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kangaracha · 1 year ago

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skz + five star trailer (I wanted to write something with this but I’m dumb and didn’t ever figure it out)

The movie isn't good.

It's old. Something about a romance, something about a rich man trying to split them apart. He doesn't know, and he doesn't care, when it wasn't worth the effort he'd put in to go and see it.

He leaves the loader in the car park. That's what happens when you only show boring movies.

The walk home is more interesting than the movie, which is really just a dismal end to a disappointing night. There are several uproars in the streets, and it only takes a slight detour to be able to pass by them. One is Felix, playing in the traffic with a kind of devil-may-care smile on his face that lights up Seungmin's heart. Another is Changbin, throwing things around in an alleyway like their existance has personally offended him. This is only worrying because he was supposed to be watching I.N - but the maknae wasn't invalid or anything. Maybe Changbin had decided he could take care of himself.

It's not like they were far from home, anyway - Yeosul-ro encircles the heart of the city, meaning they never had to stray far to find something of interest to do (or destroy). Anything outside of this circle was only grey and repetitive; the colour and life of the city lived here. They lived here.

Their influence only spreads so far.

The theatre looms tall above him, old and dilapidated. The stone facade is fading, the door sagging on it's hinges - he grunts as he shoves it open and then kicks it closed again, the latch squealing into place. Once again, he laments the difficulty of finding a way to Miroh, or even Levanter - if they lived in one of those shining cities, ever changing and sprawled as far as the eye could see, if they had voices with which to sing and hearts with which to dance...

The discordant crash of piano strings hammering out of time with each other fractures his dream as simply as if Chan had just come up here and beaten it out of him. Seungmin rolls his eyes at the sound, looking up a moment at the dusty beams that run across the ceiling and the old chandelier, still dark even though night has fallen across the sky and most of the group haven't made their way home again. When he flips its switch, he understands why - the globes have burnt out, or the wiring is shorted somewhere in the walls. Either way, the lights won't turn on.

The pianos screech again, and then something heavy and full of glass shatters, louder even than the tortured instruments. The noise draws him in like a moth to a flame - down, down into the theatre, between rows of seats no one has sat in for years, his feet treading over floorboards that creak with age and the threat of giving way under his weight. This room is dark as well, except for the stage lights; silent, except for the cacophany coming from the stage itself, one man and far too many pianos than any sane person needs.

Not that he's sane or anything. Seungmin's pretty sure they've all lost their minds, one way or another. It's the way that they were made; it's the short life they lived, good and then bad, free and then trapped here in this small hell where nothing worked and no one made any sense except them.

(Even they didn't make sense anymore. Even he couldn't understand Chan's obsession with these stupid pianos.)

At the bottom of the stairs, he steps over the body of a discarded metronome, flung from the stage like a toy. Its glass has scattered under the chairs, its innards glinting where they've spilt across the floorboards. Another one ticks loudly on the edge of the stage, its back and forth movement mesmerising. Seungmin very definitely doesn't watch it, or listen to it tick.

A coherent scale leaps from Chan's fingers as he sits down at the leftmost piano, the trill of the keys like a breath of fresh air between the oppressive chords that hang in the vaulted ceiling like smog, choking up the atmosphere. C major - the only thing he's figured out how to play. It ends in Chan's fist smashing down against the upmost keys, setting the instrument to screeching again. Somewhere within it, a string pops, the tone of that key swaying back and forth and then dying out altogether.

"Hyung," Seungmin calls from the bottom of the stage, and Chan stops, his fist still smashed against the keys. His face turns - only his eyes are visible, his jaw obscured by the mask he'd pulled off of one of the men in black that had chased them out of Miroh. Hiding, as usual. Obsessing, over the past, and the future that he can't control, and the things he remembers doing but can't, like playing those stupid pianos.

"What?" Chan spits, and stands, his fist sliding from the piano. The keys play again as they are released, four high notes that don't belong together screaming for relief all at once.

"I'm going to kill you if you keep playing those things," Seungmin tells him, not in the least bit scared. I.N, Felix, Han...Chan could scare them off all he liked, but not Seungmin. Not when he's been listening to this shit day in and day out for seven months now.

Chan kicks the piano chair away and stalks across the stage. Jumps to the floor, floorboards grating and squeaking in protest. "I'm just trying to get us out of here," he grumbles and shoves past Seungmin - and isn't that the truth, that even though he sits up there and bashes away at whatever instrument he's scavenged from the guts of the theatre and waves grenades at whoever comes to try and stop him, his claws are all dull, really. His teeth are hidden behind that mask because he doesn't have any with which to bite them.

At least it's quiet now. Until he wanders his way back in here later in the night, frustrated and unable to sleep. Driven toward the music like it has claws dug into him and long arms with which to drag him back. Seungmin will just have to sleep until then, or hope that Minho wanders back in from wherever he's disappeared to and distracts Chan further.

Or he could try to sing again. Just once more, while the stage is free

Chan's back retreats, stomping up the stairs. Seungmin lingers, his toes touching the edge of the murder scene spread across the floor and his eyes turned up towards the stage. Sometimes, when it's silent, he can hear it calling for him too - sometimes, he can understand what drives Chan back here, again and again and again.

He's not weak though. He understands giving up when he's been knocked down enough - if he climbs up there and he tries to do what his soul begs him to do, nothing will come out of his mouth, and that won't have changed in the months that have passed him by while he loiters here with no real idea of what to do with himself. Drawing a breath into lungs made of iron, he turns away from the stage and steps over the metronome, every pace into the darkness another crack in the tough hide he coats himself in.

Sleep, that's what he will do. Sleep, and eat, and wander around on the streets again until he finds something that catches his interest. Avoid the music. Look for a way back to Miroh.

He doesn't need to sing to survive.

He doesn't.

---

read nevermore

#stray kids #5 star #nevermore #kim seungmin #skz seungmin #stray kids fic #skz fic #roo writes #this is nevermore verse #for those following along at home.

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rodr1cks · 4 years ago

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Hi! I don't know if your request are open, but I'd like to know if you could write a rodrick x reader where the reader is Rowley's sister and discovers her talking on the phone with a friend saying she's in love with Rodrick and tells Greg and he tells her that Rodrick has been in love with her for a long time and they try to put them together?

cw: none it’s pure fluff

word count: 1.8k

“I know! And he didn’t even apologize!” Greg ranted into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” Rowley frowned, sympathetic nature as present as always. “Anyways, mom says dinner is ready, see you tonight?” Rowley’s tone lifted at the end of his sentence, excitement brewing as he thought about the sleepover he was meant to have with Greg later that evening.

You slid into the kitchen on your socks, just as Rowley was concluding his conversation with Greg.

Rowley sat anxiously through dinner, quickly consuming everything on his plate, including the vegetables. You observed him from across the table, cocking your head as your younger brother inhaled his peas like he hadn’t eaten in days.

He took his last bite before exclaiming, “I’m going to pack my stuff for Greg’s!”

Not without clearing his dishes first, of course.

You rolled your eyes at his charisma and headed into the living room. You slumped over on the couch, limbs splayed every which way as you called your friend, Marissa. You had been needing to gush to somebody about your newest crush, Rodrick Heffley.

You had only interacted with the messy haired boy in passing: family dinners, picking up Greg, dropping off Rowley, etc.

“I don’t know what it is, he’s just so- so- captivating. God, Mar, I swear I could watch him play drums for hours on end!”

Unbeknownst to you, Rowley had entered the room and was about to speak. You were too caught up in drooling over Rodrick to notice. “Hey, y/n-” He cut himself off quickly, curiosity getting the best of him.

“And did you see what he was wearing at Matt’s party? Those jeans? And that eyeliner? God I could just tear them-”

Rowley cleared his throat, unwilling to hear the rest. “Y/n can you take me to Greg’s, please?” He stood awkwardly with his lips pursed.

Your head whipped around faster than the speed of light. “Marissa, I gotta go.”

“Rowley, how much of that did you hear?”

He lied, something he wasn’t really good at, “Not much! I promise!”

“Rowley Jefferson you had better keep your mouth shut, or I swear I’ll-”

You stopped yourself, closing your eyes and drawing in a deep breath. “Just get in the car.” You breathed out in a scarily calm tone. Your red headed sibling nodded frantically out of fear and darted to the garage.

Usually, you would make him walk, but ever since your infatuation with Rodrick began, you were more eager to give him rides over there. The mere prospect of getting the slightest glance sending excitement throughout your entire being.

When you pulled up to the Heffley home, you gave him a final glare. “Say nothing.” He gave you the same shaky nod he gave you only moments ago. With that, he was bounding towards the front door. You made sure he got inside safely and drove off.

“Rowley? Everything okay?” Greg asked his friend, concerned with his behavior. Rowley couldn’t handle keeping secrets. His hands grew clammy and a slight sweat broke out on his forehead. Rowley had an uncomfortably fake smile plastered on his face as he tried to assure Greg that everything was just peachy.

All it took was one knowing look from Greg and Rowley broke.

“Alright, fine! I heard my sister talking to her friend about how hot Rodrick is and how she wants to-”

“Okay, okay! I get the picture!”

Greg took a moment to proceed, his brows furrowed as he brought a contemplative fist up to support his chin.

“Lemme get this straight. Your sister likes my brother?”

Rowley nodded slowly.

“Y/n likes Rodrick?”

Rowley nodded again, confirming Greg’s exclamations.

“But y/n is smart a-and hot!”

“Greg! Don’t say that!” Rowley groaned, rolling his head back in disgust. Greg threw both of his hands up in defense, “I’m just stating facts.”

“Wait, I have an idea.” A pit of dread grew in Rowley’s stomach, Greg’s ideas never turned out well.

“What if we set up y/n with Rodrick? Just hear me out, this could be good for him.”

Rowley mulled the idea over in his head, thinking that maybe dating you could make Rodrick more… agreeable? Maybe you could be a good influence on the intimidating teenager. A happier Rodrick would make sleepovers at Greg’s a lot more pleasant.

“I think that could work,” Rowley said apprehensively. “But how do we do it?”

Greg shrugged, “Simple, we just tell Rodrick there’s a really hot Girl interested in him.”

The boys proceeded to draw up a plan.

Phase one: The approach. Greg and Rowley nervously ascended the wooden steps that led to Rodrick’s room. Rodrick was laying on his back, spinning a drumstick between his nimble fingers.

He shot up immediately when he noticed the boys’ presence. “What are your dweebs doing up here?”

Phase two: Delivery. “Calm down Rodrick, we have some information you might wanna know,” Greg reasoned cooly, easing Rodrick’s anger from a roaring ten to a mild six.

Greg nodded over at Rowley, signaling him to start talking.

“W-well,” Rowley stuttered, “I uhm- heard my sister talking about you and she- she likes you and she was talking about your jeans?”

Rodrick blinked in confusion, processing this intel.

“Your sister likes me? Are you sure she meant me?”

“That’s what I said!” Greg exclaimed and Rodrick shot him a terrifying glare, silently telling Greg to can it.

Rodrick was honestly shocked. He always observed you from afar, deciding himself that a chick as cool as you would never go for him. This news was absolutely world shattering for the boy, he completely admired you.

Phase three: Action. “We have a plan.” Greg said, a conniving grin creeping onto his face. “Rowley calls y/n, tells her that he’s feeling sick and blames it on Mom’s pot roast or something. Then when she rushes over all worried, you greet her at the door. And then you work your Rodrick magic!” Greg smiled, abundant pride for his plan evident in his stature.

“It’s a go.” Rodrick declared, scrambling around his room to put on deodorant, a new t-shirt, and cologne before pointing at Rowley. “Make the call.”

“Hey, y/n,” Rowley groaned into the phone, sounding as sick as he possibly could. “I- I think I ate something bad and I really need you ro come get me.”

You sighed, telling him you’d be there in ten minutes and to have his things ready to go. You departed for the Heffley house for the second time that night.

When Rowley didn’t come out to your car, you trudged up to the red door to go retrieve the sickly boy.

You gave the door three lazy knocks, expecting Rowley’s face to be the one behind it when it swung open. “Hey kid, are you feeling okay?” You asked, not yet making eye contact with the figure leering in the doorframe.

Your eyes widened as you came to realize who it was.

“Funny seeing you here,” Rodrick drawled out, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your cheeks burned with the heat of one thousand suns, you were not expecting this tonight.

“Y-yeah,” you smiled awkwardly, staring at your feet. “Rowley called, he uhm, he’s not feeling well. So if you could just get him for me I can leave. Immediately.” You cursed yourself for your blubbering idiocy as you twiddled your fingers.

“Actually, Rowley is feeling much, much better.” Suspicion grew as you studied Rodrick’s devious expression. “What’s going on?” You asked, genuinely puzzled as nothing was making any sense.

“I don’t know, y/n. Why don’t you come in and tell me?” Rodrick was surprisingly smooth in this situation, despite his nerves being at an all time high.

“Rowley is just up here,” Rodrick said while guiding you up the stairs to his room. In the meantime, Greg and Rowley peered out from the hallway, watching you follow Rodrick upstairs and giggling to themselves.

The overhead lights in Rodrick’s room were turned on, the glow from his string lights illuminating the area instead. “Mood lighting,” as he had called it. Rodrick had already instructed the boys to stay far away once you had arrived.

You were still lost, Rowley nowhere in sight. “So? Where is he?” You asked expectantly.

“Here’s the thing y/n. You know Rowley can’t keep secrets, right? I mean you have to know that, he is your brother”

Shit.

“That little shit stain! I’ll get him, I swear to god!” You turned to bound down the stairs, ready to tear the entire house apart in hunting for him. Rodrick grabbed your wrist before your foot could even reach the first step.

“Y/n, relax, relax!” His grip on your flesh made your breath hitch and stomach churn. “It’s okay, I feel the same way.” Rodrick’s cocky facade dissipated into nothing as he revealed his feelings.

You got a glimpse of a more vulnerable side of Rodrick that you were sure he didn’t typically share. “But girls like you don’t usually like stupid guys like me,” Rodrick was staring at the ground now, grasp on your arm softening.

You were too unsure of your words so you opted to move your free hand to hold his bicep, closing a considerable amount of distance between the two of you in the process.

“Rodrick, I’ve never liked anybody as much as I like you. And I don’t mean that in a weird or creepy way it’s just that-”

Now it was time for Rodrick’s own addition to the plan. Phase four: The kiss.

Your rambling was cut short by a pair of warm lips pressing against your own. He kissed you with just enough force to cause you to stumble back a bit, causing you to brace yourself against his torso.

He carded a gentle hand through your hair and tugged back on your soft locks. You moaned at the vibrations tendrilling at your scalp and kissed him with even more ferocity.

Somehow, you ended up on his bed, straddling him. The blankets strewn across his mattress melded against your knees and the fronts of your calves as you stabilized yourself on his lap.

He placed apprehensive hands on your hip bones, unsure of what was okay and what wasn’t. You placed your hand on top of his larger one, assuring him that you were comfortable. You even allowed a small whimper to leave your throat as he tightened his hold on you.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, looking into his eyes for the first time that night. You smiled warmly at him as you cupped his cheek. Suddenly, Rodrick’s signature smirk returned to his face.

“Now tell me what you were saying about my jeans.”

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #devon bostick

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leoneliterary · 3 years ago

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Hello! I wanted to tell you that I absolutely love your writing and I had so much fun playing the demo, I’ve already played it many times!! 🥺💕💕 I can’t wait to see more of the story and officially meet these fantastic characters!! Especially… Sutek 😳🥰 I’m very soft for him!!

And speaking of being soft, I had a scenario question for the ROs during the crushing stage~ How would the ROs react to seeing the MC after they had had a sweet and tender dream about the MC the night before? 💘

Ahhhh thank you so much!! And I love that Sutek is getting some love! I'm really excited for the love interest introductions in the next update!

This scenario is so sweet! It just took me a while to figure out how to do it and I overthought the mess out of it lol. I kept asking myself, what type of dreams would each character have? What is tenderness? More focus on the dream or them seeing you? Why are they all so awkward? Might have missed the tender part, but I hope you enjoy it!

Merikh:

He had been standing in the river, looking at a village in the distance, and hearing the sounds of laughter and revelry coming from it. Maybe the loneliness was always there, but he felt the pangs fiercely in this moment.

And then you were there.

You waded into the water to take his hand and led him closer and closer to the village. The two of you danced and danced, and yet he didn't feel tired. There you stood face illuminated by torchlight and your smile, and he comes closer and closer to you, his lips about to meet yours...

He bolts upright in bed, drenched in sweat. Stumbling he ambles out of the bed to throw open a window, letting in the surprisingly cool night breeze.

The fresh air gently caresses his face, but that only reminds him of the dream he was trying to escape from.

The next morning he's more haggard than usual and trying to avoid his thoughts with tea, when you abruptly enter his study.

"Merikh we need to talk!"

Tea goes everywhere. The desk, himself, out of his nose

“Are you alright?!” you rush over to him, roughly patting his back as he coughs.

"No!"

Laverna:

She's alone and all of the flowers are dead. She tried to reach out to touch them, but they crumpled and now there was only dust. It swirls around her suffocating her until a hand takes hers.

It's you.

You take her hands, lift her up and wipe her eyes.

"Breathe Laverna, I'm here."

And just like that, dust turns to petals, barren earth blooms and so does her heart. You both lay together on the newly grown plush grass and she rests her head on your chest, the beat of your heart feeling surer than her own.

"We could start over too, you know." You say it idly as she lays on you and Laverna wonders if you're right. Maybe she could trade a barren life for one that is full of both you and herself. The idea grabs hold of her and she can feel it and your grip on her heart.

As rays of sun filter into her room she is too overjoyed by her recollection of her dream to feel heartbroken that it was over. She immediately hurries to get dressed and begins to get to work.

When you visit her later that day she surprises you by dropping a grand and vibrant crown of flowers onto your head.

"And what is this for?" you ask with a laugh, gingerly bringing a hand up to touch the soft petals.

"I'm just happy to see you."

Sutek:

Nightmares plague Sutek. Most nights find him trapped behind gritted teeth and sweat soaked covers and yet tonight he was freed. He wakes up in a daze, boneless in his bed as snippets of the dream come back in flashes. He could still hear the sweet way you called his name, the way you welcomed him into your arms, and how in your eyes he could see a home he had long left behind. Your face, your laugh, a laugh that he was able to draw out of you.

Dragging himself out of his bed he shakes his head and sighs.

That's how he knows it was just a dream. How would he ever be able to make you smile or laugh like that?

He's bit stunned when he sees you later that night and for a brief moment, he's unsure whether he's awake or dreaming. He smiles at you.

Then you begin to run and he of course gives chase.

That definitely gave him some clarity.

In my dreams I make you laugh, but when I'm awake I make you run.

