You bloody wanker don't hurt him!" She screamed. 

To their demise, a nearby police office saw the fight.

He separated the children and attempted some poor form of conflict resolution. 

"Get on out of here or I'll get your parents involved, aye!" The police officer shooed the kids away, the two opposing forces in opposite directions.

The boys ran from the park the moment they were free, but George and Rose lingered. 

"What's on with you two then?" The officer prodded. 

"Nothin sir, we were just sitting in the park." George answered. 

Rose stayed silent. She watched her shoes, occasionally peeking up and George's bruised face and messy hair from the corner of her eye.

Why would he tell them I was his girl? Thoughts raced through her mind as she avoided confrontation with the officer-and George. 

The two were released and began their journey home. 

"We really told those tossers, huh Rosie?" George scoffed, kicking a pebble into the street.

"Yeh, told 'em," Rose muttered, still looking down. Her eyes shot to George, just for a quick glance to try and read him. 

George stopped in the center of the pavement. Rose stopped and turned around to face him, "You coming?" She asked. 

His thick brows furrowed in the middle of his forehead. Rose's eyes met his, but she focused on every part of his face. The red and purple bruise on his right cheekbone, his warm brown eyes staring into hers, the little gash on his lip, already scabbed over. The two sat frozen, staring at one another. 

"Rose? Rosemarie? Hello?" George waved his hand in front of Rose's face, snapping her out of the daze she was in. 

"Huh?" Her eyes met George's again, this time she felt a warm feeling in her stomach. Something she never felt before. 

George laughed at the girl, assuming she was out of it from the fight, "Let's go, Winthrop." George laughed, linking his arm with hers. 

Rose's heart skipped a beat simply at the soft touch upon her arm.

George mindlessly trotted along the pavement, Rosie on his arm. 

"Hey, George?" Rose cleared her throat. 

"Yes, love?" George responded. 

She was struck with the feeling again as the word "love" left his lips. He's called her that before, but it was different this time. 

"Why'd you tell Freddy and the others that I was your girl?" She couldn't meet his eyes as she asked the question, afraid of the answer. 

George laughed, "y'know how they are, Rosie," he nudged her arm, "those buggers have bothered us for years, I was just playing into their game, wanted one last brawl with the boys." 

"Oh, yeah." Rose mustered up a fake laugh. She thought George might have meant it. Maybe he did like her. Maybe it was more than this. 

"You did great, by the way." He smiled, squeezing Rose's arm that was still interlocked with his. 

"Ah, it's nothin' really, you got the worst," She laughed, motioning at the bruises on the boy's face. 

The two walked through town, arms linked together until they reached a record store. "Wanna go in?" George asked Rose. She nodded excitedly. 

The two browsed through albums and singles, pointing out occasionally pieces they liked. After a while, the two were separated and just looked in silence, fixed on every piece of music they touched. 

Rose ran her fingers over the thick card stock outlining the vinyls inside. Her small fingers traced over a particular section until she found the one she was looking for. She gasped, "George come here!" She called across the shop. 

He made his way over to her at the turntable where she gently placed the needle into the groove of the record. 

Rose jittered with excitement as the soft trumpet echoed throughout the shop. She held her hand over her heart and sighed, gently swaying back and forth. 

George sat, confused, watching the girl dance alone. 

"It's my parents' song." She smiled at him, putting her hand out for him to dance. 

He took her hand and the two goofily spun around the store, Rose singing along to the lyrics of the song. 

"You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you," she hummed, hands interlocked with George's dancing in a swing style that didn't at all go with the song. Lost in their own world, it's almost as if she was singing directly to George, "or just how empty they all seemed without you." The boy smiled at her and his eyes met hers. 

He studied her face, the pink scrape on her chin, dirt lightly smudged across her nose. The world slowed down and he watched her dance in slow motion. A light fluttering filled his stomach, something he'd only felt once before. The moment he called Rosemarie his girl. 

The duo was lost in their own world of George and Rosemarie. No one else existed to them. They danced, George spun Rose and then CRASH. 

The young girl fell over a stack of records, sending attention to the two children. 

The shop owner stomped over, faced by two children covered in dirt and bruises. A scowl grew on his face as a thin, bony finger rose and pointed at the door. 

George and Rose scrambled themselves together and ran outside, running for a few blocks before stopping. 

They finally turned a corner and stopped to catch a breath. They giggled together, falling onto the ground. 

"What just happened?!" Rose laughed, still out of breath. 

"We've just got a knack for trouble today," George giggled back. 

They continued their walk home, talking and laughing, arms linked together. 

They went to the Harrison's first. Being that George is the youngest child, his parents were less likely to get too worried over the fight incident. 

But that didn't change the fact that a mother will be a mother. "What happened to you two?!" Louise almost shrieked, cupping the children's faces in her hands. 

"We got in a fight, mum." George grinned up at his mother. 

"Please don't tell my mother." Rose whispered in fear of her poor mother finding out she fought with boys. 

"I'm sorry, darling, but I won't hide this from your mum." Louise dug in the cabinets for the first aid kit with one hand and grabbed the phone from the wall with the other. Within minutes of the phone call ending, Amelia and Thomas were already at the door. 

"Ugh! I'm fine mum!" Rose groaned as her mother held her face, examining every inch.

"Oh you could have been so hurt," she cried, holding her daughter's head to her breast. 

"Mum!" Rose groaned. 

"Who did this? Why'd they do this?!" Amelia asked assertively, holding Rose's shoulders. 

"Mum, it's fine. It was just some boys from school." Rose sighed and made a wide eyed face at George which he returned with a grin. 

"Louise, we should speak to their mothers, what are their names?" Amelia asked the children. 

"Oh, no ma'am, it's alright," George started, "I handled it already." He stood up and poked out his chest, trying to make himself look strong and taller. 

"Excuse me, we handled it!" Rose replies with sass. 

Amelia and Louise eyed one another knowingly. 

Louise walked into the kitchen and flashed Amelia a look to follow her, they left the children alone in the dining room. 

"What happened between then today?" Louise asked in a hushed voice. 

"I've no idea but our dreams are coming true!" Amelia stifled a laugh. 

"They've always been each other's everything, but I don't know," she paused and watched the children for a moment, "something changed today." 

"Mother's intuition, I'll tell you, I'm sure Thomas and Harold can't even tell," Amelia scoffed. 

Louise watched their husbands in the living room, "Harold, no. But Thomas, he sees everything little Rosemarie does. He knows." 

"Oh lord I know, I wonder if he's the favorite parent sometimes, they're just so close you know." Amelia smiled lovingly at her husband, he caught her stare from across the room and shot her a wink. 

"You two are adorable." Louise commented. 

Amelia laughed, "We've been through a lot together, Rose too. She deserves George, I know he'll give her the world." 

Louise sighed and hugged Amelia, "She's an amazing girl, I can't wait to be her mother-in-law." The two laughed as they embraced.

#the beatles #the beatles fanfiction #the beatles fanfic #George Harrison #george harrison fanfic #George Harrison fan fiction #John Lennon #Ringo Starr #paul mccartney

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 24: Secret Injury

(Don’t fall out of line yet.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 24: Secret Injury

Word Count: 1436

Relationships: Prinxiety (minor/background), Creativitwins (familial) NOT remrom :/

Warnings: Gunshot wound, blood, hiding a severe injury, serial killers, FBI/police stakeout, gunfight, minor character death, dissociation because of an injury, hospital/ER, mentions of needles/IVs/anesthesia and implications of surgery, cursing

A/N: sorry this is kinda shorter, i wrote it in like 20 minutes before i got unmotivated again hjfhsdjkhk anyway yeah excuse the shit quality of this. by the way this is absolutely inspired by criminal minds. what are you gonna do, shoot m

“Shit, Logan, watch out!” Roman yells out from somewhere to the left, and Logan just barely manages to jump out of the way before a desktop computer crashes into and explodes on the wall right where his head would’ve been. The FBI agent ducks down, scurries on tired legs to the other side of the hall, and then he lunges forward to take cover behind the nearest hallway intersection.

The person they’ve been chasing across states turned out to be not one, but three, a team of serial killers stirring up a panic within the country. They’ve easily been able to attack wherever they pleased, and considering the fact that it took the FBI 13 months and 17 victims to link the killings together, it’s safe to say that their confidence is high. The spree has led Logan’s team through five different states in pursuit of The Executioners (as dubbed by the media), being met with the signature single shot to the victims’ temple just moments too late. This particular case has been frustrating and tiring, and every member of the team has been embittered with how they always seem to be two steps behind these guys.

But now, after a fake anonymous tip, plenty of searching through case files, and epiphanies that could have come a lot sooner if not for human error, they’ve cornered the trio. The team staked out this building for days before they planned to rush the place, waiting for the right moment to take the killers by surprise and hopefully, into custody. Of course, as soon as they entered, a gunfight started, and one of the members of SWAT assisting them was gunned down by the one carrying an automatic. It’s easy to ignore the exhaustion caused by very few hours of sleep, but Logan really is just running on adrenaline at this point, and if they don’t corner these guys fast, he’s not going to make it through to the end of this.

Later, he’ll blame it on the lack of sleep. He’ll say his recklessness was a result of being tired, not thinking things through. He’ll tell Thomas that he wasn’t intentionally trying to ruin their chances, that he saw an opportunity and took it. Only one of those things is true, but their team leader doesn’t know that.

Logan barely feels the bullet lodge itself in his stomach, doesn’t flinch when his vest rides up to expose his abdomen. The pain is distant, numbed by his partial state of dissociation, and from there, tackling the smallest of the three killers is easy. Virgil has his back, nails the burly one in the forehead with his precise aim, and Remus gleefully jumps on the back of the last one before sticking the barrel of his pistol to the temple of his head. Ethan just barely manages to stop him from pulling the trigger, now that the threats have been neutralized, and Remus grumbles but begrudgingly allows Ethan to put the man in handcuffs. 

Everything after that goes by in a blur. The local authorities take the three out of the apartment, one in a bodybag and two in cuffs, and Logan doesn’t really see any of it. His lightheadedness is a big factor in the way he stumbles about, having a hard time finding balance with the bullet still inside of him, but he doesn’t seem to be losing that much blood, so Logan thinks that maybe he can get through at least the ride back to the station before he’ll need to ask to be taken to the hospital. It’s a bad idea, he knows it is, but right now he can’t even speak through his dry throat, so it’ll just have to wait.

Sitting down in one of the SUVs is like agony, and he manages to pass off his grunt of pain as the result of a punch to the ribs that never actually happened. Emile’s concern is waved off, and the beginning of the car ride is spent with the reality of the situation finally crashing down on them. Their celebration comes all at once, laughs of disbelief trailing off into relieved sighs, and Logan only watches them from the back with a pained grin as they all relax in their own ways. Roman clutches Virgil’s and Remus’ hands tightly, loving both of them for different reasons; the romantic and familial care he gives to them is palpable, something Logan is sure everyone around him appreciates. Remy and Emile chatter excitedly together over the phone as Remy details exactly what happened during and after the stakeout (Emile suffered a leg injury and hasn’t been cleared for work in the field just yet), and Thomas chuckles at them all from his position in the driver’s seat. Patton may deal with PR, but he still opted to come along to greet them after their confrontation, and his concern and care as he frets over any small injuries from the agents in the car is certainly appreciated by the others if not lightheartedly teased about.

And then there’s Logan, quiet and unnoticed, the one that nobody in the car even bothered to check on. He tells himself that it’s okay, that they’re just busy riding the high of the big arrest and they’re not ignoring him on purpose, but it still stings a little. Maybe even more than the gunshot wound currently staining his shirt.

Eventually, they pull up to the field office in this city, ready to go in and close off the case along with any other lingering details. Paperwork is another part of the process, but Logan has a feeling he won’t be doing any of that any time soon. Clambering out of the SUV hurts just as badly as it did going in, but Logan manages to make his way out as promptly as possible to ward off any suspicion. Really, he’d prefer to have everyone remain ignorant to his injury entirely so it may be dealt with in a quiet, quick, efficient manner, so being inconspicuous is imperative.

And that does work, for a while. It works when they walk up to the building, works when they’re congratulated as they go in the door, works when the stickiness of the blood hidden underneath his vest is completely overlooked. He’s fine when they stand at the front of the room, when Thomas goes up to explain a bit about the final stakeout and arrest to the officers present, when the chief of police praises their team leader for bringing The Executioners in after a long, long year of horrors and gruesome misfortune. They honor the deceased, extend condolences, and clap at the victory even as Logan feels his eyes glaze over with the effort to continue standing. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes.

But “a few more minutes” never comes, because as Thomas is in the middle of thanking the team members for their assistance and the local police force for their tremendous help in the case, Logan’s knees finally give out, and he goes crashing to the floor. He lays there, still and unmoving even as his name is shouted by many people, and the hands gripping his body feel so far away. He’s rolled over, Logan’s head lolls to the side, not physically able to be supported alone anymore. He’s in a cold sweat when his vest is lifted off of him and panicked shouts for medics arise from his team upon seeing the massive coating of blood soaked through most of the bottom of his shirt. 

