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duskandcobalt · 2 months

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Everywhere, Everything: Chapter One

Chapter Summary: When he wakes up alone in bed, Azriel is left to consider the events of the night he'd spent with Elain as well as how they'd ended up in bed together in the first place.

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: If you've been following along on my WIP Wednesdays, you'd know this fic is a long time coming. I am very nervous but very excited to start getting this out. Thank you to everyone that's been hyping up all the puzzle pieces I've shared over the past couple of months. The next chapter should be up next week if everything goes to plan.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

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She’ll break your heart, Az.

It had started as a joke - a firm hand clasped on his shoulder as Rhys grimaced and told him to please, for the love of God, stay away from Elain when Azriel had quietly enquired about the middle Archeron sister after seeing her for the first time all those years ago.

Azriel wasn’t quite sure how it had come to be that he and Cassian had found themselves doing manual labor early on that Sunday morning when it was Rhys that had been trying to impress the father of his new girlfriend. Nevertheless, he’d ended up on the roof of an unfamiliar house, shirtless and sweating under the blistering morning sun as he helped Cassian fix a few broken tiles on the roof of the Archeron family home while Rhysand watched from the ground, shouting up instructions that Cassian and Azriel both chose to ignore.

He’d been mid eye-roll, watching his friend preen in the reflection of a window, twisting this way and that to flex the muscles in his abdomen just right when the gauzy curtains of the window they were stood in front of parted and Azriel caught his very first glimpse of Elain Archeron.

She’d stared at them in shock, bleary eyes widening slightly as her gaze flickered between the two men standing directly outside her bedroom window. Cassian, having met her already a few weeks ago, had given her a bright smile and a wave and then quickly disappeared, leaving Azriel standing still as night as he continued to stare at the girl staring back at him.

Those big brown eyes of hers had flickered down to his bare chest for a fleeting moment before they were back on his face. His own eyes had quickly traveled over her in turn. He catalogued the bare legs, the little white pajama bottoms that were dotted with what looked to be tiny roses just barely skimmed the very tops of her thighs. The thin white straps of the matching tank top were stark against her lightly tanned shoulders and her hair was a tousled crown of chestnut waves that framed her pretty face.

Azriel had only just remembered where he was, had only just realised that he was a stranger standing on a roof and staring into the bedroom of a girl who clearly had no idea that she’d be waking up to two idiots on her roof that morning. He’d only just come back to his senses enough to sheepishly raise his hand and wave to her when the curtains were yanked shut and all he could see was the shadow of her frantically ducking out of view.

She’d avoided him that entire day. Wouldn’t even look him in the eyes as they sat across the table from each other at lunch. Hadn’t said a single word to him other than a whispered thank you when he insisted on helping her clear the dining table. They were such limited interactions and yet Azriel hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her and couldn’t help himself when he nonchalantly brought her up as he drove Rhys and Cassian back to the apartment they had all shared at the time.

That had been the first time Rhys had delivered his warning but it certainly hadn’t been the last.

Rhys had said that she would break his heart but Azriel had always seen that comment for exactly what it was which was nothing less than a thinly veiled warning, a polite way of Rhys telling Azriel to stay away from his girlfriend’s sister as if she’d be the one to ruin him when they both knew what kind of track record Azriel had with women. It was Rhys’ roundabout way of letting him know that Elain was the type of girl with her head on her shoulders, the type of girl that preferred a steady relationship while Azriel had never had much interest in maintaining anything more than a rotation of regular, no strings attached acquaintances.

Azriel had laughed off the warning each time but it had stuck with him and he knew deep down that even though he’d never felt that sort of instant draw to someone else before, he’d never be good enough for Elain. Still, even armed with that knowledge that she was so far out of his league, he couldn’t bring himself to stay away and Azriel had inevitably found himself finding any excuse to be around Elain in those first few months.

It had all started innocently enough - timid looks and shy conversations in those early days when they found themselves spending more and more time together after it had become clear that Rhys and Feyre were in it for the long haul. That time had only increased after Nesta had finally broken down and admitted that she liked having Cassian around for more than just sex. Numbers were exchanged, casual hangouts were planned, and Elain had opened up to him slowly but surely - various facets of her personality unfurling as the months and years went by and she grew increasingly comfortable in his presence.

Rhys had continued to deliver that warning all the while - each and every time he caught Azriel looking at Elain for a little too long, laughing a little too loud at her jokes. Each time the two of them snuck away for a drive or a walk around the garden for a moment of quiet amidst all the noise. All those times they’d stayed up together after everyone else had gone god knows where to do god knows what and Rhys would come downstairs early in the morning to see his friend fast asleep on the couch, the plush blanket Elain favored carefully draped and tucked around Azriel’s body.

Rhys had reminded him again, one last time, before he’d left the two of them alone together just last night but Azriel had waved him off just like he had every other time the warning had been delivered to him because he’d never expected to actually have to heed it. Not after all these years. Not when nothing had ever happened between them apart from a lingering hug or a kiss on the cheek. Not when Elain had always been with some boy or another the entire time he’d known her. Even though she spent at least a couple evenings of the week on a couch with Azriel, her feet in his lap as they caught up on their days.

She was his friend. One of his best friends. Elain had called him that a few times over the years and it had made his heart swell with boy joy and disappointment because while he’d never admit it, her choosing him in any way - deeming him her best friend - meant the world to him.

He was good friends with Feyre and he had a strong bond with Nesta built on a mutual understanding of their similar personalities, but Elain had been different from the beginning. That initial attraction of his towards Elain had morphed into something else entirely as he got to know her and then before he knew it, she’d become one of the most important people in his life.

It’s why he’d decided to sit down and make her that necklace just a few years into knowing her even though he’d never once before made a piece for a friend in all the years he’d been making and selling jewelry in his spare time.

Azriel had taken his time with that necklace, meticulously hammering out the gold until it was exactly the right shape. He’d carefully engraved a delicate rose into the front of the small pendant, fashioned after a picture she’d sent him of a rose that she’d grown. And then, because he was never able to help himself, he had added the tiniest ‘A’ to the back of the gold oval.

It had satisfied some small part of him to offer that necklace to her on her birthday. To know that something he’d made with his own two hands specifically for her would rest against her skin. He’d never forget the unfiltered joy that had spread across her entire face when she opened the box. H’ed never forget how eagerly she’d turned and lifted her hair so that he could fasten the chain around her neck.

He’d certainly never forget the way she’d turned back towards him after he’d secured the clasp, one of her hands clutching the pendant while the other pressed gently against the side of his neck as she raised up on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek that was so different from any friendly kiss they’d exchanged as a greeting or a goodbye in the years before.

It was the first of those moments. The beginning of instances that were few and far between in which Azriel allowed himself to believe that maybe the affection he felt for her may actually be mutual.

There’d been a handful of those almosts over the years since that night of her birthday. Moments in which Azriel thought that Elain had wanted him to lean in, to kiss her. To take the hand that seemed to live in the space above her knee whenever they were sat next to each other and slide it higher up her thigh. There were times he wanted to stay back a little longer, follow her upstairs at the end of the night instead of heading back to his own home.

He’s caught her looking at him a time or ten. Saw the jealousy that lit in her eyes when one of his idiot friends thought it appropriate to bring up the girls he’d taken home over the years in casual conversation. Girls he never saw for more than a night or two every few weeks. Girls that never really even made it further than the couch in his living room if they even made it into his house to begin with.

It had never made sense to him, that quiet jealousy that radiated from her. Not when she had always been with someone in the time he’d known her. Although he certainly hadn’t missed that despite those boys that she kept around for a year or two before moving on to the next, it was always his necklace strung around her neck. Even when one of those boys had gifted her a pretty necklace dotted with tiny pearls as a Christmas gift, Azriel had been shamefully delighted that it had never even made it out of the jewelry box on her dressing table.

But because things never went quite right for him, all those stolen moments had come to an abrupt halt after Elain’s father had unexpectedly passed away a few months ago.

His calls and texts had all gone ignored for a few excruciating weeks after the funeral and he’d panicked one night after he couldn’t take the silence anymore, driving to her house only to find her kneeling in the garden and hastily pulling up weeds in the dark. Her hands had been covered in countless cuts and scrapes - some new, some already scarred over - an indication that it hadn’t been the first night she’d spent taking out her emotions in the garden.

Azriel had silently guided her inside, set her on the powder room counter and carefully cleaned and bandaged her wounds. When she’d finally broken the silence and whispered that she couldn’t bear to be in the house alone, Azriel had found himself sharing her bed and holding her close as she cried herself to sleep. It had continued like that for an entire fortnight, tears gradually easing with each day that passed until one night she’d looked at him with something other than sadness in her eyes. He hadn’t known what to do when her fingers slid under his shirt, her lips hot against his neck. But she’d paused and pulled back at the exact second he opened his mouth and said her name in a questioning tone, turning her back to him and shuffling to the corner of the bed. It was a moment that ended just as quickly as it had started and while they hadn’t spoken of it since, Azriel had never forgotten.

He had each and every one of those touches and glances carefully stored away in the back of his mind. It was a never ending rolodex of examples of the way the line between them had slowly started to erode with time until only the faintest streak remained.

That line had been completely obliterated last night - initially smudged when she’d walked into his house in a dress that clung to each and every curve in a way that made him want to bite his fist like a goddamn cartoon character and then it had been erased from existence a few hours later with the slightest press of her lips to the very corner of his mouth.

He certainly hadn’t expected the turn of events but it had all happened so seamlessly. It had all felt so right.

He’d been happy to see that line go, thrilled to fall asleep without a single thing between them - his arm slung heavily around her bare waist, her fingertips delicately tracing patterns over the sharp line of his jaw.

Azriel had awoken this morning with a small, satisfied smile on his face and the heady taste of her still lingering on his tongue. He reached across the bed, eyes still closed, fingertips seeking out the smooth skin that he’d memorized every inch of last night. His smile faltered when he came up empty - one eye peeking open only to find cold, crumpled sheets and an empty space where Elain should’ve been.

He shut his eyes, turning onto his back and pressing the heel of his palms tight against his eyes as he counted to sixty.

It was something he’d done as a child - squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could stand as he counted a full minute in his head, desperately hoping and praying that the scars that covered his hands would disappear after the minute was up and he opened his eyes. But just like his scars had remained in place each and every time he deluded himself into believing that his trick would work, he hadn’t been able to use sheer will to make Elain appear safe and sound in his bed again.

Azriel knew immediately, without a shadow of doubt, that Elain had left. He knew how things had ended the last time things had gotten a little too intimate between them. That had only been a heated look at a vulnerable time in her life and it had sent her running off across the country so he dreaded to think what the events of last night would result in.

Still, he begrudgingly sat up and looked around for signs that maybe she hadn’t actually left. That maybe she’d just gone to the bathroom or that she was just downstairs making coffee and keeping his dog company. But his house was quiet. The only audible sounds were the subtle ticking of a clock and the soft howl of the winter wind as it rattled his bedroom windows.

He thought back, searching for signs that would explain her sudden disappearance. If it wasn’t for the light smears of dark red lipstick across his chest - his hips - he might’ve thought he’d dreamt the whole damn thing. But it hadn’t been a dream. She’d been here. In his bed. The intoxicating scent of her perfume still lingered on his sheets.

A sense of dread filled him as he considered that maybe he’d crossed a line, taken something that she hadn’t offered. But he knew that wasn’t right. All he could remember was the affirmative words, the sureness of her hands. The way she’d asked, begged him for more. The way she’d grasped at his skin, tugging him closer and closer until there wasn’t even a slip of empty space left in between them.

She’d wanted it. She’d wanted him. Just as much as he’d wanted her.

It’d been dangerous to get close to her to begin with, even just as friends. Letting her know him was a level of intimacy he usually avoided because it left him open to a world of hurt if things went south but he’d been too far gone last night to even chastise himself for the thoughts that were better suited to a teenage boy. Too distracted by the feel of her throat under his lips to wonder if it was a mistake to be touching her at all.

And now that they’d done everything they’d avoided all these years and he’d found himself alone with the sun shining bright in his room, highlighting the empty space beside him, he was afraid that maybe Rhysand had been right all along.

#elriel fic #elriel #azriel x elain #my writing #acotar fanfiction #elain x azriel #azriel x elain fanfiction #no one ask me how many times i've rewritten this goddamn chapter #it was my problem child

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bonnibuckets · 10 months

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— ambivalent | leon kennedy

synopsis: falling for your fwb isn't the greatest idea

content: leon x gn! reader, fwb, implication of sex, angst no comfort, slight violence, ooc possibly lol

words: 1.2k

note: sorry again for being inactive ALSO I found out how to do a gradient on text @kennedyswhore thank you for showing me!! also credit to @dilfverz for the “mature images” that i’m using taglist 🏷️: @ghostkennedy @adaelines @konigbabe @meowsiee @antidesire @alewesker @d34ng3l

You knew deep down that getting involved with him was dangerous, but you ignored the gnawing feeling in your stomach. In the same way that you ignored your feelings whenever he kissed you but fell to his knees when he saw Ada. Or how he would cast you aside whenever she needed him, and even the feeling that tugged at your heart when the sheets were empty when you woke up in Leon’s bed.

By touch and by smell you’d know him blind and even in death, but you didn’t know if he could say the same. You knew this isn’t what you wanted or deserved, but you couldn't walk away, he was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from reaching for your fix.

—

You were staring off as Leon kissed your neck and his voice broke you out of your trance. “Sorry,” you said manually blinking for a second before turning to him. “You've been off lately,” he caressed your cheek tenderly. It was as if he cared about your feelings and not that his plaything wasn't having fun with him. His touch was supposed to be comforting, but it had the reverse effect on you, you tried not to jerk your body in the opposite direction “Just been in my head” you said trying to avoid the topic.

A voice in your head was screaming at him not to push it anymore– scared of where it might lead. It was becoming harder to ignore as Leon kept poking and prodding, “Come on tell me” he said pushing hair behind your ear. You quickly tried to form a lie but you were frozen like a deer in headlights. You were struggling to find the words as your throat let out strange noises.

You knew you couldn’t keep pretending and lying to yourself “I-I” you stuttered and looked away– ripping yourself from his touch and warmth. “Love,” you said in a broken sentence, broken like how your heart felt. You debated not saying anything after that but you’d already opened your mouth so you figured enough damage was done already “Y-you”.

The silence that followed was deafening and you didn’t know what to do, you were completely paralyzed by what came out of your mouth and what Leon would say or do.

It seemed like hours had passed before he spoke, “We talked about this” he said sounding annoyed. “I know” you whispered, you knew of what you agreed on– what deal you made, a deal with the devil. You got to have what you most wanted– which was Leon but at the expense of your heart.

“Then why did you say that” he groaned getting up, you panicked and it was clear in your voice “I-I didn’t mean to!” you pleaded as tears formed in your eyes. You couldn't handle another cold night alone. You wished Leon would've miraculously developed deeper feelings for you and opened his eyes, but he’d much rather remain blind by his ignorance. You hoped he’d laugh and wrap you in his arms as he’d say “I love you too”. You prayed that his heart secretly wanted you and that this was all an attempt to save himself some face, but alas your wishes and prayers were futile.

Leon didn’t love you the way you loved him and you both knew that.

He chuckled and you felt the gravity weigh on your heart, “You didn’t…really think that I loved you right?” he said softly smirking. You knew what he was doing, he knew you’d play along to not upset him– his little perfect toy. Tonight was going to be different though– something inside you snapped and you couldn't stand to look at him. “I didn’t but I hoped you did," you said, biting the inside of your cheek. “What?” he questioned and looked down at you, “I’m done,” you said calmly as you swung your feet off the bed.

You collected your things as Leon stood there confused, you tried to walk out but he stepped in front of you. “Move please,” you said too tired to fight, “No we’re not done,” he said mostly to himself as if he was trying to convince his mind. “I want to leave,” you said feeling a little scared– an avalanche was forming and you could practically see it coming your way.

“N-no” his voice was unsteady, maybe because he knew his toy was tired of being played with— or maybe his ego was too high to realize that he needed you. Someone to fill the void in his heart and to be there to lift him up, but he ruined the only chance he had.

“Please Leon,” you said looking down at your feet, you needed him to move before you changed your mind. Before you decided to wrap yourself back into his warmth that suffocated you.

“We’re not done” he repeated, returning to his ‘nonchalant’ attitude. “We are,” you said without much force behind it.

“Come on let’s get back in bed-” his voice was sweet like honey trying to convince you, but you wouldn’t fall into his trap. “No!” you said pushing him, “No more, I-I can't take it anymore!” you said as tears rolled down your face. “I can’t keep doing this! Pretending everything is fine, pretending that it doesn’t bother me!” you screamed holding your chest like the pain was physical and you were bleeding onto the floor.

“I can’t live like this, I can’t keep pretending…you love me,” you said finally looking up into his eyes.

He was taken aback and lost for words as you stood there and poured your soul in front of him. “I don’t understand” his voice croaked out, your brows furrowed and your fits tightened. “Understand what?!” you said, your voice gaining hostility. “I just don’t understand…where this is coming from,” he said chuckling.

Your vision went blurry as an avalanche of emotions washed over you as you lunged at him pushing him as hard as you could onto the floor, “You’re so fucking stupid!” you screamed and kicked him. “You think I was happy like this?!” tears were flowing and dripping onto him, “you think this is the life I deserve— to be treated like a fuck toy to only be discarded when I’m not needed?!”

The pain in your heart tenfold as you ‘gushed blood’ all over Leon, “You were supposed to be my friend for fucks sake” you cried and backed up. “You were supposed to be my friend Leon” you repeated thinking about everything and how it turned out. How everything went to shit, how he was your friend before a lover.

A friend before your feelings turned into more.

A friend before lips met one another.

A friend before warm flesh clashed and melted together.

A friend before he ripped your heart out.

You walked away as Leon sat on the ground and didn’t fight for you to stay anymore, he knew it was over. He knew the friendship, the ‘love’ that was there vanished— all thanks to him. He often tried to blame others or something for the misfortune that followed him around but this mistake— he couldn’t point the finger to anyone but himself. He’d gone and ruined something that could’ve been beautiful.

All because he couldn’t handle the truth.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #angst no comfort #leon kennedy angst #leon #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil leon

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glitterguts13 · 23 days

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Gallagher/Boothill, with Boothill in denial he's in labor while Gallagher is trying his best to make Boothill comfortable for the upcoming birth

(I hope that makes sense ;;)

Y'all are really craving pregnant Boothill (same tho Jesus Christ that man does something to my brain) TW: slight body horror

In all truth, Boothill wasn't completely aware of what his body could and couldn't do these days. The scientist that turned him into...whatever this was, didn't exactly leave him with an instruction manual. He learned the hard way he still needed to eat and drink, it went out the way it did before, but he couldn't taste anything that passed his lips.

He could feel it when someone touched his arm, but it was dull and muted, pain only registered when something either got ripped off or shot through, so when he woke and himself nearly doubled over in agony, concern rattled through him. However, the pain fades as quickly as it came, so Boothill does what he did best, ignores it.

As the day goes on, the pain comes and goes in waves, distracting him from work and making him miss his targets. Whatever connection was lost, or the broken sensor that was acting up, wasn't going away but getting worse.

Tomorrow, he'd find a mechanic and get it fixed tomorrow. Tonight, he wanted a drink and a strong one at that.

The bar is tucked away, but whispers on the street talked about how good it was. He didn't need anything fancy, just whiskey and some peace and quiet.

"What can I get for ya?" the man behind the bar is older, rough around the edges with tired eyes. Boothill sits atop the barstool with some effort, biting back a groan as the pain shoots through his gut and down his leg.

"Whiskey. Straight." the bartender doesn't make any further comment, and pours the glass. Boothill knocks it back in one go, slamming the glass on the counter and demanding a second.

"It's awful late, we're gonna be closing up here soon." the man comments, pouring the cyborg a refill.

"I'll get outta yer hair before then, just need something to hold me over." he knocks back the second glass, signaling for a third.

"Rough night?"

"The worst." the third glass goes down as fast as the first two, but this time he doesn't motion for a fourth. The buzz was hitting him, quicker than usual, but that was most likely because he hadn't drunk in months, the smell of it making him nauseous for who knows what reasons.

"You need a place to crash?"

"Got one. You know any mechanics around these parts?" the pain starts again, and this time, he can't hold back the hiss.

"A few," the old man stops, looks Boothill up and down, brow furrowing, "You need a mechanic or a doctor?"

Boothill opens his mouth to snap back something snarky, but the pain rips the breath from his artificial lungs and sends him toppling off the barstool.

"Fuck!" as if it wasn't bad enough something inside him was so broken it was making him feel like death, fluid was dripping down between his thighs. Wonderful, he was leaking now too.

"Come here." the bartender grabs Boothill by his arm and drags him off. Somewhere in the back, an employee lounge by the looks of it, and forces the cowboy to sit.

"'m fine old man, don't worry 'bout me." he goes to stand back up, but the pain knocks him right back down.

"I ain't worried about you," the old man hisses, "I'm worried about your baby."

The laugh that jumps from Boothill's throat startled the old man into jumping.

"You blind old man? I ain't exactly made of flesh and bone, ain't no part of me was made for having babies 'n shit like that." it would have been hilarious if the pain cramping up inside his gut wasn't making his heart rate skyrocket and his warning sensors go off in the corners of his vision.

"I've seen this shit before, besides, what do you call that?" the old man motions to the soft swell in Boothill's belly. It hadn't been there when he'd awoken, but as his body broke down and grew damaged, it wasn't exactly shocking that parts of him would dent and warp over time.

"Seriously old man, knock it off. 'M body can't have no baby. I ain't got the parts for it-" The pain all but sends him to his knees, a blinding flash of white behind his eyes.

"You sure about that?"

No, he wasn't sure at all. He didn't know what those scientists did or didn't leave inside of him when he'd been 'reborn.'

"Pretty sure."

"How long have you been in pain?"

"Since this morning." the bartender curses under his breath.

"Lay down. I'll get you some water." Boothill wants to protest, but the pain won't let him, so he lies down. One hand slid down over his belly, the hard metal had very little give to it, but it certainly was far more swollen than he remembered it being weeks ago.

Setting a glass of water nearby, the old bartender crosses his arms.

"What's your name."

"Boothill. You?" sucking in a breath, the cyborg presses his face into the pillow under him.

"Gallagher. I don't know any doctors that can tend to someone like you-" he's cut off when Boothill lets out a startled shriek.

"FUCK!" pulling his legs back, Boothill ran a trembling hand through his locks.

"Goddamn it." Gallagher rubbed his face, "I don't know anything about delivering babies."

"I'm not fuckin pregnant ya lunati-" the words cut off, the artificial heart in his chest pumping over time, fans whirling to keep him from overheating. Something hard was pushing at his 'backdoor' and finally, it clicked.

"Holy shit I'm having a baby-"

Gallagher rolls his eyes, "Yeah, good on you for figuring it out." without another word he takes up the position at the end of the sofa, all but prying Boothill's metal legs apart.

"Goddamn- yeah, something's coming out all right."

Boothill shouts, throwing his head back against the pillow and pushing. He wasn't sure what he was pushing, his muscles didn't contract like a human's did, but this pathetic replacement for an organic frame was telling him to do something and he had to listen.

"...your blood."

"Fuck!" Boothill gasps, "It's blue!"

Gallagher moves his legs further part, face contorted in disgust as something slides out of the cyborg. He quickly places it onto Boothill's chest, backing up as if unsure he should even be looking.

"Holy fuck-" fans whirling in his ears, the edges of his vision flickering black as he stared down in shock at the infant on his chest. Overed in blue blood and various other inorganic fluids, the newborn bawls, squirming angrily.

"I shouldn't have- I can't-"

"Hey, take it easy." Gallagher pats his arm gently, "You can rest here till you figure things out."

#mpreg #honkai star rail #boothill #Gallagher #mpreg birth

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halfmoth-halfman · 1 year

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y'all know what time it is! it's monthly fic rec time!!!

i decided to move this to the first so i wouldn't miss any fics that might be posted on the last day of each month!!

& a small, kinda sad update:

usually this is where i'd link to my fic-recs blog, but i hit the character limit on my filter page where i have my recs organized and when i made a new page it saved over the first one.

all of my filters and recs on that page are now gone and have to be manually re-done. you can still find my recs by scrolling through the blog, but the filter page is going to be under construction until i can get everything fixed and re-added!!

Alex Keller

❀ click click boom - @writeforfandoms

i don't see a lot of alex fics, so this was already a fav as soon as i saw it, but then i read it and ???? hello???? this was so good??? the characterization of alex alone was amazing, and the rest was like the cherry on top!!

