#and they’re both scorning it until they find each other

[em-prentiss]

Hey, maybe that's a bit crazy but would you be open to the idea to write a story about soulmates? I am kind of hung up on them. I know it's not everybody cup of tea but i thought i ask

I think I would. I used to be a huge fan of soulmate au’s a few years back, so a hotchniss soulmate au would definitely be interesting especially given how many different types of soulmate au’s there are and their dislike of each other in the beginning :) if you have a specific type in mind I’d love to hear it, but I make no promises <3

[highdefhoetry]

a clash of sword and flame.

cw: nsfw!!! mmf, competitive threesome, penetration (penis in vagina), doggy style, missionary, blow job/facefucking, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampies, spanking, hair pulling, praise, body worship, fingersucking, fingering, g-spot stimulation, multiple orgasms, biting/marking, possessive zoro, pussydrunk sanji

summary: zoro and sanji find out you've been fucking them both. a competition ensues, with you smack dab in the middle.

You were in trouble. Big trouble. And no amount of sweet talking or sugar coating could get you out of this situation. 

Your eyes dart back and forth between your two furious crew mates - Sanji, who was half naked in bed next to you, clutching the white sheets in tight fists, and Zoro, fully clothed and standing in front of the closed door with his arms crossed and his face twisted into a scowl. Both looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, silently fuming as a thick and palpable tension wafted through the air. 

It was a well kept secret. Or so you thought. Only Nami and Robin were privy to your midnight visits to the kitchen and your early morning calls to the crow’s nest. You had made sure of that. There was no reason anyone else on the crew needed to know that you were secretly fucking two of your crewmates. Hell would break loose, knowing how intense the rivalry was between those two. 

But even the best kept secrets eventually came to light. And the consequence of your sex-driven decisions was staring you right in the face.

“Tch... you can’t be serious…” the swordsman sneered, shooting daggers at the blonde. “I can’t believe you fell for the shitty cook’s bullshit.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Sanji stumbles to his feet while struggling to pull up his briefs, his erection still visible through the white fabric. 

“She's smarter than that,” Zoro storms towards him until they’re both neck and neck. “She knows she can do better than a perverted cook who can't keep it in his pants.”

“Oh, so you think you’re better than me?!”

“I don’t think I’m better than you. I know I am.”

This is bad. Really bad. The two of them always bicker and argue, but they might actually kill each other this time if you don’t do something about it. You pull the thin bed sheets up to your chest, hiding your nude form underneath, and stand up to try and get between them. You created this mess, you had to at least try to stop it from escalating any further.

“Guys, don’t fight…” you try to reason with them, but your words go unheard as their argument continues.

“At least I know how to treat a lady! A brute like you has no concept of chivalry or romance!”

“I don’t need any damn chivalry,” a smirk creeps up Zoro’s face, twisting his expression into one of manic rage. “And I don’t need to smooth talk a woman to get laid.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Sanji’s voice falls, the quiet tone a stark contrast to the previous screaming and yelling. He tears his eyes away from Zoro and looks at you with both passion and scorn in his gaze. It breaks your heart, seeing him this way. This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

But strangely, it doesn’t last. Something shifts in his gaze, encompassing his body as he breaks away from the argument.

He returns to the bed, gently taking your fingers and leaving soft kisses from the back of your hand and up the rest of your arm. It happens so fast you don’t have time to protest, succumbing to his embrace as he wraps his arm around the small of your back. His soft hands glide across your skin, caressing every sensitive nerve with the most delicate touch he can muster. A fluttered moan escapes when his lips reach your neck and shoulders. You close your eyes, then open them again when you feel Zoro’s sharp glare boring into you. He watches on in shock, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“A beautiful lady like her needs to be worshiped properly… something an ape like you could never do,” Sanji’s sweet words flutter in your ears, making you shiver as he leaves a trail of soft kisses across your skin. “Ma chérie, tu n'as pas besoin d'un imbécile comme lui.”

Zoro mutters something about “stupid fancy French bullshit” as you try to suppress your moans, melting at the praise Sanji is showering over you. It’s what you love most about fucking him; he treats you like a goddess, devoting himself entirely to your pleasure. You truly feel like he’s become your lover, as if the two of you are the only ones who exist in this moment.

But you’re suddenly reminded of the other’s presence when you’re pulled toward the other side of the bed and into a strong pair of arms. Zoro holds you tightly, muscles bulging as he wraps himself around your frame. He’s shirtless, and his black pants are laying on the ground beside the bed, leaving him in his boxers. You feel his erection press against your back and instinctively rub your ass against it. Just how he likes.

“You’re not doing it right,” he grunts, glaring at a shocked-looking Sanji while he pushes you onto your stomach. You start to say something, but you’re silenced when his rough, calloused hands take hold of your thighs and spread them out, pulling your hips back onto his while his tip pushes into your hole.

You cry out when his cock starts pumping inside you, slamming into your walls at an incredible pace. Your teeth sink into the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure as the swordsman fucks you deeply, passionately, right in front of the cook. He grunts quietly, letting out short, labored breaths while enjoying the feeling of your walls clenching around his shaft.

“She’s not some… delicate little flower…” he grumbles in between strokes. “You need… to fuck her… properly…”

It was rough and intense, as it always was when you fucked Zoro. But you couldn’t get enough of it. You loved the way he’d manhandle you, tossing you around like a doll into whatever position he wanted. You’d melt when he told you how tight you were, how fucking good it felt to be inside you, how you had the best ass in the Grand Line. He spanks you a couple times, grinning when he hears the surprised little noises you make from the unexpected impact. His fingers run through your hair, then grasp a clump of your locks before pulling back tightly. Your head moves back, forcing you to look Sanji in the eyes as he watches Zoro fuck you into a dizzying headspace. He gawks at you wide-eyed, cheeks pink and cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth.

“Sanji…!” you gasp, earning another spank from Zoro.

“You’re mine, got it?” he sneers into your ear, tugging your hair a little harder. “Say it nice and loud so the shitty cook can hear it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Good. Say it again.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out, feeling Zoro’s cock throb inside you. He speeds up, the steady pumping turning into a wild, frenzied rhythm that is so intense you start seeing stars. Then finally, he explodes inside you, filling your hole with comforting warmth. You can feel him throbbing as he holds your hips, making sure he’s emptied every drop of cum inside you. Making sure Sanji knows who you belong to.

You lay down on your stomach, skin damp with sweat and flushed with heat. But you don’t get to rest for long. You’re pulled into another firm pair of arms that flip you onto your back, forcing you to look your French lover in the eyes despite your guilty conscience telling you to hide. Your eyes dart away, but when a gentle hand takes your chin and pulls it towards him, you bashfully meet his gaze. You expected anger, sadness, resentment… but all you see reflected in those eyes is worry and concern. 

“Ma cœur…” he runs his thumb across your bottom lip, cradling your cheek in his other hand. “Are you alright? Did that idiot hurt you?”

He runs a hand down your chest, flicking your nipples before caressing the soft, supple skin underneath. He gently gropes your breast, coaxing moans and other little sounds from your parted lips before running down your stomach and between your thighs. His fingers play with your clit, teasing it by massaging the hood of your clit. Your moans become louder, your body becomes more desperate for release. Sanji pushes a finger inside you, despite your hole still slick with Zoro’s cum, and curls against your walls until you erupt in an intense orgasm that causes your legs to shake. Zoro had brought you to the peak, but Sanji had pushed you over the edge.

Your cry of pleasure is so loud it makes your throat feel hoarse. Satisfied, Sanji smirks and pulls down his white briefs. It was his turn now. He enters you slowly, carefully, and calmly, asking every now and then, “Does it feel good? Am I going too fast? Are you alright, ma amour?” 

You nod and spread your legs, inviting him in.

His strokes are longer, deeper, more controlled. His dick pulsates within you, the slight curve of his shaft hitting your walls perfectly and spurring you towards another orgasm. He holds your legs at his sides, gazing deeply into your eyes without tearing them away for a moment. You’ve never felt so seen, so vulnerable. You almost forget there’s another person there with you.

It’s not long before you cum again, this time a little harder than before. Sanji cums shortly after, having kept himself in control until this moment. Ladies always came first. That was something he lived by, a motto that made sex with him all the more satisfying. You smile up at him, mirroring back the affectionate grin he’s giving you from above. He fills you with his own cum, pumping into you a few more times as if he was trying to shove his own seed past Zoro’s. He wasn’t going to let the swordsman one-up him. It was his own way of claiming you. 

You’re only given a small respite before the next round. A strong pair of hands grips your ankles and yanks you towards the other side of the bed. Zoro locks eyes with you, brows furrowed in displeasure as he takes in your blissed out expression. He leans forward and kisses you intensely, biting your lower lip while his tongue presses against yours. His teeth sink into your neck, leaving bite marks down to your collar bones prominent enough to see. He’s mid-bite when Sanji crawls on top and pushes him off. The blonde looks pissed as he notes the marks on your skin.

“You’re like a damn animal!” he yells, once again butting heads with the surly swordsman. “This is no way to treat a lady!”

“She likes it, you moron!” Zoro spits back, forehead pressed against Sanji’s. 

“Guys, please…!” You try to placate them, but it only ends with each man taking hold of your hands and pinning them down on the bed next to you.

“I made her cum, twice,” Sanji notes while planting his lips onto your wrist. “How many times did she cum with you, mosshead? Oh, right. Zero.”

“I can make her cum just fine, curlybrow,” Zoro sneers, lacing his rough fingers with yours while nipping at your neck. 

“Oh, yeah?!”

“Yeah,” he says with a smirk.

You feel another pair of fingers push inside your hole and dig into your walls, seeking out the ribbed spot he knows will make you scream. It doesn’t take long for him to find it, and within seconds you’ve reached another climax, an orgasm brought about by his expert hands and the steady way he’s pumping them inside you. He pulls them out and sticks them in your mouth, letting you suck the cum off his chapped skin. You see him smile as he watches your lips encompass his hands. Focused entirely on the feel of his fingers in your mouth, you shudder when you suddenly feel a soft, wet tongue lapping at your clit. And when you look down, you see a mop of blonde hair in between your legs, Sanji’s soft hands holding each of your thighs. He eats you out, his lips kissing and licking every part of your mound. His tongue darts in between your folds, circles around your clit, tastes the entrance of your hole and the puffy lips around it. Still dripping with both sets of cum, he licks that up too, tasting the sweet mixture of you and his arch rival. 

You arch your back and throw back your head, giving him further access to you. He buries his face in your pussy, inhaling the scent while eating you fervently, as if you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted. But as you’re enjoying yourself, something forces your lips apart and shoves itself inside your mouth. The taste of dick and sweat fills your senses. Instinctively, your lips wrap around Zoro’s shaft and take in his massive cock, lips sliding up and down before letting your tongue linger on his tip. The swordsman groans with every soft movement, carefully pumping in and out of your mouth and speeding up only when he’s sure you’re ready to deep throat him. You open your jaw wider, signaling that you’re ready, and within moments he cradles both of your cheeks in hand and fucks into your mouth with ferver. 

The next orgasm shocks your system, sending electric waves through every nerve. You cry out hoarsely, high pitched notes warbling through the air that are muffled by the thick cock in your mouth. The taste of salty cum fills your senses as Zoro finishes; the warmth slides down your throat when you swallow it whole. He pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath. Sanji tears himself away from your pussy, looking at you with a completely blissed out expression before collapsing beside you. The swordsman lays at your other side, squishing you between the two men on a bed that’s only just big enough for the three of you. 

“...Stupid shitty cook…” Zoro grumbles, pulling you into his chest. You can feel his racing heartbeat as your skin presses against his, sticky with sweat and other fluids. He glares at the blonde, who’s finally coming to his senses enough to argue with him again.

“Damn mosshead…” Sanji returns his scowl before grabbing your arm and pulling you against him. His heart is pound against his chest, a steady beat beneath flushed red skin. 

