#and you look and thomas is sitting on the window ledge just talking to you like it's normal - maybe it was for them

[cosmic-walkers]

I was looking through my old posts and saw this, and I just have to accept that they'll never get back to this point again.

Ooh Thomas you are down bad for Stephen 😭

[imaginesforeveryone]

Russian Love

Pairing: John Shelby x Y/N Warnings: aggression, talk of sex, flirting, maybe slight smut Summary: You were the younger sister of Tatiana Petrovna. Some would say the calmer version of Tatiana, but I guess John Shelby would figure that out.

It was the day the Shelby’s arrived at your house for the Russian celebration. Your sister Tatiana was a bit much sometimes to say the least. But you, you were completely opposite of her. You were more contained and had way more self control. While you hung back from most of the business with the Shelby family, you aunt insisted you be a part of tonight, considering there was more than one Shelby boy arriving. You, of course, obeyed her wishes and got done up for them to come. 

Sat in your aunts office speaking with her and Tatiana about events happening tonight. A knock at the door sounded. 

“Come.” Your aunt spoke out and one of the butlers appeared. 

“Miss, the Shelby brothers have arrived.” He spoke entering the room. 

“Let them come.” She answered back to him. As you watched the door creak open more, three good looking men walking in. You had never met the Selby boys because you stayed out of the business as much as you could. One of them specifically catching your attention. He stood tall with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, his cap slightly tilted, and beaming blue eyes. 

“Hello, Mr. Shelby. Welcome to our home.” You aunt speaking out breaking your attention away from the Shelby brothers. 

“This is Y/N. My other niece, Tatianas sister.” She introduced you to them. You bowed your head down in a way of saying hello. Meeting eyes with the one Shelby boys. Looked younger than the other two. 

“John Shelby.” He said taking his cap off to you. 

“Arthur Shelby.” The other man with a smile through his thick mustache. 

“Very nice to meet you both.” You spoke back to them. You already knew Thomas, seeing him in the house every once in awhile. 

“Alright well. Boys there’s something I didn’t tell you coming up here.” Thomas said standing up from the window ledge he sat on. 

“Its a tradition Russians do, so they know you aren’t a spy. So respect their wishes and do what they say.” He said to Arthur directly with a hand on either one of his shoulders. You giggled to yourself a bit seeing the fear in his eyes. 

“Shirts off, drop your pants please Mr. Shelby.” Tatiana said standing up in front of the two men. 

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” John said excited to take his clothes off but looking over at Arthur who didn’t look like he was to keen about doing it. John already half naked, Tatiana walked up to Arthur saying a few words to get him to undress. Standing up you walked in front of John who giggled looking at Arthur. 

“Its cold. Fuck off John.” Arthur snarky said to him. You slightly giggled under your breathe. Walking up to John who stood so confident in his skin looking over at you as he watched you walking towards him. 

“So Mr. Shelby. Shall we check if I have a spy on my hands?” You asked him not breaking eye contact once with him. 

“Go for it love. I have nothing to hide.” He said with a grin and openning his arms up wide. Getting down on your knees in front of him and inspecting his undercarriage, pushing away the fact that his cock was so perfect.

“Oh fuck.” He breathed out under his breathing causing you to grin up at him. Slowly taking his length in your hand knowing well that you didn’t need to check anywhere else, just doing it to see how he reacted. As you expected he was slightly enjoying this as you noticed his cock twitch in your hand. 

“Well this one is clean.” You said standing up making eye contact with him and grinning towards him. You could see him melt into your eyes. You walked back over to your aunts side and sitting. 

“Well Thomas looks like everything is all cleared. We will have one of the butlers show you the way to where the event will be held.” Tatiana spoke up looking over in Thomas’ direction. You for some reason couldn’t keep your eyes off of John. He just caught your eye over and over again no matter how many times you looked at him. As they exited the room you relaxed into your seat. 

“Fuck him.” Tatiana spoke up to you.

“What?” You asked back looking at her.

“Fuck him. John? Fuck him. You need a good fucking Y/N maybe it will help you unravel those panties you have in a bunch all the time.” She spoke laughing at her joke. You rolled your eyes standing up and making your way into the room where the orgy was being held. Walking in you see men everywhere holding bottle of vodka with atleast one girl on his lap, either kissing him up and down his neck or bouncing on his cock. Seeing John in the corner dancing with a few of them, you giggled as they all fell over. You went and sat in a empty chair that sat close to the door. You just watched as people were getting fucked, drunk and high off the snow you’re aunt and uncle have supplied for this event. Watching everything going on kind of turned you on. You were normally pretty self controlled at these. Never really wanted indulge in the activity. Just always watched, but something was different about this time. Maybe it was John. Maybe it was when you held his cock in your hand. The way you sat on your heels like you were a simple women. Not a duchess. Just a normal human with no special treatment. Maybe even a whore to him. Feeling the wetness building in you panties you closed you legs tight. You looked over where Tatiana and Thomas sat not to far from you. She motioned you to John. Looking over at him he was already looking at your from across the room. Even with a women in his lap you didn’t care because you knew in the back of your mind that you were more irresistible then she was because she was just a common whore. He noticed you looking at him and raising an eyebrow towards you. You smiled and stood from your seat still look at him smoothing out your dress you left the room. John stood to his feet letting the women’s feet hit the ground before he darted out the door to follow you. You walked slowly down the hallway slipping off one piece of clothing as you walked towards your room. John out of site if he’s smart enough he would follow the trail of clothes. As you reached your door, you stepped out of your dress leaving you in just your panties. Laying across your bed and taking a deep breathe you heard footsteps getting closer and closer. As you heard the footsteps stop you looked over at the door seeing John standing there and staring at you. 

“Well Mr. Shelby. You found me. Now what?” You asked standing from your bed and slowly making your way over to him as he stood in the doorway. Almost filling it out with his height and the thickness of his shoulders. 

“We’ll miss.” 

“Y/N. Just Y/N.” You said interrupted him mid sentence 

“Y/N what would you like to happen here.” He said looking down at you now with just a small space between your bodies. 

“We’ll Mr.Shelby. I’m a duchess correct?” You asked look up at him and resting your hands on his belt. 

“Yes.” He said with a gulp as you started undoing his belt still looking into his eyes. 

“We’ll tonight. I’m not..” you said ripping the belt from his lopes and throwing it into the bed. 

“I want to be your whore tonight Mr. Shelby.” You said unbuttoning his pants and letting them pool around his feet. 

“I don’t know if could do that Y/N your still by law a duchess.” He spoke up groaning at the fact of being under your touch. 

“So? I said I was not a duchess tonight. I’m just a common person. Maybe even a whore for you tonight.” You said taking down his boxers. 

“Would you like that Mr. Shelby? Your my guest so I have to make sure your well taken care of.” You spoke up to him as you fell to your knees in front of him with now his rock hard member just inches from your mouth. Softly licking the tip of his cock and making him shiver. 

“Fuck. Yeah I would love that.” He breathed out grabbing onto the door frame. With those words you took him into your mouth. Making him jult backwards a bit. But as he came back you sunk closer to the ground and sunk his cock deeper into your mouth, with eyes looking up at him, but him not making eye contact yet. Sucking him further and deeper in your throat till you were gagging on it. He threw his head further back. With that you bobbed you head back and forth. He was taking off his shirt and throwing it across the room. Finally looking down at you with tears in your eyes he grabbed a fist full of your hair and began face fucking you. Opening your mouth as wide as you could to take his length and girth. 

“Fuck love. You’re not just a common whore tonight. You dirty dirty whore duchess and that’s how your going to be treated.” He said wiping the tear that streamed down your face. With that leaning down and lifting you up into his arms. Hold your legs over his arms and using your ass as leverage to keep you steady on him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him hard. Felt yourself spinning around and hear the door shut. He put you up against the door still in the same position he had you before but this time moving you up so that you were straddling his face but in the air and up against the door behind you. 

“Mr. Shelby.” You gasped our not expecting this. 

“John. Not Mr.Shelby” he spoke up to you. With that he spit on your pussy and started attacking your clit with his lovely tongue. 

“Oh fuck.” You gasped out releasing his arms you held for stability before but now arms spread out across the wall. 

“Yeah does the whore duchess like that?” He asked up at you not even taking his attention away from your dripping pussy in his face. He sunk his tongue into your opening causing you to cry out loudly. All that filled the room was the moaning from you, grunts from him and the slurping of his tongue on you. 

“John. I’m going to cum” you breathing out through labored breathing. 

“Mmmm yes my whore duchess cum. All over my face.” And with those words you couldn’t hold on any long and released leaning forward with shaking legs. John not even losing his balance even at the sudden shift you had made. Coming off your sensitive clit he lifted you off his shoulders slowly lowering you onto the ground. He looked into your eyes. Deep. Making you melt into his for the second before he lifted you off your feet once more and tossing you onto the bed effortlessly causing you to let out a giggle. He walked over the the bed snaking between your legs. Kissing the inside of your thigh, then over to kissing your swollen clit causing you to flinch a bit. Then moving up to you belly kissing up it take a breast in each hand and putting his face between them softly shaking his head. Making a small giggle release from you. Finally making it to your lips he kissed them passionately as his length relaxed at your opening. Like his body perfectly matched yours. 

“So Y/N do you still want to be that whore of duchess you were being a few minutes ago?” He asked inches from your face with vodka stained breath. 

“Yes Mr. Shelby I would.” You said with smile and sticking your tongue out to lick his bottom lip and sucking it into your mouth between your teeth. He winced at the slight pain. Before you knew it he had one of your legs hiked on his shoulder and slowly, and I mean painfully slow, was rubbing the tip of his cock at your opening.

“Please Mr. Shelby.” You cried out and that’s when he completely stopped. 

“Please. Holy fuck.” You cried out again trying to move your hips up to his length but his hands on your hips stopping you .

“What’s my name Y/N?” He said into you ear. 

“John. I’m sorry. John. Please.” You cried out again still trying to move yourself against him. 

“Nu uh. Whore duchess’ like you don’t make the decision. What do you want from me love. this?” He asked as he pushed on the lower part of your stomach to keep you from moving but also giving more please to when he pushed into you, just a tiny bit more. You gasped out as he did so. 

“Yes John Please.” You said not moving a muscle. 

“Tell me love. what do you want. I cant give it to you unless you use your words darling.” He said putting a piece of loose hair behind your hair. 

“I want you inside of me. All of you inside of me. Please!” You yelled out, and with that he slammed into you, almost making you black out from the sudden fast pleasure he had given you. 

“Fuck you’re so big.” You cried out feeling him inside your belly. 

“And you are so fucking tight love. Fuck, don’t remember the last time I fucked a cunt this tight.” He whispered into your ear. Attaching you lips to his. Tongues dancing with each other as he pumped in and out of you. He brought his hand up to you face and putting two of his long slender fingers into you mouth, you sucked until you gagged on them. 

“Good girl.” He said with an evil smile. Reaching between you two he settled his now wet fingers on the sensitive nub he was just a few minutes ago abusing. Rubbing circles on it. You cried out, and gasped breath in as he did so. 

“You like that love?” He said slowly still pumping into you. 

“Yes. I love it so much. God dammit.” You said as you felt your body tense up once again. This man has no clue that you have never felt this way with any other man. The way he’s treating you makes it all the better. Like you are normal. Like you are human, not a emotionless duchess. 

“John. I’m going to cum. Please keep doing that. Don’t stop.” You said threw deep breathes. 

“I’m right behind you babygirl. As much as I’d love to fuck you till the sun came up, I don’t know much more I can take of this sweet pussy.” He whispered to you making you blush and giggle like a little school girl. Pulling his face into yours and attacking his lips. As you felt the knots getting tighter and tighter in your stomach. 

“Fuck. Fuck John. Yes yes. just like that.” You said between the kisses you didn’t want to pull away from. But eventually not being able to help it, you felt your legs lose control and you back arching up to him and with that he pulled you onto him as he sat up pushing you deeper onto him as he sat straight up. 

“Fuck baby. Yes. Yes.” He said as he twitched inside of you, feeling every shot inside of you as he released. Coming down off your highs together hold each other in close embrace. You finally fell backward onto the bed as you finally relaxed you body. Him plopping down next to you and grabbing a cigarette and lighting one. Stealing it out from between his lip and giving him a smirk. 

“Well, that was amazing.” He said turned over after light another to look at you. 

“Yeah it was. I haven’t ever felt that before.” You said still in awe about what happened.

“Well maybe I can make you feel more one day.” He said with his little cheeky smirk. 

“Maybe you will.” You said with a wink to him. 

Could you maybe step down from being a duchess, and become the Russian that made her way into the Peaky Blinders. You may never know, but you sure hoped you would know one day.

[angelmavmurdock]

The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

-

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

-

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

-

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

-

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

[damn-stark]

Four walls

Newt x reader

A/N- 😩

Warning- fluff, swearing, ANGST, sadness

Requested by anon “can i request a death fire imagine where the reader gets the flare instead of newt? thanks !!”

———-

It’s funny how life works. At one point in life everyone longed to escape the four walls that kept you incarcerated and hidden from the world nobody remembered, only recalled by fleeting dreams.

And now there was nothing more you wanted but to be dreaming, wake up in the same four walls that at one point you hated to see and wished that they would've been blown up.

There was nothing more you wanted, but to wake up to early calls insisted by Gally, the smell of fresh breakfast, the laughing and loud booming voices of all the boys you grew to love as family; and Newt. He was like family, but he had grown to be so much more than that.

And actually now that you thought of it well, you wanted to experience just one more early morning; where Newt would wake you up just a couple minutes before the sun rose to climb the wall and watch as the sun rose and beautifully casted on top of the maze. Anything beat watching the blacks veins caused by the flare slowly begin to branch out all over your arm, bringing doom closer with every stretch.

“Hey, you doing alright?” Newt's voice broke through your silence, pulling your gaze away from the rising sun.

You show him a smile and nod, “I’m doing better,” you assure him, watching as he took a seat beside you on the ledge of the building. “But I actually don’t really regret anything I said about Teresa. She is a backstabbing bitch...just don’t tell Thomas.”

Newt chuckles and watches you turn away as he keeps his eyes on you, the amusing smile he had fading away until it was nothing but a worried frown. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never seen you lash out like that. Not even when Gally would piss you off.”

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you clench your fist, hesitating for a moment, unable, or really not wanting to reveal the truth of the dooming fact you were hiding. But knowing you had to, it was inevitable.

“I,” you pause after the first word uttered, shifting your body to completely face him, lifting your injured arm and slowly lifting your sleeve to reveal the truth. “I guess I can’t hide this anymore.”

Newt’s breath hitches and you see as his body stiffens at the sight of the black veins under your skin, covering the both of you in a silence that grew a quick tension neither of you seemed to break for a moment as he tried to think of what to say first and how to feel. His eyes showing the battle that brew in his mind until he finally dared to speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug, “I didn’t think it would’ve made a difference, plus I didn’t want to worry any of you.”

“We can still fix this.” He interjected quickly, “Thomas can. He helped Brenda and she’s fine now.”

“Don’t worry about me, this is about Minho. Now he needs us. So if there's the slightest chance that we can save him, that we can get him out of there. We have to take that. He comes first. No matter what the cost.” You explain as you reach for his hand.

He hesitates, looking down at what you were trying to do, leaving his hand stiff for another long moment that soon made your assuring smile begin to fall. Causing you to insist again, tilting your head down so you could look into his eyes.

“Promise me, Newt. He comes first. Please.”

Again there was long waiting silence that made you think that he wasn’t going to listen. That for the first time since you’ve known one another that he wasn’t going to respect your choice.

But thankfully you were proven wrong as he took your hand and nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

A small smile breaks through your features and you scoot yourself closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder to both sit in a comfortable silence that was enjoyed as you looked up to the city behind the walls.

——

Plans had gone awry, which led to Thomas, Newt and you to continue on improvising as you went along in search for your lost friend.

Maybe that’s what you all get for trusting Theresa.

You were trying so hard not to be so judgemental towards her now that you were nearing death, especially since she had helped. Somewhat. But it was hard to view her as anything else but as a backstabber. Specifically now that you were face to face with a guard pointing a gun at the three of you. Remembering that none of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t spoken up. That Minho—

Suddenly someone comes sprinting down the hall, shoving the guard to the wall and expressing a loud bellow as he threw the guard through the glass. Finally turning after he calmed to show that it was, Minho.

Without a second thought the three of you rushed towards your friend, pulling him into a quick group hug that he followed to respond with a question. “Is this real?”

You grin and nod, not being able to respond before more guards rushed down the hall and pointed their weapons at all of you; forcing you to make another quick escape down multiple halls, getting you tired by the minute and by each sprint. The quick breaks, like the one now, were no help whatsoever and only caused you to tire more, feel the flame course faster through your body.

“Any ideas?” Minho asked Thomas as he, Newt and you walked further away from the door Janson and crew were trying to break through.

Thomas turned to all of you and shared a quick, hesitant answer, “maybe.”

——

“This is a horrible idea!” You exclaim while you’re watching the tank Thomas threw fall several feet down the building until it crashed in the water below, not assuring you one bit whatsoever.

“Okay this is doable.” Thomas assured the group and himself. “Just need a little running start.” He walks back and Minho, Newt and you meet each other’s nervous glance.

If you had to die, crashing into the concrete ground was better than turning from the virus that was poisoning you.

“You’re sure about this?” Minho asked as the rest of you walked back towards Thomas.

“Not really.” Thomas admitted.

You scoffed, “nice pep talk.”

“Yeah, bloody inspiring.” Newt remarked before the door was burst open, forcing you not to hesitate any longer and run towards the broken window to jump out and fall hundreds of feet down towards the ground. Feeling as if your stomach was going to your throat at the feeling of your body being pulled down by gravity, every gut wrenching feeling crashing into the water as you landed with a loud splash and new found annoyance towards Thomas.

“Never again.” You groan to Thomas as Newt helps you up to solid ground, “am I letting you—”

“You four, don’t move!” A guard cuts you off.

Thomas sighs, “you’ve got to be kidding me.” He then reaches for something behind, but hesitates as the guards call him out, inching closer as they did, instructing you to go on your knees until one of them shoots its other fellow guards. Making you gasp and step back.

Only to see Gally come up.

Making it the last and only time you were actually thankful to see him.

——

“Darling, how are you feeling?” Newt asked as he stood before you.

Letting out one last violent cough towards the ground, you lift your head and groan, “terrible, but it’s good you’re here.” Your eyes drift to the murmuring trio of boys, noting their eyes drifted away the moment you looked. Giving away an obvious indication. “They’re talking about me aren’t they?”

Newt looks over and takes your hand, “maybe, but I assure it isn’t anything bad.”

You manage a weak smile, “please be careful with Thomas’s crazy ideas, okay? No more jumping out skyscrapers.”

Newt chuckles, “don’t worry we won’t.” His smile falters as Thomas comes to you.

“Hey, y/n, come on, we have to get you up, let’s go.”

Both boys help you to your shaking feet, struggling as you fumbled forward, unable to keep yourself on balance or actually walk without their help.

Your head hurt and your chest felt as if someone was gripping onto it with a mighty hold. Your legs felt like they were numbing by the minute, or like you had no control over them. Nothing felt right,

The explosion that hit miles away didn’t even affect you like it should have. Your mind and body wanted to give in when you didn’t, you kept fighting along, moving with the boys as they pulled you along towards the now raging city.

“All right, y/n, we’re almost there.” Gally assured you.

You shake your head and cough again before you struggle to speak, “just...leave me.”

Before any of the boys could talk back, another explosion cuts them off and stopped you in your tracks for a long moment that then revealed a flying chopper in the sky.

“Okay. That’s them! That’s them. We have to go!”

Thomas and Newt tried to pull you up again but you refused, “just leave me.” Another cough escapes your mouth and this time blood spits out, turning your breathing shallow and quick.

“Minho,” Thomas called, “you gotta run ahead, grab the serum and get back to us as soon as you can.”

Minho narrowed his gaze on Thomas at the sound of his other idea, not saying anything but looking. Letting Newt insist as well.

“Minho, go.”

Gally nodded, “he’s right. I can cover for you.”

Before Gally leaves, he shoots one reassuring look, leaving you to turn to Minho before he leaves too.

“Thank you. Thank you, Minho. It’s nice seeing you again.”

He smiles and grabs your shoulder, “hey, you just hang on you hear me.”

Before long he gets to his feet and runs away with Gally. Leaving behind Newt, Thomas and you. With every moment feeling yourself slip more and something else possess you. Bringing darkness and pain and a short time limit to live.

“Hey! Hey! Y/N! Hey!” Newt and Thomas snapped you back to your surroundings.

“We’re gonna try this, okay?” Thomas urged, “we gotta move, now.”

Newt grabs your arm and begins to pull you up again, “let’s get you up, come on.”

“No, no, guys stop.” You yell, “Just go, I’m just dead weight. Please.”

Newt eyes gleam with tears and he shakes his head as Thomas does, grabbing your arms again to only keep fighting. “You got to give me everything you got. You and us, right now. Let’s go. You ready?”

Swallowing thickly you nod, feeling them lift you to your feet again. Dragging you along the broken and raging city. Only feeling every minute cost more, take more, robbing you from everything you had left, the battle fought within, losing with each breath taken, your life, sanity, hanging from the string of Newts last words.

“I love you, okay? Ever since the moment you came up in that box. I love you and I alway will. Time with you was never boring. I want you to know that.” He cups your cheeks and tears stream down his face, “and I know I couldn’t help you in time but I wanted too I really did. I’m going to miss you so much,” he cries, trying to smile through the pain, lifting his gun as discreetly as he could, “and until we can see each other again, it’s okay to let go. Just let go. Think back to us when we would sneak up to the wall to watch the sunrise, okay? Just let go darling. Let go....”