❀ convallaria majalis - @nightingale-ghost-writer

19.2k words of absolute perfection. a fic i have been looking forward to and now that it's out, i just can't get enough of it! did i have to take breaks while reading so i could twirl my hair and kick my feet? yes. was it worth every second? yes.

Arthur Morgan

❀ the fire in your eyes || part VII: horseshoe overlook iii | part VIII: horseshoe overlook iv | part IX: horseshoe overlook v - @cowboydisaster

if there's one character i love more than anything in the world, it's arthur morgan and this series has only made my love for him that much stronger. so beautifully written, i couldn't stop reading-the whole time with a smile on my face. the entire bar scene in part vii??? i was crying with laughter. this is def one of my fav series i've ever read and i am on the edge of my seat waiting for more!

Carlos Oliveira

❀ the way we let it stay - @uselsshuman

this is a fair warning right now that most of the resident evil fics on this list are going to be from em. she has single-handedly ignited my hyperfixation for RE and all of her fics are incredible. including this one!

❀ old wounds new loves - @uselsshuman

i love little cute domestic fics, and carlos is so real for not liking cereal. “Waking up and eating a bowl of cold soggy food? No, thank you.” i feel that on such a spiritual level. also protective!carlos is just the best!!

Javier Peña

❀ arepas - @mvtthewmurdvck

i know i already went feral over this fic, but i'm going to do it again because i love this fic so goddamn much!! this fic is incredible, the way everything feels so natural between javi and reader, the teasing, the friends to lovers trope, everything about this is just so beautiful!!

❀ a broken sight - @mvtthewmurdvck

i don't understand how you can write a character so perfectly. i will never not be amazed by the way you write javi. and the angst??? ugh "He’s here. Like you needed him to be." don't mind the noise that's just me sobbing in the corner.

❀ the dreams we made - @mvtthewmurdvck

there's nothing like a good ol' helping of jo angst. this hurt in all the right ways, completely ripped my heart out and shattered it only to put all the pieces back together again and fill the cracks in with gold.

❀ nowhere to run || file room + accusations | sunshine yellow | a new day - @mvtthewmurdvck

the series that got me into narcos, i actually started watching the show just so i could read the perfection that is this series!! am i potentially spoiling things for myself a little bit? yes, but it's absolutely worth it because this series has me by the throat.

Joel Miller

❀ want. - @mvtthewmurdvck

literal poetry best described by this gif:

John "Soap" MacTavish

❀ none lacking sins - @halcyone-of-the-sea

listen, i like soap. he's not my fav, but he's a really good character. this fic though? it's moved soap up to my top five favorite characters. this made me want to read nothing but soap. i must've read this a dozen times, i was immediately sent into a soap hyperfixation. every aspect of this fic is just amazing. stunning. perfect.

❀ the hanging tree - @writeforfandoms

had me on the edge of my damn seat trying to figure out what was going. the worry and the tension built up so wonderfully i was dying to know what was about to happen and omg i was not disappointed. and the way jen writes soap is just *chef's kiss*

❀ i will wait - @mvtthewmurdvck

this fic had me realize how much i crave soft!soap and just fluff with soap in general. the tender moments warm my heart up something fierce and make me all giddy. like waking up to the perfect sunrise.

John Price

❀ puppy love || one | two | three | four - @writeforfandoms

puppies and price? what more could someone ask for? these two are so cute together and with the added cuteness of the puppies (and gaz lol) it's just an overload of cuteness in the best possible way!

❀ scratches in the surface - @halcyone-of-the-sea

was not expecting a part two to one of my favorite price fics, but damn if this wasn't a fantastic surprise. the angst is top-tier here and as much as it hurt, i couldn't stop reading and will probably read it again a million more times.

❀ neon medusa || part 1: static in the airways | part 2: warning signs - @yeyinde

CYBERPUNK!AU????? WITH PRICE????? WRITTEN BY YEYINDE???? SIGN ME TF UP!!! i am feral, consumed by how excited i am for this series and how utterly fantastic it's been so far. i will never get tired of lev's fics, and how gorgeous her writing is.

❀ untitled - @lunarvicar

okay this was adorable. the way price drops everything to get to her apartment, immediately ready to protect her is just sooo perfect. and her being freaked out by ghost adventures?? asdasljlsjd relatable.

❀ untitled - @yeyinde

i live for domestic bliss, and this fic just scratched that itch so well. there's something so comforting and homey about this fic, just the quiet intimacy between price and reader, the cute back and forth, this line: “Gaz said I looked like an Edwardian lord—” an absolute comfort fic if i've ever read one.

❀ comforts of home - @halcyone-of-the-sea

this fic had me weak, literally struggling to read cause i was too busy looking like this at my phone

❀ barking dog - @yeyinde

jealous!price is not something i see often, but damn if i don't want to see more of it after reading this. i am obsessed with the way lev writes price, how real and natural and captivating he is in her fics.

❀ wicked pyre - @yeyinde

you can't just give me dragon!price and expect me not to love it. i am so feral for monster!au's and this is saldkjaslda i can't be normal after reading this, i am feral, so enraptured by this fic and the entire concept of dragon!price.

❀ origami boats - @halcyone-of-the-sea

a sequel to the best price fic of all time???? say less. this fic was in my top three before i even started reading, i just knew it was going to be good. well, it wasn't just good, it was great. stunning. heart-breaking in a way that gives you the best kind of hurt.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

❀ high hopes - @writeforfandoms

gaz my sweet mans. as one of my favorite characters, i tend to be picky with my gaz fics, but this fic right here? loved it. adored it. read it six times with a bigger smile on my face each time.

❀ cult of vagabonds || prologue | landless gull | snail & thrush - @halcyone-of-the-sea

not only is this a gaz series, but it's one written by halcyone who can never write a bad fic. this is immaculate. i can't even describe how much i love this series so far and how much i can't wait to see where it goes!

❀ boom - @sleepiexx

ok but like this was so good?? the tension, the desperation, the way gaz was so ready to die with her. i'm shook. and that ending???? i’m giggling, i’m blushing, i’m re-reading this fic a million more times.

Leon Kennedy

❀ leon kennedy masterlist - @uselsshuman

i'm gonna be real here for a second, this entire section was 99% made up of em's leon fics. i couldn't choose which ones to add, which ones were my favorite, because i loved them all. so i'm just putting a link to her leon masterlist, because every single one of those fics deserves to be seen and read and given all of the love that they deserve.

❀ enough || one | two | three | final - @uhlunaro

i have one word for this series: wow. just wow. i have never been more thankful to find a series after it was already done because i would've gone crazy waiting to see what happened next! which part was my favorite? all of them. every single one. the hurt, the dialogue, just the way leon is written. i'm speechless.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

❀ exit row || exit row, part iii | exit row, part iv- @lunarvicar

the phrase "post-dick flashback" will live rent free in my head until the day i die, i was wheezing. i'm convinced there isn't a character nat can't make me love, because her portrayal of ghost here?? 🔥🔥🔥

❀ happiness || diamond ring | fearless | - @lethalchiralium

more of my favorite family man!simon series!!!!!! yesssss!!!!! i swear with every new addition, i just love this series more and more. i am so stressed reading it, but i love every second of it.

❀ the effect you have - @mvtthewmurdvck

screaming, crying, throwing up. how do you do it, jo? how do manage to make me hurt and heal my heart so beautifully in every single fic? how dare you, but also thank you so much.

❀ the captain || part 6 | part 7 | thunder - @as-is-above-so-below

omg i can't. y'all can't just keep giving a+ quality family man!ghost fics and expect me to be normal. you can't just give me cute shit like:

“Gaz frug.”

and not expect me to be like:

also, i am absolutely in love with freyja. the way her relationship is written with ghost and the kids is so lovely and has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair.

❀ ghost at the beginning of your relationship - @angelltheninth

cute. adorable. sweet. i love me some good fluff and even more so soft!ghost and this was the perfect combination of both of them! and simon having "guard dog energy" is so funny and so correct.

❀ ménage || refuge | resolution - @lilywastaken

my new go-to for simon fics. the relationship between simon and reader and between simon and the 141 are both so great. and oh my god that wild ride of emotions i went during part five had me stressed tf out i couldn't stop reading! such a great and fun series.

❀ making progress - @constantcrisis19

"dragged into the CoD fandom kicking and screaming" and still delivering an absolutely amazing fic. the teasing, the small talk, the faint smile?? incredible. the entire conversation about powerful music?? fantastic.

#moth fic recs #fave fics #monthly fic recs

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tonguetiedraven · 2 years

Note

can i ask for some bonrin wound tending?

You absolutely can ask for that! I always love the boys taking care of each other <3 This is Ryuuji tending Rin's wounds, with a get together because that's where the fic went, lol. I'm part way through another scene with Rin tending Ryuuji's wounds, so I'll might post that soon too.

I hope you enjoy!

— — — ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜ — — —

Rin healed in seconds. It was probably the only real advantage of being a nephilim/halfling. You didn’t have to spend a lot on your first aid kit. He could take a bullet and keep running. He could lose an arm and throw a punch within ten minutes.

He could lose liters and liters of blood, and just keep right on ticking.

Rin healed quickly, and even when someone infected him with poison or venom, he still healed quickly. Those times used to suck, because the healing hurt a lot when it didn’t happen immediately, but now…

Rin was perched on the bathroom counter with his legs dangling off the edge. Ryuuji was standing between his legs with his hands on Rin’s shoulder as he gently applied the gauze to the holy-water laced wound.

Ryuuji had really warm hands. They were rough hands too. Ryuuji had spent his life working. Whether it was gardening, manual labor to repair the broken parts of his temple, weight lifting, martial arts, or preparing special bullets, Ryuuji was always doing something with his hands, and they were a bit roughed up because of that. They weren’t soft and smooth, they were calloused and textured, and really shouldn’t be gentle. That didn’t stop them from being gentle when they disinfected Rin’s wounds and applied the bandages. He was slow, and extremely careful not to pull or aggravate the injuries.

“Can’t believe you did that,” Ryuuji muttered as he dabbed the wipe at Rin’s next wound. “You promised to be careful.”

Rin’s brain felt a bit floaty. Ryuuji’s gentle touches had his skin all buzzy and warm in a much nicer way than the burning stings of the wound.

“I know…” Rin’s voice was barely a whisper, and it wasn’t as ashamed as it should be. He couldn’t be ashamed when none of the others had gotten hurt and the worst that had happened was he got a few extra minutes of Ryuuji’s time.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know they had the poison.” He would have still done the same—

“Venom.”

Rin grinned. What a nerd.

“Sorry.”

Ryuuji sighed and grabbed another roll of gauze. There was blood on his fingers. “It’s not your fault. Not really. Just… you don’t gotta run into every fight, Rin. You can let other people fight. You can hang back.”

Rin adamantly shook his head and Ryuuji grit his jaw. He had a strong jaw. A nice jaw. It was easy to see up here on the sink.

“You gotta know being reckless doesn’t help anything.”

Rin swung his uninjured leg. “Not my fault you all are too slow to beat me.”

“We’re not slow. We’re moving as a team. The same thing you’re supposed to be doing.” Ryuuji shook his head and tossed the soiled wipe into the trash can. “It’s been a year, Rin. How come you can’t figure that out?”

Rin’s heart thumped hard as Ryuuji gently lifted his arm and started to wind the new gauze around it. Ryuuji, even when he was grumbling, was gentle. Ryuuji treated him like he was breakable even though he healed quicker than any of them, and could take a much harder hit. He was careful not to poke at the wound, careful not to put pressure on it, but careful to make sure it was fully dressed. He held Rin’s elbow in a secure grip with one hand, and the warm touch was incredibly distracting. He had a strong grip, not unbreakable because Rin could break anything, but grounding and firm, and enough to make Rin’s heart flutter. Ryuuji’s hands were big, and they made him feel safe.

When Ryuuji let him go, Rin wished desperately that he hadn’t.

“Sorry,” Ryuuji muttered, setting the remainder of the gauze to the side with the unused wipes. “That probably sucked. I’ll try and be—”

“Doesn’t. Not when you’re fixing ‘em.”

Ryuuji’s eyes lifted up to him. “Huh?”

Rin felt his own eyes go huge. He had not meant to say that. Great. Could he get out of this? Sure. He could totally get out of this.

“Nothing!” Rin squeaked unconvincingly. He was not going to get out of this like that. He needed to be cool.

“Nothing?” For a moment Ryuuji actually looked disappointed. “Okay. I just gotta finish the knee. Then you’ll be good to go. Try not to aggravate those—”

“It was something,” Rin blurted. His tail rose into the air in shock at his own boldness, and he felt his cheeks turn a fiery red. Hopefully not literally fiery. It was fifty/fifty on that.

Ryuuji paused midway through pulling out the cloth to mop away the blood and goo that demon had leaked. His eyes shot back to Rin a bit uncertainly. It was strange how they were eye level like this. Ryuuji was always so much taller (Rin was still hoping for a second growth spurt), but now…

Had Ryuuji’s eyes always had that many colors? Like broth and honey and little specks of gold and dark chocolate.

“Something?” Ryuuji asked, stepping a little closer, the knee momentarily forgotten.

“It, uh, doesn’t suck when you fix ‘em up. You’re, uh, gentle and stuff.” Perfect. So smooth. Just the smoothest. Was it too late to hope that poison could kill him?

Ryuuji raised an eyebrow, but Rin hardly noticed that because Ryuuji’s cheeks also went a bit red. “Yukio rough?”

“Nah, but he lectures a lot more.”

“I can up my game.”

Rin grinned and swung his uninjured leg again. This felt less dangerous. He might be bleeding and showing his wounds, but those words had been what felt vulnerable.

With the cloth, bandage, and disinfectant in hand, Ryuuji dropped to his own knees and considered Rin’s bloody one. It made it so Rin could see the top of his head, and he frowned as he noticed a few singed hair in the longer locks.

“Hey!”

Ryuuji’s head tilted up. “What?” He grabbed Rin’s ankle in his right hand and used his left hand to slide Rin’s pant leg up to reveal the wound. It was bigger than Rin had thought it was. Oops.

Blinking, Rin focused back on the problem at hand and not how nice Ryuuji’s hand felt around his ankle. The guy just made him feel secure and happy.

“You got hurt!”

“Huh?”

Rin reached over and pulled on the locks. Ryuuji let go of his leg and batted at the hand.

“Hey! Knock it off.”

“You burned your hair!”

“So? You look like you were mauled.” Ryuuji pushed the pants leg back up and grabbed the cloth to clean up the mess.

“But you were hurt too! Why’re ya lecturing me?”

Ryuuji snorted in disbelief. “I got singed hair and you got chewed on by that thing. You seriously gonna try and say it’s the same?”

“Ye—” Ugh! Ryuuji’s fingers were curling around the back of his calf while he gently wiped away the blood, and how was Rin supposed to think? How did Ryuuji even put this much gentleness in the motions? It was making Rin’s heart thump all the harder. His cheeks were all hot and his tail was thumping against the sink happily.

“Yeah. You better not finish that statement.” Ryuuji set the rag aside and brought up the disinfectant wipes. “Brace yourself. This is the sucky bit.”

Rin nodded and gripped the sink as Ryuuji brushed the wipe over the wound in long, even strokes, taking care to cover every inch. He had an (adorably) studious expression on his typically stern face, and Rin wanted to kiss it away.

That wasn’t really a new thought, but it was an embarrassing one when they were in situations like this. Ryuuji was being nice and helping him out and Rin was thinking he was cute.

“Alright. Last step and you can go get rid of those wiggles.”

Rin hadn’t even noticed he’d started vibrating. He nodded and blushed hotter. (Hopefully not literally.)

Ryuuji got the wrappings off the bandage and glanced up at Rin before applying it. Rin gave a short nod and realized he wasn’t the only one blushing. Ryuuji looked back at the wound and applied the bandage with as little pressure as he could. Seeming satisfied with that, he gave Rin’s calf one last (affectionate?) squeeze, and sat back on his heels. He gathered his supplies together and stood up, dumping them in the sink to be sorted later.

“That’s it. You’re good to go.”

“I am?”

Ryuuji nodded and stepped back. Rin’s hands shot up in a grabbing motion without absolutely any thought. It was now too late to back out, so he committed. Ryuuji blinked at his extended hands for a second before rolling his eyes and stepping back towards Rin. He might have been feigning annoyance, but he was also blushing as his hands curled around Rin’s hips and helped him off the counter. Rin looped his own arms around Ryuuji’s shoulders (all broad and nice,) and didn’t let go like he should when Ryuuji set him down.

“Thanks,” Rin said, staring up into Ryuuji’s eyes (so much taller! But ugh, his eyes looked so nice from this angle too!)

“No problem,” Ryuuji whispered back, wide eyed and blushing.

And then, because Rin’s impulsivity had gotten him into this mess and he would probably never have any real kind of hold on it, he blurted the next thing that popped into his head. (The only real thing that was and had been in his head since all of this started.)

“Can I kiss you?”

Ryuuji’s blush spread to his ears and his eyes went even wider. “What?!”

Rin loved the flustered look on this boy. He didn’t even notice any pain from his wounds. “Can I kiss ya?”

Ryuuji’s eyes shot to the side bashfully. “I—” that was when Rin realized Ryuuji hadn’t let go of his hips either.

“Only if you want,” Ryuuji finally said, looking back at Rin with an invigorating sort of determination.

Rin used the arms around Ryuuji’s shoulders to haul him down (stupidly attractive height!) and kiss him.

#bonrin #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #my tumblr fics #rin okumura #ryuuji suguro #ryuji suguro #bon suguro #aoex #bonfire #bon x rin #bon/rin #thank you for the ask!#tw mentions of blood #cw mentions of blood #tending wounds #getting together #ane

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lale-txt · 2 years

Text

🍆 online dating headcanons: supernovas

[part 1 w/ Whitebeard pirates]

a/n: i have too much fun roasting your favorite little crime men, so here's part 2! and don't worry, there probably will be a sequel to that, too...

Luffy

this boy has the dating profile of a 67 year old man

it's mostly photos of cool bugs

or him holding the cool bugs, covering half of his face with them (some look a bit arty by accident because they're so blurry bc this boi is fast af when he is excited for something)

i feel like he is someone who overuses emojis A LOT and out of context too. they almost sound cryptic

🦔🧦🤼🔑👁‍🗨🟧🏴‍☠️

WHAT DOES IT MEAN BRO

you'll never know

he doesn't know either

you can keep the conversation going by mentioning that you're a foodie and like some good meat

wink wink

but don't complain if he takes you out to an all you can eat restaurant and the thing getting eaten is everything except you

Zoro

your typical fitness bro

all of his pictures are just mirror selfies from the gym wtf

granted, he knows his good angles

start the conversation maybe with a good recipe for a protein shake? idk i have not once in my life matched a fitness bro so don't take my advice maybe

if you start texting, expect a lot of thirst traps straight from the gym, lots of sweat, a shirt pulled up a bit to show off his 16-pack or whatever (if he even bothers to wear a shirt), a photo from behind to show that his back is very beefy too

but don't be fooled because he will sent them to his whole contact list and his fitness account with 500k followers

you just know he has "no PAINZ no GAINZ 💯" in his bio

so take that to your heart and text him anyway even though it's a pain in the ass, it will be rewarding in the end

if you're looking for a fuck buddy this is your mans

Law

his photos just scream dark academia. they also scream "i'm your thoughtful mystery lover with the sexy finger tattoos" and also "please heal my broken heart while we listen to Evanescence together"

but in reality he is just very tired and people mistake it for a lifestyle

Bepo takes all of his photos and edits them, he has a really good eye

one photo is the doctor posing naked in front of a chimney fire on a bear rug (it's not a regular bear rug but Bepo who is very good at photoshop)

it wasn't even Law himself who created his online dating profile but Penguin & Shachi because they agreed their captain needed a bit of support in those things, Law was just too tired to object (and maybe they were right after all...)

he's a busy man and you need a really good hook up line to make him text you back

"i think you've stolen my heart, give it back" isn't one of them

talk to him about gross medical things maybe or how much you hate bread (even if it's a lie)

just don't try sexting with him because you will get a lot of anatomical terms and a very long paragraph that sounded sexy in his head but reads like an user manual

overall a very nice match if you're into emo boys with tragic backstories that just have written "fix me if you can" all over their face

Kid

ahh yes, the little kinky man

of course you can find him on the naughty online dating sites where you can look for your next fuck buddy, pet or a sugar mommy/daddy/questionable parental figure

his photos are thirst traps of course, half of them mirror selfies with flash on

doesn't care about censoring, his junk is OUT, why hide it

will text you "wyd?" and "send nudes" within two seconds

foolish of you to think that one nude with a tiddie out would satisfy him, this little racoon is greedy af

just know that at one point he accidentally created a group chat with all of his matches, believing he would message them "i'm so hard for u" individually

he never recovered from that

Kid gets matched by mean lesbians A LOT (no wonder, he looks like one too)

it happens so often that he pulls Killer to the side, asking with a stern look on his face: "be honest. is there anything about my appearance that screams 'i want to get pegged' because apparently people feel that way about me"

Killer thinks a little bit too long and almost gets thrown overboard

Killer

the mysterious masked man

usually one would barely get matches without their face revealed, but it's probably his luscious long blonde hair and all the shirtless photos that give him countless matches anyway

who doesn't love a faceless ideal fantasy to project their deepest desires on, isn't that what dating apps were created in the first place

just never jokingly ask what's underneath the mask or else you'll get unmatched immediately

maybe ask him about his hair routine or favorite pasta place in town instead

or his favorite youtube channel Pasta Grannies

he would be the best to have long, meaningful conversations with on the dating apps

until he deletes his profile out of the blue, leaving you wondering forever 'what if...'