His consciousness bleeds in and out, much like his wound, but it makes putting together a coherent timeline of events extremely difficult. To his best knowledge, he’s put into a car and raced to the hospital in an attempt to bypass the wait time for the ambulance, and the sunlight shining through the car windows does his headache no favours. Being carried, limp and shaking and covered in blood through the front entrance of the closest emergency room feels like a dream, like it isn’t really happening. Set onto a bed, rolled through bleached white corridors, mask on his face and nurse running by his side yelling out numbers and statistics and detriments alike. 

Logan is rolled into the operating room and he fades through the setup with a slackened jaw and dizzy mind, unable to pinpoint just how many needles are inserted into his arms. IVs, syringes, darkness and medicine… and the anesthesia finally hits, washes a cool breeze through his veins, and Logan is drifting off into unconsciousness.

#whumptober2019 #no.24 #secret injury #ts sides #sanders sides #ts logan #logan sanders #logan angst #ts virgil #ts roman #prinxiety #ts patton #sympathetic patton #ts remus #creativitwins #ts remy #ts emile #thomas sanders #gunshot wound #tw guns #tw blood #serial killer #fbi au #gunfight #minor character death #dissociation #hospital #mention of needles #jasper's writing

[d-c-it]

Meet Lust

Summary: Lust thinks its unfair Remus gets to hang out with everyone and he doesn’t. Deceit said not to bother Thomas but he is stubborn. He is also petty and most importantly he is bored. Crack (ish) fic. 

Ships: None. (Roman get some smooches but they’re not in a relationship so it doesn’t count?)

Warnings: sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, a flirty oc, cussing, innuendo, caps, light making out. Some kinks are mentioned and threats of castration.

I can’t explain.

.

Patton was walking down the stairs, heading to the kitchen when he spotted someone on the living room’s couch.

‘Oh, hey kiddo…?’ when the person turn around all he caught was a cheshire grin before he let out a loud shriek and bolted towards the stairs again.

Mid run he saw Virgil open his door with a worried look on his face, Patton however was too busy running for his life to even care to explain. He screamed all the way to his room and slammed the door behind him. Virgil was looking at morality’s door with a weird face when he heard the steps coming up the stair. Once he caught sight of who it was he let out an ‘Oh, hell no. Is too early for this shit.’ He slammed his door just as the mystery person started running towards him, making them crash against it, exclaiming ‘You guys are no fun!’ in a whiny voice.

‘What is the meaning of all this noise…?’ was the only thing Virgil heard, before putting his headphones on and drowning all the background noise. He internally wished Logan good luck.

‘Hot teach! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!’ said their…guest? Clinging to Logan’s waist and rubbing his face on his stomach, making the logical side unable to move since he was supporting both of their weights.

‘Ah, this explains it.’

‘Daddy was so rude to me! He didn’t even say hi! and Virgin Mary shut the door on my face!’ Logan squinted at the not-quite-stranger. ‘I didn’t do anything!’ complained the other.

‘Felix, where is Deceit?’ asked Logan, making the other let go of him immediately, which was a bad sign. ‘Felix?’ he received only mumbled words as an answer. ‘What was that?’

‘I might or might not have locked him in his room?’ said Felix, pouting. The logical side studied the other, playing with his hands as he stood there, looking all the shades of guilty.

‘May I dare to ask why?’ said Logan, fixing his glasses, Felix’s eyes unfocused at the action but Logan was quick to bring him back from whatever he was thinking by snapping his fingers in front of his face. The other shook his head, coming back to his senses.

‘He let Remus go out, hot teach! Remus!’ whined the other. ‘Before me! I just want to have some fun too!’

‘Right now Thomas is not in the best state of mind to deal with you, I’m sure that’s the reason Deceit hasn’t let yo- are you mocking me?’ he stopped mid-sentence, as he became aware Felix was imitating him while mouthing what he was saying in a childish manner. The other shook his head to deny the statement. Logan sighed yet again. ‘I’ll just go find Deceit.’ He then walked towards Virgil’s door to ask him to take care of the problem child for a little while. He didn’t even get to knock on the door before he heard him exclaim from the inside.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ Logan deadpanned, looking back at Felix, who shrugged innocently. Logan looked towards Patton’s door next but shook his head before heading towards Romans who was probably still asleep as Thomas was up all night working on a video.

He suddenly felt the tug of their host calling, closing his eyes and grunting as Felix, next to him, squealed in delight. Great, he thought, as he was forced to sink down and appear in Thomas’s living room.

‘Hey, Logan. I-‘Thomas stopped himself as the logical side raised a hand.

‘Before you start, I already have an idea of what’s going on and I’m afraid you aren’t going to like it.’

‘Uh… what do you-?’ started asking the brunette when a figure appeared in Virgil’s place at the stairs.

‘AHHHHHH THOMAS!’ jumped the figure, extending his arms as if trying to grab Thomas and hug him.

‘GAHH!’ was their host natural response. Logan made a gesture with his hands as if to say ‘See what I meant?’ Felix seemed to be vibrating in place. ‘Who-? ARE THOSE LEATHER PANTS!?’

‘Ah? OH!’ exclaimed Felix, looking at his attire. ‘Yes! They absolutely are! You like them?’ he said, making provocative poses. Next to him, Logic massaged his temples.

‘No! I-I would never wear something like that!’ exclaimed Thomas, horrified.

‘You should though! You have a great ass! You should own it!’ insisted the other.

‘He literally owns it.’ Was Logic’s confused contribution.

‘DID SOMEONE SAY ASS’ they all heard, just as the duke appeared behind the TV looking very interested.

‘Oh, god. No.’ murmured Thomas.

‘Get out, tentacle porn! This is MY moment!’ both Thomas and Logic made awkward faces at that.

‘Tentacle porn!’ cackled Remus, hugging his morningstar to his chest. ‘That’s a new one! I love it!’ in despite of how angry he wanted to look, Felix laughed a little.

‘Right? I think it suits you~’ he flirted, before he heard Logan’s cough.

‘What is going on…?’ whispered Thomas to the logical side.

‘Well, to put it simple… that’s another one of your sides.’ He said, fixing his glasses.

‘Ugh, I love when you do that! Is so s e x y, hot teach!’ exclaimed the new side, leaning into the railing and doing a weird thing with his eyelashes. 

‘He’s ah…Lust.’ He coughed, blushing a little.

‘Wh-?’

'Let's talk about sex baby, let's talk about you and me, let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be, let's talk about sex~'

'come on, do it, uh huh~'

'My name is Felix, but you can call me tonight, hot stuff.' said Lust, winking and making Thomas's mouth go ajar. There was a moment of silence.

'You do realize you just flirted with yourself, right?' said Logan, while Remus wheezed in the background.

'Well, he seems to need a bit of self love… not gonna lie.' defended himself the lustful side.

'Look, guys… I just wanted to talk to Logan and Patton for a little bit so if you don’t mind calling him up…?' offered Thomas.

'Yeah, no. He won’t show up as long as Felix is here.' stated Logan.

'Why not?'

'Daddy seems to be a little afraid of good ol’loving…which is ironic considering he is your heart!' giggled Felix. High fiving Remus.

'What about Roman? Virgil?' pleaded Thomas, clearly not prepared to deal with two dark sides at the same time.

'I’m afraid Roman is still sleeping and Virgil was pretty adamant in being left out of this.'

'Shit.'

'The smartest course of action would be finding Deceit…'

'I’m barely dealing with two dark sides and you want to bring another one of them!?'

'Well…'

'Excuse me! I am no dark side! Roman is a jerk with a stick up his-'

'Butthole!' exclaimed Remus happily.

'Now that’s where I want all the di-'

'STOP, oh God just STOP!' yelled Thomas, covering his ears.

'What is it, Thomas? Feeling a little…horrrrny?' said the lustful side, making Thomas cry out.

'That’s it.' shook his head Logan, done with everything. He raised his hand and suddenly a very disgruntled Roman appeared in Patton’s spot.

'This BETTER be good, Logic.' grunted creativity. ‘You interrupted my beauty sleep.’

'Oh, darling you don’t need any~' purred Lust, making the prince jump in place and shy away from the compliment. Thomas frowned.

'Didn’t you just called him a jerk?' Roman gasped.

'That is in the past! Why don’t you come over here, papacito? ¡Quiero matarte a besos!' exclaimed Felix in spanish, making Roman giggle.

'Do not let that happen...' said Logan, looking at Thomas. 'Roman, you’re on charge while I’m gone… I sure will regret that later…I’ll go get Deceit.'

'Wait! Logan!' exclaimed Thomas. 'Why cant I just summon him or something?' staring at his logical side with a look that clearly spoke please don’t leave me alone with them. But Logan wasn’t having any of it.

'If Deceit was available, you wouldn’t have to deal with this at all.'

'Uh?'

'Deceit tends to hold the others back as long as he can, he is your self-preservation after all.'

'Deceit…does that…for me?'

'Well, of course, Deceit is very akin on protecting you Thomas, even from yourself. I thought that was clear.' He coughed. 'I must be going. Roman.'

'Uh!'

'Do not, engage with Lust.'

'Pfft, who do you take me for?' Logan squinted at him as he sunk down. There was another minute of silence.

'So, about those kisses?~'

'Are you kissing his butthole?'

'I mean if he asks nicely?'

Roman and Thomas looked at eachother for a short terrifying moment.

.

As he sunk down, Logan appeared in the mindscape's living room and headed to the rooms hallway. Just as he passed by Virgil's room, it opened.

'Is the coast clear?' he whispered.

'Which one? You need to be more specific.' answered Logan, still walking.

'Ugh, I meant, is that nymphomaniac still around?' grunted Virgil, walking right behind Logan, as if hiding of potential threats.

'Nymphomaniac is a term used only on fe-' the logical side interrupted himself at the look the anxious side was giving him. 'Right, no. The coast, as you say, isn't clear. In fact, Remus decided to show up.' he didn't miss the shiver in Virgil's body. 'and they are now in the presence of Thomas, Roman is supervising…'

'They are WHAT!?' yelled Virgil, his loud scary voice filling the hallway, showing his uneasiness.

'I know what you're thinking, I'm just on my way of freeing Deceit from Lust's little stunt before anything goes… uh, he's gone. Very well, Roman was going to need a little help anyway.

As he got closer to the yellow door at the less iluminated part of the hallway, Logan could hear noises coming from it. His best bet was that Deceit was trying to get out. As he struggled with the handle Logic discovered he was right.

Just when he managed to open the door Deceit pulled it the other way, which ended up with them both on the floor, Logan on top of Deceit while the former complained.

'Can you not get off!?'

'I apologize, I was only trying to asist-'

'Save it, I don't need to castrate certain someone.'

'I think that's a bit…harsh' said the logical side as he watched Deceit sink down.

.

When they appeared it was to utter chaos. Virgil was yelling at Remus about something they couldn't make sense of because both were using their loud voices. Virgil was in his usual place, replacing Felix in the staircase. Thomas was curling up into a ball on the floor and Felix… Yup. Felix was making out with Roman in the place Patton usually stood. Logan coughed slightly, noone paid him any mind. He looked beside him at Deceit, who was looking pissed ™, and offered him the chance to interrupt.

'You better shUT UP' Logan flinched, massaging his ear. He had never heard Deceit's loud voice and would rather not be present when he happened to use it again. However, it worked wonders.

All the sides instantly stopped doing what they were doing. Virgil flunged himself to the other side of the railing and Remus hid behind his morningstar. Felix jumped out of Roman's arms where he was clinging like a koala and Roman held up his arms as if he had being catch by the police. Both completely disheveled.

Logan sent Roman a look, the prince looked sheepish. Felix however, was as pale as one could get. Thomas stood up, holding his head with one hand.

'I am so glad to see you guys.'

'You.' hissed Deceit, the lustful side left out an eeep sound. 'Are so not dead.' he realized he didn't had his hat and he crossed his arms.

'hahahah Dee! What a surprise!'

'Why weren't you here earlier!?' yelled Virgil, he received a glare from Deceit, who normally portrayed himself as a very calmed person (?).

'This idiot didn't locked me up in my room!'

'Someone's in trouble!~' singsonged Remus.

'Shut up, Remus.' whispered Felix.

'I think its totally your place to shut him up.' hissed again Deceit, eye twitching. Lust inmediatly sealed his lips and made a gesture of locking them up. 'To your room.' said the yellow side.

'Bu-'

'To. Your. Room.' Felix pouted and crossed his arms, but started to sink out inmediatly. Of course not before winking towards Roman one last time.

The moment Lust was out of sight, Patton popped up.

'Whew, that was a close one!' he exclaimed, receiving all sort of expressions from the others.

'Well, I believe that's my cue to leave. Remus, if you please…'

'For sure, double D!. Now I wouldn't miss that carnage for anything! Bye~'

To everyones surprise Remus sank down without putting off a fight. Everyone turned to Deceit who was dusting his cape.

'I am not sorry for that, Thomas. It didn't get out of hand.' said Deceit, looking up. 'It won't happen again.' he started to sink down when Thomas called for him.

'Deceit!' murmured Thomas.

'Yes?' he said, raising an eyebrow.

'Uh, Logan kinda told me you keep the others at bay…?'

'Oh, he didn't said that, did he?' Logan nodded.

'Well yes…and well… Tha…nk you? I don't think I've apreciated what you do enough.' Deceit looked at him surprised, he started to blink really fast and then huffed.

