#also thomas’ hair is genuinely so hard to draw????

[joooonbug]

Müllendowski❤️

[winxonmy]

An open letter to the little girl I was:

It has been ages since we both wished for luck to be by our side, as you were so scared to fail in life. I know you would genuinely be happy if I told you about the things I have achieved from that moment until now. I understand that you had a hard time figuring out the big world around you, missing out on good opportunities due to your shyness and fear of taking risks, thinking you might not succeed. As the realization inside you grows larger from stepping out of your comfort zone, I am proud of every step you take in every possible way.

Even when facing failures, u have shown resilience by getting back up on ur knees. And I'd like to tell you that I have delved deeply into Thomas' books and recently read his quote, "I haven't failed, I just found 10,000 ways that won't work." It's ironic how this quote resonates with me. This resilience is evident in your choice to persevere despite the challenges that come your way. While it may not be my favorite quote of his, I have grown to appreciate the philosophy it embodies. It would be really unimaginable for u to realize that I have developed a fondness for philosophy, as you couldn't have imagined that when you were just a little girl who enjoyed silence. This now makes sense, something you may not have anticipated in the past.

You met a lot of people and lost some people, but that's how life works. You tried to learn, discovered your mistakes, unlearned, and made things right this time. You kept trying to reach for your star while carrying hidden scars within your heart.

I am at a loss for words to express how proud I am of you, or I could simply stay silent out of the immense pride I feel for you now. You may not have received genuine appreciation before, but now you will. I feel a sense of sadness as I write this message to you. I may be late, but this is not the end.

Reflect on the times when you chose isolation, maintaining a distance from others due to the deep-rooted fear of being overlooked, excluded, and unseen. The constant feeling of being merely an option, the last choice in people's minds, haunted you. Despite these feelings, you held on, holding onto the realization that it's also your first experience at truly living.

Your mourning and longing heart deserve so much happiness because you truly do, despite how darkness has devoured you from within. I will always strive to ignite the light within you and pave a path for positive change. I hope you understand that my efforts to protect your peace were well-intentioned. Even if creating distance from people you once trusted but shattered you into pieces. I may have made decisions that differed from your choices, but rest assured, I would never opt for a "no choice" but rather for what is necessary.

Thank you for consistently choosing kindness in a world that may not always reciprocate. Your daily self-care routine, from feeding and grooming your hair to tending to injuries with a bandage, is commendable. Thank you for rising each morning, even though you know you will face various challenges that the world throws at you. I am grateful for your strength in overcoming the obstacles that have crossed your path, and for the way you have embraced and revealed different facets of yourself as you have grown older. You have been a learner, acquiring numerous life lessons, and yet I continue to learn on your behalf as life progresses. I will always draw wisdom from your experiences, learning from them as life goes on.

The courage within me has guided me to become who I am today, all thanks to you and to those people who have been there for me as I progress. You will always reside in my inner soul. I will continue to make you even prouder than I am today. I will tread each step in life as gently as you would. It is good sometimes to tell you that I love taking care of you.

Yours truly,

まる

[duskholland]

Meet Your Match || Mob!Tom Smut

Summary ↠ It’s always awkward when your current boyfriend meets your ex, but it’s a whole new level when it transpires that your ex-boyfriend is the leader of Tom’s rival mob...

Warnings ↠ 18+, contains mature nsfw material. There are extended warnings beneath the cut, but this is quite heavy. 

Word count ↠ 5.9k

A/N ↠ Genuinely am shocked that this came out of my head tbh. It is very intense so please consult the warnings before you dive in ! The entire concept of the first half is very random and almost crack, but then the second half...phew. Sheesh. Thanks to V, mischiefandi, for suggesting I write in a hot Irish mobster as Y/N’s ex...love that for her, and I love you V. I hope you all enjoy this :)

This is a part of my mob!Tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. You don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! You can find the other parts in my masterlist.

18+ do not touch this if you are a minor. 

extended warnings: lol. mob themes including gun mention and punching, a broken nose ft minor mentions of blood, a bit of a dodgy ex who makes some uncomfortable comments, alcohol, possessive!jealous!Tom, d/s dynamics, soft!dom!Tom, mean!dom!Tom, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), spitting, orgasm denial and edging, guided masturbation, rough sex, doggy-style, like two minor instances of spanking, he calls her slut once. im not here to fuck around this goes hard so if you aren’t into rough stuff this isn’t for you. also includes unprotected sex -- please practise safe sex (condoms provide barriers against STIs as well as unwanted pregnancy. pls be safe irl). i would like mob!tom to rail me thank u. enjoy.

--------- Meet Your Match ---------

You’d never given much thought to the possibility of Tom meeting one of your exes. Why would you, when being with him is infinitely more satisfying, loving, and enjoyable than it had ever been with one of them? 

But if you’d had to imagine it, you would’ve pictured it casually. Maybe you’d be out somewhere together - at a café, or a market, with Tom’s arm wrapped safely around you. You’d see your ex - whoever it may be - and there’d be an awkward encounter. The exchange of painful hellos and goodbyes, maybe some piercing stares, and pinched words. Then, you’d move on, and that would be that. 

Never, in your wildest dreams, would you have imagined you’d run into your ex-boyfriend whilst in attendance at a meeting of the London mobs. 

It’s a special event - a large, networking occasion, organised by Tom, as an opportunity for him to meet with his partners and rivals, as they come together to cordially bond over beer and discuss business plans. It’s hosted right in the centre of Piccadilly, in the elegant conference room of a luxurious hotel. You’re just starting to relax and settle in when you glance across the room and see him:

Aidan. Your ex-boyfriend. At… A meeting of the mobs of London? 

“What the fuck,” you mutter. You almost drop your glass of champagne as you narrow your eyes and stare. The conference room is vast, adorned with glittering chandeliers and large banquet tables, but it’s undeniable: Aidan is here. 

“Everything alright, love?” Tom’s by your side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders. He’s in remarkably high spirits this evening. The event is fully underway, and judging by the snippets of conversation you’ve been hearing, Tom’s latest plans are coming into fruition - something about warehouses, and a shipment of class A drugs. But none of it matters now, because your mind is entirely elsewhere.

“No,” you state immediately. 

Tom cranes his neck, his eyes seeking you out. You manage to drag your gaze away from Aidan for a brief second.

“What is it?” He’s looking at you with those deep, warm brown eyes, and his gaze is so tender it makes your breath hitch. One of Tom’s fingers moves up to caress your cheek, and you find yourself shifting guiltily on your feet.

“Who, exactly, did you invite to this meeting?” You ask your boyfriend, speaking in hushed tones. Your eyes slip back to Aidan, and you feel yourself relax as you note he’s still deep in conversation with a few men. 

“Suppliers, rivals, allies… Anyone of importance, really.” Tom narrows his eyes, his thumb brushing over your chin as he looks at you closely. “Why?”

“Did you know that you’ve also invited my ex-boyfriend?”

Judging by the look of utter shock on Tom’s face, he had not, in fact, realised his fundamental truth.

“Who?” He asks immediately. His face shifts through several shades before settling on jealous, with his eyebrows bunched together. 

You turn around, resting one hand on the broad shoulder of Tom’s suit before using your other to point out across the crowd.

“Aidan.” 

Tom squints his eyes, a small rumbling noise travelling up his throat. “Aidan?” He repeats, his voice flooded with confusion. You hum affirmatively. “Bloke with the blond hair? Irish?” Again, a hum. Tom releases a short, curt chuckle. “Angel, he’s not called Aidan.”

“What?” You exclaim. 

Tom releases a deep sigh. “That’s Gordy. He runs the Eastside.” 

You feel your jaw loosen. A fake name. “Gordy Byrne?”

“The one and only.”

“Shit.”

You’ve been with Tom for a year. Over those long, fulfilling twelve months, you’ve picked up on several important key pieces of information about the London mob: it’s split into three factions, each sector run by a different figurehead. Tom and his family control the South-West, and they’re in constant disagreement with Gordy, of the East, and Monique, of the North. Each third is continuously testing the waters, trying to take over land, and supplies, and emerge as the solo Kingpin of London. The fragile alliance between the three families is constantly on the verge of disintegration. 

And Gordy is your ex, who you’d met three years ago at the same exclusive club you’d worked in when you’d met Tom. Your relationship had lasted eight months and ended on equal terms as you’d mutually agreed the spark had fizzled away. Despite the considerable span of your relationship, you’d had no suspicions that he’d been involved with the mob. The thought is incredibly jarring.

“Seems like you have a type,” Tom comments, his voice entirely too flippant. 

Before you can call him out on his apparent feelings of resentment, your evening takes a further turn as you realise Gordy has spotted you and is now working his way through the sea of people towards you. 

He looks just as you remember: 6’2, blond, green-eyed. His shoulders are stocky and broad, and his suit bulges with disguised muscles. He maintains that signature swagger you’d come to associate with him, his eyes glinting as he throws out a wild smile. Your eyes catch on the presence of a few new golden teeth fixed in his mouth, and then to the tattooed knuckles that hang by his side.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Gordy greets, green eyes skimming across you appreciatively, “Who’d ‘a thought we’d meet again?”

All you can really do is let out a squeak of agreement, and pull away from Tom’s side to greet the man with a kiss on the cheek. The familiar scent of Gordy’s musky cologne drifts up your nose, and it makes your head spin.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you pull away, looking at him incredulously. His pale cheeks wear a scruff of fuzz, highlighting the high arches of his cheekbones. 

“What are you doing here?” He returns, his Irish accent twanging. His eyes shift over to Tom, then back to you, and then they watch as Tom reaches out and carefully tangles his fingers with yours. “Wait…”

“Evening, mate,” Tom greets, voice a little clipped. You feel the grip on your hand tighten, and you let him reel you back into his side. You find home beneath Tom’s heavy arm as he repositions it across your shoulder, keeping you near. “I see you’ve already met my girlfriend.”

The air seems to flicker with tension.

“Interesting,” Gordy comments. He shifts his attention back to you, drawing the lines of your face with his curious eyes. “Didn’t take you for the type, Y/N. Would’ve stuck around if I’d thought you could handle this life.”

His words dig into you, and you find yourself clenching your teeth.

“You told me you worked in banking.”

“Oh, I do.” He runs his fingers down the front of his designer suit, winking. “The mob is quite a lucrative business.” He pauses, and something a little like guilt flashes over his face. “You know my real name, yeah? Gordy, not Aidan. Sorry about that. I hate the lies, but they’re for protection, y’know.”

You feel almost dizzy as you bring your glass of champagne to your lips and throw it back. The bubbles do little to soothe down your discomfort.

“Wow,” you manage. Your eyes shift up to Tom, who’s looking at Gordy with apprehension in his gaze. You understand why: for the past two months, Tom’s been engaged in a brutal turf-war with Gordy’s family over in the South-East. Men have died, shipments stolen. You know one of Tom’s primary motivations for the meeting tonight was to see if he could reach some kind of agreement with them, but the circumstances were tense enough as it was, before this. 

“Isn’t this fun,” Gordy comments. He’s eyeing up Tom now, a cocky smirk hanging from his plush lower lips. “Well, Thomas, it’d seem you and I have a lot more in common than we’d thought, eh? Maybe we’ll be able to come to an agreement.” 

Your stomach turns, and you feel Tom tighten his grip on your arm. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his tone is so severe that it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that,” he warns darkly. “We will not be making any deals tonight, Gordy.”

You raise your eyebrows, trying to meet his eyes but finding that Tom ignores your attempts and instead keeps staring straight ahead at your ex-boyfriend, a determined frown hanging from his thin lips.

“Why’s that, Thomas?” He quips.

“I don’t like your attitude, I don’t like your policies, and I don’t like the way you’re looking at my girlfriend.” 

Gordy arches an eyebrow. His hand slips down slowly to rest on his hip, but not before his suit jacket has ridden up just enough to expose the sleek outline of his gun, hanging low in the holster on his belt.

“Is this how it’s going to be, Tom?” He asks, shifting his eyes back to you. “Eh? I bed your bird and suddenly business is off the table?”

You can feel the mood sour, and as much as you’d like to reach out and give Gordy a piece of your mind, you are painfully aware of the circumstances: you are standing in the lion’s den. Despite the meeting of Tom’s creation, you know that there’s no chance in hell that Gordy has walked into the evening alone. To initiate any sort of heated discussion whilst surrounded by London’s most notorious gangsters would be a disastrous move.

“Tom,” you murmur, recognising all too well the signs of anger that curl out across Tom’s face: his clenched jaw, the deep frown marks on his forehead, the tight line of his lips. “Let’s go.”

For a moment you think he’s going to follow you. Tom lets you shrug off his arm and take his hand, and his posture loosens as if he’s about to turn and walk across the room with you. But then, of course, Gordy just has to get in the last word.

“Oh, well, if you’re going, you won’t mind giving me a goodbye kiss, eh, Y/N?” He peers at you with mischievous eyes, his voice lilting lightly. “Just like old times?”

Tom’s moving before you can even attempt to stop him, and you hear a loud crack as his fist sweeps up and collides with Gordy’s nose. The man doubles over, groaning profusely, and your eyes widen as you take in the stream of blood that immediately begins to pour from his face.

“Tom!” You exclaim, your eyes wide and your hands shaking. Your boyfriend grabs at your fingers, squeezing your digits in his.

“He’s not allowed to disrespect you like that,” he mutters darkly. 

“I don’t need you to defend me, I can do it myself,” you hiss back. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you feel the hot lump of anger melt away as Tom looks at you through those brown, golden eyes, his mouth positioned into a guilty smile. 

Two men emerge from the crowd and flank Gordy’s side. You feel a deep swell of fear pool in the pit of your stomach, and instinctively your fingers move down towards your bag for the switch-blade you’d buried alongside your lipstick. But you find your actions stilling as Gordy clears his throat, rights himself and holds up a bloody hand.

“It’s fine,” Gordy tells his guards. He tilts his head in your direction. “I deserved it. No disrespect to the lady.” His beady green eyes move to Tom. “We can finish this discussion some other time, Thomas. Good evening to you both.” 

Before waiting to see if Gordy turns around and walks away, you tighten your grip on Tom’s hand and lead him out of the large conference room. It’s completely silent, and the groups of people seem to part like the sea as you escort your boyfriend from the scene, his lips brushing over the back of his bruised hand as he winces. You don’t say anything, not until you’re safely stowed away in the backseat of a large car, the doors locked, windows tinted, and driver separated by partition.

“Love, look, I’m sorry, but I-”

You cut Tom off by climbing from your seat and meeting his mouth with a deep, needy kiss. Your boyfriend releases a noise of surprise, and his hands shift up to grab at your waist as he pulls you onto his lap eagerly, pressing back against your lips with fervour. It’s messy, and you enjoy running your hands through strands of his unruly hair as he keeps you close, his fingers grasping at every area of your front and sides, mapping you out.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Tom murmurs, his curious eyes meeting yours. “Thought I was in trouble.” His hands cup your cheeks, and you give him a coy smile.

“You shouldn’t have punched him,” you tell him, biting your lip as his thumb brushes over the soft skin of your face. “I’m glad that you did, though. He was a dick.” 

Tom hums. “And also the enemy, love.”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you sit back on Tom’s wide thighs as you sigh. “I can’t believe he runs one of the other mobs,” you mutter. “I can’t believe I’ve dated two mobsters, and I didn’t even know.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes, but he still manages a short chuckle. “I hate the thought of you being with him,” he admits. His eyes stir with something darker, and his fingers dig into your waist. “I hate the thought of you being with anyone other than me.”

You bite your lower lip as you twirl the short strands at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “It was a long time ago,” you tell him. “Our relationship wasn’t anything of consequence.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, but he’s still got that hungry glint in his eyes. You feel a shiver roll down your spine as his gaze sweeps across your face, his hands shifting up to rest on the curves of your breasts. Your dress is thin, and the neckline meant you had to go without a bra. A soft gasp falls past your lips as Tom’s thumbs brush over the lines of your nipples, which prick in response to his touch.

“Is our relationship of consequence?” Tom asks, his voice dancing. He’s staring at your chest now, his smirk widening as you instinctively push further into his hands, enjoying the feeling of his large, warm palms groping at your breasts.

“Of course.” You swallow and bring your fingers away from his neck. With careful movements, you reach up and pull the straps of your dress from your shoulders, meeting Tom’s gaze as you roll down the front of the garment, exposing your bare chest to him. “I love you.”

Tom seeks out your neck with his lips, and you release a small gasp as he sucks firmly on the base of your throat, his fingers moving over your bare chest. You can feel his mouth pulling the blood to the surface of your skin, but the pain makes you cry out in pleasure as your fingers wrap around his suit jacket and fist at the expensive material hugging his back. He takes his time as he works his way up your neck, sucking and biting, and then soothing the throbbing marks with gentle laps of his tongue and soft, open-mouthed kisses. By the time he reaches your ear, you’re squirming in his lap.

“You are mine.”

His tongue teases the lobe of your ear as his hands move all across your bare back, caressing your skin gently with his palms. The cold metal of his silver rings bites to touch, but you shiver in enjoyment.

“Yours,” you agree. Tom shifts from your neck to look at you straight on, his eyes full of dark, heady lust.

“Mine,” he repeats. His mouth is on yours, and you let him prise apart your lips with his tongue. His hands fist at your hair and he pulls you closer roughly, and your teeth collide as he kisses you sloppily, groaning into your mouth. It’s messy - with noses bashing and his digits tugging at your strands and your lips moving everywhere, slick with spit - but you feel him gather you up in his arms as he holds you. He owns you.

You make-out until the car arrives home, at which point your lips are tender and puffy and your entire body throbs with persistent arousal. Tom’s eager with his affection, but you can feel the underlying pulse of fear coasting through his veins; you want so desperately to placate it: to let him know that he has nothing to worry about - that you are his now, and probably always will be. Tom’s not alone in his discomfort - you, too, feel jilted and unbalanced after running into a ghost from your past. You need Tom desperately, in more ways that one. You need him to look after you - to hold you, be firm with you, and show you your place within your relationship. You need him to be your dom, and you crave the release of submitting to him entirely - with your mind, body and heart.  

“You can do anything you want to me tonight,” you tell him. You’re standing at the foot of the bed, Tom sitting up against the headboard. His suit jacket lays off to the side, tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone. You’ve made a mess of his hair, but he looks so fucking pretty with his chestnut curls all tousled and his lips bright pink and inflamed. 

“That’s funny,” Tom comments, eyes glinting as he tilts his head to the side, “I thought I could already do that.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself biting your lower lip as your face fills up with heat.

“Do you want me to take off my dress?” Your fingers toy with the straps, which are all rolled up and uneven thanks to the hastiness in which you’d scrambled from the car.

“No.” Tom sits up, and he pats his thigh invitingly. “Take off your panties and come up here.”

You tease him a little bit, enjoying the way his gaze weighs down your figure. You’re slow to push your dress up to your waist, and you make a show of hooking your index fingers beneath the band to reveal lacy panties. You tug at the material until it falls to pool at your feet, and then you delicately step away from them and approach your boyfriend. You have a sudden thought that it’s as if you are the prey, walking straight into danger, but you welcome it: Tom’s looking at you, his expression hard but excited and his eyes swimming with darkness, and it makes your throat dry up. 

“Such a gorgeous girl, aren’t you?”

The material of Tom’s slacks feels coarse against your centre as you straddle his left thigh. His hands press at your waist, pushing your cunt straight against his leg, and the contact makes you moan softly.

“You look so pretty with your neck all marked up.” Tom presses a light kiss to one of your hickeys, and you gasp as a line of pain ripples out across your skin. “You look like you’re mine.”

“I am.”

“I know.” Tom strokes his hand through your hair, eyes watching you carefully. “I’m just going to remind you.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” You ask, your voice wavering.

He hums, the noise suspended with confidence. “You’ll see.” His hands dig into your waist a little firmer, and he starts to guide your movements. “Work yourself against my thigh, darling. Make a nice wet spot for me.”

His words make you moan, and you’re quick to comply. You recognise the dark glint in his eyes and the layers to his voice - he’s slipping away into his harder, more dominative side, just as you find yourself eager to oblige him. You grind yourself down over his thigh, and his trousers are rough against your flushed centre. The friction burns beautifully. A few moans slip past your lips, and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press over you, digging into your waist, guiding you. Tom is very much in control, and as the seconds slip past, you give into it.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, rich voice drifting into your ears. You bite your lip, your hole clenching around nothing as you swivel your hips and feel the pressure to your hot bud.

“Feels really good,” you admit, voice a whimper. “Love it when you let me touch you.” 

Tom takes your chin between two fingers, looking at you with a hard stare. He pulls your face to him, his tongue licking a wide stripe over your lips. As you try to push forward for a kiss, he just moves away, a teasing smirk on his lips. “No,” he says softly, “You’ll take what I give you, and you won’t be greedy about it. I don’t want to have to punish you, babygirl.”

You nod quickly, the movement hurried and messy. It’s getting hard to think of anything other than the fact you’ve made his trousers slick with your arousal. The burn between your legs is gradually swelling to a crescendo.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Your fingers find purchase on his shoulder, and you find your forehead dropping down to rest there too as your breathing hitches.

“Are you close, darling?” He’s very soft and gentle, and it makes you whimper out a small noise of agreement. Tom chuckles, pulling at your hair as he brings your face back up, his hands bearing down on your hips to halt your movements. “Lie down for me, please.”

You scramble from his lap, your centre pulsing as it leaves his thigh. Your eyes catch on the way you’ve left a large, wet mark on his trousers, and you watch with wide eyes as Tom stands from the bed. He walks around to the foot of the mattress, his figure commanding your complete attention. 

“I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do to you,” he says, speaking quietly. His nimble fingers work down the buttons of his shirt, popping them quickly. Once his shirt is discarded, Tom works on his slacks. As the metallic sounds of his belt clicking fill the air, he smirks at you. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. You squeal as Tom grabs at your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor, hauling you closer until your thighs are over his shoulders and his face is near your heat. Your dress scrunches up at your waist, and you whimper as his hands press your legs apart. “I’ll always be good for you.”

“Is that right?” Tom asks, index finger running lightly over the inside of one of your thighs. He looks up at you, eyes hooded and blown wide with lust.

“Yes.”

“Prove it to me,” he instructs. “If you think you’re about to cum, you need to tell me.” Tom’s gaze darkens. “If you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what happens.” With tender lips, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, looking at you with a gentle smile. When he speaks again, his voice is lighter, “Is this okay, darling?”

You nod.

“Words.”

As two of Tom’s fingers spread your puffy outer lips, you stammer out a broken, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.”

He dives in quickly, and the press of his warm tongue against your pulsing pussy makes you cry out. You’re already feeling hot and bothered from the time you spent rutting against the coarse material of his trousers, and the pressure soothes you. He’s too far away to touch, so you curl your hands into fists and pull at the silky bed linen, eyelids fluttering shut as his tongue caresses you, over and over.

Tom makes out sloppily with your cunt, two of his slender fingers pulling up to push into your heat. He fills you easily, taking the edge off your desire as his tongue flicks over your clit, unrelenting, hard. He’s eager for it, holding nothing back as he coaxes you quickly towards a high, moaning and grunting into your centre. The vibrations drive you mad, and your mind spins off as he holds you in place.

“S-Shit,” you stammer, back arching. As much as you don’t want to say it, Tom’s already pushing you towards climax. As he curls his slender digits up against you, his tips brush against your g-spot, and it has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, Tom.”

All movements stop. Tom’s mouth pulls back from your cunt, and his fingers still inside you. Your walls clench around him, but he relaxes them, halting all stimulation of your sensitive pussy as you whimper.

“Good,” he coos. Your eyes seek him out, and you moan as you see his chin slick with your juices. “You taste divine, sweetheart.” His free hand strokes over your inner thigh, calming you with gentle circles and caresses. “We’ll do this a few more times, I think. I want you dripping onto the sheets. I want you to forget about everything apart from me, and how desperate you are for me.” His teeth nip at your thigh, and you squirm.

True to his word, Tom works you up, over and over again. Each time he brings you to the edge of a high, he pulls back at the last moment, leaving you teetering on the edge for a painful second before your climax goes ebbing away from your reach. The time it takes to build up to each edge narrows considerably with each completion, and you find yourself growing desperate for more. Your skin is hot and prickles, your forehead breaking into a sweat. The muscles in your legs ache from the exertion of almost spasming into climax, time and time again, and your throat hurts from your eager, desperate moans. He’s a demon, his deep brown eyes watching you closely, sharp ears picking up each noise and sound, and he seems intent on drawing this out for as long as possible.