The sting of the truth makes him briefly wonder if maybe nightmares are preferable to the feeling of something he can never have.

Desma:

She makes her way through a dark torch lined hall and opens a heavy door into a small room. The only thing there is a large chest and she gets ready to pick the lock, only to find it doesn't have one. She opens the chest and what seems like thousands of gold coins come spilling out. They pour and pour out of the chest shimmering and then begin to take shape.

Your shape to be exact.

Glittering and draped in gold you walk across the blanket of coins to take her face in your hands, your smile so wide and bright that she can't help but beam back.

"What's this worth to you Desma?"

Without hesitation she leans in, "Everything." and she seals it with a kiss.

When she wakes up alone in bed she begins to search for you, her frenzy only dulled by her still being half asleep. She looks under her covers, even under her bed until she hears you outside.

"Desma! Wake up, we need to meet Merikh!"

You're banging on her door and at the sound of your voice she leaps up to answer it. You jump back when she does and with some of her hair stuck to the side of her face with drool, she grabs your shoulders and practically shouts in your face, "Do you remember when you were made of gold and you poured out of a chest?!"

Nari:

The small wooden boat she's sitting in is being violently rocked by waves as she desperately searches it for an oar. Thunder booms overhead and she considers getting out and swimming, but the shore is nowhere in sight.

"Rough weather Nari?"

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears your voice, eyes darting around to locate it when you call out again.

"Down here."

She looks down and sees you smiling up at her from the water, your arms casually draped over the side of the boat.

She leans down to you and you open your arms to her. "Care to join me?" You ask and despite the storm overhead and everything else telling her to stay in the boat she nods.

You pull her beneath the depths.

Instead of darkness and water filling her lungs the water is filled with brightness and she finds that she can breathe just fine. She realizes that the two you you are embracing, faces so close together.

"It pays to be bold, Nari."

When she wakes up she tries to go about her day normally, but when she see's you later something stirs in her. She could be bold, right?

I'll ask if you want to visit the port with me.

So she takes a deep breath, but as soon as you make eye contact her tongue turns to rocks and all she can manage is, "Er—um, do you want a boat?!"

Aretas:

He's surrounded by crowns, but none of them fit.

Silver and gold, but all too big or small. The throne room is overflowing with him and he finds himself wading through the jagged headpieces, trying to find something, anything, that could fit.

"Those are nice, but this one," he turns behind him to see you holding one. It's golden and ornate, but with no sharpness to it and he stands motionless as you approach him with it. Looking into his eyes you place it on his head and suddenly you both are no longer in the throne room. Instead you stand on a cliff's edge, overlooking the city. You lightly touch the crown you've place on him before gently sling your hand to caress the side of his face.

"This suits you well, my King."

A years worth of words are at the tip of his tongue but all he can do is look at how compared to you, even the view of the city fades into the background,

Later that day when you enter with Merikh for an audience he finds himself struggling to decide if he should wear his regular circlet or something a bit more...

During the audience he's staring at you more often than not and you're staring back. But so is Merikh, because Aretas is wearing the crown that kings use when passing judgement on criminals.

He wears it well though.

Sarai:

She's walking forward, or at least she's trying to. Layer after layer of draping fabric fall in front of her, always getting in her way just as she moves forward. Finally she reaches forward and grabs one of the falling pieces of fabric and roughly pulls it towards her.

But in her hand is no longer a piece of fabric, but instead the flap to one of the largest tents she's ever seen.

"There you are Sarai!"

Your voice calls out to her from inside the tent and she sees you, sitting on an impossibly large mound of cushions and blankets, eagerly waving her over.

She comes over to you and you pull her into the pillow pile laughing the whole time. Before she knows it she's laughing too. Blankets flying, bouncing on pillows, Sarai's laugh is louder than she's heard it in years. A breeze blows through and takes all of her worries with it. You hold each other under the covers, and when she turns over to look at you, she only sees an empty bed. The huff she let's out is part embarrassment and part disappointment.

Later that day when you enter her chambers, you barely dodge the pillow that whizzes past your head.

"My Queen?" You ask carefully and she smiles behind her fan.

"Oh, my hand slipped."

Heka:

Heka is no stranger to dreams and visions, but this one leaves him staring up at the ceiling as if it still holds him, even in the waking worlds.

It's more than just remembering the dream, he can still feel you.

He lays still because he's almost sure that your hand are still in his hair. He's still telling you how excited he is to show you the temple he grew up in. You have him trapped and he never wants to be free from you.

Is this a vision of what may come?

The day drags on and he really just wants it to end, that way sleep will visit him. That way you will visit him. Those thoughts leave when he sees you later in the day. He sees you coming towards him and it's as if time has slowed. Every part of you is as it was in his dream.

"Heka, didn't your hear me?"

You've been calling his name for a while now but he's too happy to see you to feel embarrassed.

"My mind was elsewhere, but don't worry," his smile is bright as he looks at you, "I'm with you."

#Honor Amongst Thieves #ROs #answered asks #Merikh #Desma #Laverna #Sutek #Sarai #Nari #Aretas #Heka #All Ros #scenarios #if wip #interactive fiction #hat if

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beauvibaby · 3 years ago

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Purple and Yellow – j.oleksiak

• Jamie Oleksiak goes through heartbreak and challenges along with his daughter but then he meets a woman who seems to catch both their hearts •

a/n: ok this is NOT proof read at all I’m sorry but I knew if I went back and did that I’d end up hating it and not wanting to post it but I know y’all wanted it so here you go!

Word Count: 6.1k

Jamie knew he was going to Seattle, and he’d be lying if he said the proposition didn’t excite him, but once his name was inked on that paper, reality came crashing in. He had to up and move his daughter, she was only three, maybe it wouldn’t be that hard. But who was he kidding, everything is hard with a three year old. And how would he explain that they wouldn’t be able to visit mommy every weekend, just like they did every weekend since. That’s all that plagued his mind as he drove home from the airport, Ivy was waiting for him, but he knew she’d succumb to her sleepiness before he could get there. His parents already texting him with a picture of her half asleep on the couch.

Then, the cars on the other side of the road slammed on their brakes, the sound of tires spinning out made everything come rushing back.

“Is this the father of Ivy Oleksiak?” Jamie didn’t even have a chance to speak before the words came across the phone, “yes, who’s speaking?” Jamie replied, heart rate picking up at the soft sigh the woman let out. “Your daughter and Miss Cora Hadley were brought into Medical City from a car accident scene.” All she said were those words before he was rushing to his feet, “are they ok?” He asked quickly, never getting a pair of shoes on so quickly in his life. “Sir, I’m not–“ “Bullshit! Is my baby and my fiancé ok?” He snapped, based on the way she whimpered, a rather young woman on the other end of the line. “Your daughter will be fine, just some scratches, the car seat did it’s job.” She spoke slowly, her breath hitching. “I think it’s best you get here as quickly as possible.” She spoke carefully, and in that moment Jamie’s heart fell to his feet like an anchor, he could feel his stomach twisting and his eyes burning. He knew what those words meant. Then he thought of Ivy and that snapped him out of his daze, he had to get there, now.

Jamie pulled into his driveway safely this night, parking beside his parents car, a sigh escaping his lips, forcing the terrible memories from two and a half years ago away. He gathered his bags, and lugged them inside, smiling at his family all asleep in the living room. That made him forget that oh so familiar ache in his chest just a little bit more. He put his bags in the corner, those could wait, but right now all he needed was to hold his baby girl. He scooped Ivy up, smiling as she fluttered her eyes open just enough to see him. “Daddy.” She murmured, “hi bug.” He inhaled the scent of her toddler shampoo, his mom always taking care of her hair the best, brushing the detangler through the unruly hair she got from her father. “Sleep with you.” Ivy whined when he started heading for her room, normally he didn’t give in, not wanting her to be dependent on him to sleep, but he needed her tonight too. “Just tonight princess.” He gave in, bringing her to his room with him, where she fell asleep instantly when he placed her on the plush bed.

Jamie laid awake, staring at the ceiling for a little while, thinking of how he would tell Ivy about having to move. “I hope you’re proud of me.” He whispered out, his tears staying pooled in his eyes as he forced himself to calm down. “Sleep daddy.” Ivy complained, nuzzling closer to him. “Hold me.”

“Jamie.” Cora whispered, hoping he was awake despite the late hour, he grunted in response, being a light sleeper ever since he found out Cora was pregnant. “Hold me.” She demanded with a light tone, her back aching and stomach bulging as Ivy kicked around in there. Jamie blindly opened his arms for her, letting her settle into his chest. “Always.” He murmured, already half asleep as she sighed in content.

“Come here baby girl.” Jamie murmured at Ivy, letting her rest her head upon his chest, Ivy was a very cuddly little girl, the second she was comfortable with you, she’d be sitting in your lap and telling you stories and anything to be touching you. It was one of Jamie’s favorite things, especially when he came home from a roadie and all she wanted was to be held by him.

***

“Daddy!” Ivy called, she managed to climb onto the bathroom counter to brush her teeth but now she was too scared to get down, “daddy!” She shrieked again, Jamie’s eyes fluttered open as he quickly took in his surroundings, “daddy, I stuck!” Ivy called, this time sounding annoyed by his lack of response. He threw the blanket off as he knew where she was stuck, this was a common occurrence. He appeared in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest, “and just what do you think you’re doing?” Jamie asked his daughter as she made grabby hands for him, she grinned brightly at him, “I brushed my teeth!” She answered in a duh tone, she grabbed his face once he scooped her up, kissing the tip of his nose, and he the same to her, “I’m very happy you brushed your teeth, Ivy, but you know you’re not supposed to get on the counter, that’s why we got you a stool, remember?” He explained, for easily the tenth time in the past month. “I know.” She huffed, dramatically pushing her hair back, making Jamie chuckle as he walked down the stairs, hearing his parents talking in the kitchen.

“Well, good morning sleepy heads.” Alison teased as Ivy gasped at the sight of pancakes on the counter, Jamie shook his head with a smile, placing her on the seat beside his dad, “I’ll make you a special plate.” Richard quipped to the little girl, which really just meant drawing a smiley face on it with whip cream. “Thanks mom.” Jamie gave his mom a kiss on the cheek before shuffling around to get his coffee, desperately needing the sleep kicked out of his system. “When are you going to tell her?” Alison asked, taking a small bite of her food, giving her son the side eye when he hesitated. “Today.” He gave in, knowing he absolutely had to start packing now, otherwise it would never be done in time. “So, Ivy, do you have any plans for today?” Alison shifted her attention to her granddaughter, figuring they could take her out to do something so he could get more done. “Gonna go see momma!” She cheered, some syrup smeared around her mouth.

Jamie froze, it was Saturday already, he checked his phone and felt humiliated that he had forgotten his promise to take Ivy to the cemetery. Evidently the panic was written across his face when both his parents stared at him. “Why don’t grandma and I bring you? We haven’t been there in a while.” Richard offered, rubbing Ivy’s back when she looked to Jamie for permission. “I think that would be nice, right baby?” Jamie finally found his voice, and Ivy nodded brightly, anytime she got with her grandparents was cherished. “Daddy coming to?” She asked, tilting her head as he sipped on his coffee, “I’ve got some work to do, alright, I’ll go next time.” He assured her, shooting his dad a thankful look as he quickly changed the subject before she could pester on any further.

“Ivy, I need to talk to you.” Jamie announced, he couldn’t wait any longer, he had to do it and be done. Alison nearly choked on her coffee and Richard looked at his empty plate like it was suddenly the most interesting thing. Ivy nodded, munching away on her pancakes, not understanding the severity of what was about to be said.

Jamie cleared his throat and pulled out the chair beside her, “you know how I had to go away to this new place for work, yeah?” He reminded her, “Seattle.” He said, and she nodded, “Seattle.” She repeated, not entirely perfect but good enough. “I got a job over there.” He spoke, waiting to see what she thought. “Hockey?” She asked, confusion lacing her tone. “Yes, still hockey.” Jamie chuckled softly, “it’s with a new team.” He paused, glancing away for a second, “we have to move there.” He concluded. Ivy nodded slowly, “new house?” She asked, she might be young, but she knew that moving meant not in this house. “Yeah, new house, new city, new people.” Jamie explained, panicking when she went wide eyed, “what about uncle Ro-Ro?” Ivy asked, referring to Miro, she was closest to the young defenseman as she always saw him beside her dad on the ice. The nickname had been dubbed upon him when she was learning to speak and liked to repeat things. “We can visit, baby.” Jamie spoke softly, heart breaking as she began to sniffle. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head, he knew the realization was coming. “But Momma!” She sobbed.

And that completely shattered his heart.

“I know.” He picked her up, feeling her sob into his neck, “momma.” She whimpered, though she didn’t remember her, Jamie made sure to keep her an important part of her life. Ivy didn’t know that she loved going to a gravestone that much until this moment. “Hey, look at me, bug.” Jamie demanded gently, situating her to be in front of him. He sat her on the countertop and stood in front of her, “momma will always be with us, right? Isn’t that what I always say?” He explained to her. Ivy nodded slowly, she was so young but always acting older, trying to wrap her head around this. “Yeah.” She mumbled sheepishly, cheeks red and eyes puffy, she felt shy under the gaze of her grandparents. “It’s alright, daddy’s sad too.” He assured her, lowering his head to be eye level with her. She stared into his eyes, reminding him so much of Cora in that moment, and once again she kissed the tip of his nose. “No sad daddy.” She demanded, drumming her fingers on his cheek. He pecked her forehead, “alright baby.” He agreed, if she could do it, so could he, right?

***

Ivy slept the whole plane ride, which is what Jamie was hoping for as they would be meeting the moving truck at the new house, plenty of things to be done asap.

“Come on Ivy.” Jamie mumbled, carrying her off the plane as she groggily woke up, looking around slightly confused until she remembered what was going on today. “Daddy, Seattle?” She asked, lifting her head from his shoulder, he chuckled, lowering her so she wasn’t so high up on his chest. “Yeah, Seattle baby.” He assured her, her pigtails bouncing as she looked around rapidly. He smiled at her reaction to the airport alone.

“What do you think, Ivy?” Jamie asked, raising his eyebrows as the three year old spun to face him. “Love it!” She squealed, her room was twice as big in this place than her bedroom in Dallas, and Jamie told her she could pick whatever color (within reason) to have her walls painted. Of course she would love it here. Jamie looked around their new-but-empty-house one more time, sighing as he could picture Ivy growing older in this house.

Time to make it a home.

“Hi.” Ivy grinned up at one of the movers as he placed a stack of boxes in her room, Jamie just being outside the door heard her speaking, he raised an eyebrow waiting to hear the guy speak. “Hello.” The young guy spoke sweetly, chuckling at the little girl. “I’m three.” She spoke, “how old are you?” She asked, Jamie held in a snicker as he walked in. “Ivy, leave him alone, bug.” He laughed softly, the guy taking it as his excuse to go get more boxes. “Ugh.” She huffed, flopping down on her bed dramatically, Jamie rolled his eyes, looking around. “What color do you want?” He asked the opinionated little girl, he sat beside her, smiling as she stood next to him, being eye level with him. “Hmm, purple!” She gasped, looking around the currently beige room, Jamie nodded slowly, “light purple.” He countered, knowing she would want to choose the darkest shade. “Fine.” She giggled, “we can go tomorrow, alright? Today we need to focus on finding all your stuff.” He tickled her sides.

***

Ivy was tugging on Jamie’s hand, somehow spotting the paint section quicker than he could. “Slow down!” He laughed heartily, his daughter shooting him a glare as he purposely slowed his feet down. He hoisted Ivy up to see the purple swatches along the top row, she reached for a dark one, just like Jamie knew she would. He sighed, “Ivy, we agreed on light purple, what about this one?” He offered, grabbing a lavender type color, she grunted in disgust, shaking her head dramatically, her blonde curls hitting his face. “Love this one.” She pouted, holding it in front of his face.

Jamie held in a sigh as you walked past him, stopping to look at paint swatches as well. “What about this one?” Jamie compromised, it was darker than he wanted to go, but still light enough to not feel like a dungeon. Ivy’s lip began to quiver, quickly catching both Jamie and the woman’s attention. “Ivy.” Jamie sighed softly, you intervened, “you know, I wanted a dark purple room when I was your age too.” You spoke to Ivy, catching her attention as she lifted her head, Jamie shifting slightly, giving you a smile. “My dad wouldn’t let me do it.” You made a face, getting a giggle out of Ivy, “he was right though, but guess what we compromised?” You mused, holding your hand out for the paint swatches that Jamie had. He handed them over with ease, “we painted one wall, dark, the wall I had my bed on, and the rest we did light.” You explained, Jamie giving Ivy a bright smile when she looked at him like it was the greatest idea ever. “We can do that, Ivy.” He agreed, and you giggled, “glad I could be of help.” You added.

“Thank you,” Jamie paused, waiting for a name. “Y/N.” You told him, smiling at the pair, “and your name is?” You asked, already figuring the little girl's name was Ivy. “Jamie.” He introduced himself. “What are you painting?” Ivy asked boldly, not one to talk much around new people, Jamie set her down so she could look at other colors, amused by her sudden interest. “I’m painting my dining room.” You answered, squatting down to her level, “do you have any color suggestions?” You asked Ivy. Jamie gave you a look that said you really don’t have to entertain her but you just gave him a smile. “Yellow.” Ivy announced, looking at the wall and grabbing actually, a very nice swatch, it was just yellow enough. You tilted your head as you looked at it, imagining it in your space. “That’s a very pretty color, Ivy.” You told her, smiling brightly as she blushed, handing you the color sample. “Thank you, Y/N.” She spoke politely, even though the words didn’t come out perfectly, it was a great attempt. “You’re welcome.” You stood to your full height, shocking Jamie by walking over to the counter to order the paint, no hesitation that a random little girl picked it out.

“You don’t have to-“ Jamie started to say, but you shrugged, giving him a happy smile, “I just got a new place, a fresh start, yellow seems fitting.” You told him. Jamie gave you a lopsided smile, if only you knew he was doing the same. “Daddy, this ones.” Ivy gasped, giving him two swatches, he chuckled at her grammar, squatting down to her level, “you’re sure?” He asked, he knew after all it was just paint, and if it turned out so terrible, they could paint over it but he didn’t want to have to do this twice. “This one looks like momma's dress!” Ivy explained, Jamie looked at the dark purple in his hand, instantly remembering Cora in that dress, Ivy’s favorite picture of her that she kept in her room. Suddenly her color choice made sense, you couldn’t help but eavesdrop, your heart stopping at Jamie’s next words. “Yeah, I think momma would have loved this.”