'It's not like I prohibit them to come up here, I merely entretain them so they don't come up here and unsettle you when you're not… in the right mood.' he said, forgetting to lie, without looking at Thomas. 'It hasn't been harder recently, as I have help.' he turned to glare at virgil, who look the other way.

'Exactly, thank you Deceit. For looking out for me.' Thomas smiled at the deceitful side. The yellow side surprised everyone again by blushing.

'Whatever.' he hissed as he sunk down. 'I gotta castrate someone now, if you excuse me…'

'Isn't that a bit harsh…?' murmured Patton.

'Don't worry. They'll grow back.' he said, making everyone shiver. 'Oh, and Roman?'

'Uh?'

'You should clean off the lipstick you have all over your face.' was the last thing he said before he disappeared from sight.

'What!?' yelled Roman, rubbing at his face frantically. 'Is it off? Is it off!?'

'You still have a little bit over here…?' said Virgil, pointing all of Roman's face, much to the other's dismay.

'Alright, I believe I was called to deal with something and that something isn't here anymore so I'll go take all of this thing off. Bye~' and like that, the prince, who didn't have anything on his face in the first place, was gone too.

'I don't understand what happened, Logan.' started Thomas. 'One second there was… uh… Felix, flirting endlessly, Remus kept screaming nonsense but Roman didn't seem to listen or care and the then, Virgil appears and kicks Felix off the stairs-'

'This is my spot, ok!?'

'Of course it is kiddo! We should circle that out!' finger gunned Patton. Logan sighed.

'... And then they're both kissing and touching in places I don't want to think of because believe me watching myself do those things to… myself, wasn't something I needed.'

'Well, we can't blame Roman for that kiddo. Lust tends to be very… convincing.'

'What do you mean…?'

'Just as Virgil has his loud voice and Remus has his…'

'Screech.' offered Virgil.

'... Screech. Lust has a…'

'Sinful.' offered this thime Patton, shivering.

'... Luring voice.' it is impossible for any of us to resist it.' he said, fixing his glasses. 'We are, however, less susceptible to it than Roman.'

'Oh...I see.'

'Deceit is practically immune to it, since he can lie to himself, then Logan, then me, then Patton…' listed Virgil. Patton whined.

'He got me bad last time…'

'Again, nothing to be ashamed of Patton.'

'What about Remus?' Thomas asked, receiving a deadpan from everyone. 'Right, never mind.'

'How are you feeling now, Thomas?' asked Logan, eyebrow raised.

'Way better, this was just…wild.' answered their host.

'It seems that Deceit has everything under control again.' nodded logic.

'It was very nice of you to thank Deceit like that, kiddo. He was so happy! I know we don't show him much love...or at all! Maybe I can make him some waffles!'

'He likes chocolate waffles…' whispered Virgil.

'Awww, alright! I'll make us all chocolate waffles! See ya, kiddo!' exclaimed Patton, sinking down.

'Bye, dad.' smiled Thomas, before a sudden thought crossed his mind, making him frown. 'Wait a second, does Felix calls him Daddy for…?'

'Yeah, he does.'

'A correct assumption.'

'Ugh.'

.

#sanders sides #lust au #asdasgdks #oneshot #sanders sides fic #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #oc Felix Lust Sanders #idk why i named him felix lmao #cussing #innuendo #light make out #character thomas #yes that was daddy kink #caps

[pokii-jonas]

The Impossible Death

*** NOTE: this is a multiple chapter dump since it has been so long since i last updated tumblr!

** also sorry for the delay!!! i’ve been away from my laptop for a while and unable to update tumblr as frequently as my AO3! (if you want more frequent updates, my AO3 is DeceitMe and will also be linked below!

* also i lost my phone in florida and it had my taglists on it, so if i missed anyone in my taglist please tell me!

CHAPTER 11 - THE SECOND TIME

CHAPTER 12 - RUNNING

CHAPTER 13 - FOREVER

CHAPTER 14 - TENSIONS

CHAPTER 15 - FAULT

CHAPTER 16 - PLAYING WITH FIRE

CHAPTER 17 - THE THIRD TIME

CHAPTER 18 - HIDE AND SEEK

CHAPTER 19 - OFF THE ROOF

Total Word Count: 5,620

WARNINGS:

sympathetic deceit, suicide mentions, body horror(?), self harm, graphic descriptions of self harm, self hate, panic attacks, panic attack mentions, food mentions

PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT SOMETHING!!!

AO3

Previous (CHAPTER 10)          Next

CHAPTER 11 - THE SECOND TIME

It wasn’t intentional in the beginning. It had started off as just a quick calm down. A way to quickly bring him back to reality. A way to get out of his own head for a bit.

Just a few cuts. That was all it was supposed to be.

Then he went deeper.

And deeper.

The blood surrounding him would have scared anyone else, but for him it wasn’t enough.

It could always be worse. He could always be worse.

He wasn’t good enough to be worried about.

He only stopped when his little blade got stuck in the wound and he couldn’t find it.

After that, he wasn’t sure what to do. He just looked at the gaping wound on his arm and watched as blood came pouring out of his body.

He watched with a sad fascination, knowing it wasn’t gonna do the damage he desired yet enjoying watching the way the light would catch on the dark red liquid.

A wave of gratefulness washed over him. At least he had no arteries so the blood wasn’t splashing everywhere. That would be way too much effort to clean up.

That gratefulness was replaced quickly with annoyance.

If he had arteries, then he’d probably be dead already and have no need to clean.

Moving to rest his head on his pillow, he looked up at his ceiling and imagined what it would be like to finally disappear.

CHAPTER 12 - RUNNING

Running. He must keep running. He couldn’t stop. He had to get away.

“Hey, Dee.”

He knew he shouldn’t look back. He had to keep running.

“Dee!”

He shut his eyes tight as he willed his legs to move faster. He couldn’t get caught. He must keep moving.

“Hey, wake up!”

He could feel his body falling. Breaking down more and more with every step.

He didn’t stop.

“You’re okay Dee, please just wake up.”

Suddenly he was on his back, his shoulder aching from falling hard on it. He could feel it creeping around him. Feel it seeping into his skin. Draining him.

He had been caught.

“Dee!”

His eyes popped open and he shot straight up, looking around wildly as he backed himself against the wall.

“Come on Dee, calm down.”

Deceit’s eyes flew to the voice and he took a moment to recognize that Virgil was the one speaking calmly to him.

Deceit immediately threw himself at Virgil who was quick to wrap his arms around his shaking figure.

“Hey, don’t worry Dee. You’re safe.” Virgil whispered softly into his ear.

Slowly, he felt his breathing begin to even out and the pain of a sore throat began to permeate it’s way into his conscious thought.

Deceit let himself be comforted by Virgil’s soothing words and soft touch for probably a lot longer than necessary, but he couldn’t help but revel in it.

It had been so long since he last felt safe.

As time went on though and Deceit finally felt as calm as he could possibly be, he let himself move away from Virgil.

“Thanks.” he whispered, so quietly he was afraid that Virgil might miss it all together.

Virgil, however, just responded by patting his knee gently.

“No need to thank. I’m just picking up where I left off.”

Deceit looked up from the bed sheets to look at Virgil who was giving him a look Deceit couldn’t quite comprehend.

“What doesn’t that mean?”

“Well, I shouldn’t have left you alone. I was being selfish when I did. I should have realized you weren’t doing any better and I-”

“Don’t stop.” Deceit cut him off. “You had no reason to stop babying be all the time. You didn’t need your own space, and I don’t understand that. I am not responsible for myself and myself alone, so do blame yourself for how I didn’t turn out.”

Virgil frowned and crossed his arm over his chest.

“No, you stop it. You were the only friend I had growing up and I pushed you away. Plain and simple. Believe it or not Dee, I actually want to help you through whatever you’re going through. Try me.”

Deceit’s own frown took over his face as he curled up on himself, dragging his knees to his chest.

“I am going through stuff. I don’t just want to be alone.”

Virgil huffed and stood up.

“Well, whether you like it or not, you still need to talk to the others. If you can convince them you’re fine I’ll leave you alone, deal?” Virgil said, holding out his hand for Deceit.

Deceit eyed his hand wearily before accepting it.

“Of course I believe you when you say that.” he said with a small grin as Virgil pulled him to his feet.

Virgil returned the grin.

“Have I ever broken a deal before?”

CHAPTER 13 - FOREVER

Listening to the pounding in Anxiety’s chest intently, he placed his own hand to his chest.

Nothing.

“Hey, Anxiety?” 10-year-old Deceit asked softly, twisting his head up to look at the just as young Anxiety.

“Yeah Dee Dee?” he replied, continuing to stroke his hand through Deceit’s sweat dampened hair.

“This is the third time this has happened.” Deceit stated, looking back down at his hand as he clamped it shut and unclamped it again.

“They’re just nightmares, Dee. Don’t worry.” Anxiety said softly, though Deceit knew that they scared them just as much as him when they happened.

“So… Why do you keep coming back here when it happens? I don’t want to keep bothering you with—”

“No Dee.” Anxiety said firmly, as he wrapped his arms around Deceit’s middle.

“You aren’t bothering me. I keep coming back because I know you need someone and I want to be that someone… Okay?”

He said the last part so quietly that Deceit almost missed it, but he knew that Anxiety was probably afraid of Deceit leaving him all by himself.

That was probably the only reason why he helped him anyway. He couldn’t see why else Anxiety would want to be friends with him and help him through all of this.

However, instead of bringing up his doubts, he pushed them away to the back of his mind.

Quickly sitting up, he turned turned to Anxiety and grabbed his hands in his.

“Let’s make a deal.” he said, watching as Anxiety’s face went from surprise to apprehension.

“Deal?” he asked, quiver clear in his voice.

Deceit nodded.

“You can stay in my room with me. That way, you won’t need to wake up running every night. Then, once the nightmares stop, you can go back to your room.”

Anxiety eyed him up and down before giving a small smile.

“Fine. But only if we add onto it that, no matter what, we will always be friends. Okay?”

Deceit gave him a toothy smile and nodded, unclasping Anxiety’s hands from his grip and holding out one of his own to shake.

“Deal?”

Anxiety grinned and nodded, taking his hand.

“Deal.”

CHAPTER 14 - TENSIONS

Deceit didn’t truly know what to expect when he entered the real world once again.

Maybe they all got tired of waiting around and went off back to their rooms, or perhaps they were all sitting around waiting for him to appear again.

He wasn’t expecting to pop up to see everyone running around the kitchen like chickens with their heads cut off and smoke filling the air.

“Patton, why did you leave the plastic on the burner? You know plastic will burn!” Logan shouted over the smoke alarm, attempting to scrape burnt plastic off of the stove.

“I’m sorry! I forgot I put it there!” Patton shouted in return as he fanned the smoke alarm with a metal tray.

“Why didn’t you all just leave it to me?” Thomas asked, also fanning the smoke detector with a metal tray.

“Or you could have left it to me!” Roman shouted over it all, safely from the living room. “If I had done it, it would have been the most magnificent feast!”

With an abrupt halt, the smoke alarm turned off and everyone let out a light sigh of relief before they noticed Virgil and Deceit.

“Dee! How are ya feeling?” Patton asked happily as he wiped sweat off his brow, leaving a long black streak in its place.

“Fine. What in the world is happening?” Deceit asked as he went closer to the kitchen with Virgil in the lead.

“Why did you attempt to cook without me here?!” Virgil asked in panic as he looked around the smoke filled kitchen.

“Sorry Virgil. Patton wanted dinner to be warm when Deceit awoke, so we started it while you were both sleeping. Apologies.” Logan said, wiping his hands on a towel and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Dinner?” Deceit asked, not bothering to hide his confusion.

Sharing a quick look with the others, Roman responded, “Yes, dinner! The best meal of the day!”

Deceit looked around at everyone’s faces of agreement.

“You guys eat food?” Deceit asked and a stunned silence filled the room.

“Uh, why wouldn’t we?” Roman asked, confusion all over his face.

“Well, I guess we technically don’t have to eat.” Logan said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But it allows us a set time to bond and talk things over.”

“Do… I mean… Do you not eat, Dee?” Patton asked quietly, seeming afraid for the answer and Deceit felt himself wilt inside.

“I mean, I have before. Just, not in a while I guess.” he said softly, looking down and picking at his cuffs on his sleeves.

“How long?” Virgil asked, startling Deceit with his hard voice but soft and scared gaze. He looked afraid to hear the answer.

“I mean not too long ago. I think I ate a bagel the other day—” Deceit began but Virgil cut him off.

“How long, Dee? Don’t lie, I’ll know.” Virgil said and Deceit felt himself deflate as he crossed his arms over his chest and curled inward on himself.

“Thomas’s thirteenth birthday.” he mumbled, so quietly he almost hoped Virgil had missed it, but of course he hadn’t.

“Sixteen years ago?” Virgil asked and Deceit gave the slightest nod.

“That’s… When I left.” Virgil said and Deceit looked up to see tears welling in his eyes.

“I mean, it’s as Logan said. It’s not actually necessary for us to eat, so is it really that bad?”

“Yes, eating or not eating will have no physical effect on our well being. That is a fact.” Logan spoke up, though Deceit could see the concern in his eyes. “However, food has been shown to help improve ones mood and make them happier, thus helping one's mental health.”

Deceit gave a long sigh.