“I think that’s enough,” Tom finally says. Your sigh of relief is so loud and pronounced that it makes him chuckle. “What, you didn’t like that?” His hand comes down over your inner thigh, slapping softly. As the pain ripples across your skin, you whimper. “Don’t lie to me, angel. I know you love it when I’ve got my head between your legs.” His large hands slip under your thighs, and he pushes you up the bed, slipping up over you. With his body suspended above you and a hand either side of your head, Tom raises his eyebrows. “Open,” he instructs.

What he does next makes your eyes roll back. You open your mouth immediately, and he chuckles darkly. One hand holds your jaw, and you watch as Tom purses his lips, eyes you intently, and then spits directly into your mouth. The taste of your cunt spreads out across your tongue, and your hole clenches around nothing as you moan loudly.

“Swallow,” he says. You close your mouth and do just that, and then you stick out your tongue for him to see. “Good,” he coos. Tom kisses you suddenly, the action hard as he sucks on your tongue. When he pulls back, he kisses your nose. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? My pretty girl.”

His lips skate all across your face, dusting you in warm kisses of reward. 

“I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The gratitude you feel towards him for knowing exactly what you need is boundless, consuming. 

“And I love you.” You share a tender moment of understanding as Tom brushes his hand over your face, and in the look you exchange, you know that he feels as you do: appreciation towards your partner, for reading you and obliging you. He hums softly, slipping away from you after a final kiss to pull off his boxers. “Take off your dress for me, love. Give me a show.”

You’re shaky on your feet, but you manage to stand in front of the bed. Tom sits up against the headboard, working his hand over his erect length as he watches you. You tease him, just like you know he enjoys, taking your time as you roll the sleeves down and unzip the back. The material goes tumbling to the floor, pooling at your feet, and then you’re entirely naked - wearing only his hickeys, and his spit between your legs. 

“Beautiful,” he says, eyes glinting. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?” When you shrug bashfully, he nods. “My angel. C’mere.” You move to him, but he stops you before you can reach for his cock. “I want you to lie down here and show me how you get off.”

“But I want--” 

He shuts you up with a hard stare. “Do you really want to finish that sentence?” When you’re quiet, he hums. You can’t stop staring at the way his hands slide over his length. Your mouth waters at the thought of letting your tongue wander over his leaking tip, collecting the beads of salty precum. “Do this for me, and then I’ll let you have what you want.”

You part your legs, your thighs aching. As you dip your hand between your legs, you whimper to feel your slick mixed with Tom’s spit. Your skin is soaked, and as you nimbly press two fingers into your hole, you find it looser, already stretched from Tom’s exploration earlier. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your hand move as you slowly fuck yourself with your fingers, getting pleasure from the knuckle of your thumb as it brushes up against your clit.

As you begin to whimper, Tom swoops in with his final lesson of the evening. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around yours, guiding your movements. He sets the pace and the angle, speeding up your thrusts. The sound of your wetness sloshing around makes you cry out loudly as he edges you perfectly, like he knows your body better than you. 

“You see this,” he mutters, voice husky. “I give you pleasure. It doesn’t matter if it’s my tongue in your cunt, or my fingers, or my cock. This cunt?” He curls your fingers, and they brush up against your g-spot, making you cry out. “This cunt is mine. You are mine.”

You almost lose it right there, the deep husky tones of his dominant voice sending you spinning, but then Tom pulls away. As your walls flutter weakly around nothing, he pats at your hip.

“Hands and knees, darling.”

Your arms shake as you roll over, adopting the position. Again, Tom stands at the foot of the bed, pulling you back until you’re spread open for him. You feel his cock, dragging through your slick folds, teasing your tender clit until your hips jerk forwards. Your bud aches almost painfully, your body pulled tight with an overwhelming need to climax.

“Please,” you beg desperately, dropping your head between your arms. “Please, please.”

Tom’s hand smooths over the curve of your ass, silver ring biting coolly against you, “Does my darling want to feel my cock?” 

“Yes, please.”

“Hmm.” Easily, he slips the tip of his cock past your entrance. “I suppose you deserve it,” he teases. “Been such a good little slut for me, haven’t you?”

When Tom finally fucks into you, the moan you release is almost pornographic. He’s been teasing you, over and over, drawing you close to orgasm only to jerk it away from you each time, but now that he’s got his length buried up to the hilt inside you, you know it’s been worth it. Nothing compares to the relief you feel as you realise you’ll be allowed to finish soon, your walls squeezing his cock. 

The pace is punishing, and everything blurs together. His hands on your hips, holding you in place, pulling you back rhythmically to meet with his thrusts. As his slick cock pounds into you over and over, his flushed tip nudges against your g-spot. The stimulation makes your eyes tear up, and a few hot tears skate across your cheeks as you whimper and cling to the sheets.

“Fuck, princess, you’re fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?” A hand falls over your bum, and you moan. “So tight and warm. Feels so snug around me, lovie. So perfect.” Tom’s voice comes out firm, but it wavers, and you can imagine the grimace of pleasure on his face. “Always take me so well.” His hand moves to the top of your back, and he pushes you into the bed. Your face buries into the sheets as the angle adjusts, and you gasp loudly as the adjustment means he can rail you harder. 

“S-Shit,” you moan. “Love your cock, Tommy. Pl-Please.”

“What do you need?”

You whimper, the power of his thrusts fucking you further into the mattress. “W’nna cum.”

“You can play with your clit then.”

Tears fly down your cheeks, and it feels overwhelming as you nudge a hand between your legs to fondle your bud. Tom’s hands hold your hips, keeping you nice and open for him, and you’re glad for the heavy pressure on your skin. It keeps you anchored down.

“Are you close?” He asks, grunting heavily as he feels your walls squeeze him.

“Yes.”

“I think you deserve to cum, don’t you?” He pauses briefly, cursing lowly, pace faltering. “Let go, darling. Let me feel you squeezing me. I want to feel what I do to you.”

The action of his deep, fast thrusts mixes with your fingers on your clit, and you cum with a  loud, quivering scream. Tom holds you down, fucking into you as you spasm and writhe in the sheets, and after a few, mind-numbing moments of pleasure, you feel him follow you with a grunt. His hot speed paints your walls, his noises of heady enjoyment mixing with yours, and it just prolongs your climax.

When you calm down, Tom carefully pulls out from you. You whimper at the loss, feeling a little out of it as he turns you over, pushes you up into the centre of the bed and pulls you on top of him. Your head settles in the crook of his neck, his hands palming over your back as he kisses the top of your head, over and over again.

“So good for me,” he mumbles. Your legs tangle together. You can feel his cum spilling from your hole, dripping down onto him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “My best girl. I love you so much.” 

You hum quietly, rubbing your hand over the top of his arm as you whimper. “Love you too,” you manage, voice hoarse. 

Tom’s hands cup your face, and he gently coaxes you up until he can meet with your eyes. His fingers brush away the teary residue from your cheeks, and he kisses you softly.

“Mine,” he mumbles against you, smiling into your lips as you hum in agreement. One of your hands folds into his curls, and you feel your heart stirring contentedly in your chest.

“Yours.”

---------

lol. hope you enjoyyyyed :) 

I’m intending to do some mob!Tom blurbs next week for mob!Monday, so if you have any concepts you’d like to see, please send them to my ask box!

ask box is open for your thoughts!! I’m dying to know what you think of this... 👀

masterlist linked in bio!

[wagner-fell]

I am still very new to this website and I don’t know how link a post but this fic is based on a post by @sandersgrey

(If someone reading this knows how to link a post please either explain it to me or link it in the comments because that post is *amazing*)

“Hmmm,” said Tessa, depositing Mina into Kit’s waiting arms and examining her buzzing phone critically. She shot a quizzical look in his direction.

Jem looked up from his novel. “What is ‘hmmm’, my love?”

Kit mimed vomiting but stopped dead in his tracks when she replied, “it’s Astrid’s mother. You remember her from parent teacher night, don’t you, my darling?” Kit swears they were being extra insufferable just to mess with him but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed when Astrid’s. Mom. Was. Calling. Tessa.

To understand why Kit was panicking as much as he was, you must know that Astrid’s mom was incredibly chill. She never got mad. The worst punishment she’d ever given her daughter was taking away her iPod for a week so she couldn’t listen to Mitski.

Was she calling about last night when Astrid, Mari and Kit threw eggs at the Shadowhunter’s that were giving Mari’s pack a hard time for no reason? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d given them the eggs.

Could the call be about the day before yesterday when Kit and Astrid got distracted doing homework and ended up snapping the coffee table clean in half while battling gladiator style with pool noodles? No, that wasn’t it. She’d just handed Astrid a twenty and told them to go to Kevin’s parents' shop and get a new one. Was she pissed because they ended up spending the money on ice cream instead? No, they ended up finding a table for free in the rubbing bin outside a fancy hotel.

Kit clutched his sister to his chest and prepared for the worst.

“Seo-yoon! What can I do for- Oh, hello Astrid!” Tessa paused briefly, presumably to listen to Astrid speak, and Kit sighed in relief.

“Kit is occupied at the moment but I can relay the message.” Another pause. “Oh don’t be frightened of me. I’m a tots rad mom. Your secret is safe with me.” Kit felt his face flush red as he heard his best friend’s laughter echo across the living room. “Okay! I’ll let him know. He has to get Mina to sleep before he can leave though. Lord knows he’s the only one who can these days.” Tessa chuckled at something Astrid said before wishing her good luck in her endeavour and ending the call.

She turned her attention back to Kit. “Astrid needs your help breaking into your teacher’s home to retrieve her cell phone.”

Kit blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You aren’t mad I’m going to go break the law?”

Because of course he was doing it. Astrid’s dad had bought it for her and he was extremely cautious about money. That was one of three things Kit knew about her dad. He was cheap, he lived in America and he loved the movie Fight Club.

Tessa ruffled Kit’s hair affectionately. “Please. I’ve raised two other Herondales. At least I know about this particular adventure beforehand.”

Mina began snoring softly and Kit handed her back to her mother. He grabbed his bag and started his journey to the door when Tessa added, “she also told me to say hi to a ‘daddy Kit’. Are you ‘daddy Kit?’”

‘Daddy Kit’ closed his eyes and wished for the sweet release of death.

“Why is Kit a daddy,” Jem asked, genuinely confused. “Aren’t I the daddy?”

Kit swung the door open so fast not even a speed rune could have aided him. But not before I heard Tessa reply, “Lily Chen certainly thinks so.”

Mrs. MacNamara clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go around and say a few things about ourselves?”

Kit buried his face into his hands. He’d been relieved when no other teacher had fulfilled the Disney channel stereotype of making every student introduce themselves to the new kid. But Mrs. MacNamara didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing.

All Kit’s fellow classmates groan. Expect one. Her hand shot up immediately. She was short, like smaller than Clary short. She wore a baggy pink shirt with the words ‘Queen Glimmer of Etheria’ sewed on with purple sequins and tight black jeans. Her colourful, choppy hair was in a low ponytail and she flew a few strands out of her eyes as her hand wiggled in the hair.

Mrs. MacNamara pointed at her. She stood up and smiled at Kit. “Hi. My name is Astrid. My hobbies include making my little cousin’s girl Barbies kiss, as it should be, and watching television shows where everyone is a terrible person so you can love all of them!”

“And what shows might that be?” asked Kit, already in the process of pulling out his phone and opening the Notes app.

“Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy again because it’s seventeen seasons as of right now. And to be fair it practically became a different show when they killed off Mark Sloan.”

“That’s enough, Miss Yang,” said Mrs. MacNamara. Astrid sat down and winked at Kit. Then she took out her phone and airdropped him a complete list of all her favorite shows, along with her number.

After Blessica’s pre-birthday birthday party, they went to Cirenworth and stayed up till four A.M. binging them.

They met outside a queer dry bar called Aries Not Welcome, the unspoken gathering place of the Merry Hoes. It was run by a poly lesbian couple in their mid-thirties. Quinn, Sydney and Aliyah may not have served alcohol but at least they were open 24/7.

“Did you bring the shit?”

Kit gave her a look. “The shit? How conclusive.”

“Shut up. You know, the shadowhunter thing.”

“The shadowhunter thing?”

“The, the, the glow stick that you draw with.”

“The glow stick that I draw wi-“ Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Do you mean a stele?”

Astrid snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” Kit shook his head in exasperation, smiling fondly. “I borrowed a torch from Quinn, let’s move.”

“Should I be worried that you know where Mr. Smith lives?” questioned Kit as he followed Astrid’s lead through the park.

“Should I be worried that your mom was fine with us breaking and entering?” she shot back playfully. Kit pushed Astrid and she fell off the path, laughing all the way.

“You called me ‘daddy’ to my mom’s face.”

She just laughed harder, slinging her arm around Kit’s shoulder. “It was over the phone, Christopher. And as I should.”

“Pffffttt. Why did you get your phone taken anyway?” She put her hands into her jumper pocket and looked at the ground. “Astrid.” She remained silent. “Astrid?”

She mumbled something under her breath. “What?” asked Kit.

“I WAS READING NINEJ FANFICTION!” she shouted.

Kit gasped. “I thought you were a die hard Kanej shipper,” he whispered.

“I’m a multishipper, okay?!” she replied, equally quiet.

“Does Blessica know?”

She shook her head. “And she will never find out.”

Kit saw the opportunity and he seized it. “She’ll never find out as long as you never call me daddy in front of either of my parents.”

She removed her arm from his shoulder and guided them out of the park, in the direction of the many apartments that lined this side of town. “I hate you.”

“Well, so does Mari. You're not special, Ast.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Mari doesn’t actually hate you, right?! They’re just still in the enemy phase of your enemies-to-lovers romance. She only dislikes you because they feel something for you but they don’t know what so she interrupts it as loathing. In reality, her inner soul knows you’re hot and shmexie.”

Kit didn’t know how to process this so he just nodded and follow Astrid in silence to Mr. Smith’s house. (Plus, he was kinda glad that, according to his best friend, he had a little more time for Mari to ‘discover their true feelings’. If Kit screwed this up, he was out of countries to run off to.)

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What,” asked Kit, turning around to face Astrid and closing the drawer he was rifling through. “Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah. But I also found Blessica’s. She was Snapping Kevin. Platonic my ass. But he took the fucking trans flag out of her phone!”

Kit snatched Blessica’s phone out of her hand to examine it for herself. She was telling the truth. Where the glitter pride flag usually rested was just a clear purple case. Kit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“It’s one thing to misgender her every day.” Blessica had forced all four of the other Merry Hoes to sign a contract saying they wouldn’t do anything to harm him because of it. “But this is the last straw. You know what we have to do.” Oops.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any spray paint.”

Kit eyed Mr. Smith’s pink sofa, blue bar stool covers and white picture frames. “I think I have something better in mind.”

It would have been easier for both parties to just zip off the sofa cushions and tape them to the wall but by ripping them off in strips, they ensured he would have to buy new ones. And judging by the car he drove and the fiji water in his fridge, Mr. Smith could definitely afford it.

That reminded him, “I’ll finish up with this. Go put all his fiji water into my bag.” Astrid saluted him and ran off. “Wait.” She stopped and looked at him. “Steal all the remotes you can find.”

“How is he not awake?,” asked Astrid as they ripped the fabric of his seating from the stool.

He shrugged. “Don’t question it.” He shoved the bundle of cloth into her arms. “Glue this above the pink. I’ll handle the frames.”

“Say the magic word,” she sang.

“Please?”

“No. Lesbian. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Kit laughed quietly. “Can you lesbian glue this above the pink?”

She grinned at Kit. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! Sorry I haven’t written anything in so long. School just restarted and it has been…a lot.

@adoravel-fenomeno @thechangeling @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @maxboythedog @book-dragon-not-worm @hardlymatters

Very sorry if I forgot anyone. Lmk if you want to be addEd/removEd from the tag list.

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

re: your last ask about the time travel shenanigans—holy fuck yes please more of this. like, not only is it funny as hell, which i appreciate, but it's also a. more c!thomas and b. points to just how interestingly both the plot and characters of this series have grown over the years and i am ALL for it

"Janus!" is the first thing Thomas exclaims when he sees the Side Formerly Known Exclusively As Deceit rise up where Logan would usually stand. Which just might be a mistake, if Janus’s expression is anything to go by.

Okay, in Thomas's defence -

This is a really, really weird day, even by his standards. Because, like, Logan's currently standing in front of the stairs, and that's not where Logan's supposed to be, and his shirt and tie are all wrong. And had had been grinning. Openly. He had been openly grinning when Thomas had first woken up and looked in his wardrobe and realized that his favorite t-shirt apparently doesn't exist anymore and all his clothes are a half-size smaller than he's used to but also they still fit and - okay, no, back to Logan. He'd gone downstairs and tripped over a chair that wasn't supposed to be there and called out Logic. And he'd been about to ask him what's going on and why everything feels so off and also why Logan's standing in Virgil's usual spot instead of over to the right of the stairs. But then he'd noticed all the aforementioned Very Weird Clothing Things. And he'd stopped and said, "Uh, Logan?" and Logan's grin had dropped and he'd stared at Thomas for a full ten seconds then whispered, "what the fuck," with great emotion.

And then Patton had shown up with a ridiculous amount of pun-riddled cheerfulness that Thomas had been able to clock as sixty-percent fake within about half a second. And his clothes had been all wrong, too, and after a lot of confused, borderline-incomprehensible yelling at each other, Roman had showed up and added to the chaos.

"I am scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it!" Thomas had declared at some point, which had been the cue for an ominous music sting somewhere to Thomas's right that made everybody jolt in terrified unison.

"Did somebody say scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it?"

"Virgil, thank god!" Thomas had practically yelled, and just about thrown himself across the room to get to him - before pausing midway and allowing his brain to process... wrong hoodie. Wrong amount of eyeshadow. "Wait. No, hang on, is this - "

"FUCKING WHO," Virgil shrieked, leaping backwards half a flight of stairs, which had led to another round of confused yelling, with Thomas trying to assure them all that he's fine he hasn't had some sort of strange head injury or whatever, he's just really happy to see Virgil and no of course that's not weird, what do you mean who's Virgil, that's Virgil right over there, Roman please put down that sword things are already out of hand -

And at some point Thomas had got it into his head that the most reasonable course of events was to summon the one person who always seems to know everything that everybody else doesn't, which brings everything up to speed, more or less. Roman had gone, "Thomas, what are you doing," and Thomas, feeling slightly manic at this point, had said, "I'm trying to summon a demon, obviously," because the best way to get hold of a certain someone probably is blatant lying, and boom, instant Janus.

"Jeee-sus Christ on a cookie-shaped canoe, what is he doing here?!"

"Janus!"

So, Janus pops up, he looks literally the same as he always has (except maybe with shorter hair? Wait, they all have shorter hair, including Thomas, wait a second -) with his half-snake-face and his hat and gloves that cosy-looking capelet of his. And although his expression reflects faint bewilderment and that very particular 'wait, what' emotion that results in being pulled abruptly away from something you were busy with, he looks so normal that Thomas thinks for a moment he might be the only sane person left.

But then Janus makes a series of start-and-stop noises of incomprehension, and gestures wildly towards Virgil, who's crouched midway up on the stairs behind Logan, looking like a cornered wild animal, and snaps, "Why for the love of everything that's holy would you tell him my name?"

"You think this is me?" Virgil retorts, hands going up to grab desperately at the bars lining the side of the staircase. "I don't understand anything that's going on! He somehow knows my name! He's - he's being nice to me!"

It suddenly occurs to Thomas that this might just possibly be a time travel sort of thing. It would explain the clothes shift. And the altered layout of his house. And the fact that when he'd checked his phone this morning it had told him it was 2016, and also it hadn't been his phone, it had been the one he'd broken a few years ago in a tragic piano-moving-related accident.

...Okay, yeah, this is absolutely a time travel thing.

"Is somebody going to explain why Thomas ruined all of our heartfelt name reveal moments in one fell swoop?" Roman demands. "I thought we agreed we were going to do them gradually and draw them out as long as possible for dramatic effect!"

"I agreed to none of that," Virgil snaps from his position halfway up the stairs.

"Yes," says Logan, "yes, I think we all would like to know what's going on. Thomas? What's going on?"

"Uh - " Thomas, who has just come to a rather startling realization about time travel and also about how shitty his Sides' taste in costumes were pre-wardrobe change, doesn't really have a prepared answer for this. "I have... I am - I just - "

Thomas struggles for words. Really struggles. And everyone's just standing there, watching him with expressions that range from terror to confusion to suspicion, and they all look so weirdly young in a way that's hard to pin down. It's the clothes. It's probably the clothes, or maybe it's the way they hold themselves. Roman, carelessly confident, without a doubt in the world. Patton, still wearing a fixed dad-grin, politely baffled and looking back and forth. Logan, who hasn't been systematically beaten down and pushed back over the course of many, many years. Virgil, who's basically just a ball of grey-and-black anger and acerbic anger at this point. Janus, who's... Janus. Who's looking at him in a way that Janus has never looked at him before.

And Remus is probably lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, too, doing whatever Remus does, and - would Remus be any different now, four years prior? Thomas hadn't had any significant problems with intrusive thoughts, not back then... or, well, back now. Maybe he's calmer, maybe Thomas could actually talk with him. Try to work something out, try to understand.

But wait, he's still got to give the Sides right here and right now an answer.

Hm.

...Thomas has been through a lot in the past four years. Not, like, fantasy protagonist a lot, but more like a extended psychological journey of self-discovery and mental health crises. Now, he wouldn't trade any of this for the world, because he's learned a hell of a lot about himself in the process - but also? The Sides have put him through a lot of horrifying realization-type things.

Which is why he absolutely one hundred percent deserves to do what he's about to do next.

"I," says Thomas, with an extraordinary amount of confidence and self-assuredness, "am psychic."

And the dead silence holds. Now even Patton is staring at him in disbelief. Janus has graduated into outright horror, his face twisted up into a oh god no I am somehow responsible for letting him delude himself this far expression.

"Thomas!" Roman gasps, almost instantly lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so proud, we've been working on this for years. Tell me, does this extend to telekinesis, or just somehow knowing all our names and nothing else?"

"What?" Janus says. "What - no. No, you can't seriously be going along with this - what? That... what? That doesn't even make any sense?" He turns wildly from left to right, and - okay, it's very enjoyable to see him out of his depth, to be perfectly honest. Thomas likes Janus a lot, knows he has his best interests at heart, but the whole courtroom thing had been a major dick move. This is satisfying. "Are any of you getting this? Does anyone here understand what's going on?"

"I'm psychic," Thomas repeats doggedly. "I acquired magical psychic powers and now I know all of your names and tragic backstories. Surprise! I unlocked my full potential and the ninety-percent of my brain power that I wasn't using."

"That's - that's a widely-perpetuated and wildly incorrect myth," Logan says weakly.

"Nope. Turns out it's true, and I was only using ten percent of it, and now that I've gone full big-brain, I know that Patton's repressing all his bad feelings because he doesn't want to bother anyone with them, Virgil acts all scary and menacing because he thinks it's the only way that I'll ever listen to him, and Janus is secretly a huge dork with a heart of gold - uh, yellow, I guess."

"How dare you," Janus breathes, looking horrified.

"Wha - " Patton suddenly looks very pale indeed.

"Also, Roman, you're my hero; Logan, please never stop smiling like that ever again, it's literally my favorite thing in the world and if you ever stop being enthusiastic about teaching me things I will cry - and Virgil, I love you."

Virgil lets out a choked little noise like he's just been punched directly in the stomach.

"I love all of you," Thomas adds, an afterthought. "I never say that enough. Janus, that goes for you as well. You're right, I need to take care of myself more."

"I'm - " Janus is still looking around at everyone in complete disbelief, but now his gaze fixes onto Thomas, his eyes wide. "I'm what?"

Thomas is now on a roll. An extremely cathartic sort of roll. "And Remus -"

Everybody immediately panics. Virgil and Logan's hands both immediately leap up to clasp over their mouths, which seems to be a reflexive reaction on Janus's behalf. Patton lets out a deranged-sounding high pitched giggle that edges into genuine hysteria.

"Brother? What brother? I don't know what a brother is!" Roman says loudly. "I've never had a brother in my life! Thomas, your glorious psychic powers are malfunctioning. Have you tried turning them off and turning them on again?"