Was she… dead? You tried to knock the thought from your head, they were so young, but you knew accidents happened. You quickly looked away as Jamie stood back up, “here you go ma’am.” The teenager behind the counter spoke, you took the gallon from him, shooting him a smile. “Have a good day.” You told him, offering Jamie and Ivy a wave. “Will I see you again?” Ivy asked, Jamie nearly had heart failure right there as you stopped and giggled. “Oh I don’t know sweetheart, Seattle is a really big city. But don’t you worry, if I ever see you out and about I’ll be sure to say hello.” You assured her, watching as she got all giddy and slightly hid behind her father again. “Bye.” You told him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling any wider. “Bye, Y/N.” He mumbled, seeming a little dazed as he made his way up to the counter.

***

It had been nearly a week in the new house, the walls were done, almost everything was unpacked and they were starting to feel a sense of normalcy. Jamie loved the neighborhood they ended up in, a true mix of all different people, yes their house was rather large, but it was still homey. The community was sprawling, having a little bit of everything, stand alone homes, townhomes, even some condos, there were plenty of kids around which made him feel good about his choice as he followed Ivy down the road as she rode her bike. “Slow down, Ivy.” Jamie cautioned as she was getting a good bit ahead of him, she huffed dramatically and slowed down, waiting for him to catch up. She was looking around at the houses, confused as to why they were attached, even though Jamie had explained it to her plenty of times. Ivy gasped so loudly, that you could hear it from your front lawn where you were spray painting a piece of furniture. You glanced over and did a double take.

There was absolutely no way, you refused to believe you were actually seeing this, then you saw Jamie and you were convinced the universe either loved you for letting you see him again, or hated you, as you were in ratty old painting clothes.

“Ivy!” You grinned, laughing when the little girl flew off her bike, letting it fall sideways, making Jamie groan, “hi Y/N!” She squealed running up your lawn. You smiled brightly as she hugged your leg, “Ivy.” Jamie called, giving you an apologetic smile but you shrugged it off. “Did you paint your room?” You asked the little girl as she pulled away, a pink tint to her cheeks, she nodded, her blonde curls bouncing in her ponytail. “Yay, that’s great!” You cheered, Jamie walked up behind her, “hi, Y/N. How are you?” He asked, his daughter leaning back against his legs as you two spoke. “Good, been busy making this place my own.” You laughed, motioning to the small townhome behind you. It was your first solo place, and you absolutely adored it, even if it needed some work. “Yeah, you always forget how much work it is moving into a new place.” He agreed, chuckling softly. “Did you do yellow?” Ivy asked, rocking on her feet. “I did.” You assured her, “would you two like to go in and see it?” You asked, cringing internally as you waited to look up at Jamie. “Sure.” He answered, grabbing his daughter's hand, following you inside.

You led them to the dining room, giggling as Ivy gasped, “so pretty!” She cheered, the yellow paid off, it made the space feel much more happy. “All because of you.” You told her, she asked if she could look at the pictures you had sitting on the entry table and you gave her a quick nod, giving you and Jamie a chance to talk. “Same neighborhood? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were stalking me.” You teased him lightly, getting a hearty chuckle out of him. “It is quite the coincidence.” He agreed, he felt butterflies in his stomach for the first time since he had met Cora.

It absolutely terrified him.

***

It had been a few weeks since that day, and you’d seen Ivy outside playing with another woman, Jamie not to be seen. You came out to grab your mail as she went riding by, “hi, Y/N!” She called, continuing to pedal away. “Hi, Ivy.” You spoke, you went over and introduced yourself to the girl, Taylor, finding out she was her babysitter. “Jamie must go out pretty often.” You commented to her, she shook her head, “oh no, he never goes anywhere without Ivy aside from work.” Taylor told you, “he plays hockey, I'm surprised you didn’t know that.” Taylor added, smiling as Ivy came up to the two of you. “We should be going, it’s almost dinner time.” Taylor spoke, she couldn’t be older than 20. You gave them both a smile, “yes! You don’t want to miss that.” You chuckled, bidding them a goodbye before going inside and googling Jamie.

What you found shocked you.

Jamie Oleksiak taking personal time to mourn loss of fiancé.

Jamie Oleksiak, will he be able to balance a professional career and a baby?

Will he bounce back from this?

You clicked the first article, bracing yourself as it loaded.

The date was from almost three years ago, you scrolled down and began to read…

Jamie Oleksiak has announced the sudden passing of his fiancé, Cora Hadley. Together they shared a daughter Ivy, who was also involved in the incident, she is expected to make a complete recovery.

A close friend tells us it was a severe car accident.

Our condolences to the family.

You clicked away from the article as tears burned your eyes. That was terrible. You read some of the other articles and only grew mad at how the reporters belittled his pain, only talking of how poorly his game play had been since then. And though you’d never wish that kind of loss on anyone, you know they wouldn’t be writing like that if they had felt it.

***

You and Jamie exchanged numbers, citing that it was for “neighborhood emergencies” you giggled at the thought as he was currently asking you what he should get Cora for the upcoming Christmas.

She’s the pickiest three year old ever, everyone always tells me that.

Well, what does the pickiest three year old ever like to do?

She’s either riding her bike and getting absolutely filthy or she’s inside playing dress up and being a little princess

Princess car?

They make those?!?

Oh, Jamie, I really need to take you shopping 🤦‍♀️

Tell me when and I’ll be there…

You tell me hot shot, you’re the one that plays hockey for a living.

How did you find out?

Google is a powerful thing… just kidding, Taylor told me.

Of course she did

Saturday afternoon? My parents will be in town and they want to take Ivy out for the day, so it’s a perfect excuse.

You know where I live, see you then!

He started typing, but then the dots went away and you never received another message.

You brushed it off, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in years as you thought of merely shopping with Jamie for Christmas.

****

“You like him!” Your friend gushed to you as you spoke on the phone while getting ready, “no!” You rushed, only proving her point more. “Y/N, really.” Your friend, Amanda, spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with that, he’s clearly attractive and he’s a dad! He’s not going to be a jerk that just messed around with girls! It’s great.” She rambled, you sighed, pulling your jeans on with a little jump, “his fiancé died, Amanda. He could very well not be over that yet, and I wouldn’t blame him.” You explained, she went silent, “well you left that part out, how was I supposed to know.” She mumbled sheepishly. “It was almost three years ago, their baby was only six months old.” You whispered, cursing when your doorbell rang down the stairs. “Shit, shit, I have to go Amanda!” You rushed, hanging up as soon as she said bye. You adjusted the sweater you had on as you rushed down the stairs, careful not to fall flat on your face. You grabbed your purse as you walked past the counter, yelping as you stumbled and landed on your butt. So close.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Jamie called, hearing the thud, “yes, yeah, just a second.” You called out, wincing as you stood up, that was definitely going to hurt later. You finally, finally reached the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and giving him a bright smile. “Did you fall?” He asked instantly, bursting into laughter when your face went blank. “We’re not going to talk about that Jamie.” You chastised, stepping onto your little porch to leave with him. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled, giving you a once over as you locked the door. “Is Ivy excited to be with your parents today?” You asked him, Jamie laughed under his breath, “so excited, she didn’t even care that I was going out.” He told you as he opened the passenger side door of his truck for you. “Thanks.” You mumbled as you slid in, your heart pounding in your chest. He shut the door and made his way around the truck as you adjusted in the seat.

“So, where to?”

****

Jamie was shocked and grimacing at the price of the princess car that he and you both knew Ivy would love. “Is she the type to give up on new toys quickly?” You asked, tilting your head as you both stared at the display, he shook his head as gave in. He had been leaning against the shelves and as he walked away you noticed his phone had fallen out of his pocket, you picked it up so no one would steal it as you waited for him to come back with a cart, and hopefully someone to help him with the box because it was not something you’d be much help with. His phone began to ring in your hand, the contact flashing across the top said mom, you let it ring, you’d tell him as soon as he came back. As soon as it stopped it was ringing again, you panicked and swiped to answer it, worried that something had happened to Ivy. “Hello?” You spoke into the phone, hearing Ivy wailing in the background. Fuck.

“Who is this?” His mother rushed, “I’m Y/N, Jamie forgot his phone he’s walking around the store– is everything alright?” You asked, cutting straight to the point, “no, we’re going to the emergency room, Ivy fell at the park and I think she broke her arm.” His mother rushed, and thankfully you saw Jamie approaching, “Jamie!” You shouted, rushing over, he furrowed his eyebrows seeing you on his phone.

“It’s your mom.” You rushed, giving it to him and you could see the wheels turning in his head as he listened to her speak over Ivy crying. “Shit, alright I’ll meet you there.” He told her, shooting you an apologetic look. “Go.” You assured him, he shook his head grabbing your hand and pulling you along, he wasn’t going to leave you stranded in a department store. “Sorry, he’ll purchase it another day!” You called to the employee who had a blank look on his face. “Let me talk to Ivy.” Jamie demanded after his mom had said something else, “daddy, it hurts!” Ivy got out between cries as his mother held the phone to her ear. “I know, princess. I’ll be there soon alright? I promise.” He assured her, finally releasing your hand as he realized he’d been holding it this whole time.

He managed to get off the phone so he could drive to the hospital, repeatedly apologizing for you being stuck with him and that this happened. “I was going to take you to lunch and ugh I’m just sorry.” You raised an eyebrow at his ramblings as you guys got stuck at a red light less than a mile from the hospital. “Jamie, stop apologizing. She’s your daughter, she always comes first, that’s how it’s supposed to be.” You soothed him, he glanced over at you, nodding softly, “reschedule the lunch?” He asked, despite the panic in his head, he still wanted to make sure you saw that he was interested in you.

“Yeah, we can reschedule, let’s just go see your baby.” You leaned over the center console, kissing his cheek as the light changed, doing a little happy dance in your head at how he blushed deeply at your actions.

“Family only.” The nurse remarked as you were about to follow Jamie to the room Ivy was in. He gave her an incredulous look, “it’s fine, go.” You assured him, pulling away from him to stay in the waiting room. He hesitated but went along, disappearing behind the doors as you picked a seat in the corner, making sure you had a sight line to the doors he went through. Over an hour went by as you sat there, scrolling through your phone, not hearing from Jamie, which you assumed was because he was being bombarded with questions of the girl who answered his phone, while also dealing with Ivy who was not going to enjoy the process of getting a cast.

Your phone chimed with a text just as you had finally decided to get off of it,

Finishing up now, sorry if my parents are a lot

You chuckled at the message, making sure you had all your items, including the little stuffy you’d bought at the hospital gift shop during your time sitting here. You stood up as you saw them walking out, Ivy draped over Jamie’s chest, half asleep with her head on his shoulder. “Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you.” His mom spoke, offering her hand, you repeated the sentiment, as well as with his dad. “Ivy.” You whispered, placing a hand on her back, holding the small stuffed animal in your hand, “I got you a little gift for being such a big brave girl.” You mumbled, she shifted to look at you with her puffy eyes, and pout settled deep on her lips, “thanks.” She whispered, taking it and holding it close to her chest, she kept her eyes on you as you walked behind Jamie, keeping up a conversation with his parents. And he was right, they were kind of a lot, but you pushed through, smiling when Ivy finally fell asleep in the car.

You sat in the back with Ivy, Jamie insisting you didn’t have to but you wanted to. “She handled it pretty well.” Jamie commented as he glanced back to see her asleep with her hand in yours. “She’s a tough little thing.” You agreed, glancing over at him, he gave you a heartwarming smile. “Thanks for coming with me today, I know it didn’t go to plan, but it was nice, you know… before she broke her arm.” He trailed off, pulling into your driveway to drop you off. You carefully pulled your hand from Ivy’s, she didn’t budge as she was exhausted from today.

Jamie got out to say goodbye, surprising you with a quick kiss to the cheek and a promise of that lunch date.

***

“Did some research?” You asked teasingly as Jamie took you to your favorite restaurant, you gave him a sideways glance as he parked the truck, “I may have had some assistance.” He shrugged, making you realize that’s why Ivy was grilling you the other day, when you had offered to watch her since Taylor was unavailable. “You two are trouble.” You quipped, watching him slip out wordlessly before opening your door for you. “But I’m a gentleman.” He reminded you, “a very good one at that.” You agreed, steadying yourself with his shoulders when you hoped down. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He declared, had you not wanted to kiss him so badly you would have teased him for the nervousness in his voice, but you simply looped your arms around his neck and let him sweep you off your feet with a wonderful first kiss.

The first of many.

***

Two months, and many, many, sneaky dates and stolen kisses later…

You were over at Jamie’s house, having dinner with him and Ivy, you and Jamie had gone out here and there, but most of your time was spent together with Ivy, and that’s what told him that you were the girl he needed to hang on to. Jamie wanted to take tonight to explain to Ivy that you two were dating, but he was scared, petrified even, that she would become upset and confused. You kept telling him nothing had to be done yet if he wasn’t ready, but he was, he swore he was.

“What’s your favorite color?” You asked Ivy, dinner was long gone and you were playing a game of twenty questions, she wasn’t entirely aware of that but she was having fun nonetheless. “Purple! Like my mommas.” She declared, you gave her a smile, glancing over at Jamie to see how he handled it. Many conversations had happened between you two about the loss of Cora, you never wanted to rush him, and as he only gave Ivy a proud smile, you could tell he was truly ready to start the next chapter of his life again. You liked to think Cora was proud of him, for choosing you to be in their life.

“What’s yours?” Ivy countered back, giving you an inquisitive look, the closer she got to age four, the more like Jamie she seemed, and it always made you chuckle. “Yellow.” You told her, watching as she grinned, Jamie winked at you as you turned sheepish under their gaze. “Because of me?” Ivy gasped. “Yes, because of you.” You giggled, welcoming her hug when she bounced over to you. “Ivy, do you know what it means when people are dating?” Jamie asked his daughter as she stayed seated on your lap, she rested her elbows on the table, holding her head in her hands. “No but you said I’m not allowed to do that.” She spoke in a serious tone, sending you into a hysterical fit of laughter, not expecting her to be so blunt. Jamie tried not to but he joined you with a deep laugh, tipping his head back as Ivy grew impatient. “Ok, besides that.” Jamie cleared his throat, “when I say I’m dating someone that means that I really really like them and I want them to be part of our life.” He explained as best he could, you smiled from behind her at his words. Encouraging him to go on.

“Y/N and I are dating.” He spoke officially, you both held your breath as you waited for her reaction, she turned and looked at you, and then back to her dad. “You love her!” Ivy grinned, sending Jamie wide eyed and you into a wide smile as he blushed, “you love my daddy!” Ivy gasped turning to you, now he was the one grinning as you opened and closed your mouth trying to find the words to say. You gave her a nod, “well, it’s a bit more complicated than that when you’re our age, but yes.” You agreed with her, Jamie grabbed your hand from across the table, giving it a squeeze as Ivy climbed off your lap and started dancing around.

This had gone so much better than he had hoped.

When he was tucking her in that night while you were waiting for him on the couch, she said a few words that made him one hundred percent sure that everything was going the way it should, and that Cora even played a hand in this. “Can I have two favorite colors daddy?” Ivy asked, looking up at him sleepily as he pulled the blanket up her body, she was clinging to the stuffy you’d bought her. “Of course, bug.” He assured her, thinking that was that, but as he kissed her forehead she said, “purple and yellow are my favorites.” By the time he pulled his head back, her eyes were shut and her breathing was evening out. “Yeah, I think those are my favorites too.” He whispered.

Taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @hockeyunits

#Jamie Oleksiak fic #Jamie Oleksiak #Jamie Oleksiak imagine #Seattle kraken #nhl imagine

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Just The Way You Are// D.M.

Request: Hi can you do a draco x reader where they are in a relationship and her parents are like as**oles and they always bother her about her weight so one day she is with draco and makes a comment like “maybe i should stop eating so much” or something like that and Draco is like WHAT and tells her that she is beautiful and all that and he is like really worried Thanks!!

A/N: MY 100TH FIC!!! MY 100TH FIC FOR HP!!! Of course it has to be Draco!! I didn't think I would ever reach 100 fics as well as get over 1000 followers yet here I am. I am so thankful to all of you who have read everything but have also motivated me into continuing to write even when I doubt my own abilities (which is a lot). Thank you so much for requesting, lovely! I hope I have done your request justice! I enjoyed writing this, I ended up writing it all in one sitting. Please read the warnings before you read! And as always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: food, weight issues, shitty parents, swearing (I think) BUT DRACO IS CUTE DAMMIT.

Word count: 2k

Every morning in the Great Hall, breakfast is served at seven am sharp. This gives the students enough time to eat, socialise and let their food settle before classes begin promptly at half past eight. It also gives the students time to read over any mail that should fall with the Owls upon their arrival at eight am.

As your family owl drops a letter inscribed with the familiar handwriting of your mother, you don’t know whether to scream in frustration or burn the letter without reading. You knew that it would be filled with her usual criticism rounded off with a few sweet lines about the renovation to the house or how your cousin was doing so well on her internship abroad.

You flip the letter in your hands a few times; wondering whether the Howler from your mother would be worth it once she never got a reply from you. However, you eventually decide that the Howler would not be worth it and that your mother’s vitriol is better off read in silence.

Rolling your eyes, you try not to let the letter affect you so much. Her words are always poisonous and toxic, but this time, she cuts you where it hurts.

“My dear, how on earth is the Malfoy boy supposed to stay with you if you continue to gain weight? I’ve enclosed a new diet regiment for you to follow – stick to it, this is not an option.”

You scrunch up the letter and the included diet regiment in your hands. Crunching them up until they resemble litter rather than the foul words scrawled onto parchment.

You had never felt you had issues with your weight; there wasn’t any need to necessarily – the meals at Hogwarts were scheduled and there was enough exercise done through the day in order to get to classes on time, and this was before the weekend walks to Hogsmeade or the ambles around the Black Lake with Draco.

You don’t feel like there should be an issue with your weight, but your mother’s words are venomous barbs that stick into your brain. Her words on replay in the forefront of your mind.

There was no real excuse for the way your mother harked on about appearances and reputations. Your family hailed from an ancient line of witches and wizards; even going so far as to state that your ancestors were among the very first to attend Hogwarts when the founders were teachers.

So for your mother, everything since then had to be perfect.

Perfect hair. Perfect dress. Perfect manners.

Perfect weight, apparently.

Any appetite you had before has now dissipated. It’s funny how three lines of a letter is enough to put one off their morning meal.

You felt like a rule change should be implemented at Hogwarts; no mail until the evening - that way students don’t have the time to sit and worry about the thoughts of their parents.

Pushing your plate away from you, you bring out your reading book from your bag. Flipping through the familiar pages, you find the dog-eared corner from where you rounded off last night before falling asleep.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the pages having read the story over a thousand times before, but the niggling voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously similar to your mothers has you reading the same paragraph over and over again.

