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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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daturakillz · 2 years ago

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What do you need to hear right now? Pick an image!

No. 1.

Cards: RIDER WAITE TAROT:

King of pentacles, the magician, 2 of pentacles.

MAGICK OF YOU ORACLE:

26: protection: set personal boundaries. 27: resilience: burn away the past.

WOODLAND WARDENS:

The chipmunk and Laurel: success. The hound and pear: loyalty.

You have or will be stepping into a time of strength, success, and stability. You may have faced some recent struggles surrounding fluctuations regarding finances, stability, home life, work and or status. This could've been due to an unhealthy or less than favorable work / group situation, causing you to set boundaries and walk away.

You have (or will have) the tools available for you to embark on a new venture in business or career! If you're a practitioner of the arcane arts, I suggest using what you have on hand to do some sort of protection and prosperity spell or ritual! And if you are into astrology, and have your birth chart, look at your money houses and see if there's any particular transits going on for you at this time.

You're headed towards more committed and loyal bonds, finding people you can rely on and who can rely on you. Though the past may have been rocky, you're more than capable of producing a glorious harvest! And a harvest that you can share with those you love ♡

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

No. 2.

RIDER WAITE TAROT

Justice. 9 of swords. Knight of wands.

WOODLAND WARDENS

The ladybug and sweet pea happiness. The bobcat and blackthorn patience.

MAGICK OF YOU ORACLE

4: doable: the key is within your grasp. 16: merak: embrace oneness with the universe.

I heard "it's time to reflect." For you guys who picked number 2. I see that you've faced some major difficulties recently (or even over the past few years.) Through these harsh and trying times, you've likely developed some anxiety which in turn has lead to some sleepless or restless nights. And for that, I personally would like to say that I'm truly sorry to hear this. However! Despite what you may feel right now this period will come to an end. And I know, you're frustrated and impatient. But there are just somethings in this life we cannot rush, no matter how much we try to speed run to the finish line...sometimes we aren't meant to get there when we feel we should.

You maybe younger, and you're comparing yourself to others online or in your community that have reached seemingly impossible achievements. Maybe you're older, and you are upset at the life you've lead up until this point. No matter the age, you may feel you're slower than your peers, or lazy, or simply not good enough. But the human experience isn't about followers, ridiculous amounts of money and a picture perfect image. Being a late bloomer or simply not getting the current social trend, doesn't mean you're destined for failure or that something is wrong with you. The world we're living in is complex, distorted, and layered in so much that it can easily overwhelm us.

You deserve to discover your passions again, to reach for the light again, to walk with life without pressure again. Take some time to reflect, to recover, and don't push yourself to be something you are not. Sometimes, you just need to slow down and reevaluate what you want, what you're feeling, or what you simply need.

Happiness will find you again, it may not be today, it may not be this month. But slowly, as you recover and regain your strength you will find that the key is within your grasp. And when you find it, I want you to GRAB IT! Take what is yours because you have earned it my friend. Embrace the darkness, let it carry you to the light.

Justice will be served.

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

No. 3.

RIDER WAITE TAROT

3 of cups. King of Swords. Wheel of fortune.

MAGICK OF YOU ORACLE

12: hex: be still and allow the enemy to reveal themselves. 10: firgun: become a loving mirror.

WOODLAND WARDENS.

The weasel and pine: introspection. The turtle and coriander: satisfaction. The coyote and datura: deceit.

You may have had an altercation between enemies or discovered someone in your circle isn't as loyal and true as they've claimed. You may have had your suspicions about someone around you who isn't faithful or honest and the truth about them will be revealed. You're being advised not to act or react and instead allow them to trip themselves up on their own words / actions.

Regardless if you're currently going through this, or this entire ordeal has already happened and is a thing of the past or will be a thing in the near future, the most important thing for you to do now is be there for yourself. A period of introspection is necessary for you to process this action/betrayal or falling out.

Now, on the other side of the coin, and for a few of you. Whether you want to face it or not. It may have been you who lied to and betrayed someone you loved. You may of, at least at the time. Felt justified in your actions. Maybe you believed you were in the right, or you had all the answers. Maybe your view of them was distorted and murky, or you fell for lies and deceit from another about them. No matter the case, whether you did this on purpose or on accident, it's been eating at you subconsciously. You need to find the strength to face yourself and say "I fucked up." It ain't easy, believe me I know from personal experience. But you can't just pretend it didn't happen. We as people are going to hurt those around us with or without realizing it, none of us are innocent and none of us are perfect. You gotta look at yourself and still love who you are and accept that we all make mistakes. If you're truly sorry, and you now understand that your actions weren't just or simply were shitty, then apologize if you can. And if you can't, then as the God of War kratos said himself: don't be sorry, be better.

Allow the one you hurt to find peace, and allow yourself to find peace.

And as for those of you who were hurt, you will recover from this. This was fated to happen not because the universe is cruel or something big like that, but because that is simply how people are. The truth comes out eventually whether we'd like it to or not in most cases.

For both parties here, when all is set and done, you will find satisfaction and move on.

🕯🌹🕯🌹🕯🌹🕯

If you enjoyed this reading or it was accurate to you and your situation then please let me know, be it a simple like, follow/subscribe, a comment and or save! I hope you found this to be helpful, and that you have a great rest of your day or night!

Take care ♡

(I apologize for auto corrections and typos)

#astrology #esoteric #tarot #witchcraft #pick a pile #tarot reader #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a card channel #tarot card reading #what do you need to hear #pick an image

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thoughtslikeocean · 9 months ago

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February 18, 2024 7:09 AM

Only two months into moving to Texas and it feels like I've been here for a year. Things have been MOVING! The back yard is coming together, boards studying has been coming along, my health is going great (I've been working out multiple times a week and keeping up with my supplements). I'm about to start substitute teaching, the office is halfway set up. Like when I say there hasn't been a dull day, there really hasn't.

Nothing has been OVERLY stressful though, which I appreciate. Just the normal amount of day to day cortisol I need to keep up with what I need to keep up with. I've been doing a decent job with keeping up with my capacity.

I just spent about a week in New Orleans for Mardi Gras season. the first couple of nights, I spent with my dad. He shared with me how he's been struggling with the loss of grandpa and anxiety as it relates to the business. Something I really never thought my dad would struggle with. He's so good at what he does. So for him to tell me he has imposter syndrome is WILD. I'd imagine any and everyone can fall victim to that

Side thought: Imposter syndrome isn't exactly a bad thing. Imagine taking on one of God's greatest assignments and going into it like you're SUPPOSED to be there, you have it all together, you don't need help. I think those are the people that end up failing... Failing hard. I do think there is a middle ground between imposter syndrome and arrogance; and as a Christian, its the perfect place to be. We are vessels for God to use. By definition, we are all walking imposters lol (except for the deceit part)

So every time you get that "imposter feeling" use it as a little reminder that you're in that room, that position, that business, that top CPA firm list, that tax bracket!!! because God chose you to be there to do His business.

Had to send that to my dad real quick lol anywaysssss....

Uhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm lets talk about J. I've been scared to talk about it tbh cause my thoughts are all over the place.

Is he my husband? Is he the father of my children? Am I jumping the gun? Am I making a decision out of anxiety? Do I REALLY want this? Do I want this NOW? Like what in the world does all of this look like?

My "feelings" like the true emotional ones lol change everyday when it comes to him. But the commitment part doesn't really change. It's easy to show up for him and it's easy to love him (like action word love). He just doesn't make my neurotransmitters go wild like before lmao And now I'm left to think if that's actually important or if thats something I thought was supposed to be important. LORDDDDDDDDDDDD HELP!

Im confuddled. Cause the men that make my neurotransmitters soar are men I know good and well I should never marry. So what's really up?!!? Why is it like this?

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hectormcfilm · 1 year ago

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Eyes Wide Shut

Until Now every film I have reviewed on my blog have been films I have watched at the cinema but I feel I need to talk about and analyse this film. Eyes Wide Shut is Stanley Kubrick's final film from 1999, a film about sexual obsession, elitism and conspiracy and a film that itself is surrounded my lots of conspiracies about the cause of Kubrick's death.

I feel in general this film isn't looked back on as fondly as some of Kubrick's other work such as 2001 a space odyssey or A clockwork orange. However, I believe this film was Kubrick's final masterpiece and a perfect ending to his career.

To start with the key thing to discuss with this film is the use of lighting and colour theory. This film is beautifully shot and lit throughout, using its winter setting to take advantage of constant glowing Christmas lights and Christmas trees. However this gorgeous lighting has a deeper meaning, Christmas trees are used in this film to an almost relentlessly excessive degree turning these beautifully festive trees into something more anxiety filling, constantly blaring bright lights and a usually red aura, reflecting themes of lust and seduction. To add on, Christmas Trees can symbolise eternal life and celebrating fertility, both linking to the theme of occultism and sexual obsession. Blue lighting is also prevalent in this film, usually shinning through windows and covering the characters faces, at a base level this lighting creates a cold and sad atmosphere but more importantly it symbolises sexual disinterest as well as making scene seem more surreal and dreamlike.

This film carries two strong performances from both Cruise and Kidman who's characters have a tense and deeply troubled relationship of cheating and disinterest in one another, only together for their marriage and child. Kidman delivers a great performance for her monologue about the young soldier and keeps a level of insanity throughout. The idea of lies and deceit is highlighted constantly in the film, especially with the use of masks at the party, creating mystery as to who these strange occultists are.

Like many Kubrick films you have to question what is real and what isn't, with aspects like the strange lighting, the constant obsession most characters have with sex when around Tom Cruise, making you question whether this is all a strange surreal fantasy from the protagonist Bill. Certain scenes like the costume shop where two Asian men are caught having sex with an underage girl really make you question the realism of the film, is it all a dream or just an exemplification of society's obsession with sex. Overall, this is one of the most objectifying and sexualised films I've ever seen but it never feels purposeless, there's a sense of mockery towards the elite and this type of obsession.

Most of the time I am not a huge fan of films with open endings, I recently complained about Old Oaks lack of a conclusion however it felt perfect for this film, there are so many unanswered questions like Nick's fate, the identity of Red Cloak or how Mandy really died but that adds to the surreal aspects of the film and the idea that this mystery and cult goes so deep these answers will never be found out.

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sidespromptblog · 4 years ago

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A Close Friend: (1/2)

Two

Warnings: Suicidal Ideal (Logan), Hurt/ Comfort, Angst, Logan is not okay, Roman is trying his best, and Crying (Logan mostly).

Summary: Roman goes to Logan in order to vent and ramble about everything that had happened about Thomas, Patton, and Janus. But in the process finds Logan dealing with his own bottled emotions, as well as an uncomfortable thought that Logan has been dealing with as of late that leaves Roman scared for Logan’s own safety. So he decided to help, in whatever way that he can.

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2,783

With an angry buried snarl of outrage Roman rose up into the mind space, and away from Thomas, Patton, and the lying side that caused this ruckus of emotions to take over inside of him. The outrage he felt right now was all consuming, to the point where he felt like putting his fist through any number of walls right this very second. His very fists shook with the idea of it and the pain that it would cause him to do such a thing, he contemplated it, it would be an outlet for all of his complicated emotions… even if it wasn’t necessarily a healthy one at that. Although he could pretend that it was Deceit’s face the entire time, just to sooth a little bit of the pain in his body and heart.

“This is ridiculous.” Roman snorted, more to himself rather than anyone who would listen to him. “I’m not punching something just because of that.. that liar!” Roman angrily kicked his boots off, rather satisfied with how one went flying in one direction and the other thumped against the railing of the stairs narrowly avoiding their family photos that Patton had insisted they have.

Roman could only scowl at those photos now, even if most of the people in them had no idea right now just what he was so angry about.

Would they even understand if he were to tell them? Would they get it? Would they even listen to him to begin with?

Or would they just say he was being too dramatic?

Virgil certainly would, he almost never went to the emo to vent about anything to him. It was almost always the other way around. Virgil rambling about the things that worried him, and things that he was scared would happen in the future. If he were to vent about anything to Virgil, he was almost certain that he’d be stopped and told he was just making the other side’s anxiety worse by bringing the things up. Not that it was entirely Virgil’s fault, he couldn’t help it if things triggered that anxiety. But just once…

He like to have someone to vent to, and not be the constant emotional whoopie cushion for everyone to overlook unless they needed something from him.

He needed someone who was…

Less emotional than the others.

Someone who…

An idea raced across his mind in a flash, “Logan!” He shouted, tearing his way upstairs and towards the logical side’s room, his bare feet skipping the steps of the stairs in an effort to get there faster. “You are not going to believe what happened today!” The overwhelmed sensation that had been flooding his chest finally gave way to something that felt like relief, as he stood outside of the other’s door.

Logan would listen, he'd listen objectively, but he’d still listen to him.

“Logan-”

Roman stopped dead as his hands had pushed open Logan’s door, he had never bothered to knock in the past and now was no exception. But the sound that had graced his ears made his heart drop into his stomach, and fear tangle his inside.

It was…

Sobbing.

Muffled sobbing, so silent that had he just been walking by he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was only by stepping into Logan’s room that he’d heard it all, his heart twisted at the sound. He’d never heard Logan cry, unlike the others whom he had comforted many times after their own nightmares, emotions, and turmoils… Logan had never come to him for anything like this, if anything, Logan had never come to him at all. The silence of the other’s cries spoke volumes as to why, the logical side was probably used to bottling things up and forcing himself to stay as quiet as possible to not alert everyone around him about his own turmoils that he must’ve been going through.

How many times had Logan done this, and nobody was the wiser of it?

How many times had Logan bit his tongue when they had said something cruel to him, just to cry like he was now?

“Logan?” He saw the logical side’s back stiffen almost immediately upon hearing Roman’s voice, his jaw clenching shut as he attempted to quiet the heaving of his lungs. “What’s wrong?” Almost immediately the thoughts of venting to Logan went right out the window, he had been angry and overwhelmed yet, but right now… Logan needed his help, he needed…

A hero.

Logan sniffled, inhaling and exhaling in a way that told Roman he wasn’t getting enough air in him to stop from heaving. The logical side clenched the pillow that was stained with the evidence of his tears, his knuckles were a stark white contrast against the deep blue pillowcase. But nevertheless Logan turned slightly to face Roman, the stains of already shed tears lining his cheeks, the redness of his puffy eyes made Roman wince in sympathy.

He’d certainly been there before.

“Logan-”

“I heard you,” Logan’s voice cracked with the simple three words that he muttered out almost sourly, “I was debating on whether I should answer honestly or not.” Logan licked his lips, that were red from hours of biting them in an effort to not make a single sound while he lost himself to his own sadness. “Which would you prefer? You obviously came here wanting something from me, and it wasn’t to comfort me while I wept like an overgrown baby.”

Roman winced at the unintentional sharpness that Logan wielded even in this state, although unlike before, it wasn’t wielded towards Roman with the intent to hurt the creative side… but rather to hurt Logan.

For being caught crying? Roman didn’t accurately know, but even so, he didn’t like the thought of it.

Self deprecation was Virgil’s thing, not Logan’s.

He inched forward towards Logan’s bed, his hands raised slightly in a peaceful manner that told Logan he held no ill intent towards the other side. An action that made Logan huff almost sarcastically, as if he didn’t believe the creative side for a single second. But not before smooshing his face into the pillow, a minor attempt to hide from the creative side while he still could, and still protect his emotions that were vulnerable for anyone to see.

Roman sat on the edge of Logan’s bed not touching the logical side, at least not yet.

“I’d prefer it if you were honest with me,” Roman spoke softly, his voice much quieter than usual. “I’d like to know what’s wrong, and… if I can help in any way.” He did… gods did he want to help, but for someone like Logan.. he had no idea on how to even start. The other side was far too jaded and cynical for the usual things that worked for Patton and Virgil.

Patton could be soothed by a simple hug and food, with bodily contact enough to calm down whatever he was feeling in that moment. Virgil was tougher, but even he enjoyed the occasional hug and any kind of distraction that Roman could pull out of his sleeves at the time. But for Logan…

He had no idea.

A rough raspy laugh pulled him out of his musing, “You want the truth?” Tears brimmed on the corners of Logan’s eyes, and for a second Roman felt a bolt of panic, as if somehow he had once again messed things up. But Logan only scrubbed at his eyes, as his bottom lip wobbled with another onslaught of emotions. “I’m so tired Roman, I just want to sleep.” His breathing hitched as a whimper crawled its way up his throat, the warm comforting touch of Roman’s arms around him only seemed to make his tears come faster and faster as he buried his face in the creative side’s shoulder. “I just want to sleep and never wake up, so that I won’t be treated how I am anymore! I don’t want to wake up!”

Guilt twisted Roman’s insides at the acute reminder of just how both he and Patton had treated Logan’s interjections, Logan hadn’t even been there in person and yet…

They had treated him as an after thought, Patton had even chosen to ignore him when Logan had spoken up once… giving Deceit the perfect chance to butt in and take Logan’s place when he was out of the picture.

Roman had chosen ignorance over Logan… time and time again.

Logan’s fingers helplessly clawed at the back of Roman’s shirt, his breathing just getting more and more erratic the more he sobbed and less air he was taking in. It made Roman’s stomach clench painfully at the guilt that he was once again faced with, this was… his fault. Just another thing added to the list of things he had done wrong, they were supposed to be a family and yet-

“I know that it’s not just you,” Logan rambled on, cutting his inner musings short. “It’s just everything over a long period of time, and its unfair of me to just unload everything onto you at once, you don’t deserve to be at the center of my stupid emotions, and you certainly don’t deserve to stuck here. It’s just everything, ever since the beginning… I just.. I just…” Logan thumped his head against Roman’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to get his words out, “It's not your fault that I’m like this,” Logan admitted, almost as if he could feel the very thoughts that had been going through Roman’s head. His guilt and his shame had always been so obvious, at least Logan. “I’m just so… tired… of everything.”

Thomas wasn’t listening to him, even Patton hadn’t even stopped to consider how Logan would feel when he skipped him. His points were considered optional at best, to the point where the others felt happy that they could choose to not listen to him.

If that was how they felt about him… then what was the point of even showing up? What was the point of even trying anymore? What was the point in existing as a side for Thomas to listen to?

Sleeping forever, and not having to deal with anything like this sounded heavenly. It would stop the hurting, and it would stop everything that made these tears possible.

Roman gripped Logan tighter, his fingers bunching the back of Logan’s shirt as he buried his face into the other side’s hair. He felt a little better to know that this breakdown wasn’t entirely his fault, but… that didn’t stop the guilt that wormed its way into his heart regardless. He was still responsible in some way, be it his nicknames, how he responded to Logan’s facts, or even how he treated Logan sometimes. He had still hurt Logan in some way, even if the other had done the same… Logan didn’t always know that it was in good spirits, he had taken it seriously.

He knew that too, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t use it to his advantage.

So he needed to fix this, before he got anywhere close to being able to just pop in on Logan and vent about his day. They weren’t friends, he had never treated Logan like a friend, even if they were both somewhat responsible for that.

But first… he needed to help Logan out of the suicidal-idealation he was spiraling into.

He’d seen it enough in Virgil, when he was in one of his really bad attacks, as well as in Thomas when he was in high school during the peak of his closested streak.

At least he could help with that.

“Logan,” Roman softly hummed into the other side’s ear, as he gently rocked the other back and forth, his hand gingerly patting the other’s back in comforting rhythms. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

A sputtering sound erupted from the side in his arms disrupting the hitching sobs that had been coming from him, and it took Roman all of two seconds to realize just how that sounded coming from him. Or rather how it would sound coming from anybody, at least without a little bit of context first.

“Not like that!” He blurted out almost immediately, a rosy hue burning his cheeks with a vengeance, as embarrassment and awkwardness boiled in his stomach making him want to run away and never face the logical side ever again. “I meant, would you like to sleep in my room!” He quickly amended, his face getting redder by the second, even if he refused to relinquish his grip on Logan, who had gone very still. “I could use a nap after the day I’ve had, and it sounds like you need one too.” His voice softened for a moment, “You’ll have nothing but good dreams, and when we wake up… we’ll do something, just the two of us. You can have a day off, and just… relax. How does that sound?”

He could in the very least give Logan a sleep that he would wake up from, while ensuring that the logical side wouldn’t go off and do something reckless to ensure an endless slumber for himself. Plus…

It had been a very long time since he’d done anything with just the two of them, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spent time with just Logan without Patton having to force him to take the logical side along.

It might be nice, a chance to show Logan that for now, things would be okay and that Roman would be there for him.

They could just talk, and do things… without the worries of everything around them weighing them down.

A soft sigh left Logan’s lips, as the logical side gently rested his head on the creative side’s shoulder. “Sleep…” He began tiredly, the exhaustion of letting out so many emotions making him feel a little more than drained. “Sounds amazing…” It did, and even though he would wake up from this sleep, he would have something to look forward to, something to do that hopefully wouldn’t make him feel worse than he already did. A spark of gratitude welled up inside of him, had Roman not come along…

He probably would have just stayed here, crying and thinking things that would only lead him further into turmoil and sadness.