You look over at Sanji, then back at a now snoozing Zoro who still has his arms wrapped around your waist, clinging to you possessively. You hear quiet snoring from behind, and look to see that Sanji has fallen asleep, as well. 

You wondered what this meant for the three of you, if you’d wake up to another round of bickering or if the two of them had come to some sort of silent conclusion. Your own heart races as you consider the future, a selfish part of you hoping this wasn’t just a one time thing despite knowing the trouble it had caused. 

When your own eyelids start to close, you decide that the matter can wait until morning. You’re exhausted, and it would take more than the promise of treasure to tear you away from the two men you loved most in this world.

[antebunny]

find me in the future

After so many reincarnations and reunions, Wei Wuxian’s soul is so attuned to Lan Zhan’s soul that all it takes for Wei Wuxian to remember his past lives is making eye contact with Lan Zhan. He never remembers a life before the first one where he met Lan Zhan, which is probably for the best. You have to start somewhere. 

Of course, as the centuries fly by and Wei Wuxian collects reincarnations like Pokemon cards (fantastic new invention, he’s finally born in the right century!), it takes longer and longer for him to recalibrate to centuries of memories getting dumped into his previously innocent nine-year-old brain. (Always nine years old. Can’t ever get away). 

This is Wei Wuxian’s excuse for why he doesn’t immediately run to Lan Zhan after making eye contact with him on a crowded street. Well, one of many excuses. There’s also the part where he’s a tiny little nine-year-old orphan (again?!) tossed between the bodies of many, many stampeding adults, all attempting to reach for Lan Zhan. He’s above them, of course; Lan Zhan cultivated to immortality so long ago that now he doesn’t walk, he glides, or floats, or flies. The result is the same: the god-like light-bearing lord appearing before his people, who fall over themselves (and Wei Wuxian) in their eagerness to be blessed by his presence. 

By the time Wei Wuxian struggles to the front of the crowd, Lan Zhan is long gone. 

Okay, so here’s his problem: Wei Wuxian is not immortal. Mo Xuanyu’s body, if it ever possessed the potential to cultivate to immortality (doubtful), had that potential beaten out long before Wei Wuxian came to own it. Unfortunately, back then, he and Lan Zhan, still young and naive (ha, funny what perspective time gives you), truly believed that with enough effort he could succeed where so many had failed. 

Instead, Lan Zhan was forced to watch as his beloved withered, wrinkled and finally grew still while he remained as pristinely young adult as ever. To make matters worse, Jiang Cheng also cultivated to immortality, proving that Wei Wuxian’s original golden core had that capability. The ensuing guilt from both of them–Jiang Cheng for having Wei Wuxian’s core, Lan Zhan for encouraging Wei Wuxian to cultivate to immortality with him–and loneliness as the only two immortals of their generation brought the two of them together, which Wei Wuxian still thinks is kind of cute. They’re like frenemies now, who know how to work with each other instinctively and will defend each other to the death (or a death–no, bad Wei Wuxian, not funny) but still hate each other’s guts. 

Over the centuries Wei Wuxian has been reborn as just about every type of person. Some lived entire lives without ever even hearing of Lan Zhan. Some never learned to write, much less cultivated a golden core, some were widely beloved, some were scorned, and some found their way back to Lan Zhan.

If Wei Wuxian is being completely honest–and he’d never share this brutal honesty with any of his loved ones–those lives are the worst. Inevitably, Wei Wuxian’s new body lacks the capability to cultivate to immortality, and his loved ones who have are all forced to watch for the thousandth time as Wei Wuxian sputters and stalls until his body inevitably gives out and he dies. Old age, Wei Wuxian has come to learn through vast unwanted experience, is an unlucky way to go. No, better to go out in a blaze of glory, for a cause or for a people. The death is temporary and he will be remembered by people who love him. Making his loved ones watch his slow demise when he knows that he will never reach immortality in this lifetime is nothing short of torture.  

Perhaps that’s why it is such a surprise when little nine-year-old Wei Wuxian (Zhang Xinyin, or William Zhang, in this lifetime, he’s Chinese again but he speaks Cantonese now for a total of twelve languages, nice) hunkers down in a quiet little corner of the orphanage and discovers that this body has the highest potential to cultivate to immortality of any body he’s ever had, including his original. 

The practice of cultivation fell out of use many, many centuries ago. Wei Wuxian is on his own for this one. The good news is that he’s an expert at forming a golden core at this point, perhaps more than anyone else in the world. So all Wei Wuxian has to do is find a stable way of life for the next decade or so, which supports a child practicing an esoteric art like his life depends on it, and then he can worry about finding his family.

That is, of course, easier said than done. 

“Will! Hey, Will!” 

Wei Wuxian startles out of meditation (if only Lan Zhan could see him now) when he hears one of his new friends calling his name (well, one of many). He had spread a blue rubber yoga mat out on the green concrete rooftop, hoping to find some peace and quiet wherein he could meditate and nurse that slowly-budding golden core in his chest. 

Freckles, or Ruddy, or Rush, or Chen, pokes his little cherub-like face over the roof edge. (Everyone Wei Wuxian’s age–biological age–looks like a little baby child to him, and everyone in the world seems impossibly young. It helps that he likes kids, and they tend to like him). 

“What troubles you?” Wei Wuxian calls as he stands up.

So the last time he learned English it was quite different, okay? Sue him. He’s relearning it. 

“You’re so weird,” Chen informs him as he picks his way between cracks and loose sand and dust. “Were you meditating again?”

“Yes.” Wei Wuxian pounds a fist to his chest twice. “I will be stronger than anyone. You will see.”

Chen only rolls his eyes. “Okay, Bruce Lee. Anyways. Lynch is asking for you.”

A very nice white lady who is unfortunately named Ms. Lynch came to volunteer at their school to teach. Wei Wuxian likes her, and to his surprise he likes the woman who runs the orphanage too. He’s had a bad run with orphanages in the past but this one is okay. No funding, of course, and understaffed, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t need adult supervision. (Somewhere on a different continent, Jiang Cheng sneezes loudly). 

“Yeah? Whatever for?” Wei Wuxian follows Chen down the ladder and misses Chen rolling his eyes again.

“Dunno, go find out.” 

Wei Wuxian takes a few shortcuts on his way through the school building. He goes to public school, of course, as do all the kids from the orphanage, but Wei Wuxian is their star. A shining example of what orphans can be if they apply themselves. The kids all think he’s weird, which is fair, because he is, but the (other) adults think that Wei Wuxian is a studious little goody-two shoes. The truth is that Wei Wuxian has learned how to solve problems discreetly and how to cause trouble without getting caught. And that he’s only well-adjusted in the sense that he’s had dozens of childhoods; one more isn’t going to mess him up too terribly. 

Ms. Lynch is poking around her computer (absolutely amazing new invention, Wei Wuxian was definitely reborn in the right century) when Wei Wuxian skids to a stop by her desk. 

“Hello, Ms. Lynch.” Wei Wuxian beams in a way that he knows she loves. “Chen said you were asking for me?”

Ms. Lynch closes out of a few tabs and turns in her swivel chair (another great new invention), brushing straw brown hair behind thick plastic glasses. “Yes, I heard that you have been trying to learn cultivation all by yourself, can I ask what sparked your interest?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “It seemed interesting.” He really wants to become immortal this lifetime in order to save people who he cares about deeply a lot of grief. “It’s fun.” 

“I see.” Ms. Lynch clearly isn’t satisfied with this answer, but she nods and smiles all the same. “You know, I wrote about the ancient practices of cultivation for my senior thesis, and it’s quite dangerous to do without supervision. Have you considered joining a class?”

“Uh.” Well, actually, Wei Wuxian could teach that class better than probably anyone else in the world, except maybe for Jiang Yanli, but it’s irrelevant because he certainly doesn’t have the money to afford it. “Noooo?”

“Hm.” Ms. Lynch smiles again, in a gently disapproving kind of way. “Well, I know that they can be expensive and quite a hassle, but I just wanted to make sure that you aren’t taking anything you learn from the internet about it too seriously. A lot of it is misleading and you can really harm yourself.”

Wei Wuxian is fighting for his life on the Wikipedia pages for cultivation. First, because he’d hoped that leaving some kind of coded message there could catch the attention of someone in his family and lead to them finding him. When that didn’t work, Wei Wuxian started combating misinformation (a losing battle) while having the reputation of that Wikipedia editor who put random gibberish in for fun. 

“Oh, I’m not,” Wei Wuxian chirps. “It’s all for fun, Ms. Lynch. I promise I’m not doing anything dangerous.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Ms. Lynch says, mostly sincerely. “I don’t mean to discourage you. It’s wonderful to see you taking an interest. Most kids your age have no interest in stuff like that.”

What she means is that cultivation is the ancestral practice and cultural heritage of his people. Because Wei Wuxian was born into the right social group: there are maybe a couple hundred thousand of his people spread across the globe, in little diaspora communities with varying levels of wider acceptance. Wei Wuxian’s family–the ones who have cultivated to immortality–are their leaders. Mysterious, reclusive figures who almost never interact with outsiders yet are beloved within their communities for how steadfastly they’ve protected them over the centuries. A lot of people outside the community think they’re a cult, which is probably fair, all things considered. 

It’s funny. Wei Wuxian has never been closer and yet never felt further from his family than this lifetime. A real chance of cultivating to immortality, a place in the only group of people with access to the famed (or rumored) immortals, and his reputation has never been better; his people celebrate his birthday every year (or they celebrate the excuse to party, same difference) and pray for his reincarnation. Yet if he–William Zhang–claimed to be the legendary Wei Wuxian’s reincarnation, no one would believe him. They’d ignore him as a loud-mouthed kid, at best. At worst, well, Wei Wuxian isn’t going to test that. In no situation would they–the community leaders–reach out to the immortals on his word. 

Instead, Wei Wuxian slinks back to the bedroom he shares with Chen and two other boys (he doesn’t miss being a girl, but damn could they keep a room clean) and wonders if Sizhui has gotten Lan Zhan an iPhone yet.

Maybe it’s for the best, Wei Wuxian tells himself. Reuniting with his family while in the body of a child will be awkward. Especially with Lan Zhan, who has been attracted to Wei Wuxian in whatever body they reunited in but is obviously not attracted to children. Wei Wuxian is not looking forward to spending years lusting after his own damn husband while Lan Zhan can only see a child. Yes, it’s definitely for the best.

Even if Wei Wuxian is terribly lonely. 

So the years pass. Wei Wuxian cultivates a golden core, gobbles up modern slang like he was born for it, learns how to code in Python, and enters high school with an end goal: immortality by age twenty-four. The current record-holder is Wen Qing, who cultivated to immortality at the ripe old age of twenty-five, the lucky bastard. She reincarnated in the 1500s into the perfect set of circumstances: a second-eldest son of a wealthy family who practiced cultivation. Her family patriarch was one of the community elders who semi-regularly communicated with the immortal cultivators. The year when Wen Qing was brought along for the first time, Wen Ning took one look at her and said “jiejie” and that was that.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian has to beat her record. 

Some of them choose to forget.

Over the centuries Wei Wuxian and the others have encountered countless reincarnations of people they knew from their original lives. (And important people from future lives too, but those were never quite the same. There’s something about their original lives that always sang like an unfinished symphony, an epic story not yet fully written, even though Wei Wuxian lived a full life). Sometimes the choice is made for them not to help them remember. Such was the case for a reincarnation of Jin Guangyao, found in 556 B.C. by Wen Ning and Sizhui. Sometimes they choose to move on, like the reincarnation of Jiang Fengmian found by Jiang Yanli. They leave him alone nowadays, whenever they find him. His soul is not so attuned to anyone else’s as to have the strike of realization that hit Wei Wuxian on that crowded street. 

The worst is when they reunite, live happily, and still choose to say goodbye. Nie Huaisang reincarnated in Italy, dragged Wei Wuxian off to France to learn Impressionist painting, and still chose to reenter the reincarnation cycle. Wei Wuxian, whose body that decade could not even form a golden core, simply could not understand Nie Huaisang’s unwillingness to cultivate to immortality. He still doesn’t. 