~

“Come on, let’s go. A little further.” Newt called over his shoulder, a smile spreading on his cheeks, one that seemed to glow through the darkness of the night.

You groan, “we’re going to get in trouble, y’know. Gally is really going to put it in us. He might even throw us to the maze.”

“Stop you’re whining, you’re basically there.”

“Hmph,”

Nonetheless you keep following up the wall, not questioning the ladder he had built or why you were coming here. Yet.

Not until you got to the very top where you gasped and stood in awe as you saw every inch of the maze you were stuck in; every line, dead end, every wall after wall.

“W-what are we doing up here?” You gasp, turning to meet his gaze, “are you pushing me down the maze?”

Newt scoffs, “no...just sit down and wait.”

Without hesitation you do as he says and sit down with your legs dangling over the wall, breathing in to say something, but stopping as the break of dawn cut you off. Leaving your lips parted in awe once again. But this time unlike the moment before, enamored with the view of the sun hitting the top of the walls; the way the sun gleamed on the walls surface and the sun rays began to kiss your bodies as it slowly began to rise more and more.

“This-this,” you stutter, still gawking over the view, “it’s amazing!”

Newt reached for your hand and watched as you turned to meet his gleaming gaze, “told you it'd be worth it.”

You grin warmly, “you did.” Scooting closer to him you rest your head on his shoulder and keep a hold of his hand. “Promise me we’ll come here again.”

Newt rests his head on your head and whispers, “I promise.”

[lillian-nator]

Them being mixtapes are a great idea, what if after Tommy gets drunk initially, dream gets dared to steal them, so he does, then he forgets that he has them and when Tommy Wakes the next morning he's in a panic bc The Mixtapes!! - 💙

Yeah! Something like that could work. 

I have two ideas, one of them I came up with during Spanish class, and the second one I came up with right now. 

Idea A.

My original idea is based off of the fact that Tommy like a week after he is told not to hang out with Dream anymore, goes and sneaks out to hang out. 

So, about two weeks after the party Tommy gets a text from either Purpled (who’s parents have no clue about the party) or Dream saying that ‘the gang’ was going to be hanging out at this abandoned bridge Karl found a while ago when he was driving around the town. So, Tommy, being the dumb fucking teenager he is, sneaks out his window with just his phone and a really thin jacket, and heads to the fucking abandoned bridge. 

So, like, it’s really cool lets not lie here. Like its an abandoned bridge, and a bunch of teenagers ranging from 15 to 19, are just sitting on it, legs dangling and shit. Here comes Dream doing some whack-ass parkour, and Big Q walking on the edge. I mean - lets not lie here either, Tommy is doing some dumb-ass parkour shit too, hanging from ledges and shit (no wonder Wilbur wants Tommy to stay the fuck away from the Dteam they encourage Tommy’s dumb shit). 

Enter BIG Q the resident family pothead. (this is Big Q the character we are talking about - and more so Big Q the character in this specific au, even though Big Q the character is also probably a pothead, not Quackity the person k cool). Anyways, so while they are all busy endangering their lives atop this ginormous abandoned bridge, Big Q is just chilling, smoking a joint. It gets passed around a couple times, just cause they were chilling at like 2 am in the morning - and what can I say, they are sleep deprived teenagers, they are gonna do some stupid shit.

Anyways, during all of this, they are playing truth or dare, and half way through Tommy just passes out leaning on Dream - because they are like best friends pog. So, then Dream gets a dare to steal Tommy’s mixtapes, because George saw Tommy listening to them on the way here. All of the boys know how much the mixtape means to him, and they really just want to see his reaction, but when Tommy woke up like 30 minutes later, he just gets up and stumbles home because he is cold and tired and really fucking hungry. 

So Enter Thomas Innit. Coming home at 3am, just straight through the front door because he is high out of his mind, and having a great time. Phil - who is the one who caught him - doesn’t catch on straight away because he doesn’t know the symptoms of being high, and lets not lie here, Tommy is really good at getting out of shit. (flashback to that one time he convinced niki to drown instead of niki convincing Tommy not to). 

What Phil does notice though, is that Tommy is wearing someone else’s jacket. 

It’s SapNap’s varsity jacket. 

So Tommy starts getting a lecture about sneaking out at night and how he was not supposed to hang out with Dream or SapNap, or that group of boys, until he is ungrounded. (did I mention that Phil definitely grounded Tommy for going to that party). Not to mention that he left the house when he was grounded; like Tommy what the hell? 

But then Wilbur comes downstairs because he is an awfully light sleeper and hears the commotion downstairs. Tommy, who is already kind of angry because he was having a really good time with his friends, and he knows that Purpled isn’t getting this lecture - and that Tubbo is still asleep - not to mention he really just wants to fucking eat. 

So, he pushes past Phil to get to the chip cabinet when Wilbur enters. He looks confused at first, but then spots the jacket. Wilbur is just getting ready to fucking kill someone when Phil pulls him aside and tells Wilbur that he had already given a lengthy lecture, and that he should lay off Tommy for the night. 

Wilbur begrudgingly agrees, only because he knows that lectures from Phil are the worst. So, he sits at the counter, and asks Tommy to hand him a bottle of water when he sees that his brother is snacking on the chips. Sure, Tommy takes a good minute to react, but Wilbur put that aside to sleepiness as it was 3am in the morning. 

As soon as Tommy turned around though, Wilbur’s anger shot through the roof. I mean, Wilbur could tell. He had spent enough time with Schlatt half-high trying to make out with Wilbur, to know what being high looked like - and that look was on his fucking 15-year-old brother. He could see it with the red-rimmed eyes, and the far off look, not to mention that Tommy had never been that relaxed in his life. 

He quickly stood up, almost knocking his stool to the ground, and grabbed Tommy by the chin to look at his face.

Phil: “Wilbur what are you doing? I already told you that I gave Tommy a lecture. Just let him eat -”  Wilbur: “Are you fucking high right now?” (I feel as though it is important to mention that Wilbur like growls this)  Phil: “What?” (you know how phil says this) Tommy: *like a moody teenager, gritting through his teeth* “No.”  Wilbur: “You’re fucking high.” He laughs, “Who the fuck gave you weed?” Tommy: “I don’t know. It was passed around! Can I have my chin back bro, I’m fucking hungry.”  Wilbur: “No you can’t ‘bro’. Why the fuck did you smoke weed?”  Tommy: “Why not? You hang with stoners.”  Wilbur: “Schlatt has smoked a couple times, I wouldn’t call him a stoner. And also, he’s fucking legal! He is 18 years old!”  Tommy: “Well Big Q is 18 too!” Wilbur: “So it was Quackity then? I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.” Wilbur goes to storm off, but Phil stops him.  Phil: “Both of you calm down!” Phil sighs rubbing his temple. “Tommy we are going to fucking talk about this in the morning. But, I’m not going to let you kill a Junior Wil. We will sort this out tomorrow. I know you aren’t happy, and I’m not either, but the kid is probably high out of his fucking mind right now, I’m not going to let you take advantage of that.”  Wilbur: He brushes Phil’s hand off of his shoulder, storming into the living room. “Fine. I’ll beat him up when he is sober. It’ll be funner anyways.” 

Tommy just storms up to his room, pissed that he didn’t get to finish his the rest of his chips, when his phone buzzes. 

It’s a text from Purpled asking if Tommy knows where he put his shoes. Tommy stifles a laugh, trying hard not to fucking wheeze - the weed wasn’t making this easy on him - but decides to throw his phone across the room, and faceplant onto the bed, hoping that tomorrow would never come. 

Let’s just say that Techno is mildly confused when he waked up the next morning to Wilbur pacing the room, and Phil tiredly drinking his third cup of coffee - chip bad thrown on the counter. 

And the mixtapes? Well, Tommy doesn’t know their missing. And Dream? He fucking forgets he has them. 

Idea B.

Dream steals the mixtapes on a dare the night of the party. 

Tommy doesn’t notice that he doesn’t have them the first few days. He is really, really just focused on the fact that he is upset at Wilbur. 

I mean, he tries hard not to be, because Wilbur came and picked him up from a party where he would’ve probably sat in just pure pain for the rest of night. He might’ve found safety in one of Dream’s guest bedrooms, or even in Dream’s loft bed - but he most likely would’ve crashed at Tubbo’s and he couldn’t deal with Eret’s rant right then. 

He loved Tubbo’s brother - sure, but he knew that if his own brothers saw the pain he was in, they would quit the lecturing for the night and just try to help him. 

He was right too. They helped him into the house, and stayed up with him when he threw up all night, and had a massive headache. They gave him Tylenol and tums, and dimmed all of the lights. Tommy wasn’t upset that he called his brothers no - but he wouldn’t be a teenage boy if he wasn’t irrationally angry at Phil for grounding him. 

He spent most of his time in his room, listening to music, or sneaking Tubbo through the window. Tubbo wasn’t fucking grounded - but then again, Tubbo barely had a few drinks of beer, and Tommy had uh - a few cans. 

In the long run, his brothers ended up being less angry with him and more angry at Dream for giving him the beer - which really didn’t make sense in Tommy’s mind due to the fact that he was the one who drank it, and he was the one who snuck out to the party in the first place. But, he guessed that it was the perks of being their baby brother, they could never really stay mad at him. 

But after a few days, he went to look for the tapes, and they were fucking gone. He didn’t know how to tell Wilbur - he couldn’t face Phil or Techno knowing that he lost his most prized possession. 

He came into Wilbur’s room bawling at like midnight one night, and Wilbur - who had no clue what was going on - just had to comfort his little brother. Through choked sobs Wilbur learnt that he had lost the tapes, and that he was ‘so, so, sorry wil. I don’t know how it happened, they were in my backpack when I got there.’ 

And what does Dream do with the disk? Well you’re gonna have to find out I guess. 

[gallifrey1sburning]

They came back for another year, almost all of them. They didn’t have much choice in the matter; the classes in their seventh year had been all but useless in NEWT preparation, for those of them who had even been there. It should have been a reprieve, maybe, but it wasn’t.

They came back changed, all of them. It was impossible to ignore. It was Lavender Brown, who had an edge like a knife even without the scars across her face, nearly unrecognizable from the bubbly, smiling girl who had once called Ron “Won-Won.” It was Dean Thomas, who always needed to have his back to a wall, and who gripped his wand as though someone was about to take it from him at any moment. It was Hermione, whose dedication to her education had reached an almost manic level, studying as though she could make everything okay again through knowledge and force of will. It was the way Ron stuck to her side like glue, and the way Pansy Parkinson tried to disappear into the shadows, and the lost look that never seemed to leave Malfoy’s face. It was the hollowness at Harry’s very core; the gaping hole that told him there was no purpose left for him—that he shouldn’t have lived this long.

They had come back to school, but they weren’t children anymore. They were veterans; the shell shocked survivors of a war they could never have hoped to avoid, that they had never asked to join.

The castle was burned and broken, with whole sections of walls missing and corridors filled with rubble, but they opened it anyway, because no one really knew what else to do. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers were uninhabitable, so the living arrangements had to be changed, and then McGonagall informed the school governors that the Sorting Hat had rebelled and refused to sort the first years at all, and so the students all ended up living by years rather than houses. 

The so-called Eighth Years ended up in a new dorm all their own that might once have been classrooms; it was oddly arranged and the common room was small with strange, narrow windows high up in the walls but they all had their own tiny bedrooms somehow so that was something. Not that they necessarily used them; Ron had levitated his mattress into Harry’s room on the first night and they had banished Harry’s bed frame, lying the mattresses side by side on the floor instead, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione slept curled together, listening to each other’s breathing to reassure themselves that they had all survived.

Mostly. But Harry tried not to think about that.

–-

Harry wasn’t surprised when he sought solitude on the Astronomy Tower one evening only to find Draco Malfoy already there, sitting on one of the wide window ledges and staring out at the grounds. There was a lit cigarette between his fingers (a Muggle one, Harry thought) but he wasn’t smoking it; it simply dangled as though he’d forgotten it was there.

Harry didn’t have the energy to find somewhere else to go to avoid the world, so he allowed himself to slide down the back wall until he was sitting on the floor. He didn’t greet Malfoy. The former Slytherin hadn’t bothered him at all this year—hadn’t interacted with much of anyone, really—so it didn’t seem to matter that he was there. His back had tensed for a moment when Harry had entered, so he knew that the other boy had noticed his presence, but neither of them seemed inclined to acknowledge one another. They just sat, silent.

After what could have been minutes or hours (time didn’t seem to matter much, these days) Malfoy spoke, without ever turning his head. He might as well have been talking to the wind. “Mother tells me I should thank you, you know. For saving my life.” He went to bring his cigarette to his mouth, only seeming to realize at the last moment that it had burned down to the stub long ago. “But I rather wish you hadn’t, you see.”

Harry didn’t respond. Something clenched in his chest, but it felt distant—the echo of an emotion. He waited to see if the other boy would go on.

“It’s going to be the start of a new era,” Malfoy eventually continued, as though this made perfect sense as a follow up to his assertion that he wished he were dead. “You and yours will raze our world to the ground and build it anew. It will likely be rather better than it was, I should think.” 

He pulled an open pack of cigarettes from a pocket and freed a new one, lighting it with his wand tip. After one deep inhale, however, he showed no further interest in smoking it, instead watching the slowly growing column of ash consuming the crisp brown paper. “The world I was raised for is dead,” he stated, his voice flat. “And good riddance, I suppose, but there’s no place for me here. I was moulded to ascend in a society that burned. It might have been better if I had burned with it.”

Harry let the silence linger until he was sure that Malfoy was done before saying, “That’s rather a dramatic take on it.”

“Yes, well,” Malfoy sighed, “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Harry let out a surprised snort. Then, without really making a decision to, he responded. “I was supposed to be a sacrifice. I was always supposed to die for the cause. I think part of me knew it even before it was spelled out for me. I don’t really know what to do with myself now. I didn’t really plan this far.”

–-

When they finally, inevitably, crashed together, Harry found that it was nothing like kissing Ginny. It was nothing like kissing. It was teeth on lips and bruising grips and nails digging into skin. It was the kinetic energy of seven years on opposite sides with no respite and no way out, culminating in a clash of body on body. Eventually, inevitably, it escalated, and it was cries that could have been pleasure or pain and stripes of come on skin and salty, tear-stained faces. It was a desperate need to feel something, anything; to prove that they were still alive. And it kept happening, and happening, and happening. 

The first time Harry fucked Malfoy, the blond sobbed like he was breaking apart, and when Harry tried to stop, he grasped him with his full strength and gasped “don’t you fucking dare” through his tears. 

“I’m hurting you,” Harry protested.

“I want you to,” Malfoy gritted out, and then he pulled Harry down into a kiss so hard it drew blood and Harry didn’t stop again. 

Harry hated himself for it, for hurting and for being hurt, for craving it like a drug. But it lit a fire inside him and he burned. He felt with a passion he’d thought had left him when he’d died, and it didn’t matter what he felt, it only mattered that he did. 

(AO3)

[deja-you]

The RMS Titanic (and other ships that pass in the night)

t. jefferson x reader

part six | the librarian’s cognizance

summary: you know your relationship with Thomas will only be a fleeting memory, but you allow your lives to collide nonetheless.

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | series masterlist | previous | next

You think you’ll die in the library. Sealed in a literary tomb and buried beneath the works of Hemingway and Melville. Not the worst way to die, you figure.

There’s too many books to catalog and not enough time in the day to do it. Thomas loves this. The library is his Elysium, he could stay here forever. You wonder if he comes to the library for you or for the books. Either answer you find acceptable, but of course you prefer one over the other.

It’s not like you’ve been offered countless scholarships – like Thomas has – so taking up a job at the school library was a necessary option for you. Everything always comes back to the library, and you think there’s something poetic about that. But then again, poetry was never your expertise.

Thomas follows you around the library like there’s some sort of string tying you together. You share a connection with him, like nothing has changed. Sometimes it just feels good. Like he never left. This is one of those times.

“All literature must be history. Even fiction.” He pauses before he adds on, “especially fiction.”

You don’t say anything in response because it’s not like you want to debate him on this subject, but you don’t completely comprehend his meaning. You raise an eyebrow and shelve some books in the G section.

“The French actually use l’histoire to talk about history and stories.” Thomas says this like it’s new information of you, but you’ve taken a few years of French yourself. You know this.

Thomas continues his monologue, discussing how beautiful the French language is and how Voltaire and Rousseau have really set the framework for modern day philosophy and government. You don’t know how much of this you agree with, but you like hearing Thomas talk nonetheless. He’s got the whole world on his mind, and all you’re trying to figure out is the most efficient way to navigate the library.

He grabs your arm lightly when you’re about to turn the corner and pulls you back to him. You give him a questioning look that he returns with a roguish smile.

“What’s your rush, darling?”

“I’m supposed to be working right now.” You want to add on something you wouldn’t know anything about, but you don’t. Thomas Jefferson has never had to work a part-time job, this much is true. But it wouldn’t be fair for you to say he hasn’t worked for anything in his life. It’s just… different. You get paid by taking up extra shifts in the library and he gets paid through scholarships and recognition for outstanding work in his classes and activities. There’s a stark difference between the two of you, but you think you’re the same where it counts.

“There are hundreds of books that need to be re-shelved,” you say, gently pulling your arm out of his grasp to study the numbers and letters written on the spine of the book in your hand.

He only shrugs (a fact you find slightly irritating). “There’s always going to be more books to re-shelf. If you worked all night you wouldn’t get it done, so relax. Just sit down and talk with me.”

You think he has a point. A deeply flawed point. There’s truth in his statement, sure, but you haven’t figured out what truth is. You do know that you should be working hard for the job you get paid for.

You fix Thomas with a mildly indignant look and turn the corner that he had prevented you from turning moments earlier. You hear Thomas sigh softly and he continues to follow you.

“C’mon, don’t you think you’ve worked enough today?” He asks.

Again, you don’t respond to him. You know that you’ve worked enough today, and he knows that it is your desire to keep doing so. In an act of desperation – a rare thing to see from Thomas Jefferson – he pulls the stack of books out of your arms and places them on a nearby table. Thomas fills the vacancy in your hands with his own and he pulls you away from the eternity of dark bookcases and across the walkway.

It’s here, on the second floor of the Georgetown library, that Thomas presses his hands to the cool iron railing. The two of you are halfway across an open walkway and Thomas plants himself on the ground and lets his legs swing over the ledge. He waits for you to join him, because he knows you will. You contemplate leaving him there and going back to your cataloging, if just to see the expression on his face when he realizes he doesn’t have a hold on you anymore. But the truth is, he does.

There’s only a hesitant sigh on your part before you join him and hang your own feet off the ledge. From the corner of your eye, you can see his lips curve upward into an easy smile. His shoulder brushes lightly against yours. Thomas is content to sit with you in silence, but there are words you feel you need to say.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you say. You had seen the headline in a newspaper some time ago, Senator Peter Jefferson dead in tragic boating accident. You really hadn’t been thinking about Thomas for months, but when you had read the headline, your heart ached for him. You’d kept quiet about it long enough, but you wanted him to know that you knew.

In the lazy Autumn sun that drifted in through the windows, you saw Thomas’s face darken. His lips part ever so slightly, and his eyes harden. You think maybe he’ll stand up and walk away, and you would understand this. He doesn’t leave you. Instead, he releases a tattered breath. Thomas’s hand reaches for your wrist, his fingers sliding over the palm of your hand until it finds its place between your fingers.

You know that you’re just passing through his life this time. With age, you’ve grown less naïve, even if you are still hopeful. You and Thomas are the very definition of that damn Longfellow poem. It won’t be long until he’s just a faded voice in the distance. He’s a blazing sun in your life right now, but soon you’ll pass each other by and return to the dark waters of life. But for now? You just enjoy it.

You’re still not entirely sure you know what truth is, but you think you’ve found it in the callouses of his fingertips.

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

taglist: @farihafangirls @drreamhugs @id-do-it-for-free-babe @einfachniemand @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @lanaisjefferson @hamildork

[tw-anchor]

30. Motel From Hell

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x06; Motel California

Word Count: 8,782

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, attempts and mentions of suicide, blood

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy! Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

There was something about the motel that didn't sit right with Olivia. Her skin crawled and her mind itched and she didn't know whether it was the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, the stained sheets covering the beds, or the creepy lady at reception that stared at her for a little too long. She hated that out of all the motels and hotels in the area, Glen Capri—aka, motel horrifying—was the one who had the most vacancies and were willing to put up with a cross country team, this obnoxious coach, a bus driver, and three stragglers.

Olivia didn't want to blame this miserable experience on the fact that cross-county was one of the most useless sports...but, let's be honest, it really was. She hated cross-country and now the hatred was worse since they were stuck in the middle of nowhere piled into small, smelly rooms like sardines.

She sighed heavily and plopped her leather satchel on the bed closest to the window. Allison was stronger and more skilled at protecting herself so if someone broke into their room, at least she'd be able to protect them.

"At least the beds don't look bad," she tried to be optimistic. By the tone of her voice and the look Allison gave her, she had failed. "Lydia, is the right side all right for you?" her cousin didn't reply and when Olivia turned to her, she saw that she was still standing by the locked door. "Lydia?"

Lydia grimaced, her eyes slowly looking around their room. "I don't like this place."

Allison laughed lightly. "I don't think the people who own this place like this place," she tried to cheer her up. "It's just for a night."

Lydia didn't look amused. "A lot can happen in one night."

Well, that was true and it had happened to them a lot of times—like three weeks before when Boyd and Cora were out of control, Lydia randomly discovered a dead body, and Stiles figured out that someone was sacrificing people all in one night. Olivia shared Lydia's hesitance the more time she spent in the motel. The crawling on her skin had turned into more of a tingle and her mind was buzzing, differently than her normal abilities.

