#not like his brother virg but still

[bonsaiiiiiii]

the picture not it, but the vibes are it

[iwaasfairy]

kenma IS a twink. but hes my twink <333

anywayss love the idea, fairyyyyy. i adore your juicy big brain

tw incest, voyeurism, dubcon, virg!kuroo can’t catch a fucking break I wanna keep writing this but it’ll have to be in a different ask

wc. 1.9k

kozume kenma x fem!reader x kuroo tetsuro

“It’s really not a big deal,” Kenma assures him again as he forces his normally blank face to show an ounce of understanding, something like a smile painted on his lips. “She won’t mind.” His long, slender fingers wrap around the door handle to push down without knocking — shoving the door to swing wide with a clean arc and reveal the slightly messy, but clean, fresh room. It isn’t obvious upon first glance that a girl lives here. At least not in the overtly girly way, a far cry from all the frilly, pink overly curated rooms he imagined being invited into when he was a teen boy in the midsts of high school.

This is the room of someone a little more grown, with books and candles and pillows with blankets stacked upon an overly thick mattress. A bed you’re sat on the edge of, scrolling through your song playlist when they barge in and your head snaps over your shoulder to make you put on a pout. “Niichan, don’t just come in! Knock first! I ask you a million times,” you snap, putting the phone down to let your gaze shift to the taller man by his side.

Kuroo’s eyes can’t help but slip down the thin camisole you’re wearing, plain undies and exposed legs as you uncross them. You’ve got the overly girly thing down in the way you lean onto one arm though, and the way your lips jutt out do something weird to the base of his skull. Tickle, send heat downward. “I could be naked, niisan.” You say it pointedly, stare at Kenma a bit longer than is necessary.

Something unspoken sits in his friend’s eyes.

After a moment, you push yourself up more to raise your eyebrows and turn your chest to face them both. And your big brother messily scratches under the tiny ponytail that’s tied in his hair, before going to sit on the other side of your bed. “Kuroo has something he wants to ask you.”

His tongue sits too fat in his own mouth. Your pretty eyes flick up to his where he still stands in the doorway, and instead of dismissing them both like he kind of expects you to, you turn around completely and put both feet out onto the bed so your toes basically brush Kenma’s thigh. Who absentmindedly strokes your shin as cat-like eyes point up. Kuroo’s always been pretty easy to get along with, talkative enough to do it for the both of them. A natural way with people, or something.

This is entirely different. Here, he’s made a spectacle, two matching gazes studying him as he tries to chuckle. He’s eyed down as he walks three big steps forward to reach the bed, and slowly lets himself sink into the plush covers too.

He wasn’t always crushing on you like he is now. You were a bit of a little tike when he was still in high school, ran too hot for proper girly clothes and liked sitting in your pjs on the couch as they gamed. It’s entirely different now that you’ve been away a few years from college and walk around the shared apartment in shirts that barely cover your ass when you make breakfast. Hickeys blooming all over your throat and collar and up your thighs that he always ends up catching a glimpse of when you bend at the waist and your skirts slide up enough to reveal the curve of your ass.

He was sure it wouldn’t bother him as much to live with a girl. It’s different for your brother. He doesn’t have to notice. To Kuroo, you’re not any girl, and the way your tits rise and fall in those stupid little things you wear is making it too hard. Him, too hard, too.

As he chews on his words trying to find the right ones, you lull your head to the side cutely.

“Come out with it already, you two perverts.” You don’t mean it judging by the mirth in your eyes, but it still makes him fluster. Can’t help himself, giving Kenma a desperate glance to please help him out. You click your tongue. “Seriously… I was just about to go to bed.”

Kenma’s thin brows furrow slightly. “You can rub your little pussy later, can’t you?”

He almost chokes on his spit. The heat burns up his neck as he watches how Kenma wraps a hand around your wrist to keep you in place, and your mouth drops open. That’s not— he wasn’t gonna— your reaction baffles him too. Instead of getting ashamed at having your sexual proclivities discussed by your brother, you only give him a little sneer, and grab his wrist back so you’re both clinging to each other. There’s a little glitter in your eyes when you pout, then get onto your knees to get a bit closer to your big brother.

Close enough to lift yourself over him and straddle his lap. “Don’t be a pervert in front of your friend, nii—chan.” You chastise, but in a soft admittance sort of way that doesn’t sound all that sorry, or apologetic. “Don’t talk about my pussy either.”

“It’s fine.” You get so close that Kenma has to let go of your arm to instead wrap both arms around the small of your waist as he gets nose to nose with you — and Kuroo admittedly struggles to process anything. Your ass is planted right on Kenma’s lap who’s only wearing some boxers, and if it was him… he can’t think too hard about if it was him because he can feel himself start to stir in his own sweats. Kenma basically brushes lips with yours, before he straightens up to pull you closer. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“You,” your breathing hitches, and now your cheeks start getting hot when Kenma moves below you, “you haven’t told me yet.” Moves- below you? Yeah, Kuroo’s sure he can see Kenma roll his hips against your barely clad body. What the fuck. “Stop doing that.” You’re whining, and looking away from them both, before Kenma casts a glance over your shoulder to watch his friend. First Kuroo, and then the way he’s very uncomfortably trying to hide his chubbing cock by planting his hand in front of it into the blankets.

“Aren’t you gonna ask her?” Kenma asks. Hands sliding lower to grip both sides of the meat of your ass, obviously squeezing his fingers into it.

“Yeah- I- I uhm,” you make an effort to look back at him, so sweet, polite, but his attention is dragged to the way your panties are pulling around the globes of your ass and he swears he can see a wet patch starting to stain your undies where they cling to your pussy. And he’s really trying so hard, “Kenma thought -Kenma thought that I should ask you if you want- or not want-” Sweat prickles at his collar, as he stares resolutely into your pretty eyes and nowhere else.

“What he meant to ask,” Kenma helps out, hiking you up a little higher to basically press his cheek to yours when he places his chin on your shoulder, “-and stop grinding for a second- he’s already noticed you’re a bit of a sex fiend. Keep having your brains fucked out and moan like a whore through the walls and it’s keeping him up.”

Your face scrunches like you’re being treated entirely unfairly, a look shooting to your brother out of the corner of your eyes— but he refuses to let you go. “What the hell, niichan… you’re such a- you’re so mean, you freak.” Your eyes go all big and teary and flustered when you catch Tetsuro’s, and the way you stare at him with a mix of embarrassment and guilt is hot too. He’s not sure what’s happening. These last five minutes have been a blur. Why are you in Kenma’s lap in the first place? “D’you just bring Kuroo here to embarrass me or what?” You ask, voice pinched.

“-That’s not it, I swear.” Kuroo quickly chants, reaches out to grab your balled hand to rub a comforting hand over it. He lets go quick enough not to be overstepping, he hopes. He wants you to like him, if anything. Wasn’t that why Kenma dragged him here? “Don’t cry, please. You know Kenma doesn’t mean it.”

Kenma looks barely bothered at your distress, but does place a quick kiss on your neck and your collarbone. “We can tell him the whole truth now, I think.”

Kuroo watches how you push yourself back against Kenma’s face with two hands and drop back into the bed, thighs spread and wet, sticky panties clinging to your folds exactly like he imagined, and it makes his cock twitch. Hard cock, annoyingly pressing against the fabric of his boxers and feeling so fucking obvious in his sweats. It doesn’t really register that well that you’re wet from rubbing yourself in your big brother’s lap, only that you look weirdly adorable sucking up your tears to grimace. “I’m not telling anyone anything.”

Kenma’s hard too. He only notices it because Kenma doesn’t make any attempt to hide the way he shifts himself up in his boxers and stares you down too, eyes lingering on the way your tits rise and fall as you breathe. “You’re cute,” he adds, before eyeing Kuroo. It’s about just as embarrassing to be caught staring by him, as how his cock twitches again at the way you mewl at the praise. What the fuck is happening? Kenma’s smile when he glances back down at you is so sickeningly sweet and genuine, trailing fingers over your panties and sliding the camisole up to reveal more marks. “Y’see, Kuroo, my little sister isn’t actually some slut. These are mine.”

The room feels much too tight for three people to fit.

“When she’s moaning like that, that’s because I’m fucking her good, like she wants. Begs for it.” You look away embarrassed, place both hands on your face as you place a foot on Kenma’s hip and push a little, and your big brother grabs your ankle to push your knee back to your chest. “Don’t get so shy. I’m right.”

“Tetsuro didn’t know that though,” he wants to melt at the way you say his name. “Don’t be so casual about it. Pervert.”

“He doesn’t care.” Kenma assures back, and Kuroo suddenly feels like he needs to prove different. He stands from the bed to stare at you both, but that’s about as far as he gets. He’s so hard, and gobsmacked, and he feels like he might pass out from the heat that’s running through him. “He came in here to ask you to fuck him too, you know. That’s why he’s hard. Got hard thinking of your little, sweet, brotherfucking pussy.” Kenma’s only adding oil to the fire when he rubs his fingers through the mess hidden by your slicked undies, and making you shudder.

Your eyes find his again, now upside down from the way you’re leaned back in bed. “You’re quiet, Tetsuro.” You’re not nearly as shocked by Kenma’s statements as he expects you to be, so it must not be new. Fuck, how long have you two been doing this? Every time he heard you mewling whispers through the wall, moaning and the bed creak, stroking his cock in a cold sweat… wishing it was him. He barely mustered up the courage to ask, when Kenma cornered him about his crush.

Your mouth’s so pretty when you form the sounds of his name. “What do you want to do, Tetsuro?”

[justmymindandstuff]

Bounded by fire and love - Helaena Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen (18+MDNI; smut)

This is a sequel to bounded by fire and pain but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: Aegon has tried to be a good brother. He knows he hasn't always been successful. Now the day he had feared has come, his wedding day. He must marry his sister and do his duty. Now he will drag her into his dark abyss with him. But Helaena surprises him with her desire and he manages to find comfort in her arms.

Warnings: age up characters, hurt/ comfort, self-hate, thinking about suicide (briefly), dark!, angst, family issues, Aegon is a product of family issues, Alicent is a bad mum but she tries, , drinking, sexual trauma, blood (briefly), marriage night, loss of virginity, insecure Helaena, incecure Aegon, sibling incest (obvious), p in v sex, oral (f), fingering, innocent/virging Helaena, innocence kink, pet names (?idn Aegon calls Helaena good girl once), smut, 18+, MDNI!

Words: 10.066

A/N: My Helaegon brainrot starts as a joke, but guys its not a joke anymore. I can´t stop thinking about them and the crumbs the show gives us doesn´t help.

English is not my first language// Gif not mine// AO3 // This turned out much darker than I originally intended.

I will write Dragons and Roses 03 over the next few days I promise (and there will be a part 04 bc I have no self control)

Since the fateful night at Driftmarkt, something has shifted in Aegon. Since that night, he is trying to do better. He tries to be a good brother.

He is no longer mean to Aemond and Heleana. Aegon even took Aemond to the brothel at his 13 nameday. Just like his father had done with him. Viserys had said that this is a Targaryen men tradition. Aemond was angry, but Aegon tried. He also has learned to listen to his sister. Her riddles still confuse him, but he knows that he can make her happy with a new insect, and he even tried to learn something about the little crawlers. But the book that the teacher had given him was so boring that he gave up after two chapters. He prefers to listen to Helaena as she explains why certain beetles cannot fly while others can. He tries to remember as much as possible. He is really trying.

But Aegon likes it best when all three fly on their dragons together. Sunfyre's back is his only source of happiness. Experiencing this happiness with his siblings gives Aegon strength. For hours the three dragons fly over the Crownlands.

However, there has been no time for that in the last weeks. The last few weeks have been filled with wedding preparations. Every day Aegon escapes from the Keep. He wants to avoid reality. He spends his days with Sunfyre, and every time he takes his golden dragon to the skies, he thinks for a moment about flying away. But Aegon comes back every afternoon. One bath and a cup of wine later, he has usually disappeared from the Keep again. He spends his nights with drinking, gambling and prostitutes.

But he cannot run away from reality. When his mother waits for him in his chambers three days before the wedding, holding his elaborate embroidered weddingshirt Aegon feels unwell.

"Mother I don't want to get married," he says but tries on his wedding outfit without complaining. The tailors bustle around him, and one accidentally pricks his skin with a needle. Aegon flinches but bites his lip to suppress a curse.

"It must be," Alicent replies, smoothing the embroidered fabric over her chest before taking a step back and looking at her eldest son. Aegon cannot read her facial expressions. He has never been good at that. How is he supposed to recognize emotions when he can't even sort out his own feelings?

"Why?" he asks defiantly. A thousand times he had asked this question and never received an answer. Now his mother sighs.

"Leave us alone." she commands and all the tailors, pages, and servants leave Aegon's chambers. The feeling of relief only lasts a moment.

His mother moves through his rooms as if they were her own. She goes to the table and first pours herself a cup of wine, and then Aegon. Aegon takes a few steps towards her, takes the cup, and waits so she finally answers his question. Aegon knows that Helaena did not ask for this wedding either. This is all his mothers doing.

"You want to protect your sister, right?"

"Of course." but why doesn't his mother understand that Helaena needs to be protected from him?

"Do you know who is her alternative?" she sounds exhausted.

Aegon didn't even know that there was an alternative. But everyone is better than him. Maybe he could arrange for that other man to marry Heleana in his place? He can smuggle her out of the Keep and bringt her to the man who she deserves. Bring her to a better man. He shakes his head and is already making plans on how he can get Heleana out of the Keep.

"Jacaerys Velaryon."

Aegon's plan is falling apart like a house of cards. He would never allow that his sister have to marry that bastard. All his defiance and anger towards his mother dissipate, and Aegon lets himself fall weakly into the next chair.

"Oh."

His mother doesn't punish him at all. She doesn't punish Helaena either. Alicent protects Helaena.

"Yes. Oh. And even if it weren't Jacaerys, it would be some other Lord who takes her away from us. Do you want that? Do you want to say goodbye to your sister?"

"No," he replies softly. His mother is right. He hadn't looked at it that way before. Aegon sighs and concedes defeat. "I will marry her," he whispers.

Alicent sighs, approaches him and sets down her untouched cup. Her hand caresses gently over his cheek. Her lips are twisted into a sad smile. "You don´t have a choice in this."

Her words should perhaps provide comfort, but they only drain all strength out of Aegon and ensure that he drowns himself even deeper in wine by evening. Only after he has vented all his frustration on one of the prostitutes and is back in his chambers he can cry. He lies on the softest bed linens in all of Westeros, surrounded by expensive food and fine wine, his clothes feel soft against his skin, made from the finest material, surrounded by jewelry and every luxury someone can imagine, yet he smells like a beggar, is as powerless as a small child, and feels as broken as a dead man. Aegon closes his eyes. He wishes he could just disappear, sinking into his mattress as if he had never existed. That would be better. Then all the suffering he has caused would not exist either. Helaena could then be free from him. Perhaps Mother would then marry her to Aemond instead of the Strongbastard.

Aemond. His little brother Aemond. Aegon opens his eyes again, tears streaming from them into the pillows. Aemond wouldn't make it without him. The stubborn, headstrong, disciplined Aemond. Aegon can hardly help but laugh at the thought. Aemond wouldn't know what fun is without him. He would throw himself into his training, obsessed with being a warrior and a scholar. An impossible task. Aegon knows that Aemond does all these things to distract from the fact that he is broken. Aemond is broken in a different way than Aegon. But still broken. He can't leave him alone. His little brother needs him.

Helaena is the only one among them who isn't broken. Helaena is perfect, pure, kind. Helaena is the only one who is good.

And in two days she would be his wife, and he would ruin her. Aegon just manages to turn to the side before he expels the contents of his stomach. It's almost all wine, his esophagus burns from the acidity, and the disgusting taste lingers in his mouth. Aegon would prefer to throw up again, but nothing comes out. He turns onto his back and just stares at the ceiling. When sleep comes Aegon is glad, and just before he loses consciousness he wishes for a second not to wake up again.

**

Aegon chambers are full of servants, pages, tailors, and maids. His brother Aemond sits in an armchair by the fire, looking around with a bored expresion. Aegon know it is his mask. Aemond is already wearing his festive attire, yet he still has steel at his belt around his waist. Aegon has already been bathed and smells of the oils and perfume in which his servants have soaked him in. He is rotting inside. The chaos around him causes a headache, and an uneasy feeling crawls through his stomach. His hands tremble and he longs for a cup of wine. Aegon focuses his gaze on his brother's drumming fingers. On the outside, Aemond appears calm, just like Aegon, but inside he is also tumultuous. Aegon tries not to pay attention to the fact that his chambers have already been rearranged and many of Helaena's belongings were brought in. From this evening on, these will no longer be his chambers but their shared ones, their marital chambers. One of the maids pulls at his hair as she clumsily tries to cut it. Aegon grimaces as his scalp tightens.

"Enough," he says, roughly pushing her away. "Get Helaena. Heleana always cuts my hair," he says. Quickly, the maid curtsies and runs out of the room.

"Our sister will surely prepare for the wedding herself." Aemonds voice comes from the fireplace.

"Probably and she will surely find it lovely when so many people are swirling around her and touching her," he replies grimly. A tailor's apprentice stumbles against a chair while turning, causing a pile of sewing materials to fall to the floor and the chair to scrape against the stone floor with a disgusting noise.

Aegon can't take it anymore and explodes.'"Everyone out of here! I don't want to see anyone anymore who isn't part of my family." he screams and jumps up from the chair. For a second, no one moves, and Aegon tries to calm his heartbeat with heavy breaths. Then the hustle begins again as everyone grabs their things and disappears from Aegon's chambers. Aegon takes two steps and reaches finally for his wine cup. In just a few sips, it's empty, and Aegon pours himself another right away.

"Mother says I should prevent you from drinking today."

"Try to stop me." they both know that Aemond could do that with ease. But hje just shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't worry, not today."

Aegon lowers the cup from his lips and looks at his brother. Aemond's expression is unmoving, but compassion is reflected in his eyes. Aegon does not want his pity, but the fact that it is there calms the fear in his gut just a little bit.

The doors are open again and Helaena steps in. She wears a simple dress made of green silk, yet her hair is already intricately braided and tied back, with a diadem perched on her head. The light catches in the green gemstones. Helaena glances around briefly and then smiles. Aegon is relieved that she is smiling.