A kiss being pressed to the top of your hand is the first greeting from Draco. The next is a quiet good morning as he pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

You smile at the blonde-haired teenager, looking up from your book, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Love, is everything okay?” Draco asks; immediately spotting that something is off.

You shake your head, “It’s nothing to worry about, love. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Draco chuckles; not entirely convinced but happy to wait until you come to him. “It’s because you didn’t stay with me last night.”

You roll your eyes with a grin, “I’ve stayed in your dorm the last three nights; it’s only a matter of time before someone says something.”

Draco shrugs; leaning over to peck your cheek, “Let them, I don’t care.”

“You will when we get caught out by Snape on a random inspection,” You comment with a light laugh.

Draco smiles broadly at the idea of the Head of Slytherin ever completing a random inspection of the dungeon. He grabs a slice of toast from the rack and reaches for the marmalade.

His eyes wander over the lack of food in front of you, “Already eaten?”

You nod, smirking, “And all alone as well since you take so long in the mornings.”

He laughs, “It takes time to look this good, darling.”

“Sure it does,” You comment, leaning in to peck him on the lips. He hums against your mouth happily, but all too soon, you pull away, “I’m off to the library before class, I want to get ahead on the History of Magic essay. I’ll see you later.”

You drop another kiss to Draco’s mouth before hoisting your bag onto your shoulder and departing from the Great Hall.

Draco shakes his head at your retreating figure; something about you was off, but he couldn’t place his finger on what. He wasn’t going to pester you as it would only make things worse, but he knew he had to address it before you lost yourself from overthinking.

Draco bites into his toast; already thinking of the ways he can talk to you.

----

Your days are always filled with little highlights; seeing the first flower bloom after a long winter or reading your favourite part of your book without being interrupted or it’s finding Draco waiting outside your classroom after every lesson of the day.

You find him waiting opposite the door to your class; leaning against the wall with his robes open, showing the white buttoned shirt underneath. His rebelliousness highlighted in the undone top button and untucked shirt. You shake your head as you make your way over to the teenager that made your heart stutter.

He grins, holding his elbow out to you, “Lunch, my love?”

“Lead the way.”

The Great Hall is loud upon your arrival. Students shouting, laughing, grabbing for food from the centre of the tables. It’s a ruckus, but it makes you smile as you take a seat across from Draco at the Slytherin table.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Draco asks with a frown at the sight of your plate.

You nod your head; your mother’s words from this morning making another round in your head, “I’m not overly hungry.”

The frown doesn’t leave Draco’s face, and through lunch, he glances between your face and the plate, wondering what’s changed for your appetite to have disappeared.

Draco walks you to your next class after the bell rings signalling the end of lunch.

He pauses outside the classroom, keeping a tight grip on your hand. His other hand reaches up to caress your cheek; a rare form of PDA from the Slytherin Prince who was more than happy to kiss and hold hands but would rarely show his feelings so openly.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong wouldn’t you?” He asks; concern alight in his eyes.

You hold his hand to your cheek; pressing a kiss to the palm, “I would.”

He nods silently. Kissing your forehead, Draco turns away, striding to his next class.

Guilt stirs within you like a lead balloon; weighing you down for the rest of the day. Even the ringing of the final bell of the day wasn’t enough to lift your mood.

Draco continues to meet you after every class; his arm always ready for you to slip yours through. But he’s quieter; more sombre as he leads your through the bustling corridors and staircases.

At the end of the day, he escorts you to the Great Hall. The level of noise quieter from lunch but still loud as students discuss their plans for the evening over the food laid out on the long, wooden tables.

Dinner is a feast by any standard, and Draco tucks right in, piling food onto his plate – ravenous after a day filled with exam preparation. You take your time with your meal; selecting more and more vegetables as you think back to the letter and diet regiment now burning a hole through your bag.

Draco sighs as he watches you pick at your food. He reaches over, checking your temperature with the back of his hand on your forehead, “Well you feel fine,” he murmurs, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve picked at your food all day, and you’ve become more distant as the day’s gone on.”

“I’ll talk to you about it in the common room,” You state.

“You will?”

Nodding, you promise, “I will.”

Draco makes his way through the rest of the meal; drawing you into a conversation after conversation about how the day has been. When his plate is empty and yours has been pushed to one side, Draco stands from the bench. He takes one last drink of his pumpkin juice before holding his hand out to you.

The walk to the common room is quiet; you think over the letter in your bag, wondering about the reply you’re going to send back to your mother. One cross word from you and you wouldn’t be surprised if she, herself, showed up in Dumbledore’s office demanding punishment for your insolent words.

It was tiring, you realise, to be her daughter.

The Slytherin common room is silent when Draco leads you through the door; all students either still eating in the Great Hall or ambling about the castle. You settle on the black leather couch in front of the already lit fire; you hum at the warmth it gives off – holding your hands out to warm them through.

Once your hands are warm enough, you lean back into the couch. Feeling Draco’s eyes on you, you shift your head, facing him with a small smile.

Draco tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

You sigh, opening your bag and pulling out the letter. Handing it to Draco, you say wryly, “Dear old mama wrote, that’s what.”

Draco scans over the letter; getting to the three lines that have played on your mind all day and have affected your eating habits so quickly.

Draco folds the letter carefully into the three; he folds it ever so neatly before ripping it to pieces in front of your eyes, leaning forward and throwing the tiny pieces into the fire.

“I hope you don’t believe a word she’s written.”

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I should stop eating so much.”

Draco leaps up from the couch; spreading his arms wide, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your weight – you do not need to lose, you do not need to gain. You are perfect the way you are. I love you to pieces, but darling, your mother is an awful person. What sort of person sends that to their child?”

He kneels on the ground in front of you, “I will love you no matter what. The sky could be green, and the clouds could be purple hedgehogs, but even that would not distract me from my love for you.”

He gestures to the pieces of parchment now turning to ash in the flames, “Everything about you is beautiful; from the top of your head to the tip of your toes – there isn’t anything about you I don’t adore. Reply to your mother if you must; tell her that you’ve let me read the letter and that I absolutely disagree with her words.”

Draco surges forward, kissing you soundly. He shifts slightly, beginning to press you into the couch, “I love you – just the way you are.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey

#draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy fluff #draco fluff #fluff #hp fanfic #draco malfoy reader insert #comfort fic

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plus-size-reader · 3 years ago

Text

Forgotten

Thomas x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2326 words

Warnings: none

Summary: WCKD isn’t the only one with secrets. The Scorch has a few secrets of its own

—————————————————————————————————

It would have been stupid of the gladers to think they were the only ones left.

While it was true that WCKD had taken to picking and choosing who got to survive, that didn’t mean there was no one else left outside of their domain. It just meant that the few of you that had survived were better at it than the rest.

Sometimes you called them the forgotten, those who WCKD couldn’t use that got left behind. In the beginning, it was like your own little maze, made up of all those who didn’t mean anything to anyone because they couldn’t use you.

You were left for dead at the mercy of the scorch, and while some people had survived, as the time ticked by, fewer and fewer of those forgotten ones survived.

Most of them ended up as cranks, at the hands of the virus that had torn through the life you once knew. It was all you had now, and as treacherous as it was, the scorch was your home.

It was all that was left.

Which was why you were so shocked to see such a big group of them still alive out here, not deterred by the dust storms in the desert or the cranks who would surely tear them apart if they got the chance.

All in all, they were way out of their depth.

You had been staying here, in what was now little more than a bunker while now, keeping a close eye on the compound to the east. WCKD got shipments of supplies sometimes, which you had taken to ripping off occasionally.

Stealing from them was hardly the worst thing you’d done out here.

It was what you had to do to survive.

However, the last thing you’d been expecting here was a group of strangers, somehow still alive against every threat in this place. Though, from the looks of it, they hadn’t been out in it very long, which could have been the reason for that.

You watched them for a while, trying to figure out who or what they were, before eventually, you decided that you had to do something about it.

They weren’t going to survive out here on their own.

What you were doing went against your every impulse, of course, as you had learned not to trust anyone or anything, not even the other survivors that could be found bunkered down all over the scorch.

The only person you could trust was you, and even that was iffy sometimes, but for some reason, you felt differently about them.

Maybe it was because they were so desperately fighting for survival, ro maybe it was just because you’d been alone for so long but whatever it was, you had already made up your mind.

They needed your help, or they were going to die out here.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you” you called, just in time for one among them to flip the switch to the power grid. It may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but only if they knew even less about this place than you thought they did.

Both men in yoru view tensed at your appearance, but didn’t have any time at all to address you before the crank you’d loving been calling Doris for the past six months slammed against the bars of her cage.

She was here when you showed up here and once you’d decided that there was no risk of her getting out, it was easier to keep her alive than to put her down.

In your experience, having one around that wasn’t a threat to you, helped you keep tabs on what would draw in the rest.

“Follow me” you suggested, rushing off in the opposite direction of two of the other cranks, glad to find out that at the very least, the two of them could run. If they couldn’t, you would have been forced to leave them behind.

Just because you wanted to help them didn’t mean you were all of a sudden willing to die for strangers.

You would help them, or at least try to help them, for as long as you could. The actual survival was their responsibility, what they had to do out here because they wanted to. Everyone that survived out here had to want it.

If you didn’t, you died.

That was just how it was, and nothing was going to change that.

The pair of them shared a look, just one, before following your lead. The next few minutes went by quickly, more quickly than anyone could have predicted, as you raced toward the exit, meeting up with quite a few others in the process.

From the looks of it, the gang's all here.

You didn’t say anything more until you had made it safely, for the most part, out of the building, the door closed tightly, one metal door between you and them. All of you, with the exception of one, had made it out in one piece.

“What were you doing back there? What's going on? Who are you?” came the parade of questions as you walked, already sort of leaving the rest of them in your dust. While they clearly had no idea what was out here, you did.

...And you weren’t itching to see any more of those things tonight.

“Y/N, I was living there but I guess I’m not anymore” you decided, only looking back at them to answer the first of what you assumed would be a million more questions. The more ground you could cover before the sun went down, the better off you’d be.

If they thought one of them getting bit was bad, it was going to get so much worse in the dark. Those things thrived in the dark.

“Living there, with those things? You’ve gotta be mad” one of the scoffed, immediately forcing you to stop again.

Once again reminding you why you normally shied away from helping other people all together.

“You came out of a maze, didn’t you? Cause you definitely haven't been out here” you hummed, eyeing the blonde incredulously, though when an answer did come, it wasn’t from his lips. Instead, one of the original two you’d found, Thomas you thought you’d heard, spoke.

He was lost.

“Yeah we did, you didn’t?” he wondered, a genuine look of confusion dressing his face for a second. They hadn’t really considered an alternative, and why would they?

All this time, they had been under the impression that there was nothing out there in the scorch, but you were living proof that was a lie. It made him wonder that if that was a lie, there was a good chance other things had been too.

They just couldn’t be sure what.

“No, I grew up in the scorch” you shrugged, doing your very best to ignore the way their faces twisted up when you said it out loud. Of course they couldn’t understand what that was like, because no one could.

Only people who’d done it could even imagine what it was like.

The gladers weren’t exactly thrilled about this situation, but as uncertain as they were of you, it was clear that you were that much more concerned about them. Clearly, all this time out in the scorch had made you paranoid.

Rightfully so.

“You live out here? In this?” the blonde repeated, clearly missing the point of this conversation entirely. You wanted to make this as quick and concise as possible so as to not have to talk about it again but that wasn’t about to happen.

Not with all these shanks asking so many questions.

“Alright, I’m gonna need some names. Then I’ll tell you all about the forgotten ones” you decided, folding your arms crossed your chest, keeping as calm as you could be given the circumstances.

You didn’t have all day to sit around talking about this. From the looks of their friend, you didn’t even have till sundown anymore before you had at least one crank to deal with.

“That’s Minho, Frypan, and Teresa” he, Thomas, started, pointing each of them out in turn before moving on to the next.

“Over there is Aris,” the shortest of them.

“That’s Winston” the soon to be crank

“This is Newt and I’m Thomas” he hummed, making it clear that there was some kind of connection between all of them that was much deeper than you would have thought, and confirming that was in fact his name.

At the very least, you had that going for you.

“There used to be more of us, out here, but as the time passes, there’s less” you started, deciding that a deal was a deal after all.

You told them you would explain this whole thing, after all.

“I’ve been on my own for a while, moving around to stay alive. Sometimes I stole from the WCKD supply trucks from the compound where you came from, but they aren’t even the biggest threat” you allowed, letting your eyes linger on Winston for a moment.

You knew that to them, he was family, but it was hard for you to see him as anything more than a ticking time bomb. You had just lost too many friends to cranks over the years to feel comfortable with him like that.

It was only a matter of time.

Thomas nodded as you spoke, thinking over each and every one of your words carefully.

After all, to the best he could tell, you had been living there all this time and when he stopped to think about it, it made sense. All those kids in the maze, they were there because they were immune, and they needed to be protected, but they weren’t the only ones left.

There was no way everyone else was dead.

Someone had to be alive somewhere, out there in the rubble, which wasn’t exactly wrong. There were plenty of people left, hiding out all over the scorch, just trying to survive.

“We’ll figure something out” he muttered, following your gaze to the male, who was currently holding tightly to Minho’s shoulder just to keep upright.

So far, it was just a sick feeling in his stomach and a dizziness clouding his thoughts, but soon it would be much more. You knew all the sighs, far too well, and you could have pinpointed exactly how it would happen.

It was a race against the clock.

“You can’t promise that. You don’t know this place like I do” you whispered, turning back around to continue on your way, not willing to discuss this any further. You wanted to believe in a cure as much as the next person, but you weren’t blind.

You didn’t get to be so naive.

“So why help us then? You clearly think this whole thing is hopeless anyway” Thomas called, jogging slightly to catch up with you, the rest of his group taking up the back. It wasn’t exactly easy to move through the sand, but you made it work.

All in all, it was easier for you than it was for them, just because you’d been doing it for longer.

You sighed, looking at him through the corner of your eye, desperately trying to understand what it was he wanted from you. This was a lot harder for you both than need be, as neither of you had a good history of working with others, but it was what it was.

It was plain and simple.

You didn’t want something to happen to them.

The Scorch had taken so much from so many people and you didn’t want to let it take anything else from anyone else if you could help it. At the very least, you could help guide them in this world they knew so little about.

It was all anyone could do, because there were so few of you left.

“Because it’s important,”

Thomas seemed to be determined to keep his family safe, and you could respect that. After all, he wasn’t the only one who’d had one, and you hadn’t been as successful as you’d hoped in your own quest.

If you could help him keep his people alive, you weren’t going to turn a blind eye to that.

“I lost my people, but you don’t have to lose yours” you decided, remembering the countless friends you’d had and lost over the years. The Scorch was real and dangerous, where nothing was ever guaranteed.

Between WCKD and the cranks, you’d lost everything. They would get bit; if they were immune, World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department was on top of it, and if they weren’t, they died.

News of the immune, even out here, was hard to keep hidden. They were valuable, and as best you knew, WCKD was already tracking them down.

Thankfully, you knew how this went down, and if they had a shot out here, it was with you.

“You would do that for us?” he questioned, unsure of what in the world was happening here. He thought he understood the world, though he understood what was going on but every time he got any information, it flipped all over again.

Thomas just felt like he couldn’t win, no matter what he did.

“Yeah, but you have to know Winston isn’t going to make it. He probably has half an hour left, at most” you whispered. There was no way you could guarantee he had even that much time but he certainly didn’t have any more than that.

It wasn’t really the news you wanted to give him but you didn’t have much choice in the matter. He’d been bitten and since he clearly wasn’t immune, that wasn’t going to change.

“Yeah, yeah, I know”

None of this was going to be easy but at the very least, he won’t have to do it alone.

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

➵ changbin, son of ares ➵

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x seo changbin

Genre: that good good smut n’ a lil fluff, pwp

Word count: 1.6k

demigod skz mini-masterlist coming soon

{see below for nsfw tags and warnings!}

Tags: demigod au, inspired by PJO, sonofares!changbin, hardsub!changbin, tattooed!bin, explicit language, mentions of battle scars, nipple play (r), mild knife play (no blo*od) (m), lil bit of hand focused oral fixation, marking and spanking (r), oral (69), unprotected sex (stay safe lovelies!), creampie, cockwarming

○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Fire and fury, scalding hot, fingers biting into the delicate insides of palms. He is passion in the form of white heat that buzzes in your head and glistens with sweat between your shoulder blades. His eyes are gilded in flecks of gold that flicker like the flames which writhe under his skin. By contrast, his lips are soft and plush like the way rose petals crinkle.

He is never cold, and he never falters where he imbues his body into yours with darkened eyes that can see you inside and out until there is nothing left to hide.

He’s told you that the anger that boils inside him is nothing for you to fear: passion and infatuation are just other emotions which we all feel as intensely as fury.

Still, he’s immense: a show of force that makes you feel small and insignificant even though you know that you are nothing of the such to him. He holds you to his chest, letting you feel the pound of his furious heart that resounds and quickens when he pulls you in even closer, stretching out your limbs until they too burn.

The kisses he bites into your skin sink in like he can scald the very words there himself, “I’m just as much yours as you are mine.”

Your loyalty to him is the greatest gift--it is an honor to be by his side so fully knowing that the bend and arch of your back follows the trace of only his hand. You feel honored to have those golden and deep crimson eyes outline your frame. He bears his weight down lower, pressing into you until you gasp under him: your passion for him journeys over every twist of his muscled arms and chest that swells with strength. The illustrations of wars once fought and the symbols of his father rage war on his skin in thick strokes of ink. Your hands tell their stories where you leave no space untouched.

The scars that tatter his skin are more visible in the moonlight: places where his fury has leaked out and healed unevenly. Your fingertips know them well: how they feel like vulnerable little corners where the pieces of him don’t add up. Your lips find the curves of scars on his ribs and stretch around his arms as if you could heal him even more. By comparison, your skin is nearly spotless, and he too brings his lips to caress into the nape of your neck and down your arms all the way to your palms where he presses his passion there too. His hands are rough and calloused, but they still feel light as flames where he grazes the skin between your thighs.

“Let me see you.” He asks, laying down in the middle of the bed larger for just the two of you. The windows creak with the sound of the breeze, which then gather up the linens that bow along with the air. It wafts in and sends shivers down your arms. Intertwined with the air is the smell of smoke carried from afar; it is the scent of the night before battle and restless fires that wait distantly for him. The thought itself is distant: you wrap your legs around his waist to prowl over your lover who cranes your neck and guides your waist to hover over him.