Despite her own worry, she needed to comfort Lydia. She walked over to the door and wrapped an arm around her cousin, hoping to calm her down some. If she kept on fretting, she wouldn't get any sleep and like Olivia, Lydia was a monster if she didn't get her beauty rest.

"Let's watch TV," she suggested, slowly leading Lydia to their bed and picking up the remote where it laid on the nightstand in between the beds in order to turn the television on. "What do you want to watch?"

"I'm fine with anything," Allison shrugged as she set her bag down on her bed and pulled out a change of clothing. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Olivia wished that she had the thought to bring a change of clothes—she was stuck in a maroon shirt with Stiles' number on the front, a leather jacket, and a black skirt—but how could she have known? Still, she wished that she was getting comfortable in some pajamas like Allison was.

Allison wandered into the bathroom while Olivia and Lydia settled on watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians (Lydia was obsessed and Olivia was known to get into it from time to time). They could hear the shower turn on, but only seconds later, the door opened and Allison's head popped out.

"Hey, can you guys get new towels?" she asked. "These smell like smoke."

"Sure," Lydia was quick to jump to her feet and make her way over to the bathroom, taking the towels that Allison offered. "We'll be right back. Come on, Liv."

Olivia glanced at the television, where Kim and Khloe were having drama, and sighed reluctantly. She got to her feet and grabbed the key for their room before exiting and locking the door behind them.

"Liv," Lydia spoke up as they made their way down the set of stairs to the parking lot. "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you feeling something?" she asked hesitantly. "Like, you know, when you know when one of us are in danger?"

Olivia gave her a surprised look. "A little but it might be because this place creeps me out," she confessed. "Why? Are you okay?"

"I have a feeling too," Lydia admitted. "Remember when you told me that you just get these whispers out of the blue and they tell you things?"

"Yeah," Olivia recalled the conversation that she and Lydia had once she studied up on what she was and what she could do in both the Argent and the Hale bestiaries. "You're experiencing that?"

Lydia nodded.

What did that mean? Was Lydia like her but without the werewolf connection? She supposed that made sense—they were related, after all. Maybe Olivia's mom inherited something from her family and then she and Thomas passed it down to her and Lydia. It wasn't a far-off theory.

"All right," Olivia sighed; she didn't want this for Lydia. The experience she had with her abilities were exhausting; she constantly had headaches, her ears always hurt, she blacked out sometimes, and she had voices in her head that would make her look crazy if anyone other than the people who knew about the supernatural world found out. "Just don't panic, okay? I'll help you and we'll figure it out."

"Okay," the vulnerable look on Lydia's face broke her heart.

Her cousin had always been the strong one; from the moment Olivia was born to the present, Lydia had been protective over her and made sure to stay strong. Before Olivia and Stiles started dating, she and Lydia were really only vulnerable around each other and they didn't let other people see how they felt on the inside. Still, every time Lydia was sad, Olivia was sad with her and both of them hated when they couldn't cheer each other up.

Right now was one of those times. It didn't feel good to see someone you loved scared of something that they couldn't control.

They were quiet for a moment and soon they entered the main office where they had rented a room from the creepy receptionist.

Lydia plopped the towels on the little ledge next to the glass that separated the lobby from the desk. "Excuse me?" she called through the tiny circle that customers were supposed to talk through. "The card on the dresser said that we have non-smoking room but somehow all of our towels reek of nicotine."

The creepy receptionist turned around with a pleasant smile on her face. "Sorry about that, sweetheart."

"It's fine," Olivia said quickly when Lydia was taken aback by the breathing technology that helped the woman breathe after years of smoking. "If we could get some more towels, though, that would be great."

"Sure thing," the woman poked her hands through the long rectangular hole at the bottom of the glass by the ledge and grabbed the towels.

"What's that?" Lydia asked before the woman could turn around, her eyes on a framed number on the wall behind the receptionist. "The number?"

"It's a kind of inside thing for the motel," the woman told them. "My husband insists on keeping it up."

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's a little bit morbid, to be honest. You girls sure you want to know?"

She was clearly baiting them but they rose to the challenge.

"Tell us," Lydia insisted.

The woman looked pleased that she was going to be able to tell this supposed inside story. "We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction—"

"Obvious," Lydia muttered under her breath, allowing only Olivia to hear it; the younger Martin smiled slightly in response.

"—but we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail," the woman continued. "Since opening, more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek as her eyes darted to the framed number. One hundred and ninety-eight suicides in one motel didn't seem like much. It was actually an average number per year (almost five) depending on when the motel opened in the first place.

"One hundred and ninety-eight?" Lydia was more disturbed than Olivia was.

The woman nodded. "And counting."

-

-

"All right, so I have four," Stiles declared as he plopped onto his selected bed, the mattress only bouncing once or twice.

From the bed near the door and in the same position as Stiles, Scott looked over at him. "Four?" he asked, shocked. "You have four suspects?"

"Yeah, it was originally ten," Stiles admitted. "Well, nine technically, I guess. I had Derek on there two times."

"So, who's your number one? Harris?"

"Just because he's missing doesn't mean he's dead," Stiles confirmed.

"So, if he's not dead, our chemistry teacher is out secretly committing human sacrifices?"

Stiles paused and looked over at him. "Yeah, I guess that just sounded way better in my head."

"Well, what if it's somebody else from school?" Scott mused. "You remember Matt? We didn't know that he was killing people."

Stiles lifted his head to look at his best friend in disbelief. "Excuse me?" he scrambled to his feet, determined to remind Scott that, yes, he did think it was Matt and he had told Scott that it was but he didn't believe him. "I'm sorry, what? Yes, we did. I called that from day one, actually."

"Yeah, but we never seriously thought that it was Matt," Scott sat up and raised his eyebrows at Stiles.

"I was serious," Stiles insisted. "I was quite serious, actually. Deadly seriously. No one listened to me."

Scott didn't bother to say anything more on the Matt subject and Stiles was glad. He didn't want to get into a whole debate that ended up with him losing his temper and Scott placating him.

"Who were the other three?"

"Derek's sister, Cora," Stiles told him. "No one knows anything about her and she's Derek's sister."

"And Liv's cousin," Scott pointed out. "and you had sex with her."

"Yes, I know I had sex with her, could you stop bringing that up?" Stiles hissed at him. "God."

Scott smirked at him, amused.

"Next, your boss," Stiles moved on.

"My boss?"

"Yeah, your boss," he repeated. "I don't really like the whole Obi-Wan thing he's got going on, you know. It freaks me out."

Scott stared at him blankly and suddenly Stiles was craving Olivia's presence because she would know exactly what he was talking about. But, then again, she would probably disagree with him because she trusted Deaton as he had been the Hale pack's adversary before most of them died.

"I can't believe you still haven't seen Star Wars," Stiles complained.

"I swear, if we make it back alive, I will watch the movie," Scott promised.

"Scott, there's six movies!" Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet in frustration. "The originals and the prequels!"

"All right, I'll watch them all," Scott shook his head. "Okay, who was the last one?"

Stiles sighed heavily, his mood darkening. "Lydia," he said quickly as he sat back on his bed; it didn't exactly bring him pleasure to accuse one of his friends of sacrificing people behind her back. "She was totally controlled by Peter and she had no idea, so..."

Scott's face fell in realization as he thought about what Stiles said. Both of them exhaling deeply, they fell back on the bed once again and stared silently at the ceiling.

-

-

"Are you sure you're all right?" Olivia quietly asked into her phone as she paced up and down the pathway outside of the room she shared with Allison and Lydia. "Because I can feel you and I know you're in pain."

"I'm healing," Derek's voice was coming out in pained gasps. "I have someone helping me."

"Who?" she furrowed her eyebrows. "Is Cora even at the loft?"

"No, she's not," he told her. "You remember that teacher on the night of the full moon?"

Olivia paused for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant, and then cringed. "You have my English teacher at the loft?" she hissed. "I thought you said she didn't know, Derek."

"Yeah, well, she does," her cousin let out a grunt and then a hiss. "and she's helping me. Where are you, anyway?"

"Some gross motel, it's not important," Olivia said quickly. "Look, Cora told me that Ennis died. Do you know what that means for you?"

"That I have to join their pack or they kill me," Derek seemed to calm about the threat on his and his betas lives. "I'll figure it out. I have to go, Ollie."

"Wait, wait—" the dial toned; she groaned and locked her phone. "Dickhead."

She huffed, composing herself, and went to go back into the room when she a sharp but quick pain flashed through her head. She pressed her fingers to her temples and inhaled deeply as faint whispers started. The warnings were unintelligible; something was happening but it wasn't focused enough that she could figure out what it was.

The whispers died down only slightly as she entered the motel room. Allison was out of the shower and dressed, drying her hair with a clean towel that did not smell like smoke, as Lydia explained what they had discovered at the reception desk.

"One hundred and ninety-eight?" Allison repeated, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Yeah, and we're talking forty years," Lydia stressed and did a quick calculation in her head. "On average that's 4.95 a year..."

"Which is perfectly average," Olivia finished for her as she sat down next to her.

"Well, still," Lydia huffed. "who commemorates that with a framed number? Who does that? Who?"

"All suicides?" Allison checked.

"Mmhm," Lydia nodded, distressed. "Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides. I don't know about you, but me, I—"

Lydia abruptly stopped talking, her head cocking toward the wall on her right side. Olivia watched her curiously, wondering why she had paused.

"Did you hear that?"

Olivia didn't hear anything, other than the faint buzzing in the background of her head. One look at Allison told her that she didn't hear anything, either.

"Hear what, Lyds?" she asked, concerned.

Lydia didn't answer; she turned her head back toward the wall, a horrified expression covering her face. She slowly stood up and as if she was in a trance, stepped onto the bed, shoes and all. She got as close to the wall as she could, maintaining her balance with a hand on the headboard, and eyed the vent at the top.

"Lydia?"

Shuddering gasps started making their way out of Lydia's mouth as tears slipped from her eyes. Olivia's hand shot up to her head, where she was now hearing her own warnings. Warnings about Lydia and what she was going through.

Lydia, Lydia, Lydia. She can hear them. Both of them. They did it together and she can hear them. Lydia, Lydia, Lydia.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," Lydia whimpered as she continued to hear whatever it was that Olivia and Allison couldn't.

Having gotten to her feet, Olivia reached for her cousin's hand. Just as her skin touched Lydia's, two gunshots echoed through her head, causing her to flinch back and screech slightly. The noise she made harmonized with the strangled gasp that came from Lydia.

"What is it?" Allison hovered anxiously behind them, grabbing Lydia's other hand to help her down. "Guys?"

Lydia whipped around to face Olivia, eyes wet. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I heard the ending of it," Olivia told her cousin, both of them ignoring Allison for the moment. "When I touched your hand, I heard it."

"Guys!" Allison exclaimed, getting their attention; when the both of them looked at her, she repeated her question. "What did you hear?"

"The two people in the next room, they shot each other," Lydia told her before tearing over to the door and ripping it open so she could leave the room.

Olivia and Allison immediately followed after her. The room to their right, number 216, where Lydia and Olivia heard the shots come from looked normal from the outside. But the door was unlocked and when Lydia pushed it open, the whole room was shrouded in darkness. Olivia flipped the light switch to turn on the light but the light bulb must have been worn out.

Lydia started walking into the room and Olivia followed after her, much to Allison's protest, turning on the flashlight from her phone in order to find some kind of light.

"Hello?" Lydia called.

Thanks to the small light from her phone, Olivia located a lamp. She switched it on and when the light flooded the room, they saw that it was in total construction. There was no one there; there were no guns, no blood, and certainly no bodies.

Lydia blinked in confusion, more tears falling down her cheeks, as she walked toward the middle of the room. "It had to be right here," her voice trembled. "It was a guy and a girl and, I mean, they sounded younger but—but they were here."

"I know," Olivia assured her, grabbing her hand and clasping it tightly in her grip. "We believe you."

Allison nodded in agreement. "After everything we've been through, we believe you."

They ended up back in their room only moments later. Lydia rushed around the room, collecting their belongings—in her case, it was just a tube of lip balm and a small bottle of perfume—while Olivia sat on the end of their bed, lost in her thoughts, and Allison paced by the window.

"You know, there is something seriously wrong with this place," Lydia hummed. "Guys, we need to leave."

"But they were suicides, not murders," Allison tried to be the voice of reason. "and it's not like this place is haunted, right?"

"Maybe it is," Lydia shrugged helplessly. "You know, I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room. Maybe that's why they're renovating. Maybe they've been scraping brain matter off the wood paneling."

"Maybe we should find out," Allison offered.

The three of them went down to the main office but when they got there, the receptionist was gone and a sign told them that she'd be back by the morning.

Lydia sighed in frustration. "Well, there goes that."

Allison's eyes were glued on the sign on the back wall. "Didn't you guys say that the sign said one-ninety-eight?"

Olivia and Lydia looked over at the sign. 201.

"It was one-ninety-eight," Lydia insisted. "I swear to God it was."

Out of nowhere, Olivia heard the crumbling noise of ice cubes falling over another. She looked back at Lydia and Allison to see if they heard what she did but they were looking at each other; their mouths were moving but no sound was coming out. She couldn't hear their conversation.

The noise sounded again; she turned her head to the office door and silently walked over to it. Her mouth moved mechanically and she said something to Allison and Lydia but she couldn't hear what it was. She couldn't hear anything but the crushing of ice—and then, there was a single whisper:

Alicia...?

She walked out of the office and let the feeling inside of her of head guide her wherever it was supposed to take her. She was only a few feet away from the ice machine, where ice was scattered all over the concrete, a bucket laid on its side, when more noise crowded her head.

There were fists banging on some sort of metal and there were whimpers of fear and cries of desperation.

Dad...!

She walked away from the ice machine and toward one side of the motel, passing many rooms on the ground floor. When she got to the nearest staircase, she climbed the steps and reached the second floor when more sounds attacked her.

This time it was the slicing of claws against delicate skin, a cry of pain, gurgling blood, a dial tone, and mournful cries.

Mom...!

A horrible ache shot through Olivia's head, so painful that it had her crumbling to her knees. Her eyesight went from normal to purple to a blinding white within two seconds. She crawled blindly toward the wall of the stairwell and gripped her head in her hands, clenching her teeth so tightly together as waves and waves of disconnected voices washed over her.

Alicia? Dad! Mom! He's healing, she's healing him. Alicia? Dad! Mom! Derek? Derek? Derek? Scott, Scott, Scott. Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. Boyd, Boyd, Boyd. He's in danger, they're all in danger!

Olivia, Olivia, Olivia...OLIVIA!

-

-

"Last time I saw Scott act like that was during the full moon," Allison told Stiles and Lydia, finishing up her story of how Scott had come into the bathroom while she was showering and acted like a creep.

Stiles stood in the girls' room, his arms folded over his chest as he thought about what Allison had said. He witnessed Scott gazing out the window, which was weird, but his encounter with Boyd was more worrisome.

"Yeah, I know, he was definitely a little off with me too," he agreed. "but, actually, it was Boyd who was really off. I watched him put his fist through the vending machine."

What worried him more than Scott and Boyd put together, though, was Olivia. Lydia and Allison had called him, both of them upset, and told him that Olivia was acting weird and that she all of a sudden disappeared and that they couldn't find her. He had immediately met them at the main office and they did a quick sweep of the ground floor where she had wandered off but there was still no sign of her.

He was going out of his fucking mind with worry and fear but he had to be strong right now and keep a level head. Lydia was scared out of her mind and Allison couldn't figure this out by herself. Scott wasn't an option and Olivia was somewhere more than likely having one of her episodes, so it was down to him.

"See, it is the motel," Lydia said, her voice a little shrill. "Either we need to find Liv and get out of here right now or..." she stomped to the table between the beds and grabbed the nondescript bible in the drawer, showing it to them. "someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism ASAP before the werewolves go crazy and kill us."

"Okay, just hold on, all right?" Stiles gestured at her to take a breath as his mind raced with theories of what could be going on. "What if it's not just the motel? The number in the office went up by three, right?"

Allison understood his train of thought. "You mean like three sacrifices?"

Stiles nodded. "What if this time it's three werewolves?"

"Scott, Isaac, and Boyd," Allison mused. "and that's why Liv is freaking out. She's experiencing whatever they're going through."

"I think we were meant to come here," Stiles declared.

"Exactly!" Lydia pointed at him. "So can we get the fuck out of here now?"

Stiles glanced at her but a paper sticking out of the bible she still held in her hand caught his attention. "Wait, hang on," he took the bible from her. "Let me see this."

He flipped through the many pages and came to a stop when he located the paper. It was an old newspaper clipping about a suicide that had happened in the very room where they were.

"What is that?"

"Twenty-eight-year-old hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri," he read aloud and handed the paper to Allison before going through the rest of the bible.

He pulled out four more clippings and tossed them on the bed. Lydia picked two of them up and quickly read through both of them.

"Oh, no, look at these two," Lydia handed them to Allison and Stiles. "They both mention room 217. These are probably all the suicides that happened in this room."

"So, if every room has a bible..." Allison trailed off thoughtfully.

"There could be articles in all the rooms," Lydia finished for her.

Stiles wrinkled his nose. "That's a beautiful thing," he mumbled cynically. "Most places leave a mint under the pillow. This one leaves a record of all the horrible deaths that occurred."

"What if the room next door has the one about the couple?" Lydia wondered.

The three of them shared a look and then, all at once, they ran out of the room and to the one being renovated next door. Stiles tried to turn the doorknob but it wouldn't budge; he grabbed it with two hands and shook it furiously, trying to get the door opened.

"No, that was not locked before!" Lydia exclaimed.

"Forget it," Allison said urgently. "We need to find Liv and get Scott, Isaac, and Boyd out of here."

Stiles agreed with that plan; he let go of the doorknob and pushed past the girls to run to the stairs, only to stop when he heard a loud mechanical buzzing.

He turned back to the girls just as Lydia asked, "I'm not the only one who heard that, am I?"

Allison shook her head. "It sounds like someone turned the handsaw on."

Stiles jumped back over to them. "Handsaw?" he repeated in disbelief as he started throwing himself at the door. To say that it was difficult was an understatement. "Jesus-fucking-Christ!"

Finally, after a couple more pushes, the door flew open. At the other end of the room, Ethan stood with a running saw in his hands. He slowly and deliberately went to press the saw's running blade to his stomach.

"Hey, no, Ethan, don't!" Stiles shouted.

He lunged forward and didn't spare a second to think as he grabbed the other side of the handle. He pulled with all of his might as Ethan fought him for control of the power tool. Ethan was obviously stronger—alpha werewolf, remember? —so the fight wasn't evenly matched. When Stiles let go of it in order not to get himself disemboweled and kicked Ethan's leg at the same time, the saw dropped to the ground. His action of pulling himself away from the alpha sent him to the ground, right in the direction of the saw.

His life flashed in front of his eyes but death didn't come, thankfully. Lydia had pulled the saw's plug from the outlet just in time and the saw came to a complete stop when Stiles caught himself only two or three inches away from the blade.

Allison grabbed him and pulled him away from the saw but he didn't get time to have a second of relief. Ethan flicked out his claws and brought them to his stomach like he did the saw; Stiles and Allison rushed to him and each grabbed one of his arms, using all of their strength to keep him from killing himself.

Ethan fought them once again and pushed past them, only to fall on the small space heater only a few feet away. His skin audibly singed and he grunted in pain as he fell to the floor. The pain seemed to take him out of whatever trance he was in. He quickly rolled to his feet and glowered at Stiles, Allison, and Lydia.

"What just happened?"

They didn't have time to answer him before he was running out of the room.

"Ethan!" Stiles, Lydia, and Allison ran after him, going down the stairs two at a time to keep up with him. "Hey, what happened back there?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Ethan snapped at him while trying to do up the buttons on his shirt. "I don't know how I got there or what I was doing."

"Okay, you could be a little bit more helpful, you know," Stiles snarked back at him. "We did just save your life."

"And you probably shouldn't have!"

Stiles turned away from the alpha as he stomped back to his room and faced Lydia and Allison.

"What do we do now?" Lydia asked.

"I'll find Scott and Liv," Allison volunteered. "You guys grab Isaac and Boyd. The best thing we can do is get them out of this place."

Stiles grimaced as Allison turned away from them and climbed the stairs back to the second level. He didn't know what to do; Olivia was missing, the werewolves were freaking out, and Lydia just happened to be hearing things at the same time? It was a little too much of a coincidence...

Lydia caught the look on his face. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, no, I—" he scrambled to make an excuse but Lydia called him on his bullshit.

"Stiles."

Stiles sighed and gave in. "All right, Lydia, I didn't want to say anything but this—everything we're going through," he winced and just bit the bullet. "we've kind of been through something like this before. A lot of like this."

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked, confused. "When?"

"Your birthday party, the night you poisoned everyone with wolfsbane."

Lydia scoffed, offended, and turned to stalk away from him.

"Lydia, I'm sorry, okay," Stiles chased after her; he hadn't wanted to offend her but he had a reason to be worried. And, no offense to her, but they didn't have time for her to have a tantrum; Scott, Isaac, and Boyd were doing whatever they could to hurt themselves and Olivia was still missing. "I didn't mean that you're trying to kill people. I just meant that maybe you're somehow involved in getting people to kill themselves, which doesn't really sound much better now that I've said it out loud."

He hadn't even noticed that Lydia had stopped walking. He would have passed her by if she hadn't grabbed his arm and asked, "Stiles, do you hear that?"

"What?" he said hurriedly. "What did you hear?"

Lydia glanced at the ice machine only a few feet away from them and then back toward the motel. "I hear Liv. I hear her."