Until…

Logan’s body swayed as soon as Roman rose up, the creative side’s arms remained securely wrapped around Logan. Only jostling him slightly as the creative side almost too easily picked him up and sank out of Logan’s room, had he the strength Logan would have made a remark about how Roman was choosing to carry him or even given a small laugh about it. But instead he merely went limp, not putting up a fight as he rested his head against the other side’s chest and closing his eyes as soon as he felt the impossibly soft mattress of Roman’s bed touch his back.

But that didn’t stop his hand from darting out, almost as soon as Roman’s warmth left him.

“It’s okay,” The other side gently told him, his voice soft and reassuring to the logical side’s ears. “I’m just going to get on the other side, I’m not leaving you. I’m going to be right here.”

As nice as that sounded, Logan shook his head. That wasn’t it.

The logical side cracked open one of his eyes, the blurry world around him telling him that Roman had already taken off his glasses for him. “Roman,” He mumbled tiredly, the effect of Roman’s room already working to put him into a beautiful dream just for him. “Thank you,” His grasp on the other’s sleeve was already going slack, but he needed to let the other know before he lost himself to unconsciousness. “Thank you for caring about me, even if.. even if I make it hard sometimes.”

A warm and feathery softly blanket draped itself over Logan, and the fuzzy softness of sleep encroached more.

But just before he lost himself to it, Logan heard the sad chuckle from the other side grace his ears as a weight settled next to him and an arm laid itself over his chest. And a velvety soft voice murmured right next to his head:

“You don’t have to thank me Logan… you never have to thank me for listening to you.”

And just like that, Logan sank into the dream that Roman had created for him, a smile curling on his tear stained face.

Within moments, Roman had joined him as well, his exhausted body tucked against the logical side.

Protecting him from anything else that would cause him harm.

#logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #ts roman sanders #logan angst #ts sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides fanfic #ts sides fanfiction

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giant-sketches · 4 years ago

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Hello everyone and welcome back to another chapter of Mass Emotions after such a long wait. I worked very hard to make it worth that time of course, but please do be patient with me as I find more time to write and draw for this side blog of mine. :9

To find rest of the chapters you can follow this link!

If you would like to be added to the taglist please DM or send an ask. :3

Disclaimer: Crying/Shouting/Cursing/Anxiety Attack/Pain/Slight Physical Harm

Side-note: The main ship in this series is fluff LAMP. Janus is seen as a guardian figure to the other sides and is therefore not shipped with any of them. All sides are the same age, but their maturity varied in the past.

It was night when Virgil started making his way out of the window from his room, sneaking past Logan’s surveillance drones, and into the surrounding woods. Two weeks had gone by of them discussing, or more like arguing over which of the remaining destabilized giants to go after. Obviously, Roman wanted to save his brother as soon as possible! On top of that Logan supported his wishes based purely on the fact that Remus was closest to breaking apart.

However, Virgil wanted to go for Janus instead. He was the first to destabilize so Virgil thought it only fair and Patton agreed with him. Saying he’d suffered enough of not being able to remember his family for the past years. Yet, there was another reason the anxious side wanted to save him first...Janus’s destabilization had been Virgil’s fault. He was the one who started it and He had to be the first to end it!

A surprise was waiting for Virgil though, a note stuck to the outside window instructing him to come to the cave on the West side, signed Janus. The timing was uncanny as he stuffed it into his hoodie pocket. Virgil was now alone in the woods making haste towards the obvious trap awaiting him.

Unfortunately, Patton’s sixth sense for tomfoolery kicked in as he suddenly woke up. Roman was snoring, Logan listening to his recorded tapes on scientific studies, and Virgil...nothing. Okay, that’s weird. Usually his Stormcloud liked to fall asleep to the sound of rain or ocean waves. Pat turned the knob to find it unlocked and then to find no Virgil sleeping within. “Oh kiddo.” He whispered, full of disappointment. He flew to the alarm and pressed the button to wake up the others.

“Holy! What, what is it?!”

“Ah! What time is it? Who hit the alarm?”

Patton stood in the hall with his arms crossed in full Dad mode.

“Virgil’s gone.”

“He’s WHAT?!”

“You have got to be kidding me. H-he didn’t...you know?”

Patton nodded. There was no way it could be anything else. “He’s gone to meet with Janus.”

“Are you sure?”

Just then Pat held up a crinkled note. It was the one Virgil thought he stuffed into his pocket, but it fell out while he climbed out the window. Pretty much Virge had made a lot of mistakes despite thinking he was being careful.

“Shit. I’ll get my gear on.” Roman ran back into his room and Logan followed suit. There was no telling how long it’d been since Virgil had left. They needed to hurry.

---------------- Many Years Ago in the Mindscape

“Big bro Jan Jan!” Janus turned around to find himself being tackled by a slightly shorter side.

“Woah! Hey Virgil!” He smiled sweetly. “Be careful running around like that. What if you got hurt?” Virgie only giggled, “You’re such a worrywart Big bro Janus!”

“Well, that is true, I am Protectiveness after-all. I’m here to make sure we stay safe and can protect Thomas when he needs us.” He said as he took Virgil’s hand. “I’m also here as your all’s caretaker my little ball of Curiosity!”

The two used to be so close, just like brothers. Janus was always kind and stoic as he taught and cared for Virgil. He did the same for the other sides as well, since he was the most developed. Morality and Creativity being a little more mature than Virgil, as they all played together. To all of them Janus was like a guardian, despite all being the same age, and they loved him as such, but that did put a lot of pressure on the protective side.

One night, that pressure finally caused him to break. It was late when a strange sound caught his ear. “What was that?” He wondered, getting up from his bed to look down the hall. No one; still there was a slight breeze lingering below his feet. Is a window open or something? A sense of panic started setting in as he ran out to check on the others. Morality? He was sleeping while hugging one of many plushies. Then was Creativity okay? Yep, mumbling to himself about some dream. The last to check on was Curiosity...gone.

The window on the back wall was wide open as the cool night air taunted Janus’s paled face. “Virgil! Virgil, where are you? Please, please come here if you can hear me!” Where had he gone? Jan was trying hard to listen to any odd sounds around him, but the heart beat in his chest kept pounding. His eyes watery, ears ringing, why was this happening? Why did Virgil go outside when he’d been told to never leave the house without him? The stress had been building inside Janus for a while now.

His natural need to protect was eating away at him as the pressure grew. The pressure to be the perfect big brother Virgil idolized him for. The pressure to protect his family, protect Thomas, always be there, listen to their problems, and on and on! What about him? Didn’t he matter just as much? When was someone going to protect him, listen to HIM!

“No one ever really listens.” He grumbled.

*SNAP*

Quickly, Janus turned his head around in the direction of the sound. Running at full speed until he saw Virgil on his knees on the cliffside. What was he doing? “Virgil!” He shouted.

Virgil turned to look at his panicked friend and smiled as he started to get up. Waving his hand around like he hadn’t a care in the world...and that’s when it happened. A strong gust of wind hit, causing the curious side to topple over and begin rolling off the cliff. “NO!”

Without any hesitation Janus jumped down and curled himself around Virgil to protect him as they both fell off the side. This was it; Janus was going to break apart any minute now. He was going to disappear forever. It wasn’t fair...he didn’t deserve this! It was all Virgil’s fault for going out at night, for not listening to his warnings about staying out of trouble. He’d given up so much to care for him, for ALL of them. At that moment something snapped inside of Janus as his body started to grow in size.

He easily filled the space below of the ravine he had moments ago been falling into. The heat and pain was so intense that he fainted, with a tiny Virgil still lying safely under his hand. An hour rolled by, before Virgil stirred awake and began taking in his surroundings. Yellow, warm, and soft? What had he landed on exactly and how was he perfectly okay? From what he could remember he had found a big hole in the Earth and was curious as to what was inside it. Then...he fell into it somehow? The now very confused side held his head as a distant, but familiar voice rang out in his head. Only to then be cut-off by the ground underneath him beginning to move.

“What the…”

He trailed off as his eyes wondered upwards to see a giant with hazy eyes looking down at him. OH SHIT! In a panic, Virgil slid down the side of the giant to hide behind some of the fallen rocks.

He clasped his hands over his mouth and started counting down in his head to control his breathing. While the giant rubbed his eyes, none the wiser to Virgil’s stealthy escape.

“Where am I?” He groaned, working his way up to look around. “Some kind of ravine? Whatever, for now all I have is myself and that’s all I need.” Janus smirked as he walked away with a hum. Curiosity, now not so curious making sure the giant was gone before he made his way out and back home. All the while thinking how familiar the giant’s voice was.

--------------- Back to Current Time

Finally, he was here. The West side caves that Janus was hiding out in and enjoying his freedom ever since he destabilized. Virgil’s nerves started to wear on him as to what this slippery snake had planned for him. Had Jan started to remember his past now that the others' memories were coming back? Or was something else completely different going on?

“Aaaaaahhhhhh” A long groan came from inside, followed by a hiss of pain. The ground shook violently, but Virgil managed to make his way inside. The sounds of discomfort vibrating off the walls until he reached a large opening covered in lights. The interior was quite cozy for a cave. Leave it to Janus to make any location a perfect hide away. “You’re here!”

The greeting snapped Virgil out of his daze and back to the situation at hand. He’d refrained from increasing his size because he hadn’t come for a fight. “Deceit. Why did you call me here?” Virgil lacked information. He needed to see what Jan knew...what he remembered.

Janus bared his fangs with a toothy grin as he picked up his little guest. Luckily, no squeezing this time around. “Oh my dear little Virgil. Why do you think I called you here? I know you’re the one doing this to me.” This? What was he on about? “What do you mean?”

The smile vanished as his grip tightened around Virgil making it hard to breath. “Ah...stop please...Janus.” Suddenly, relief as the hand holding him relaxed. “That! Why are you calling me that?”

Virgil was still dazed from the lack of oxygen. He began wiggling his way out of the giant’s hand and rapidly began increasing his own size to match Jan’s. “You mean Janus. That’s your name.”

“No, no, no! My name is Deceit!” He banged his hand against the cavern wall as tiny items on shelves fell to the floor with a crash. “I don’t know who you think I am, but this is who I am!”

“No, that’s not true. Your name is Janus and you’re one of us. A side...a light side. There is no dark side Jan. Just you and me, and…and your family.”

“Family? Hahaha, what family? You LEFT ME! Remus left me. Everyone’s left...me.” The now sobbing Janus fell to his knees and wailed at the pain of past and present memories colliding inside his broken mind. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” “And you don’t have to be Jan Jan.” Warm hands, familiar hands embraced him in a welcoming hug as he continued to weep.

“I’ve been having these dreams. Where, we’re all together in one house. I’m looking after you all as your big brother. Are these memories?” “Yeah, they are.” “Why didn’t I remember before then?” “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry Jan Jan. I-I was too curious and you got hurt trying to save me. You destabilized and turned into this monster in order to protect me!”

Virgil softly cried into Janus’s shoulder as he held onto him tightly. Fearing he may disappear at any moment. “I remember now. Oh Virgil, it’s alright. I forgave you a long time ago somewhere deep in my heart.” “R-really?!” Janus smiled and helped wipe away Virgil’s tears as they both stood back up. “I think it’s time I go back home to my family.”

Right as the two of them started to leave the caves the trio of fashionably late heroes appears on the scene. “Virgil! Oh my gosh Sweetpea are you okay?”

The exhausted giant waved down to his friends to show he was well and good. “Stand back from that scaly fiend!” “Roman, it’s okay. He’s started to remember.” “Remember? Do you mean to say he’s begun restabilizing?” Logan perked up curiously. “Yeah, though he’s not running a fever yet so I’m not sure when the process will st-”

Just then a hot wave started to bubble up inside of Virgil as he toppled over in pain. His face sweaty and pale. Janus was confused until he noticed himself shrinking. “What is this?!”

Between gritted teeth, “You all need to get away from here. I’m not completely sure what’s happening but I know it’s dangerous to be near me right now!” The group didn’t ask questions, they trusted Virgil’s judgement as they made their way quickly down the mountain. Meanwhile, Janus was shrinking fast and Virgil was crying out in extreme pain as his body grew rapidly. Soon he had reached his maximum height of 1000 feet, but he continued to grow. What was happening to him?

Once Janus had returned to the normal size of a human he too quickly got to somewhere safer than right next to a constantly growing giant. “Janus! How is Virgil? What’s going on?” “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I suppose if I had to guess he’s stolen my height and added it on to his own.” “He’s adding it on?” “Yes, but not in an exact manner. He’s already grown past 1000 feet, but adding mine on he would have stopped at 1070, but he hasn’t.” “How big is he going to get then?” Janus gulped as he looked back over to the mountain that Virgil’s new size was slowly consuming, “I have no idea.”

Virgil’s body now laid on top of the mountain as he could finally feel himself cooling off. More memories returning to him as his eyes focused onto his surroundings. He had grown to a whopping 5000 feet, nearly a mile high! Virgil quickly spotted the others not too far away as he reached down to grab them up. They were so small he needed to be extremely careful with them. Virgil then laid back against the mountain and smiled. He loved seeing more of his family together again.

The others were mesmerized by his tremendous size. Roman and Patton were definitely blushing as they called out to him. “Are you feeling alright now Darling?” “Yeah, I feel amazing honestly. Usually, I’m really scared and anxious when I’m so big, but this just feels so right.”

They all knew how much Virgil enjoyed being big and they were happy to see him comfortable, still they had to wonder why this happened.

“Do you have any idea why this happened to you Stormcloud?” Virgil shook his head. He had no clue. “All I can say is that it was similar to the fever I had before, but it happened a lot quicker, so the pain was more intense.” “Then perhaps Janus’s restabilization was a catalyst of sorts.” “A catalyst?” “A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change.” “Seriously Logan, not really the time for a chemistry lesson.” “True, but I think a secondary definition is in order. A catalyst can be a person or thing that precipitates an event. The person being Janus and the event being the increased growth of Virgil.” “Well, besides all the science talk...what does that actually help us understand?” “I’d need to do some tests and get more data, but my starting hypothesis is that somehow Virgil and his new stable form is linked to those who remain destabilized. That chaotic energy inside the body of someone unstable needs to go somewhere and I believe Virgil’s body has adapted in a way that allows him to absorb it. Thus his increase in stature.” “So he eats crazy energy?” “....yes Patton, Virgil now eats crazy energy.”

That was cool! Either way, that was one giant down and one to go. Although, for now it was time to head on home. There Virgil and Janus could both rest and in the morning he’d get an earful from Logan and Patton on protocol and house rules for him running away after finding a note from a crazy giant serpent man. Still, a good ending for now.

To be continued...

@crystalk17 @paranoidgurl @gentlegiantdreamer @suckedinfandoms @craz-ewaters @rainbowbowtie @pattonvirglsanders @enby-phoenix @sanders-sides-virgil @just-some-gt-trash @notkolaidoscop @bluegreeninbtwn @lgbtqiaemo @avenirunknown @ncanspeak @maryann-draws @himeperson @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @daydreamburritoworld @im-a-creepy-cookie @radicalskatervirgil

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iceshard1011 · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders Characters: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders Additional Tags: Mild Language, great way to start off the tags, Movie Night, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, First Kiss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff, allusions to a messy breakup, they're all disney princes, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, because of course it is, also Post-Episode: Flirting with Social Anxiety, because i'm never getting over that ep, Virgil is a smitten bastard, someone get this boy reassurance and cuddles rq, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Good Friend, (and an even better future boyfriend), Nicknames, Banter, look just because they're in love doesn't mean they're not gonna roast each other, Prinxieceit is just everyone needing love and then simultaneously getting that love, it's what they deserve, i stole the title from the lyrics of a song because i have no imagination Summary:

Virgil had wanted them to make up, just... not like this.

At least, that’s what he had thought.

It started with a goddamn Disney movie, because of course it did.

Well, it didn’t, but that was the best way to sum up... everything.

Virgil was curled up against the corner of the couch, knees pressed to his chest. He was as small as he could make himself, but it still felt like Janus was far too close, regardless of being on the other side of the living room. Patton was wrapped in his favourite blanket. Logan was perched, relaxed, beside Janus. Virgil didn’t know how he did it. All he had to do is look in that snake’s direction and his stomach would churn and his heart would start burning and —

Growling silently at himself, Virgil focused on the television: on Ana’s harmonic voice and Hans’ bright expression.

It was then, of all times, that Roman started to sing.

Quiet at first, hardly a hum muffled by barely parted lips. But it was there, and it was more music than the mindscape had heard in weeks.

Patton didn’t react like Virgil knew he truly wanted to (with assumedly deafening squeals and clapping), but he watched the moral side just barely contain excited vibrations. Virgil struggled to hide a smile. He didn’t miss Logan’s subtle appraising glance in the prince’s direction, either.

Then another voice joined in, and Virgil’s beaming heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach.

He tried not to glare at Janus. He didn’t want to cause a scene. It was movie night and it had been more peaceful than most previous tense, uncomfortably quiet nights. He didn’t want to be the one to ruin it for everyone. (For Roman, he wouldn’t admit.)

But Roman hesitated the moment Janus accompanied him, and Virgil could just see the expressions flashing through his face and hear the thoughts to accompany them, despite only seeing the back of his tussle-haired head. He’s already seen it all enough times.

But then he started again and Virgil wondered if this was what mental whiplash felt like.

He sat there, heart in his throat, as he listened to the pair duet to a Disney song about deception and naivety and toxic romance with all the connection and love that they never had.

The gradually widening hole in Virgil’s chest gaped considerably when Janus stood and offered Roman a hand, still singing to Hans’ voice. Virgil had to bite onto a whimper to keep it from leaving his mouth when Roman accepted.

Patton giggled, delighted, as Janus twirled the two of them around the living room, both harmonising like angelic love-struck Disney princes, their voices rising above those of the movie. Even Logan looked amused as he watched.

Virgil felt nothing but sinking dread.

It had been nearly midnight when Roman had stormed into Virgil’s room, a panicked, emotional mess of a broken heart, and collapsed on the bed beside Virgil. It had been a few weeks since the ‘wedding fiasco’ and Virgil was already sick of it.

Not Roman, to clarify. Never, ever Roman.

But the angst. The tense dinners and awkward conversations. The sneaking glances Janus would shoot at Roman, and the way Roman avoided every single look.

The way Roman’s eyes had stopped glittering. The way he never sang. The way he trembled in Virgil’s grip like a leaf in a storm, like a tortured puppy waiting for another punishment to fall when he least expected.

The way Roman still cried, still begged for things that Virgil couldn’t give him.

The way Janus had taken something as precious as Roman’s unyielding, unconditional trust and loyalty and love, and broken it into a million pieces without ever considering its value.

The way he could do nothing but hide his own tears in ruffled hair and wait for the wails to stop.

“I’m sorry,” he could only whisper on deaf ears, the exhausted prince long passed out in his arms, and, “I’m here. I have you.”

Never it’s okay, or, you’ll be alright. Virgil wasn’t about to echo sentiments that had no guarantee to be true.

He wasn’t sinking to that level.

“I need to apologise,” Roman had said, his voice cutting through the peaceful silence of the room. Sudden, but not abrupt. He was hardly so dramatic and shocking anymore. Virgil had no idea he could ever miss it so much.

He looked up from his sketch journal and titled his head.

Roman had stopped colouring the printed sheets of calming exercises and was now staring at the ground, turning the green pencil over between his fingers. There was a determined light in his eyes, something that Virgil hadn’t seen in so long. One that he didn’t dare extinguish now.

“Taking the first step would... That would be brave, right?” He looked up at Virgil, still so damn trusting, too damn dependent. “I would be brave again.”

You’ve always been brave, Virgil didn’t say.

Roman deflated at his silence and it felt like a stab to the gut. “M-maybe.... maybe not.”

“No,” Virgil blurted, and Roman looked like Virgil had just slapped him. He stumbled over himself to continue. “I mean — I meant no, wait, because — because that’s a good idea.”

“You really think so?” Roman asked tremulously. Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yes,” he said, but it sounded like a lie. Why did it sound like a lie? “Yeah, Princey. Of course.”

Roman’s face fell from its hopeful expression, and Virgil wanted to scream and yell. Wanted to take Roman’s face in his hands and promise that nothing was his fault and he was perfect and fine and Virgil loved every single part of him and Roman never had to worry about anything ever.

“Are you certain?” Roman asked, and Virgil hated how uncertain he was, how uncertain he had never been until these past weeks. Months.

“I think making the first move is the bravest thing anyone could choose to do,” Virgil told him, and it was the most honest thing he had ever said.

“Really?” Roman asked again. This time his voice cracked. Virgil’s gut roiled, and he decided that he had had enough.

He moved forward on his knees, ignoring Roman’s squeak of surprise when he was gripped by the shoulders, and straightened to glower fiercely down at the prince.

“If you think that is what’s best, then you do it,” he said without room for argument. “You don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You don’t let anyone convince you out of it. If it screws up, fine, try something else. If it works, then great, well done, mission accomplished. Move on to the next step. You are the only one with control over your life, and your actions, and the thoughts going through your head. Do you understand?”

Roman honestly looked a little awestruck, and when Virgil’s own actions caught up with him, he had to fight the rising blush. He shook Roman, if only to stop him from looking like that.

“Understand, Princey?” he prompted.