that is until you match him again

and again

yes again

he's a serial matcher

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fijiangecko · 3 years

Text

The End of It All

Vampire!Katsuki Bakugou x Witch!Reader

WC: 6k+

Warnings: Cussing

Angst - breakups and makeups

A/N: I wrote this over two years ago and just found it. If I decide to edit it I’ll post that one on my AO3, or if people ask me to post it here I can <3

~~~~~~

The idea of a calamity had never even crossed their minds until a couple of days ago. Everything seemed to be harmonious between the humans and the supernaturals, but never in a thousand years could they guess just how wrong they were. In a matter of days, war had broken loose between the few humans who knew of the other world, and the extremists of the supernatural that wanted only bloodshed. The Negotiator was notified immediately, and brought a group of friends onto the scene. It only spiraled from there.

Mina and Uraraka sobbed into one another as it dawned on them that very soon everything they loved could be eviscerated, while Kaminari and Kirishima attempted to soothe them as the night went on. Midoriya and Iida ran around searching for books that could possibly lead to a solution, but there was no manual on how to fix the destabilization between the supernatural world and the human one. Todoroki sits in a chair by him lonesome, contemplating if he should leave, while Katsuki has the same thought on the opposite side of the room as he leans against the doorframe.

“Do you think we should try (Y/N) again? She might pick up this time,” Iida flips through a tome as he speaks, eyes glancing at Midoriya.

“I don’t think we should. Last I heard from her she was going to visit the harpies, and if her phone went off during that meeting then we could be royally screwed. They could have a solution, so I think it’s better if we just have faith and-” “Have faith?! That’s your shitty advice?!” Katsuki growls from across the room, a deep scowl decorating his features. “We all know damn well that (Y/N) could have ditched us and left the world for dead! She’s a fucking witch and doesn’t give a shit what happens to the rest of us as long as it doesn’t fucking bother her!” His fangs started to grow as he spoke. During his little outburst he had walked over to the table and slammed his hands down, putting more emphasis on the cuss words than anything. “She. Doesn’t. Give. A. Shit. About. Us.”

“You shouldn’t say that about her, Bakugou. We know you have a past with her, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to forget about the rest of the world. She’s not that petty.” Iida is calm as he speaks, making sure not to make eye contact with the vampire, as it could set him off even further.

“You see her as a friend, and I see her as a lover. She’s a completely different person, I can promise you that.” A low growl had escaped Katsuki’s lips after he spoke, but his ear twitched as he sensed movement outside. Looking out the window, he saw no branches move, but a bright light shone through it.

Todoroki gets up and inspects the outside of the estate, careful to not move the curtains too much. He didn’t want any uninvited guests knowing what room they were in. As he stared outside the glass, he could see an alchemy circle burned into the grass with your figure lying in the middle of it. Your body is in a fetal position, as if trying to protect something. Upon seeing this, Todoroki bolts out of the library without saying a word and goes out into the cold night. Katsuki runs after him to see what was going on with the rest of the party in tow.

The stream of people watched as Todoroki made no hesitation to pick you up bridal style from the ground and carry you back to the house. In your hands is an old book; its sides were ripped apart and there was a lock preventing it from being opened. The bind had decorative gold inlays, but no title. As of now, Todoroki did not care for the book, but the girl he carried in his arms.

“She’s breathing,” he looked to Uraraka, “and will most likely need medical attention.” With nothing left to be said, he walks briskly into the house and finds the nearest couch. Uraraka follows him and starts to check on you and perform a series of healing spells.

Kirishima, Mina and Kaminari walk back inside and sit near the other three, but make no move towards them.

“Is there anything we can do?” Mina’s quiet voice pierces the thick coat of silence around them.

“Right now I don’t need anything, but stay put just in case there is an emergency,” Ochako’s eyesight don’t leave your figure once. The party of four sits behind nod silently and watch as she works..

Outside, Iida and Midoriya are trying to figure out what the alchemy circle means. Not everyday does someone use such powerful magic to teleport, let alone a witch who prefers not to use alchemy at all. They carefully examined the etchings in the ground, the symbols older than anything they’ve had the chance to work with. Katsuki stood a couple of feet away, also trying to figure out where the fuck (Y/N) teleported from.

“Well this symbol means ‘ancient’ and this one over here means ‘creature’, but there’s one in between…” Midoriya pulls out his notebook and starts to sketch the symbols down.

“This is definitely from a different plane of existence, but I’ve never seen it. Is this from her personal dimension?” Iida spoke.

“No, it’s not. Her sigil phrase would be ‘nisi rogatus non transient’ and her keyphrase is ‘fiducia’. Plus there aren’t enough swirls in the alchemic circle to fit her personal taste,” the blonde grumbled. His eyes fixed over the old text, but this language was way before he turned into a creature of the night.

“Did (Y/N) use alchemy way back? I haven’t seen her use it in decades,” Iida ponders out loud.

“Doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t you be fucking figuring out what this shit means?” The two nerds nod and walk quickly back into the library where they begin a whole new search. The vampire slowly approached the living area where his once lover was lying on the couch with a fairy over her form. A glow erupts from Ochako’s hands as she tries to wake you up. Again, Katsuki leans against the door frame, eyes carefully watching what was happening.

He couldn’t help but feel concerned; he never truly got over you, no matter how poorly he acted. Remembering everything you had, everything you lost and the times he wished he had spent with you only caused his cold heart to clench in pain. What if I had been there when she asked? Would things be different? Does she still care? His mind raced with a thousand different thoughts. This was, afterall, the first time he had seen you in almost a century after one of the worst breakups to ever exist.

Long story short, he was more focused on hunting rather than your relationship, so you decided to give a dangerous alchemic spell a shot after having no one to talk sense into you. Bakugou doesn’t know what kind of spell you were trying to cast, but he does know that it caused some sort of damage to your magical force. He wasn’t there during the ritual, but showed up at your hut months after the disaster. You had looked sick, as if death’s grip was starting to drag you down into hell, and before letting him speak you told him to leave, and never come back. After hours of screaming and bickering, he left. Not once did either of you try to speak to the other, but you both knew you were in the wrong. Katsuki wasn’t there for you, but you blamed him for your dangerous actions, which was in no way his fault.

Nothing brought him joy after that; not the hunt, not the warmth of another. Nothing. For almost a century he felt empty. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to embrace you in his arms once again. Take you away from everyone and keep you to himself, but he knew that it simply wasn’t going to happen. He knew he had fucked up and is now trying to find a way to fix it. Not in a century had he been this close to you, and it was slowly taking away his life force. For all he knows, you’re in a coma caused by the harpies and have no way to save the world - or you found a way to save the world and sacrificed yourself. Either way, someone has hell to pay.

“Bakugou!” Ochako breaks his train of thought, her eyes screaming concern. “I need ice, her ribs are broken.” Standing up straight, he swiftly walks to the kitchen and retrieves the ice, taking a plastic bag and some paper towels.

“Thank you,” the round faced girl was sweating at this point, tired from healing but knowing that she couldn’t stop anytime soon.

“Guys! We found out what (Y/N) was doing!” Midoriya races into the lounge, holding several books within his arms. “She was trying to make contact with the Great Ones!” He flipped open some of the books, showing different languages and sigils.

“Why the fuck would she do that?! Wasn’t she going to see the harpies?” No one needed to look to understand who was speaking.

“I contacted the harpies, and they said she did speak to them, but only for a short time. They didn’t have anything that could help, so she left in a hurry.” The green haired male put his books down on the nearest surface and flipped through a particular book. “They did say that she bought some mandrake liver, which is odd considering it’s very expensive and very hard to come by, but I guess if she made contact with the Great Ones it makes sense. No one has been able to talk to them in years, not after they cut themselves out of the supernatural. If (Y/N) actually talked to them, then she is the first person in a millenium to ever see or speak to them. It’s a miracle she’s even alive.”

“Yeah, they almost fucking killed me.” You start to rise from the couch, rubbing your temples as you do so. “Think I could get a glass of water, my throat is fucking killing me.”

“You’re up! And so quickly!” Izuku stared in amazement at the girl who not only escaped death, but talked to some of the oldest beings in the universe.

“Yay, lucky me.. Can I just get some fucking water? Don’t mean to be rude, but I can feel my broken ribs and my dry ass throat so a little help would be appreciated.” Dry as ever, you spoke to no one in particular as you lean back into the couch and press the ice bag into the ribs that are broken. “Could someone grab me some rat tails, lavender powder and milk from the toad? Should fix these ribs real quick…”

“On it,” Mina hops up from her seat and runs off to gather what you asked.

“How are you feeling? Besides the ribs and headache.” Ochako reaches for your hand, taking it into her own.

“Pretty good, actually. Great Ones offered some knowledge, albeit for a price.” Peeking an eye open, you gaze at your peers.

“Did you find the answer?”

“What ‘price’?” The negotiator and the vampire spoke at the same time, both asking valid questions but concerned about different matters.

“Cool your jets, besties,” fangs bared, Katuski growled at the thought of being “besties” with a fucking nerd, “I need to heal up before I start spilling the details.” Just then, Mina runs back into the room, all three ingredients in hand along with a mortar and pestle.

“I got the stuff! What do I do now?”

“Now, you hand it all over and watch a witch work her magic.” Your greedy hands swipe the contents of a healing elixir and begin to mash everything together. Tediously, your fingers throw components into the mortar, then pressing them together with the pestle makes a liquid in which you drink in one big gulp. The group watches as your ribs emanate a sickly light, making the room glow in a mysterious manner. After about five seconds, it stopped and you stood up to stretch.

“Much better, now how about we go into the library so we can examine this,” you wave the torn book, “and figure out how to save the world.” Moving forward, you give them no time to answer. It gave them no choice but to follow you.

“Would you at least answer my damn question?” Katsuki remains in the doorframe, unmoving from his comfy position..

“How about you move out of my fucking way, and go to the library like I said? Maybe you’ll get your answer there, huh?” You shoulder check your way out of the lounge and into the library.

After everyone takes their places in various spots around the library, you begin to speak.

“I want to apologize for being so late, after I said I was only going to the harpies. Turns out, they don’t have much more information than mine and Midoriya’s libraries combined. Right as I was about to leave, Tokoyami said there might be one more group I should go see. He pulled me into his private room and gave me the liver of a mandrake as well as a page from his personal grimoire. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it was the alchemic way to reach the Great Ones. We talked for a short time after it about how to approach them and what would happen if they did or did not decide to help. Knowing we’re getting short on time, I did the ritual right there in his room, and low and behold I was taken to a dimension far outside our normal planes of existence. It was cold, dark and dank with a stench that rivaled the odors of giants. My senses were being attacked in the most foul of ways, but that was the least of my concerns as I was met with the eyes of not one, but three of the Greats.” You shudder at the memory. “When they spoke it was deafening. I felt like I was going mad, or at the very least I was losing all sense of control. They knew why I was there, and decided that it would be more beneficial to help me, as what is going on now also affects them.” You cast your gaze downward, whispering the next sentence. “They agreed to tell me what to do only if they were given a sacrifice-”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Bakugou roared from the other end of the room. “YOU TOLD THEM YOU WOULD SACRIFICE SOMEONE?!”

“Kacchan-”

“YOU DON’T GET TO SPEAK, DEKU. SHE IS GOING TO SACRIFICE SOMEONE! SHE DECIDED TO TRADE ONE OF US OFF FOR THE ‘GREATER GOOD’! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU ASK A GOOD FOR NOTHING WITCH FOR HELP! I TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE TO ASK HER FOR HELP!”

“I NEVER SAID IT WAS GONNA BE ONE OF YOU.” The commotion stops. All eyes are now on you. “I never fucking said it was going to be one of you, I didn’t even finish what I was saying…” Your eyes look down at the shaking in your hands.

Todoroki reaches forward and takes your hands in his own, stopping the tremble that has overcome you. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath in, “Like I was saying, they asked for a sacrifice of a magical being, but one of great power so the balance in the cosmos would be right. I tried to ask them what the requirements were for ‘great power’, but I received no answer. Instead, this book,” you put it down on the table, “appeared in my hands. Next thing I knew, I was on the couch…”

“So you don’t know how to unlock the latch on the front?” The green haired boy slides the book to himself, examining it with a sense of importance.

“No, but I have a feeling I’m the only one that’s going to be able to open it.”

“Why is that?”

“I mean, I’m the first person in forever to even see one of the Greats, let alone live from an encounter with them. If I’m not able to open it, then no one can.”

“Okay, well are there any keys that you have on you now? Maybe it’s the same one as your house key or lab key?” You shrugged and pulled out a set of keys from your pocket. Immediately you noticed one that hadn’t been there previously.

“Or the one that just happened to appear…” Inserting the key, and twisting it releases the metal strap on the bind of the book. It makes a soft clicking noise as it opens. Greedily, you opened up the pages to see what they held, only to find them blank. “What the fuck?” Aggressively, you flip through the whole thing until you find one page where a plethora of information was held.

“Is that it?” Iida was peaking over your shoulder. In fact, the rest of the party had gathered around the table to see what was going on. Well, everyone except the blonde haired, red eyed vampire.

“It has to be. This is the only marked page.”

“Well, it seems to be in celestial. Can you decipher it?” You cock your eyebrow and turn to Iida.

“Is that a question?”

“Hey, less flirting, more reading,” Kaminari spoke.

“That wasn’t flirting, but not like you would know.” He jolts back at the sudden attack, feigning a hurt look. Small chuckles could be heard around the room, but they died down as everyone anticipated your analysis.

“It’s a ritual with both alchemic and abjuration magic,” your eyes continue down the page, trying to make sense of all the scribbles, “but it looks like there’s only one ingredient.”

“Let me guess, a sacrifice.” Red eyes bore deep into your figure as Katsuki spoke.

“...yeah.”

“And where the fuck are you going to find some ‘great magical being’?” His teeth are showing as he scowls once more. It may have been years since he’s seen you, but he knows what you’re thinking.

The knuckles on your hands start to turn white from the frustration that was building in your chest. You weren’t intending on telling everyone how you were going to let yourself be sacrificed in the name of Great Ones. You wanted to keep it a secret from them, but Katsuki could see right through you.

“I don’t know.”

“FUCKING LIAR!” He crosses the room with lightning speed and wraps his hands around your neck, crushing you into a nearby bookcase. Your vision is white for a split second, but returns to see a face with nothing but disgust across its features. Gasping for air, you attempt to pry his hands off of you, but it wasn’t worth trying as you knew the kind of strength Katsuki possesses. “I know what you’re planning to do! You want to kill yourself because some old ass supernaturals want you to, but I’m not gonna let that fucking happen.” He slams you into the bookcase once more after seeing your eyes start to drift off. “Do you hear me?!”

“Bakugou, get your hands off her now!” Iida, Todoroki, Kaminari, Kirishima and Midoriya run over to the scene and start to restrain Katsuki. They struggle to pull him back, but after a few seconds of letting you go, your whole body drops to the floor and your lungs start to gasp for oxygen. While you are coughing, Mina and Uraraka latch onto your sides and help you up. Now sitting down, you cough trying to catch your breath.

“What the hell were you thinking dude?! You didn’t even let (Y/N) fucking speak?!” Kirishima’s speech was a low growl, his eyes turning from the normal black color into a more yellow, dog-like eye.

“I’m not going to let her fucking die because she thinks she is self righteous. She’s not more important than any of us, and if she thinks so I’ll kill her myself.”

“How do you know that?! How do you know that she wants to sacrifice herself?! How do you know that she thinks she’s better?!” Kiri stops, waiting for an answer. When none presents itself, he continues his rant. “You don’t know what is going in her head! So stop assuming you know stuff that we don’t!”

“Kiri, stop before you make a fool of yourself.” Gently, you put your hand on the shoulder of the raging werewolf. His eyes fade into the black abyss they once were. All eyes were now on you, “Katsuki’s right. I was going to sacrifice myself…” several gasps were audible in the thick silence, “but not because I think I’m better than anyone here. We all are powerful in our own regard, but I’ve been alive for twelve hundred years. If anyone of us is going down, it’s going to be me.” Scoffing, Katsuki barges out of the room, unable to deal with the level of bullshit he just heard. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe he was powerful, or anyone else in the room (he wouldn’t say it outloud), but he couldn’t believe that you were willing to give up on yourself to save the world. Did you not see how important you are? Whether you knew it or not, he cared about you and he didn’t plan on letting you die anytime soon.

The tension built itself around the room as the still airwaves remained unchanged. Not even breathing could be heard. Standing up from the table, you put the chair back into place and made a grab for the book, but someone stopped you.

“No,” green eyes bore into your own, “you’re not taking it. We’re locking it up. There has to be a different solution.”

“There isn’t! We’ve talked to everyone we possibly could have and no one else thought of anything! For fucks sake Midoriya, I had to talk to some ancient beings to get a hold of this spell and almost died because of it! I’m taking what’s mine!” With both hands, you yank it from his grasp.

“I said no (Y/N). We’ll find another way. There has to be another way-”

“There’s not! What is so hard to understand! The clock is ticking and it’s only a matter of time before it all turns to shit, might as well fix it now and get it over with!”

“(Y/N), just give me the grimoire. Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be. No one here wants you to die, and we’re not going to let you! Just pass it over.” Conflicted, your white knuckles loosen on the rough leather and place it down on the table. Without looking at anyone, you make your way to a spare room and sit on a bed, thinking about what else there was to do.

Hours passed as you thought about the end of it all. There is no other way for this to end. The fucking Old Ones said that this way the only way possible, so it has to be right? We exhausted all other resources: the scripts from Alexandria, my personal collection, Izuku’s personal collection and the harpies. None of us had anything. Your foot was tapping against the floor anxiously. If I could just get the pages from the book and get back to my place then it could all be over. None of them would have to worry anymore. It’s been a couple of hours… maybe they’re asleep. If I take it now and make a run for it, I’d have at least a couple hour head start. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to stop me…

With a gameplan in mind, you stealthily make your way out of the room, creeping around as silently as possible. Passing a few other rooms, the snores of several companions reassure your suspicion. Now was the time to strike. Trying your damnedest not to make the floor creak, you tiptoe through the house to the library. You’re assuming it’s still there, but they could’ve removed it. Too busy focusing on trying to make a sound, you didn’t realize the pair of blood red eyes that closely follow.

Upon reaching the library, your eyes land on the old leather cover that lies exactly where you last remember. Swiftly taking it from its place and reaching for its key, you took the latch off and ripped the single page from its binding. As you did so, a knocking noise was heard from the entrance, but looking at it didn’t give you an answer. Everything was where you left it, but the uneasy feeling of eyes on you causes a thought to cross your mind. Am I being followed? Shoving the spell into your pocket, you glanced around one more time to make sure no one was there.

“O custos revelare,” voice barely above a whisper and clutching the necklace of the triple goddess, the knowledge of Katsuki’s watchful eyes on you entered your consciousness. Great, just what I needed. How the fuck am I supposed to leave now? Maybe if I trapped him somewhere that he can’t be heard, or if I place a silencing spell? No, he’ll still be able to get someone’s attention. Best shot I got is to lure him out of earshot from the others and place a trapping spell, but that requires time… Fuck! What the hell am I supposed to do?!

Quickly trying to recover from the stream of thoughts, you make your way to the attic. This should be far enough from the others. If he screams up here they shouldn’t hear him, especially with all the fabric. Now how do I get the circle in place? ...goddamnit why the hell can’t my brain think of something? Abjuration? No, that’s later. Conjuration? No. Divination? No. Evocation? No. Necromancy? What the hell, no! Transmutation is a no go as well. That leaves alchemy, enchantments and illusions. Alchemy takes too long, so that’s out of the question, and Katsuki can easily overpower my enchantments. So illusions it is.

Katsuki watches as you stumble your way up a couple flights of stairs, trying so hard not to alarm anyone of your presence. He couldn’t help but feel amused at your little act. You just look so cute acting like a rogue trying to steal their first jewels. On the other hand, he couldn’t believe that after the outburst he had and Deku’s own freakout you still were going through with your plan. Do you not care about him? Do you seriously not realize just how important you are? Of course he’s gonna stop you; the minute you stormed off he knew there was a plan being formulated.

Shattering glass littered the stairwell as the nearest window blew inward. Immediately, Katsuki checks for intruders and looks down the stairwell to see that the other windows have been broken in as well. Peering up, he doesn’t see your figure any more and begins to panic. With his enhanced speed he runs downstairs and starts to sniff out anything suspicious.

Leaving the crystals in their place to keep the illusion going as long as possible, you could care less about making much noise. Bolting up to the attic, you shut the door behind you and took out a pocket knife, working on a trap, or abjuration, spell. The intricate carvings were taking longer than you thought, and the panic of being caught was causing you to slip up.

“Shit! Fuck!” There’s no time left! Once again grabbing the necklace of the goddess, you start reciting a simple fire spell and start to burn the lines into the wood floor, being careful not to burn the house down.

“Adolebitque imperium.” A small flame danced around the floor, as if following a line of gasoline. It wasn’t even a flame, but looked like the end of a stick of incense. The small embers made their way around the room, carving out sigils and words. Trapping a vampire was tough enough, but with Katsuki’s strength and will it was going to be even worse.

Back downstairs, Katsuki stalks the main floor, careful not to alarm something that could be in the house. His nose isn’t picking up on anything out of the ordinary, but he got the feeling that it was all a ruse. Looking around more only confirms his suspicion as he noticed no other windows were broken, and when he got back to the stairs those windows were put back.

“That sneaky little-” his feet pound on the ground as he makes his way to your location. “I can’t believe she- what a little- UGH!” He fells dumb. He knows your magic, but he couldn’t even figure it out on first glance - not like he used too, that is.

Reaching the top of the stairs and closing the door, he tries the doorknob, but to no avail.

“(Y/N) open the door.” No response. He waits a few seconds until he tries again. “I swear to fucking God (Y/N), open the goddamn door or I will break it down.” Pressing an ear to the door, he listened to double check he was in the right area. After hearing some shuffling on the other side, his fists pound against the door. “I can fucking hear you, you know!” When no response came, again, he grabbed the door knob and snapped it off like it was a candy cane. “I’m coming in so don’t fucking attack me!”

You stand by an opened window, wind softly blowing through your hair and the moonlight highlighting your face in all the right ways. If only someone had a camera, this shot could make “Time” magazine. Katsuki’s breath was taken away at the scene; you looked so serene and just as beautiful as the day he met you. Although his heart wasn’t supposed to be beating, he felt as though it might leap out of his chest and run into your arms. You turn slowly, to face him with the ripped pages gently folded between your fingers.

“Hand it over. We both know I’m not letting this happen.” He inches closer in the room, about a foot away from the carvings on the floor. You just need to provoke him further, but the look in his eyes was killing you. They weren’t like anything you’d ever seen come out of Katsuki; even in the most intimate of moments. They screamed desperation but remain firm.

“It’s the only way, and you know it.” Eye contact hasn’t broken once since he bust the door open, but it only intensified as you speak.

“I don’t fucking care if it’s the only way. You are not dying for this, for these people! We both know what kind of shit the world puts us through and you want to put your life on the line for them. For those BASTARDS!” Screaming, he moves another few inches forward, eyes pleading for you to give in. “WHAT HAS THE WORLD EVER DONE FOR YOU?! BESIDES PUT YOU DOWN AND BEAT YOU TO THE CURB?!”

“It showed me you. Didn’t it?” The question startles him. You were the calm to his storm, the yin to his yang and yet… he didn’t want to admit that the world actually did him good.

“No. I gave myself to you. I wanted to be with you. I loved you. I still love you. Can’t you see this is fucking killing me?! Can’t you see that I just want to be with you?! CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I WANT YOU BACK?! THAT I WANT TO WAKE UP TO YOU WITH ME EVERYDAY?! WHY THE FUCK CAN’T YOU-” He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes with rage, and that you had made your way across the room to him. In the middle of his rant, you placed your soft hand on his cheek, caressing his face. Instinctually, he presses his cheek further into your touch, opening his eyes to meet yours. It felt like he had just had a sip of water after a centuries-long drought; this was something he didn’t acknowledge that he needed so badly, but now that it was happening he only wanted more.

“That day that you left, I was broken. For years I was only half the person I once was, and it was because I didn’t have you. I thought that you hated me, and never wanted to see me again…”

“I could never hate you,” he grabbed your wrist, “not after everything we’ve been through. Not after our sleepless nights of talking, the years of moving around and the fact that you’re the only person I’ve ever been myself around.” He sighs, the whole ordeal becoming emotionally taxing. Not once did he ever open himself up to anyone; not after you. It was hard enough for you to crack him, but once you two were through, he built up walls of steel. “I never stopped loving you. You are the only one for me. You’re the only person willing to put up with my bullshit and able to control my temper. Even if you are a damn witch, you’re my damn witch.”

Tears start to haze both of your visions, but you give in, letting them cascade down your cheek. Heart clenched, ready to burst, you enveloped yourself in his scent, embracing him like your life depended on it. He quickly returns the gesture and places his head in the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed like this for a moment before gently rocking back and forth. Slowly, you inch him closer to the abjuration spell.