"What?"

But she was already running toward the nearest staircase. Stiles' heart raced anxiously as he followed her, quickly climbing the stairs to the second floor. He almost ran into her as she came to an abrupt stop but managed to stop himself.

That was when he heard Olivia. Desperate whispers and soft pleads were spoken with her hoarse voice. They followed the sounds she made to an incave where vending machine was placed. She was there, sitting against it with knees to her chest and her forehead resting on them. There was blood slowly dripping down her legs and it made the air leave his chest in one whoosh.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He cursed himself as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Olivia? It's me," he said softly, placing his hands on her legs, just under her kneecaps; her legs were freezing. She didn't react but kept on whispering under her breath; there were too many words for him to understand what she was saying. "Livvy. Baby, please look at me."

With no reaction, he carefully grabbed her chin and gently lifted her head. Her irises were deep purple and the whites around them were bloodshot. She was staring in his direction now but she wasn't looking at him and the blood he had seen on her legs had to be from her nose, which was still dripping. It was the worst he had ever seen her during one of her episodes. It had to be because she was feeling Scott, Isaac, and Boyd at one time.

"Olivia," he tried to get her attention as Lydia hovered nervously behind him. "Livvy, come on. It's Stiles. I'm right here. Come on, baby."

One second, Lydia was pushing him away from Olivia and the next, she was slapping her cousin in the face.

"What the fuck, Lydia?" he glared at her.

"She was out of it," Lydia gave Olivia most of her attention as she blinked rapidly and slowly pressed a hand against her stinging cheek. "Look, it worked."

"What the hell did you do that for?" Olivia groaned.

"You were having one of your episodes," Lydia told her gently, her voice a sharp contrast to how she was talking to Stiles earlier—granted, he did kind of blame her for what was going on. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Olivia answered with a wince; Stiles helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her, taking on most of her weight. "My head's killing me. What's going on?"

Stiles and Lydia gave her a quick run-down on what had happened since she disappeared out of nowhere. The number on the sign had gone up by three, they figured that the number meant there would be three more sacrifices, the werewolves were freaking out—and so was she—and they had stopped Ethan from killing himself.

Toward the end of Olivia's catch-up, Stiles was the only one speaking. Olivia wasn't paying attention, her eyes blinking back to purple, as Lydia stared off in the distance.

"Hello? Are you guys even listening to me?"

"Someone's drowning!" Lydia declared as she snapped out of wherever she had gone to.

"It's Boyd," Olivia quickly followed up.

The three of them took off down the hallway and to Boyd and Isaac's room. The door wasn't even shut all the way, which allowed them to keep their speed all the way to the bathroom. All that Olivia could hear as she weakly fell to her knees at the head of the tub was the pounding of her heart and Boyd's name.

Boyd was completely underwater, with the room's safe keeping him still. While Olivia pressed her hands to Boyd's head, trying to get him to react, to do something in order to save his life, Stiles prodded around the drain.

"He blocked it," Stiles' voice sounded as panicked as she felt. "He blocked the drain with something. I can't get to it."

"What do we do?" Lydia asked quickly.

Olivia didn't bother answering Lydia, Stiles had that under control. She focused the rest of her energy on worming herself into Boyd's head to get ahold of him and keeping out the whispers that told her that Isaac and Scott were in trouble, too. It was hard to do both; Boyd's mind was impenetrable, which was odd. She usually only had a little difficulty getting into her pack mates' heads and Boyd was no exception. He wasn't keeping her out, someone else was.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Stiles and Lydia straining to get the heavy safe off of Boyd's chest. Unfortunately, it was too heavy and even when she joined in with the lifting, they were unable to do it.

"Is he dead?"

"He's not dead but he's going to be," Olivia told Lydia quickly, her voice panicked and her eyes stinging. She turned to Stiles, who was trying to lift the safe by himself at that point, and asked, "How long can a werewolf stay underwater?"

"You think I know that?" his voice trembled under the force he was using.

He finally let go of the safe and got to his feet, backing away from the tub. Olivia didn't question his odd action and took his place, her knees slipping in the water that slopped from the tub. Lydia joined her and they both continued to try to pry the safe off of Boyd.

"Ah!" Stiles hissed in the background, catching Olivia and Lydia's attention. He had burnt his arm on the wall heater. "Wait a sec," he said thoughtfully and turned to Lydia, who had been there for Ethan's breakdown. "The heater, Ethan came out of it when he touched the heater?"

Olivia gave them a look of frustration; what did Ethan touching a heater have to do with Boyd? "What?"

"It's heat, heat, fire," Stiles gestured wildly as he tried to get Olivia to understand. "Heat does it, all right? We need something...We need fire."

"He's underwater!"

Stiles glared at Lydia. "Yeah, I'm aware of that."

Despite being confused only seconds earlier, Olivia was all caught up. Knowing that Boyd depended on them to keep him alive when he couldn't, she couldn't be slowed down by confusion.

And she wasn't anymore. As soon as Stiles had said that they needed fire to knock Boyd out of whatever mess he was in, her mind had started to race. There were only a couple of things that could make fire underwater and flares were one of them.

"Run to the bus," Olivia urged Stiles, who quickly gave her his attention. "The bus will have emergency road flares. They have their own oxidizers. They can burn underwater."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, go!"

Olivia turned back to the tub as Stiles left the room and took another shot at trying to get inside Boyd's mind. Pressing her hands against both of his temples, she closed her eyes and began focusing, repeated his name over and over again in her head. From the sheer force of her will and all of the strength in her, she slowly began to feel the wall keeping her out of his head starting to crack.

Come on, Boyd, let me in...Boyd, I'm here...It's Liv...Let me in so I can help you...She was almost there...a little bit more...

A gasp flew out of her mouth as she was mentally propelled back from Boyd's mind. She opened her eyes, totally worn out, and wiped away the blood from her top lip.

Why did that happen? It wasn't supposed to happen!

"Liv!" Lydia called from the bedroom, catching her attention. "Isaac's freaking out under the bed."

Olivia rested her forehead against the lip of the tub, inhaling deeply.

"I know," she said wearily; out of the two werewolves in the room going through something, it was Isaac that was doing better. Yes, he was hidden under the bed—she knew the moment she walked into the room—and he was terrified, which broke her heart, but he wasn't suicidal. Boyd was the priority at the moment.

This whole thing terrified her. She was the pack's anchor, she was supposed to keep them from trouble, and here were her two friends, out of their minds with whatever was happening to them. She couldn't get through to Boyd and she could feel him slipping away from the bond that she had with the pack...and she was alone. Derek wasn't here to help her and it wasn't his fault but...she still felt alone.

She wasn't alone, though, not really.

Stiles burst back into the motel room and rushed to the bathroom, with two emergency flares in his hands. "I got them," he quickly told Olivia as he dropped down next to her; Lydia hovered nervously behind them. "What do I do? How do I do this?"

"Strike it against the cap, like a match," Olivia advised him. Stiles rapidly took off the cap and struck the flare against it, over and over again; it wasn't catching and Olivia was beginning to panic. Boyd, Boyd, Boyd... "Stiles!"

"Yeah, I'm trying."

With one last strike, the flare lit up, bathing the room with a red glow. Stiles huffed in satisfaction and stuck the flare into the water of the tub, pressing it firmly against Boyd's arm. Having enough forethought, he grabbed Olivia and heaved them both to their feet, jumping away as Boyd reared forward with a roar and the huge safe dropped to the floor right where they were sitting.

Olivia gasped in relief and burrowed her forehead into Stiles shoulder, taking deep breaths. She almost lost Boyd. He was her pack and she almost lost him...Her pack...Isaac...

Compared to Boyd, Isaac was easy to bring from the brink of the Darach's hold over him. Stiles got him with the flare—which Olivia suspected he liked a little too much—and they quickly explained everything that they thought was going on. Now, that Isaac and Boyd were safe and their names were no longer in Olivia's head, it was just Scott.

They set out of Isaac and Boyd's room and made their way back to the girls' room. Allison was there waiting for them, without Scott by her side.

"I can't find Scott anywhere," Allison told Olivia, Stiles, and Lydia as the four of them rushed down to the ground level in order to continue their search for Scott.

"It's happening to him too, isn't it?" Stiles directed his question to Olivia.

She nodded; Scott was the only pack member left who was in danger at the moment. But it didn't matter if he was the only one, his name was loud in her head. Scott, Scott, Scott... "It is," she confirmed. "Was there another flare on the bus?"

"Yeah, there was," Stiles reached the end of the stairs, Olivia, Lydia, and Allison following his lead. "I'll get it—"

Stiles stopped speaking as the four of them came to an abrupt stop, shocked at the scene in front of them. Scott was standing in the middle of the parking lot, soaked head to toe with gasoline (the extra gas can from the bus was emptied at his feet), and a lit flare in his hand. He didn't move at all, his head bowed toward the pavement beneath his feet, as they approached him quietly, nervously.

Olivia glanced at Stiles and when she saw the stricken look on his face, gripped his hand tightly. Taking a deep breath, she spoke up, hoping that she could get through to Scott, "Scott? Scott."

Scott lifted his head, looking at his friends with sad, yet faraway eyes. "There's no hope."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek at the sheer pain in Scott's voice, her heart breaking a little. Sure, her and Scott weren't the best of friends, but they were still friends. Even if they weren't, this whole situation would still be heart-breaking and mind-boggling. She hadn't experienced hopelessness before, where she couldn't see a way out other than death, but she knew that it was a tough spot to be in and she was fully sympathetic. She didn't want to see Scott end his life, not just for his sake, but for the people who loved and cared about him.

"What do you mean, Scott?" Allison shook her head, eyes wet. "There's always hope."

"Not for me. Not for Derek."

Olivia just wished that Scott would listen to her for once so that he wasn't in danger. Derek was not dead and even if he was, Scott would not be at fault. He didn't need to carry around any guilt for something that didn't even happen. Olivia knew that arguing wasn't the best thing to do at the moment, though. She needed to be supportive and kind and she would do that because Scott was her friend and her pack.

"Derek wasn't your fault," she said sternly, trying to reach some part of his mind. "What happened to Derek was not your fault, Scott."

"Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse," Scott said. "People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed."

Stiles squeezed Olivia's hand. "Scott, listen to me, okay?" he addressed his friend, his voice cracking with sadness. "This isn't you, all right? This is someone inside your head telling you to do this, okay? Now—"

"What if it isn't?" Scott cut him off. "What if it is just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else?"

Tears started to sting Olivia's eyes; she couldn't feel Scott's emotions with her abilities but she didn't need to. She could see them on his face and in his body language, she could hear in his voice...She had never claimed to be an empathetic person but this was different. Scott couldn't do this; didn't he know how important he was to everyone?

Scott, listen to me, she pleaded mentally, trying to get past the defensive wall that the darach put in his head. Listen to Stiles. This isn't you. You don't want to do this. You mean too much to the people you love. You are not a screw up.

"It all started that night," Scott looked into Stiles' eyes as he went on, showing no evidence that he was hearing Olivia's pleads in his head. "the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that? You and me, we were—we were nothing. We weren't popular, we weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important..."

You are important, Scott. You are something. Please, please just listen to me.

"We were no one," Scott finished, his voice trembling. "Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all."

He lifted the flare higher, intending to release it. Please, Scott, don't do this. Scott...Scott...Scott...Please.

Olivia looked over at Stiles as he released the tight grip he had on her hand. He had tears in his eyes as he stepped toward his best friend. "Scott, just listen to me, okay? You're not on one, okay?" he said firmly, coming to a stop only a step away from Scott. "You're someone. You're...Scott, you're my best friend, okay?"

Scott stared at Stiles, tears now running down his cheeks as he sobbed quietly. Combined with Olivia's repeated efforts in getting into Scott's head, Stiles words seemed to be working. It was touching that Stiles and Scott has such a close friendship. They were family as much as Olivia and Lydia were, even if they weren't blood related.

"...and I need you. Scott, you're my brother, all right?" Olivia bit back a gasp as Stiles stepped into the gasoline puddle and reached for the flare in Scott's hand. "So...so, if you're gonna do this, then I think you're just gonna have to take me with you, all right?"

Scott, please don't do this...You need to save yourself and Stiles right now, all right? You need to take control and you need to live. Please, you and Stiles have to live. SCOTT!

Scott's grip on the flare loosened, allowing Stiles to take it from him. Olivia, Lydia, and Allison didn't have time to take a breath of relief as he threw it a few feet away; the wind blew—too much to be a coincidence—and the flare started rolling right back to the puddle of gasoline.

"NO!" Olivia and Lydia screamed together.

The Martin cousins threw themselves at the boys, knocking them out of the puddle and onto the dry concrete. As soon as they hit the ground, the flare hit the gasoline and blew up, an explosion of flame going higher than the top of the bus.

Olivia buried her head into the back of Stiles' shoulder and let out a deep sigh of pure relief. They're okay, she reminded herself as she reached over and patted Scott on the back, hoping to give him more relief. They're okay. We're all okay.

-

Stiles was a lanky guy. Sure, he had muscles—very delicious muscles, thank you—but he was still tall and skinny. Olivia had fallen asleep on his shoulders many a times and it was always uncomfortable because his shoulder dug into the side of her face painfully. But this, right now, with his arm around her, head leaned back on their seat, both of them draped in Stiles' wonderful-smelling sweatshirt, it was heaven.

Of course, his should was digging into her face again but she felt safe. After the night that everyone had, safe was important. Safe was nice. Safe was comforting.

She furrowed her eyebrows when she heard the slight noise of the bus door opening. Still asleep, it didn't bother her much. It was the loud blaring of Coach's whistle that made her want to throw the man off of the bus and run him over.

"I don't want to know," Coach said loudly as she, Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, and Boyd startled awake. "I really don't want to know but in case you missed the announcement, the meet's cancelled, so we're headed home."

"Cross-country is overrated, anyway," Olivia sighed sleepily, a smile growing on her face as Stiles pressed a messy kiss to her forehead as a good morning.

"Shh...go back to sleep," he rubbed her bare arm slowly; he loved her and all but Olivia was a massive grump when she didn't get enough sleep.

Olivia closed her eyes and tried to follow Stiles' advice but then Coach opened his big mouth again and all urge to fall asleep went right out the window.

"Pack it in, pack it in!"

The rest of the cross-country team ambled up the bus stairs, down the aisle, and sat in their seats. Ethan was the first one on the bus and he took a seat in the empty spot next to Scott, who was in the seat in front of Olivia and Stiles.

"I don't know what happened last night but I'm pretty sure you saved my life," Ethan stated calmly, looking over at Scott.

"Actually, I saved your life," Stiles piped into the conversation; why did Scott get all the glory? Not that he needed glory but the alpha twins were assholes, so...When both Ethan and Scott glared at him, he faltered. "Not that it matters so much. It's just a minor detail."

Ethan lifted his chin in acknowledgement and turned in his seat a little, so he was facing Olivia, Stiles, and Scott all at the same time. "So, I'm gonna give you something. I'm sure you know that Derek's alive—"

"Yeah, we've known," Olivia gave Scott a pointed look; he rolled his eyes with a slight smile. "I can feel him, he's healing."

"Then you know he killed one of ours," Ethan gave her an appraising look. "That means one of two things can happen. Either he joins our pack..."

"And kills his own," Olivia spat, narrowing her eyes at him.

Ethan nodded. "Or Kali goes after hi and we kill him. That's the way it works."

Olivia bristled at his threat and leaned toward him, furious. "Ethan, remember how I made you transform back into a human? If you touch Derek, I will find some way to make that permanent."

"Yeah, you hear that? She'll make it permanent," Stiles backed her up, giving Ethan his own glare. "Your little code of ethics, by the way? Sort of barbaric, F.Y.I."

Ethan gave the both of them a blank stare before getting up out of the seat and heading toward the back of the bus where Danny had saved him a spot.

Stiles frowned and faced Olivia. "We should probably practice being more intimidating."

Despite her bad moon, Olivia couldn't help but smile at him and pat his cheek affectionately.

"Hey, Ethan!" Coach started walking down the aisle, trying to get the alpha's attention. "I want..."

"Coach, can I see your whistle for a second?" Lydia interrupted him as he walked by her and Allison's seat across the aisle from Olivia and Stiles. She took the whistle from around his neck without an answer but Coach didn't seem affected by it as he continued walking toward Ethan.

"I'm gonna need that back," he warned her, not even bothering to turn around.

Olivia, Stiles, Scott, and Allison gave Lydia questioning looks as she put the whistle to her mouth and cupped her other hand around the end. She blew into it silently and then pulled her cupped hand away. In her palm was a powdering of bright purple wolfsbane; that was what had been affecting Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Ethan and let the darach get into their heads.

"Wolfsbane."

"So, every time Coach blew the whistle on the bus, Scott, Isaac, Boyd—"

"And Ethan," Lydia added.

"We all inhaled it," Scott realized.

Allison nodded. "You were all poisoned by it."

"And it's how the Darach got into their heads," Olivia finished. "That's how they did it."

Stiles frowned and ripped the whistle out of Lydia's grasp. He reached over Olivia to pull down the window and quickly threw the whistle out of it, just as the bus started rolling out of Glen Capri's parking lot.

"Hey, hey, hey! Stilinski!"

(Gif is not mine)

[logical-little-lies]

Towers and Kingdoms-Agere!Sides AU (pt.28)

A/N: MORE WORLD BUILDING AND THAT’S ON Being Obsessed With Creating Universes.

"Why did we just skip so many floors?" Roman asked, as they walked up another set of stairs as the other three ignored them.

"Unknown sides, ones that have never revealed themselves to anyone, we only know some of them," Deceit muttered. They had went into Deceit's room, and right above it, Remus's room. And then, they just kept walking up the stairs.

"You walked up all these stairs every single day?" Roman questioned, taking a moment to breathe.

"I usually didn't leave my room, or I went one floor up and ate the food in the top commons and used the bathroom and showers there," Virgil shrugged.

"Y-you guys don't get private bathrooms connected to your rooms?" Roman questioned.

"We're not privileged, like you are over in your mind palace," Deceit scoffed. Virgil gave him a look and he went silent. "whatever," he mumbled, stopping in front of a door that was painted black, with purple letters spelling out the words 'vee the emo'. Roman started laughing.

"I forgot about that. Uh, I let Deceit paint my door, and he promised he was just gonna write my name. Surprise, he lied and then never fixed it," Virgil didn't seem mad about it, he just laughed and twisted the door knob.

"This looks a lot like your room at home,but less..mature?" Roman commented.

"I would've thought you guys would've done something to my room, I've been gone for a while," Virgil sat on the bed and looked around him. The floor was clean, and the room was actually quite empty, there was a shelf with notebooks and books, and tons of band posters. It really did look like the room of a teenager.

"This room still looks like a teen emo boy going through puberty robbed a hot topic," Remus insulted.

"I represent one of the main things Thomas had when he was going through puberty, so like, out of all of us I'm the most angsty and immature," Virgil rolled his eyes.

"That's the truth, you still get mood swings," Roman teased. Virgil glared at him playfully.

"There isn't much stuff here though, you grabbed the things you really cared about when you ran away," Deceit spoke with a shrug, standing by the door.

"I said that I'm sorry about that, Deceit!" Virgil groaned, and Deceit softened his face.

"Sorry, it's just-"

"Whatever, lets go to the last floor," Virgil got up quickly , walking past the others and rushingly starting up the stairs.

Roman looked at Deceit, "He's not actually that upset, he's just dramatic sometimes. In like ten minutes he'll probably make a joke or hug you," Roman assured. That seemed to lift Deceit's spirits a bit, and he nodded. The three followed Virgil up the stairs.

There was no door, it just opened up onto the top floor. There was a group bathroom to the side, and bean bags of different colors everywhere. On the ledge of the huge window, there was a telescope, probably to look out into the imagination. "This isn't to bad," Roman commented, looking around and noticing the microwave, pantry, and refrigerator. Like a little mini-kitchen.

"It's not, just really boring. We can't summon things here, as if we are good at magic anyways, there really isn't much to do," Remus admitted. Roman frowned at this.

"Where to next?" Deceit questioned, standing at the ledge of the window and looking through the telescope.

"Can we just hang here for a bit?" Virgil questioned, sitting in a black bean bag next to the window. Deceit nodded, moving to pull a wooden chair painted yellow up to the window, sitting in front of it so that he was facing away from the large window. Remus and Roman found their spots on the other side of Deceit.

"So, how have you been during my absence?" Virgil jokes.

"Alright I guess. It's not the same without you though," Remus admitted. Virgil nodded.

"I've learned a lot of magic. I can now summon things, and do basically everything the other core sides can..not here though, obviously," Virgil said.

Deceit smiled, "That's good. The core sides are treating you well, right?" Deceit gave Roman a side glance.

"Of course," Roman defended, and Virgil nodded in agreeance.

"I'm glad everything is going well. There isn't much to catch you up on though, on our end," Deceit said. Roman noticed how everything he said seemed to be the truth, and how he wasn't lying at all, really.

"There's a lot on my end. I don't know where to start," Virgil sighed.

"Tell me how you started dating my brother, that's a story I've  never heard," Remus said, nudging Roman on the shoulder. Virgil rolled his eyes, sighing and beginning the story.

And that's how they started catching up. They told story after story, of things that happened while they hadn't seen each other, old things that happened when they were together.

To Virgil, this felt right. Better than before he was a core side and he lived in the tower, but also better than living with the core sides and cutting them off completely. "Can I hang out with my brother somewhere in the imagination? You guys could do something here," Remus offered.

Virgil glanced at Roman, who nodded hesitantly. "I don't have a problem with it," he smiled. He got up and hugged Roman, and the twins were quick to leave. Deceit and Virgil sat in silence for a few moments.