"Jen said you want me to cut your hair," she says. Aegon fills his cup with wine once more and then returns to his chair.

"Yes, please." he says and drops himself onto the chair. Helaena takes the scissors and walks over to him.

"She says you were mean." cautiously as always, she begins to cut his hair. Aemond huffs from his spot by the fireplace, which makes Aegon roll his eyes. Helaena remains unruffled. As her hands gently glide over his scalp, Aegon briefly closes his eyes. He rarely allows Helaena to touch him, but in those moments, he wonders why. "Aegon?"

He flinches slightly but then responds. "They annoyed me."

"You should still be nice. They are here on Mother's orders."

"I really tried to stay calm."

"I know. It's all right."

He feels like a little child being scolded by his mother. Only that his mother never explained with gentle words what he had done wrong, she had just screams at him and slaps him. He now he deserves every hit from her.

Helaena sets the scissors aside and gently wipes the loose hairs from Aegon's shirt. His wedding outfit is still lying on the bed. Aegon cannot bear to look at it.

"Thank you," he says and stands up. He is glad that the only mirror he has in his chambers is turned around. He cannot bear to look at himself. "Would you like a cup of wine?" he asks. He knows that Helaena actually has to return to her own chambers.

She nods anyway, and they sit down with Aemond by the fireplace. Quickly Aegon pours wine for Helaena and hands her the cup. He made sure that he always has her favorite type of wine in his chambers. Aegon stares into the fire.

"You both look like you're going to your own funeral." Aemond suddenly says. Aegon and Helaena both look up and then at each other. They look that way because they both feel that way. But then Helaena straightens her shoulders.

"No. I'm doing well," she says then. Aegon doesn't believe her. He takes a sip of his wine to avoid saying anything but Helaena addresses him directly. "Aegon. I am truly doing well. And you?"

He sets down the cup and shrugs his shoulders. The nervous feeling in his stomach is getting worse again. Everything in him screams to run away. But he stays seated and instead starts to play with his fingers. Then he forces a smile onto his face.

"I'm doing well too," he says, managing even to look directly at Helaena. He doesn't know if her smile is genuine.

"Today is not our funeral. Not today. I haven't dreamed of today, and I only dream bad things," says Helaena, and her tone makes him perk up a bit, but the strange feeling disappears right away as he remembers his wine. But before he can take another sip, the doors to his chambers are flung open again. Out of the corner of his eye, Aegon sees Aemond's hand going straight for his sword, and he is ready to jump up but his tense posture disappears immediately when he recognizes their mother.

"I thought you were here, Helaena," Alicent says, sounding relieved. Ser Criston closes the door behind them. Then Alicent's gaze shifts from her daughter to Aegon and the cup of wine in his hand, she grimaces. "Aemond, I asked you to make sure he doesn't drink so much."

"That's his first cup, Mother," Aemond lies, and Aegon sends a silent thank you to the gods for his brother. "We thought we would drink to today's special occasion as siblings."

Alicent nods, "Fine." she agrees. "But Helaena mus get ready now."

Helaena sets down her cup and smiles at her brothers once more. "See you in the Sept." she says. Alicent steps forward and grabs the wine jug from the table before taking Helaena by the hand and leading her to the door. "See you in the Sept" Aegon whispers as Helaena walks past him. His mother stops once more.

"Ser Criston, please make sure that Aegon changes and accompany him to the sept, and remind him that Sunfyre is being guarded by additional guards today," she gives the order before leaving the chambers with Helaena. Aegon sighs, now he has a babysitter too. But at least it's Criston.

"Sit down." Aegon stands up and points to the spot that Helaena has just left. The sworn shield of his mother takes its place. Aegon walks through his chambers and retrieves a new jug of wine from the cupboard. As if he had no reserve. He filles Criston, his brother, and himself a cup and then sits back down in the chair. He would need one more cup of wine before he could put on his wedding attire and make his way to the sept.

Aegon first looks at his brother, then at Criston. He has known this man his whole life, as far back as Aegon can remember, Ser Criston has been his mother's sworn shield.

And as far back as he can remember, he has dutifully carried out her orders. So it is today. He makes sure that Aegon puts on his wedding attire and then takes away the wine so that he doesn't stain the light fabric. The ride in the carriage to the Sept is silent. Aemond rides alongside them on horse back.

Only after Aegon has walked down the long aisle of the great sept, nodded to a few of the Lords and Ladies, and stood next to the Septon at the front, does Ser Criston leave his side and take up his position. Aemond stays next to Aegon, he is glade about his presence. It grounds him. Let him feel less lonley. It takes a moment, but then his mother appears. She smiles when she sees him and nods, then she takes her place next to the king. The Sept becomes quiet. Aegon feels as if he is about to vomit.

Helaena enters the Sept next to her grandfather Otto Hightower. The King felt too weak to walk her down the aisle.

As Helaena steps through the large door, Aegon looks from his brother to the entrance. He has to swallow. Helaena had pinned a delicate veil over her hairstyle, the cream-colored lace cascading down her wedding dress and flowing to the floor. It has the same color as his outfit. They are perfectly matched, as if they belong together. And maybe they do that? Aegon never wanted to admit it, always forbidding himself from even thinking about it,but now he can't help but acknowledge it. Helaena is beautiful. As she gets closer, he realizes that all the people make her uncomfortable. It reveals how she holds onto Otto's hand, her knickles white because of her tight grip. Helaenas gaze shifts restlessly back and forth. But then she looks at Aegon, he is glad that he is smiling at this moment because Helaena also starts smiling. Aegon takes a deep breath and suddenly Otto stands before him, handing over Helaena's hand. Her skin is cold. Aegon carefully pulls back her veil. She is paler than she was an hour ago, yet she bravely keeps a smile on her face.

The Septon begins to speak, but Aegon can hardly understand him. He has a ringing in his ears, he tries to focus on his breathing, but because he can hardly control it, it only makes things worse. Pull yourself together! Breathe in, breathe out. It gets a little better, but it is only the gentle pressure of Helaena's hand that brings him back to the moment. He takes the dagger from the Septon's hand and cuts into his palm, then he hands it to Helaena, and she does the same, grimacing for a brief moment as the blade slices through her skin. When she hands the dagger back to the Septon, her hand trembles. but when Aegon takes her hand, her grip is firm. For a brief moment, Aegon feels her blood running over his hand, but then it mixes with his own and he gets used to it. The Septon binds their joined hands. The only Valyrian part of this wedding ceremony is over, and the Septon is following the script of the Faith of the Seven.

Helaena and Aegon speak the words. They leave a strange feeling on his tongue, but they don't sound wrong. The kiss is nothing more than a slight touch of their lips, and then it’s over. They are married.

He looks at Helaena, she nods and smiles. Then he turns her halfway, and those present begin to clap while the newlyweds walk back down the aisle. Aegon keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead. He cannot look at his mother. Outside a carriage is waiting to take them to a banquet at the Red Keep. Aegon is not hungry. And he doesn't want a banquet, he doesn't want to dance. He would prefer to have something to drink.

Aegon chokes down a bit of the food. Helaena, who is sitting next to him at the high table, hardly touches her food too. Alicent instructed the servants not to give Aegon any wine, but Aemond and Cristion always manage to secretly slip him a cup. Aegon thanks all the gods for the two of them.

Speeches are being given and music is played. Aegon dances exactly one song with Helaena before he flees back to his seat and takes a sip of his wine.

He hates it here, finds all of this repulsive. He can hardly stand to stay in this room for another moment. But he pulls himself together and clings to his chair and his wine.

His gaze sweeps across the room. Helaena is talking with her old nanny. A woman long past her fortieth nameday and one of Helaena's confidants. Alicent couldn't bring herself to send her back home when Helaena got older, so she stays at the Keep in Helaenas services.

Aegon looks at his hands, the nail beds are bloody, yet he can't help but keep picking at his skin. To distract himself he looks at his mother to see if her hands are bloody as well. Alicent sits in here seat next to the king, watching the dancing people. Her foot is tapping to the beat of the music. Aegon had heard that his mother, when she was young, had danced for hours on end with his half-sister. But Viserys is old and sick and hasn't danced in a long time. So his mother doesn't dance anymore either.

The thought is not yet fully formed when Aegon is already on his feet and walking over to his mother. He remembers his courtesies and bows slightly before the queen and the king.

"You allow your Grace?" he says to his father, but he looks at his mother while saying it. She looks surprised at his outstretched hand. Viserys laughs briefly beside him and then suppresses a cough before he responds.

"Of course, of course." his voice almost breaks with joy. Alicent reaches for Aegon's hand and allows him to lead her to the dance floor. The other couples respectfully make room and limit their dancing to the sidelines.

Aegon hopes that enough of the hated dance lessons have stuck with him so that he doesn't completely embarrass himself. But his body seems to remember the dance steps. After a moment of uncertainty he manages to lead his mother safely to the music. She shows a radiant smile, tears welling up in her eyes. Aegon is not quite sure, but he hopes that she is happy.

"I don't know if you remember," Alicent begins to speak softly. "But when you were little, we always danced in my chambers. You were standing on my feet. I hummed the melody because we didn't have any musicians. You always laughed so much." she swallows and her smile trembles.

"I remember it." Aegon lies, feeling a lump forming in his throat. For a brief moment, he does not see his mother, the queen, but Lady Alicent, the young girl she once was. Then guilt overwhelms him, because he is the reason she is no longer that young girl. Through him, she has become a mother. He forced her into the role of a mother.

"And now you are married and grown up." she sounds sad, and Aegon doesn't know what to say. His mother sighs softly, but then confidently executes her dance steps with a quick turn. When Aegon can look at her again, she smiles again. "I am glad that Helaena has you as her husband."

Everything in him wants to scream that she is mistaken. Helaena cannot be happy that he is her husband. But Alicent keeps talking.

"I know that you will protect her. You will be good to her. Because you are my little boy and she my little girl." she sobs and can't manage to keep her smile up. "I'm so sorry."

Aegon is glad that the dance is over at this moment because he feels frozen. His throat is dry, but he knows he has to say something. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. His head is empty. And after a blink of an eye, his mother put on her perfect smile again and wearing it like a mask. She takes a step back, and as her hand slips out of his, he feels as if she is slipping away from him. I will not fail you. He wants to say it, but it's too late. Alicent smiles and curtsies, then turns around and walks back to her place next to the king. Viserys claps his hands, and immediately everyone turns to him. Aegon is glad about his father for the first time in his life because he still cannot move.

"It's time. We have decided that there will be no bedding ceremony, so we will now bid farewell to the newlyweds here." Viserys hadn't decided anything at all, it was all his mother. She would probably have burned down the Red Keep before she would have allowed strange men to lift Helaena and tear her clothes off her body. Aegon is glad about that. The attention of the people turns to him, Aegon looks around and is relieved that Helaena is already approaching him. He reaches out his hand and she grabs it. This time her hand doesn't tremble, she stands so close to him that he can feel her body heat. The king stands up unsteadily and reaches for his cup. "Let's drink to the prince and the princess. For health and a good and fruitful marriage." The bystanders also raise their cups. "To the prince and the princess." Helaena and Aegon can only stand there and receive the false blessing. No one cares about them. Aegon can hardly stand it any longer and leads Helaena out of the hall.

Aemond, Ser Criston, and two other Kingsguards follow them to his cambers. He closes the door to his chambers behind Helaena and hin and leans his forehead against the wooden door. He takes a few deep breaths.

Aegon knows that Aemond will now withdraw, just like the Kingsguards. Ser Criston would stand by the door. Aegon's skin crawls at the thought that Criston's task tonight goes beyond just keeping watch. Aegon is not sure if Helaena knows that they are being listened to. He doesn't want to tell her. He is not even sure if he is capable of fulfilling his duty.

Despite it he turns to Helaena. She had taken off her hair ornament from which the veil was hanging and placing it on the table. Her gaze wanders to her things that are already here. Skeptically, she furrows her brows as her fingertips glide over the fabric of the veil.

"Nothing has gone broken." says Aegon. That must surely worry her right? He wishes he could read her thoughts. Are they as confused as her words?

"Tomorrow they will bring the rest of my things," says Helaena, turning her head to look at him. "I'm sorry that you have to share your chambers with me now."

Aegon shrugs his shoulders. It had been a decision, his decision. It doesn't bother him. It is not foreign to him to sleep next to Helaena in a bed. Countless nights, the siblings had crawled into each other's beds. On particularly terrible nights, Aegon had even bring it over him to show up at his mother's doorstep. She never rejected him when he stood before her with tear-streaked cheeks, reeking of wine. She would alway pull him into his arms. No one talked about these nights. It is a silent agreement between Alicent and her children. Aegon imagines that it can be nice to never have to sleep alone again.

"I like having you with me," he says, wanting Helaena to not feel guilty for moving into his chambers.

The two of them are standing indecisively in the room. Aegon would prefer to run away. Instead, he goes to the table and reaches for a cup. "Wine?"

"Mother took your wine with her." Aegon goes to one of the dressers and takes out a carafe with Helaena's favorite wine to pour it into the cup.

"If there's one thing that's for sure it's that I always have some wine hidden somewhere." as he hands her the cup, she smiles gratefully. Helaena takes a big sip while Aegon pours himself a drink. He notices that his hands are not trembling. Only after he has drowned his cup does he dare to say what has been swirling in his mind all evening.

"The dress is beautiful." he takes a deep breath. "You look beautiful."

Helaenas eyes widen in surprise and blood rushes to her cheeks, Helaena begins to play with the fabric of her dress. Now in the candlelight, it shimmers more gold, and Aegon has to swallow at the sight.

"Thank you," she whispers.

Is she insecure? Did he unsettle her? Words form on his tongue, but he swallows them down. He stares at Helaena, he knows he should look away but he can't. Forget it. That's just Helaena. His Helaena? He has known her her whole life. She is now his wife. She is now his Helaena. Or maybe she has always been his? Always been a part of him?

"Is it okay if I say that kind of things?" he feels dumb and insecure. A smile appears on Helaena's face. Aegon is sure that it is real.

"Yes, it's okay. I just didn't expect it. You've never said that you think I'm beautiful."

Aegon takes a deep breath. He chooses absolute honesty, only then does he feel like he is not failing. He has always tried to be better than he is. Now he has to be better than he is. For Helaena. He has no other choice.

"I have never thought it. I forbade myself to see you this way years ago. But today I couldn't help it," he explains. Helaena nods and then takes a sip from her cup before pushing it aside.

"I chose the color of the fabric myself, and then Mother had your festive outfit coordinated with it. It was nice to be able to make a decision." Aegon furrows his brows, trying to find the deeper meaning in her words. Is there even one?

"Can you help me take it off?" It's a bit heavy. Or should I call the maids?"

"No, I can help you," he says quickly. When the doors to these chambers are opened once more, he knows that he cannot hold himself back and would run.

Helaena turns around and Aegon begins to untie the laces of the dress at her back. To his surprise, Helaena starts giggling after a moment.

"What is funny?"

"I was just thinking that you've probably done that a few times already." again, she giggles. She doesn't seem to be angry at all that he has already been with other women. Aegon's lips also curl into a smile.

"Yes. I've done this a few times," he admits as he carefully pulls the fabric over the loose strings, causing the dress to slip from Helaena's shoulders. His breath catches for a moment before he forces himself to take a step back. Helaena pulls the dress off her body, the fabric pooling around her feet, and she steps forward out of her shoes and the dress. Aegon suppresses the need to take a step back again.

Under ber dress, Helaena is wearing a silk nightgown. Aegon can't help but stare at her.

"We can talk around it for half the evening now, but you know what still needs to happen for me to truly be your wife."

Aegon flinches slightly at her words. She is clearly braver than he is. He starts fiddling with his hands again.

"You are right," he says softly.

"I don't know what to do." Helaena says, fiddling with the white fabric of her nightgown.

They dressed her up for him, and that's wicked, and it drives him crazy that it works. He forces himself to turn his gaze away from the almost transparent fabric and the curves beneath it.

Aegon thinks about the whores he takes. Always fast and hard, he never looks them in the eyes, they always have bruises when he is done. He looks at Helaena's pale skin, and when he imagines that it is also stained with bruises, he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

"I don't know either." Silence spreads before Helaena hesitantly begins to speak. "But you already have done…I mean, I often hear about your visits to the brothel."

Aegon laughs joylessly. "Yes," he answers to her unasked question.

He doesn't even need to ask if Helaena is a maiden. Not only did she grew up  under the watchful eyes of her mother as a princess in the Reed Keep, but she is Helaena, the girl who sometimes can hardly bear it when her mother holds her hand. Helaena in a passionate embrace with a man? Aegon can't even imagine it. And in the next moment, he realizes that he has to do the unimaginable today.

"So you know what we have to do?" her cheeks are flushing and stand in contrast to the radiant white of her nightgown. On top of that, the way she looks at him with her big eyes paints the perfect picture of innocence.

Aegon knows that he will be send into the deepest of the Seven Hells because he cannot suppress the burning desire that this sight awakens in him. He wants to take away her innocence. He is a wicked man.

"What happened in Silk Street and in the brothels are things that you don´t do to your wife."

"Oh."

He glances at her briefly, and this time he is sure that she is insecure. He doesn't want her to feel that way. It is now his task to take that  from her. He will not fail. Aegon briefly closes his eyes to sort his thoughts before he speaks.

"There are two ways we can do this. We can see this whole thing as an obligation. We handle it like a task or we try to find passion and pleasure in it. "

"Pleasure? How?"

Aegon must pull himself together so that his thoughts don't drift off to all the ways that could worship her body. Instead he takes a step closer to her. Aegon hesitates for a moment, then places a hand on her cheek. She does not flinch at his touch.

"I can't explain it. I want to show it to you. May I kiss you?"

Helaena nods slightly, and Aegon leans in further and places his lips on hers. The kiss is only brief, like a test. Aegon doesn't know what he had expected, but not that a pleasant warmth would spread within him. And also not that Helaena follows him when he wants to withdraw. He stops and her lips are already on his again.

This kiss is more passionate than he had expected, and Aegon feels a shiver run through him as she parts her lips for him, allowing his tongue to glide over hers. Breathless, Helaena pulls away from him. She rests her forehead against his, Aegon's thumb caress over her neck.