" - I'm not going to lie and say I love him, but -" Thomas stops abruptly, and staggers  backwards to catch himself on the couch as a thought strikes him out of literally nowhere. "Son of a bitch -"

"Does being psychic make you swear a lot?" Patton asks weakly. "Because, uh. Not sure I like this side of you, kiddo - "

"Logan," says Thomas. "Logan, what's the date today? This is so, so important, what's the date."

"It's... October," Logan says, very slowly. "October twentieth. 2016?"

"Holy shit," Thomas whispers, and then says it louder, "holy shit. Okay, listen. I was going to sort out all of our collective psychological issues in one impressive emotional speedrun, but I've realized we have something much more important to do." He pauses, and takes in a very deep, shuddering breath. "Guys. We can save Vine. Excuse me. I've just realized I’ve got to make a lot of calls."

[emeralddaydream]

𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝙸𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝙾𝚏?

Kit x GN!Reader

Rating: General

Word Count: 2848

Warnings: None, just lots of fluff✨

Requested by Anon: Mayhaps prompt 84 (“No, Mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”) with Kit Walker, but instead he's talking to Jude, Thomas, and Julia. Kit had been dating you for a while and he accidentally had let it slip that he loves you to his family (they all tease him about it constantly). You were planning on visiting later (so everyone could go to the park together or do some other adorable activity) and Kit just knows that someone is going to tell you, and he is trying desperately to avoid that

A/N: Okay, firstly, anon, thank you so much for your lovely message. I haven't been too kind to myself lately (workin' on it), so I really appreciate you being so understanding💜

I kind of went off the rails with this one, and it doesn't actually include the prompt sentence, and the prompt itself is a lil different, but same basic idea, I think... I really hope you like it!!

Also, Jude is healthy bc I refuse to make this angsty.

The title comes from 'I Think I Love You' by The Partridge Family, and on that note, I'm also dedicating this to one of my favorite humans. She's not really into AHS, but David Cassidy is her mans, so Sierra, this one's for you!! Thank you for always being a wonderful friend💜💕

“Jude, I need your help.”

In general, Kit Walker considers himself to be a pretty easy-going guy; usually, there isn't much that gets to him. But today’s different. There’s something that he’s simultaneously ecstatic about and dreading.

Today's the day you’ll be meeting his family for the first time.

“With?” Jude’s smirking amusedly where she sits across from him at the kitchen table sorting dish ware and arranging it carefully in the picnic basket in front of her. Kit glances at the clock on the wall and sighs; he's got just over an hour before he, Jude and the kids are supposed to meet you at the park, and he couldn’t be much more anxious about it if he tried... Not for nothing, though.

“I just wanna make sure today goes well.” He finishes wrapping the sandwich in his hand, placing it in the basket to join the plates.

“And you don’t think it will?” Jude raises an eyebrow; she may be a particularly perceptive woman, but it isn't very difficult to see that there's something Kit isn't saying.

His mind drifts for a moment to the other night, when he and Jude sat in the living room, chatting quietly after the kids had gone to sleep. She’d asked about you, and before Kit knew it, he was spilling his guts to her, finally speaking the words he’s been unable to say to you. It’d felt amazing to finally get them out... until he noticed Julia peaking around the door frame, brown eyes trained on he and Jude She scurried off, giggling quietly down the hall, and when he asked her about it the next day, it was clear to Kit that his daughter had heard the entire conversation. And it didn’t need to be said that she had told Thomas; the two of them have never kept anything from each other in their lives…

“I hope it does.” Kit replies after several moments of silence. He’s not at all concerned about whether or not you’ll get along with his family. There’s no doubt in his mind that Jude will be taken, and the kids are going to adore you. “I just need help makin’ sure they don’t say anything.” He glances toward the two small figures in the next room where they lie on the floor, markers in hand as they draw colorful pictures and fill out puzzles from the day-old newspaper Jude had provided to keep them occupied.

“About?” Jude's smirk grows into a playful grin. She’s having fun with this; a little too much, in Kit’s opinion. He scowls and she laughs quietly.

“About... y’know?”

“About how you love them?” Jude’s voice carries into the next room a bit too loudly for Kit’s liking, and his eyes go wide. He places a finger to his lips, eyes darting to the children to make sure they’re still distracted; so far, so good.

“Yes.”

“Well, when are you going to tell her? You’re not getting any younger, y’know.” Kit's unable to stop the smile that breaks across his face.

“Soon. I just… need to find the right moment.”

“There’s no such thing as the right moment, Walker," she chortles, rolling a bundle of silverware into a napkin. “But…I’ll do my best.” Kit smiles gratefully, but she shakes her head continuing. “But they’re kids. Kids'll say whatever they want to.” Knowing she's right, Kit groans, running a hand through his hair before feeling around in the pocket of his jeans for his pack of cigarettes.

He's in for an interesting day.

——

The worn wood of the bench feels rough under your fingers as you tap against it anxiously. You take a quick peak to your right again, in search of the vehicle you’re waiting for. It’s a big day. In just- you glance down at your watch for the fifth time – two and a half minutes, your boyfriend is supposed to arrive with his family.

It terrifies you.

It’s not that you have any issues with kids. You love them. Becoming a parent has always been a part of the plan for you. However, you don’t have much experience with them and, this is the first time you’ve ever been with someone with children of their own. It’s... intimidating.

Kit, however, has been nothing but reassuring. A small smile crosses your face, thinking of the last thing he’d said to you when he'd called last night. Don’t worry, babe. They’re gonna love you.

God, you hope he’s right.

Kit’s told you so much about his kids over the last several months the two of you have been together, and you can tell by the warmth in his voice, by the way his eyes light up when he tells you something funny one of them did, that they are his world. As they should be. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

There's absolutely no doubt in your mind that you've fallen head over heels for this man... That’s what's so frightening; you don’t want to screw anything up. For anyone's sake.

You’re in the middle of reciting some of the things Kit had told you about the kids- ‘Julia’s really into football right now, a little chatterbox, and Thomas loves readin’, but he’s pretty shy’- when you hear tires making their way along the narrow dirt road. Turning your head again, your stomach flips when you see the familiar station wagon- much fuller with people than normal- pull into the small parking lot. You smile, raising your hand in a wave when Kit sees you, and swallow hard.

The driver’s door quickly opens, and Kit makes his way over, basket in hand. The passenger, Jude, stays behind to help the kids out of their seats.

“Hey, you.” Kit murmurs, a smile on his face as he leans down to press a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Hi.” With a shaky breath, you take your bottom lip between your teeth when he pulls back. With a sympathetic smile, Kit takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“They’re gonna love you,” he reminds, and you huff a laugh. Julia begins speaking excitedly as she hops out of the car; you can’t make out what she’s saying, but she sounds enthusiastic, so you’re taking that as a good sign.

“If you say so.” You grip his hand more tightly and he chuckles as the two of you make your way toward the sound of the animated voice.

Now or never.

“Y/N!” You jump at the sound, completely taken off guard- even more so when something barrels into you, wrapping around your waist. You look down to see the small girl- the one that you recognize from the many pictures Kit has shown you -beaming up at you. Kit laughs, scooping her up into his arms as Jude moves to stand in front of the three of you. Thomas hangs onto her hand, hiding behind her dress.

“Y/N, this is Jude, Thomas, and you’ve already met Julia.” He shakes his head, tickling his daughter’s ribs until she’s leaning into him, in a fit of giggles.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you all,” you say, hoping the smile on your face doesn’t come across as uneasy.

“We could say the same to you. This one,”- she gestures to Kit- “is talking about you constantly.” You smile widely at this, eyes moving to Kit to find his cheeks turning rosy.

“Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh!” Julia chimes in, Thomas slowly nodding his agreement.

“Oh, you.” You nudge Kit’s arm gently, and his eyes shift quickly back and forth between the children. Jude lets out a trill of laughter then, taking Julia’s hand in hers.

“Why don’t we find somewhere to sit? I’m sure we’re all getting hungry.” The kids agree enthusiastically, taking off in a sprint toward a nearby gazebo where several tables sit. “Hey, slow it down, you two!” Jude calls, following them.

You turn to Kit, who brings your hand to his lips, placing a kiss there; there’s something about his expression that you can’t quite place, but he seems happy, so you’re happy. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, letting your hands fall and dangle together as the two of you slowly make your way to the table where the children sit, awaiting their lunch. Julia laughs beckoning the two of you over, and there’s a shy little smile on Thomas’ face. Your nerves are slowly fading, and you let out a breathy sigh, smiling up at him.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.”

--

The meal is fantastic, and by the time you’re wiping your mouth on your napkin and placing it down on the empty plate in front of you, you can hardly remember why you were so panicky about this meeting in the first place. The food is delicious, Jude accepting your compliments on her potato salad graciously. The two of to you discuss your job, her asking about the intricacies of what you do. Not in a prying way, though; she seems genuinely interested.

It’s not long before the kids take to you, either. Julia already has, it seems, as she insists on sitting across from you while you eat. She tells lots of stories; everything from the science project she and Kit have been working on for school, to the time that Jude took her and Thomas to the zoo.; you find out that hippos are her favorite animal. “Isn’t it so cute when they wiggle their ears??” she asks.

Thomas takes a bit more coaxing, but not much; not when you decide to ask him what his favorite book is. His eyes light up and he brings up several, speaking excitedly about a chapter from the one he's currently in the middle of.

“Daddy, can we play now?” Julia asks, setting her fork down; she bounces around like she’s ready to jump out of her seat, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Sure,” Kit chuckles, placing his empty glass of iced tea on the table. I’m just gonna use the bathroom real quick, but go onnahead.” He stands, patting your shoulder. Shooting what he hopes is a discreet glance Jude's way, he moves toward the small bathroom stalls a few yards away.

Jude laughs, a soft smile on her face, watching as Julia moves to cling to your arm. “Alright, Thomas, it. looks like it’s you and me. What do you wanna do first?” She takes the small boy’s hand, and he leads them in the direction of the sandbox.

Julia glances around, and when she sees that everyone’s out of earshot, she leans into you, bringing a hand to her mouth to ask, “Y/N, can I tell you a secret?”

Her over-exaggerated whisper and enthusiasm make you giggle, and you nod. “Sure.”

She climbs into the seat beside you, leaning in closer to speak into your ear. “My daddy loves you.”

You’re quiet for several seconds, having absolutely no idea how to respond. You look down at her, eventually stuttering out, “O-oh… really? How do you know that?” You're half expecting a nonsensical answer, but when she opens her mouth, the young girl is serious.

“I heard him and Nana talking about it the a couple'a nights ago when I got out of bed for a drink of water.” She grins up at you. “…But I can just tell.”

“H-how can you tell?”

She shrugs. "He smiles when he talks about you." Her answer is so simple, so pure, and it holds so much meaning; you're sure there's a dopey grin growing on your face right now.

“Well, your dad’s pretty great. And I think you’re pretty great, Julia.” Her smile grows impossibly wider as she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug. You hold her tiny frame and are on cloud nine when you spot Kit closing the door to the restroom behind him; when he sees the two of you still sitting there, he makes his way over.

Kit chuckles to himself, overcome with joy when he walks out of the bathroom to see you holding Julia in an embrace, smiles on both of your faces. He walks slowly toward you, silently praying that his daughter hasn’t said anything she shouldn’t have. So much for Jude’s help… Should'a known better. He glances at his friend, sitting on the edge of the sandbox with his son. Jude looks up, smirking, and he rolls his eyes at her.

Nevertheless, he’s decided. It has to be now.

“What’re you two doin’ over here?” He places a warm hand on your arm as he stands behind you, appraising his daughter. “Jules, I thought you wanted to play? You’ve been sayin’ how excited you were for the jungle gym all week.” Julia’s small legs swing back and forth as she watches her father, with a shrug.

“I wanted to talk to Y/N first.”

“Well, we can keep talking while we play, then,” you decide, standing quickly, but Kit grabs your hand, stilling you.

“Actually, I wanna talk to you about somethin’ real quick.” His voice is low in your ear, and he watches his daughter tensely.

“Oh, o-okay.” Your eyes move to Julia and you smile. “Why don’t you go down the slide a few times, and I’ll be over there in a minute?”

“Okay!” The little girl jumps from her spot, sprinting toward concrete of the playground.

“Be careful!” Kit shouts after her. With a chuckle, he takes his previous seat and pats the one beside him. You smile happily, leaning your head on his shoulder when you move next to him.

“They’re really great, Kit. All of them.”

Kit smiles proudly, watching as Jude helps Thomas make some sort of sculpture in the sand. “They are,” he agrees with a nod. “Jude likes you. The kids really like you.”

“I’m so glad.” You sigh in relief, turning to meet his gaze. “I was so worried they’d all hate me.”

“How could they?” he asks, leaning in to place a sweet peck to your lips. You smile against his mouth, your own tingling as he pulls back. You can’t help but glimpse toward playground to see if the kids have noticed. They’re still preoccupied, but Jude’s noticed; she sends you a wink and your cheeks grow warm. Seeing the exchange, Kit scowls playfully, waving a hand at her. She laughs, turning back to the sandy masterpiece Thomas is working diligently on.

“So,” Kit begins... Deep breath. “There’s somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. “What’s up?” …Could it be?

“It’s something I’ve wanted to say for a while, actually. He’s looking at his hands as he says this, biting down on his bottom lip when his gaze finally meets yours. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in… a long time. Not since...” He trails off, but you know he’s thinking of the kid’s mothers, so you nod in understanding. “Honestly it’s a little scary, but I think I- I mean, I know I-“ He cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “Christ. I dunno why this is so hard, I just…” He sighs deeply.

“…Kit?”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you, too.”

“You… you love m- wait, what?” His eyes grow wide, and he groans after a moment, knowing exactly who the culprit is. “Julia told you?” You can't help but laugh quietly, nodding your confirmation. “I shoulda known. My little blabbermouth.” A wistful smile grows on his face, and the amount of adoration you feel for this man in this moment is staggering.

“So… it’s true, then?” you ask, taking one of his hands in both of yours.

He nods, smiling as he leans in to press his forehead to yours. “I love you, Y/N. I do.” His voice is hardly above a whisper, but it feels like a shout; a declaration. Your returning smile is bright, certainly one of the best Kit’s ever seen- one he’s sure he’ll remember for the rest of his life -and when you wrap your arms around his neck, his own widens further, the muscles in his face beginning to ache, but he couldn't care less.

“I love you, Kit Walker. So much.” You move in for a kiss of your own; it’s short, but full of more meaning than any you’ve ever had.

Pulling back, you pat his knee gently. You stand from your seat, offering a hand out to him. “C’mon. Earlier, I promised Julia I’d watch her on the monkey bars.” Kit laughs, taking your hand and slinging an arm around your waist once he’s standing. You make your way to where the girl is currently whizzing down the largest slide in the park, squealing with laughter. Glancing at the sandbox, you see Jude eyeing you, a knowing smirk on her face; you blush, but smile back.

Right here, right now, moving toward the laughter of Kit’s loving family, there isn’t a sliver of doubt in your mind that this is meant to be.

This is where you belong.

taglist: @therenlover, @tatestripedsweater, @kitwalker02, @ladyfogg, @mossybank, @undeadcortez, @sallyscigarettes, @xmaximoffic, @samsassinparvismagna, @liandav, @kitwalkerangel, @elaineygrace, @milly-louise @americxn (please feel free to fill out this form to be added/removed for future fics)

[hormoneasfuckforkillers]

Heya! Could I get a matchup for the slashers?

I have short dark brown hair and brown eyes. Im not the tallest (around 5’1), I have elegant hands and long arms(i got a good grip too, stronk), i’m skinny with not many curves, and wear earrings :) I wear a lot of dark academia ‘aesthetic’ clothes but have been trying to mix in some grunge/alt. I wear rings pretty often, I never leave without my combat boots 😌 im a male and uhhh thats about it for appearances i think ^^

My mbti is INFP-A, and my top 3 enneagram types are,, 9, 7 and 2

Im pretty reserved and shy at first but once you get to know me im kind and have a pretty good sense of humor (or so I hope), im a big risk taker and live for adventures/new things, im good at comebacks and have been told im pretty humorous. Overall im a pretty quiet person unless its someone im extremely close with, then im pretty loud and really out there, im ambiverted as well so 😃 dksndksjd idk what else to add- uhh- im really calm in extreme situations,, Im not very emotional and its hard for me to cry for other people,, im indecisive at times and laugh whenever im nervous ^^;;

My style/aesthetic ranges and tends to change from time to time, currently I mainly wear dark academia type clothing (really wanna get more techwear/cyberpunk and grunge type clothing but haven’t been able too yet :,) ) lowkey inching towards getting into cryptidcore stuff 👀👀

In three words i’d say; sweet, adventurous, complex

I really enjoy drawing, photography, cooking, gaming, listening to music and crime/paranormal podcasts, reading poetry/fanfic, knife throwing and I really wanna try going camping/hiking :>

In a relationship it really depends, im demiromantic and have commitment issues :,) so if I’m close enough with the person im in a relationship with and can commit i’ll definitely be more involved and be more affectionate and genuine,, everything usually just clicks and im able to really invest myself in the relationship. If its not a very close relationship i tend to be a bit distanced and keep affection to a lower amount that what i would if I were committed, I also tend to not focus everything on that relationship ^^;;

My love language is acts of services and kinda words of affirmation? So I tend to do/give a lot to them, that also includes daily massages 😌 and I crave physical affection so in a relationship I’ll occasionally want long hugs :) its a lot harder for me to open up to a s/o but once i do 🤝 trust

Thank you!! Sorry its kinda a lot :,) make sure to hydrate, eat and take breaks!!

I match you with...

Thomas Hewitt!

You guys are very similar and a perfect match in balance.

I'm going to do this matchup a little bit differently, going in parts until I get to the part of your relationship itself.

About your appearance. He absolutely DIE for the height difference, it's not news to anyone that this man has size kink and holy shit, you're so cute, everything about you is so small compared to him, he just can't control himself. He loves your hands, and how they're so elegant and good to hold - mostly because it's smaller than his. Accessories make all the difference, he thinks it's your charm and that all your style is far superior to others, because they serve you so well. He just doesn't know how you can be so beautiful just by existing.

He's attracted to your reserved and shy personality, very similar to his, and he's so fucking enchanted by your kindness and how funny you are. Since he always lived in a city and a house where he was treated like a freak, he didn't even have the right to smile. You take him out of his comfort zone, this is something that delights him and lifts his spirits with you. He likes your change of mood and how cheerful and relaxed you are with him, but with others you're quieter, he feels confident, and honestly, he's like that with you too. He thinks it's cute that you laugh when you're nervous and he's always on the alert when you do it around someone.

He's the kind of guy who supports you in whatever you want, including your style, as much as Hoyt turns out shit, Thomas literally wears choruses and people's faces. For the love of God. He thinks you're revolutionary, especially in the situation he's in, it's fascinating. He likes to hear you talk about what you like, he's incredibly interested in the things you do. You are so sweet and kind to him, this man is melting! He doesn't know how to cook, but he would definitely try to help you just to be close to you, as well as see you drawing and how passionate you are about things.

BUT, it can be quite bloody too, as he has a lot of anger issues and you can bet he'd go over anyone who so much as laid a finger on you (as much as his jealousy is mostly based on insecurity. ) Cuddles in the face and hair!!

You both in a relationship would be an exchange of acts of service and daily reassurance. He tends to give much more than he receives, he tries to demonstrate as much as possible - at the limit of what he can do - what he feels. His life depends on long hugs and doesn't force you to talk at all, it's in your time, just as he wants you to respect his. He is 100% faithful and demi in every way too, so it would be a relationship based on loyalty, support, lots of hugs and affection.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

i picture it, soft, and i ache

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to.

It doesn't take Janus very long to fall in love with Patton, when it comes down to it. It takes him far longer to accept it, and to allow it to grow.

Content Warning: brief, non-graphic depiction of a panic attack

(ao3 link)

(podfic by @titheinironside)

It’s unbelievable, how fast he falls.

He prides himself on his rationality, his pragmatism. He’s no Logan, of course, but it has been a very long time since he allowed his emotions to get in his way. Over the years, that has cost him so much-- his relationship with Virgil, his ability to trust and be trusted, any moral compass that he may once have possessed, among other things. But he has never regretted it, not once, because his primary directive is to help Thomas, and if he has to play the villain to do so, so be it. Lord knows none of the others see the world for what it is, are willing to do what it takes to ensure Thomas’ success.

But the scene is like this: time passes, Thomas begins to listen to him, and one day, Patton smiles. He doesn’t know at what, doesn’t know why, because he wasn’t paying attention until now, but Patton smiles, wide and bright, and in that moment, Janus would do anything for that smile to be directed at him.

In the next moment comes realization: oh.

In the next few days comes denial: no.

Because above all else, he knows himself, knows what he is built for and what he is not. He is not built for this love, all-encompassing and brilliant, not built for this depth of devotion. His very being is defined by his loyalty to Thomas and Thomas alone, his ability to use and discard the others at will as long as Thomas will benefit. He is a snake and a liar, cunning, selfish, cowardly, and he has spent his entire existence pushing away the possibility of anything else.

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to. Patton burns like the brightest star in the sky, moves like the gentlest breeze on the warmest summer day, laughs like the freest dancer on the greenest field, and Janus is caught in his orbit, hopelessly entranced, hanging off his every word. The first time Patton touches him skin to skin, a graze against his forearm, causally, in passing, he has to excuse himself and stand in the center of his room for hours to catch his breath. His heart races too fast, and his entire arm feels as though it has been set alight, and all he wants is for it to happen again.

He is in too deep, sinking too quickly. He is at the bottom of the ocean, and even as the pressure of the water overhead crushes him, even as the darkness swallows him whole, he cannot bring himself to fight for the surface. If this is drowning, then he will drown and be grateful.

He cannot love Patton. But it is far, far too late for that.

“Wow,” Remus says, impressed against all odds. “You are a gay disaster.”

He groans. “I don’t know why I expected you to help me,” he mutters, and Remus shrugs, entirely unapologetic.

“You know I don’t do the whole romance thing,” he says. “Not my department. Have you tried, uh--” He scrunches his nose, and Janus knows that whatever comes out of his mouth next will be truly ridiculous-- “telling him, maybe? With, um, roses? That’s romantic shit, right? But you gotta take all the thorns off so that he doesn’t prick his thumb and blood doesn’t go spurting everywhere--”

“Please stop,” he groans, and that is the end of that.

Tell Patton. Absurd.

And he cannot tell anyone else. Cannot ask for help. He can tell Remus because he trusts Remus, to the extent that he trusts him to be exactly what he is, no more and no less, and Remus trusts him in the same way. But in general, trust is a foreign concept to him, once known but long lost, like returning to an old favorite book and realizing that the words have faded beyond all recognition.

But that’s alright. He is used to being alone. He has been alone for so long that he barely remembers what honest companionship feels like, and that is part of the problem, isn’t it? He has built so many walls around himself, walls that only he is ever allowed to breach, but here is Patton, waiting outside the gates and asking to be let in. Not demanding, not threatening; he brings no battering ram, no armies. Just himself, and his smile, and flowers in his hair, and that has more effect than twenty armies could.

He wants to open the gates. But the chains are rusted, the keys long lost, and that does not even take into account the danger of it, the danger of allowing himself to love another. Thomas is his priority, but what happens to him when that changes? What does he become? And what does that say about the worth of every action he has taken to lead him to this point?

Can he love? Is he capable of that unique vulnerability? He doesn’t think so. Love and trust go hand in hand, and if he cannot manage one, the other will evade him. He’s dancing a waltz meant for two on an empty stage, stumbling over his own feet because he has no one to catch him.

“You need to stay away from Patton,” Virgil tells him, eyes dark and clouded over with years of betrayal.

“Oh?” he asks. “Why is that?”

Virgil snorts, kicking away from the wall he’s leaning on. He approaches him slowly, deliberately, and the threads that hold Janus in place are invisible, intangible, but there all the same. A spiderweb capable of holding a serpent fast.

“Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at him,” Virgil says, and fear lands heavily in his chest. “I know everyone’s all eager to accept you and have you around these days, but I know what you are. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

“Ah, yes,” he replies. “You know what I am, just as I know what you are, Virgil. I wouldn’t throw stones.” He pauses. The words fall from his lips bitter-sharp, and he doesn’t want to be saying them, not like this, but it’s a habit formed from years. There was a time when they were happy, once, but they spoiled each other, and nothing is left of that shared past but a handful of wilted promises and bridges burned beyond repair.

Virgil snorts and shoves past him.

“Out of curiosity,” he says, and Virgil stops, “how do I look at him?”