Roman then shook himself and blinked rapidly.

Please don’t cry, Virgil thought.

But Roman smiled. A huge, trembling, genuine smile, one Virgil hadn’t seen in so long that he had lost track of the days, and Virgil felt as if he might pass out.

“I understand,” Roman said, and Virgil barely had time to relax before the prince ducked forward, and between Roman coming towards him and then shooting out of the room calling thanks over his shoulder, Virgil’s mind malfunctioned.

It took a moment of silently sitting in the middle of the floor, probably looking quite pathetic, before Virgil slowly raised a cold hand to the flaming skin of his cheek.

He blinked, and his brain caught up enough to register the lips that had been pressed there.

Holy shit, Virgil thought. “Holy shit.”

Roman probably hadn’t even noticed he’d done it. Had he even realised what he’d just done to Virgil? How much Virgil was not going to get over this for a very long time?

He didn’t want to think about it — in fact, he was in favour of drowning out all his thoughts for the rest of time — but it still grew, unbidden, in the back of his mind.

Did he mean it?

Virgil hated Janus.

Of course he did. Janus was manipulative and smug and chose lies over truth like a suffocating man would choose oxygen over water. That wasn’t his best metaphor, but metaphors weren’t Virgil’s thing.

The point was that Janus had never cared about anyone other than himself. He kept people at arm’s length like his life depended on it, and he never did anything that wouldn’t benefit him.

Virgil hated that. He struggled with relationships to begin with — any kind of relationships.

He wouldn’t admit it, and he didn’t even know it at first, but he needed support in a relationship — as anyone would. He needed someone to reach out and allow him to meet them halfway. He wasn’t built to continuously reach out and plead for the other half of a relationship to work with him. He needed that first step to be taken first.

It was why he was so perplexed by Patton at first. It was why the light sides had baffled him every time he was with them.

It was why their family had lasted so long.

And also why his and Janus’ hadn’t.

He loved Patton and Logan and Thomas. He loved Roman, more than he should. And he hated Janus.

Of course he did.

He had to.

There was never a direct conversation.

Roman and Janus never went off by themselves and never came back with an obvious change of heart. It was still tense for a long while, and Virgil still didn’t enjoy dinners, and didn’t attend movie nights. Neither did Roman, apparently, as multiple times Virgil ran into him in the hallway, trying silently not to attract attention.

Virgil never asked about it, but he knew. It was obvious.

But there were little things.

When Janus made morning beverages for everyone, he included a sparkling gold-and-red mug on the tray, and Virgil had caught the moment he quietly asked Patton, thinking they were alone, how Roman liked his coffee.

When Roman roughly sketched a tableau of the group when he thought no one was paying attention (that would later become an oil painting that was kept in a quiet corner of his bedroom, no matter how gorgeous Virgil insisted it was) Janus and Remus were both included, despite the latter having been absent in the time of the planning stage. And when Virgil had peered closely at the final product, he’d silently marveled at the gentle expression on Janus’ face, serene and empathic and gazing at the others with a softness that Virgil hardly ever saw so openly. (How had Roman been able to capture it so perfectly?) So different compared to the ‘reptilian rapscallion’ he’d been depicted as weeks ago.

(His scales had been iridescent.)

So, yeah. It didn’t start with the month’s first fully attended movie night. It started with so much more before that that Virgil didn’t want to think about.

He trapped the growling scream in his throat, tugged at his hair like he could tug the vicious images from his head.

He didn’t want to think about Janus twirling Roman around the living room, treating him as if he were a prince in the movie. He didn’t want to think about Janus’ confidence and how Virgil himself could never do that. He didn’t want to think about Roman’s smile when he thought about talking to Janus. He didn’t want to think about flushed faces and breathless laughs and eyes so goddamn lovestruck it was sickening. He didn’t want to think about mismatched eyes glittering more than he had ever seen in so long and flaming scales and —

NO! No, no, no!

Virgil buried his face into his pillow.

He didn’t want to think.

The pillow didn’t do much to suffocate his thoughts.

His throat was parched, though. Sobbing and coughing and wailing into your mattress to muffle screams would do such a thing.

God, he needed a drink.

Water. Water. He needed water.

After pulling himself from the bed, he trudged through the hall and down the stairs, no doubt looking like he had just woken up. It was dark, and the lights were off. Everyone else must have followed suit after Virgil had gone upstairs.

Stinging eyes half-closed, he fumbled with the kitchen cabinets and clawed out a glass for himself.

It was when he turned around to the sink, now facing the living room, that he noticed he wasn’t alone.

Two pairs of wide, horrified eyes were locked on him. Janus was without his hat and cape. His always formally presented shirt was crinkled, his hair tousled from broad fingers carding through it. Roman had discarded his prince attire, and he looked somehow small in his black undershirt. His redden lips were the same colour as his cheeks. Virgil felt sick. Roman didn’t own red lipstick.

They had separated long before Virgil had seen them. It didn’t make much of a difference.

The sound of the glass dropping in the sink startled Virgil from being frozen.

Janus’ mouth moved as he spoke but Virgil didn’t hear what he said as he took a step backwards. His words only caught up to Virgil a few seconds later when he was already backing up towards the other end of the kitchen.

“Virgil, darling —”

“No,” Virgil said, even though oddly nothing audible came out. He took another step back and his back bumped against the counter.

“Virgil, we —”

“Stop,” Virgil finally said out loud. Janus stopped. “Just — get out.” His voice cracked. No, worse: his whisper cracked. It kind of took away from the way Virgil wanted to emphasize just how pissed he was right now.

“Virgil —”

“Shut up,” Virgil snapped at him, but his voice still wasn’t above a rasp. “Get out.”

“Listen to me, shadow —”

“NO!” Virgil roared. Janus didn’t flinch, but behind him, Roman quailed backwards. “I don’t care! Don’t fucking try to lie yourself out of the fact that I walked in on —” He cut off there, because he almost said something that he would never be able to take back. “Just get out.”

“Virge,” Roman said placatingly, because he was a moron who didn’t listen even when he really should, “I know you’re angry —”

“He’s not angry,” Janus interjected because he was an asshole who liked making Virgil’s life absolute hell. He glared at the ground, fuming. He couldn’t look up. If he looked up...

He stood, once again frozen, head bowed like a prisoner on death row. Roman was silent. Beyond Janus’ burning gaze pinning him to the spot, Virgil could sense the prince looking between the two of them, concerned.

Janus’ voice came as a crushing blow, the final landing hit before everything ended.

“He’s heartbroken.”

The penny dropped, and it was still once more.

Virgil trembled under the weight of the silence. He glared at the droplets of salty water collecting on the tiles in front of his socks.

“What?” Roman’s voice wasn’t above a whisper.

A hand, cool and smooth and just barely quivering — one that couldn’t be Janus because he always wore his gloves and he was never so vulnerable around someone like Virgil — came to press against Virgil’s cheek, careful fingers trailing his jaw.

Virgil found that he was rooted to the spot. “Don’t. You can’t be any different now then you were before.”

“I’ve grown since then,” Janus whispered. His hand burned. “We both have. You know that.”

Virgil closed his eyes and more tears trailed down his face.

“How could you?” he asked, opening his eyes to glare up at Janus. “How could you ever change?”

The look on Janus’ face was indescribable apart from open. “You know how,” he murmured, and cold pads brushed against Virgil’s lip. “You know.”

A sigh shook itself from Virgil, and he slumped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, and it was a plea. Virgil didn’t beg, but he was.

It wasn’t a retort. It was a request.

Virgil didn’t ask for things. He couldn’t. He was too self-conscious and hyper aware of being ungrateful or demanding. Too scared of being rejected. So he never asked for anything. He just... didn’t.

But he was.

“I would never,” Janus whispered, and Virgil wanted to be furious, because that was a lie. Janus had lied so many times. He always lied.

He lied about simple things. He lied to Thomas. He lied about what he wanted. He made things difficult with the deceit that spewed from his mouth.

He wasn’t talking about simple things.

Still shaking, Virgil closed his eyes. He lifted his chin and tilted his head.

He waited.

And cool lips, half rough and scratchy, half soft, moved themselves against Virgil’s.

It didn’t feel the same as Virgil remembered. It tasted like hesitance and request and trust. It was also apparently mushing Virgil’s brain.

He didn’t realise how slack his shoulders had gotten until Janus pulled back and Virgil had to take a breath. He stared up at the... snake. He didn’t feel betrayed. Or horrified. Or even a little disgusted. He wanted Janus to keep staring at him. He wanted to be kissed like that again.

He looked down at where Janus had taken his hands. In the corner of his eye, he could see Janus looking at him with something akin to anxiety, but Virgil kept his gaze on their clasped hands. He clenched them tighter, and felt Janus relax.

He felt another pair of eyes on him and looked up.

Roman was fidgeting. He was looking between Janus and Virgil with a look that Virgil hadn’t seen... ever. He hadn’t even looked at Nico with so much adoration and love and like he would do literally anything in the world for the subjects of his attention. It made Virgil feel slightly breathless.

But he was playing with his hands, a nervous gesture Virgil was familiar with.

Janus didn’t give Virgil a chance to make a move.

“Come here, my prince,” he said, voice still soft. He reached out. “We have room.”

Roman looked moments away for throwing himself at them, but he held back. He looked at Virgil, and the anxious side was startled to see his eyes shining with fighting tears.

And goddamn it if it was the cheesiest thing he had ever said but fuck if his chest didn’t fill with so much warmth it felt like he was going to explode.

“C’mon, Ro,” he said with a smile. He couldn’t smirk. Somehow his face wasn’t letting him. “Not gonna keep me waiting, are you?”

Meeting the challenge without an ounce of hesitation, Roman lunged for him, and Virgil surprised himself by taking his own pounce right into the prince’s arms and crushing their lips together.

It was more than Janus’ kiss, which was still so full of fear and hurt and guilt and the want to be something once more and the need for closure. Still so freshly wounded.

This was different. This was fiery and passionate and made Virgil turn pliant.

“I want you,” Roman whispered when they pulled back. “I want...”

Virgil tilted his head. “Go on,” he murmured.

“I want both of you,” Roman blurted, looking between Janus and Virgil. “Is... Is that okay?”

Virgil cupped the prince’s chin in his hands. He glanced back at Janus, who immediately took the hint and slid over to them, one hand moving to the back of Virgil’s neck and the other to Roman’s hair. Virgil watched in amusement as Roman near-melted beneath the attention, nearly purring in pleasure. That was a trick he would have to try himself at some point.

“I don’t know about either of you,” Janus purred.

“Liar.” Virgil smirked.

“But I would consider a further discussion about this remarkably important to a growing relationship,” Janus finished.

“Well, yes, but —” Roman cut himself off, nodding. “Yes. Alright. That makes sense.”

“Don’t do that, Princey,” Virgil told him, headbutting his chin gently.

“Go on, darling,” Janus said.

Roman still blushed, but tentatively asked, “Can we... just stay like this for tonight?”

“A huddle in the middle of the kitchen?” Janus asked with raised eyebrows, and Roman’s blush deepened.

“You stale croissant,” Virgil said, smacking Janus’ shoulder, “don’t bully him.”

“It’s alright,” Roman assured with a smile. A real one. “But I do have to ask where that nickname came from.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice too, Your Highness,” Virgil snapped, pointing a threatening finger in his face.

“We just made out, dearheart,” Roman said with a smug grin, swooping in to peck the comeback right out of Virgil’s lips. “You can act upset tomorrow.”

Smirking, Janus fidgeted absentmindedly with the sleeve of Virgil’s hoodie.

“Now,” he said, capturing the two bickering... boyfriends? Were they — Was that too far? “Your room, my prince?”

Roman looked tired, but he still lit up. “Oh, yes,” he breathed, moving to clutch Janus and Virgil’s hands between his own. “You’ll love it. I’ve got a bed big enough to fit all of us, and it’s not too obtrusive and I can use the fairy lights and —”

“Alright, darling,” Janus said, kissing him on the cheek. “Show us when we get there.”

Roman, beaming, turned and guided them up the stairs.

Janus made to follow but hesitated at the last minute, glancing back at Virgil. His eyes weren’t guarded as they normally would be, and it made Virgil feel vulnerable in turn. Janus opened and closed his mouth but didn’t seem able to speak.

Virgil took Janus’ hand in his. “Not backing out now, are you?”

Janus looked fiercely affronted. “Oh, definitely,” he said with an attitude of someone who had just been told it didn’t count if you got slapped by someone with their left hand even though they’re right-handed. And Virgil, despite everything, laughed.

It was only when crawling under cool, heavy red blankets that Virgil realised he had forgotten to have that drink of water.

He watched Janus trail a path down Roman’s features, smirking at the prince’s ticklish giggles, their bright eyes reflecting the soft glow of the dim, glittering lights overhead. At their three-way still-clasped hands lying atop the blankets. He smiled.

No matter. His chest didn’t feel so tight anymore.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #prinxieceit #prinxiety #roceit #anxceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #angst with a happy ending #cross posted on ao3 #getting back together #mild language #i don't know what else to tag lmao #long post

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mtherhino · 3 years ago

Text

One side, two lives

Chapter twelve

You should be thanking me

First Previous Next

Warnings: talk of anorexia, self hatred, lot of swearing, swords, a bit of blood and general angst

Virgil yawned as he walked out of his room. He had finished beating Remus in super Mario carts a while ago and had decided to take a nap. As soon as he left his room his anxiety shot up. The former dark sidegriped his chest and leaned against the hallway wall to keep from falling down. He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt like he was on the verge of having a panic attack. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down and not hyperventilate.

Once he calmed himself down enough to actually stand he started walking to the living room. He saw Patton sitting on the couch looking upset and Logan sitting at the dining table with annoyance written all over his face. Virgil didn’t know what to do. He had never been that great at comforting people and he didn’t even know what happened in the first place.

The former dark side looked back over at Patton again who was mumbling to himself and had a fairway look as he stared at the floor. Virgil couldn’t make out what he was saying but he heard the words “right “ and “wrong” a few times. In the end Virgil decided it would be better to try to talk to Logan rather than Patton, at least that way he couldn’t figure out what happened to make everyone upset and Thomas’s anxiety spike so suddenly.

The anxious side walked over the table and sat down. Logan looked up and Virgil gave him a confused look, the meaning was pretty clear, ‘what the hell happened?’ The logical side sighed and put down his book. He explained everything that happened during and after the wedding, making sure to keep his voice down the whole time. Although he tried to tell the story without any biases a bit of annoyance and anger slipped into his voice when he told Virgil about the others skipping over what he had to say.

When he finished his explanation Virgil didn’t know how to feel. He knew it was wrong what Roman had said to Deceit, even if he does hate the despicable snake, and he defiantly needs to apologies, but that doesn’t excuse the others behavior. Roman was trying to do what he thought was right, though his decisions may have been pretty bad he wasn’t trying to make all this shit happen, plus’s all of them had decided that Thomas would go to the wedding. Not only that but they all should have listened to Logan sooner, maybe they couldn’t have avoided some of this.

Not being able to think of anything to really say the purple clad side sighed tiredly. Logan nodded in agreement.

“That’s, that’s defiantly not good, any of it. I’m sorry you were talked over, I should have been there –“. Before he could finish his sentence Virgil was cut off.

“I mean no offense by this but I think it was a good thing you weren’t there. There was enough chaos as it was having anyone more there would have just added to it.”

Virgil went to argue but stoped himself. He knew deep down that Logan was right but that didn’t make the feeling of guilt and fear that was rooted in his mind go away.

“Thanks Logan. Now that I have all the fact I think I’ll go talk to Patton about all this. This was really helpful.” Logan smiled a little at the praise as Virgil went to talk to the father figure of the mind scape.

Virgil sat down on the other side of the couch from Patton who still had a faraway look in his eyes. The anxious side’s eyes softened, the description of Pattons panic attack didn’t sound good, and he wasn’t even there for it to see how bad it really was.

“Hey Pat.” The moral side looked up when he heard his name and seemed to be surprised to see Virgil next to him. Once he realizes it though he quickly put on a clearly strained d smile and sat up a bit more, putting on his “cheery” attitude.

“Oh hey kiddo! I didn’t hear you come in! What’s up?” Patton said with a smile. Virgil continued to look at the fatherly side with a sad expression.

“I heard about what happened today.” Patton’s smile faded into a look that wasn’t quite readable until it was replaced with a much sadder smile.

“I see. I’m sorry if we caused you any stress kiddo. Me and the others just had a…. disagreement on what was the right thing to do.” Patton tried to explain.

Virgil hummed and offered Patton a side hug. The moral side leaned into the hug and Virgil tried to comfort him. Just as the anxious side was about to say something all three light sides heard running coming from the hallway. The yellow clad dark side stoped in the entrance of the hallway, distress written on his face. Patton stood up and quickly walked over to deceit Janus.

“Janus whats wrong?”

“I most certainly wouldn’t like to know if any of you have seen Remus. I definitely “can” find him in the dark side of the mindscape.” The lying side said, worry dripping form his words.

Logan’s head shot up when he heard that, finally putting down his book and walking over to Janus, a concerned look on his face. It slightly surprised Virgil how worried the logical side looked, usually he showed as little emotion as he could.

“No I haven’t even seen him today, which is odd.” The logical side mumbled out the last part, confusing the others in the room. “Are you sure he isn’t in the imagination?” Logan said with a concerned frown.

The deceitful side shook his head.

“He “wouldn’t” have told me if he was going.” Janus said with sad and slightly guilty eyes. Virgil wasn’t sure why they held guilt in them but he decided it was about time he joined the conversation.

“I was playing Mario cart with him earlier today but that was at least two hours ago.” The anxious side said as he stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets, not liking the fact that the others where now looking at him. “He was acting like his normal Remus self at the time so I don’t know what could be wrong.”

The sides took a minute to ponder what could have happened. Out of know where a dark and ominous aura took over the room. Janus summoned his cane as soon as he felt it and the other prepared themselves for whatever was too come. Virgil watched in awe and horror as the room changed around them.

The warm tan colors on the wall shifted into a dark grey that had bits of gold speckling the color. The curtains became long and changed into a blood red velvet fabric. Almost everything in the room took on sharp twisting edges that looked like they could belong in a castle. Lastly a throne materialize from the ground at the back wall of the room, the perfect place to survey everything. The throne was a dark black that seems to soak up any light that touched it. The back and seat had some maroon red cushioning, gold tipped the edges of every spike, as well as right above where the head would be if someone where to sit down in the mighty chair. The room finally settled and it looked a lot more like a throne room then a living room. The sides took a minute to take in the now slightly unsettling features to the mindscape before a voice spoke up from behind them.

“Much better. The whole room was so bland, not at all befitting of a king.” An oddly familiar voice said. All the sides turned quickly to where the voice was coming form and saw a figure emerge from a cloud of mist. The figure, the side, had his head bowed so that they couldn’t see his face. Janus stepped in front with his cane in a defensive position ready to protect the others. Virgil tried to focus more on the new side and saw that had he had a golden cape trailing behind him as well as a glowing sword that he held in front of him like a cane, ready to be used if the need arises.

Virgil gasped a little and took a step back, making the others even more nervous then they already where. The reasons for the anxious sides actions where because he recognized this person in front of him. It’s him. The one I saw in my dreams, the one that kil-, Virgil shook his head trying not to think about that part of his dream. But how is this guy here? How is he even real?!

Janus was the first to say something as he raised his cane at the stranger.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” The snake like side hissed out, sounding a lot braver than he actually felt. The royal side laughed, a cruel and cold sound that made the other sides, light and dark, stiffened. The figure raised his head and the group group gasp lightly. Because there staring right at them with the most evil look any of them had ever seen, was their friend and prince, Roman.

Virgil was the first to speak this time.

“Roman? It that you?” The anxious side said with tears in his eyes as he took a small step forward, only for Janus to hold out an arm stopping him. Although the sides where all just aspects of Thomas, they each had little differences about there faces that made it easier to distinguish who was who, no one side could look exactly like another, not even Janus. However there stood someone that looked exactly like the creative side they all knew and cared for, all except for the side’s red and golden eyes. The side also had a black streak in his otherwise brown hair. The Roman- look-alike side barked a harsh laugh at the smaller side’s words.

“You think I’m that pathetic excuse for a side? Your idiotic prince? Well thankfully for all of you, I’m not.” The side said with a smile. Virgil growled and was about to speak up in Roman’s defense before Logan covered his mouth. The now angry purple side turned to the logical one of the group and glared. The taller side shook his head and mouthed the words ‘just wait’, his eyes giving away that he was more than a little weary about the situation. It took a minute but Virgil eventually nodded and Logan let him go hesitantly, both turning back to the new side.

“If I may, if your not Roman as you say, who are you?” Logan spoke up boldly. A smirk formed on the red eyed side’s farce.

“Well, Logan, I’m something a thousand times better than that stupid prince.” The side took a step forward, his word dragging behind him, while the others stepped back. “Im the most powerful side you’ll ever meet,” another step, “the true king of the imagination,” another step, the others backs hit the wall.

“And most importantly of all,” the side swung the sword forward so that it was now at Janus’s throat.

“The new king of the mindscape.” His smile was wide and his eyes glowed a dangerous gold.