"Did I do it right?" she asks softly. Aegon feels that the only appropriate reaction would be to sink to his knees and pray to her. Instead, he curses quietly before he answers.

"That was perfect. You are perfect."

He strokes her cheeks and kisses her briefly once more. Helena's hands wander over his clothed chest.

"Can you take that off?" she asks, a slight blush already shimmering over her cheeks. Aegon feels the need to relieve some tension from the situation.

"Should the answer to this question ever be no, please take a dagger and stab me," she giggles softly like he had hope. Aegon begins to unbutton his shirt, but Helaena places her hands on his. They are a little warmer than before.

"May I?"

Aegon nods at her question, and Helaena opens his shirt. Her fingers gently glide over the exposed skin, and a shiver runs through Aegon's body. It tickles slightly, and Aegon can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. Gently Helaena strokes his upper body, and Aegon places his hands on her hips. She stops a his chest for a moment they simply stand there breathing in each other's scent. Aego feels calm like he hasn't felt in weeks or was it months?

"Can you let your hair down for me?" Aegon asks into the silence.

Helaena smiles and nods. Then she takes a step back and starts pulling hairpins out of her hairstyle. Aegon's hands lose contact with her hips, and he has to suppress a sigh. While Helaena undoes her braids, she walks back to the table and places her hair clips on it. Aegon pushes his shirt off his shoulders. He runs both hands over his face and takes a deep breath once more. Then he looks over at Helaena. She had already undone almost all of her braids, and her blonde hair was falling over her back. Aegon slowly approaches her. When she undoes the last braid, he places his hands back on her hips and gently pulls her closer to him. She leans into his touch. Aegon stands behind her and gently brushes her blonde hair from her neck and over her shoulder with one hand. Slowly, he leans down and kisses her neck.

Helaena gasps for air, goosebumps rise on her neck.

Aegon is very aware of these two facts, and they send a hot desire racing up his spine. His lips wander up her neck to her earlobe. "I'm not good enough for you," Aegon whispers in her ear. "I am a sick man."

She responds in a heartbeat. "Then I am also a sick woman." Helaene's voice trembles. Aegon needs a moment to understand what she has said. She wants him, desires him. Presumably not in the same twisted way, but in her own way, she desires him. She turns to him, letting her hands wander over his bare arms and shoulders until they rest on his neck.

There is no trace of hesitancy as she speaks. "I want to choose option two. I want to try it with passion and pleasure."

Aegon can no longer resist her. His lips crash onto hers. Helaena presses herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Aegon turns them both around, his lips wandering over her cheeks to her neck. He lightly sucks on the pale skin, and Helaeana lets out a moan.

In this moment, Aegon vows to himself that he will find every spot on her body that makes her make those sounds again. He needs all his willpower to tear himself away from her one last time.

"Helaena you look like a goddess in that nightgown but you have to take it off, otherwise I will have to tear it."

Once again Aegon is relieved that she is giggling. Helaena takes half a step back and reaches for the hem of her nightgown to pull it over her head. The fabric carelessly lands on the floor. Aegon doesn't even try to stop himself from letting his gaze wander over her naked body. Of course, she is perfect for him in every way. Hot disire washs over him, like he never experience before.

"Perfect. You are perfect. Beautiful." he says before even a trace of uncertainty can appear in her. Helaena smiles. Aegon glides her to the side of his bed. As she stands before him, his arms slide to her knee pit, and with a smooth motion, he lifts her onto the bed. Helaena shifts and adjusts a bit on the soft sheets.

This morning, Aegon had observed how the maids had changed the bed sheets with fresh white sheets. Sheets just for this one night. Aegon quickly pushes the thought away. He wants to concentrate on the beautiful, naked woman in his bed now.

He follows Helaena onto the bed. His lips find hers again as he bends over her. Helaena's hands caress his shoulders and Aegon gets goosebumps.

Some of his blood has long since wander down from his brain and he feels his hardness pressing against his pants. The kiss becomes more intense and he lets a little more of his weight sink onto her. Helaena leans towards him and wraps her legs around his waist. The sudden contact makes Aegon moan softly. Helaena rubs herself against him and moans softly into the kiss. Her hands clench and he feels her nails lightly scratching the skin on his shoulders. Aegon suppresses a curse and a groan.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He has to make sure one last time that he is not completely misinterpreting this whole situation. He has to make sure that he is not failing her.

"Yes, I am fine. That feels good." Helaena answers him quietly.

"Yes." he groans. "But you have to stop." She stops moving immediately and takes her legs off him, afraid of doing something wrong, but Aegon continues. "Otherwise I'll come in my pants like a twelve-year-old."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asks innocently and strokes the hair on his neck.

"Well, that would be very embarrassing for me." he grins at her neck and moves a little lower to her breasts. Gently he presses her hips down with one hand to prevent her from unconsciously rub against him again. It turns him on so much that he would probably actually come in his pants. Aegon kisses her breast while his other hand gently strokes the other's nipple. Helaena lays her head back on the pillow and bends towards his hand. Her breathing is rapid and Aegon has never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He would like to sink his teeth into the pale skin under his lips. He wants to mark her as his, but he suppresses this urge. She is innocent. Don't drag her into your abyss. At least try to keep her away from that abyss for as long as possible.

Instead he pushes his hand along her hips a little further towards her middle. Would she let him touch her there? His hand wanders a little lower and then he notices how Helaena spreads her legs further for him. She makes room for him and Aegon lets his hand wander the last bit. When he notices how wet she is, he groans. The next moment he lets go of her breasts and instead bends up to kiss her lips. Helaena gasps at his sudden movement. Aegon wipes his finger on the bedsheet and puts his other hand on Helaena's cheek. She looks at him curiously he also recognizes lust in her eyes.

"I want you to relax. Is that possible?"

"Yes." Helaena leans back slightly into the pillows her hands sliding from his shoulders and resting on the soft bed linens beside her body.

"Good." says Aegon and kisses her lips once more. "You have to tell me if something doesn't please you or doesn't feel right." he kisses her cheeks and plays with one of her strands of hair. "And you have to tell me when you like something and it feels good." he kisses her other cheek, and Helaena giggles softly again. "Can you promise me that?"

"I promise it."

"Good Girl." his voice is a bit rough, and Helaena whimpers beneath him. Aegon's lips wander again over her neck, his hands gently glide over her body. He takes his time. He caresses the soft skin of her perfect hips, letting his lips and tongue wander over her nipples and kissing down her belly. He enjoys the feeling of her writhing beneath him, the soft whimpering and moaning searing into his brain, and Aegon already knows that he will become rock hard just from the memory. He shifts his weight back and sits back. Helaena's breath comes heavily, and she looks at him with half-closed pleasure-drenched eyes. Aegon lets his gaze wander over her perfect body. They say Targaryen are closer to gods than humans and as she lies naked in front of him, Aegon believes it. He looks forward to all the future nights he will spend exploring every inch of her body. Then he makes himself comfortable between her legs. He places her slender leg over his shoulder and begins to kiss her thigh. Helaena gasps slightly in shock, but then reaches out to him and his touches. Aegon kisses her thigh downwards with practiced ease. If Aegon learned anything during his years in Flea Bottom and Silk Street than how to satisfy a woman. Her wetness glistens slightly in the candlelight, and Aegon can hardly wait to taste her. The desire surprises him but he allows it. Enjoys it even so he let himself dive into his lust.

Just before he finally reaches her center with his lips Helaena flinches slightly and sits up a bit in bed. Aegon lets her withdraw and loosens his grip around her legs slightly as he looks up at her.

"Is that appropriate?" Helaean asks, and Aegon could die right here and now because he has seen all the beauty of this world. He lightly kisses the inner side of her thigh and lets his fingers glide over her bare skin.

"Yes" he replies then. "That is even necessary so that you have as little pain as possible."

"The pain is going to be bad, isn't it?"

"I don't know." he says honestly. He had never cared about the woman pain. Now nothing is more important to him than Helaena's well-being. "But I am as careful as I can be. Hurting you is the last thing I want."

"Okay. I trust you, Aegon." she lies back down on the pillow and stretches out toward him again. Aegon thanks the gods for Helaena before he kisses down her thigh again and finally he can close his lips over her center. Helaena gasps and Aegon pulls back slightly to give her a moment to adjust to the new feeling. Her wet middle is right in front of him and he has to hold himself back from diving into her as if she is his last meal. Aegon can hardly wait to slide his cock between her wet folds. At the thought his cock twitches in his pants. Aegon closes his eyes for a moment. He needs to pull himself together. He can´t fail now. Not with Helaena.

He leans forward again and as his tongue glides gently through her folds. He can't suppress a moan. She tastes better than anything that has ever touched his lips. She flinches slightly, but Aegon gently holds her at her thighs. He dives into her, licking carefully upwards to her clitoris. He carefully sucks on it and is rewarded with a moan from Helaena. Aegon needs all his willpower not to completely dive in. Pull yourself together! You can´t overwhelm her.

So Aegon takes his time, his tongue explores her folds, leaving no spot untouched. He lets his tongue glide over her center and her pearl, alternating the rhythm and intensity. He remembers exactly which spot, which movement elicits a whimper or moan from Helaena. She writhes beneath him, stretching out towards him.

"Aegon." his name slips from her lips as her hand buries itself in his blonde hair. It's over, all restraint is breaking down. He dives deep in. His tongue glides into her, curling inside her. Once again, she moans his name. Aegon feels her moisture running down his chin, soaking him. He licks up every single drop. She twitches, her legs begin to tremble, and her hands claw into the sheet beneath her.

"Aegon stop."

Immediately he withdraws although everything in him screams to continue. Worry floods through him. Was it too much? Did he fail? He looks up at her.

"Are you in pain?"

"No. It felt good. But there was such a tension in me, a knot. Is that normal?"

Aegon has to bite his lips to avoid cursing or groaning. His cock twitches at the thought that Helanena ruined her first orgasm because of her innocence. It shouldn't turn him on that much. He is wicked.

"Yes, that is normal. Let it happen. It will feel good." he leans forward again and sucks on her pearl. "Let yourself fall."

She relaxes again, trusts him completely with her body. Helaena lets out a sigh as Aegon glides his tongue between her folds once more, Her legs tremble again. She writhes beneath him, but Aegon only quickens his tongue's strokes. Helaena moans loudly, Aegon notices how she pulsates around his tongue and starts to twitch. And then she comes onto his tongue. Her whole body shakes as she leans toward him once more before collapsing with a groan. He carefully licks up her cum wanting to taste every drop. Only when she stops twitching and pulsating he lets go from her.

Trembling and breathing heavily she looks at him with wide eyes. He kisses the inside of her thighs, caresses her belly, her hips. Under his fingertips, she gets goosebumps. His cock pulses almost painfully against his pants.

"Are you good?"

She nods vigorously. "Yes. I´m good. It was... I have no idea what that was. I let myself fall." she sighs and lets her head fall back into the soft pillows. Her loose hair forms a crown around her head. Once again Aegon can't help but think that she looks like a goddess. How could he have been so blind all this time? "Is it always like this? I mean, if we share the bed, will it always feel this good?" she asks while stroking his neck and running her fingers through his hair.

Aegon doesn't even try to suppress a moan at her touch. He lets his lips wander over the soft skin again. He can't get enough. She leans towards him again, relaxing right beneath him. He breaks free to answer her.

"I will do my best to make you always feel like this." he says secretly vowing to himself that he will never come with his cock near her before the bed sheets are stained with her wetness and she has moaned his name at least once in a moment of passionate climax. His hand caresses her waist, she doesn't flinch. "Are you ready?" he asks before kissing her slender belly.

"For the consummation? Yes!"

He laughs softly. He would have never dared to dream that she is so eager to be dishonored by him.

"Not yet." he carefully slides a finger into her. Helaena gasps for air, but she doesn't pull away. "How does this feel?"

"It feels strange. But not bad. Unfamiliar."

He nods, pushing his finger a little deeper into her tightness, up to the second knuckle. He carefully curled his finger. Helaena stretches towards him she doesn´t even trying to suppress her whimpers and moans. Her wetness runs over his hands, he carefully adds a second finger. She is so damn tight that for a brief moment he doubts if she can take him. He moves his fingers slowly and then slightly spread them, trying to prepare her. His thumb caresses over her clitoris. Helaena cries out in pleasure and begins to move with him. Aegon stops his movement for a moment, but Helaena simply starts to pleasure herself on his fingers. He can't take his eyes off this sight. He has never seen anything so hot. He notices how she pulses around his fingers, her hips moving faster. Aegon can't wait any longer. It must be enough. He has to have her now. Aegon carefully pulls his fingers out of her. She lets out a disappointed whimper. He sits up, letting his gaze wander over her body once more. His eyes stop on her breasts with the erect nipples. He bends forward to close his lips around it. His cock is throbbing painfully again and craving his attention. Aegon thoughts start racing, he definitely doesn't want to hurt her and is afraid that he is too big for her.

"Let's switch places. You can sit on me, then you can have the control," Aegon suggests. Helaena briefly furrows her brows as she thinks, then her cheeks turn red and she shakes her head.

"What if I do something wrong?"

"You can't do anything wrong," he explains to her, stroking her cheek. She leans into his touch, close her eyes for a moment. Aegon yields to the need, leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"I am unsure," says Helaena. "Is there another way?"

"Oh sweet Helaena," he sighs kisses her cheek. Thenhe wanders with his lips to her neck and then up to her earlobe. He bites carefully, and Helaena lets out a soft moan. Her eyes stay closed as she tilts her head to the side to give him more space. "There are thousands ways and if you allow it, I will show you each and every one." She giggles softly. When he sucks on her neck, she moans.

"Yes please," she says. Aegon thinks for a second that he's going to comes like a twelve-year-old. He releases her neck braces himself on his arms to avoid putting all his weight on her, and looks at her. Her eyes are drenched in desire, a few dops of sweat have gathered on her forehead. His gaze lingers on the red hickey on her neck. It is clearly marked on her porcelain skin. He has marked her as his own. Aegon takes a deep breath and kisses her briefly on the lips. He climbs out of bed and starts to unbutton his pants. Helaena watches him. As he pulls down his pants and his member springs free, her eyes widen slightly. He is hard and pre-cum is leaking from the tip. Helaena looks like a shocked deer. Aegon knows that he is not small, above average and for the first time in his life, he wishes it weren't like this. Everything in him resists causing her pain. He comes back to bed positioning himself between her legs which she opens for him. He kisses her, and Helaena returns the kiss, their tongues playing around each other. Her hands caress his neck, running up and down his back and over his shoulders. Everywhere she touches him he gets goosebumps and his skin tingles. Aegon lets his hands wander over her breasts, his lips move over her neck, continuing down to her collarbone and then to her breasts. He sucks on her nipple while his fingers caress the other one. She gasps and stretches out towards him again, her hips twitching and her waist rubbing against his shaft. Aegon groans at her breasts. He extends his hardness into her moisture. Helaena crys and he captures her lips in a kiss. Aegon shifts his weight slightly and pushes his tip between her folds. Helaena takes a sharp breath. Aegon needs every shred of self-control not to mercilessly hammer into her. Hot desire races up his spine, he feels how his cock twitches inside her. He has to breathe deeply to avoid coming right away. His hand grips her hip, he gently presses her into the sheets to keep her still. If she twitched upwards now, he wouldn't be able to hold back. He needs it to ground himself. Slowly, he pushes himself forward. She whimpers beneath him, slightly grimacing in pain. Aegon stops in his movement.

"Should we stop?"

"No!" she claws at his shoulders, the slight pain as her nails dig into his skin makes him moan softly. "Please don't. I want the Aegon." she leans up to him and kisses him. This time it is her tongue that glides into his mouth and plays with his.

He continues to sink into her his tip gliding inside her, she is so damn tight. Aegon noticed how her wetness ran down his cock. He feels a resistance and stops. He slowly pulls out again. He caresses her body, kisses her soft skin, and then slowly thrusts in again. This time she manages to take him a little further before he pulls back again. Inch by inch he slides inside her.

Helaena tenses up a bit while Aegon tries to distract her with kisses, kissing her neck and allowing himself to nibble on her skin. Careful not to leave any bite marks. With his next thrust, Helaena bites her lip to keep from screaming as he fully enters her for the first time. Aegon's whole body is tense as his cock is enveloped by her warm tightness. He trembles but tries to stay as still as possible while she gets used to him. Helaena takes a deep breath. Then she places her hand on Aegon's cheek strokes it and smiles.

"I'm doing well," she says even though tears are welling up in her eyes. Aegon can't help but kiss her. It is a soft, innocent kiss. But only for a few moments. Helaena wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him closer, and then pushes her hips forward as a sign that she is ready. Aegon moans at her lips. He completely withdraws only to then glide fully between her folds again.

What has he done to deserve something so good? He is a broken man. A sick man. But as he sinks into the wet warmth between her legs, he is sure that the gods have forgiven all his sins and rewarding him with heaven.

He maintains a slow rhythm, even though everything in him screams to selfishly take her and spill his seed deep inside her. Helaena moves her hips with his, her breath quickens, her kisses become sloppy. Aegon reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers. With the next thrust, Helaena moans again and wraps her legs around his hips. So she pushes him further inside her and Aegon curses against her lips. He won't last long.

Aegons hand wanders between her bodies and he begins to gently rub her pearl with the flat of his hand while continuing to thrust into her. She moves with him, fitting him like a glove. Aegon feels as if they fit together perfectly. Sweat drips from his forehead. He notices how she trembles again, her walls pulsating around him as she moans. His name falls from her lips. Aegon quickens his movements around her clit, and then she comes. As she pulls him in and starts clenching abround him, she drags him over the cliff with her. Aegon moans her name like a prayer as he comes, painting her walls white as he spills into her. He moves his hips carefully, riding out their orgasms before collapsing on top of her. He tries to keep his weight off her, but she wraps herself around him and pulls him closer. Helaena starts to scratch his neck. Aegon buries his face in the curve of her neck and takes a deep breath of her scent while trying to calm his pulse. He notices how Helaena is still pulsating around him. He gently pushes his hip a little forward. Helaena inhales sharply before she lets out a groan. A moan escapes his lips as he gently thrusts one last time, and then they both sink into each other, completely overstimulated. For a few heartbeats they remain like that. Helaena tucks a blonde strand of hair behind his ears. Aegon leans into her touch.