Virgil turns and stares. “What?” he demands, and Janus knows that it was a mistake.

“Nevermind,” he says, and moves to walk away, but Virgil grabs his arm, hard enough to bruise, and holds him in place. For a minute, he says nothing at all, and Janus is left to search his face, the anger in the tightness of his lips and bewilderment in the tilt of his head.

Then, realization dawns, and Janus wants to be anywhere but here.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Virgil says. “You… I can’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, tightly, coolly. 

Virgil laughs, and it’s the sound of a predator pouncing. “Yeah?” he challenges. “I don’t give a damn what you feel, or what you think you feel. You’re a fucking liar, and a fucking liar is all you’ll ever be. You’re not capable of giving him what he deserves.”

They are standing so close to each other, a distance of inches, but he has never felt farther away from him. What they once had is lost, but in the space between breaths, he allows himself to mourn its death, hating himself for the weakness all the while.

“I know,” he says.

Virgil scowls, dire warning in the shadows on his face, and releases him, stomping away. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

A moment later, Patton pokes his head around the corner.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, eyes pinched with concern. “I thought I heard arguing.”

I want to kiss you, he doesn’t say. I want you to hold me and never let go, he doesn’t say. I want to love you, and I want you to love me, please, would you love me? he doesn’t say.

“It was nothing,” he says. “We’ve sorted it.”

Patton doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it be. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

No one ever told him that love would hurt. He supposes he should have guessed it. Nothing that is worth having ever comes easily, and even though his breath catches every time Patton walks into a room, even though his heart tries to burst from his chest every time Patton deigns to glance his way, he doesn’t think he would trade this for anything. He can barely remember a time before this, before this love crawled into his chest and took up residence.

He takes whatever Patton will give him, laps up the crumbs like a starving dog. He accepts every offer of dinner, every invitation to watch a movie or play a game, even though all the rest of them barely tolerate him at best and openly hate him at worst. He’ll endure Virgil’s scorn, Roman’s enmity, Logan’s dismissal, as long as it means he can stay by Patton’s side. And Patton, at least, seems to like that he’s there, and most of him screams that it can’t be trusted, that there must be an ulterior motive, because that is the way he has thought about other people for nearly three decades and it’s so hard to try to change that. But he also knows that Patton doesn’t work that way. No matter how foolish it may be, he is genuine and true. Everything that Janus is not.

He entices smiles from him, teases laughter, and rejoices in the fact that it is him that draws these responses. It is all he will ever have, all he will ever be brave enough to take, and it is more than enough, more than he ever expected he could receive.

He cannot love Patton. But he does.

Roman corners him one day, and he lets him, because he has no idea why Roman of all people would seek him out. Things are better between them, but not by much, and Roman himself is still fragile in an odd way, as if saying the wrong thing one more time will prompt a total collapse. Janus has wanted many things from Remus’ twin, but never that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Roman says, through gritted teeth. “But, you and Patton.”

He blinks, taken aback. He told Remus, but Remus wouldn’t tell Roman. Virgil figured him out, but even after everything, Virgil still knows him well enough to read him, so that is no shock. Roman, though, barely manages to make eye contact with him on a good day, so he couldn’t, shouldn’t know, unless he is being far more obvious than he thought he was. That thought alone is enough to send an icy tendril of fear down his spine.

“What about me and Patton?” he asks, and hopes that his voice doesn’t shake.

Roman sighs, and his next sentence comes out as if it takes him a great effort to say. “Look, you make him happy, alright?” he states. “I don’t get it, and mostly, I’m scared that you’re just manipulating him, but for some ungodly reason, he actually likes having you around. So what I’m here to say is that if you hurt him, if this all turns out to be for some kind of scheme of yours, I will stab you through the heart and leave you pinned to the ground for the crows to eat. Do you understand me?”

His mouth goes dry. “Perfectly,” he rasps.

Roman looks at him, and then nods. He walks away without a sound, and Janus tries in vain to steady his nerves.

What was that?

You make him happy.

You. Make him. Happy.

Happy happy happy.

His face feels odd. He brings a gloved hand up to feel his cheek, and he realizes he’s smiling, wide and unrestrained like he hasn’t in years.

He makes Patton happy. He makes Patton happy.

He makes Patton happy.

He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know what he does. He can coax out smiles with a bit of smooth talk, bring out laughter with a well-placed pun, but those are both momentary, fleeting things. The idea that he makes Patton happy implies something that goes far beyond moments, implies a lasting fondness and a desire for his company, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why, and that is a problem, because if he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know to keep doing it.

Eventually, he works up the courage to ask, and Patton stops in the middle of rolling out his cookie dough.

“Why do I like to hang out with you?” he repeats. His eyes are very blue behind his glasses, like the vastest sky. “It’s because you’re you, silly.” He grins, bubbly and vivacious, and dabs a bit of flour on Janus’ nose. He sticks out his tongue instinctively, and Patton coos at what he calls a ‘blep’ and what Janus calls ‘something that he will deny ever happening so please stop bringing it up.’

“Besides,” Patton adds, more thoughtfully, “we’ve spent so long not being friends, and that was mostly on me. Now that I know how great you are, I don’t want to waste any more time. You’ve been trying so hard all along, and I couldn’t see that.” He grabs Janus’ hand, and he has to stifle a gasp. He can feel the human side of his face heating up, and hopes against all hope that Patton will not notice what must be an obvious blush. “I want to know you better now.”

“Oh,” is all he can say, all he can squeak out between teeth that are too tightly clenched. Even through his glove, Patton’s hand is so very warm, and his hand is tingling at his touch. “Um, I suppose I want to know you better, too,” he adds, stumbling his way through sincerity, and it must be the right answer, because Patton beams.

It’s like standing in sunlight, squinting up at a cloudless sky, in a instant of warmth and light that will last forever. Night will never fall and rain will never come down, and the sun will burn bright until the end of time, and so will he.

That evening, he has a panic attack in Logan’s room.

It starts in the hallway and comes out of nowhere; one moment he is walking to his room, and the next, he is leaning on the wall for support, doubled over and gasping for breath for no reason that he can see. But he happens to be standing near Logan’s door, and he must be loud enough for him to take notice, to come out and lead him somewhere safer, less exposed. He would be more grateful, if his lungs would cooperate.

Logan counts and measures his own breaths, and eventually, he finds himself able to follow the rhythm. He is shaking and sweating and crying just a bit, but the panic eases little by little, leaving him pressed up against the wall, Logan sitting nearby but not touching. He is familiar with the motions; he walked through them for Virgil, once upon a time. He has never been on the receiving end.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Logan asks, when he no longer feels as though his lungs are being constricted by iron bands.

He contemplates what triggered it. He thinks it was nothing in particular, really, nothing but a sudden sensation of being overwhelmed by everything all at once, his feelings and the endless possibilities open before him, a looming, uncertain future. It is as though he is walking a tightrope over a precipice, and the slightest mistake will send him tumbling into darkness. The thought makes his chest clench up again, and he breathes out slowly and deliberately.

“Not particularly,” he manages, and Logan accepts the answer with a nod.

“Very well,” he says, standing and walking to his desk, where he sits down and opens his laptop. “You are welcome to remain here for as long as you would like.”

He considers the offer. It’s far more generous than he expected. He didn’t think that Logan liked him very much. And it’s a nice room. Calming. There are stars painted on the ceiling, an accurate representation of the night sky bathing the room in a soft white glow.

“Thank you,” he says, and for a long while, the two of them sit in silence, Logan typing at his laptop and Janus just breathing, existing. He appreciates it, this comfortable silence, carrying no demands or expectations.

Could Logan help him, he wonders? Perhaps not; Logan barely ever bothers to recognize his own emotions, much less those of someone else. But then, Logan is calm and rational and most importantly, capable of respecting privacy, and perhaps that is just what he needs.

He needs something, of that, he is certain. Panic attacks are a new development, and not one that he wants to continue.

“Logan,” he says, “may I ask you a question?”

Logan swivels in his chair to face him. “You just did,” he points out, “but yes, go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath.

“What is love? If you had to define it, that is.”

He tries to keep his voice level, to reveal none of the importance that the question holds. It is the most open he has been about the subject, besides ranting to Remus, and he trusts Remus in a way that he has not learned to apply to anyone else. But he needs to know, needs to understand, and Logan is his best option for a definition. He will answer, and he will not push. Emotions are not his department.

Logan frowns at him, eyes oddly piercing. “I may not be the best side to go to if you are experiencing difficulties with this matter,” he says. “However, scientifically speaking, love is the emotion produced when certain neurochemicals, such as oxytocin, are released in the brain. I do not generally concern myself with the intricacies of the topic. Emotions are hardly my area of expertise.”

Janus sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. It is just about the answer he was expecting. He’s not sure that it helps. He doesn’t think he can reduce his feelings to chemicals. Not when he thinks he would do anything to keep Patton happy, save putting Thomas at risk.

“Is… there anything else I can answer for you?” Logan asks, and Janus meets his gaze. He seems oddly hesitant, and Janus is certain that he has overplayed his hand, but he is too exhausted to regret the decision. Something needs to give, something needs to change. 

“No, that’s all,” he says. He makes no move to leave, though, content enough to linger in a place that sets order amongst his disordered thoughts, realigns the nonsense into reason. 

“I am no expert,” Logan says, “so you are certainly free to disregard this advice, but I have been informed that… discussing one’s emotions with their object tends to be helpful in alleviating stress, if nothing else.” He is floundering, grasping at straws, but the clumsy attempt at help is genuine, and rather than annoyed, Janus finds himself endeared.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And he does. Oh, how he does. Once considered, the possibility won’t leave him alone. He watches Patton, spends time with Patton, and wonders what would change if he let the words slip past his lips.

The trust that Patton has extended him is extraordinary. No one has ever looked at him like Patton does, like he cares about him because he is himself and not because of the function he provides. Patton uses his name so easily, like it means nothing, and he knows that names do not have the same significance to those in the light as they do to those in the dark, but he still feels a thrill every time he hears it, because Patton was the first to use it. Was the first to accept the hand that Janus offered, in desperation and the burning need to be heard for Thomas’ sake.

He threw himself off a cliff with only the impossible hope that someone would catch him. And Patton did. Janus can’t go back to the way things were before. He won’t risk losing all that he has gained. And if that is selfish, well. That much is expected of him.

“Do you wanna help me cook dinner tonight?” Patton asks.

He’s in the common room. It’s still a novelty, the ability to be here. Depending on who sees him, he garners the odd distrustful glance, but no one ever demands he leave. It’s refreshing, and more than a little delightful, not that he would ever admit it.

He shrugs. “Absolutely not,” he says, rising. “I despise cooking. Why would you even ask that?”

Weeks and months ago, that would cause Patton to withdraw, would send hurt flashing across his face.

Weeks and months ago, Patton wouldn’t have asked at all.

But now, Patton giggles. “Great,” he says, and from anyone else, Janus would take that to be sarcasm, but as always, Patton means it. He always means it, when he says these things.

Janus follows him into the kitchen, staring at his back and thinking about how different they are. How Patton is good and he… is not. It’s an oversimplification, of course; he knows that very well, better than anyone else, knows that morality is relative and painted in swatches of grey, but still. It never used to bother him.

Patton is making a stir fry, evidently, a new recipe, and sets Janus to preparing the rice as he chops vegetables. He chatters on about everything and nothing, about a dog that Thomas saw yesterday, about the cute barista that Thomas managed to hold a coherent conversation with, about how he managed to beat Logan in Scrabble the other day to everybody’s shock, how he thinks he’s almost got Roman convinced to take him on a quest in the Imagination. A lot of it, Janus already knows, but he is happy to listen to Patton talk, interjecting with dry comments at appropriate times to draw out a laugh or teasing scolding or an exaggerated gasp and a swat at his arm.

And all the time, Patton smiles. Brightly and genuinely.

He’s so caught up in it that he almost doesn’t catch the slip in time, almost doesn’t see Patton’s knife waver too close to his finger as he relates his adventures with a puppy that Roman conjured for him (“--and it almost peed on Logan but I stopped it before it could. Logan still wasn’t happy, though--”). But he does, and his hand darts out to grip Patton’s wrist, halting the knife’s motion before he can give himself a nasty cut.

“Careful,” he murmurs.

“Oh!” Patton says. “Thanks, Janus.” He laughs. “Guess I wasn’t being sharp enough.”

He smiles at the pun, and for a second, he lingers, feeling Patton’s wrist under his fingers. He’s wearing his gloves, but the warmth shoots up his arm regardless.

Then, he realizes that Patton’s face is red.

Ah. He’s made him uncomfortable.

“Apologies,” he says, and pulls back. He expects the incident to fade into the background, forgotten, expects them both to move on without comment.

He doesn’t expect Patton to drop the knife on the cutting board and take his hand in his.

Janus stares. Patton’s face is still red, red like a tomato, and he refuses to make eye contact. Janus feels like he’s frozen, feels like his heartbeat must be audible to the entire Mindscape and probably Thomas too, feels like he wants to run and feels like he never wants to let go.

What is happening?

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Patton says. He looks at him, finally, and his blue eyes are shining with an emotion that Janus dares not name.

He opens his mouth to reply, but his throat is dry. He clears it, several times, and he wants the ground to swallow him a bit, because surely his infatuation is obvious, is written all across his face. Surely, Patton will see it now, will release his hand and let him down gently, kindly, because that is the type of person that Patton is. Gentle, kind, someone that he loves helplessly and hopelessly and will continue to love until the stars go dark.

“I’ve been thinking,” Patton says softly. “Could I hug you?”

He is wordless, powerless, breathless. He nods. Patton releases his hand, but he only has a moment to mourn the loss of contact before Patton’s arms are wrapped around him, before he is tugged against Patton’s chest, held tight and safe and close, and it is as though every nerve has been lit on fire. He gasps, and his own arms latch onto Patton’s back and do not let go. It is an effort to keep it down to only one pair.

He is so warm. He doesn’t think he has ever been this warm. Even half a dozen heat lamps couldn’t compare to this, this heat and this pressure and this security.

He is trembling, too, and hopes that Patton doesn’t notice.

“I realized that I hadn’t ever done it,” Patton says. “I didn’t know if you would want me to, or if you would like it? But I wanted to see. Are you… you’re shaking, are you okay?”

He moves as if to pull away. Janus doesn’t let him.

“Please don’t let me go,” he rasps. It is too raw, too vulnerable, too honest, and it gives far too much away. And it’s selfish, too, wanting to take so much of his attention, his affections, when he cannot possibly feel the same way that Janus does.

But he doesn’t care.

“Oh,” Patton says, something new in his voice, something like surprise but not quite, and Janus can’t place it but he doesn’t care as long as Patton will keep holding him, because this is all he’s ever wanted, even if it can’t last. “Oh. Oh, honey, I won’t. I won’t, I promise. I won’t let you go.”

Janus buries his face in Patton’s shoulder. Patton rubs soothing circles into his back, and he thinks he could melt.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Patton murmurs.

He was never built for this love, never built to hold it. Against all odds, he has, though, has held it and nurtured it and allowed it to grow. And perhaps that means that he is not what he has spent so long thinking that he is, that perhaps he can be more. He has held this love and now it is spilling over, seeing the light for the first time, and perhaps the light will reveal it to be ugly and twisted and dark, but he will take the risk if it means he can touch the sun.

“I’m not meant for this,” he says softly, and Patton hums.

“Not meant for what?”

“Caring.”

His voice breaks. Patton makes a small, choked sound and steps back. Janus is forced to let him go, and already, his body is yearning for the contact again. There is only a foot or so between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

Is this where it ends? Has he broken their friendship?

God, he’s become so melodramatic.

But no, Patton reaches out, caresses his face, caresses the left side of his face, his hand cupping his scaled cheek as if it’s no different from human skin, and Janus feels as though the ground has dropped out from under him because no one, no one has ever touched him there, like this.

“You deserve all the care in the world,” Patton tells him fiercely, passionately, and… he meant it the other way around, meant that he’s not built for caring about others, but to see Patton like this, so determined to defend him even from himself…

Janus kisses him. His lips are as soft as he always imagined they would be. 

He only gives himself a moment before drawing away. Patton is staring at him, face slack with shock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His lips are tingling, his body on fire, his emotions bared, and he can’t stand it.

He isn’t built for this, and surely, Patton can see that.

But then, Patton steps closer.

“You don’t need,” Patton says, “to apologize to me.”

And Patton kisses him. Gently, but insistently, asking for an answer but not demanding. And it takes a few seconds, a few long seconds in which he comprehends nothing and too much all at once, can barely wrap his head around the concept of Patton kissing him, but he answers. Answers, and answers, and answers. Answers, and pours everything he has, everything he is into the answering.

They pull back, eventually, and Janus opens his eyes. Patton’s lips are red and swollen, his eyes bright.

“Not unless you didn’t mean it,” Patton says, and it takes him a moment to figure out what he’s talking about.

“I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more in my life,” he replies, and swallows. “It terrifies me.”

The honesty is excruciating. Is this what love does?

He already knows the answer to that.

“Then let’s be scared together,” Patton says. He reaches out and takes Janus’ hands in his, intertwining their fingers. His yellow gloves stand out against Patton’s skin, and for the first time in a long time, he wants to remove them, to take them off and have skin to skin contact, regardless of the vulnerability that will bring. Not tonight, maybe, but soon?

Patton kissed him.

“That is,” Patton says, “if you want to.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is even lower, even softer than before. “I really, really like you, Janus.”

He looks at him. Really looks. Patton is nervous, fidgeting, unsure of his answer despite the fact that Janus kissed him first, despite the fact that Janus has been pining, has been burning so long that he has forgotten how not to. But his words ring clear with honesty, and Janus doesn’t think he has ever been this happy, nor this scared.

He can love Patton. All he has to do is say yes.

“Not at all,” he lies. “Why would I?”

And he tugs Patton back in. The kiss is tender, sweet, and Janus doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to allow another in, doesn’t know how to open up, to trust, to let himself love unabashedly and without restraint. For Patton, though, he is willing to do anything, anything at all. It’s a waltz meant for two, and perhaps the stage isn’t so empty after all.

Against his lips, Patton is smiling at him. So, he smiles back.

He can love Patton, and Patton can love him, and maybe, just maybe, he can believe that everything is going to be alright.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed - Episode 02

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

(Masterpost ) (Previous Episode) (Next Episode)

Donkey Riding

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

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

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

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

Simple Pleasures

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

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

Also

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

Everything is Beautiful at the Ballet

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

Reunions are Awkward, Part 1

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

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

(much more after the cut!)

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

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

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

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

You Are Not Qualified to Speak to Me

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

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

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

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

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

Reflecting

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

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

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

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

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

Wen Gravesite

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

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

Get him, Jingyi!

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

Soul Grass

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

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

Temple Statue

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

Jin Ling walks into the temple blaspheming at full volume. 

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

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

Baby Cultivator Babysitting

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

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

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

Lan Jingyi suddenly figures out Wei Wuxian is not crazy. 

Bis. Kit. 

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

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

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

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

Wen Ning Kicks Ass

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

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

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

Reunions are Awkward, Part 2

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

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

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

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

Macroexpression vs. Microexpression

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

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

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

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

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

Flashback Time

Welcome to your 30-episode flashback!

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

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

Road Tripping to Summer School

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

...prick. 

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

I Like Rabbits

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jiang Cheng: yes but grump grump grump

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

Outro

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

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

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

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

Bonus: Wang Zuocheng, macro-expression king

Episode 03 Restless Rewatch coming soon!

[angerstagram]

monster among men // calum (SMUT)

boxer!calum

Pairing:  Calum + Y/N

Words: 4.6k

Rating:  X. For, you know, sex.

Description:  Calum is your long time boyfriend but he’s also a boxer. When his trainer says the two of you can’t have sex before the big match, you find that much easier said than done.

Warning: Oral sex, mentions of violence (for sport).

Author’s Note: I wrote this in one go and haven’t edited it!! Please forgive the typos. Stay tuned for a part two!

——————————————

Calum threw one last punch at the now well-abused punching bag, watching it swing slowly back and forth—toward him, then away, then toward him again—and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The air in the gym was thick with sweat and dirt as men all around him trained against sparring partners, trainers, or a giant bag of sand, like him.

His trainer, Sal, came up behind him and squirted some gatorade in his mouth before helping him remove his gloves. “That was great, Cal. Your form is better than 97% of the guys in here.”

Calum smirked. “My form is better than 100% of the guys in here and you know it, Sal.”

Sal smiled at Calum but refused to boost his ego. “Well your form isn’t gonna win you a belt, Cal. Not on its own. I need you to keep up your power all the way to the last punch.” Sal was talking excitedly with his hands now, throwing fake punches at the air as though it were 1987 and he was back in the ring.

“Don’t worry about my power, Sal. Just get me in the ring and I’ll take it from there.” Calum wiped the towel Sal handed him against the back of his neck and then over the planes of his chest where little beads of sweat had gathered.

“Alright, big shot.” Sal gestured his head toward the ring and Calum climbed in, letting Sal strap the gloves back on once he was inside.

Sal slid on a pair of punching mitts and held them in front of Calum’s face. “Focus on me, Cal. Right here.”

Calum started throwing punches and Sal met them every time. Every time Calum dropped his guard, Sal would take advantage and hit Calum in the face with a mitt until Calum’s cheek was red and starting to swell.

They went on like that for the better part of an hour, before Sal finally let Calum take a break at the edge of the ring.

“It’s that girl, Calum. She’s inside your head. It’s all well and good to get laid when you don’t have a belt on the line. But if you’re spending all your time thinking about what little date you’re gonna go on and picking up a nice bouquet of pansies or some shit, you’re head ain’t gonna be where it needs to be.”

Calum knew that Sal was trying to rip him up and make fun of him by playing on age-old stereotypes, but Calum could’t even hear him.

As soon as Sal mentioned flowers Cal could smell your perfume. He could feel your skin under his fingertips, the soft give of your hips as he squeezed them. It was as though you were standing right in front of him, his mouth pressing soft kisses to the nape of your neck as you worked in the kitchen. He was pulling your back to be flush with his chest, the shape of your ass pushing deliciously into his —

“You’re not even listening to me, are ya?” Sal’s voice cut into Calum’s reverie and suddenly he was whipped back into the gym.

“I get it, no girls before the match. I hear you, Sal.” If the guys wanted to believe that Calum was a womanizer who was bedding a different woman every night, he would let them. But he wouldn’t jeopardize this match for anything.

————————————————

Calum was really, truly planning on staying strong until his match. But then he got home and you were standing there wearing one of his cotton t-shirts, barefoot and swaying your hips in time to the music playing through the stereo. Everything smelled amazing, the food you had simmering on the stovetop, the candle lit on the coffee table, the summer breeze drifting in through the open windows.

He slipped off his shoes and padded into the kitchen while you faced away from him. He knew you didn’t hear him come in over the sound from the stereo, so he had the advantage as he walked up behind you and gave you a playful slap on the ass.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, dropping the spoon into the sauce you had been stirring and letting out a yelp. “Calum Thomas!” you explained, licking the sauce off your thumb where it had splashed when you dropped the spoon.

“Hmmm,” Calum let out a low hum as he nuzzled his face into your neck, just as he had imagined earlier. He let out a soft sigh, the sound of a man who was exactly where he wanted to be after a long day. “Hey, let me have a taste, too,” he murmured, turning your chin between his fingers and kissing you deeply.

You twisted yourself in his arms so that your back was to the stove and your chest pressed against his. You loved when he came home like this; worked up from a day of hard exercise, hair still wet from his shower at the gym, the muscles in his arm thick and corded under his t-shirt where you traced your fingers.

His mouth wandered down your neck, his open mouth warm against your pulse points. You were breathing heavier now and he knew it, pressing his palm against the small of your back and drawing you impossibly closer to him.

“So, um,” you tried to string a sentence together as the feeling of his lips on your skin scrambled your thoughts. “How was work?”

Your little joke passed over him without laughter, his focus unyielding. He was always so focused on whatever task was at hand that he often couldn’t see or hear the world around him. Times like this, that trait came in handy.

You laced your fingers through his wet hair and scratched softly at the back of his head, bringing his focus briefly back to reality. Calum raised his face to yours again and smirked against your lips. “Work was great, sweetie. And how was your day?”

Calum loved playing pretend like that. Pretend like you two were a normal couple; that he had a normal 9-5 job pushing papers behind a desk in a suit and tie and you drove a mini-van or some shit. A joke that made it seem in moments like this that he wasn’t in physical danger 95% of his day and you didn’t spend thousands of hours of your life scared that one wrong punch would be the end of him.