“I’ve already told you I’m fine, guys. Can’t you just drop this?”

“What about the rest of your body, Deceit?” Logan asked suddenly, causing Deceit to stutter a bit.

“I’m not sorry, what?” he asked, hoping that this conversation wasn’t leading where he thought it was.

Logan sighed and leaned backwards on the counter.

“My studies show that those who partake in self harm to the extent that you do often don’t just stop at one part of their body. They usually will go on to do the same to other parts. So my question here is, what haven’t we seen yet?”

Deceit felt his stomach sink as his mind went empty of any excuses he might have had.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to food Logan.” Deceit said cooley, thoughts knew his body language probably told Logan all he needed.

“I am simply trying to figure out why you are trying so desperately to keep us in the dark of your struggles, especially when we have expressed our desire to help.”

Deceit froze at this, thinking back to all the times he has ever appeared to the others before and he could feel himself snap.

“Shut up. You never cared before. You only want to help now that you know, but you didn’t care enough to know about me earlier. You may blame me for that, seeing as I never asked for help, but why would I? There isn’t anything wrong here except for the fact that you’re trying to what? Fix me? Fix me so I can be seen as the bad guy again? The side you despise and hate? Nah, no thanks. I’m fine, and that’s the truth. What isn’t fine is that you’re now acting like you care when you never did before. So just do me a favor and leave me alone.”

Deceit didn’t stick around to get a reaction, instead sinking out and reappearing on the roof of the mindscapes house.

Heaving a sigh, he sat down on the edge, feeling his feet dangle into the grey nothingness of the rest of Thomas’s mind.

He never asked for help. He never asked to be cared for. Why couldn’t they just get that?

CHAPTER 15 - FAULT

The stunned silence that followed Deceit’s outburst and disappearance was short lived.

Virgil was the one to break it.

“Oh, nonononono this is bad, this is really really bad!” he exclaimed, grabbing both sides of his head and spinning in a circle as if hoping Deceit might reappear behind him.

Thomas wasn’t much better off.

“Oh God, what do we do what do we do? We can’t just go after him, can we? Will that make this worse? Maybe he’ll never return, what do we do then? I’m pretty sure I need him or else—”

“Thomas.” Logan said, promptly cutting of Thomas’s rambling.

“This was my fault. I tried to get him to open up to soon. I should have known better. Therefore, I should be the one to find him and apologize for—”

“Why bother?”

Everyone turned to look at Roman who sat on the sofa with his legs brought up to his chest.

“What do you mean?” Patton asked softly and Roman looked at him with sad eyes.

“I mean, why bother? He wasn’t wrong about what he just said to Logan. We didn’t care until now. But why do we care now and we didn’t care earlier? He’s right. We’re afraid of losing our villain. We just want to make him better so that we can view him as the bad guy again. So why go after him and apologize for him being right?”

Silence ensued in which no one looked at each other. They knew Roman was right.

Virgil clenched his fist.

“No. He wasn’t right.” he said and Roman looked at him with curiosity.

“He said he was fine and that’s clearly wrong. He said we didn’t care earlier and that’s not true. I’ve always cared. He was my first and only best friend for years. I used to help him with his nightmares, but he told me they stopped. I knew I shouldn’t have believed him, but I wanted to. I wanted to think he was better. So I left him. I never truly viewed him as bad. How could he be?”

Virgil couldn’t say when he started crying, but he could feel the tears dripping down his face.

“And then I turned my back on him. I thought he wasn’t listening to me. That he didn’t care about me. But now I see that it’s the other way around.”

Virgil looked at the ground.

“I’m the one who failed him. He needed me and I wasn’t there.”

Wiping the tears off of his face, Virgil looked back up, shocking everyone with the determination on his face.

“But not anymore.”

And with that, Virgil was gone.

CHAPTER 16 - PLAYING WITH FIRE

Rain.

It should be raining. At least, that’s how the movies always portray it.

The sad scene of loneliness on the roof, rain pouring around them, but they don’t go inside. Instead they sit and revel in the cold. Enjoy what little feeling being cold brings them.

But Deceit didn’t have that. It hadn’t rained in the mindscape ever to his knowledge.

He did have a lighter though, and that could also bring something to the table.

The burning pain it brought left Deceit feeling more and more whole with each burn. Each touch of the burning flame bringing him closer to feeling.

He really was happy the others hadn’t seen this part of him. It was fine if they assumed it was the same as the rest, as Logan seemed to suspect.

If they really knew the extent, then there’s no way they’d let him leave the way he did.

Flicking his lighter closed, he sighed as he lied down. The cold metal of the roof digging into his bare back, chilling him to the bone.

He didn't look down at his chest. He already knew what he had done.

Looking up at the grey expanse of the mindscape, however, gave him a sense of familiarity that left a weak smile on Deceit's face.

He and Virgil had discovered this place when they were just seven.

Deceit could never remember what exactly they were doing, but ever since then it had been their hang out spot if they needed away from their rooms for a while.

Virgil probably hadn't been up since they split. If he had then he somehow managed to avoid Deceit who came up here rather often.

In the aftermath of their break, he only came up here to avoid knocking on Virgil's door and beg for forgiveness for whatever he had done.

Back then, he didn't understand why Virgil was so mad at him.

To this day, he was never really told. He never asked, too afraid for the answer.

Though, as he finally looked down at his chest, he realized he always knew why.

Red welted scars and charred skin stared up at him, accompanied by newly blooming bruises and lines and words in varying stages of healing.

It scared him, that he could do that to himself, but at the same time he couldn't help but appreciate its beauty.

To him, what he did to his body spoke more words about who he was as a person than he himself could say.

But Virgil probably always knew exactly who he was.

Deceit couldn't say when his anger melted into sadness, but felt it welling up inside him before he could even try to contain it.

He couldn't cry though. Even though his lungs burned and his mind was clouded over, he couldn't cry.

The tears were stuck inside him. As bottled up as his emotions.

Flicking open his lighter again, he brought it back down to his skin.

He was over emotional. That's why he lashed out so bad earlier.

That's why he pushed away the people who wanted to help.

He still thought he was right, though. About what he told them.

He was fine.

They didn't care before.

They wanted him to be the bad guy.

Yet, at the same time, he knew that his reasons were flawed.

He knew he wasn't fine by normal standards.

They only viewed him as bad because he never gave them the chance to view him as anything else.

They didn't care if he was the bad guy or not.

They just wanted him to be okay.

And that was the scariest part.

Deceit didn't want to be okay. He was afraid of being okay and what okay meant.

He was too tired to change. Too tired of living to change.

Closing the lighter once more, he looked to his discarded shirt and hoodie next to him. Giving a small, unamused laugh, he put them back on quickly.

He didn't need a repeat of that morning.

The whole thing that started this mess.

Closing his eyes, he wished he could take another nap. But the fear of a third nightmare that day scared him more than he'd admit, keeping him wide awake.

So tired, but can't sleep. He couldn't help but chuckle.

The irony of his existence tortured him endlessly, so why not laugh at it?

Surely it couldn’t get any worse.

CHAPTER 17 - THE THIRD TIME

Virgil sighed as he looked dejectedly around the room one last time.

He knew every single hiding spot in the mindscape, where could he have gone?

Collapsing on Deceit’s bed, he felt his frown deepen in thought.

Where could he have gone?

Their games of hide and seek never used to be this difficult.

Virgil’s eyes widened.

Hide and seek.

Sitting up quickly, he face palmed himself.

“Of course! I’m such an idiot!” he exclaimed as he disappeared from Deceit’s room and reappeared on the roof.

Virgil was halfway to calling out for Dee, but saw him lying just a few feet away from him with his eyes closed and his feet dangling off the roof.

Giving a sigh of relief, Virgil took a calm step towards him when he realized that Deceit’s feet weren’t there.

Squinting at the sight before him, he rubbed his eyes and gave another look.

The part of Deceit that wasn’t on the roof wasn’t even there.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he stuck his own hand out to the edge of the roof, watching in fascination as his hand disappeared the second it crossed over the ledge and reappeared when he brought it back.

“How long has it been since you’ve been up here, Xiety?” Dee asked quietly, distracting Virgil.

Virgil thought for a second.

“I think I was eleven or twelve. We stopped coming up together when the nightmares began, didn't we?” he said calmly, sitting down crossed legged where he stood.

Deceit opened his eyes and looked up at the grey.

“Yeah. It used to scare me.” he simply said.

Virgil nodded and gave another glance towards Deceit.

Silence ensued for a few seconds before Deceit spoke again.

“I’ve always hated myself, I guess.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide and he looked at Deceit again.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked and Deceit finally looked over at him.

“I always used to wonder why you bothered with me. When we were kids, you befriended me. You didn’t even bother to talk to the others. Then we just stayed friends.”

Deceit looked back up at the grey.

“You could’ve been friends with any of the others. I couldn’t.”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but Deceit went on.

“I guess I have you to thank, then.”

Sitting up, Deceit lifted his feet out of the grey and watched closely as they slowly reappeared.

“Thank me for what?” Virgil asked softly and Deceit slowly crossed his legs faced him.

“For saving me from myself for as long as you could.” he said, not changing his tone.

“What do you mean?”

Deceit didn’t answer, instead choosing to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie sleeve.

Virgil sighed and moved a few inches closer to Deceit.

“If you’re thanking me, then I’m here to apologize.

Deceit still didn’t say anything, but Virgil continued.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you all those years ago. It was so stupid of me. I thought you didn’t care about me and that’s why you weren’t listening to me.”

Virgil looked down at his own hoodie sleeve as he began to fiddle with a loose string.

“I pushed you away. All because of my stupid ego. All because I thought telling you my name was the most important thing in the world.”

He grimaced and shook his head softly.

“I pushed you away. All because I thought you could do better than me. I’m—”

Virgil stopped talking as he felt Deceit’s hand rest on his knee. He looked up to find Deceit just an inch away, his eyes wide.

“No.” he said and Virgil gave him a confused look.

“I’m the one who pushed you away. I, well… I knew you were having a hard time and didn’t want to add my own problems on top of that. I always thought you’d be better off without me.”

Deceit took his hand off Virgil’s knee and curled up on himself, bringing his knees to his chest.

“I was right, too. Without me, you made more friends. You found people who deserve you.”

Deceit curled up tighter, looking out at the grey.

“I just wish I hadn’t failed the first two times.”

It took a few seconds for Virgil’s mind to catch up.

“Failed what?” he asked.

Deceit didn’t answer, but slowly uncurled himself and stood up, stretching.

Turning to look back down at him, Virgil couldn’t stop his shudder at Deceit’s look.

His eyes were glassy and he had a toothy smile firmly in place on his face that reminded Virgil of a doll.

“Dee, are you okay?” Virgil asked softly, slowly standing up.

“Virgil. Oh my god, Virgil! I’m so stupid!” Deceit exclaimed loudly, causing Virgil to flinch back.

“What’s wrong Deceit?” he asked firmly, trying not to flinch away at Deceit’s manic excitement.

“Everything is wrong, Virgil! Can’t you see? Except it isn’t, because I think I just found the solution to my problem!”

“Problem?”

Deceit nodded and turned back around, walking closer to the edge of the roof.

It was only once Deceit was a few inches away from the edge that Virgil realized what he was about to do.

“Wait, Dee!” he shouted, reaching his hand forward as he started to run towards him.

Deceit turned around.

“Good bye.” he said softly as he fell backward into the grey, disappearing within a second.

CHAPTER 18 - HIDE AND SEEK

Anxiety was almost at ten and Deceit was still out in the open.

“Seven.” Anxiety said and Deceit suppressed a surprised giggle.

He had to hide, or else he’d be caught!

But where to hide? Deceit looked around sadly once again. There were no hiding spots in his room that Anxiety didn’t already know of.

“Eight-nine-ten, READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!” Anxiety shouted, uncovering his eyes and turning around to see Deceit standing in the middle of the room.

“Deeeeeee,” he whined. “You’re supposed to hide, or else we can’t call it hide and seek!”

Deceit frowned.

“I’m sorry, Xiety! I just can’t think of a place to hide!” he said sadly, sitting down on the floor and sticking his tongue out as he thought.

Anxiety frowned too as he looked around the room.

“You’re right. Maybe we should venture outside our rooms!” Anxiety said happily and Deceit looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I-I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Deceit said, wrapping his arms around himself.

Anxiety frowned.

“Why not?”

Deceit gave a small shrug as he brought his hands up to his scaled face.

“Ohhh.” Anxiety said with realization and he sunk down to sit on the floor with Deceit.

“I just… I don’t want to get in trouble again.” Deceit said sadly and Virgil gave him a one armed hug.

“Don’t worry, Dee Dee. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

Deceit gave him a small smile before standing back up.

“Well, there’s gotta be someplace here that no one else knows about!” Deceit said happily and Anxiety smiled and stood up too.

“Well, we live in a house, right?” he asked and Deceit gave a small, unsure nod.

Anxiety pointed up.

“Then we should have an attic or something!” he said and Deceit looked up.

“How do we get there then?” he asked and Virgil shrugged.

“Maybe we just think about it? Like how we made the legos appear earlier?”

Deceit nodded and scrunched his eyes closed and Anxiety did the same as they both pictured the top of a house.

They opened their eyes again when they felt a soft breeze hit their faces.