"You did not fail me," she whispers in his ear. Aegon notices how tears gather in his eyes. He quickly closes his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He breathes in the scent of Helaena's hair deeply and swallows his tears. For a brief moment, he still enjoys the feeling of her scratching his neck. Then Aegon carefully pulls himself out of her and rolls from her.

He doesn't know what to say. Should he say anything at all? Or would he say exactly the wrong thing now? Aegon remains silent and simply pulls Helaena into his arms instead. He kisses her lips and then her forehead. She wraps her arms around him and snuggles up to him. Gently, her fingertips glide over his shoulders. Aegon closes his eyes and pulls her closer to him at her waist.

Helaena takes a deep breath, turns slightly in his arm to look at him.

"The way you have give me pleasure." she starts. "How can I do that for you?" Aegon laughs softly and kisses her forehead. "Oh sweet wife. First of all it gives me the greatest satisfaction to see you come, and secondly, we still have enough time for that." Helaena smiles and nods. She snuggles back into his arms. Of course, her head fits perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

"Okay sweet Husband."

It's the first time she calls him that and it makes Aegon's heart race for a brief moment. Maybe he wouldn't drag her into his abyss. Maybe she would pull him a little away from his darkness.

[gumnut-logic]

“I’ve got you. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Virgil tried to answer but his throat was too dry. A familiar blue-gloved hand wrapped around fingers frozen by desperation.

He had been clinging to the side of the building for what seemed like hours, his suit jacket and his strength his only protection against a fall that not even a Thunderbird could recover from.

Scott’s jetpack hissed against the wind.

“C’mon, Virgil, you can let go now.”

He didn’t think he could.

“Gordon has you secure. You’re not going to fall.”

Far above him, standing in the remains of the window Virgil had smashed through, Gordon peered down, hands holding the safety line that was, no doubt, secured to the building’s core. Worry emanated through his little brother’s helmet, even through his professional façade.

Emotion bounced off the glass of the skyscraper.

Virgil’s feet dangled into nothing.

He couldn’t let go.

Scott had his body wrapped around him, the grapple packs in his baldric pressing into Virgil’s spine.

“You can let go.” It was like the whisper that had haunted him through those apparent hours that couldn’t have been hours because International Rescue did not take that long to respond.

But it was only one hand that had stopped their fall. One wrist, one set of extensors, one brachioradialis, one set of biceps, triceps, deltoids…his medical knowledge listed off the possible damage. The height, the impact, the strain…he struggled in a breath. “I…can’t…”

His brother’s arms tightened around him. The rescue harness clinked and for the barest of moments Virgil thought he had dropped the little boy.

But Jeffrey was safe. Virgil’s brothers had seen to that, moments after securing the both of them.

Virgil had held him so tight.

That arm lay limp, draped over his brother’s blue bicep.

Blood dripped into infinity.

“I’ve got you.” That voice had saved him so many times.

Those blue-gloved fingers ever so gently prodded at his grip on the flimsy flag pole that had saved two lives by its simple existence.

Pain.

For a moment, he automatically gripped tighter, but that hurt even more and his body spasmed in response.

And Virgil finally let go with a gasp of both fear and relief.

Those arms immediately tightened around him, catching him before he could drop even a millimetre. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

All the breath in his belly rushed out between his teeth as the broken muscles in his arm attempted to contract…and couldn’t.

But then he was moving. Wrapped in brother, he shot up, past the windows that had flashed in the opposite direction earlier, the remains of the sun still glinting sharp sparks.

And then there were more brother hands. “God, Virg, you know how to play the hero.”

Virgil grunted as Scott and Gordon ever so gently lowered him onto a hoverstretcher.

Virgil found his eyes closed.

He forced them open. “Jeffrey?”

Gordon answered. “He’s safe with his mom and the paramedics. More a fright than anything else. A few scratches and one hell of a tale to tell.” A sigh of exasperation as Gordon began strapping up his arm, ever so gentle. “You do know that you don’t have actual wings, right? You’re not actually the embodiment of Thunderbird Two, despite all the heavy lifting.”

That only deserved a grunt, so that’s what it got.

Scott had taken a pair of scissors to Virgil’s expensive suit. Probably to get to the cut in his shoulder.

A hand brushed back his hair from his forehead and he found himself looking up at Gordon again.

There was something in his eyes.

Virgil would have reached up a hand to reassure his little brother, but both were currently unavailable.

A flicker of a smile danced across Gordon’s face and he went back to securing Virgil’s arm.

Virgil turned his head just enough to see Scott.

All business. Lips thinned in determination and concentration.

Virgil watched him work.

“How is he?” Kayo startled him as she always did, appearing out of nowhere.

That, at least, explained the lack of a crowd in the room.

It had been such a good party, too. Art, charity, good company. He smiled.

“He’s alive.” A touch to his cheek. “Virgil, talk to me.” The worry in Scott’s eyes hurt.

Virgil swallowed and sobered immediately. “He fell through the broken window.”

“And you jumped after him.”

“He’s her son!”

Scott stared at him a moment. “As if that mattered.” And his brother was moving.

The hoverstretcher rose with him and Virgil closed his eyes in sudden dizziness. “I had to.”

A hand was in his hair again, but this one was bigger. “I know.”

They were hit with a wall of sound and light, forcing Virgil to close his eyes tight, as his other senses tangled in the energy in the room.

Kayo’s sharp words and the movements of IR security backed off the calamity somewhat, but the shouts of ‘Hero!’, ‘Thank you, International Rescue!” and “We love you!” still bounced around Virgil’s head.

A sharp command from Scott and the ‘stretcher moved into quiet surrounds and elevator machinery was lifting his belly off the planet.

“Two’s on the roof.” Gordon made it sound like a haven as well as a threat since his little brother was the reason she was there and not at the London GDF base where Virgil had left her.

The evening air was far too familiar.

He forced his eyes open, looking for his girl, but instead One drifted sharply into his eyesight.

He stared. The speed in those massive engines was likely the only reason he and Jeffrey weren’t smears on the pavement far below.

He wouldn’t have been able to hold on. He had been slipping that very moment his brother had streaked into the sky. His arms had caught Virgil and Jeffrey before they could fall.

“Thank you.”

The hand in his hair was stroking softly.

Quietly determined and reassuring all at once. “Anytime, little brother.”

An exhaled breath.

“Anytime.”

-o-o-o-

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 31 - Review

Happy Birthday Virgil 💚 I didn’t get you a present but I finally got you and your brother back on the path to Best Brodom. Just, um, bear in mind it’s just the start of the journey and maybe don’t read the last paragraph until tomorrow?

I hope this is ok, I have agonised because this chapter contains Virg headcanon that is dear to me and I just hope I did it (and his inner voice) justice. It’s probably too long but… well… here it is. Thanks to @sofasurf and @astranite for the encouragement / chivvying / poking with stick to just get this done and out there.

Story so far

They had to start somewhere… literally at the top is as good a place as any, right?

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

“You’ve dyed it! You’ve dyed your hair!”

Scott blushed and his hand returned to his forehead, as if to hide the evidence.

“Uh, yeah… thought I might give it a go…” he cleared his throat awkwardly “I couldn’t find exactly the right colour it was kind of hard to tell on the website… who knew there were so many types of brown, huh?” He paused and grabbed a dishcloth to rub irritably at the gel residue on his fingers before glancing over at his brother. “I mean, obviously YOU would.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. Scott wasn’t kidding, the former greys were a much redder shade of brown than the rest and on close inspection looked a little… odd… but he wasn’t about to make his brother even more self-conscious by pointing it out. He picked up his coffee with both hands and took a long sip to buy himself some time to work out what to say.

“You don’t approve?” The chuckle was more than a little forced.

“You don’t need my approval, Scott. I’m just… surprised, I guess? You’d always swore you’d never dye it. Didn’t you say you’d earned every last one of them and had nothing to be ashamed of?”

His brother snatched up his own coffee and feigned a sudden interest in the view from the window.

“Is no big deal… you were bothered by it so I just sorted it out.”

“I was bothered by it?”

“Uh, yeah. When… the other day when you were really… err…” Scott cleared his throat “… upset, you said so and I figured maybe you were worried I was getting old or… or maybe I was looking too much like… uh, well…”

“I complained… about your hair?” Virgil was baffled. The silver streaks were the subject of much banter in the Tracy household but for a long while had been a part of who Scott was. While in theory Virgil might have said almost anything in his state of confusion, he had still been himself even while his perception of the world around him had been faulty. He just couldn’t imagine being negative about a feature he’d always felt rather affectionately for.

“Well, not in so many words but…”

“Can you remember my exact words?” Virgil knew full well that if Scott had been worrying about this enough to break his avowed hair dye abstention he’d have gone over what had been said again and again and again. And then probably again just for good measure. Sure enough, the response was immediate:

“You said you didn’t want me to be grey. And then you literally begged me not to go grey. So I decided not to. It’s not a big deal.”

Virgil closed his eyes.

Ah.

Sometimes it would be handy to see the world in the simpler, more solid way other people did, as if everything was a hollow photograph existing in straightforward three-dimensional space. He’d never choose to live life without the full range of his sensory experiences and feelings overlaid in glorious technicolour… but he learned very quickly other people, even artists, did not see the same and thus he tended to avoid any accidental references to it.

Obviously he was less careful when he was out of his mind.

He suppressed the sigh and took a measured breath.

Virgil opened his eyes to see his brother had already drained his coffee and was almost vibrating with the effort of maintaining his fake casual stance leaning on the kitchen island. He’d have expected pacing by now except that this was his big brother’s way of showing that not only did he want to hear his brother out, he wanted to reassure Virgil he was, definitely, listening.

He grabbed Scott’s hand which was discharging some of the discomfort via quiet but incessant tapping on the work-surface and interlaced their fingers. The relentless movement continued more softly and for a moment Virgil allowed himself time to notice the vibrations travelling through his knuckles and up his arm and for his mind to quietly acknowledge the subtle shift in rhythm from need-to-explode to need-to-connect. He mirrored it back and Scott squeezed his fingers in response.

“Let’s walk for a bit?”

Virgil knew it was the right call even before the relief flooded Scott’s face and he made a beeline for the door.

They made their way down on to the deck and then up the stone staircase via the roundhouse and took the path towards the caldera.

“I didn’t mean your hair, Scooter.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I don’t think so. I reckon I can explain but you’ll need to give me a minute and try not to be too… literal about it?”

“I can do that.”

“Right.” The path narrowed and demanded single file. Virgil gestured for Scott to lead the way and smiled wryly to himself as the steep incline accentuated the slight height difference between them to the extent that his current view of his brother was very much the waist region. Nevertheless, he could see from the slightly uneven movement of his hips that the leggier man was moderating his stride so as not to get too far ahead to hear.

Ha, he was so familiar with his brother’s body language he could even read his…

“So…?”

Oops.

“Sorry, got lost in my own head there.”

“It’s not a problem.” Scott’s hurried response betrayed his even-worse-than-usual anxiety for a brother and Virgil really needed to fix that asap. But first he needed to sort out the immediate confusion.

“Ok… you know I see a lot more things in colour than most people do?”

“Two makes forest green noise and One makes gold and light blue.” Scott immediately confirmed and Virgil experienced a little rush of warmth at the thought his big brother had felt the detail important enough to commit to memory.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s the kind of thing. Well it isn’t just sound it’s… everything? Smell, taste, heat… and err… kind of… mood? Not exactly mood… um... The way people are? Their personalities, almost?” Virgil faltered a little, desperately searching for better words to form a neat box around the web of overlapping sensations in his head, but it felt much like the time he’d tried to explain to Alan why magenta made his teeth fizz. Some things just… were. Maybe if he tried to tie it to something easier to pin down:

“Ok, maybe the best way I can explain is - you know it was me that picked the colours of the birds? Well, One, Two and Four anyway…”

“I didn’t!” Scott was evidently curious “I never thought to wonder who did.”

“Well, it was me. Mostly. Well a bit. Brains was going to have them all in silver and I suggested that some form of colour coding might be a plan, for easier recognition compared with other organisations’ ships and machinery and bright colours are a more friendly sight for scared rescuees, you know?” Virgil paused to use his breath to navigate a particularly steep part of the track. Scott, possibly misinterpreting the pause for uncertainty sent encouragement over his shoulder: “Makes sense to me. Our public face needs to be unthreatening.”

“Yeah, exactly and in that time just after the… um, well it needed to be clear they weren’t military ships…” there was a grunt of agreement from in front. “It took a while to decide which would be which colour. For Three Dad picked red because in little Allie’s mind rockets were always red and it was his way of reaching out to the little guy I guess. But it’s not right really, Alan is light blues and bright purple. And of course One should have been primarily Cerulean to contrast with the Maya Blue but he wanted silver to represent speed and so… we had to compromise on her design but I did win with Four because he thought she should be orange, like a life buoy, you know? But I said no - Gordon’s bird couldn’t possibly be anything other than sunshine yellow. John picked his own so I didn’t get involved there but…”

“Virg, you’re losing me a little. Alan is… blue and purple?”

“Light blue. Bright purple. When he’s cheerful, yes. He gets steely blue when he’s angry same as you.”

“So we all have a colour?”

“Yeah. Well, a palette of them. Kind of. It’s… I’m sorry it’s the best way I have of describing the presence you have. Words can be a bit limiting sometimes.”

“Maybe you should try painting it?” Scott‘s voice lifted a little and he was looking at him intently. “I’d like to see us the way you do.”

They had finally reached the top of the volcano and stood together admiring the view to the east. A vigorous breeze, sharpened by the bright metallic tang of salt, dried the moisture from Virgil’s lips and he pressed them together with a doubtful hum.

“I’ve tried before and it didn’t really…” the glimmer of eagerness dulled and Virgil hurriedly sought to breathe life back into it “but I guess I could give it another go?”

His big brother smiled and lit up again for a moment before the cloud crossed back over his face and his eyes dropped from Virgil’s.

“And I’m… grey, then?”

“No! Not usually! You’ve always been blue, like the sky… there are so many shades of it, with hints of yellow or gold…”

“There’s a but coming, I can feel it.”

Virgil grabbed Scott’s hand again as if to reassure himself his brother wouldn’t float away before he managed to express this.

“Sometimes it’s like you fade a little.”

“I fade?”

“You try to be a lot of things, Scotty and it’s admirable, it really is, and you do it so well but sometimes I worry there isn’t enough of you left to be you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re blue when you laugh at your own jokes, or smotherhen us and make a leaning tower of pancake… when you beat Gordy at his own prank game or act all melodramatic when you’re smuggling in the sweets Grandma doesn’t approve of. When someone says pie and your eyes gleam and when you randomly recite Shakespeare inaccurately and out of context or run up the stairs for no reason and surprise hug Allie… those times you’re a rainbow of blues. In the field when you’re problem solving at the speed of light and oh! That time you flew Shadow just for fun you came back shining so brightly…”

Yet again at the mention of Shadow, Scott had startled but recovered quickly and deflected:

“My Shakespeare is always in context.”

“Sure it is, Scott. And it’s very YOU.”

A flicker of resolve hardened his brother’s expression and Virgil was suddenly terrified as to how his clumsy explanation could have been interpreted by someone who was already chronically shackled to the ‘brave face’ impulse…

“But Scott, listen to me, this is important.”

He waited until his brother dropped his eyes from the horizon and met his own.

“I’m not saying it’s just when you are happy, you know? When you’re worried or angry or even sick or even… no, especially when you let yourself be vulnerable for one damn second, you’re you then too.”

“Then…” Scott sagged a little and an edge of indigo desperation coloured his voice “I don’t understand what the grey thing is meant to mean!”

“The grey thing… I guess it’s how my brain interprets the way I sometimes miss you when you are right in front of me. When you get hidden by everything else you think you are supposed to be. You lead so naturally, you do it without even trying but sometimes… sometimes you put on that damn grey baldric and it smothers you.”

“But the baldric is silver. My baldric is silver to match One!”

“It used to be blue though. Blue to match you.”

“Oh. And that’s what is bothering you?”

“No! No, I’m not saying the baldric needs to change. You can have salmon pink or zebra stripes if you like - that’s what I meant about not being too literal about this. I just… I wish you wouldn’t feel like you had to act like someone else. Just… be you, you know?”

A slight squeeze of the hand said message received but Virgil knew it might take a while to process. An unspoken agreement saw them taking the shallower broader path down towards the shore.

“Please don’t say that thing about the baldrics to Gordon, you know he’ll come up with something hideous.”

“He really would. It’d be burnt orange with pink polka dots within minutes.”

“I can just see it now.” Scott facepalmed melodramatically then ran his fingers into his hairline.

“So you weren’t worrying about the hair?”

“No, Scott. I don’t have any problem with your hair. I’m sorry I confused you. I just want you to be happy and be yourself. That’s literally all I would have meant by it.”

“I’m trying, Virgil, I really am.”

“I know. I’m proud of you.”

He really had been trying. Scott’s attempts to reconcile his past and present and figure out who he was again had actually been a source of real joy to Virgil. It had been so long coming.

Years of encouraging, nagging… in all honesty borderline-harassing his big brother to break out of his self-imposed exile from life, to take the opportunities to enjoy himself when they came… and finally, FINALLY there had been some movement. Previously there were deleted emails, invitation cards hidden in drawers… if it wasn’t for Penny’s sake or for the good of the business, Scott didn’t see it as worthwhile. But this time, Scott had pinned the gilded rectangle of card to the noticeboard with a hurried circle around the date and a carefully inked question mark.

It was bitterly ironic that after all that time… even after actually standing over Scott with folded arms and while he messaged his friend to RSVP in the positive… when he’d nearly actually succeeded in nudging his brother into the light somehow as a result Virgil himself had run headlong into the dark. A cold, slimy tendril of fear crept into his heart and asked who on earth Virgil thought he would be if Scott didn’t need him anymore…

He shook it off because it was ridiculous.

Not to mention selfish.

“Scott, I’m sor….” he began but his brother had not been party to the developing inner monologue and was still some way behind him, despite leading the way off the rocky track on to the beach.