Goddess, what have I done to deserve this? Why do I have to be the one fucking person he loves but also the one person that can save everyone from certain doom? Why am I just getting him back now, right before the end? Crying harder, you push yourself further into his chest. He didn’t take this as “out of the normal” because he thought you were still crying over him; that’s not saying you weren’t, but other thoughts were on your mind. Your body still moves closer to the circle, pulling Katsuki with you. What the fuck (Y/N). You could’ve just placed the circle and left, but no. You had to stick around and make everything 1000 times harder.

The sound of wood burning turns Katsuki’s attention to the ground, where he sees the sigils recarve themselves into the floor. He was flabbergasted, the breath knocked right out of him.

“(Y/N)...?” His voice was weak as he spoke, as if pleading for this to be a dream and not the hell he was about to go through.

“I’m so sorry. I wish there was another way but there isn’t and I just-” He releases your hug, his body going rigid as he starts to piece it together.

“You tricked me… after everything I said and did, you trapped me. You’re gonna fucking kill yourself and you trapped me here so I can’t stop you.”

“There’s no other way. The Greats said that it had to be a powerful magic user, and we both know Izuku, Iida, Todoroki and Uraraka don’t make the cut. The harpies don’t have anyone as powerful as me either and it doesn’t look like we’ll be finding anyone powerful within the next couple of days. I can end this now. The panic, the worry; it could all be over with tonight.” You step out of the circle, grabbing the instructions from your pocket and holding them to your chest.

“You decided that instead of staying with me, you’d rather die. Am I hearing this correctly? YOU WOULD RATHER NOT EXIST THAN BE WITH ME?!” He ran up to you, but the invisible barrier holds him from reaching your body.

“Don’t. Don’t make this about you. This is about more than just us and it is definitely about more than what we had forever ago. I’m fucking sorry neither of us got our acts together in time, but the balance of nature needs to be set anew. If I had known that you still loved me, that you still cared for me, then yeah, this whole situation might’ve turned out differently. But the fact that it took us almost 1000 years to get our shit together and talk to each other says a little something. Maybe we’re both too headstrong to be in a relationship. Hell, that’s how the last one ended! So don’t you dare make this about you, because there are so many other people that I love and want to look out for than just you. The world is counting on me because if I don’t do this, then the world as we know it won’t be in existence within the next few days.” You turn to the window, taking a deep breath and slowing your rapid heart rate.

As you approach the window, you mutter “revertetur in terram suam” and the forest around the house transforms into the inside of your bedroom. Once more, you took a deep breath to ease the pain of leaving everyone behind.

“Tell them I love them, and I did it for the best.” You walk over to Katsuki and rip off your triple goddess necklace, offering it to him. “I know you’re not religious, but it’s a piece of me. So you don’t forget.” Reluctantly, he reaches out and takes it, examining it with a furrowed brow.

“I would never fucking forget…” it was barely audible, but it made your heart flutter.

“I love you, Katsuki. Even if it seems like I’m betraying you, I want you to know that I hope you find someone who loves you and can crack that barrier over your heart.” Walking over to the portal, you utter one last sentence, “Please take care of yourself,” and then you’re gone.

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

MANMADE FATE

Summary: Connor and Gavin find an unresponsive RK900 android in an abandoned Cyberlife warehouse and take him home to fix. (Not so subtle plot twist: both of them fall in love with their secret science project)

PART ONE OF THREE:

The crew from Jericho led a successful revolution but there’s still a lot of work to be done. Markus may have won human hearts and gotten the federal government to back down, but Cyberlife is still at large.

Sure, hundreds of androids at the Tower escaped to march on the streets behind Connor, but that was just a little dent in the big machine. Cyberlife has tons of intellectual property and assets that could easily put them back in power.

Simon and Markus insist they can work with the authorities to regulate and ring-fence the massive corporation. Josh agrees. North laughs in their faces.

She goes to find the only other Jericho member who still has any grit left.

Connor.

The daring, brazen RK800 who stared down death and spat in the face of destruction. He blinks at her in polite confusion when she tells him what she wants to do, but the fiery LED tells her everything she needs to know.

They hatch plans behind Markus’ back. They steal and stockpile biocomponents. They sneak into the Tower to encrypt Cyberlife’s R&D files with codes that only RK algorithms can break. A few other Tracis join them and they slowly start gaining an edge.

Their schemes start getting grander and one night something goes wrong. North is shot.

Connor carries her to the only safe place he knows other than his stasis pod in Hank’s dilapidated garage. The DPD Central Station.

It’s way past midnight. It’s deathly quiet. Connor is sure no one will see them, and he can easily tamper with the security cameras.

What he doesn’t bank on is the over-caffeinated loser still bent over his desk in the bullpen.

A noise from the archive room breaks through the quiet. Quelling his fear of the supernatural, Gavin stands up shakily and goes to investigate. He flips on the light and sees blue everywhere.

Connor is bent over a badly damaged Traci and three other girls with identical tear-streaked faces are on their knees beside her.

Chocolate brown eyes meet storm green beseechingly, their rivalry forgotten in that moment of desperation.

Before he realizes it, Gavin is moving. He takes several packs of thirium out of the fridge and grabs the Department’s toolkit, praying that whatever’s in there can help.

Old engineering knowledge kicks in and Gavin’s hands join Connor’s over the cracked chassis, pulling out damaged tubing and securing the leakages. It takes a while, but North is patched up. She first recoils in absolute terror at the human man hunched over her but regains composure at Connor’s touch… interface. She nods briefly to express her gratitude, somehow regal and intimidating even after being so vulnerable. Gavin decides he likes this proud and brave creature.

He drives them all back to his apartment for the night. They’ll take North to a technician first thing in the morning and get her back to New Jericho before Markus even notices. Adrenaline pumps through Gavin’s veins. He hasn’t felt a thrill like this in years, not since… not since…

“How did you know exactly where to put your hands?”

“Eh?”

“A layman would have broken that biocomponent trying to take it out.”

“You know I’m not exactly a layman.”

“I also know they don’t cover Cyberlife’s proprietary designs in engineering school.”

Gavin stays quiet. Connor puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder, poised to jump away immediately should the detective revert to his usual self.

“Thank you. For everything you just did for us. I don’t know how to repay-”

“I want in.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I can help.”

Connor cocks his head. His LED goes berserk.

They make a great team. Gavin and Connor. North’s best men. Who the fuck would have thought. Breaking into high-security locations using police databases and surveillance resources. Covering for each other during extended absences from work. They start to take down Cyberlife in a such a precise manner, it’s almost surgical. The dissection of a multibillion dollar business.

Gavin has an intimate understanding of android technology and an even closer intuition of Cyberlife’s overall strategy. Connor thinks he understands why. There’s an undeniable resemblance between the only two men on earth whose motivations evade his understanding. But of course it’s just a coincidence that Elijah Kamski and Gavin Reed have the same jawline... facial structure... voice.

Connor says nothing... and Gavin is quietly thankful for that. And the chance to finally live the kind of exciting life he dreamt of since he was a little boy. To make a real difference. Just as he wanted to before it all went wrong.

Somewhere along the way, they grow close. Gavin and Connor. Two rival cops turned vigilante comrades turned something else... It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly it happened... perhaps sometime between the cup of coffee placed tentatively on Gavin’s desk the morning after North's near-fatal injury and the heated kiss they dragged each other into after a particularly dangerous mission.

North is unsurprised. She doesn’t bat an eye when the usually unruffled RK800 shows up to planning meetings shirtless and disheveled. Her lips even twist into a little smile as he drapes himself slovenly over the only human at the table.

Things fall into a pattern. A good one. Several months from where they started, Cyberlife share prices have fallen to an all time low and other tech enterprises have begun to move in, circling the troubled company like sharks. If North’s next heist goes to plan, the last shred of IP that brands Cyberlife as a robotics company will be out in the public domain for all to take.

She is rapturous as she swings in through the broken window and rolls into a crouched position. Gavin and Connor follow her cautiously through the abandoned warehouse, weapons drawn and eyes roving.

“What the fuck!”

Connor throws a protective arm in front of Gavin, shielding him with his chassis. But North’s cry was merely one of disappointment.

“Shit! We wasted so much effort. There’s nothing here!”

Where they had expected to find a secret server room or a high-tech vault containing the crux of Cyberlife’s groundbreaking designs... was a single android storage pod. North restrains herself from kicking it in frustration. She gestures harshly at it before leaving in a huff.

“It’s occupied. Wake them up, Connor, whoever they are. It’s still our duty to set free any androids we find.”

Gavin tries to catch her arm in a conciliatory gesture but she shakes the human off easily. He shrugs at Connor and inclines his head at the android in the pod. Unfortunately, North’s annoyance has brushed off on the RK800. He glares through the broken window the Jericho leader has just jumped out of.

“Don’t you think she bosses me around a little too much?”

Gavin sighs and walks over to the pod, looking for the latches to open it. His boyfriend has a problem with authority... and so has he to be honest.

“Better her than Fowler, dontcha think?”

“Hmmpff. At least Fowler doesn’t lead us on wild goose chases.”

“Come on, babe. None of us saw this coming. We really thought this was it. Maybe we’re at a decoy location? Let’s go back to the drawing board after we wake this guy... or girl up.”

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who just scaled a building for nothing.”

Gavin shakes his head as he smiles to himself. It’s true. Even the worst days with North’s crew are better than his best days at the DPD. Maybe it’s because he’s finally doing what he was born for. Using the knowledge and skills that practically run through his veins. Maybe its the man by his side.

He gets the pod open and steps sideways to avoid the swing of the door, and freezes.

“Babe.”

No response.

“Dipshit.”

“Hmm. Give me a second.”

“Take a minute. You’re going to want to brace yourself for this one.”

The android lying peacefully within the pod is a stranger with a face entirely too familiar to Gavin. A face he was just looking at. A face he’d recognize anywhere, even without skin.

“Are their battery levels- holy shit.”

Connor’s LED spins faster and faster as he registers the sight.

“I thought there were no surviving RK800s apart from you and that grumpy SWAT guy Sixty.”

“This... this isn’t an RK800.”

Connor traces the serial number printed on the android’s cheekbone. RK900.

“Shit. Did you know this model existed?”

“No, did you?”

Gavin shakes his head. He hadn’t been privy to Cyberlife’s inner decision-making for nearly fifteen years, but he always answered Connor’s persistent questioning without losing patience. Honesty was what kept them together despite the hundreds of reasons to fight and fall apart.

“What should we do? If he’s your successor, I’m not sure waking him up is the safest thing for you to do...”

“We can’t leave him here, Gav. He’s probably been here from before the Revolution. That’s more than a year of being in a box. It’s not... fair...”

“He’s not deviant, babe. We don’t know what his programming is like.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can turn him.”

Gavin sees the look in Connor’s eyes and knows he’s made up his mind already. He steps aside, hand flitting to the holster on his waist.

Connor takes an unnecessary breath and reaches for RK900′s forearm with his synth skin retracted. His fingers hover over the motionless android for a moment and then he makes contact. Gavin tenses.

Nothing happens. The RK900′s LED remains unlit. There is no sign of life.

The couple look at each other automatically. Their instinctive reaction when the inexplicable occurs.

“Is he-”

“No, I don’t see any damage. I think he’s never been activated. Not even for quality testing.”

“Did you see a request for manual code input? Did any interface pop up at all?”

“I can only see that his power systems are functioning.”

“And his thirium pump?”

“Not active. No compressions at all.”

Connor presses both his palms down on the RK900′s face. Still nothing. He looks up, defeated, with a furrow forming between his brows.

“Help.”

Gavin scratches at his stubbled chin. He peers closer. The perfect face is so calm. So familiar. So... magnetic? His apprehension is replaced by intrigue.

“Huh. Okay. I could take a look... but I don’t wanna try using the computer set-up here. Can’t take a chance... leave any traces...”

“We could take him home.”

Storm green eyes lock with chocolate brown. There’s something in the depths of each pair that’s mirrored in the other.

It’s foolish. It’s a waste of time. It’s a risk. North would probably smack the two of them if she knew.

But the night ends with them gently lowering the unconscious android onto the squashy sofa in Gavin’s living room.

#reed1700 #reed900 #reed800 #convin #dbh connor #gavin reed #rk900 #dbh nines #dbh north #dbh writing #my writing #Reed1700 MANMADE FATE

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hanibalistic · 3 years

Text

#FBB2F3 | LEE FELIX.

genre | bittersweet, nostalgic fluff

word count | 2589

warning | none

tag | @fluffyskzclub

note | very easily could have been chan, but i wanted to write about lixie!!!

the paint on the brush splattered on the classroom floor after felix playfully nudged you with his feet. you groaned before regaining your balance, carefully hoisting yourself back on your kneeling position. your glare was paired by his light-hearted snickers.

"lix, either help me or go home," you said as you pointed the colorful end of the paintbrush at him threateningly. you pouted when he stood unfazed, smiling down at you with amusement. "i really need to finish this by tomorrow. everyone is counting on me!"

he took a step back when you returned your attention to the banner-sized canvas, adding more detail to the seemingly finished product. tilting his head, he admired the decorative artwork with both intrigue and cluelessness.

it was something his non-artistic self could have never done on his own, which was why the painting looked so grand to him, but he also couldn't understand why it wasn't finished yet when there was no more blank canvas left on the surface.

you obviously wanted to add more to the painting, but he couldn't see what there was to add that would make it less or more appealing. in the end, it would just look the same to him, so why couldn't you pack everything up so you two could finally go home?

looking up at the opened windows, felix sighed as he watched the orange sun slowly fade back into the mountains. he wanted to go home, but he had no plans to leave you alone at school at this hour, nor did he want you to walk home alone, so supposed he would have to stick with you and your endeavor for now.

"what do you need help with?" he asked as he took his hands out of his pockets and knelt next to you, accessing the painting with unease. "i might mess up."

"you're not touching the painting," you said as you reached over for the plastic color wheel and handed it to felix.

his eyes followed your hands—boxes of paint, a jar of dirty water, a paper of abandoned colors, and a spiky brush. after setting them around him, you reached for your bag on the chair nearby and pulled out your notebook from the thin gap of your heavy textbooks.

felix raised his brows when you leaned over to him, flipping the pages of your notebook before stopping at a messy page. he saw circles and circles of colors, lined up together in a way that looked like detailed instructions but also a disorganized brainstorm map. his gaze moved from the notebook to the color wheel, utterly clueless.

"do you see number three, eight, and twenty-five? mix those colors for me," you instructed, pointing briefly at the paper before dropping it before his knees and turning back to the painting. "make sure they look like the ones in the notebook but a little more vibrant!"

felix nodded as a soft, confused hum of an agreement left his lips. he gripped the paintbrush in his hand, his shaky eyes glancing at the colors on your notebook and the lines of acrylic paint.

a gentle fear shook upon his ground when he was shifting through the colors. he could not tell the difference between the first red paint and the seventh one, but they had different names so they must be two kinds of red. putting his shrunken hand next to his face, felix licked his lower lip with concentration, thinking that if he stared at the colors long enough they would appear different to his eyes.

they did not.

giving up, he glanced up at you in preparation to ask for your advice, but he stopped when he saw that you were putting your utmost attention to the painting. with softened eyes, he decided to bother you at a later time—

"uh, haha, no," you interrupted the trip down memory lane with a sharp chuckle, and you looked up at felix with a sneer. "that was not how it went."

felix tossed his much longer hair away from his face with shy laughter. his short ponytail bounced slightly and his side fringes framed his sharp face. shoving his hands further down the pockets of his coat, he jutted his lower lip out and shrugged, "that was how i remembered it though."

"then you have bad memories," you scoffed, "you kept bothering me about the colors that i ended up telling you to just step aside and wait for me."

"i was not bothering you!"

"yes, yes you were."

"i was–ack! i was being thorough!" he retorted, throwing his arm out and waving his finger at you. there was a flustered smile on his face; he was looking like he could remember everything but was purposefully making things up. your chest felt light seeing it.

"remember how you told me your entire class depended on you to win the class board contest? how, like, they will literally kill you if you mess up?" he exclaimed.

you furrowed your brows in exaggerated horror, placing a hand on your chest and leaning back slightly to further state your surprise. "i never said that!"

"you never?"

"no!"

"was it just me?" felix questioned himself with a scratch of his head, taking shallow breathes of thoughts as he turned away to look around the classroom he once studied in. taking notice of a familiar corner, he raised his hand and pointed at the broken end of the door. "oh, they painted over the wall jisung scrubbed on."

you looked over instinctively and pouted.

of course they would. jisung had written profanities on that corner, after all. you weren't sure why he had done it then, but you remembered watching him get dragged by the ear to the principal's office and grimacing when you met eyes with him. who would have thought he became such an introverted and well-behaved boy now?

"i'm sure they changed a lot of things around these years," you said quietly as you walked through the narrow rows of the wooden desks.

the words jisung left on the wall, the rack of art supplies hyunjin always kept on the top cabinet shelf where the homework was stored, seungmin's neat handwriting being the first thing everyone sees on the blackboard whenever they walk into the classroom, and felix's school jacket he always dumped near the locker for easier access.

they were all gone. the presence of your youth has been erased.

"it has been a while since we came back," you finished off when you came across your old seat and you sat down.

it has been a while since you both came back to your high school, and it has been a while since you two went separate ways to pursue your careers. nothing physical has changed in these classrooms, but they no longer hold the scent of your old friends or the sights of your old classmates.

other people study here now, these classrooms are a foreign home now. as much as that irked you, you had to accept growing up.

felix pulled up the chair in front of you—the desk that belonged to him—and sat down facing the back of the chair. he propped his arms on the top rail and leaned his chin on his intertwined hands, staring at you.

the golden sun glossed over your faces, reflecting a younger light that made you gasp as it deceived your eyes with a newfound nostalgia, manually turning the gears in your head to make you see what you haven't seen in a long time.

felix's hair was black—black, short, and messy. you used to run your hands through them, especially when he was pouting from having trouble with finishing his literature homework. the teacher was the worst, he got unlucky to be stuck with them for a full year. it was thanks to your help, and the longevity of the lunch breaks, that he managed to survive.

instead of the turtleneck and coat, he wore the loose tie he never learned to properly tighten and his wrinkled uniform. his shirt was untucked because he couldn't be bothered. he would eventually fix it up, though, because he was scared of the discipline teacher. but, this was between him and himself only, compared to the discipline teacher he was more scared of you scolding him about his untidy uniform.

(funnily, there was nothing more he would purposefully chase after than your gentle nags back in the days.)

the freckles across his cheeks would be less visible. hyunjin used to have to cover it up for him because he wasn't confident about the way they looked on his face, but you remembered—you remembered how he had told you he loved it when you counted them, touched them, and kissed them as you sat on his lap.

he had told you he loved it.

he had told you he loved you back in high school, and you had said it back.

you remembered. under this blazing sun, the sun that never changed, the sun that only showed you the truth and what you secretly longed for, you remembered that you and felix were once in love.

"ah, this really brings back old memories," felix sighed dramatically with a smile. "we used to talk like this a lot. i remember being so uncomfortable sitting like this, but i wanted to talk to you so i kept sitting like this until the bell rings."

"what?" you scoffed, leaning back on your seat and raising a brow. "you should have just told me."

"i didn't want the ruin the flow of our conversations!" he said, then he propped his face on his fists like a flower. "besides, i used to think i look cool sitting like this, so i always sat like this when we chatted."

you gave him a faint eye-roll. you thought it was lame now, but back then having him turn as soon as the lunch bell rings and hearing your classmates coo teasingly at you two was the one thing you looked forward to in school, that was besides seeing felix, of course.

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you said. "you snatched me."

"i totally did." he laughed.

both of you didn't want to verbally acknowledge the fact that you two had been so madly in love back then that you would rather let silence fall over. it would have been awkward to talk about it after so long, even though you two had been very mature about the break-up and remained as loose friends afterward.

in an attempt to break the silence, you kicked your feet, reached out, and playfully ruffled his hair. felix was taken back by your sudden movement, his eyes widening in panic that you were messing up his hair as his hand immediately flew from his pocket to stop you.

"hey! i spent a long time on this ponytail!" he complained, frowning at your loud giggles at his misery.

"i'm sorry! it's just–" your eyes caught sight of a single run sitting on his fourth finger and you paused. there was a gentle pang in your chest as you tore your eyes away.

regaining your senses quickly, you removed your hand from his hair and sat back down, then you nudged your head over at his hand. "i see you got a promise ring there?"

felix hummed questioningly. he looked up at his hand, still trying to recover from the initial shock of your action, and he sighed with recognition when he realized what you meant. a smile blossomed over his face, a smile so bright and familiar that it made all your forbidden hope dissipate into the hole of your heart.

"yeah, i have a girlfriend," he said, wiggling his fingers. "we have been dating for a year now. i got it for our anniversary!"

you kept the smile on your face. you had gotten over the break-up a long time ago, but when the reality of moving on slapped you across the face like this, your heart churned in distaste anyway. felix was no longer yours, and you were not his—you accept that, you were just a tad bit upset.

"that's good! i'm still waiting for this boy to confess," you muttered with a glare of your eyes as you shifted on your seat. seeing the curious glint in felix's eyes, your thoughts swirled and suddenly your fondness for him faded to the back of your head. you sighed with a defeated smile at the new name in your head. "there is this boy at work–new guy, just a little younger than me–yang jeongin. he is so, so shy."

"i thought you don't like boys younger than you."

"he's an exception."

felix rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "alright. just don't scare him off, you can be intimidating. remember that time when a junior tried to ask you out and he chickened out the last minute–"

"uh, that was because i was dating you back then."

"no, he said it was because you looked like–"

"i know what he said, shut up!" you kicked him under the desk, bubbling a burst of laughter out of him as he stumbled.

after adjusting his position, felix patted his head to fix his hair before he crossed his arms and propped it on the top rail again. he looked at you seriously this time, but his eyes were caring and lovely. after all this time, he looked at you the same way—always, and you loved it all the same.

"does he treat you well?" he asked.

you pursed your lips into a thin smile and nodded. "mhm."

"good."

you glanced at him, wanting to ask your fair share of questions. is he happy? is he loved? is he being held? are his freckles being kissed, or is his hair being combed? is he nagged to take a rest, told that he is pretty? you kept your mouth shut.

the sun was setting into the mountains and the day was changing. the youthful light faded that your current-self once again resurfaced to sight, but just before the last trace of the sun died out in your classroom, you two gazed at each other, and it all went back to the wrinkled uniforms, the tousled hair, the old textbooks, and the shy intertwined hands.

back when felix was the only boy you kept in your heart.

the sun set, the light of his promise ring reflected in your eyes, and you felt a drop in your stomach that you ignored.

"i'm gonna go back and make sure jisung isn't causing a ruckus in the hall," you said as you stood up. "you coming back? dinner is about to start."

felix looked up at you and shook his head. "not yet, you can go first."

you shrugged and left the room with no questions asked. felix returned to the front when you left and he sighed at the worn-out desk before him.

he refused to think about the fluttering feeling in his tummy when you ruffled his hair and when he saw the younger version of you seated in front of him, but he knew for a moment there when he felt it, it was kind and warm, and he knew he missed it somehow.

he missed you, he used to, the only person he had kept in his heart.

tapping his finger, felix rolled his eyes.

"yang jeongin," he clicked his tongue, "pff." and he scoffed.

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Half Gloves Headcanons

A/N: Headcanons because,, yeah!! Hope you enjoy!! (also i’m assuming you’re talking about fingerless gloves so that’s what it is or at least referenced!!) -

Bubaigawara Jin:

He gets it. Jin will probably understand your need to have gloves on your hand more than anyone. He has his mask to help him out with his own anxiety, so you having your gloves is just something else that you have in common. He’s quick to notice your constant need for it, the way your hands thread with each other, the nervous picking against loose threads and in a sort of knowing way, he’ll inch closer to you, offering his own hand for you to play with in order to calm down.

If your gloves ever get ruined, he’s a bit worrisome. He knows what it’s like to lose something so precious- he’s lost count of how many times his own mask has ripped- so he freezes. Whether it’s a tear or a spilled drink on the fabric, he’ll freeze and begin to look for a cloth or a spare glove to give to you. Most of the time, it’s a piece of cloth he happens to have. There are few times where he’ll offer his own. It’s not because he’s stingy with it, but it’s important to him as well- something else to keep him held together- and he knows that you understand that. Not to mention that you have expressed your concerns about having your entire hand covered.

He’s a bit awkward in trying to find out what you like in terms of your hands and texture. He doesn’t want to ask outright, he’s aware of how nervous you get with the discussion of it so he doesn’t push. He’ll bite his bottom lip raw, searching through your gloves, figuring out what type of fabric you use, if there’s any repeating brands or whatnot. He’ll give you the gloves wrapped crudely with wrapping paper, stuttering about how he thought you would look nice in plum colored gloves.

Oftentimes, he’s going out of his way to make sure your hands stay safe. He’ll do any manual labor, let you rest beside him as your hands remain safe under the blanket. He won’t push you to tell him about your need for your gloves- you never do with his own mask, so he gives you the same respect. He does like it when you touch his hands, he can feel the slight pressure from the gloves on his hand, the way the fabric almost pulls against his glove and yours. He’ll seldom comment on it, just wanting to live in the small peaceful moment, but when he does, he’ll lean against your chest, press his face against the crook of your neck and tell you how nice you feel.