Humans have orbited the moon. For that alone, it is worth it. He only wishes all humans could feel how far they’ve come.   

Even those that chose to become immortal have retreated from the world. So many lifetimes, so many childhoods, so many parents and lovers and children–it’s impossible to care equally forever. The world feels so much larger when you have been an Egyptian farmer during the reign of Cleopatra, to whom the pyramids were ancient history, and one of the slaves who built them, and a Finnish soldier who fought on skis against invading Russians in 1939. In the face of such grandness, how can one tiny community, one family, one person matter?

It’s a blessing and a curse. Wei Wuxian has had good parents and bad parents and everything in between until he finally figured out how it works. He’s grown up in enough families with pet dogs that he’s lost his fear of them. On the other hand, he has had so many friends in so very many forms that he struggles to convince himself they truly matter. They’ll all be dead within the century, anyways. 

Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng have the opposite problem. They only have one life, the original, to remember, even as that life’s length stretches far past the boundaries of a normal human lifespan. Their main link to the world, Wei Wuxian knows, is him. Sizhui and Jin Ling drag them out for enrichment exercises, and Jiang Yanli can usually get her way if she sets her mind to it, but it’s still guilt over Wei Wuxian’s second life as Mo Xuanyu that keeps them here. 

The 21st century slams in, a rush of technicolor and lightspeed and skyscrapers (and like all centuries, war, disease and death). The tale of the Yiling Patriarch vastly outstrips the size and weight of Yiling. The Burial Mounds are a nice forest now. Hundreds of thousands of people hope for his return. And still Wei Wuxian cannot manage a single immortality-sized golden core. 

The opportunity sneaks up on Wei Wuxian. Shamefully, he needs the obvious spelled out before he can see it. 

“You going to the cultivation tournament?” 

Wei Wuxian was actually studying calculus. Seriously, it’s crazy how much people have proven about math since the last time he–wait, cultivation?

When Wei Wuxian digs his nose out of his textbook, Ian is smirking at him, and Chen is blinking innocently. Ian slouches over the library table so he can push the textbook shut.

“Eh, probably not worth it,” Wei Wuxian dismisses. He’s not learning cultivation so he can dunk on some kids who only learning cultivating without the cultivation. 

“You sure?” Chen butts in, now smirking too. “I hear winner gets to meet the immortals.”

Ian grins when Wei Wuxian’s mouth falls open. The kid has no idea what’s going on with “the immortals” or cultivation–he’s pretty sure that Ian thinks he and Chen are deep in a religious cult with weird beliefs but normal holidays–but Ian  gleefully abuses the effect it has on Wei Wuxian.

“Sounds made up,” Wei Wuxian says suspiciously.

“No, no, it’s true!” Chen insists. “They hold it every twenty-five years. Or they say they will. They haven’t done this before.” 

It’s very hard to get very old immortals to do something new. What changed? 

The answer smacks Wei Wuxian in the face as Chen pulls out his phone and shows an official-looking announcement, shared around their community, to Wei Wuxian. It’s the internet. Previously, Wei Wuxian lived entire lives without ever hearing of cultivation. Now, anyone with an internet connection will probably run into the term at least once. Now, Wei Wuxian’s family can reach out, through screens and cables and the casual interest of millions, to him.

They’re doing this for him.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t read Wikipedia articles. Lan Zhan regresses into a fugue state whenever Wei Wuxian’s not around. Maybe Wen Qing had the idea, maybe Sizhui put it together. Because they’re still reaching out, still waiting for Wei Wuxian to come home. 

This is his chance. 

[novafire-is-thinking]

For headcanons: IDW Rodimus

(I will send more if desired)

Headcanon A: realistic

Every time Rodimus returns to Cybertron after one of his little adventures, he calls up some of the old Lost Light crew, and they go to Megatron’s memorial to remove or cover the graffiti and make repairs. They’re scorned for it, but they do it anyway.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

At some point post-Lost Light, a very bored Rodimus gets roped into taking Prowl out into the great unknown for a “vacation.”

An exasperated Windblade gives Prowl a small ship and orders him to find a travel partner who knows how to have real fun. Not knowing anyone else, Prowl begrudgingly tracks down Rodimus, who immediately says no.

But Prowl, persistent as he is, manages to convince Rodimus to go along with it. They both despise each other’s company anyway, so all they have to do is survive the “vacation” and prove to Windblade that Prowl is a lost cause. (And both Rodimus and Prowl love proving people wrong.)

Cue several months of the fire-and-ice duo’s shenanigans, involving battles of will, bitter silence, “accidents,” clashing music tastes, and against all odds…actual fun. (But neither of them will ever admit it to anyone else.)

Fast-forward many years later, and Rodimus is one of the only people to show up at Prowl’s funeral.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Rodimus doesn’t make it back in time before Drift dies. It’s one thing he can’t forgive himself for until he’s reunited with Drift in the Afterspark.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

At the end of Last Bot Standing, instead of jettisoning himself into space with the leftover Cybertronians and dying up there, Rodimus remains on Shib’s planet for the remainder of his days.

(I love hurting my blorbos, but Rodimus has been through so much. I want to see him happy, just this once.)

[cto10121]

Hey so I read your "What is a Romance" post and found it very informative so thank you lol. I was confused about one part tho:

Can a romance focus on a beta couple as well? Generally no. In American romance novels, authors do set up the couple for the next installment, but that is not quite the same as page time and development. Romances focus on one couple at a time—once that couple’s love story is done, writers can move on to another couple’s romance. Stories that have more than one couple tend to be something else entirely.

I wanted to know how this related to works like Much Ado About Nothing (Hero and Claudio) or Pride and Prejudice (Jane and Bingley) (though I suppose that last one is a marriage plot so it might not count anyway).. Isn't Much Ado About Nothing a romance that focuses on more then one couple?

I also wanted to know this because I'm working on a romance novel and there was a side couple that i wanted to give attention to.

…I’ve been waiting for someone to ask this question, ha. Knowing all the while that I’d have to give my very unpopular opinion. Well, here it is (and thanks for in advance for being the one to bring it up!)

So no, I don’t categorize Much Ado About Nothing and Pride and Prejudice as romances, not so much because they have a beta couple, but because of their plots and thematic concerns. Much Ado is social comedy/satire and Pride and Prejudice is a wedding plot. Let me explain.

Much Ado About Nothing

Ah, Much Ado. I know people adore Beatrice/Benedick (ditto, they’re great) and feel very uncomfortable with Hero/Claudio (with good reasons). But ultimately neither of these couples constitute a true romance. Their love in the play function as social satire/commentary on the battle of the sexes. Beatrice and Benedick’s respective sexism (Beatrice’s scorn for men and Benedick’s sexism toward women) make them refuse to entertain marriage/romance and shield their obvious attraction for each other. Ultimately, though, their sexism stems not from ideology, but from personal hurt feelings and/or insecurity, so the moment they hear that the other likes them, then they are eager to cast off their previous convictions. Shakespeare even hints that B&B had been a couple before, so their realization that they actually love each other is not really true romantic development. Claudio’s actual sexism, in the meantime, actually does lead him to reject Hero. Though framed as romance plots, these two strands are part of the satiric commentary on sexism and misogyny.

Pride and Prejudice

So yeah, Pride and Prejudice is almost purely a marriage plot. Austen sets up the stakes very early and very clearly: The Bennett sisters must marry or else their estate is entailed to their cousin. But wait! Elizabeth grows to love Darcy, right? She learns she was mistaken about him, right? Isn’t that romantic development?

Well, no. Romantic development would entail mutual attraction on both sides, foiled by obstacles. While Darcy is canonically attracted to Elizabeth, Elizabeth doesn’t even begin to catch feelings until after she realizes that Mr. Darcy was the victim in the Darcy-Wickham scandal and finding out he was the one who forced Wickham to marry Lydia. Oh, and seeing his beautiful estate Pemberley. 😑 Real romantic. Austen even lampshades this by having Elizabeth joke about it!

So yeah, that is not a romance between two people attracted to each other and struggling with their class hang-ups. This is story of a woman learning that this seemingly snobbish rich dude is actually not that bad once you get to know him and his £10,000 a year manor home.

Yes, Austen was obviously inspired by Shakespeare’s Beatrice and Benedick subplot when she wrote Pride and Prejudice. But while Shakespeare focuses on sexism as the obstacle between these lovers (and the mutuality of their attraction), Austen replaces the sexism with classism and class resentment that both characters need to overcome. All well and good, but there is no more mutuality; Mr. Darcy starts to give her 🥺 from the second he notices her fine eyes while Elizabeth flirts with Wickham and still thinks he is a rich asshole for over half the book. Her change of heart is genuine and humbling, but it does not follow that she should start liking Mr. Darcy romantically. She actually doesn’t until at least the Lydia affair.

The fact that Austen gave little consideration to romantic development (there are few if no courtship scenes between the two) leads me to conceive P&P as more of a marriage plot than a romance one. That is the true goal here, not the love. It is merely enough that Mr. Darcy is established as truly a worthy man to marry. Hence, a marriage plot.

(As for Jane/Bingley, it basically functions as 1) a softer iteration of the classism theme and 2) an obstacle to Elizabeth/Darcy. Again, a marriage plot, and not a romance either.)

[the45thlyric]

Interconnectedness of Love

Do you ever think about the interconnectedness of love? A boy will break a girl's heart in the back of a college dorm room She then goes off to travel the world love scorn leaving a wake of lustful destruction One of her lovers thinks she’s the one who spends days following like a puppy Until they run into their future partner in a cafe in the French Alps The forlorn girl lands in New York ready to start life anew She falls for another into the bliss of the American dream Two kids and a white picket fence later, her husband is not who he claims They can’t keep up the facade and go their separate ways She meets someone who’s scum, but the sex is amazing That’s all they are good for, so she moves on Wonders about where and why it all went wrong Recovering from emotional turmoil with no way to heal Dating isn’t serious until she meets one who hears No, they listen, they understand, they’re scarred, but not scared They’re ready to love, but she’s not She wants to be greedy and keep them to herself, but they know It won’t work now and it hurts to let them go, and gone They find love, and happiness in the arms of another She wonders am I doomed to be the one before the one? Until she meets a rebuilding boy, just as complete, his story just as strange He lost his love when they decided traveling Southeast Asia was better than him And another to another man when they were on business in New York Through random webs, they were connected in the past and maybe in the future They now both laugh, chipping away at the guards of heartbreak Vulnerable, they wonder how they ended up here Love is knocking at the door, will they answer Or let each other go to find happiness once more in another arms?

[elodieunderglass]

Witch Week, part of the Chrestomanci series, was so weirdly formative for me. Harry Potter had just reached the USA when I was at the target age for it, and it seemed like every adult in my life was bending down to my level and asking me patronisingly if I liked this new book that had just come out. and I kept telling them that “as British boarding-school stories about orphaned witches go, I prefer Witch Week.” This shut down so many of these conversations because, at the time, people just did not understand that “British boarding-school stories about orphaned witches” was a whole children’s fiction genre before Harry Potter (and they’ve forgotten it now.)

Not that these well-meaning idiotic librarians and Girl Scout leaders actually cared, but the reason was something like: Witch Week had bits that really stuck with me, big pieces of weird creativity or memorable relatableness from the kids, pieces of observation that I agreed with, and bits of advice to a child that I appreciated. Harry Potter was obviously more film-quality and had more bombastic set pieces, plus had obvious sequel potential, while Witch Week is broadly bleak and upsetting and closed-in: an unlovely fascist 1980s Britain with deeply unlikeable children, all lightly bullying each other for survival under the constant threat of execution. (Until they find out that the poisonous atmosphere of their existence is due to the flaw at the heart of their world, which has poisoned it, and they all decide individually at the very last moment to fix it, at great personal sacrifice to some of them. This nobility is all the more admirable for them being unlikeable children raised in a paranoid world.)