“So I can get rid of this?” He gesticulated irritably at his own forehead

“YES, Scooter.”

“Thank heaven, I hate it. Will it wash out?”

“Eventually. I have to top mine up every few washes.”

“Yours literally obliterates light particles though.”

The affectionate shoulder nudge was brief but it heralded a return of the easy natural proximity he’d missed so badly. His brother was back by his side and Virgil realised with a shock that breathing was suddenly effortless again.

There were other things they needed to discuss, difficult things he knew were coming and no doubt even more difficult things he was still as yet unaware of. But for a few moments, Virgil was more than happy to enjoy the respite of their well-rehearsed haircare banter:

“That’s not the dye it’s the secret ingredient. I told you, quit the super shiny addiction…

“SUPREME shiny…”

“Pfft, you know it’s the same formula, you’re just paying for the fancier packaging.”

“Not true, it’s a far higher quality product.”

Virgil poked his brother in the side of the head “And yet by some miracle, chemically identical.” He made a show of wiping the tip of his finger off on Scott’s shirt while meeting the faux-glare dead on. His brother’s eyebrows said outraged, the sparkle in the blue said bring-it-on. “Ditch the dark side Scotty, leave the slimy stuff to the teenagers and join team pomade. More natural, less greasy. Best tip Dad ever gave me.”

His brother’s flinch was fleeting but sent a shockwave through the narrow pocket of air between the two of them. Scott’s eyes slipped from his, the pocket widened and the warmth suddenly drained out of the sun.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

[tracybirds]

Written for @thunder-pride and the prompt "Role Model" on the Week 1 Bingo Board!! Very quickly written, but hopefully you enjoy!

---

“Hold still,” said Virgil, his tongue poking out a little as he furrowed his brow in concentration. “I don’t want the paints to smudge.”

“I should have just asked John to do a flag,” complained Scott. “You’re taking forever.”

“John would have pulled out a ruler to check the dimensions were right,” retorted Virgil. He stepped back and studied Scott with a critical eye. “Okay, I think you’re done.”

Scott rushed to the mirror.

Blues and pinks and purples swirled on the left side of his face, coming together as they curled around his eye and faded into the eyeshadow.

“It looks amazing, Virg!” he exclaimed, turning his head back and forth. A shimmer across his cheekbone caught the sunlight and his smile widened.

He spun around, beaming at Virgil and then paused.

An odd expression flitted away as Virgil caught his eye and his brother smiled unconvincingly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Scott. Cold dread splashed over his previous euphoria as a catalogue of gnawing potential anxieties leapt to the forefront of his mind.

“No, no,” said Virgil softly. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just we made it. Through thick and thin, just like we promised, and we’ve come out the other side and your speech is going to be amazing, you’re incredible and a role model and, and…”

His eyes were shining, but Scott was too stunned to move.

“Just think of all the kids who are going to see you and know they can make it too,” said Virgil at last.

“That’s stupid,” mumbled Scott, hot embarrassment washing over him. “I’m not that special. A thousand guys did what I did decades before I did.”

Virgil shook his head. “You don’t see it,” he countered. “The way they look up to you. I’m not saying those who were first aren’t important, I’m saying you – right now – what you’re doing is important too.”

“What exactly am I doing?”

Virgil shrugged. “You’re being true to yourself. You’re showing people how to fight for a better world, how to hold themselves to a higher standard, how to build a community that works together to rescue one another and lend a helping hand.”

“I don’t do any of that.”

“You do,” said Virgil. “I know you do, because you inspire me to do that every day.”

Scott had only a second of quiet reflection before he was engulfed in a hug, a hug that had held him together in the past when he didn’t know if he’d get through life in one piece, a hug that had seen him through injury and illness and being orphaned and more besides.

“I only do all that,” he whispered, “because you inspired me first.”

Virgil’s arms tightened even further around him, and Scott tried not to wince.

“Careful, Virg,” he said with a lopsided grin. “You’ll smudge the paint.”

[forest-falcon]

🌊💚💛🩷🍓

It's Scone until it's Scone!

"Virgil Grissom Tracy!"

Virgil stalled his bite of cream tea; the confectionery mere moments from his lips.

What was it with him and cakes?

"Oooh you're being middle-named!"

Gordon bounced gently on his seat, his grin rivalling that of the Cheshire cat's.

"Jam then cream? Tut tut!" Penny tsked.

Virgil's brows knitted.

"Something wrong with that?"

Her ladyship sighed and took a delicate sip of tea.

"When we take cream tea, it is cream then jam. Scones were a Devonshire delicacy, darling."

Virgil grunted.

"But last time I was in Cornwall, they served it with jam then cream?"

"Devonshire is not Cornwall."

"Close enough though?" They're like...ten minutes from one another!"

"In a Thunderbird, maybe."

Gordon watched the exchange like a tennis umpire eating popcorn.

"I mean, even without our Birds, we could still travel there quicker than it takes Virg to use the bathroom!"

Penny attempted to disguise her chuckle with a small cough whilst Gordon felt the full wrath of his brother's brows.

"Be that as it may; it's cream then jam, Virgil. Can't have my boys learning poor luncheon etiquette."

Virgil studied the scone.

He couldn't believe he was even arguing about this, but found himself somehow invested in the jammy debate.

"But surely jam then cream would make more sense? Structurally speaking, the cream is less dense, so would benefit from being on top?"

Penny removed some invisible lindt from her jacket; a tell the Tracys had discovered signalled her ladyship's disapproval.

Gordon crouched down to examine Virgil's Cornish creation.

"Virgil, Virgil, Virgil! Whatever will we do with you?"

Gordon gestured for his brother's plate.

"May I?"

Virgil muttered something about it all tasting the same anyway before surrendering his plate.

"M'lady?" Gordon held out his hand to receive Penny's plate.

Penelope obliged.

Gordon held both up to the light, carefully rotating each plate in turn, before setting them down on the coffee table next to his own.

"I think I have the answer to your Devonshire-Cornwall-cream-tea-debate!"

"Please no."

Virgil hid his face behind his hands in anticipation of whatever mischief The Fish had planned.

Gordon used both Virgil and Penny's scones to sandwich his own.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present: The Tracy Island Triple Decker Scone!"

[astranite]

Static Does Not Mean Still

Scott and Virgil go on a run in a nearby park to burn off some energy after an easy rescue, and the prompt 'Static electricity' is also involved in here somewhere thanks to @gumnut-logic's Unusual Whump List

This is about fluff and joyful brothers getting to run around in the sunshine. And a bit of ADHD Scott and the Hyperactivity. They are having fun and I had fun writing this.

Also thank you to @edutainer2022 for talking about this as a wip, and about Scott getting to put down his burdens and the weight of responsibility for a while to be carefree with his brothers.

---

Any rescues where no one came away bruised, bleeding and/or catastrophically exhausted were always a win in Virgil’s book. This was one of them. 

The engineering foam deployed from Two had stabilised the overpass bridge structure exactly as it was supposed to before further infrastructure damage could be caused, especially to the railway line below, the main concern which had resulted in International Rescue’s call out. 

Virgil had got to put his engineering degree expertise to good use, handover to the local authorities was smooth and professional with plenty of admiration on both sides for how the incident was handled, and no fancy jetpacking was even required to Scott’s disappointment.

It was a great day all in all to be finishing at noon on a Tuesday. The sun was shining, their work for now was done and everyone commuting would be able to get home safely when the rush hour hit in the evening. 

Virgil took off his helmet to put it away with the gear and ran a hand through his somewhat sweaty hair, grinning at Scott as he walked up to him. 

“Hey Scotty.”

“Virge!”

Scott had ditched his helmet as soon as the rescue was over and he got the all clear from Virgil which was a big improvement on protocol following and not taking unnecessary risks. 

In the meantime his hair had fallen into disarray but Scott didn’t seem to mind. He put an arm around Virgil’s shoulders to give him a squeeze before going back to pacing circles on the module floor, gesturing wildly at John’s little hologram as they talked rapid fire. Something, theoretical mathematics, something. Virgil, unlike other members of the family preferred the more concrete and applicable to what was in the world in front of him branches of engineering.

Virgil did also have big brother jittering at his side with pent up energy and a flight home in his green girl that was apparently ‘not nyoooomy enough’ for Scott’s liking to get through without anyone exploding. 

Scott’s hyperactivity wasn’t a bad thing, never had been when it was just how Scott was. Virgil was far happier that Scott was letting it show instead of turning it to inwards frustration and internal stress, but they did have a flight to get through which would be a lot more comfortable for them both without Scott’s frenetic energy vibrating the whole cockpit as he eyed the flight controls like he wanted to tackle them from Virgil’s hands to do aerobatics in a cargo plane. 

Thunderbird One was in for maintenance as Brains and Virgil worked on replacing burnt out engines which meant Scott couldn’t go for the mad loop the looping he favoured to let off steam. Virgil’s ‘bird was a Thunderbird: she was extremely capable and manoeuvrable for her size, but stunt jet she was not designed to be. 

Pulling up a map on his wrist controller, Virgil turned to Scott. “How about we get out for a bit, go for a walk? There’s even a park nearby.”

It’d be a good opportunity to burn off some energy, even if the walk would turn into a run when his brother was involved. Virgil was happy to follow him though.

Scott changed track mid-sentence, charging for the module door as he continued to chatter to an amused John. There was no eye roll from him, only the softest fond smile.

Virgil blinked and Scott was calling back to him. Alright, they were going suited and booted in IR uniforms then. 

“Okay, I’m coming, Scooter!” Virgil had to jog to catch up with those long legs. Predictably.

Scott noticed, of course he did. He was stopped to bump shoulders with Virgil, bouncing on his toes to stay in one spot.

“Short stuff,” he sung out affectionately.

Out under the blue sky, with plenty time to spare and no where to immediately be, Scott was cheerful. John could call them back to Two if they were needed elsewhere but right now they had this. 

Scott spun around laughing his head off when they reached the open park. Virgil couldn’t help but join him, as where else would he want to be but by his brother’s side?

Then Scott set off sprinting down full tilt down the gently sloping grassy area, as Virgil ambled along at a more reasonable pace that gave him the opportunity to look at the native trees in blossom, so different from the ones at home but equally beautiful in his mind. Okay, now he was by his brother’s side metaphorically, even if not physically. 

Still, he began to run too as Scott looped back to return to him, meeting him halfway. Moving his body felt good, even if he wasn’t a compulsive early morning runner.

Scott crashed into him, catching him in a tight hug. Virgil returned it with the same enthusiasm until he lifted Scott’s feet off the ground to spin him around just to show big brother that he had it. The big brother in question cackled with delight.

He leant into Virgil and said quietly, “Thank you. I really needed this.”

Virgil held him close for that moment. “Anytime.”

Then Scott was ready to be off again, or not quite. He bounced from foot to foot, waiting for Virgil to follow as he eyed the empty playground equipment longingly. 

Virgil made a shooing motion. “Go have fun, I’m coming.”

He shook his head fondly as Scott dashed towards the brightly coloured construction. Ever since they were kids, Scott had never been able to resist a climbing frame, or scratch that, any opportunity to climb whether the structure in question was designed for it or not. 

Virgil sent a quick photograph of a joyful Scott mid-flight to John. 

In the seconds it took to do that and read John’s reply of orange hearts, Scott had scaled the towering rope structure, perching himself at the very top, one casual hand wrapped around it to hang on as he waved to Virgil.

John got another photo as Virgil made sure to zoom in far enough to capture Scott’s broad grin.

It would make John’s day; just like him, his space brother treasured every moment of happy Scott. Those photos would find their way into the shared family album sure enough.

Scott’s joy was precious because it was too rare for him to be able to let go of the burdens he carried for long enough to indulge in carefree happiness. That he was simply allowed to, that his brothers and everyone in his life wanted this for him was a novel concept that Virgil watched Scott still struggle to believe in.

As Scott swung his way around the climbing frame, Virgil settled on the swingset, rocking himself slowly as he scuffed out the beginnings of a drawing of One and Two in the dirt with his foot, his hands tapping the notes of an entire orchestra out on the chains. Unlike John, he didn’t try to swing high enough to launch himself into orbit, but Virgil did enjoy it. 

Sharper marks from the edge of his boot formed the action lines streaking away from the wings of a certain rocket plane. The rounder toe was used to sketch out Two’s curved fuselage. He used the tread to add some extra patterning around the Thunderbirds to stand in for blocky clouds streaking by. It was coming along well. 

This was how Virgil wanted to spend his time: making art because he felt like it with Scott close by and having fun where he didn’t have to worry about him.

Or only a little. A sudden yell of, “Ow!” came from the slides. 

From the volume and the high pitch, he judged Scott was surprised, not injured.

Virgil had to check though, but sure enough Scott was rubbing his forehead with a dramatic frown as he glared at a bar near the entrance of the slide. 

“You alright, Scooter?” 

“These are designed for short people,” Scott grumped.

If he was complaining, that meant it really was a minor bump so Scott wasn’t worried about worrying Virgil with it. 

“Anyone’s short next to you,” Virgil teased.

“Hey!” Scott’s indignant cry echoed through the slide tube. 

So did the mutter that followed. “Easy to say for someone who’s not even average height.”

Virgil hummed. He wasn’t going to immediately launch himself off to grab Scott in a headlock. He finished off his drawing, took a photo of it to send to John and so he could keep it, then jumped off the swing carefully to land on clear ground. But they were brothers and he wasn’t going to let the insult to his pride stand uncontested. 

Scott was oblivious, already having turned to climb the tower again to take another turn on the slide, already over his own bump. Virgil followed, clambering up after him, wary of the low bars too ‘cause he wasn’t that short . 

At the top, they met and Virgil grinned at Scott, gesturing for him to go first. Somewhere along the way, probably after getting too hot gambolling about, Scott had rolled down the upper half of his flight suit and tied it around his waist, leaving him in a wrinkled Denver college t-shirt. Virgil’s shirt, but that didn’t matter. The important detail for Virgil’s plot was that his arms were bare and in easy reach. 

Scott disappeared down the slide with a whoop. Virgil went after him, not even pausing to admire the view from the top of the tower over the bright green parklands. He was on a mission. 

Hunching his shoulders in was a precaution as he sat at the beginning of the slide, a just in case as the memory of Gordon’s laughter rung in his ears over the one time Virgl had gotten stuck in a building rubbish chute at demolition turned rescue site trying to slide down it in a ill advised, Scott-like move. Scott probably would’ve pulled it off, he was far too good at insane stunts, but Virgil with his broad shoulders plus his exosuit… hadn’t quite managed it.

“Virge,” Scott called up the slide, laughing, “Do I need to come rescue you this time too?”

Virgil hmphed. By staying right at the bottom, Scott was going to make this very easy for him. Big brother did totally deserve it.

Pushing off, Virgil slid down the slide, leaning into the twists and turns, all the while dragging his gloved hands along the sides. The colours flashed by and he was in all likelihood doing the ‘plotting evil eyebrows’ expression his brothers always caught onto before he could prank them. 

It wasn’t his fault he didn’t have a poker face! But this time it would be far too late for Scott to do anything about it. Never let it be said only John was capable of devious plots when Virgil could plan them out with an engineer’s precision.

Virgil leapt out of the slide, then he innocently tapped Scott on the arm.

Scott jumped a foot in the air and shrieked, “YOU ZAPPED ME VIRGIE!”

The urge to giggle overpowered him as Scott threw his arms around him in what was half-tackle, half-hug. 

“I got you! I got you good! ”

Scott gaped, twisting to look from Virgil to the slide and back again. “You static shocked me.”

“Wouldn’t’ve worked if you were wearing your suit properly, it would’ve dispersed the charge.”

“Oh come on!”

“You called me short.”

“‘Cause it’s true, short stuff. Always has been. And your hair!!” Scott’s smile spread across his face, big and toothy—

Virgil pouted in an attempt not to grin along. “I’ll zap you again.”

—and most importantly happy��.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” 

Scott ran off into the sunshine, watching over his shoulder to make sure Virgil was following. Ever the big brother. Ever there for Virgil, now with more care to make sure he wasn’t going too fast to keep up with, not just for their sakes and admittedly shorter legs, but for his own too.

Virgil followed, of course he did. But he did so laughing, not out of fear he’d be too late.

The afternoon was spent chasing joy under blue skies, surrounded by the green earth, until they both flopped down onto the grass together. Even Scott’s frantic energy had completely dispersed. This time, today, it was because of messing about like they were kids again instead of bone-deep exhaustion from hopeless rescues over too long hours in hostile conditions. Virgil treasured it. 

He treasured every second with Scott, from pulling him eagerly back over to the swings to show him the slightly smudgy sketch of their Thunderbirds flying together as Scott adored them, to stopping to get icecream and waffles in lieu of a proper lunch on the walk back to Two on John’s suggestion.

The flight back home to the Island was carefree, with a take away container of icecream in the module freezer for the others and a cheery Scott by his side, both of them humming then along to the upbeat music playing from the speakers. No attempts to squish his staticky hair back into its usual crest had worked in the slightest, but that didn’t matter when Scott’s was just as ridiculous.

Virgil even let himself get convinced into guiding Two through a few loop the loops. And maybe also a couple of dives. Then some barrel rolls. Only because it amused Scott though; Virgil was not going to give him the fuel for future stunts by telling him that just maybe Virgil loved the adrenaline rush of doing aerobatics in his ‘bird like his brother did too.

---

Hope you had fun reading this :D

Now i feel like I need to go find a slide or some swings and some sunshine too!

[emtb319]

Day 4 of Fishtank week-prompts ‘we’re a team, always’ or ‘did you doubt me?’

Gordon didn’t like to sit still.  Even now, from the couch with his leg in a brace and all, he was trying to walk his biggest brother through the sea sludge that held the escape capsule.  He could hear Scott’s annoyance, but he had to do something to help them.  If only his body would heal faster.

After they successfully recovered the capsule, they busied themselves with its data.  Gordon found himself feeling left out again.  It was a lot of engineering speak to see if they could even recover the data, let alone see and interpret it.  The boredom of healing was only making it worse.

After a particularly restless night, he found himself sitting on a couch overlooking the pool.  He wanted to swim laps, but the braces wouldn’t allow for it.  So, he sat on the couch, stewing.  He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Virgil come into the room or sit next to him.  It wasn’t until stuff was put in his hands did he realize that he wasn’t there alone.