"I didn't expect you to ever come back. Like want to be our friend again, I didn't expect it," Deceit bit at his lip, and Virgil nodded.

"I-i'm sorry that I just up and left. And I know it'll take time for us to build our friendship again..but I'm glad we're willing the start that process," Virgil downcasted his eyes.

"You're a dork. Like the biggest fucking dork to walk the mindscape," Deceit got up from his chair, quickly pulling Virgil out of his beanbag.

"Rude," Virgil playfully scoffed. He knew they showed love through insults half the time, Roman was somewhat the same way.

"I missed you," Deceit admitted, pulling him into a hug. Virgil rested his head on his chest, just where he used to. They stood there for a while, before silently pulling away and walking down the stairs together. "So, could you explain the situation with all the little gear in the mind palace, and also how you're so open about it?"

Virgil groaned. "I still haven't told Roman you saw all that."

"It's not like I'm unsupportive," Deceit rolled his eyes, breathing for a second on the platform in front of a door. They were heading down to Deceit's bedroom.

"Well, a month or two ago, I decided it would be best to tell Roman about my littlespace. I didn't really know when, or how I was gonna do it..but he walked in on me in littlespace, and the three year old mind of mine tried my very best to explain it," Virgil explained, Deceit chuckling.

"So he went and asked Logan, after playing along and putting me to a nap. And once they like figured it out, and I was big, I talked to both of them and explained it. They were totally supportive, and I ended up telling Patton."

"But that doesn't explain the other stuff," Deceit waited for Virgil to continue.

"No, it doesn't. One day a little while later, Patton regresses, deeply. I'm talking small-as-you-are babyspace," Deceit eyes widened and Virgil nodded.

"That's when I had this theory, that we're all regressors. Because we are a part of Thomas's mind, and he mentally holds onto the childlike part of himself, and that could sprout into us regressing. And eventually, Roman and Logan regressed too. We all sort of have a large dynamic and it just works," Virgil said, reaching the next platform, lingering outside of Remus's bedroom as he waited for Deceit to catch up.

"So even Logan is a little?"

Virgil nodded. "Logan and Patton's are each others main carers, same for Roman and I. But we all sort of take care of each other, oh..and Thomas knows about the four of us," Deceit kept walking the last stairs to his door.

"Wait, wait, wait. If your theory is true, does it apply to us? Because as far as I know, Remus doesn't regress. He knows about me, he found one of my pacifiers a few months ago, and he was supportive. We don't talk about it though, and he's never seen me little before," Deceit opened his door once reaching the platform, letting Virgil in.

"I don't quite know yet, we'll see," Virgil shrugged, slowly entering his room. He was quick to jump on his bed. Deceit chuckled, climbing up and leaning against the pillows next to Virgil. "What'cha wanna do?" Virgil spoke softly.

"Dunno,m' bored," Deceit shrugged, mumbling slightly.

"It's not fair that you have to live without much little gear, you go so small sometimes," Virgil commented suddenly, and Deceit nodded silently. "I don't know how I did it back then. I'm sorry you still have to do that. Maybe not soon, though. You might not be able to do magic, but I can."

Deceit giggled lightly, "really?" he seemed excited. Virgil nodded, noticing his small antics and smiling.

"How long had it been since you've last regressed? And don't lie to me, snake," he spoke sternly, and Deceit bit at his lip.

"Easter! for like a lil tiny bit," he admitted. Virgil sighed, pulling Deceit closer.

"If you want to be little now, you can. I'm here for you, baby snake," Deceit whined and shook his head.

"Y-you just got here and I don't wanna make you uncomfy. Sorry," he mumbled, pulling away from Virgil and shaking his head.

"Hey, no, it's okay. I promise, you took care of me the other day, it's only fair," Virgil assured, sitting up and pulling Deceit back. Deceit leaned into him, nodding.

"Out of curiosity, what were you doing before I got here?" Virgil leaned back, allowing Deceit to cuddle against him.

"Taking a tiny nap, very sleepy," he shyly admitted.

"Hmm, well, you can take that tiny nap now. How does that sound?" Virgil played with his hair a bit, and he nodded with a small giggle.

--

Roman and Remus laughed, running through the castle, from the imaginary characters within it. It really was fun, create a plot, and location, and let your imagination run wild in an interactive setting. You had the control, but at the same time, anything could happen. "Aha!" remus ran up to a knight statue, pulling the sword from the figure and throwing it to Roman, taking the shield.

"Fight the guards or run?" Roman asked,pulling Remus behind a little wall. The guards and princess ran by. Roman was the prince of this kingdom, and Remus was a criminal who had stolen something. Roman was supposed to get him out of the castle without him getting captured, and now he was being chased himself for "the aiding of a criminal'.

"Run, and then exit the scene," Remus took a deep breath,"I'm tired."

Roman nodded, "Let's go the way they came, and we can exit this scene of the imagination," they ducked out, running with glee and pure happiness. They exited the castle, and ran to the gates. The guards stepped aside for the prince, and they were allowed through the gates. They turned around, watching the castle evaporate and disappear.

"We need to continue the adventure sometime," Remus said, and Roman nodded. They still held the sword and the shield. "I'll keep these," he spoke, taking the sword. "Memories of our first adventure together after years."

Roman smiled, nodding. The two set off towards the tower. Remus was able to use his imagination for good with the aid of his brother. For the first time in years, they had went on an amazing adventure together. It was definitely one they’d remember.

Roman and Remus were reforming their brotherly bond, and Deceit and Virgil were rebuilding their friendship. Hopefully Patton and Logan would be able to build new relationships with the dark sides, and accept them once and for all.

[penaltybox14]

Decofiremen: Soon Be the Dawning Days

@darknight-brightstar @zeitheist Every single one of my attempts to write pleasant holiday-oriented things ends up ass-deep in character dissection and plot exposition.  @squad51goals @its-skadi

In this installment, we talk about seasons, changes, and things to celebrate.

December darkens the days, and sharpens the nights.  There is frost every morning, and the sun is a pale consumptive, waking feebly and slipping weakly into evening.  The potbelly stove in the dorm is always burning, always someone up in the night to tend it, every hour.  The lads spend a productive few hours one off day re-arranging their beds, recaulking the windows, and hanging curtains.  When Josiah asks what they are up to, they explain the lads at the ends of the rows have been getting cold in the night, and they are trying to fix it up so that either everyone is warm, or everyone is cold.

"You mind, Captain?" Jules Menlo asks.  He and Bertram Cochrane have taken up the lead, since Antoine and Ellis left for the City.  They are raw to it, but they are learning yet. 

"Not at all, boys, carry on."

Josiah is pleased with them.  Neat and natty rows of beds can go to hell, the lads are making a fine hearth for themselves.  They make sure to vent it properly, and Lufty nods approvingly at their work - a house inside of a house, a canvas-flanked beast breathing and snoring in the wind-snipped nights.  Josiah only scolds them once, when he catches Davey at three in the morning carrying wood in for the stove.  Sure, he is wrapped up tight as a beetle in a sack of flour, but Josiah reminds them that he's just a boy, yet, and needs his rest.

Young Cleary had stumbled a while, the days after Antoine and Ellis were graduated.  Eddy had given him a scorcher of a talk for forgetting to include Davey in the proceedings, and he deserved it.  That responsibility is still so new and giddy to him - where now, he can remember his own graduation, and think well on it, and not always be so bitter - and he had left the boy bereft.  Fool that he is.  Even Silky would've cuffed him for it. 

My true friend Silky, he writes, one glassy morning when the sun had lost the strength to lift the frost from the grass, you would not believe me or maybe you would.  Do you remember the day the bell sounded for us, at breakfast?  In the good cheer of sending my lads to the city, I left out the boy who needs us most, our young Cleary.  Your god, my friend, would smote me off the earth.  It was a terrible mistake, for I frightened him so badly.  I had to set him down later in the day and explain all the proceedings and the ceremony.  I am not yet sure he forgives me.  I am not sure I deserve it.  Here he is, a boy who has already lost one family, and I am to take another from him.  You can be sure Eddy let me have it. 

yours irresponsibly, Birchy

In those following days, after Antoine and Ellis depart on the train from Troy, his heart aches, something like a tooth you want to forget, something a body can't escape from.  The long hallway is there in his dreams, in the boy's dreams, and now he hears the piano, and the distant laughter.  He smells the books in the study.  When he wakes, he feels the far-off gaze of a man much his senior, cool-eyed but in such a way as a lake when the summer days grow taut about the city streets.  An expectant look, a waiting.  Far off down that hallway, as far from the boy now as the Bronx for him, as the dorm he once sweat out his sear in.  He would want to look away, as the village folks and the oakbellies look at his scars and his brace.

He knows that hallway, and that's just the trouble, for young Cleary has walked it alone, trailing his fingers along the green wallpaper, and Josiah, trembling for the thought of the beam waiting in the ceiling, has not followed.  Coward, he thinks.  To let the child walk his hallway and stumble, smoke-wrecked, to his wide lawn, alone.  A one-legged and half-hearted coward.  Davey looks at him askance often in those following days - doesn't come to read with him or practice his Latin, doesn't follow the lads out on their drills no matter how they coax him.  He walks down the pathway past the brambles and into the woods, his too-large coat down past his knees and his collar up so high it leaves just his dark curls tumbling out in the sharp wind, and when he comes in for dinner, he is quiet and small among the lads. 

It is one of those long, weary twilights when the winter rattles like dry bones, and his leg aches.  He is fixing the ledger, making notes, and Silky's reply is on the edge of the desk.  Davey slips in so quietly he only hears it with his sear, so startlingly that Josiah leaves a blot on the end of a row. 

"Capper?"

He puts his pen down and smiles like he imagines Silky would at an Antoine or an Ellis.  Truth to say, he has missed the boy, even the sometimes frantic, fledgling winging of his sear.  He is far too young to grieve such an emptiness as that long, black hallway and the smoke-torn sky.

"May I ask a question?"

Times, the boy's genteel raising surfaces, softly like the wave on the shore.  Times, as now, he holds his cap in his hands as if he's in a holy place, and his eyes are the shyness of moss on a shadowed ledge. 

"Course.  Always."

"Eddy said firemen don't take holidays."

"Come sit.  What're you onto?"

"It's almost Dawning Days, that's all..."

"Oh, ghosts above, Davey - " Josiah has to laugh.  " - no, that's not how Eddy meant it.  He only meant that fires and accidents and all our work, it can happen any time."

Davey sits in one of the clutter of chairs in Josiah's office, kicking his legs, the gesture of a younger boy, an apologetic sort of gesture. 

"I don't mean to laugh, young Cleary, but we do know the Dawning Days."

From the sundown on solstice to daybreak on New Year's - the time of spirits, the time of the seasons shifting, the time to do good and remember that the sun is only resting for a grand debut.  The oakbellies throw a grand to-do at New Year's, all the officers invited to come at their most festive.  He has not gone - and the oakbellies are likely to be glad of it, he figures, for he would not cut such a charming figure in his full dress and a tin of polish on his leg.  They would, as they did at his promotion, shuffle and swallow hotly above their stiff collars.  He would probably stand the whole night out of pride and spend the week after in bed.  Perhaps it would be worth it.

"Do you have a party?"

"As many as we can."

"And lights?"

"As many as the sills will hold.  The lights and the cups left out for the ghosts.  Eddy has probably got another little tree to plant - you know, that stand of maple by the stables, that's his handiwork."

Davey is looking as delighted as Josiah has ever seen him.  His eyes are younger, now.  He is more the boy that he must have been in golden days, before his long dark hallway. 

"And you already know Bertram and his fiddle, and save us all, we've heard the lads sing."

"They taught me the fireman's song."  Davey grips the chair, and then pauses, as if lost of a sudden.  "Lyddie would've liked that song, I suppose.  Mother scolded her because she called the music our teacher brought her 'musty old tunes'."

From far away, in the marrow of his bones, Josiah feels the soft carpet of the parlor under his shoes.  Dark walnut bookshelves and rich, salmon-colored wallpaper embossed with an intricate pattern, the sort of thing a child would run their fingers over.  The books are less a rainbow than a late-summer forest, greens and smatterings of red and orange.  The girl playing the piano, with the bow in her hair, likes to spin cleverly from the plodding strains of an old mass to the bright chirps of ragtime and dance.  The brother laughs. 

The oak floors in their dormitory had what seemed to be a century of wax and polish creating glistening currents in the low lamplight.  They could have greased the bedsprings with a gallon of lard per man and the damned things would've screamed like witches every time a man so much as thought of rolling over.  A cold night outside, and a warm hearth within, each coat and helmet hung on its hook, each woolen blanket tucked neatly around each mattress corner.  The brothers are singing and the brothers are laughing. 

"Antoine wrote me a letter," Davey says, quietly.  "He says he got his sear."  Davey bites his lip.  "He says everybody looked after him, and his captain Jack Prince gave him a pocketwatch.  Does it hurt so much, always?"

"Every man is different.  It's a hard hand of days.  But we look after each other." "I don't remember, exactly.  I hurt so long, I was in bed and the lady wanted to call the doctor, I think.  I hurt so long, and then - then it just felt like - "  Davey leans forward, puts his arms on the desk and his head in his arms and sighs.  Muffled, he whispers, "I felt like - "

Like wandering, Josiah thinks.  That strange stillness when the fever breaks, before you come around to your mates watching over you, before you pull yourself out of your bed weak and stunned and brand-new on foal's legs.  A fresh and open field, the shaded place where the last dollop of snow lives nearly into June. 

"I know," Josiah murmurs, and lays his hand - his scarred hand - on young Cleary's shoulder.  "I do know, son, I do."

"I wished Antoine didn't have to hurt that way.  Or Ellis.  Or Jules or Betram." "I dunno what it was like - " Josiah sighs.  " - but for me, I had my mates around, and my pal, we got it together.  I never would've got through it, without him."

"Thomas."

Josiah starts.

"Sorry, Capper.  I read it on the letter.  Eddy talked about him once, too."

"Silky."

"Capper?"

"Silky.  That's what we called Thomas."

"Why?"

"I don't remember, really."

"What's he like?"

"Oh," Josiah says.  "I'll tell you.  You'd like him a sight better than me - for one thing, he's got two entire good legs and he could take you down to the fish pond.  Second - "

Davey is kicking his legs again, scuffing the toes of his boots on the wooden floor. 

"Well, I'll tell you.  The day I met him, here at Wynantskill, he very nearly ran me down with a horse, a big old dapple grey gelding we called Chubby..."

Davey leans on his hands. 

Silky's letter, half-unfolded, is by his elbow.  I never really got the brothers' whole forgiveness bit, it says, but I do reckon it's a little bit like when you turn over the ash of a building, and you find a little green thing growing underneath.

[writingsbychlo]

heart under construction (01)

word count; 5142

summary; jake notices sam’s feelings way before sam does, and plays match-maker.

notes; suuuuper cute. I know it’s not all that exciting, it’s really just an introduction to the series to lay some groundwork.

warnings; none!

Swiping his thumb over the screen, Sam worried his lower lip between his teeth as he tried to choose a photo. The problem was, they were all pretty good selfies, if he was being totally honest. The girl who had messaged him was extremely attractive, the sort of attractive that had knocked Sam’s breath straight from his lungs at the picture he had received from her two minutes ago, and now she was waiting on a reply. 

Settling on his third option, he hit send, the content smirk on his face quickly being wiped away as he felt a huff behind him, the shadow that he hadn't realised had been looming over him was finally shifting and he spun around, a slight heat rising to his cheeks as he realised his brother had caught him in the act. Jake merely scoffed, rolling his eyes and moving away to begin lugging equipment from the truck, and yet, Sam couldn’t find it within himself to follow his brother out of the house and down the pathway as his phone buzzed, notifying him of a response from the beauty he had been speaking to.

His fingers dashed across the keyboard on his phone as he carefully crafted a flirty response, in hopes of landing himself a date that night, and he was so preoccupied, he didn’t even register the sounds of his brother’s voice taking up in conversation until a lighter laugh cut through the air. Glancing up, your back was facing him, but there was no mistaking you. The same colour hair that had preoccupied his mind the entire day before, the same sweet-sounding voice that had been ringing in his ears was back, and suddenly, he was finishing his text as soon as possible, shoving his phone deep into his pocket as he took off down the pathway to you.

When Jake’s eyes left your face to see him approaching, you turned, a wide smile on your face as you looked at him and he couldn’t help but return it. The expression didn’t last long, however, as he caught sight of the purple bruise that had blossomed on the side of your forehead. Angry and slightly swollen, the mark was prominent against your skin and guilt once again flooded his system as he came to a stop before you, Jake’s voice pouring out apologies on his behalf, and he even threw another on of his own out as he looked at the bruise. 

“That looks really bad. Shit! I can’t believe I did that!” He finally dragged his gaze away from the injury he’d caused, his eyes finding yours, your smile still prominent as your shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. 

“Hey, it’s totally okay, don’t worry!” You nudged his shoulder a little as you spoke, a small chuckle leaving you. “I think it makes me look badass, actually.”

His own laughter followed, the sides of his eyes crinkling at the sudden amusement and he shook his head fondly at your words. “Fancy yourself a little streetfighter or something then, huh?” With a clap on the shoulder and a nod of the head, Jake was walking past him, a slight smirk that Sam couldn't decipher sitting on his lips but he didn’t focus on it, instead, turning his attention back to you. Your brow crinkled as you laughed, a low ‘ow’ slipping from your lips as you did, and your hand hovered over your face as you tried to contain your giggles. 

Without thinking, Sam lifted his hand, his fingers brushing the stray pieces of hair back from your face and tucking them behind your ear as the pads of his fingers skimmed lightly over the damaged flesh, your eyes watching him carefully, wide and wondering before he realised what he was doing, red heat creeping along his skin as he pulled his hand back.

“I really can’t tell you how sorry I am. I’m a fucking idiot.” You merely rolled your eyes at his self-deprecating comment, reaching out and taking the hand he had just dropped back to his side in your own, squeeing lightly and his fingers twitched, curling around your own gently and holding on. 

“I told you, it’s fine, I’m fine!” Your grip on him had loosened, only a single finger still linked with his as your barely-connected hands hung between the two of you, and he dropped his head in shame, eyes focusing on his hand just slightly holding onto yours as you spoke. “Do you think this is the first bump I’ve been given? I work with kids, they like to smash things against your head all the time. I’ve been clocked with a Thomas the Tank Engine, kicked in the ribs, you name it. I’m totally okay.”

He let out a sigh, tilting his head back up to look at you as your stern gaze looked into his until he eventually nodded, forgiving himself for his accidental assault on your head as he let a smile break through. “How did your meeting go?”

“It went really well!” Your face lit up at his words, and he felt proud of himself for remembering to ask, seeing the joy on your face that he recollected your meeting had been plenty reward for him, the same expression reflecting on his own features. “We got the funding we needed, which means I can start my planning for our big event, which is very exciting. All the parent representatives were on board, it went without a hitch. I was really happy with the outcome, couldn’t have asked for better!”

He wanted to ask you more, he just wanted to hear you talk, the excitement in your voice as you shared your day with him was something he would never grow tired of, his grin only dulling slightly as he watched you glance down at your watch, eyes widening before looking back up to him. 

“Oh, wow, I really have to go. It was lovely to see you again, and don’t worry, the bump is nothing, really!” Your touch finally left him entirely, the finger you’d had linked delicately with one of his was torn away as you spun on your heel, granting him one final shining beam before you were taking hurried steps down the street and away from him once again. He watched you go, hearing a sharp whistle from beside him and he glanced up to the door of the house, his brother giving him an incredulous look, mouthing the words ‘her name, moron!’ at him, and Sam’s eyes widened, his feet moving below him as he took off after you in a quick jog.

Locking an arm on your elbow, he spun you back to face him, your expression slightly shocked as he gave you a sheepish smile, retracting his hand and letting you turn to fully face him yourself, you eyebrows raised in silent question. “I- um.. what’s your name?”

Your head tipped to the side, that same beautiful smile he was quickly growing very fond of making a small appearance as you held your hand out for him. “(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).”

Slipping his hand into yours, he shook it firmly, enjoying the way your hand felt holding his once again, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. “I’m Sam. That up there is my brother, Jake.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both. I’ll see you soon, I hope?” You were pulling away once again, and no matter how much he wanted you to stay, he had to let you go, instead choosing to nod happily as he watched you take a few steps backwards.

“Yeah, I hope so, too.”

Once again, you plagued the man’s thoughts. Your sweet nature, your smile and your sense of humour carried him on a high and light mood throughout the entire afternoon. Even when he has dropped a plank of wood on his foot, and even when he was arranging the date he had been awarded for this morning’s flirting attempts, he was smiling as you lingered in the back of his mind. 

The hours had dragged by, and while they had got a considerable amount done in real terms it still looked like nothing. The pair of brothers had spent the morning measuring and mapping out the place where the new extension would be built, having to change their minds on the placement and shape what had to have been ten times before Sam had decided he was happy with it. 

Once they had their markers in place, the heavy manual labour of actually beginning to clear out that section of the garden had commenced. Hours of digging, dragging and drilling later, they had removed two tree stumps, dug down into the ground and marked out their foundations, and officially worn themselves out. All that work, and it just looked like a half-dug hole in the ground. 

He knew it was a remarkable progression for one day, but he hated this part, because it looked like nothing, even though logically, he knew it was everything.

Rolling his shoulders, he eased his head from side to side as he looked down and over the edge of the ledge he was sitting on, his legs dangling from one of the holes where they had taken out the windows in order to replace them with new ones, his feet swinging freely from the second floor of the large house as his brother sat beside him. Unwrapping his sandwich, he groaned in excitement for the food, his stomach rumbling as if to emphasise the toll that the actions of the day had taken on his appetite. Clearly, Jake felt the same, because he was practically inhaling his food beside him, loud chewing and scarfing of food sounding out from the father beside him.

