#cait writes

You’d gotten a hint that today was one of the rougher days when you had stopped by the garage, only to be greeted with chaos. A horde of annoyed customers complaining about the mechanics taking too long, Shannon shouting across the garage for things to be done faster, and broken car parts scattered everywhere (one looking suspiciously like it had just been smashed to hell with a wrench). The only mechanic who was still there was Driver, who was tightening a bolt with a little too much force, and you knew he was miserable. He’d never had a problem when it was only him working in the garage with a decent workload- he could focus on the sound of metal on metal, engines rumbling nearby, and he could be completely in his element. It was when other people got involved that things got messy, like they usually did. Driver kept the radio and police scanner going during his side hustle for a reason, and people demanding for him to hurry up or do things the way they asked was the fastest way for his temper to come back with a vengeance. He couldn’t do anything about it with Shannon there though, and he didn’t exactly want to deal with the fallout of getting physical with a guy who kept demanding to know when the suspension on his truck would be finished so he could get the hell home.

It wasn’t until Driver got home from his other job that you really knew today had been rough. He threw the bag containing his cut of the job hard enough against the corner that you heard it thud against the wall, his eyes burning with a silent fury that only came when clients decided they didn’t agree with the rules he set while they were in his car. You gently got up, hoping to reassure him with a gentle hand on his arm, an offer for both of you to go on a drive through the city streets until he forgot what happened. Instead, Driver caught your wrist with one gloved hand, firm but not painful as he looked you up and down a few times. Before you had time to process, you were backed up against the wall as Driver kissed you hard. His hand moved from your wrist to your hair, tangling the strands between his fingers before tightening enough to hold you firmly in place while his teeth bit down on your bottom lip. He eventually pulled back enough to look at you, panting softly and slightly loosening his grip while you got a moment to recover. He didn’t say anything (he hardly ever did), slowly taking in your body language when you finally decided to cut through the silence. “If I need you to stop, I’ll say it.”

That seemed to do it; that permission was enough for Driver to push you harder against the wall and tug your head forward for another kiss. Even when he pulled back, it wasn’t for very long, deciding instead his time was better spent sucking hickeys into your neck and leaving bite marks on your collarbone. You’d reached out to grab his shoulders, slide your hand in his hair, but the moment your hands touched him, he was capturing both of your wrists in one hand. “Don’t move.” Driver muttered roughly, his breath puffing against the crook of your neck before he used his free hand to shove up your shirt. He squeezed and dug his nails into anything he could reach- thumbs roughly going over your nipple before he grabbed a handful of your chest again, scraping his nails down your side until he grabbed your hip tight enough you could feel the beginnings of tiny bruises. Driver’s hips pressed up against you from behind, a small moan escaping you when his lips found the right spot on your neck- only to get the hand that was in your hair covering your mouth, ice blue eyes burning into you. He didn’t need to tell you to be quiet; you could tell just from the way his fingers slightly dug into your cheek that he didn’t want to hear you.

Once you nodded your confirmation to him that you’d stay silent, already feeling slightly dizzy from arousal, Driver removed his hand and brought it down between you to undo his jeans. Your hands twitched above your head, eager to help by removing your own clothes, but a slight squeeze of your wrists reminded you not to move. Tonight was just stress relief, grabbing and pushing and pulling and sinking all of his frustrations into your body so he could leave them behind. Driver wasn’t completely selfish- he was less patient than usual, but still made an effort to prep you. One finger quickly became two, scissoring apart as you bit down on your cheek to stay quiet. He wouldn’t actually punish you if you did make a noise, but it added an extra challenge that made your core pulse with desire. The fact that Driver hadn’t removed his gloves yet added to the pleasure you felt, the unusual texture of leather inside of you making you shiver. After long enough, he pulled his fingers out from you, taking a second to drag his eyes over your body. You could feel his hand on your wrists squeeze a bit, silently giving away how much he was affected by the sight of you. It made possessiveness coil low in his abdomen as he looked at you; hickeys already blooming on your neck, seeing you pressed against the wall, staying still and silent just because he told you to be… it was almost good enough to make him want you like this all the time.