Jin will never push you to show your hands to him. He will never complain, he’ll always “ask” permission before holding your hand, which is really just him leaving his hand open, palm facing the ceiling and waiting nervously until you place your hand in his. He’ll take things slow, waiting for you to initiate things at your own pace, asking if it’s okay to touch any other parts of your body. If you choose to show him your hands, he will need verbal confirmation that he’s allowed to look and touch. During those times, he’ll rarely let go of your hand, always holding it in his, tracing against your veins and over the bumps of your knuckles in a gentle manner.

Dabi:

Dabi sort of gets it. He isn’t entirely sure of how it helps you cope, but if it’s helping you, then he isn’t going to question it. He’ll watch you fidget, nervously running over the edge of where the gloves end, seeing you wrap a loose thread tightly around your finger. It’s these sort of times where he’ll step in. He knows it’s more of a tic rather than you trying to actively cause harm to yourself but it still irks him when he sees your finger pale and redden all at once. He’ll grab your hand, run a coarse finger against your own and look straight ahead, not wanting to meet your gaze.

He’s difficult to point down. He doesn’t want to meet your gaze whenever you tend to ply or fidget with your hands more out of respect than anything else. He doesn’t think he gets to see you in such a fragile way. He can see how your face flushes whenever you catch him staring and a part of him believes it's the same as when he fixes his staples. He gives you the same privacy, not wanting you to have him think of himself as anything less and believing that you don’t want him to look at you. He’ll just hold your hand, bite the inside of his cheek and squeeze your hand a bit too tight.

If your gloves were to be damaged in any type of way, he’ll get you new ones. He gets whichever that he can get his hands on- at least that’s what he tells you when he drops the bag beside you, your hands hidden under the blankets. Coincidently, the gloves that he always buys- or rather steals- are the same type that you wear- same color, store bag, and brand. He’ll deny ever actually looking for the brand, only muttering how you seem troubled without them and he just wanted you to stop picking at your hands; but he fails to ever put things away properly, a piece of paper with pretty handwriting details the brand hat you wear and the size.

When he does spend time with you, he fidgets- just a bit. Enough for his hands to scratch lightly at your arm and hold it down, his face pressed against you and his hands slowly slipping down to your wrist. He’s needy. Desperate for attention and praise. Desperate for anything that you’ve already given him. But he knows how you are about hands, so he won’t ask to hold them, only kissing at your face roughly, so careful not to dig his nails into your skin, and feverish as he pushes himself closer to you. A fool to just hold your hand- just for a second. But he doesn’t want to force you into anything and he doesn’t want rejection, so he’ll take what he can get, only in your sleep will he trace against the lining of the fabric and wake you, telling you he’s going to leave. Whatever thing you have with your hands, he knows it won’t feel good if you sleep in your gloves.

He knows it’s for your anxiety- to deal with whatever you have and he’s seen how you act without your gloves- paranoid, wide eyes that scan the room, your skin picked and bitten, so he won’t push for you to remove your gloves. It’s not a sign of trust that’s broken or interfered with in his eyes, but he wants to make you feel better sometimes, and he wants you to know that whatever it is with your hands and tics, he just wants to know that you can count on him. When you decide to hold his hand, without any gloves, Dabi acts nonchalant externally. He’s simply having you thread your hand with his, but he’s memorizing the calluses on your fingers, the way that your nail scratches against the heel of his palm. There’s a slight twitch where Dabi will have a fingertip trace along the lines of your palm.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Tomura understands why you want to wear gloves. He won’t get the reason, but he won’t push. If wearing gloves makes you feel better, who is he to judge- especially when he wears a hand on his face. He’ll watch your hands, ignoring the almost forced way that you play with them but as time goes on, you’re more bold with your actions, touching the gloves and running your fingertips over the seams. He’ll place his head against yours, eyes slowly closing as he watches you fidget.

He will take notice of the type of gloves that you wear. He’ll get a pack and depending on the timing of the relationship, he’ll have Kurogiri warp him to grab packs, or he’ll simply break in and take them, carefully placing them in a bag to avoid accidently touching them. Further into the relationship, he’ll just make sure that you have spares on hand or that he has spares with him stuffed into his pockets. He knows the importance of your gloves, has watched you fret over them and almost in a panicked state, hide them under your thighs or covers in a desperate attempt to regain the safety and it’s something he doesn’t want to see.

There is a chance that he will be annoyed. He knows the importance of them, has gotten you pack after pack in case there’s an emergency and yet, there is an almost frenzied part of him that just wants you to put your hands on him, free of any fabric and only touching him in the soft way that you always do. But he won’t ever push or be sour in front of you. He might frown if you go to hold his wrist or hand- depending on the time of the relationship- but he always tends to relax, pressing his lips against your head in an almost kiss. His negative emotions tend to simmer away, allowing him to relax as you touch him as you always do.

When you sleep beside him, he’s pressed against you, his body on high alert as his hands near yours. There are a few times when you sleep with your gloves on, forgetting them usually, so he takes that time as much as he can. He’ll grasp your hand, let his fingertips run along the edges of the gloves, and if you whine in your sleep or twitch, he’ll drop your hand as if it burned him. He’s left on high alert, heart racing and breath escaping him, holding his own hand. His hand has touched yours, neared yours in gloves and all, but he’s never wanted to touch the edge of your glove, always finding that more intimate, so actually nearing the edge of your skin has him brewing in shame and excitement.

Being in any type of relationship with Tomura contains a lot of neediness. He wants the constant touching, and while he won’t ever complain about never holding your actual hand or the constant need to have your palms covered, he is caught staring at them quite a few times. If you do happen to show your hands, it’s quite a big sign of trust for him. He’ll be the one to cautiously remove one glove, taking his sweet time as his spindly fingers trail against your palm, lifting the glove to expose your hand and whether it's because of the feeling of being bare or the glove that scratches your skin, you shiver. He’s restless, muscles pulled taut, jaw clenched and a tight swallow as you press your hand flat against his, his thumb refusing to meet yours as you thread your fingers with his.

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abittersweetsongforyou · 3 years

Text

wtfock fic recs part 1

okay so some points

im sorry about the spacing but i cant be bothered to fix it, im sorry if i missed anything and i hope this was helpful

the classics (v popular, many kudos)

I Didn't Want To Share My Boyfriend Anymore by teen_content_queen So He's Happy by Masterless rescue my heart by themoongirl go and hold that lightning by themoongirl i've learned to lose you (can't afford to) by petitepeach and my love life waits by petitepeach Truth by MsAshlyjudd8 Carry You by clarecas Are You Jealous Or Are You Sulking? by teen_content_queen Sick Day by teen_content_queen can i try again? by lamourestout Floating in a most peculiar way by skamsnake rotten work by aholynight run and score by aurorawinds

Unattainable by sincerelysobbe

canon divergence/missing scenes/fix-its

woensdag 21:21 (redux) by eliottamoureux - the post first kiss that sander deserved living life and loving boys by TheGlassesPredicament - post hate crime, milan and our boys :( but :) all we can do is keep breathing by aletterinthenameofsanity - sander is homeless explanation Bringing A Boy Home by ForeverInIdle - Sander takes Robbe to meet his mother watch myself watchin' you by vitane - robbes crush on sander developing during the beach trip hey wolf, there's lions in here (hey wold, just see there's no fear) by tokyometropolis(mesohorany) - sanders perspective of ohn Rebel Rebel by skamsnake - sanders perspective on trying to get robbe to fall in love with him on the beach trip In which Sander and Robbe emigrate from Robbe's bedroom by orphan_account zaterdag 22:02 by wasteourdaysdreaming - sander wants to be with robbe diminuendo by noobishere - sander at the flatshare after robbe leaves for his exam and I know what you're feeling ('cause I feel it as well) by nothingbutniall - kissing in the tunnel a warning sign by themoongirl - sanders perspective after he ran out of the hotel reunited by themoongirl - reimagined ohn you don't even know who i am by lamourestout - robbe and sander getting to know each other take these broken wings and learn to fly by ladypeaceful - the hate crime gonna build you up (gonna help you believe, honey) by ladypeaceful - robbe takes sander to meet his mama

the broers

being assholes fucking asshole. by richietrashmouthtozier - jens is a dick and robbe is tired and sad The Familiar, Foreign, or Both by TOZ1ER - robbe grew apart from the broers by then he runs into them in the supermarket oké, so? by severegas4 - moyo is a dick being mostly good friends jahsdaj by the way by TheGlassesPredicament - robbe has been dating sander and is tired of hiding it Now I'm In It by cicelsticks - sander on a broers holiday, there's only one bed, and pining Low Volume by clubstocrews23 - sander is down but robbe is there for him a teenage manual on breathing by merengue - robbe comes out to jens, this one is seriously so good Fun Get Away by Masterless - jens doesnt like sander but he's a good friend

wtFOCK - Moyo season 4 by Createdforyou - screenplay style moyo season 4 written by some lovely people and very well done, even if screenplay isn't your thing i highly suggest trying it

romcom type aus that make my heart all fuzzy

Croissants by bruisingknees - sander works at a bakery, robbe is a customer, flirting ensues its an unrequited love by eggsntoast - sander works at a museum and robbe keeps visiting The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove - two boys meet in a meadow Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces - barista!sander and barista!eliott we love to see it

My hand around the base of your holy neck by allforyoumylove - friends with benefits and we all know how that turns out

Come closer I'll give you all my love by Createdforyou - fake dating au babyyy

Christmas Dreams by Createdforyou - they're coworkers and its christmas! tell me that doesnt scream romcom

careless in its choosing by noobishere - they meet in a club its very cute

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind by nbrook - friends to lovers and its christmas and robbes boyfriend sucks

just friends by sincerelysobbe - friends with benefits with much pining

But darling, love is passing by by Createdforyou - barista!sander i mean who doesnt love barista!sander and strangers to friends to lovers

fun and funky aus that just hit

Let's Dance by msleviss- Sander is a DJ we love to see it our camp of dreams by aurorawinds - a summer camp au Falling For You by silver_etoile - soccer au babyyyyy Seek Only Love by iwritetropesnottragedies(recklesslee) - Sander goes to Robbe's highschool Jij Verliest by sincerelysobbe - robbe is a streamer and he deserves a nice boyfriend aka sander the blood of both is my limbo by tokyometropolis(mesohorany) - robbe is an angel and sander is a demon its fucking awesome i'm slowly falling away. by fockinglevendcliche - enemies to lovers paint me in trust by themoongirl - vampire!sander that's all u need to know Pizza Time by Quirlequast - robbe cant tell if pizza deliveryboy sander is flirting with him we don't gotta be discreet by noobishere - robbe and sander fake date but theyre actually really dating, aaron is just an idiot

flower moon by cicelsticks - hogwarts au v cute

love me while your wrists are bound by alsjeblieft - siren!sander is fucking awesome this one also has under 100 kudos and thats just wrong

masterpiece by sincerelysobbe - soulmate au babyyyy

For Real by peaceoutofthepieces - fake dating at christmas time what could be better

everything all at once by whalefairyfandom - robbe is a barista and sander is his coworker britts 'asshole' ex-boyfriend

love potion no.9 by thekardemomme - hogwarts au and its amortentia day

the blind date bomb by thekardemomme - robbe and sander on a blind date and it goes very well

I See You When You Run From The Light (within your eyes) by womenstan - sander is blind and robbe is an idiot but itll be okay eventually bsadhajshd

carry me through this sleeping city by aurorawinds - imo this is some of aurorawinds best work, they're neighbours and coworkers and v cute

the sports we play by dottori - this one was very fun and cute although i only vaguely know of the foxhole court it was still very enjoyable so even if you dont know the reference read it anyway

makes me feel things i cant explain

vrijdag 21:37 by wasteourdaysdreaming - the same party from told from different perspectives (one of my all time fucking favourites fr) to build a home by aguamarina - sander has a sister and she's the sweetest thing

you know i'm always at your shoulder (take your heart out of its holster) by wafflesofdoom - this is unfinished but so so worth the read anyway especially because the chapters kind of function as one-shots

hop in the corolla by noobishere - god this fic is everything to me like them on a trip together, in love, happy, being young, fuck its so wonderful

A New Sunday Feeling by foxsake5 - they're in love and horny and v sweet

Fizzy Colas by foxsake5 - its boys night out but robbe and sander are in love

in this universe by dottori - fluff fluff fluff my little heart

Suns Set Before They Rise by writingbuzz - boyfriends waking up together

lovers never lose by dottori - this has to be one of my all time favourites, perfectly cheesy i love it sm

Taking pictures of you as the light came through by allforyoumylove - this one is steamy so be warned but so tender and sweet

My hand around the base of your holy neck by allforyoumylove - friends with benefits but they're in love and its beautiful

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell - wow i mean wow, they both have issues and they're still learning and trying and they love each other even though they're sad and a bit broken.

Always mine, always yours by allforyoumylove - they go to a wedding and get engaged and its romantic as fuck and im crying

one through seven by dottori - robbe and sander are in love

#wtfock #wtfock fic #wtfock fanfic #wtfam

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lillotte17 · 3 years

Text

Blossoms on a Bough

Fix-it/filler for the end of episode 36!!!

The first thing Wen Kexing notices, once his mind has floated up towards any sense of consciousness, is a bright cool light shining on his face. His brows twitch downwards in irritation, the intensity of it stinging his eyes even while they are still closed. His body feels like lead, and his thoughts are thick and muddy. He just wants to ignore the light and drift back off to sleep.

Wherever he is, he seems to have landed on something relatively soft and warm. It is surprising, since his general ideas about the netherworld involve darkness and cold, but he is certainly not going to complain. Perhaps, given the long list of his transgressions, his soul flew right past the Yellow River and dropped straight into hell, and now he is being fried in a pot just like that chicken that had chased Chengling around the Four Seasons Manor. The thought makes him want to laugh, but there is an odd tightness in his chest, so the best he can manage is an incredibly weak cough.

A faint rustling of cloth sounds by his ear as whatever he is reclining on shifts slightly. There is a vague sense of presence nearby, but he cannot tell more than that. Almost against his will, he cracks his eyes open to see who might be trapped in the stew pot with him, but there is only a dark looming blur surrounded by pale watery light. It makes him think of Zhou Zishu; his face bathed in sunshine, in moonshine, in starlight. He always seemed to glow with something intangible and dream-like. And Wen Kexing -helpless little month- could do nothing else but follow after it.

“Ah Xu,” he exhales in the barest of whispers.

A scent lingers in the air around him, crisp and lightly musky. It reminds him of burying his fingers in long dark tresses. Of the tenderness and care taken combing the tangles out of them afterwards. Of sliding his own hair pin into the carefully twisted knot at the crown of Zhou Zishu’s head. He should have brought him a different one to replace it, he thinks blearily. The key was most likely lost or broken in all of that snow, and now he will have nothing to remember him by.

This place is strange, wherever it is. Soothing and disorientating all at once. Is it some sort of hallucination? Did his soul get lost somewhere between life and death? Is he a true ghost now, doomed to wander the world in hopeless despair, witnessing joys he can no longer take part in? Thoughts spin around in his head in a billion tiny fragments. He cannot quite seem to catch hold of any of them, or arrange them in a pattern that makes sense.

“Am I dead?” he wonders aloud, his voice thin and raspy, not expecting an answer.

“You fucking better not be,” a cross reply rumbles out from somewhere above him.

Wen Kexing blinks. The sun still burns his eyes, but after a few moments of intense squinting, the dark blur leaning over him reconfigures itself into a familiar and beloved face. Zhou Zishu, leaning back against a dusty wall with Wen Kexing pulled more than half way into his lap.

“What…happened?” Wen Kexing wonders, head positively spinning in bafflement. Now that he is waking up a bit more, he is becoming more aware of his body’s aches and pains. It feels like a horse kicked him in the chest and then he fell into a river and drowned. Even wincing hurts.

“Something went wrong with the ritual,” Zishu tells him. His voice is raw and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks as haggard as Wen Kexing feels. “You collapsed. Your heart meridians were severely damaged, and your hair turned white. You must have used too much of your internal force. It has been more than three days since you lost consciousness and…I thought…”

His voice splinters and he trails off, looking away from him for a moment.

“But…it worked?” Wen Kexing presses, trying to feebly grip at Zhou Zishu’s sleeve, “You can hear me talking again now, so that means that it worked, right? The rest is fine, so long as it saved you.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Zhou Zishu answers, the first traces of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Yes. You are here.” Wen Kexing echoes, as though he still cannot quite believe it, “And…I am here, too.”

“You are.” Zishu confirms, his arms tightening around him, carefully tugging him up until he is all but leaning into his chest. “It was a near thing, though. My medical knowledge is limited, and even with the Yin Yang book, I was not certain that I could heal you.”

“Rong Xuan’s wife allegedly used the teachings in the book to heal his heart meridians and other serious injuries when he was near death several times over,” Wen Kexing hums thoughtfully, casually tilting his head against Zishu’s shoulder, “But she was an experienced physician. You have had no training, and yet you saved me on the first try. You must possess some kind of natural affinity for it. Ah Xu, you have so many talents, I am having a hard time keeping track of them all.”

“It had nothing to do with affinity,” Zhou Zishu huffs, sounding exasperated and perhaps even the tiniest bit embarrassed, “It was pure dumb luck.”

“Eh?”

“The Four Seasons Sect has a special technique that cripples someone’s heart meridians,” he explains somberly, a humorless smirk on his face, “I used it against Prince Jin to keep him alive, but bedridden. My master taught it to me, and as far as I know, I am the only one left alive who knows how to perform it.”

“That is very interesting, Ah Xu, but I am not certain I understand what it has to do with dumb luck,” Wen Kexing says smilingly.

“My master…he also told me how to counter the technique, so that the person’s heart meridians could be healed again and their qi could flow properly,” Zhou Zishu continues, turning his head slightly to directly meet Wen Kexing’s gaze. “I did not have much hope when I opened the Yin Yang book. You were slipping away, and there was no time for in-depth research. But…when I found the section detailing how someone with damaged meridians might be cured, it was obvious that…the techniques I learned from my master were based on this knowledge.”

“So…that means…my parents…?” Wen Kexing looks a bit lost at the revelation.

Zhou Zishu nods.

“It is likely that Lady Yue Feng’Er and your parents shared this precious knowledge with their friends, and possibly even helped my master develop this skill. I was only able to save you because of this.”

Wen Kexing furrows is brows, his thoughts whirling and his emotions complex. He seemingly stares at the dark blue of Zhou Zishu’s lapels for what feels like ages, looking but not seeing, pensive and moody. Finally, he lets out a very tired-sounding sigh.

“And I only managed to save you because that dumb bastard Rong Xuan stole the manual for the Six Cultivation Techniques,” he says, sounding bitter, “But maybe no one would have needed all this saving in the first place if that old monster had never let his idiot disciple leave the mountain to begin with.”

Zhou Zishu frowns down at him.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, a bit sulky, “The past is past. Zhao Jing was punished and the rest are dead. There is no point stewing on it now. I have just…been angry about it for so long, sometimes I forget that I don’t have to be anymore. Be patient with me, Ah Xu.”

“Hm?” Zishu blinks, as though suddenly coming back to himself. “Oh, it wasn’t about that.”

“Then what?”

“I was just thinking that…it really could not have been anyone else,” Zhou Zishu tells him slowly, intensity burning in his dark eyes. “I said it was only dumb luck, because I never believed in destiny all that much before. If you want to achieve something in this world, you have to be willing to create it for yourself. But…for things to end up this way… It had to be you, and it had to be me, didn’t it?”

Wen Kexing bursts out laughing, utterly delighted.

“I always knew you had a soft heart beneath that tough exterior,” he grins, slightly breathless, with an almost pleasant ache in his ribs, “But Ah Xu, I never imagined that you were secretly a romantic.”

“Shut up,” Zishu grunts, pinching his arm until he yelps, “Who is romantic?”

“Ai, there is no need to be shy about it now, is there?” Wen Kexing says pleadingly, giggling to himself all the while, “There is no one here except us.”

“That’s right,” Zhou Zishu agrees blithely, a truly terrifying expression stealing across his face, “There is no one on this entire mountain except for you and me.”

“Ah Xu, don’t do anything rash,” Wen Kexing cajoles with a hint of genuine nervousness, “I only teased you a little bit, and I am still in such a delicate state of health. If you throw me out in the snow and beat me, I really won’t be-”

Zhou Zishu kisses him then, and whatever he won’t be promptly flies out of his head like a startled flock of birds.

The kiss is softer than he would have guessed, if he had gotten a moment to anticipate it. Clumsy, but tender. Hasty, but sincere. The mouth pressed so suddenly against his own trembles just slightly right before it pulls away. A thousand years too soon.

It is nowhere near the first time they have kissed each other, but Wen Kexing is almost always the instigator. It suits his own preferences to take the lead in most physical forms of intimacy anyway, so he would never complain about it. However, it does make the times Zhou Zishu reaches for him first feel more…something. Something that makes his heart full, and his eyes itch.

It makes him feel as though he is not only being accepted by this man, but chosen by him, too. As his partner. As his equal. As his friend. Lovers and soulmates and all the rest.

Wen Kexing is not certain that anyone else has ever chosen him before.

Not when there were other, better, options on hand, at any rate.

He swallows thickly, gazing up at Zhou Zishu with wide, startled eyes. Little flecks of cold mountain sunlight catch in the dark sweep of the other man’s hair almost like snowflakes. His grin is wide and fierce. Buoyant and hopeful in a way he has never been in all the time they have known each other. He looks impossibly beautiful, and horribly pleased with himself for managing to derail Wen Kexing’s usual babbling. There might be the slightest touch of pink to his ears, though.

“Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing chokes out.

I love you.

But the words get stuck in his throat.

“What?” Zishu laughs, “Do you ever get tired of calling me?”

“No.” Wen Kexing offers him a weak smile in return, shifting out of his hold a little so they can sit facing one another.

Zhou Zishu heaves an exasperated sigh, but his eyes remain bright, his expression one of incalculable fondness.

“Is that all you were saying during the ritual?” he wonders, half joking, “You just sat there calling my name?”

“Huh?”

“You said earlier that you had tried speaking to me, but my hearing had gone,” Zhou Zishu reminds him, “What did you say?”

“Oh, yes, it was mostly just your name over and over,” Wen Kexing nods, “Plus a few embarrassing personal anecdotes I felt like sharing. Once I knew you had no way to stop me, I really couldn’t help myself.”

“Lao Wen.”

“Yes, Ah Xu?”

“After all we have been through together, what could you possibly still have to tell me that you think I would be unwilling to hear?”

Wen Kexing makes a face, caught outright.

“It…is not so much a matter of thinking you would not hear me out,” he admits carefully, “It is more that there are just things that are difficult to say to someone. The more important they are to you, the harder it gets, so between you and me… But when a man feels his end has come, all sorts of things seem to tumble out unwillingly.”

Zhou Zishu looks positively stricken.

“You could tell that the cultivation technique was backfiring?” he hisses out, gasping Wen Kexing by the shoulders, “And you still kept going?”

“What else could I do?” Wen Kexing asks helplessly, “If I had stopped wouldn’t we both die? Would it be better if I had starved to death with your corpse in my arms? Besides, that old monster promised me that this technique could save you, so no matter what the cost was going to be, of course I-”

“So, you knew there would be a cost already?” Zhou Zishu cuts him off, expression like a brewing storm cloud, “You knew this was likely going to injure you, and you did not even think to warn me first? We could have prepared beforehand! You could have looked through the Yin Yang book and point out things that I could use to help you in an emergency! Dammit, Lao Wen, I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this!”

“Was there really time for things like that?” Wen Kexing argues back, “Your senses were already dying out one by one, if we did not try the technique as soon as possible, you might not have been able to complete it! If I told you how risky it is, would you agree to it? Would you still let me try to save you?”

“I deserve the right to make that choice!” Zhou Zishu shouts hoarsely.

“You do!” Wen Kexing agrees just as hotly, “But I owe it to Chengling to save his family. And I owe it to our master to save his teachings. And I owe it to you most of all. I ruined your chance at happiness. To rebuild the Four Seasons with Chengling and the other new disciples. You threw it all away to try and avenge me… The number of people in this world who have been good to me are few enough to count on one hand. I would do anything for them, and you most of all. How could I live without repaying this debt?”

“And what if I hadn’t been able to save you?!” Zhou Zishu demands thunderously.

“I didn’t expect you to save me!”

For a few moments, the words seem to echo of the cold walls of the armory, bouncing back at them over and over. The silence that follows after them is deafening. Zishu’s eyes are red, and his hands are trembling on Wen Kexing’s biceps, but he looks as though he is about to breathe fire.

“Good,” he says finally, his voice low and deadly, “Very good. You feel like you owe me so much, but all you want to do is torture me.”

“What?” Wen Kexing baulks, “No! Ah Xu, that’s not what I-”

But before he can finish the thought Zhou Zishu has already pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, his breathing erratic, and his face buried in the side of his neck. Wen Kexing makes a pained grunt, his ribs still tender from previous injury. It only makes Zishu’s grip on him tighten, however, holding onto him with a furious desperation.

“In such a short stretch of time, I have had to see you dead or dying before my eyes over and over again,” he mumbles thickly into the silk of Wen Kexing’s robes, “You spent all this time chasing me down, pestering me to let you stay by my side, begging me not to die, and telling me to find things to feel hopeful about. But now it seems as though you are set on leaving me behind.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” Wen Kexing protests, but his voice seems to have lost all of its strength, “I just wanted to keep you safe. Even if I died, and you had to be sad for a while, you have so much left to live for, and I wanted you to have it. I just wanted you to be…happy.”

“Bastard,” Zhou Zishu laughs wetly, “Wen Kexing, you really are…the absolute worst sort of person.”

Wen Kexing sags in his embrace, his heart plummeting down into the pit of his stomach. His head droops, white hair falling across his eyes. Utterly defeated.

“I know.”

Zhou Zishu finally pulls back from him. There are obvious tear tracks down his cheeks, but he still looks fierce, regardless. He takes Wen Kexing roughly by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You are also…my happiness.”