Desire had never left his eyes: it's a type of insatiable fire that ravishes you and follows the way that you let your fingers creep to his bottom lip which you pull at, kissing him, letting the taste of your skin linger between your lips and his. He smirks, digging more roughly into the squishy parts of your hips to melt you into him. You grasp at the wooden handle attached to the leather sheath at his hip, drawing out slowly the curved metal knife which he keeps ready. The pure silver metal of the blade glistens in the moonglow, reflecting the image of your looming figure which brings it tickling up his skin. The sharpened edge draws a thin white line up his chest where you outline the space between his pectorals where he heaves in feeling the cold bite. You trace around his collarbones, threatening the pumping vein on his neck.

“You could kill me if you wanted.” He laughs out with a confident air, “You know that only you’ve got that power.”

You smile wickedly in response, pressing the tip of the blade in harder. Just a bit more pressure and you could draw blood, but you don’t.

“I know.” You tease the blade back down his body, feeling the cold on your stomach too. “Only I’ve got the pleasure.”

You cast away the knife sending it clattering to the floor, finding your hand hungrier than the blade. His arms wrap around you as if he can unfold you, and the heat from his skin marries with your own that trembles. Every inch of your being craves to drip in the fury and passion that consumes him, to make the one man unconquered by anyone weak to you.

You grind your hips hard, languidly taking in the way that his cock swells between your legs no more desperate than you are. His kisses find their way down your chest, leading heavy breaths to your nipples which he pulls at gently with his teeth--only at first--only growing in intensity the shallower he hears your breaths inhale. He moves his focus for only a few moments to suck harder at your untainted skin to place marks and battle scars of your own which tell stories of him.

“Are you going to fuck me, or keep me waiting?” He hushes directly into your ear.

You meet his eyes in their spectral glow: it's a color that you could never recreate, unlike any other creation of the gods.

“And you?” You pull lightly at his bottom lip with your teeth lavishing in the groan that it elicits from his throat. “I’m waiting too.” Your hand creeps down his torso to unfasten the button of his pants.

Incessant fingers meet in the middle where bodies curve and reposition, knees sinking into the feathered mattress that wrinkle with the soft touch of satin. His girth swells pink with the veins outlining and pulsating where your hand wraps, tongue dripping with saliva to his tip which flares until you lean in to give him what he craves. Your body shakes after he pulls your hips closer to his own heated mouth.

Your lover gives you no time to wait, pressing his tongue against your sensitivity and promptly tasting your essence on the tip of his tongue that teases. His fingers bury into your legs to pull them farther apart, burning the skin when he raises his hand to hear the way that your skin sounds.

You take him in until you can no deeper, swallowing his length with the moans that vibrate the deepest parts of your throat and make him growl with pleasure. Whimpers fill up your chest as your body surrenders to the way that he chooses to lap slowly at your sex, pressing in an evil grin.

“I could do this to you all night…” He promises, pressing sloppy kisses over your heat.

You wince, feeling the contrast of his blazing warmth to the cool breeze of the evening that is nearly enough to dizzy you. You know that he’d let you do whatever you want, even letting your impatience get the best of you. You flip back around, facing him, tangling your fingers deeply into his onyx-black hair, finding your mouth smashing against his and gasping with every bit of your want directly into his mouth so he can feel it.

In seconds, you align yourself over his cock until you feel so full that it makes your insides burn with a pleasure so indescribable you’re convinced that your own being must be possessed with some kind of crazed desire.

He coolly looks up to you, only exhaling once you begin to move your hips, finally moving his hands down your sides to help you rock. Your lover brings his thumb to your lip, rubbing away at the way that it trembles in your focus, dipping the digit in to swipe over your tongue.

“I know you can fuck me harder than that, my love.” He tests, ringing the sound of another slap to your skin through the room. “Harder.” He demands, and you flick your waist even rougher, losing your breath as the fire spreads through each of your limbs.

Your vision blurs trying to make out his features: the tattoos that paint nearly his whole form, the vertical scar over his eye which spits his face into a rugged and intimidating picture of the wars which he runs into so fearlessly. To others, they would see him as a monster, but you could never imagine it: not like this, and not for you.

Your frail form threatens to break, and you find the tears of pleasure and pain mixing on your cheeks which he wipes away gently, then taking up your cheeks in his hands to kiss at the stains.

Sweat condensates behind your neck, and your arms feel weak from merely holding yourself up above him, yet your energy still doesn’t falter. He bites at his lip in his pride, seeing exactly the way that you fall apart. You cum for him, loud and indulgently, nearly screaming from how your whole body explodes, then grows numb and placid as you put the world back together. Your lover turns into a madman in his determination: his touch nearly rips you apart. He fills you, pulsing with his seed that drips down your legs white.

You gasp as if you’ve forgotten what it means to breathe, collapsing upon him to feel the warmth of his embrace which you’ve long been addicted to.

Carefully his hand trails up and down your spine to calm you while the two of you connect for moments that carry on forever, pledging, “You are the only one I am powerless to, my love.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Not So Serious

Prompt: ayoooo I’m like-obsessed with your writing style omg if your requests are open I’d love to see some good good logince hurt/comfort where Roman has a crush on Logan and gets this idea that he’s not serious enough for Logan to like him at all so Roman completely changes himself only for Logan to wonder where the man he’s in love with went.

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: logince, as on the tin

Warnings: roman’s a little bit of a self-doubting and self-depricating boi but other than that none! we are happy now!

Word Count: 5340

Roman knows he’s the least important of the Light Sides. Or at the very least, the one that Thomas listens to the least.

That’s okay.

It’s not, not really, but that doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that most of it can be chalked up to the fact that he’s the least serious Side. He’s the dreamer, the fanatic, the one whose head is permanently in the clouds. He sings, he dances, he acts, he plays. And that’s his job! He’s Creativity, for Shakespeare’s sake, and if he’s not, well, what good is he?

Well, he’s not much good when he is Creativity, but that’s beside the point.

But Thomas needs him to be serious. Patton, for all his lightheartedness, knows how to be serious when the time calls for it. And behind all those jokes and smiles and corny lines that make all of them want to cringe a little, he’s talking about, arguably, the most serious thing there is. What’s right and what’s wrong. No matter how you slice it, that’s serious. And he’s Thomas’s heart! How can you not take that seriously?

Then there’s Virgil, who Roman considers a Light Side. Virgil demands to be taken seriously. Not verbally, but come on, he’s Anxiety. Mental stuff is no joke, and they’ve had enough close calls to know that for sure. Virgil’s a snarky bastard, but he rarely says something he doesn’t actually mean. He keeps them safe when none of the others know what to do and honestly? That’s serious stuff. Virgil’s got enough on his plate.

Then there’s Logan.

Logan.

Roman could go on for days about Logan. He won’t, but he could.

Logan is Logic. Perhaps more than anything else, Thomas needs Logic. And Logan. Logan is always present, whether he’s there physically or not, and his voice is always going to be heard in the conversation sooner or later. He breaks down the biggest problems Roman’s ever seen until they’re manageable chunks, so much so that it’s ridiculous that they were ever big in the first place. He talks them through everything, slowly and surely. He makes everything look easy.

And that’s all the more impressive because Roman knows it’s not.

It’s not easy to do what Logan does. It’s not easy for Logan to always make himself heard. It’s not easy to carry the single brain cell in any given conversation.

But he does and it’s wonderful.

Logan is serious. His job is serious. That doesn’t mean he’s serious all the time, no, Roman’s seen him snap a quip faster than anything with a smirk on his face, and their bond over Crofter’s is legendary. And he knows the gleam that means Logan is immensely satisfied with whatever insult he’s come up with to shut Roman down. Even through the hurt of a new bruise forming on Thomas’s ego, he has to smile because it’s so satisfying to watch someone just be very good at something.

He’s also incredible at calming them all down. He’s so sweet and kind and gentle in all the right ways and you will never convince Roman that Logan knows nothing about emotions. Come on, he’s the most intelligent Side, that extends to emotional intelligence too. The amount of times he’s been able to rip them out of some horrible spiral with just a simple touch or a word is too high for Roman to count. And he never asks for anything, he just does it. Because he’s good like that.

Roman would be an utter, utter fool if he didn’t take Logan seriously. He doesn’t dare underestimate him, never again, not after that rap battle. He doesn’t try to speak over him, not once everyone’s actually paying attention and Logan’s clearly trying to say something. He listens, he tries, he takes him seriously.

But sometimes Logan needs to not be serious! He can see when the strain gets a little too much and he needs to cut someone down to size.

Well, here’s Roman!

And yes, it’s worth it. It’s always worth it. Logan smiles and it’s like the sun comes out. Yes, that’s a cliché but we all know clichés are cliché for a reason. Logan smiles, the sun comes out, and Roman wants to bathe in it. Wants to sit and listen to Logan talk about anything just so he’ll keep smiling, keep talking, keep being Logan. Logan is serious, but serious isn’t always Logan.

Isn’t always.

Most of the time, though…

Most of the time, it looks like Logan is thrilled to not have to stand next to Roman.

Most of the time, it seems like every time Roman opens his mouth, Logan’s trying not to roll his eyes or is just listening out of politeness. And every time he pitches an idea, it seems like Logan’s getting just as much enjoyment out of leaving the meetings as he does when he doesn’t find anything wrong with it.

Most of the time, that 0.5% hangs in the air between them like a moat.

Roman doesn’t want that. Roman doesn’t want Logan to view him as a diametrically opposed foe, he doesn’t want to be Logan’s other side of the coin, he doesn’t want Logan to think he’s only worth 0.5% of a day.

But 0.5% is all he gets if he stays Roman.

It’s not big changes, nothing that would compromise Thomas, but they’re noticeable. At least he hopes so.

He stops singing out loud in the common areas and instead has a headphone in when he wants to listen to something. He reads in the chair—sitting properly, not with his limbs haphazardly thrown about like he’s a newly made life form with no idea how muscles work—and keeps his comments to himself, written down in a notebook or in his head. He asks politely if Logan wants to come on a walk through the Imagination and conjures up something simple. A forest path, or a garden, or a small town road. None of the fantastical woods, magic castles, or treacherous mountains that he’s so fond of, because those are daydreams.

He’s quieter outside of videos. Sure, he’s still as obnoxious as ever when the cameras are on, but they tend to exaggerate themselves when they’re being filmed anyway. So it won’t be too much of a surprise when he’s not like that when the cameras are off. He doesn’t speak as much—well, he doesn’t monologue as much. He speaks when spoken to, he’s as courteous as he knows how to be, and he tries to be serious. Even if his job is anything but.

He could tell you it’s exhausting what he does for the videos and he’d rather not do it when he doesn’t have to.

He could tell you it’s because it would be better for Thomas if they all got along well.

He could tell you it’s because he wants a healthier and more productive working relationship with Logan.

He could tell you all of these things.

Whether or not you believe him is up to you.

…because Roman might be the actor, but he’s never been a particularly good liar. And deep down—not that deep down—we all know why he wants to be more serious, don’t we?

Logan doesn’t like fantasy. Logan doesn’t like excessive noise. Logan doesn’t like someone who can’t be serious.

Logan is kind and perfect and wonderful and smart and so many things.

And above all, Logan is serious.

Roman can work with that.

———————————————————————

“Hey, Specs! Do you have time to brainstorm?”

“It will have to be quick, Roman, I’ve not much time to spare.”

“Oh. That’s alright, then, we can do it later.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course! I know how important your schedule is for you, please, don’t worry about it.”

“Ah. I see. Well, thank you, Roman.”

They never do end up having that brainstorm. Not alone.

“Logan?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“Would it be alright if I played music? I’ll keep it low.”

“…we can try, though I usually prefer working in silence.”

“Oh, in that case, I’ll just go—“

“Let’s try?”

“If you’re sure.”

Roman ends up getting his headphones after a few minutes.

“Roman?”

“Yes, my d—Logan?”

“…were you going to say something else?”

“No, no, I got lost in my head again, I thought you were…someone else.”

“It may be worth practicing getting out of your head, Roman.”

“I know.”

He never quite manages, but he’s trying.

“Ro—oh.”

“Logan? Is something wrong?”

“You’ve changed your room. Your…your paintings, your drawings, they’re…where did you put them?”

“Oh, I got rid of them.”

“Got rid of them?”

“Yes. Surely you know how difficult it can be to work in a crowded space?”

“…yes, I suppose I do.”

Logan doesn’t comment on the fact that Roman’s room isn’t quite so red anymore either.

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“This idea, it seems…quite…realistic.”

“Is that not the point, Sp—Logan?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Besides, from a practical standpoint, we’re operating with a limited budget here. The scope of the videos has to be adjusted accordingly.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct.”

Logan doesn’t mention that it doesn’t necessarily feel like Roman’s idea.

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“Care to comment?”

“Oh, no, I’m perfectly content.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course.”

Logan doesn’t ask again.

———————————————————————

Logan is really confused.

Something’s wrong with Roman, that much is obvious, but he can’t figure out what. Roman’s been quiet lately, outside of the videos, but even in the videos, he’s been different. He’s not talking as much anymore, not going on his incredibly passionate rants that one can feel if they just listen hard enough. He’s not risen to the bait for weeks now, preferring instead to…talk. Or listen. His room is suspiciously absent of his paintings and drawings that make Logan want to sit and stare and lose track of time.

And he’s stopped singing.

That’s a definite indicator that something’s wrong.

But he can’t figure out what.

None of them are fighting; Patton and Virgil have noticed that something is different, certainly, but they don’t know—they can’t figure out exactly what. They would have told him if they had a disagreement with Roman, but they haven’t.

Thomas isn’t being affected by it. In fact, he hasn’t noticed that anything’s wrong.

And on the surface, Roman seems fine, but Logan knows better.

He stops in front of his whiteboard, staring hard at the pieces of information he has written down.

Roman is no longer singing or playing music out loud outside of his room.

Roman is changing the ideas that he brings to the brainstorming sessions. He claims they are meant to be more ‘practical’ and easier to budget.

Roman does not insist that we spend time with him anymore.

Roman is quiet and no longer engages in ‘banter’ exchanges with me.

Roman no longer brings me to the elaborate places in the Imagination.

Roman no longer gives me nicknames.

Has…has Logan done something to Roman?

He doesn’t think he has. He hasn’t—he hasn’t shot down any ideas lately, and certainly none so much as to trigger such a drastic change. There have been no arguments. There have been no big changes for Thomas.

He finds himself twisting the cap of the marker back and forth as he focuses on the period at the end of the last sentence written. Perhaps…perhaps Roman is simply going through a rough patch? Occasionally the prince will lapse into a ‘grayer’ state, for lack of a better term, where he exhibits fewer of his energetic tendencies, but none have gone on for such a duration. Additionally, his behavior in videos has not altered as significantly as would indicate this as the cause.

Perhaps I should try to talk to him about it.

Logan nods sharply to himself and turns, walking out of his room toward Roman’s. The red door looms there, slightly ajar. Frowning, Logan raps on it gently with his knuckles.

“Roman? May I come in?”

No response.

“Roman?” Logan eases the door open. “Roman?”

No sign of Roman. The bathroom door isn’t locked, his laptop isn’t open, his phone is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Roman simply forgot to close his door all the way. Logan shuts it carefully and turns to head downstairs.

“Virgil? Patton?”

Virgil glances up from his phone. “What’s up, L?”

Ignoring the little flutter in his chest at the first nickname he’s been called in a while, Logan adjusts his glasses and glances around. “Have you seen Roman?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Pat? Have you?”

“I think he said he was going into the Imagination but he’d be back for dinner?”

Logan nods. “Thank you both.”

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Can you, uh—“ Patton wrings his hands for a moment— “can you ask him what’s wrong for us?”

“Princey’s been off for a while, we wanna know why but he won’t tell us.”

Logan blinks. “Considering I was on my way to ask him the same thing, I take it he’s been as…hesitant to share any information with you as he has with me?”

Their nods make something twist in his chest.

“If he’s gonna tell anyone,” Virgil mutters as he turns to go, “it’ll be you.”

Logan pauses. “Excuse me?”

Virgil shrugs. “You’re his favorite, L. He thinks the sun shines outta your face.”

Despite himself, Logan feels heat rush to his cheeks. “I’m quite sure you’re confusing me for Patton, Virgil.”

“Oh, no, Princey’s got it bad f—“

“Virgil!”

“Oh come on,” Virgil groans, his head lolling on the couch as he turns to look at Patton, “you’ve noticed it too.”

“But that’s not our secret to tell!”

“Shit. Yeah, you’re right. Oops.”

“Wait, wait,” Logan stammers, quickly trying to get a grasp of the situation, “you—Roman what?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry, Logan. I already fucked up. You’re gonna have to ask him. And hey, you were on your way to do just that!”

Logan narrows his eyes but Virgil shrugs, undaunted. He turns and pointedly does not run up the stairs.

The door to the Imagination is ajar. He takes a deep breath and pushes it open, expecting to meet some fantastical landscape, a village, or a castle, perhaps.

He doesn’t expect to wander into what looks like the grand foyer of some Victorian mansion.

The door shuts behind him with a thud that echoes gently around the room. His shoes aren’t particularly loud but his steps make resounding clicks as he walks through the halls. The walls are elegantly crafted, with artful splashes of color here and there. He comes to a grand staircase and has to swallow heavily at the richness of the wood under his fingers as he climbs slowly, slowly up.

There’s something here, he decides, that’s not been here for a while. Not since he started accompanying Roman more often. He remembers the first time, where he’d wearily said he didn’t have the patience for an adventure and had been pleasantly surprised by Roman’s offer of a simple walk. Each walk after that had been lovely, truly, but it was always painfully obvious that it was in the Imagination.

Now, though? Now the walls seem to curve about Logan as he walks, like petals of a flower curve about its center. The house seems to hold him, cradle him almost as he walks slowly through it. He can almost feel a gentle hand at the base of his spine, between his shoulder blades, under his chin. It takes no effort to keep walking, to discover more and more of this truly beautiful house, to look and look and look without fear of his eyes hurting or his head growing weary.

It feels like Roman, he realizes with a giddy bubble in his chest, this is Roman’s work. Roman is here.

That realization gives him enough courage to call out.

“Roman? Roman, are you here?”

“Logan?”

“Roman!” He turns around, trying to trace the echoes to their source. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the library, keep walking toward the back of the hall.”

Logan’s steps beat out an eager pace as he begins to hurry towards Roman’s voice. He meets a wide set of mahogany doors and pushes them open, looking for—

“Oh,” he murmurs as the doors swing wide, “oh, this is…magnificent.”

If he were—well, if he were Roman, he’d compare this to the library the Beast gifts Belle. The shelves tower over his head, two full floors of books stretching out almost as far as he can see. As he looks closer, he realizes this is a theatre, with the seats replaced with shelves. At the back of the library stands the stage, converted into a seating area with as many plush couches and overstuffed armchairs as one could ever want. Curtains drape themselves across a vast window, golden sunlight streaming inside. And on the window seat, standing as the doors fly open, is Roman.