“I am Pride.”

Janus glared at the person in front of him.

“That’s impossible, Roman holds the roll of pride. He’s literally Thomas’s Ego.” The dark side said. Pride growled in anger and Janus had to admit, he was tempted to take a step back. Still the yellow clad side had to hold his ground, besides, there was nowhere to go.

“Maybe he was at one point, but for quite a while now, even while imprisoned, the roll of pride has belonged to me.” The side smiled. “Roman hasn’t done a great job of filling in for my job so I decided to come back. That fool could never do anything right, don’t you agree?” When pride said does words he looked directly at both Patton and Janus. Janus only glared at the side more, but Patton wrapped his arms around himself, lowering his head in shame and guilt. The king’s smile only grew as he saw the effect his words had on the sides.

“What do you mean it was his roll?” Virgil said while he tried to stop himself from punching the man, though he wasn’t able to stop his glare.

“Why its quite simple really.” Pride said with what would be called a charming smile if it wasn’t so sinister. “You see when creativity was split into Roman and Remus, it wasn’t quite the clean cut everyone hoped for.” Patton only cowered more as the king spoke. “Remus wasn’t pure evil and Roman wasn’t pure good. Remus not only represents intrusive thoughts but also embodies self confrontation, which can help Thomas, where as Roman is not only Thomas’s hopes and dreams, but his pride and ego which where always considered as bad things.” Pride was frowning as he spoke about what he represented being something evil.

“That’s what Thomas and Roman where always told. That being prideful lead to selfishness and only thinking about yourself. It wasn’t long before Roman, who was still a child, started to hate this side of himself and kept thinking that if one part about him was wrong then he must be a bad person. I honestly don’t know where he could have gotten such black and white thinking from.” As Pride said this he glared at Patton, making the moral side tremble. Janus stepped between his gaze and glared right back at him. Pried rolled his eyes and continued, his sword now lowered.

“As Roman grew up his self hatred never stopped, and slowly but surely, he started to break.” The others eyes widened as they started to catch on to what pride was getting at. Pride smiled at the fear that was present in all there faces.

“Remus had tried to help his brother but to no avail, and one day, Roman couldn’t have been more than 13 years old, the young prince ran as far as he could into the imagination as voices screamed at him in his head, Remus chafed after him. The brothers ran all the way to the tallest mountain in the imagination, the land had shifted around them to make it easier for them. When Remus had finally caught up to his brother he found Roman crying in pain and with cracks of gold littering his skin. And before he knew it, Remus wasn’t looking at just his brother, but another entirely knew side.”Pride grinned as horror made its way onto all the sides faces. This is what he wanted, for them to see what their actions cost him.

“Roman had willingly tried to split himself again to make all of you happy, except this split didn’t turn out as well as the first. There just wasn’t enough to make two whole sides from an already split creativity. Since I was only a fraction of what he represented Roman stayed himself while I became something, new. So me and Roman where still connected afterwards, the only thing was that only one of us could exist in the mindscape.” Pride frowned at the floor as his memories darkened.

“I was the first to realize it, so of course I tried to kill him. If only one of us could exist, then it was going to be me.” The king’s frowned turned into a glare and his voice became harsher. “Roman caught on quick and started to fight me, Remus was still on the sidelines not knowing what to do and who to help. I’ll admit I wasn’t the brightest back then. While we fought I yelled at Roman about how everyone was going to pay for what they did to me.” The king shrugged, but the movement held much more anger then he thought it would.

“I would say I was right to be angry. I mean I was only created to be thrown away. Unlike Remus there wasn’t anything good that I represented. I was just the thing that everyone hated and wanted to get rid of, the thing everyone despised.” Pride turned his glare to the sides, all of them looking regretful as they found out about what their actions had caused. Good, Pride thought, they deserve to feel like shit after what they’ve done.

“ I would have won the fight if Roman and Remus hadn’t cheated. After hearing what I had said Remus had decided to help out Roman. After a while they finally beat me and my form started to disappear. They both that I was just too unstable, that I died and Roman just got his flaws back. And that’s how it stayed until recently.” The sides took a minute to take in the information.

“Wh-what happened that, that made you come back?” Patton asked, still not being able to look at Pride. Pride grinned, a mixture of joy, anger and satisfaction in his eyes.

“Well when Roman sacrificed what could have been Thomas’s big break his confidence was shattered, and since he became weaker, I finally grew strong enough to speak to him.” Patton’s eyes grew wide. Im the one that said we should go to the wedding. I’m the reason pride came back? I’m the reason where in this mess? Patton thought to himself.

“After that I helped to lower his ego and pride bit by bit, though it wasn’t very hard. I only told him things he already thought about himself. Plus Thomas was feeling so disheartened that Roman literally got sick! Ha! Honestly even if I never said a word to him I’m certain that his depression and self loathing would have done my job for me.” Pride said, chuckling a little at how simple it had all been.

Virgil felt nothing but white hot anger and sadness for his prince. This scumbag had been making Roman feel worse about himself than he already did and he took joy in it?! What kind of selfish bastard does that?! This time it took both Logan and Janus acting quickly to stop Virgil from charging and punching the royal side in the face.Pride turned to the enraged side and smiled.

“And that’s not even the worst of it. Before I even came back Roman was already suffering. He had horrible insomnia because he was worried about disappointing others by not getting his work done. And not to mention his eating disorder.” The other sides turned to Pride in confusing, except or Virgil, he simply looked broken as Pride confirmed his suspicions.

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know? Roman had terrible anorexia, he could barely stomach eating half the time, if he could get away with it he would skip put on eating for days. He hated how he looked and even shape shifted in front of others to make himself look skinnier.” The king smiled at the horror and sadness that was painted on the sides faces. “Once he even said to me that he only ate because he didn’t want to pass out and not finish his work. He didn’t want to dissappoint everyone.”

Pride laughed distracting the others from their thoughts.

“Today just turned out to be the last straw for him. After trying his whole life to be good and be what other people wanted him to be, being called the evil twin broke him. His only purpose in life was to be Thomas’s hero and now he wasn’t even that.” Janus dropped his cane when he heard that. He knew after the video ended that he went too far and that he needed to apologize to Roman but… he hadn’t meant to hurt him like that. A thud was heard form behind him and when the dark side turned he saw that Patton had fallen to his knees, tears pouring down his face.

Pride ignored the fallen side and kept talking, wanting the other sides to hurt as much as possible.

“Once again Roman ran away into the imagination, except this time no one followed him. On accident he found himself right where it all began. He felt horrible for what he said to Janus and didn’t think anyone would ever forgive him. In the end Roman wished that he could disappear, spare everyone from his mistakes, so I helped make that wish come true. Your prince gave up, so I came back.”

The others let the words sink in. They had broken the prince so much he had wanted to just go away so that they would be ok. All of them had tears in there eyes at this point. Virgil did his best to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

“Where is he then. Where’s Roman, and Remus too for that matter.” Pride smiled and the room seemed to grow colder. “Honestly you should be thanking me that I got rid of those idiotic twins for you.” For a moment it seemed like time stoped. There was only silence. Then Virgil let out a cry of rage and charged at Pride. Logan didn’t hold him back this time, instead he charged with him, both of their eyes overflowing with tears.

Pride seemed unconcerned with the two enraged sides charging at him. He simply swept his hand to left and the whole room rotated, sending the two light sides crashing into the wall. Virgil groaned as he turned around and leaned against the wall. His noes was bleeding and he was fairly sure that he broke it. He looked over at Logan to see the logical side rubbing his head and with his glasses on the floor next to him, now broken in two. Before they could stand up a glowing sword was pointed at their faces.

“Just give up. Your friends are gone, and there never coming back.”

Wow it’s been a while. Sorry iv been gone for so long guys, school just started up again and it been hard trying to find time to just sit down and write. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this slightly longer than average chapter, I tried to put all the angst in it I could. I hope that your all on the edge of your seat waiting to find out what happens next. Well I’m going to go die now, have a good week humans, bye!

Tag list:

@lovelivingmydreams

#my writing #roman sanders #sander sides #virgil sanders #pride!roman #prinxiety #intrological #remus sanders #logan sanders #deciet sanders #patton sanders #slight mention of eating disorder #mention of self hatred #roman angst

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Sub Rosa [91]

vii. the queen’s gambit

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: anxiety, fighting, death, mentions of blood, mentions of self inflicted violence (not in the traditional sense??? if you need clarification, let me know), torture, injuries.

Summary: after a failed escape attempt from bardo, you discover that you are more valuable to them than you could have ever imagined.

a/n: i literally can’t believe we’re in the 90s!!! we don’t have many episodes left which is very weird bc i feel like I just started sharing sub rosa with yall! i’m so excited to share the ending, but so sad that it’s nearing the end! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You wake slowly, your mind trying to catch up to the events of the last few hours.

Bellamy’s death hits you before anything else, just as painful as the first time. Then Gabriel’s betrayal follows, and as you start to open your eyes and comprehend what’s happening, you feel someone lifting up your shirt. Your eyes fly open and your gaze lands on someone from Bardo, who is staring down at the scar that the Azgeda assassin gave you in Mount Weather. They look up at you in surprise as you sit up, their hand dropping your shirt as they step away from you, hands lifted in surrender. “I’m sorry, I was changing you and I just noticed your scars.”

You ignore the person and look down, your clothes different than the ones you were wearing before. Your disciple suit is gone, your clothes from Skyring too. In their place is a shirt from Bardo, their symbol on the front, and a pair of pants to match. You’re barefoot, and the knife that usually sits strapped to your thigh is missing too. In a state of panic, you reach up to your neck, relieved to find your necklace still with you, and one glance at your finger reveals your ring hasn’t been taken either. Your eyes search the room quickly, finding your clothes in a pile nearby, your boots beside the pile, your knife on top. You quickly jump off the examination table and cross the room, running over and grabbing your weapon. You pull it from its holster before you spin around, facing the person in the room, taking in the fear in their expression before you snap, “Where are my friends?”

“They’re being examined by the medical team in the rooms nearby.”

“Examined? Why?”

They look terrified of you, their voice shaking slightly as they glance down at the knife in your hand. “Standard protocol for new arrivals.”

Your brain is running at a million miles a minute, trying to process information as fast as it can, but ultimately you know you need to get out of here. Your friends are in rooms around you and you are trapped on an unfamiliar planet, with no access to the Anomaly Stone. But maybe if you can cause a distraction, your friends can get to the Stone Room and go for help. You’ll be trapped here, but it’ll be worth it if the others can escape and bring an army back for you. You have the layout of Bardo memorized, and you have a general idea of how to cause enough chaos to get them out of Bardo, you just need to free one of your people so they can free the rest. You look back to the Bardoan in the room, noticing for the first time that they’re young, probably a few years younger than you. They're part of the medical staff in some capacity, and they look terrified, clearly not a fighter. Something about them reminds you of Clarke, back before she became Wanheda, when she was young and naive and just wanted to save lives. But that similarity is the reason you decide to spare the person from the distraction that’s forming in your mind. “Where is Octavia Blake?”

“Across the hall. But you can't get out of here, they have Bardo on lockdown.”

“Who’s gonna stop me, you?” They shake their head and you nod once. “Good, because I don't want to kill you, but I will if you get in my way.”

They say nothing, keeping silent and backing up against the wall, clearly believing your threat and more than willing to allow your escape. You reach for the button that activates the door, but stop when the medical aid calls out, “Wait, there are guards!”

You pause, turning to look at them. “How many?”

“One outside each door.” You run the math, figuring there are at least 6 guards outside. You're sure that you can take them, but it'll only raise suspicions earlier than you can afford. You’re trying to figure out a plan when the aid mutters, “I can help you.”

You give them a skeptical look. “And why would you do that?”

“To prevent any more killings.”

You watch them closely, looking for any signs of deceit, but you find none. They seem genuine in their pursuit to prevent any more disciple deaths, and though you don’t care about the disciples dying, you do care about staying under the radar for as long as you can. Which is why you nod at the aid, accepting their help. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”

They cross the room slowly, both of you suspicious of the other, before opening the door to a supply closet. They dig around for a second before pulling out a small canister, holding it up for you to see. “Knockout gas. We’ve been perfecting it in preparation for the Last War, so there’s always some laying around in here.”

They hesitantly walk closer to you, reaching out to hand you the canister, and you take it with a nod of thanks. But you’re well aware that you can’t leave them conscious, so you look at them with regret and mutter “sorry” before swiftly knocking them out. It’s probably safer for them this way anyways. You cross the room again, back to the door button, and you hit the switch. As the door slides open, you pull the pin from the canister and toss it down the hall. You hear a yelp of surprise followed by the thudding of bodies, and you wait a solid minute before pulling your shirt up over your mouth and nose and venturing out into the hall. All six guards are unconscious and taken care of, so you cross the hall to the other door, hitting the button that opens the door to Octavia’s room.

Your eyes find her quickly, falling on Octavia, who is sitting in the middle of the room, looking at you in surprise. Beside her, a doctor looks at you in fear before tuning and running towards a panic button on the wall. You grab your knife and throw it towards him, the blade going clean through his hand and stopping him in place. He lets out a cry of pain as he stares at the knife, and you cross the room in record time, knocking him out and grabbing your knife before turning towards Octavia. She’s looking at you in confusion, trying to figure out what’s going on. “What are you doing?”

“Getting us out of here. Can you stand?” She nods and stands with no issues, and you continue, “Good. You need to get the others and get to the Stone Room. They should know how to get there if you don’t.”

She shakes her head, immediately disagreeing with your plan. “What about you?”

“I'm going to cause a distraction so you can get to the Stone Room and then back to Sanctum with no resistance. Tell Clarke what’s going on, and bring back our army.”

You don't wait for her to accept your plan before you start to turn away, your mind thinking of the limited time you have to pull this off. Octavia grabs your arm and stops you, pulling you to look at her. “La lune, you can’t.”

“I have to. Bellamy would want me to keep you safe.”

“He’d want me to keep you safe.”

You counter, “Then get the others and get out of here. You can come back for me.”

“There’s so much you don’t know. You’re not safe here.”

You shake your head, pulling your arm from her grip, already backing away. “Octavia, there’s no time. None of us are safe here. You can catch me up on everything else later, but for now, I need you to get the others and get back to Sanctum, please.”

She hesitates, clearly wanting to tell you now, but she understands the limited time you have so she nods. You turn and run from the room, snatching a few grenades off the fallen disciples as you jog down the hall. You mentally pull out the map of Bardo that you have memorized, just in case something like this happened, thinking that the oxygen farm might be your best bet for a distraction. It’s far enough away from the Stone Room, and it’s an important resource, so they’ll be eager to protect it. You run towards the farm, passing no one on the way, confirming that they really have locked down Bardo. You reach the farm with ease, hitting the button to open the door and stepping inside.

It’s raining, the drops of water landing on your face and running down your cheeks like tears as you look to the sky. It’s easy to imagine that this is Earth and you are home and Bellamy is just around the corner, waiting to dance in the rain with you. But the weight of the grenades in your hands reminds you that this isn't Earth, and Bellamy is dead, and you are on a mission. You immediately pull the pin from one of the grenades and toss it into the trees nearby, taking off running as fast as you can to put distance between you and the explosion. An alarm immediately goes off, likely thanks to some sort of fire alert system, and you throw more grenades as you run through the woods, keeping your path random and erratic. You toss the last of your grenades into a clearing before you slip into the trees and turn to face the door.

You hear the doors to the farm slide open and you duck down behind some brush, hiding yourself completely from view and watching as a large group of disciples files into the farm. “Spread out and find her before she gets us all killed.”

You back away and slink into the shadows as the disciples break up into pairs and start to search for you, starting at the grenade explosion sites. You situate yourself behind a few large trees and hold your knife tight in your hand, crouching and waiting for a disciple to come your way. Your anxiety grows with each passing second that you spend hidden, the anticipation of an impending attack starting to wear you down, but just when you think you can't take it anymore, you hear a twig snap nearby. You peer around the tree, watching two disciples walking your way, scanning the brush around them. One is walking slightly ahead of the other, giving you the perfect advantage, and when the disciple steps within arms length of you, you step out from the trees and grab him, quickly shoving your knife into the space between his suit and his helmet, right into his neck. You feel blood rush over your hand as you pull the knife out, the other disciple turning towards you in shock.

They have enough time to process their partner's body hitting the ground before you close the space between you and kill them too. You look around, searching for any other nearby disciples, but with none of them close by, you use the moment to quickly strip down the disciple closest to your size and slip into their suit. From there, you walk off in search of the other disciples, not bothering with ghost mode since they’d be able to see you anyways. It doesn't take long for you to come across another pair, both of them turning towards you as you approach. “Any sign of her?”

You use your mind to activate your weapons system, lifting both of your arms towards them as you mutter, “Yeah, I am her.”

And then you kill them both.

You’re able to do this for 6 more disciples, taking them out before they even realize what’s going on. Unfortunately for you, someone stumbles onto the first pair of dead bodies, one of them stripped from their suit, and they announce, “She has a suit! Everyone gather in the clearing!”

You’re about to slink back in the shadows and rid yourself of the suit in question when a pair of disciples appears from the woods behind you, grabbing your arm as they walk past. “Come on, newbie, clearing’s this way.”

Your anxiety spikes as you wonder how you're going to get out of this, your body being led into a group of disciples that all seem to want you dead. As soon as you arrive in the circle, a disciple in the middle of the group, clearly the leader, looks over everyone gathered around. “Is this it? Where are the others?”

Someone answers, “Dead.”

The man practically growls with anger, “Helmets off, I want to find her.”

There’s no way for you to avoid unmasking as everyone pulls off their helmets, because if you don't do it, they'll know it's you. If you do it, they'll know it's you. With no other options, you pull off your helmet too. Everyone is looking around, trying to find a face they don't recognize, a face devoid of tattoos, and it only takes seconds for them to realize you’re the imposter. The remaining 12 disciples all turn towards you, lifting their arms and training their weapons on you. “You! Drop the knife!”

You shake your head and bite back, “Not a chance.”

“Fine, any last words?”

You feel a flash of fear as you start to wonder, is this it? Is this where you die? But then you think of Bellamy, killed on the same planet, waiting for you in the stars, and you get a sense of peace. You can die knowing you did whatever you could to save your friends and get them home. That’s your tribute to Bellamy. You couldn't save him, but you could damn well save the rest of your family. You tip your chin in defiance, glaring at the leader of the group, anger written all over your face. “Yeah, go float yourself.”

His glare deepens, a sneer contorting his mouth as his arm takes aim at your chest. You close your eyes, waiting for the blow, waiting for death, waiting to join Bellamy, but it never comes. Instead, the moment is interrupted by someone yelling, “Wait! We need her!”

Your eyes pull open in surprise and confusion, your gaze landing on a man in a long white cloak with white hair, walking quickly towards you. Anders. All around you, weapons start to lower as Anders yells, “She is Clarke Griffin's twin! If we want to get the Key, we need her alive.”

Clarke? Your mind latches onto a memory that’s flying past, a snippet of conversation from Bellamy’s death video. Let him go, and I'll tell you everything you want to know about Clarke. You turn your gaze towards Anders, noting his excitement as he says your twin’s name, and you spit, “Clarke? What the hell do you want with Clarke?”

“She’s the Key to everything.”

His tone is reverent, serious, hopeful, and your stomach flips in fear. You know something is wrong, something about this isn’t okay. You know that if it comes down to it, Clarke will do anything to keep you safe, including putting herself in danger. She's all you have left in the world, your only blood family left, and you can’t let her do that. Which is why you lift the knife still gripped in your hand and hold it to your throat. A dozen disciples lift their weapons towards you in alarm, but Anders freaks out and yells, “Weapons down!”

You glare at him, “I won't let you use me to get to her.”

“Miss Griffin, please. You don't understand.”

“And I don't care to. You already took the love of my life from me, I won't let you take my twin too. If this is how I have to keep her safe, then so be it.”

As your grip on the knife tightens and you prepare to slit your own throat, Anders interrupts once again. “Wait. Before you do something reckless, consider this.”

On cue, a group of disciples marches your way, your friends held in their grip. Gabriel, Echo, Octavia, Hope, Diyoza, all captured and held at gunpoint. You pause, your grip loosening slightly as you look at them in alarm. Octavia mouths an apology to you before Anders mutters, “Interesting. We thought your friends might be your weakness. Put the knife down, or we kill them all.”

You look at him in shock before turning to look at your friends. Octavia is nodding her head, encouraging you to drop your knife, and Gabriel is too. But beside him, Echo is shaking her head, a glare on her face, telling you to follow through with your plan, silently telling you to protect your sister over the rest of them. But you love all of them too, and you can't stomach knowing that you’d be the reason they all die. You fight back a sob as you turn back to Anders, resigning yourself to your fate. “Fine.”

You drop the knife, and no less than six disciples descend on you before it even hits the dirt. As you watch Anders, your expression one of defeat, he smiles a little. You can't interpret it, unsure if it's meant to be smug or genuine happiness or what, but you don't get long to think about it before the disciple leader mutters, “Lights out.”

You turn towards him just as someone hits you in the back of the head, hard, darkness quickly swirling at the edges of your vision. His smirk is the last thing you see before the darkness swallows you whole.