Witch Week is both a stand-alone and part of a series - the Chrestomanci series - everyone loves Chrestomanci, who in true form only shows up at the end. DWJ herself preferred Chrestomanci to Howl ( “chrestomanci is right there, girlies, why have a boy when you could have his dad?”) so it’s a win/win/win. But what was the reason that it stood out in my brain, while Harry Potter could have sunk without a ripple if everyone else hadn’t liked it so much? I think, ultimately, it was because I felt HP was a bit patronising, while Witch Week was both grounded/realistic and thrilling; it felt like having a private interior life. In fact, in addition to somehow in its sharpness not being something my mother would entirely approve of, Witch Week was about the private interior lives of children. I was super sensitive about being patronised at the time, and I was trying to build a private interior life despite having a bonkers mother.

So it isn’t actually a great book. That’s another important thing, that it isn’t a great book, particularly. But Charles’s choice at the end of Witch Week is a standout memory of childhood. And when Nan is told that inborn magical talent is frankly mediocre but a well-trained writing skill transcends worlds, if the reader is a child with no magical skills themselves, it is taken personally to heart and remembered for decades.

The private inner lives of children are often completely overlooked, in fiction and life. I felt DWJ always managed it; I felt JKR did it rarely.

To be fair, after a lot of reading, I can say that the ability to observe and transmit realistic children is indeed rare. And here’s something that most people don’t think about, because they’re thinking about adults or young adults instead: if you can’t get the kids right, a lot of the rest doesn’t follow. Put another way: maybe you scorn kids (and that’s okay). But if you can’t grant that “slightly smaller humans” have their own complex interiority, then why should we trust your other promises?

I've seen increasing buzz around here about Howl's Moving Castle (book). I think you all deserve to know that all of Diana Wynne Jones's books are filled with characters and plots that are absolutely as delightful and unhinged as that one.

Some Actual Plots include:

Dogsbody - The star Sirius is accused of murder and sentenced to exile on Earth in the body of a dog until he finds a magical item called a Zoi. He's adopted by a young Irish girl living with her abusive and neglectful English relatives. He has to balance his desire to find the Zoi with needing to be a Good Dog for the girl who takes care of him. Also the Wild Hunt is there. Hexwood - A girl finds a magical wood behind her house where she meets a wizard who thinks he's a convict of the intergalactic government, a boy created by the man to destroy said government, and a robot found in a junk heap. The magic wood is actually an alternate reality being generated by an AI who has a grudge to settle with the head of said government. The book is about abuse, PTSD, and trauma. The Dark Lord of Derkholm - Magical world is being destroyed by a company using it as an isekai amusement park for people from another dimension. Bio-wizard is appointed Dark Lord for the year, and he and his family (four of whom are bioengineered griffins) have to find a way to survive the season while everything is going wrong. Deep Secret - Interdimensional detective/diplomat/wizard needs to find a replacement for his deceased mentor. He does so at a fantasy convention, while trying to keep an interdimensional empire from collapsing into civil war after the emperor is assassinated along with all of his heirs.

She's an absolute master at weaving fantasy elements into the mundane world and writing from the PoV of kids. Her books are funny, clever, and full of delightful characters. I'm begging you all to check them out.

[obeetlebeetle]

when is honor not honorable? when it is prescribed by a system of nobility that perpetuates itself through the destruction of its subjects. 

rue watched hob sit there bleeding, arrows in his back, waiting until they nearly pierced his lung to remove them -- all for the honor of the goblin court. for the courts. for the system that stole rue as a child and twisted them into a pleasing shape, a desired doll. for the system that has used hob’s body on the field of battle and rue’s body in the field of politics to the benefit of the system, not the bodies being used.

rue spent every interaction with hob this episode saying, Are you okay? Are you hurt? Does anything about your life of service actually make you happy? Are you ever happy? Will you ever let yourself be happy? I hope you will. I hope you find happiness. I wish it was with me.

and then at the very end hob goes, I was miserable until you held me.

hes finally able to say it but the issue is, rue never needed to be told that hob loves them. they clocked it. they know he wants them. so finally learning how hob feels, that doesn’t change anything. what they were really saying is, Can you admit that service makes you unhappy? Are you capable of prioritizing desire? I am offering you devotion.

as long as hob pursues honor as prescribed by the court system, as long as he plays the political game, he can never love anyone. least of all rue; rue who has been so damaged by their obligation to the court of wonder for so long. rue who has chosen to use all their power to dissolve political bonds and facilitate emotional ones, at the hope of destabilizing the system. rue who has finally revealed themselves as both a monster and a dissident, prompted by their love for hob, in a show of force -- they are finally rebelling, openly, against the court and the system that tried to cannibalize them. and they’re watching as hob commits himself more deeply to the goblin court, putting his body in their hands for both battle and marriage.

rue tries tirelessly to get hob to answer this question. You are unhappy; what is it for? Tell me so I can understand. and hob’s response is, I choose to be unhappy because otherwise I would be wrong. 

his defense of the court system is that it tells him what to do. he believes himself to be so fundamentally incorrect that his wants, desires, and instincts cannot guide him -- the only way to be a good man is to serve something greater than himself. this belief, as we can see in his conversations with boil and blemish, has been reinforced through scorn and humiliation. 

hob says, I choose this unhappy life because it is right to serve. I know that it is right to serve because those in power tell me what is right. I know I am wrong because they tell me I am wrong.

upon learning that rue dissolved the marriage between apollo and grabalba, the thing that hurts him the most is the feeling of being used by rue. of being taken for a fool and manipulated in a political game, of falling in love with someone that doesn’t care about him. but even as this misinterpretation wounds him, he tries to defend his service to the goblin court.

and all rue ever wanted was to show him that his life of service is just a matter of being used, being taken, loving those who do not love you but only what you do for them. they wanted him to see that the pain he feels at the perception of  being manipulated by rue is a pain he has felt at the hands of the court system for far longer than they have known each other. 

hob’s real answer can be found in both what he has said and what he’s unwilling to say. For what? Nothing. Not even love. so rue offers hob what the court system has always denied him.

honor, service, obligation, duty -- everything hob has hinged his identity on and everything he ever believed to be good, to make him good -- are tools, not ideals. the court system designed fealty so that it would be easier to exploit people like hob and rue, people that feel like monsters, people who are empty and need to be filled. rue sees that hob believes himself to be a monster, and they aren’t asking him to change that. they know that monsters will always know themselves to be monsters. instead, they are trying to convince hob that being good is not what he thinks it is, when it’s being defined by the court system.

when is a monster not a monster? when you love it. when what is monstrous is worth loving. in their last attempt to wrest hob from the court system, rue tells him they love him, and in the same breath they tell him that love and honor are not the same. rue tells him that they are a monster. that in seeing him, they finally realized that being monstrous isn't being damaged; the damage comes from elsewhere. so they ask him to see them outside the moral structure that has been imposed on him and that he imposes on all others. they ask him to see the ways in which that structure and the system that created it have wounded them for being monstrous.

in doing so, hob would have to acknowledge his own wounds. he would have to acknowledge that he has been wounded for a very long time. that is what he has been resisting; if at any point he had acknowledged his wounds, he would have needed to care for them, and hob is not equipped to care for himself. care is not something afforded via lines of support in the court system; care was never part of the conversation. but when rue speaks of love, and divests it of honor, they offer, instead, care.

this is a love story.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3100 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14  Part 15

gif credit: @benbarnxs

Part 16

You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.

As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-

“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”

Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.

***

It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Are you sure they’ll be thorough with the cleaning?”

“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”

“And Adam’s body-”

“Will be disposed of.”

“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”

“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”

With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.

“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”

His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”

“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”

“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.

He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”

You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”

Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”

“I always am around you.”

His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”

Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.

You smiled. “It is my apartment.”

He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.

Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.

Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.

You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.

An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.

You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”

“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.

Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.

Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”

He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”

“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”

“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”

You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”

“Can’t really do that.”

“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had a rough week.”

You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.

”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“Move in with me.”

Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.

“That’s not funny, Billy.”

Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”

“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”

“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”

“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”

“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”

“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”

“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”

You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”

“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”

You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.

You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.” 

Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”

You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.

***

Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.

After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.

“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”

“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”

“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.

You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”

Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”

“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”

He nodded his head. “I won’t.”

“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”

“I need to kill that voice.”

You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”

“It took you that long to believe it?”

You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”

He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”

“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.

He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”

“Not once have I lectured you naked.”

He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.

A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.

He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”

The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.

Part 17

A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)

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[youn9racha]

Do It Better

Requested by: Anon

Pairing: bff!changbin x bff!reader (afab)

Genre: smut

Words: 2.2k words

Warning: fwb, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it up kids !!!), dom!changbin, sub!reader, mentions of infidelity, hair pulling, spanking, fingering, degradation, and a tinnyyy bit of breeding kink.

Extra Notes: I feel depressed as FUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK !!!!!! WHEEEEWWWWW !/$!/$ but im pulling through so don‘t worry about me !! anyways i hope you enjoy it !! lemme know if i have to edit anything or whatever.

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This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

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“You like that don’t you?! Bet none of your exes ever got you like this..” Changbin harshly breathed out, as your cheek was pinned onto the mattress underneath you, heavily breathing and moaning, all the while Changbin’s grip on your hips as he thrusts himself in and out of you gets, rougher and harsher just like his tone and movements.

”No, no one has ever done it like you, Binnie, ah!“ You whined out, letting out a small shriek at the end of your sentence, indicating a sense of hypersensitivity as Changbin hit a spot that led to you to react.

~~

It all started when you and Changbin were lounging in your bedroom, letting out all the reminiscences and bad memories that inhabited in both of your crowded brain. You both were laying on your bed, heads opposite yet adjacent next to each other, earning a laugh or a scorn from either of you.

“Remember when you sat on a chocolate cupcake back in kindergarten and everyone thought you shat yourself?” You giggled as you looked up to the ceiling, making Changbin scoff, “why the hell would you remember shit like this?! we’re not supposed to bring back trauma,” he argued, making you laugh at his reaction whilst he just rolled his eyes at you, for remembering something he would love for to erase out of your memory. It’s normal behavior for you to jokingly drag each other down by bring up past embarrassing moments that happened in your lives, and neither of you are genuinely hurt or negatively affect by it. You both are pretty accepting towards the past, and are often found laughing at whatever horrendously embarrassing stories that come out of your memories. Sure, some are best forgotten, but they’re still fun to poke at.

As you almost spoke up a response, you suddenly heard a ding from your phone. You picked it up and you saw the contact name you dread looking at. Speaking of ”best forgotten,” you saw the text message that held from your text, which is a pathetic beg for you to come back to him again. You rolled your eyes and threw your phone back in disgust, which alerted Changbin.

You’ve broken up from your ex due to him being unfaithful to you. You weren’t an idiot, you’ve sensed that he was cheating on you, but you wanted to see it for yourself to finally have a reason with evidence. And you did, just by simply walking into your bedroom and seeing him with another woman laying underneath him. Without hearing any excuse or bullshit, you’ve packed up and left the house, never to see him again.

While you did expected that to happen, you still couldn’t help but feel a pang of pain in your chest. You’ve obviously confided in your best friend Changbin, who made you stay at his place until you find another place, but Changbin was no near bothered by your presence and allowed you to stay as long as you wanted.

Changbin never liked your ex-boyfriend to begin with—and he also did see this coming as well, since you two have talked about it in the past—so he gave you the utmost comfort and space for you to heal your wounds. Despite certain bad days that everyone go through, neither of you were by any means annoyed by each other.

“Who was calling you?” Changbin asked.

”You know who,” you simply said, and Changbin looked at you for a bit to decipher what you meant, but he immediately caught on who you meant by simply twisting his face in a scowl, “what does he want?”

“Probably to just cry for me to come back,” you shrugged and crossing your arms.

“Oh! (y/n)!“ Changbin fake sniffed, ”p-please come back!” He exclaimed, making you laugh at his spot on impression of your ex-boyfriend, “I didn’t mean to have the naked girl laying under me! We were only friends!”