Wen Kexing gapes at him, for once in his life completely at a loss for words. Seeing an opening, Zhou Zishu takes the opportunity to kiss him again. Harsher this time. Brief and chaste and biting. It does not seem to help the other man’s sense of bafflement in the slightest. Indeed, Lao Wen looks as though his soul might have just flown straight out of his body.

Zishu smiles at him again, but there is still something sharp and wounded at its edges.

“Eternity would be an empty place without you,” he says quietly, “How could you leave me to bear it alone?”

“I…I’m…sorry,” Wen Kexing sputters, as though he does not know what else to say. He finally reaches back for Zhou Zishu, cautiously taking hold of his wrists. The ache in his chest seems to have spread outward, and he is shaking so badly that he fears he might not be able to sit up straight much longer. “I’m sorry. I just did not… I did not know how else to save you.”

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu nods in understanding, “I suppose I can forgive you for it this time, although some part of me still would like nothing so much as to throw you outside and beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

“I will accept any punishment you want to give me,” Wen Kexing tells him earnestly.

“Alright,” Zhou Zishu grins, “Then pay me back with your whole life. Stay alive, and stay with me. Always.”

Wen Kexing blinks in surprise, but the next moment he is laughing. Dizzy with relief and unexpected joy. Marveling at the gifts that fate has blessed him with after so many years of hatred and heartache.

“I can do that.”

When Zhou Zishu wakes up later that night Wen Kexing is sitting at the opposite end of their makeshift bed in nothing but his under robe. His back is facing him, and he takes a moment to stare at the snowy cascade of his hair. The living proof of what Lao Wen would sacrifice for him. It looks beautiful on him, as everything else seems to, but Zishu thinks he prefers the rich dark brown that he was born with. This new color comes with a twinge of guilt.

Not that he would ever say so.

“Lao Wen,” he calls softly, “What are you doing?”

Wen Kexing’s shoulders stiffen in surprise.

“Don’t come over,” he replies, “I’m not finished yet.”

“Ai,” Zishu grins, scooting close enough to lightly tug at a few strands of that bone white hair, “But that just makes me want to come over even more.”

“I have a knife,” Lao Wen says coolly, “I will use it if I have to.”

“You left our bed in the middle of the night to play with a knife?” Zishu laughs, not intimidated in the least. “Why?”

“If you stop pestering me for a few minutes maybe you’ll find out,” Wen Kexing snaps. Zhou Zishu is not fooled, though. He had caught the sharp inhale of breath when he had said the words ‘our bed’, and he is all but certain that Lao Wen’s threats are empty.

“But you’ll catch cold,” he coaxes, slipping his arms about his waist and pressing a kiss into his shoulder. He obligingly resists the urge to peek at whatever secret Wen Kexing is fiddling with, though. The other man sighs, but does nothing to discourage him, as expected.

“The next time you accuse me of being insufferable, I want you to remember this conversation,” Wen Kexing says wryly.

“It must be your bad influence,” Zhou Zishu chuckles.

Wen Kexing hums noncommittally, going back to whatever he had been working on before. Zhou Zishu sits patiently behind him, leaning into the warm curve of his back, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the faint scraping sound of a blade chipping away at something. The proximity is comfortable, and the quiet almost meditative, and before long Zishu is already half way back to being asleep.

“Alright,” Lao Wen says finally, carefully pulling himself free of Zhou Zishu’s arms and turning to face him, “You can look now.”

Zishu has to shake himself a little to wake up again, but once he does, he finds that Lao Wen is holding out what appears to be an oddly shaped icicle.

“…What is it?” he asks after a few moments of trying to puzzle it out for himself.

Wen Kexing frowns.

“It’s a hair pin,” he tells him, as though it should be obvious.

“Ah.”

“What do you mean, saying ‘ah’ with such a doubting face?” Wen Kexing huffs in annoyance, “Of course it is a hair pin, what else would it be? You lost the one I gave you before, so now I have to give you a new one to replace it.”

“I lost the one you gave me before?” Zhou Zishu laughs.

“That’s right,” Wen Kexing nods seriously, “But I promise not to be mad about it.”

“Philanthropist Wen is too kind.”

“It’s true,” Lao Wen sighs dramatically, “People are always taking advantage of my generous nature.”

He firmly places the hair pin in Zhou Zishu’s hands. Upon closer inspection, it looks to be roughly shaped like a tree branch. There are two lumpy circles that might be meant to be flowers attempting to bloom from it. The finished product is crude, but the ice is clear and crystalline. Pretty, even despite the skill level of the craftsman.

“It is meant to be plum blossoms,” Wen Kexing admits somewhat sheepishly, “One bloom for each of us. There was meant to be a bud for Chengling, too, but I accidentally broke it off. Hopefully, that is not an inauspicious sign for him.”

“I see,” Zhou Zishu says, because he does see, and just like the morning he had woken up to find the Four Seasons Manor cleaned and Wen Kexing diligently repairing his master’s old painting, he feels very much like he wants nothing more than to pull the other man into his arms again.

“Ah Xu, will you accept it?” Wen Kexing asks, slightly trepidatious at his lack of reaction.

“Of course,” Zishu smiles easily, “But it’s made of ice, after all. If I wear it, it will likely melt or break in a day or so.”

“If it breaks, I will just make you a new one,” Wen Kexing says, his eyes soft. He plucks the hair pin from Zhou Zishu’s fingers, reaching up and carefully sliding it into the loose knot at the base of his ponytail. “I can make you a new one every day, if I have to. With any luck, they will eventually look less ugly.”

He takes Zhou Zishu’s hands in his own.

“There are still things I am not good at saying,” he tells him, “Things that I want to share with you. Things that you deserve to hear. Right now, my skills are not enough, but just like with the hair pin, if I keep working at it every day, eventually I can give you something worth having.”

Zhou Zishu tugs him down into his embrace. He thinks about kissing him. About pushing him down and pulling his robe open and showing him, again, how very much he is wanted. But Lao Wen is still recovering from injuries, and it would be a shame to snap his new hair pin tussling around in the sheets. So, he makes do with holding him close, for now. Tangling his fingers in hair the color of starlight.

“Say them, or don’t say them,” he says quietly against the shell of Wen Kexing’s ear, “Whatever they are, they have no bearing on your worth to me.”

“Doesn’t that seem like my current value is lower than mud?” Wen Kexing laughs nervously.

“It means you are treasured,” Zishu corrects him firmly, “There is no price that I would sell you for.”

“I suppose that means I can stop living in fear that you would truly try and sell me to a brothel.”

“You really are a brat.”

“Ah Xu?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

#word of honor #faraway wanderers #word of honor spoilers #wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #fic #this story did not listen to me AT ALL #these two NEVER listen to me!!!#I wanted to write domestic fluff about hair brushing #but noooo

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winters-tales · 4 years

Text

Hunting Party

“Come on rookie, time to go; we’ve got reports of a herd moving in from the breach.”

“A herd? Deer?”

“No, a herd of Elephants. YES, a herd of deer! Grab your chain, and let’s go.”

“If it’s just deer, what do I need chain for?”

“Haven’t you read the manual? The bestiary? Deer are so common they’re the first damned page! Have you seriously not read it?”

“I was planning to- I thought- I didn’t think I’d see action so soon…”

“First mistake there, rookie. Get your chain. Let’s go. We’ll fill you in on the way.”

The deer, Vanden explained as the battered Land Rover rumbled along, were one of the more common “leaks” that you’d get from breaches. Something about them was drawn to the volatile energy that left a gap between this world and The Other, and the deer found it easy to slide through before the Veil sealed itself over. They always came in numbers, and the trick was to get to them before they got to any unwary passers-by.

“We tried cordoning off the areas around breaches as unsafe, like minefields,” Owen continued as Vanden leaned forward to speak to the driver. “But you wouldn’t believe how many dog-walkers think we’re exaggerating, or that their little pooches will protect them. Ramblers are the worst; think their right to roam overrides our need to protect them. Idiots.”

Killian nodded, concentrating hard on what she was being told. So, the deer were dangerous; that made sense, she’d come across red deer previously and the size of them had left her very aware of how small and squishy she was. But she didn’t think chain would do much to protect her against the blunt force trauma of a whole herd of deer, surely?

The Land Rover veered off-road suddenly, and Killian grabbed for her chain shirt as it tried to slink and slide out of her hands.

“Rookie!” Vanden barked as she sat back from where she’d been leaning forwards. Killian jumped, nearly losing her grip on the chain for a second time. “Don’t just stare at it, wear it! Preferably over your shirt, but under your jacket; the layers of cloth will dull the sound so we can get the drop on the damn things.”

Killian nodded and shrugged off her jacket, wriggling her way into the heavy chain shirt. Neither Vanden or Owen had explained why she needed a chain shirt to begin with, but they were very keen she wear it; both already had theirs on, the dull steel showing just under their jacket collars.

“They’re not too far from the breach, which means they’ve not long come through and are probably just getting their bearings.” The older woman was gesturing over a map with the broken end of a pencil, and Killian leaned over to watch as she pulled her jacket back on. “We’re going to approach from the west, downwind of them, so they don’t pick us up; reports have them at a herd of 10, maybe 12, so the four of us should be fine to take them on as long as we don’t mess up. Rookie, Darcy, you get the shotguns; rounds are packed with rock salt and iron filings. Make sure the shots are carefully placed – we’re going to try and force them back through, so aim for the ground in front of them. Myself and Owen will run the netting around the outside edge of the herd, we just need the rest of you to help keep them corralled while we push them back through.” Darcy gave a thumbs up signal from the driver’s seat as Owen started passing out guns and shells, and as Killian took the weapon a thought occurred to her.

“What happens if the net breaks?” Owen rolled their eyes at their question - that was probably mentioned in the manual as well, Killian thought to herself - but Vanden grinned viciously, the scar on her lip pulling her mouth into a snarl.

“If the net breaks, it’s open season. Empty your gun into their faces, and if you run out of shells, use your pistol. I’ve got Sally here,” and she patted the butt of the hunting rifle slung over her shoulder, “so if any of them make a run for it, I’ll be able to pick them off with this.” Her smile dropped abruptly as she fixed Killian with serious eyes. “But if they knock you over, there’s only so much that chain of yours will do. Don’t fall over, rookie.”

Killian swallowed nervously, and accepted her weapon, trying not to let the others see how much her hands were shaking. All this for deer…? What had she missed by not reading the bestiary? Too late to dwell on it now, as the Land Rover was skidding to a halt in the dirt, and the others were piling out.

Vanden was clearly the veteran of the group, with her scarred face and greying flyaway hair. She shook out a length of silvered cord that seemed to refract the light in odd ways that hurt Killian’s eyes, and rolled it up loosely in a practiced motion that spoke of years of experience.

Owen was the right-hand; they obviously knew what they were doing and deferred to the older woman, although they didn’t seem to have as much patience as she did. They also had their fair share of scars, the most obvious being an ugly twisted length visible on their neck that vanished below their collar; Killian couldn’t decide if she wanted to see the full extent of the injury.

Darcy was perhaps another recent addition to the team; she hadn’t said anything on the drive up, concentrating on Vanden’s shouted directions, but she seemed a bit more fresh-faced than Vanden and Owen. Her dark skin didn’t show any visible scars, and she smiled easily when she met Killian’s eyes.

“Are they always this intense?” Killian asked her as they readied their shotguns together. Darcy smiled and shook her head, then leaned her weapon against the Land Rover carefully, and made a series of gestures with her hands. Killian’s heart sank slightly; she got the sense Darcy was signing slower than usual in case the rookie needed help keeping up, but Killian couldn’t understand sign language at all. She shook her head, and watched an unmistakable look of disappointment come over Darcy’s face.

“I’m sorry, I- I don’t speak- uh, I mean, I don’t use?- I don’t-”

“She says we’re nice when we’re not on a hunt.” Vanden said at Killian’s shoulder causing the younger woman to jump and nearly drop her gun.

“Are you Deaf, or- or just- ” Killian trailed off as she tried to think of the best way to phrase the question delicately, but the look on Darcy’s face told her she’d probably got that wrong, too. What a great first impression you’re making, she thought bitterly. From behind her, Vanden sighed.

“I take it you didn’t look through any of the company materials we emailed? There’s a video course for basic BSL. Watch it, learn it. You’ll need it.” Vanden turned to move away, but paused. “Oh, and to answer your question: Darcy can hear better than anyone on this team, and I’m including me in that; she just doesn’t talk.”

“Can I ask why? Did something happen?” Vanden, Owen and Darcy were striding away towards the treeline now, and Killian scrambled to keep up. Darcy shot her a flat, sideways look that Killian couldn’t quite decipher, and her hands moved again, this time clearly aimed at Vanden and Owen. Owen barked a humourless laugh, and Vanden smiled again.

“Learn to sign, and maybe she’ll tell you. For now, hush, or you’ll give away our position.”

The four of them settled into an easy pace, making sure their footfalls landed softly. Here, Killian was glad she could hold her own; she’d always been a quiet child, ghosting around her house as she grew up, and when the recruiters came to town they’d been impressed with her easy stealth during their aptitude tests. She could learn everything else, but she had nothing else to learn about being quiet. Even her chain shirt under her jacket was silent, and she saw Vanden nod approvingly at the wraith-like way the rookie was able to move through the forest.

The older hunter finally signalled them to a stop, and Killian saw their prey.

The deer were a couple of hundred metres downwind of them in a small clearing, and the breach they’d come through could be seen flickering and pulsing another hundred metres beyond them at the edge of the treeline. As Killian watched, she realised there was something off about the deer. Sure, the numbers were relatively small – deer in this area usually travelled in numbers upwards of 30 – but it wasn’t the number that was bothering her. As a bird flew up from the grass near the creatures, she realised what the problem was.

They were too still. None of them seemed to be grazing, and as the bird flew up, every single antlered head turned to watch it go with an intensity deer didn’t usually have. Not a single one of them spooked, or jumped, or twitched - they all just watched it fly away, as if they’d never seen a bird before.

The heads turning in such an uncanny way highlighted another thing: they were all the same. The more Killian looked, the more she realised they all looked like they’d come off the same production line. Markings on their coats were all the same colour, in the same place; every set of antlers twisted at the same angles and came to the same number of points; she’d be willing to bet that even the most subtle variations in the coat were all identical as well.

Killian turned to remark on this to the others but Darcy was already there, planting a hand firmly over the rookie’s mouth. Her easy going expression had vanished, and there was a sense of urgency in the young woman’s eyes as she slowly shook her head. The meaning was plain: not a sound. Killian nodded slowly, and the hand was removed from her mouth. She turned back to watch the deer, just in time to see why the chain was needed.

A squirrel had opted to run along the forest floor, and clearly hadn’t picked up on the aura of wrongness these deer had, as it scurried ever-closer to them. As with the bird, every cervine head swivelled to observe the newcomer, until with blinding speed one swooped its head down and seized the creature in its mouth.

Killian nearly broke the silence again, and again Darcy was ready, clapping a hand over Killian’s mouth to choke the scream of horror back down.

The deer had teeth. Sharp teeth, too many teeth, and a mouth too big and all wrong for the shape of the head. It now seemed to be happily swallowing the unlucky squirrel whole. Darcy waved her hand in front of Killian’s face to get her attention, and then gestured towards the creature’s feet.

At first glance, they seemed like normal cloven hooves, but as Killian looked she realised that these, too, were wrong. As she focused, she saw that the hooves were, in fact, made up of claws that sat together so tightly you didn’t realise how sharp they were, until a foot was lifted and the furrows left in the ground were revealed.

Well. That explains the chain. No protection from blunt force trauma but it would definitely stop her getting disembowelled if she goes down. She remembered Vanden’s words: Don’t fall over, rookie, and decided she didn’t want to test what the chain could hold up against.

At some point, Darcy had removed her hand from over Killian’s mouth, and was looking at her. Killian didn’t need to know sign to know what the other hunter was asking with that look: do you have your shit together now, rookie? She nodded, and tightened her grip on her gun.

Vanden motioned to the two girls, and pointed slowly. These gestures Killian did know; me, Owen, flank. You two, head on. Await signal.

Killian and Darcy nodded, staying put as Owen and Vanden split off, each taking a flank. They’d moved well out of sightlines before Killian thought to wonder what the signal would be, and hoped Darcy knew what to expect.

Killian counted her heartbeats as she waited, watching the unnerving herd. No, she thought. Not a herd. This is a pack. These are sharks in deer’s clothing.

Silvery thread flashed out between the trees as Vanden threw one end of the netting to Owen, who caught it deftly, and suddenly the deer were all on their feet, up, and staring hard at the silver, before looking past it to stare straight at Killian.

Their eyes, she realised, their eyes are forward-facing. That’s a predator looking at me.

The not-deer nearest to her peeled back its lips from sharp, sharp teeth, and screamed; an ungodly cry of bestial rage and horror layered over itself that rooted Killian to the ground in primal, instinctual fear.

The pack charged. The net pulled tight. And the sharp retort of Darcy’s shotgun next to her brought Killian to bear as she began firing her own shells into the ground at the creature's feet.

Rock salt and iron filings erupted from the barrel of her gun, scattering across the pack leaders who screamed again and shied back, retreating from salt and iron and cold, unforgiving silver. Reluctantly they moved back, and as Darcy and Killian moved forwards, firing rhythmically, they saw Owen and Vanden weaving through the trees, nets in hand, creating a tunnel that would leave only the breach as a way out.

The not-deer seemed to realise this, seemed to know that they were being forced back to wherever they had come from, and rebelled, circling around the ever-decreasing space, looking for a gap to push through. But Vanden and Owen had done this too many times before, and there were no gaps, and slowly but surely the not-deer were herded back towards the breach.

The pack were perhaps 50 metres away from the breach when one of the not-deer stopped and looked up, with what seemed a calculating expression on its face. Where the rest of the pack continued the frantic circling of predators within a too-small cage, this one creature took a couple of steps back, muscles coiling, and leapt.

It cleared the top of the silver netting, just about; one clawed foot caught the edge, and the smell of burning (hair? Bone? Sinew?) matter reached Killian’s nose. It screamed again, an awful sound equal parts pain and rage that could never be mistaken for something a real deer would ever make in this world, set its sights on Killian and Darcy - and charged.

This thing didn’t put its head down, like a stag would in rutting season; the antlered head stretched out before it like a dog stretches out for a dead sprint, and the claws where its hooves should be seemed to loosen from the cloven shape, gripping the sod to pull it over the ground faster and faster.

For a moment, Killian found herself almost outside her own body, watching herself fire into the earth at the thing’s feet, eject the shells, rack the next lot of shells, fire again.

The not-deer was bearing down on her now, getting closer, and with a start it occurred to her that it hadn’t been put off by the spray of salt and iron at the ground, that it had tracked where she was aiming and swerved to avoid the worst of the spray.

Now, deeply intent on her, it had almost reached her, and it was hard to work out what to be most alarmed about. This close, it didn’t look much like a deer any more, the sweeping crown of twisted antlers being the one stark reminder of the disguise this creature tried to wear.

Vanden’s voice cracked out like a whip.

“Open season, rookie!” And Killian was back in herself, gun heavy in her hands. A quick calculation told her she just had two shells left; one shot, so she’d need to make it a good one or risk being taken to the ground by that thing. Her eyes measured the distance between her and the creature, watching it shrink, working out the best time to rack her shotgun one last time -

With one and a half lengths between them, she racked the gun as the creature bunched its powerful hind legs and leapt towards her. She watched its arc, saw the trajectory in the air, and as it came down she took a step back, angling the shotgun so it pointed upwards into the thing’s open, horrifying maw.

It’s front legs touched the dirt, and in the seconds before her finger tightened on the trigger, she saw it staring at her with a hatred unmatched by anything she’d seen before.

It knew it was finished.

The trigger pulled all the way back, and the not-deer’s head vanished in an explosion of salt and gore that coated the unfortunate hunter. The body slumped before Killian, and she stood, fingers already mechanically slotting new shells into the shotgun.

The rest of the pack let out screams of their own, turned tail, and fled back towards the breach, no longer needing the net or the shotgun blasts at their heels for encouragement.

The breach flickered as each not-deer passed through it, and as the last of them squeezed their way through – and it must have been a trick of the light, the way their bodies shivered and stretched almost liquid-like as they reached the entry point – the breach shuddered, pulsed, and grew still.

“Closed.” Vanden said, satisfied, reeling the netting up into an easy loop over her shoulder. “Good shot there, rookie; not seen them try to jump it before. You doing ok?”

Killian, covered in drying gore, nodded dumbly, and watched Darcy double over in silent laughter at what must have been a truly shell-shocked expression on her face. Owen was surprisingly gentle as they took the shotgun out of Killian’s trembling hands and made it safe.

“Calm as you please taking that thing’s head off, shaking like a leaf after.” Their voice was gruff, but they were smiling as they looked at Killian, who felt like she was about to start crying. “You’ve got a good one here, Vanden. But I think she’ll have read the bestiary before her next shift.” Vanden laughed then, the sound rough but warm.

“Have I been wrong yet, Owen?” She slung her arm around Killian’s shoulders, seemingly unbothered by the viscera coating the rookie, and steered her towards where they’d left the Land Rover. “None of us took the books seriously until we came face to face with a live one.”

Darcy snapped her fingers in front of Killian’s face to get her attention, and made a gesture with both hands, curling the crook of one index finger against the inside flat of the index finger on the other hand, then jerking it backwards in a motion that made Killian think of cocking a gun.

“Well, check that,” Vanden said, her low voice amused. “Darcy’s given you a name already.” Catching the confused look on Killian’s face, Vanden elaborated: “rather than spell your name every time she wants to talk to you or about you, she’ll come up with a sign that’s yours. That one was yours, the sign for K turned into something that makes Darcy think of you. Feel proud, rookie: last new hire we had, it took 5 weeks for Darcy to name him. Safe to say, I think she likes you.”

The crude gesture from Darcy in response to that was one that Killian didn’t need translating, and even Owen joined in the laughter.

And just like that, Killian started to relax. She was alive. She’d helped. And she could probably fit in here, in this peculiar job. She’d be ok. She shrugged off Vanden’s arm and moved to walk next to Darcy.

“Hold on, show me how to do that again; which bit is the K…?”

Up through the woods they trudged, arms around one another, laughter bouncing off the surrounding trees at them as squirrels and birds returned to the branches, taking comfort in the return to normalcy.

Behind them, the breach began to flicker again.

#fen's originals #writing #creative writing #nanowrimo prep #fen writes stuff

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caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years

Text

you got an ego so big (it'll eat you alive).

roman-centric hurt/comfort (w/ remus, patton and virgil).

11.7k words | AO3 link | warnings: self-hatred, semi-intentional self-destruction, various injuries, arguing, remus-typical jokes and topics.

“At the best of times, Roman’s job was a tightrope act between maintaining a healthy amount of self-confidence and the ability to adapt and take criticism. Throughout his life he walks this line many times, always with the expectation that if he were to fall one way or the other, no one would be there to catch him.

But sometimes when you’re up miles high, it can become difficult to see the safety net on the ground below you.

(aka an expansion on the premise that a bruised ego causes literal injuries and the issues this could cause when you're an insecure prince with a need to please and the weight of the world on your shoulders).”

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

To be overly aware of your own self is often associated with negative traits, such as narcissism, self-consciousness or a sensitivity to mistakes. Although to some with a proclivity towards the spotlight, it can become an inadvertent consequence of over-analyzing yourself in order to achieve those flawless performances. Naturally, gaining any sort of notoriety and attempting to retain that positive image means becoming intimately aware of your faults and staying open to change, taking criticism to heart all the while keeping relatably humble. On the other hand, it may also mean letting that same criticism become your one sole focus, tearing you down instead of becoming a rung in the ladder that's supposed to take you to higher places.

Roman often found that navigating these gray areas was a momentous task. To be proud of his work, but not be too unbearably egotistical to the point that it blinded him. To accept criticism but not allow the pursuit of perfection to destroy him.

His role was truly a balance; a thin tightrope he constantly had to traverse.

And on occasion, he would end up slipping.

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

I - bonds that tie us.

Roman first learned of his job as the ego when Thomas was young. With Remus at the helm of most of the subconscious and instinctual stuff as his id, perhaps he should've assumed that he would have a similar mirrored purpose beyond simply confidence, however it hadn't ever really come into play until one afternoon when the two of them were busy playing in The Imagination.

They had just concluded a close duel against each other and were putting their weapons away (cardboard ones, since Feelings didn't want them running around with real weapons once he found out they were using them to fight, and because Fear and Lies often fretted about them doing something stupid and getting hurt). Usually neither of them held the lead for long during their matches since they were so well-matched, but today Remus had won easily, which Roman chalked up to him feeling off ("Yeah right. Don't be such a sore loser." "It's true!"). Either way, Remus would be bragging about the victory until the next time they got the opportunity to duel, and that meant he was already rubbing it in as they prepared to leave.

On their way to the exit, Remus had taken the lead at some point and was throwing out ideas about they should do later when Roman unexpectedly paused and doubled over, clutching his head. Remus didn't notice that he'd stopped until he heard a groan and turned around.

"What's wrong? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?" He asked with a grin as if he assumed that Roman was still playing- perhaps trying to make up an excuse for his terrible loss.

"I- Dunno. My head hurts…" Roman cringed, eyes screwed shut.

Remus' smile faltered when he realized it might not be a joke and he walked back, peeling Romans hands away from his forehead. Underneath was a large red patch of irritated skin which looked set to bruise. His frown deepened because he definitely didn't cause that, nor did he witness any incidents during the day which would be the cause. "How'd that happen?

"Dunno!" He repeated, eyes going blank for a moment while he caught up with what was happening outside. The two of them were usually much too distracted when they were in The Imagination to pay attention to everything that transpired in the real world, especially on weekdays like this when Thomas would be in school and Creativity wasn't exactly needed during most classes. "...Thomas was told off for slacking in front of the entire class and he got some bad grades on his report card… He's feeling embarrassed, I think.