Taking a glance at his watch, he was shocked to see that it was only just ticking past four o’clock, he felt like they had worked late into the evening, and was shocked to see it was still midafternoon. Just as he ducked his head to pick up his meal, his eyes caught onto movement down on the street, and he let himself take the chance to look, his mood picking up considerably as he realised just who was walking past. 

Looking down at your phone, you had a slight pep in your step as you strolled up the street, your shoulders slumped slightly from your own exhaustion of the day, and he paused, his food halfway to his mouth as he watched you walk past the house. Not sensing his brothers gaze on him, he snapped himself out of it with a small shake of the head and a clear of his throat, taking a large bite from his lunch and humming happily as the food hit his tongue.

He practically choked when he swallowed, however, when your name was called out loudly from the man beside him, and he watched you jump slightly in shock, spinning around as you surveyed the ground around you, coming up empty and clear of other people. Sam’s head whipped around to look at his brother as he coughed up his mouthful, brows furrowed as you finally looked up to see the two of them, a hand covering your eyes from the sun as you spotted them, smiling and waving up to them from so far down below.

“Hey, (Y/N)! You want to come join Sam for lunch?”

“Dude, what?” 

His hissed out words were ignored by his brother and he choked down his bite of sandwich, eyes wide as his brother continued to ignore him, looking to you instead. “Uh, up there?”

“Yeah! I was just finishing my own, but I’m sure Sam would love the company.” You seemed hesitant, your eyes raking over the ladder before you as you took a few steps up the property pathway, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Sam unconsciously lifted a hand to rest atop the ladder and steady it. “I have a chocolate bar you can have to make up for my brother hitting you yesterday?”

You merely laughed at his brother’s attempts at bribery, shrugging off your coat and bag to hang them on a nearby standing metal rod, looking up at the two of them as you set your hands on the ladder. “You had me at chocolate.” Looking at the metal under your hands cautiously, you took a deep breath before mumbling a ‘fuck it’ under as you exhaled and began to climb. 

Holding his hand out for you, Jake helped pull you the rest of the way up, letting you take a seat beside Sam, your thigh pressed against his, your shoulders bumping as you adjusted yourself in the space of the empty window frame, taking the relinquished chocolate from his brother, who was quick to shoot him a wink and disappear down the ladder.

“Uh, hey..” He coughed, covering the slight tremble of uncertainty that had been carried on his voice, choosing to occupy himself by continuing with his meal, watching as you unwrapped the candy in your hand with a happy expression. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he shuffled awkwardly at the sudden sensation, your face finally turning to face him and just like that, all his anxiety and tension slipped away. 

“This is a hell of a view.”

He nodded, chewing faster and swallowing his mouthful as he let his gaze flicker out to glance each roof of every other house on the lower sitting area and out to the horizon. “It really is. You should see the view from the other side, it looks out onto all these beautiful fields and- well, of course you know, you live here, but it’s stunning. Really.”

“I would love to see that! I imagine it’s a really beautiful sight.” You snapped off a piece of the candy, a sigh leaving you as you glanced around the inside, scanning an inquisitive gaze over all their work equipment. “So, who’s house it? Are my new neighbours going to be nice?”

You elbowed him gently at the joke, and he chuckled, pushing the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and thinking over his reply before he gave it to you, settling into a comfortable silence in the meantime as you eagerly awaited his response. “It’s mine, actually. I bought it, I saw it online and I had so many ideas about what to do with it. I’m going to do it up and flip it, put it on the market for more, I think.”

Your jaw dropped, nodding at his words as you thought it over, a sound of agreement leaving you. “Makes sense. You must’ve gotten it for a right steal, too. It really fell apart while it wasn’t being looked after, but I bet you will do an amazing job making it look all pretty and presentable again. How long do you think it’ll take you? I mean, there is only two of you.”

“Eh, maybe six months? Me and my brother make a pretty good team. Always have.” Your eyes twinkled as he spoke, the soft awwing that left your mouth had a familiar blush coating his cheeks, and you both looked down to see his brother on the phone in the truck, talking happily to his family.

“I’m impressed! I’ve always loved this house. I’ve lived here since I was a kid, but nobody has ever moved in, so I never got a chance to see it in all its glory. It’ll be nice to see it be made into something beautiful.” 

Mulling over his decision, he scrunched up his wrappers and threw them into a nearby bucket for waste and scrapings, standing up and brushing himself down as he backed away into the house, looking back at you over his shoulder with a smirk. “Come one then, I have to show you around your dream house. Give you the grand tour, and all that.”

You jumped up, a small laugh leaving him at your enthusiasm as you brushed the stray dust from your pants and followed after him, wobbling slightly on the loose floorboards. 

“Right, we’ll do this backward since we’re already on the top floor.” Gesturing around himself, he dragged you to the middle of the room so he could turn you to show off the space. “The top floor here is pretty much open plan. Or, it will be. I’m picturing it being the main bedroom, and a big one. I want to knock almost all of the walls though, and put some exposed support beams across the top to give it sort of a classic vibe. The stairs come right up into the room, and I’m picturing a big closet in the corner, walk-in with shelves and built-in wardrobes.” 

“I would put a bed, a big one right up against that wall, and a television on the opposite wall. Solid wood floors, but plenty of those really soft rugs that go down, and I’d put a dresser under the window over there, with all the natural light. You know?” You turned to him, your smile never having been so wide as you spoke animatedly about what you’d do with the room if it was yours, and he couldn’t help but agree as he thought about it, picturing the room with you.

“A bookcase over here, with a few small couches and a coffee table. See how the sun hits it just right from where the large windows will be? It would be the perfect reading spot.” You let out a happy sigh as you pictured it, Sam’s eyes unable to leave you as you dreamed happily about the room around you. “Want to see the rest?”

He guided you across to the other side of the room, the gap for a roof to floor doors available as you peered out at the broken terrace. 

“There wasn’t originally a balcony here, but since there’s space out here for it I’m going to turn it into one. I think those big opening glass doors would look good here.”

“You could put little planters all along the edge near a railing, with nice flowers growing in them. Maybe something bright, maybe ‘million bells’. They’re small and low maintenance but so cheery!” He nodded, swallowing thickly at the idea of having a balcony decorated with beautiful flowers, the idea making him light up.

You stared out at the scene a little longer, before following him carefully across the wobbly and creaky floor to the stairs. The banisters had all been removed, gaps in the stairs showing evidently and Sam held out his hand in your direction as an offering, your soft palm sliding flat against his calloused one as he guided you down the staircase and showed you where to step. “Again, I want to put some exposed beam work along the corridor, going with that classic vibe, but it’s bigger down here. I don’t want to do as much, though.”

You walked along, his hand lingering in yours, and as you didn’t pull away form him, he didn’t either, instead, he wove his fingers through yours and let you guide him along as you peaked into each open doorway. “You could have three bedrooms here, or two bedrooms and a game-room, if the new owners had kids. You could have an amazing study or office, big enough for desks and bookshelves!”

You were practically skipping along as you spoke, and he told you all about the renovations he was going to be doing. There was less going on in the middle floor, just some simple repairs and redecorating. As a breeze swept through the empty window holes and along the corridor, your body had moved a little closer to his for warmth, the smell of your perfume filling his senses as you stood close enough for him to catch a drift of it. “I was thinking, if it were my house-”

“It is your house.”

He deadpanned at your joke, giving you a look as if to question whether you had a really made that joke, and you hadn't stopped the giggle that poured from your lips as he shoved you lightly, rolling his eyes as you laughter only bubbled over even more. “Anyway, as I was saying. I’d have two bedrooms, both along one side, and one of the other two would be an office where I could get all my work done. I want to put one of those big, really nice bathtubs in the bathroom as well, because the bathroom above and below us can only just fit showers in.”

“You could get one of the ones with the clawfoot tubs, to match your older-style theme.”

“I like that. A lot, actually.” He could picture it, the tiles surrounding it, large enough for two people, a beautiful bathroom that was a combination of both modern and classic elements. “Just wait ‘til I show you the kitchen.”

Guiding you down and through the rest of the house, he had show you everything, and he’d told you all his ideas. You had been in absolute awe of the large plan kitchen, with enough space for an island counter in the middle, the kitchen was the only part of the house that he wanted to make modern, and you had been practically overflowing with ideas as you planned it moving from one end of the room to the other as you poured out all your desires.

Jake had caught up with you both as he had been showing you the connected dining room, and he’d pitched in to show how he thought it should be. Sam hadn’t realised he was still clutching onto your hand, your fingers weaved through his comfortably until he’d caught sight of his brother’s proud smirk while you weren’t looking, his gaze flicking down to your connected hands and back up. 

With a flush, he’d realised your hand, explaining himself with a shrug as you grabbed your coat, the chill from the house passing by beginning to take its effect, but you couldn’t leave without looking at the garden. The garden stretched on and on, and you had excitedly told them both to picture how good the garden would look lined with hedges for fences, with a few trees to provide shade and maybe a table for sitting at in the summer. He had proudly boasted of the shed he would build if it were his house, big enough to store all his tools and supplies as well as putting up shelves for blueprints and maybe even a small table inside for working on plans.

The sun was setting by the time you were ready to go, and he really wasn’t sure how the time had passed by so quickly. Now, you were standing before him, your bag back on your shoulder and your hands buried deep in your pockets to keep them warm as you thanked both of them for giving you the chance to look around the house you had always admired form the outside.

“It’s really the least I could do. I mean..” Waving idly at your forehead, Jake let out a bellowing laugh, bidding you a goodbye as he set off into the house to begin to close up for the night, once again leaving the two of you alone and that feeling of pure comfort and peace settled over you once again. “So, you like the house?”

“It’s so much bigger inside than it looks on the outside. It’s incredible.”

“I’m glad I could show you, I had a lot of fun.” He ignored the not-so-subtle whistling of Jake behind him, and you nodded, taking you hands out of your pocket and jumping forward, your arms wrapping around his midriff as your face buried in his chest for a second. He barely had time to respond, and by the time he was lifting his own arms to return the affections, you were pulling away, rubbing your hands together for warmth and taking a few steps back. 

“I  had a really lovely time, Sam. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe?”

“Yeah, tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

A warm feeling filled his chest at your promise, and now, he couldn't wait to get home, just so he could get up in the morning and see you again on your way to work. He hadn't had such fun in a while, and all he had done was show you around a derelict and destroyed house, and yet, it was more enjoyable than most of his dates were now. 

You had long since gone, but he was still staring out ahead of him, grinning to himself like an idiot when his brother took your abandoned spot before his eyes, a knowing smirk on his older siblings face as he looked at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You haven’t checked your phone in four hours, even though it keeps chiming.”

“So? That doesn’t mean anything.” As if on cue, it suddenly felt important to check it again, and his hand plunged into his pocket to fish out the device, but Jake’s hand on his wrist prevented him from doing so, a look in his eyes that told him to give his full attention to the conversation they were having. 

“You don’t even pay attention to me when I’m talking if your phone buzzes.” His brows furrowed as he looked at his brother, his lips curling down in a frown and his jaw dropped to explain himself, but Jake was soon waving his hand to dismiss the statement. “You’re always too busy swiping this, that or the other. You totally like this chick!”

Jake a wide smile on his face and his arm held out wide, hands twisted in thumbs up and Sam’s eyes widened as he thought about you, and about him. His phone buzzed again in his pocket, chiming the familiar note of notifications from tinder, and he shook his head, denial beginning to pour from his lips as he ignored and suppressed the warmth that blossomed in his chest at the mere idea of you. “No, she’s not my time. Nuh-uh.”

“Uh, she’s exactly your type.” Holding a hand up to count off, his brother began to list your qualities, ones that he knew Sam particularly loved in a girl. “She’s sweet, she’s cute, she’s funny, she spent the whole afternoon talking to you about remodelling.” 

“Yeah, and she’s also the type that wants to have a real relationship. She wants that exclusivity thing, a guy who’s totally head over heels for her, all that crap.” Sam let out a sigh as he thought about you, about the way you might feel in his arms or the way your lips might feel against his, but he was quick to push the ideas from his mind. “She works in a nursery for Christ’s sake. That’s not me. I don’t settle down.”

“What? Do you just never want to settle down?”

“Sure, one day.” He shrugged, letting out a ragged sigh and running a hand through his hair. “I mean, you seem super happy, because you found ‘the one’ or whatever, you had a baby and the house and the white picket fence, but that doesn’t mean it’ll work for me.” The underlying feeling of pure rejection and fear barely being hidden.

Jake opened his mouth to reply, being fixed with a short glare before Sam was making his way toward the truck, sighing agitatedly and leaving Jake to follow after him, the conversation forgotten as the truck was started up and they headed home for the evening. He did his best to push away the feeling of how good it felt to spend the afternoon with you, and he couldn’t deny the connection the two of you had made.

He spend the night thinking about it, considering your ideas and writing them down as the house lingered in his mind, your face and how good the garden would look done up just the way you had suggested. The only escape he got from you was when sleep finally took him, and as he drove to work the next morning, he was conflicted. 

He wanted to see you, he was checking the direction of the street you walked from more than he was checking his phone, but he also lingered up on the top of the roof, because he didn’t want to let his feelings grow. He doesn’t do relationships, they don’t work out. His last relationship didn’t end well, he didn’t have a good history, and he wasn’t getting himself all worked up over it now.

He was still hiding out on the roof when you passed by, your voice ringing out and bringing harmony tot he small work area as he peeped over the edge of the roof, his eyes finding yours as you waved to him happily, calling out a greeting to him which he quickly returned, before diverting his eyes and trying to focus on screwing in the bolts on the wall before him. You had stayed to chat for a while, even handing over a large flash to Jake before you were saying your goodbyes, waving to him and shooting him a bright smile before you were disappearing, and finally, he allowed himself to come down the ladder to stand by his brother’s side.

Unscrewing the top, Jake took a sniff of the liquid, letting out a groan as the steam curled out into the cool air. “She brought us coffee?”

“Yeah. She’s a real sweetheart.” His brother mumbled, and Sam let his head tip to the side, accepting the small plastic cup filled with the hot liquid, and he shook his head fondly at the thought of you making them coffee and bringing it for them.

“She’s so fucking cute, but also hot. I don’t get it, she’s got it all.”

“Stop it.” His daydreaming was brought to a quick end upon hearing the harsh tone of Jake’s voice, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother.

“Stop what?”

“She’s lovely, and you don’t want to settle down, you made that perfectly lear last night. Don’t hurt her by sleeping with her, Sam. She’s not one of your tinder girls, leave her alone.” His brother gave him a curt nod after delivering the hurtful, but truthful, words. The sweet coffee burned as he swallowed it, and he cringed at both the burns he had received in the last thirty seconds, both physically and metaphorically.

Pushing down how he felt, he cleared his mind, swigging the rest of his drink before moving away to start his work for the day.

[the-fiction-witch]

Spooky Times 24 : Witches Oak

REAL LIFE: COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: DARK

Not Much Used to happen in this little town, But sometimes that’s because far too much happened long ago.

The room was hushed, the tweeting of birds and the patterning of occasional rain both muffled by the window and pulled curtains. The room is dark with only the light of a few glow in the dark green stars stuck to the ceiling and walls. A rustling from the corner of the room and a huge glass tank, however, filled with sawdust and toys. The Quiet sounds of breathing from under the mangled mess of blue space bedding.

“ADAM!! You’ll be late for school!” The Shrill voice from the stairwell screamed

“Uuuuummm Five more minutes mum!” I groaned back cuddling my blanket tighter

“Now Adam! And Remember you have to drop your sister off at preschool” She yelled back

“Fine” I sighed, I slowly swung my feet around slipping them into my cosy slippers as I forced myself up from the bed and stretched as I went out my bedroom across the old hallway to the little bathroom. I stared at my face a while my eyes barely open and my hair a mess, I brushed my teeth and washed up as quickly as I could before hopping back into my room and getting dressed. Slipping on an old pair of jeans, My Plain blue shirt and then my light blue Patterned overshirt. I fixed my hair best I could, slipping on my glasses and opening my curtains. It looked dull and grey as it did almost every day.

I Sighed and cracked the window to let some air through grabbing a handful of birdseed from the bag and dropping it outside the window letting the pile sit on the ledge.

I grabbed the lid for the tank and put it down grabbing two little treats from the box and watching as two little hamster heads popped out the sawdust from the tunnels they had been building

“Goodnight Marco” I smiled giving him a treat which he happily took and hid in his cheeks “goodnight Polo” I smiled giving him one too “You guys get to bed, it’s late for you” I smiled putting the lid back on. I grabbed my backpack from the floor and stuffed my homework from my desk into my bag before heading downstairs.

My mother sat at the table with her cup of tea and my sister in her high chair eating something I wasn’t sure what with her unicorn bowl and spoon.

“She’ll be late,” My mother said

“I know mum, I had to feed Marco and Polo” I answered, picking up my little sister and starting to put her yellow raincoat on, sitting her on the sofa and slipping on her little pink wellies.

“Your money’s on the table,” she says sipping her tea

“Thanks, mum,” I smiled, taking the coins and stuffing them in my pocket. “Come on Eliza,” I said, picking her up and heading out the door.

The streets are empty and hardly a light on with any of the houses. I put Eliza down and let her walk along the street beside me as we headed along the road until we reached the edge of the forest walking down the little paths through the trees listening to the birds in the trees and the crunching of the leaves below my feet.

Eliza ran off as usual so I sighed and ran after her. She sat at the tall withered old oak tree, the bark and branches twisted, the leaves falling to the earth with shades of orange and green. The roots breaking through the ground the earth broke open where the roots are too strong.

“Hello Miss Oak” Eliza giggled as she looked at the tree as the little black and grey bunny rabbit hopped from the burrow under the tree roots,

“Hey Mrs oak” I smirked getting a carrot from my backpack snapping it in half and throwing it to her “Come On Eliza” I smiled picking her up and heading down the path, I noticed the little bunny following us “No Not you Mrs Oak” I laughed so the bunny hopped back to its burrow and we carried on through the thick forest. The path got a little more well-trod so I put Eliza bath down letting her run as we passed the old rusted gates of the Old Graveyard, the twisted iron covered in years of ivy and stinging nettles. Eliza ran off inside so I sighed following her though the little paths littered with old gravestones and flowers, till she stopped by one so broken and weathered the name and dates where unreadable. She stopped and sat down clapping her hands and soon enough the little blonde bunny hopped out from behind the stone

“Mr Gravestone!” she giggled

“Hey Mr gravestone” I laughed, throwing him the other half a carrot “Come on Eliza else we’ll be late,” I told her, picking her up and heading into town.

I kept Eliza close to me cuddling her close to me as we crossed the little roads and hurried down the empty stone streets until I reached the little daycare centre

“Good Morning Eliza” Mrs Smith smiled

“Hey Mrs smith, sorry I can’t stay I got to get to class,” I told her handing Eliza to her

“Of course you have a nice day adam” she smiled

“I wanna go play with Mr Gravestone and Miss Oak” Eliza giggled

“I know, well you have to stay here, I’ll come to get you after school okay?” I remember so she nodded and headed off down the grey pavement towards the school.

Nothing much went on that day, just the usual Friday bored out of my mind as my friends were always gone on Fridays for the club stuff they do. I sat on the MDF desk slowly taking my pen apart and putting it back together over and over while pretending to listen to my History teacher as she went on and on about the importance of local history without ever actually telling anyone any. Everyone in the room was as bored as me except Melody who sat at the front of the class, her glasses perched on her nose, her dark brown Pigtails happily sitting on her shoulders, her hands neatly folded on the desk in front of her. I stopped looking, not wanting someone to see me looking at her even if I had a mild crush on her but I never let anyone know I don’t want to die a horrible painful death for admitting to liking the school nerd girl.

“Fine, you kids want important local history? Something that appeals to your bloodthirsty heads” she asked I glanced up curious what she was talking about “Then I shall tell you of the documented tail of the Witches oak”

“The Witches oak? Miss Linea Everyone knows about the witches oak it's a bedtime story” one boy commented from the back

“Then, by all means, You tell it, Arthur,” she said

“The Town used to have a resident witch, who stole babies, ate children and put spells on the town until the major ran her out of town on some waggon” he explained I sighed and returned to my pen

“No! That’s not the story at all” Melody argued

“Go On Miss Abernathy,” Miss Linea told her

“Many years ago, the town had a resident witch, she lived out in the woods” she began and I perked up a little more watching melody as she spoke “she made potions for the town, as a healer, until one day she gave the whole town the wrong potion in an attempt to murder them all, she only killed one child in her attempt, and when the town confronted her she put a curse on the town, the crops died, the water got contaminated, the mines ran dry and the livestock all died. So the towns People took her out to the witches oak and Hung her for her crimes” she explained

“Very good Miss Abernathy, However that was not the end of it,” Miss Linea said “In her dying breath she cursed those who had doomed her to the fate of hell and said each of them would die a horrible death, and within the month every one of her accusers was found dead in a most Horrific way”

The bell then went so everyone gathered their things. I shoved my work into my bag and headed out towards my locker for my stuff when I heard a voice as I was unlocking it,

“Hey Adam,” I turned and saw that the melody stood with her books, I tried not to blush and smiled “Hey Melody, what’s up?” I asked her

“I was wondering if you could walk me home?” she asks “You walk through the woods don't you?”