“Roman, my goodness—“

“Whoa, easy, Logan,” Roman chuckles, catching Logan carefully by the elbows as he rushes through the library, “you’ll knock yourself over at this rate.”

“This is magnificent,” Logan manages, still looking around in awe—goodness, there are some books here that he’s only seen in passing— “how—how did you do this?”

“I’ve always had it,” Roman says, guiding him to sit on the window seat and crouching in front of him, “it’s my library.”

“This—this is yours?”

Half of Roman’s mouth tugs up into that crooked smile. “Yeah, Logan. This is mine. You didn’t think I just let my books lie around, did you?”

“But you—you—you’ve never shown this to me. To anyone.”

The smile falters. “Well, no.”

Logan takes a moment to actually look at Roman. Roman quirks his eyebrow as he notices the questioning gaze. His costume is a little less pristine than normal. There’s something slightly different about his expression. And his sword is nowhere to be seen.

“May I—can I ask why not?”

Roman smiles ruefully, glancing over Logan’s shoulder before dropping his gaze to the ground.

“When I need to think,” he says after a moment, “or just…sit for a little, I come here.”

He rests his hand on the seat next to Logan.

“I sit right here, and I think. I look outside into the garden. I watch the clouds. Or I stare at the shelves, and think about the books.”

He gestures behind him.

“Sometimes I’ll see people bustling through them, or characters diving in between pages.” The smile becomes a touch more wistful. “Or I’ll hear water rushing, or wind howling.”

He looks back. Logan’s mouth drops open at the openness of Roman’s expression.

“But mostly,” he finishes in a near whisper, “I just sit. And think. Because I can.”

“…this is your space,” Logan mumbles as he puts it together, “that’s…that’s why you haven’t shown anyone.”

Roman nods.

Logan should apologize. He should apologize and leave. He should never have expected that this would be alright.

But the thought of leaving this library, this house, Roman feels…so, so heavy.

“It’s alright, Logan,” Roman says patiently, sitting on the floor, “what did you need? Am I late for dinner?”

He shakes himself, sternly reminding his brain that he’s being rude now. “No, no, nothing of the sort, I simply needed to find you.”

Roman spreads his arms wide. “Well, you found me. Congratulations.”

It’s so close to the banter Logan misses that he finds himself smiling. “Thank you. Shall I assume to claim my prize now, then?”

“Mm, and what prize would that be?”

Roman blinks up at him expectantly when he doesn’t answer right away. There are several questions on the tip of his tongue and they war with each other.

What’s wrong?

Are you alright?

Did something happen?

The others and I have noticed changes in your behavior, could you explain them?

Did I do something wrong?

Can I stay here?

What did Virgil almost tell me?

“I’ve lost something,” Logan blurts instead, swallowing the lump in his throat when Roman blinks again, startled, “and I need you to help me find it.”

“Oh. Well, that should be easy enough. Where did you last see it?”

“Wait!”

Logan catches a startled Roman by his sleeve as he’s in the middle of getting up. He sits back down slowly, still staring at Logan.

“I don’t know where I lost it,” he says, because it’s the truth. Even for all his immaculate time-keeping, he can’t pinpoint the moment he lost Roman.

“That does make it more difficult,” Roman muses, tapping his fingers on his chin, “well, can you tell me what it is? Maybe I’ve seen it.”

I’m sure you have.

Logan takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t realize it was gone, at first,” he begins, “only that it—something changed. It was quieter. Rooms felt less…I believe ‘alive’ is the only word I can use to adequately describe it.”

Roman catches on to the fact he’s speaking about something abstract quickly. Though, of course he did, he’s very intelligent. He sits up a little straighter and takes Logan’s hand in both of his. That in itself is enough to make Logan swallow again.

“It was more difficult to continue working,” he says after a moment, looking at the ground, “because I didn’t know what was missing. I didn’t know whether the fault lay with myself or with Thomas or how to go about fixing it. I couldn’t think of anything.”

Roman makes a noise of sympathy, squeezing Logan’s hand.

“Of course, once I realized it was missing, I did all I could to find it.” He adjusts his glasses. “I gathered all the information I could to see what had gone wrong.”

“And,” Roman prompts gently, “what did you find?”

“It’s not in my room. It’s not in the kitchen. It’s not in the Imagination, or at least it wasn’t when I was there.”

Logan closes his eyes.

“It doesn’t make me fight back a smile every time I see it, because I am only concerned. It doesn’t make me look forward to seeing it, because it doesn’t seem to be happy to see me. It doesn’t make me want to say how important it is to me, because it doesn’t—“

“…doesn’t what, Logan?”

“…it doesn’t even give me a nickname anymore.”

Roman freezes.

Logan opens his eyes and looks at Roman, seeing his face turn pale.

“I’ve lost the one I love,” he confesses, “and I don’t know where he’s gone.”

———————————————————————

Roman’s heart stops.

Logan—Logan—L—

Logan loves him?

“Please,” Logan says in that soft, soft voice that makes Roman want to combust, “can you help me find him?”

“Wait, wait, Logan, you—you what?”

Logan shifts forward, cupping Roman’s hand. “Where did you go, Roman? Something happened, you left.”

“N-no, Logan, I didn’t go anywhere.”

“You did,” he corrects, “you…you’ve been different. You’ve been quieter, you haven’t taken me on any adventures—“

“I’ve taken you into the Imagination!”

“—and you stopped singing,” Logan finishes. Roman’s chest throbs with the way Logan’s voice cracks on the last word. “You left, Roman, where did you go?”

“I—I was trying to—to—“ Roman swallows heavily. “Wait, you love me?”

Logan blinks, tilting his head. “Of course, yes, I love you, Roman.”

Roman’s face flares. “You can’t—you can’t just say that, Logan.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll believe you. I’ll—“ the urge to bury his face in his hands burns but he can’t, can’t pull away from Logan—“I’ll believe you.”

Logan hums. “And why shouldn’t you believe me?”

An incredulous laugh forces its way out of his throat. “Because you can’t love me.”

He slams his eyes shut as Logan starts to move away. He’s ruined it. He’s ruined so much of his hard work. He’s destroyed it. He’s hurt Logan. How could he?

“And why can’t I love you, Roman?”

He laughs again, though this one might be technically considered a sob. “Because I’m loud! I’m obnoxious, I want to spend all my time daydreaming, I’m so out of touch with the real world, I never want to be serious, I’m—I’m—“

“Passionate,” Logan interrupts quietly, something still cupping his hand, “optimistic. Hardworking.”

Roman huffs. “That’s not special.”

“Intelligent.”

Now he does laugh. “Not compared to you.”

Logan’s stifled noise is enough to make him open his eyes. He frowns up at Logan. He looks…heartbroken.

“Roman,” he murmurs, “do you honestly believe that?”

He squirms uncomfortably on the floor. “…it’s not like it isn’t obvious. El principe es estupido.”

“It’s far from obvious, Roman,” Logan insists, “why do you think I enjoy our verbal sparring so much?”

“You what?”

“I respect and admire your intelligence. You’re—well, not to insult the others when they’re not here to defend themselves, but you’re the only one who really keeps up with me.” Logan smiles at him. He smiles at him. “And you’re kind, Roman. Relentlessly so, sometimes.”

Roman can only gape at him.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed everything you do,” Logan chides gently, “I do notice. And I am so thankful for it. But this…” He gives Roman’s hand another squeeze. “This I don’t understand. Where did you go, Roman?”

“I—I…” Roman swallows. “I thought I was doing it for you.”

“For me?”

“Y-you like serious things! You don’t want to be seen as a joke and I’ve never seen you as a joke, Logan, you have to believe me, and I thought that—that I—“

“Roman—“

“I make fun of the things I love, Logan!” Roman’s throat almost aches from the strain of saying it out loud. “And you—you don’t like it when we’re not serious and I’m not serious so I—I thought if I—if—if—“

“You changed so I would…love you?”

Roman shakes his head shamefully. “So you would tolerate me.”

“Oh, little star—“

Roman lets out an oof as Logan tugs him forward, his knees hitting the ground roughly as he pulls Roman into a hug. He’s warm, he’s so warm and so Logan…the frames of his glasses are cool against the side of Roman’s face, the knot of his tie pressing into the hollow of his chest. And he’s being so sweet, so tender as he holds Roman on the floor of the library.

Roman clutches him back. It’s been agony, not being able to touch him, not even the barest brush of shoulders or knocking their elbows together. But now Logan is here and he can have this.

“I don’t want serious,” he hears Logan murmur, “not from you. Alright, sometimes, yes, I want you to listen but never to be that serious. You’re—you’re you, Roman. That’s what I want.”

Oh.

He laughs as the tears start to fall onto Logan’s collar. “You found me, Logan.”

Logan just gives him a squeeze. “I did, little star.”

Oh, Roman was not prepared for that. Instead, he can hear Logan chuckle as he tenses for a moment.

“No?”

“Yes,” Roman blurts out quickly, fumbling with his clumsy tongue, “yes. So much yes.”

“Yes, it is then, little star.”

He hums contentedly, burying his nose in the crook of Logan’s neck. “You found me,” he whispers, rocking them back and forth, “and I found you.”

“Yes, little star, you found me.” Logan pulls back to cup his face, a comforting noise escaping him at the evidence of drying tears. “And now…please, don’t leave me?”

“Never, Logan,” he swears, “never again.”

He gets to see that wonderful soft glow on Logan’s face for a moment longer before that gleam—oh, that wonderful gleam—comes back as he arches an eyebrow.

“No? Then why am I still ‘Logan?’”

Oh. So that’s how this is going to go, hmm? Roman lets a little more darkness slip into his smirk than he normally would. It only grows wider as Logan looks a little surprised.

“My dearest darling nerd,” he purrs, “if you wanted me to lavish you with pet names, you know you need only ask.”

“That is not what I meant,” Logan says firmly, undone a little by the blush now fanning his cheeks.

Roman chuckles. “Oh, what’s wrong, my sweet little pi, is this not what you wanted?”

“R-Roman!”

“Goodness, Logan, your face is so warm.” Roman’s arms come up to hug him as he buries his face in his neck. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“You’re one to talk,” comes the slightly muffled reply, “you were blushing from my pet name too.”

“Ah, yes, how could I forget? ‘Little star,’ well…” Roman cups the back of Logan’s neck and brings that darling face back out to smile at. “If I’m the star, then you must be the whole galaxy.”

Logan tries to frown. Bless him, he tries, but he’s so flustered that it turns into this adorable pout as he leans back to get up.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Roman chuckles, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him, “you stay right here in my lap.”

“Roman!”

“What?” He tilts his head. “Can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my lap…with me?”

He can’t help the note of vulnerability that slips in at the end. Maybe Logan doesn’t want this, maybe he is too much, maybe he just ruined it…

“No,” Logan murmurs after a moment, “I guess I can’t.”

And really, it is marvelous, there on the floor, golden sunlight streaming over them, in the library, surrounded by the quiet shelves and safe hallways of the house.

———————————————————————

“I have to ask,” Roman says, giving Logan a little shake after a moment, “how did you…?”

“Find out?”

“Mm.”

“Well…” Logan toys with Roman’s collar. “I was coming to ask you about it anyway, but Virgil—“

“Virgil?” Roman raises an eyebrow. “He said something now, did he?”

Logan squints at him. “…why do I have a feeling there’s more to this than you’re telling me?”

Roman shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter, not really.”

“Now that I don’t believe for an instant.”

“It got me my Logan,” Roman says softly, leaning forward to rub their noses together, “didn’t it?”

“…well yes, I suppose it did.”

Roman hums contentedly, cuddling into Logan like a lazy cat, sprawled out in the sunlight to nuzzle its kitten. A…surprisingly sweet image. The Imagination—Roman’s Imagination must be affecting him.

There are worse fates.

“But I can’t imagine,” he says after a moment, “that a prince such as yourself can allow such a slight?”

The grin on Roman’s face is priceless.

“Virgil,” Roman sings as they fling open the door to the rest of the Mindscape, and goodness Logan can’t tell you how much he’s missed that voice— “I have a question for you!”

Logan hears muffled cursing coming from the living room.

“What’s up, Princey?”

“Well our dearest Specs here just told me something very interesting—“ he winks at Logan— “and I would love to hear your side of the story.”

“Oh, uh, really? Well, that’s cool. On an unrelated note, I’m gonna be in my room for the foreseeable future.”

“Hmmm…not if I get there before you!”

“Shit!”

“My darling,” Roman says softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Logan’s hand, “will you excuse me one moment, please?”

And what is Logan supposed to do but agree? Roman is back.

“I’ll be with you shortly.”

Roman tears off down the hallway after Virgil, their shouts filling the Mindscape once more.

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @theaceofcrows @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner

#sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #dragonbabbles #fic #logince

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years ago

Text

popcorn & pronouns

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Janus, Remus, Roman Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Dukeceit, Creativitwins Warnings: Not much to warn for in this one. Language, a little bit of suggestiveness, vague non-detailed descriptions of a horror movie. Word count: 3402

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

Dukeceit Week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: A movie night date leads to an important conversation. Already being t4t makes it a lot easier. Or, in Remus's own words, “This is just, like, going to be a week of people coming out to me, I guess. Huh.”

Notes: Day 6 of Dukeceit Week 2021! Almost there! @dukeceitweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, where each piece can be read without any context. Takes place 9 months after college; at the start of the story, Janus uses only they/them pronouns.

“Ooh, popcorn! Can I have some?” Roman popped his head into the kitchen of the apartment he, Remus, and Logan had shared in the nine or so months since they had all graduated college.

“No, Jan and I are having a date in twenty minutes,” Remus said, waving Roman off without looking away from the air popper.

“Okay, I don’t see how that’s relevant to my question.” Roman pushed himself to sit on the counter by the sink. “I mean, that’s really cute, I hope you have fun. But can I have some popcorn?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Make your own when I’m done.”

“But you make it better!” Roman pouted overdramatically.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “All I do is plug in the machine?”

“Right, which is better than me doing it.” Roman grinned at them. “Less work for me.”

“Hey!” Remus swatted his arm. “The transphobia, honestly—”

“Well, if you making it for me is transphobic to you, then you not making it for me is—” Roman broke off quite suddenly, his expression undergoing several shifts very fast that Remus could not make sense of. Which was… unusual, to say the least. Roman was normally the one person they could always count on understanding. They didn’t like this new development one bit.

“Ro?”

“Iiiiiit’s… queerphobic to me,” Roman said at last, a worried pinch to his eyebrows. He laughed, and it almost didn’t sound forced. “So we’re at a tie, so you should just make me popcorn.”

“First of all, I’m queer too, make your own damn popcorn. Second—” Remus turned away from the popcorn machine and gave Roman his full attention, leaning back against the kitchen island and tilting his head to the side. “Do you wanna talk about whatever the fuck that was?” So far as Remus knew, Roman was bi; that was the label he’d been using for years and years, so long that it practically felt like forever. Since almost the very beginning of high school. Since before Remus had questioned their gender, even. Only last week, he’d called the light switch biphobic without hesitation when it broke.

Whatever had happened to make him so very deliberately not call himself bi just now, it was new.

Roman’s expression closed up very fast indeed, but not before Remus caught a flash of something he was almost certain was fear. “No.”

“You know it’s okay to question, right?” Remus inquired awkwardly. “No matter what specifically, and no matter what the outcome is? Yeah?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know I’d still love you no matter what, right? Even if you were, like, a straight man—like, I would make so many jokes about not agreeing with your lifestyle, but—Ro, you know everything is always gonna be okay, right?”

Roman glared at him. “Remus, I don’t want to talk about it.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I’m definitely not straight.”

Remus blinked and raised their hands. “Alright. I didn’t mean literally straight, I just meant—you could be literally whatever, and it would be cool. That was—like—the most extreme example I could think of, you know?”

Roman let out a slight huff of laughter. “Thanks,” he said reluctantly after a pause. “It’s nothing, though.”

“Bullshit,” Remus said immediately.

“It—” Roman swallowed. “I need it to be nothing, okay?”

“If anyone’s making you feel shitty, I’ll beat them up,” Remus said immediately. “Even if it’s Patton. Just drop the names. I’ll do it. I’ll—”

“Remus, it’s fine. I want to stop fucking talking about it now!” Roman snapped.

Remus hesitated, fumbling for what to do or say next, everything about the conversation feeling just a little wrong and sideways.

Roman sighed. “Sorry.” He pushed off the counter, went to the fridge, and stared into it for a solid thirty seconds, then took a cheese stick out of the door. “I’ll make my own popcorn later,” he mumbled and retreated back to his room.

“Damn, alright,” Remus said to the empty room. “Be like that, I guess.” They flung their hands into the air and went to get the butter they’d been melting in the microwave before Roman’s appearance.

Roman would talk to them about it, whatever it was, eventually. He always did. And whatever was bugging him, Remus would figure out a way to bug it back until it stopped and Roman was all happy and bubbly again. Because that was what Remus always did. It would be fine. It was just a waiting game.

Remus sighed. He always hated waiting.

***

“Mmkay,” Remus said, when Janus had arrived, and they had worked together to move the TV out of the living room and into Remus’s room, and they had settled in on Remus’s bed—Remus sitting up against the headboard and Janus half-laying in Remus’s lap with their long thin legs stretched out along the bed and their head on his chest—and the popcorn had been set beside them where they could both reach it, and the blanket nest had been fluffed once more. “What shall we watch?”

Janus was silent for a long moment. Actually, come to think of it, they had been quiet since they’d arrived at the apartment—even more quiet than usual. But Remus was almost certain they weren’t nonverbal, seeing as they had exchanged a few fond words with him. It just hadn’t been very many words.

“Janny, baby?” Remus leaned forward, over their shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of their face.

Janus had their fingers knotted in the blanket that was spread over their lap, fidgeting with it anxiously, a thinking-hard expression on their face.

“Baby?” Remus curled one hand lightly around theirs. “You good?”

“Choices are too hard right now,” Janus said at last.

“Okay, that’s okay. Do you know what you need?”

“I want to watch a movie.” Janus frowned. “I just can’t choose.”

“Gotcha. No problem.” Remus pressed a kiss to their cheek. “I’m really good at choosing.” He threaded his fingers through Janus’s long hair, scratching soothingly at their scalp in just the way he knew they liked, and pulled up the library of movies, switching from Roman’s profile to his own.

“How’s some really cheesy horrible horror film we can make fun of sound?” he asked, scrolling with the remote and still playing with Janus’s hair with his other hand. “I know we have a bunch of those, I loved ’em when we were kids and I think they’re funny.”

“That sounds fine.” Janus nodded and relaxed a little further against Remus.

“Good.” He kissed the top of their head. “Do you need anything else?”

Janus shook their head. “I’ve just been kind of stressed lately. Work’s been shit, and all that. It’s fine. I just want to cuddle and things.”