Driver quickly snapped out of his brief daze, his eyes hardening with focus again as he let go of your wrists to hold your hip instead. “Don’t move your hands,” Driver murmured lowly, his voice rough and low, before he slammed into you. You rarely ever heard Driver lose control; you would just feel it, but tonight you could definitely hear it. You could hear it in the choked grunt that escaped his throat, the way his breath shook ever so slightly with each heavy exhale… and you definitely felt it. He moved roughly tonight, hard enough to push you into the wall you were pressed up against, the only thing keeping you from sliding across the floor being the tight grip Driver had on your hip. You did your best to stay quiet, biting on the inside of your cheek until the only thing that escaped were muted whimpers and moans that clawed their way out of you- and you didn’t dare to move your wrists from where Driver left them, which rewarded you with him angling his hips just enough to thrust deeper into you. You could feel your orgasm coming quickly, and judging from Driver’s pace becoming less coordinated and rougher, he wasn’t far behind you. Soon, you felt him go still, slamming into you one last time as a low groan of your name escaped his lips- and the rareness of hearing him say your name was enough for your own climax to wash over you.

After a few moments of holding you in place and panting into your shoulder, Driver pulled back and loosened his tight grip on your hip. It took all of your energy not to collapse into a heap, your thighs shaking uncontrollably from the exertion- but before you keeled over, there was a firm arm wrapped around your waist to support you. “...C’mon,” Driver murmured lowly, guiding you over to the sofa to get you to sit down. A soft sigh of relief escaped you when you were no longer standing, and you tilted your head back as you listened to Driver move around. Eventually, the sofa dipped next to you with his weight, a gentle hand brushing the hair from your eyes before resting on your shoulder. When you cracked an eye open to look at Driver, you saw him slumped into the sofa, looking more relaxed than he had all day.

“What does it feel like?” Tommy regrets the question as soon the words are out of his mouth. He doesn’t even have to look at Spencer to know that the man has tensed next to him, grip on the balcony turning his knuckles white. “Sorry I-“ Tommy fades and purses his lips. A breeze gusts past, loud in the silence that stretches between them.

 “Cold.” Spencer says, and Tommy startles, blinking as he turns to look at Spencer whose gaze is distant, locked onto something in the distance Tommy may never see. It takes a minute for him to register what Spencer is saying, and before he can interject, tell Spencer that he doesn’t owe Tommy anything, Spencer has decided to continue to speak. “It’s bone-chilling. I always feel like I can never get warm.” Spencer pauses, licking his lips then turning to look at Tommy. “Your magic is so warm.”

In hindsight, he really should have known better. He never could seem to get away from conversing with all of his people. Who could blame him? They were quite good company, and they always had a way of convincing him to stay with them for “just a little longer.” By the time he finished celebrating with everyone and insisted that he really should be on his way, the sky had grown dark and was tinged with the fiery reds and pinks of the setting sun. So much for not staying long.

As he bid goodbye to the last of his citizens, Roman sighed dreading the thought of the long walk he had to get back to the mind palace. Silently, he cursed himself for staying as long as he did when he knew he’d be too tired and hungry to properly create a steed or anything to get him back home. The door to the imagination was still quite far off on foot. To be fair, he really had intended to only stay for a short while this time. He sighed again before shrugging off his regrets. What’s done is done he supposed.

Roman started to whistle as he walked, a merry tune to cut through the silence that draped itself over the landscape as he entered the forest. It certainly was much more…creepy than he remembered it being out here. Taking a deep breath, Roman shook off his discomfort, looking around to admire his creation instead. His whistling slowly faded as he looked around and tried to keep his mind away from the less than pleasant thoughts that kept floating around his mind. However, as the sky became steadily darker and the trees shaded the moon, Roman’s uneasiness only grew.