The next time you wake, it’s with a groan.

Someone mutters your name as soon as they hear you stir, and you hear them shift towards you as you slowly pull your eyes open, fighting against the pain radiating from the back of your head.

Your eyes fall on Gabriel, who is staring down at you with worry. “Cielito, are you okay?”

You look at him in confusion before you abruptly sit up, looking around the room, suddenly remembering the danger all of you were in the last time you were conscious. “Where are the others?”

“I don't know. They took them to a different cell block.”

“Are they okay?”

“They were the last time I saw them. We’re being taken care of, meals and beds and supplies, so I’m assuming we’re worth something to them.”

You nod, taking the information in, already aware of your worth to them. A worth that stems from their fascination with Clarke, though you don’t understand why they’re so enamored with her. You open your mouth to ask Gabriel if he’s heard anything, but as you do, you’re suddenly cut off by the doors to your cell opening and a swarm of disciples moving inside. Two men grab Gabriel and pull him away from you as two other guards grab you, both of you sharing a look of alarm. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“Let me go!” You kick and fight against them, but they hold you tight in their grip, practically dragging you down the hall behind Gabriel. “Where are my friends?”

“Doubt they'd call either of you a friend after what you’ve put them through.” His words make you panic, your mind imagining the worst. Your friends tied up and tortured, all because you failed in your mission to save them. You start to fight harder, slipping from the guard’s grip slightly, but they readjust their hold on you and grab you tighter, their fingers squeezing bruises into your arm. Gabriel yells back towards the other cell blocks as you are dragged away, clearly in just as much turmoil as you are. “No, no, no! Echo! Hope! I'm sorry!”

You and Gabriel fight the entire time you are led down the hall, and you only stop when the guards pause outside of a door, waiting for it to open. You freeze as you realize where you are, you and Gabriel exchanging a worried look as the doors to the Stone Room slide open. The guards release Gabriel and step back, but they keep their grip firmly on you as a white clothed figure steps into view.

Anders.

He smiles at Gabriel before turning to extend you the same greeting, but his smile drops into a frown when he sees the guards at your side, still holding you tight. “Release her.”

“Sir, with all due respect, she is dangerous. I don't think we should-”

He cuts the guard off with a raised hand. “I didn't ask what you thought. Release her.”

The guards let you go, though they still seem hesitant to do so, despite the demand by their leader. Once you're free, Anders again smiles, greeting you both. “Dr. Santiago, Miss Griffin.”

You and Gabriel stand frozen in the doorway, and he motions you closer. “Come, please.”

The two of you move hesitantly closer, and your eyes fall on the only other person in the room, the conductor. Gabriel’s gaze shifts to the Anomaly Stone, which Anders quickly takes note of. “Miraculous, isn't it? A gift from those who have transcended, or so we believe.”

Gabriel questions, “Transcended?”

“The Shepherd teaches us that winning the Last War brings upon the final evolution of a species. I thought Orlando would have taught you that.” You turn towards Anders at the mention of Orlando, and Anders watches you and Gabriel carefully as he continues, “He hanged himself in the cabin.”

He turns and motions to what appears to be a body, covered in a sheet, your eyes missing it earlier. But they don't miss it now, because your gaze is locked on the form as your brain struggles to process the words. He hanged himself. He hanged himself. He hanged himself. Gabriel shifts beside you, uncomfortable, but Anders continues speaking, ignoring the heavy feeling of grief in the air. “It appears we need to rethink our penal system. We lost 35 disciples thanks to you and yours, 10 from Miss Griffin just in the last day. I sent the others off to Nakara, but I thought that you both might like to say goodbye.”

Gabriel mutters, “I'm sure Hope and Echo would too.”

“We have different plans for them.”

He motions towards the body again, encouraging the two of you to move closer. You glance up at Gabriel, and he reaches out for your hand and pulls you closer to Orlando's waiting body. You both kneel on his right side, and Gabriel whispers, “La muerte es la vida.”

“May we meet again.” Tears well up in your eyes as you look down at the covered body, imagining what Orlando must have felt as the four of you left him behind on Skyring. Clearly it was painful enough that he hanged himself because of it, and you feel guilt start to press heavy on your chest. Another person led to Death, thanks to Wanlida. Her presence is beginning to feel like a curse again, the way it used to, no longer offering you the comfort it did on Skyring. She doesn't care that Orlando is dead, but you do. Because he was your friend, and this is your fault. You reach out tentatively and rest a hand on what you think is his chest, your voice barely a whisper when you say, “Please forgive me.”

You feel tears tighten your throat and attempt to choke you, and Gabriel squeezes your hand, which is still held tightly in his own. You look at him with tear stained cheeks and nod, letting him know you’re okay, and he nods back before turning his attention back to Anders. “Is Nakara your heaven?”

The Anomaly powers up nearby, and you and Gabriel stand, stepping away from the body of your fallen friend as the green glow quickly grows and takes Orlando’s body before receding again. At Gabriel’s question, Anders turns to look at the two of you in surprise. “He left that out too, did he?”

You and Gabriel exchange a look, suddenly realizing that Echo really was right. Orlando was your friend, but you were never his people. Five years on a planet with him and he only ever told you what you needed to know, despite all of you telling him everything about your lives before him. Anders takes in your shared look before he continues, “No, we don't believe in heaven, doctor. Like I said, we believe in transcendence.”

“Transcendence through the stone?”

You look away from the two men, your mind blocking out whatever they're saying, uninterested in transcendence or the mystery of the Anomaly Stones. And as you look away, your eyes lad on an imperfection on the floor behind Anders. Black and charred, in the exact place where your fiance last stood before he was killed by one of the disciples. And now you think that the 35 dead disciples aren't enough, because you want to burn Bardo to the ground. Its existence has brought you nothing but trouble from day one. You feel tears prick your eyes, but you work hard to keep them at bay, not wanting Anders to see you crying, not wanting the people of Bardo to know that this is something bothering you, because when you destroy them, you want them to be surprised. You don't want them to suspect the anger hidden deep inside of you, or the anguish that you're keeping buried, so you work hard to keep your mind off of the spot on the floor.

Anders aids in your distraction techniques when he says a word that makes your blood run cold. “Because you don't want to be executed.”

You look over at him in alarm, digging through your subconscious memory to figure out why he’d say that. You finally find Gabriel’s question that prompted the response, something along the lines of why should he help the Bardoans with the stone. Gabriel senses your rising tension and squeezes the hand that is still in his own, before he levels a serious look at Anders. “I don't want my friends to be executed either.”

“Well, that's up to them.” He walks around the stone before stopping on the other side and watching Gabriel closely. “Given your history with the stone, I would like you to help us unlock it. We'll share our knowledge, you'll share yours, and all you have to do is say, ‘yes’.”

Gabriel turns to look at you, his gaze asking what you think. Your mind runs through the information you have. Clearly, you know next to nothing about Bardo and the disciples, thanks to Orlando. And if you want to destroy this place, having an inside man, with loyalty to you, is the best way to do it. Which is why you look at Gabriel and nod once, letting him know you think he should do it. Gabriel turns back to Anders and jokes, “Do I get a robe?”

Anders cuts him a look, so Gabriel adds, “Yes, I’ll join your cipher team.”

Satisfied, Anders nods once and smiles, but you start to realize that things aren't adding up. You and Gabriel were separated from the others for a reason. Because you serve a greater purpose to them. But you know next to nothing about the stones and have little to offer them for scientific advancements, so what use do you have to Anders and his people? “I don't know anything about the Anomaly, and you clearly know that, so why am I here?”

“We need you to tell us everything about Clarke Griffin.”

“Clarke?” Your brows furrow, just as confused as the first few times they mentioned Clarke, not understanding why she’s so important to them. “What does Clarke have to do with any of this?”

“She's the Key to everything.”

You shake your head, growing frustrated. “But what does that mean?”

“Tell us what we want to know, and we’ll do the same for you.”

You feel a wave of realization pass over you when you catch on to what he really wants. Sure, he wants to know about Clarke, but it’s more than that. “You want my memories.”

“Yes.” The door to the room slides open on cue, and a group of disciples walk in, moving towards you. “We’d prefer if you went willingly, but we’ll take you by force if necessary.”

You remember your earlier desire to destroy Bardo, and your need to stay cool and calm. And despite the fact that you want to scream and cry and fight every Bardoan in this room, you put on a brave face, tip your chin in defiance, and mutter, “The guards aren't necessary.”

Gabriel looks at you in alarm, not expecting your willingness, turning his gaze to Anders. “No. No way, she isn't going to M-Cap. That thing is torture.”

“Only if you fight it.” Anders turns to you, waiting to see your reaction to the same thing Hope said to you 5 years ago. You stay calm and shrug, “I won't.”

You turn to look at Gabriel, this time squeezing his hand in reassurance. “I’ll be fine. Have a good first day, doctor.”

He must sense something in your gaze, and because he trusts you, he drops it. You let go of his hand and turn to follow the disciples and Anders from the Stone Room and down to M-Cap, your mind remembering the path easily, thanks to your years of studying the map that Orlando drew. As you step into the room, the disciples stay outside and motion you inside, towards a man in white, his back turned to you as he sets up the machine, which has clearly been fixed since Echo used it to kill a man. The man in the room turns towards you when he hears you approach, and you're surprised to see Levitt standing there, watching you with a blank expression. You almost react, but then you remember that you aren't supposed to know each other, so you copy the same blank expression on his face, and follow Anders inside of the room tentatively. He looks at the other disciples over your shoulder. “We’ll be done in an hour.”

They nod and close the door behind them, leaving you, Anders, and Levitt alone, and he motions towards the M-Cap chair. “Please, take a seat Miss Griffin.”

You do as he asks, sliding into the seat, the leather cool against your arms. You lean back a little, resting comfortably, as Levitt begins to attach straps around your wrists and your torso. You look at them warily, and Levitt catches sight of the look. “Don't worry, these are more to help you than hurt you.”

You give him an unconvinced nod, and he finishes up with the restraints, turning away from you and pulling a pair of glasses down onto his face. He begins fiddling with a hologram that only he can see before Anders looks over at him. “I want to see what she sees.”

Levitt spreads his arms wide and a large holographic screen expands in front of them both, big enough for Anders to see everything that Levitt can. He turns and tugs a weird helmet over your head, pinning you in place, and he gives you a look before turning away again. You don't have time to interpret what it means, because Levitt asks, “You're in an endless desert with a vast purple sky. A hand reaches out for your own. Whose is it?”

A million faces flash through your mind on hyperdrive. Your brain thinks of the deep blues and purples of the sky overhead, dotted with stars, and you turn your head to see Bellamy. His hand lifts and points back to the sky, and you follow his finger to see the Ark in the sky overhead, your dad’s hand reaching out for yours. He takes it and turns you around, turning you to face your mother, who smiles and offers you a flower. As you look down at the flower, it transforms into the ones around Shallow Valley, that Clarke used to sit and sketch for hours. You look at your twin, a vast purple sky behind her, the desert of the dead zone stretched around you both, and Anders exclaims, “There! The Key!”

Levitt grabs onto Clarke’s photo from the stream of passing faces, and you grunt a little as the M-Cap machine connects with your mind. It’s not painful, but it’s uncomfortable, like someone’s hand is in your head and holding your brain, their grip tight enough to put pressure on your entire skull. You decided instantly that you hate the sensation, and you want to fight and disengage the link, but that’s not the part you should be playing. But then you remember that you shouldn't be thinking about the part you're playing while your brain is hooked up to a machine designed to read the memories in your head, so you switch to thoughts of Bellamy, his lips on yours, hoping the intimacy is enough to get the two men out of your head.

“Bring back Clarke. We need to know everything we can about her.”

Levitt turns back to you, his voice soft when he asks, “What’s your earliest memory of Clarke?”

Your brain starts moving backwards, landing on a memory from age 10, until you remember one even younger, age 8. But then another memory pops into your head, back to 6, then 5, before finally settling on 4. Your father is holding your hand tight in his own, leading you towards your shared room with Clarke, his expression frantic. He takes you to the hiding spot in the closet, moving the false door aside to motion you inside, but you plant your feet and refuse to be pushed inside. “No, dad, I don't want to hide!”

Your father kneels down to get into your line of sight, trying hard to hide the anxiety in his expression, though he does a poor job of it. “La lune, I know you don't, but the Chancellor is on his way right now, and he can't know about you. We talked about this, remember?”

“I remember, but I don't want to.”

Suddenly there's movement to your left, and Clarke steps into the room. She looks over at you, just as upset that you have to stay hidden, her expression identical to your own, in more ways than one. She crosses the room to you, something held tight in her grip, and she lifts her hand to offer it to you. It’s a bear, crudely stitched together, almost creepy, but it’s Clarke’s favorite, the one she sleeps with every night. “You take it, Mr. Stuffings will keep you safe.”

You shake your head, not wanting to take your twin’s most prized possession. “Clarke, that's yours.”

She pushes it towards you again, into your hands. “But when you have to hide, he’ll be yours.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, and you step forward to hug her, wrapping your small arms around her. “Thank you, Clarke.”

She hugs you back before you step back, turning to your father, “Okay, I'm ready.”

He nods and you step into the hidden location, watching as he puts the false wall into its place, plunging you into darkness.

When the memory ends, your brain comes back to reality shockingly fast, suddenly conscious of your surroundings again. You're covered in a thin layer of sweat, already exhausted after one memory, and you already want to cry at the thought of how many more memories they’re going to want from you. Levitt turns to you, a proud smile on his face. “You’re doing great.”

But across the room, Anders disagrees. “That memory gave us nothing. We don’t know anymore about the Key than we did before it.”

“Sir, all due respect, sifting through memories takes time. There could be information about the Key that we need from the early memories, we can't rush through these.”

“She must have thousands of memories of Clarke. It’ll take weeks to go through all of them.”

“Probably.”

Anders sighs and steps away from the hologram, “I want everything in the report, and I want reports daily. Anything urgent or important comes to me immediately, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Anders turns and exits the room without another word, leaving you and Levitt alone. He lets out an audible sigh once it’s just you two, turning to look at you in relief. “I’m glad all of you are okay.”

You counter, “Why did you tell us to go to the surface if it's not survivable? That man Echo killed said we’d need rebreathers.”

“You’d survive for at least a few hours. Long enough for me to figure out how to get all of you out of here. Though, you got pretty close with your plan. The others made it to the door of the Stone Room before a disciple stumbled upon them by accident. They knocked her out, but she had already alerted the others.”

“Great.” You don't know what else to say. Almost freeing your friends is not enough. They're still here, half of them god knows where, and a reminder of your failure isn't helpful. “Where are they? Are they okay?”

“They’re okay.”

“When can I see them?”

“You can’t.”

You give Levitt a skeptical look. “Why not?”

“Because all of you play different roles in Bardo now. The others will be prepped for something different, and any fraternization between you is discouraged.”

“Just discouraged? Not banned.”

“For you, consider it banned. Anders values your memories and the information about the Key that you can offer us.”

You give him another look. “Which means that I can use my status to negotiate a visit with them.”

Levitt shakes his head, stopping any ideas before they have a chance to form. “It means that you will be kept away from the others, with the exception of Gabriel. There is a consensus that you’ll get reckless in an attempt to protect your friends, and that you may cause more trouble if given the opportunity to see them. Anders doesn't want to risk that.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at the situation you’re in. “Yeah, imagine getting separated from nearly everyone you love, on a strange planet where your fiance was murdered months before, and then trying to escape. Can’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing.”

Levitt ignores your sarcasm, his expression softening. “I’m sorry about what happened to Bellamy. We never wanted anyone to get hurt. But your ways are strange to us. We don’t love individuals, we value the collective. Your constant attempts at escape, which often result in a myriad of disciple deaths in the process, set us back further and further in our preparations for the Last War. We need your information and we need every disciple on Bardo to fight, so we can’t risk you seeing your friends and attempting another escape.”

“Then it seems we’re at a crossroads, because I don’t understand why I should help you.”

Levitt gets a fearful look on his face, and he leans closer to you, dropping his voice to a whisper. “You can’t say things like that. If they hear you, they’ll start killing your friends to get you to comply. I know you don’t want that.”

You look at Levitt and the fear he has, and you start to think that maybe the Bardoans aren’t as advanced as they think they are. You’ve only ever killed people to survive or save the people you love, but they’re willing to kill people, your family, just to break you. And after losing Bellamy, you can’t stomach the idea of losing anyone else. Which Levitt must know, because he takes your softening demeanor as a sign to continue. He does offer you an apologetic look though. “I don’t like digging in your head any more than you like being here. But it’s something we both have to do. And if there aren't at least five memories in the report, Anders will get suspicious. I don't want him to kick me off your case the way they did with Octavia.”

You sigh, knowing you don't have much of a choice. Better that Levitt is sorting through your memories than someone else. For the rest of your time that day, and every day after that, Levitt sorts through your memories of Clarke. He starts as far back as he can and works through the memories in your head, skipping the ones that aren't relevant, though he does tend to sit through some of your memories with Bellamy, the concept of love unfamiliar to him. And every day the disciples have to practically carry you back to your shared room with Gabriel, M-Cap draining your energy even when you're not fighting the machine. And every day Gabriel worries about you the second you are unceremoniously delivered to your room. He keeps you awake long enough to eat whatever meal is provided to you and then he watches over you as you sleep. You know he does, because the bags under his eyes are dark and visible, and he always looks worried. You try to encourage him to worry about you less, not wanting your mental torture to torture him too, but he never listens and he continues to worry.

Still, all things considered, your time in Bardo is not bad. At least, not until your 6th day of M-Cap. Levitt has now made it to your memories in Polis, when Clarke put the Flame in her head to stop Alie. Clarke has just pulled the kill switch and everyone is coming to. Bellamy has just appeared at your side and the two of you are kissing, but as the memory plays out, Levitt mutters, “Wait, stop.”

The sound of his voice pulls you back to the present, and you turn to look at him in confusion, but he doesn't look your way as he rewinds the memory that just played out in your head, zooming in on something in the background. As you and Bellamy pull away and your eyes open, they catch sight of something on the throne, despite it not being your focus. There, Clarke sits, your mother now removing the Flame from your twin’s head and pressing it into her hand. Levitt spins around to look at you in complete shock. “Clarke doesn't have the Flame anymore?”

You look at him in confusion. “No, why would she?”

“In Octavia’s memories...I never saw…”

He trails off, and you put the pieces together quickly. “Wait, you’re telling me that Clarke is the Key because of the tech in her head?”

Levitt nods slightly, stunned, and you continue, ”And you never looked in Octavia’s memories beyond this to know that Clarke took it out?”

You're careful not to mention Madi, realizing that if the Flame is this important to them, Madi could become a target next since she had the Flame most recently. Levitt nods again, confirming that the Bardoans obsession with Clarke stems from something that hasn't been relevant in years. You can't help yourself, but you laugh. Loud, deep, full of disbelief. Everything you've been through, the days of M-Cap that have drained you, all for nothing. Levitt turns to look at you when he hears your amusement, his expression worried. “No, you don't understand. The reason you've been safe until now is because we thought Clarke had the Key. But if she doesn't, then all of you, you and your friends, are useless to us.”

The laughter dies in your throat as you look at him with fear. “Levitt, you can't tell them.”

He turns back to the screen, already moving things aside, shifting, editing, deleting. “Trust me, I did not allow Octavia to punch me twice just to throw it all away now. I’m erasing this from the report, but from now on, you can’t let me into your head.”

“You’re saying that I have to fight the machine?”

He turns to you, shaking his head. “You can't fight the machine, because your brain will hemorrhage. But you can beat the machine by repeating a single phrase over and over, like the one that Bellamy used to say to you.”

“Tell me about the stars.”

“Right, good. We’ll begin tomorrow, but for now, get some rest.”

He walks to the door and lets the disciples in so they can carry you back to your room, back to Gabriel, your anxiety higher than usual after an M-Cap session. Because now you are hyper aware that your survival, the survival of your friends, and the survival of the people you love, all depends on your ability to beat a machine designed to dig through your memories or kill you trying.

The next morning, the disciples lead you back to M-Cap, your hands damp with sweat as you think of the task ahead of you. Beat the machine, save those you love. Easy, right? Except it’s not, because when the door opens, Levitt is in the room waiting for you, like usual, but a second figure clothed in white is in there too. Anders turns towards you with a smile, some of your previous memories playing out on the screen behind him. “Miss Griffin, nice to see you again.”

You nod at him awkwardly, not sure you can trust your voice to stay strong as you face the prospect of beating the machine in front of Anders. You cross the room on shaky legs and plop down into the chair you’ve sat in for the last 7 days now, and Levitt turns to face you and prep you. He senses your fear and gives you a reassuring smile, but through his teeth, he whispers, “Pain.”

You look at him in confusion, but he just shakes his head, letting you know he can't say anything else, leaving you to mull over his words. Once the machine is ready, he begins with the same question he always does. “You're in an endless desert with a vast purple sky. A hand reaches out for your own. Whose is it?”

And just like every other day, your brain cycles through a scroll of faces, and Levitt picks one to begin. This time, it’s your father, his smile bright and happy. Beside you, Levitt mutters, “Good. Neural link is engaged.”