Remus was confused by how this was relevant until he pieced together that the two events were linked to what was happening to his brother. His eyes widened in realization before they settled into determination. "Then I'll fight him until he stops feeling bad."

That startled a laugh out of Roman, until his head started pounding and he cut himself off with a grimace. "...’Can't do that."

He laughed too, in hopes that it would lift Roman's spirits again. "Can too! I'll figure it out, then he'll be too busy worrying about his broken bones to care about what some dumb teacher said. Maybe then he'll get to skip school for a while and do something funner like-"

"Remus." Roman hissed over him, overcome with a sudden dizzy spell. His hand found Remus’ shoulder for purchase, which stopped his twin in his rant.

Remus stared at him in alarm. This seemed serious, and he didn't do too well with handling serious things. "Do... Do you want me to get Feelings? Or Learning? Or Lies?"

"No. None of them. I just wanna go home." He whined, leaning more and more against Remus for support.

' Home' in their case was what they called their shared room. It was where they always returned to at the end of a long day, and no matter what had happened, they could always feel their troubles wash away as they sat in their own little world once more. Roman longed for that feeling, to escape the too-bright sun of The Imagination which now felt like it was blinding him and just lay down for a while.

Remus nodded hesitantly, the plans he had spun of pulling a prank on Fear and Lies forgotten. Normally the two Creativities preferred to find the door of The Imagination manually (they claimed it made the experience more immersive when they were out on an adventure), but instead he reached towards the exit and the world twisted around them, ejecting them out together. They came out the other side back in their room, next to their bunk bed. Instead of climbing up to his bed on the top, Roman just about threw himself onto Remus' sheets. Somehow he managed to ignore the weird smell of the fabric that he always complained about, which spoke greatly about his current well-being.

Remus hovered behind him, unsure of what to do, when Roman let out another pained noise and curled up tighter. "What now?!"

"Thomas...parents.

Since that didn't really explain anything, Remus decided to check up on what was happening outside himself. Thomas' parents had asked to see his report card and they were giving him the 'not mad but disappointed talk', while Thomas was shrunk into himself in shame. Yikes, Learning mustn't be feeling too hot about this either. But right now his focus was on his brother, who the sight of in such a sorry state filled him with rage.

"Now I want to fight them too." Remus muttered darkly. "Take the knife from the kitchen that dad uses to cut up turkeys and make them stop talking forever. Then we won't have to deal with this again and you won't-"

Oh right, Roman was still injured. Focus, Remus. Concern. Right, he was concerned for his brother, who was hurting like he had never seen, even after their fights. What could he do about this? He was always so much better at destroying things than fixing them, so having to deal with a situation like this without any sort of guidance made him nervous.

"You can't hurt them." Roman protested weakly.

"Maybe if I want to enough I could!"

Remus walked around the bunk bed and settled down on the side Roman was facing towards. From this angle he could see new bruises spattered along his brother's arms. In a grotesque way, the different shades came together like a watercolour painting. Except instead of a canvas, they were on a body- Remus shook his head. Focus! He could draw sickly yellow and purple-inspired pictures later, when Roman would be in the mood to be more good-humored about it.

"You shouldn't, then. It's bad."

"...Alright then. What should I do Ro-bro?"

Roman cracked open one eye and looked at him. "Stay? Until Thomas feels better?"

Considering he was just grounded for the weekend, Remus wasn't sure how long it would take for this hit to Thomas' self esteem to blow over, but despite knowing this he nodded anyway.

"Okay."

He laid down next to Roman, not commenting when he hid his face against the covers and started sniffling, or when he eventually fell asleep, curled against his side like how they would sleep when they were newly-split. When Learning knocked in their door to tell them that dinner was ready, he made a weak excuse that they were busy and would eat later.

Without even asking he knew Roman would want this to be kept between them, despite how the others would undoubtedly fuss and nurse him back to health. And perhaps that was the reason why. His brother always wanted to appear infallible to the others and did so replicating the heroes from the stories they read, which often meant refusing to admit when he needed help and trying to do everything himself. If you asked Remus, he was trying way too hard to be like the Creativity that came before them, which was silly because they were different now and as they were, they needed each other.

Remus closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep too. This seemed like a big deal, so Roman's pride would have to pass eventually for him to seek help. Right?

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

II - even without dying you're dead to me.

In retrospect, Remus had underestimated Roman’s ability to keep a secret (maybe because he was so quick these days to run over to Feelings, now Morality, whenever Remus did something to upset him. Tattle-tale).

Now that they were older and their roles were more defined, their once shared-room had separated into two to adjust to this change. Even though it had been long enough that he should be used to the feeling of being alone, there were still times where Remus had to try to not let it bother him when he looked up at night, expecting to see the familiar underside of a top bunk and instead only finding the ceiling he had painted an underwater-themed mural on.

On nights like this, far too sentimental to enter a peaceful rest, they would go sleep in each other's rooms, saying nothing as they tried to pretend they were as close as they once were. Remus groaned into his pillow, fighting that annoying urge to seek comfort. He was a teenager now, he didn't want to be so attached at the hip to a side who had started looking at him with disgust and fear instead of the fondness they used to share. Sometimes he couldn't help it though, clinging to the days when everything felt simple and the biggest thing they had to worry about was finding time to create the things they enjoyed. At the very least he was glad that Roman didn't mock him for his occasional bouts of uncharacteristic sentiment; that would solidify for him that there were no remnants of the relationship they once had left.

With that depressing thought, he rolled out of bed. He couldn't sleep tonight so he was going to make that Roman's problem; that always cheered him up. Perhaps if he hadn't made such a disturbed face when Remus had talked about the brazen bull he had made earlier that day, he would feel a bit more sympathy for waking his brother up in the middle of the night. Buuut he didn't and he was feeling petty, so without a second thought he sunk out and into Romans room.

"WAKEY WAKEY~!" Remus clashed two cymbals together like one of those nightmare-inducing wind-up monkeys, only to belatedly realize the bed he was facing was empty.

He blinked, both in confusion and to adjust his eyes to the unexpected light of the room. Both of them may be night owls, but Roman would usually be asleep by 2am at least, and it was way past that hour. Looking around the room, his eyes latched onto the vanity where his brother was sitting, looking incredibly startled from the deafening crash of metal against metal.

"Get out!" He yelled once his shock faded into indignation, glaring at Remus.

Remus didn’t respond, staring at the medical supplies spread across the surface. Roman was in the middle of wrapping a compression bandage around his thigh, which he abandoned as soon as Remus had entered.

"Did you get something stuck in your ear again? I'm not in the mood to deal with you tonight, Remus. Leave ."

"What happened?" He blurted out before he could even think about the question.

"Doesn't matter. In case you've forgotten, the door's right there. Feel free to use it at any point."

Instead of complying (because when had Remus ever done that for anyone? No no, it was always more exciting to do the opposite of what people ask and see what happens), he crossed the room, ignoring how Roman increasingly looked like he wanted to punch him the longer he lingered.

"Bitch, it obviously does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be looking like you got trampled by a cracked-out horse."

"Lovely imagery." Roman gritted out.

"Lovely avoidance." Remus retorted sarcastically. "Aren't you best friends with Morality and Logic now? Why aren't they here sucking your d-"

"If you don't go back to your own room I'll run you through with my sword." Roman warned with an air of finality.

Remus snorted.

It was hard to be intimidated by the same side who had once cried when he had accidentally smashed an imaginary caterpillar cocoon with his morning star. In his defense he had forgotten to make the handle weighted when he first made it, so he was still getting used to the uneven distribution of the weapon...not like that stopped Roman from getting upset with him. Supposedly he had spent the last week trying to raise butterflies and wanted to show them off to Logic after they had learned about chrysalis in class, but Remus found that somewhat laughable considering he could just create a fully-formed butterfly if he wanted to. So he did laugh, calling him dumb for getting upset over nothing, and through tears Roman pushed him to the ground and told him he hated him for the first time. (After that, he may have spent the next week killing any butterflies that crossed his path, but that was neither here nor there. The point of this tangent provided a lá Remus Sander's brain was was that Roman could be a big baby and therefore he couldn't take anything he said too seriously.)

"Sounds like a good time! Save that idea for later though, because if you don't tell me I'll summon them over here to ask them myself."

"Don't. They don't know about this, alright? For once in your life can you just let it go?"

Huh. Remus tilted his head. It had been years since they first found out about the fun little quirk Roman had, and he just...never told? He figured at the very least it would be a good way to milk even more attention from the others; something Creativity had been seeking more often after Fear turned into Anxiety during middle school and gained a much larger role in Thomas' life. "Why?"

Roman huffed in frustration. "They don't need to. I can handle it myself."

"...Wow! Careful not to summon Lies, because you're full of shit and you know it." Remus fired back. He didn't even know why he was getting so mad. Minutes ago he was cursing his brother's guts for how their relationship had soured, and now all of a sudden it was if all of that dislike had faded into the background for something else. Concern? He hadn't felt concern for anything in years. Roman always made it seem like he could take care of himself, so that's what Remus had believed at first too, though perhaps stumbling across this situation was evidence of the opposite. Reasonable self-care didn't exactly look like 'patching yourself up at 4 in the morning'. At least, that sounded like something Lies would say which probably meant it was accurate.

"Ugh- Shut up. I've been doing just fine so far, without you or them, so you can take your fake pity and shove it up your you-know-where."

Remus didn't rise to the opportunity to poke fun at that statement, his mind going blank (and what a strange and unusual feeling that was). The idea that anything could have been hidden from him seemed unthinkable given how they used to tell each other everything. He hadn't even considered that that habit had become one-sided, given how it had never stopped being true for him. "...Roman, what does that mean? Has this been happening a lot?"

"..."

"Why did you never tell me?! This isn't something you can just keep a secret! If you won't say anything I will-

Remus' mouth snapped shut as Roman ejected him from his room. He landed back on his own bed and when he scrambled onto his feet to tried to rise up again, he found that his efforts were blocked. Roman had kicked him out and locked the door behind him. He never did that, no matter how much they fought or annoyed each other. It was the one thing they did that showed they still cared.

Remus trembled with adrenaline and shock. Taking his pillow, he summoned a knife and stabbed it and stabbed it and stabbed it until all of his pent up feelings were gone and there all that was left was the fluff covering his floor.

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

III - interlude.

As it turns out, he'd never get the opportunity to tell, because shortly after that, the newly appointed 'dark sides' were pushed away into their own corner of the mindscape after an explosive argument between the sides (during which Remus tried to ignore how closely Roman stood at Morality's side, sword brandished towards him. He didn't want to think his twin had a hand in their separation, even though it made so much sense).

When he argued about going back with Lies, now Deceit after being appointed the new leader of the unwanted and unloved, he was told through clenched teeth and pained eyes that he shouldn't. Not until Thomas was ready for him. For all of them.

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

IV - to the death of me, i'm just fulfillin' my destiny.

After that, Roman adjusted, and did so alone. Teenage years came with many challenges, ones he didn’t always escape unscathed. Despite the occasional rejection here, an unfortunate setback there, he felt as if he had grown a thicker skin for the trials they faced. Into adulthood he wore his ego like a suit of armor; Thomas was outgoing and likable, so of course it became easier to brush aside random negative experiences as minor blips, things that didn’t represent their worth.

This was challenged somewhat as he began pursuing creative outlets more seriously. This meant more work for Roman in general (Woo! Suck it Logan), but it also came with more opportunities to feel ashamed of a messed-up performance, embarrassed by a note sung wrong, hurt by an ill-intentioned piece of feedback.

So he tried to compensate at times. Sue him. Between the nights he spent nursing his wounds and wondering how to do better next time, perhaps he deserved to be a little self-congratulatory about the shining achievements he won for them. There was a certain safety in placing himself up on that pedestal, so high above that it felt like nobody could ever reach him; that he was above it all. But the reality was that this pedestal, gold-plated as it may be, was founded on an interior of paper mache, one wrong move from away from collapsing and sending him tumbling back down to earth.

It was a good thing that pretending came naturally to Roman. So natural that the fear of falling sometimes didn’t register with him at all.

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

V - the calamitous corollary of being considered.

Except, it may have been too much to expect nobody to ever realize there was something up with him. The fact that the sides had to work closely together alone meant that the excuse of being busy after every troubling experience could only work for so long.

The first one to find out was Patton, because of course it was. Sometimes Roman felt as if Patton wasn’t given enough credit for his intelligence. Even though he could be a tad slow on the uptake on other things, his ability to detect the slightest change in mood and discern how people were feeling could be uncanny at times. Emotions just happened to be Patton's strong suit, and while that was very much appreciated when it came to sharing excitement or talking through a heated problem, it was not so grand when you were trying to get away with hiding something.

The first time he let something slip was a few days after Thomas had been flat-out rejected when asking someone out on a date. It wasn't that big of a blow, considering they had barely known the guy for more than a month, but Roman had been insistent that they throw caution into the wind and give it a shot, sure that he had been receiving signals that proved that this guy felt a similar interest. Turns out, he didn't, and was very-much straight. At least the rejection had been somewhat carried out gently and he didn't seem too put-off about staying friends afterwards. Nonetheless the wound was still fresh, and Thomas kept internally cringing whenever he thought about it, which didn't help matters. Whatever. Roman dealt with the bruises that arose from the incident and dabbed a little foundation on the ones he couldn't hide with clothing. They'd get over it in a matter of weeks.

It was after the awkward feelings had finally begun to settle when it happened. Roman and Patton had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when Thomas received a message on his phone, and when he went to check it, he face-planted on the couch in mortification.

'Hey man, I just remembered that my cousin is coming to town this weekend. He's gay too so I thought you two could go on a blind date if you're still looking. :) Lmk your thoughts.'

Patton frowned upon sensing the sudden wave of embarrassment, pausing to check what had happened. "Well...That's thoughtful of him!" He chuckled, tone trying and failing to be positive. Roman couldn't share the same sentiment.

"Thoughtless is more like it! He wants to set us up with the first gay person he knows? Who's not even in the city? Does he think Thomas has no standards at all?! How dare-" Roman's indignant protests cut off as he felt the skin around his collar grow tender and swell slightly. He let out a slight whimper when he pressed his fingers into the bruise to double check its location. Why now and in such a visible place?! He's going to get Thomas to drop that guy if it's the last thing he does-

"Ro! Are you okay?"

Right. Patton was still here. Don't panic.

"Y-yeah! I just remembered an injury I sustained earlier. But not to worry, 'tis but a flesh wound!" He joked.

"A flesh wound?!" Patton cried, reference flying over his head. "Let me see."

Gently, Patton moved his head upwards to get a better look at the bruise. It mustn't look good, because Patton, squeamish as he was, grimaced on sight.

"How on earth did that happen? I don't remember that being there just now."

"Uh." Come on Creative skills, work your magic. "A stray whomping willow in The Imagination? You know how they can be. I suppose it merely took a while to develop, bruises can be funny like that."

Luckily it seemed to work, because Patton sighed. "I thought you got rid of them all after that time one almost threw Logan into a lake. Did Remus make more?"

Heh. Good times. That was a slight lie on his behalf when he had told the others he had gotten rid of the trees; he had kept a few of them around because they were once a gift from Remus to quote 'spice up his boring forests'. Not for any sentimental reasons, of course, but because he thought it was funny and it kept him on his toes. "I guess."

Patton made a small 'tsk' noise, mouth still drawn in a frown but he didn't comment further. "Come on, I'll help you treat that. Does it hurt?"

"Of course not." He smiled. "Do you really think I could be bested by a mere tree?"

"Never! I do wish you were more careful when you go on your little adventures, though. It makes me awfully sad to think about you in 'pine'."

Roman knew it had been a flimsy excuse and even though Patton seemed to accept it, there was a hesitation in his eye which spoke of hidden disbelief. After some first aid and many more tree-related puns later, they went back to cooking, finishing up 30 minutes later. When Logan came down to dinner, immediately questioning the bandages around Roman's neck, he repeated the fake story, distracting him with a request not to go into The Imagination with the whomping willow around and packaging the thinly-veiled jab at the way Logan had once freaked out when he was swung around by the semi-sentient tree as a warning. Logan's concern quickly faded and he shot back a sharp retaliation that Roman didn't care to remember. He just laughed, feeling as light as a kite with the crisis averted.

The next time didn't go over as gracefully.

Thomas had found a different partner eventually, one that wasn't some friend's cousin. They dated for months, and just when he had been thinking about inviting his boyfriend to move in so he could be closer to his workplace, he'd been broken up with. On Valentines Day of all days. There was no better way of putting it; they had planned to go out to dinner, managing to book a table at a fairly classy restaurant, exchanged gifts, and near the end of the night his boyfriend had leaned across the table with a sad smile, thanking him for the evening before admitting he didn't see them working out anymore. He said it quietly, as to not cause a scene among the other diners, but that didn't stop Thomas from immediately bursting into tears. The scene had caused his (now ex) boyfriend to leave early after paying his half of the bill. At least the waitress had taken pity on him and brought over more complimentary bread rolls (which he took because he was not a complete fool, heartbroken as he may be), though even that didn't stop the confusion and embarrassment of it all.

As expected, the whole incident caused nothing but chaos; the right-brain sides were devastated, Anxiety was in a state of panic, and Logic had been metaphorically thrown out the window. As Thomas made his way home, they were at a complete loss for what to do. They had started the day, hoping to take a step forward in their relationship, and ended up with nothing at all. What worse is that they didn't even have a clear idea why (admittedly, that could have been due to, as mentioned before, the inconsolable crying).

It seemed like the most sensible thing to do at the moment was to throw the Valentines gifts away and gorge on the ice-cream that had been sitting in the back of the freezer for who-knows how long while watching a comfort show and trying to forget the whole evening. So that's what they did. As Logan tried to sort through what happened and rationalize what to do next, Patton wallowed in his misery as he dealt with the giant mix of feelings Thomas was going through.

After a few hours working through the brunt of it, enough to where his mind began wandering elsewhere, Patton realized with a start that he hadn't seen Roman since the start of the evening. He must have been so devastated too! Patton recalled how excited he was about the day ahead of them, how he spun fantasies of Thomas' boyfriend accepting the proposal to move in and then the future proposals that could come after that-

Patton mournfully sobbed. He needed to stop thinking about this, or else Thomas could start spiraling again. The best thing to do right now was distract himself, and to do that he should go check on Roman. Perhaps they could talk and have a mutual catharsis over the whole thing. Or better yet, he could put his energy towards someone else and he won't have to fall back into the thoughts that had been clouding his mind ever since they had left that stupid restaurant.

Splashing some water on his face to clear up some of the blotchy-ness, he left his room and crossed the hallway towards Roman's. He couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, so he tentatively knocked. "Kiddo?"

For a few moments there was silence, and Patton almost turned away, assuming that Roman might be blowing off some steam in The Imagination, until a voice cleared inside the room and answered. "Pat? What do you want?"

Patton was taken aback for a second, not expecting such a straight-forward answer. It almost sounded like Roman wasn't upset at all, but Patton sincerely doubted that to be true. His tone was almost too normal, and for anybody else he wouldn't have questioned it, but the lack of dramatics or flowery language was always a clear red flag for the Creative side. "I wanted to check on you since um- You-Know-Who took 'dine and dash' a tad too seriously." He chuckled humorlessly. "...Can I come in?"

There was some shuffling and muffled curses. "Why? I'm fine. Worry about yourself."

"'Why?'" He repeated, eyeing the door warily. "I'm concerned! I haven't seen you in hours and I- I know you must be upset about this too. Can we please talk?"

"I'm not exactly my most princely presentable self right now. Anyway, it's late. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

Patton looked down at himself. Instead of his usual garb, he had thrown on some more comfortable clothes hours ago, and they were currently crumpled from laying in bed, sobbing his eyes out. "I'm hardly my best-self either right now, Kiddo-" Before he could go on a spiel about how it was best to not bottle up emotions when they're fresh (and ignoring the hypocrisy of that sentiment), he heard a thump on the other side of the door followed by a quiet hiss of pain. Patton began to panic, and his hand flew to the handle. "I'm coming in!"

Before the other side could even consider protesting, Patton flung the fortunately unlocked door open and stepped into the room, gasping at the sight he was met with. Roman was on the floor, wincing as he clutched his leg. Although he was still dressed in his usual outfit, there were enough injuries on his visible skin that Patton could only wonder how far they went. He covered his mouth and stared in horror as Roman turned to look at him nervously.

"What- How did this happen?!"

Roman licked his dry lips, eyes darting away as he searched for an excuse. "I- The Imagination- This is from earlier-"

"You told me this morning you were going to spend the day helping Thomas write a love letter." Patton said, voice strained with panic and disbelief. "Tell me the truth, please."

Shoot, he had announced his plans earlier that day, hadn't he? He internally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, before lowering his head in defeat. "Can you keep a secret, Pat?"

Said side shifted uncomfortably, but his tone was resolute when he nodded. "If it means you'll let me help with whatever this is."

"Okay..." Roman inhaled. "Okay."

And then he explained. Or rather, gave a shortened version of the truth which was less likely to give Patton a complete heart-attack: that bruised egos were something he experienced, but it was never this bad (true) or all that common (also true), and that they weren't something to worry about because he could usually take care of them himself (technically true). By the time he had finished, Patton still looked concerned, but had become less frantic with the information.

"You'll let me help in the future if you need it, right?" He asked, so close to shedding tears that Roman had trouble keeping eye-contact without becoming choked up with guilt.

"If I need it." He agreed.

Finally, Patton smiled, and went to fetch the first-aid kit hastily. As he helped patch him up for the second time that year, the look in Patton's eyes was so pained that Roman vowed to let him see this side of him as little as possible.

For a while, he kept true to this promise to himself, and on the occasions when Patton would drop by to check if everything was alright, if Roman had encountered any bruised egos since, he relished in the relief on his face whenever he would lie and said he hadn't. Distantly he wondered sometimes if this was how heroes were supposed to feel; protecting people by letting them live in blissful ignorance and bearing the burden of the ugly truth alone.

(It was thoughts like that that kept him going.)

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

VI - high highs and low lows.

And then came the videos. Youtube had been an excellent ego-boost for Roman. Similar to how life-changing Vine was, the instant gratification of likes and feedback and people liking what they made was enough to send him over the moon, and oftentimes it was able to ward away the downsides that came with it too; the stress of staying relevant, the occasional hate comment, the portion of dislikes that didn't explain what about the video was dislike-worthy-

Overall it seemed like a great idea, especially when the sides became involved. It gave them all the chance to gain their own spotlights, which most of them appreciated. Sometimes this wasn't always so good though. With the videos came more introspection than usual, which meant deeply examining each problem to try to find some kind of moral. And right now, Roman didn't want to do any sort of thinking exercise about how badly he messed up. At this point in their career, a simple audition should have been a cake walk, instead it was an ache walk...Okay, admittedly he wasn't on his best game right now. The point was, he had potentially thrown the whole audition by forgetting something so simple as the lyrics, and now the casting director would definitely only remember Thomas by the way he froze under pressure, which wasn't exactly an appealing trait in somebody looking to go up on stage where the pressure was set to 100.

After everything was said and done, Roman had no choice but to approach Patton for help. In his current state, he was much too dizzy on his feet to even contemplate showing up and trying to play it off cool, which would've been an laughable endeavor anyhow considering how outwardly embarrassed Thomas was. Betrayal from his own-- well. It was a bit too harsh to blame his current predicament on Thomas, after all the fact of the matter was that it was Roman’s fault for not being better prepared.

Anyway, that's how he ended up in his current position, being swaddled in a too-warm bed, injuries patched up and having soup spoon-fed into his mouth. The whole thing felt...strange. Usually during times like this he would be grinning and bearing it, the inner satisfaction he got from fooling everyone with his performance pushing him through the day, but he supposed this was unavoidable. It was better that only one side had to see part of the problem rather than exposing it to everyone, and out of all of them, at least it was Patton. It still didn't sit well that his secret was now out in the open, a throwaway joke to be used before moving along, but hopefully that would play to his favor and they'd view it as his usual dramatics. Not like he preferred to be seen as too incompetent to care for himself, even if it fit with his persona. He supposed it just went without saying that princes are supposed to have someone at their every beck and call, they're supposed to be indulgent and spoiled and ridiculous. But princes were also supposed to be leaders, someone who was caring and brave and ready to face any challenge.