Walking a bit faster, he tried to block out the soft whisper of the wind through the trees that sounded like voices filling the air. It was just his imagination, He told himself, aware of the fact of how ironic that was. The hairs on the back of Roman’s neck tingled with the sense that he was being watched by something just out of sight. It—It was nothing, just his overactive mind. Those were certainly not footsteps behind him, no matter how much he thought he could hear a second step just a beat behind his. It was just his own boots stomping against the ground and kicking up the leaves. A momentary gasp escaped Roman’s lips as he thought he saw eyes glinting out from behind a tree, but no, wait. It was just the barely visible moonlight catching on the dewdrops of the leaves.

Get it together, Roman. He chastised himself, shaking his head. Creepy and horrifying things were Remus’s territory, and Roman knew his kingdom well enough to know he was nowhere near Remus’s part of the imagination. So, there was nothing to worry about, and that was that. He was just too on edge after a long day and a fierce battle. That’s all there was to it. There wasn’t really anything lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump him, it was just his own thoughts running around and making him jumpy. Roman took another deep breath as he tried to push away the thoughts that were plaguing him.

This was ridiculous. He wasn’t scared of the dark or the trees. He was a prince for crying out loud. He—Roman stopped in his tracks. He could have sworn—those weren’t footsteps behind him…were they? Drawing his sword, Roman carefully started back up, his mind racing, his body tense. Again, he heard a definite second pair of steps behind him, but when he whirled around, sword at the ready, no one could be seen. Gulping, he walked faster, just trying to get through the woods. The rational part of his brain screamed that he controlled this place—that he could make it stop, that it wasn’t real, but that part of his brain was starting to drown in his fear. He just needed to get home.

Roman picked up his pace, trying to keep his breaths even and his eyes ahead of him. It was darker now, the leaves above completely blocking out the moon. The breeze had disappeared, but the whispers of the trees had not. They were whispering words that Roman had to strain to hear, and even when he caught a few snippets, he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. But they were whispering.

Roman was running now, desperate to get out. Desperate to get home. He’d dropped his sword somewhere along the way and couldn’t clear his mind enough to summon it again. His thoughts whirled around his head, any semblance of rationale getting caught up in his panic. A flash of yellow eyes behind the trees caught his attention—a flash all too wary and constant to be dewdrops this time. The eyes followed him, moving alongside him and keeping pace with ease. Yet the creature behind the eyes remained completely silent even as Roman’s feet pounded loudly on the earth, cracking twigs and rustling leaves.

The footsteps behind him increased their pace as he increased his own. Roman could feel them gaining on him. He could feel it. He could hear it. Twigs snapping right behind him, leaves rustling against the ground just a second after his own stirred them up. He chanced a glance behind him, but there was still nothing there. There was nothing there, yet he could hear the steps getting closer. They were getting faster, even though he was going the same pace as before. He wasn’t going to be fast enough. The trees, the eyes, the footsteps. They were gaining on him. They were—they were going to get to him. He was too slow. They were too fast. Everything was too much. With a pained cry, Roman stumbled to his knees and curled into himself, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut.

Logically, he knew he was in the imagination. Logically, he knew that he could stop this. It was just thoughts come to life. That was what the imagination did. And the imagination was his domain after all. He was the one that was causing all of these things to become real. But those thoughts were drowned out by his fear as quickly as they surfaced, and since when had imagination followed the rules of logic anyway. He was too disoriented to think rationally. Too tired to defend himself. Too scared to do anything other than curl up and desperately cover his ears.

Then there were arms around him, and he was shaking. It had caught up. Whatever was making the footsteps had caught him. Or maybe it was whatever had lurked in the trees, watching his every move. It had finally made its move and pounced. Or maybe the trees had finally had enough of him disturbing their home and had reached out to trap him forever in their embrace.