“Uhh yeah I do” I nodded “But Uhh…. I have to pick up my little sister from daycare”

“It’s okay, I can wait” she smiled

“You sure?” I asked grabbing my stuff and she nods “Okay, let’s go then”

I gathered my stuff and locked up my locker as we both slowly walked out of school heading out into town as the darkness began to crawl into the town “So why did you want me to talk with you today?” I asked her

“Well with the nights growing much darker this time of year, and having to walk through the woods by the witches oak tree it’s rather scary” she explained

"Yeah especially when you remember that spooky story for history class" I blushed

But at that exact moment the sky cracked and a storm erupted on the horizon breaking the buildings destoryin tree's I saw the terrifying dark clouds on the horizon "The Tree! it's where the storms coming from, something is happening tonight" I said "Come on" I told her making her follow me grabbing my sister on the way till we reached the tree and instantly I was in another world...

"This is the only place I ever felt happy" she says "but not anymore"

"Why not?"

"It's full of bad memories now" she says a tear falling down her cheek

"There wasn't anywhere else?"

"No, everywhere else was just the same"

"What about your mother? Didn't you want to see her?"

"No… I never knew her, she died when I was born"

"What about your father?"

"He wasn't very nice to me… he blamed me for her death, and was unkind to me"

"There must have been someone who looked after you? Who was kind to you?"

"One"

"Y/n?" I heard from behind the tree where Y/n sat two hands appeared from behind the tree covering her eyes as she read her book making her giggle

"Hehee stop it!" She giggled

"His name was Thomas" she smiled as the boy popped out from behind the tree to give Y/n a hug

"You seem close?"

"We where, we used to come here and cuddle" she laughed "he used to promise me that he'd marry me" she blushed as he gave her cheek a little kiss

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I died before he could"

"Ohh I'm sorry"

"You remind me off him" she smiled "he was always sweet, kind to me… he was a very open mind"

"You miss him?"

"Every day"

"Don't you want to go see him?"

"I'm not sure I can"

"Why not?"

"I'm sure he moved on once I died" She says

I looked to the book finding the day she was hung she looked away as it turned to the red sky the rope in the tree, Y/n being forced to walk towards it

"Y/n!! NOOO PLEASE!! Please she didn't do anything!! Nooo!! Y/nA!!!" He screamed men holding him back so he couldn't intervine

"It's the last thing I remember, My Thomas, crying, screaming as I was hung" she explained "please...tell me… what happened to him"

I turned the page and continued to read

"Days later Thomas Sangster was found under the Witches Oak Tree, having hung himself in the night" I read "he wanted to be with you Y/n he hung himself so he could be with you"

"Then… then why is he not here?"

I looked to the book and read the rest of it "he was cut down and burried in the graveyard with his other deceased family members" I read "you see Y/n that's why he hasn't been here all these years, he wanted to die with you, be with you for all eternity, but his family dragged him away and burried him somewhere else So you couldn't be together"

[setsailslash]

Hooker Jason?

this is underage hooker jason/dr. thomas wayne set in flashpoint verse featuring father todd and also batman(thomas) because when you don’t specify my brain does weird things ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Then.

Standing at a street corner, shirt cut too low, torn pair of jeans too tight, Jason glances at the car itself and the way it parks just a little further than any of the regulars would to know it’s a newcomer seeking just the kind of thrill he provides.

He waves with a smile, mouth curling sweetly in invitation, and waits for the slow roll of the passenger side window to come down a slit before he starts walking over. 

Looking both ways before he crosses the street.

The car is nice, like really fucking nice. A lot of money in a top of the line Bentley with chrome rims. Jason would whistle if that wasn’t the point here, all low and sharp and impressed as he sweeps a hand over the sleek side of it. The sheer power contained within the machinery more of a turn-on than anything the man sitting inside could be packing.

When the window comes down further, Jason leans over until the driver can see the glint of his nipple piercings when the collar of his low cut tee swoops down even further. 

“What’s your name, handsome?” Jason asks before he can even see the man’s face, half hidden in the shadows. But when he does, he’s got to blink because, well, handsome is his go to but he never actually means it to describe any of his clients. 

Until now, it seems.

“Thomas.” It’s a nervous edge but the man answers at least, and it seems like at least this part is familiar to him. Jason has to smile again.

“Well, Thomas,” a stress placed on the sound of his name as he says it, mouth wrapping deliberately around it. A lick of his lips, a tilt of his head, Jason asks. “Think you wanna take me for a ride?”

-

Now.

When he meets him again, it feels like it should be some kind of alternate realities or the parallel kind, like he’s read in those sci-fy novels.

Because it hasn’t just been years, it’s been a decade. 

The kind where he really hasn’t been thinking of the other man at all. 

The last time Jason had the man cross his mind, well, the man’s kid was gunned down in an alleyway much like where they first met. The news latched on like a dog with a bone, and the reports went on and on of a little boy murdered. Like kids didn’t die every day in the Narrows. But Jason guesses all those other boys and girls didn’t have all the prospects a shithole like Gotham could offer placed upon a single silver spoon.

Jason isn’t Jay or whatever name his client wanted to groan out loud when they grabbed his hair and jerked his head back just so they could come messily across his face. 

Jason is Father Todd with a parish of his own, and has been for years too.

He is blinking his eyes at him because when the cowl comes off, it’s—

“Doc?”

It’s a second life here they are living when they meet each other once more. A hooker turned priest staring down at a surgeon turned vigilante. It all sounds a bit surreal, made up really, if he’s being honest with himself.

“Jason.”

Thomas brings down the gun he had levelled at the Father, shoulders sloping down, heavily.

-

Then.

Jason has himself draped over the middle console, the stick shift digging into the side of his hip as he finally pops open the buckle of Thomas’ belt. “You don’t have to be shy with me.”

He turns to look at the man, sees how he glances at everything in the interior of the car except for Jason, and really, he can’t have that. He isn’t proud of this job, but he takes a bit of pride in how he does it.

Jason lets out a soft little sigh that catches the man’s attention, waits until Thomas is finally looking before he reaches over, takes Thomas’ hand into his so he can drag it to cup his own groin. A flutter of his lashes, and he is rocking his hips, pushing his hard-on inside of his tight jeans into Thomas’ palm. 

“Now, I’m going to suck you off.” Jason tells him, and hopes a little bit of clear instructions will bring the man back to focus on him. 

Thomas nods, squeezes him gently through his jeans and Jason breathes hard. “Can I do something for you?”

It’s a weird fucking thing for a john to ask him that, and Jason nearly gets taken aback by it. But he thinks on it, settles on it, and tells Thomas with a smile. “You can finger me if you want but if you wanna fuck, that’s gonna be extra.”

Sways his ass in the passenger seat too as encouragement.

Even in the shitty lighting of the alleyway they’ve pulled into, Thomas’ face is still terribly handsome even as it is half shrouded in the shadows. His voice too sounds warm and kind. “I just want to make you feel good too.”

“You’re sweet, doc.” Jason tells him as his fingers work the button of the man’s slacks open and then the zipper down. 

Thomas freezes up, and Jason laughs, tips his chin to the Gotham General lanyard still around the man’s neck ending at an ID card for one Dr. Thomas Wayne before he swallows him down.

-

Now.

He stands just before the altar, looking down at the man he thought he knew. 

Time passes, people change. Some more extreme than others, he reminds himself. Thomas Wayne is older, eye weary, dangerous even, and he carries himself like he’s been fighting a losing war for far too long.

Jason isn’t sure what Thomas sees in him now, isn’t sure he wants to know. He’s died, he’s come back to life. He’s seen all of the truly awful things in life and learned that the world can be beautiful and good too. Jason has taken his second chance.

It seems like Thomas Wayne has too.

“My church can be a sanctuary if you want it to be.” Father Todd says to him. His voice kept even, an invitation but one with conditions. “But I won’t have you bringing any of your troubles here where people will get hurt.”

“People already got hurt.”

There is steel edge to Thomas’ voice, he’s a man standing on the ledge no matter how metaphorical, finger itching and Jason doesn’t need to look closely to know the kind of weaponry Thomas is packing beneath the armour he’s got on.

That’s Batman, and he’s never not been ruthless. Blood could be dripping off of the black Kevlar and Father Todd really shouldn’t be fazed.

“Are you here to talk, or are you here to fight?” Jason asks, trying not to bring his arms up to cross them over his chest in defense.

“Why?“ Thomas chuckles, the sound low and deep, feels like the slow crawling seep of heat beneath his skin, and there’s no reason why Jason should feel it at the distance that they’re at. "You gonna fight me, Father?”

“Not even if you asked for old time’s sake.” 

Jason feels like he’s here trying to talk a man off from that ledge. 

“You’ve come a long way from turning tricks in Crime Alley, Father.”

Jason knows this game. Knows Thomas only dredges up the past if just to bring Jason down to where he’s stuck at. It stays, it sticks, like a bad taste at the back of his throat migrating forward. Death has a funny way of changing people. Jason tries to let Thomas down, gently, for all the times the man had shown him some resemblance of kindness even when he didn’t have to.

“Not really, doc. It’s only three blocks.”

-

Then.

When Thomas Wayne comes inside of his mouth, Jason drinks it all down.

He drags his lips along the softening shaft to catch the stray drops he couldn’t swallow on the first try, runs the tip of his tongue over the sensitive head until he’s cleaned the man up. 

Jason lets Thomas drag his fingers in and out of his hole a few more times before he whines for him not to make him come, murmurs with his tongue still bitter from the taste of the man’s release that he doesn’t want a mess inside of his pants the rest of the night. Jason is panting softly, clenching down out of reflex, hole squeezing in rhythm around two of Thomas’ fingers buried to the last knuckle inside of him. 

His breathing hitches at the graze of the pads of those fingertips across his prostate when he does. And it’s like they are almost reluctant when Thomas gently withdraws them from the tight hot clutch of his body, leaving them both a bit breathless from it.

Jason makes a noise, and it catches himself off guard. 

Either Thomas doesn’t notice or he doesn’t mind it, because the man is zipping up, tipping his head back until he is staring at the ceiling of his Bentley to confess.

“Christ, you’re barely older than my kid.”

It’s not true, Jason is at least a good five years older than Thomas’ little boy but that’s not the fantasy he is selling here even if plenty of other men would buy him up for the night just for that. 

Jason laughs, and there’s still innocence in the way he lets it settle inside of the car before he tells him. “I’m eighteen.”

Thomas looks over at him, gives him a look that’s entirely fatherly when he replies, deadpanned. “And I’m husband of the year.”

Jason shrugs, doesn’t tell him his real age and they call it even.

“I’d say don’t do it again, but I’m not that good of a guy.” He takes what Thomas hands him and it’s more than double of his usual fees even when he takes Brother Blood’s cut out of it. “If you come back around, I’d love to see you again, doc.”

Thomas laughs, and it’s a tad bit hollow. Jason knows that kind of laughter, it’s of a man coming into the full understanding of his own actions.

“We’ll see, Jason.” 

He separates the cash into two piles, tucks each one into a respective backpocket, buttons up his jeans, and opens the door. There is the rush of a late night Gotham chill rushing in, making the stark stench of sex from the interior of the car that much sharper.

Jason revels in that.

[thomasdhoskin]

Thinking of jumping soon || Tommy & Lizzy You don't wanna die tonight Take one more breath to clear your mind Every moment's relevant Bittersweet and Delicate

Thomas wound his arms around her waist, lifting her in his embrace to circle the spot, light laughter drifting from them both. She squealed in delight, a musical noise that plastered a smile on his face. This was the moment they had been both been waiting for, a moment that he had wanted his whole life...it was a boy *** Elizabeth smiled down at him, his mirroring smile beaming back at her from where he rested in her lap. Her fingers gently combed through his hair, his eyes momentarily closing at the comfort as he gave a soft, contented sigh. “Marry me, Lizzy?”

Thomas discarded his jacket on one of the waiting room chairs as he all but bolted down the sickly white hallway, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks as he skidded to stop outside of the small room. His hand trembled as he reached for the door, forcing his feet to head inside. The image struck him like a fist to the stomach. “Oh Lizzy…” His voice trembled as her exhausted eyes looked up at him, a mess of red hair plastered across her tear stained cheek. At the sight of him, her eyes welled and her lip trembled, her hand coming up to cover her face. “I’m sorry, Tommy.” Within an instant he was knelt on the floor by the bed, his fingers careful and gentle as they wound around her own, easing her hand away from her face. “Fuck. Liz, fucking..Lizzy, I love you. I love you.” He whispered, clutching her hand tight in his, their knuckles whitening with their grip. “I’m sorry, my love.” He leaned in to press his forehead to hers softly, his own tears rolling down his nose as their joint hands rested carefully over her stomach. ------ Thomas sat on their porch, cigarette between his lips as he stared into the distance, Elizabeth’s word’s ringing in his ears and threatening to pull loose the careful wall he’d constructed in his mind. I just don’t want to be here, anymore, Tommy! Then, what? We can move, Liz, we can move. We can go wherever you feel safe again? I mean I dont want to be here. Anywhere. Thomas.  Liz...Lizzy…  Leave me alone.  Liz. I can’t… Please just, just talk to me?  I can’t, Tommy.

He exhaled deeply as he dropped the cig to the floor, stubbing it out with his toes. “Tommy?” He tilted his head up to look at his fiance as she headed over from the driveway. “Yeah Liz?” “Come on. I got some red.” He scrambled up from the porch to take her hand, letting her lead him inside. ---- Elizabeth lay with her head on his lap, tears streaming down her cheeks as Thomas trailed his fingers along the inside of her arm. His fingers trembled as they traced the light red lines crossing her pale wrists, her eyes purposefully not resting on his face as he puffed out a light sigh. “Liz, we need help.” He hummed, tilting his head up to take a mouthful of wine. “We’re fine, Tommy.” She whispered softly, her hand closing around his bruised knuckles, still raw from where they had collided with the wall, earning a quiet hiss. “I’m scared, Lizzy.” She sighed softly, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Let me get youanother glass.” ----

“Leave me alone!” Elizabeth screamed as his hands reached for her arms, the shocked expression on his face filling the pit of her stomach with a vicious mix of guilt and dread and the slightest slither of hatred. Hatred for that beautiful face and his soft eyes, a hatred for the voice on the other end of the phone she clutched in her fingers. This was not how it was meant to be…

“Liz please, please just..just come to bed, my love.” Thomas’ voice was almost a whisper as he extended a hand to his fiance, a pained expression on his features. Elizabeth’s lip trembled but she reached for his hand, taking a step and crumbling against his chest as he tangled his arms around her. She found herself knelt on the floor, her face pressed into his chest as he knelt, damp cheek against her hair as he held her as if he’d never let her go.

--- His fingers gently smoothed over the hem of her shirt, his head resting gently on her shoulder as she dozed. He curled closer into his fiance, allowing his hand to rest over her stomach lightly. He closed his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to spill, nuzzling closer into Elizabeth’s shoulder as he whispered how much he loved her into the quiet night. --- Tommy sat up on the window ledge, his head resting against the cold glass as he watched the passing cars below, cigarette dangling from his lips as he listened to Lizzy’s quiet whimpers as she wound a bandage around her wrist. “I wish you’d let me help.” He mumbled softly, not looking away from the street below as he spoke. “I’m fine, Thomas.” “Elizabeth.” He snapped a little, pushing up from where he was sitting,  Liz stepping back and knocking her glass off of the table. She jumped at the shatter her eyes wide and startled. “It’s alright.” Thomas didn’t quite care as he stepped into the broken glass, simply grimacing a little as he headed over to her. “I can clean up.” He assured, his fiance looking at the mess with teary eyes. “I’m sorry.” She whispered softly, her hand raising to her mouth as she took a few steps back. “Liz..” “It’s a mess Tommy! Everything, me, you.. This…” Her voice trembled as she reached for the door handle, Thomas already crouched to sweep the broken glass into his hand. His head shot up as the door opened, instantly forgetting the wreckage to pull on his jacket and dart off after her, the sound of the car engine filling his stomach with dread.

----

Thomas’ voice trembled as he thanked the officer on the phone, pushing his hand through his hair as he pulled on a shirt and willed his fingers to button it as his mind raced with a thousand thoughts of the situation he was going to find Elizabeth in. “Trenowl Institution please.” He settled into the back of the cab, his finger trailing over his lip as he stared blankly out of the window. As the car pulled up, he willed his legs to carry him out of the seat and thanked the driver softly. He smoothed the front of his jacket as he took in the grounds, heading through the hospital grounds and up to the front desk with his face set in a sold frown. “I’m here to see whoever is in charge, now. Please.”

[residentanchor]

Tower of Pine(ning)

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: Logan goes to check on Roman whose in the middle of a daydream in the imaginative part of the mind. Of course, he knew this was going to be bad news. Pining Logince (They’re both obvious and oblivious)

Warnings: Violence, death(minor side character), fighting, impalement, magical silencing, dragon, kidnapping, imprisonment, blood, injury

It didn't take a genius like Logan to predict that this would happen. Not that he was calling himself a genius, of course. Though, that wouldn't necessarily be a wrong assumption, objectively. He knew the second Patton had asked him to check on Roman that he would somehow end up stuck in the Imaginative part of Thomas' mind. He knew the creative side would be fine. There were many times Roman would vanish as he stirred up a brainstorm. Caught in a creative daydream, Roman would be gone all day without a word before appearing as if nothing happened. It usually occurred on days where Thomas was working with Joan or one of the other writers on a script of some sort, but even in the well-deserved downtime they had, Thomas' creativity was hard at work. 

Of course, that's not exactly what led him being trapped inside a daydream, but really, it made sense that he would be stuck if you had just stopped and thought about it logically.

Logan sighed as he stood up and dusted himself off, looking out the window of the tower he was just carelessly tossed in. He wasn't sure what type of mythical dragon Roman had created this time that happened to decide Logan was the perfect victim for their devious plot. He knew Roman had created a 'dragon witch' before. He liked merging creatures that didn't make sense alone together into a new one. It was as asinine as the manticore-chimera he had mentioned in a previous video. There was no rhyme or reason to how Roman thought of things... though he did make more sense than his brother, surprisingly.

Though, Logan did have to admit that while he didn't understand the imagination and the creations Roman conjured... he was good at his job. The rolling hills peeked out just behind the treeline that he could see from his vantage point. The trees shifted and swayed with the wind Logan could feel on his cheeks. His hair even moved with it and he felt a sense of calm wash over him. It was peaceful and very beautiful. The ambiance almost made him want to stay and enjoy it all, wondering how the night sky would appear in a place like this. It was a shame that none of it was actually real.

Logan wasted no more time before searching for a door or means of escape. The walls circled around and showed no way out, though there was a patch of the wall where the rocks were aligned differently. It was probably blocking off the old entryway as if to keep someone in. That was probably the sole purpose of this tower. Knowing Roman, it probably wasn’t a coincidence it almost resembled the tower from Tangled a bit from the outside as well. Its existence to hold someone inside and not let them out. Unfortunately, that someone was him. Logan wasn't good at imagining his way out of situations. He preferred the more solid and logical solutions which were unfortunately unhelpful to him currently. If Roman wanted to keep him here, he wasn't getting out. As soon as he solved one problem, another would arise. That’s just how the imagination worked.

Ultimately, he decided to sit on a chair and enjoy the view, happy that the dragon had flown away after dropping him off. Unfortunately for Logan, logic and creativity didn't mix all too well in this sense. It wasn't very long before he heard a noise and turned around as sparkles and smoke appeared in the center of the room. Their appearance was confusing but Logan chalked it up to the ‘story’ that he had been pulled into progressing. The sparkles grew and quickly faded, leaving an old man in long robes standing in the center of the room.

"Ahh, so this is what my beautiful pet has brought me today." Logan chose not to react, taking in as much as he could of the imaginative creation before him. "Yes, yes, excellent. You shall do nicely."

"I suppose you are the owner of this tower?" Logan pushed his glasses back up on his nose a bit. "Excellent. May I request a way out? I have much more important things to do than sit here all day."

The man began to chuckle as he approached the side. "Oh, how fun. A way out is it? Sorry, I'm afraid there isn't one for you."

Logan looked up and down at the old man before his nose scrunched up in distaste. "You're some sort of," he hesitated and held up his hands to make air quotes "what one would call a 'magical wizard' I take it. I'm sure you can create a way out that is suitable for me."

"Of course I can! That wasn't the problem." Logan watched as the old man smirked to himself. "I said there wasn't one for you."

Logan nodded and crossed his arms in front of himself. "So, I am to be kept here? For what purpose?"

"That foolish prince can't help but want to be the hero. Someone trapped in a tower? Perfect bait."

"And what do you wish to do once you have Prince Roman?" 

"What?"

The old man blinked and looked at a bit of a loss for words. "Once you have Roman, what is your goal? Could I leave? Are you going to imprison him instead? I don't see the thought behind all of this. It seems rather... frivolous." 

The old man stepped back and huffed in anger. "My goal is to capture the prince so the kingdom is mine! Now stay here and be good, silent bait!"

In a flash, the old man disappeared in a puff of smoke. Logan shook his head and waved a hand in his face to keep the smoke away. "What kingdom? None of this is real. Why would Roman create beings with the sole purpose to stop him? I'll never understand."

Luckily, it wasn't much of a wait before loud noises started outside of the window. Logan stood up and approached it, carefully looking down to the grass below.

Roman was on a large white horse with his sword out and ready to strike. Logan sighed as he watched Roman look up at the tower, inspecting it as if trying to find a way up. The Logical side couldn't see if Roman was injured at all from this distance, but his white outfit still looked pristine and perfect along with his hair. He watched as Roman hopped off his mount and sheathed the sword before taking a running start and jumping at the tower. Once he got a good hold of the stone, he began his ascent up the outside.

Logan looked out at the horizon, worried that the dragon that had brought him here would return. "Roman, careful! There was a rather large flying reptilian creature that brought me here!"