Anders moves closer to you. “I’m curious, some of the reports mention that you call Clarke ‘shining star’. Why is that?”

You glance at Levitt from the corner of your eye, and he gives you a look, reminding you of your conversation the day before. So you fight against the memory that threatens to rise to the surface, you, your mother, and Clarke all on your couch, your father standing across from you, and you start to repeat, “Tell me about the stars. Tell me about the stars. Tell me about the stars. Tell me about the stars.”

The memory playing on the screen nearby stutters, before disappearing, and through your repeated words, you can hear Anders ask, “What is she doing? Bring the memory back!”

“She's trying to block the machine.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, sir.”

Anders glares at Levitt, “Turn it up.”

“But sir-”

He cuts off Levitt’s disagreement. “Do it. Now.”

You glance at Levitt as he dials up the machine, and he flashes you another look, his mouth moving over a silent word, unseen by Anders. Pain.

Pain? It must mean something because Levitt wouldn't risk telling you twice if it didn't. But you are pulled from your thoughts by Anders' voice once again muttering, “The shining star.”

Again, a memory starts to take shape in your mind, your family together, three perfectly wrapped boxes held tightly in your father's hands, and you attempt to use the phrase to resist the memory. But you know which one it is, the allure of it too strong to resist, wanting to relive the moment again. A small box held in your small hands, your dad’s grin is wide and bright, and it makes you feel happy too. But your conscious mind still fights. This memory is meaningless, pointless in the quest for information on Clarke. But if you can't resist this, what will happen when the important memories come into play? You again remember Levitt’s words, the pieces finally falling into place as you realize why he is repeating the word pain. He wants you to hurt yourself.

After countless days spent in this chair, you know there are sensor spikes situated all around the helmet. They serve a dual purpose of relaying information while also keeping the helmet steady in one place over your head. But these sensors are sharp enough to injure someone, because you watched Levitt accidentally cut himself on one a few days ago. Which is why you quickly tip your head to the side and scratch the spike along the side of your head, something warm and wet dripping down the side of your face as you cry out in pain. But you don't stop there. You lift your head and move again, dragging the spike through the already open wound, injuring yourself further, repeating the process over and over again until Anders finally growls in frustration, “Enough. Send her back to her cell.”

Levitt nods and retrieves the disciples, and when he broaches the subject of bandaging the cut on your head, Anders says something about letting Gabriel do it before he storms out of the room. Levitt gives you an apologetic look as two disciples lift you and half carry you from the room, your feet dragging beneath you, but you don't have the energy to care, already drained from your fight against the machine and the pain you had to cause yourself. You are escorted back to your room quickly, Gabriel standing as you are pulled into the room. His eyes find the black blood on the side of your face with ease, his expression shifting to one of horror. “What happened to her?”

The two guards plop you onto your mattress and attempt to leave again, but Gabriel grabs the closest one and spins around, pushing them against the wall. “What did you do to her?”

The second disciple grabs Gabriel and pulls him away from his partner harshly, Gabriel stumbling in an attempt to keep his balance, and the disciple snaps, “She did it to herself, doctor. First disciple Anders said you can clean her up.”

He reaches into a pouch at his side and grabs a small first aid kit, which he tosses at Gabriel before both men turn and leave the room. Gabriel scoops it up and closes the space between you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You wave your hand, trying to push away his concern. But his worry persists as he reaches out to gently grasp your chin, tilting your head so he can get a look at the cut down the side of your face. “Did you do this to yourself?”

“Yes.” He cuts you a look, so you add, “I had a reason.”

“What reason could there possibly be to do this?”

He reaches into the first aid kit and begins pulling out supplies, including a suture kit. Your eyes dart from his busy hands to the cameras in the corners of the room, wondering how much you can say. You tilt your head down, keeping it low so they can’t see your lips moving, and you drop your voice to a nearly inaudible level. “They’re watching, but Clarke isn't the Key.”

“What do you mean?”

“They think she's important because she has the Flame in her head, but they never went far enough into Octavia’s memories to see that it was for a couple of hours on one day over a hundred years ago. If they find out the truth, we’re all dead.”

Gabriel looks at you in alarm, careful to keep his head low too as he preps the sutures. “And the cut…”

“Was to beat the machine. Anders was in the room today and I couldn't keep him out of my head. This was the only way to do it.”

Gabriel nods once, letting you know he understands, before tipping your head back into the light, giving him a better look at your wound. As he begins to stitch you up, the cut starting near your temple and dragging back and down into your hairline, he mutters, “How long can you keep this up before they realize you’re no use to them and kill you?”

“As long as they think Clarke is the Key, they won't risk losing me.”

“I don't like this.”

“I don't either, but it's the only way for me to keep all of us safe. We have to figure out how to get off of Bardo before it’s too late.”

Gabriel nods, lost in thought, probably working on a plan to get all of you out of here. He finishes up your stitches, checks over the wound and cleans it up a little more before nodding with satisfaction. “Okay, you’re good to go.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

He glances at you, a smile on his face as he repacks the first aid kit. “No thank yous needed, cielito.”

You smile at the nickname and lean back into your bed, the drama of the day starting to catch up to you. You feel exhaustion weighing heavy on your lids, dragging them down, and before Gabriel can say another word, you’re already fast asleep.

The next morning, you are dragged right back into M-Cap, this time a little harsher than before. Anders is in the room, and Levitt is gone, replaced by a different man, but you know better than to ask why. You can only hope they haven't done something to him. As you are led over to the M-Cap chair, you work hard to keep your expression neutral and hide the fear that you feel creeping up your spine. They lock you down in the chair, attaching every restraint, which they have never done before.

Once you are held down and the machine is up and running, the new man turns to you, his expression blank, and asks the same question Levitt used to ask you. “You're in an endless desert with a vast purple sky. A hand reaches out for your own. Whose is it?”

Your mind starts to cycle through faces and memories, and you feel your anxiety spike, not even wanting Anders to get the neural link engaged. Which is why you jam your head wound into the sensor spike again, dragging down the wound and breaking Gabriel’s stitches, just like Clarke did years ago in Mount Weather. Your pain levels rise, blocking the machine from engaging with your mind, and Anders breaks his calm nature long enough to growl, “Try again.”

With your pain levels on the rise, you decide to combine the two methods to beat the machine, and you scrape the sensor over your wound as you repeat, “Tell me about the stars, tell me about the stars, tell me about the stars.”

Anders keeps you in the room for hours, trying to get through to your brain, before he finally gives up and sends you back to your room with a group of angry disciples. Gabriel stitches your wound again when you return, his look disapproving, though you know he doesn't mean it. He just hates that you have to bear the weight of this on your own. Just like Clarke, you are now bearing it so they don't have to.

That night, when you’re laying in bed and Gabriel is asleep, you start to realize that maybe the reason the phrase doesn't work well for you is because you aren't concentrating on it enough. But the problem with concentrating on it is the slew of memories associated with the phrase, memories that Anders can use to link you to the machine and forcefully dig through your mind. But maybe, if you use the same phrase in Trigedasleng, your mind will have to focus on it and the translation more. There’s only one memory associated with the Trigedasleng translation, when you and Bellamy were watching a brewing civil war from the windows of a tower in Polis. But fighting one memory is much easier than fighting the countless others you have of Bellamy asking you to tell him about the stars.

The next day, as soon as the disciples come to take you, you begin your chanting. “Tel ai hashta skaifaya. Tel ai hashta skaifaya.Tel ai hashta skaifaya.Tel ai hashta skaifaya.”

You focus on the words, the translation, making sure it’s correct each time you say it, which gives Wanlida time to close the door to your memories, locking them away where Anders and the others can't reach them. You repeat the words the whole way to M-Cap, you repeat them as they strap you down, you repeat them as they try to probe your mind again. And after another long day of attempts, you come out on the other side successful. Your memories are safe, your stitches in tact, and the knowledge of the Flame is still safely tucked away.

The process repeats for the next few days as they try to break you and get back into your head, but with a combination of pain and your mantra, they never even successfully link the machine to your mind. By day 3, you’re feeling pretty proud of yourself when you are delivered back to your shared room with Gabriel, a smile on your face, which he quickly takes note of. “I have seen you smile like that since Skyring.”

You feel a wave of guilt when you realize that you’re smiling so soon after losing Bellamy, your brain temporarily forgetting that he isn't back on Sanctum with Clarke. He’s dead and gone, and you’re smiling like nothing happened. Your expression quickly drops, and Gabriel seems to regret saying anything. You don't want him to think it's his fault, because it's not, which is why you answer his question anyways. “I beat the machine again.”

“And you didn’t rip out your stitches to do it.”

You nod and he smiles, just as proud. He’s about to ask you something when the door to the room pulls open and no less than 10 guards file into the room, walking towards you. The air in the room is menacing, and you get a sudden thought that this is it. You were wrong about them needing you. You outlived your usefulness, and now they’re here to kill you. At least your memories will die safely along with you. Gabriel must have the same fear that you're about to die, because as soon as they reach for you, he starts to yell and fight. “Leave her alone!”

You watch him knock two guards aside, and you do the same, hitting the man to your left in the throat, choking him. You twist your arm out of the other man’s grip before grabbing his helmet and curling our fingers beneath the seam, grasping at the safety latch that keeps the helmet in place. You find it easily, removing the helmet from the man’s head and using it as a weapon to knock him out.

You can hear the grunt of fighting behind you, and you turn around to see Gabriel struggling with a circle of guards around him, all of them tugging, pulling, and grabbing at him. You start to attack them from behind, knocking them back one by one, but just as you start to get the upper hand, more disciples flood into the room. You feel someone yank on your arm hard, and someone else’s fist connects with your face, knocking you off balance. You manage to catch yourself at the last second, only to be tackled to the floor, someone pressing down on your back and pushing your face into the floor as they work to restrain you.

You feel a pair of cuffs latch around your wrists before you are harshly yanked back to your feet, gravity making you realize that blood is now dripping from your stitched up cut. The black liquid runs down the side of your face and neck, disappearing beneath your shirt, as you turn to face the door. There Anders stands, looking over you and Gabriel both, a disapproving look on his face. “See? Their bonds need to be broken, otherwise they will never be like us.”

You look at Gabriel in alarm, blood dripping from his nose, a bruise already blooming around his eye, both of you sharing a look of fear. Anders motions to the guards holding you, pointing them towards the door. “One day, you will both understand. As will the others.”

You are being led towards the door, and at the mention of your friends, you start to fight. “The others? What about them? What do you mean?”

You've heard no mention of them in ages, and both you and Gabriel know that asking about them is useless, because they'll never tell you anything. Anders shakes his head in disappointment at the frantic tone of your voice at the mention of your friends. “You are all so attached. That is not our way. We have to break your bonds, and there's only way to do that.”

And then he motions for your guards to take you out the door. You start fighting against them, trying to get back to Gabriel and the safety of your cell, but they hold you and him tight, both of you fighting uselessly to escape. “Gabriel! Don't let them kill me! Gabriel!”

He screams back, his voice just as desperate, “Cielito! I'll find you! Just don't fight them!”

You heed his words, letting some of the fight drain from your body, suddenly aware that you’re wasting your energy on them. It’s useless to try to escape in this moment, and you could need your energy later if things get worse, which you are starting to suspect they will. So you drop your fighting down to a milder level, mostly allowing the disciples to carry you off, your mind and eyes taking in everything around you. They lead you to the elevator and direct it to the sixth floor, one that you haven't been to before. You rack the map in your brain, trying to figure out where they're taking you, but the only thing you can remember on this floor is the adolescent training, and you’re sure that can't be where you’re going.

But sure enough, they lead you to a door labeled “training” and hit the button, the door sliding open to reveal a large room, a gray mat stretched across the floor. Inside of the room is a group of people, and they all turn towards you at the sound of the door opening, the disciple on your left announcing, “Sorry to interrupt. First Disciple Anders wanted her to join the other trainees.”

Your brows pull together in confusion, your mind convinced ten seconds ago that you were being led to death. But instead they brought you to training? You shift your gaze over to the trainees, and the crowd parts a little, revealing four familiar faces that you haven’t seen in a couple of weeks. Your jaw drops in shock as your eyes move over the four women: Octavia, Echo, Diyoza, and Hope, all of them staring back at you in happy surprise. Octavia is the first to break the silence, her voice full of happiness as she looks at you and whispers, “La lune.”

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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sevengraces · 3 years ago

Text

To Suffer Fucking Sucks

Chapter 7: Understanding Can Still Be Cruel, But In A Soft Way

Title Card, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

AO3 Link

Boy howdy, the last chapter. Here we go! TWs: Bullying Fighting Isolation Lying Crying Self Hate As A Coping Mechanism That should be everything! I hope you enjoyed my story and please leave a comment and let me know what you thought. I hope this was a satisfying conclusion.

“When Thomas was young there were only three sides. There was Invention, Curiosity, and Virtue.” Logan began.

Logan accepted water from Roman and continued, “Over the years that would change, but at the start there were only three. But rather quickly those three became four. By the age of seven Thomas had needed a fourth side to help him and that side was Fear.”

“Fear was understandably scared of many things. But he had remained a constant companion to Invention, who would create happy worlds with no danger to frighten him. But eventually Thomas outgrew his three original sides.” Logan sipped his water.

“Invention split into Red and Green Creativity, Curiosity grew into Logic, and Virtue adapted into Morality and Deceit. But Fear did not change at the same time as the others.” Logan frowned.

Virgil cut in, “Why not?”

Logan thought for a moment, “There could have been many reasons although the most plausible is that Thomas still needed a simpler Fear and was not yet prepared for anything too complicated.”

He continued, “When the core three changed into the early iterations of us now we had not seen any reason for concern. Growth was natural so there would be no conversations to be had about it.” Logan let out a small huff, “Fear did not feel the same way, and although we didn’t understand at the time it made perfect sense. Fear as a concept and a side did not trust change and required some form of consistency, so when his entire family suddenly changed with no explanation he was scared. He didn’t trust us because in his mind he had never known us. But we remembered him.”

“So even though he had no idea who we were, we expected him to act the same. But he refused. He did not play with Red and Green, nor did he watch TV with Morality and Deceit. He did not listen to Logic rant. He even stopped attending meals with the group. Red and Green were hurt, seeing as they were children it was understandable. Logic, Morality, and Deceit were hurt as well even though we ought to have understood.”

Logan let out a pained sigh. “So Logic went to confront Fear one day. He demanded to know why he was avoiding them all. So when Fear snapped that he didn’t know any of them Logic had snapped back without considering the consequences. He told Fear that Thomas didn’t need him anymore and that when he was done being childish he should apologize.”

“So everyone avoided Fear for a very long time.” Logan closed his eyes for a moment.

“What does that have to do with me?” Virgil asked.

Logan smiled miserably and Patton cut in, “Well kiddo, one day something changed. Fear came downstairs but he wasn’t Fear anymore, he was Anxiety now. The problem was that poor ‘ol Fear was scared of changing as he got older. He didn’t want to and it freaked him out. So when Anxiety was created he felt scared and bad like something was wrong.

Patton took a sip of water and continued, “He was freaking out and doing the neat little voice trick ‘cause he was so spooked at the sudden change. Logic eventually talked him down and explained that nothing was wrong. Then Morality announced that they ought to celebrate with breakfast, and Green explained they could be friends again, and Logic stated that they had no reason to fight anymore.” The moral trait rubbed his face before explaining, “Anxiety was hurt that we had been waiting for the Mind to just churn out a more agreeable version of Fear, he got angry and explained that maybe Fear hadn’t hated us he was just scared. I didn’t take that well and neither did the others, we did not like being confronted with the fact that we were wrong and had been cruel to the poor kiddo. So we fought.”

“And,” Roman added, “the Mind had been going through some big changes. Deceit and Morality were always fighting and Logic avoided it while Green liked to make Morality angry, but it scared Red so he always avoided it. As far as I can tell Virgil, if it hadn’t been for the final big fight between Anxiety and the others we might have repaired everything sooner or later.”

Virgil picked his fingers and asked, “Was it bad?”

Roman laughed ruefully, “For Anxiety? Yes, for everyone else? It probably seemed inconsequential. But it wasn’t. Red had been hiding from the fighting once more. He didn’t like it but Logic had asked to be alone so there was no one he was really allowed to talk to at the moment. So he went to see if Anxiety would answer.”

“Anxiety let Red into his room so he could hide from the fighting without any hesitation.” Roman sighed something painful and heavy. “Anxiety explained after being asked that, no he wasn’t mad at Green or I, we were children, but he was upset at the lack of care and the apathy demonstrated by the older sides. But he wasn’t really angry when he explained it, just sad. So he and Red colored until Logic knocked on the door.”

Logan and Morality blanched as they remembered where this ended. “Logic demanded that Anxiety cease his pouting and to let Red go. Anxiety was shocked at the assumption that he would hurt a kid and insisted that Red had been hiding from Morality’s fight. But Red had looked out the doorway at Logic and Morality near furious and was sure he would be punished for playing with Anxiety. So he lied and said that Anxiety had kidnapped him. The others were scandalised and angry, but Anxiety had looked at Red, and decided that Red avoiding what would be a minor punishment was more important than his standing with any of the others. So Anxiety had covered Red in his childish lie and no one had really spent time with him after that.”

Roman sighed, “I had forced myself to forget that day and there was always some reason to dislike you after that so we never really healed”

Virgil shook his head before leaning bodily against the cabinets, “Why don’t I remember all this then?”

“There could be many reasons, the most likely two being; that it was traumatic so it was blocked, or that you were still changing from Fear so the memories didn’t keep.” Logan explained.

Patton nodded, “Yeah, when I was done changing my memories were a little fuzzy and over time I forgot them! We should have known that you might not even remember! I’m sorry kiddo!” he reached forward to pat Virgil on the shoulder before stopping short at the younger trait’s flinch.

Virgil shook his head, “No! This can’t be it. I don’t- I was mean to you then even if I thought I had a reason and I don’t ‘member now.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “And after! I wasn’t understanding, I just shot back mean things. So no, this isn’t your guys’ fault.”

Roman frowned, “Why does it have to be your fault Virg?”

He shook his head harder, “It just is! It always is, I don’t- why are-”

“Bud you need to breathe, it’ll be okay I promise.” Patton cut him off. “You are not inherently bad Virgil and I am sorry you feel that way. You are helpful and deserve to be treated well.”

Virgil crumpled in on himself, crying. This time the others did not hesitate to pull him closer to them. Patton held him while he cried, and Logan rubbed his shoulders, and Roman whispered soft promises to him.

They were not okay yet, and maybe they wouldn’t be for awhile. But they weren’t alone anymore so that’s a little better than when they started.

#ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #ts thomas #platonic lamp #pre/post accepting anxiety #sanders sides #fanfic #grace is writing

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the-sunshine-dims · 4 years ago

Text

Amnesia rewrite!

i remember how much i loved writing the amnesia series and once i realized i was coming up on my 100th fic i realized what fic would be better to my 100th then an amnesia rewrite!

ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7

original fic

words: 1,411

ao3

contents and warning: blood, blood loss, injury, angst, hurt/comfort, roman helps, amnesia, hurt janus, grieving, crying,

summary: Janus got hurt and cant remember anything up to a certain point, which means he doesn't remember the split of creativity, or their names getting revealed, and a lot else, and during Janus having amnesia there's a lot of healing, and not only from him.

or Janus somehow stumbled into the imagination, got amnesia, and now there's angst and hurt/comfort, maybe even fluff

____

Janus stumbled out of the foresty wilderness-clad imagination, not remembering much, and not remembering just how much he’d forgotten, not even remembering how he had ended up in imagination, he did remember a couple things, even if they were a couple of the simpler things, such as, he was Thomas’s “deceitful” trait, he was also Thomas’s “self preservation” though that was just a fancy word for Janus protected thomas.

and another thing he knew was that the blood splatter that had gotten in his hair and was soaking through his shirt was very not good.

But some things he didn’t know were possibly some of the most important things, such as the painful split of king creativity, and the painful memories of being locked away with the label of “darksides” and “snake tricking thomas into sinning”, and everyone telling thomas their names.

But, currently it didn’t matter what he remembered, he had to clean himself up and figure out if all of the blood was his ..or someone else’s, or both, and he had to figure out if it was better if it was his or someone else’s.

He tried his best to take a deep breath, hoping it would help the painful headache he had go away, but it just came out shaky and it helped none, so with nothing else to do he just tried his best to get back to his room, after getting a quarter way to where he thought it would be he had to begin leaning on the wall, feeling faint, before trying his best to continue.

But when he reached the first open room he’s seen he didn’t recognize it, maybe morality just got bored and redecorated? He didn’t know.

Once he enters, for a minute all he wants is to stay there, it’s warm, and just bright enough to be the perfect place to take a nap, like Thomas’s grandma's living room, with the big windows facing the couch, just so comfortable of an atmosphere, he shakes his head at himself ignoring the immediate flare of pain it causes, he needs to get to his room, then he can wash up and take a nap, he just needs to wait to find his room.

He sighs about to try and leave and hope to not get more lost,

Then he saw them.