“Woah!” Anxiety said as he looked around at the light blue smoke that surrounded him.

“What is this?” Deceit asked in awe, also looking around at the never ending sea of blue.

Anxiety knelt down and tapped the floor.

“Metal? Maybe we’re on a roof or something.”

Deceit looked down at him and then back at the fog.

Slowly, he walked over to the edge of the ‘roof’ and looked down.

“I don’t see anything out there.” he said and Anxiety walked over to stand with him.

“Do you think it’s safe up here?” he asked softly and Deceit gave a pondering look.

“I think so…” he said slowly and thoughtfully. “But we should probably stay away from the edge.”

Anxiety nodded and immediately took a few steps back.

Deceit looked out at the fog once more before doing the same.

“So,” Anxiety said, getting Deceit’s attention.

Anxiety gave a little hum and a spin before he sat crossed legged on the ground.

“So?” Deceit asked, amused at Anxiety’s sudden giddiness.

Anxiety rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him, so Deceit walked over and sat down.

Leaning in, Anxiety whispered quietly, “Morality finally picked a name.”

Deceit gave an eye roll of his own and leaned back on his arms.

“Why does it matter?” he said, causing Anxiety to splutter for a second.

“Why does it matter? Deeeee!” he said excitedly and Deceit gave a small sigh and lied on his back.

“Names are important! Without a name, you’re no one!”

Deceit closed his eyes.

“Without a name, actions speak more than words. Without a given name, who you really are as a person is what matters. Besides, we technically already have names.”

“Yeah, that Logic gave us after learning all those new words at school!” Anxiety exclaimed and Deceit chuckled.

There was a little bit of silence before Deceit finally asked what he knew Anxiety wanted him to.

“What name did he pick?” he asked, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Anxiety.

Anxiety laughed and looked back at him.

“Patton.” he said and Deceit laughed too.

“What does that mean?” he asked and Anxiety shrugged with a smile.

“I don’t know! But he seems happy with it.” he said softly and Deceit watched his face go soft in thought.

Deceit repositioned himself so that he was propped up on one elbow.

“Hey, Anxiety?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to pick a new name for yourself.”

Anxiety’s eyes went wide and he looked up at Deceit’s soft smile.

“I… Well, maybe one day.” he replied and shifted closer to Deceit.

“One day?” Deceit asked and Virgil nodded.

“Yeah. I want to let my actions speak for myself first, just like you said.”

Deceit nodded and settled back down so that he was just a few inches away from Anxiety.

“Will you—”

“You’ll be the first one I tell.” Virgil cut him off, holding up his pinky in the air.

Deceit smiled and held up his own.

“Promise?”

Anxiety hooked their pinkies together and gave them a small shake.

“Promise.”

CHAPTER 19 - OFF THE ROOF

Virgil was still running, even after Deceit disappeared. Swallowed by the grey smog that surrounded the roof.

“NO!”

His hand was still reaching out to grab onto him. To stop him from doing it.

But he was too late.

He didn’t even notice he was still running until he felt the ground fall out from underneath him.

Taking a deep inhale of shock, he felt his stomach lurch as he started to drop.

Falling.

A scream never left his lips. His shock keeping him from breathing.

It wasn’t until he hit the ground with a resounding crack that he let out a shout of pain, falling onto all fours and breathing heavily.

“Oh my god.” he said breathily, his head throbbing and his pulse pounding in his ears.

Despite the tears that threatened to fall down his face, he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at his leg.

“That’s not good.”

Virgil’s head snapped up to see Deceit sitting to the right of him, barely visible in the grey smoke.

Virgil felt some of the worry for his friend leave his shoulders as he took a deep breath and let himself fall to the ground face first.

“Oh, Jesus Christ Dee. What the hell were you doing?” Virgil exclaimed breathlessly, his voice slightly muffled by the soft ground.

Virgil quickly pushed himself up and winced as he moved his leg.

“Where the heck are we?” he asked, panic clear in his voice.

Deceit shrugged one shoulder and Virgil finally noticed that Deceit was silently nursing his left arm, keeping it held close to his body.

“Deceit, you’re hurt! Why didn’t you tell me?” Virgil said, quickly crawling towards him despite the pain it sent throughout his body.

“Don't get closer!” Deceit suddenly shouted, curling in on himself more.

Virgil stopped moving.

“Dee, what’s wrong?” he asked slowly. Apprehensively.

Deceit didn’t respond and Virgil finished the crawl, stopping just a foot away.

“Oh, Dee…” Virgil said sadly as he finally was able to take a look at him.

Both legs appeared to be broken. His arm probably was too, but Deceit was still holding onto it tightly, preventing Virgil from getting a good look at it.

But what really made Virgil’s heart fall apart were the stream of tears falling down his face.

Upon hearing Virgil’s voice, Deceit curled up more and Virgil winced.

“Dee, don’t do that. You’ll just damage your legs more.” he said softly, placing a hand on Deceit’s knee.

Deceit just kept sobbing.

Virgil felt his own tears form in his eyes, but refused to let them fall.

Moving so that he was on Deceit’s right side, he sat with him shoulder to shoulder and leaned his head against his whilst wrapping and arm around him.

It was all he could think to do.

#sympathetic deceit fic #sympathetic deceit #sanders sides fic #im too lazy for tags lolol

[pattysfics]

A Hard Lesson to Learn pt. 2

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoyed chapter 1! Thanks for reading!!

Warnings: Language.

Characters: Rick Grimes. Kali. Mentions of Michonne and Judith. Negan.

Chapter 1

“Kali, could you stay a minute,” Negan asked as the rest of the lieutenants made their way out of the meeting room. The others gave her a look of worry, some wrinkled their foreheads in confusion before leaving.  He was still sitting at the end of the table, his long legs perched on it because he did in fact ‘own this fucking place’ like he had said multiple times.

“Sure thing boss,” she replied immediately giving the others a reassuring look. Once they had all exited, Kali shut gray steel door behind them and turned to Negan. “What’s up,” she asked once she had retaken her seat to his left, her curiosity running rampant.

Negan eyed her for a second before removing his legs from the table and resting on his elbows, Lucille, never too far away, lay beside him as he continued to stare at her. “You remember when we first met,” he asked receiving an ‘hmm’ from Kali. “You were a scrawny little thing back then. Didn’t know nothing about survival, how to shoot a gun. Hell, I remember watching you from down the street deal with two walkers and one would have got ya if I hadn’t stepped in,” he boasted.

Kali laughed softly at his recollection of how they had met. “Sorry to tell you Negan, but I think your memories are a bit altered from what actually happened. As I recall,” she started laying more on her elbows now to get closer, “I believe it was you who needed saving on that street that day,” she prodded. “In fact, I remember shooting my gun and dropping both of ‘em. Then you marched up to me and yanked my gun from hands calling me a lunatic for shooting so close to living person, sir.”

Both of them started laughing. Negan’s eyes scrunching shut and he laughed loudly drowning out Kali’s own laughter. “Damn good times back before we built all this. All those times you kicked my ass,” Negan remember quietly to himself. “Anyways, I asked you stay because I’m sending you to the southern outpost. Thomas, that was over it, got himself killed while they were scavenging for some supplies.”

Kali jerked in shock, confusion plastered all over her face. “Well shit, don’t act so surprised,” he teased.

“I thought you didn’t want me out there? Or at least that is what you said every time I even hinted at it. Always said ‘you’re not going out there and that’s final’, before storming off.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “Do you want it or not? I’d be more than happy to give that position to someone else,” he warned.

Pushing her chair back enthusiastically causing it to tip over and clamor against the cement floors. “Are you serious,” she asked him straight-faced knowing how cruel he can be at times. She watched as Negan’s eyes lit up watching her. “You are fucking serious! Oh, my. It’s about fucking time,” she played.

“Just don’t fuck up and die on me okay. I don’t think I could handle that,” he told her honestly looking into her brown eyes sincerely.

“I won’t let you down Negan,” she promised.

“I know,” he said softly flicking is fingers towards the door, “go pack your bags. You’re moving.”

Kali groaned as she rolled off the mattress landing on the same cold floor that she woke up on daily now. Her hot breath visible against it. Resting her forehead against it, Kali took in a deep breath trying to find the strength to pick herself up and deal with Rick and company for another day. It was tempting to just lay there beside that mattress until Rick comes to bother her again just wasting away the day. Taking one last deep breath, Kali placed her palms on the floor and pushed herself up also bringing her knees in, so she could sit on them. If she was going to be stuck in here for a while, then maybe it was time she started doing some fitness exercises.

Kali was staring at the block wall when a voice called out from behind her. “It’s about time you woke up. I’ve been here awhile,” Rick chastised causing Kali to whip her head around.

“What the fuck Rick? Do you get off on watching people sleep when you have them locked up down here? You need to get more hobbies,” she cracked looking at him. “So, what’s on the schedule for today prick,” she asked flopping down the mattress, her breath temporarily leaving her. “Another day of shooting the shit, Rick? What do you want to know today?”

Rick smiled. The edges of his lips curling in amusement. One hand rested on the outside blocks of the cell and one on his hips. That light blue button up clinging to his body. His brown curls stuck to his head. Those blue eyes sparkling like the sun reflecting off the ocean. “I thought we’d try something different today,” he drawled out, “but since you seem to enjoy it so much, we’ll do the other stuff later.”

Kali rolled her eyes while still looking at the ceiling. Concrete surrounded her up, down, left, and right. The tiny window giving her a ground view of the street leading away from Rick’s house that she’s locked up in. “You know what Rick? I think I’m just going to lay here all day and not give a shit what you or your people do,” she told him matter of factly. “So just go about your day and don’t mind me.”

“How about you stand your ass up, walk over here, and we go do what I have planned for you to do,” Rick asked her rhetorically. Sooner or later, she’d have to do it, or he’d continue to bug her all damn day. “Get up,” he demanded.

Kali let out a huff before obeying Rick’s orders. Back at The Sanctuary, she was one of the top dogs. Giving out orders and taking no shit in return, but here the tables were turned. She was the one forced to comply with what these people had to say in order to live. It made a sick feeling rest in her stomach. Pushing off the mattress and standing to her feet, Kali looked at the man dead in the eyes. “What now prick,” she asked him agitated.

“Walk towards the back wall, face it,” he ordered. Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, Kali obeyed. The cell door creaked open causing Kali to turn her head. “Don’t look at me. Keep your eyes on the wall,” Rick ordered stepping into the cell.

She heard his boots skid across the floor, his presence strong behind her. He grabbed one of her wrists causing her to try and jerk away, but he held her firm. Pulling the zip-tie from his pocket, Rick reached for her other wrist holding the two together. His breath hot on her neck was not a welcome feeling. “I own you,” he whispered pulling the plastic tight causing her to grimace.

“Are you into some kinky shit Rick? Gonna hold me down and give it to me like only a real man can? You fucking asshole,” she seethed, hiding her fear.

Rick said nothing only grabbing her arm and guiding her out the cell. Each step of the stairs squeaking under their combined weight. Her heartbeat accelerating as the door came closer. Rick pushed the door open. The bright light caused Kali to squint. Taking a glance around the house, she noticed they had come up into the kitchen. Michonne, who had been down to the cell a couple times, sat at the table giving the pair a look. She and Rick shared a nod before Rick started leading her out of the kitchen.

The walls were a mutual grey lined with white borders. The tile floor in the kitchen faded into dark brown hardwood throughout the rest of the house. Random pictures lined the walls. Kali’s black combat boots tapped against the floor as she walked. Rick guided her towards another set of stairs.

Kali froze. Rick quickly grew impatient and started pushing her. “No Rick, no,” she said as she shook her head. “No.”

Rick continued to ignore her pushing her up the stairs one at a time. Her legs had grown heavy. Her pulse quickening by the second. Her breath hitched. “Walk on your own before I drag you up these stairs,” Rick threatened lowly.

Reluctantly, Kali did as she was told and ever so slowly walked herself up the stairs, Rick’s grip on her arm never faltering. Once they reached the top, she stopped.  “Rick…please, don’t do this,” she begged. “Please.”

“Will you just shut up,” Rick asked her annoyed as he pushed her into the bedroom. Kali tried to jerk away, but Rick was quick and held her arm tight. “Calm the hell down. Nothing’s happening in here except you’re taking a shower. You’re nasty,” he told her leading her into the bathroom just adjacent to the bedroom. Rick pulled her closer to him, his hand gripping her upper arm. Flicking his knife out, the cool metal brushed against her skin as he severed her binds. “Clean yourself up. There isn’t anything in here for you to hurt yourself or anyone else with. So, don’t try anything,” he said firmly, an ungiven warning clear under his tone. “Michonne will be bringing you some clothes. Twenty minutes is all you get,” Rick told her shutting the door and locking it from the other side.

Kali let out a shaky breath examining the bathroom. Baby blue walls with light grey lining matched the gray granite counter. A white shower curtain hung from the shower rod. Turning to look at herself in the mirror for the first time, Kali blinked in surprise. Rick was right, she was nasty. A cut from her eyebrow to mid-cheek was scabbed over. The remnants of blood crusted on her face. Her left eye had a nice fading shiner on it. Dirt and some blood caked the rest of her face.