“Ooh, ‘and things,’ I like the sound of that,” Remus teased, sliding his hand gently to their chin and drawing them to twist around far enough that he could kiss them soft and slow.

“I didn’t say what kinds of things,” Janus said innocently, their eyes still closed and so close to Remus that their lips brushed against his as they spoke. “Perhaps I could be persuaded later.”

“I’ll be sure to prepare my best arguments,” Remus said, leaning slightly up to kiss their forehead and then back down to their lips for another lazy kiss, taking his time and exploring Janus’s mouth until they sighed and melted against him.

“A compelling preview,” they murmured, their eyes still closed and the slightest smile curling at their lips.

Remus meant to make some kind of witty quip in return, really he did, but all that came out of his mouth was a quiet, awed, “Holy fuck, you’re so beautiful, Jan.”

Janus’s eyes opened and met his for a moment, soft and vulnerable, before they turned and hid their face in his neck. “Love you,” they whispered against his skin.

“Mm, I love you too,” Remus said happily, wrapping his arms securely around Janus and kissing the top of their head. “Love your pretty eyes and skin and hair and body, love how clever you are, love your scary goth clothes, love your snark, love your stims, love you—”

Janus whined wordlessly into his neck, pressing kisses to it and fisting their hands in the front of his shirt.

Remus chuckled, taking a handful of their hair and gently tugging until they looked up at him once more. “Do you want to watch a movie at all, or do you just wanna make out? Cause I’d be good with either, but if you wanna do a movie, we should get on that before we’re too distracted.”

“Oh.” Janus leaned their head back a little until it was resting against Remus’s hand. “Not that I don’t want to make out, but—”

“Nah, I gotcha. Gotta at least get through the popcorn, am I right?” Remus cast about for the remote, lost in the blanket pile, as Janus shifted about until they faced the television again.

“There it is!” Remus snatched the remote up, clicking through the library on the television until he saw the particular film he was thinking of and pulled it up. “This look good?”

“‘When moving into their new house, little do our protagonists know it is haunted by a demonic serial killer. Will they get out in time? Or will they be his next victims?’” Janus read the summary aloud. “Sounds absolutely thrilling. Extremely original. Love the bad Photoshop on the cover. I’m sure the acting will be of the highest quality.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s so shitty, I love it. So many cheesy effects and fake blood, it’s the actual stupidest shit,” Remus assured them. “I love it, though. Went as the demon thing for Halloween when I was nine. Nobody fucking knew what I was, but I had the time of my life. And got fake blood on Roman when he wasn’t looking. It was great.”

Janus chuckled, reaching up to brush their fingertips against Remus’s cheek. “Well, with such a glowing review from someone so attractive, how can I resist?” they said fondly.

“That’s the spirit!” Remus hit play.

Remus had watched this particular movie more times than they could count over the course of their childhood. He peppered commentary throughout the film:

“This is my favorite part, if you pay attention you can see her real fingertips holding onto the fake hand she’s about to get chopped off!”

“There’s a jumpscare in this scene, I know you hate those—okay, hit the skip-ten-seconds button in three, two, there. Perfect. Dumbass demon movie can’t even trust itself to be creepy without cheap scares.”

“Look, I know the mom is supposed to have some kind of hot blonde thing going on for the horny straight men in the audience, but she’s got nothing on you.”

“For some reason they made a director’s commentary and it actually includes the fake blood recipe they used, I’ll show you sometime!”

Janus, in turn, provided brilliant, extremely snarky roasts, mostly of either the actors’ absolute lack of skill or the gaping plot holes:

“Oh, yes, going alone to the attic at midnight without so much as a candle is a fantastic idea, nothing bad could possibly happen in this scene.”

“Listen, I can excuse the children because they’re about eight years old, but do you think this man has ever even heard of acting? Or even, like, speaking in a non-monotone?”

“I am truly fascinated by the special effects department’s understanding of human anatomy.”

“So, the demon feeds on misery? Why hasn’t it taken up residence in a large office building? I mean, come on, hundreds of souls in an environment designed to grind out constant levels of misery? It’s perfect. The poor thing must be starving out here in the two-point-five-kids-and-a-dog suburbs, every meal it gets is tiny. I would be so much better at its job than it is.”

At last the credits rolled.

“Wanna see pictures of the costume I made?” Remus asked.

“Sure.” Janus sounded amused.

“Lemme just—” Remus scrolled through their camera roll for a minute. “Oh, here they are.” They displayed their phone to Janus; tiny nine-year-old Remus, who sported long tangled brown hair in two ponytails, was draped in a black curtain, donated by his great-aunt, that he had very enthusiastically taken a pair of scissors to to create a tattered effect; the curtain was splattered with bright red goo, and tiny Remus had a pair of plastic knives in his hands, which were blurry in almost every photo because they’d hardly stopped making stabbing motions all evening. To their right, their little sister Gabby, who’d been six at the time, was dressed as Elastigirl and making a punching motion; to their right, Roman—who had already been a full three inches taller than Remus, even at nine—was wearing a Belle dress with a poofy skirt and a sword strapped around his waist and a huge smile that was missing one front tooth.

Remus swiped through the photos; a delightful scene unfolded, as tiny Remus posed for a few pictures, then in one was blurrily turning towards Roman, then dumping something on him, then Roman was screaming and Remus was laughing as red goo dripped down the poofy yellow skirt; Gabby watched with both hands clapped over her mouth, eyes huge.

“You two really have not changed at all, have you?” Janus asked, stifling laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Remus agreed with an answering laugh. “I think the most that either of us ever changed was when I chopped off all that hair and dyed it green.”

“When was that?” Janus asked.

“Sophomore year of high school. I did not have permission to chop it all off, but I did get permission to dye it afterwards, so that was pretty sick.”

“And that didn’t go against dress code?” Janus inquired.

“No, actually. Not sure how. But I bet my parents would’ve kicked up a big stink about it if the school tried and made me change it; they were always super big on self expression and shit.” Remus gestured towards the picture, indicating tiny Roman in his princess dress. “We always got to wear whatever we wanted, and shit like that. It was nice. Made gender shit way easier when that became a thing for me, you know?”

“It sounds nice,” Janus said softly. “I’m happy you had that.”

Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to their forehead, reaching for a handful of the popcorn dregs in the bottom of the bowl.

Janus shifted in their arms, rolling over to face Remus and propping themself up on their elbows. “Actually,” they began.

Something on their face told Remus that whatever this new topic of conversation was, it was important. He swallowed the half-chewed popcorn in his mouth. “Yeah, baby?”

“Speaking of gender.” Janus picked at the edge of the blanket.

“I love speaking of that, go on.” Remus tousled Janus’s hair fondly.

Janus took a deep breath, staring at the blanket in their hands. “I want to start using he pronouns again. In addition to my regular ones. Or.” They wrinkled their nose. “My current ones, I guess. So, he/they.”

“That’s great, he/they pronouns are very sexy,” Remus said at once.

Janus laughed, looking up at him at last. “That’s true, you are the sexiest person I know,” he said fondly. A shadow passed over his features. “But,” he went on slowly, chewing on the inside of their lip and picking at the blanket once more.

“Yeah?” Remus encouraged.

“I really don’t like the idea of telling anyone else about that.” Janus grimaced. “I keep worrying I’ll get asked stupid questions about ‘oh, so are you a man again now?’ when—like—no, and I never was one in the first place. So.”

“Oh, that sounds gross,” Remus agreed at once. “I can see why you’d be worried about that.”

Janus nodded. “I just—I don’t want to explain. And I don’t want people to ask questions. And they might. And I just—I don't want any of it. I want to skip to the part where they know and it’s all how I want it to be.”

“That’s reasonable,” Remus agreed. “But, I mean, if they can get me using he/they pronouns and being nonbinary, they had better fucking wrap their minds around the concept of you doing it too. Yeah? Or I’ll make ’em. Violently, if you want.”

Janus snorted. “I appreciate the offer, darling.” They reached up and touched his cheek. “I… don’t know if I want to tell anyone else yet. But I did want to tell you.”

“You got it, cutie.” Remus booped Janus’s nose once. “Just let me know if anything changes. I’ll punch people for you. Anytime. They don’t even have to have done anything. Just point me at them and consider it done.”

Janus did laugh at that, outright, scrunching up his face and burying it in Remus’s chest. “I should not be this into you offering to punch people for me,” he said wryly.

Remus grinned and flipped their hair. “Nah, I think it’s definitely very sexy of me and should absolutely turn you on.”

Janus smacked Remus’s arm. “I did not say that!”

“You implied it.”

“Not… necessarily. That was one possible interpretation—”

“Oh, right, I see, mmhm, very interesting.”

They smacked his arm again. “You’re teasing me.”

“Only a little bit. You’re so pretty when you get all flustered.” Remus bent their head at a somewhat awkward angle to kiss Janus’s lips gently. “Are there any new words you want me to use, by the way?” they asked. “Besides updating pronouns?”

Janus tilted his head to the side, considering. “I think… I still like all the sorts of things you call me already. Pretty, and partner, and—and baby, and so on.”

Remus smirked. “That’s good, I like calling you baby.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Janus hid their face in their hands.

“Why, baby?” Remus asked innocently.

Janus made a strangled noise, and after a pause carried on. “I do think I wouldn’t mind adding a little bit of… masc terminology? I guess? If that makes sense? Adding that into the mix. Not all the time, and not as much as the things you already call me, but… just a bit would be nice.”

“Gotcha.” Remus nodded. “I can do that. So, like, my baby is very pretty and handsome?”

Janus’s cheeks went bright red in an instant, and he hid his face in Remus’s chest again, letting out a tiny wordless scream. “Yes. That. That—that’s nice,” they managed after a pause, sounding almost entirely composed.

Remus chuckled and ran their fingers through Janus’s hair. “Good to know,” he said teasingly. “I will definitely keep this in mind.”

“Oh my god,” Janus mumbled. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Absolutely, but only in a sexy way of making you happy.” Remus kissed the top of their head. “This is just, like, going to be a week of people coming out to me, I guess,” they mused. “Huh.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, something’s clearly eating at someone else we know, and I think they’re going to tell me about whatever it is within the week. That’s all. It was just funny timing.” Remus kissed the top of Janus’s head again. “So, the movie’s over,” they noted, which, sure, was a blatant and deliberate change of subject, but he felt this was justified, both for avoiding-speculating-about-Roman’s-personal-information purposes and, more importantly, for fun-after-movie-things purposes.

“That it is,” Janus said, a particular innocent tone entering their voice. Excellent, he was of a similar mind to Remus, then.

Remus grinned and drew them up for a kiss. “So, what does the very pretty and handsome and lovely human in my arms want to do now?” he inquired.

Janus made another small, wordless, flustered noise and promptly dragged Remus into another kiss. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“What, about how you’re the loveliest—prettiest—sexiest—” Remus pressed tiny kisses to Janus’s lips with each word, until at last they caught his lips with their own in a proper kiss to shut him up. “Pretty sure I can say it, actually,” Remus murmured against his lips. “Cause it’s true.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Janus said, sounding very pleased indeed, and kissed them again.

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld @peruviandesertfox

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Note

Can you add me to the damnation tag list please? Thank you!! Also if you’re taking prompts: the song partition by Beyoncé, specifically the line “took 45 minutes to get all dressed up / and we ain’t even gonna make it to this club” for nessian or rowaelin

Rowan pulled at the collar of his shirt, frowning. He was already hot, and they weren’t even at the goddamn club. Hell, they hadn’t even left yet.

He was sitting in the car waiting for his wife, scrolling through his email and trying to resist the urge to back inside and throttle her. "Five minutes" his ass.

Even though he was irritated, he was used to this behavior. So was their driver, Ricky. When he'd told the stout man Aelin said she was almost ready, he'd just given Rowan a knowing smile, pulled out the newspaper, and rolled up the divider to give him some privacy.

Something he was very grateful for when, twenty minutes after she'd said she'd be ready, Aelin opened the back door and slid onto the seat across from him.

The phone fell from his hands, emails suddenly the last thing on his mind, as he took her in all the way from her curly blonde hair to her painted red toenails.

"What... what are you wearing?" he asked, voice embarrassingly raspy.

“A dress,” she replied simply, knocking on the divider between them and the driver to signal they were finally ready.

He scowled, because duh, but he’d never seen anything like what she was wearing.

First of all, it was fucking sheer.

Thin layers of black tulle wrapped around her frame, creating a see-through illusion that was messing with his mind. He guessed she was technically covered, but not enough he couldn’t see the outline of her high-cut black panties and bra. A lot of skin was showing.

Skin everyone in the club she was dragging him to would see.

“Aelin.”

“Mmm?”

“How many people are you trying to make me kill tonight?”

He wasn't a necessarily territorial man--at least he didn't think so. And the logical part of his brain told him that his wife loved him. He had nothing to worry about.

The not-so-logical part told him to not let her out of the car. Or to start cracking skulls.

His eyes finally figured out how to move off her breasts and as he looked at her face, she smiled at him knowingly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rowan growled, trying to discretely shift himself in his pants.

She noticed, of course, and her grin grew. “Rowan, get it together. If you can’t even make a twenty minute car ride, how are you going to deal with me dancing on you tonight?”

“I’m not,” he gruffed, looking at her innocent little nose. “I’m going to stand at the bar and glare at anyone who tries to get close to you.”

She tilted her head, considering this. “I don’t think so. I want to dance with you."

"Then you should've worn something less... tempting."

"Tempting?" Aelin asked, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Stop acting innocent. You wear a dress like that, and you're going to get my attention."

She leaned back, hips sliding down the seat and thighs falling open.

Skulls. Cracking.

"What are you tempted to do?"

It was a breathy whisper, one that told him she was just as hot and bothered as him.

Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and his hands on hers, edging her thighs open a little further. Running his thumbs across her soft skin, he grinned when he felt it pebble and her breathing grow shallow.

"Currently," he began, running his hands down her calves, back over her knees, up her thighs. "I'm tempted to get on my knees before you and worship you. You look like a goddess, Fireheart."

She grinned, opening her mouth to respond, but he brought a hand up and brushed a finger down that bright red lip. "And then I'm tempted to fuck your mouth for messing with me in the first place."

Her lips parted, drawing his thumb inside her mouth, and he almost came at the sinful lap of her tongue. He pushed it deeper, eyes drifting closed when she moaned.

"But, you've been waiting for this opening for a while," he said, acting unaffected despite the tent in his pants and sitting back. "And you've obviously spent a while getting ready. I can wait."

She made an angry, frustrated sound and flung herself on him, somehow ending up on his lap, her knees by his hips. "I lied," she breathed, pushing herself down against him. "There isn't a club opening tonight. It opened last week, and I went with Lysandra. I just wanted-"

He knew what she wanted. And like always, he gave it to her.

A hand on the back of her neck pulled her mouth to his, and Rowan kissed her desperately, deep and searching and thorough. He met her tongue with his, sucked on her lips, kissed her the way he would if he got between her thighs. If the way she was moving on him was any indication, she knew exactly what he was doing and was enjoying it.

His hands pushed up the thin material, and then he was gripping her ass, growling at the fact that she'd been about to wear this in public.

"I'm going to kill the neighbors," he told her, realizing they might have seen her walk to the car.

"Okay," she agreed, tilting her head back as Rowan kissed her neck. "I hate them anyway."

He was too hard, too desperate to be amused.

The desperation led to him ripping her panties off, something he knew she'd give him shit for later. But it seemed she was too far gone to care much, especially as he slipped two fingers up her thigh and pushed them into her. She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes drifting closed and head falling back.

He groaned at how tight and wet she was, clenching his jaw. The way she moved her hips gave him just enough friction that he couldn't think, and he fucked her harder with his fingers in retaliation.

His thumb drew small, quick circles on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, clenching his jaw and going faster when she tightened around him.

"Ro, I'm going to-"

She cut herself off and released a curse that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush as the car slowed to a stop, making him chuckle.

Aelin leaned over and slapped the intercom button to connect them to the driver. Right as she opened her mouth to speak, Rowan curled his fingers and pushed his thumb against her clit in a way he knew would drive her wild. She gasped, trying to hide it under a cough. "Um, fuck, just- just drive around, Ricky!"

The amused response came through a second later. "Of course, ma'am."

He likely knew exactly what they were doing back here, but Rowan didn't have half a mind to care.

As the car started moving again, Aelin sat back up and slapped his chest. "You're such an asshole."

He made another circle with his thumb. "Am I?"

She trembled, shaking her head, and he gave her a slow smile.

One hand buried between her thighs, he used the other to tug down the front of her dress and bra. His mouth came to her breast, and he swirled his tongue around her nipple in time with the movements of his thumb.

Aelin groaned loudly, fingers digging into his shoulders and hips churning sloppily.

"That's it," he encouraged, tugging on her nipple with his teeth. "Ride my hand, Fireheart."

He knew she was getting close from the way she tightened around his fingers, so he released her breasts and licked a line up the column of her throat. Her head was thrown back, giving him plenty of access, and he made use of it, sucking and licking and biting at her skin until he knew he'd leave a mark.

She cried out as she came, loud enough he hoped Ricky had a serious hearing problem.

Her legs shook and she trembled, but he kept going until she stilled and collapsed into his chest. Then he pulled them out and licked them clean, eyes rolling back at the taste of her.

After three years of marriage, she was still the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Not that he was surprised--she constantly did things like this that made him burn hotter and hotter for her as the years went by.

Apparently, the sentiment was requited, because before he knew what she was doing, his wife slid to her knees before him and flicked open his belt.

She met his eyes as she freed him, running a finger slowly down the length of him.

"Aelin," he warned, not in the mood to be teased. Normally, he'd sit there all day and let her fool around, but he wanted her--needed her--now.

She rolled her eyes, but gave him what he needed, leaning down to put her mouth on him.

A muttered "fuck" fell off his lips, his hips bucking slightly at the sudden sensation.

Her hands were running over his thighs and up his abs, like she relished the feel of him as much he did her.

Pulling back, she hollowed her cheeks and circled her tongue around his tip. Rowan's hands were fists at his sides and his jaw was clenched tight. She's been down there for ten seconds, he reminded himself, trying not to be a chump.

Except it felt too goddamn good.

She knew exactly what he liked, and she gave it to him so fucking well he could do nothing but sit there and try not to act like a wild animal.

His hands found their way into her hair, holding it back to give him an unobstructed view.

Her full lips enveloped him, staining his cock red, and he almost came at the sight.

"Look at me," he rasped, groaning when she opened her eyes to meet his. "Fucking hell."

Those eyes undid him, and he didn't care if it made him a chump or not.

"I'm close," he warned her, pulling out a little.

But she was having none of that and dipped her head to take all of him again.

With another muffled curse, release found him, and if there was ever any doubt as to if she was the perfect woman for him, it was gone the second she moaned as he came down her throat.