You laughed but you smacked him, “stop, your impression of him is so accurate you’re making me see him in you,” you said which made Changbin let out an exaggerated gasp.

”Don’t you ever compare me to that man ever again,” Changbin said, his tone made it questionable if he was genuinely or jokingly offended but you apologized to him with a soft smile nonetheless.

It was silent again, which made you break it once again as the bitter taste your mouth was still entrapped in it. "What does he want from me?" You snorted and shook your head in disbelief, "it's not like he satisfied me with anything, all he ever did was think about his own dick and himself."

"What do you mean?" Changbin got up and looked down at you, his eyebrows knitted at your wording, which made you look away in shame after realizing what you've said, "he, uh, never gave me anything that I wanted, and it's not just materials and wants, if you know what I mean..." you awkwardly said, which made Changbin nod.

"So he never satisfied you sexually.." He deadpanned. You were taken aback by his straightforward response, but he was right and he would know that this is what you meant if you lied and denied it. You sigh through your nose and nodded at his claim, to which Changbin pouted, "that's sad, but I'm not surprised that he's selfish and only thought of his needs." He says as he looked down at his feet as they sway instinctively when he's got nothing else to say.

You bit your lips and looked up to your friend, "can I ask you a favor?"

"What's up?" Changbin looked back at you, he can see your nervous state, you had an inner battle inside you and you weren't sure if you wanted to ask him what you wanted him to ask, but your general emotions and frustration always gets the better of you.

"Can you.." you paused by snickering, not believing what you were going to say, "forget it," you whispered and shook your head as you looked up to the ceiling again. "No, please tell me, I'll do anything."

"Well.. promise you won't freak out?" You asked, still not looking at Changbin, to which he smiled at you, "I'll freak out if you won't tell me."

He maybe smiling and chuckling at you, but you didn't reciprocate due to your nervousness and overall hesitation. You got up and faced Changbin, "Can you fuck me?" The smile Changbin had in his face dropped almost immediately after you blurted that question, as regret has seeped through your whole body.

You sighed and closed your eyes as you couldn't bear face anymore embarrassment, "See, I told you to forget it now I just made it weird and you would wanna-"

"Let's do it."

"What?" You looked at Changbin, baffled at his response, to which he shrugged at you, "I don't see why I shouldn't, just tell me how you like it, and I'll try my best." You couldn't believe what he was saying, you couldn't believe that he was actually willing to give you something you only had going when you were alone. None of your exes, especially the last one, had given you what you've craved sexually, and you can only see Changbin's ability by firsthand experience. You never really saw him as more of a friend.

Sure, he was pretty attractive and you would call anyone who was with him lucky to be with him, because truly no one's like Changbin. But nevertheless he was still your closest friend and you didn't see him as anything as such. However, seeing as how you were suppressing your sexual frustration, you were willing to take it out on anyone, even if it was your closest fiend like Changbin. So to hear him being on board not only astonished you but it excited you even more.