Roman gasped, trying not to cry as thoughts flew across his mind faster than he had time to fully process them. Thoughts of him decaying here forever alone. Thoughts of being torn limb from limb by the mysterious monsters in the woods. Thoughts of things he couldn’t see twisting their hands around his neck. Thoughts that he couldn’t manage to escape. Thoughts that swirled around him sweeping him deeper into his panic. But then he felt a gentle hand on his back. He felt himself being pulled into someone’s chest and felt the person begin rocking back and forth gently. This was…this was nice?

When nothing immediately tore him apart or wrapped suffocatingly around his body, he risked taking a shuddering breath. The hands around him tensed slightly before one of the hands came up to gently cup his head and press it to the scratchy fabric beneath his face. It took a while, but slowly, Roman relaxed and uncurled himself a bit. It took even longer for him to remove his hands from his ears, choosing instead to grip the figure in front of him and bury his face in the costume. Taking another shaky breath, he started to hear soft words of encouragement being muttered.

“It’s ok, Ro bro. I’ve got you. You’re ok. It wasn’t real.”

Remus. Roman tried to call for his brother, to assure him that he was ok now, but he only managed a whimper. Alright so maybe he wasn’t ok quite yet.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’ll get you out of here, k?” Remus promised, standing and hauling Roman up with him. Once they were standing, Remus draped Roman’s arms over his shoulder and pulled him onto his back before Roman could even protest.  He was too tired to argue anyway, and still too shaken to care much as he buried his face in Remus’s scratchy costume, not daring to look up at the surrounding darkness.

A few minutes later, they finally reached the door out of the imagination. Remus bust open the door and shook away Roman’s tight grip before tossing him onto something soft. The familiar glow of the fairy lights in his room immediately calmed him as he finally let himself breathe in full.

“You ok, Ro bro?” Remus asked, voice unusually quiet. “Those were—that was unusual for your side, huh?”

Roman shuddered at the thought of the dark forest and of the creatures lurking there.

“I’m—I’m ok,” He sighed. “Um, thank you, Re.”

“Ew, don’t thank me, you’ve never said thank you in your life,” Remus scoffed, tone shifting immediately as he plopped down next to Roman on the bed. Roman huffed indignantly, trying to shake off any lingering panic.

“Well, excuse me, for being grateful,” he tsked, rolling his eyes.

“You’re not excused,” Remus grinned, reaching over to flick Roman who quickly ducked away.

“You ruined the moment. We were having a bonding moment,” Roman complained swatting at Remus as he continued trying to flick him.

“Gross,” Remus gagged. Roman tsked again, pouting as he turned away. Remus just snickered, falling backwards onto the bed and not getting up. A short silence followed their bickering until Remus sat up and stared at Roman, studying his face uncomfortably closely.

“You know that it’s dangerous to be in the imagination after dark when you’re this exhausted Ro Ro,” He remarked, poking at Roman’s cheek. “I thought doing stupid things was my specialty.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Roman defended, pushing his brother’s hand away with another eyeroll. “I mean, I was busy fighting the dragon witch and then the people wanted to celebrate, and I couldn’t just refuse them, and—and…I guess I ended up staying a bit too long.”

“Please, ‘a bit too long’ my ass. If I hadn’t sensed something was up, you’d be caught in your own head until morning,” Remus pointed out, looking pleased with himself.

“You’re not helping,” Roman grumbled, glaring at his brother. Remus grinned and shrugged.

“Well, brother dear, if you’re ok, I have an appointment with a certain snake and a bag of rats.”

“A bag of—ok, I don’t want to know. It’s—yeah, I’m fine.” Roman replied, waving him off as Remus stood up. To be honest, he wasn’t keen on being left alone again, but he wasn’t about to admit to his brother of all people that despite his efforts, the thoughts still lurked in the corners of his mind. The dark corners of his room had never seemed to intimidating before, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Sometimes, things from the imagination could leak out into the Mindscape. It had happened before, granted only when one of them had left the door open, but what if the thing in the woods was still here? What if Remus hadn’t shut the door all the way when they came back? What if whatever had been making the footsteps had followed him? He'd never know until it was too late. The thought of roots writhing up from the dirt and trapping him to the ground as they suffocated him flashed through his mind and he quickly tried to push it away. But what if it happened this time? What if whatever was in the woods would drag him back before he could reach his sword? What if the monster with the yellow eyes was waiting in the shadows for him to let down his guard? What then?