But you couldn’t think about that now, not when he was hooking his hands around the backs of your thighs and hoisting you over onto a clear spot of the counter. Not when he was standing between your open knees and pulling you closer to his chest again, his arms circling your back and his mouth hot and needy against yours.

His kisses were urgent and all-consuming, pulling the breath of you and energizing you all at the same time. You didn’t realize he had pulled your hair out of it’s ponytail until you felt it cascade down your back. He pressed a kiss behind your ear and bit it lightly, causing you to laugh at the aggression.

“What’s gotten into you, Hood?” you asked breathlessly, teasing him for his ability to go zero to ninety in 3.5 seconds. Something in the tightness of his back and the set of his jaw told you something was up, though. “At least let me turn off the sauce so it doesn’t burn.”

Now he was laughing at you, his chest rumbling against yours. “I’m doing some of my best work here, babe, and you’re thinking about the sauce?”

“I just don’t want it to burn! I’ve been building these flavors for an hour, Cal.”

He didn’t stop laughing, but humored you by reaching over and switching off the burners. “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happier when you tell me what’s going on,” you said softly as you rubbed circles against his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles there.

He dropped his forehead against yours and pressed a light kiss to your lips. He knew he would have to bring it up sooner or later, but he didn’t think he would have to say it so soon. “I, um, well.” He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck as he searched for the words. “Basically, Sal thinks that we shouldn’t, um.”

You dipped your head, searching for his eyes. Trying to follow along with his train of thoughts going nowhere. “Sal thinks we shouldn’t what, Cal?”

“Sal thinks we shouldn’t be, um, romantic before the championship match.” Cal almost looked like he was blushing. For someone that was so confident and uninhibited while you were actually being romantic, he often had a hard time talking about it when you weren’t.

Your face was deadpan as you looked at him. “Sal says we can’t fuck before the match,” you paraphrased in an unenthusiastic voice.

Now he was definitely blushing, the color rising in his cheeks and spreading to his ears. “Um, well, yeah.”

“The match that’s in three weeks.”

“Uh huh.”

“Your trainer, a man who hasn’t had a wild night of passion in over a century, says that you and I cannot fuck for 21 days.”

“Yeah.”

“And that will do…what exactly? It will help your form?”

“No, my form is great, actually. It’s my power on the last punch that needs work,” Calum replied, genuinely not realizing that you were being sarcastic.

“Then why the fuck did you come in here and start kissing me like that, jackass?” You swatted at his shoulder and dropped your head to his shoulder, huffing at the injustice of it all.

Calum laughed at your frustration, rubbing calming circles into the small of your back again but you pushed against his shoulders.

“You really can’t touch me if you don’t want me to jump you right now, Calum.”

The look in your eyes made him see you weren’t really joking. Calum felt a sudden rush of conflicting emotions; half feeling guilty that he had done this to you, and half feeling proud that he had a girl who wanted him as badly as he wanted her all the goddamn time.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, love, I shouldn’t have done that. Maybe I wanted a little something to tide me over.” He was smirking now, leaning in to give you another kiss but you turned your head to the side in defiance.

He tossed his head back in defeat, taking a step back and throwing his hands up to signal that he wouldn’t pressure you.

But that’s not what you wanted, either. It was very confusing, really. He had worked you up and then left you high and dry, so you were just as much want and need and greed as you were angry and annoyed.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back against you, shifting forward on the counter. “If you want to tide me over, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you said against his lips, sliding your hand down the front of his shorts and palming him over his underwear.

Calum groaned and bucked involuntarily against your hand before grabbing your wrist. “Baaabe, we can’t,” his voice almost a whine.

You slipped your hand back out of his shirt obediently and placed it back on his shoulders. “Fine,” you conceded. “I guess I’ll just have to go take care of myself. You can finish up dinner, right?”

Giving his shoulders a light push, Calum stepped back, surprised. You slid off the counter and began walking out of the kitchen toward your bedroom before feeling his hand grab your wrist. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that.”

He pulled your wrist to turn you around, holding your hand to his cheek and pressing his mouth where it met your wrist. He held it there for what felt like forever, the worlds slowing down and your heart speeding up as you concentrated on the feeling of his lips against your palm. He was looking at you from under his criminally long lashes, all dark lines and tan skin with a single wet curl hanging over his forehead.

“We can do this, together, I’m sure,” he murmured into your skin. “Now can we please eat this beautiful dinner you’ve worked so hard on?”

Breathing in through your nose and blowing out through your mouth, you focused on both calming down and cooling down. You really wished this place came with a goddamn air conditioner.

“Fine. You make the salad.”

————————————————————

A week went by like that. The tension growing thicker each day. Waking up next to Calum and feeling the shape of his body against your back, your front, your legs twisted between each other’s or splayed like snow angels. No matter the position, you woke up hot, every inch of your scorching where it touched his.

It really shouldn’t be this hard. You had been celibate voluntarily or involuntarily, for months at a time not that long ago. You were an adult who could survive a simple 21-day stretch without sex.

But that was all before you met Calum. Before you had been with Calum; known the way his body could make yours feel. Before you knew the way he could play your body like a fine-tuned instrument, his every touch lighting a fire inside of you that threatened to melt you from the inside out.

And it was in moments like this, when the early morning sun was streaming in through the curtains and causing a cold yellow light to dance over his golden skin that you felt so acutely what he could do to you. You lay awake just staring at him. At his long, black eyelashes curling so beautifully over his closed eyes. His messy morning hair curling haphazardly over his forehead. His strong jaw line creating a line that led down his neck to the shape of his collarbone where it stood out over the swell of his bare chest.

His breathing was slow, the rise and fall almost lulling you back to sleep. But then he spoke. “You’re being creepy,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” you replied innocently, swiping his hair off his forehead and running your finger down his cheek to his jaw.

“Staring at me looking all sexy and asleep isn’t going to help your predicament, see cheeks,” he joked as he slowly came into consciousness.

“How do you do that without opening your eyes?”

He turned his face to press his mouth to the pulse in your wrist, one eye peeking open to stare at you in the morning light. “I’ll tell you one day.”

You curled into his side, setting your chin into his shoulder to stare at him up close. “I think I’ve been rather good, actually. I haven’t pressured you even once, even when I really wanted to jump your bones.”

He laughed, curling to face you on his arm, your bodies forming two parentheses barely overlapping each other under the mustard yellow sheets. “You’ve wanted to jump my bones, hmm?” He ran his hand down your back to your underwear, teasing the skin just under the hem of his cotton t-shirt that you had worn to bed.

“Of course,” you said, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “When you come home all sweaty from the gym in those short ‘80s shorts. How could I resist?” Your voice was joking but you really weren’t. Those were the times you really felt like no championship would be worth dying a slow, horny death.

“Well you’ve been very patient.” Calum pressed a kiss to your forehead. “How long has it been, anyway?”

“Eight days,” you replied too quickly.

Calum noticed your eagerness and laughed. “Eight days. Hm. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat but you didn’t let yourself get your hopes up. Not after yesterday, when he had texted you I have a surprise for you when you get home ;) and you arrived home prepared to see a naked Calum covered in whipped cream or something….only to find him with an extra-large pizza from your favorite restaurant. Granted, that had been a pretty good surprise. But it didn’t change the fact that you only thought of him a tease with no action to back up his big talk.

“Oh I’m certain I deserve a reward,” you replied, giving him a playful slap on the ass.

“Whatever shall we do about that?” he whispered into your ear. Goosebumps rose everywhere his breath ghosted over you.

Calum rolled you onto your back, throwing his leg over your waist to rest his full chest against yours. Maybe you could get excited, after all.

He pressed small kisses against your neck, nipping at your skin to make you gasp. When you moved your hands to twist them through his hair he grabbed them and pressed them to the pillows above your head, twining your fingers together and making your breath come out unsteadily.

He kissed you deeply, the air leaving your lungs. Suddenly your entire body was nothing but a pile of unmitigated need, a live wire that sparked everywhere his mouth touched. And his mouth on yours made you feel like he was breathing your life into your lungs and pulling it back out all at the same time.

It was an effect no man had ever had on you before. The ability to turn you inside out like this. Was it because you were in love with him? So completely in love with him that it made the want and the need and lust and sex and love all mix up with each other in your mind until they were a single force driving you toward peak after peak.

And he had barely even gotten started. He had you pinned between his strong arms, the muscles in his bicep flexing as he held himself over you. He ground his pelvis into yours, your back arching to meet each delicious thrust. God, he hadn’t even really touched you yet.

Calum held himself above you to watch the effect his actions had on you. The way your eyebrows furrowed together as he rubbed against you. The way you shivered when he traced one finger up your arm and over the swell of your chest to cup your breast over your shirt.

“I feel like I’m in high school,” you murmured. “Dry humping my boyfriend while his mom watches TV in the living room.”

“My mom is here?” Calum looked over his shoulder as though he would find her standing right behind him.

You laughed and used his distraction to push him onto his back. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.” You peeled his t-shirt off of you and threw it on the floor, immediately forgotten.

Calum drank you in above him, pupils blown out with lust, watching you closely to see what you would try to do next. His body looked relaxed but you knew that in reality he was like a predatory cat preparing to strike. That his lazy exterior could spring into action before you could realize what had happened.

Not wanting him to steal your pleasure from you, you acted before he could. First you slid your fingers down your panties and gathered some of the wetness that had grown there before rubbing your fingertips slowly over your clit. Your mouth pouted open into a gasp, reveling in the sensation, grinding harder as you chased that pleasure.

You slapped your other hand to his chest, your fingertips digging crescent moons into his bronze skin as you rolled your hips over your hand, and by extension, his growing erection.

Calum sat up suddenly. His face was still relaxed, but the speed with which he moved gave away how much your action had affected him. He pressed his chest flush with yours and kissed you hotly.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he pulled your hand out from your panties and pressed your fingers into his mouth. His tongue laved slowly over your fingertips, drawing a long moan from you, the air between the two of you growing thick and electric.

“God, you’re killing me, Cal,” you moaned. He ran his fingers down to your hips again, digging into the flesh and rolling you against him. Back and forth, back and forth, rolling you quickly toward an orgasm thanks largely to how long it had been since your last one.

“Do you,” Cal pressed a kiss to the base of your throat, “do you touch yourself when I’m away?” Calum’s voice sounded genuinely quizzical, as though he were discussing the weather or asking you for directions.

“I, um.” Your brain was short circuiting as he pressed you harder and faster against him, your wet panties rubbing against your clit like a tongue. He pressed another kiss to your bare chest, nipping you just under your collarbone before taking a nipple into his mouth.

“Well? Do you?” He repeated, his hot breath causing you to shiver where it met your pebbled nipple.

“No. Um.” The screws were coming loose in your brain. Everything you wanted to do with him, do to him, were flashing over the inside of your eyelids as he drew you to your peak. “Not since, um, not since you said we couldn’t, oh god.”

Calum pulled away and you whined at the loss. He was looking at you intently, as though trying to judge if you were being serious. “You mean that?” He slid his hand down the back of your panties and slid one finger inside you easily. You gasped at how unexpected it was and moaned as he used that hand to pull you back and forth into the grinding motion he had you in before. “You really haven’t had an orgasm for over a week?”

“Yeah, I mean it,” your voice was increasing in pitch and your eyes were shut tight. “Fuck, Calum, don’t stop.”

But Calum did stop. At least, he stopped long enough to throw you onto your back and slide comfortably to rest his head just above your mound. “You’ve been an even better girl than I thought,” Calum praised, his voice still gravelly this early in the morning. “Now let’s see about that reward.”

Calum pulled your underwear off quickly and pressed his tongue flat against you, licking a thick stripe from your opening to your clit. You keened loudly, your back arching when he finally gave you what you needed.

He didn’t intend to tease you. He really did want to reward you for your patience. But it was just so much fun to watch you writhe and moan under him as he teased one finger around your opening and licked figure eights just below your clit.

You were panting as the air of the room pressed heavily against your skin. If fucking Calum was a religious experience, having him eat you out was like leaving earth and going straight to heaven.

“Fuck, Calum. I can’t.” You had been so close to your climax before you felt your mouth on you that your brain was disconnecting.

Finally, he took mercy on you. Diving in to eat you like his last meal. He slid one finger into you, just up to the second knuckle, pressing up against your front wall as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

You bucked up into his face and he didn’t even bother holding you down, just tucked one arm under your thigh to steady himself before shoving two fingers into you up to their base.

He pumped his fingers into you steadily, pressing his tongue flat against you. He alternated his pace, pumping faster when he slowed his tongue and flicking his tongue quickly when he slowed his pumps.

“Oh my god, Calum. Fuck, I—,” you blubbered as your soul left your body. You curled your legs over his shoulders, your thighs shaking as you sprinted towards the high you were both chasing. All the want you had built up for a week had created an ache stronger than you even realized, and the beginning of your orgasm was like stretching an atrophied muscle. “Goddamn it that feels so fucking good.”

When he knew you were going to fall over the edge, Calum slowed his tongue and hooked his fingers to press firmly against your g-spot. He tapped them rapidly against that spot as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you reached your peak. You clamped your knees against his ears, locking him in place as you finally fell over the edge. Your entire body shook as the orgasm rolled from where his fingers still tapped inside you out to your fingers and down to your toes.

Even as you reached your peak he didn’t stop, pumping his fingers and scissoring them to rub against every wall, running his tongue over you until there wasn’t a nerve left below your waist that he hadn’t annihilated.

It was like his fingers were fucking the air right out of your lungs. Connecting the two of you and unraveling you all at the same time.

“C’mon, baby. I know you’ve got another in you.”

And he was right, really. Except it wasn’t exactly a second orgasm as it was a second wave of the first that had never stopped. He stayed like that for a long time, never letting you come down, pulling one after another from you until you had to shove his face away.

He kissed his way back up your body, holding his hand still against your mound as you came down, its warmth soothing as your body shook.

Finally he pressed his mouth against yours and you could taste yourself. You didn’t have the energy to kiss him back. Your lips just hung open as your breath came out in small pants. He rolled over onto his side and pulled the sheet over both of you.

“You are really fucking good at that,” you said finally, flinging the back of your hand against his chest.

Calum nuzzled his nose against your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Only the best for my girl,” he laughed, taking the compliment in stride.

You glanced down at the tent in the sheet where it lay over his waist. “Just, uh, just give me a minute. I’ll get right on that.” You gestured lazily toward his obvious erection.

“No, no. Today was about you.” Calum rolled you so that he was spooning you and ran his hand over the back of yours, twisting your fingers together. “I still need to wait until after the match.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck and breathed slowly through his nose to try and bring his own body temperature down. Your thoughts were becoming coherent again.

You turned your head to look at him, really look at him. You kissed him deeply, trying to convey to him the feeling that had overwhelmed you. “I love you, Calum. So goddamn much.”

He smiled but he didn’t laugh. The light danced in his eyes where they crinkled at the corners. He kissed you again and brushed his nose against yours. “I love you, too. Now go back to sleep.”

[kimberly-spirits13]

Crush Pt. 3 HC (Meeting the Batfam):

Dick Grayson:

.        Grayson is the older person that you meet in the family

.        Everyone was out for the day and you were just casually making cookies in the kitchen

.        No big deal

.        Totally normal

.        He walks in on you with your ear buds in making cookies

.        He knew you since he was into the work you did

.        Totally fangirled

.        The Y/N L/N was in the kitchen, making cookies, dancing around to music

.        *dies*

.        You take your ear buds out and introduce yourself

.        He knows you obviously but it’s still the polite thing to do

.        Immediately starts asking questions

.        Sits at the counter and just asks questions about everything and everyone

.        “Is it true that *random person* is actually a massive pain in the ass to deal with???”

.        “Oh, yeah, they’re terrible but no one says anything about it since they’re all too afraid of them.”

.        “And also it the Met Gala really even that great? I mean the dresses and outfits are great but what’s it actually like?”

.        Things like that

.        He’s just amazed that Bruce got you and that you’re also a hero

.        Stupid shocked and amazed

.        He’s really fun to hang around though

Jason Todd:

.        Probably someone that you actively wanted to meet since you knew about his and Bruce’s relationship

.        You had a few friends or relatives that had that happen to them

.        It was something that you just wanted to move past and get to know him

.        It was only by coincidence that you met at the manor one day walking in with Bruce

.        He saw that you had on a band tee from a group that he loved

.        Hard core fan of

.        He just got up, introduced himself and then started asking about your musical tastes

.        Then book tastes

.        If you shot or not

.        Basically a friendly interrogation and conversation on bands and media

.        He loved you a lot and told Bruce that

.        “I hate to tell you old man, but you did good with this one.” “Don’t upset her.”

.        Bruce was very proud and you could tell

.        You probably took Jason to a concert to get to know each other better and were both just screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs

.        It was the best and he was thrilled to have someone that actively cared about him without caring about things he’d done

.        Someone like a mother that didn’t judge him

Tim Drake:

.        You just kind of met one day

.        Both of you were in New York for a gala, Bruce was going and was taking Tim, and you were going since your brand was connected with the gala

.        Tim was the one that walked up to you since he had that gala confidence that he doesn’t have elsewhere

.        Introduced himself and asked if you were who Bruce was dating

.        You answered yes and then started talking

.        There was no real structure to the conversation

.        Tim liked that you could keep up with anything he was talking about

.        Not that he thought that the people Bruce dated were typically dumb, it was just that no one was this strategic in their thinking and intelligent in their speaking

.        He felt someone was really listening to him and taking in what he had to say to make another statement or reply instead of just nodding their head and agreeing

.        It was wonderful

.        Finally someone that was real and not just another girlfriend

.        Bruce really hasn’t had that many, it’s just that the media likes to make it out that way

.        Anyways, you got off really well and it was nice since he just felt respected

Damian Wayne:

.        First person that you met

.        He was not super inviting at first but you had done your research

.        The kid has mommy and daddy issues so he wasn’t super, super content on letting you in quickly and you were fine with that

.        You did talk about things that you knew interested him

.        And also didn’t act any more fancy or important than anyone else

.        You just acted purely genuine and that worked really well

.        Titus also immediately liked you a lot so Damian knew that you must not be that bad

.        He willingly participated in conversation which scared Bruce a bit

.        What is my child doing and why is he suddenly so nice?

.         Damian is interested in what you say especially when you start talking about the horse farm that your close friend or close family member owns

.        You end up taking him there that week and it’s the best time he’s had in forever

.        An actual bonding time

.        Not just on a rooftop during patrol with his oldest brother no matter how much he actually likes those

.        Damian’s cool with you pretty quickly and sometimes goes and crashes at your apartment sometimes

.        Watching movies and going to museums together is something he enjoys greatly as well

Duke Thomas:

.        You kinda met in the same way as Dick

.        Just very casually

.        He didn’t fangirl as much though

.        He knew who you were and that you probably didn’t want anyone freaking out over you like some do

.        He wasn’t wrong

.        Instead he just asked about how you were doing and just started a nice conversation

.        The most normal out of the entire family which is cool

.        He’s just really nice and warm

.        Very welcoming

.        Wants to make sure you know that the family is weird but you’ll be fine

.        Nothing too terribly wrong at all times kinda thing

Luke Fox:

.        He’s not really Bruce’s kid in actuality, but you do meet, and he is close in the family

.        You meet at WE one day

.        He’s suited up for a meeting and you’re there just since you and Bruce were going for lunch after

.        He’s very polite and basically doesn’t make a big deal about it

.        Wishes you and Bruce the best of luck

.        Not much else

Stephanie Brown: artist credit: @jjmk-jjmk​

.        Just like Dick

.        Fangirls

.        They’re both in the fashion loop

.        Both very, very excited

.        You really like her though since she’s just really fun

.        Very energetic and real

.        She’s super funny too

.        Asking tons of questions about people and trends

.        Basically the same “are the asshole?” questions

.        The answer it most likely yes

.        She and Dick have been to New York Fashion Week together a few times

.        You offer to take them with you the next time and go behind the scenes

.        They’re so down

.        Basically are just in awe of everything the entire time

.        Super excited

.        She loves having a mom figure like you

.        It’s so refreshing for once to have at least one stable parental figure

.        Or at least one that keep it together really well

Cassandra Cain:

.        The girl has never had a good mother figure in her life

.        She’s kinda nervous about you

.        It’s not that she doesn’t trust Bruce or even really you, it’s just that her experiences aren’t good at all

.        You know that she loves dance and does ballet

.        So that’s what you kind of go with

.        She doesn’t talk much if at all and so you signed to her the first time and I swear the girl almost cried since she knew that you actually cared enough to ask

.        She speaks the most around you which is really incredible

.        Bruce is so, so jealous but he’s incredibly happy to see his daughter speak even a bit

.        You’re always taking her out places and having girl days with her just for fun

.        Whatever makes her comfortable

.        Actively are clearing the schedule to see her performances

.        She cries the first time she sees you standing there clapping and just loves that you care so much

.        The girl will kick ass for you if you need it but she knows you don’t since you’re a highly trained hero yourself

.        She is like your daughter along with Steph

.        You have a room for her in your apartment now just incase she wants to stay over

.        When she has a nightmare you’ll sit with her on the couch or even in bed sometimes braiding her hair and either talking through the nightmare if that is her drawing it out, writing it out and you reading it, signing, or just talking about it

.        If she’s not in the mood, you’ll tell stories until she falls asleep and typically you’ll stay since it makes her feel safer

[t-lostinworlds]

Clumsy (Tom Holland)

A/N: This one is short but sweet. Also, I made some minor changes anon I hope you don’t mind <3 and to the others who sent in an ask, I’m working on em! just patience lovelies. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Requested:

Warnings: Nada and maybe typos

Word Count: 2.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

It's very remarkable how you've managed to make the public believe you weren't together. Seeming friends in the eyes of strangers when in reality, 'in love' is all you see in the gaze of one another the moment you're alone.

Granted there are a few who are still speculating, that never does go away. But the majority of his fans do think you're nothing more than just a part of Tom's close circle of friends, one of the boys as some would say.

An unwritten rule was established when you two got together, only going out in public with the group all while making sure that public displays of affection were kept at a minimal. By default, people thought that you weren't dating Tom as you two where never seen alone together.

Unless it was a remote area where no one would be able to see or recognize you, then you and Tom can take all the alone-time and stroll around as much as you want, as close as you desire to be.

It was peaceful like that, no unwanted eyes peering through your relationship like it's some reality show, throwing their two cents as if they're opinions matter. It truly doesn't because by the end of it all, you and Tom are the ones who are in a relationship, not you, Tom and the world.

However, you can't always hide the truth for eternity, someday, in whatever way, it will slowly come out whether you like it or not.

You and Tom knew that of course, it was just the case of when you're ready to share it with the world. But no matter how many times you've discussed on how you were going to come clean, neither you nor Tom expected your relationship to be revealed in such an unexpected and odd way.

It was another day, another comic con in the life of Spider-Man.

You've been traveling with Tom for most of the press tour, and having that you had no better way to spend the day other than rot in a hotel room, you decided to tag along. Harry was with you as always – to lessen any suspicion – with a camera hanging on his neck to photograph every moment.

You were now walking towards the backstage of the last panel, tailing just behind Tom with Harry by your right, big burly bodyguards surrounding all corners to make sure no one gets trampled.

Thomas was being clingy. He regularly is, but this time more than usual. It was obvious how he's itching to get a hold of you as he kept looking over his shoulder, hand swinging a little too much to the back for him to just brush yours.

It was so adorable that you couldn't even try to hide your giggles.

"Stop being so cute or else." You hear him mumble, just under his breath, your eyes meeting as he turns his head to shoot you another glance, pout in full play.

You flashed him an innocent smile, shrugging your shoulders as you clearly haven't done anything. Tom sighed as he tore his eyes off you to look back ahead.

He was dying to just hold you, to have your warmth coat him as he snuggles close to your skin. Your cuddles and kisses, he was in dire need of those at the moment.

Maybe it's because he was a bit knackered, having done a meet and greet with the countless interviews to add beforehand. And when he's tired, he just wants to snuggle with you right after, to be in each other's arms, for you to ground him back as you are his anchor through all this chaos of a lifestyle.

But alas, the numerous eyes around you was making it hard to sneak a loving embrace, he'll have to wait until everything is all over.

Finally reaching backstage and inside these long black curtains, your eyes were constricted by how dim it was. It wasn't dark by all means, but the only sources of light were the once placed on the floor. Clumsiness being part of your blood — not by choice — you were busy trying to not trip over something that you didn't realize that someone was approaching.