His head hit the seat behind him as he breathed and breathed and tried to not pass out.

Sitting up on her knees, Aelin licked her lips and looked him over slowly.

Rowan tucked himself back into his trousers, then grabbed her arms and pulled her up onto his lap. He tucked her into him, fixing her clothes as best he could. She'd definitely have to wear his jacket when she got out, considering he'd torn her underwear off, but that was a problem for later.

He kissed her brow, smiling. "Happy anniversary, Fireheart."

Her head tilted back, those eyes meeting his again. "Happy anniversary, Buzzard."

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meowthefluffy · 3 years ago

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Homewrecker au finale part 3!

•Virgil has never driven so fast before

•he drives so recklessly he makes it to the pizza place in just over 3 minutes

That gives him just enough time to stew in the fear and dread

He also gets a chance to let the anger that’s been building finally bubble up to the surface

Whoever hurt Roman is gonna have hell to pay

He parks in the shadows away from the bright awning of the pizza place and waits

He ends up waiting for 10 minutes

He’s about to get out of the car when he sees a small frame slinking in the shadows towards the parking lot

Roman in 8 inch platform heels, and a cocktail dress shivering in the freezing night air

Roman carefully stays out of the street lights and makes his way to the side of the parking lot that his car is parked, obviously looking for Virgil’s car

Virgil rushes out to meet him

Virgil’s knows he looks disheveled in pajama pants and a hoodie he hastily pulled on but he couldn’t care less

“Roman “ Virgil sounds hoarse and close to tears

Roman spots him and his whole face shifts as he bursts into tears

Virgil runs over and Ro meets him in the middle

Virgil scoops him up in a giant hug and Roman sobs into his chest

Roman looks so small in his arms like this, so fragile, the anger from earlier flairs again but it gets pushed to the side when Roman whispers through his tears

“You actually came “ he curls further into V’s arms and the relief on his face is palpable, tho it’s concerning that Ro thought he wouldn’t come

“ of course I came Princey, how could I not? I-“

He wants to say more but he notices Roman is still shivering and ushers him into the car and out of the cold

“Your freezing, let’s warm you up and then we can figure out what to do next “

As ro warms up Virgil starts driving

He isn’t going anywhere in particular, he just wants to get Roman away for there as quickly as possible

Once he’s stopped shivering completely, v takes a deep breath and asks

“What happened?”

“I-they-they wanted-“

“Take your time okay? I only need to know enough to know how to help you, you don’t have to go into detail if it upsets you “

“Okay..” Ro takes a shaky deep breath, it’s a while before he tries to speak again

” they wanted me to leave with them.” Roman whispers so quietly Virgil nearly misses it

“What?” Virgil doesn’t understand at all but he doesn’t like the sound of it

“ the cheer coach, they-They wanted me to leave the country with them, they said that they ran out of customers in this area and wanted a fresh start.”

He started curling in on himself, visibly upset but he doesn’t stop

“ they said since I was the “ best seller “ I had to come. They had me in a corner and I knew if I said no-“ he started tearing up again “they would take me by force.”

“So I ran. They threw a big party, to try and squeeze some last cash out of this town, they ran out of pizza and I offered to go get some.” The tears fell harder now and Roman desperately rubbed at his face to keep the tears at bay

“ that’s when I called you… the only reason they let me leave is because they knew I couldn’t get far walking “

It seemed obvious in hindsight but the thought of Roman walking the half a mile walk to the pizza place alone at night scarred him terribly

“ I’m gonna kill them.” Virgil said before he could stop himself

“What?” The panic rose in Romans voice , Virgil pulled over,

“ I’m gonna kill them. “ the anger from before coming back yet again “ I’m gonna f$&@$ kill them.”

Roman looked terrified now

“ no!”

“… no one should be allowed to hurt you and live to see tomorrow.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel

“Virgil please stop” Virgil risked a glance at Roman

His makeup was smudged beyond belief , tears gleaming in his eyes

Against his better judgment reaches out and cups Romans face

“ I was so worried about you… I thought-“ he can’t bear to voice his thoughts, his voice cracks

“I don’t care about them right now, I’m just happy your here, that your safe”

Roman practically falls into his arms

The hug is a little uncomfortable, they’re leaning on to of the center console, and it’s definitely not the best hug either had ever had

But it didn’t matter really

Because maybe just maybe things were gonna be okay

—————————————————————

This is the official ending! I’ll be doing a few more going into more detail on the aftermath but this is where I’m ending it for now.

WHICH MEANS I CAN FINALLY GET TO MY FAVORITE PART, DRAWING SCENES FROM THIS OUT OF CONTEXT!

I hope you enjoyed this! :)

#Prinxiety #tsRoman #Roman angst #Roman sanders #tsVirgil #Virgil sanders #sanders Sides

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nebelihood · 3 years ago

Text

Written Continuation of The Looney Tunes Show Comic

//I never write scripts cause I hate them, I like to draw everything, like go directly to the storyboard you might say, but I don't have time rn and yesterday before going to sleep this idea came to me so I wrote a crappy script of how the episode might go.

Here's the link to what I'm talking about

ALSO- here idk if Bugs and Daffy are dating, Lola and Bugs aren't but idk how things are, It's kinda hard to imagine them together ON THE ACTUAL SHOw, since Daffy is kinda mean here and idk I didn't want to make it toxic, I'll figure something out, just imagine this as if it was the actual show//

Crappy script:

//Also, any suggestion on how to improve, I will really appreciate them! I know I didn't write the INT/DAY/BUGS' HOUSE thingy but I completely forgot, sorry. Also some verbs might be wrong and some words might be incorrect, sorry//

Bugs inside the house is putting batteries on the remote control when his phone starts ringing. it's porky and he's nervous.

Porky:b-b-bugs!

Bugs: Hi porky, what's up?

Porky: b-b-bugs you gotta- gotta help!!!

Bugs worried now: what's wrong?

Porky:t-t-this weekend i-im gonna celebrate my anniversary w-w-with Petunia! I-i don't know what to do!

Bugs moving himself around the house: Just take her to dinner in a nice place

Porky upset: I-I can't do that! T-thats t-t-too ch-cheap a-and c-careless! It has to be something big! What did y-you for y-your anniversary w-with Lola?

Bugs with an annoyed and bored face: We went to dinner on a nice place.

Pory: O-oh...

Lola and Daffy make their way inside the house and go to rhe sofa without the groceries. Bugs looks at them in confusion while heads out of the house.

Bugs: I don't know porky! What does she like? Maybe you can do something she likes for your anniversary.

Porky full of excitement:O-oh! She loves roller coasters a-and-

Bugs happy to find a good idea: That's perfect! The Roller coasters fair is coming up this weekend!

Porky now worried: O-Oh...

Bugs confused: what?

Porky: I-I don't kn-know, I-Im scared of rolller coasters.

Bugs with a tired face: Oh boy...

Porky: I-I don't know Bugs,.I-I'll try t-t-to th-think on something else

Bugs: Okay Porks

They both hang up.

Bugs realices that all the groceries are inside the car and no one helped. He looks back at the house annoyed.

-Short black screen-

Bugs finising putting the groceries inside the kitchen

Bugs annoyed: I little help would have been nice

Daffy annoyingly watching the tv: Yeah, I agree, but the chófer wasted too much time parking and messed everything up!

Bugs rolls his eyes angrily but starts watching the show from the kitchen cause something called his attention.

Police off duty: (I forgot the name of the Chófer so I'll call him Frank) Frank! You really messed up, if you had been on time we wouldn't have stopped him!

Frank: (I also forgot the name of the police so I'll call him huh... P cause i think he was a police) I think you are under appreciating my help, P

P: Huh?

A close up begins on the Frank character as he says: I wake up and drive you whenever you call me, I'm always there on time and I never whine, we always catch the bag guys but this time since I was a little distracted with something. I don't mind doing these things for you but I'd certainly appreciate a little gratitude from you.

P: You are right Frank, I'm sorry

Now we can dee Bugs who is really surprised with how the episode went really well with the situation. Now Bugs looks at Daffy with a not surprised face.

Bugs: Does that ring any bells, Daffy?

Daffy frowns thinking.

Daffy: Hmmmn... Oh yeah! You forgot to buy these things from the grocerie store.

Daffy hands a list without even looking towards Bugs. Bugs with all hope lost rolls his eyes and sighs as he takes the list. Bugs starts heading out. (i think Lola could say something funny here to close the scene but I couldn't of what, i thought she could ask Bugs ro bring her something from the store or both, daffy and Lola called him simp at the same time when bugs left the house but idkk,tske any of those options)

-another short black screen??-

Bugs at the store with a shipping car and looking at the things he still need to get with a sort of tired sad face. From a distance a selling voice says: Are you tired from doing everything at home?! Are you tired of people always depending on you?! Are you tired of your clingy roommate who can't do anything by himself?!

Bugs half surprised and half confused: These things keep conveniently happening.

Bugs get closer to the place where the voice is. Its a small circus like local inside the shop. (Sort of where people read the future in fairs) (picture the character you want here cause idk)

Bugs peeks his head inside the local

Other character: Hi sr! Welcome! Any of these questions called your attention.

Bugs relaxed face comes up: Eeeeehh, just all of them.

Character: Oh! goddie! Or baddie! Or goddie I should say cause I have the solution- right here!

The character pulls out a weird looking chain clock. Bugs points at it half scared half confused.

Bugs: what's that?

Character: It's a clock for hypnosis! Anyone can use it!

Bugs looks confused.

Character: So with this clock you can hypnose other people to do what they never usually do! And finally have some rest.

Bugs still confused but amazed: And you are just selling this on the grocerie store?

The character annoyed: Ya want the clock or not?

Bugs pulling out his wallet: Eeeh, having the option wouldn't hurt.

-Tan tan!- BLACK SCREEN SONG BREAK OR COMMERCIAL BREAK OR SOMETHING??-

#the looney tunes show #script #bugs bunny #bugs x daffy #text post

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stillebesat · 4 years ago

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First Contact

December Drabbles Day 15 Sanders Sides: Roman, Logan, Virgil Blurb: Things would be so much easier if only their human, Virgil, would talk to them. Inspiration: While I already answered @letthefandomsbegin’s two sentence prompt of: Logan looked at Roman, eyes dark. "I need you to really think about what you're saying, because you're going to hurt Virgil even more if you do not." This other potential fic idea wouldn’t leave my head. Soo I wrote it out. ^^;; Fic Type: g/t fic, Alien!AU, Alien!Roman, Alien!Logan, Fae!Virgil Overall Fic Warnings: Implied past history of mistreatment. Extra Limbs, Biting. Taglist in Reblog.

Logan looked at Roman, eyes dark. "I need you to really think about what you're saying, because you're going to hurt Virgil even more if you do not."

Roman bit back a retort, glancing down to where their little human crouched on the table, watching them with eyes that held a cautious intelligence that only became more apparent the longer Virgil was in their care.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought this whole plan through, but the protectiveness of his mate over the boy was something unexpected.

Of course, how could Logan have not grown fond of their little foundling after nursing the poor human back to health after they had rescued him from his dismal living conditions?

They had been through every setback, every scare with the small male in working to keep him alive. Even pulling all nighters researching the best methods to ensure that their human could return to full health and safely achieve his full metamorphosis from scrawny, boney, four limbed Human into his final form of a full grown Fae.

Not that Virgil was full grown yet. Roman was still hoping that he would end up with a tail, but he had successfully formed his third pair of limbs, a beautiful pair of black and purple wings as soft as the hide of a baby Seleen, during their last cycle of Garvit’s Ring.

Wings that their human needed to use in order for them to gain enough strength so that he could eventually fly.

Roman ran his fingers over his horns, sitting back in his chair with a sigh as he turned to his mate. “I’m just saying, a mindlink would make this easier.”

Far easier than the pantomiming they’d been doing up until this point. He could sense how wary Virgil was of them. Feel the panic swirl of the boy's thoughts whenever Roman or Logan had to physically move one of his limbs to get him to understand what they wanted from him.

“Or it could send him spiraling further than he already has.” Logan retorted, indigo waves flashing across his dark skin as his ears twitched, his attention too on Virgil. “You saw how he reacted to his wings! He doesn’t understand what is happening to him and if we introduce too much--”

“But talking isn’t the same as learning how to use a new set of limbs, Lo. He’s exercising his brain not his muscles!” He spun to his mate, tail twisting to wrap around Logan’s. “If we could just communicate our intentions clearly to him we could--”

“I know.” Lo exhaled, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “We could show him we mean no harm, that we merely mean to aid him as he grows. But, Ro--” He grimaced, showing a brief flash of his fangs. “He’s quite timid compared to the reports of other Humans.”

“Timid?” Roman snorted, touching a small lightning shaped scar on his wrist. Virgil had managed to draw blood from them more than once in the early days of their guardianship over him. He had been quite feral until he realized that he was safe--well safer here with them.

“You know what I mean.” Logan said, carefully placing a book down on the table, the pages flipped open to a hologram of a Waie fledgling flapping her wings. “He could have another relapse. I can’t--”

He knew. He didn’t want another relapse either. The screams the human had let out when he first saw his new wings still haunted them both.

At the time Logan had had to physically restrain Virgil to keep him from destroying his new limbs with his own hands and had received quite the series of bites to his fingers in the process.

But those actions, that lack of communication between them had cost them dearly.

Virgil had reverted to being just as feral as when they’d first rescued him after that. Refusing to trust them with anything. They’d had to start back at square one and it was frustrating. So frustrating to see all their progress lost in the matter of minutes.

“He didn’t relapse five days ago though.” Roman said, tail flicking to wrap around Logan’s.

Five days ago when their human’s eyes had finally shifted from their baby brown coloration into the more adult shade of a shimmering galaxical violet.

Five days ago, when Roman had successfully formed a telepathic link with their human and clearly communicated to Virgil and had him understand that Roman was only trying to help him and not hurt him further.

Understand and be…leery of it. Okay. Frightened by it. Roman could still feel the slight headache behind his eyes from how forcefully Virgil had slammed the ‘figurative door,’ as Logan would say, on their mindlink.

But he hadn’t relapsed. No, if anything, Virgil was looking at them more frequently now, brilliant eyes wary, but no longer scared.

Though….He glanced down to see their human had moved to his feet, wings trembling where they were folded tightly against his back as he glanced to the holographic image of flight before deliberately turning his back on it.

Roman pressed his lips together, running his fingers over his horns. Honestly, they couldn’t make it any clearer than that that they wanted him to learn how to fly. Was he purposely not understanding? Purposely refusing? A mind link would do wonders in clarifying the human’s thought process.

Cautiously he sent out a tendril of reassurance to him and was rewarded as the human jerked, wings half spreading before he snapped them shut.

Huh. Virgil was getting better control of that at least. His wings remained folded most of the time now instead of hanging limply from his back dragging across the floor like an oddly shaped cape whenever the human tried to walk anywhere.

Of course, from the swirling tumult of his thoughts, Roman could gather that Virgil was trying to not think about his new limbs. An ‘if I can’t see it then it’s not there’ philosophy that was...well silly. He doubted the human could just forget the new weights on his back, not when they were a part of him now.

No, it would be better if Virgil would just accept this change and move his wings more. Spread them out at least if he didn’t want to flap them yet. Stretch. He could only imagine how cramped the wings had to feel being constantly folded like that.

Roman raised an eyebrow, smirking as the human turned, purple eyes taking on a soft glow as he glared up at him. “He seems fine to me.”

Couldn’t Logan see that the shifting in Virgil’s eye color and therefore, the maturing of his brain to accept a telepathic link could only be a good thing for them?

It meant he and Roman could now communicate their intentions directly to the human--if he would let him--rather than having to rely on pantomime and sifting through Virgil’s tumultuous color and pattern filled mind to interpret whether or not their intentions were understood.

Granted, he knew humans didn’t normally use their minds to talk, but if theorists were right, whether he wanted to or not, it would only be a matter of time before Virgil’s brain matured enough to automatically instigate telepathic links with those around him.

His mate huffed as he too watched their human, before sending out his own tentative wave of thought to the human to see his reaction. “Well yes, but we haven’t yet seen the full ramifications of that yet.”

Roman fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Because you’re not letting us do more than brush the edges of his mind!”

He could get not wanting to overload their human with even more changes. Agreed with it actually. It was better to not force Virgil to run before he was ready to walk when it came to telepathic links...but the anticipation of what they could have was killing him.

Logan exhaled, scooting his chair closer to Roman’s so he could lean against him. “Patience, Ro. While I agree a mind link would be easier, we have to take into consideration how Virgil will react. How he’ll feel to have such a method of communication presented to him. We can’t just force him before he’s ready.”

He knew. He didn’t have to like it though.

But surely, Virgil had to realize that those brief seconds of clear communication was a good thing.

If their human would only--but no, he knew their human wasn’t fond of change, his near hysterical reaction when he’d seen his newly formed wings for the first time proved that. But it didn’t stop him from hoping that Virgil would accept his new telepathic ability far quicker than he was accepting his wings. If only--

He sent out another light tap to the human’s mind. Like a knock on the door. Asking to be let in.

“Just think of the possibilities, my love. How he could answer all our questions. How we wouldn’t have to guess at what he needs. He could just tell us.” Roman whispered, a small smirk flicking on his lips as he felt his mate’s own careful knock on the human’s mind. “We can’t know how he’ll react to a mindlink if we don’t give him a little stronger push--”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Roman cut off, breath catching in his throat as he felt a responding knock brush against his thoughts. Could it be?

Logan twitched, sitting up, his tail flicking into a question mark as another swirl of blue danced across his skin, his dark eyes lighting up. “Ro?”

He held up a hand to silence his mate, crouching down in front of the table to make eye contact with the human.

Virgil didn’t flinch away this time, small hands clenching into fists as his purple eyes took on a brighter glow at the same moment Roman felt another tap tap tap at the edges of his mind.

Logan inhaled sharply, leaning forward. “He’s!”

“SHH!!” He hissed, well aware of how both their heart rates had skyrocketed. Their human was reaching out! He was attempting to communicate! He!

Roman drew in a shaky breath as he tilted his head, carefully sending out a tendril of thought towards the presence he could sense hovering just outside his mind and waited.

Waited for something to happen.

This could be their only chance at having their human reach out. Their only chance to finally establish--

Almost like the roll of thunder in the sky, another’s presence warily entered his mind forming a tentative connection. Then like the sound of waves breaking against the distance shore. He heard him.

~...Hello?~

Virgil.

#First Contact #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Roman #Logan #Virgil #Creativity #Logic #Anxiety #Alien!AU #Alien!Roman #Alien!Logan #Fae!Virgil #g/t fic #extra limbs tw #implied past mistreatment tw #biting tw #December Day 15

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