Remus tilted his head, studying him for a moment before throwing himself back onto the bed, snapping into softer clothes and beginning to burrow into Roman’s nest of blankets.

“What the—" Roman muttered, pulled out of his thoughts at the motion.

“On second thought. It’s too comfortable here. Guess good ole Jan will have to wait,” Remus grinned, wiggling around to make himself comfortable.

“You don’t have to stay, Remus. I told you I’m all good,” Roman insisted, not really sure why he was arguing but feeling the need to anyway.

“Too late. You’re stuck with me for tonight,” Remus shrugged, conjuring up a deodorant stick and popping off the lid. Roman cringed slightly as he watched his brother take a huge bite of the deodorant.

“You—I’m really fine, though,” Roman tried again weakly. Remus gave him a weird look before rolling his eyes and sitting up slightly.

“Did you forget already? I can hear what’s going on up there Robro. I know that you don’t wanna be alone right now,” he said, poking at Roman’s forehead as he spoke. Roman paled, looking away. How could he forget that Remus could hear intrusive thoughts. He winced when he thought of what else he might have heard since they’d started getting along again.

“We can have a movie marathon like we used to. As long as I get to pick a few,” Remus suggested when Roman didn’t say anything, lighting up at his idea. Before Roman had the chance to answer, Remus had already grabbed the prince’s laptop and was pulling up movies to watch

“As long as you don’t pick anything with gore,” Roman gave in quickly, sighing softly. At this point, he knew Remus probably wouldn’t leave no matter how much he argued anyway.

“Boo, no fun,” Remus pouted, backspacing whatever he’d been typing in the search bar.

Roman only snorted before quickly running to the bathroom and getting changed out of his dirty prince costume. Instead, he put on some silky pajamas and settled himself beside Remus as his brother started the movie he’d picked, Frankenweenie. Roman glanced at Remus with a raised eyebrow receiving an unhinged grin in return. He knew Remus only picked such a tame movie for his sake; and he felt a wave of appreciation wash over him, almost drowning out the lingering fear that floated in his head. He settled deeper into the blankets and grinned softly.

“Hey, Remus.” he whispered, as the beginning scene began to play.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Remus glanced over at him and made a face.

“I thought I told you to stop that.”

Roman shrugged, pulling the blankets closer around him. Now that he was finally warm and the fear and adrenaline were fading, he felt the weight of his exhaustion hit him.

“Thought you should know,” he mumbled with a yawn, “You’re—You’re a good brother. I’m glad you’re back.”

Remus was quiet for a while—a feat in itself. Roman would have been worried about the abnormally long silence had he not been on the verge of falling asleep already. Instead, he simply let his head bump against Remus’ shoulder and let his eyes slip closed with another yawn. In fact, he had almost completely drifted off when Remus finally spoke up.

“You’re—You really think I’m a good brother?” he asked, voice unusually shaky.

“’Course,” Roman answered automatically sitting up a little, “but if you ever repeat that, I’ll murder you with my bare hands...and my sword.”

Remus snorted.

“You can try. Sounds like a good time,” he snickered reaching over to flick Roman’s head successfully this time.

“Rude,” Roman mumbled in response rubbing the sore spot on his forehead.

“You’re so sappy when you’re tired,” Remus cackled, noting the fact that Roman didn’t even try to get back at him for the flick. Instead, his brother just huffed, letting his head fall back against Remus’s shoulder. Remus rolled his eyes but let him get comfy again. At least he could no longer hear the swirling thoughts that had plagued Roman since he’d reached him in the imagination. As everything settled down again, Roman drifted off quickly. So quickly that he almost didn’t hear Remus’s next words.

“You’re a good brother too, Robro,” he whispered. “I missed you.”