You can't wait for what Changbin could bring into the table.

~~~

It was only less than five minutes but you felt like it was only ten seconds over how blissed and desperate you were getting for wanting more of Changbin's fingers, as he exerts it in and out of you with his fore and middle finger. You were laid naked in the bed, while Changbin's shirt was discarded somewhere else, but you couldn't care less where it is, as you were mainly focused on how pleasured, a feeling you haven't felt in a while, you were with just Changbin's finger.

"Cha-ngbin, please," you breathed a few moans afterwards as he thrusts his two fingers. His movements were well paced and maneuvered, you were already shaking over that, you couldn't imagine how his cock would feel around the same sopping hole, which made you moan louder over the thought. "You make pretty sounds" Changbin smirked at you as you were mewling.

"Binnie, I'm.." Your stomach was bubbling up as his movements in you speeds up, making you feel even more sensitive than you already are. Changbin quickly took out his fingers as he sensed your peak was getting closer just based on your breathing and your groans. You were instantly put into a state of disappointment due to your orgasm fading away, but you didn’t pay mind of is Changbin standing up to unbutton his pants.

“Don’t be too disappointed, sweetheart, you’re about to experience something for sure your ex has never gotten you into,” Changbin teased with a dark smirk as he finally pulled down his pants, along with his boxers, exposing you to something you never would have thought to see until this moment. You’ve always seen Changbin as a big man, despite his height, but you sure are not disappointed in seeing what he is proudly showing. The visuals of his part intimidated you however, as you swallowed the sight, which Changbin took notice. “Don’t worry,” he said as he got on top of you, making you lay straight on the mattress, looking up at him, “if you’re hurt, let me know.”

God, he’s hitting all the mark, both emotionally and sexually, you really hoped your exes were to all sit there and see how your own best friend could make you feel good, while they couldn’t. But taht thought was pushed aside as you felt a new sense of stretch which made you let out a guttural moan, as you looked down and see his cock is entering through your wet hole, which then made you look up, exposing your neck to Changbin. You loved this feeling of the stretch, but it usually lasted only a few seconds with your ex but with Binnie, it was different.

It was genuinely enjoyable and he took your time before he set off a pace you enjoyed, which due to your lack of a fun sex life you have you wanted him to go hard and rough on you. So when you saw how his thrusts were slow and careful, you couldn’t help but frown.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, making him stop his movements. You were taken aback, as you were expecting him to carry on his slow pace, as all of your exes do. But he didn’t, he wanted you to feel good. “Don’t go easy on me,” you deadpanned, you wrapped your arm around the back of Changbin’s and pulled his face closer to yours, “I want you to fuck me so hard, I can barely walk to the bathroom.”

After your confession, something in Changbin switched, his eyes were getting darker and his smirk was even more prominent as he looked at you with agreement. “Usually, I would shut up my partner if they tell me what to do, as I don’t like being told..”

Shut up?….

”But because you’re a special—“

”Treat me like your partners, shut me up, slap me, choke me, do whatever, please! Fuck me!”

~~ ”You liked getting fucked like a slut don’t you?”

At this point, you were switched position and now your face was on the mattress and your ass was up to Changbin. His cock was inserted in and out in a violent pace—just how you like it—and you were practically wailing underneath. He pulled your hair, “Answer me!”

“Yes! Yes! Ah! Bin!”

You were screaming at this point, stroking Changbin’s ego as the thought of you screaming out his name where the neighbors could possibly hear riles him up. He growls as he feels himself getting closer to cumming, “quickly answer me, you want in or out,“ he asks while you only moaned weakly, not satisfy him. He smacked your ass, “in or out?!”

“In!” You yelled, and Changbin’s thrusts were getting rougher yet sloppier. The bubbling sensation in your stomach was almost erupting once again, but this time Changbin is not stopping himself or you. You both let each other know that you were getting closer to orgasming, as you both moaned out a bunch of cuss words as you were both almost at your peak.

”Binnie— I’m— cu—Fuck!” You whined out as you‘ve reached your peak, and just based on Changbin’s slow and weak last few thrusts, he may have reached his peak sensitivity of orgasming and he wanted to slightly overstimulate both of you. He later pulled away as he saw how his essence was spilled out of your hole, which risen his ego even more, while you were laid there, eyes closed and attempting to catch your breath.

Changbin changed his attitude and looked at your with concern, “hey,“ he slightly nudged you which made you barely open your eyes, “are you okay?”

You chuckled at his question, “I am wonderful.”

[savegalkissy]

Backstories are always an interesting thing to think about, even if there’s no certainty to them

Fujiko and Jigen seem like they both became thieves/criminals out of necessity, to protect themselves. Jigen is definitely a bit more solidly defined there, largely agreed to have worked for the mob, and seemingly lived a more downtrodden life before finding Lupin. But both of them and their self serving ways show me people who pulled themselves out of dangerous situations by becoming dangerous and shut off to the world and their own selves

Fujiko mean while, with a less defined backstory, nonetheless often feels emotionally damaged. She’s got commitment issues, and hides any genuine emotion behind layers of glitter and gold. I think her love of the actual items of wealth in question over the boys general love of the thrill speak to a character who desires a security in wealth she didn’t have before. They recognize they’re in a rat race where falling back into a bad place is painfully easy. It’s why they can hate each other (and understand each other painfully well when they’re friends).

Goemon and Lupin however come from legacies. This latest part in particular, at least confirming Lupin was quite wealthy as a child. I don’t know a lot of Goemon’s legacy, but a quick Wikipedia search (feel free to correct me) shows his namesake was a ninja and thief who stole from the rich to give to the poor, or at least that’s how his myth has been remembered. Both of them thus come from this concept of honorable thieves.

But in a series about freedom, that is very interesting to me. Goemon and Lupin are, because they want to and are dedicated to their legacies, antithetical to the premise of freedom. They’re trapped in trying to fill the shoes of their ancestors, trying to become the conceptual ideal (thief and samurai) and managing all that and their own, human needs. And often times, friction in the group between them I feel comes from this.

Jigen’s relationship with Goemon for instance, is often comedically awkward or deeply understanding. Goemon is definitely the most honorable of the four, often times very kind to the actual people around them. For someone who sees their jobs, their whole lives- as a self serving means to survival? It has to be weird to Jigen. But that kindness often extends to Jigen in a respect, and Jigen gives the energy he is given.

For Fujiko, she sees an easy mark on someone like Goemon, who cares for people in the way the rest often lack (and someone kind and caring, though she never admits it to his face). She sees emotions as tools, weaknesses. And while she’s been getting better about them in the latest part, her commitment issues are a testament to that. When she realizes she has a “weakness” like caring for someone, it’s wrong and she hates it.

Lupin meanwhile, isn’t exactly honorable, cause that was his grandfather. He’s selfish, but in a way that can be selfless in the right circumstances (and sometimes the impulse to be a good person wins out no matter what). While he wasn’t suffering for anything as a child, his need for attention, affection, and dramatics say he’s someone who had (of course) a lot of expectations on him, but not attention.

In part 5, the gang get called his possessions. To Goemon, that feels humiliating, as he sees people as not things to be owned. But for Lupin, this isn’t inaccurate. People are important assets, especially for someone running a crime syndicate. So from a frank impersonal side, he has probably been trained to see them like that. But as well, what are Lupin’s friends, but his greatest treasures? We see time and time again that Lupin tends not to fair well by himself- and he isn’t ever in top form until he’s got everyone around him. Lupin had wealth; but not human connection. And unlike the two who scorn it cause of their past experiences, he and Goemon desire it from their isolation.

Interestingly tho, Fujiko and Lupin share in this sort of view of people, where they are things to be used for their schemes or to get what they want. Lupin is able to (somewhat) see he can’t treat his friends like this without reason, but Fujiko struggles with the distinction. Meanwhile, Jigen’s lack of care for others is specifically, cause like Goemon, he cares about people. But when he cares, he cares fully and completely with his whole being, and hurts terribly when things go wrong.

[prose-for-hire]

Kiss me quick

Pairing: Spike x Summers!reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Spike x Summers!reader, where the reader is trying to keep their relationship on the downlow since none of the Scoobies really approve, but after a big win the reader finally kisses him in front of everyone, proving that they do care deeply for one another and everyone just has to accept it.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Reader gets injured but nothing serious. sex references/implication of sex.

You looked out into dimly lit street, the dark had surrounded you now but ever since you had been meeting this way you couldn’t help but smile whenever the sun began to descend from the sky. You were stood, under a streetlamp, three streets away from your house. Just far enough where nobody from your household would catch you meeting him this way. You had been meeting like this for a while now.

He got a kick out of coming up behind you and immediately pressing you against the nearest wall and crashing his lips to yours. His favourite greeting entailed leaving you breathless and ready to pull him closer no matter what your surroundings were. He often mumbled his hellos through stolen kisses. His passion never died, he was all in. Completely yours.

You couldn’t shake this feeling. That you were completely in love. You had silently tried to fight it to begin with, knowing that those around you wouldn’t approve. That Spike himself may not even reciprocate your feelings. But soon it became clear that there was no hiding these feelings that always bubbled to the surface whenever he was near.

You had started fooling around to begin with, before it all changed. For the better, both of you agreed. Your feelings had taken hold of you both, fuelled by the touch of skin. The depth of mind. Unspoken emotions kept the two of you in a chokehold before you finally spilled your feelings for the other.

Ever since you quit college, you had spent all of your free time sneaking around with Spike. It was, honestly, as thrilling as it was annoying. As much as you wished you could just tell everyone how much you loved Spike - how amazing he was with you, you couldn’t. You had to hide it, the implications of your friends and sisters finding out would be a fate worse than death. In fact, for spike it may mean actual death this time.

Unfortunately, you were the middle child. You were a year younger than Buffy and she never let you forget about it. Meaning, Buffy thought she was the boss of you. Not to mention Dawn basically clung onto your leg to stop you from leaving the house (and thus, preventing you leaving her behind where she couldn’t follow you around). This meant that, often, you didn’t get much spare time for sneaking around with Spike. But, God, did you make it your biggest priority. After… saving the world… obviously.

When you did manage to share these intimate moments, it was everything. It felt as if you were the only people in the world. The only people that had ever felt anything close to this. Nobody had loved this deep. Cared this much. You were both so sure. These feelings, they were eternal. He vowed it to you, one early morning you had spent with your naked bodies pressed together, baring your souls well into the night.

Any emotional scars you harboured seemed to heal just by speaking to him. By having that soothing voice share his own darkest moments with you in return. How that voice, those eyes could have seen and done so much and still make you feel undeniably safe you weren’t sure. But, you trusted him. Even if danger appeared to surround him at every turn. You wouldn’t change him for anything. You loved the good, the bad and the oh-so-attractive parts of him.

Vulnerabilities turned to strengths when you were together. Rough edges appeared smoother. Promises held meaning. You adored him and he confessed to you that he had never been so comfortable in a relationship. He could be himself, could express his feelings without being concerned you would turn away from him.

The first night you invited him into your home made him elated. You had to make him swear not to tell Buffy because you knew she wouldn’t take it well. Like, at all. As much as he would have loved to rub it in the slayer’s face that he had been given access to her house – he loved you too much to even think to upset you in this way. So, you carried on this way, unable to keep your hands and lips from each other for more than an evening at a time. This meant mostly, he stayed at the Summer’s residence or you left to the crypt. Sometimes, you even went for real dates – so long as you were sure that everyone else you knew would be busy elsewhere.

Tonight, you were going to the Bronze together. It was a little more of a risk than usual, but he had insisted on taking you somewhere he knew you would enjoy. Muttered something about not keeping you in the shadows before taking your hand and leading the way. The truth was, Spike was in fact just very smitten with you. And he pretty much wanted everyone to see that you were with him. This was ‘everyone’ except the scoobies and any family members you happened to have crawling out of the woodwork. It was safe though, everyone else was going to some college party and Buffy had told you that it was uncool to have her younger sibling come along.

Buffy was the only one that viewed you as the ‘younger sibling’ the others were friends with you because they were fond of you. Because, well, sometimes you appeared more mature than Buffy did – not that they would ever say that to her face. Although there was always that slight worry that if they hadn’t been friends with Buffy they wouldn’t have been as close with you. You were barely a year younger than Buffy but she was still incredibly protective of you as she was the oldest.

What you hadn’t banked on, whilst you rubbed Spike’s thigh under the table, was that Xander hadn’t been invited to the party. He saw you immediately and made his way over to you with Anya close behind. You almost choked on your drink as you saw them come up behind Spike. You snapped your hand away in shock much to Spike’s displeasure.

“Hey, Y/n-” he started and then stopped when he saw Spike’s presence, “He bothering you?”

“No, he’s just-”

“Warming you up, right pet?” His eyes glistened as he spoke, an eyebrow raising which made Xander scowl. You tried your best to hide the smile at your boyfriend’s words as Xander looked between you both. Xander liked to think of himself as your older brother and had decided you needed defending. You opened your mouth to say otherwise but ended up being cut off by a very urgent ex-vengeance demon.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re dating right now, we are all going to get ripped into pieces if the demon finds us!” Anya shouted. You hadn’t been as secretive as you thought then.

“An!” Xander hissed, sharing a look. At the exact same time you and Spike shared a look too. You wondered who else had seen straight through your sneaking around and longing glances you shared through scooby meetings.

You were sharing looks for different reasons though. They had obviously discussed what not to say beforehand and Anya had characteristically ignored his warning. There was some kind of demon threatening the town. Again.

“What’s going on, Xander? Anya?” you tried for your ex-vengeance demon friend when Xander didn’t speak. There was definitely something odd going on. At her name being called, despite Xander’s warning, she launched into an explanation.

“Xander got annoyed at our sex-spell and ripped a page out of my very rare copy of ‘magic, sex and me’ which ruined our entire evening!” She scowled and crossed her arms before continuing, “Now we have to kill it instead of having our sexy time” she pouted.

“We’ll pretend we didn’t hear about a sex spell-”

“Well, I want to hear about it. Can’t get it up, mate?” Spike taunted which only made Xander redden further after Anya’s admittance. Xander stepped as if to hit your vampire but you stepped in the way and wheeled Xander away, changing the subject.

You asked instead about what this demon was like. Anya explained that it was a Scorn-demon. Ridiculously hard to kill and bound to the pages of a book as no mortal prison can hold it. It looked as if you were in for a long night. Which is exactly what you and Spike had planned although for a very different reason.

“If all of us are looking, we’ll find it quicker” You offered, Xander had been embarrassed to explain because of the reason they were doing a spell. But now Anya had told anyone anyway, he was grateful of the help. You got to your feet, ready to follow them out as Spike got up beside you.

“Looks like no bugger’s getting any tonight” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes as you apparently volunteered you both to assist your friend.

“Just working ourselves up… right?” You offered which made him smirk. God, he had been rubbing off on you. You almost felt yourself mirroring his smirk at your words. He wanted to pull you in and kiss you until you admitted just his presence could get you worked up enough alone, but he knew the importance of hiding this from your friends. Which, really was the only reason he didn’t take you right there in the middle of the Bronze.

Instead, you just trailed behind Xander and Anya’s bickering and tried to locate this demon. You called Buffy’s cell and left a message. You knew this was probably going to end with a battle you were unequipped for. You just hoped that you ran into your sister before you ran into the demon. By all accounts he sounded nasty.

As you walked, you and Spike kept sneaking glances at the other when you hoped the others weren’t looking. It was hard, having to maintain this distance when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Show him your affection freely. When you caught the other’s eye, you couldn’t help but smile. You felt so lucky, to have someone that cared so deeply. Someone who wasn’t afraid to share their love so freely.