You felt a gentle hand wrap around your wrist, making you look up to see Tom with a certain curve on his lips and a gloss over his eyes which usually means he needed something. Before you could even ask him what it was, he turned to his brother.

"Cover for us for a sec Harry."

Leaving a confused looking Harry, Tom dragged you behind these tall and big black boxes, completely hidden from plain sight unless someone would peak their head in fully through the gap.

"What's up?"

Tom didn't even bother to answer your question. He just wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning down to sweetly capture your lips in his with a satisfied sigh. You giggled as you kissed him back, arms taking home over his shoulders as you pulled him close.

"I really needed that, needed a recharge." Tom breathed out, withdrawing from the kiss for some air, pressing his forehead against yours with a soft, content smile on his lips.

You felt your heart burst at that, a soft coo escaping your lips as you run your fingers through his hair right on the nape of his neck.

"As much as I would love to kiss you some more, we can't be gone for too long." You gave him a sympathetic smile. He's a very important person in this comic con, so when he goes missing — even for just a little bit — people tend to notice.

Tom nodded with a sigh. "I know, but just one more please." With those adorable puppy eyes and the cutest pout he could muster, how could you say no to that?

You got back just in time for Tom to be given a microphone and then ushered on stage, the crowd roaring in delight at the sight of their favorite superhero.

You could only watch on the sidelines with a smug grin on your lips, utter pride and genuine happiness coursing through your bones at the sight of Tom's wide smile as he waves at the crowd.

***

Everything was all wrapped up and you were finally on your way back to the hotel. If only it was as quick and easy as getting out of the venue and inside the car in a snap, but you're with Tom Holland, what did you expect?

There were a few fans on your way out, Tom walking ahead again to take a couple photos with them and sign a few stuff too.

You were laughing at something stupid Harry had said that by sheer dumb luck, you managed to hook your foot on a protruding cable wire, your whole body falling forward in one swift motion and landing on the floor with a hard thump.

The loud yelp you let out was enough for all eyes to be on you, especially Tom's.

You ignored the stares and tried to get up quickly with the help of Harry, but the slight movement only made you wince, a sharp pain coursing through your leg that made you grit your teeth with a hiss. You only managed to turn and sit on your bum, after that, you weren't able to make another move, eyes screwing shut at the constant throb on your foot.

Forgetting all the rules you've set when you're in public, Tom was by your side in an instant, eyes swimming with concern as he crouched down in front of you, cupping your face with both hands to check what was wrong.

"What hurts love?"

"Ankle." You muttered under your breath, head leaning forward to land on his chest reluctantly, the pain just too much for you to stay upright.

Whispers of the people and the clicking of phones were soon heard not long after, but Tom could careless as all his was attention on you, too worried to give a damn at the moment. He knows well enough just how much it hurts to twist your ankle; he's been there before a couple of times. But when it's you who's hurting, Tom's worry always comes tenfold.

He needed to get you off the floor, away from the snooping eyes, and get you to a hospital fast. You never know just by one look if it's just a light sprain or something serious, better safe than sorry.

"I'm going to carry you okay darling? It's going to hurt but just for a second." Tom whispered, brushing your hair away from your face delicately. As soon as you gave him a small nod, Tom placed a reassuring kiss on your forehead before wrapping an arm around your body as the other hooked right under your knees, hoisting you up bridal style.

You whimpered in agony as you buried your face on his shirt, your arms going around his neck for support, Tom muttering sweet 'I'm sorry's over and over against your hair for causing you the discomfort.

Sure, Tom could've just let one of his bodyguards carry you but he doesn't trust them well enough to know if they'd be gentle with you. Of course there was a voice inside his head on how there was no way you'd go back to hiding this relationship anymore, but Tom tuned it out, more focused on you than anything else. He'll worry about that later.

Tom was saying something to Harry and his agent that you couldn't quite comprehend, the throbbing pain making you feel lightheaded that you weren't fully aware of what's happening around you.

"I've got you my love." You hear Tom whisper as he walks out of the venue with you in his arms, ignoring all the questioning looks and the countless of photos being taken just to get you some much needed medical attention fast.

***

"Well, the internet is definitely buzzing." Tom joked, gently scooting closer beside where you sat on the hotel bed, ankle all wrapped up in a cast while being elevated by a pillow.

Numerous headlines were already popping up by the minute due to that little mishap earlier, a picture of you on the floor with Tom and then of you in his arms circling the internet to match.

Some fans were saying they knew it, and some totally not expecting it, even though neither of you have confirmed anything whatsoever. But the media, they tend to draw a conclusion without having much to go about.

"I'm sorry." You frowned at him. Despite his playful tone, you can see it in his face how troubled he was, you can practically see those gears turning inside his head.

Yes, Tom was worried, but not because the secret was finally out, it was mainly about how the fans were going to treat you. The internet can be cruel at times, and you weren't trained for that kind of attention. Tom is the public figure, not you. He signed up for this, you didn't.

Throwing an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him gently, Tom shook his head at you. "Hey, you did absolutely nothing wrong."

"If I wasn't clumsy this wouldn't have happened." You said shamefully, the embarrassment from your little stunt still there, and of course, the disheartened feeling being that you took the choice away from the both of you, the choice of when you were going to go public.

"But I love you and your clumsiness darling. And it's alright. We're going to be fine." Tom placed a reassuring kiss on your forehead, hand rubbing your arm comfortingly, lovingly that has you sighing with gratitude that there was no ill-will in his voice, even in the slightest.

"I think we should say something." You pulled away from his arms slightly to be able to look at him fully. Tom knitted his eyebrows at you in question. "About what?"

"Us." You stated simply, and Tom didn't need any further explanation, he already knows that you meant officially confirming that you two were in fact together.

Tom stared at you for a full second, brown orbs searching yours if you were genuinely certain about the decision. "Are you sure angel?"

You nodded at him with a sincere smile, ready for all the things that come with it, but also excited to be able to hold him, to cherish him without having to worry every second if someone was watching. "Yeah, plus I'm kind of tired of hiding."

Tom chuckled, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your lips, a kiss full of gratitude, adoration and pure love for such an amazing woman like you before pulling away to get a hold of his phone.

"Okay. But what should I post?" He asked, frankly having no clue as to what to say or do.

"Up to you Tom." As if there was a hidden message in your words — there wasn't — Tom's whole face lit up, an 'aha!' moment crossing his features before he went tapping away on his phone in concentration.

You let him be as you paid your attention back on the television screen, but it didn't take too long until Tom handed the device to you.

"You do the honors my love." Tom grinned smugly as he showed you the post he's created on Instagram, you letting out a hearty laugh at how dorky yet adorable it was.

It was a collaged photo of you and him. The upper half was of him in his trailer on the set of Cherry, sporting the US military uniform as he leaned back on the couch, a towel covering his face while the medic patched up his ankle. The bottom half was a photo of you earlier — that Harry took without your knowledge — almost in the same predicament.

The only difference was that you were on a hospital bed as the doctor wrapped your ankle up, and instead of a towel, you had your arm over to cover your face, Tom right by your side for moral support.

The caption only had two words: Relationship Goals.

After pressing the blue-colored Share button on the upper-right corner, you handed Tom his phone back, both of you mirroring wide and satisfied smiles.

Granted, there will be challenges with having your relationship out there, and maybe you were going to face most of it even. But with just one look at him, the feeling of being wrapped in his warm embrace, the pure happiness that courses through you whenever you're with him, just being with the absolute love of your life...

It was all worth it.

-:-:-:-:-

Like, Reblog & Leave a Comment if you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! <3

Tom H. Taglist: @spacebitch2​​ @hollanddolanfangirl​ @keepingupwiththehollands​

[schrijverr]

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 1 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: mentions of grief and death

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Canterbury Bell Means ‘Acknowledging’

Alex ran a hand through his hair as he thought of who to call. Philip’s teacher had just called that today school would be canceled due to a mishap yesterday, but his usual babysitter wasn’t available on such short notice.

Maria and Eliza would usually be up to babysit, but they were away on their honeymoon, Angelica worked with him, so she was out, Laf was in France and Herc had that fashion show. He cursed, then looked at Philip to check if he’d heard.

Philip was oblivious. The five-year-old was happily munching on soggy cereal as he watched some kids show.

He was a well behaved sweet child.

Alex smiled and watched his son. It ached how much he looked like John with his freckles and little curls and in moments like these he wished the other was still there, so he wouldn’t have to deal with everything on his own.

“What are we doing today, Papa?” Philip asked.

“I’m going to work, do you want to come with me?” Alex made up his mind, he was sure Washington wouldn’t mind seeing Philip again and he knew Philip would be on his best behavior in the office.

“Yeah!” Philip cheered happily, starting to munch on his food slightly faster.

Alex chuckled at the sight, before sending Angelica a message of why he would be slightly late and who he would have with him.

Then it was bustling through getting the sock on the right foot and the shoes on, making sure Philip’s jacket was on correctly and his shirt not inside out, before almost forgetting his keys as they made their way out the door.

It was the first time since John’s death that Alex was late to work. It was only a few minutes, but it was more noticeable since he was usually way too early.

With Philip on his hip he rushed to his office where an email informed him that the meeting of the afternoon was rescheduled for now, but he could still make it if he hurried.

“Should we go see Grandpa George? Would you like that buddy?” he asked Philip.

He grinned as the boy’s eyes lit up and he bounced so much, he almost fell out of Alex’s arms as he chuckled: “Okay, okay, let’s go.”

Alex opened the door with an apologetic grin as he said: “I’m sorry, the morning was a bit hectic, I just got in.”

Philip wiggled out of his arms and ran to Washington, who caught the boy easily as he assured Alex: “It’s alright, son. Angelica told me already.”

With a sigh of relief Alex set his stuff down, not even bothering to correct Washington about the moniker, before calling Philip over to him and explaining: “I have to do boring work now, but I have some paper and pencils for you, so that you can color. Does that sound fun, Pip? Will you tell me if you need to pee?”

“Yes, Papa,” Philip promised, taking the coloring materials and settling down in Alex’s lap peacefully.

The love he had of drawing was something he shared with his Daddy and Alex always choked up slightly when he saw that concentrated face and the pencil. He was quickly distracted, however, by a certain Virginian saying something stupid and he mostly forgot about Philip in his lap as the meeting progressed.

About an hour into the meeting, Philip pulled on Alex’s jacket and whispered: “Papa, I have to go pee.”

Alex cut himself off mid sentence and smiled down at the boy: “I’m sure, Grandpa George wouldn’t mind if we take a small break to go pee. You hungry, Pip?”

“A bit,” Philip confessed.

“Well, then it’s a good thing, I have a little snack for you,” he said, as he got up, putting Philip down on his two feet as he took his hand, “Come on, buddy.”

Philip followed his Papa contently as Washington cleared his throat: “I think we can all do with a break, gentlemen.”

Thomas frowned. He already thought it quite irresponsible to bring a kid to work, but he supposed the reason must be good enough if Angelica agreed, however stopping a meeting right as they were getting somewhere was annoying.

The kid was cute though. Thomas had no clue who the mother was. Hell, he hadn’t even known Alex was married, or divorced with how he was married to his work.

Also, Grandpa George? Talk about nepotism.

He blinked as Alex got back with Philip. The kid seemed less fidgety and was eating a granola bar with little chocolate chips in it as Alex smiled down gently, not at all like normally. Though, Thomas supposed, he only got to see Alex when the other was yelling or presenting.

It was strange to see Alex so domestic. He had often pictured the other like that, but now it was even easier to picture him – sadly – with a faceless woman, which send a pang through Thomas. It was pathetic how he was crushing on an already taken coworker who hated him.

Though Thomas would never act on those feelings, so it shouldn’t – didn’t – even hurt... that much.

After Martha, he just didn’t know if he could move on like that, but he could allow himself to watch, to torture himself with what he never had or will have.

The rest of the meeting went smoothly with everyone pretending they didn’t notice the small boy crawling under the big table with play cars as he made soft ‘vroom vroom’-noises.

When everyone was leaving Alex squatted and called out: “Hey, Pip, you having fun there?”

“Yes, Papa,” the little voice called back.

“That’s great, buddy,” Alex smiled, “Would you mind moving? We need to go back to my office now, but you can keep playing.”

“But then my cars can’t go to their base under the chair and they need to, because the evil monkeys are after them and they have to go back to defend it,” Philip explained.

Alex listened closely and nodded: “Seems like they’re hardworking cars, Pip. Remember when I was working hard and then we went on a vacation to that cottage in the forest?”

That was a lie, sort of. He had been throwing himself into work because John’s death date had been coming up and Angelica had forced him to take a vacation, sadly backed up by Washington, though Alex had to admit it had been for the better.

“Yes?” Philip was obviously confused about the question.

“Maybe your cars also deserve a vacation,” he said, “They can go on vacation in my office and take a rest from fighting the evil monkeys.”

“Ooh, yes,” the little boy exclaimed as he made his way to his father, who double checked if all their stuff was with them.

When he turned to the door, he was surprised to find Thomas there, soft smile on his face as he waited. Thomas noticed and held up the keys: “It’s my turn to lock up.”

“Ah, well, thank you for waiting,” Alex said awkwardly.

“I didn’t know you had a kid,” Thomas started, trying to fill the strange silence.

“I’m not much of a family talker, but Philip is my pride and joy,” Alex told him, “He’s very smart, isn’tthat right, Pip?”

“Yes, my teacher says I’m very good, one of the bestest in class and I can already write my name. I also draw very good already,” Philip bragged, “And Papa always says I will blow eeeveryone away.”

“Oh, wow, kiddo, that’s pretty good,” Thomas humored the kid, charmed by his smile and excited gestures as he talked, kind of like Alex in a way.

“Well, bye Hamilton.”

“Ah, yes, bye Jefferson.”

They awkwardly went their separate ways, not used to the fact that one of them wasn’t stomping away angrily while the other yelled at them.

Alex shook his head, he felt weird with Thomas being nice to him. He had smiled at Philip and it was genuine, not his normal ‘I’m better than you’- smirk that made Alex want to punch him. It looked good on him and Alex hated how good it looked on him.

Sure, he’s always known Thomas was attractive, but he had a soft spot for people who were good with kids and it didn’t help the stupid feelings he thought he’d suppressed well enough. God, the other man hated him, what was he even thinking?

He tried to let go of the thought as he set Philip down with all the stuff to keep him occupied as he got to work, hoping to get his proposal for the financial planning of the company done.

Philip reminded him to eat lunch, because he was hungry and he went to Angelica, because Philip wanted to see Auntie Angie. For Philip he would do anything, the little boy had him wrapped around his finger.

Angelica was more than happy to eat lunch with them and humored Philip when she listened to his explanation of his car story line until he got distracted by the coloring place mats they had at the restaurant.

Then she turned to Alex and asked: “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, Angie, really. This is not me not taking care of either of us, I swear,” he said, already knowing why she was asking and slightly annoyed, “The school canceled last minute and the babysitter couldn't come and everyone else was busy.”

“Just checking, ‘Lex. We know how hard it’s been since John passed, we just worry,” she soothed his ruffled feathers.

Alex sighed: “I know, I know. I still miss him, but it’s getting better.”

“How much better? Not to be rude, ‘Lex, but you’re wound up. You need to get laid,” she said bluntly.

“Angie!” he exclaimed, glancing at Philip, “There are children here.”

“Yes, and he’s been too focused on his drawing for the past five minutes to pay attention to us,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’m assuming that’s a no to the getting laid.”

“I’m too old for casual hook-ups, Angelica,” he told her, “If I’m going back into dating, I’m going to look for something serious. But no one is looking for a widower in his thirties with a five-year-old kid. And I can’t commit to someone who isn’t going to commit to Pip. He doesn’t need that.”

Angelica nodded: “You’re right, just try not to turn into a sad lonely old man.”

“Like you’re becoming a lonely old woman?” he teased.

“Alexander!” she swatted him lightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re as radiant as ever, a beacon of beauty and youth,” he retracted his statement with a grin.

“That’s better,” she grinned back.

“Papa, I finished my drawing,” Philip interrupted the two adults, almost spilling his drink when he proudly held up his place mat.

Alex smiled: “That’s beautiful, Pip. Want to take it home tonight?”

“Oh, can I?” the boy asked.

“Of course, buddy,” Alex ruffled his hair, carefully putting the drawing in his briefcase with his other papers, so that he could hang it on the art wall.

They returned to the office and said their goodbyes to Angelica, before Alex got back to work.

It was quiet for a while, then Philip said: “Papa, I’m bored, can I walk around? I can go to Auntie Angie? I promise not to dis- dis- bother other people.”

“Disturb?” Alex asked.

Philip nodded that it was the right word, then asked: “Please, Papa. I promise I’ll be good. I know where Auntie Angie is and if I can’t find you I’ll go to Grandpa George after.”

The boy put on his best puppy eyes, which he had inherited from John, and Alex had never managed to say no to those eyes, so he relented: “Be back in an hour okay? That’s when that big arm is at the four, alright? Be sure to tell Auntie Angie.”

“Alright, Papa!” the boy said, already bouncing out his office with the pent up energy of a small child who had sat for nearly the entire day.

Alex smiled and watched him go. He contemplated getting up to check if Philip made it down the hall alright, but stopped himself.

A memory flashed through his minds eye of John holding a baby Philip and smirking: “You can’t always be there, ‘Lexi. You gotta let him be his own man at some point.”

“But he’s a baby,” he had protested at the time.

John had leaned forwards and kissed his nose: “But he won’t be forever, he’s gotta grow up just like you did. Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of independence, sweetheart. Letting go is good at some point, just start small.”

He could let go.

Walking down the hall of the office to an adult he knew wasn’t the ultimate danger Philip would face, this was good. A small start just like John had said.

So, with reluctance he focused back on his work and easily got into the zone again as he did. It was easy to loose himself into his work. He was sure that if Philip hadn’t been there, he would have worked himself to death.

Meanwhile Philip walked down the hall, skipping and jumping just because he could and wanted to. He was really planning on visiting Auntie Angie, but he’d already seen her at lunch, so when he saw something more interesting, he stopped.

It was the Mister from before, Jeff- something, it was a long name and Philip hadn’t been paying attention, though he recalled it being a familiar name. He felt bad now, the man had seemed impressed with him.

Maybe he would want to play with him? But he’d promised Papa not to disturb the other people.

Apparently he’d been standing in the man’s doorway long enough for him to notice and ask him if he needed anything and where his Papa was.

“Papa said I could go walk around a bit,” he told the man, “My cars are on vacation and it’s a bit boring and I don’t feel like coloring. Do you like cats, Mister?”

It seemed the man was startled by his sudden change of topic, but he smiled easily and said: “You can call me Thomas.”

“Okay, Mr. Thomas,” Philip nodded, “Do you like cats?”

With Mr. Thomas not actively telling him to go away, Philip decided it was safe to enter the office and Mr. Thomas just pointed at a chair for him to sit in, so he did. He looked at Mr. Thomas awaiting his answer.

“Sure,” he said, “Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Philip shrugged: “Uncle Laf calls Papa petit lion and Uncle Herc explained to me that it’s a type of cat. Auntie Eliza and Auntie Maria wanteda cat, but Auntie Angie is allergic to them, so she doesn’t agree. But Grandpa George and Grandma Martha have cat, though Papa doesn’t like him very much, even though he likes other cats. So I wondered what you thought about cats.”

“Well, I think cats are nice,” Mr. Thomas said.

“Do have a cat?” Philip asked.

Thomas gave up any pretense of work, he hadn’t wanted to do anything anyway and the kid was way more interesting. He shook his head: “No, my friend, Jemmy, is allergic too and I like having him come to the house.”

“Can’t do that if there’s a cat,” Philip said, nodding his head sagely as if he had all the wisdom in the world.

“Yeah,” Thomas laughed at the display, then said: “I don’t know if sitting in my office is going to be very entertaining, kiddo. I don’t really have toys lying around.”

“That’s alright,” Philip said, “You’re Jeff-” he hummed trying to find the name, “Jefferson?” he suddenly remembered, but he didn’t sound very certain.

Thomas nodded: “Yeah, Thomas Jefferson. Why?”

“Papa talks about you lots,” Philip confided in him, recalling why the name was familiar, “He says you’re a meanie, but I think you’re nice, Mr. Thomas. I think Papa does too, he just don’t wanna say it. He says you’re smart, he only says that about Auntie Angie.”

God, the secrets this kid had from Alex ranting at him would be enormous, but Thomas wasn’t going to interrogate a kid about what his father thought of him. A small part of him, however, preened slightly at the indirect compliment from Hamilton.

He pushed the thought down, the man was married and had kids.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Me and your Papa are,” he hesitated, how do you tell a kid that the most talking you do with his father is yelling insults at each other, “We’re not the best buddies,” he finished lamely.

“That’s sad, I think you and Papa would get along greatly. I like you and Papa says I have good taste,” the kid sounded proud of that and Thomas couldn't help but smile, “I think you have good taste too, Mr. Thomas.”

“Really?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Yes, I like your flowers,” Philip pointed to the vase Thomas had filled on a whim, because he’d been sad a few days ago.

“Thanks, kiddo. They’re Canterburybells,” he said, then had a bright idea, “Hey, since you and I have such fantastic taste, why don’t you help me pick out the colors for my presentation? Then I can read you a story if you’d like. I got books.”

Philip lit up and bounced to the other side of the desk, already telling Thomas loudly about which colors were the bestest.

In the end the presentation was yellow and magenta (Thomas was going to have a field day with that) with neon green letters. It was disgusting to look at and Thomas knew he was going to keep and treasure it, especially because Alex couldn’t say anything of it.

He had mostly stuffy old literature on his shelves in the office, but there was also a fairy tale book for when he needed to calm down, not that anyone knew about that, and he read Philip the tale of Hansel and Gretel.

When they were done Philip asked for the time, saying: “Papa told me to be back in an hour, when the big arm was on the four.”

Thomas checked the time, it was five to four. He turned back to Philip: “Well, then young man, you must be going. Here, I’ll accompany you.”

The five-year-old didn’t seem to mind him tagging along as they walked down the hall to Hamilton’s office.

What Thomas hadn’t expected was for the office to be empty. The laptop wasn’t there and only papers and empty mugs scattered the desk. Thomas quickly glanced down to Philip, who looked confused as he asked: “Where’s Papa?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Thomas told him honestly, he spotted a phone on the desk and mentally cursed, if Hamilton had forgotten his kid and phone he was going to scream. Though it was highly unlikely the man would leave that early.

Then he spotted a note on the desk: Angie or Washington, I don’t know which one of you Pip will look for. I got called by fucking Lee for an emergency (I doubt it actually is, but you know how he gets, the prick). I’ll be back before five, please just watch him for me. I’m so sorry.

Relief coursed through Thomas’s veins that Alex had at least been responsible enough to leave a note.

He turned to Philip: “Hey, the note says your Papa has been called away for a bit.”

“Oh, okay,” Philip replied, “What do I do?”

Philip really was a smart kid, probably got it from his dad. Thomas smiled: “I don’t mind hanging out with you for a little bit longer, but maybe I could call your mom?”

It was an acceptable time to be done with work earlyand Thomas knew Lee was as much of a prick as Alex’s note had claimed, and the man hated Alex. Ifhe could keep him busy, he would, just because it would piss Alex off.

“I don’t have a mom,” Philip told him.

Thomas knew Alex was bi of course, but with the kid he’d made the assumption. He quickly adapted and said: “Do you have a dad then?”

Philip nodded and Thomas was about to ask if he knew how to contact him, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy, when the kid said: “But Papa said I can’t see Daddy, because he’s living with the angels now.”

Oh fuck, Thomas had not seen this coming and he was floundering.

“According to Papa, he didn’t mean to go, but he can’t get back to us. We visit his special place sometimes,” Philip was oblivious to all the emotions Thomas was experiencing, “There are a lot of stones there, but we always go to one with Daddy’s picture on it and Papa cries.”

That was probably much more than Alex wanted him to know. He briefly thought of Martha and how they’d never had kids. He didn’t know how he would have explained her death to them if they had.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he said instead, “Must be hard with one parent, though it seems your Papa loves you very much.”

“He does,” Philip smiled widely, “He takes me to the park on Saturdays and we run around. He teaches me about all sorts of stuff, like dinos. Do you know about dinos, Mr. Thomas?”

Thomas was glad for the change of topic and nodded: “I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much. Why don’t you tell me more about them?”