Stepping over to the shower, Kali played with the nobs until she found the right temperature. Shedding her clothes, she pulled the white t-shirt off grimacing as her muscles screamed in protests. Her shirts had blood splatters on it probably from the men she killed. Easily kicking off her boots, Kali unbuttoned her jeans pushing them down and stepping out of them. Left in only her sports bra and panties, she took a deep breath before shedding them too and stepping under the hot stream of water.

Instantly, the grime that layered her body began to wash away and swirl around the drain. Taking the time to check herself, Kali checked herself out making sure that there were no significant injuries. Three bottles sat on the shelf. A shampoo, conditioner, and body wash along with a washcloth. She heard the door be pushed up and seconds later close back. Peaking outside she saw a fresh stack of clothes folded on the counter.

Quickly washing, she let the water run over her body until there was a knock at the door. The signal that her twenty minutes was up. Twenty minutes of freedom, sort of, gone. Cutting off the water, she shivered the cold air attacking her. Scurrying to dress, she pulled the jeans and short sleeve shirt over her still damp body. She pulled her hair into a ponytail.

A few minutes later the door reopened, this time Rick stood in the doorway of the still steamy bathroom. Kalie sat on the toilet seat until they locked eyes for a moment before she looked away. “Get up. Turn around,” Rick said gruffly. With full compliance this time, Kali obeyed. Rick stepped forward and bound her hands again. Rick guided her out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, and down the stairs. They stopped once in the kitchen again, were Michonne was feeding a toddler, to get a water bottle and snack bar before guiding her down the stairs to her ‘home’.

Rick pulled the door open and Kali walked inside expecting him to follow. The sound of the cell closing made her whip around, her hands still bound behind her back. “Rick, what the hell?”

He stared at her for a minute before speaking. “Walk to the door,” he paused waiting for her to follow his direction. “Turn around,” he commanded once she was at the door. Rick reached through the cell door and cut her binds. “What’s your name,” he asked her holding the cut zip-tie, the water, and food.

Kali smirked when she turned around to face him again rubbing her wrists. “What’s your name,” he asked once more.

“I’m Negan.”

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

Tag list:  @sleepylunarwolf @simonsgelatodemon @zoesmama2024 @vizhi0n @beautyqueenforbes @jeffreyfuckingdeanmorgan @kazzieglove @catlovescats

I KNOW THE KEEP READING TAB ISNT WORKING!! I’ll try to fix it when I can. Sorry.

#Rick #Rick Grimes #Negan #The Walking Dead #TWD #Andrew Lincoln #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM #the walking dead fics #OC #Rick x OC #Negan x OC #Original character #AHLTL

[anerdysouthernbelle]

Finn|Marry Me|Balor

*This is actually the closest I could find of Finn in a black suit*

https://open.spotify.com/track/0OWZFobGSIW9GrSlQ9C5pc

https://open.spotify.com/user/1227542885/playlist/6EtPr4GsaI9mrB7paImbhf 

(that’s the playlist I used to write this - hopefully it gives you inspiration as well!)

So, if you haven’t heard this song, it’s called “Marry Me” by Thomas Rhett. You know, the dude that loves his precious wife, Lauren, with all his heart. It’s such a good song and it’ll probably make you cry.

That being said, I hope you all enjoy this story!

Warnings: Angst. Lots of angst.

Word Count: 1647

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list!):

@lavitabella87 @shadow-of-wonder @spot-of-bother @dorkyvillain @lclb13 @thewriterformerlytaggedas @sonjashuterbugjohnson @sortofgetit @kaitlynwwefan @kinghelmsley @kingslayers-angel @kazuchika @leelakoiwolff @lexis-the-stick-figure @culturalrebel @alexahood21 @neversatisfiedgirl @newjapan @amaranthine-reign @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @wwesavedme @imnobodiesbitch @wrestlewriting @wrestlingnoob @nahmooste @edgeoffire @wrasslesmut @wwesmutandstuff  @caramara3 @romanempressfics  @goldenlover83 @spine-buster@mylittlepartofthegalaxy @southernbelle24 @nevillesgravity  @anglophilestymie @vipervenomisgoodforyou @theworldiscolorful @fembxt @baleesi @naccilc @tvrnbvckle @fluffyhales @korrasborra @rontheronin @indywrestlinglover-life @balthazarstardis @balorsomega @balorismydemonking @rabidwrestlingfan @goldenlover83 @thedeboniardevistation @neversatisfiedgirl

“She wants to get married, she wants it perfect She wants her granddaddy preaching the service And she wants magnolias out in the country Not too many people, save her daddy some money”

Fergal sighed as he adjusted his suit jacket. The day had finally come and he didn’t know how to feel. He slipped the small silver flask into his inside jacket pocket and took one last look in the mirror.

“There’s still time to back out,” he told his reflection.

“Ya have to go,” he responded to no one at all. He sighed again and picked up his keys and left his apartment. He got into his car and drove to the one place he knew he shouldn’t be at. 

A while later, Fergal arrived, parking in the far back so he could make a quick getaway if need be. He took a few deep breaths and noticed his hands were shaking, so he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. 

“Okay,” he murmured. “You can do this, Devitt. Get out of the car. Just try to make it through today and then you can go home, get blackout drunk and forget this day ever happened.” With one final deep breath, he slowly got out of the car and made his way through the parking lot and up to the venue. He had to give a small smile at the venue. It was just like she said it would be. Absolutely perfect.

“Ooh, she got it all planned out Yeah, I can see it all right now”

He slipped in and took a seat in the back, out of view from everyone. It wasn’t the getting recognized part he was worried about because the people here today were his friends, it was seeing... her. The love of his life, the woman he’d give up absolutely everything for. He gasped softly as he saw her come through, making final checks. She was so beautiful, her hair done in soft curls and a flower crown made of fragrant white magnolias, her favorite flowers. Fergal had to choke back a sob as he watched her.

“I'll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back I'll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees”

He noticed her about to come back down the aisle and he got up quickly so she wouldn’t see him but it was too late. 

“Fergal?” she called out softly. “That you?”

He exhaled deeply and wiped his eyes quickly before turning around to face her.

“H...hey,” he stuttered.

“Hi,” she replied with a soft smile. Just seeing her smile at him just about shattered him. He took in her features and noticed the way she smelled. It was vanilla, his favorite scent on her. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Truth was, he didn’t know what to say.

“I’m glad you came today, Fergal. It means a lot to me, even though...” she trailed off, looking away from him.

“... We broke up,” he finished for her. She nodded slowly and bit her lip, which was painted a soft pink. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her. But he couldn’t, especially not today. 

“Yeah, she wanna get married But she don't wanna marry me” .

“Yeah,” she said sadly.  Fergal stared at her and he couldn’t help but remember the night everything changed for them.

“I remember the night when I almost kissed her Yeah, I kinda freaked out, we've been friends forever And I'd always wonder if she felt the same way”

“Still. Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us,” she told him.

“There’s nothin’ in the world I wouldn’t do for ya, ya know that,” Fergal said, his accent thicker than usual because he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

Even ask you to run away with me, he thought. He kept that part to himself, though, even though he badly wanted to confess that to her. He opened his mouth to tell her that he still loved her, that she was making a mistake, but he couldn’t break her heart a second time like that. He certainly couldn’t break his best friend’s heart, either.

“Zack will be happy to know you’re here for him, as well. He’s still kind of sad you turned down his invitation to be his best man.”

“When I got the invite, I knew it was too late“

“You know why I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t stand there, a few feet away from you, knowing it’s not me. I couldn’t watch yer da give you away to someone else, even if he is my best friend.”

“And I know her daddy's been dreading this day Oh, but he don't know he ain't the only one giving her away”

She gasped softly as Fergal’s confession rushed out. She looked down at her bare feet and the gorgeous aisle runner she had picked out for the wedding. 

Fergal bit his lip as he watched her. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything but he couldn’t help himself. He never could when he was around her.

“I... I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said a little while later. He could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces as he watched her.

She blinked rapidly so as not to ruin her carefully done makeup. She looked up into his stunning blue eyes and sighed raggedly. Fergal reached out to hold her hand but she moved away.

“I...” she swallowed hard. “I have to go.” Fergal nodded and watched her leave.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He looked up quickly.

“Sorry, big guy,” he apologized, making the sign of the cross on his body. “I’ll go to confession later. Lord knows I need to.” He groaned quietly as he made his way back to his seat. He took his silver flask out and downed half of it in one go, wincing as the whiskey burned his throat. He sat there and waited for the wedding to begin. He bounced his leg up and down to keep himself steady. He was anxious as hell and the whiskey wasn’t helping anything. 

A few minutes later, he saw her come back into the church and this time, she was wearing her dress. Fergal leaned forward and put his hands over his mouth as he saw her.

*By the way, this dress is available on Etsy! Search up boho wedding dress or blush wedding dress

She’s so goddamn beautiful, he thought. He was captivated by her. He had to choke down a sob as he watched her move around the church, making final preparations. That was one of the things he loved and hated about her - she had to have everything just so, even if it was already perfect. He was hopelessly in love with her and he let her go into his best friend’s arms. 

All the whiskey in the world couldn’t make him come close to feeling as intoxicated as he was watching her. He took his phone out of his pocket and snapped a quick photo of her. He would probably delete it later, but right now, he wanted to remember her just like that - as lovely as an Irish spring day. He sighed as he thought about taking her home to Bray, County Wicklow and getting married in Kilruddery House. 

She left soon after, but not before sneaking one last glance at Fergal. Their eyes met and they seemed to be saying goodbye to each other without ever speaking a word. 

Finally, it was time for the wedding to begin.

“Bet she got on her dress now, welcoming the guests now”

Fergal moved closer to the aisle so he could leave as quickly as possible later. But there was a thought in the back of his mind; he could make one last plea to her, try to get her to run away with him. 

“I could try to find her, get it off of my chest now”

Common sense took a hold of him then. He knew he couldn’t do that - he’d lose her and Zack at the same time.

“But I ain't gonna mess it up, so I wish her the best now”

He watched the wedding procession begin then, but he looked on in a daze almost. He stood up at the appropriate time when she walked in, on the arm of her father. Fergal was the first face she saw and she had an unreadable expression on her face as she passed him by. He wanted nothing more than to pull her close and kiss her in front of everyone. He saw her father give her to Zack, clasping their hands together and telling him welcome to the family. He looked on as Zack smiled widely at her and her returning the smile with a dazzling one of her own. 

Fergal rubbed his cheek as he tried to keep from crying. It wasn’t just the wedding, it was everything seemingly crashing down around him as he watched the love of his life marry his best friend.

When the minister (her grandfather) asked if anyone had any objections, he stood up abruptly, causing the people in the church to begin murmuring and whispering. She and Zack turned around with shocked and confused expressions on their faces. Fergal took one last long look at the two of them, and walked out, leaving her behind. Part of him wished she would chase after him, but he knew better. Besides, he’d be long gone by the time she finished up the ceremony. 

“So I'm in my black suit, black tie, hiding out in the back Doing a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees Yeah, she wanna get married Yeah, she gonna get married But she ain't gonna marry me Whoa, but she ain't gonna marry me, no” 

#text post #Finn Balor #finn balor fanfic #zack sabre jr #song fic

[winters-blue-children]

A Coliver 3.15 coda.

“Marry me, Connor.”

Connor stares, wide eyed and shell shocked, thinking he must have heard wrong, because he can’t even begin to comprehend the idea that Oliver is asking him to marry him. His lips are parted but no sound comes through. The words ring in his ears.

Marry me, Connor.

“C’mon, say something,” Oliver whispers after a moment of silence. His hand finds Connor’s where it rests limp on their sheets. “I want you to marry me.”

“Um…” Connor awkwardly clears his throat and scoots up an inch on the bed. The other man leans back to allow him the space. “This is such a boner killer, dude.” Connor mumbles under his breath. He can’t even meet Oliver’s gaze.

“I know it’s not the most romantic proposal–” Oliver doesn’t miss the way Connor flinches at the word. “But I want this. I want you, I want us. Forever.”

Connor pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. He didn’t think he would ever hear Oliver utter those words to him–he certainly wasn’t expecting it now. Not when the state of their lives is invariably a mess. “Forever’s a long time, you know.” Connor finally says as he looks up.

“Of course I do,” Oliver says softly. “And I want it with you.”

He says it with such conviction that Connor almost believes him.

“Ollie… you know I love you…”

“I love you too, Connor!”

“I just–I don’t know if we’re in the right place right now… Everything’s such a mess–were we even together before all this happened?” Connor’s stomach churns painfully, and seeing the hope and joy fade to sadness on Oliver’s face doesn’t make him feel any better. “We broke up,” Connor whispers. “Then we got back together, then we broke up again! I just–I don’t want to fuck this up again. I don’t know if we’re ready for this… this is huge… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Oliver nods, his hand tightens around Connor’s. As much as he wishes he could, he can’t deny the truth in Connor’s words. “I know it’s scary. And I know that our lives have been a mess these past few months.” Oliver chuckles softly at the understatement. “But breaking up with you… finding out the truth about everything… this whole crazy nightmare we’ve been through… the only thing I know for sure, is that I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m not losing you again.”

“You’re only saying this because you thought I was dying in a well somewhere.”