The prince paused his climb and looked up the tower, freezing as he saw Logan looking back down at him. "L-logan?! What are you even doing here? And why are you locked away in a tower, waiting to be rescued?"

"This is your daydream, you tell me! I can never make sense of this nonsensical world of yours!"

A flash of realization appeared on Roman's face as he smiled, quickly continuing his climb. "Of course! You're not really Logan, that makes sense! He hates the imagination!"

"Oh goodness gracious, sure, yes, fine! Whatever gets me out of this tower faster. I'll play your games for now." Logan stood by and watched as Roman swiftly, and rather impressively, climbed the rest of the tower without any issue. The creative side grabbed onto the lip of the window and Logan stood back to give him space. By the time Roman climbed in and planted his feet onto the floor, Logan was more than ready to get out. "Great, now that you're here, could you maybe get us both out of here?" Logan motioned to the blocked doorway behind him. 

Roman puffed out his chest and pushed his hair back, smiling brightly. "Fear not, handsome prince! I, Roman, have come to free you from this tower!"

"Wonderful. I'm honestly just surprised you got by the dragon."

Roman's smile fell and he started to look a bit panicked. "Uh.... dragon?"

A loud roar shook the tower as both sides braced themselves. The dragon from earlier flew passed the one and only window, startling Roman who quickly took a step back. 

Logan pointed at the window and sighed. "Yes, your highness. That dragon." 

"Yes, well... fear not! I can slay the beast no problem!" Roman pulled out his sword and approached the window sill, planting one foot up on the ledge. "Please, wait here for me! I shall take care of the foul beast!"

"I don't have anywhere to go--are you jumping out the window?!" Roman dove off out the window, vanishing just as the dragon flew by once more. Logan waited with bated breath as he heard Roman shout and the dragon cry out once more. "Moron, I swear. No sense of self-preservation. I do suppose that is what Virgil is for..."

"Have at thee, foul creature!" Roman shouted from out in the distance. "Hyaaaah!" The dragon cried out and a loud crash was heard, the snapping of tree branches following soon after. 

Logan waited patiently, knowing Roman would appear in the window uninjured. "Of course he would be uninjured," Logan began to pep talk himself. "This is all just a part of the imagination. Nothing has power over me if I do not believe it does. I know that Roman knows that, so there's nothing to fear." Despite that, Logan held up a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thud rapidly in his chest. "He's fine." A familiar sound of huffs and grunt could be heard before Roman appeared in the window once more. "Oh, thank goodness."

"F-fear not! I am perfectly fine!" Roman had a leaf stuck in his bangs and looked a bit more disheveled than he had before. "Woooh! That was... quite a workout!" He placed himself back inside the tower safely and began to catch his breath. "Jumping out of a window onto the back of a dragon only to ride it and slay it into the ground can be exhausting!"

"Well, yes, I assume it would be a rather difficult feat." Roman pushed back his hair once more, this time simply to fix it. He pulled out the leaf and smiled, flicking it to the ground and pushing his hair back once more. "One would assume that... that anyone would be... tired." Logan cleared his throat and looked away from the prince. "Of course."

"Ahh, so impressed that I have rendered you speechless?" Roman chuckled to himself. "Or am I so beautiful that you've no words left?"

Logan shook his head and cursed his heart from still panicking in his chest, even after knowing Roman was okay. "No, it's not that. I simply wish to leave before that old man returns."

"Old man?" Roman suddenly jumped and pointed at Logan in panic. "Wizard!"

"I wouldn't say that, though his entrance could be described as 'magical'." Logan used his hands to make air quotes once more. "But for the sake of simplifying things, yes. We shall call him a wizard."

"No, you beautiful oblivious dunce! WIZARD!"

Logan jumped as an arm wrapped around him, pulling him backwards. He stumbled back into someone, the arm firmly holding him in place. Then, Logan felt something in his peripheral vision point directly toward him. While he knew there was nothing to be feared, he kept perfectly still. "Ah... I see..."

The old man began to cackle right into Logan's ear. He flinched as he felt the man's rancid breath tickle his neck uncomfortably. "Prince Roman! I knew you couldn't resist a seemingly simple rescue!"

"You put a beautiful man in a tower with a dragon to guard it. Of course, I had to come to save him!"

"Beautiful?" Logan mumbled to himself. Ah, right, it would make sense. He and Roman did have the same face and Roman thought he himself was beautiful.

The wizard squeezed Logan a bit closer. "I'll let him go if you drop your sword and swear your allegiance to me!"

Roman's eyes flickered to Logan's before turning back to the old man. "He has nothing to do with this. Let him go."

"And yet you came to rescue him, giving me the advantage."

"Put the wand down. We can talk about this peacefully."

"A wand?" Logan shifted to the side, away from the thing he could barely make out that was pointed at him. "Really?"

"Quiet you. Silencio!" A flash of light caused Logan to shut his eyes, bracing himself. After nothing happened, he looked back up and noticed Roman was staring at the wizard. And he looked absolutely livid.

The creative side took a step closer, the wizard brandishing his wand out in front of both of them. "You... you dare besmirch the beautiful world of Harry Potter and attack an innocent man?! That is enough from you!" The wizard pulled back his arm and launched it forward once more. A beautiful green spark shot out at Roman who quickly, and a bit impressively, held up his sword and deflected the magic attack. The wizard tried, again and again, a flash of colors shooting out and being deflected by the sword over and over. The wizard took a step back, taking Logan with him. Roman started to approach, the wizard retreating with every step. Just as they were about to reach the wall, the wizard stopped. He was beginning to panic, his wand shaking in his hand as he held it. Suddenly, the wand was pointed back at Logan. "Let him go."

"No! I'm not letting it end like this!"

Logan barely had time to register the flash of red light before his vision grew white as a hot pain shot across his face and neck. The wizard pushed him to the side and he instantly fell to the ground, Roman shouting out in panic. Logan tried to call out but his voice was still silenced, his screams coming out as nothing. Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to focus on the burning, stabbing pain. 

'It's not real, it's not real, it's not real...' Logan suddenly felt his throat gasp, taking a large gulp of air. He coughed a few times, the pain quickly fading until it was gone, as if it were never there at all.

Logan heard a yell and a voice cry out before he turned from his spot on the floor and looked over his shoulder. His hand was still on his throat, rubbing it as the sore pain began to fade away. 

Against the wall was the pinned form of the old wizard, dead. Roman pulled his sword back, causing the corpse to slide and fall over on the ground, leaving a streak of blood behind him. Logan looked up at the princely side and watched as his face was contorted in anger. He snarled and huffed, slashing his sword outward to remove some of the blood with the force. Then, very quickly, his expression changed. He turned and looked at Logan in a moment of panic before dropping the sword and rushing over.

As he kneeled down on the ground, Roman reached up for Logan's throat. "Oh my goodness, it's okay. I'm here. I can heal you, it's fine. Just let me see."

"R-roman-" Logan coughed, his attention had fallen off of his throat as it hadn't completely healed. 'Not real' he told himself once more as all the pain and soreness faded completely. The silencing spell seemed to have worn off. "Roman, I'm alright."

"It's okay, I can make it all go away, you'll be fine, just let me see." Roman reached up and carefully held Logan's hand as he pulled it away. "It's my fault. Of course, you would take the form of-" Roman froze as he saw the injury was completely gone, not a trace of it left. "You're healed?!"

"Of course, the injury wasn't real, Roman. This is the imagination, after all." Roman looked up into Logan's eyes in shock. "I was always perfectly safe."

"Logan?"

"Yes?" 

They remained silent for a while before Roman looked down at their hands, still connected to one another. Roman let go, quickly pulling his back in surprise before leaning back. "W-why are you here?"

"You did not make an appearance at breakfast and Patton was concerned. I knew you were alright but offered to check up on you."

"Patton, right." Roman smiled and stood up, slowly walking over to his sword and picking it up. "Good ol' Patton. Always worried and checking up on us. Of course, that's why you're here."

Logan pushed himself up off the ground and brushed the dust off of him before looking at Roman in concern. "Roman, are you alright?"

The creative side waved a hand and the tower interior faded away. They both stood out in an open clearing, no trace of a forest or anything at all nearby. "I'm fine. Here." Another wave of his hand and a wardrobe appeared in the field. "A way back, just have to crawl through. Like Narnia, get it?"

Roman turned and smiled, but Logan couldn't help but notice that something about it was off. "Are you not yet returning?"

"No... I still have some ideas buzzing in my head. Might as well get them out and see what I can come up with in terms of video ideas. Have to slay all the bad ones, you know? Only the best of the best for our fans."

"I see..." Logan approached the wardrobe before turning to face his fellow side. "Well, if that is the case, best of luck to you. I know you'll come up with something adequate."

Roman smirked to himself and nodded. "Naturally."

"Roman?" The creative side stared at Logan with a look he couldn't quite describe. "Your presence lacking in the mind palace will be noticed." Roman raised an eyebrow at that. "If I were more sentimental, I'd even use the term 'missed', I suppose." Roman smiled softly before looking away. "And thank you... for saving me."

"You were never in any real danger, specs. You know that."

"But you didn't." Roman looked back up at Logan in surprise. "You didn't hesitate to rush to my aid as quickly as you could. To slay the one who hurt me and to heal me as quick as you were able. Thank you, for that. It was very valiant of you. You're a hero."

The smile Roman had this time felt more... right. Logan could feel his poor heart panicking once more, though he wasn't sure why. "Thank you, Logan. I needed to hear that, I think."

"Of course."

---

Taglist: @helloisthisusernametaken @entitydark @lightningbug04 @moonstone-fox @another-sandersidesblog @thesynysterunknown @roo-kangas @singingjo @unikornavenger @rememberfateau-nowoffical @sanders-sides-trasshcan @sleepyssnail @jemthebookworm @spectralheartt @fandomsofrandom @johnlaurensadmirer-johnsenpaiowo​ @rosie601 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @izzyfandoms @zaidiashipper @enbyamy @romanmustberomantic @daylnvale @that-one-sunfish-with-a-wig-on @squiddney69

For more of my writing, click here!

[cas-kingdom]

Her Ghost

A/N: Reader is the youngest Shelby sibling, as always. Enjoy! (Or not- it’s a sad one).

Find the OC version of this fic here.

Title: Her Ghost

Summary: He rides up to those hillsides on the same day every year and lights a fire, alone with nothing but his thoughts and Grace’s ghost.

Words: 2775

Grace had been gone for three years.

Three years Tommy had been without his wife.

Three years Charles had been without his mother.

Three years since the world had shone as bright as it had when Grace Shelby’s smile was still present.

Tommy always drew into himself a little each year around the time of the shooting. He’d let Ada mind Charlie, then ride up to the hillsides and stay there, in that one spot, for a couple days, exactly like he had done after Grace’s funeral and the many weeks that followed that, alone with nothing but his thoughts and Grace’s ghost. Then, he’d ride back to the house, and he’d hug his son, and it would seem as though he’d never been gone at all. It was only right to let him go. Thomas Shelby had a different way of grieving, but it was his own and there was nothing wrong with that.

You’d been living with your brother since he’d moved into his great mansion not long before Charles was born; at the time, he’d deemed fourteen too young to live by yourself, and Arthur and John too irresponsible to allow you to stay with them. He’d been the only acceptable candidate, in his opinion, though everyone doubted it would be different even if Arthur and John were agreeable to him.

Grace had been all to happy to comply. That was something you missed about her; she’d never even considered putting her and Tommy’s new family above the one he was born into and loved with every inch of his heart. She had adored you as if you’d been her sister, and she knew that her husband would not have been able to go a day without seeing you. That was just him, and he’d been lucky she’d known it.

Unsurprisingly, your brother had never brought up the prospect of you leaving to live by yourself; even at eighteen he was finding it difficult to let go of the reality that you were growing a little too old for him to continue to care for you as though you were still twelve, but you didn’t mind it as long as he stayed out of business that you didn’t want his nose in. Of course, he probably did it anyway, but you figured that was just one thing out of many that you couldn’t change about Thomas Shelby.

“Is that Ada?”

Tommy looked up from the paper he was reading behind his desk and craned his head a little to see past you and out the window. Sure enough, a carriage was driving up the path, and your sister’s face was just about visible in the dimmed window. He stood to his feet and walked towards you. “Yes, must be.”

“I didn’t know she was coming.”

“Well, you know now. She’s taking care of Charlie for a little while.”

You turned to face him, a frown painted on your face. He looked slightly crestfallen, if Tommy Shelby could look that way at all, and it was a little unfamiliar to you, but you decided not to address it. You knew why Ada was here, and yet, at the same time, you didn’t. “Tom, you know I’m perfectly capable of looking after a five-year-old by myself, yeah? I mean, I know I’ve only just turned eighteen, but a little bit of trust can go a long way.”

Tommy didn’t look away from the window, instead sighing and straightening. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I do trust you,” he said, “and you know that.”

“I can look after Charlie while you go, then. Send Ada home.”

“No.”

His voice was as calm as ever, and his gaze out the window wasn’t even focusing on anything now that Ada’s carriage had turned around the corner, but he was still staring, eyes almost completely unfocused and body utterly still. Confused, you sat on the ledge of the window. “Why not? Why can’t I look after Charlie alone?”

“Because you won’t be here.” He turned at this, and you barely had time to register his words before he placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you straight in the eye. You didn’t respond, simply staring straight back at him, waiting for him to continue with what he so obviously wanted to say. Nevertheless, Tommy’s expression quickly shifted, and in a few seconds, you were being pulled up and into a strong, warm chest, two arms going around your back to hold you against him. “I want you to come with me,” he said, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

At first, you had no idea what to say. This was such a turn of events, and you couldn’t understand it. He wanted you to come with him to the place he visited, alone, every year? So many questions were gushing through your mind, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to ask them. He was quiet, and his grip on you was strong, a sure sign that he was attempting to keep himself composed. A barely audible shaky intake of breath only further confirmed that.

“Okay.” He wouldn’t have wanted to answer questions.

Ada said nothing about the excursion she knew she’d been called to look after Charles for. She entered the house, complained about the weather, and reminded her brother to take an extra blanket before heading off down the corridors, calling her nephew’s name.

“Y/N’s coming with me,” Tommy called, half-expecting his sister to turn and give him one of her confused looks. In fact, quite the opposite appeared on her face. She smiled at him, and it held something akin to relief.

“Alright, Tommy,” she said softly. “Good. I’m glad. Bring two extra blankets.” She gazed at him a little longer, a strange look in her eye that the man was sure had something to do with the fact that she was happy he was taking you along with him, before turning to walk off again.

The journey to the top of the hills wasn’t a long one. If you walked a little way down, you could just about see the top of the house through the canopies of trees and bushes surrounding the area. Ada was right; it was extremely cold, but Tommy quickly got a fire going and set you down in front of it, wrapping the four extra blankets around your shoulders. “You get used to the cold,” he said, sitting next to you. The horses were freely grazing around the hills – both you and your brother had spent months training them to return to you when called and thankfully had succeeded eventually – and it seemed as though the weather wasn’t bothering them.

You turned to face the fire and involuntarily shivered, scooting closer to your brother and leaning your head on his shoulder once you were close enough for him to wrap his arm around you.

“How long are we staying out here?” you asked. The sky was beginning to get dark, and though the coldness was increasing, the fire was doing its job well, the orange flames dancing in the wind and throwing its heat towards you to envelop you in a circle of warmth.

“Bailey’s going to ride up here in a few hours to take you back.”

“Is that for my benefit or yours?”

Tommy took a deep breath in as if in preparation to speak but found that no words came out once he’d opened his mouth. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip for a brief moment. “I don’t want you to get a cold.”

You knew that was his discreet way of giving his answer. It was for your benefit, as it always was, but you could tell that he’d wanted you to join him for a reason. Whether that be because he needed to speak to you about something, or simply because he wanted the company, you would be with him until he asked for you to leave, the cold be damned. “I’ll tell Bailey to go back when he comes up.”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nodded. It was what he wanted, and so it was instantly what you wanted. “So. How long?”

“Just tonight and tomorrow. We’ll leave when the sun goes down in the evening. That was how long we used to stay.” You knew that by ‘we’ he was most definitely referring to Grace and himself. You could vaguely remember the couple always sending you off to Arthur’s while the nurses cared for Charlie simply so they could ride out to the hillsides and spend the night watching the stars. The next day, they’d sit and talk, and play the board games they brought out with them, and eat the picnic they’d packed the day before, and then they’d be off riding back home later just in time for dinner. They did that a few times, but for some reason stopped as time went by. Now, you suspected Tommy had just gotten busy with work and Grace with Charles, though back then you’d thought nothing of it and simply believed they must’ve gotten bored.

Looking at your brother now, you could tell that had never been the case. His head was turned upwards, blue eyes focusing on the barely visible stars, a look on his face that seemed so desperate and full of plead that you almost felt as though you were intruding on his thoughts. It was clear to you that he was willing his love back, with every inch of his body, mind and soul. And heart. For she’d had it all; you knew it.

“Why did you want me to come tonight?” You shifted slightly so that you were sat in front of him between his legs and leaned back against his chest. You heard him sigh, and for a moment you wondered if he’d ignore the question.

“I feel different this time,” he admitted, reaching over to grab a few more blankets and draping them around both of you. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around your waist, gently tugging you back a little more towards him. You were more or less warm, now, what with the thick layers of clothing and six woollen blankets, and the added heat you gave each other helped immensely. “It’s been three years, Y/N, and not a day goes by when I don’t think of her.”

“I know.”

“I usually come up here alone, because it gives me peace of mind. Makes me feel like she’s here, you know? This is our spot.” His voice was quiet, barely audible in the howling wind, but you could hear it fine in your cocoon of warmth. “I wanted some company tonight,” he said, “that’s all. I feel like I- I miss her more. Right now. I do. I miss her more and I didn’t want to be alone.” He finished his sentence with a cough, one that reminded you of the time at Grace’s funeral when he’d had to introduce the ceremony. He’d been close to tears, everyone could tell, and yet he wouldn’t allow himself this one time to succumb to his emotions. He’d finished his small speech, coughed and then moved away to sit back down next to Arthur. This time, however, you weren’t surprised to feel the small patch of wetness beginning to grow on your neck, right where the blankets weren’t covering it. You wouldn’t look up, else he’d get embarrassed and turn his head away, and you needed him to know that it was alright for him to cry. He was in a place now where he knew he wouldn’t be judged for grieving, and you were glad that he at least had a consciousness somewhere in his head that had told him it was okay for him to let his tears fall in the first place.

Without a word, you reached your hand to the ones he had resting on your waist and clasped it gently, not surprised in the least when he returned the hold. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too, firefly.”

The nickname had been given to you when you were a small two-year-old that toddled after fireflies in the dark of the night with your two eldest brothers who took you there to keep you distracted from your ill mother. She’d been sick, and your little brain hadn’t been able to understand why she didn’t want you to see her, but whenever the waterworks came on, Tommy and Arthur would bundle you up in warm clothes and drive you out of Birmingham and into the country to catch the little light bugs in mason jars.

You smiled. “If I wasn’t here, I’d be listening to Ada ramble on about God knows what. She doesn’t think. She just speaks.”

Tommy laughed, and you could hear the rich emotion in his voice. He rubbed your shoulders and sniffed, resting his chin on your shoulder. “That’s the only reason you agreed to come with me, yes?” he asked, a hint of a teasing smile in his watery voice. “So you could get away from our dear sister.” You breathed a laugh and dropped your head to the side slightly, gently leaning it on his.

“No,” you said, the firelight dancing in your eyes. “You wouldn’t have asked me to come if you didn’t need me to.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I’d go with you anywhere, you know.”

“I do.”

“So, you know I’ll always be here, yeah? Even if you don’t want to talk, I’m still here. We all are.”

Tommy smiled, shutting his eyes for a brief moment and swallowing the thick lump in his throat. “I know,” he whispered. He heaved a deep sigh and turned his head to kiss your temple. “I appreciate that.”

“I love you, Tom.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

The rest of the night was spent talking, and while not one thing uttered to each other was of Grace, the both of you could feel her presence beside you, listening to your conversations and laughing that melodic laugh of hers when appropriate. When the stable master rode up on his bay horse a couple hours later, Thomas politely asked him to return, telling him to let Ada know you wouldn’t be coming home that night. You talked some more, and a while later you slowly began to drift off to sleep, cushioned by your brother. He set you down on the rest of the blankets he’d brought along and lay next to you, thinking to himself and dropping off not long after. The next morning, you woke to the heat of the rising sun on your face, ate breakfast with Tommy, went for a walk in the woods which somehow ended with the two of you climbing trees and playing a childish game of Tag, and by the time the sun had set you were both riding back to the house in great spirits, your brother’s pearly teeth shining as he smiled the whole way back.

Though his annual trip up to the hillside was usually solitary, forlorn and silent, Tommy was glad he’d spent it in happiness, this time. Not a moment had gone by when he didn’t think about how much Grace would have liked to be there with you both, being the one to catch you when you jumped from the tree’s branches instead of him, and eating those shining green apples that she so used to love, but every time his sapphire eyes landed on your grinning face, and every time his ears caught the sound of your laughter, he knew that his wife would never have wanted him to use his grief and sit alone in the cold, the only sign of life being the flames in front of him; she would have wanted him to take his sister up to their spot, and talk and walk with her like the two were children again. She would have wanted him to fall asleep next to something that wasn’t an empty side of the bed. She would have wanted him to feel the sun on his face instead of being too deep in his haunting memories to even notice it. She would have wanted him to remember her as something more than a ghost. She would have wanted him to live.

And so that was what he’d done.

For you, for himself, and for her. With every inch of his mind, body and soul, he’d lived.

Because she’d had it all, and this was what she would have wanted.

She’d had it all.

Peaky Masterpost