‘We’re running low.  Purple or orange?,’ Virgil asked.

‘Huh?’ was the only response he could utter.

‘We’re running low on our little crochet animals for the kids.'

‘Oh,’ Gordon answered, finally realizing.  ‘Give me the purple please and that white.’  A few hours later, they had a nice handful of little crochet animals.  Virgil got up for a moment to get the stuffing that they’d need to finish them.

‘I know it’s been hard for you Gords.’  Gordon huffed at him.  How could he possibly understand how bad this was for him?  The sitting still, the boredom, watching his brothers go out there to help people while he stayed behind, useless.  Virgil handed him a bag of the stuffing.  ‘We’re a team, always, even if that looks a little different right now.’

‘A little different…Virgil you know that I can’t sit still.  This is driving me crazy.’

‘I know, I know.  I remember when Mom was pregnant with you.  Even then, you didn’t do still.  You used to drive the technicians crazy.  All they wanted to do was measure you, and on top of it all, you tried to make your grand escape, 11 weeks early.’  Gordon chuckled.

‘I remember the stories.  Isn’t there a picture somewhere of me blowing a kiss to my nurses?’

‘Yea, I’ll find it for you.  You still came early and small.  Not even an hour old, you were stealing everyone’s hearts.’  They kept working on their stuffed animals, until John called down.  Virgil and Scott were needed.

‘Go Virg.  Thank you for this, I really needed it.  I’ll have these done by the time you get back.’

‘Thanks Gords,’ Virgil said as he gathered the ones that were done to store in 2.  ‘We can always use more of these.’  Virgil took a moment to grasp his shoulder before leaving.  ‘It won’t be much longer.  You’ll be back in your seat on 2 as my co-pilot soon.  I promise.’

‘I know.  Now go before John starts to worry and be careful.’ ‘I will.’

[pareidoliaonthemove]

The Question

“Did you even think of us?”

Jeff Tracy had though his heart couldn’t hurt any more than it had for the past however-many-days he had been sat beside this hospital bed.

He had been wrong.

Virgil lay weakly in the bed, his flushed and sweaty face seemed to radiate heat, his limp hair plastered in sweaty strings to his forehead. Fever bright, glazed eyes focused on his father, seeming to recognise the man in the chair beside him for the first time in days.

That recognition should be reason to celebrate.

The question was not.

“Every day, Virgil. I thought of you boys every day –”

“Did you think of us at all?”

Virgil was obviously not hearing his reply, and as Jeff looked again, Virgil’s gaze was directed towards him, but not focused as he had originally thought.

“Why didn’t you take a second to work through the consequences? Because there were so many consequences …” Virgil’s voice faded out as Jeff stared, baffled.

“Consequences?” he asked, not expecting an answer. Virgil remained silent, eyes closed.

They were obviously coming at this from different angles, but for the life of him, Jeff couldn’t fathom what Virgil was asking. He’d spent eight years stuck alone on that rock, with no real hope of rescue, longing for the family half a solar system away. What consequence …?

“One was there. Could have bailed out and remote flew her to intercept.”

Realisation slammed into Jeff like a freight train, dropping his stomach to the level of the basement, while the bitter stale coffee he’d managed to swallow surged up his throat, burning and choking him. The roaring of blood in his ears seemed impossible as his heart convulsed, seeming so squeeze into the smallest possible space in his chest, radiating physical pain in every direction.

The train would have hurt less.

And, perfectly timed to rub salt into his wounds, Virgil opened his eyes. “Did you even think of us? Or was this just an opportunity to be the great hero again?”

“I …” Jeff’s voice failed him, as the door opened and his mother slipped into the room.

“How’s …?” Apparently it was the day for sentences trailing off into nothingness, Jeff thought bitterly. Although, his mother didn’t remain silent for long. There was the sound of fabric rustling, and then she spoke again, “Scott, Virgil’s awake, but not coherent. I need you to come and sit with him, while I deal with your father.”

There was a muffled noise that could only be Scott’s acknowledgement of the instruction, and then footsteps as his mother approached the bed.

“Whatever he’s said, he doesn’t mean it.”

“Oh, he meant it,” the words tasted like bile on his tongue. “He just wouldn’t normally say it.”

There was a soft knock on the door, before it opened, and Scott slid in, still breathing heavily from his flat-out sprint to get here, before firmly closing the door behind him.

“What’s the situation?” Scott asked softly, eyeing both his brother and father.

Jeff smiled wryly. “Virgil’s lost his mind to mouth filter.” The smile dropped. “He … blames me.”

Sally wrapped a comforting arm around her son’s shoulder. “I sincerely doubt it, whatever you think this is about.” She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Virgil’s very sick with the fever. You know how fever can cause people to hallucinate, say things they don’t mean.”

Scott stepped up. “We’ve been here before, Dad,” he said softly. “Virg …” he sighed. “Fevers really do a number on Virgil. He spouts all sorts of nonsense.”

Virgil stirred again. “Could have prevented so much …” he faded back into sleep. And the very-much-not retired Dr Sally Tracy examined the readings from the bed’s built-in med-scanner.

“He’s condition’s improving, this is just a phase to be ridden out. He’s still disorientated from the hallucinations, and reacting to whatever it is he ‘saw’.”

Jeff wasn’t placated, but he allowed his mother to pull him to his feet, and lead him out the door, Scott taking his place by the bed.

Jeff glanced over his shoulder as the door slid shut, Virgil’s eyes were open again, and his mouth was moving. Jeff didn’t have the heart to make the effort to lip read his son’s words.

Notes:

It’s often said that the real victims of a suicide are the people who are left behind. I know that Jeff’s big damn hero moment wasn’t strictly suicide, but it wasn’t a textbook example of self-preservation, either. So I’m all in for the idea that the boys' grief process was complicated by the same kind of questions that follow on from a suicide.

And that complicated grieving process was always going to complicate ‘the return’.

I don’t subscribe generally to the ‘Jeff is a bad dad’ idea (except in a couple of particularly well executed instances), but nobody is perfect, and sometimes there are no good choices.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[phantomhunting]

We're Here and We're Queer // Sanders sides modern teen AU

CHAPTER 1 - queer teens have immense crushes on each other and wont fucking CONFESS ALREADY.

<Next chapter coming soon>

CW: implied abuse, and intrulogical being intrulogical (mostly Remus)

Ships: Logan x Remus, Roman x Virgil, Remy x Janus, Emile x Patton

Patton was sitting in his room in front of the mirror, trying to make his light cyan hair look good, but it was too messy. He sighed, the reflection of his soft blue eyes staring at him from the mirror. "I hate this" he whispered. He sighed again and got up, going to his closet and taking out his favorite top, a baby blue vest with a white button-up. He put it on and grabbed his school bag and walked downstairs to get some breakfast.

There wasn't much to eat at home, even though the Mor family (which Patton was part of) had a lot of money. He decided to eat some overly-sugary cereal with lactose free milk (because he's lactose intolerant). When Patton finished eating, he could hear his father walk up the stairs. He quickly washed the dishes he used and placed them neatly on the dish rack. He checked the time, '8:10' was what the clock read. "You're late to school again." his father exclaimed as he entered the room. Patton started breathing heavily, scared of what his father might do. "I-i was just leaving!" He grabbed his bag and ran out the house before his father could do anything. He ran all the way to school, not wanting to be even more late.

- - -

Virgil was sitting in the back of the class with his small dagger shaped fidget, barely listening to the teacher. He was waiting for the break so he could hang out with his friends. He and his older brother, Logan, have recently moved into this city, and a group of students have accepted them in as one of their own. Virgil always doubted if they actually liked them or if it was just because they're new, but at least he'll make the most of it. After two long and boring math classes, it was finally break time. Virgil put all his stuff in his locker and grabbed his food from his bag. He ran to the back of the school, which was where the group always stayed while in there. Roman, Patton, and Remus were already sitting and chatting there. Virgil was hesitant to approach, not wanting to intrude. Then, he suddenly felt a hand touch his shoulder. He jumped and let out a squeak, turning around to see... His older brother, Logan!

"Lo.. don't ever do that again" he tried to sound intimidating but he was so much smaller than him. "What did you get?" Logan asked, pointing at Virgil's lunchbox. "Oh- umm, it's just some bread with a piece of cheese on it" Virgil answered. "You know, you need to eat more than that, Virg" Logan's tone seemed harsh, but Virgil knew Logan cared a lot about him. They both walked over to the group, and sat down next to them.

"Virgil! Logan!" Patton called, happy to see his friends. "Hello!" Remus called as well, only happy to see Logan. "Hi..!" Roman whispered quietly to Virgil, blushing slightly. "Hey, Roman.." Virgil responded, hoping his makeup hides his red face. "Ree, is that new?" Virgil asked, pointing at the collar on Remus' neck. "Why won't you ask your brother~?" Remus responded, making a flirty face to Logan. "Ew- you could've just said yes" Virgil wanted to throw up thinking about his brother and Roman's brother having... Adult times. Remus scoffed. "Has anyone seen Barry? We were supposed to study now but he's not responding to my texts." Logan quickly changed the topic. "Probably still asleep, he oversleeps constantly" Remus responded, taking out his bottle (that's full of some blue liquid that seems full of sugar) and taking a sip. Logan is disgusted by the drink, but moves on, "he's usually here by now..." he checks his phone's notifications again. "Ugh, why does it matter? We're having a conversation here now" Remus rolled his eyes.

There was silence for a few seconds, only the sounds of Patton's chocolate chip cookies in his mouth were heard. "Wassup nerds" Janus sat next to his younger brother, Patton, and placed his bag of oatmeal cookies besides him. "Good morning, Jan" Remus smiled. Virgil and Roman rolled their eyes, they both disliked Janus a bit too much. Janus flashed a sarcastic smile back at them both, raising the tension.

"hey, Remus, may i speak to you in private?" Logan asked, cutting the tension. "Ooo~" Remus smirked. "About a serious topic. Now." Logan hurried. "Alright alright" Remus got up, and Logan followed. They both walked inside the building, they were out of sight in a moment. "Well.... Uh, Roman, did you see the vid i sent you?" Virgil asked, attempting to start a conversation without Patton or Janus. "I did! Wait- we're talking about the dnd one, right?" Roman hurried to clarify, and Virgil nodded, "yeah so i did watch it, it seemed really interesting! I'd love to do a game with you some day" Roman blushed. Virgil smiled awkwardly, wanting to show Roman his years of campaign planning just for him, but he knew it'd seem weird. "Hey, lovebirds, there are more people sitting with you" Janus exclaimed, signaling at himself and his brother. Roman and Virgil both burst into denying chatter, while Patton giggled to himself. They all spent the rest of the break talking about some math teacher that got pregnant from a different teacher. Remus and Logan didn't come back.

- - -

At the end of the school day, as Patton walked out, he saw two cute boys talking right outside the school's gate. He took a deep breath and approached them. "H-hey! My name is Patton, and I think you look really cool, wanna be friends?" He asked, seeming as innocent as a baby. The taller one chuckled, "sure. Im Remy, this is my twin brother, Emile" he smiled, and took a sip out of his coffee. Emile smiled a bit, already knowing he's got feelings for Patton, he always saw him around, hanging with hus classmate, Virgil, and he always seemed so sweet and caring. It was obvious he liked puns, just perfect for him. "He's awkward" Remy whispered to Patton, and preceded to be slapped by Emile. Patt giggled, but in a friendly way rather than a bullying way. Thats when Janus whispered into Patton's ear, "we need to get home, bitch" and laughed.

"LANGUAGE!!" Patton shouted. Janus just kept laughing. "Sorry, uh, this is my brother, Janus" he explained to his new friends. "Is Janus your actual name?" Emile asked, his sweet honey colored eyes glowing with curiosity. "Nope, its Julia. But i really hate that name, so i changed it. Too feminine" Janus explained, grabbing Patton's hand, "now, me and my beloved brother need to head home. See ya!" he dragged him off to the bus stop.

- - -

"he was amazing!!" Emile called, flapping his hands. "His brother was hotter." Remy replied, sipping his coffee like the bad bitch that he is. "Sometimes i really dont get how you're my twin brother and not some distant uncle of an uncle" Em joked. "What can i say, I'm the Picani with the most personality" Remy flipped imaginary hair (his hair is too short). "Pfft, yeah, right. You dont even know what you're gonna do next week, i already know what im learning in college." Emile joked as they both started walking home.

[lefaystrent]

Friendly Neighborhood Criminals Part 5

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic Patton/Dark Sides

Summary: Patton has never celebrated Halloween before. His new friends find this unacceptable. Que spooky shenanigans.

Ao3 Link: click here

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

A/N: DnDeceit (Hazgarn) asked for Halloween shenanigans. I am here to deliver.

Also, since it will probably never come up in the story specifically, Patton is 20, Virgil 25, Remus 31, and Janus 36.

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

"Turn to the left. Little more. Okay, hold on."

Brush bristles graze across Patton's cheekbone up into his temple. It's a tickle he's gotten used to over the past thirty minutes or so, but reflexively he giggles now and then. It's like eyelashes kissing his skin in little butterfly flutters! So light and calming.

Virgil sits with him on Patton's bed, both of them facing each other. He works with his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. Colorful palettes of blushes and eyeshadow dominate the space around them, courtesy of Virgil's personal collection. Some of it dusted across Patton's sheets, despite Virgil's best efforts, but Patton assured him that it was part of the fun! There's no way Patton can be upset with Virgil anyway. Not after he's graciously volunteered to do Patton's Halloween makeup!

Virgil's own under eye shadow has been replaced this evening. The eyes are still smokey, yet softer in a blend of purple and silver highlights. Tiny stars and moons are painstakingly painted around his brows and the corners of his eyes, accentuated by glued on rhinestones. Together with his matte, plumb lipstick, Virgil's face looks ethereally beautiful.

He still hasn't told Patton what his costume is. Patton keeps guessing and Virgil gives a secretive smile without letting on either way.

"Is it an anime magical girl?"

"Do I look like I could pull off being a magical girl?"

"I think you could pull off anything, Virge. You're very pretty."

"Aww, it's cute that you think compliments will work on me."

And Patton giggles again just because he's happy. Lately, he and Virgil have been texting and hanging out a lot. He's closer to Patton age-wise, so it's easier to connect on that front. More than that, Virgil possesses a quiet passion about him that is borne from more than a mere desire to produce art. It extends to his friends' well-being with an uncanny attention for detail. Patton has seen it in the way that he worries for Remus and Janus and the gruff ways he checks in on them to make sure they're taking care of themselves.

It's a more unrefined version of the way Janus goes about taking care of people, but no less endearing. Patton wonders if Virgil is conscious of emulating him, if that's where he's learned it. Janus is downright parental, always feeding them and reminding them to rest. Watching them with eyes that know more than what his boys tell him and able to glean the sources of their struggles without them ever having to voice them. It's different than Patton's own parents...

Remus, on the other hand, is akin to a bold big brother in his protective instincts. Constantly teasing, unerring in his acts of affection. Patton has learned in large part to Remus's efforts that touches are not a warning to impending punishment, or that they have to hurt. Remus gives swaddling hugs and cuddles that make you feel safe, and Patton has steadily become addicted to them.

Virgil though, he reminds Patton of his friend Valerie, how they were back in high school. In those days, Patton could forget for a while about home and the fear that waited for him there at the end of each day. When they were together, they could talk about anything they wanted, whether it be dreams or pep rallies or theater club or places they wanted to go. It brought peace of mind and Patton is forever grateful to her.

And now, Patton feels the same about Virgil. He hasn't described his feelings to him yet, not knowing if Virgil feels the same. Also, he doesn't know if he's allowed to have two best-friends. Valerie is still close in his heart, and they text or call most days. But now he's kind of doing the same thing with Virgil, and it feels so easy, and Virgil is so different than Valerie or Patton in the most wonderful way! What is he to do? This is untreked territory!

If a person can have two best friends, Patton would choose Virgil.

"I think that's it. Look forward for me," Virgil commands, sitting down the brush. Patton follows his instruction and Virgil leans from side to side to check the symmetry.

"I'm sure it looks wonderful," Patton insists. "You're really talented."

"Still not telling you."

A laugh tumbles out, care-free. "I wasn't trying that time! Promise! I really mean it, Virge."

"Well, I'm glad that you think that then."

Patton shakes his head. He has found that Virgil struggles when accepting compliments. It's not so...dissimilar from his own predicament. Patton hopes that helping Virgil may help himself one day. Besides, Virgil deserves all the compliments!

"Wanna take a look?" Virgil holds out a handheld mirror. Patton takes it and lets out a gust of breath at viewing the final product. "Wow, Virge. This is... This is just, wow."

Patton barely recognizes himself. The sockets of his eyes are caverns that stretch out into hatching lines, like shadowy pieces of hay. Stitch-work decorates his lips and travels farther than the corners of his mouth. And his cheeks appear concave with the shade of blush, very gaunt.

He looks like a spooky scarecrow!

"You like it?" Virgil asks hesitantly.

Patton sits down the mirror. "Like it? I love it! I could crow all day about it!"

Virgil groans, "What have I done?"

Patton can't wait to put on the rest of his scarecrow costume.

***

Virgil drives them back to the lair to meet up with Remus and so that he can change into his own costume. Patton jaunts into the apartment with a pep to his step, enjoying hearing his costume swish with the sound of hay.

Remus sits/lays on the couch upside down. He's wearing a full-body black and red spandex costume like a superhero but without a mask. There's no make up on his face, but the blood rushes to his face something fierce.

"Why are you guys walking on the ceiling?" Remus asks.

Virgil snorts and knocks him gently in the shoulder with a foot. "Why are you still sulking?"

"I'm not sulking. If anyone sulks, it's you, Incredible Sulk. Mother Sulker. King of the Sulks."

"Yeah, you're still sulking."

"You're sulking?" Patton asks. He kneels down on Remus's other side in concern.

Remus blows a raspberry at Virgil, but answers Patton. "No, I just said I'm not sulking. This is me, not sulking."

"I feel like we've said that word so much that it's not a word anymore," Virgil grimaces. At Patton's questioning look, Virgil explains, "Remus is mad because me and Janus vetoed his costume choice."