You wanted to slide your hand in his, tell him just how lucky you felt. Just how much you felt for him, although you were sure he must be sick of how often you told him you loved him. He never was, of course. It was the sweetest music hearing that phrase from your lips. He kissed them a thousand times just to catch the remaining sweetness from your tongue. With those words, nothing should be wasted. He wanted to savour every syllable of your love.

You kept walking until you had to come to an abrupt halt. Dawn turned a corner and crashed straight into you. Turns out, your hopes came true: you did come across your sister first. It just happened to not be the one you expected.

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were ready for, like, double dating yet” Dawn teased. She, too, had decided that you and Spike had to be dating. She often brought it up to annoy you but she believed it all the same. Spike never corrected her and you had stopped bothering too. You would only come off as defensive and she would tease you for that. You honestly couldn’t win living under the same roof as Dawn, she could be relentless.

Spike leaned in to whisper something in your ear, his lips so close to your ear you could imagine the way they would feel if he leaned in further and pressed against your skin. You smiled at his comment, he always made you laugh. He liked to hear your laugh and it passed the time while he waited for the fight that was coming.

When you looked back up, Willow and Tara had caught up with your group. They gave you a knowing look at how close you were stood to Spike. You wanted to lean on him, inhale deeply and press kisses against the curve of his neck. You loved the way he gripped you closer when you did that. But you had to snap yourself out of this thought at the arrival of your sister. Buffy immediately started giving orders, not before she gave you a warning look for letting Dawn come with you after she scowled at Spike for his mere presence.

“I brought the research – I think there’s a spell, but we’ll have to weaken him first” Willow muttered, frowning at Anya and blaming her for this spell and putting her best friend in danger. 

“The spell needs lovers to complete it. Do you think you could help us Anya? Xander?” Tara asked softly, “But I’m not sure if that’s enough to hold him”

Because the demon was attracted to love and sex, couples were needed to cut off his power at the source. It fed from lovers and by concentrating that power it could reverse and thus weaken the demon within a certain spot.

“Well, if we need couples we have at least three pairs here. Maybe that would be enough?” Willow asked. Making everyone look around to count the pairs. Everyone’s eyes then landed on you and Spike. The last to look was Buffy who raised an eyebrow between you both.

“Does everyone know we’re dating?!”

“Pretty much, sweetie” tara nodded.

“We just didn’t wanna embarrass you. It’s… Spike” Buffy cringed at even the thought of it, “I, uh, thought you would have kinda got it out of your system by now though” Buffy hitched her nose up at the idea of the two of you, but shrugged. She saw it as a meaningless relationship. The kind she had with Parker in her first year of college but more often.

From what you gathered as they didn’t correct her, nobody really thought Spike capable of any kind of meaningful relationship. And with him not being able to actively harm you, they just decided to avoid the topic entirely until one or both of you got bored of the sex. The only one that hadn’t thought anything of your sudden proximity with Spike every time he turned around, was Xander. He really would have said something if he had known. But he still wasn’t convinced now – no matter how often Anya insisted.

You slid your hand into his, now that everybody appeared to know that you were together at least. He smiled at this, looking down at your hands back to your face. This smile, it was softer than he would usually show in front of the Scoobies, it was one only for you. Where he felt such genuine happiness. Such adoration.

As usual, nobody really wanted to discuss your love life (rather just ignore and hope it went away) and so began to look away from you and discuss the demon again. You began following the trail of destruction. He wasn’t so hard to locate really and Buffy immediately attacked him as Willow and Anya set up in a large triangle around the fight. Each couple was at each point of the triangle as the recital occurred. A flash of light surrounded the demon and Buffy before it faded, showing the demon now fighting sluggishly.

You tried to protect Dawn the best you could while Spike and Buffy took it in turns to throw punches at the now marginally weakened demon. You and the others helped when you could but he was so strong even now the spell had worked, that humans barely affected him.

Somehow the demon broke from Spike’s hold and started for Dawn - who he had sensed as the weaker member of your group. You charged in front of your younger sister to try and distract him. This lead to him twisting you and throwing you into the air and crashing into a nearby storefront. You were flung straight against the wall and hit your head quite badly. He watched you falling like a ragdoll, appearing limp due to the blow.

His gut dropped. He left Buffy to the fight. All that mattered now was that you were okay. He had never been so scared. Spike rushed over to you, dropping to the floor so that he could cradle your head in his lap. There were a few seconds where he didn’t know what to do.

But then just as he thought he may have lost you, hope was restored again. You open your eyes, your smile a little dazed as you looked at him from your position in his lap. He looked up to the sky in relief, as if silently thanking the powers. His eyes danced with emotion as he looked back into yours. He wouldn’t know what he would do without you. Couldn’t even imagine it less his heart would begin to ache with phantom loss.

He was so overcome by the thought of losing you that he immediately caught your lips with his. Pouring every single feeling he had ever experienced for you into that one kiss. His hand cupping your cheek, the other on the small of your back – pressing you closer to him. As if this kiss may well be your very last. You reciprocated without hesitation, your lips felt as if they had been moulded just for this very moment. This kiss, it said everything. Promised everything and you smiled into it. Your lips moving against his urgently, insisting he feel your love for him. Even in your weakened state, all of your energy went into kissing him.

In the same moment, Buffy managed to finally slay the beast and Tara and Willow muttered some words that sent him into the book he would now again call home. Buffy whipped around to catch you both kissing so desperately. The rest of the group stopped still and staring too. Every mouth agape in shock. At just how much you appear to feel for the other. This wasn’t just a quick shag when the feeling struck. One wasn’t taking advantage of the other. This was love. The truest kind. And nobody could deny it now, not even Xander.

After you parted, reluctantly on both parts, he took on your weight as you all walked back, everyone except him in silence. He doted on you, pressing a kiss against your temple every few paces – just because he could now in this company. He wanted to offer you all of the comfort he could. He was whispering to you trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. He was sure you had a concussion (I mean, you kissed him that way in front of all of your friends without any worries after all).

Buffy didn’t even object when it appeared that Spike was walking their way home. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Everyone could see just how deeply you cared for each other. It was undeniable, even to your older sister.

Spike was just pleased you would make it and be okay. And… he began to get smug that he was finally able to show the slayer that he could access her house this entire time.

[shima-draws]

Me, clapping my hands: SUPPORT COURSE IZUKU! SUPPORT COURSE IZUKU!! ...WITH A PROSTHETIC!!

I’m sure people have had this idea before but I wanted to put my own spin on it!! And now for the info:

-Izuku's been fascinated with heroes since a young age. However, after finding out he was quirkless, he refused to give up, and switched gears to start investing in the support field. He figured if he couldn't be a pro hero he could at least do his best to help them and be a hero in his own way.

-Izuku's an absolute GENIUS when it comes to inventing--he's on par with Hatsume. However, Hatsume focuses more on support items that break convention and are very innovative and unique. Izuku's focus is more on items that actually help heroes on the field and support their bodies, and items that also allow them to use their quirks to their full extent while still being able to control them properly. (Basically, Izuku's gadgets act as a control stick for heroes that go all out i.e. Toshi.) He also makes a lot of gadgets that support disabled heroes, because--

-Izuku has a prosthetic arm! It's his right one. This was the result of a villain attack that he got involved in after meeting All Might. Toshi blames himself for what happened to Izuku because he couldn't get there in time. He and Izuku are very close--Izuku knows the secret behind Toshi's appearance and he knows about One For All. Mirio is the one to inherit OFA in this AU--so Izuku's very close to him as well! Izuku makes support items for both Toshi and Mirio, to support their quirks. Izuku's gadgets have saved Toshi in a pinch a hundred times over, and are designed to support him when he needs that extra push when he's already reached his limit.

There is more ahead~

-After Izuku lost his arm in the villain accident, Bakugou does a total 180 and starts treating him better. From the start their relationship was less strained than in canon bc Izuku went into doing stuff for support early on, and Bakugou didn't see this as much as a threat compared to if Izuku still wanted to be a pro hero despite being quirkless. Nowadays Bakugou is VERY protective of Izuku--and both of them have reached a point where they're genuine friends. Izuku teases Bakugou a lot and easily snarks back at him when he's being a little shit. Bakugou won't ever admit it openly but Izuku is his best friend :') He cares about him  a lot. He used to defend Izuku constantly back in middle school after the accident, but Izuku soon learned to stand up for himself.

-Going off of that, Bakugou taught Izuku how to fight physically, and they try to spar once or twice a week if they can! It's good practice. Izuku was awful at it at first especially since his sense of balance was off due to the weight of the prosthetic, but Bakugou's a good teacher despite all his shouting lmao. Now Izuku can easily hand his ass to him if he gets into it enough. He can handle himself in a fight pretty brilliantly, even against villains, and Class 1-A quickly learns not to underestimate him.

-Bakugou refuses to get support items from anybody else but Izuku. He bitches at Izuku a lot but Izuku always takes his advice--Bakugou usually offers good tips and pointers on how to improve his gauntlets! Baku always says that while Izuku fucks up all the time (false), he at least trusts him enough to get the job done, while he scorns the rest of the support course fnjdsdd

-Since Izuku isn't in Class 1-A in this AU--guess who is? Yeah, it's Shinsou! Besides Baku Shinsou is probably Izuku's other closest friend, along with Hatsume! Shinsou's got a crush on Izuku and probably knows it won't be reciprocated, but he's fine with that. If Shinsou isn't in class he's most likely hanging out in the development studio with Izuku and Hatsume. The three of them are kinda like a mini Big Three haha, they've got a reputation around UA

-Do not put Izuku and Hatsume in the same room together or they'll bounce insane ideas off of each other and create outrageous things. They get each other super fired up LMAO and go to each other for advice when they need it!

-Izuku has the biggest, most obvious and absolutely endearing crush on one (1) Shouto Todoroki. Bakugou teases him about it CONSTANTLY. The reason for this is because they actually met back in middle school, before Izuku lost his arm--and Todoroki just made a really memorable impression on him bc he was the first person to ever treat him really kindly (they bumped into each other on accident because Izuku was getting chased by bullies, Izuku scraped up his hands, Todoroki chased off the bullies and then iced his injuries, and then they had a really deep conversation about heroes and encouraged each other). Todoroki kinda becomes Izuku's first love in that sense;; ofc it's nothing super serious but Izuku definitely feels all floaty and happy about it afterward. When Izuku gets into UA and notices that Todoroki's in the hero course he almost has a stroke because 1. Izuku gave him encouragement to get into UA waaaay back then and he's shocked Todoroki actually took his advice, 2. He finds out that Todoroki is in fact Todoroki bc they never gave each other their names, so Izuku's Shook his "first love" is actually the son of Endeavor, and 3. Todoroki's grown. He was pretty back in middle school but now. He's hot. HE'S HOT OH NO. After that Izuku keeps noticing him and hears rumors that Todoroki is an ice cold prince type character that has no real feelings. Izuku's like "Someone who takes the time out of their day to save you, heal your hands, and encourage you on your path to be a hero can't be that type of person" so Izuku just KNOWS Todo's actually a very kind boy. Izuku keeps watching him and gets super smitten after the Sports Festival ;) But he's like "He's practically famous, he'd never notice somebody like me, he probably doesn’t even remember me from middle school, haha" (so it's a bit like a celebrity crush). Shinsou and Hatsume bug him about his crush just to see him get flustered and it's very cute lol

-The second time Izuku and Todoroki meet is a goddamn mess and technically counts as their first because Todoroki has a shit memory and can't connect Izuku's face to the boy he met in middle school (also that boy definitely had two flesh arms and Izuku only has one). Todoroki walks in right as one of Izuku's gadgets explodes, absolutely showering him in dust and soot. Izuku freaks out and apologizes a lot while he helps him clean up (while Hatsume is teasing in the background). Note that Izuku's only wearing like a tanktop and sweats, and his hair is all messy and swept back especially since he's wearing his trademark goggles, he's covered in sweat and dirt, he has a really cool looking prosthetic (and Todoroki didn't realize he'd have a thing for that but apparently he does), and Izuku's really fucking toned so Todoroki has a big ol Gay Crisis right there in the development studio. Izuku is INCREDIBLY attractive and Todoroki doesn't know what to do with that info. After Izuku cleans up and manages to get an order for a support item out of Todo, Todo leaves and immediately texts Momo saying, "Yaoyorozu, I think I just had my gay awakening" and on the other side of campus, Momo chokes on her drink. Meanwhile back in the studio Izuku is SCREAMING like "Oh my GOD did that really just happen--did Shouto Todoroki walk in, get blasted by one of my inventions going haywire, let me clean him up and TOUCH HIS CHEST, HATSUME, I GOT TO FEEL HIM UP, and THEN HE ASKED ME TO TAKE AN ORDER, I'M GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST. TELL MY MOTHER AND TOSHI I LOVED THEM AND TELL TODOROKI I'M SORRY FOR GETTING HIS PERFECT BEAUTIFUL HAIR DIRTY" and she's just laughing her ass off LMAOOOO

-It isn't until their third meeting that Izuku realizes Todoroki doesn't seem to remember him at ALL. And it stings, a lot (but he kinda figured this would happen esp since Todo didn’t recognize him the last time they talked), but he's still happy for the chance to know him now, and get to design support items for him!! Meanwhile Todo's like. Starting to catch on that maybe he DOES know Izuku after all? He isn't sure? But he's definitely falling for him. 

I’ve got more headcanons and stuff but yeah this is all the basics!!! I got so excited to flesh this AU out and make designs fnasjkbdnasds it’s definitely gonna be a fun one to play around with!

I want to either call this the Support Course Hero AU or maybe just Support Hero AU would work--what do you guys think?

[tennessoui]

1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.

ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3

1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.

It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.

Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.

Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.

Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.

They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.

Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.

He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.

But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.

Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.

Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.

When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.

Well. Not alone, actually.

A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.

He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.

“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.

It’s so small.

His soulmate must be...must be just as young.

Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.

But he has a soulmate.

-----

Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.

His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.

“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”

Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.

Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.

Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.

The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.

Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.

And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.

A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”

Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”

She grins at him and licks his face.

“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.

----

Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.

He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.

She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.

“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.

Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”

It is not normal, thanks.

Odyna howls in agreement.

When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.

Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.

He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.

Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.

His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.

If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--

He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.

Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”

Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.

“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.

It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”

Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”

Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”