“Well, they come from eggs. I did too, did you know? Papa said he froze eggs and I came crawling out, just like a dino,” Philip told him excitedly. Thomas was confused about what on earth that could mean, but just nodded along to the kid’s babbling.

An hour later Alex stomped into his office, grumbling under his breath about what an asshat Lee was.

He stopped at the empty office, he knew Philip must be with Angelica or Washington, but with the note still there, he didn’t know which one. He went back into the hallway and saw Washington walk by. Stopping the man he said: “Perfect timing. Is Pip with you? I got called away and told him to find you or Angie.”

“No, son, he must be with Miss Schuyler,” Washington smiled, “How was it with Lee?”

“Sir, if you don’t want a verbal essay, I suggest you don’t ask,” Alex sighed tiredly. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Washington chuckled then stepped into his office as Alex made his way over to Angelica’s office, he knocked on her door and opened it with a: “Hi, Angie, I’ll take Philip now, thanks for watching him.”

Angelica looked up from her work with confusion: “Philip? I haven’t seen Philip since lunch, Alex. What are you talking about.”

The blood in his veins turned to ice as he said: “But, he was going to you. He said he wanted to say hi. He’d be back by four, but I got called away. I left you a note. Are you sure you didn’t see him?”

“No, I wouldn’t lie about that,” Angelica said, “Why didn’t you walk with him?”

Alex was already beating himself up over it: “Fuck, I’m so stupid. I thought he would be fine, that I should let him go, be independent. I’m a terrible father and now something might have happened to Pip. God, what if he’s dead?”

“Hey, none of that, calm down, just breathe,” Angelica put her hand on his shoulder, “He probably got distracted. He’s still around, I’m sure. Someone else must have seen him.”

They got distracted by a southern voice floating down the hall: “Hamilton, there you are. I was wondering if I should start charging hours.”

“Papa!” Philip yelled excitedly, running up to his Papa, who crushed him into a tight hug with a sigh of relief.

“There you are. Pip, I was so worried. You said you were going to Auntie Angie,” he scolded the boy, “Don’t scare me like that again. I thought something had happened.”

“Sorry, Papa,” Philip sounded genuinely upset.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Papa didn’t mean to make you upset, I was just worried,” after soothing his son, he turned to Thomas and glared, “Do you often kidnap children?”

Thomas looked up shocked and in an offend voice replied: “Excuse you? I didn’t kidnap him. He showed up to my office telling me he was allowed to walk around. He asked me about cats and I just made sure he was okay. You should be thanking me, it could have gone a lot worse.”

Alex eyed him suspiciously, but was distracted by Philip: “He’s right, he listened to me back at the room with the table and I was just wondering what he thought of cats, then he let me help with his presentation and read me a story and then I told him about the dinos.”

“I know we have our disagreements, Hamilton, but I’m not going to be an as- meanie to a kid,” he said.

“Nice save,” Angelica smirked.

“Oh shove off, Angelica,” Thomas rolled his eyes good-naturedly, he liked the eldest Schuyler. He had met her a long time ago, back when Martha was still there.

Alex checked over Philip one more time, before begrudgingly acknowledging that Thomas had done him a favor. So, he said: “Thank you, Jefferson. For making sure Pip was alright.”

“No worries, man. I have a lot of siblings,” Thomas shrugged.

Angelica looked between them and smirked, before saying: “Here, I’ll go grab your stuff, ‘Lex. You and Thomas make sure you’re on the same page about this. I don’t want to have you screaming because of a misunderstanding, you do it enough without them.”

Philip walked off happily with his Auntie Angie, leaving Alex and Thomas on their own.

“Did he behave well?” Alex asked, breaking the silence.

Thomas looked confused for a moment, then smirked: “Yeah, he’s a sweet boy. Certainly didn’t get that from you.”

Alex chuckled: “No, he got every good bone in his body from John,” his smile was far away and soft, before he shookhimself out of it, “I’m glad you listened to him, he’s a good kid.”

“No problem, really,” Thomas shrugged.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Can I ask why he thinks he crawled out of an egg like a dinosaur?” Thomas asked, unable to help himself. He was just too curious and it was weird for a kid to think that. He just wanted to know what an earth Alex had told the boy.

The random question startled Alex, who laughed after a second. He explained: “Kids at school were asking how he could have two dads, so I told them that I froze some of my eggs and his other Daddy made sure they would work, before Auntie Eliza hatched him. I compared it to dinosaurs because he understands them and thinks they’re cool. I guess he only picked up some parts.”

“So, he’s not related to the Schuyler's?” Thomas asked, then elaborated, “Just with the whole Auntie Angie and Auntie Eliza he was talking about, I assumed his other parent was one of their sibling hoard.”

“No,” Alex said, “He’s completely mine and Johns.”

It was quiet for a beat, then Thomas said: “I didn’t know you were trans.”

Alex shrugged: “It’s not really something I tell people, especially with how they start calling me a mother, no thanks. Besides, it’s none of their business anyway. Philip is mine and they can keep their opinions of my parenting to themselves.”

Thomas nodded: “That makes sense. For what it’s worth, you’re a great dad. Philip is lucky to have you. I know you didn’t want me to know, probably, but he told me his other dad was living with angels. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Alex bit out after a hard swallow. He didn’t need Thomas treating him differently just because his husband was dead, he got that enough as it was. He missed John dearly, but he was healing and the special treatment just made it harder.

He was surprised by Thomas’s reply: “I’m not pitying you, Alex. I just wanted you to know that he told me and that you can talk to me.”

“That’s-” Alex hesitated, slightly confused, “That’s… nice? I suppose. But you’re not really my first confidant.”

“I know,” Thomas shrugged, he seemed to be preparing himself for something, “I just know how some people don’t get it and it can be annoying, so if you ever just wanna talk, please do,” he pulled out a necklace from his shirt, on it were two golden bands, “I’m not messing with you, or pitying you.”

“I didn’t know,” Alex mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish for his earlier reaction, “How- How long ago?”

“Seven years,” Thomas answered, “Martha- she was the best, but she had heart problems. I knew we didn’t have long, but it still hurt. She was just too young.”

There were tears in his eyes and Alex could feel himself tearing up as well. He said: “The better ones always die first somehow, fuck. John- John died four years ago. Wanted to do one last tour, before settling down. They were already retreating when-”

He couldn't finish the sentence, but Thomas understood. It was weird how much it made sense that Thomas understood.

They’d always been each others equal. Both in debate and passion. They knew how to push the other and got why. They were the same, just different, so of course Thomas of all people would understand.

Both stood there in silence, tears still in their eyes, but content to just stand there.

At that point Angelica came back with Philip. She was about to start a sentence when she saw the state they were in: “Jesus, are you two alright? I swear, I leave you for a few minutes and-”

“We’re fine, Angie,” Alex quickly wiped away his tears and attempted a smile.

Philip ran up to him and with his arms demanded to be carried. When Alex obliged he asked: “Are you okay, Papa?”

“Yeah, Pip, Papa’s fine,” Alex assured him, “Remember how I told you about the missing sad. It was that.”

“Like when I can’t see Sockie at school and I miss him, right?” Philip asked.

“Exactly that, Pip,” Alex agreed, “Now, what do you say about going home, buddy? Does that sound alright? We can watch Moana.”

“I love Moana!” Philip chirped.

Alex turned to Angelica and Thomas and said: “We’re gonna go. Uhm, thank you both and, uh, I might take you up on that, Thomas. Now say bye, Pip.”

“Bye Auntie Angie, bye Mr. Thomas,” Philip said with a wave, a quick yawn escaping him after all the excitement as he burrowed closer into his Papa’s arms while they walked out of the building.

When they were gone, Angelica turned to Thomas with a raised brow: “So, Mr. Thomas,” she put extra emphasis on the name, “You’ve got yourself a social upgrade.”

“Shut up, I should have never told you about that stupid crush,” Thomas hid his head in his hands.

“I think you two would be cute together,” Angelica said, then she asked: “Why were you two crying, by the way? Are you okay?”

He put the necklace back and said: “I told him about Martha, seemed fair after the kid told me about John. I didn’t know Alex was a widower, nor that he had kids.”

“Yeah, ‘Lex used to love bragging about John and Philip, but ever since-” she sighed, “Well, you know. He hasn’t been the same.”

“I don’t think anyone can stay the same after living through that,” Thomas told her, “I was always saddened I had no kids with Martha, but after today. Fuck, I don’t know what I would have told them. I don’t think I could have handled it.”

Angelica shrugged: “It’s different for everyone, I think Philip saved ‘Lex’s life. He got up each day to care for him. Don’t tell him I told you that, I will slap you again.”

“I won’t, I swear,” Thomas held his hands up in surrender and luckily Angelica believed him, because she smiled: “Good, I know where you live.”

“You are terrifying,” he informed her.

“That’s why we’re such good friends,” she merely smiled, “Now, let’s go, you still owe me dinner for giving you private time with Papa Alex.”

Thomas flushed a bright red and told her he hated her, before following her out of the building as she cackled at his misery.

After that things went back to normal.

Mostly.

Somewhere he had imagined the interaction would be some revelation or something and the next day would be completely different.

But it just wasn’t.

They had a meeting in the morning, it was the first time they saw each other that day and within minutes it had turned into an argument.

Though, perhaps the arguments had gotten less personal. They had always thrown in slight digs at the other, believing themselves to know the man before them and judging the person they’d built in their mind, but when that fell away, it was hard to make digs at someone who understood.

So work returned to normal, with arguments echoing through the halls, which were now followed by civil conversation as they walked to their offices.

It was only a month later that it changed.

You know, this fic is getting much bigger than expected and has gotten severely out of hand. It was meant to be a cute Philip at work fic, but then I thought about past John/Alex (and not fucking Eliza over bc I love her too much for it) and now it hasturnedinto a gigantic angst pile turning fluffwith a slow burn thrown in there, something I have never written before, but I’m having fun.

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Roman Castile: Passion and duty

Roman finds that his different passions seem to get in each other's way for now. But one day, he will find a balance.

“Ugh! I am done!” Roman exclaimed relieved, barely hearing the hissed warning from the librarian. Homework had been draining. Sure they’d had fun. Especially when it came to teasing Virgil about his pronunciation when they worked on Spanish.

Still Roman was ready to do literally anything else.

“Give me a sec, I have to finish this thing for English,” Virgil muttered absentmindedly. Roman knew that Virgil had rewritten that particular assignment two times already.

“Want me to read it trough for you?” Roman offered. Maybe hearing someone say that it was good would be enough to stop him from second guessing himself again.

“You don’t…”  Virgil started, somehow looking guilty.

“We’re here to help each other Virgil. If I didn’t want to help you I wouldn’t offer. I thrive on being of help to my friends. It’s no trouble,” he assured him. Virgil offered him a small smile and a nod in response. “Alright. You can read it when I’m done,” he allowed.

Roman took peace with that and opened his notebook to start doodling.

He had a few ideas for some more shirt designs. He’d enjoyed making his ‘coming out’ shirt. Then there was the Halloween party and every other social event this year has to offer where he had to slay. Junior year was a year to be noticed. Nothing wrong with putting down some ideas in advance. He just might come across the perfect outfit.

“Seems I’m not the only one who can draw up some clothes,” Virgil noted and Roman nearly fell of his chair when he jumped at his sudden proximity.

“Will you stop that!?” A thing about Virgil Roman had learned over the last week. He always seemed to pop up out of nowhere. One minute he’s gushing over the latest Disney trailer with André and suddenly Virgil stands next to him giving his two cents. It was terrifying.

“Not a chance,” Virgil chuckled as he picked up Roman’s sketches.

“This looks good though… You ever thought of becoming a fashion designer?”

Roman’s eyes widened. Making amazing outfits for a living? He could make a whole ‘wear your pride’ line and… Oh… Oh…!

“You are a genius!” Roman exclaimed. He’d had no idea what he wanted to do with his future, aside from hero work, but now the idea was brought up he wanted nothing else. Fashion designer, superhero, actor, maybe also Mr. Castile-Anker. That was a future he could look forward to!

Virgil chuckled. “It’s the least I can do. I sent in the designs like you said… I’m kind of excited.”

Roman beamed at him. “I’m sure next time you see DreamPrince on the news he’ll be wearing your design.” He was. He’d been shown some alternative designs by Manifestor and found Virgil’s drawing among them and immediately declared that that was the one.

As he’d told Roman, he’d changed a few things. He’d shown him on Wednesday to get his stamp of approval. Roman had gushed unapologetically, because he knew he’d have to tone it back a bit in front of the team.

Which had been hard.

Tonight he’d be taking it for a test run and he’d make sure to be seen by people and cameras.

“We’ll see,” Virgil smiled as he pushed his laptop with his assignment towards Roman.

Roman read it, dropping the subject without problem.

Virgil was easy to be friends with and he’d quickly learned to read his moods.

During lunch Virgil usually sat himself a little bit away from the group when he felt the need to just focus on his music and sketch a little before heading back to class. He was sarcastic, witty and could dish it out about as well as he could take it.

He was also very guarded emotionally, which Roman could understand, but whenever they were just the two  of them, Virgil opened up some more. He’d learned about Virgil’s soon to be stepdad and the admittedly adorable meet cute he’d been a part of.

He knew that Virgil’s dad had found them a new home and they’d moved in just that week.

He learned that Virgil was mature and his dad’s only wingman which they both agreed was super awkward but also hilarious.

Roman had joked that Virgil might end up being his father’s best man. But apparently there was a family friend ‘uncle Thomas’ who might get that position.

Virgil had gone out with another girl that week. Anna, who’d had English with him last year or something. Virgil had listened patiently, but relatively unaffected to her asking him out and arranged another semi-date at the music store for the next evening. Luckily nothing came from it again. Roman asked him why he kept saying yes to people he barely knew. Virgil explained that he had missed out on enough chances to befriend others. So the way he saw it he’d at the very least get a friend out of it. Roman kind of took comfort in that. It didn’t sound like Virgil was trying to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend right now. Just trying to socialize. Roman had reminded Virgil to watch his boundaries though. He wouldn’t want him to push himself out of fear he’d be missing out.

One more thing he learned about Virgil: he was overly critical of himself.

“Well, I think you can hand this in with confidence Virge,” Roman concluded as he returned Virgil’s laptop to him.

“So… I recall something about pizza? I’m starving!” he grinned.

Virgil chuckled and lead the way. Soon they were sat at a table with their orders and they were talking about everything and nothing. It was great. And Roman was so close to asking Virgil out but…

“So… Um… There’s this… Shoot wait a minute,” Roman got up and picked up his phone.

“Si mama…?” he asked curiously after seeing the caller ID.

“Darling. I know you are out with your friend. But I wanted you to know we’re headed to the university now,” his mother informed him. The university… Wait. “Que?” Roman looked at his watch incredulously. He was going to be late. Unless he left right now that is.

“Perdona! I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and dug through his wallet for some money.

“So sorry Virge! Time got away from us I’m afraid. I swear I intended to give you that ride… Can you call your dad… You know what? Just use the change to take the bus or something alright? My treat! I’ll call you later!” he promised as he tossed down a few bills that should more than cover the tab and the tip before rushing away.

How was it so late already?

He sprinted around a few corners and found a spot to get changed. BS had explained about the sciency stuff behind his costume change, but all Roman really cared about was that he basically had a magical boy transformation. Sure he could sit there and let the tech do its thing, but it was much more fun to make up a cool transformation sequence.

First, hair. He retrieved a lip balm like object and applied the substance to his hairline. He tucked the balm away and with one smooth movement of his hand he styled and recolored his hair. Instead of parted in the middle with regal waves it was flicked to the back, save for a single rebellious strand dangling down his forehead. Instead of a deep ash brown it was warm chestnut in color.

Then he took a tini metallic bead from a ring on his finger and tapped it against his temple, before he swiped his hand in front of his eyes as his mask placed itself securely on his face, changing his eye color in the process. He tapped his wrists together in front of his chest and brought them down with force, feeling his blazer and shirt get replaced by the skintight suit. He tapped his right heal against his left before taking another power position and finishing his costume change.

How cool was his life?!

He created a platform to lift himself to the roof and sprinted towards the university. The GTH was in it’s basement. As he made his way there he started to think over asking Virgil out again.

Maybe, now wasn’t the time. Virgil was clearly still upset about the whole Janus thing. He didn’t say it but Roman could tell. And he didn’t want Virgil to think for even a second that Roman’s crush was anything less than genuine, he had noticed that Virgil still had trouble believing their friendship was real at times. Not to mention that starting a relationship with someone while he was still figuring out how to balance out superhero and civilian life was clearly a bad idea. He couldn’t even ask him out without being interrupted by his other life.

So, he'd wait until he had his life in order and he was sure Virgil was ready. There was definitely some kind of connection between them. And Roman was willing to wait until the time was right…

He knew he was being a coward, but his friendship with Virgil was so fragile.

He entered the basement campus with little hassle and dropped of his bag in his personal locker, making sure to lock it. If anyone with ill intent got in here they could easily find out his identity with it's contents and Roman didn’t want his name out like that. Not yet at least.

He hurried to the training hall, threw open the doors and slid inside.

“Your prince has returned!” he exclaimed, doing a pretty good job at pretending he hadn't just sprinted the whole way there.

“Has he now?” BS asked, apparently in a bad mood today.

“Oh come now big S, the boy is just excited for his present! I would be too if I got a new costume made for me by a secret admirer,” Sweets offered with a calming hand on BS' shoulder. Sweets was an empath. He could share his emotions and those of others, perfect match for someone who wants or needs to keep his calm.

But what sweets said made Roman rather flustered. “I don't think DreamPrince has had enough appearances to already gain such attentions. Whoever did this just couldn't stand to look at this any longer.” Roman gestured to his current costume.

“Speaking of which…” he held out his hand bouncing on his feet in excitement. He was supposed to meet the chief of police today and he wanted to look presentable.

Manifestor chuckled from his spot on the desk. “Give the boy his stuff. He's been looking forward to this day for the past four years.”

BS sighed and handed Roman a small box, which the young hero snatched up before rushing to the dressing room.

He turned his suit off and took off the containment units. He opened the box and switched the old units for the new ones. The bracelets were more comfortable and adjusted to his skin tone, the metal bead was replaced with two skin colored stickers he applied to his temples.

“Let’s do this,” Roman smirked excitedly.

“To adventure!” he called out as he crossed his arms and tapped at his temples while simultaneously clicking his wrists together. At the same time he tapped his right toe behind his left heel and brought his ankles together. He struck a power pose, facing the full length mirror and grinned excitedly. Virgil had added an insignia on his cape and golden trimming in the final design. There'd been a few options for his emblem and Roman had chosen the shield with a castle by the sea with the sun shining down on him. He looked quite dashing.

He left the dressing room and handed the box back to BS with an elegant gesture.

BS wasn't amused. Sweets and Manifestor on the other found it hilarious.

“So? What do you think?” Roman asked as he turned around to show off the end result.

A loud ‘bing' announced a message from his family watching from the observation room.

“Gaaaaaaay!” Roman rolled his eyes good naturedly. Remus was a fan.

“Stay away from Planes!” the next one read. Roman chuckled. He had asked Virgil about the cape, considering he’d expected someone as cautious as him to heed Edna Mode's advice.

Apparently Virgil had intended the Cape to be an addition for official events. So ‘Prince’ would look good on camera. He'd also pointed out that it would look badass for the prince to un-claps his Cape before a fight. He'd had a point and Roman actually loved it.

“You look very handsome darling.”

“Thanks mom!” Roman called out.

Then two beeps came from a device on BS wrist. He looked down and relaxed, tapping away at a holographic screen, turning up the intensity of his shadow. “The chief is here,” he announced.

Roman raised an eyebrow, that was not what BS had been so tense about. Something in his private life maybe? If that was the case he'd never find out.

Roman had no time to worry about that though. The door opened and in walked the police chief. A small but commanding African American woman. It was something in the way she walked that made Roman want to stand at attention. And so he did. He wasn't the only one.

“DreamPrince, at your service ma’am,” Roman introduced himself respectfully.

“So you are what all the fuss is about?” she asked as she looked Roman up and down.

Chief Davies pursed her lips before nodding to herself. “I’ve read your file, you’re quite the prodigy aren’t you?” she asked.

Roman chuckled a little awkwardly. “I’ve just been training from a young age, that’s all.” Most gifted didn’t realize their talent until they were well in their teens.

“Good answer. I have no time to stroke an adolescent ego. We’ve got work to do.”

Chief Davies turned to Manifestor. “You got the files I sent?”

Manifestor nodded hurriedly. “Yes. I had no time to review them though.”

“I’ll walk you through it,” she announced dismissively. The leader of Roman’s training team nodded and tapped at something on his wrist. The screen that had shown the messages from Roman’s family earlier was now filled with mugshots.

The men looked dangerous. Roman shifted nervously. “You… you want my help apprehending these men?” he asked, trying not to show how frightening it seemed.

“God No!” Roman hid his relieve. “These men are all in jail already, with iron clad cases keeping them there for a long time. You think I’m going to send some rookie after hardcore criminals? No offense, but you are still a baby,” Roman blushed at that and focused back on the pictures.

Wait a minute. “I know that guy! Remember at the end of my first week? I spotted some tugs bothering that kid and tossed a rock at them?”

“And by some miracle you weren’t found when said tugs came looking for you,” BS added through gritted teeth. Still upset at Roman's initial recklessness.

“I wasn’t the only one they were looking for,” Roman insisted. He’d been so sure he hadn’t been alone that night. But BS claimed the would have known if anyone else had been there.

He never went after the tugs after they left the alley. BS insisting he was done with back alleys for the night.

And now those guys were apparently behind bars?

“Next slide please!” Davies called out.

A picture of a ziplock bag with pictures, a USB stick and a note of cut out letters that said ‘your turn’.

“For almost a year now we’ve been getting mysterious packages like this. Pictures, audio and video recordings. Every last one had one of these men incriminating themselves. It’s like whoever delivers these stands right next to them, but never gets caught taking pictures or carrying a wire. I have a small task force on the case who have dubbed them ‘The Phantom’. We are keeping this as in house as we can. Once the public hears about the Phantom, we’ll lose the most valuable asset we’ve ever had. Plus until now we weren’t sure if they were a sensible vigilante or a mobster who was taking out competition in a very clever way. Given what you just said I’d be inclined towards the former. They might have some sort of gift that hides them well enough to get away with spying. But right now, they are putting themselves in danger.” Davies turned towards Roman.

“Keep an eye out, see if you can spot him during your patrol this evening. And if you do, get him on board with the program.”

“Prince did not go through all that training to be your recruitment poster boy!” BS snapped to Roman's surprise. That was the most emotional response he's seen from BS ever. Aside from when he scolded Roman on his reckless behavior.

Davies glared at BS, looking quite intimidating, despite barely reaching to his chest.

“Now don't go all noble on me BrainStorm. What? Did your heart grow three sizes while I wasn't looking? Is there suddenly room for more than one other person there?”

Roman knew that this was a threat. Davies knew BS’ true identity, where he worked, who he cared for. She could ruin whatever he had built in an instant.

Roman often wondered what kind of life BS had outside the facility. Did he have a partner? A family? Did they know about his past at all.

A few seconds ticked by with no one daring to do so much as breathe.

Then Davies relaxed and stepped back. “I'm no monster BrainStorm. I wouldn't ask some rookie to deal with this if I hadn’t tried everything else already. I send in my agents and even called in other gifted. All we got out of that was this,” she gestured and Manifestor showed the next image. A note in the same style as the previous one that said ‘no babysit!’

“Our profiler thinks they are young. So maybe your prince won't seem as threatening. They might've had his back once before already. If this Phantom were someone you cared for, would you rather we left them be, or would you drag their noble behind here yourself to give them proper gear and back up?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, BS had nothing to counter with. Roman imagined Phantom being one of his friends, or even Janus and the answer remained the same.

“I will do what I can,” he vowed before lifting his chin and facing the fierce chief head on. “But ma'am, I don't appreciate you threatening my mentor like that.”

BS had stood up for him, it was only right for him to return the favor.

Davies chuckled. “Just when I started to worry you were only brawn and a pretty face. You can be smart too huh? And you’ve got guts. You just might have what it takes kid. Now. I have places to be. Keep me updated, and don't lose this.” Roman accepted the watch he was handed with a confused frown.

“My people will call if we need you. Please use that brain and return the favor?”

With that she left. Well… that was intense.