A side, a side he’s never seen before, sitting on one of the armchairs and staring at him like with a vigilante- almost annoyed gaze

They were a taller side, outfit almost like a prince, with a bright red sash, maybe they were a new side? Maybe something to do with inspiration? Or something else creative? That would explain the similarities to creativity, Regardless though even if they weren't something to do with creative stuff janus was sure creativity would like them, creativity liked everyone.

And while Janus was partially confused because he was having a kinda hard time processing he still was about to go make a move to greet the new side.

That was until the side snapped out “deceit.” Sounding annoyed. Making his blood go cold, and his eyes widened and everything in him filled with self preservation in a single moment because how did he know his trait this was a new side how did he know.

Suddenly the blood that’s made his already dark clothes darker and long since dried on his hair is overly noticeable now and he feels like he should flee as his gaze flicks across the entire room in an instant looking for possible exits.

He took a unnoticeable steadying breath before going “who- who are you?” He asks, almost hissing under his breath at just how shaky it was, he’s supposed to be strong to protect Thomas! Not shaky just because someone he didn’t know, knew something as simple as one of his traits.

The side seemed startled by the question, several unnamed emotions flitting across his face in a couple moments before it settled on base level confusion as Janus began looking around the room again, nervousness evolving slightly when he realized nothing was the same, the couch was moved along with the coffee table and the everything else he didn’t even think the framed photos were in the same place-

Then he saw a particular photo, it had morality, logic, anxiety (though he’s changed a lot), and this side.

Then he looked at the other photos and he noticed a particular lack of someone.

Creativity

and the more he looked there wasn’t any trace of him, no left out art supplies, no hand-crafted pillows, nothing.

He snapped his head back to this side and desperately asked “where’s creativity?” He really hoped that the sides were just pulling a mean and really badly timed prank.

This side is slowly destroying that hope when he looks absolutely startled by that and instead of- well anything, he just confusedly goes “..I’m creativity?”

Janus’s hands begin shaking aggressively after he’s processed the information, and suddenly he felt really overwhelmed “no- no no that’s not possible! You- you’re not creativity! He’s tall and he- he always has this big goofy grin! He- and he has this cape he made himself though it’s pretty much just a blanket wrapped around his shoulders!-“ tears had been spilling from his eyes as he went on, beginning to hold his shaky form with his shaky arms, and beginning to retract into himself “and- and he has fake roses on hand at all time despite- despite him knowing they get caught in his shirt everytime- and- he's not gone! I was just here and he and logic were trying to build a puzzle! He-“ he hiccuped “he was just here..” he sobbed, not meeting this ‘creativity’’s eyes and just staring at the floor instead though he couldn't see anything beyond vague shapes.

There was a long uncomfortable silence as Janus tried to breathe before the person spoke “creativity.. was split into me and my brother.. don’t you remember?”

Janus looked up at him and just shook his head sorrowfully before taking a big breath and trying his best to speak though it just came out as a quiet “no..” so quiet Roman almost didn’t hear it.

Janus wanted to go home.

He looked at the floor again, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact and not cry.. again.

That was until he felt a small tug on his shirt sleeve and the side was looking at him so concerned and he didn’t say anything but he backed away just a tiny bit and opened up his arms in a clear invitation, one which Janus immediately took up, catapulting himself into his arms and just.. sobbing.

Roman tried, if somewhat stiffly to comfort him, using his spare arm that wasn't wrapped around Janus to try and brush through Janus’s hair, that was what patton did when they were upset.

Or that was the plan, instead he felt a weird dry patch in Janus’s hair and when he looked closer it was dark red, he froze, knowing that the only real option for what it was was dried blood since he didn’t suppose Janus was the type to randomly dye his hair red and decide not too, a quarter way through, so he took a breath before beginning to speak “okay, umm, you're kinda bleeding, and I don’t think I would know how to care for whatever injury caused the bleeding properly so.. I think it would be best to go to Logan.”

Janus seemed half conscious because he just slowly blinked, trying to see if he somehow knew the name somehow, and after a minute Roman realized Janus didn't recognize the name so he explained “Logic, not long ago with the rest of us, shared his name with us, which is Logan,” he told him, and deciding it might be good to tell him more he just slowly went “you did too, you told us your name was Janus.”

Janus hummed, taking the information and processing it slowly, his fatigue and exhaustion finally affecting him, eventually he nodded to himself and with that Roman decided Janus wouldn’t be physically or emotionally fit to walk with him to Logan's room safely. so he carefully and slowly picked Janus up, half expecting some fight but instead Janus just practically curled up against his chest, his head beginning to loll in in a single moment.

And then Roman was off to Logan's Room.

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full-of-roman-angst-trash · 4 years ago

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A Prince’s Room

Part 2

Concept by @yeet-ceit

TW: Unsympathetic Sides (Except for Roman), Perfectionism, Self-Doubt, Cursing, Arguing, Injury? (Roman gets slapped). If I missed any, pleased tell me and I will add it.

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1807

Roman wants to be perfect. No, he needs to be perfect. And part of being perfect is being a good friend. Roman loves the other sides. He loves them more than anything in the world. Even more than Disney and musical theater. His friends are the main reason why his still holding on. He doesn’t want to lose them. He can’t lose them. He won’t survive if he does.

So, to make sure he doesn’t he takes notes. He writes down ways to make sure he’s constantly improving. Any bad habits that the others point out or flaws he writes down and tries to fix.

The lists went on and on. Hung up on the walls of his room to make sure he always remembers. And as time goes on, more and more is added to the list. Every small addition getting him one step closer to perfection.

Remember to keep your voice level normal. Don’t talk too loudly.

Stop being so dramatic, you're taking too much attention away from the others.

Don’t be too confident, it comes off as cocky and no one like someone that’s too cocky.

Don’t rant about your interest for too long it gets annoying and boring.

Don’t be selfish, no one likes a selfish person.

....................

The chart came along a few months later.

Roman had already been taking notes on how to please his friends however he decided to reorganize his notes into a chart. Each side had their own section containing list of what they liked, disliked, what cheered them up, and what upsets them.

Logan

Likes: Crofters, astrology, coffee, books, teaching, silence, human anatomy, schedules, deadlines, Thomas being productive, debating, constellations, being listened to, law, learning, classical music, poetry, Sherlock.

Dislikes: Being ignored, unnecessary emotions, sweets, dumb people, someone being too loud, childish movies, games, being behind schedule, illogical decisions, jokes, unrealistic dreams.

What makes him happy?: Stargazing, writing, meeting deadlines, winning debates, telling random facts, rapping, his onesie, reading, being left alone, being called cool, teaching.

What upsets him?: Being treated as a joke, being teased, being reminded of his mistakes, making mistakes, being ignored or overlooked, losing a debate, feeling dumb.

Patton

Likes: Cookies, drawing, cure animals, compliments, happy songs, seeing his friends happy, t.v shows, helping others, singing, dancing, playing dress up, stuffed animals, gifts, holidays, baking, sweets.

Dislikes: Screaming, loud noises, getting stuff thrown at him, blood, weapons, violence, seeing his friends injured, sad movies and stories.

What makes him happy?: Cuddles, movie nights, being showered with affection, cookies, drawing, karaoke nights, talking about his emotions, playing games with his friends, helping others, his onesie.

What upsets him?: Seeing an animal die, seeing people in pain, being forced to grow up, seeing his friends in hurt, not being able to help someone, disappointing someone, letting Thomas down, letting his emotions control him.

Virgil

Likes: Candles, alternative music, spiders, his hoodie, Tim Burton films, My Chemical Romance, headphones, fidget cubes, staying up late, drama shows, bats, knives, collecting pins.

Dislikes: The ocean, sudden loud noises, cheesy pop music, people that are too optimistic (except for Patton), someone being mean to his friends,

What makes him happy?: Doing makeup, painting his nails, listening to music, Patton’s baking, playing with his pet spider, meditating, watching murder myterious, watching Disney and Tim Burton movies.

What upsets him?: Being put on the spot, being called evil, being treated like an innocent kid, being called a darkside, being called a disorder rejection, talk about serious topics such as suicide and self harm.

Remus

Likes: Gore, blood, mud, fighting, collecting weapons, deodorant, musicals, inappropriate jokes, Fleischer Studios, pranks, dancing, mythical creatures, things that glow in the dark, random t.v shows, horror movie, slime, candy, octopus, skirts, crop tops.

Dislikes: Cheesy love songs, rules, normal food aside from fast food, birds, learning, shaving, reading, romance movies/shows, backstabbers, lying, shaving cream, showers, losing fights.

What makes him happy?: Dissecting stuff, fighting, pranking others, dancing, singing, coming up with outfit ideas, punching stuff, playing with slime, reenacting horror movies, inappropriate jokes, hanging out in his trash can, being pet, Shrek, eating deodorant, someone doing his makeup.

What upsets him?: Being abandoned or left behind, being told he isn’t good enough, being compared to me, seeing Janus upset, seeing Virgil upset, being told to shave.

Janus

Like: Snakes, philosophy, Greek mythology, sewing, horror movies, mystery books, murder documentaries, self care, sleeping, warm baths, weighted blankets, debating, law.

Dislikes: The cold, when someone takes his hat, dumb comedy movies, eagles, action movies, unnecessary violence or gore, close minded people, liars, sharing secrets, being vulnerable.

What makes hims happy?: Massages, weighted blankets, cuddling, hanging out with Remus, acting, having debates, seeing Remus and Virgil playfully argue, watching murder mysteries, singing.

What upsets him?: Being called evil, being ignored, seeing Remus or Virgil upset, Thomas not taking care of himself, being replaced, being left behind, people not understanding him, someone making fun of his scales, taking off his gloves.

....................

“Come on pussy! Let’s just march into his room, what’s the worse that could happen?”

“Language!” Patton quickly scolds Remus.

“What if he’s in there and he screams at us for barging in?! What if he gets really mad and chooses to get physical!? What if we see something we don’t want to!? What if he’s asleep and he get mad that we woke him up!? What if-”

“Virgil,” Logan interrupts the panicking side, “Your anxiety is causing you to catastrophize. Please, take a deep breath and try to filter out your cognitive distortion.”

The anxious side nods and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“Now, I would like to add that I personally believe that Remus’ plan isn’t the worst idea ever and is currently the best one we have.” The logical side states.

“Well, while I love to agree with Remus, he is wrong in this instance,”

Remus smirks widely, “Awe! Thanks Jany~ You’re too generous~”

The deceitful side rolls his eyes, “Let’s just go.”

“Fine,” Virgil stands up, looking rather done with everything.

The rest of the sides stand up as well and begin to make their way to the prince’s room.

Once they make it to his door, Remus immediately just breaks the door down and lets himself in.

“Surprise!”

They walk in, greeted only by silence.

“He isn’t here?” Patton mumbles to himself.

“Doesn’t look like it. Let’s not go then.”

The other sides nod and start making their way out. Well, everyone except for Logan.

The logical side instead gets distracted by a paper stabled to the wall. He walks over to it and reads it to himself. Once he’s done reading his looks around the room and notices all the papers on the wall. As well, as the lack of theater and Disney merchandise.

“Wait, doesn't Roman’s room look,” He pauses to search for the right words, “Wrong?”

The other sides stop walking and looks around.

“Now that you mention it,” Remus mumbles, “His room has changed a lot since I last saw it...”

The other start reading through the endless papers of tips to improve himself and advice.

Suddenly Patton stops in front of a chart titled “Duties”

He slowly goes over it and buy the time he is done he is fuming with rage.

“What the hell!? Guys come look at this!”

The others go over, slightly amused and concerned.

Each of them take turns analyzing the chart.

Roman had spend his day at the Imagination. After the whole wedding accident, he’s been stuck in a very toxic place and well he thought a small guest might help. So, he left early in the morning and began his guest. He hadn’t meant to stay there for as long as he did but he lost track of time.

“Kiddo, we have a lot to talk about,” Patton mumbles in a passive aggressive tone.

....................

As the tired side starts approaching his room, he notices that all the either sides are gathered outside his room. Once he’s a bit closer, Virgil is the first to notice him. To his shock though, Virgil rushes to him and slaps him

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

Roman stands there shocked for a few minutes before looking at Patton, expecting to hear him scold Virgil. Instead however, Patton just look away from him.

“ANSWER ME!”

“I-...” Roman bites his lip to hold back the tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t understand... W-what did I do....?”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!?”

The prince-like-side flinches and looks down.

Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, "Let me handle this.”

For some reason, Roman thought that Remus would be on his side. He thought that if anyone understood what he was trying to do, it would be his brother. Or that his brother would at least explain what happened and let him tell his part of the story.

So, he looked up with a hopeful expression.

“Don’t look at me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you!? If you think we were such a hassle then why did you stay friends with us!?”

Any hope that Roman had immediately leaves his body, “I-I... I never said that! Where is this coming?!”

“DON’T BULLSHIT ME, ROMAN!” Remus summons his morning star, “WE SAW THE FUCKING CHART! SO, WHAT!? WE’RE NOTHING MORE THAN “DUTIES” TO YOU!?”

The usual confident side is now frozen in shock. They weren’t supposed to see that chart. They weren’t supposed to see his room at all. If Roman was being honest, he could understand why they took the chart the wrong way. The name of it wasn’t exactly the best but it was all he could think of while actually making it. Now though, he wished he would have pushed himself to think of a better name.

“N-No! You got it all wrong!” He is now crying, flinching away from his brother, “I was just trying to make you guys happy!”

Remus scoffs and puts his weapon away. He walks away from Roman and returns to Janus’ side.

“Whatever, Roman.”

His knees give out and he falls to the floor in defeat.

“I would greatly appreciate if you keep your distance from Patton and I from now on. If you fail to do so, I can’t exactly guarantee that I will be nice. Goodbye Roman.”

“Fucking pussy.” Remus throws out.

And just like that Logan sinks down with a crying Patton.

“And I thought I was the snake,” Janus adds, looking at him in pure disgust.

Then, they’re gone.

For a few seconds Virgil stares at the broken prince in front of him.

“You really are an idiot.”

He looks away from him and sinks down with a scoff leaving the weeping prince on the floor.

Alone.

....................

#my writing #unsympathetic light sides #unsympathetic dark sides #unsympathetic virgil #unsympathetic deceit #unsympathetic logan #unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic remus #unsympathetic sides #tw perfectionism #perfectionism tw #tw cursing #cursing tw #tw arguing #arguing tw #tw self doubt #self doubt tw #tw slapping #slapping tw

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willowaudreykeyes · 4 years ago

Text

Kinda Random Sides Headcanons Of Mine

- Patton is AceAro and he only found out after talking to Logan about it. He loves everyone like they are his child except Logan; who is like the ultimate bestie to him.

- During his talk with Patton, Logan learnt that he is Demiromantic. He swore Patton to secrecy after tearing up because it lifted a weight off his heart after saying that he is homosexual for years now. This has caused him to research everything about sexuality in case any of the other Sides ever need help with it.

- Remus has known that he is asexual for years now and both Janus and Virgil know this about him. He told Roman years ago, but he wasn’t believed so he didn’t bother mentioning it again.

- Roman is Pansexual but is incredibly insecure about it as he sees that as the Romantic side, he is ‘supposed’ to have the same sexual attraction as Thomas. Only Janus knows this and he has zero idea on how to help.

- Logan wants to dye his hair dark blue and purple like a galaxy but is afraid of being seen as immature! Also put some star decorations in his hair! He loves the stars SO DANG MUCH-

- Logan helps Janus with his shedding. Remus helps whenever Logan is busy with Thomas, but the Logical Side has been helping him since before Virgil was a Light Side. No matter how much Janus tiredly threatens tells Logan to stop caring because hes a Dark Side or whatever; Logan stays and helps.

- Roman and Remus are touch starved. If one is feeling it badly, the other often feels it too.

- Only Patton and Janus knew King Creativity and they never have, or will, talk about him. Ever.

- Remus loves Disney songs and all those kinds of songs that seems more like a ‘Roman’ thing to like; but he too sings Anastasia’s “Once Upon A December” and Coco’s “Remember Me”. Who do you think gets them stuck in Thomas’ head? Those count as Intrusive Thoughts too.

- That said, Roman does let himself sing a more ‘Remus-y’ song whenever he’s DOUBLE sure that he’s alone.

- Roman thinks that Logan and Patton are perfect beings with perfect ideas for Thomas and that he ruins them with his own not-so-perfect ideas. Seriously, this boi has to learn that none of them are good or bad...

- Remus is the one to go to if the others are having an anxiety/panic attack. Why? He’ll shove a cup full of ice cubes at them to chew on (or get a lemon if they can’t handle the cold), find their perfect movie/song because he somehow found that out, and he will not let them be alone. Want hugs? He’ll cling to them like an octopus. Want some space? He’ll do something off to the side that always lets them know he’s there. 11/10 distraction for the brain.

- Janus can and will use six arms to hug others. Every time. He is the best hugger out of everyone and they had a competition that says so. He keeps the medal Roman had made for the winner in his room.

- Their bedrooms and the rooms that Thomas can visit are two different rooms. The rooms that enhance their specific traits are usually used to help push Thomas into a certain direction; such as Logan using his room to help him think more logically.

- Janus hates his room because it causes him to lie ALL the time. He wants to be known as self-preservation as well as Deceit but even his own room is fighting against him. So he rarely goes there and hangs out in his bedroom instead.

- Roman painted everyone’s bedroom doors. Once he and Remus grow closer, the doors suddenly get more intricate and Roman (after debating with himself about it) gives Remus the credit he deserves for it.

- After said door painting; Logan gets the twins and asks them to paint his room for him. Something new that won’t distract him. He half expects it to be painted like a science lab or something, but instead he finds the walls to be the same colour while his ceiling is now a galaxy that blends halfway down the walls. It distracts him from his work sometimes; but he doesn’t seem to mind and he’s more productive in the long run.

- Remus baked with Patton one time and his impulsiveness helped create the Crofter Cookie™ which Logan is often caught sneaking third and fourth (secretly twelve) cookies.

- Which he shares with Janus, who secretly loves Crofters as well.

- Roman loves strawberry everything; but kiwi’s are a close second and he’s only ever told Virgil about it.

- Logan lost a bet with Roman the same time Janus lost a bet with Remus. A week later; the other Sides, Thomas and Friends watched them perform Non-Stop. Logan as Hamilton, Janus as Burr with the twins being Eliza and Angelica. Logan got more into it then anyone thought he would.

- Janus is a huge fan of Leslie Odom Jr. and seeing him on Sanders Sides made him scream into a pillow at every chance he had between recordings.

- Patton checks on everyone before he goes to bed. And now that Janus and Remus are more involved with Thomas, he checks on them too. The two of them have no idea how to handle this new routine because he’s just so sincere about it!

- Logan loves hugs and no one can tell me otherwise. He’s just VERY particular on how the hug has to be and he once spent three hours with Roman on trying to get the right hug. Somehow, Remus got the Perfect Hug first try.

- Janus has the floofiest of hair that NOTHING can stop. Remus often jokes about how his hair can break a sword in half. Often followed by Remus breaking a sword over Janus’ head without the Side flinching at all.

- If ANYONE is in trouble, Virgil knows about it and he ain’t afraid to punch a bitch. Or use the fire extinguisher as punching doesn’t stop fires. He’s always the first and last on the scene.

- Remus is teaching Logan self-defence. Janus is teaching him how to dance. The Side wants to be ready for literally anything.

- Remus loves eating bone marrow and on Thanksgiving, he’s able to debone the entire turkey. No one knows how; but he’s happy to eat that while the others eat turkey.

- Virgil is part spider and eventually builds up the courage to tell the others. Patton is a little afraid at first, but eventually he’s got all eight legs around him in the best hug with his emo son. He’s still working on looking him in the eyes when more then two are showing...

- Virgil, Remus and Logan don’t need as much sleep as the other Sides. Logan and Virgil only need four hours, while Remus only needs two hours. While Janus likes sleeping as much as possible, which is hard to do with Remus around.

- Janus has stolen every pillow and blanket in the Mindscape and Thomas’ real house JUST to build a pillow fort. At one in the morning. They were all impressed, but also cold so now he has to share when he makes them (at a better time as well please- )

- Janus doesn’t like the feeling of anything on his face or scales; which makes looking after them difficult. He has to be reminded to moisturise them weekly and Remus has learnt not to dump slime or anything over his head because he has had an anxiety attack about it once and he never wants it to happen to him again.

- Virgil and Janus love scalding hot showers. Patton and Roman like it rather warm, Logan likes them lukewarm and Remus loves them to be freezing cold.

- No touching Virgils hair! No touchie! He hates it and prefers light circles rubbed over the back of his hands or on his knees instead. Roman on the other hand LOVES head scritches and always melts into a Princey puddle of relaxation when he gets them.

- Lastly, if anyone ever has a Nightmare, they either go to Logan or Janus. Patton is too deep of a sleeper to wake up and help, plus he often has no clue what to say anyway, so those two help a lot. And if they have a Nightmare? They go to Remus’ room and talk with him until they pass out or they decide to survive the day on the hours that they had.