"Why? What's wrong with it? It looks fine on him."

"Not this one. He wanted to dress up as Woody from 'Toy Story'."

"Oh, what's wrong with that? That seems pretty wholesome."

"Two words: assless chaps."

"I... I... I'm afraid to ask what those are."

"Please don't. Please just stay pure."

Remus harrumphs to get the attention back on him. "I wanted to get to say 'There's a snake in my butt!' I had a snake prepared and everything!"

"Please, for the love of God, don't explain further than that. I'm gonna go get dressed now, so can you keep Patton company– without corrupting his mind?"

Remus glances over Patton in consideration. "But he looks so corruptible."

"Your funeral if Janus finds out," Virgil says and disappears down the hallway.

Patton remains sitting with Remus who seems unaware that his head is turning into a tomato. He's starting to resemble his costume.

Spurred on by his good mood, Patton initiates physical contact in hopes of comforting him. It's something he's been shy about and only managed with Remus so far, but he's getting better! He pats at Remus's arm.

"If it makes you feel any better, I like this costume. You look super cool."

"Yeah, I do," Remus agrees begrudgingly. "I still wanted to show off my ass, so Deadpool seemed like a good runner up. He's like, my spirit animal, you know? We're ass brothers."

Patton giggles at the zany train of thought. He laughs harder when Remus asks if he'd like a demonstration of how his butt looks in his costume. Remus springs up and strikes a hip-cocking pose, smacking his booty to make it jiggle.

"I know what you're thinking," Remus says, faux-serious. "But I assure you, this dump truck is all natural."

Patton hums thoughtfully, "Yeah, my butt's just filled with hay."

Patton isn't exactly sure why Remus lays on the ground crying with laughter for the next several minutes, but he's incredibly proud all the same.

Virgil walks out in a flowy witch costume complete with crooked pointy hat and buckled boots. When he finds Remus still cackling, he sighs and sweeps at him with his broom until the man can pull himself together.

***

The next step is to pick up Janus.

Patton sits jittery in the backseat of the car. He sings softly along to the radio to the few songs that sound familiar. Remus attempts several times to commandeer the radio only for Virgil to slap his hands every time.

"Driver picks music."

"Then let me drive!"

"Never in a thousand years."

And on they banter over the music. Virgil has always been the driver, and Patton has learned from context that Remus is not allowed to drive anything other than his motorcycle. Even then, the others refuse to ride on the motorcycle with him. Patton has considered riding again with Remus, not remembering much from that one night a couple of months ago when Remus picked him up. Remus has offered too, several times in fact, but Janus and Virgil seem to think it's a death sentence.

They're in the same maroon car as always. Patton thinks that it's Janus's car but Virgil is his designated driver. In the context of them being criminals, Patton has daydreamed Virgil in high-speed chases. But whenever Patton's in the car, Virgil never goes over the speed limit and stops at every red light.

Coming out of his musings, Patton glances out the window to see that they're cruising through a lovely suburban neighborhood. The car slows and pulls up to a one-story house, not overly large. The white garage and front door stand out against the cobalt blue siding. White trim and a white banister around the front porch. Black shingles interrupted by a chimney. A green line of bushes hedge around the side.

It's more unassuming than Patton would have imagined for someone like Janus.

A tall lady in a floor-length white dress and wide brimmed black hat exits the front door and clicks down the driveway in dangerously high pearly heels. Patton blinks and tightens his grip on his seat belt as the unknown woman opens the back door to slide into the car.

Remus wolf whistles. "How much would I have to pay for you to step on me?"

"Honey, I'm priceless," the lady says in Janus's voice.

Patton is suddenly extremely aware that this is not a lady but Janus in costume. His face burns scarlet, and he holds his cheeks in embarrassment.

Janus notices immediately and turns to him. "Everything alright, dear? Your costume is very cute, by the way. Very spooky."

"I didn't realize that was you!" Patton admits. He admires the delicate silk dress. It's long sleeved and Janus's usual yellow gloves are replaced with black fitted lace ones. There's a large black rose sewn into the collar off to one side. And Janus's makeup is pristine in pale foundation, false eyelashes, and fire truck red lipstick.

Janus smiles demurely. "I suppose that's the point of costumes."

"You look really good. I didn't think–" Patton cuts himself off before he says something terribly offensive. Janus cocks a fine eyebrow and sees through him anyway.

"You didn't think I would wear a dress?"

"I... yes? Maybe? I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven. I do tend to wear suits most of the time. I save drag for special occasions."

"There's never a wrong time to dress in drag," Virgil pipes up.

"What's drag?" Patton asks.

There's a moment where they all stare at him, making Patton fear that he said something stupid. But then Remus says, "Okay, we are so watching 'Ru Paul's Drag Race' when we get back home."

Janus gives the most gleeful grin that Patton has ever seen him wear. "Patton, darling, we are going to open up your whole world."

***

Outside the city limits, they reach a sprawling field of pumpkins. Dozens of parents and children and couples and groups of teens in costumes swarm around the pumpkin patch. A line of kiddos mill about at a face-painting booth. Another area offers apple bopping and horseshoe tosses. Further on, tables are set up with various fall themed baked goods for sale.

It's like an October fairytale, or a Halloween Hallmark movie.

"There's so many!" Patton exclaims, gazing out at the ocean of orange vegetables. His fingers press against the car window, and he can hardly drink in one sight before turning to the next.

When the car is put in park, Patton wastes no time in launching out of the car. The evening is crisp and smoke wafts in the wind. There must be a fire pit somewhere nearby. Patton jumps up and down, throwing his arms out wide.

Remus comes over to jump beside him, matching his energy. "Ready to smash some pumpkins, Pattycake?"

"Let's smash all the pumpkins!" Patton squeals, delirious in his excitement.

"But the farmers worked so hard for their bounty," Janus chides. "Maybe limit it to a handful?"

"An-ar-chy! An-ar-chy!" Virgil starts cheering, and well, Janus can't stop the rampant rebellion after that.

Janus watches the three of them run off together, shaking his head with a put-upon sigh. He's not going to spoil their spirits, but he sure as hell is not chasing after them in six-inch pumps through the grass.

A tugging at Janus's skirt pulls his attention downwards. Beside his legs, a little girl in a bumblebee costume gazes up at him imploringly.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?"

Someone save him.

Patton, Virgil, and Remus do not in fact destroy pumpkins. They purchase a few and carry them over to the carving station that's set up. Patton scrutinizes the carving knife, and Virgil takes the blade before he can reach for it and hacks his open for him.

"It's all stringy!" Patton gasps after the top is removed. He reaches in and grabs a handful of pumpkin mixed with pale seeds.

"Guts! Glorious guts everywhere!" Remus whoops as he tosses his pumpkin bits into the air to land back on him in a mess.

"Ay, watch it," Virgil snaps and leans out of the splash zone. Patton, feeling mischievous, picks up a clump of pumpkin and drapes it over Virgil's shoulder. Virgil notices immediately of course and gives him an unimpressed look. "Really, Pat?"

Patton giggles, "I'm just having a gourd time."

The pumpkins are emptied and the real carving can begin. Patton's is a mishappen silly face while Virgil forgoes a face at all. Instead, he works to shape a couple of bats flying over a haunted house. Remus gets halfway through his before Virgil spies what he's making and unceremoniously smashes his pumpkin.

"This is a family friendly event," Virgil warns him.

"Prude."

"I'm not letting you get us kicked out. Think of the child."

"What?" Patton pops his head up. "Where's Janus by the way?"

They eventually spot Janus whiling the time away sitting on a rectangular hay bale. There's a group of kids piled around him in a semi-circle on the ground, listening to him tell scary stories. People seem to be under the impression that he works for the event.

Remus goes to get another pumpkin. Not to carve but to play with the guts again. Patton finishes his carving and does another silly face on Remus's second pumpkin. Virgil finishes his work of art and Patton fawns over it so much that Virgil offers for him to keep it. He's a little startled by the strength of the hug Patton gives him.

***

Following the pumpkin patch, their next stop is a haunted house. It's not a legitimate haunted house, thankfully. It's an attraction where people pay to go through dark hallways and be jump scared by workers dressed in costumes. By the time they arrive, Patton is struck by one important detail.

"How dark do you think it is in there?" Patton asks.

They're standing in line to wait for their turn to enter. It's a popular place with no small budget. There are large pieces of ghosts and ghouls lit up by spotlights. Fog billows out from machines. A few workers dressed in costume walk out from behind curtains now and then to up the anticipation. Patrons who have already gone through come back around to line up again.

"I've never been to one myself," Janus admits, looking to the others for an answer.

Remus waves his hand sideways in the air, noncommittal, "Eh, mostly dark? It depends. In some areas, there can be flashing light or low light. Like a static-y TV or flickering bulbs."

"If it was pitch black, it'd be a tripping hazard," Virgil points out. "Plus, you wouldn't be able to see the monsters trying to scare you. Not that you'll see all of them. They'll try to scare you with sound too."

"Still feeling up to it?" Janus questions Patton. "There's no shame if you want to back out now."

"Are you just saying that because you want to wimp out?" Remus suggests with a smirk.

Janus scoffs, "I don't feel fear."

"You guys already bought the tickets though," Patton says hesitantly. Then, pulling himself up in his overalls, he huffs out air in determination. "Besides, this will be fun! I want to do this with you guys."

If he could sleep in his apartment with a nightlight, he could do this. And he would have the others with him. He could be brave, with them.

Janus scoops up his hand and a bit of the gusto flees him. In its place is warmth and stability.

"If it gets too much, just take my hand, alright?"

The warmth spreads to Patton's cheeks. He hums out a positive and smiles. He scoots a bit closer, and Janus doesn't release his hand so Patton doesn't either.

Remus shows the door attendant their online tickets from his phone, and they all get slapped with wristbands. There are last minute reminders, assurances that the workers are not allowed to touch them and warnings that some of the lights may cause seizures. Patton doesn't think he'll have a problem with the lights, and it's a huge relief that no strangers will be touching him.

In they go into the dark and Patton braces himself by gripping Janus's hand tighter. They bring up the rear with Remus and Virgil leading the pack.

There are whispered voices and random shouts from afar. A growl sounds behind them but when Patton twists around, there's nothing there.

The first major room they come to is not accessible. It's behind a rusty chain link fence. Patton can peek inside to see in the red glow of an exit sign that it's similar to a hospital scene. A lone wheelchair sits empty in the middle and slowly starts rolling about a foot on its own.

"The ghosts of patients' past," Remus murmurs.

Then a figure slams into the fence, causing them all to step back. It's a bloodied nurse, snarling at them.

"Oh, that's such a good costume!" Patton applauds, literally clapping. "The blood looks so real!"

"Thanksssss," the nurse hisses and crawls back down into her hiding spot.

"Not scared yet, Pat?" Virgil asks skeptically.

Patton grins. "This is fun! Let's keep going!"

Onward they walk through more hallways and find more rooms. There's a little living room area where a figure sits in front of a TV illuminated in static. Patton approaches to get a better look and the person comes alive. A zombie with a knife stuck in its chest jumps up and roars at Patton.

Peals of laughter escape Patton even as Janus flinches back. "Ahh, you got me good!"

And the next room features a torture chamber. A muscled person wearing an executioner's hood stands by a crude operating table with a half-covered body.

"Spin the wheel," a deep, gravelly voice beckons and the man points at a stained standing wheel. It features sections labeled as different body parts.

"Ooh, points for interactive," Virgil praises. "Waddya say, Pat? Wanna spin to win?"

"Can I?!" Patton exudes pure enthusiasm and bounces up beside the wheel.

"Aren't you a little too eager?" Janus cautions.

Remus shushes him. "Do your worst, Pattycake!"

Patton let's go of Janus's hand long enough to throw his weight into a spin. It ticks rapidly as it spins and spins until finally landing on HAND.

The executioner laughs menacingly and saws off a hand at the wrist. Red liquid spurts out and an echoing scream comes from all around them as if there are built in speakers. It's gruesome and Janus wrinkles his nose at it. Remus chuckles when the executioner takes the dismembered hand and waves it at them.

"I gotta hand it to these guys, they really go all out," Patton says as they continue down the hall.

"Hand, ha ha," Virgil mock laughs.

Patton lights up, "Oh! Oh! That was a pun, wasn't it? I made a pun!"

"Don't pretend that wasn't intentional."

"But it wasn't, I swear! Oh my goodness!" Patton giggles beside himself, so caught up in his own unexpected pun that he misses the scary ghost lady sneaking up behind them to screech in their ears.

Janus full on shrieks. He stumbles with Patton and backs them away, cursing while Patton is still giggling. The ghost lady cackles and drifts behind a curtain, gone from sight.

Remus and Virgil are doubled over themselves, and Patton realizes they are laughing at Janus.

"Oh my god, you're such a sissy!" Remus grabs onto Virgil to keep from falling over. "I'm gonna start calling you Hissy Sissy!"

Flustered, Janus deflects, "What are you talking about? That was Patton screaming, not me."

Virgil waves his hand at Patton. "Does he look scared in the slightest?"

Patton is in fact still grinning. "I'm just really happy to be here."

Remus claps a hand on Patton's back. "Who knew our little puffball would have balls of steel?"

Patton doesn't really. He's surrounded by friends in a haunted house full of people who worked really hard on their costumes and scare tactics and set designs. These are employees and devotees of Halloween who have come together in the spirit of the season. How could Patton find any of that scary?

The things he's truly afraid of, the real scary bits...he left that behind him.

***

END NOTES

Here are some fun facts about this chapter that I simply could not find a way to work in naturally but still wanted to share.

1. Patton's first costume idea was to dress up as Stitch from Lilo and Stitch. But when Virgil offered to do his makeup, they kind of spiraled into different ideas until Patton landed on scarecrow. If Patton instead went ahead as Stitch, Janus wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face and would have thoroughly gushed about how cute Patton is and fawn over him. Patton would have been overwhelmed by the affection influx and started bawling his eyes out. Shame that didn't happen. :)

2. Janus is dressed up as Lady Dimetrescu from the horror game Resident Evil 8. It's very similar vibes to Thomas's photo shoot of Janus in a dress.

3. There's a pumpkin carving contest at the pumpkin patch. Virgil wins second place.

4. At the pumpkin patch, Janus improvises all the scary stories he's telling the children. It's mostly cautionary tales against society. He's also lowkey distraught to be at the center of attention for so many impressionable youths and keeps glancing to the others for help the entire time, but the others are like, "Eh, he's fine. Totally in his element."

5. Remus introduced Patton to magical girls anime. He started with Madoka Magica. If you don't know, it's an anime that subverts the genre and a girl gets decapitated in one of the first episodes. Patton is appalled but keeps watching because he desperately wants for there to be a happy ending.

6. At the haunted house attraction, Patton ends up leading Janus by the hand, much to Janus's embarrassment. In the background, Virgil gets jump scared so hard by an employee that he accidentally socks them in the face. In a panic, he and Remus drag their unconscious body into a random chair so it looks like the poor person is part of the set design. They quickly walk away like nothing happened. Janus sees it happen, but distracts Patton so he's none the wiser.

7. They all go to waffle house afterwards for dinner. Remus takes pictures with a bunch of people who think he makes a great Deadpool. Virgil chugs down an entire milkshake on a dare. He regrets it later. Patton makes a smiley face out of his waffle pieces and bacon. Nobody comments on it, but it's really precious. Patton does it because he's remembering the pumpkin carving fondly.

8. Finally, they all go back to the lair, pile on the couch, and watch TV while binge-eating tons of candy. They shove piles of candy at Patton just to see him go wide eyed. When Patton protests, Virgil empties a whole bag by pouring it on him. They end up watching scary movies and save Ru Paul's for another day. When they do eventually get Patton to watch Ru Paul's, it is a very enlightening experience for him.

9. Patton passes out during the movie marathon. It's the first time that he spends the night outside of his apartment, and that boy is conked the fuck out in a sugar crash. Remus challenges himself to roll Patton up in a blanket burrito. Patton never wakes up, even when Remus picks his cocooned form up, holds him to his chest, and starts doing his best impression of Golem, "My precioussss."

10. And if you made it this far, you get to find out that while Remus is busy swaddling the baby, Janus and Virgil have a cryptic conversation about their boss. Patton never asked them why they broke into his apartment, but it doesn't matter. It's a waiting game, and they fear whether Patton will come out intact when the other shoe drops.

[enby-trash-rat]

Glasses

Fandom//Sander Sides

Warning: Swearing

Story Written by:

@a-rat-called-remus and @viva-gardens

Summary: Remus isn't the type to care about looks but when he realizes he's slowly going blind and has to wear glasses . . . That's a whole other story. He despises them.

Remus stares ahead of him frowning and squinting at the mirror. He looked fucking ridiculous. He took them off and then back on.

Repeating the process over and over again. He hated the fucking things and he hated how they looked on him.

He was going to be pummeled by insults.

Obviously he didn't care. He has never cared much about his appearance or what the others said about him or the cruel nicknames they assigned him, something they thought he didn't know about. Just because he doesn't bring it up doesn't mean he's oblivious to it.

Despite what the others thought he was much more observant and smarter than he appeared.

So why should this be any different. Why should these make him feel so unsure.

He squints down at the glasses in his hands. The ones Logan had conjured up for him.

It was a nice gesture but that didn't make him hate them any less.

he truly didn't deserve his kindness. Never has.

He'd have to leave the dark side eventually. He couldn't lock himself in his room forever.

Though Remus is sure most of them would be more than happy if he did that.

He squints down at them once more putting them back on. Adjusting them to his liking before looking back into the mirror. Staring at his reflection.

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

A familiar tugging sensation tilled his body.

Ah, fuck. He goes to take them off again and then-- Poof! Remus was in his assigned spot.

The space between Roman and Virgil.

Roman was going to have a field day with this.

He tilts his head slightly to face his brother.

He hadn't noticed his presence. And by the looks of it no one else had either.

He stood there silently.

Something almost abnormal when it came to Remus, he was always blabbering about something or another. Spouting out every single thought that crowded his mind.

Remus' eyes dart around the room again.

He looks to his other side to see Virgil glancing over at him. Not quite staring at him but now aware of Remus' presence.