Roman put on the watch and saw that it had a frequency displayed on it instead of time. He also spotted two buttons. One blue and one red. It didn't take much to realize that one was a panic button and the other was to make it so the cops could hear him. He wondered if it would connect to the nearest patrol car or to Davies directly.

He hoped he’d never have to find out.

“Well… time to show the city their hero is ready for action.”

 It had been a pleasant evening so far. He'd stopped a few shoplifters, broke up a fight or two and dodged a few reporters, though he let them snap a good picture of his new outfit.

Now the sun was down however and he was making his way to the back alleys.

“Looking for a fight is foolish Prince!” BS growled through his earpiece.

But Roman wasn't looking for a fight. He was looking for someone who'd gotten him out of at least one pickle.

He ignored BS as he landed on a roof, overlooking the city using his sight. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, but it was his only plan.

Suddenly he spotted something strange and unusual. There was an energy, a few blocks ahead. But it was impossible for him to really see it. Like he was looking at it trough glasses with strong prescriptions.

He rushed towards it and found a gang of criminals with violently swirling auras. He knew what this meant. They were going to hurt someone.

“Send back up to my location,” he instructed before turning the receiver off. He needed to focus.

“I say we attack now! They are week! We can take them down easily.” A shorter guy with energy like glass shards insisted.

“Boss says we have a truce until the rat is found,” a giant of a man stated calmly, though his energy betrayed how much he wanted to go with the first guy's plan.

Were they talking about Phantom?

“What rat!? Those idiots just bragged to the wrong crowd.” The first voice shot back. Phantom was becoming a bit of a ghost story it seemed. Some who believed, judging by the shudder that went through the other men's auras at the mere mention of them. But clearly not everyone was convinced.

“Oh and they gave out pictures as well? Did a little livestream? We're not safe until this rat is lynched,” the tall man pointed out tensely. He was a believer. And he wanted Phantom dead. Not good.

Roman studied the tugs and to his relief he spotted they were all armed. Weird thing to be happy about. But it meant he had probable cause to interfere.

He jumped down, slowing his descent just so that he didn't hurt himself on the landing without sacrificing the cool factor.

“Do you gentlemen have permits for those weapons?” he asked as he rose up to his full length facing them fearlessly.

“what the…?”

“It's that Prince clown!” Rude.

The tall guy, the leader probably, silenced the group with a gesture and smiled, his anxious energy almost completely disappearing. He'd found something to vent on. “Sure kid. Got mine right here.”

Roman flung his cape in front of him and manifested a gelatinous shield around himself as the leader pulled out his gun and fired several rounds at him. The tugs wouldn't see it. But it was there, and it caught the bullets slowing them down until they were harmless, making them fall to the ground when they met with the fabric.

“Well now you just pissed me off. This is brand new!” he complained as he dropped both cape and shield.

“I suppose you won't surrender peacefully?” he deduced. The criminals all readied their weapons. Seriously? Did they not get that he was essentially bulletproof?

He sighed as he took off his cape and hung it on a water pipe that ran down the side of the building.

“Fine,” he sighed and then he amped up his speed a bit while shielding himself from the rain of bullets heading his way. He used the gelatin shield because he didn't want to risk the bullets ricocheting and injuring someone. Especially the gifted he was sure was still watching the whole thing.

It wasn't hard to disarm the criminals. He even managed to knock a few to the ground. But there were at least two who'd gone down without him even touching them. And he would’ve sworn he saw a figure move between him and a tug once or twice to block a blow. He couldn't really see the other hero. It was an odd sensation. But he could feel his presence better and better and soon he was adapting his moves to those of the Phantom. Together they took out the whole group. Though to the villains it would seem like he'd done it by himself. He stood victorious over the leader, a pile of disassembled guns behind him and sirens lighting up the alley.

He twisted his foot to show off his white boot with gold accents. “So… how does it feel to get your butt kicked by a guy in heels?” he wondered playfully before looking up towards the presence and winking in acknowledgment.

“Good job Dream Prince. We've got it from here.” Roman turned to the cops and bowed to them

“It's my pleasure to be of assistance to the police of this fine city.” Then, while turning around, he made a gesture that could be taken as a ‘goodbye’, or as a ‘follow me’.

He was glad to notice that the presence seemed to follow him. He found a fire escape and floated himself to the roof it led to.

He turned to face his hopefully soon to be partner in crime fighting.

He could hear the clanging of someone climbing the metal fire escape. And while he still couldn't quite make out the figure that reached the roof he saw his reflection in a pool of water left behind by the rain earlier that day.

An unfortunate weakness, but so long as no one knew, no one would be looking for it. In order to be a hero, no one could know Phantom really existed. Was that why the authorities were kept at a distance? Why Phantom never made introductions despite having crossed paths at least once before?

He stepped forward with a bow. “Greetings Phantom. I must thank you for the assistance. Both just now and three months ago. I am Dream Prince, he/him if you please. A pleasure to officially meet you.”

A distorted chuckle made him look up. He could see Phantom much better now. He was dressed in Male coded clothes, though that was no guarantee. The hero outfit was simple. A black t-shirt, boots and denims, paired with a black coat that reached down to his calves and had the collar popped up. He looked really cool… but Roman couldn't make sense of his head. He was looking right at him he could see it, but his brain couldn't identify a thing.

It was so weird.

“Phantom huh?” His voice was a strange deep echoing sound. The distortion was pretty spooky if he was honest, but he wasn't afraid. Phantom was on his side.

“Sure you can call me that. He/him… mind telling me what that was about? I thought you officials weren't let of your leash unless you could be responsible enough to not get yourself killed?”

Roman cocked his brow. “Says the guy who has half the criminal underworld out for his blood,” he reminded him. Phantom looked away. Clearly he knew Roman had a point.

“Do you have something against the program?” His tone had been oddly bitter.

“No I…”  Phantom took in a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m just pissed at the cops for sending you, I guess.” He sure sounded upset. And Roman could understand that. Here Phantom was, doing his part and all the cops could do in return was bother him At least as far as the young vigilante could tell. But then why…?

“Yet you chose to follow me up here?” Roman pressed. That didn’t make any sense. Phantom had shaken off his ‘babysits’ before. What made Roman special?

“Um… Well… I just…” Phantom stammered. Roman wondered why. Was he bad with confrontation? Social interaction in general? Or had Roman said something that hit a nerve somehow?

“You interrupted my stake out!” Phantom blurted out all of a sudden.

“Do you know how long it takes to work my way up the ranks? First I have to find a low level runner, then I follow him to his boss, that guy to his and so up the ladder I go. I was getting real close to the big guy of this group. And now…” Oh… Well Roman could understand how that would be frustrating.

“I apologize,” he said sincerely with a small bow. “I merely intended to help. They were talking about killing you.” Surely he could understand that he could not stand by after hearing that.

“And now there is a price on your head! The leader of that little club is like two steps away from the big boss. They won’t be happy with you taking him in.”

Well… He had a point. But Roman had back up. It would be rather stupid of the mob to come after a hero with government sanctioning. And these guys would go behind bars for a long time right? “You got dirt on them?” he asked. If the guns weren’t enough then surely whatever Phantom  had gleaned from his stakeouts would be sufficient. Right?

“Yes… But that’s not the point. They have no clue about me. Not really. But you are out in the open. This is not your kind of mission Royal pain.” Oh, he had nicknames huh? It was an insult, but Roman didn’t mind witty banter. Especially if it came from a place of care. And Roman was starting to think it did.

“And now that you are out, you can’t expect me to hold your hand any longer…”

Roman crossed his arms and smirked catching the implications of what Phantom just said.

“You’ve been looking out for me all summer huh?” he guessed.

Phantom scoffed and probably rolled his eyes. While Roman still couldn’t quite see it, he would bet his entire Disney collection on it.

“It’s not like I came looking for you.” Phantom snapped. And Roman believed him.

“Still… Thank you…” he was going to say more but then he heard a beep in his ear followed by a loud voice. “Prince! Answer this instant!”

“Ow!” Roman exclaimed annoyed, reflexively reaching for his ear though it wouldn’t help much. He pressed the button to talk to BS. “One. Loud. Two. Rude! I am in the middle of something! And did you seriously remotely reactivate my com?”

He would demand a new com that couldn’t do that or he’d refuse to wear one period. What if he needed to concentrate right now? What if he was in the middle of tense negotiations or being told delicate information. As a matter of fact. This situation right here was delicate. One wrong move and Phantom might bolt. And he might not come along next time he found him. And even if he couldn’t get him to join the program, he wanted Phantom to know he had an ally in him. Someone to talk to, confide in, count on if he didn’t have anyone else.

“You do not turn off your com while going into a gunfight! It’s moronic to go in alone!”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I am fine, not a scratch on me.” He wasn’t going to mention that he wasn’t alone exactly. Phantom had never consented to BS and the rest of his team knowing.

“I’ll call you when I’m done here.” And this time he took the com out of his ear. BS could yell at him later.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “My mentor is… intense at times.” In a cold and distant way.

“Mentor?” Phantom asked.

“One of the people helping me practice my powers, test my limits. Comes with the program. It’s not just a babysit and a nice suit,” he joked casually.

“Oh…” Phantom’s tone was odd. It made Roman want to come closer and offer comfort. He didn’t though. They weren’t at that point yet. Not by a long shot.

“Listen, I admit I was sent by the chief. But I didn’t come here to recruit you. I wanted to thank you and tell you… If you ever need someone to talk to, to help you figure something out… I’d be more than happy to oblige. No need to tell me your name or anything about yourself,” he vowed as he reached out his hand. Phantom hesitated for a few moments before bridging the distance and offering his own.

Roman grinned and grabbed it for a firm shake. “I’ll see you next time,” he assured his fellow hero before letting go and turning around to finish his patrol.

Progress was made. Not much, but still.

He just might’ve made a new friend.

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

End of this part meet Virgil and read his story.

Masterlist

[ldrmas]

Intrulogical Day 7 Free Day Submission

~ Hey Guys. I wasn’t originally going to have a submission today but I couldn’t leave this alone. I had to see Remus in the Beeltejuice get up. Or at least see it as much as I could since i can’t draw for frick sake. I’m too deep in the fandom that I couldn’t leave it alone. So a story is what you get. My basis of the look is Will Blum’s Beetlejuice Musical look.  Here’s the look here 

Okay so here we go. Intrulogical Week Day 7 Free Day!  Warnings is that There is no Smut but heavy neck kissing. And Implied Sexual Teasing!  This is also to go with my Octololli story and my Day 5 submission that Logan has a suit kink.  ~ Halloween Day in the mind palace was usually like a regular day. It depended on the year. Usually it was just a regular day but at 7 o clock that was when the party started. Roman would spruce up the common room and they would have a Halloween movie marathon. A combination of horror, Disney Halloween, and fun Halloween movies. They needed the combination because Patton couldn’t do full horror movies. He would be a mess for the next several days if they tried it that way and they didn’t want to inconvenience Thomas like that. This year was going to be the first time all of them would be joining the party. 

This year was also so bad that Roman had the common room ready right at 7 am sharp. He wanted to enjoy this day for as long as he could. The sides were free to do what they wanted to do during the day but Roman made them all promise to start the party at 5 pm. They all agreed to his conditions. They would meet back in the common room and would start the party on time. Logan hid out in the lab Remus had made him on the Dark side of the Imagination Kingdom. He would never admit to any of the others, but Logan had got dressed in his Halloween costume around noon. He played around the lab like a mad scientist possessed. After being denied being Doctor Frankenstein that one year he was thankful that he could finally wear the costume and not have to fear Roman changing it. He might have been acting silly but at least he was having fun. He could admit that. It might have been the powers of the Imagination finally getting to him but for today he could let it happen. They all needed a little fun in their lives after how bad this year had been. Time passed and he made experiments causing explosions, potions that had no purpose, and he even made a notebook and pen set that would copy his notes as he talked to the pen.  He didn’t let the disappoint show on his face as he heard a knock upon the lab’s door. “It’s open.” He called out as he turned to a burner he had going and began to turn the flame down. The only reason someone would be coming into the room would be because it was near 5 o clock. He could hear footsteps stepping up to him. He reached for the water bottle he had within reach and took a sip. All the evil laughing had made his throat raw. 

 “It’s showtime, babe.” Logan paused as he recognized the line and the voice. He looked up at Remus for only a second then had the decency to at the last moment turn his head away as the water spat out of his mouth. Remus out right laughed as the water came out of Logan’s mouth and the poor Logic side started to cough from doing so. “What’s wrong, babe? Did I surprise you?” The Dark Creative side was dressed as Beetlejuice from the Musical. Remus had done an excellent job at recreating the look. With powers unlimited it wouldn’t have been hard for him to do so but still he could have half assed it as well. Logan should have known that Remus didn’t do anything half assed. Remus had taken the time to make sure the suit was the exact copy of the look from the musical. His jacket was covered in mossy splotches and was frayed where it should be. He had the stripped under shirt and pants plus his shoes were scuffed to accommodate the look. His tie was practically glowing even in the fully lit laboratory.  He didn’t give himself a full beard, but he did still have his mustache that was tinted green. His hair was also standing up, wavy, and tinted green as well. The two had watched the musical because Remus had found a copy and had really loved it. Logan wasn’t one for musicals, but he was one for making Remus happy. Besides the fact that the main character was in a genuinely nice suit throughout most of the play helped Logan to like the show. Once they had both seen it Logan had admitted that it wasn’t the worse and he had somewhat enjoyed it. The glow of happiness from Remus at his statement had made his meta-fiscal heart flutter.   He should have known Remus would chose this as his costume for Halloween. He knew Logan’s kink was suits so any character wearing a suit was one Remus was going to pick out of the others. He never missed a chance to make Logan blush. Which was what Logan was doing now. He was a little flushed from the choking on the water, but he could admit it was because Remus looked so hawt. The character fit Remus really well. Remus knew how to be demonic. Just like now, Remus knew his weakness was suits and to wear one that Logan would have to gaze at all night long would be the death of him. “Did I know how to pick them or what, babe?” Remus smirked as he adjusted the lapels and tie. Logan was still turned away from him but he knew eventually the Logical side would look at him again. “You…” Logan cleared his throat one last time to ease the ache from the laughing and now from his coughing fit. 

“…Yes, Remus, you picked a …an ideal choice of wardrobe. “ Logan admitted as he finally turned back to the Dark creativity and settled his eyes upon him again. He used all his willpower and strength to not let a blush devour his cheeks and face. Remus smirked slyly as he ran a black fingernailed painted hand through his defining gravity green hair.  “You did too, babe. I love it when you play mad scientist. You’re giving me a boner!” Remus laughed as he pulled out a femur bone from behind his back and waved it in front of Logan’s face. He smirked as Logan lightly smiled at the dumb recited joke from the play and took the bone from the dressed up creativity to set it on the table. “So Lo, you having fun?” “Yes. Very much. But I suppose its time for the party, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I don’t have a clock in the lab so I must have lost track of time.” Logan sighed sadly as he looked at his work bench to make sure all the work wouldn’t cause any more harm while he was out of the lab. “Yeah, Roman’s been whining for you. Saying we can’t start the party without you and all that but…” Remus chuckled as he moved Logan to face him then trapped him against the table. He placed his hands on either side of Logan before bringing a hand up and burying into Logan’s sweat slicked hair. He tilted Logan’s head to an angel before settling several pecking kisses right on the spot where the green colored being usually would leave a dark angry claiming hickey. “…We could just stay here and do something more fun instead. I’m dying here, babe, I wanna hear ya say my name.” Remus recited the line perfectly and a pleasurable shudder soared through Logan’s body at the words. It was tempting. Very tempting. They hadn’t gotten to hang out together as much as they would have wished these past few weeks. To finally have a chance to be with Remus alone again was so enticing that Logan almost said yes. But this night was important to them all. Holidays was usually mainly Roman’s thing but Halloween was also really important to Virgil. Plus he couldn’t bring himself to say yes when this would be the first year Janus would be included as well. The snake being didn’t do holidays as much but even he had been truthful to Logan and admitted that he was rather touched that they would be spending the holiday together for once. So no matter how much he wanted to stay with Remus all night and make those beautiful sounds that Remus was hoping for he still shook his head. He eased his hands between them and gently backed Remus away from his neck. “As much as I know that we both want to do such a thing, it wouldn’t be fair to the others. Let’s go to the party. You and I have time to be together like this after the others have had their fill of us.” Logan said with a small smile. He also leaned forward and kissed Remus tenderly to keep the promise that once the party was over they could do whatever Remus wished. Remus smiled into the kiss but eventually pulled back releasing Logan from the table. He still took his white gloved covered hand in his own though to start walking them out of the lab. 

“You’re right, babe. On we go, cause like I said, it’s showtime!” They left the imagination kingdom as Logan laughed. Yes, it was show-slash-party time indeed. ~ And there we go. I hope you all have enjoyed. Thank you all for being part of Intrulogical Week. I have had soo much fun!  I Love this musical so much so if you do too feel free to message me so we can talk about it! 

[starshard17]

Roceit | "Don't be Dramatic."

Roceit fic for @aidensm8

Pairing: Romantic(?) Roceit

Summary: Hurt comfort : Takes place after POF : Janus realizes how badly he really messed up and tries to help Roman feel better

---

"Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is."

Hurtful.

"Thomas... I thought I was your hero..."

"Y-you are!"

Liar.

"Roman. Everything's gonna be okay, kiddo. We love you."

LIARS. The lot of them. Roman thought back on all of their words as he choked on his tears. He had thrown all his valuables to the floor. Some of them even shattered. His artwork was torn off the walls. There were mirror shards spread across the floor, blood dripping off Roman's knuckles and onto the floor. He wiped away his tears.

Some hero he was. No wonder why Thomas didn't view him as the high and mighty prince he used to be.

He heard three sharp knocks on his door and he buried his face in his plush pillows.

"Go away!" Came Roman's muffled yell. He could care less who was at the door, he didn't want to see anyone. He clearly heard the side at the door grunt and knock again.

"Little piggy little piggy. Let me in or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down." Came Janus' voice, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Didn't you hear me?! I said go away! I don't wanna talk to anyone, especially not you." Roman spoke, shrill and loud. Confident in his need for right now. Janus didn't move, knocking again.

"I really hope you built a wall of bricks Roman, or I'm blowing it right down." Janus called out, fiddling with the doorknob, finding it to be locked. He sighed, gripping the knob tight in his palm.

Roman's head shot up as he heard the lock on his door click and he turned to face the door, watching as it creaked open.

"I'll huff. And I'll puff. And I'll- oh." Janus froze with his analogy to the old nursery rhyme, seeing the mess that Roman called a room.

"Looks like you already took care of the big bad wolf's job yourself." Janus said with a grimace, shutting the door behind him. Roman curled up on his bed, a pillow tight in his grip.

"It's your fault." Roman muttered, looking at his cluttered floor. Janus turned away from staring at the mess and took a seat on the foot of Roman's bed, looking at the hurt expression on his face.

"I'm sorry about what I said. It was wrong, but it holds some truth to it. You and Remus are a lot more similar than you think. You're trying to get better, but you know deep down you can never fade away from the evil side of yourself." Janus sneered, crossing his arms. Roman's grip on the pillow tightened, anger boiling up inside of him.

"Like you're any better Mr. Uhm. Mr.. mr..." Roman stumbled over his words, failing to think of an insulting nickname. "You're a liar, you're two-faced! You don't have the right to talk to me like that when you're just as bad!" Roman growled.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Janus said with a snicker. Roman scowled.

"Being dramatic is my thing, don't tell me what to do." He hissed, tears dripping off his face. Janus felt his heart shrivel up in his chest. He was quick to slip off his gloves and move close to Roman, gently setting his hands on his cheeks. He ran the pads of his thumbs over the undersides of Roman's eyes, wiping off his tears.

Roman shoved Janus' hands away and it was just then that Janus noticed how big of a mess Roman was. There were scratches on his knuckles and they were still dripping with scarlet red blood. His eyes were red and his eyelids drooped. He moved as if his whole body was weighted down. He seemed to feel heavy and didn't move with the same grace as he normally did.

Did his words really hit him that hard?

"Roman I-" Janus started.

"Save it." Roman groaned, hiding his face. Janus frowned.

"Being dramatic is apparently all I'm good for anymore. That's all anyone ever wants to see. Whether it's a spectacular performance on stage or my pain on camera that's all you want from me!" Roman cried, his voice muffled in his pillow. Janus grabbed Roman's face, tilting it up.

"You missed a few things." Janus muttered to him. Roman sniffled, wiping his eyes and looking down at the bed. Then his eyes drifted to Janus' yellow gloves sat on the bed behind them. He let his gaze travel back up and was met with the soft expression in Janus' eyes.

"What'd I miss?" Roman asked, genuinely confused.

"Your expression of your interests and your displays of love for the others. Beyond the surface of the water there's more to discover deep within it. There are beauties and sights to behold. But there are also terrors. You can't judge the truth of something from the surface. You have to swim deeper to see the truth of the water. You, Roman Sanders, have a lot of beautiful discoveries hiding under your surface, some people are just too scared to take a dive and explore it in fear of the horrible things they're worried to encounter." Janus said, voice clear and calm. Tears welled up in Roman's eyes, dripping down and onto Janus' fingers.

"I for one, am willing to take that dive, and find all of the hidden treasures in your sea of life. I realize what I said awakened the monsters hiding in the darker corners and that scared away the other fish that lived up in the light. But with enough security and safety, they'll feel okay with coming back to the surface. Roman you're incredible. Don't listen to the things people tell you, and for the love of god don't listen to the insults I throw at you. They're meant to be jokes but I should've known you wouldn't take to them lightly. I'm sorry." Janus confessed, rubbing Roman's cheeks with his thumbs. He heard Roman let out a strangled sob and he was quick to wrap his arms around Janus, sobbing into his shoulder.

The deceitful side couldn't help the smile that slipped onto his face and he gently pat Roman's back, shushing him and comforting him as he cried.

"There there my prince. Take your time." Janus cooed, combing his fingers through his hair.

"A-Am I still Thomas' hero?" Roman's voice suddenly spoke, cracking and almost whiny. Janus hummed softly, holding Roman close.

"Oh of course not Roman. Cause why would he want you as his hero." Janus lied, feeling Roman's hands tighten around the fabric of his shirt.

"Why would he?" Roman asked, voice meek and quiet.

"Like I said my prince, there are beautiful discoveries to be made beyond your surface. Thomas has made plenty of those discoveries already. Finding out the different aspects of someone is a journey. Thomas created this whole series to discover himself so that's what he's doing. He trusts you Roman. You don't always make the right decisions, and sure, sometimes the things you've done appear to really have hurt him." Janus stated, feeling Roman twist his shirt in hands. He rested his hands on Roman's to ease him, and the Prince loosened his grip. "But we all have. No one is perfect. Not you. Not me. No one." Janus chirped, moving back to finger-combing Roman's hair.

"You mean it?" Roman asked, sniffling as he turned his head up to face Janus.

A smile crossed his features and he left a soft kiss on Roman's forehead.

"Of course I do. You're perfect in your own, don't let any of us change your mind about that."

"Why'd you have to say what you did in front of Thomas?" Roman asked, looking up to have his eyes meet with Janus'. "Why'd you tell me that I'm the evil twin."

Janus scrunched up his face.

"Did I not just tell you that was all for jokes and fun? You made fun of my name so I poked back." Janus responded with a huff.

"Yeah but me making fun of your name is way more light-hearted than you comparing me to my brother. That really hurt if you couldn't tell by the mess." Roman hissed. Janus rolled his eyes.

"Right right. And I'm supposed to say sorry one hundred times before you believe me? I apologized, what more do you want." Janus groaned, crossing his arms.

"A kiss maybe? That might help. To know you really do care about me. Like you said you do." Roman offered, looking over to the side, sighing at the piles of papers and drawings on his bedroom floor.

"A kiss? Really? I suppose if you say it'll help, then-" Janus mumbled, grabbing Roman's face and turning him back to him. Roman flushed as he watched Janus lean in closer.

"WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Roman shrieked, shoving him away. "I WAS JOKING, BACK OFF!"

Janus glared and pulled Roman back in close, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Oddly enough, Roman couldn't find it in himself to fight against it and instead melted into it.

It was soft. Comforting. Caring. Loving almost.

As their lips parted Janus caressed Roman's cheeks with his hands.

"Well?" Janus muttered, rubbing Roman's temples with his index finger and thumb.

Roman's eyes filled with tears.

"T-Thank you." He muttered, hugging Janus tightly, burying his face in his chest.