#virgil headcanons #logan headcanons #remus headcanons #roman headcanons #patton headcanons #janus headcanons #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #literally just my personal headcanons for them compiled into a list #might make individual posts about them one day with some more detail idk #willowkeyes headcanons #sanders sides

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mayflowers07 · 5 years ago

Text

While getting very drunk on Valentine’s Day because he is lonely, Deception “Deceit” Sanders drank:

Shots of whiskey

Shots of scotch

Shots of vodka

Numerous beers throughout the day

Numerous beers chugged after walking in on some inappropriate activities he wishes he could unsee

And a cocktail of many dangerous and illegal drugs given to him by Remus

And then retold

The Drunk History of Sanders Sides

Deceit: It’s the winter of 2016...

Roman appears in Virgil’s first video and is like “Yo, I don’t like you”

And Virgil’s like, “Yo, I don’t like you even more!”

“That’s impossible... Do you wanna have an enemies to friends to lovers relationship?”

And Virgil’s like “... yeah... that’s cool.”

And then he’s like “Yo, this is a video about lying to yourself, where’s Deceit?”

And then Logan and Patton have a video together. And Patton’s already adopting Virgil as his and Logan’s kid. Logan is roleplayin’ Sherlock for some fuckin’ reason!

And Virgil keeps showing up in videos for some reason! They start hangin’ out all together. And they're like “Oh, let’s have some fuckin’ name reveals, bitch!” It was like, Logan and fuckin’ Roman and fuckin’ Patton!

Logan said to Virgil, “Yo, we gotta change this shit up! Yo, we’ve already established prinxiety and logicality; let’s get some shit from analogical.”

And so Roman and Patton are like “Yo, that’s dope. But we need Anxiety’s name!” Because Virgil’s still playin’ villain and he needs a redemption arc!

Virgil’s like “Yo! I got character development!”

And they're like “Wait, how do you have character development?”

And he’s like “Yo, watch this: I've always aimed to protect you, but lately... It feels like I've been keeping you from doing anything.”

And they’re like “Oh my god! That sounds like character development!” So they did the arc and Roman confessed his feeling and it was like “You make us...better.”

And then they’re like: “Yo, that's fuckin’ perfect. This is famIlY.” And they made fun group content like, Gryffindor Roman, Ravenclaw Logan, Hufflepuff Patton, and Slytherin Virgil. Everyone is in a Hogwarts house, everybody loves it.

Virgil, correcting Deceit off camera: Dee, I never picked a house. That was the whole point.

Deceit, ignoring Virgil: Virgil the Slytherin! Virgil the Huffleclaw!

Virgil is a motherfuckin’ Divergent, and it's real and it doesn't matter.

And Patton talked to everyone and he was like “Yo, what the FUCK! Yo, my character arc is gonna be fuckin’ DOPE!”

So Patton was real sad and angsty for a while, and it was called: Nostaligia Part One and Two.

They didn’t mention the dark sides! They waited like three or four episodes for a dark side to show up.

The four episodes were like: Purple Isn’t A Hogwarts House, I Wonder If We Should Listen To Logan More, Oh Fuck We Should… The fourth one was like a LAMP Christmas musical or something.

And they were like, “Yo, we need Deceit. Deceit. Pretend to be Patton. Fuckin' do it.” And I did it, and I killed it.

I was like, tell the child their hamster died!

Fucking with Virgil! Revealing myself to Thomas! Silencing Logan! Playing the shit! Killing these bitches! Wrapping it out!

Deceit off camera to Logan: You just ate three fuckin’ jars of Crofters! What the fuck is going on?!

Deceit: “We should get a Roman vs Logan. 'Cause logince is a fuckin’ valid ship.”

And Roman was like “Yo, if you can make Logan more popular then me, which is not fuckin' hard, I will have a breakdown during the musical."

Logan was like ”Yo! Thomas’ got this problem that’s fuckin’ Roman’s fault, dude! It's called emotional repression. Hey wait, it's gonna be called my problem too, and it's gonna be fuckin' huge.”

And then Virgil’s like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it me. Halloween’s gonna be emo as hell”

And they made a song with puppets it was fucking dope and it talked about all of their emotional problems.

Like: one issue, two issues, three! Three, two one! Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! TEN TO ONE!

Virgil was like, “I’ve got a secret!”

Patton was like, “I’m losing touch with Virgil!”

Roman and Logan were like, “We’re the functional ones for once!”

And Deceit had nothing to do with the last four episodes. And Virgil was like “That's good!”

I was like “Yo, fuck the wedding! Thomas can do whatever he want!”

Logan was like “Yeah, it's cool man, whatever… I don’t have feelings.”

And then Roman was like “Eh… I agree with Deceit but...!”

And Patton was like "Morality is fuckin’ great. Because it makes you be a good person. Which a lot of times, Thomas is not a good person. And I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everybody thinks that Thomas is a good person.”

Deceit: *starts throwing up in the garbage can beside him*

Deceit: I'm good so far.

Patton: You wanna spit one more time?

Deceit: No, I’m fine

Deceit: *sits back up in his chair and starts giggling as he looks around*

Deceit: ...Shut the fuck!..

Deceit: So Thomas was like “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed about these intrusive thoughts!”

And then I saw the intrusive thoughts, and I was like “Eh, it's not bad. It's honest. Let’s be real, you wanted to be honest.”

Thomas decides to miss the callback and I am so fuckin’ pissed

I’m like “Yo, fuck you guys!”

And I’m like “Yo! Another video where I get shut down? Yo, fuck these dudes! We're gonna fucking go miles above! We're gonna send in Remus to win the fight!”

But he didn’t! Because he couldn’t fuck with Logan.

Apparently, Remus was like: “Oh, shit you can’t get rid of me.” And they didn’t but Logan taught them to ignore him.

Dude, Remus was like "What the FUCK?”

Oh, you don’t fuckin’ listen to the dark sides. It's like, fuck you!

So intrusive thoughts happen, we fuckin' have a whole video of awesomeness!

Like, Remus is cumming on himself, 'cause it's so big!

Remus was like “Yo, I gotta have a name reveal” meaning, Virgil was like “Yo, I gotta reveal my secret bro”

And Roman’s like, “My brother is the source of my insecurities! Ahhh!”

And Patton’s like “Yo, I need to accept Thomas’ flaws cause he’s a fuckin’ good person.”

And Logan’s like “I’m just gonna solve everyone’s problems and be the fuckin’ coolest.”

And they were like, “Alright, this shits been super angsty. We gotta fuckin’ come back man. We gotta come back domestic and cute af!”

Deceit: *looks around for something*

Deceit: You took my hat away, what the fuck?!

Roman: No, Remus poured beer in it to chug so we left it on the counter!

Logan: Yeah, it’s right next to you

Deceit: Whatever. So the next vid is like, we gotta make this shit legit. We’re gonna have a fuckin’ fanfic movie night and we’re gonna give in to the Mouse Corporation

Deceit: *grabs his hat and puts it on as Patton and Roman scream at him to stop and beer pours out on his head*

Deceit: What the fuck is this on my head, did I puke on myself?

Virgil: No, you poured beer all over yourself.

Deceit: Oh god...

Deceit: So Thomas was like: “Yo, next episode we're gonna have Roman and Patton scrap. It’s a right brain fight night.”

And that’s all. And that’s all that matters. And that is how the fucking story goes.

Deceit: *stands up to take a bow*

Everyone: *starts applauding and whooping off camera*

#tw alcohol #tw drunk #tw drinking #tw swearing #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts sides #janus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts deceit #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #ts remus

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sidespromptblog · 5 years ago

Text

Late Night Run: Part 2 (End)

Part One

Oneshots:

Confrontation (Virgil), The Reveal, and Comfort

Summary: Logan makes muffins in the middle of the night out of worry for the dark sides, it doesn't exactly end up how he thinks it will end up.

Warnings: Questionable Light Sides Mention, Panic (Remus), Hurt/ Comfort (Remus), and Mentions of NSFS (not safe for sanders-hickies and kissing).

Word Count: 3200

AO3 LINK

Logan was used to waking up alone.

He was used to waking up curled under his own blankets absolutely freezing despite how many blankets he had piled on top of him, and he was used to being alone. Whereas Roman and Patton would sometimes fall asleep snuggled up with one another, or when Virgil would mosey on over to Patton or Roman’s room after a particularly bad anxiety spike. It wasn’t that he had ever really been excluded from these cuddle fests, it was just that Roman and Patton’s brand of comfort and even Virgil’s, wasn’t his specific brand of comfort that he was looking for. It was never anything personal, but even so, Logan got the feeling that they would never understand what specific kind of comfort and contact that he was specifically looking for.

Not that he could ever blame them for such a thing, for the longest time even he didn’t realize what kind of comfort he was searching for. All he knew was that… what Roman, Patton, and Virgil had wasn’t it.

And all that had done was make him feel more alone than ever before, the odd one out yet again.

However…

Waking up surrounded in warmth, tucked in between Remus’ constricting arms holding him against his chest and Deceit’s loose but very solid hold keeping him perfectly in the middle as the dishonest side snuggled into his chest. Secure, safe, and just.. just comfortable for what felt like the first time in forever he felt like this. Not just in his own room, but in someone else’s arms and in someone else’s arms. For the first time, he could just lose himself with another person, without even having to worry if the other sides would accept it or not. Because in the long run… it didn’t matter if they accepted Deceit or Remus, it didn’t matter if Thomas even did, because… he was with them… and he was going to stay with them.

He couldn’t help but to gaze down at Deceit’s face, as the light coming in from the window lit up the sight of the scales on the side of his face. Every constant worry line that had previously been on his face had smoothed out in his sleep, he looked without a doubt, just… peaceful. Like nothing in the world could ever bring him down, like the logical side would never again have to see that deep sadness reflected in those mismatched eyes ever again. And for the most part… he really hoped that he wouldn’t have to, and that he would never be the cause of that sad hopeless look ever again.

Logan could even feel the steady calm rise and fall of Remus’ chest, as the creative side unconsciously nuzzled the back of his neck. There was no chaotic wildness in the other’s sleep, there was just the movement of his breath coming and going like the waves of an ocean. If he could have turned his head, he knew for a fact that he would have seen the same peaceful expression that he had seen on Deceit’s face, now reflected on the Duke’s as if this was the first proper sleep the two of them had gotten in weeks.

Just from the sheer duality of it, he didn’t know whether to lean into Remus’ embrace, to arch his back against the other’s blisteringly warm skin and those large hands secure around his middle. Or to curl even more even around the blessed coolness of Deceit, as the other side snuggled up close to his chest the softest noises occasionally leaving his slightly parted lips. It was almost akin to the noise that a cat made when deep in sleep, and Logan couldn’t help but to run his fingers through the dishonest side soft supple curly hair feeling each strand before his thumb passed over the glistening scales under his eye.

The hushed indistinct sound that left Deceit’s lips made in response to the loving touch ignited a warmth that burned so warmly in Logan’s chest, that he wanted to just squeeze the other dark side and never ever let him go. He wanted to tilt the other’s head back and kiss him all of the ways that Deceit had kissed him last night, and to make the other’s body quake from pleasure just as he had done to Logan. He wanted to make him feel good, to make him feel as loved as he had last night. Or to merely just hold him forever, or as long as Deceit would have him for.

“Do you even know what I would do for you?” Logan whispered more to himself than to Deceit, the protective rush that came over him surprising even himself in that very moment. “I doubt that I would be able to list them all… but the things that I would do for you…” He murmured again, unable to stop himself from leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss against the dishonest side’s unscaled cheek. “I love you, you know… a lot.”

Squeezing himself out of Remus’ arms Logan turned on his side to do the same exact thing, as he leaned in feeling Remus’ calm breathing rushing over his cheeks with every exhale that came from the creative side. Pressing an equally chaste kiss against his cheek, Logan relished in the protective wave that slammed into him as he watched Remus’ eyeballs dance underneath his eyelids to a song that only he could hear. He wanted to keep that peaceful expression on both of their faces, and to never give them a reason to worry ever again.

“I love you too you know,” Logan murmured tenderly against Remus’ cheek, his voice barely even a whisper at that. “Stay asleep now… I’ll be back before you even know it, loves.”

And it was with that said, that he managed to crawl out of the two dark sides’ impressive grips and off of the bed that they had moved their midnight shenanigans to once it had started to get a hell of a lot more physical than just kissing. Looking in the mirror, Logan could see that the love bites from the both of them weren’t just solely located on his neck, as they spanned all the way down his spine and his chest. Just the sight of them, peppered all over his skin made a flush of embarrassment and yet pride all at once dust itself over his face in an impressive shade of red that even Roman would smirk at. Nevertheless, he couldn’t exactly just go walking around the dark mindspace in nothing but his boxers, because if the Patton and the others DID happen to show up looking for him… that wasn’t exactly a conversation he wanted to have in just his boxers covered in hickies for all to see.

It didn’t take him long to find a shirt on the floor though given that it was Remus’ room, granted it was patchy with plenty of rips, tears, and what he hoped was paint splatters. But he wasn’t about to wake the other two up for a quest to find his own shirt, that was for damn sure.

So he made do with what he had.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” He whispered to the air of silence where his lovers remained sleeping, and with that last warning, he quickly ducked out of the room trying to remain as silent as he could.

Standing in the kitchen first thing in the morning was a new experience for the logical side.

Usually Patton or Roman was the ones to cook, with both Logan and Virgil waking up to the sound of them calling them down. There had never really been a reason for Logan to cook anything with them around, given that any food they wanted was right there in the fridge he had never needed to. However, feeling increasingly out of his depth, Logan wracked his mind like it was the day of a final he hadn’t studied for. Desperately trying to think of something that he knew for a fact that he could make somewhat decently, and not burn down the entire kitchen in the process.

Eggs.

“Eggs!” Logan repeated as relief washed through him, there were so many ways to cook eggs and in the very least he could do all of them to some degree of success. “I’ll make them an omelet, they can’t stand the texture of scrambled or over-easy eggs. I’ve seen them eat an omelet, that’ll do.” He coached himself as he scrambled around for the ingredients, they could have omelets and the muffins he had brought in last night.

It would be perfect.

No mistakes whatsoever.

“Logan?” Before the logical side in question even had a chance to answer the call of his name from the bedroom, there was an almost immediate sound of a scuffle followed by the undeniable noise of a whine like a poor wounded dog left by the roadside. Just the sound of it was like a javelin through Logan’s chest, as his mouth remained open frozen in that split moment of the answer that was supposed to come out. “Logan!”

He had never before been so desperate to answer, and yet unable to all at the same time. He had in the very least thought that the two would remain asleep while he was cooking, and the surprise… well, it was like someone had stolen the air right out of his lungs. It was like someone had simultaneously taken away any answer that he could have given at that moment with all of the urgency that had been placed on the sole word that was his name.

It had rendered him completely speechless.

At least, until he heard the rapid scrambling of footsteps practically galloping down the hall meer seconds before Remus, still in his boxers, slid into view. The look on the creative side’s face said it all, in the second where the two of them locked eyes. The sheer desperation mixed with complete and utter heartbreak that had turned Remus’ face as pale as a corpse, making the actual makeup on his face become extremely obvious. In the few moments that it had taken to get to the kitchen, his eyes were already glassy. Glassy in the kind of way that eyes were right before the tears became even more obvious, glassy in the kind of way someone got before the sobs erupted like a spewing volcano destroying everything in its path.

The eggs cooking on the stove were entirely forgotten in Logan’s mind.

“You!” Remus began with a hiccup before practically launching himself across the kitchen in order to get to Logan.

Logan couldn’t help but to stumble a little as the full weight of the Duke slammed into him, as the other side clung to his shirt and wrapped his arms around the logical side as if he were an octopus trying to constrict his prey. Logan could only hold the other tighter, in an effort to not bump into the surface of the stove and burn himself from the full force of Remus hugging him as if he were the last person alive in their own little world. It didn’t help that he could already feel a slight dampness on his shoulder, as the beginning of Remus’ tears seeped through.

“I’m sorry!” Logan hastily began, a thousand apologies already building upon his tongue at his apparent fuck-up. “I was just going to make some breakfast for you two and-”

Before he could even finish Remus cut him off with a near dizzying kiss that left him gasping for both air and another kiss.

“No..no no…” The creative side mumbling bruisingly against his lips, shaking his head with every word as if cursing himself. “You don’t have to apologize for leaving for anything, I jumped to conclusions way too fast and I got scared. You’re… you’re your own side and you can choose to do what you like, you don’t have to check in with us first. I just.. I woke up and I didn’t see you, I.. I…” Remus licked his lips, tasting the salt from his own tears on them in just those short few seconds, before he leaning in and stealing away Logan’s words once again with yet another kiss. That left them both rather breathless as he pinned Logan against the oven, just to make sure that the other was actually really and truly there in the flesh. “I got scared, I thought that it was a dream, the best I’d ever had and gone when I woke up…” Remus let the silence that ended his words speak for itself, there was no way that he could openly admit to both he and Deceit having that severe of separation anxiety while keeping up their chaotic persona in the eyes of the light sides.

But then again… Logan wasn’t exactly a light side anymore.

Remus leaned into Logan’s touch as the logical side cupped his cheek, whining like a dog that had been left abandoned on a leash for far too long. And when Logan’s cool lips met his, it was like the first rain after a blazing forest fire washing away all of the heat Remus couldn’t help but to melt into the other’s gentle caring grasp. He had been touched before, but nothing ever so open and loving as the skin on skin contact that he was getting right now. Deceit had always been good for a hug or cuddling, but even then he almost never took off his gloves or long sleeves, so feeling the warmth of another side, of Logan, felt… good.

It was an actual honest to god good feeling, out of so many wrong ones that had occupied his life so far.

Peppering the other side’s face in small kisses Logan felt that softness inside of him warm at the purely joyous expression written all over Remus’ face, “I love you,” He softly whispered, “And I love Deceit, if there ever comes a time that I will have to leave for anything… I can promise you with everything that I hold dear and everything that is me… I will talk to you two about it. I will not just up and leave you, and I will not cut my existence off from you two as if you never existed to me.” He laid one last kiss over Remus’ lips, sealing the promise that he had just uttered between them. “You two matter to me, and you will always matter. No matter what.”

Worming his arms around Logan’s waist, Remus nestled his face into the side of the other’s neck where the dark purple and blue love marks from just last night still proudly stood out on the logical side’s pale skin. Remus kissed those marks, all the way up to the underside of Logan’s jaw until he felt him squirm as the creative side’s breath rushed out tickling him. It made Remus smirk almost proudly against Logan’s skin, before giving it a little nibble creating yet another mark to go with the dozens he and Deceit had made last night.

But unfortunately, even he knew that reality couldn’t be chased away with a couple of sweet kisses just like that, the words that Logan had promised just last night crashing back into him.

The whine that left Logan’s lips when he pulled back would have been adorable, had he not had other things on in his mind. “Are you going to have to go back today?” He suddenly asked, shifting the mood almost instantly with his sharp worry focused words as his fingers dug into Logan’s hips. He had said that Logan could go, he had said that Logan could tell the others if he needed to, and if so… then he needed to stick with it. Despite however much pain, it would cause him to see Logan leave through that door, without being able to even help him deal with the others. “They’ll ask questions, and.. and they’ll notice that you’re not there in the morning. They’ll come down here and drag you away from us, they’ll rip us away from you, they’ll lock you away in a tower so big that even I can’t climb it, and they’ll-”

He would have gone on and on, adding to his own anxieties about just what the other light sides would do if they had found out Logan had spent the night with them. He could have rambled until even Deceit was awake, or he would have had Logan’s cool lips not gently touched his own.

It was a small peck more than anything, and yet it silenced him instantly.

“Not today,” Was Logan’s answer, as his warm breath washed over Remus’ lips, “Today is about all of us. We’ll move my room after we have breakfast together, you can help me with my new makeover and Dee can help with my wardrobe, and we’re going to have a fantastic day together. No light sides involved whatsoever, they can wait until I feel like talking, not the other way around.” With another peck to his lips, Remus felt all of his tense muscles relaxing all at once. “All will be well today, no matter what tomorrow brings.”

Remus could have cried, or he would have cried even more if not for the fact that he didn’t want to further ruin his makeup by crying all of it off or the presentation of his own mustache. Along with the fact that Logan’s sweet simple smile seemed to chase away any wayward emotion that would have sent his tears off like a rocket launcher.

A tiny smile curled on the ends of his lips, “Okay.” He merely whispered before leaning down giving Logan the very same peck that he had given him, just on the end of his nose.

They would be okay. Logan wouldn’t leave them, and if he did then even then everything would be okay. Logan would fight for them, just as they would fight for Logan through thick and thin. They wouldn’t lose him, and he wouldn’t lose them no matter what decided to happen that could possibly interrupt their daily existence. They would be okay. They would be okay. They would be okay.

“Now,” Logan began, his hand rubbing Remus’ cheek yet again, making that whine crawl right out of the other’s throat once again. “Go wake up Dee, breakfast is on the way.”

“Yes sir,” Remus practically purred before stealing one last kiss, before making a mad scramble for the bedroom that they had all been sharing. Most likely to body slam the bed and wake up the deeply sleeping Dee.

They were all together now.

They would all be okay.

Logan would ensure it, whether Patton and the others liked it or not.

#logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #remus sanders #ts remus #ts remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #ts deceit #ts deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #intruloceit #romantic intruloceit #ts sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sanders sides fanfiction

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