“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”

Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.

But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”

Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”

“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”

Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.

-----

“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”

“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.

“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”

“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.

Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.

Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.

I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.

Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.

-----

Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.

It’s kisses.

More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.

[junowritings]

HELLO, DARLING 💕💕 I'm here to bust in and ask for some sweet, sweet Twst fluff! May I have some Ruggie, Azul, and Deuce reacting to thier fem!s/o protecting them in a fight?? Maybe some dude trying to swing at them and their gf gets in the way and protects them! Pls give me the good, much love and you're amazing 💕💕💕💖💖💖

First request! Thank you so much honey I am always happy to provide some peak content~! I had way too much fun with this and it shows lmao but I hope you enjoy~! 💖 💖 💖

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Ruggie

♡ Ruggie’s used to stepping on a few toes and tails with his antics - he’s a little trickster at heart but it’s all in good fun, he swears! It’s just unfortunate circumstances that perhaps one or two people sometimes get caught in the crossfire of his schemes, never anything too serious, but enough to leave more than a few people grumbling about it by the time things actually get sorted back out. Rarely do things ever actually spiral out of Ruggie’s control, and even if they do, chances are no one stays too mad at him for too long...most of the time. The times they do? They tend to get a bit out of hand.

♡ When a group of students attempt to corner him on the way back to the Savanaclaw dorm, he isn’t even sure what’s got them so heated - they start cussing him out, ranting about how he must think he’s such a wise guy, getting so cocky and not knowing his place. He’s not phased by what they say at all, if anything he’s not fussed in the slightest and would probably make a comment about them coming up with something more original if he could get a word in their bickering. It gets tiring real fast, and Ruggie’s looking for an out before these guys have even finished talking.  

♡ Sure, he could use his unique magic in this situation, but given that it would only affect one of them and more than likely piss them off even more in the process, it wouldn’t do much to save his hide right now. Three against one hardly seems like a hard fight, but if Ruggie is even remotely concerned about the odds it doesn’t show for a second, instead - chances are, they’re just gonna yell it out of their system and then storm off so he can go back to what he was doing. Arguably, that just makes them angrier, and soon enough their heated bickering becomes thinly veiled threats, as though they’re trying to rile him up into instigating something - they want a reaction, an excuse to justify starting a fight, but Ruggie’s not naive enough to fall for that trick. 

♡ When he doesn’t, one of the students finally snaps, lunging forward and snagging the collar of Ruggie’s uniform, bunching it up until he can feel knuckles pressed against his throat and he has to tilt his head up to avoid the fist curling underneath his chin. As the other hand rears back, the laid-back smile on his face becomes strained, and Ruggie squares the guy with a pointed stare as though waiting to call their bluff on actually taking a swing. He doesn’t get the chance to find out, as in the next moment the hand’s gone from his collar and Ruggie finds himself looking at the back of a blazer as a new voice joins the scene - one that he recognizes.

♡ He can’t see your face from this angle, but he can hear the hostility in your voice as you square up to the three boys, standing to your full height as you curse them out and order them to back up, asking what the hell they thought they were doing to your boyfriend. And just like that, those three hotheads dissolve into cowering pups right before his eyes, all bumbling words and awkward shifting as they try to talk their way out of the situation they’d been caught red handed in. They’re doing a poor job of it, and you’re clearly not buying it as you fold your arms and fix them with a scowl, taking a step forward as you move to completely shield Ruggie from their view. 

 ♡ Ruggie can count the amount of times someone has actively gone out of their way to protect him on one hand, so the situation is as bizarre as it is entertaining. He feels a smug kind of pride at hearing you declare the word ‘boyfriend’, and hearing the anger in your voice is enough to convince him that it’s for the best to let you handle this whole thing. Still, Ruggie just can’t help but peek over your shoulder as you tear those guys a new one, shooting them a shit eating grin and enjoying the way that their expressions twist into grimaces, pissed but unable to do anything less they risk even more of your rage.

♡ All you have to hear is one of them mention ‘putting him in his place’ for your expression to visibly darken, and all three of them know that they’ve messed up at the sight of your face. You barely even have to feign lunging at them to get all three of them to bolt, just about toppling over each other as they flee down the corridor and round the corner, effectively vanishing from your sight. Even then you wait a beat, listening out for their footsteps until you can’t hear them anymore before you allow the tension to fall from your shoulders. Ruggie thinks that’s the perfect time to chime in, resting his head on the shoulder he was peeking over as he snickers.

♡ “Shishishi~! Did you see the way they ran? Talk about spooked!”

♡ You find yourself chuckling along with him as you look at him out of the corner of your eye, watching his expression carefully before you shift around to fully face him. The first words out of your mouth are words of concern, asking him if he’s okay and if they hurt him in any way. He’s quick to brush off any of your worries, giving you a non-committal shrug and assuring you that he’s fine - he’s dealt with way worse confrontations before, so it’s not skin off his hide now that they’ve scampered off. 

♡ You’re not entirely convinced, he can see it in your face as you regard him - you seem to want to press the question on those ‘worse confrontations’, but after a moment you seem to drop it. Instead, you reach out and attempt to straighten out his collar and tie, though both are still a wrinkled mess by the time you’re finished; even so, Ruggie seems to appreciate the sentiment, and that lax grin from before is back as he slides out of your grip. He’s still gotta get back to the dorm, but it wouldn’t hurt to have company on the way back, if his new ‘bodyguard’ wants to tag along~

Azul

♡ Azul’s no stranger to people’s ire - he’s gained more than a few enemies over time, having his fair share of scorned patrons cursing his name before he’d even enrolled at Night Raven college. He’s learned quickly to gauge whether someone’s just blowing off steam or if they’re a serious threat, and he learned even quicker how to deal with those situations accordingly; after all, it’s bad business if you’re busy being hounded by clients looking for a bone to pick. He’s got countermeasures in play, and a few backup plans if things become too dicey for his liking, but he’s fortunately rarely had to use them barring one or two troublesome incidents thanks to the Leech twins.

♡ Floyd and Jade have, of course, been a big help in handling these little confrontations whenever they arise, having nipped most of them in the bud before they’ve even had the chance to darken the doors of the Monstro Lounge, so there’s been a relative peace in the place when people are there to have a good time rather than try and start fights.

♡ Things come to a head when someone actually manages to slip through into the Monstro Lounge, and Azul comes out of his office to the sound of someone shouting his name in a tone that sets the precedent that this is not going to be a peaceful interaction. He sees their face before they even turn to face him - expression twisted up in anger and hands balled at their side as they glare daggers at the other patrons, as if trying to discern if the dorm leader is sitting amongst them. Azul recognizes them immediately, and, upon realizing that the twins aren’t present in the lounge, rationalizes that it’s up to him to smooth things over before they end up disturbing the other patrons and causing too much of a disturbance. And so he plasters on his most neutral, unassuming smile, and greets the new ‘client’, watching them whip around to face him as he steps forward to talk to them.

♡ Azul already knows what they want to talk about - of course he does - he’s learned to keep track of every face that passes through those doors and his interactions with them. And yet he allows them to talk, and get what they want off of their chest; talking to them like this isn’t going to get them anywhere, and it appears they’re more in the mood for yelling than they are for actually talking. So he allows them to rant, if only to calm them down enough until he deems them rational enough to listen to what he has to say; and after a moment this seems to actually have done the trick, as the yelling soon quiets down in frustrated grumbling, and the eyes once drawn to the scene from nearby tables begin to return back to what had previously caught their attention. That’s when Azul finally speaks, extending an offer to finish this conversation back inside his office - after all, he’s sure they didn’t come here simply to make a scene when there’s a peaceful resolution to be reached, right? 

♡ It’s with that thought in mind that leads Azul to a momentary slip in judgement - turning his back on the troublesome patron and begins to walk back towards his office, expecting them to follow him. Which they do, with a raised fist. He doesn’t hear them storm after him, but what he does hear is the gasps from onlookers as they watch the person in question rear back their hand, fist aiming right for the back of his head. It should have connected - afterall, they were close enough to have landed the hit, but it never comes.

♡ Instead, a sharp shove at his back has Azul’s stumbling, and not a moment later, he’s spinning around to see what’s going on and finds an unexpected sight. The patron’s sprawled out on the floor, cradling their face in both hands and swearing up a storm as they rock back and forth, nursing what looks like a solid hit to the nose. And towering over them is none other than you, blazer discarded and sleeves rolled up to the elbows as you shake off the hit from your hands, winding up your shoulders as you stare daggers down at his would-be attacker. It doesn’t take a genius to discern what’s just happened in the span of just a few moments, but Azul’s suspicions are all but confirmed when you snap at them to just try and punch him again - watch what happens, you dare them.

♡ Anger flashes across the patron’s face, and for a second Azul truly believes that he’s about to watch a brawl break out between this troublemaker and his girlfriend as both make a move to jump the other. Thankfully for all involved, they don’t get the chance to see that show, as not a moment too soon the twins are there to intervene and split it up before any real fight begins. Jade’s hands are on your shoulder, guiding you back gently but firm enough to ensure that he can pull you away from this fight if you try to push the issue; you reluctantly follow him as he backtracks over to where Azul is standing, still grumbling about it under your breath. Floyd, on the other hand, is all too eager to take care of the one still cradling their face, sporting the beginnings of a bloody nose as they’re hoisted up onto their feet and promptly directed to the nearest exit.

♡ Azul makes a note to deal with that person later - though he’s got a sneaking suspicion that the twins are already well on their way to taking care of that in his stead as Jade leaves to rejoin his brother once you’re standing face to face with their dorm leader. For now, he turns his attention to you, watching you huff and rub idly at the hand you’d punched with as the beginnings of an apology tumble from your lips. 

♡ You didn’t mean to get involved and cause so much of a scene, but when he’d turned away and you saw the person rearing back to sock him, you were up from your table and swinging without a second thought. You couldn’t just sit there and let him get hurt, what kind of girlfriend would that make you if you did! You’d never let him get hurt as long as you were around - that was okay...right?

♡ The passion behind your voice is enough to convince him that you mean every word, and you can see his expression soften a little as he takes your hand into his own, thumb brushing over the scuffed skin of your knuckles, red marks becoming visible as a testament to the force behind your punch. Your expression twitches with a flash of discomfort - looks like you’d underestimated the force on your hand; Azul’s not surprised, going above and beyond was a penchant of yours that had gotten you this far, and perhaps what had led to you worming your way into his heart in the first place.

♡ At your expression, Azul gives your hand a pat before taking a step back, using the hold to guide you. He certainly doesn’t mind the protective streak - in fact it’s a rather endearing trait, one that deserves proper compensation in return. But the first order of business is getting that hand tended to, and Azul makes that his priority as he leads them to follow him to his office, pleased when you fall into step with him and follow his lead. 

Deuce

♡ Honestly, with how much of a protector can be over his friends, Deuce is in desperate need of someone just as willing to square up for him. He takes their safety seriously, even though part of him knows that realistically they can all take care of themselves just fine if anything actually happened. That still doesn’t stop him from wanting to step in whenever things get dicey, especially whenever it comes to you or your friends, and that either becomes a sweet sentiment, or the bane of your existence depending on how many altercations this ends up dragging him into.

♡ Maybe it's because of this that a fight was bound to break out sooner or later, but for what it’s worth, this one wasn’t actually caused because of him - it was because of Grim. That feline had a habit of breaching people’s boundaries, and sure enough it was just a matter of time before things escalated into a fight before anyone even had a chance to figure out what had even happened. Deuce wasn’t around when it happened, but the sound of yelling had caught his attention and led to him looking into the passing hallway trying to figure out what was going on. He recognized some of the voices, he swears it, and sure enough he finds the owner of those voices right in the center of the hallway, a small circle of people getting into each other's faces.

♡ Both sides are yelling, and at the sight of Ace and Grim smack-dab in the middle of the bickering, Deuce finds himself getting in-between them if only to get the one guy waving his hands around away from his friends before someone got slapped. Almost immediately there’s a hand in his face, an accusatory finger jabbed in his direction as all that anger at his friends is now squared directly on him. Deuce feels himself getting angry the more this guy screams into his face, cutting him off every time Deuce tries to get a word in; it’s clear that he’s not going to get any answers from this guy any time soon, so he calls to his friends behind him, ignoring the shout of ‘Hey, don’t ignore me!’ directed at him as he does so.

♡ Deuce looks away for a second, talking to Ace over his shoulder to try and find out what started this whole thing in the first place, when he feels someone grab a fistful of hair and yanks. Pain blossoms through his scalp and he hisses, a hand flying up to snag the wrist of the guy and wrenching it forward, digging his fingers in to force him to let go only for the hand to grip tighter. There’s another sharp tug, and Deuce can see Ace and Grim diving forward to help him from the corner of his eye, their shouts of protest only seeming to anger the guy more as they round in on him.

♡ But someone else gets there first, and just like that the hand is being wrenched from Deuce’s hair and he hears something go sliding across the floor. Turns out it’s the guy, whose expression is a mix of anger and bafflement as he tries desperately to reach for something behind him - no, someone. There’s a hand wound into the back of the guy’s blazer, hoisted up enough that he has to arch to go along with the item of clothing. The guy tries to reach behind him, but every time another hand peeks out from behind him to swat it away with ease, eliciting frustrated whines when the guy realizes he’s stuck.

♡ Deuce’s face must be priceless as he takes in the scene, watching a familiar head duck out from around the guys shoulder and flash him a grin, giving him a thumbs up. He hadn’t even seen you in the crowd, did you jump in when you saw him getting hurt? A part of him feels bad that you’d seen it happen in the first place, but that’s soon quashed when you turn your focus back to the guy who’d swung, who by this point had lost the gumption to keep swinging and was now just waiting for you to release your grip.

♡ You give it a few more seconds for good measure, before you allow your hold to loosen and you step away, still giving the guy a cautious glance as you move to stand in front of Deuce, Ace and Grim in a protective stance. There’s a beat of tenseness, waiting to see if the fight is going to start back up again, but when the group starts backtracking, retreating to who knows where else, it’s clear that at least for now things have been resolved. And with that out of the way, you turn your attention back to the boys, sticking Grim a pointed stare as you huff out that you’re talking to him about this later. 

♡ Then you turn your focus over to Deuce, and he immediately straightens up under your attention waiting for some kind of comment about the confrontation, or maybe a warning for him to be more careful. You take his face into your hands, and though confused, he follows along with your movements as you urge him to look down; he doesn’t know what you’re doing until he feels a hand smooth through his hair, easing the tousled hair back into place as you ask him if it still stings. Your tone is soft, and Deuce finds himself flushing as he hurriedly reassures you that it doesn’t hurt - it’s fine, really! You’re not entirely swayed, but the moment is broken when you hear Grim make a gagging noise telling you to stop being so weird. And just like that your attention is back onto Grim again, fully prepared to choke him with that damn bow as Deuce straightens back up, carding a hand through his hair and trying to will away the pink flush beginning to rise to his cheeks.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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