Oliver frowns. “No, Connor–”

“Yes!” Connor tenses involuntarily and slips his hand out of Oliver’s grip. “You thought I was in danger. You thought I was dead–again. I know what that feels like! This is just… adrenaline or whatever. So what happens when that wears off? What happens days from now, weeks from now, years?” Connor sighs and stares down at his hands in his lap. The fear that Oliver might change his mind is all too real. “I don’t want this to be the reason you’re asking me to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“It’s not the only reason,” Oliver says softly.

Connor shakes his head as he looks up again. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re gonna regret later.”

“I’m not going to regret this–”

“Ollie–”

“Are you saying no?”

Connor nearly chokes on the air in his throat. The silence between them is suddenly crushing. Self-destructive tendencies aside, even Connor would find it difficult to say no to everything he’s ever wanted. It’s harder than he could possibly imagine, denying himself the opportunity to spend the rest of his life with the man he loves. How could he say no to that? They could be happy. They could make each other happy.

But Connor knows from experience that it’s never that simple.

“Ollie, we’re so fucked up…” Connor whispers. “I’m so fucked up. Why would you even want to marry me?”

“Because I love you,” Oliver whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I know I’ve done a shitty job of showing it–”

“I know you love me, Ollie–”

“No, just–just listen, please. When I broke up with you. I–I thought I needed to find myself, or figure out who I was without you, or something. We… we weren’t right. And I couldn’t figure out what it was–”

“It was me.”

Oliver swallows, and after a moment, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.” Oliver says quietly. “It was the secrets. The secrets and the lies. This whole, crazy, insane life that you had been hiding from me. That’s what it was…” Not that it got any easier after knowing the truth. But at least afterwards, he could face their problems head on. At least then, he knew what their problems were.

There are days when Oliver wants to kick himself for not seeing it sooner. How could he have been so blind? Maybe he should have forced the truth out of Connor. Maybe if he had, the hole they’d gotten themselves into wouldn’t be so deep. Oliver sniffs and gives a shake of his head. It’s pointless to agonize over ‘what ifs’.

“I get why you didn’t tell me stuff,” Oliver murmurs softly. “I get why you kept your secrets. I get it. I really do. And I’m on board. I meant what I said, Connor. Whatever you want to do, I’m with you, one hundred percent, all the way. Because I don’t need anyone else. I just need you. I know that now. I love you, Connor.”

“I know you do,” Connor says tiredly as he wraps an arm around himself, feeling a chill on his bare skin. He closes his eyes like the words are painful to say before he looks back at Oliver. “And love makes you reckless.”

“Then let’s be reckless!”

“I don’t want to fuck this up again!” After everything that’s happened, Connor feels like grabbing the other man by the arms and shaking him, demanding where on earth he gets his optimism from. “I’m terrified we’re making a huge mistake. And please don’t say you love me again.” Connor could tell just from the look on Oliver’s face what his next words were going to be.

“You don’t believe me?” Oliver challenges.

“I don’t–” Connor breaks off with a sigh. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not fair for you to say. That’s also not for you to decide.”

“It’s true though. You know I fucked Thomas,” Connor says through gritted teeth. The memories of that awful night flash through his head, starting with Thomas, ending with Wes, and everything else in between. “I’m so fucked up… and messed up. I hurt you and I’m so sorry, but I know that I’m just going to keep hurting you again and again, so… so really, why are you even bothering with me?”

“You’re forgetting that I’ve hurt you too,” Oliver says sadly, remembering the times he didn’t fight harder for them. “That’s not all on you, Connor.”

“Okay, so we’re both fucked up!” Connor says, a hint of hysteria in his voice. “Yeah, that’s just great! Let’s tie the knot already!”

“I know we’ve had our issues. There’s so much shit on our record…” The fights and the arguments, the break ups and the diagnosis, the secrets and the lies… their record should be tossed, burned, and forgotten. Maybe if Oliver were a stronger man, he’d think they should just cut their losses and call it a day.

“The only thing I know right now, is how much you mean to me,” Oliver says softly. “I mean it, Connor. I know you, and I love you. I know your shit, your emotional baggage and your crap and your issues and I don’t care! I don’t! I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And that’s all that matters to me.”

“You think you know,” Connor murmurs quietly, his eyes rimmed with tears from Oliver’s sincerity. “You think you know my shit. But you don’t.” He looks away, focuses on a spot of nothing on the far wall so he doesn’t have to look Oliver in the eye. “You wouldn’t want me if you did.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m terrified you’ll leave me again.”  

“I’m not going to leave you again.”

“You can’t promise that–”

“I know. I need you to trust me, when I say that I know what I want.”

Connor swallows. “You know Annalise called me broken? Maybe I am. Maybe she’s right. I’m not meant for this, Ollie. I’m not good at this. You could do so much better than me.”

“I don’t want better than you,” Oliver says softly, shaking his head. “I want you, Connor. And you don’t have to say yes. You don’t have to say yes right now. You don’t have to say anything at all. Just don’t say no.”

“Ollie…”

Oliver leans forward and presses their lips together gently. His hand reaches up to cup Connor’s face and the other man sighs softly into his mouth. The sound has Oliver melting into his arms. “Don’t say no,” Oliver murmurs in between soft kisses as he pulls the other man closer. It’s not close enough. Even as their kisses turn passionate, and the burning desire floods through their veins, as Connor’s gentle sounds turn to hisses and moans–it’s still not close enough.

Not when Oliver needs to reacquaint himself with every inch of Connor’s body, just to remind himself that Connor is here and safe, and that just maybe, their relationship is finally back on the right track.    

So Oliver kisses him, slow but passionate. His tongue runs over the sharp edge of Connor’s teeth as the other man arches beneath him. It’s not quick or aggressive, like their last reunion. It’s not fumbling or desperate, like it was in the beginning. He can taste him, smell him, and feel him and it’s overwhelmingly perfect.

Connor presses his hips up and groans. He pulls Oliver down, relishing in the feeling of his weight on top of him. The other man’s erection presses into his hip and he’s suddenly reminded that they’re both conveniently naked. “Ollie,” Connor gasps. “I wanna feel you. Now.”

Oliver moans and kisses him again. Connor’s hands fist in the hair at the top of his head, and he tugs to get his attention, until Oliver finally breaks away. “Ollie!”

Oliver’s chest heaves as he scrambles to search the bedside table for lube. Connor pulls himself up on bed, adjusting the pillows behind him, and impatiently wraps his legs around the other man’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Christ, it’s been too long,” Oliver mumbles as he fumbles with the cap of the tube.

“I love you, Ollie.” Connor chokes out, right as Oliver is slicking up his fingers.

Oliver’s fingers still and a glob of sticky lube drips onto their sheets. He looks up with wide eyes and a soft grin on his lips. “I love you too, Connor.” A tug from Connor’s legs around him jerks him back to the task at hand. “Get in me,” the other man growls.  

Oliver grins as he lifts Connor’s thigh with one hand, the other slicks his hole, tracing it with gentle circles before slowly pushing in. Connor groans softly, his eyes flutter closed and his head falls back to the pillow behind him. Oliver watches mesmerized as his finger disappears inside Connor, works it slowly until it’s time to add a second. He can feel the other man stretching around him, and Connor’s hand tightly gripping his arm lets him know just how much he loves it.

Connor hisses softly when Oliver adds another finger. He presses down against him, lips falling open–“I’m good,” he gasps, eager to feel more than Oliver’s fingers inside him.

Oliver’s fingers cease their movement, still buried inside the other man. He glances up at Connor, wanting to prolong the moment. Connor’s dark eyes silently beg him for more. His lips are parted, heavy breaths falling between them–and Oliver can’t wait a second longer. He pulls his fingers out and reaches for the discarded lube.

Oliver slicks his cock generously. He moans softly at the sensation, but that’s nothing compared to what it feels like when he’s pressing into Connor. Connor’s tight muscles engulf him and Oliver closes his eyes, shudders a deep breath as he continues to press in slowly. His head falls forward and Connor’s fingernails painfully dig into his upper arms as he slides in inch by greedy inch until he’s completely buried to the hilt.

Connor pulls Oliver down until their chests are flush together, and they brace themselves against each other. For a moment they’re just a trembling, tangled mess of limbs. Oliver’s arm wraps around Connor’s waist as he mutters his name along his jawline, and Connor groans softly, still adjusting to the sensation of being filled.

Oliver’s gasping and panting softly as he starts to move. Their foreheads rest together as Oliver pulls out just enough to thrust back in, slowly at first, until he builds his momentum. Soft grunts and muffled moans fill the space between them. “You feel so fucking good,” Oliver’s lips brush against Connor’s cheek. “I’ve missed this so much.”

Connor reaches down to grab Oliver’s thigh, pulling him closer, deeper as he rocks against him. He lets out a ragged gasp when Oliver gives him a particularly hard thrust. Oliver’s lips find his own, devouring them like he’s starving for it, and Connor murmurs something incoherent into Oliver’s mouth.

He’s fucking missed this. Oliver inside him. Oliver kissing him, Oliver’s strong arms wrapped around him. “Don’t stop,” Connor gasps. He’s leaving finger shaped bruises on Oliver’s thigh as he struggles to pull him closer, and deep, red scratch marks along his back–benefits of fucking face to face. “You feel so good.”

Connor gasps and then groans when Oliver attaches his lips to his neck, sucking at the tender skin before moving along his collarbone. Oliver licks the red spot he’s left behind as Connor arches underneath him. Then he kisses him hard and buries a hand in Connor’s hair, damp with sweat. He gives it a tug, loving how Connor gasps sweetly into his mouth.

Connor’s cursing amidst his moans, begging for more. But Oliver slows his pace, instead of picking it up. He shudders at the feeling of Connor clenching around him. “Don’t fucking tease me, Oliver.” Connor says through gritted teeth.

Oliver lets out a shaky laugh, his face buried in Connor’s neck as he rocks into him slowly, not pulling back as much as he could.

“Fucking move,” Connor gasps. His nails are leaving deep half-moon indents into Oliver’s ass, begging him to go harder.  

“You love me?” Oliver suddenly murmurs against his skin.

“Of course I do!” Connor gasps.

“Say it.”

“I love you,” Connor whispers. “I love you. So fucking much. Now please–please just–”

Oliver cuts off his blabber with a hard thrust, leaving Connor gasping loudly, his head thrown back so Oliver can easily press a wet kiss to the nape of his nape. “I’ve missed this so much,” Oliver gasps heavily. “I want this for the rest of my life, Connor. I want you.”

“Your dirty talk is usually way better than this–” Connor’s cut off by a groan torn from his throat when Oliver thrusts hard into him and follows with another short, hard thrust–finally choosing a rhythm he can get on board with. “Oh fuck Ollie–”

“I want this forever.”

Connor can feel the smirk on Oliver’s lips where they’re pressed into his neck. The other man’s name falls from his lips as he somehow manages to fuck him even deeper. He’s trembling and it feels like he’s melting into a bundle of hot nerves. A random thought bursts into his head–that he might need Oliver like he needs the air in his lungs.

“You bastard–this isn’t fair–”

“No one fucks you as good as I do,” Oliver growls, deep in his throat. “Isn’t that right?”

“You cocky son of a bitch,” Connor gasps. One of his hands is fisting the sheets beneath him, the other clenches Oliver’s hair so hard it must be painful.

“Isn’t that right?!”

“Oh! Fuck yes! Yes–please, Ollie–just–ah shit–just fuck me–”

Somehow, Oliver manages to reduce him to incoherent words and blabber every single time. Until he’s an unintelligible mess that can barely think straight.

“Say it,” Oliver murmurs. His heavy, uneven breathing betrays the tone of his voice. “I want to hear you say it.”

“No one fucks me like you do, I swear–no one!” Connor moans from deep in his throat. With a hiss, his eyes are rolling back into his head and he swears Oliver must have a magic cock. Or maybe they are just meant to be, because sex with Oliver just isn’t like sex with other guys. “I love you so much,” Connor gasps. “I fucking love you so much.”

“Marry me.”

Connor’s eyes fly open. “Fuck you for saying that while you’re inside me!” He screeches.

“Marry me, Connor!”

“No, you can’t do that!” Connor whines, loud and pitifully. He breaks off with a stuttered moan when Oliver snaps his hips just right. He’s panting, begging for more–and Oliver’s words fight for dominance in his head over the pleasure in his body.

“Marry me.”

“Fuck you!”

Oliver shifts and picks up his pace. His hand inches between them to take Connor’s cock and he gives it a firm squeeze. He knows he’s hitting Connor’s spot just right when the other man’s words devolve to desperate, inelegant sounds. Oliver gasps Connor’s name heavily as the other man releases a low whine. And he keeps snapping his hips and stroking him–just a few more thrusts–and Connor’s shuddering out a shaky breath as he tightens around him.

Connor cums with a heavy gasp and a broken, stuttered moan. Warm spurts of his cum splatter between their stomachs, and Oliver’s own orgasm follows quickly. He spills himself inside Connor, gasping and trembling, so dazed from the intensity of his orgasm that he can barely see straight.

“I love you, asshole.” Connor murmurs when it’s over, his voice hoarse and weak.

Oliver chuckles into Connor’s neck, pressing smiles into his skin. As the aftershocks of his orgasm slowly ebb away, he gently climbs off the other man. Connor’s legs tremble as they drop to the bed. Oliver grins, watching him for a moment before reaching for a discarded t-shirt to clean them off. He drops heavily onto the bed next to the other man, completely exhausted–but in a good way.