Feeling the anxiety radiating off of him. His anxiety only heightened when he saw Virgil looking. It was odd. He was fidgeting with his sash adjusting it and readjusting it. What could have the duke so frazzled? His eyes flickering up to Remus face.

His eyes immediately landing on the green glasses. The glasses. He wanted to reassure Remus, comfort him, not only for Remus' sake but for his own. The anxiety radiating off of Remus was a lot. It felt like scorpions were crawling all over him. He had to stop it. But if he confronted Remus it would only draw attention and things would only get worse. Virgil understood that feeling more than anyone.

Roman hadn't noticed his brother standing next to him. He looked at each of the sides. Patton, Janus, Logan, and Virgil.

He somehow still didn't see his brother.

He looked at Thomas.

Nobody had said anything since they were called here. Not one word. Logan would usually say something, and if he didn't, either Patton or Virgil would. Janus hadn't been here long enough for Roman to know what he would do, and he didn't see his brother.

He looked at each of the sides once more once again somehow overlooking his brother and went to speak.

Roman throws his arms up. "Why has nobody said anything? We have been standing here for quite a bit, Thomas! And we still have yet to talk! Nobody has talked! Not Specs, not Padre, not even Virge. I'm just saying! I'm just bored!"

he throws his arms around while talking, making him look like an uncontrollable puppet.

Remus flinched slightly at the sound of his brother's voice, catching him off guard.

He looked over at Roman, who was staring at him. Or rather staring through him as if Remus hadn't even been there.

He watches as Romans eyes scan over each of the sides, and Thomas once again.

Still not noticing Remus. Good.

His mind immediately wandered off as his brother continued to shout at the others.

[gumnut-logic]

“Ummm, Scott, you okay?” The lengthy form on the floor groaned in response, which sounded oddly like ‘just leave me, I welcome the void…’

Alan frowned before stepping over to his big brother’s side and crouching down beside him. “You sure?”

Scott’s eyes were closed, but his eyebrows were meeting in the middle in a grimace that matched the groan. “’m’kay, Allie. Just watching the stars.”

A blink and Alan looked up. They were out on the balcony, the sun was well up and the moon missing. It was past eight in the morning, after all. Still early for Alan, but positively daytime for Scott who was usually up before five.

Unless…

“You didn’t go to bed last night, did you.” He didn’t even bother to phrase it as a question.

Scott grunted again, opened his eyes and squinted up at Alan. “’S okay. I’m fine.” He rolled over and made to get up.

Alan grabbed his shoulder and nudged him back onto the hardwood.

“Wha-?” Dopey puzzlement was the only description.

But Alan didn’t answer, just unfolding himself and lying down beside his brother.

The sky was startlingly blue when viewed from this angle.

“Alan, what are you doing?”

“Keeping you company.”

“Why?”

“Because I happen to know that Virgil set his alarm for 8.15am this morning so he could speak personally with the supplier in California who sold us faulty parts that caused the incident with Two yesterday.”

“Oh.” A swallow. “What time is it?”

It wasn’t as if Scott couldn’t look at his watch, but he was obviously playing along.

“Eight twenty.”

“Oh.”

“Uh huh. You are toast, bro.” And lucky that Grandma and Gordon were on the mainland overnight.

“So how does you lying on the floor next to me improve the situation?”

“Solidarity. He won’t chew you out with me in the room.”

That earned a grunt.

Alan shrugged. “It will delay him at least. Let him take out his pre-coffee fury on the guy in LA. He certainly deserves it.”

“Guy’s already toast. Business will be disassembled by tomorrow.”

“What?”

“He endangered Virgil’s life. It was safety equipment. I couldn’t stand for that.”

“So, you stayed up all night?”

But whatever his brother was going to say was interrupted by footsteps. Heavy booted ones unmistakably belonging to their engineer brother.

A head of dark hair appeared in Alan’s peripheral vision.

“What’s going on?”

Alan grinned up at Virgil. Red flannel, hands on hips and a pair of eyebrows scrunched up like a cartoon car crash.

“Have you ever noticed how blue the sky is, Virgil?”

That sent an eyebrow halfway up his brother’s forehead. “Painted it enough, so yeah.”

“It is just amazing and to think that beyond it is almost black.”

Alan bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a grin at the puzzled expression on Virgil’s face. It was obvious he knew something was up, but Alan was just acting weird.

“Scott and I were having a little big bro little bro time. So, if you will excuse us…”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed at that and for a moment, Alan thought he had blown it, but his brother was so obviously not all there, he simply eyeballed Scott a second before grunting and wandering off in the direction of the kitchen.

Alan found Scott staring at him.

“What?”

But Scott just rolled his eyes and sat up with a groan.

Alan echoed him with considerably more energy. “You should go to bed.”

That earned him a grunt as Scott pushed himself to his feet.

“Or I’ll tell Virg.”

The glare that hit Alan between the eyes only proved he had scored the required point.

“Fine.”

There was further muttering but Scott poked at their father’s desk for a bit before shooting another glare at his little brother and heading off towards the elevator.

Whether or not he would end up in bed was debatable, but then Alan wasn’t going to push it. It was a miracle Scott had listened at all and it wasn’t like Alan was Virgil and could physically put his big brother to bed whether he liked it or not.

It was only after Scott left that Alan realised he hadn’t asked his brother exactly why he was on the floor in the first place.

-o-o-o-

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 29 - Reassure

Story so far

Sometimes the time to talk comes before you think you are ready. Sorry Virg.

Apologies in advance for the overuse of …

…

… I blame Virg’s half-drugged inner monologue. And also Alan.

💚💙❤️💛🧡💚💙❤️💛🧡💚💙❤️💛🧡

“It’s my fault Virgil got sick.”

To Scott’s credit the look of incredulity had passed very quickly and returned to concerned big brother as he prompted “what makes you think that?”

Alan was several sentences into his attempt to turn a confused childhood memory into a coherent narrative before Virgil suddenly realised he should have objected to that initial statement. Damn. Not that it would have made any difference, probably… a Tracy determined to accept blame was difficult to redirect… but it wasn’t a great look not to have disagreed at the outset.

Maybe he should say it now, just in case?

He sat up a little and opened his mouth but belatedly realised the rest of the family were now hearing about something deeply personal Virgil had hoped none of them would ever find out. Especially not Scott. He blushed, well aware that objectively his little coping mechanisms from that… time… could sound desperately unhinged, even before he got sick and he hadn’t even properly heard how Alan had described it so he could explain and damn he’d stopped listening again and Alan was still talking…

“… and of course I was a compete idiot wasn’t I because it wasn’t a ghost hug Virgil meant at all it was… more like a memory? Of a hug? And I knew I shouldn’t go in there but… but I missed him…” Alan suddenly looked back up at Scott who had frozen in place, both hands still wrapped around one of Alan’s eyes flicking between him and Virgil “… I mean you. I missed you too and I… thought maybe if…if I went in you’d come and I’d get a hug again as well but then… tried to balance the mug… so stupid and I ruined everything… and he… he looked so sad I couldn’t breathe. And then he got sick… so…”

Virgil just shook his head and moaned a little in lieu of speaking. His eyes were squeezed shut but could feel them all looking at him. He had to clear this up, he had to get his brain in gear. He focussed on the pressure of Alan’s skull against his clavicle and forced himself to lift his eyes to meet those of his older brother…

… who stared back at him, his face bewildered and bloodless. Scott’s lips parted as if to speak but he didn’t seem any more capable of forming words than Virgil did.

“It’s been you with the clothes!” Gordon suddenly burst into the awkward silence. “I was blaming Grandma…”

Alan flushed and looked down again.

“I just… didn’t know how to help and I hoped it might… help.”

Big brother mode re-engaged, Scott put a hand back on Alan’s arm and offered firm reassurance without moving his eyes from Virgil for a moment.

“It did.”

Alan nodded, then buried his face back into Virgil’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Allie.”

Virgil’s voice came out rather squeakier than he’d intended so he held his little brother close and swallowed hard.

He knew from observing both Scott and Gordon as they underwent therapy that it was supposed to be good to revisit this stuff - it was good to deliberately remember and to vocalise the things that haunted you… all of them. He’d reminded them often enough. Gordon had quite naturally found himself able to vent to Scott or to Virgil. Scott… well despite Virgil’s efforts he hadn’t let them in for a very long time, not until quite recently when circumstances forced his hand. Even now Virgil knew Scott’s instinct was to shield them from what was going on in his head, rather than let them help. But he had always spoken to his therapist and so Virgil had had to be content with that.

And Virgil had confided in… precisely nobody. Because really, compared to what they’d each been through... well. Dr Clifford had pointed out only a couple of hours ago that the same advice applied to him too - that eventually the acknowledging and the speaking would take the power of the memories away, the ones that lurked and gnawed at his very being.

But of all the times and places to start… the tiny incident Alan was torturing himself over was one of Virgil’s hardest moments. It had been the tipping point between the living nightmare he recalled and the one he… didn’t. The time reality caught up with him and he lost hope. The moment he had finally let go.

The moment he’d actually lost Scott.

And lost Virgil too.

But Alan didn’t know that, all the guilt-ridden child of his memories knew was he’d upset his brother, that after that Virgil hadn’t wanted to look after them anymore.

This really wasn’t the best time. He wasn’t quite sure he’d know how to put it into words when at his best and he definitely wasn’t. And he really, really needed to get this right. Because even putting therapeutic best practice aside, this wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about Alan, Scott… all of them.

“Ok. Ok, so… I guess I should explain some… uh… stuff.” Virgil’s voice was still shaky and he paused as he was suddenly hemmed in by a Gordon on one side and a John on the other. Scott dropped one of his hands from Alan’s to rest on Virgil’s foot. Thus surrounded, he found the words suddenly came a little easier.

“Allie… it really wasn’t your fault. Uh, I’m going to be honest, because you’re not an idiot but you have to hear me out… Right to the end, ok?”

Alan nodded and pressed the side of his face to Virgil’s chest. Scott hovered in front of him, looking stricken, but didn’t interfere.

“I still don’t remember a lot of it very well.” He used the back of his hand to wipe non-existent sweat from his forehead then ran his hand through his hair while trying to summon up the strength and focus to say this the right way.

“But I do remember that night quite clearly and, yeah I was… upset. Not with you, not really with you, but the circumstances and… yeah you’re right that was when I started to… lose my hold on… um, things.”

Alan closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Virgil’s shirt. Virgil watched his face for a moment, his heart squeezing as he noticed the depth of the shadows across his little brother’s cheekbones. He’d clearly been tormenting himself the last week or so and it had gone undetected. Cut from the same cloth as his eldest brother, said torment had clearly done a number on his sleep schedule.

“But, Alan you have to understand this, it wasn’t because of your little accident. If it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else… maybe something Dad said in passing, or something Gordon made for dinner, or looking at the colour of the sky and thinking how much Scott would have liked it.”

“But it WAS that. I made it happen. It was me messing up.”

“No, Allie, no. Listen to me, it happened… inevitably… because I wasn’t coping. I couldn’t do it. No, don’t look at me like that John, it’s true… I have a go at Scott for trying to do everything, be everything but I’m such a hypocrite because when it was my turn I tried to be Scott AND be Mom AND Dad all at the same time and I didn’t know how to… be me? Without…. Without Scott, you know? I didn’t give myself even a moment to work that out because I was scared I wasn’t enough on my own and so… I kind of pretended he was coming back still and it all had to be… ok… when he did come back… and so….” John’s fingers had tightened almost imperceptibly on his shoulder and with a little start Virgil realised he was still verbalising all these thoughts and everyone was looking at him.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, anyway. The point is it wasn’t you, Allie. It wasn’t working. I was barely sleeping, wasn’t really eating. I knew it at the time but didn’t admit it because I thought I was letting Scott down… because I promised him to always look after you all, no matter what.”

There was a quiet moan from his older brother and Virgil suddenly had absolute clarity about what he was going to say next. Because Scott needed to hear this. They all did.

“The thing is Allie… the thing is… Sometimes people ask you to make promises that… aren’t fair. Promises that are so much bigger than they seem at the time. And when that person is gone, if the promise isn’t really possible… if it isn’t healthy to try to keep it… well... What I should have done is asked myself what Scott would have told me to do.”

He looked up and met his big brother’s eyes which were shining with unshed tears.

“You should have taken care of yourself! You shouldn’t have burned yourself out for me. I never wanted that, I never meant to ask that! I’m so sorry, Virgil.”

“I know you didn’t. And I should have then too, I was just too busy trying to do everything and be good enough to let myself think about it.”

Virgil waited, watching the emotions flicker across Scott’s face, wondering when the penny would drop. He’d know when it did, in some ways his brother would always be an open book to him.

Ever such a slight widening of blue eyes and then an almost but not quite concealed frown in his direction told Virgil his point had landed and that more words would inevitably be exchanged on the subject.

Later. He’d deal with that later.

For now, he could almost feel the adrenaline dissipating and for once he allowed himself to drift without complaint. He knew he couldn’t go far this time, grounded as he was by the not insignificant weight in his arms and held up by the unrelenting affection on every side.

[tracybirds]

Been sitting on this bit of fic for a couple of months :) Think I'm ready to put it out in the world

Hunger Games!AU - initially inspired by @tanushakyrano who I believe is knee deep in their own hg au <3 and also thanks to @gumnut-logic whom I inflicted this on when I first wrote it and played cheerleader :D

Hopefully more to come (I have ideas.....)

---

The clang of metal on metal pulled Gordon from his sleep, the grey light of a new day greeting him. For a moment, he didn’t move. If he stayed still, curled between Alan and Virgil, he could stave off the day and ignore the jolt of fear that clamoured for attention in his belly.

Another clanging pulled Scott upright, muttering as he rubbed a hand across his eyes. He reached out and placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and shook him roughly.

“C’mon Virg, dawn bell’s ringing.”

Virgil groaned, mumbling for five more minutes, but the day had begun and no-one in the district cared if one of their citizens would rather have a lie in.

Scott glanced across at Gordon as he hauled Virgil upright. “Don’t you have chores waiting? Harvest doesn’t stop just because it’s Reaping Day. You and John better get gone.”

Gordon didn’t say anything, the sick feeling in his stomach intensifying at the word. John was up already, pulling on a threadbare shirt. He didn’t look at any of them.

Alan yawned. “What am I doing today?”

Scott crouched down, smile fixed firmly in place. “You’re going to help Grandma with the meals – try barter with the Jones-es down the way for some grain – and we’ll see you in the afternoon.”

“Can’t I help with harvest? Pol’s been helping since his birthday.”

Scott swallowed thickly. “No, Allie. Not ‘til your first reaping’s done, you remember what Dad said. We’ll talk next summer.”

Alan nodded. “Okay,” he said easily. “Next year then.”

He scurried away without further protest, and Scott slumped forward with a sigh.

“It’ll be over soon,” said John quietly.

No-one said anything, not wanting to speak their fears aloud and invite them into reality.

“I want to apply for extra,” said Gordon, suddenly. “It’s John’s last year, and we need the tesserae.”

 “No.”

All three older brothers spoke as one.

Gordon met their horrified gaze steadily, his jaw set and face grim.

“You know I’m right. We nearly didn’t make this year without Virgil’s share. If we lose John’s too and there’s no way to make up the shortfall, what do you think will happen come winter?”

“It’s not worth the risk,” spat Scott, his fists shaking.

Gordon snorted. “It’s no less than what you did for us, or Virgil, or John. I’m fifteen now. John’s put his name in, what, eighteen times this year?”

“Twenty-four,” corrected John. He shrank back from Scott and Virgil’s twin looks of horror.

“I knew it,” said Gordon triumphantly. “Every year since he was fourteen, I’m older than that.”

“This isn’t a game, Gordon,” snapped Virgil. “You don’t win for getting your name in the most times, you just get dead.”

“We need that tesserae,” argued Gordon. “Look, I get it, we’ve been that low before, I can do the math as well as you, but last time that happened we had Dad.”

At once, the light diminished, as though the mere mention of the man who’d towered over their family extinguished all oxygen from the room, taking the candle flame with it.

Scott looked like he wanted to hit something, fists clenching and unclenching at his side.

“We can manage,” said Virgil. “There’ll be three of us working for the adult wage next year, we won’t need the extras.”

“Yes, we will,” interjected John.

The admission fell from gritted teeth. Living was a numbers game in the districts, and no-one kept track of the numbers better than John. Gordon exhaled slowly, hope and dread flickering internally with equal measure.

“He’s right,” said John, his voice louder. “Maybe we’ll survive without it, but that’s no guarantee if the crops fail like they did in ’56. Or if a new craze sweeps the Capitol and they need more grain than usual to make whatever extravagant waste-of-space meal is the hot menu item of the season. There’s too many uncertainties, and we can’t base our food supply on a best-case scenario.”

Virgil chewed at his bottom lip, still staring at Scott worriedly. “We might need to trade for medicine or fuel come winter, too,” he admitted reluctantly. “It was only luck we didn’t lose Gordon right alongside Dad that year. And Coney, she says this winter’s going to be a hard one.”

“What does Coney know?” scoffed Scott. “You’d risk Gordon’s life on a maybe?”

“It’s my choice,” snapped Gordon. “Besides, I’d be six slips out of what, a thousand? We need those supplies and you know it.”

Scott opened his mouth to argue, but a second clanging toll rung out and interrupted him.

“That’s the assembly bell,” said Virgil, eyes darting between Scott and the door. “We need to go.”

Scott hesitated, lips pursed as he levelled Gordon with a solemn look in his eyes. “Your choice. You’re right, I can’t stop you. But please, Gordon, think it through. You don’t know what it’s like to watch your little brothers…” His breath heaved in his chest, and he turned away. “Let’s go,” he said to Virgil, leaving John and Gordon behind.

The tension remained, shooting sizzling static through the air as Gordon tried to catch his thoughts and reorder them.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” said John quietly.

“Next year we’ll need more than seven allotments.”

There wasn’t much else to say. Unless they brought in a fourth wage next year, by manner of marriage which only meant another mouth to feed, they wouldn’t last the winter.

The wages in District 11 were just enough to keep the population meagrely fed when the weather was fair and the farming a success. But there was no margin for error. Consequently, the poorest members of the district were reliant on the reaping for extra resources.

Gordon wasn’t stupid.

The least valuable were always more likely to be selected.

It was simple math.