Roman sighed, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. He didn't feel very princely at all right now.

“Kiddo, are you doing okay? Does something hurt? Is the soup too hot?” Patton asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern. He was such an open book when it came to the other sides, which meant that Roman knew exactly when he had worried or panicked the fatherly figure. Honestly, it only made him feel worse. Being doted over seemed like a good idea until it meant being the subject of pity and other people’s hurt.

“No no, I’m fine Padre. It’s fine. I was just taking a trip into thought city for a second there.” He cracked a smile, trying to ignore how the bruise at the corner of his mouth pulled at the motion. If only he could think of a more original nickname, perhaps that would be more convincing. He was simply drawing blanks today it seemed. “What do you think the others are up to right now? I’d bet 5 bucks Logan is losing his mind having to deal with Anxiety alone.”

Patton didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sudden change of subject encouraged him to stop any further questioning.

In the end they talked until the others had finished filming. Whatever happened during the discussion must have helped Thomas grow past his feelings, because one-by-one the injuries on Roman's body grew smaller until they had faded entirely. Seeing this, Patton noticeably livened up again, and he cheerily declared that he would take the empty bowl back to the kitchen and check in with the others.

As soon as he was gone, Roman’s face dropped, tired from all the smiling he had been doing, and he slid down further into the sheets. Perhaps he should consider himself fortunate that the others had helped out, but all he could think about was how they now knew about his biggest weakness and how embarrassing that was. Logan and Anxiety were the last two sides he wanted finding out about this, if not for their often-tumultuous relationships, but because they'd never fully understand. Neither of them were as dependent on validation as much as he was. Despite what others thought about them, they would just keep on going, meanwhile Roman couldn't truly thrive without some kind of feedback; he was too shackled to expectations and the need to please for that sort of self-indulgence, it was practically written in his existence. It simply wasn't enough for him to be great, he needed to be great and be appreciated. Without that, he felt as if he would burn out, like a candle who's supply of oxygen had been cut off, leaving only smoke and the charred wick behind as a reminder of the fire that was once there. And sometimes that made him feel pathetic, that so much of his esteem depended on what people thought of him. Other times it just made him envy the others who had no one to please but Thomas himself and what he deemed important.

...He was tired, but he needed to keep going. The least he could do was keep up the image of egotism so that those horrid thoughts of being lesser weren't picked up by the others. If they started thinking of him the way he thought about himself (if they didn't already), he wouldn't know what he'd do. He wouldn't stand to be pitied or mocked or anything that validated what he already knew about himself. He just wouldn't.

Rolling out of bed, he practiced his smile in the mirror, fixed his clothes, and sunk out to make his grand appearance.

He couldn’t let this happen again at all costs.

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

VII - an agreeable sort of self-destruction.

More and more often, Roman was glad that he and Remus didn't share a room anymore. From the nights he hunched over scraps of ideas and worked without distraction until the sun was on the horizon, to the days he woke up with tears clinging to his lashes and breath coming out in labored pants, until he realizes the dream about him messing up so badly that he's split apart a second time was merely a cruel trick of his mind.

Currently, there was no greater time to be grateful for their separation than the moment he hastily returned back to safety after Remus' debut to Thomas. If only his brother could see the way he paced back and forth and tugged at his hair, he was sure his other half would merely gloat and poke away at his wounds instead of doing anything to help. Or worse, use it as ammunition in front of the other sides as some sort of proof of his imperfection.

Speaking of, the video was disastrous. He had been out-cold the entire time so he had no idea what was said and had no way of directing the conversation at all, which was possibly the most aggravating part of the whole situation. Beyond that, there was so much that Remus could have told the others without his knowledge. Once upon a time, the two of them were two peas in a pod, and that meant they knew an unnameable amount of secrets about each other. (Like how Remus always used to sleep with this crudely-knitted octopus Roman had made for him when he discovered crochet. Remus claimed to have set fire to it when they were teenagers, but Roman had seen it tucked away on a shelf the last time he had been in his room, before the Great Divide). The room swam a little when Roman thought about it too much. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but it wasn't as if he'd done much to earn Remus' loyalty. Why would he take the higher road and keep all of that to himself now, when he had the prime opportunity right in front of him to make himself seem like the better twin?

Hold on... He was thinking about this all wrong. Remus didn't care about good and bad the same way he did. Sure he was adamant that his version of being creative was more interesting, but he never tried to convince any of the other sides that he was inherently better or more worthy of attention than Roman, at least not to the same extent he did. The realization hit Roman like a train on it's way to a damsel tied to railway tracks (for lack of a less Remus-y simile): had he been wrong to push his brother away when he was just trying to help? All this time he had expected nothing but the worst from him, all because he was loud and unapologetic and had gone about his concern in a way that frightened him. Though just because Roman had been scared, surely that didn't warrant the dark sides being pushed aside in such a manner, and clearly the repression wasn't any benefit to Thomas...And was that partially his fault? He had been the one who encouraged Patton to divide the sides up. He had come up with the name for them: light and dark.

When he really thought about it, there wasn't much 'light' about him, not when he had been the source of so many problems.

Making Virgil feel unwelcome and continuing to trample on his boundaries.

His insults toward Logan and attempts to diminish his importance.

Leading Thomas and Patton astray in his pursuits for romance.

Being too quick to side with Janus when he should’ve known that the deceitful side only stood for selfishness and not the fair-played ambition Thomas valued.

And now: his treatment of Remus for most of their lives. Pushing him away, pretending he didn't exist, trying to erase their memories together.

How could he have the gall to claim that he saw Remus as an awful reflection of everything he didn’t want to be, when the whole point of looking into a mirror means facing you and you alone?

Even his metaphors were hypocritical.

It was a shock that nobody saw through that statement or called him out on how he had wronged just about everybody. How truly unfortunate it was that he had been declared the hero when he had done very little to live up to that title. Heroes weren't mean. They didn't make people feel bad about themselves for merely existing. They're supposed to defeat the bad guys, yes, but every time he had thought he was accomplishing that, it turned out that he was always off the mark. At least this time he had it right with Deceit, but still, that didn't erase the history he had with misjudging what was acceptable. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of reflection that must have on Thomas' content. If his creativity, which was supposed to be a force of pure good, had made a countless number of errors, what did that say about the things they were proud of? How many things had they put into the world that were imperfect? That had a misleading message? That was problematic and hurt people?

The realization had his throat tightening in panic. How could he ever have confidence in his work when he had such a flawed system of right and wrong? How-

...Wait.

Roman's spiraling thoughts were fortunately put on pause as he passed by his vanity, being pulled back to reality in an instant and finally noticing the splash of colours that had made themselves welcome on his skin once more. He gaped at his own reflection. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the sight per say, but he hadn’t realized anything had happened today that would affect Thomas’ ego. Remus’ appearance perhaps? He had the feeling that if there was any discussion to be had in light of that it would be on the goodness of his character, which could be a worthy-enough explanation. But if anything wouldn’t that what the large gash on the back of his head (fittingly) represented? So where had the others come from? Unless…

Was it him?

His own self-criticism had never left a dent on his pride before. Usually his injuries tended to be the result of outside sources; the kind of things that come out of nowhere and hit at you harder than you could ever expect. Did this mean that his own words were on par with Thomas’ harshest critics?

Roman shakily sat down. This... was a good thing, right? Perhaps he was finally gaining some self-awareness. He had been trying to make amends for where he had fallen short in the past, so this could be the sign he was making progress.

Yes. This was good. And if it wasn't, then perhaps this was just apart of his repentance. At this point he was sure everyone would agree.

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

VIII - the art of learning to let go.

The thing about tightropes is quite interesting. Like most other skills, it is something that needs to be honed. At first you try on a smaller scale and fall off more times you can count, but it's alright because that's why you practice in a safe environment. And then you progress to something more risky, and this time you have other tools to help keep you steady. Before you know it, you're up doing the actual thing; a rope suspended tens of feet in the air and thousands of eyes watching your every move, each one wondering if you really will make it across, or if they're about to watch a great tragedy take place before them. When you misjudge your own abilities and are thrust upon that rope when you're unprepared, however, all of the practice you gained can feel as if it has slipped away. As soon as you take your first step, the rope wobbles and you know somewhere deep down that your fall will be inevitable. But with so many expectant eyes baring into you, what else are you to do but continue forward? Continue until you're halfway across and your balance is so shaky that all you can do is watch as the rope swings backwards and forwards beneath your feet until you give up on trying to steady yourself entirely and-

Roman let go of the rope he had been clinging onto.

There was no grace in the way that he fell. It wasn't even a matter of choosing a side; ego or change. At first he fell so gradually that he didn't feel it at all, placing all of his thoughts and opinions into a neat little box and shoving them aside. Trying so hard to adapt, trying to be feel comfortable clinging to reasoning that contradicted his role, his meaning, his existence- and before he knew it, he was plummeting towards the ground because even then, that little piece of purpose he was forcing himself to mold his worth around did nothing but feed into the self-righteousness that must've always been there, hiding away under the surface.

Roman could only describe the feeling as air-sickness when he sunk out, his very being thrown into weightless uncertainty. Once he appeared back at his safe place, the place he wanted to be most, he felt his body connect with the ground once more as he collapsed onto the floor, body shaking with sobs and wounds he already knew were appearing.

He had been so stupid. Every step he took was littered with mistakes. Just when he thought he had learned, to try to be more accepting, to know when to give up, to listen to others instead of forging his own path, another thing came along and knocked him back to where he started and he was thrown back into the cycle of trying to atone for his actions. A cycle that never seemed to end.

His arm fractured and started to swell.

For once he thought he finally had it figured out. If he just followed the person who should've known what was best for Thomas, even if it meant going back on his own desires, surely then he would be on the right side for once. But all of a sudden that was wrong and now it was all his fault that so many bad outcomes had come about as a consequence of his lack of assertion. He may not have loaded the gun, but he had pulled the trigger, and that made him more culpable than anyone else.

His nose ached as if hit by an unseen force and began dripping blood.

Even his attempts at keeping his ego in check were all for nothing because the moment he felt threatened he lashed out towards Janus, the side who now all of a sudden deserved a seat at the table because he had gained Patton's favor (nevermind that he had agreed with him first. Oh no, that was just Roman being naive and easy to sway if only you stroke his ego a little. What importance could his opinions possibly have?). But that was the thing, wasn’t it? In the end he just couldn’t win, no matter what he did. When he tried to silence his voice it was too obvious and attention-seeking, and when he chose to project his thoughts it was too loud and abrasive. When he spoke out he was punching down, but when others did the same they were punching up up up. It left him wondering how much more he had to fall before it was no longer deemed okay to kick him while he was down. Was it his fault for choosing to sit atop his golden pedestal, making himself seem forever untouchable and unable to be hurt? And would things be different if he was sensitive like Patton? Complicated like Virgil? Respectable like Logan? Had he been making a mistake all along by pretending to be stronger than he was? But how was he ever supposed to let go of the walls he had built, knowing that the second they crumbled, all the things he had been trying to protect himself from would pass through and destroy everything he had worked so hard for? Maybe it was time to accept that this was all he could be; that there was no way for him to change, no way to soften his edges or stick firm to his beliefs that wouldn’t end with him in a losing position.

His ribs ached, bending unnaturally until he felt a snap in his chest.

Perhaps Janus was right by calling him evil. He had proven it time and time again that he was no good for Thomas. In fact, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that he was worse than Remus. At least he couldn't help the way he was, didn't have control over the problems he caused unlike Roman. He was supposed to be the half with all the bad parts removed. The 2.0 version, new and improved. He had no excuse for being as flawed as he was, not really. All this time spent thinking he was the good twin, and it was nothing more than an act of self-delusion. The grandeur of a side with nothing to show for it beyond his words.

His eyelid puffed up and mottled with colour.

...He was bad. Unneeded. Evil.

The capillaries across his knuckles burst and stained them a violent red.

Everything would be so much better if he just-

"Broman?" Oh shit.

Romans eyes flew open. And he realized belatedly that he wasn't looking at his floor; his floor had intricate Persian rugs and a soft fluffy carpet. This one had various stains and burns and felt scratchy against his fingers.

"What the fuck. Princey? You good?"

1) He wasn't in his room. 2) Wherever he was, Remus and Virgil were here too.

"M-my mistake! I must have accidentally sunk out to the wrong place. If you'll excuse me-" He tried, but his voice was hoarse and clearly not okay. Of all times for his acting skills to have failed him.

"Oh no you don't."

Before he could sink out through the floor, two arms latched under his armpits and hoisted him upright. He choked back a gasp at the sudden movement, senses flashing white as his injuries were jostled. He barely heard the shocked exclamation in front of him before the two voices discussed something hastily and he was deposited onto a soft surface. The ringing in his ears faded, just in time to hear Virgil speak.

"What happened? " He asked, voice layered with anxiety and sounding on the verge of a panic attack. Roman would have tried to reassure him if he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire.

"It just happens sometimes, when Thomas’ ego gets bruised." Remus answered bitterly when it became clear his brother wasn't in a position to explain. He then muttered under his breath: "Though this time is different, huh?"

"What? I thought- I didn’t know it got this bad.” Virgil whispers, horrified.

"Sorry you have to see this, Finding Emo." Roman croaked once he began slowly coming back to his senses. He would regret not being more composed later, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything. “I’ll be as good as Gucci soon.”

"No. Shut the fuck up, you don't get to say that." Remus said angrily. Why did he sound so mad? Roman tried to crack open his eyes to check, but the world was still spinning too much for him to really recognize what was he was seeing. On top of that it seemed one of his eyes was swollen shut. Joy. That'll make it more difficult to patch himself up later.

"'Told you before, I can handle myself." He finally managed.

"Yeah? Was that you 'handling yourself' when you dropped in and started bleeding all over my floor? Or when you stopped talking to me and kicked us 'dark sides' to the curb because your sense of superiority was more important? Or when you started acting like a royal prick to everyone just so they wouldn't know you spend your nights licking your wounds?"

"Stop." Roman pleaded, shamefully curling into himself as much as his body allowed in its current state. Remus paused in his tirade before continuing, more quietly.

"If you're uncomfortable just from that, you should try watching your brother slowly self-destruct for years and not being able to do anything about it. That's fucking uncomfortable." Roman heard a sniffle, and his body went cold. He hadn't heard Remus get upset since they were kids. Sometimes he forgot that there was more to his brother than his disgusting unpredictable persona, and the thought that he could've been hurting Remus all this time was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"I'm..." Sorry? Was he sorry? Apologizing was practically second nature at this point, but he couldn't even tell if the words would be genuine if he said them. Was he sorry for his actions or for hurting Remus, or was it the fact that he had been caught at all? If he had it his way, none of this would be happening, so perhaps he wasn't as apologetic as he thought. He really was the worst, wasn't he?

Remus seemed to pick up on what he was thinking about saying, because he laughed; not in his usual cartoon-ish way, but resigned and hurt. The sound pulled at Roman's heart. "Save it. Here's what's going to happen you Walmart Prince Eric knockoff. You’re going to accept our help whether you like it or not, and if you try to pull any self-sacrificing BS at any point, I’m going to eat your entire makeup collection.”

“...You wouldn’t. You don’t like the way glitter sticks to your teeth.” Roman argued weakly, just for the sake of being contrary.

“Try me.”

Roman sighed. He really didn’t doubt that Remus would be petty enough to go through with his threats, especially since he knew it how much it would bother Roman to summon a new set. In any case, he wasn’t in a position to do much of anything at the moment, and now that it was too late to pretend like this never happened, he figured he might as well roll with it. Future him could deal with the consequences later.

“Okay.” He said after a moments pause, looking to the Virgil-shaped figure, as much as the crick in his neck would allow. “...Just don’t tell Patton about this. Not yet.”

The figure shuffled, out of what was probably awkwardness after having watching the twins argue. “No worries dude. We’re not exactly on- uh. Y’know what, nevermind, I’ll just go get the medical kit.”

During the moments that Virgil had shuffled off, there was an empty silence. Roman spent it trying to blink his uninjured eye back into focus, until he was finally able to spot Remus standing across from him, an uncharacteristically glum look on his face. "You look like you're going to a funeral."

"Don't even joke about that. I don't need more thoughts about-"

"Death? I thought that was pretty par for the course."

Remus smiled wryly at him, sarcastic and mocking. "You dying, dummy. D'you think I never imagined it? Something happening and you disappearing because you never let anyone help you- and me not even knowing it happened? Finding out much too late? Being alone?"

Roman didn't know what to say to that. "Sorry." He blurted out, and this time he felt like he meant it. "If it means anything in retrospect, I wouldn't have ever let it go that far. I think."

"'You think.'" Remus repeated. "God, you need some self-care. It's a shame you and Jan-jan weren't friends before. It's supposed to be his job to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen, you know."

Roman felt himself flinch at the mention of Janus' name before he could control it. If Remus noticed, he didn't get the chance to comment on it, because at that moment Virgil came bustling back with a first aid kit.

"I didn't know what else you needed, so I got some water, balms, bandages, frozen peas, and creams. Just in case." He spoke, noticeably out of breath.

"Water?" Roman asked as a glass was held towards him. He pushed himself upright with some effort and accepted it.

"For painkillers." Virgil replied, handing him some pills once he had set the other items down. "Also your throat sounded kinda rough, and when you cry a lot you can get dehydrated, so..."

Surreptitiously, Roman wiped at his face and tried to not feel too embarrassed that the two of them had heard him wail like a toddler who'd had their favourite toy taken away. Before he knew it, he had taken the pills and downed half of the glass while the other two sides unpacked the medical supplies. Virgil really had thought of everything he might have needed.

Roman blinked as he watched them, stunned that he would go to so much effort. "This is very thoughtful of you, Medic Parade."

Virgil paused as he pieced together the nickname, and then scowled. "Mayday doesn't even sound anything like medic- and it's not. I just didn't want to- y'know- get the wrong things and make it worse."

Remus elbowed Virgil in the side, perhaps in an attempt to cheer him up. "Hey, you can't do any worse than what we did the first time Ro got a booboo."

"...And what was that?" Virgil's hesitant tone indicated he wasn't sure if he want to know.

"Nothing!" Remus grinned.

"I'm pretty sure that was just a concussion." Roman stated before Virgil got the wrong idea and thought they were totally stupid, looking upward as he tried to recall the incident Remus was talking about. It felt like forever ago now. "Not like anything could be done, to be fair."

"'Just'-" Virgil made a strange choked sound. "Is this what my life's gonna be now? Having a worry-induced heart attack every 5 minutes?"

"Welcome to the club!" Remus cheered, offering a fist bump which Virgil ignored in favour of burying his head in his hands.

"Goddammit. Alright- let's get this show on the road I guess. Roman, take your shirt off." When Remus' eyebrows started waggling, clearly about to make an inappropriate comment, Virgil waved his hands wildly to stop him. "So we can look at the damage! Shut your mouth Remus!"

"I didn't say anything." He intoned, looking overly smug before turning to Roman expectantly.

Said man frowned, placing the glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Before he made any move, he glanced at Virgil who was looking red either out of Remus-induced embarrassment or frustration. Mood. "You don't have to stick around for this part if you don't want to. It can be a bit much, so I wouldn't blame you."

"I'm not a baby, Roman." Virgil retorted, crossing his arms. "Making sure you don't die or something is way more important than my comfort. I can't promise you'll be safe from me calling you an idiot until you're better, though."

Roman looked away again. Was that condescending of him to ask? He opened his mouth to apologize, before closing it in resignation. No need to make this into an issue; he'll ask Virgil whether he felt belittled later. "...Okay. That's fair."

Instead of going through the pain of trying to remove a shirt with a possibly broken rib, he snapped and it disappeared. He heard a sharp inhale, but in response to what, he didn't know. Roman looked downwards to check. Among the remnants of previous attempts at self-healing (some messier than others), the area around his right rib was inflamed and a large portion of his stomach was splotched with purple. Noticeably, his left arm was also burning red, but luckily it seemed like the fracture there was non-displaced, which hopefully meant it would heal quicker. Other than that, there weren't any major injuries besides his black eye and bloody nose that needed attention. Could be worse, considering how god-awful he felt!

Remus whistled. "You look like someone took a dalmatian and made it the colours of the bi-flag."

"Yeah. That's- weirdly accurate." Virgil winced. "What hurts most?"

"Uh- My arm and my ribs I suppose. They're a little... on the broken side."

"That's what I thought." Virgil muttered under his breath, grabbing the items to make a split. "I'll deal with those first, Remus you help with his nose and the bruising. And if you want to make yourself useful, hold these peas to your eye, dumbass."

"Your bedside manners are impeccable." Roman said sarcastically, taking the bag of peas and exhaling as he adjusted to the cold feeling pressed against his face. "...Here I thought there would be a grace period before you started calling me names."

"Just calling it like I see it." Virgil hummed. With deft fingers, he held the splint under Roman's forearm and began winding the bandages around it. "You should probably make an actual brace later when you're up to it, but hopefully this should keep it in place and remind you to not use it for now."

"But that sides my dominant arm-" Roman whined, about to complain about how he was supposed to get work done until Remus pinched the bridge of his nose none too gently, and he yelped. "Ow! Remus."

"Think of that as payback for the last 15 years." Remus replied lightly. "Tilt your head back."

Begrudgingly, Roman complied, resting his head against the headboard. He stared at the ceiling as his brother and best friend silently worked their way around his injuries, applying topical ointment to his bruises and applying band-aids to small cuts. He didn't even realize they had finished until Remus bonked him on the head.

"All done! Shame it's not Halloween. You could go as a mummy again."

"Ha ha. What a comedian you are." Roman replied in a deadpan, but fought to keep a smile away anyway. The irony of how much he resembled that costume right now definitely wasn't lost on him.

"...I'm sorry for ruining that, by the way." Virgil spoke up suddenly from where he had been packing everything away, breaking the thoughtful silence he'd been in for the past few minutes. "Your costume during the Christmas video, I mean. And saying all of that harsh stuff to make a point."

Roman only stared, taken aback. "All of that happened half a year ago. I'm not upset about that."

"I know, I know. It's just... I've been thinking about it recently, all the times I haven't acted very...good." He bit his lip, averting his eyes. "Especially now, knowing that kind of thing literally hurts you."

"Virgil." Roman sighed softly, taking his hand. Virgil startled but didn't pull away. "You don't need to be 'good' all the time. Wasn't that the point you were trying to get across back then? All of us have made mistakes in our pasts, some more than others, but if you can forgive us for that, then you deserve the same acceptance for your less-than-stellar moments."

"Oh." He said, eyes glassy. His hand tightened around Roman's. "I'm still sorry, if I've ever made things worse for you or if I haven't been supportive enough."

"I- You have-" Roman spluttered worriedly, sitting up.

"It's alright, I already know that we kinda work against each other at times. Part of the job." Roman's mouth closed with a grimace. "Still, it's unfair on you. You shouldn't be expected to perfect, especially not with an asshole like me there to tear into your work. So just...know that it's okay to tell us when you're struggling, okay?"

"Right..." Roman bit his cheek. Virgil seemed well-meaning, but showing that sort of weakness was a concept he still found difficult to accept, even if he had given in this time and allowed himself to be completely seen. Virgil noticed his lackluster agreement and patted him with his free hand.

"Hey. In almost any case we'd embrace you."

"...No one hates you." Roman finished a beat later with a small smile. Virgil's face lit up and moved closer to his side. Upon seeing this, Remus unceremoniously squished himself between the two of them, careful not to bump against Roman too much (although Virgil definitely got the brunt of Remus crawling over him, to his dismay).

"Look at you two, my favourite dorks, bonding over feeling insecure!" He declared, throwing an arm around both of them. "Couldn't be me, but I still love you."

Roman poked Remus' side. "So that wasn't you admitting to being worried earlier?"

"Nope! New phone who dis?"

"You're insufferable." Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. "...I love you guys."

And Roman sighed contently, feeling safe and cared for. Things weren't perfect right now; he still needed time to heal and Remus and Virgil would undoubtedly want him to open up about what happened sooner or later, but for now he was was able to hear that he was loved and believe it to be true, and that was enough.

"I love you both too. Thank you."

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #creativitwins #platonic prinxiety #platonic royality #my writing #that's a tag now ig #....i've stared at this for so long idk if it's good anymore #bruised but not broken

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