“Yes.”

Oliver turns his head to the side. “Hmm?” Connor is watching him silently, and there’s something about the look on his face that scares him.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Suddenly, the air in the room gets really difficult to breathe.

“What?” Oliver’s voice cracks embarrassingly, but he doesn’t even care.

Connor blinks hazily, still struggling to calm his heart rate. But his voice is steady when he speaks. “You scare the hell out of me,” Connor murmurs, tears pooling in his eyes. “The fact that you’re asking now, of all times, it’s–it’s crazy. And this… you and me–taking this step that… my whole life, I never thought would happen for me… it’s fucking terrifying.” Connor’s voice breaks, and he blinks quickly, hoping he doesn’t start crying. “You scare the living daylights out of me.”

Oliver grins softly, a part of him in shock that this might really be happening. But he loves the other man so much it’s worth every second. 

“I want to do this,” Connor continues. “As long as you’re by my side, I want to do this, with you. So yes, Ollie… I’ll marry you.”

Oliver can barely breathe. He gasps and sobs, tears blurring his vision, but he reaches for the other man anyway. “Is this real?” He asks, happiness dripping from every word. “We’re getting married?!”

The look on Connor’s face must answer his question because Oliver pulls him close, presses their lips together and they melt into a shaky, snotty, pile of exhausted limbs.

“My mom’s gonna throw a fit,” Connor mumbles against his lips.

“I can’t believe this!” Oliver whispers. “I can’t believe it–I love you so much, Connor.”

“I love you, too.” Connor murmurs.

“We’re going to make this work,” Oliver says softly. “Together. We’re going to make this work.”

Connor nods. He rests his head on Oliver’s shoulder, a gentle smile on his lips, and his eyes closed. “Damn right we are.”

#htgawm #connor walsh #oliver hampton #coliver #coliver fic #y'all asked for smut? #here you go #this took forever lmao #will pete ever give us a real conversation? #who knoooooows? #my fics

[readbookywooks]

One second there, falling. Next second gone.

Thomas couldn’t speak.

“We’ve thrown stuff off the Cliff before,” Minho said. “How could we have ever missed that? I never saw anything disappear. Never.”

Thomas coughed; his throat felt raw. “Do it again—maybe we blinked weird or something.”

Minho did, throwing it at the same spot. And once again, it winked out of existence.

“Maybe you weren’t looking carefully other times you threw stuff over,” Thomas said. “I mean, it should be impossible—sometimes you don’t look very hard for things you don’t believe will or can happen.”

They threw the rest of the rocks, aiming at the original spot and every inch around it. To Thomas’s surprise, the spot in which the rocks disappeared proved only to be a few feet square.

“No wonder we missed it,” Minho said, furiously writing down notes and dimensions, his best attempt at a diagram. “It’s kind of small.”

“The Grievers must barely fit through that thing.” Thomas kept his eyes riveted to the area of the invisible floating square, trying to burn the distance and location in his mind, remember exactly where it was. “And when they come out, they must balance on the rim of the hole and jump over the empty space to the Cliff edge—it’s not that far. If I could jump it, I’m sure it’s easy for them.”

Minho finished drawing, then looked up at the special spot. “How’s this possible, dude? What’re we looking at?”

“Like you said, it’s not magic. Must be something like our sky turning gray. Some kind of optical illusion or hologram, hiding a doorway. This place is all jacked up.” And, Thomas admitted to himself, kind of cool. His mind craved to know what kind of technology could be behind it all.

“Yeah, jacked up is right. Come on.” Minho got up with a grunt and put on his backpack. “Better get as much of the Maze run as we can. With our new decorated sky, maybe other weird things have happened out there. We’ll tell Newt and Alby about this tonight. Don’t know how it helps, but at least we know now where the shuck Grievers go.”

“And probably where they come from,” Thomas said as he took one last look at the hidden doorway. “The Griever Hole.”

“Yeah, good a name as any. Let’s go.”

Thomas sat and stared, waiting for Minho to make a move. Several minutes passed in silence and Thomas realized his friend must be as fascinated as he was. Finally, without saying a word, Minho turned to leave. Thomas reluctantly followed and they ran into the gray-dark Maze.

* * *

Thomas and Minho found nothing but stone walls and ivy.

Thomas did the vine cutting and all the note-taking. It was hard for him to notice any changes from the day before, but Minho pointed out without thinking about it where the walls had moved. When they reached the final dead end and it was time to head back home, Thomas felt an almost uncontrollable urge to bag everything and stay there overnight, see what happened.

Minho seemed to sense it and grabbed his shoulder. “Not yet, dude. Not yet.”

And so they’d gone back.

A somber mood rested over the Glade, an easy thing to happen when all is gray. The dim light hadn’t changed a bit since they’d woken up that morning, and Thomas wondered if anything would change at “sunset” either.

Minho headed straight for the Map Room as they came through the West Door.

Thomas was surprised. He thought it was the last thing they should do. “Aren’t you dying to tell Newt and Alby about the Griever Hole?”

“Hey, we’re still Runners,” Minho said, “and we still have a job.” Thomas followed him to the steel door of the big concrete block and Minho turned to give him a wan smile. “But yeah, we’ll do it quick so we can talk to them.”

There were already other Runners milling about the room, drawing up their Maps when they entered. No one said a word, as if all speculation on the new sky had been exhausted. The hopelessness in the room made Thomas feel as if he were walking through mud-thick water. He knew he should also be exhausted, but he was too excited to feel it—he couldn’t wait to see Newt’s and Alby’s reactions to the news about the Cliff.

He sat down at the table and drew up the day’s Map based on his memory and notes, Minho looking over his shoulder the whole time, giving pointers. “I think that hall was actually cut off here, not there,” and “Watch your proportions,” and “Draw straighter, you shank.” He was annoying but helpful, and fifteen minutes after entering the room, Thomas examined his finished product. Pride washed through him—it was just as good as any other Map he’d seen.

“Not bad,” Minho said. “For a Greenie, anyway.”

Minho got up and walked over to the Section One trunk and opened it. Thomas knelt down in front of it and took out the Map from the day before and held it up side by side with the one he’d just drawn.

“What am I looking for?” he asked.

“Patterns. But looking at two days’ worth isn’t gonna tell you jack. You really need to study several weeks, look for patterns, anything. I know there’s something there, something that’ll help us. Just can’t find it yet. Like I said, it sucks.”

Thomas had an itch in the back of his mind, the same one he’d felt the very first time in this room. The Maze walls, moving. Patterns. All those straight lines—were they suggesting an entirely different kind of map? Pointing to something? He had such a heavy feeling that he was missing an obvious hint or clue.

Minho tapped him on the shoulder. “You can always come back and study your butt off after dinner, after we talk to Newt and Alby. Come on.”

Thomas put the papers in the trunk and closed it, hating the twinge of unease he felt. It was like a prick in his side. Walls moving, straight lines, patterns … There had to be an answer. “Okay, let’s go.”

They’d just stepped outside the Map Room, the heavy door clanging shut behind them, when Newt and Alby walked up, neither one of them looking very happy. Thomas’s excitement immediately turned to worry.

“Hey,” Minho said. “We were just—”

“Get on with it,” Alby interrupted. “Ain’t got time to waste. Find anything? Anything?”

Minho actually recoiled at the harsh rebuke, but his face seemed more confused to Thomas than hurt or angry. “Nice to see you, too. Yeah, we did find something, actually.”

Oddly, Alby almost looked disappointed. “Cuz this whole shuck place is fallin’ to pieces.” He shot Thomas a nasty glare as if it were all his fault.

What’s wrong with him? Thomas thought, feeling his own anger light up. They’d been working hard all day and this was their thanks?

“What do you mean?” Minho asked. “What else happened?”

Newt answered, nodding toward the Box as he did so. “Bloody supplies didn’t come today. Come every week for two years, same time, same day. But not today.”

All four of them looked over at the steel doors attached to the ground. To Thomas, there seemed to be a shadow hovering over it darker than the gray air surrounding everything else.

“Oh, we’re shucked for good now,” Minho whispered, his reaction alerting Thomas to how grave the situation really was.

“No sun for the plants,” Newt said, “no supplies from the bloody Box—yeah, I’d say we’re shucked, all right.”

Alby had folded his arms, still glaring at the Box as if trying to open the doors with his mind. Thomas hoped their leader didn’t bring up what he’d seen in the Changing—or anything related to Thomas, for that matter. Especially now.

“Yeah, anyway,” Minho continued. “We found something weird.”

Thomas waited, hoping that Newt or Alby would have a positive reaction to the news, maybe even have further information to shed light on the mystery.

Newt raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Minho took a full three minutes to explain, starting with the Griever they followed and ending with the results of their rock-throwing experiment.

“Must lead to where the … ya know … Grievers live,” he said when finished.

“The Griever Hole,” Thomas added. All three of them looked at him, annoyed, as if he had no right to speak. But for the first time, being treated like the Greenie didn’t bother him that much.

“Gotta bloody see that for myself,” Newt said. Then murmured, “Hard to believe.” Thomas couldn’t have agreed more.

“I don’t know what we can do,” Minho said. “Maybe we could build something to block off that corridor.”

“No way,” Newt said. “Shuck things can climb the bloody walls, remember? Nothing we could build would keep them out.”

But a commotion outside the Homestead shifted their attention away from the conversation. A group of Gladers stood at the front door of the house, shouting to be heard over each other. Chuck was in the group, and when he saw Thomas and the others he ran over, a look of excitement spread across his face. Thomas could only wonder what crazy thing had happened now.

“What’s going on?” Newt asked.

“She’s awake!” Chuck yelled. “The girl’s awake!”

Thomas’s insides twisted; he leaned against the concrete wall of the Map Room. The girl. The girl who spoke in his head. He wanted to run before it happened again, before she spoke to him in his mind.

But it was too late.

Tom, I don’t know any of these people. Come get me! It’s all fading…. I’m forgetting everything but you…. I have to tell you things! But it’s all fading….

He couldn’t understand how she did it, how she was inside his head.

Teresa paused, then said something that made no sense.

The Maze is a code, Tom. The Maze is a code.

CHAPTER 36

Thomas didn’t want to see her. He didn’t want to see anybody.

As soon as Newt set off to go and talk to the girl, Thomas silently slipped away, hoping no one would notice him in the excitement. With everyone’s thoughts on the stranger waking up from her coma, it proved easy. He skirted the edge of the Glade, then, breaking into a run, he headed for his place of seclusion behind the Deadhead forest.

He crouched in the corner, nestled in the ivy, and threw his blanket over himself, head and all. Somehow, it seemed like a way to hide from Teresa’s intrusion into his mind. A few minutes passed, his heart finally calming to a slow roll.

“Forgetting about you was the worst part.”

At first, Thomas thought it was another message in his head; he squeezed his fists against his ears. But no, it’d been … different. He’d heard it with his ears. A girl’s voice. Chills creeping up his spine, he slowly lowered the blanket.

Teresa stood to his right, leaning against the massive stone wall. She looked so different now, awake and alert—standing. Wearing a long-sleeved white shirt, blue jeans, and brown shoes, she looked—impossibly—even more striking than when he’d seen her in the coma. Black hair framed the fair skin of her face, with eyes the blue of pure flame.

“Tom, do you really not remember me?” Her voice was soft, a contrast from the crazed, hard sound he’d heard from her after she first arrived, when she’d delivered the message that everything was going to change.

“You mean … you remember me?” he asked, embarrassed at the squeak that escaped on the last word.

“Yes. No. Maybe.” She threw her arms up in disgust. “I can’t explain it.”

Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything.

“I remember remembering,” she muttered, sitting down with a heavy sigh; she pulled her legs up to wrap her arms around her knees. “Feelings. Emotions. Like I have all these shelves in my head, labeled for memories and faces, but they’re empty. As if everything before this is just on the other side of a white curtain. Including you.”

“But how do you know me?” He felt like the walls were spinning around him.

Teresa turned toward him. “I don’t know. Something about before we came to the Maze. Something about us. It’s mostly empty, like I said.”

“You know about the Maze? Who told you? You just woke up.”

“I … It’s all very confusing right now.” She held a hand out. “But I know you’re my friend.”

Almost in a daze, Thomas pulled the blanket completely off and leaned forward to shake her hand. “I like how you call me Tom.” As soon as it came out, he was sure he couldn’t have possibly said anything dumber.

Teresa rolled her eyes. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but most people call me Thomas. Well, except Newt—he calls me Tommy. Tom makes me feel … like I’m at home or something. Even though I don’t know what home is.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Are we messed up or what?”

She smiled for the first time, and he almost had to look away, as if something that nice didn’t belong in such a glum and gray place, as if he had no right to look at her expression.

“Yeah, we’re messed up,” she said. “And I’m scared.”

“So am I, trust me.” Which was definitely the understatement of the day.

A long moment passed, both of them looking toward the ground.

“What’s …,” he began, not sure how to ask it. “How … did you talk to me inside my mind?”

Teresa shook her head. No idea—I can just do it, she thought to him. Then she spoke aloud again. “It’s like if you tried to ride a bicycle here—if they had one. I bet you could do it without thinking. But do you remember learning to ride one?”

#MazeRunner